Holes

Whenever I have some kind of physical issue I just wish I didn't have whatever body part is causing the ruckus. Like when my nose stuffs up I have all these daydreams about just popping it off like a Mr. Potato Head until it chills out and stops making my life miserable.

But, now, what should I fantasize about? The pain all over my face was caused by the removal of the problem. Day dream about shoving the four teeth back in?

Things...are not so good right now. So, I'll make a list to ease my troubled nerves.

New Year's Resolutions
-drink less coffee
-stop specifying people's age, race, sex, sexuality, or culture unless it specifically correlates to the point of discussion (for example I want to start saying, "the woman next to me on the airplane" instead of "the old black woman next to me on the airplane")

My Brush with Insanity (Post-Surgery Blues)

waiting for my last crepe in Paris 2009

When I found out I was being hooked up to an IV pre-surgery I laughed and laughed. The anxiety of an IV just hit me right in the funny bone. A month later (yesterday) I found myself giggling like mad again as I changed into my hospital gown. Then things were getting black and I could hear me laughing before feeling the sudden needle prick, and I burst into tears.

Next thing I know I'm somewhere dark. I can't see anything. My cheeks hurt and are very cold. Eggs are filling my mouth.

This was actually a few hours after the surgery. I don't remember waking up or leaving the office or a darn thing even though apparently I was talking to my dad and sister and fully able to walk to the car myself. I apparently demanded to watch Third Rock from the Sun and accepted to eat some egg. But, as I said previously, all I was conscious of is someone cramming egg into my mouth.

An hour or so later I woke up to Back to the Future. From that point on I thought I was my old self again--even with the gauze in. Uh. No. I actually didn't regain non-crazy form until around 10 PM.

Things that Happened (when I thought I was fine but actually I was still on the bus to wacko-land):

-whined to no end about the gauze in my mouth but also demanded my sister take pictures
-in a panic asked, "why is my lip...so close to my lip?"
-tried to drink some salt water, but it dribbled out onto my crotch, so when my sister returned I announced sadly, "I peed."
-drooled all over
-had at least three conversations about the same four topics with absolutely no recollection of it: wanting to watch Sex and the City DVDs and being heartbroken when Pookie said she didn't bring them, asking about why the ice packs on my face were so cold, my astonishment of how drugged I must have been to not remember leaving the surgery, and what I was going to do about my broken computer
-speaking of, I USED my computer several times yesterday because every time I woke up I thought I was fine when really I was still cracked out--many IM conversations I do not remember and I'm pretty sure I submitted poetry to a few journals
-went to the bathroom and was so happy I decided to live there, had a laughing attack about my new life in the bathroom with my sister outside the door worrying I was crying
-when I did decide not to live in the bathroom I came out to the couch and sobbed yelling, "It's not even funny! It's from here (pointing to my gut) not from here (pointing to my head)!"

I am never doing hard drugs.

Doin' What You Gotta Do

"I make more money than Calvin...Coolidge...put together!" 2006 Linda, Cosmo, and Don in Singin' in the Rain

Remember when I was blond? Woof city. It was just about four years ago exactly that the awful dye job occurred. Oh, to suffer for art. To jank every healthy chemical out of your hair and leave yourself looking awful for two more years (even after three attempts at bringing the brown back).

I mean just look at that nasty top-dark bottom-gold color I'm trying to rock in this photo of Wall and I New Years 2007.


Really, I didn't care that much. Clearly. I don't have much shame when doing things I need to do. On the Survivor application (post-grad plans here I come!) it asks what you won't do for a milli. I was totally stumped.

Trelly: Wait...but would you...
Me: Yes.
Trelly: Kill someone?
Me: Well...maybe. Oh. Okay. No.
Trelly: So no people or animals?
Me: Animals? No. I'd kill animals.
Wizzy: Why are you so sick?

Sisters on a Hotel Bed

attempts to wake Pookie Spring 2008

Last night Pookie and I stayed too late in the snowy city and ended up spending the night. Pookie bought us some cheap jammies. We passed out sharing a tiny blanket. Ah...nothing like waking up and going to breakfast in the clothes from last night. Wiping your teeth with a wash cloth. As she was slumped in bed whapping away at her beeping cell phone I started to sing "Rise and Shine" and she started to whap at me instead. This is so familiar. The familiarity is even familiar. Waking up and bugging each other like we did on so many vacations. Me criticizing her driving. Going to the movies. Everything we do together is like things before, and that is anything but boring.

What do you do if you're an only child? I guess you get married.

1,2, Punch!

after I thought I ate horse at rotating sushi 2008

I want to be back in my house with Grinz and Yatchface. New addition: Muff.

Secondly, I have gotten to the kick-boxing regiment of my work-out DVDs, and it is too much fun. I really feel like I could win in some fights now. That's because when I watch the trainer I feel like I look like her. This is most probably very untrue. Still, I'm totally diggin' it. 1,2, PUNCH! 1,2, KICK! Yah!

Yes Yes Injustice

Shoot Dang did I have a good trip down south! Saw horses and George W. outside a church. So the thing about Trelly is her dad owns like a hundred horses that they breed for racing. Hella famous horses. We bopped around his ranch and saw them all. It was kinda cool, but I'm not into horses. Whatever, you know.

Meanwhile, there's probably some kid (or adult) who knows about all these horses--like the ones that win things. So unfair. I was right with them sort of waiting around to leave when horse-lovers would be wishing on a star for that experience.

Like musicians' familys that have always heard their cousin bragging and pounding away at the piano. They don't care. Meanwhile, a true fan would just keel over at such a chance. Wouldn't it be nice if the world could just rubix-cube itself to align everyone with their lofty hobbies and dreams?

Literally

Quite literally, I have been waiting years to have a Falling Star '99 reunion outside of camp. Deuces, yatches.


Wizzy and I, 4th of July, 2007

Five Fictional Boyfriends

5. Steven Gold--Punchline

Hilarious and rather driven. Cute but not so hung up on that type of thing--which is rather perfect for me. Obvious reasons. Oh, fine, I may or may not have a pair of purple cut-off sweatpants that I consider an important part of my wardrobe. Anyway, Steven is smart enough to be in med school but goofy enough to be a comic instead. He's always up for an adventure and seems to share many of my life values.

...but perhaps I could be with someone a bit sunnier. That is a gargantuan understatement. He is depressed beyond repair. Balls.

4. Harry (Charlotte's Guy)--Sex and the City

Lawyer = Big money
Jewish = Funny New Yorky sense of humor
Doesn't Care About What People Think = Helpful tool for those of us prone to having soy sauce on our elbows and tripping while holding a latte.
Believes in THE POWER of Love = I screamed a kicked my feet when they got engaged.

