TGICryDay

Introducing A New Friday Tradition!!!

Happy Friday!

When I decided to call this newsletter “Crying in Public,” I was looking for a clever, personality-affirming title that didn’t lock me in to any specific genre of writing. I figured that no matter how I evolved over time, my tendency and willingness to be emotional in front of people would still be going strong. 

It is! 

I cry… all the time. I cry at commercials, telling stories I’ve told 37 times before, reading acknowledgments in the back of book (they worked so hard! those people helped!), singing along to songs in the car, singing along to songs in the shower, singing along to songs at karaoke, reciting song lyrics to my husband (lotta song-based tears). 

This is me, I am not kidding, crying at the ending of the unofficial audio tour of the Alhambra in Granada, Spain because it really was such a cross-section of so many cultures and histories and I found that really profound. But also the audio tour was led by a “ghost” of a man who lived in the Alhambra who was looking for his wife and this is me straight up sobbing at a ghost monologue wishing me safe travels.

I cry, I have come to realize, not like a baby, but like a toddler.

When people say someone cries “like a baby” usually that means the person cries “a lot, because the only way babies can communicate is to cry for their first few months of life.” But I cry “like a toddler” in that big emotions = tears. Crying is not a connotation of how I’m feeling (good, bad, angry, etc.) but rather a gradation of how strongly I’m feeling almost anything at any given moment. 

And as I reflect and build on what I want this newsletter to be (and because I’m going absolutely bonkers as the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes continue), it occurred to me that reflecting on whatever makes me cry in a given week actually serves as a very nice wrap-up and summation of that lil part of my life. 

So, welcome to the first edition of TGIC - Thank God It’s CryDay. 

Here are the things that made me cry this week: 

Going Back Through Proposal Pictures

My sister spent the entire month of August at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and on one of her last days there featured the proposal of one of her friends to another dear friend and it was perfect and fun and the proposal was a surprise but the engagement was not* and I watched the video and I cried and I also am crying right now just thinking about it. Fully welling up in Lucille’s Cafe on 152nd Street in Harlem. 

But after watching the video of two other people get engaged, I got nostalgic and started swiping through my phone looking for pictures of my own proposal almost four years ago. 

My husband (brag), Felipe, made, conservatively 483 proposal plans before November 16, 2019 and all of them were ruined by, in order: me getting cancer, me scheduling surgery to remove the cancer, the central park boats closing early because it got cold in the time between when he decided to propose and when I got cancer, some other place in central park (I forget cause it wasn’t my plan!) closing early because it got cold, and finally, the roof garden at The Met closing early because it got cold. 

He ended up calling an audible and getting out the ring box on the balcony of the Met while a violinist played Bach’s 3rd Symphony**. And it was perfect and silly and the guy was so great and the ring was so shiny and we just had the best time. 

Also, even though I was MILITANTLY against a hired photographer, a nice man named Spencer saw us from across the balcony, figured out what was going on (a very impressive inference since Felipe did not get down on one knee!) and took these wonderful candids that still get me verklempt when I look at them. 

this is me asking if he is “so relieved it’s over?”

this is me looking at the love of my life when I don’t know anyone is watching which I think is pretty awesome

Also, now that I think about it. Big swing from Spencer going up to two 20-somethings at a museum and saying “I hope you just got engaged because if not I just took a lot of pictures of whatever intimate moment you were sharing and I’m really sorry about it.” 

Thank you Spencer! 

I like looking at these pictures of two people who have already been through immigration nightmares and cancer and Felipe getting his dream job and don’t even know that they’re about to brave another family illness, face a global pandemic, get married without their parents present because of said pandemic, move apartments, get another dream job, do a second wedding, and then go on strike together for (at least) four months. They don’t know what they’re getting into, but they do know who they’re getting into it with. I love that 1 month post-op gal who can’t even put her fucking backpack down before she commits her life to her partner. Standing in front of priceless vases. Saying yes to a question that didn’t really need to be asked. 

*don’t even get me started 

** I obviously have no idea what the violinist was playing and/or if Bach has ever written anything called a “third symphony” 

Singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ at SoulCycle

Yes, I have become a SoulCycle bitch. I love having affirmations yelled at me. I love being told I’m making whatever choice is right for my body at any given moment. I love that it’s dark and hot and I sweat a lot. I love that I get a bike in the back and do what I want. I love that I’m still new enough to not be paying full price for classes yet. And I love when a song I know comes on and a woman in better shape than I could ever hope to achieve tells me that I can sing or scream or cry for the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody, a song I learned the words to at the age of 15 when it became clear that everyone at Camp* knew all the words already and it was a prerequisite to enjoying group sing-a-longs after everyone had already covered ‘I’ll Make a Man Out Of You.’ 

this is not me with a SoulCycle bike, it is me with a real bike

The first time I ever took a SoulCycle class was in 2016. I hated it but I DID sing/cry to “Fucking Perfect” by P!nk. 

This week at a Harry Styles vs. Queen themed class that I really only signed up for because it was the most convenient time and closest to my apartment, I cried sweaty tears while singing about how mama killed a man. I cried because of the power of music. I cried because I was sad to be taking a spin class at 4:30 on a Wednesday instead of working. I cried because I was proud of myself for starting to prioritize my physical health again. I cried because the instructor told me I could. 

*I say “camp” here because it was many camps over the course of one summer and I was found wanting in all of them until learned when to at LEAST yell “MAMAAAAAAA” 

Getting a Breakthrough on a New Project 

Sorry, I have become that which I despise. Feel free to boo and hiss as I say the following: 

I can’t say too much right now. (Barf. Hurl. Send me to Jail.)  But I had a breakthrough on something that has been gnawing at me for literal years and I finally cracked it. I didn’t cry at the moment of discovery. I cried when I was relaying the discovery to someone else and realized, yes, indeed, this was the epiphany I’d thought was and the rest of this project was going to be divided into before this realization and after. I had a path to travel now, so I took a little moment to kiss the ground. (Not literally, this is a metaphor. I just mean I cried and took in the moment. I know the more I talk about feeling good about this the madder everyone is that they have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about and I deeply apologize for that.)

sorry for being annoying/secretive here is an unflattering picture of me drinking Spotted Cow in a hotel room as penance

So! That’s what made me cry this week. 

Did anything make you cry this week? 

Do you like this new Friday tradition? 

If you say no, I’ll cry. 

If you say yes..

I’ll also probably cry. 

I love you all. 

Have a great weekend!!! 

TKP