Changing Minds

eggs, vegan sausage, and corn-cakes in Portland


Reading Eating Animals makes me feel kind of empowered, guilty, and silly all at the same time.

Empowered because the meat industry in the US is horrifying, and I don't support it. Boo-yah.
Guilty because I'm not a vegan yet, nor do I think I ever will be...more on this later.
Silly because I know my choices and good rationale. Do I really need to spend my time reading more about it? People keep seeing the bright green cover and excitedly asking "Whatcha reading?" And, then, the mood is killed, I appear judgmental, and seem unwilling to research outside the few social issues I stick up for.

But, I've got good reasons for reading.

-The creative/informational non-fiction style of Foer is fab and worth learning from.
-This is the first book of this kind I have ever actually read. Real facts, real chapters...more than my bits and pieces of knowledge from articles and biology classes.
-It was a gift from Kay.

HERE IS WHAT IS TROUBLING TO ME:
I was imagining giving this book to a meat-lovin' friend and having it blow their world open. But, then, I couldn't imagine anyone in my life such a situation would pertain to. Either he wouldn't read it. Period. Or, he would concede to the facts, but figure it wasn't a just cause. And, the whole point of the book is to say "Hey...this isn't a left wing issue anymore folks, this is common sense. Cut it out." So, that bugged me, but that's not the main trouble. The main trouble is when I think about myself. When it comes to the big issues I believe in--would even the most well-crafted text change my mind? Of course, my first instinct is to say "No, because my opinions are right." Um, and clearly therein lies the problem with issues and opinions...

Cast-List

Last night were the call-backs for Robin Hood. They were enjoyable. I read for the two crotchety and crude old women parts. That's appropriate. I know the casting has been done, but I'm not sure if the list is up yet.

I'm not nervous because I was not attached to any part. I just want to be a part, and I am fairly certain there would at least be some small role lying around for me in my final quarter here.

Reading cast-lists--one of the most heart-pumping experiences. No one can say people who skip sports for theatre don't know what it's like to have their pulse soar. Walking up to the cast-list can be absolutely numbing. But, strangely enough, it hasn't been for me nearly as often as I would expect. Either my call-back has been super telling (being the only one called to read Rosemary) or I haven't been called back (42nd Street) or I find out by surprise (Bradley telling me before I got to the theatre that I was in his one-act). It's been that way for eight of the parts I have had in college.

But, oh. Not number nine. Wonderful Town. I let myself fall in love with a part. I let myself really want it, and I let it be potentially out of my league. I went to the theatre before my work-out. After my work-out. Before lunch. After lunch. Finally, I heard Rex saying Dir. T said 1 PM. My insides were jack-hammering. I shook. I walked out into the foyer. I heard the list get tacked up. I walked to the computer lab adjacent. I sat down. I stood up. I called my sister and said "I'm too scared. I am." I tried to breath. I walked to the list. I released the the breath I had been holding at the sight of my name and my new character's name. Oh, no better feeling.

I am up early, going for a run. Yes, I will run by the theatre to see if the list is up yet. Mainly, and this is so silly, I hope to act in a scene one final time with Bradley and a first time with Stripes. That's all a girl can really ask for.

the last time Bradley, Stripes, and I were all in a play: Gogol's Government Inspector Fall 2007--also included with Stripes and I, my old roommate Lashes

Ghosts of a Good Thing

waiting for the bus last week

Now, Spring Break is a ghost. In ten weeks college will be over. In eleven I will be in Michigan working at camp for the last time. In twenty I will be the ghost--floating through existence with nothing but a few leads and crack-pot ideas.

Drop that phone. Sleep on the floor. Dream about me.

The Prettiest Little Piggy in Show Biz

I love me some 30 Rock. I am just so freakin' close to a few very important elements of the show:

-sketch comedy and references to improv
-writing
-Tina Fey

Ever since I was in high school, people have told me I look like Tina Fey.


