J.D. & Me

After my capstone reading last week an older man, an old professor still living in the area, approached me with an embrace and a humbly-handed wrapped gift. He loved my play, and he gave me a copy of his book with an introduction from Horton Foote. This guy--he's legit eh? The card had stars on it and read "You are you, but you have the genius of J.D Salinger." I could never fully accept a compliment of comparison to such a legendary author. But, I will keep the card to prove I was once offered the sentiment.

Yesterday after the senior women strawberry festival, I had to go to library because I found the beginning of a treasure hunt in an envelope in my mailbox--the call number to a strange book. Inside the book was another envelope. I was lead to eight differnet locations inside the building. Finally, on the top floor, I found a card I needed to bring to Phyl's house last night. She made me breakfast for dinner and awarded me two books as a graduation gift. One of the books was Nine Stories. She said it reminded her of me. Eerie? Excellent? Grateful?

Yes, that one. Grateful.

You Are Enough

What do the studies show?
I'll tell you.



The studies show what the studies show.

I used to think the Bronx was a place in the sky, and the world was just a subway map.

Finito

Each morning I get up I die a little. Can barely stand on my feet.

Capstone is done. Performed. Bound. Thank yous to anyone who was a part of last Thursday night's reading--including the audience. Mucho love and gratitude.


Stripes and I during Robin Hood, also the cast of Can't (Hurry) Love

My brain is all shook up. I mean, I'm awake for one. Got a few little tasks I keep trying to do but get sucked into reading Mindy Kaling's blog or something. I'm frightfully restless, and I can't go running because today is the blessed triathalon. I don't want people to get confused when I show up somewhere I'm not supposed to be...running accidentally down the finish line.

I spent all my years believing you, but I just can't get no relief.

Open Letter to the CS Monitor

Stolen from Wizzy. So proud of my pretty graduate.

This morning as I was doing my business in the bathroom, I looked down to see the CS Monitor open to an article about what the job market looks like for 2010 grads. Um. Look. If there aren't sunshine and sprinkles in the report, I don't want to know. Don't tell me kids with liberal arts degress are having an 8% harder time finding jobs than last year. Don't tell me people with econ degrees have it best. MONEY ISH IS WHY JOBS ARE HARD TO FIND ANYWAY!

But, props to you for noting some cool commencement speakers around the country. Merryl Streep and the Obamas etc. I just want to point out that Prin has hosted Barack Obama to speak here a couple years ago--and Eli Wiesel. (Also on the notables list.)

Whatevs. Got 2 edit mai capstone and go to da poooooool! Nachos to follow. Peacies!

Well, Toot Toot.

Me: My Vocab: Cha, Boop, Woof, Toot.
Pookie: You are a chorus of Fantastic Sams beauticians.


Finale of Robin Hood, last weekend

Wasn't super attached to this last show--not by any means. A goofball comedy what do you expect. But, suddenly, it was Saturday afternoon. We were expressing gratitude, Bradley began to choke up after heckling me and my overwhelming and unshuttupable love for theatre, "This department..." and I lost it. Stupid tears. Stupid graduation. Stupid best friends who have been in stupid productions with me for four years stupid moving to stupid LA.

Yes, K-Ci & Jo-Jo...Don't Judge!

Out my GD mind. Losin' it completely. Just finished everything for my capstone and must turn it in before 4 PM for FINAL REVISIONS. Must read over one last time...but so crazy...

I just wrote down "Take work off Friday" because I remembered I wanted to, but I wrote it on a paper that was on my bed. Like...not a good place. I've just bopping around writing notes to myself on all sorts of things that will soon be in the recycling. Just sitting here with my hair stuck up like the end part of a chicken doodling on the piles of books and papers and clothes surrounding me on my island of an unmade bed. I feel like I live in a void. The power went out last week, and I never made my clock work. It just blinks all day long. I stare at it. I do not move.

My halter is falling off. IT'S SO BLESSED HOTT OUTSIDE. I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE STRIKE TONIGHT ALL I WANT TO DO IS LOOK AT THE ROSES ON MY NIGHTSTAND, WATCH A BILLION EPISODES OF MAD MEN, AND BE NAKED!