...but there are his bald and angry tendancies especially when it comes to sports on TV

3. Nathan Scott-- One Tree Hill

Bad-boy gone good basketball star, hopeless romantic for his lady, silly and lovely dad, has oodles of forgiveness.

...but he also has oodles of cheesy lines, and while they work with him and Hales...there's no way I'd dig that crap.

2. Jack Dawson--Titanic

As a girlfriend of mine once pointed out, "He's perfect. He's fun, cute, saves your life, dances, makes you into a timeless portrait, and inspires you. Then, he dies before things can get too serious."

...but he does take a lot of risks (gambling his way on the boat?) and I like to be a bit more grounded.

1. Cliff Pantone--Bring It On

Just look at him: a dark and dreamy yet very real version of that high school grunge guy you liked except much more self-confident and hygenic than that guy could ever be. He supports Torrence and his cool sis at every football game AND cheer tournament. He also biffs on bros in class and writes Tor a wild and dancey pop punk ballad after her biggest humiliation.

...but he does need Tor to make the first move once their crush is mutual. I'm not saying a guy has to always spark the flame, but it's a preference of mine. He also does have that whole storming-off-while-Tor-is-explaining-her-douche-boyfriend bit.

Happy is what happens when all your dreams come true. Isn't it?

HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPO

Had this problem ever since high school--a side-effect of my PMS is getting these super intense blasts of hunger for about thirty second intervals throughout the day. It's so deceptive.

It'll be a time when I might usually get hungry--but a normal hunger. Like a little pangbop of "mmm I could go for some noodles", but this special-uterus-driven hunger is anything normal multiplied by eighty. Like Sunday when it was an hour before our brunch reservations and suddenly I felt like I absolutely needed to go to the kitchen and eat the three pies my dad had just bought at the farmer's market Saturday morning. I didn't even think the apricot one would taste good. I just had no choice! But then, a few minutes passed and I felt fine. Driving from Chicago to a dinner date, I nearly leaped out the window of Pookie's car in desperation at a Dairy Queen before I realized it was a menstruation illusion. Great.


Phyl and I, Wonderful Town cast party, Spring 2009

Last spring Phyl had just finished telling me about how she has the same thing happen to her when suddenly with much urgency she told me she needed to eat several of my dark chocolate Easter eggs before dinner. Then the crazywave passed, her face softened, and she went back to her math homework.

No Need Nostalgia

Tojimbo, Japan October 2008

Basically, I get nostalgic for like every single moment of my life once enough time passes. But, usually, things are pretty regular feeling. Or pretty stressy feeling. Or suck feeling. And then there are those golden moments when you are completely aware of the nostalgia you will once feel. And THEN, if you're REALLY lucky, there are golden moments that exist so beautifully you would only wish you could stay there forever if you could focus on anything else besides the glory of the present itself. This photo was one of THOSE moments.

Alice the Artiste in 1996

Found my old sketchbook.

"Toby, being a Mexican dog, ignored God's calls."

No doubt inspired by The Far Side books I loved, I made this comic that infers that God only speaks English.

Guess the Bible story.

This is one of several pictures depicting scenes from the film Sunset Boulevard. I question my parents' discretion on my media freedoms as an eight-year-old.

Speaks for itself...

I actually think this is pretty good, no?

This Has a Good Punchline (So Hang On)

When Pookie and I were in London last spring we decided while tromping around the city we would spontaneously attend the theatre. We checked for cheap tickets in the square and hemmed and hawed before I saw MOUSETRAP gloriously lit on the electronic screen. I squealed! MOUSETRAP! WE HAVE TO GO! She bit her lip and furrowed her brow, "Alice, that's the one show that doesn't get discounted. Full price tickets?" The emotional blow must have registered immediately as she agreed to appease me. When I was in third grade my dad told me about when he saw Mousetrap in his army days and how it was spectacular and how a real mouse ran across the stage and at the end they make the audience promise not to say whodunnit! We hoofed to the box office and purchased two tickets for the evening. I was beside myself with glee. We took a relaxing stroll for sandwiches and window shopping when we ran into a small bakery that looked like a rainbow threw up inside. It was called Candy Cakes, and the window displayed all sorts of ridiculous Dr. Seussical baked-goods. I dragged a drooling Pookie away. There was a long line, and I would scream if we were one minute late to the show. I could see her attempting to calculate how much of the play she would miss in exchange for one electric blue cupcake. She huffed and rushed along with me.

Pookie was late getting to the concert last week. Traffic hit her harder than expected, and she was still on the road during Motion City Soundtrack. I had her ticket, and there was no reentry to the venue. There was no cell reception in the ballroom, so I was in this limbo of just standing right at the entrance waiting for my sister to show up, so I could hand her the ticket. As Motion City played on I got increasingly antsy. What if Andrew came on, and she still wasn't here? Oh God...would I just make her wait outside in the cold until his set was over? It wouldn't be more than forty minutes. But she's my sister. But, it's Andrew. And then I heard her yelling at me with an angry ticket taker waiting. I passed it into her hand and we ran to Mia with only a few minutes to spare. Afterwards I pondered what I would have done if given such an ultimatum.

Pookie: Thinking of you choosing between me and Andrew makes me think of me choosing between Mousetrap and Crazy Cakes.
Alice: Was it called Crazy Cakes?
Pookie: Candy Cakes. I was the crazy cake.

Cell Phone Ringtones I Have Had

Inspector Gadget Theme Song - (one day in 2002)
Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson (general, 2002-2003 when my phone was stolen in the ghettofab locker bay of ABS swimming pool)
I Woke Up in a Car - SoCo (general, 2006-2007)
Slide - Goo Goo Dolls (for KHo, 2006-2009)
The Sound of Settling - Death Cab (Pookie, 2006-2009)
Finale B - RENT (Vince, Hunny, Bradley, George, 2006-2009)
Punk Rock Princess - SoCo (Kay, 2007-2009)
Holiday From Real - Jack's Mannequin (general, 2007-2009)
Don't Stop Believing - Journey (Nizz, 2007-2009)
All the Single Ladies - Beyonce (general, 2009 after my old phone broke erasing all the collected ringtones)
Spinning - Jack's Mannequin (general, 2009 once I got a new phone)

Yeah, I don't know what I was trying to prove besides how weird I am. The things I will do when I am full from a dessert tasting event (is exactly how it sounds, was exactly how you would imagine: delicious) and waiting for SNL to start.


the last time Pookie, Mia, and I saw a concert together: Jack's 8.08
I like how this is a bad picture of all of us.

