30 before 30 (Part 3).

The third and final part of my 30-before-30. The writing is done... now to actually attempt the doing.

21. Try aerial yoga.
You need a strong core. I barely have a core. I'm hoping this will be one of those situations where I'm more equipped for it than I think I am. (It won't be).

22. Make the perfect playlist.
In the same way that some people can tell they're hormonal when they eat more or get irrationally irritable, a real warning sign for me is when I can't stand any of my playlists (also when I eat more and get irrationally irritable). This year I want to create a playlist made up of only songs I truly love. If I go off something, it leaves the list. If I can't stop listening to something, it goes on. It's a fluid things that will change with my mood I'm sure, but by next October I want a collection of songs that I can listen to even on my worst days and smile. 30 songs, maybe? Yeah. Let's say that.

23. Submit to the New York Times Modern Love Column.
I am not the kind of person who puts things out in to the world that she is not sure about. Actually, that may not be entirely true; a little uncertainty adds a certain excitement, and there are times I can't resist that risk; that hanging-in-the-balance place before you know how a thing is going to land. More accurately, then, I am not the kind of person who puts things out in to the world that she does not believe in. To submit a piece to the New York Times? Under my own name? For a column I love that I think is a space where my voice might actually fit? Well that would mean I've worked; created something where I can't afford to hold back; written something good. I highly doubt it will be published, ‘cause I’m not Andrew Rannells and that is fine (his essay made me cry on my bathroom floor). That's not the point at all. The point is that it could be, 'cause I crafted and drafted and edited and read it over and over and over, then pressed send and... let it go. (I started writing it last night. I'm excited about this one).

24. Go a month without alcohol.
Ugh I really didn't want to put this on here because I don't actually want to do it. I love a glass of something on a Sunday at my parents house, and Prosecco brunches, and a Gin at the theatre. The last time I went a month with no alcohol at all, though, was when I was 20 and travelling around America, too young to even get in to a bar. I think once every ten years sounds like a good time-frame for a teetotal month, and maybe it'll make me productive and fresh and energised at the same time. We'll see. And if anyone has any good alcohol-free drink recs, please let me know!

25. Be on a podcast.
I've been on a podcast before. I think it was about the impact of Wicked on my theatrical generation? I can't really remember, it was a long time ago. I definitely talked about Wicked. Anyway. I think Podcasts are a really brilliant way of telling stories (when it's done right). I want to write podcasts, eventually, among other things. This year, though, I'll settle for guesting on someone else's. I studied (and loved) radio production for a while, and every time I sit at a mixing desk or in front of a mic it still feels like going to some version of an almost-home. More of that, please. The scope of how we tell stories is growing all the time, and podcasting is one of the most exciting ways to me.

26. Visit Berlin.
It's just been a really long time coming. I've been promising since about 2013 that I'd make it out, so it's ridiculous that I haven't been to visit the soul-friends that live there yet. Everyone I know seems to fall in love with it. Soon.

27. Write for someone else.
That is to say, be published somewhere other than here.

28. Revisit old work.
There's this thing I wrote (the first real thing I wrote) that feels increasingly like unfinished business. It's been almost half a decade and still I meet people sometimes who, when I'm introduced, say "Oh my god, you wrote that". I don't know what it's future life is. I don't get to decide that alone 'cause it isn't just mine. Maybe it doesn't have one. This year, though, I'd like to snuggle back down with that script, and see what it looks like from 29. Give it another chance, maybe, or let it lie for good. 'Cause it's good. We made something magic. I want to do it again.

29. Transcend the mundane.
Once, when he thought I wasn't listening, I heard one old friend say to another "The thing about her is, she has an ability to transcend the mundane I've rarely seen in anyone else. There are... very few limits". What that actually means is that when I was 23, I had no idea how the world worked and barged around the theatre industry saying well why not? because I didn't know why not. Turns out sometimes all people need to say yes is to be asked the question. I got older, lost that innocence, and began to fit better in to what people actually expect, which is growing up, I think. But I miss that attitude. I miss thinking we could do anything, even in the moments I absolutely knew we couldn't. I miss asking "Is this crazy?", safe in the knowledge I would try anyway. I can't get back that naivety, I know, but this year I want to transcend the mundane again; to ask why not a little bit more, and see what happens.

30. 30 is a secret.
I'll tell you when it happens ;)

Part 1 - Here.
Part 2 - Here.