Instead I have to go see a capstone reading, sit in sweltering heat, tear apart the set I just spend eight weeks acting on with my collegiate theatre friends, and then revise a speech and my final newspaper column (missed both deadlines). OhmygodeverythingisendingandIamacrackpot!

Goin' crazy crazy crazy just thinkin' about you lately!

Going nutso in Pookie's office

F The Book

Vince & Me, Fall 2005

Shakily, I have made the choice to quit Facebook in a couple weeks. I have many many reasons, and not so many for staying.

Some of the biggest reasons I'm quitting:

-It's a time-suck.
-It's not so great for people to always be looking at other people's perfected and created 2-D versions of themselves and compare. I have done this openly by making fun of and judging others based on something as lame as Facebook and subconsciously by wondering if my life lives up to my peers' (while looking at photos of adventures or social events for example). I haven't been hugely affected because I think I'm a pretty confident gal, but I can see how after graduation when I am no longer surrounded by activities and people I love 24/7 this kind of behavior will wear on me.
-I'm a bit flustered by the new linking system. I don't want to be connected things, and I don't want ads to be part of my communication with loved ones.

Some of the biggest reasons I am concerned:

-Someone awesome from my past will not be able to reconnect with me (although I cannot think of anyone right now).
-I will miss seeing everyone's pictures. That's something I have always really appreciated about The Book--big ol' photo-swapping. I hope people will e-mail me/I will be more handy with my camera.
-I won't be invited to my HS reunions.

Ultimately, it is possible that I restart an account in the future. Heck, my dad HAD to get Facebook as a mandate from his work. Who knows? Regardless, if you read this linked from my FB you'd best bookmark or something because that's not going to be available in a week or so.

Bye, Bye, Birdie. It's awful hard to go.

Like Me Part Dos

Again, more for me, the birthday continued:

-cards from my parents (after they were veggies for a month)
-out to a lil dinner at a fancy lil restaurant
-got sang to during pre-show metaphysical
-was quietly told Happy Birthday onstage by Xtian
-a bundle of chocolates wrapped up with love
-flower from a viewer
-magnet featuring my dear friend Kurt Vonnegut
-homemade chocolate cake from scratch near midnight





Seems like I'm in for a twister.
I don't see a rainbow. Do you?

You Like Me, You Really Like Me!

This is more for me than you. I just want a place to write down how grateful I feel for all the birthday lovin' so far. It's not even 2 PM.



Comfort food of a baked potato.
A platter of my ten favorite candies.
Slept-in--I requested off work this morning weeks ago. Happy Bday from me.
Miilions of FB messages, posts, e-mail, texts, calls, but most importantly hearing from Vince and Mia.
Tea and back-rubs.
Reese's cups for a later competition.
An audio-tape of a large majority of my Prin friends giving me compliments including professors (coordinated by Kay).
Four love letters.
Purple flowers in my mailbox.

What did I do to deserve this? I am the most happy. THE MOST!

Don't forget I'll hold your head.
Watch the night sky fading red.

Questions Answered

There are these little questions that as a child you think you will eventually just know the answer to--not the meaning of life etc. Those you figure out pretty quickly are not answerable. I mean things that seem to have answers, but you're just never gunna find out.

Somehow, in the past week, these little questions' answers have been springing up in front of me.

1. I volunteer at a battered woman's shelter babysitting kids while their mommas have a bit of relaxation betwixt job/new apartment/ new life hunting. Last week at work I had a song I learned in pre-school "A, You're Adorable" stuck in my head. I know about half the song and have been maddened for, like, fifteen years not knowing the rest. That very day at the shelter one of the little girls immediately brought me a book to read her. It was called "A You're Adorable." It was a picture book of the song's lyrics. WHAAAAT?


Grinz reading at the shelter last week.