Explode

There is just way too much going on right now.
Isn't that the most frustrating? When you're looking at your life and feeling like "no, no, that's too much" but you don't even know what it is? It is getting bogged down by a book or your laptop cord that burned a hole through itself or finding your headphones! Where are they?!

Why are you freaking out?

Oh? Maybe you should go to bed and get out more tomorrow. Oh. Okay. Maybe that.

Critical

The Movies I Have Seen Since Break Began:

Bride Wars (a very surprising B)
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (a well-earned A+)
Star Trek (a solid B)
The Curse of the Jade Scorpion (scootin' by with an A-)
Fantastic Mr. Fox (diggin' an A-)
Away We Go (A)
Paranormal Activity (seen it before, that was an A, this time when my dad and I were alone in the theatre and he fell asleep...this time is probably a D)

Love Me, Love Me, Say That You Love Me

It's rare that I like a love stories. Romantic films just don't cut it for me. My favorites aren't so sweet, and if I do enjoy a romantic comedy once in a while, it's the comedy not the romantic. Largely, I think this is because I find most all of it unbelievable.

When I was in 8th grade I loved loved loved Moulin Rouge. I remember being quite smitten with the love in that, but when I saw it a few years later, I had the same reaction I almost always do with lovey films: prove it. Prove to me those two people are in love. Then, I'll think about buying it. But, usually, perfect example with Moulin Rouge, we aren't given or shown much explanation of how the love actually happened--just what kind of love it is once it is there.

The Notebook is trash. But, even if it were actually well-scripted, I would still hate it because there is NO basis for Noah to simply decide on a ferris wheel he loves that pretty girl.

Well, tonight I think I got it! Movies don't have to time to explain everything. It is assumed you get what love is and how it happens and how you can prove it to YOU. Then you take that and apply it to the characters. And you love the love if you can imagine YOUR love fitting in those circumstances. It's like geometric proofs. Once you prove a theorem, you really don't need to show that proof for every continuing theorem. You can just know that AB is transitively equal to BC and get on with it. I watched Away We Go with Mia. I got on with it. I LOVED it. It was totally guilty of the non-explanation crime, but I was too lazy to care. What do you know? It was spectacular to me.

Don't worry. I'll still never like The Notebook.

Gettin' It Out

Your touch is a heartbreaker.

I just have to write something somewhere about Andrew McMahon or I'll explode. I can't write it to myself because everything gets just too creepy...jotting notes in my diary about art and Andrew blah blah blah. No, let me just barf some ideas out right here and right now before I clunk into a heavy heavy sleep that is WELL deserved. Holy Toledo, Weezer was a work-out. I was sweating buckets. BUCKETS. Irrelevant.

Important Ideas:

-I like to have a discourse with things and people and ideas. Not everyone does, but it's also not unique. It kills me to not have a discourse about Andrew's music with him maybe because I like it so much (God knows why--objectively, honestly, I know it's trashy) so much of it doesn't make any sense and I. Want. Answers. But, he's not famous enough that I can find answers...making me feel like I need to investigate them personally. Or, I just want my appreciation to be noticed. Either way, discourse denied.
-Seeing him as an opener tonight was so sad! Hardly anyone cared, and he couldn't be interesting or charming at all. He played a snappy set of seven songs--the most well-known of his bunch, and high-tailed it off for the much less sharp but much more loved guys of Weezer to take over.
-How much as an artist are you indebted to fans? What is the proper way to show respect (if any)? How would I like to in my life in any forms of art?

Mother of pearl, I have got to go to bed.

My love is a life-taker.

Goals

head counselors of Kohnine, swiped from the camp website

Setting goals and working towards them--not only fulfilling but always worth it. Everyone has heard the story of Lincoln and how he tried so hard to become a congressman. He lost, but his debates made him 1) a more pointed speaker 2) a name trusted enough to be president. You may not get what you want from persistence, but you will always be rewarded. I believe that.

Yesterday, Pookie and I tried my new work-out DVD. Last year it was a minute walk from Char's front door to the Y. The new house is quite a few blocks away from my gym. I have a feeling I frequently won't want to trek the cold. DVD is a good alternative. Holy Cow, does my butt hurt today. I wanted to run a couple miles along the canal this evening, but out on the the trail I doubted my goal. So not worth it, I thought. But, I like to stick to my guns. I switched to a power-walk and pushed through to the two mile mark. I was rewarded: someone was burning a big pile of leaves out there. My favorite smell. I was whisked to camp immediately. Just what I needed. So glad I stayed on the path.

Strive for what you believe in. Set goals and you can achieve 'em.

Park Lighting

For the past four years the three of us have gone out to Main Street and watched the parade of high school pom girls, church floats, fire engines, and bittys collecting money and canned food for the hungry. Soon, Washington Square Park gets mobbed with the townsfolk and the mayor counts down for all the trees to be illuminated with snowflake lights.

Fammy&Hammy

Brought Blanche into the back on my dad's house where there was a little sign hanging that said in pencil "Welcom Blanch" and left her to her own devices. We got a pizza and watched Bride Wars--something perfect for my schooled-out brain. At a pause Char announces, "Is that...Blanche running?" Yeah, yeah it is. Her wheel. "It sounds like...coffee." He was right. It did sound like coffee bubbling to an end.

Later we started watching Star Trek and he fell asleep. Periodically, he would pretend to be invested in the movie...nodding and blinking his eyes open. Suddenly he sat up and said over the film, "Coffee's ready!" and dropped back into a snooze.

Leavin'

(not Jesse McCarthy)

Did Today
-lazed in bed
-watched an episode of Sex and the City
-showered
-made fun of Care Bears (this took a significant amount of time)
-errands with Pookie including holiday lattes
-eating avocado sandwiches over a second Sex episode

Left To Do
-pack car
-drive to Char's house
-call Mia
-relax infinitely

I Just Love
-when school ends

Career Conference

Sounds much stuffier than it has been. The guy doing the program is fantastic and inspiring. I thought a lot of the information would get trashed on me not interested in working in corporate America. But, what do you know, I'm diggin' it. Glad it will be over soon though. Need to get off campus.

For a conference involved in careers, I haven't had any bad knee-jerk reactions to most of the material. There's a bit about pushy networking--but it's manageable and not cut-throat or anything. A bit about finding your way to the top--but understandable. Then today, twenty minutes left of the program, I felt my blood boiling with these words: "I want all of you to always negotiate."

I simply refuse to say always. Example: working at Kohahna. I make zippo. That's not why I work there. Why on earth would I try to negotiate a higher salary for myself? I would never dream of taking more money from camp. If they gave me a raise I wouldn't want it. I would feel awful. So, I did something I really hate which is asking questions with the brim of my heat showing. Our speaker conceded some points, made some good arguments...Overall, I'm glad I asked and glad he is trying to encourage me to negotiate even if I never think I'll use it.

