A Noise Annoys Professors

A very large part of my job is to be (essentially) annoying. I read portfolios students must submit to pass a certain level of writing proficiency. I also have to meet with two of their professors to make sure analysis of the student's work is balanced. Meetings about students' portfolios are not fun, and they do not seem important, but it's like...a requirement of graduation to pass this stuff, so it is important. Plus, I am under a deadline as to when I need to type up full evaluations for the student to read.

So...I just send e-mails trying to schedule meetings no one wants to have. Can you think of someone who would be more annoying than me? The person who makes you busy for something you don't want to do?

It's uncomfortable, but, actually, this is a skill I severely need to improve. I have horrible self-PR. In all my years performing I have never got the hang of selling my own stuff. I always feel guilty. People might not like it, might waste time, waste money, think I'm bad, like me too much to tell me....dislike me more after watching a play I'm in. I dunno!

I can't bring myself to ask people to be excited for me. To support me. This is a good step in the right direction--asking people to have the courtesy to make time for something in their job description. Maybe to you this seems irrelevant to my life, but I am building up confidence muscle in all the right annoying places.


Me & Stripes after my capstone reading--one of many performances I couldn't bring myself to directly mention to people

Working It Out

Last spring, in Portland, Clara told me, "I am inherently against exercise. Ideally my life would be active enough on its own." I...agree? Not really. I would prefer to do some treadmill time at my own leisure instead of working in a lumber yard. But, today, I literally laughed out loud while rounding out Workout 2 of the 30-Day Shred.

I was watching the fitness ladies demonstrating the squat rows and realized that I was doing the same thing--even if I couldn't see myself. I do feel good after these little DVD work-outs, but they are so random. When I run or swim, that feels like I am gaining some real skill and doing something--even if I'm ultimately not really. But, picking up a little chunk of metal in different positions, jumping around, sinking my knees, standing back up...isn't that funny? Yeah, I get that I am gaining muscle and gaining some real skill in terms of overall strength and health...but for a minute I was thinking "I am so much better at the military press than I was a week ago!" before I remember that that is not a marketable skill of any kind.

Does this all make sense? You get it.

I miss the feeling of feeling.

Rad & Naked

Today I saw a production of Equus downtown. It was very well-done. I've managed to miss reading and seeing this classic piece for years. I'm glad I saw it today, as a 22-year-old and not when I first came across a reference of it when I was 14.

Of course, I have to talk about the full-frontal nudity. Because...that's just what you talk about when you see Equus. I sat in the front row knowing I was going to be in close quarters with some dude's junk. If you're gunna see it--might as well go full out. It was a small black box.

So, when it happened, when the young man and the young woman undressed, at first it was a little shock (Oh, this is THE part), but after literally 20 seconds you forgot. I assume most people go through the same rapid-fire questions

1. I wonder if she is over 21? I guess over 18 is legal.
2. I wonder how long they rehearsed this scene before getting naked.
3. I wonder if that hurts, the way he is on the bench right now. Slivers on his butt?
4. Did their parents come to this?
5. All things considered, I guess it--

and then you're back to paying attention. There's a lot goin' on, and really, big woop. You think, "Wow. She's naked. And we're all. Right. Here." But, THEN you're like, "Whatever! I was naked this morning and it was no thing. So over it." And then, over it. Toot.

After the show I stayed in the city to meet some galpals for dinner. I aimlessly walked the sidewalks of art fair happening and bumped into part of the cast just leaving in their pedestrian clothes. The nudies and one of the horse actors. We shot the breeze I complimented them (they were very good) and the girl recognized me from the one-act festival last week and complimented me and when the kid who was Alan asked me what school group I had been with I answered and he took a long drag of his cigarette before repeating and saying "Rad, rad."

In Light

Final Council Fire, 2010

I am so filled with love right now. The universe hasn't aligned and all my problems haven't been solved, but I still feel full of love. I'm not sure what it is. It's not The Avetts--who I just saw. They were good, but that wasn't it. It might be a mix of the perfect FroYo, eating it with Pookie, driving along the Mississip.

I know we are supposed to retort "And why not?" Why not be full of love every minute. I mean, I know, Why Not? But also, I know why not--'cos sometimes we're unhappy and sometimes there's a lot more than there is or a lot less than there needs to be is Why Not. But. Not now.