2. In 7th grade Sunday School a girl once asked about a spiritual text Mary Baker Eddy wrote which included a list of things people should not do. The list includes "witchcraft," and it is italicized. "Why?" we all wondered. Our teacher did not know. It seemed like one day I should figure it out, but as I knew MBE was dead I would never actually know. Well, dang if today someone didn't stand up in our Org service and say how he had just looked up witchcraft and figured out why that word was italicized. WHAAAAAT?

So. Now, all I am wondering...

3. In 6th grade my English class read Flight 116 Is Down by Caroline B. Cooney. The book basically begins with the horrifying plane crash. At the time, we were learning about the plot arc. Our teacher asked us, "If the plane crashes immediately...when is the climax of this book?" She let people guess, and we moved on. I still wonder when the real climax is. Obviously, I now know books don't have to have one climax (why should literature mimic the male orgasm?!?! thanx Virginia Woolf), but, still. When you're 12--those ponderings are tough to shake. At this rate, I will find an answer soon...

Iron Basin America

Something terrible just happened. I am moaning with embarrassment. I put my laundry in earlier this afternoon and then went off to my afternoon appointments. Just returned home, plunked down to the laundry room, and saw my sopping wet clothes crammed in my basket on a side table.

"Whhhhhhhy?" I whined to my housemate down there. (Incidentally, the cashier from last week's story about being heckled at the pub.)
He smiled a bit confused.
"Whhhhhhhy would someone take my clothes out all wet?" I sniffled dramatically.
"To put mine in?" he said, confused. I was taken aback. I had assumed the perpetrator was an inconsiderate punk--someone I didn't know.
"What? Why?"
"Uh--I--"
I began to mock scold, but I ended up just scolding: "You don't take someone's wet clothes out of the machine!"
"Why?"
"They get all gross and potentially moldy."
(I'm right on this, right? They leave the machine and smell rank if not inserted directly to the dryer.)
He shrugged, a bit offended, a bit nervous--("Why is Alice freaking out?")--and left quickly.
I slopped all my stuff in a dryer, hung my sports bras, and padded away questioning my annoyance. If I wasn't there to get the clothes, did he have the right to usurp that machine? We all know how annoying it is when someone occupies the space way over his or her acceptable time. Or, since my clothes were in the machine did they have dibs on their cleanliness?

Iron Basin America: Whose washing machine need reigns supreme?

Spring Formal 2010

In line with last week's bicep explosion incident, last night I danced so hard that I ripped my shiny six buck spring formal dress wide open. Oops.

Here are two photos from before that tragic incident. The two most important dudes of my college career and one cutie peach:




Sometimes I feel like I live in UNION STATION.
Tonight I'll be takin' no calls 'cos I'l be dancin'.

Hulkin'

Between swimming, weights, and my kickboxing DVD, my biceps have gotten sizably plumper.
Tonight at our dress rehearsal I flexed during the finale dance, and my sleeves busted. Not even joking.


Mr. Donut, Kyoto, 2008

So take a good look at my face,
You'll see my smile seems out of place,
If you look closer it's easy to trace the tracts of my tears.

*photo has nothing to do with update--I am just hungry

Made Up

yesterday during rehearsal--a photo proving to a friend snail mail was on its way

Tonight was "dress rehearsal" uno. I use the term lightly because there was much goofing, trippin', yelping (when my hairpiece fell out), stopping, forgetting, etc.

Point: Full hair, make-up, and costume. The middle one is the important one.

As soon as I "put my face on" literally three girls jumped as they approached me saying, "I couldn't even tell it was you." Several men commented, "You look pretty.", and as I just entered my hall three more women said, "You look so nice/pretty/good."

My hair is the same. My clothes are t-shirts and running shorts. It is the GD make-up.

I do look different, and I do use make-up to get made-up. To look prettier. I mean that's the point. But, for some reason...it always strikes me as funny. That little dark pencil marks under my eyes make me look "better", that we can conditioned ourselves to see rosy cheeks and say "Lookin' good."


right now

I want a girl who will laugh for no one else.
When I'm away she puts her make-up on the shelf.

Flurried

Things I've Been Increasingly Flurried, Fussy, and Prickly About Lately:

-Gay rights (always and forever)
-The meat industry and my dreams of its demise
-People not SHUTTING THEIR GD FACES BACKSTAGE
-Being clothed...I hate clothes. I hate them.

