I suck at being on time. Ever since the move, my commute has more than doubled. Any normal person would probably then make sure they get in their car an extra twenty minutes to make up for that extra bit. But not this punctuality challenged twenty-something. Well that’s not exactly true. I try. I really do. But no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get my ass in gear. I get up early enough- it’s not the sleep that I need. I’m the oldest young person you’ll ever know crawling her ass into bed at 9:30. I get up and have some breakfast, a cup of coffee and turn on the TV. No, I’m not filling my morning with the News about the ever shit-canned economy and job losses or the serial rapist who’s torturing young women all around Columbus- I don’t like to start my morning with things that make me want to cry. Instead, I turn on some trashy reality TV that makes Boyfriend cringe with disgust but makes me feel a little happier when I can say, “well no matter how bad things get for me, at least I’m not some washed up porn star trying her hand at “Charm School” and the only claim to fame I have is trying to screw a washed up 80’s hair band member who’s double my age” or “Wow Spencer is such an asshole, why is Heidi still with him??!! Why is Audrina still talking to them?? The world would be a better place if that cast of tramps just got hit by a bus.” Actually, now that I think about it I’m not sure if that last one makes me feel happier or sadder about my life that I care… food for thought, I guess? 

Anyway, herein lies the problem. I can’t turn it off. Once I start a show- I can’t get up until it’s over. I slowly wake up to this junk, I drink my coffee, and then ever so slowly I drag my ass to the shower. The rest of my morning is a blur of me running around as fast as I can while simultaneously debating whether I want to go the day without wearing makeup or if I’d rather go to work with wet hair. Oh, I might also mention that I do this with reruns of Saved by the Bell playing in the background. Yes, I’m serious. 

Then, as it always happens- when you’re already slightly behind schedule, everything else decides to fuck with you as much as possible. Your dog decides to piss on the carpet after you’ve already taken her out twice and she just stared at you. You get stuck behind a bus full of special needs kids. That barely running train decides to barrel through. The senior citizen in front of you slams on their brakes at every hint of a yellow light. And then of course- BOOM you’re officially charging to your desk 20 minutes late in heels that are NOT inconspicuous, trying to avoid your boss who is getting coffee in the cafe which is conveniently located 15 feet from your desk, turning on your computer and booting up your email to pretend like you’ve been there all morning and secretly rubbing your sprained ankle that you maintained while tripping up the stairs on your rhinoceros-like stampede into the office. 

Here Mr. Senior VP- let me mark that review sheet for you… the punctuality category… hmm… is there a box for “sucks?” Or maybe I should just cancel my DVR service?. (Today is the day that I wish I had Dingo-like photoshop capabilities because this post would make for a classic pic… maybe she’ll take a break from thesis writing and make one for me! haha!)

So I went to Louisville for the concert with every intention of doing the most horribly embarrassing things to get Idina Menzel’s attention. But in the end- fate was on my side and seemed to cut me a break. Within being in the city for 5 minutes, my friend and I found a cute little Mexican restaurant across the street from the theatre. We had some time to kill and some margaritas sounded pretty damn good. We batted our eyelashes at the nice busboy who pulled a table outside for us to eat on the sidewalk. We get our margaritas and agree that life pretty much couldn’t get much better…. until Idina Menzel herself comes strolling past my table. 

I let out a GASP. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have my pumpkin! I didn’t want to chase her down the street… so she said “Hi” and I managed to stumble out a “hi” back. But then she walked away. I got no picture! I didn’t give her my pumpkin which was still sitting in my car in the parking garage around the corner!!!! DAMNIT! I proceeded to call every member of my family, Boyfriend, friend of family, everyone. I just let my idol walk past me and I didn’t get to actually meet her! So I turn to friend M- “M, you think she’ll come back? Maybe I should go get the pumpkin… you know just in case?” M- “Yes- definitely… just in case.” I take off running. I ran as fast as my 4 inch heels would allow. Luckily the car was close and I got my pumpkin and ran back. I sat down and starting drinking my delicious margarita. Another few minutes passed and I nearly strained my neck craning it looking for another glimpse of the amazing Idina. And then she came back! Walking back to the theatre and I wasn’t about to let this chance pass for a second time. 

I shot out of my seat and scooped up the not small pumpkin and ran to the corner she was about to step off to cross the street.