It is these times I know I'm maybe being an irrational liberally-charged college doe-eyed dreamer, but I really feel okay about that.

Bradley V. DK

Bradley, Muff, and I played some Mario Party last night after dinner to get our minds off of packing. We're all staying for the Career Conference and kind of bored, kind of annoyed with hanging around.

the man himself, eating a Big Mac in preparation for our big night at the casino with Nac
Bradley was Luigi, I was Daisy, Muff was Yoshi, and the computer was DK. We played this one "Toadstool Titan" where you basically hit blocks until a mushroom comes out and and whoever gets it runs around crushing people. Muff and I got crushed by DK immediately. Bradley sang his defenses to the tune of the Mario temporary music--"don't crush me-you big fat ape-don't touch me-I'll run away now." This was hilarious to me. Then, as he ran away, DK just kept getting the mushrooms leading to him screaming things like, "Oh I'm definitely getting this one--WHAT THE SH--HELL, NO!" I probably can't do it justice in words, but I laughed the hardest I had all day. Perhaps week.

Recovery

Bo and I Thanksgiving 2007

In lieu of a final, Fiction II said goodbye with a trip to Simply Thai tonight. It was truly a blessed course. Six tight-knit writers. One incredible professor. My fiction is no good, but the experience of the course was important to me in more ways than craft perfection. Anyway, the date and time was set. 6 PM Friday meet outside the school of government. I ran around all day working on my projects, mailing this, packing that, making this meeting, saying goodbyes--6 PM relax time.

But, oh, no, 5 PM I'm walking back to my room and OH. OUCH. GOD. OW!

Cramps dug themselves into me. Slow at first. Like being punched slow and steady, but I could feel the real blows coming soon. I hastened to my bed. I closed the door. Turned out the lights. I stretched. I read spiritual literature. I ate dark chocolate walnuts. Iron! Get into my body! I whimpered. No, no, no. I don't want to miss dinner! I rolled up. No, no, no. But then, I said NO. NO I will not miss it. NO. And laid my body straight and sat still. And the sharp shooting pains vanished at 20 'til 6. I listened to "It Won't Be Long Now". I hopped up. I put on my boots. I fixed my hair. I washed my face. I met the group--beaming with recovery.

Another Crazy Man

Last night saw In the Heights downtown with Pookie. We enjoyed it. It's not in my top five or anything, but it was obviously good. Tony winner and all. It's definitely a fun show. Maracas and Latin salsa. Much dancing. Much rapping. Fun is the word.

So, there was this guy a row to the right of us who insisted on clapping along to all the poppy songs. Okay, fine. But he also made very loud commentary when things looked spectacular. A sweet light cue and he would shout "Nice!" Then...in particularly sassy dances he would "woo!" and get sort of rambunctious. People around us were all very aware. Its an older stuffier crowd at a theatre on a Wednesday night in November. People weren't quite put out, but just surprised. I overheard a woman behind me sarcastically ask her neighbor, "Think he wrote it?" Maybe the show is meant to be viewed like that--very engaged and responsive. But, clearly, no one else was joining the goofy guy. So, he was not as much supporting the show as drawing away from it. As the big "Hooray We're Latino" number started this guy whipped out his own Mexican Flag and waved it righteously. This guy was also very white. Very non-Latino. I'm not saying he can't love the culture. I'm just saying he wasn't helping people appreciate his craze.

With art I sort of think you should really respond however you honestly feel. Sure, during Summer Brave when I was sobbing and begging Howard to marry, it was hard to hear laughter from the audience members who didn't see just how pathetic I was. But, they thought it was funny. So, whatever. They laughed. But...it does sort of ruin the moment for other audience members. Or does it? Does it just make it more complex?

Nothing

Me pre-nap in my London bedroom. March 2008.

When there's only one week of school left in the quarter everything every single thing seems more appealing than finishing the little bits. The powerpoint, the blue crab paper, the production write-up, the last edits on the last story. Have all these daydreams of sitting alone in a room with a good book and a canteen and a script (see photo). It's nothing new. But, I've always figured it was a school thing. I'm just starting to worry...is this how its going to be for the rest of my life? I guess if I go into education eventually. Next year when I'm slugging around between opportunities I certainly won't have these daydreams. That dream will be my life. I wonder how the reverse will feel. A longing to be in a room with a million things and people.

The Crazy Man I Met

Went to the MMLA English Conference at Union Station yesterday.

After Muff and I went to an discussion led by the "Harold Pinter Society" on his monologues and Kay and I saw a panel on class structure of our society based on prime time soaps like Gossip Girl and The OC, I had a bagel. After, I got drowsy, put my head on the Einstein Bros table, and fell asleep for the first half of he next session.

I woke up with bitter taste in my mouth not wanting to bust into anything so late. I found an ice cream place and bought a smoothie. I sat down in the food court determined to finish Ragtime. I've been reading it for six years off and on. A man with grey hair, straight smile, and good build came right up to me, "Hey, that a milkshake?" he asked. I said no. It's a smoothie. He asked where I got it. I pointed. He seemed like the cheery young grandfather or even older father looking around for a place to treat his kids. I didn't pay attention to who he went back to. I read. About eight minutes later he was back. He stood very close to me. "So is a milkshake or smoothie better?" He repeated himself three times until I took my ear bud out. "It depends?" I said. Now I knew he was alone. "And where did you get it? God, your face is beautiful in the light. Where did you get it?" I pointed again. "You're not telling me a name! He picked up my smoothie and looked for a name. I don't know I said. I think you should be able to find it. It's right there. There's ice cream. "Okay. Okay. I'm not going to talk to you again. Okay. You're beautiful. How much was it? Okay." He walked away. Good.

Ten minutes went by and he came over, "I know I said I wouldn't talk to you. I'm leaving. Enjoy your milkshake." he walked outside the building this time. Done.

Ten minutes more and he comes back inside. Pulls up a seat right next to me, "I was confused before. But I know what I'm doing. Not on medication. I'm nice. I'm nice. You are beautiful. I want you to call me--" I interrupted, "I'm not from here--" "I don't care where you're from. Call me just as friends. I can't even do anything else. I really can't." He looked at my book, "and I hate to read. I hate it. I can't" and he fiddled in his wallet and pulled out a business card with just his name, number, and address. But the number was crossed out with a new one there. He asked for my name. I didn't lie. "Okay you're gunna call me now?" I nodded. He left. Fifteen minutes later he walked by and called out, "hey, hey, I know your name I'm gonna get a call from you! Friends!"

I finished the book, smoothie, and made my way to the black sexuality panel. The small group met and got Pho in the city.