I mean, nothing new. But I've been raging lately--should I stand in the middle of the lunch room and start spouting out facts about how ham is literally killing the world at a rate of a bajillion fresh water sources per day? Calm down. Look at this convo Pooks and I are having:

Pookie: and why did you send me Stuffed Mushrooms?
keep your sickness to yourself
Me: I thought you'd like them.
Don't you want berry pancakes?
MAKE A CAFE!
Pookie: YOU ONLY WANT ME TO MAKE A CAFE SO YOU CAN GATHER THINGS FROM IT!
Me: SO WHAT!
You would enjoy it.
Pookie: Though I do want berry pancakes
Me: Yeah see.
Pookie: You want my level of mental stability to decrease so you can have some guacamole!

Your sword can be a sermon or the power of the pen. Teach every child to raise his voice, and then, my brothers, then will justice be demanded by ten million righteous men. Make them hear you. When they hear you, I'll be near you again.

Served Faithfully

Today.



Sometimes it seems like love is just a fancy word for compromise.

At Rehearsal

21st birthday. 7:30 AM.

"You're not wearing real pants, talking about playing a fake cafe game, and listening to 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' on repeat. Look at your life." -Pookie


Pookie's 23rd birthday. 2006.

Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart.

Dwayne the Bathtub

(for those who will appreciate this conversation)

Mia: have you ever seen the movie pulse?
Mia: that is a totally unrelated question
Me: Uh uh.
Mia: its about some thing that kills people through the wireless internet/ cell phones
and i was thinking how prin would have been somewhere you could hide from that but now you have a tower
so sucks to be you. you'll die like the rest of us.

Can't title my capstone. Shouldn't that be easy? I feel like a loser. If I've written the darn thing, I should at least have a title...but now. Nothing. I'm tired from kickboxing and poor sleeping schedules. No exciting stuff here.

Also:

Henne: but i suppose i know more about than you do me as i read your blog from time to time. all the pookie and LZ i can handle.

I'm dwowning!

Gramma Socks

I've been missing my grandmother lately. I guess I've been thinking about family coming for graduation, and my family is great and all, but I think family coming for graduations is kinda weird. I mean, there is walking across a stage and a lot of boring besides. I know now it's more of an excuse to get together, but I still think it's odd. I also do recognize that across generations it's a bigger deal. That's why I've been thinking about Gramma. For her, my sister graduating was a big old deal. I get that. She like...lived int he depression and was a housewife and all that. But, she won't be here, and while I usually don't care about my deceased relatives (or even my living ones) missing out on my life, this time I can't help it.

In times like these I know what to do. I pull out my Gramma Socks. After she passed away, my dad, sister, and I joined my aunt and my grandfather at the house in Arizona for spring break. My aunt said we could have anything we wanted-- kinda a morbid and free thrift store.

I picked out a variety of things. My sister took some kitchen appliances etc. for her future as a big kid, and I took things like a ceramic tern, a crop of polo shirts, and brand new socks in her drawer. She didn't get the chance to use them. Well, they're going to new use. A thin little pair of Peds on my feet.

Hotel in Arizona
Made us all want to feel like stars
Rental cars with tinted windows
Leave another number for me

Not Always

You think hard work begets results, but, no, not always.
You think kindness begets respect, but, no, not always.
You think being honest begets honesty, but, no, not always.

If you think you can simply press rewind,
you must be out of your mind, son.
You must be out of your mind.

Some Thing-a-Dings

Told busy Pookie I'd buy her a chocolate shake from the Piasa Pub and walk it to her office this afternoon. Ordering I also decided to get myself a strawberry smoothie. As I began ordering the second dessert (I mean...a smoothie isn't really even a dessert...) I got the ol' raised eyebrows from the cashier. XTian was also working.