Fall 2005, Ty and I

Also, her awkward ambiance, self-damaging humor, horrific relationships, lame jokes, and overall, HER LOVE OF FOOD strikes way too close to home with me. I like Liz Lemon probably because I like myself, and to see another writer/comic pigging out and relentlessly dressing like a trashbag just makes my general behavior feel vindicated somehow.

But, here is what I have never liked about Miss Liz Lemon. She IS played by Tina Fey. Tina IS a TV Star. She had to lose hella pounds to get there no less. So, while I (and probably millions of other young female work-a-holics) feel satisfied to see Fey chowing on a whole roast of ham as we plow through trays of Chips Ahoy...we don't actually maintain the cinema style, shape, and overall hottness that Fey does. Which leaves girls like me subconciously asking what we're not doing right when we can't pull off the "I-am-in-a-hoody-and-nasty-pony-tail-and-just-ate-a-box-of-Cheeze-Its-but-still-look-hott."

Anyway, here is a longer article pertaining to other aspects of Tina Fey/Liz Lemon etc. from a feminist perspective...I just wanted to get my piece about the chubby Fey thinning down so she can play a grotesque distortion of "unattractive" on television. USA, USA, U-S-A!
http://tigerbeatdown.com/?p=972

Pictures from 2008 That Make Me Laugh

Feeling overwhelmed with hours in the car today and school starting for the last time in three days. Blah blah blaaaaah! So, to take my mind away...


Puff at camp


Bradley, ACTF 2008


being a complete tourist at the Fukoi Byora Company

Poppa

the fam-a-lam dining after the Summer Brave matinee
Enjoyable moments with my father in the few days I have been staying with him in Chicago:

Me: I'm glad the LZ boys were so entranced by your Pizazz Pizza-Cooker since Pookie and I could care less.
Char: Chicks just don't get it.

(While in the car waiting for my sister)
Char: Okay. I have to call her.
Me: No, don't. That will just make her angry. Just wait.
Char: Fine. At least I'll check this voice mail from the robot.
(He was referring to a machine that calls about flight updates.)

(Once Pookie did get back in the car)
Pookie: Are we ready to go?
Char: Now I'm busy deleting my pocket photos.
Pookie: What?
Char: The photos from inside my pants.
(Meaning the photos his camera takes of the inside of his pockets when the buttons get pushed on accident.)


Le Sigh. Back to the STL tomorrow.
maybe I'm crazy but lightening might strike me tonight

Personal Censorship

Paris 2009

So...The Bell Jar. Should I read it? I've known its appeal to me for years. But, I always figure it will be too truthful and depressing for me. Don't get me wrong. I love drama. I love depressed characters, but I think it's good for my mental health to see healing, overcoming, etc.

I believe in censorship. Seriously I do. I don't believe in anyone BEING censored, but I think just because we all have the ability to see whatever we want, we shouldn't. I don't think we should have laws banning pornography, but I think it is poison in a million ways, and we should all stop watching it.

My sister found that she enjoyed Nick Hornby books immensely, but they left her feeling like settling is a good life choice. So, she has stopped reading him. On principle. I keep trying to stop seeing crappy romance flicks where the girl loses her identity on principle, but sometimes the urge is too strong.

Sylvia Plath is a whole new issue. I know it is great literature...I SHOULD get familiar. I KNOW I am interested...but what is good for me? Hmm?

The Tooth. The Whole Tooth. (And Nothing But the Tooth.)

Yesterday, before we went to sleep.
Before I packed up all my things.
Before we ate pieces of cheese.
Before we stopped because Clara said she needed to fart. After which she walked a little further stating, "I should get out of the light. I'm going to fart in those shadows."
Before we embarked on the long walk home.
Before we ate at Le Happy which is a delightful creperie.
We went swimming at Clara's community center.

