Acolyte: Volume Fifteen: The Journals of Meghan McDonnell, #15

By Meghan McDonnell

In Acolyte: Volume Fifteen, Meghan McDonnell lives in Los Angeles, flying home to Seattle frequently to see family and witness her friends' weddings. She takes acting classes and auditions for plays and films while working unfulfilling day jobs. She discovers self-help books and dives into affirmations while seeking philosophical and spiritual understanding and reflects on personal relationships.

With searing candor, McDonnell distills daily life with uncommon humor and honesty. In brilliant, lyrical prose she brings depth and illumination to themes of family, friendship, ambition, love, redemption, and identity to reveal a detailed glimpse of the universal.

Her powerful observations and deeply felt insights about the human condition, struggles and transcendence included, reveal a courageous woman holding up a light in the thick of life as it happens.

Discover your interior self. Surprise yourself by unlocking your life within through yielding to the vulnerability of another voice, one that may sound startling like your own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meghan McDonnell
• Release date: Jul 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393196372

Meghan McDonnell

Meghan McDonnell lives in Walla Walla with her husband and two kitties. When she’s not writing or reading, she spends time outdoors, sits by a fire, solves crossword puzzles, and pretends to garden. She’s been known to listen to a true crime podcast or ten and wants to be a detective. You can learn more about her by reading her books.

Book preview

Acolyte: The Journals of Meghan McDonnell

Volume Fifteen

Meghan McDonnell

Copyright 2020 Meghan K. McDonnell

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Titles by Meghan McDonnell:

Minor: Volume One

Novice: Volume Two

Limbo: Volume Three

Elsewhere: Volume Four

Faithful: Volume Five

Vespers: Volume Six

Onward: Volume Seven

Sojourn: Volume Eight

Ingress: Volume Nine

Witness: Volume Ten

Listless: Volume Eleven

Falter: Volume Twelve

Amateur: Volume Thirteen

Bearings: Volume Fourteen

Note

All names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect identities. I have solely recorded my interpretations and opinions of all events. Certain place names have been changed. Aside from minor edits, all else is as I wrote it at the time. If you’re new to the journals, welcome. If you’re a veteran, thank you for coming back for more. You’ll find links to songs, books, films, and more throughout the text, and a playlist at the end.

Contents

October 2008

November 2008

December 2008

January 2009

February 2009

March 2009

April 2009

May 2009

June 2009

July 2009

August 2009

September 2009

Playlist

Saturday, October 18, 2008

I’m excited to write today. I’m nervous about it. I haven’t written in ages and it’s making me batty. I don’t know how it will spill out. I am obsessed with Andrew Bird’s song "Sovay." It’s been a good week.

Carson and I watched Let the Right One In, a Swedish vampire movie. Carson said, I always feel so at home when I watch Scandinavian movies. Do you think it’s because I’m Norwegian? We also watched Appaloosa, starring Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen. I was going to write with Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen but that makes it sound like we watched the movie with them instead of watching them act in it. I like Ed Harris but that Mortensen does something to me. We also watched a German movie called Requiem. I loved the main character. She reminded me of my old friend Tilda. Tilda has been on my mind.

I made a mix for Cassie and it is good. I’ll send it with Sylvie’s birthday present.

Jamie, my neighbor down the hall, and I finally got together for a glass of wine on Wednesday. We met again last night. Her boyfriend Tom was there with their awesome dachshund Boris. Jamie is great and I liked our talks. She writes for National Geographic Adventure and Men’s Journal. She’s like me – curious, a writer, a reader. We talked about health, yoga, and issues. I told her and Tom that I have been embarrassed of my desire to act but I’m moving away from that. I feel compelled. Jamie said there is something clear and simple in that discovery.

We talked about seasons and the lack thereof in LA. We talked about how quickly we’ve acclimated, to the point where 60 degrees feels chilly and sweater worthy. Jamie and Tom are both from the East Coast and while I talked with them, I realized an idea I’ve had about how my life was supposed to be. I didn’t express it to them the way I wanted, which I’ll do henceforth here in a moment but I talked about how in grade school, teachers really promoted the seasons. We all laughed like I was saying schools push propaganda on children in favor of seasons and seasonal change.