All Good Things

Kyoto Fall 2008

Listening: The Weepies
Reading: Kimothy's fiction story entitled "Custody" for workshop tomorrow
Thinking About: Crossroads (in life, not Britney's 2002 box-office smash)
Planning: House Meeting in half an hour
Improving: My Empathy
Wearing: Gym Shorts, Maddie's 8th Grade V-Ball Tee, Junior High Graduation Long Sleeve, Sneakers, Watch, Orange Andrew Bracelet, Pearls, Ankle Socks, Yellow Undies with a Hole, White Sports Bra
Nostalgicly Dreaming On: The view in the photo above
Wanting: Water
Getting: Water

People Cycles

First time I saw Laz he was looking goofy in a Simpsons t-shirt. Bopping around in the glassed-in picnic table hallway of the lunch area at PWest HS. The next time I noticed his existence was in a one-act play he was spontaneously part of at the end of the year. It was Albee's Zoo Story abridged. Suddenly it was fall and he was my brother in Menagerie. He joined Speech too. I considered him a dear dear friend. We had Directing/ Acting II together. He asked me to prom. He was a better date than I could have conjured out of fantasy.

Throughout college interactions have been sparse. One summer we took turns standing each other up. We write sporadic letters with cds attatched. We exchange the occasional wit via Facebook. Friday night after a dynamite show I found Laz in the lobby with my sister. It was a hearty surprise. I literally jumped up and down.



Excuse my post-show hair. Trampy, I know. But I was much too busy with Lazzy for showers.

I wonder why it is that when something from our past arrives--barely an anachronism--we are so elated we could simply die. Or excitedly eat two bowls of ice cream and a slice of cookie cake. One or the other I suppose.

Some Are Brave

Bradley and me--our last night as Howard and Rosemary

Summer Brave is over, and I feel so grateful I could share such a wonderful experience with the perfect cast. I miss it/them already. I loved the entire process more than I can express. I really couldn't begin to explain what this play meant to me. I'm not going to try.



Muff, me, and Jodes right before my marriage scene

ROSEMARY: Well I hear the play isn't any good.
IRMA: Well there aren't any good plays anymore!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!

My sister said something so novel to me when I saw Phantom of the Opera for the second time. I was a freshman in high school. It was my birthday gift from my parents. We all went downtown. I was excited--the last time I had seen it I was five. Phantom was my music of choice from toddlerhood to the beginning of middle school. That's when it switched over the Britney. Anyway.

At intermission the show wasn't so great. My sister turned and said, "well, it's a Sunday matinee." Although I had been doing theatre for years already, and that year marked the first big production I was in (Les Mis), this was a new concept. Shows can be dramatically (no pun intended) different if the actors feel a little lag, or a little push, or just got some good news about their family, or just ate a bad piece of pie, etc. When Beth came to visit that Easter, we went to the show again on a Friday. We had pretty crappy seats, but the performances were stellar.

That is so comforting to me. No one is going to see the same way I do anything in this play. My one English professor that was here last night is going to say, "her energy lacked in Act I...but Act iI was very well acted." That is what happened. Meanwhile, my other professor at the show Wednesday will be in her office with a confused look, "I thought the opposite. She was good with the funny bits, but pushed too hard later." And, they will both be right. But, there will be this layer of mystery and opinion over everything. No mater what happens tonight, someone from last night will disagree. Someone in the show will see things differently. I will feel one way or another.

That's really important to me.

How I Feel

After I finish my big dramatic scene.
My days have been in cycles.

Rise.
Exercise in tune with the day.
Work slowly.
Be involved in class.
Motivate myself to work a little on projects and classwork.
Be indulgent in the afternoon--watch a movie or listen to music or just lay in bed.
Then. It's 4. My stomach start to pit.
At 5 my curlers go in.
I slink around the theatre. I listen to a sad playlist labeled "Rosemary."
At 6:45 we meet together.
7 we have a little warm-up.
7:15 I'm saying "liniment, linoleum, liniment, cinnamon" over and over.
7:30 place. The pit grows.
Intermission. I sink away.
The Scene happens.

I am back here. Free free for a night's sleep and a morning before it starts all over again.
Free like I was on the Atlantic in 2008.

Pink Pony Alert!

Know how you ask a kid what they want for Christmas and they say A PONY! Pause. A PINK PONY!

The kid knows he won't really get the pony. I mean, if he did, what would he do with it? Instead he settles knowing he'll get Mousetrap or Crossfire or Creepy Crawlers set. But then what should trot out from behind the evergreen? AN EFFING PINK PONY!

Pink Ponies: Having an outlandish fantasy that actually comes true. Well B's & G's do I have one for you!

My sissy and I have daydreamed about being in college together since I moved to STL junior year and would visit her at school something like every other week. What if we could have been roommates in Sylvester (the upper-class house we have both been president of)?!?! What if we had taken Shakespeare's Tragedies together?!?! We could have performed at a Starbrooks together! We could have standing breakfast dates! Be gym buddies! It's a fun game with a sad ending. A sigh and the five years that have kept us from our pink dreams.

There have been several complications with the stage manager for the fall play. We have had to switch them out a few times already, and it was getting to crunch time with the play opening this week. No more time to mess around--my director needed a pro.

My director asked my sister to stage manage for my play. Pookie agreed! A commute sure, but only for one week. And NOW for the first time EVER we will have matching production shirts. She calls over the intercom, "Actors. Five minutes." I answer back (in what everyone swears is the exact same voice) "Thank you, Five!"

Scariest Prank Ever Pulled on Alice

Part I

Saw an incredible play last night. It is called The Pillowman, and Lord, has it stuck with me. I think it will forever. I guess most things do though. Maybe every day forever. I won't talk about it. I did that enough last night. But, I WILL say there is an overarching theme about children who get mutilated. Children in general. There are many themes deepen than children, but on the surface there is a lot about kiddos. It was pretty effed up.

Part II

I come back into my room late. Halloween night. I see a cloth on my bed. Oh that's weird. What is that? My bed is made. What is that lump? I pull back the covers to find a small lifeless child. I start breathing heavily. I realize soon that it is one of the very creepy life-size paper mache child puppets from a theatre production a few years ago. I throw it in my laundry basket in the closet with a little shriek and slam the door. I call three people who might be to blame. They swear they didn't do it. I realize I need shorts from my closet. I take deep sighs and open the door. As I reach up I scream--

because there is a face looking at me from the top of my closet.
Look closer...

Imagine that staring you in the face when you're already scared out of your mind. I screamed and screamed and screamed--probably waking up my whole hall. I called Rex--the last person I could think of doing this to me. He said what I knew which was, "Alice, I was with you all day and all night." I am baffled. Whoever did this got me good. Rex came over. Once someone else was here, it was okay to laugh. I took these pictures, and Rex took the dolls away.