La la la it felt so good. I did a 500 after not being in water since probably November I think? Anyway, Clara bopped along beside the lanes kickboarding and smiling. We both felt cleansed, renewed, baptized, and exercised after a morning of gluttony. (We ate a large breakfast and then walked down the street to have milkshakes and a big brownie.) After my laps I played a bit in the shallower free end of the pool. I did a very long and relaxing handstand and popped up into the air. But, that's only want I thought would happen. I actually scraped my mouth on the side of the cement wall scccrapppppecrunnnnnchOUCH! I floated slowly up in a sea of red.

I gripped my hands over my mouth. Goodbye front teeth I knew. Goodbye. The blood kept coming as I felt for the chips. Maybe they could be glued back in. Clara saw me from a distance, red and scared. Her eyes got huge. "Can you see I'm bleeding?" I asked. A very clear yes it was smeared on my face.

I felt embarrassed and didn't want attention because I know blood in pools means all sorts of crazy precautions. I got out, went to the locker room, spit in the sink, and cringed to look:

I had cut my canine tooth against my lip. A little tiny hole was there. No teeth were chipped. I gurgled some water. The bleeding was over. We laughed and laughed. It didn't hurt! I sucked in my lip. We got into the hot tub. We sat alone, quiet, boiling. I prayed, "I am Good. I am Whole." I was.

This morning the tingling is gone. The wound has healed.


Hey! Hoboman. Hey! Daper Dan. You've both got your style, but brother you're never fully dressed without a smile."

Clog -> Burst

Irving Park

Writer's Block as a result of too many ideas and too much sugar to the brain. We have eaten so much and so well. Nom Nom 4 Lyfe. So, three pictures, a list of questions (from our endless, literally endless disscussion), a list of highlights.


enjoying my breakfast burrito in the middle of Farmer's Market

Some pressing questions our discussions have brought to the surface:
-Could it be morally troubling to adopt a child from another country on principle?
-Is it actually the antithesis of helpful for minority groups to band together?
-Should we stop approaching the world with a "everyone feels this way sometimes" ideology because sometimes people really don't feel that way?
-How do you convince someone with low self-esteem to have confidence?
-Can everyone learn anything or is there actually intellectual hierarchy?

Highlights:
-Karaoke "It's All Coming Back to Me" by Celine Dion with Clara
-Dancing at a bar that exclusively plays soul music
-Elephant ears, hand pies, and cookies at Farmer's Market
-watching the most inspiring documentary Stages at Portland Women's Film Festival


Pre-Celine but post-Diana Ross

Quote of the Day

Way too tired to talk about anything, but I have to write this down somewhere to remember how awesome it was.

"Last time {karaoke} we all got up and sang Bohemian Rhapsody and everyone was swaying and putting their heads on each other, and it was like Les Miserables." -Clara

Thursday in Portland

We started the day right with meatless sausage and avocado in our eggs and fresh jam on our toast. We ate outside in the sunshine and proceeded to hoof it all the way downtown to Powell's singing Everclear all the while.

I will buy you a garden where your flowers will bloom.
I will buy you a new car--perfect shiny and new.
I will buy you a new house way up in the west hills.


I got lost in the massive bookstore for hours. The best, of course, were the rows and rows of plays. So, so enthralled to be surrounded by great theatre. I made several important purchases the most exciting of which is The Pillowman because I could not wait until I even left the store to begin revisiting it after seeing it last October.

Before exiting downtown we got dinner and the rest of the night was mine while Clara studied for her final final.

Alice Vs. The Volcano

St. Patty's Adventures of Clara & Alice:

-exploring an old volcano called Mt. Tabor


One of the lovely and inspiring views.

-stumbling upon a bar that was celebrating $1 vegan corn dogs!

-world famous Voodoo Donuts

Enjoying her maple bacon treat. Not pictured: my apple fritter.

In the middle of the night I woke up and my throat was throbbing. Not even kidding, Clara and I talked so much all day long that my vocal chords were actually in pain.

Planes, Buses, Automobiles (Plus Feet)

Yesterday I arrived at Clara's beautiful little blue house in Portland feeling nasty x a milli. Flying does that to a person. Fitsy picked me up, I saw her new baby, I entered the empty home of five in the side door that had been left unlocked.