I realized this: From school, from books (especially picture books), I developed a sense that no matter where I lived or what I did for work, I would be somewhere with seasons and I would be living a life connected to and in celebration of them and holidays, etc. For example, I believed that in spring, I would plant a garden and pick flowers and participate in pagan-style May Day celebrations, leaving bouquets on neighbors’ porches. In summer, I would be in the sun constantly, swimming in rivers, making jam, stargazing, and taking moon baths. Fall is most pronounced: I would gather apples and make beautiful, vintage-style Halloween decorations by hand, chop wood, harvest things (not sure what, just things). Winter would be sledding, skiing, candles, and cozy firelit evenings.

I can’t say this all as I mean and want but I want to make a seasons chart and get as detailed as possible because I still want these things. I want to learn to draw and paint so I can write and illustrate a children’s book. The book will be about seasonal desires and joys: robins, snowy lanes, snowberries; the soft lushness of earth and fields and trees; smells and sounds like the smoky smell of an autumn night or the way winter can smell at night sometimes – as though candles have just been blown out all over town.

I feel creatively fertile and open, moved. I feel amorous. I am enjoying sex. I am aware of how much we have to do and our financial predicament but I feel excited and busy and curious and hopeful. I am obsessed with music. I am dying to play music for people. I am self-conscious about my voice (damned cigarettes). I am still trying to make sense of a lot. I have an audition on Wednesday for the Trivial Pursuit gameshow. Jackie gave my name to the casting agent for it so we’ll see.

I worked at a house all day in Los Feliz yesterday with Amanda, Tamara’s only other employee. I was so excited for the day, knowing I’d go to Venice Grind and write while doing laundry. I mailed a letter to Meredith and mailed in my and Carson’s voting ballots.

After wine with Jamie and before the movie with Car, he and I walked to the Promenade and got gifts for John, Kim, LJ, and Noah. I got When You’re Falling, Dive: Lessons in the Art of Living for John, lotion for Kim, and books for the boys. I got Jackie’s sister Mandy body butter from Soaptopia. We’re going to her birthday party tonight in Koreatown to sing karaoke.

I feel open and alive and beautiful and sensuous and innocent.

Oh, the crossword. Smarty pants strikes again. This is the most Meghan move I have pulled in a long time. It’s the part of me that tried to imitate the hairstyles of girls in grade school but couldn’t quite manage because I didn’t pay enough attention to the detail of how they did it. They would pull part of their hair up and over from one side to the other and tie it with a hair tie (I’ve always hated the word scrunchie). I tried to do it but instead of pulling the hair over, I just grabbed a hank of hair on one side of my head and tied it with the hair tie. Don’t worry; it’s documented in my fifth-grade school photo. It’s the part of me that made my Mom think I had learning disabilities and so took me into get checked out by a professional in sixth grade after I wrote a disjointed school paper. It’s the part of me that’s just a little off somehow. It’s a part of me that I love and accept but that also makes me laugh and shake my head at in wonderment. That’s enough of an intro.

So I was working on my first crossword puzzle to send into The New York Times. A Sunday puzzle no less. I had two copies of the grid to send in and a list of clues. I mailed it. I mailed after Carson and I had a conversation about whether it needed to be symmetrical and what that means exactly. I completely overlooked it. I have been doing crosswords for eight years and I didn’t know they were symmetrical? The first rule on the list of specifications is that it has to be symmetrical.

Long story short, I’m reworking it. I’m not being too hard on myself. It’s a feat to complete one. It takes time. I will do it. It’s a labor of love.

Carson is amazing. When I was down and saying I hate myself and stuff, he said, I don’t think you really hate yourself. He’s right. One morning last week, out of the blue, he said, Do you think people like Meredith and Stephanie and other women in your life love you so much because they haven’t always had the best examples of women in their lives in terms of being treated well and in terms of being strong, confident women and they see that in you and you make them feel good about themselves and are an example to them?

Gee, Car, I don’t know. Do you think it’s possible for there to be another man who is as kind and loving toward his wife as you are to me?

That Carson is fantastic.