MsCatalysta- “Idina!!! Hi. I’m a huge fan. Huge. You don’t even know! I’ve been a fan for years!!!” 
Idina Menzel- “Hi. Oh thank you that’s so sweet.”
MsCatalysta- “Umm so I got you a pumpkin. Because it’s Halloween… and it has green on it… you know because you were green and it’s green… here” (Shoves pumpkin into Idina’s hands.)
Idina Menzel- “That’s so nice, thank you! What’s your name?”  
MsCatalysta- “I’m Megan…. and this is my friend, M.” 
Idina Menzel- “So nice to meet you… look I don’t really want to take pictures right now… but ask for my tour manager, Deb, at the end of the concert and we’ll make sure we get some later.”
MsCatalysta- “Seriously? Oh my god, thank you so much! Really… thank you!” 

And so I got a personal invite backstage from Idina, herself. I watched an unbelievable show where she had my pumpkin onstage!!!!! (See picture at right and my pumpkin is on the left). She even thanked me for the pumpkin giving me a shout out while she was onstage. Pretty awesome. I was like a little kid on Christmas. Or maybe Halloween? She was even wearing a cute little outfit for the holiday! She is freaking awesome. She did all her new songs and even a few covers. Then my all time favorite- her cover of “No Day But Today” from RENT and her remix of “Defying Gravity” from WICKED. 

Then I got to go backstage and meet her again. She signed my shirt and a program for some little girls that I know who idolize her as well- no thanks to me, I’m sure. She took pictures with everyone and spent time with each person and was so incredibly nice. 

I didn’t wear the witch hat… and I didn’t burst into song. (Though I was close.) But I did get to meet my idol. A person whose songs have influenced my life so much that it was impossible to convey to her in my whole 5 minutes spent in her presence. This is a person whose songs take me out of my awful days and a person whose songs help me get higher on my best days. It was such an honor to shake her hand, have her know my name, and be in her own words, “the only person to ever chase her down on a street with a pumpkin.” 

All in all… I think I managed to maintain at least a little bit of dignity but more importantly… mission accomplished! Thank you Idina!!!!  

I have BIG plans for this Halloween. Sadly- it’s not handing out candy to the snot nosed children that are going to run home and gorge themselves in front of their video games or watch the 12 year old girls of America flush their morals down the toilet have oodles fun as they run around dressed as slut-tastic tasteful cops, angels, cats, nurses, or naughty school girls. I won’t be perusing the neighborhoods for the pedophiles with their lights out and “NO CANDY” signs that Ohio is forcing them to put up. I’m forgoing the chili cook off and costume contest at work (in which normally I would not only be participating enthusiastically but most likely helping organize as well). I’m not going to pass out in a sugar coma with Boyfriend in mass hoards of chocolate wrappers that didn’t get make it into the hands of the aforementioned slutty 12 year olds…

Oh no… this year I’m meeting my inspiration. This year I’m going to see the person whose songs drag me up from some of my darkest days. I’m driving to Louisville, Kentucky and going to see Idina Menzel. Yes, Idina Menzel. She played the original Elphaba in the Broadway production of Wicked for which she won a Tony. She also received a Tony nomination for her original role Maureen in Rent. (Oh and did I mention she’s married to Taye Diggs? The gorgeous piece of man candy that helped Stella get her groove back? The hot doctor on Private Practice…) Whoops- ok just snapped out of lengthy involved daydream-back on track. I’m an admitted musical nerd so Idina’s extensive and impressive resume is just one of the many things that make me call her my idol. I cried when she announced she was leaving her role as Elphaba before I would get to see it.

I love everything about the theatre. I remember my parents taking me to shows and I would get all dressed up and wait for the curtain to rise and the music to take over. It was the best escape I had- pretend I was somewhere else, someone else. I was practically raised on a stage and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. My parents would come home from somewhere and catch me singing at the top of my lungs to The Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables and Cats to my pretend audience who of course thought my performance was positively inspired. I begged my mother to let me audition for shows. I forced her to drive me to rehearsal after rehearsal- on top of private oboe lessons, gymnastics, and cheerleading practice. Some of my friends and family might say I have a flair for the dramatic but I have no idea what they are talking about… 

I’m so excited. I have my outfit picked out, I have my directions printed, camera charged, and tickets inhand. After the concert, I’m going to stand outside of that stage door like a little kid waiting for Santa mature adult and beg for an autograph and maybe a picture. I bought a pumpkin to give to her because I want her attention like a fat kid wants cake it’s Halloween and I even have a witch hat to wear for more attention to be festive. Sister thinks I’m nuts. Can’t say I blame her. She said, “Try not beg Idina to take you to Broadway and make you a star. Maintain your dignity.” I told her I’d do my best. 