Today's Daily Bread

I am grateful that I only have to wear a corset for a couple hours a night. Wearing one all day would break my back, heart, and spirit.

No Joke

This was copied straight from last night's run-through notes I took:

" Notes Summer Brave

10-27

-chug the whiskey down the throaut—tighten more, reaction not too early
-I LOVE YOU COURTNEY COURTNEY COURTNEY. WE NEVER DICUSSED THE FACT THAT one day during ball work I only threw to you. The. Whole. Time.

-Wasn’t wearing anything—decent deliberate good.
-charlston on the bench pull skirt up
-mock Hal more during quoting back part of attack
-diagonal on going to sunset with howard
-pink panties movememnt
-ben shut up
-pace in act three…eff
-courtney is the besssssst uda uda best
-love you love you love you
COURTNEY WHY WONT YOU READ MY NOTES."

Orange

Saying it was a wonderful weekend is understatement of the year.

Muff and I took a train to Chicagoland to visit Char and pick up my car. The ride was orange and yellow. Muff and I talked about everything we could think of and were swallowed by the spicy backdrop in our pauses for reflection. It was dark by the time we pulled into the station. We drank fall specialty drinks at the local coffee house.



Even the highways were pretty posted against corn and deep maroon leaves. I didn't even feel sorry to return. Just refreshed.

Doris Day

Alice, please clean your room. Its not bad or anything, but your desk is full of crap, and you keep putting important papers in one androgynous pile on top of a box of chocolates. You're going to forget to eat the chocolates as well as forget to respond to important letters. Did you forget to write your friend again? You promised you would do that this afternoon? Remember when you had a free hour because class got out early and you said you were going to get busy but you just fiddled around aimlessly with SNL clips on Hulu? Get it together! Its 6 now! You only have another hour to be productive. Could you just do it? Instead of updating your blog or anything else? Stop listening to Mest and get offline. Start by folding your clean laundry. Its all wrinkled. Do not recheck your e-mail and get distracted. Nothing you would have received would be that exciting. Just for the love of pancakes get out of bed. Do you realize you wore gym shorts all day? You said it was just because you were going to be late to work. Then you said you would change after your next class. Well, its getting dark. You're not going to change. Maybe you'll be motivated thinking that you're going to be busy all weekend? No. Do NOT put that Mad Men disc in! Alice! We had a deal!


I am on your side. This house is empty.

Caffeney Kathleeny

Blanche and Alice

When I was nine one of my closest friends was nicknamed Caffeney Kathleeny because she was just about the most joyful child you could meet. She laughed and bounced all the time. There was always some kind of activity at her house--a goofy game or a silly snack. Hee Hee! Such fun!

One day I brought my hamster Thomas into class. Everyone got to marvel and pet it before I put it in its running ball. It toddled all over the classroom during our math time. It was fractions. We were doing them on the board, Kathleeny kept getting wrong answers. She'd ask for help--more confusion. Our teacher made several personal trips to her desk as the rest of the class waited in patience. Kathleeny started to laugh a lot, a lot, a lot. She turned redder and redder until tears burst from her beet face. "I just don't get it!" she sobbed while kicking her legs wildly.

Thomas was right under her feet. She kicked him clear across the room.

Grease Never Forgets

I am so glad I was eating a cheese quesidilla when you told me that awful thing so I could never separate the awful thing with the awful nasty fullness greasy cheddar brings to my gut. Now whenever I think about softening up that memory I stop. Hey. Remember that gross cheese stomach?

Yeah. No. I'll never forget.

Waste Not, Want Not

Today was a perfect fall day. My favorite weather in my favorite season. And what did I do? I wasted it! I did run this morning--which was much needed and much enjoyed. But then I was inside most of the day studying for my mid-term. Then afterwards I was too pooped to do much besides curl up on my bed and close my eyes in and out of SNL reruns.

Do I feel bad? Absolutely not. There will be other beautiful days. In fact, I hear tomorrow is one of them. I know we're always told to just bite into the succulent blackberry when it is ripe and play outside on the most autumngorgeous day of the year, but if you don't want to then that's the real waste my friend. Oh I'm sure if I had opted for a lovely afternoon walk or even a nap under a tree I would be just as happy now, but at the moment I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do more than sprawl like a starfish up for dissection on my fluffy blankets.

Just because the restaurant has the best cake around doesn't mean you always order it. I mean, I do, but you might not. If you don't feel like it. I always feel like it. Guaranteed. Its a lesson you might as well learn now. Opportunities--even if once in a lifetime--don't mean anything if you don't want 'em.

Movies I Have Cried During

ET
Harriet the Spy
Beauty and the Beast
Brokeback Mountain
Midnight Cowboy
Junebug
Pan's Labyrinth
Kramer vs. Kramer
Milk
Father of the Bride

Honorable Mentions include The Green Mile and an educational cartoon about radiation victims in Japan

You 'Kin Do It!

Pookie New Years Day 2007

Hearing that Dunkin' Donuts is opening in Saint Louis quite honestly made my day. And I had a really good day. What is it about those sesame bagels? Those hazelnut coffees? Those delightful powder munchkins or those krullers?

I know I like the krullers because they were my grandfather's favorite. I knew him...decently. He passed away when I was 13, so there wasn't too much depth to us. But, I know some things about him past and present. He mostly doesn't sound like a great man. But he was loving in a way he knew how to be--even if that wasn't so effective. Anyway, I remember knowing at a very young age his favorite donut. And, sometimes don't you just get the urge to appreciate what someone else appreciates?

My sister got me onto working for happiness and cupcakes. My dad got me onto writing and being a community citizen. My mom got me onto show tunes. Kay got me onto Wilco. KHO got me onto exercise. Vince got me onto noticing all the possibilities. Phyl got me onto relaxing at 4 PM. My grandfather got me onto krullers.

I wonder what I have gotten people onto.

This House Is Not For Sale

Making lists has always been an immediate feel good for me. Lists of things to do, buy, say, be grateful for, people I like, concerts I've seen, etc. It allays my anxieties and feeds my purpose. Sometimes I make lists of things I know I have lists of: best teachers, favorite vacation, worst experiences just to see how things rearrange over time.

Anyway, I started feeling funny during Fiction II today. So I made a list of material things I wish I had.

-a personal game of bananagrams
-stapler
-new Uggs
-every episode of Boy Meets World
-jukebox of primarily Andrew McMahon and Diana Ross records
-the new Zits treasury

Interesting what pops up first in thought. But, you know, it doesn't really matter. I was just trying to relax. Which I did.
Since THE concert, I have been really obsessed with two old SoCo songs--"If I Die" and "21 and Invincible". It's sort of cool to realize that something I've always known and felt lukewarm on could just randomly become something absolutely adored.

