I wrote this list on my 30th birthday a couple months ago and found it while clearing out the random paper piles scattered around my apartment.

1. You really do get what you give.
2. Life might not be fair, but the scales balance themselves out reasonably well if you let them.
3. Purple eyeshadow must be worn very carefully and only for special occasions.
4. Mornings are impossible without good coffee.
5. Generally speaking, words hurt more than sticks and stones.
6. Cell phones are the best worst invention ever.
7. Flowers are always a good idea…unless there are allergies to consider. In those instances, a stuffed animal will do.
8. As hard as it is to say “I love you,” say it, and often. But only to those who’ve earned it.
9. It’s okay to quit life for a day or two.
10. It’s okay — imperative, actually — to ask for help if you want to (or have) quit life for more than a couple days.
11. Living in a place that makes you feel peaceful matters. Creating a warm and inviting home of your own is an important part of loving yourself.
12. Popularity is a sham.
13. Eating your feelings doesn’t make you feel better. Cooking does. The process of creation is positively mood-altering.
14. The worst days are bearable with pets around.
15. Touch. Yes, the verb.
16. You don’t have to like someone to love them. Unfortunately.
17. The hardest part is always taking the first step out the door.
18. Spoil yourself when you can.
19. Exercise helps.
20. You don’t have to love everyone. You don’t have to like everyone. But you should treat everyone with the respect and forgiveness deserved of being human.
21. Sometimes we become irrelevant in the context of others’ lives, regardless of history. It’s one of the hardest things to accept about relationships, but if you can accept it you’ll save yourself a good deal of hurt.
22. There’s nothing as comforting and refreshing as a good night’s sleep.
23. Growing up is hard. It’s up to you to keep the levity of childhood in your life.
24. Organization equals sanity.
25. High heels should be reserved for moments when you need a lift.
26. A good book and a comfy blanket can fix a good portion of bad moods.
27. Art is an amazing and necessary piece of a fulfilling life.
28. Cheese is the best. Especially with a good bottle of wine.
29. If you’re going to work long hours, make sure it’s for a purpose, experience, or group of people you love deeply.
30. You are loved.

A few years ago I took a creative writing course through UCLA Extension that stretched my writing muscles more than most things I’ve done in life. My teacher was a quirky poet who supplemented her course with fantastic works by writers like Chuck Pahlaniuk and Aimee Bender, and she gave us wonderfully intriguing assignments.

I can’t remember the specifics of this assignment below, but I remember we were each given a famous person to write about (living or dead, randomly selected from a pile of names that the entire class contributed) and I believe we were supposed to be traveling with this person. I’m sure there was more to it, and I could be totally wrong about the second part but it fits with my piece so I’m stickin’ to it.

Why am I posting a years-old writing assignment? Because I like it, and I want to prove to myself that I was good before and I can be good again. And I think this is the direction I want to go with my writing, toward the creative.

—-

“I lived a good life!” I screamed. “I mean, I swore like crazy, but I worked hard to take care of my family, I donated to charity, I ate my vegetables…I just don’t understand!”

“When you think about it, really, who do you think actually makes it to heaven? The only people in that place are God and Richard Simmons, and can you really say that living an eternity with Richard Simmons won’t be just as terrible as going to Hell? It’d probably be much, much worse. Seriously. Don’t beat yourself up like this.”

“I can if I want to. How can you be so matter of fact about all this anyway!? We’re DEAD and we’re on our way to Hades. We don’t even know what this Hell place is about; all we know is that we’re supposed to be scared of it. SO, BE SCARED, DAMNIT!”

Cameron Crowe, world-renowned journalist, playwright, and movie director, stared at me from across our half-assed, rickety raft, his oar stopped mid-stroke. I started to writhe inwardly in discomfort after his staring passed the 30-second mark. Oops? Did I say something wrong?

This trip down the Styx was really eating at my little dead soul and I just wanted someone to commiserate with me. Was that such a bad thing?

“What good would it do for me to be scared? Hell, you know, is what it is. I don’t really have the choice to be anywhere else right now so I’m just gonna roll with this if you don’t mind, enjoy the scenery a bit. If I were you, Teresa, I wouldn’t dwell on how I ended up here but on the fact that my life on Earth has come to an end and I’ve just been tossed into a totally new adventure. I know it’s a little too ‘sunshine and puppies’ish for you, but just try it out. Oooo, look, a Hell serpent.”

Maybe Mr. Crowe was right. Maybe I just needed to mull over my future instead of dwelling on the past. Okay, fine.

“What do you think Hell will be like?” I asked over the muffled sloshing noises of our steady paddling.

“I mean, by all accounts, it should be really, really hot and really, really horrible, right? But I’m not sure I believe that’ll be the case,” Mr. Crowe replied.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Hell was contrived. Everything written, everything spoken, all the things we ever learned about Hell were completely contrived. Like the Bible. Like my movies. And how could it not be? No one ever had solid proof of anything pertaining to the varying ideas of ‘the Afterlife’. All they could ever do was speculate.”

“Because we had finite life spans, it was so important for us to create these definite boundaries for our post-death experiences. Those boundaries were so clearly defined that I think most people have a hard time seeing the Afterlife differently, even if they don’t believe in it. If someone told you that Santa Claus was actually a Bengal tiger that wore a fedora, smoked Cuban cigars, and could talk, would you believe it? Would you be able to wrap your mind around that?” he said. “I have to admit, a big part of what’s left of me is awfully curious about our destination, specifically because it was always an unknown. Hell could be so many things that are so far beyond our realm of comprehension. It’s sort of exciting when you think about it.”

I contemplated this idea for quite a while, staring off into the depths of the Styx, letting my paddle drag through the water.

Mr. Crowe was on to something. It was apparent even in this river we were floating on. The water wasn’t ‘water’ as we’d known it during our lives on earth. It was the purest form of water I’d ever seen. If I were a baby and, like all babies, had no clear idea of anything in life I would’ve known instinctively that this substance was water. I would’ve known the word before I could speak. If I were born in the Afterlife, I would’ve had a full lexicon before my mouth could ever form even the most meaningless of sounds—that’s how pure and correct everything was here.

“There’s a distinct possibility that Hell could be the definition of love and beauty,” Mr. Crowe said into the mist. “Look around you. You were just gazing at the river like you’d never seen water before. How wonderful and foreign was that feeling, to be practically re-discovering everything all over again? It’s like we’re toddlers. It’s like our slate has been wiped clean.”

“I was just thinking that,” I mumbled. “I think Hell will be everything we’ve never known. I can’t even explain it.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be able to,” Mr. Crowe said.

Maybe this death thing wasn’t going to be so bad after all. We continued our paddling, so in synch as if we were a single being floating along on this unadulterated, absolute, perfect river.

It’s been so long since I’ve been here. I don’t even visit the theatre, let alone sneak backstage to visit the cast. I do think about this place, though. Quite a bit. Outlets, soapboxes, pulpits, those avenues that let us speak out and up are invaluable to our well-being. In this day and age, when everyone speaks up and out publicly, though, it often feels like maintaining an outlet on the Internet is asking for more judgment and ridicule than is worth the maintenance.

Words that have kept me away include judgment, fear, stigma, reputation. Words that keep me thinking about this blog include balance, perspective, validity, indifference.

I’ve been away so long I’m not sure I know how to do this anymore. But something in me says I should give it another shot. I’ve been judged, I followed the path I thought I wanted and walked away disappointed, I’ve burned bridges, I’ve said all the wrong things — what’s left? This place.

We’ll see.