I reread one of my journals from before and during the London debacle in 2000. It shed light on the Lucas scenario. It gave me a profound sense of my Mom’s love, encouragement, and understanding of me. I’d like to talk to her about it. She wanted me to be happy. I was so lost at that time in my life. I can look back on myself then with a real tenderness though. I was so lost! I would love to go back to that young woman and hug her and encourage her. I would love to go back to that me and kiss my own cheek, soothe myself, cradle myself, stroke my own hair, whisper nice things to twenty-year-old me.

Mom knew I was lost but she admired my search. She knew I was lost but also that I was determined and brave. She knew I wanted to travel, find myself. She knew I loved Lucas. She was so excited for me to go to New York on my way to London. She wanted me to stay there for a while instead of feeling the uneasy need to go to London. She wanted me to forgive Lucas and work it out with him. She wanted me to go experience New York. She wanted me to do what was right for me. It’s crazy how clearly I can see that now. It’s overwhelming. She wanted me to use my courage and my seeking to their best uses. It’s profound.

Love, Meghan

Monday, October 20, 2008

I sent the McDonnells and Sylvie their gifts in the mail today. I took my time looking for a gift for Sylvie. Six years old. I broke my six-year streak of books-only gifts to her and got her nail polish, unicorn bandages, lip balm, clips for her hair, etc. I hope she likes them.

I talked to Cass briefly in the afternoon while I walked up Montana Ave. She cried. She’s having a hard time with Sylvie. She called at 7 and said she wanted to talk but she just needed to go to bed. I told her I understood and hope we can talk soon. I miss her. I feel like something is missing when we don’t talk. I included Cassie’s new mix CD with Sylvie’s gifts. I have been listening to it obsessively.

Saturday night was interesting. We went to K-Town and ate spicy chicken wings before walking to the Orchid for karaoke. No one was singing so Jackie and I kicked it off with "I Want it That Way" by Backstreet Boys. I sang like crazy. They didn’t have a good selection but I made do. It was a strange night. I feel like some of Mandy’s friends are shallow and like she needs them as friends like she needs a sharp stick in the eye.

Shannon and Cory came, the people whose party we went to in Brentwood last winter. I don’t get a good feeling.

I sang "Piano Man by Billy Joel, Heart of Gold by Neil Young, Stuck on You by Lionel Richie, Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler, and a few others. The highlight for me was a stab at Lose Yourself" by Eminem. It was a challenge and I fumbled a few times but it was fun.

Mandy cried at one point during the night. After the party, we stood on a street corner while Jackie yelled at Mitch. She was feeling defensive and protective of Mandy because she’s her sister. I love Jackie and I think she’s a solid citizen. She has her priorities in order. I’m not trying to make Mitch out to be the bad guy because he isn’t but some things Jackie said to him that night hit home for me.

Jackie was upset because Shannon and Cory have an unhealthy relationship and Cory was getting hit on by random girls. To get back at him, Shannon sat on another partygoer’s lap, a dude named Greg. Greg is someone Mandy cares about and wants to have a relationship with. Jackie thought it was beyond reproach for Shannon to flirt with the man (Greg) she knows her friend (Mandy) wants to stick it to Cory. I agree. Mitch was trying to see it from Shannon’s perspective which I still don’t understand. Jackie said, My family is my life and they come first. My sister is like my right arm and if you hurt my right arm, I’m going to kick your ass.

She said to Mitch, "You hurt my body," while they were talking. Jackie has a firm handle on the sacred and the primal of family. She understands decency and is a standup person. It was fodder for conversation between Carson and me on the drive home.

Aside from the last day of Camp Awesome (an ill-fated river trip with our Seattle friends in summer 2005), I don’t think Carson has ever thrown me under the bus or made me check myself in a yucky way. Jackie said to Mitch, Who are you right now? I don’t even recognize you and I can’t believe you’re my husband right now. She said something about how with family, you have to be able to talk about anything, to say anything and feel protected.

Carson and I watched Waitress yesterday. I talked to Eloise. We talked about friends and babies and changes. She said people talk about me and Carson when they get together and the general consensus is that people in Seattle are proud of us for moving down here and making it work for as long as we have.

