Signs Everywhere?

Y’all. This afternoon, actually all year, I’ve seen the number 444 everywhere. Mainly time. I’m waking up at or around 4:44 not being able to sleep. I’m noticing the clock in the afternoon right at 4:44 (not in an it’s sitting right beside me but I just happen to wander into the kitchen and see the time sort of random). 

I have faith at all moments except when it’s time to have faith. What this means for me is that in the good times, yay faith. But in the rough times, or when my hopes are high, I trade in for stark rationalism. The numbers. No heart. Sometimes hope is a luxury I won’t give myself because sometimes the stakes are too high. In my poet years, I wrote about my penchant for taking flights of fancy. Chased windmills and sought out white whales. It’s fun. But it is also dangerous, for those who are like me and crash back to earth pretty hard. so.I try and become extra rational. Temper expectations. Faith and religion are all fun and games until it’s time to get serious. 

Each month this year has felt like a trial. In addition to the imagery I have in my head of tapdancing like Richard Gere in Chicago, I also have the imagery of a Greek demigod. Or goddess in this case. Completing tasks like Heracles and Pericles. Thinking of six impossible things before breakfast. I thought my first act was getting The Duchess made, but this. The Waltz. It’s a different beast. I spent the majority of last year in a deep depression that it would never get made. Last year was the first time in a long time I felt my depression matched the level I experienced in college before I went to study abroad. For this reason, I’m afraid to hope. Afraid of that low. 

But then, there are little signs. Back to the heroic tasks at hand. I thought The Duchess was my first task, but I knew as soon as it was over that was just the preliminary trials. And then there was last year. And then, boom, out of nowhere I’m a Sundance Fellow, and four incredibly talented queer artists are telling me they admire my work. That it should be out in the world. Suddenly I have a mentor, someone to vent to. Suddenly I have trans cohorts, filmmakers in arms who are in the trenches as well. And suddenly I’m hopeful again. Fearfully hopeful. 

Going into 2022, I was hopeful that we would be asked to apply to the program. And then the staged reading at Rolecall. February was spent crowdfunding. March was the pre-application. April has been the actual application. I have no idea what May or the rest of this year has in store, and i’m both terrified and intrigued. I’m cautiously hopeful. I still wake up in the middle of the night, fearful that Spencer or Nikki or Skye will pull out, or worse something will happen to them. I know I should envision the story without them but I can’t. And raising $1.5MM isn’t easy. And somehow I’m earning a doctorate of philosophy in arts and an MBA simultaneously in the sheer hard knocks education I’m receiving.

Side note: my brain and I made a pact that, after trying to advance to a different track in high school, and that year I doubled up on math to get ahead, but then senior year ended up in Calculus like I had set my mind to only to find out after the test the first week of class that this shit wasn’t for me. Went to my mom and told her to get me out of there and into AP Statistics. Made a 4. But my brain and I were in agreement, no more math. It wasn’t needed for college, so I have not mathed since 2003. No ragrets. But this year? THERE IS SO MUCH MATH!!! I HATE IT. 

I’m trying to learn these concepts and study whatever the fuck financing is and my head hurts and I’m overwhelmed but … somehow I’m making a business plan. There’s a marketing plan. There will be other shit involved and it’s so freaking terrifying some mornings I hyperventilate and then cry and/or throw up. But somehow the people around me, my yellow brick road crew, keep me motivated. 

I keep seeing 444 everywhere. And in angel numbers, it means

“Angel number 444 comes to you as a sign that your prayers have been heard and the Universe encourages you to stay focused to finish the job.” 

So. I walk by a faith I don’t believe or trust in fully. If, by some miracle, we’re at pictures up come March 2023, I will preach the good gospel of the universe till my dying breath. But I’m also not gonna hold my breath. Because that would be a long time to hold one’s breath.