Hey, just checking in. I know you’ve been going through a lot lately, and I want you to know I’m here for you. So what’s going on? You can word vomit at me.
Oh, wow. Jeesh, that’s so hard. I feel for you. Try to hang in there. But always remember this:
It could be so, so much worse. You could be in a Ferris wheel car with Lin-Manuel Miranda right now. But you’re not— you’re here with me and I will listen for as long as you care to talk.
Lin, on the other hand, would talk over you for the entirety of the ride and namedrop celebrities he met backstage at various performances of Hamtilton. You could try baring your soul like you’re doing for me, but he would shush you while he hummed an idea for a melody into his iPhone Voice Memos app and name it something like “possibleSpiroAgnewMusicalTheme.”
If you managed to get out a sentence of what has been weighing on your mind, Manuel-Miranda would play-punch your shoulder and say “Aww come on, stop crying.” At best, he’d offer you tickets to a Hamilton matinee but with no travel or accommodations to New York City. A hollow gesture, indeed.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Lin would break out into song while maintaining direct eye contact with you the whole time. And worse yet, there are enough insufferable former theater kids out in the world that someone else on the wheel might join in. It wouldn’t be a fun song you know the lyrics to, but some obscure Porgy & Bess deep cut.
Not convinced? Ok, imagine this: what if the Ferris wheel broke down and you got stuck. You’re just sitting there, swaying in the breeze, trying to fight off your fear of heights. But Lin is there, yapping away while gesticulating so intensely that it feels like the cables are going to snap.
Here’s the thing: you’re NOT stuck in a Ferris wheel car with Lin Manuel-Miranda. You’re here with me. Let’s go get some ice cream and talk some more.