Xtian: Is that all for you?
Alice: Hey! It's obviously all not for me!
XTian: (raises eyebrows)
Alice: Okay, not obviously.
XTian: Why I asked.
Cashier: Are you sure you don't want something else too? We've got burgers and--
Alice: No!
Cashier:--chocolate.
Xtian: Yeah, how about a Snickers?
Cashier: Dove chocolate? All girls like chocolate.
Alice: That's not true.
Cashier: If they don't like chocolate, they're not a girl.
XTian: Reese's Cups? Why didn't you get Reese's in your shake?
Alice: The shake is for my sister.
XTian: Okay. Why didn't you get Reese's in your smoothie?


Nac, Me, XTian--post-bowling ice cream


Nac: Alice, Alice, Alice...it's alllllll about Alice.
Grinz: (from her reclined position in bed) Duuuuuuu-uuuuuuuh!

Disappointing Donuts

Can I just say...CAN I JUST SAY I am so upset about the outcome of the Dunkin Donut competition. I can't believe only 5% of people voted for "Much Ado about Nut Things" SERIOUSLY?

A. Shakespearean title.
B. Chocolate cake unlike stupid filled donuts that WON.
C. Peanut Butter Icing. Glaaah.
D. Almondz.

Instead stupid "Bananas Foster" or "S'moresgabord" is going to win or something.
I know my rage should be better spent, but if you can't consider donuts with respect what is left? What is even left?

Clearly, lately I have been unable to stay in my right mind. Incidentally, I just started playing Cafe World. Lord, take my life now.

Too Much...Little Too Much

There are some actors who can slip in and out of character, and it doesn't seem to affect them at all. Well, I wish I had that skill. Even when I go through a show and think "No...this time it really won't get to me." It does. It always gets under my skin, into my subconscious, and makes me a nutty buddy.

I've written about this before--how being a 1950s schoolteacher this fall made me distrust men. How being sad sack Laura Wingfield in Glass Menage made me self-pitying. How I definitely felt less beautiful as Ruth Sherwood. Well, Robin Hood is supposed to be a comedy. I'm supposed to be big time comic relief. I scream a bunch and hate the forest. No big.


Rex and I horsing around before rehearsal

Yesterday towards the end of our run-through during the full cast scene in Prince Jon's court I noticed there were more bugs than usual. Not like...swarms, but usually there is one fly on set. I could always count five or six. Bradley was breaking character to slap them down. An actor next to me was squashing these flying critters bigger than gnats, smaller than horseflies with his boots from his spot sitting on a stump.

And then he stood up to reveal the top of the stump...completely crawling with hundreds of buffalo gnats. Fat little bodies and big white wings squirming all over each other, pouring out of the wood and streaming down to the rest of the stage.

I screamed bloody murder. That...is not how I usually react to bugs. I like bugs alright--even many freshly hatched larva indoors. But, Lady Quigley is my brain now, and all I could do was shriek.

That's how I nearly fell,
trading clothes and ringing Pavlov's bell.

The First of May

30th of April, seems like yesterday.
Bought a house above the ocean where our kids could laugh and play.
I called you from Paris
to tell you that I put our names on the observation deck
of the Eiffel Tower.

Remember those nights?
Playing "Summer Wind" in the juke box at the bar we used to go--
We made out in the bathroom and you walked me to my house.
I tried to convince you not to go home.

I didn't go to the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. But, with The Ataris in mind, on the observation deck of Sacre-Couer I drew a heart with ETC. inside. A mini-trademark for Alice. I thought about names, but I have done that once before, and it didn't work out. I preferred the infinity of whatever love was going to bring my way etc. etc. etc.


Pookie on observation deck, 2009

Last night I was thinking about the foreverness of relationships. It's such an important idea--commitment--and perhaps even lifelong. But how will you know if your lover will love what you love for that long? Maybe it's not important that my partner appreciates the big stuff--theatre, education, social justice. It seems like it really is...it really should be...but who can say?

I think about Grinz's boyfriend hitting a grand slam at yesterday's baseball game. Nothing mattered in that moment but the ball sailing out of the park, Grinz yelling with joy, her face heating because "Alice, everyone was looking at me like I was the luckiest girl in the world!" because she was. Right then, she was.

If only I had one wish I'd want a million trillion lifetimes that I could spend with you.