After running, locking my sweaty self out (in he rain), showering, napping, and reading Clara came home! What a joyous meeting it was! It has been over two years since we have seen each other in person. We chatted and hungrily hit the streets to eat some delicious grilled cheese served out of a bus. Mine was cheddar with avocado and a fried egg on sourdough. Clara's included grilled onion. We ate inside a huge school bus that blared happy-go-lucky music.



Pick-up friends are so nice! It's been however long but you just play pick-up, and that's all. You're walking out of a school bus and discussing people you know and things you do just like at the lunch table junior year.

Baby Steps

My dad sent me an e-mail that made me cry. Our home in Chicagoland was sold last night. I grew up there, but I'm exceedingly glad its no longer anyone's concern. Bittersweet. Dad got a shot of the baby prints that are still (albeit barely) on the front step.



"I stopped by this morning and took another look at the footprints. I could barely see them. I took a photo. Then I knelt down and put my hands in the smooth hollows left from Lucy’s* feet. It’s kind of funny how it was much easier to feel her footprints than to see them. While I held my hands there for a few moments many pleasant memories came to mind of my precious daughters during the years of their childhoods. The many times I saw them climb up and down the stairs, of Pookie** blowing bubbles and Lucy* letting her butterflies go."

*my family calls me Lucy
**changed from the original e-mail of course



So long, Youth.

Pages

Blanche and I enjoying short stories by Anton Chekhov on a Sunday morning last October.

In the lib with my sissy. Checkin' out books for break. Right now I have Cannery Row, Writing in Restaurants, Player Piano, The Bell Jar, and two monologue collections for capstone inspiration.

Already packed and ready are Jonathan Safron Foer's newest book, a book on playwrighting by Jeffrey Hatcher, and The Interpreter of Maladies.

I am ridiculously excited. So many books I have been dying to read. Not that I haven't enjoyed reading for school this quarter...it's just nice to pick sometimes. I finished the last required reading of the quarter and started reading Fun Home as a little treat to myself in between finals studying...I could not focus on my final papers until I had finished the book. That's the trouble with majoring in English--always reading, never picking. Hopefully, I will not read everything I bring because I hope to be too busy prancing about with Clara. But, one can never be too prepared with her books.

Portland, here I come!

Blurry, Packing, Moving

Ate too many crackers. Procrastinating packing--waiting for laundry. Vast amounts of items still in room. Listening to "Heroine" while Muff examines my copy of Science and Health and asks questions about the writing in the margins. Our last night together.

You watch the traffic clear. You hear the cars spin out.
I never thought you'd last. I never dreamed you would.

Seriously, I can't believe the girl this song is about rejected Andrew.

No More Pencils, No More Books

on the lake with Wizzy, Kay, and Lando Two Summer 2009

I am not required to be in an academic classroom ever again! Although, I'm sure I will be. I feel my future of teaching gurgling up inside me more now than ever. Neither here nor there. I am done with every test, paper, project, portfolio, meeting etc. for the quarter. And next quarter I have no class. No class! I will be taking

-the spring play for credit
-my capstone (independent writing work)

and that's ALL. I will be auditing a gender theory course, but that will have no requirements of me.

I could be cliche and say it seems like just yesterday I took my first college course, and, in some ways it does, but it also feels like it has been a long road from freshman year to my final no-class spring. I am very very happy.

In other news, I have officially accepted my job as head counselor at camp again this summer. I am pleased as punch. I just got the staff list and am ever so thrilled by the group of women I will be working alongside on Lake Michigan. I must remember this moment for the days when I am so sucked into camp I feel like I cannot breathe: I really want to be there. Additionally, Kay, Tacos, G-Bear, and Lando Two will be in the kitchen. Who could ask for anything more?

I can't wait for summer and the Warped Tour.