I’ve waited 5 years to see Idina Menzel in person and tomorrow- my favorite holiday- I will finally see her in person! So if I break into a chorus of “Defying Gravity,” start hyperventilating, and stalk Idina’s tour bus to her hotel- could you really blame me? Sorry Sister… dignity is overrated.

What do you do when you feel like you’re forced into competition with someone that you have zero interest in competing with? I’ll tell you what I do- I get pissed and then I realize that it’s completely not worth my energy and then I say fuck it. Why would I want to bother trying to scamper to the cheese that I’m being baited with? I’m being tested on purpose and I don’t like it. 

I do want to prove myself. But I don’t want to feel like I have to fight for it. I feel like there’s always a fight and it’s exhausting. If that’s how you get ahead then I don’t know how much I want it anymore. 

So is it healthy competition or do I just say fuck it? Personally I’m leaning towards the latter as I start to notice a theme…

This is the most honest I’ve ever been with myself.

I am a 23 year old idealist masked as a cynic. I hide behind my sarcastic exterior in hopes to be pleasantly surprised by the many untrustworthy, mean-spirited, nasty environment around me. I do my best to surround myself with people and things that make me happy, but no matter where I go there are always people and places who’s apparent goal in life is to try and be a succubus on all that strive for happiness. I choose to normally hide my idealism because I’m afraid of being disappointed and hurt. 

I believe that people should have respect for others- respect for their beliefs, for their life, and for their choices- so long as it doesn’t hinder people’s quest for truth, love, or freedom.

I give people the benefit of the doubt. 

I believe the best in people. 

I do my best to forgive.

I care entirely too much about what people think.

I have a good poker face and play the role of a sharp-tongued, spit-fire to save face when I’m hurt. 

I cry easily.

I think that love is the greatest feeling you could hope for. 

I always want to learn because you can’t know it all- you can only think you know it all. 

I believe that you should always tell the truth so you never have to remember what you told different people, but sometimes it’s better to not know the truth. 

I try to trust myself but often don’t listen to my own intuition and I regret it.

I get discouraged when there is something I can’t accomplish. 

I want to prove people wrong when they doubt me, but mostly it forces me to give up trying. 

I need to know that love and passion can coexist for a lifetime. 

I look for beauty.

I can be extremely negative but sometimes it’s just so people can show me the silver lining.

I find that giving is better than getting. 

I strive for happiness.

I realize this is lofty. I realize the world is not perfect and nothing will always fall into place. But wouldn’t it be nice if it did? I would love to wake up to a bountiful economy where poverty, homelessness, hunger, and pain were no longer an issue. Sometimes I don’t sleep at night because I can’t stop thinking about how sad some of my friends are. I get sick to my stomach when I think about innocent animals that are abused and mistreated.

I am not a martyr. I hope that what I say isn’t making me sound like I’m trying to be one. Maybe that’s why I hide behind cynicism. Because at least cynicism can be funny. Sarcasm can be an excellent rock to hide behind and to help protect the carefully armored shell you helped create for 20+ years. I have a delicate shell and I often incidentally help others in shattering it. But I am an idealist. I want the best for all people and I want them to define what “best” means to them. But it’s so hard to be honest about my Utopian principles when the world is so fucked up that by just turning on any media source in the morning can cause outrage and tears and ruin your entire day. Maybe this is why we turn to an anti-anxiety medication or anti-depressant- to help us cope with the terrible things we hear and see and experience. As much as I wish everything was sunshine and puppies and rainbows, I do understand that they are not and never will be. But for this night that I sit and type this and possibly subject myself and my thin little shell to the sledgehammer of reality… I don’t care. 

Tonight, this is my Idealist Manifesto.

Go ahead and call me jaded. Go ahead and burst my unrealistic bubble. Or tell me- what do you secretly believe in? What is your ideal that you keep no matter how many times you get knocked down? What do you hope for? 

And don’t worry. Tomorrow I’ll be back to my sarcastic self.