I try to hold on--onto the buttery reigns--even for just a few minutes, a few days. I can't take it with me it seems. I'm bulging at my seams.

There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I'm frightened by those who don't see it

When nothing is old, deserved or expected
And your life doesn't change by the man that's elected
If you're loved by someone you're never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it.

There was a dream
One day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage a broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid, with a head full of doubt
So I scream till I die and don't ask for those bad thoughts to find me out

There's a darkness upon you that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell you what's wrong and what's right
And it flies by day and it flies by night
And I'm frightened by those who don't see it

The Killers

There are a few things I have come to realize are killers for me. I would guess they're not killers for everyone, but they have the capability to make me feel miserable. I think it is sad to be restrictive to yourself, but I DO think it is wonderful to realize what makes you feel bad or good and to have the bold thought to stop or start--whatever you need.

Without further ado, my realized killers:

-Not having a book I'm currently reading
-Not going outside at least twice in one day
-Lack of exercise
-Lack of spiritual reflection time
-Inability to write
-Potatoes (besides baked)
-Copious driving
-Waiting to do laundry until the last minute
-Messy living quarters
-Meat and Fish
-Not showering for longer than two days
-Fashion/Women's Magazines
-Too much peanut butter
-Too many Republicans
-Not enough contact from my Koh Hos



We shouted out into the sky, 'We're never gunna die!'"

Loving My Sister

after a hike--MI, 2010

Me: Plus, I am thinking about auditioning for a play. You could too--Children's Hour in Clayton. Rehearsals Mon, Tues, Thurs nights.

Pookie: The potential for one of us having to confess gay love for the other has convinced me that we should not both audition for Children’s Hour.

This is a chain we'll never break.
Do I dream? I'm awake.

Harry Potter--The Boy Who Starred

a winter rehearsal

Daniel Radcliffe is going to star in How to Succeed in Business on Broadway. Now, I'm not saying he's a bad actor, but he's definitely not supa fly, and who knows about his singing. I wonder about the kid. He was 11 when he randomly--with a stroke of luck--became Harry Potter and had his acting career set for a decade.

Now, he will probably be getting sweet jobs for life. He's a guaranteed money-maker, and so, now, because of his role as Harry Potter, he is kind of going to have a Potter-like experience forever. Some people will hate him and make fun of him just for being who he is and some people will idolize him blindly.

I wonder if he is good at acting just from all the work he's done, if he likes it, if he can consider doing other jobs, or if...this is it?

When I was very young I went to an audition for a touring production of Les Mis. I would have dropped out of 4th grade and started show biz. I wonder about all that. Do you have more opportunities from more money and a big name and credits, or are you kind of stuck in 4th grade?

Ain't nobody gotta blessing like mine.
It's a red sky night and I'm doin' alright.

Alice's Luxury Massage

Today I had my first ever hour-long professional massage. I say this as though it is a big turning point in my life--the first day of the rest of my days of piles of money being spent on massages...Don't worry. I am still in my right mind, and, yes, I'm still broke as a joke. In reality I just indulged in a Groupon for a luxury massage for an hour. So...here are some things that happened:

-I arrived a little late because my GPS took me behind the location, so I just thought I was in a sketchy O'Charley's parking lot. I called to explain my tardiness and location and the receptionist then had to tell me, "Ma'am, you are actually here. Just walk to us." I showed up at the front door 20 seconds later. Good start.

-Knowing you're about to get a massage makes you downright giddy apparently. I was given some waivers to sign and forms to fill out. I figured the receptionist would get a giggle from my paperwork. Some things that were written include my "Is there anywhere the therapist should not touch?" answer being a checkmark in the "pectorals box" and a side comment of "My chest! LOL!" Also, when it asked "How often would you like to get a massage?" I wrote, "I'm broke! :(" And, let's not forget that in the "What qualities would you like in a therapist?" I said, "The ability to get this fatty knot out of my back!"

-But, I DIDN'T give the papers to the front desk, Tim, my new therapist came in (right as I was texting and thus could not shake his hand at first and felt immediately like I was 14). He read through everything immediately. He was not amused.

