Love Juice.

Yo, yo, yo.
Positive Drew eatin’ Thanksgiving stew
And barfin’ it up like the ancient Romans do.
Sorry y’all, I don’t mean to be gross
But vomitorium style you can eat the most!

It’s Positive, Positive, Positive Sonya!

That sucks. Puking up some of the best food you’ll probably eat all year. Will you forever think of vomit on the last Thursday in November?

I dig Positive Drew. He’s pretty much a lyrical mastermind.

Thank you for cheering me up. I know what you say is true. Although I do like to do things on my own because of the ease in choice it provides, things do start to feel pretty heavy when you’re alone nonstop.

Working from home can compound this. It creates the feeling of very limited possibilities. I like the element of the unknown that comes along with mixing personalities, plus people are smarter together than they are apart. Did you know that? It’s a fact. If you get a group of people guessing at some number, for example, like how many seeds are in a certain pumpkin or something, the average of everyone’s guess, almost always without fail, will be closer to the correct answer than any individual guess. The moral of the story… people need people mon frère, we can’t do it all on our own, at least not very well.

So here I’ve been, with no peeps and no Positive, Positive, Positive Drew, sitting around feeling sorry for myself, dodging piles of squashed dog crap on the sidewalk, feeling as if their very existence were a personal commentary of some sort, mandated by the rulers of the cosmos, adding insult to injury, calling me a doodie head, moping around like a sad clown with a lead weight soul.

I must admit, and maybe it’s obvious (?), I’ve really been luxuriating in this mindset. Acting the martyr, sitting gloomily in the Metro station, contemplating pigeons, resolving to live my life as they do, as a renegade, reviled yet undaunted, eating bits of bread and trash from puddles of urine spilt from the unwashed organs of the homeless drunks that scoff at my existence.

In my misery, I started asking for signs. “Dear God, Lord, whatever you are, something out there, forces unknown, show me something! Show me something to make it all mean something!” To add to my martyrdom, I thought I could help myself to feel really pathetic if I took a walk in the rain. I decided to go out for a ham and cheese crêpe, and you know what? I met someone. He walked up to me on the street and started talking to me. He tried to get me talking French, and every time I said the smallest thing he laughed with such gusto and encouragement that I felt like a genius for knowing how to say “I like Paris.” He made me smile.

When I got home there was an email from the neighbor of the aunt of the woman I rent my apartment from, wanting to make some dinner plans, then later came 2 more dinner invitations from friends of friends, then by chance I had to call the sister of the woman I rent from to get a door code and she invited me out to coffee, and then I met someone in my French class who wants to take a trip to the Alps, and low and behold, suddenly I have some peeps!

Was it a sign, or a coincidence, or just a lucky sequence of events, or maybe more of a willingness on my part to be open to new people, or a combination of all these things? I dunno, I don’t, but then I went to the post office to use their bill changer so I could do some laundry. I put in my €10 bill, over and over and over, it wouldn’t accept it. There was an old man standing next to the machine adding a running commentary on my attempts. I told him twice I didn’t speak French, but I think he just wanted to talk. Over and over again the machine spit my money back at me. I think the old guy told me it wasn’t going to work, but then suddenly it took, and the machine dumped my change out. When I left I said aurivoir to the spectator and he replied with “Bon courage.”

I got home and took out my change to do the laundry, upon counting I found the machine had changed my €10 into €20! With everything else in mind, the pleading with the unseen forces of creation, the deluge of social contact, the old man’s message, I just couldn’t help but feel that this was somehow significant. I don’t know what it all means exactly, and I suppose there are a hundred conclusions you could come to, but honestly, without trying to sound too new-agey, what I think is this; The universe is listening.

I feel loved.

This is Positive Sonya and I’m here to say
That growin’ up is hard in a major way!
But just keep on truckin’, bon courage, if you will
And your cup will runneth over, you’ll get your fill!

Peace out yo, and a hug and a kiss.

PEP TALK-ISH

I apologize for not responding sooner. Life got a little hectic for me, as it does, running frantic and full speed like a shitty car trying to make it over a mountain pass. I say this with a lot of experience having driven a four speed toyota tercel with bicycle-like tires through Montana in the winter on my way from Wisconsin to Oregon. Also, my laborious commute in and out of the Valley into the City everyday probably adds to that feeling.

It started with my family flying out for Thanksgiving. They flew out the Wednesday before as did my sister Sarah from Denver. We spent the first night ordering in dinner, watching Caleb perform scenes from toddler-hood, listening to music and drinking beer. Everything was wonderful, until I woke up Thanksgiving morning with a stomach flu or food poisoning. Then everything they said made my stomach turn. I made an effort to be patient with them, but the sliver of contempt brought on by barfing my way through a day of delicious food grew into full blown annoyance as the weekend went on.

My father treats Los Angeles like a puzzle and tries to solve it every time he's here, saying things like, "If we took a left here and drove a few blocks down we'd be at the Grove right?" or more randomly, "There's a high school around here right? What's the name of the high school in this area? One time I went for a walk from our hotel to Hollywood Blvd. and I walked by what I think is a famous LA high school." This is endearing, but annoying on a clear day. Factor in holding a barf bag in a car in bumper to bumper traffic on the 405 while getting questions about where Orange County begins and LA County ends and that's me.

My stomach was destroyed for the following week, but I managed to muster strength enough to celebrate Caleb's Birthday at Travel Town Railroad Museum in Griffith park. My family left and their visit seemed like a quick snap. I was nostalgic for their company for the next day or two, feeling depressed at the Starbucks where we shared a coffee or on the 405 where we shared the misery of my stomach.

I could feel myself becoming a person I don't want to become. It's a person I've been and I don't like him. He's annoying. It's a gloomy version of me, a Bizarro Drew. Not that I'm sparkling with joy and energy, but I don't want to feel sorry for myself for no good reason. The tragedy of a weekend gone wrong is hardly something Shakespeare would consider putting into production.

I've invented a mental outlook to combat this side of me. It's another side of me, a character who lives in my head. I call him simply, Positive Drew. Positive Drew is like an old throw back hip hop motivational speaker. He's the kind of guy that would come to your middle school and rap about respecting your fellow classmates while you enjoyed your hot lunch on a rainy day. He raps overly positive rhymes in my head. He says his name a lot. He says shit like, "Driving to work like a jerk? Cheer up man, I'm Positive, Positive, Positive Drew!" That doesn't even rhyme I know, Positive Drew is that weak at rapping, but he's confident in his message and it cheers me up.

My point is this. You're living in Paris, you're an artist, everyone loves you and you're on an adventure. Do you need a house? No. Do you need a resume? No, you're a designer/ artist you need a portfolio. Should you be in the states? Maybe in New York with your love interest and some old friends? You can always move there next. "In France eating bread, Not in bed acting dead! Positive, Positive, Positive Sonya!"

Also Disneyland helps, I went there the weekend after Thanksgiving. Caleb's mind almost exploded. I think he's still having flashbacks. We went on a Winnie the Pooh Ride and he keeps saying, "Winnie da Woo House!" So great.