Treadmillin'

Our problems can be treadmills. Just because we spend a long time working or running in one direction doesn't mean we have to spend a long time reversing. We can just stop and step off. We can walk away in a way that legs accustomed to a treadmill sometimes forget is an option.

Top Love

Stuff I Love Right Now:

Andrew McMahon
Almonds (and almond pastries)
Blanche
Camp (and the relationships/experiences I have from it)
Glee
Summer Brave (the play I am currently in)
The things I hang on my walls every quarter--especially the postcard that says in pink "BE CALM"
Books in general
Wearing my Hair in a French Braid
Muff, Muff, Muff and the stuff, stuff, stuff we do
Speaking Japanese when I can think of it
The Foxtrot book I've been reading little by little
Madmen
Scooping sour cream into plastic tubs at work

Still, more than anything else in the world I Love:



My sister.

Some days go by I wish I was famous. Or even religious. So I could go to heaven just like you.

Gee Whiz

I don't even want to talk about it. It was that _________.



I have a lot of thoughts about art and artists, but I don't feel like trying to compile them into a small space (read: this blog).

I can make you mine. Taste your lips of wine. Anytime night or day. Only trouble is. Gee whiz. I'm dreamin' my life away.

Magic

Today was magic.

*It rained. So Power Walking got to do whatever we wanted in the gym. Bradley and I watched America's Next Top (Hot? I don't know.) Dance Crew while on elipticals.
*I ate a muffin in the chapel. During a service. Boop!
*A package came all the way from my dearest pal Slou in Canada. It included a Moose and Canadian candies.
*Won a spot at a pre-show Meet & Greet with Andrew McMahon.
*Quiche AND blueberry pie for dinner.
*Had a fantastic rehearsal.
*Spontaneously hung out with an old friend.

And now I will read everyone's Fiction II pieces until I fall asleep.
The is the first, best, only day of my life.
(the photo is Slou, KHO, and me circa 2005)

No Surprises Here

The bathroom set-up on this hall of the house is atrocious. There are separate rooms for toilets and sinks, heavy doors, tight little locker bays... it's stupid. Frankly. There are also the weird showers. There is one with a bath. I prefer stall showers, so I use the other. Here's what's weird about this shower: there are two curtains. One curtain hangs in front of the stall and then you step in and there is a hook and then next to you in the actual shower stall with a curtain hanging there.

Now. Most girls like the bigger shower. I don't know why i prefer the smaller one. Consequently, I have never seen or heard anyone use my shower. But, someone must be using it because every time I go to wash the first curtain in open and the second is closed.

Maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal to you, but think about it. That means you get out of the shower. Stand wrapping your towel, and close the curtain behind you before leaving the second curtain and leaving it wide open. Naturally, I always fear there is a dead body in the shower stall. Why else would someone hide its contents?

So every time I give myself a little pep talk about how dead bodies aren't so scary really, and there will be one, so I shouldn't be worried when I see it. I inch closer. Closer. Closer. Until I give a 1,2,3 and yank the curtain aside exposing--
nothing of course. But, I still go through the whole ordeal every time.

I wonder if it would really work. If I would be so ready to see a cadaver that it would just be a dream come true, or if no matter what, when met with a corpse, I would let out a blood-curdling shriek.

It's Morning

and I keep having these terrible dreams. They are getting worse every night.

(taken in Paris near the Arc D'Triomphe)

Cake Lesson

The night I went to see Ben Folds, the rest of the cast had five minute presentations on various 1950s topics. The freshman girl playing Mrs. Potts spoke on cooking and baking. She made a type of cake her character mentions in the production: a Lady Baltimore Cake. It is three layers of vanilla with coconut, chopped raisons, nuts, cherries, and sweet icing.

Like I said, I missed her original talk, but she saved a piece for me! It was very kind. She saw me in the dinning hall at dinner and said "Oh! I've got a piece for you!" I said thanks and continued on. Then, just as promised, ten minutes before rehearsal she appeared in the theatre lobby with a huge slab of the cake on a plate and a fork. I woofed it down because it was so darn delicious, complementing her between my huge and fast chomps. It wasn't just for me--she had made the cake for the cast, but I was really grateful, and she was very happy to see my gratitude. She smiled and said You're welcome.

It was a wonderful interaction and so sweet for her to have baked, saved, and presented me a piece. But, I forgot she brought the slice too, which is almost more loving than anything else. I can envision her walking alone from the opposite end of campus carrying her script, shoes, and skirt in one arm and needing to balance a plate with open food with her free hand. Meanwhile, people pass and she her trotting along with his weird looking dessert. Something about that image made me really warm.

Passionate Nights

Four years ago, I was playing Laura in The Glass Menagerie. I started suffering some minor depression. Some of my sadness was exacerbated by my constant need to get into pathetic shoes. Literally. I had to wear these nasty tan ones to emphasize being a cripple.



(the cast: Tom Wingfield, Laura Wingfield, Jim the Gentleman Caller, Amanda Wingfield)

But, during the day I would be quiet and thoughtful--focusing on all the wrong things of course. Yet, I would want to yell and make scenes and be candidly my emotions. Although being in the play may have been a little challenging for my mental health, overall I think it was good for me because for an hour and a half or so per day I COULD be as nuts as I wanted.

I go through my whole day. I'm older and more honest, so not much gets pent up in me anymore. But, even if there is nothing to be passionate about in my life, I GET TO BE for a few hours every night. Classes, running, meals, small talk, good talk, chores, planning, etc. etc. etc. Then, at 6:30, I am loud and drunk and in pain and in desire and wanting with all of my core. All the perks to acting up without any repercussions to me personally. How do people live without getting their daily dose of raw passion? Do they just eventually explode? I seriously cannot imagine what is like to not care about performing/making art.

You Think

You think you're going to be alone, but that is when the most love pours out of every corner.



Even my hamster greets me with more happiness and encouragement. My sister does ridiculous things like commission friends to decorate my room with stars and balloons. Muff comes to my room to BE a presence, she tells me I can call her--even if I just want someone to know I am going to sleep. And because of all this, I am feeling really good.

Pookie: Pookie. I want to make you happy. But all I can do is think of things to buy you.
Me: All I can do is think of things to eat.

But, that was a while ago. Now, I think, I don't need anything.

The Perfect Art

My biggest hesitation with the arts, to quote Ben Folds, is that there's always someone cooler than you. There is. Nothing is new--ever in life--so why would I try to make something? Right? I don't like the idea of production, but I do like creation. That's why I love improv. It is the perfect art form.

