Hi Stacey

Hey, Stacey–

I hope I haven’t lost the plot on this project. I just started writing a post in my other blog, but then I decided to write over here instead. Only six people read that blog anymore. And somehow that’s still too many. I confuse myself, Stacey. I care so deeply about my writing, but I fear being perceived so intensely. It’s become extra clear to me this week. I spoke at the WGA meeting last Wednesday, and it nearly destroyed me. I felt confident enough about what I shared, but my message would have landed much better if I hadn’t been so anxious. I don’t want to be hard on myself about that though. I did it, knees knocking. Cringe, but oh well. Liberation is weirdly cringe, until it’s suddenly cool.

Anyway, I’ve always hated being seen. …Or have I? I was such a ham, from a young age. I buzzed around my dad’s camcorder every chance I got. And there were all the years I acted. But I never saw too far into the future on that dream. My mom reminded me recently, my dream job when I was 8 was to be a cartoon voice. My second grade reasoning: voice acting was sort of theatre but no one would see me and (this was big) I could wear whatever I wanted to work.

If I haven’t lost the plot on this project, I’ve certainly lost it on this post. But maybe this is part of the experiment. Maybe you and I could use some more casual correspondences. Regardless, what I was writing in my other blog. I’ll resume, below:

one reason I may be so radicalized is I possess a very strong naivety, but an equally strong curiosity

so my whole life has been someone telling me a thing, me believing the thing totally, then me questioning the thing, then questioning it more, then finding all the holes in the thing, then feeling betrayed by who told me the thing, then recognizing the system is built on a lie — tough cycle, but do you see?

Like if I didn’t believe things so fully I’d probably see more gray area from the beginning. But since I drink every kind of kool-aid immediately, the only place for me to go is despondence with the broken promises of the thing, because every thing comes with broken promises

Or if I weren’t so curious then I’d just believe whatever I was told and the end. But I am cursed to ask why and dig deeper and get myself into trouble, torturing myself with an overload of knowledge

Not sure if you relate, but I think it would have done me good to think about some of these concepts, when I was a younger gal. Maybe I am trying to tell you it’s okay you’re naive and also okay that you’re curious. Of course, anything I’m telling you I’m probably, actually, attempting to tell myself.

Would take a sign.

xoxo

Alice

PS I love the song “Curious” by Hayley Kiyoko.