Yesterday I posted something that didn’t sit right with me. So, I deleted it. You know when you feel you’re onto a decent idea, you throw some words around, you post it on the Big Blue Mess, and then you’re like “err… wow, you didn’t stick the landing?” No? Well, that was me late last night, hours after I hit “Publish”.

Before I continue, huge apologies to Julie for 1. slogging through that post, 2. sending me a quick video saying she liked it, and 3. going so far as to hit that “Like” button. Sorry, Ju!

I’m going to walk you through my train of thought (choo choo, y’all), the beats I was trying to hit, and if you’re one of the seven people who read it, well… you’ll kind of see where I was going. The rest of you, this is just a new post filled with my typical messiness.

The Beat: Sketch Writing

I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I miss my sketch writing classes. I miss sitting in a room filled with creative people, all funnier than I could hope to be, just throwing around ideas and usually laughing. The rules were simple: you’d bring in your sketch, you’d assign the other writers parts to read, and then you’d finally hear your script – you could hear what did/didn’t work, you’d gauge how the other writers reacted, and you’d scrawl down some initial notes. When it was over, there were a couple of key rules. 1. You don’t apologize. Apologies for your writing killed angels, and you didn’t want to be responsible for a mass angel casualty event. 2. If you had feedback, you weren’t allowed to criticize the work. You could only provide feedback by suggesting “What if…?” What if the main character did x instead of y? What if it took place here instead of there? And as the writer for that piece, you’d take what you thought would make it better and discard the rest. What typically happened with the ‘what ifs’ was that they built on each other. Someone would hear something that would spark an idea, which would in turn spark another idea, and around and around it went. There was this synergy – this intoxicating electricity. You’d take all of that, head home, re-write, and then you’d have this piece that was now so much better – that was usually so much funnier, and while it was yours, it was also everyone’s in that room.

The experience was humbling, filled me with a ton of self-doubt at times (the people I was around were insanely talented), but it pushed me creatively.

I miss that. I miss people throwing out ideas in a safe space and then discovering as a group something better.

The Beat: Fundraising for the Jay Walkers

We’ve been raising funds for AFSP since 2018, taking off one year because I had a meltdown I don’t care to share. In the first few years, we had some inspired incentives largely thanks to my co-captain Anna. She’s hyper-creative, and it was fun to roll up my sleeves to help her out. Sure, I had the idea for my watercolor disaster pieces, which were awful, but the super creative things have always come from her. We also had Jay’s sister, Enid, who we unfortunately lost unexpectedly in 2024. (I really miss her.) She was the biggest supporter of the Jay Walkers, and she once made these amazing crocheted Blue Jays and smiley faces with little feet. Her daughter, Katy, made crocheted paracord keychains in Jay Walker colors. (Jay loved knitting with paracord, so it was a send-up to him.)

Coming up with new hooks that are fun and can lure people in every time is challenging, especially when you’re relying on just one other person. (FYI, Anna has a cool activity in the works – I just have to figure out how to help her execute it. So, follow The Jay Walkers team on Facebook for that announcement.)

The Beat: My Ability to Cope When it’s The 10th Anniversary of Losing Jay & A Plan Falls Apart – Or That Time I Went from Funny Into Emotional Whiplash

And here’s where the tone shifts.

One of the ideas that got floated face-planted hard. I thought it had legs. I tried to start it early so we’d have time, and through no one’s fault except mine, it died.

This is the 10th anniversary of Jay’s death.

We’re not going to make the $10k goal.

This is not to guilt anyone into giving. This is just a fact.

And I’m not ignoring the fact we’ve had an incredible run as a team over the years – heck, we’re not doing too badly now – we’re just not going to make the $10k (and that’s ok). I mean, look at us: our team is recognized as one of the major teams in this area – I’ve been invited to speak to members of Congress in Washington, I’ve given a speech at the Capitol, and been on fundraising Zoom calls to offer up advice. And that’s thanks to everyone’s continued support, including a super supportive major donor who always ensures we land near the top. So, I don’t want anyone who has given to this fundraiser or any other to feel slighted.

But between you, me, the seven people who read what I posted yesterday, my former counselor, God, and whoever else is out there – ultimately, when we fail, it’s because of me, and I will have let Jay down again, because that’s what I do.

Before you jump on the “that’s not true” bandwagon and feel you need to send some support, I appreciate it. I don’t need it. This is mine to work through, and I have a lot of CBT exercises to work through it. But let me just share how my brain works a bit.

I couldn’t save Jay. It didn’t matter what I did or what I said; he still passed away, and that’s what I carry every day beneath my smile. And I understand it was his depression, but there will always be the “What ifs.” The kind you ask yourself outside of a sketch writing class – the heavier ones – the ones you whisper in your head while you move through your day.

I honor his memory and his struggle by never letting people forget him. I honor him by acting as a captain for this team.

Every year we walk, and while I walk with friends, I stand alone. I always wear a polite smile.

It’s the 10th anniversary of his death, and I know I have failed. Or at least that’s how it feels, even if it’s not entirely true.

I wasn’t the leader I should have been.

Arrhythmia: A Collection of Beats & One Meh Post

To tie it all up.

My idea for the post was to hit all of those beats. To talk about the writer’s room, the fundraiser, and put it together in such a way that it was understood I was wishing for a solid group of creative fundraisers and friends to bounce ideas off of. To bring those ideas forward and go through the “that’s good, but what if you did…?” exercise to make the ideas even better.

I wanted to talk about how there wasn’t a lot happening this year, acknowledge the fatigue around fundraising, and explain how one idea cratered, and how it’s not fair to have all the creative parts fall on one person’s shoulders year after year (see fatigue comment). And totally own all of that as the Team Captain/project manager.

Guys, I sometimes just look at the other teams, see the incredible things they’re doing, and I think “we could do that with the right people, and I don’t know how to get the right people in the room to pull it off. I need fundraisers. I need an event planner or two, and creative types all in the same room throwing out the “What ifs” to make it happen.

So, long story long. I wrote that post. I didn’t like it. I’m not sure this is better, but here we are with you getting a glimpse into my thought process.

There, my messy brain. Thank you for sticking around.