No mater what you do, whether the joke has been made, it's the simplest scene in the book, it's a stupid game...whatever. It's fresh and you're bringing it to life by golly and who cares if its old or new because its there now and it'll never be there again.

Just had a phenomenal open rehearsal for Lazy Zipper. I have no idea how we're going to cast the show this year--the people who have been coming out have been so impressive in their own ways.

I love this photo of Nac and I dancing in the Perry Lounge last year during a practice round of Object Dance Off. February 2009.

Make me feel tiny if it makes you feel tall. Oh, there's always someone cooler than you.

Consider the Mushroom

They're not too pretty.
They are fungus.
They are easily kicked.
A lot of people--especially children--hate them.
But the mushroom does not give up! No she does not! She stamps her plump little leg and says, "Hey, dagnabbit, I'm not gunna change. I'm me and that's all there is. So either start enjoying mushroom ravioli, portabella burgers, and mushroom pizza or just don't! Hmmpf!"

(photo taken at Heian Gardens in Kyoto, 2008)

Drawn There

In Fiction Writing II this week we were to draw a line that symbolized our life. Then, without thinking, we were to pick a spot on it at random. I closed my eyes and picked a slope that symbolized the summer before fifth grade--my last summer I didn't spend at camp. Then we were to jot down the first object we saw in the room. A bag of Jay's potato chips. I was in the TV room. I pictured my father there at his computer writing and my sister slouched in the doorway.

Now, we are to fictionalize a story about this moment. My professor asked, "Surely you must have been drawn there for some reason. What led you here? Find the impulse and go". But, I'll be darned, I can't find the impulse to save my life.

Why was the first thing in my subconscious myself, a bag of chips, and television?

Science Brain

Ideally, I'd be updating this blog every day. I know that's not going to happen, but it's a goal. I haven't updated a good while now which is funny because in the past couple days I have had so many interesting thoughts to share--but none of them would have been good here.

So, something fluffier:

I do not have a science brain. No matter how I try, it is impossible for me to immerse myself in science. Hence, I'm taking my last gen-ed now, as a senior, and its a 100-level bio class. Awesome. But, seriously, I open the book and read and I retain nothing. In class i pay attention and take notes, but it registers shakily with many holes.

Is it possible that because I have not nurtured science in my mind and studies I am just rusty and out of shape? Or, is my mind pre-formed to be more able to read a play than a chapter about zooplankton? OR, at some point did I mentally shut myself down by deciding I didn't have a science brain, and thus, I don't!

Mustard Mouth

Call-backs went really well for the play. Bradley and I were dismissed early--assumed we'd be getting the parts we had been reading for. He had missed dinner, so we went to the pub. We were yukking it up, having a gay old time, you know. Anyway, Nac joins us and we get even goofier. The three of us can plumb get out of hand. Nac's food came, so we had settled slightly. I felt overwhelmed with love suddenly.

For some reason I really cherish the longevity of relationships. That's not to say there is a hierarchy based on time with me. I am just as close to Muff as I may ever be to anyone else. And we've only had one extended conference weekend, summer correspondence, and a few dinner dates between us. I just feel so touched that I (or we as humans--either way) have the ability to keep people in my/our lives. It just tickles me every time I consider it.

So. Bradley and Nac. I loved my first quarter at college. I LOVED it. I felt so happy all the time, and I was sad to see it go. It was funny going back and talking about it. I felt I couldn't do it justice. My three best friends (so far): KHo, Bradley, and Nac meant the world to me. Although my relationships to those people have risen and fallen through time, I get gushy thinking about how much I still love them now--three years and so much change later.

Anyway, I'm a firm believer in letting people know when they are loved. So, I stopped. Narrowed my gaze. Prepared my heartfelt words. I turned to them and said, "Guys. I am just really glad--" and Bradley leapt across the table shoving a bottle of mustard in my mouth.

Dead. And Still Going.

Grinz joined Kay and I for dinner tonight. She leaves for India in ten days, so we've got to get our time in now. Kay mentioned going to summer camp when he was eleven. Grinz said Oh yeah! You knew Walter right? He said Yeah. You would have been good friends smiled Grinz. I poked at my spinach quiche. I didn't know Walter. But, I know Walter.

When in Japan, on our way to Fukoi we stopped at a temple. We had all of our items for the trip, so we checked everything in lockers. Grinz shared one with Der. When we were leaving Der handed Grinz her backpack. She said she had left a book in the locker. He said he had probably put it in his backpack. He hadn't. The book stayed and we were whisked away. The book was not found. Grinz used the one picture she had of her dearest friend Walter who passed away when we were in high school as a bookmark. The photo was gone.

But! Low and behold! She called the temple! The book was found! It was shipped post-haste! The photo returned!

Kay apologized for bringing up Walter. No. It's happy memories she said. He's coming with me to India. It's okay.

How absolutely incredible right? Even after dying some six years ago, I met him AND he travels the world. I'm just really touched by this for some reason I cannot quite pin.

Ghosts!

So far, there have been three super-natural experiences in my life. Pretty sweet, right? Yesterday, as I was boppin' around the internet looking for tickets for ghost haunting showsies, I go so engrossed I literally wanted to take on ghost-stuffs as a career. Let's talk about my experiences:

In high school I went with three other friends driving around cemeteries with white noise on the radio. We'd drive to a gravestone, ask a question, and then if the static jumped we'd get an answer. It was all well and fun until we found a convent cemetery. There were there elaborate high metal gates--as soon as we passed through the radio started BLARING gospel music. We reversed immediately and drove off in screams. After calming down, we went back and stopped right at the gate. We had not touched the radio. We found no stations playing gospel music. Not only around our white noise station, but at all.

While I was in Japan, a chunk of the group watched a horror film called The Orphanage one night. Afterwards we sat around telling ghost stories in the little tatami room. I told everyone how I am weirdly very interested in ghosts and hoped to see one one day. I got back to my room a little shaken. Nothing happened. The next day I was feeling bothered by something, so I go out a spiritual textbook to find inspiration. I opened it to a random page and stuck my finger down. It landed on a sentence that read "Ghosts are not real".

That winter while I was staying at my dad's apartment I spent most of my days doing the same stuff: scrapbooking, going o the gym, writing, watching movies. I was alone a lot while dad was at work--camped out on a futon usually. Well, one day I thought I heard someone at the front door knocking. I was watching a movie. I tensed up for some reason. It stopped and no one was there. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw the door open. I looked and it hadn't. I turned my head to the side and then back to the door where the door was open and a young man in running shorts was standing there. I panicked, blinked, and he was gone. The door was closed. I know that sounds non-sensical. All I can tell you is what I saw.