I wrapped Sylvie’s presents when I got home last night. It was chilly out and so cozy in the apartment. I made Tasha Tudor’s vegetable soup and worked on a quilt and listened to my iPod while Carson watched football. I love the fall.

Last night, I thought about the children’s book I want to write and illustrate. Definitely about seasons. I want to do a brainstorm like we used to do in grade school and figure out which elements to include. It’s going to take time. I have to learn to draw and work with color.

I took Carson to work today and ran errands before coming here (Venice Grind). Emma emailed me and sent a couple pictures of her and her son Jackson. Emma’s mom had breast cancer and got a double mastectomy. I wrote her back. I’d love to call her.

Now that we got a few things taken care of for our move (piano movers, storage containers, etc.), I need to map out the next phase of what we need to do. It bothered me or more just made an impression on me that we went out and spent $80 on drinks at the Orchid and yet I haven’t come up with the money to mail cards to casting agents.

Carson and I had a big talk last night. It ended with him crying. I told him he is only obliged to do what makes him feel good and excited. He’s a love bunny. I hate it when he goes to work at 3 p.m. He’s always cranky at that part of the day.

Love, Meghan

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

I talked to my nephews today. Noah is three now. LJ is almost five. He told me about school. He likes making animal sounds and figuring out animals’ names that start with different letters of the alphabet.

Carson is at Venice Grind with me. He said it brings back memories from when we first got to LA. We’re doing laundry. We got up this morning and went through clothes, books, and kitchen items to get rid of everything we don’t use before we move.

Yesterday was a bummer. I feel empty when I don’t work on anything acting related. Going out on Saturday night made us feel yucky about the people here.

When Carson cried on Sunday night, one of the things he mentioned was loneliness. I understand that. I feel lonely here sometimes too. I miss Cassidy terribly. I have a sense that she is going through a lot emotionally and that she has to stay on top of her life – getting Sylvie to and from school and playdates and birthday parties. She has a fulltime job and she coaches Sylvie’s soccer team and she’s planning a baby shower for her sister Jessica. When we talked briefly on Sunday, she said she didn’t want to talk about how she’s feeling because she’d start crying and she didn’t know what would come out if she opened the emo floodgates. I miss her and I’d like to talk to her but more than that, I feel a sense of wanting to be there for her in a way that I can’t because I’m here and she’s there and it’s hard. It hurts my heart.

I one hundred percent understand that she feels overwhelmed and sad and overwhelmed by her responsibilities and crushed that she’s not getting along with her daughter. It’s a helplessness I don’t understand because I’m not a mother.

I keep thinking about something I wrote in a book I keep by the bed for thoughts, ideas, and things to look up when they come to me before I go to sleep. I had a conviction one night and a sense of familial generations and how you have to consider your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, etc. in the decisions you make in your life. I felt a need to do my life’s work and have some success for their sakes. I felt a need for discipline, work, and service so that I could earn some leisure. I want my life to have solitude and also company; roots in a place and also travel. I need financial acumen.

I started a book by Wendell Berry this morning. I’m sure I’ll have a writing diatribe about it akin to the one I wrote about Desert Solitaire.

I need to find an additional income source because organizing gigs are too far and few between. The crossword is back in working order.

Love, Meghan

Saturday, October 25, 2008

I talked to Sylvie and she recapped her birthday for me. She’s going bowling with her friends today. We’re in San Francisco for Mitch’s birthday. We picked him and Jackie up at 8:30 yesterday morning and drove the six hours up here through dry, desert-y, uninspiring landscape along I-5. Joe and Whitney flew down to meet us and I randomly saw her on the street by the waterfront and she hopped in the car with us to drive to our hotel, the Sheraton at Fisherman’s Wharf. Whitney’s grandfather knows the owner and got us a discount. We checked into the hotel and rendezvoused by the outdoor fire. Joe met us, along with her friend Lindsey and cousin Mark, who are married to each other. We walked to North Beach and had dinner at Steps of Rome. Whitney is pregnant. I knew it before she told us. She’s three months along and seems peaceful and calm. They made the announcement around the fire. After dinner, we walked to a bar and then back to the hotel. Joe came to our room to rally and fell asleep upright in a chair immediately.