Wooden Eyes

Me&Muff made up, Dressing Room, Summer Brave last November

Right now, even after two-face washings and a shower, I've got a bunch of eyeliner stuck to my lids. It's from the One-Acts last night. (Side: Very much enjoyed the experience--very grateful for the cast and all those who came out to support the show.) I use liner pencil. After I shower, my eyes always hurt. They don't sting. They hurt. Like someone is poking my eye. Today I realized, uh doy, I am basically putting wood shavings in my eyes when I wear liner. Huh.

I can't believe so many people do this on a regular basis. I guess a lot of girls have moved over to liquid, but I still prefer pencil. Bu, I am putting wood in my eye. So, there's that. I wonder if in a couple ears all liner pencils will be discontinued because some scientist will be like "Uh...we should prove how this causes cataracts." And, then, poof, it will be a highly known fact that eye pencil is terrible for you. Even then, will I actually stop using it? I mean, I doubt it would be breaking news that using an eye pencil is bad for you. When would I find out? Has such a study actually already been done? I don't even know!

when I'm away she puts her make-up on the shelf

Procrastin-AY-ting

The summer nights are cooler when you're home.

DiCaprio/Juice/Hooked on In the Heights Lately

in honor of seeing Shutter Island this weekend, March 2009

Pookie and I snuck large caesar wraps in our purses Friday and chomped away while watching Leo. I give it an "A-" personally. Forget the haters. Last night before a tea date with Stripes and Muff, I was eating sushi at Pookie's apartment when who should arrive but Tacos and Lando Two. They searched for drinks and found some old sparkling grape juice.

Lando Two: Let's get glasses.
Pookie: You can drink from the bottle if you want.
Lando Two: Oh HELL YEAH!


March 2009


when you find your way again
you're gunna change the world and then
we're all gunna brag and say we knew her when

Trying Really Hard

Bradley's One-Act Cast at ACTF
One more week of school in my last winter here.
Bittersweet because I can't muster up much love for these papers now, 2 AM again, tonight listening to a playlist of Next to Normal and Lee Wilkof. And, I couldn't be happier that the cold is almost over. But, it is ending, ending, ending. My presidency is basically over. LZ is winding down. The One-Acts are in a couple days. Muff's presence in my bedroom--bye, bye!

I need to make some kind of list. I go to Portland so soon.
What I Will Do There:
-walk & run
-write, write, write so much
-drink hot drinks and eat donuts with Clara
-talk to Clara at great length

I don't care at all what people say beyond the sunrise.

Stars, In Their Multitudes

a year ago, LZ pub show, we play Rant Symphony

For the past two years of school it has been exceedingly rare I be awake at this time of night. I've come accustomed to the early mornings of running and work--the early nights of sleep. But, oh, nights like tonight, staying effortlessly awake while listening to Les Miserables and finishing all my work...

My first two years of college I was always up at 2 AM. Just as a rule really. I miss this time of life--quiet productivity, long lingering talks with lovers and friends, regular meals at midnight.

I am, have always been, a morning person. I enjoy waking up and moving immediately. I get so much done from 7 AM-10 AM. Sincerely. But, there is a different kind of progress at night. I have proven goodness all day long, and I am surrounded by happiness and gratitude for those who made the Love of the day possible. Today, for example, it was Huntie--a great scene partner. My sister, my dinner date. A professor inviting Muff and I over for a film and dessert this weekend. The cast of LZ--I love them all.

See? If I can just make it through my days to the juices of pre-sleep satisfaction, I can make it.

a ghost you say, a ghost may be, she was just like a ghost to me

Happy and Gay

Please note how my academic life circles around homosexuality these days:

American Lit: Angels in America
Moral Contemporary Problems: Same-sex marriage in the U.S.
Advanced Creative Writing Seminar: the deconstruction of "normal" romantic relationships

Of course, I am still perpetually fighting for gay rights here at Prin. Today happened to be my meeting with the dean about the current policy.

There is so much talk, yak-yak, garbage surrounding the issue. The only message we really need to be sending anywhere to anyone:


found on my desk, January 2009