We’re waiting for Joe’s sister Candace and her fiancé so we can go to breakfast. I don’t know what’s on the agenda for tonight but everyone is going to the Seahawks game tomorrow and since I don’t do sports, I’ll find a coffee shop and I may go to Alcatraz by myself.

Love, Meghan

Sunday, October 26, 2008

It’s 10 p.m. and we’re driving home. Yesterday, we went to Trader Joe’s and got items for a picnic. We drove to Park Presidio and walked along a short trail and met up with Candace and her fiancé. We drove to the beach and it was gorgeous: Sunny, misty, dreamlike. The waves were enormous. We lay out blankets and had our picnic. We talked and played ultimate Frisbee before retiring to the hotel to relax and shower before drinks by the pool. Lindsey and Mark met us and we went to Mamacita for dinner. Since we’re not as young as we used to be, we were all tired and ready for bed after dinner. Joe came over again and nodded off again.

This morning, we had breakfast at Café Pescatore. Everyone went to the Seahawks/49ers game (Hawks won) while I went to Café Murano in Pacific Heights. See you in LA.

Love, Meghan

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

My mantra lately has been Cast the net wide. I’ve been reading The Drunkard’s Walk: How Randomness Rules Our Lives by Leonard Mlodinow. He lives in South Pasadena. He’s smart and includes interesting ideas, facts, and studies but I don’t think he’s a great writer (he is, after all, a physicist) and I wish he’d gotten a ghost writer because there’s some crummy phrasing.

I’m still obsessed with Andrew Bird and my new favorite by him is "Measuring Cups."

I’ve had a hard time writing and I wonder if there are things that I’m not paying attention to or looking at because I don’t feel like I am living life right now. Rather, I’m caged in by my own self, mind, and perceptions. And hindered by money or its lack. The book has reminded me that I must keep moving and keep trying. I find it funny that I’m always sitting at coffee shops and writing while wondering when I will do what I love. It’s unfair to say I do nothing but I’m hesitant to let myself off the hook. I like Mlodinow’s book because it addresses and taps into my worldview. I have to believe randomness and chance play a part and that sometimes they will be in my favor.

Mlodinow writes In recent years, psychologists have found that the ability to persist in the face of obstacles is at least as important a factor in success as talent. He goes on to write about the ten-year rule which states that it takes at least a decade of hard work, practice, and striving to become highly successful in most endeavors. In interviews, Amy Adams and Mark Ruffalo respectively have said it took ten years to reach a place of solid acting work. So then my question becomes: What are considered hard work, practice, and striving? I understand they increase your chances of success but what do they look like and entail?

Mlodinow writes It might seem daunting to think that effort and chance, as much as talent, are what counts. But I find it encouraging because while our genetic makeup is out of our control, our degree of effort is up to us. And the effects of chance, too, can be controlled to the extent that by committing ourselves to repeated attempts, we can increase our odds of success.

He wrote about a study done where they sent doctors, a housewife, a student, and a painter to different mental hospitals and each described their lives with complete honesty. All but one were diagnosed with schizophrenia and the other one was diagnosed as manic-depressive. They were all treated as though they were crazy. The point is expectations. We see what we expect to see. When one of the patients was writing, a nurse noted that the patient engages in writing behavior. Creepy! I find it fascinating that many of the legitimate patients called out the pseudo-patients, believing they were journalists checking up on the hospitals. I bet the doctors and nurses thought that this sort of intuition on the part of the actual patients was further proof of their pathology/paranoia/psychosis, but they were right! When told that the test subjects weren’t actual patients, the hospitals denied that such a scenario could be possible. They didn’t think they could be duped by normal people posing as patients.

The next passage I’ll write about from the book hit home for me most. Mlodinow quotes Thomas Edison, who said something that I love and that keeps me going. It’s scary because you never know when to throw in the towel on your dreams or ambitions. I hope I never do. Edison said, Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.

I love stories of people who were laughed at, judged harshly, etc. who then went on to yield something great, beautiful, or useful anyway. Mlodinow writes Just as authors should be judged by their writing, and not their book sales, so physicists –