-I showed Tim my big knot. It's this honkin' thing I amassed starting last July. He started telling me about stretches I could do. I explained I stretch when I exercise, but rarely my back. He asked what sports I played, so I said without missing a beat, "Oh, I'm a runner." I am not a runner. I run. I like running. I've done runs...but I'm not a runner. Yet, that is what we talked about for the rest of the session. I pretended I knew what he/I was saying. I did not.

-After the chit chat it was time to get rubbed, so he said, "Just take off however much clothes you want, and get under the covers." I began to lift up my dress, and he very quickly said, "Uh. Please allow me to exit the room." Well how was I supposed to know!?

-I took off everything but my panties. When he came back in I was readjusting my arms and accidentally flashed him. We both pretended rather cooly that nothing had happened. Or, if it had, I was wearing a skin suit and it was fine.

-Throughout the knot releasing time I had difficulties understanding his questions like, "On a scale of one to ten, how much good pain is this?" I tried to answer them, but usually he had to clarify several times.

-He eventually gave up some of the knot so I could enjoy a relaxing massage. He rubbed my legs. I have not shaved in a long time.

-He rubbed my feet. They have been full of dark blue fuzz on the account of a new rug in my suite.

-I rather liked the neck rub. And, then, with a few more lessons on stretching I was done. I tried the free water-massage bed on the way out. Its like being on a hot trampoline with a car wash underneath you. People like weird things.

I don't think professional massages are going to be for me.

But nobody knows what lies behind the days before we die die die die die.

Fear Fitness & G-Chat with Clara

I'm kind of in a stand-off with Jillian Michaels. She doesn't know this--obvi. But, I'm miffed, you guys. Jillian hooked me with this neat program called "30 Day Shred" (which I keep accidentally calling "30 Day Shed"). I like it. I ran all summer (as that is the only exercise available when you live in a cabin in the pines), and my body was yearning for something else. I started borrowing my sister's DVD of this handy 20 minute workout that ran me ragged--a perfect plan for starting a new job. It's a small time-commitment and makes me feel balanced.

HOWEVER, the system has three levels you are supposed to move through. After ten days of Level One, today I tried Level Two. It was harder, but a good workout--a nice change BUT THEN JILLIAN STARTED MIXING HER "YOU CAN DO IT"S WITH LOTS AND LOTS OF FEAR-BASED COMMENTS. While on the strength section she prompted me to remember buying jeans and swimsuits. She pointed several times to the demonstrating ladies and commented on how much abs like that are worth ("Everything!")

Fear does not belong in education. It just doesn't. I mean, it doesn't belong anywhere besides the Scream trilogy. But, it especially does not belong in the dang comfort of my own home when I'm just trying to get my heart happy. GD.

Clara with some eggs from her chickens, 2009


clara: i'm going to a naked lady party
that starts in like five minutes
me: You're going naked???
clara: well, no
naked lady like "bring the clothes you don't want anymore and we'll swap!" party
but i could potentially get naked at any point
this is true 100% of the time

Mini-Van Disease?

Tonight coming home from the One-Act Festival, a bunch of wild kid-a-ma-jigs hitched a ride with Huntie, Mama T, and I. They bee-lined for the backseat and immediately began squawking, carrying on, scream/singing, and generally being nertz.

I seriously think there is this condition that overcomes all people under the age of 30: If you are in a mini-van with a driver and two or more people in the backseat, you go bonkers and forget there are even people there listening to you at all. It's automatic--re-living the fifth grade carpool. God knows what my father heard as he silently chauffeured me and my wild little friends.


ACTF 2010--also, the people in the car tonight, oddly enough

You were gunna be my Judy Garland. We were gunna share your Tinman heart.

Techno Rave

Technology is seriously going too fast for me. Blue my hair and deduct my speed on the highway--I feel totally befuddled by the speed of my work computer.

It's like, I'm processing which files are in which folders and what goes where..and the computer is like "What-here? Here? Here? Let me bring up files in a preview! Over here! Did you see how I juggle all your internet screens?! BING New Mail! Did you see the K-Drive!?" I swear it's like a dog playing fetch, and it just wears-me-OUT.

Whatever happened to having beaucoup de think time inbetween web pages loading, files being found, projects being saved?

It's all a girl can do but go home after a long dress rehearsal and play several games of Pac-Man.


Whatever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paper boy, evening TV?

Backstage for One

There are certain things I will always love about theatre. Being backstage for one. I haven't met a dressing room I didn't like. They are dusty with makeup particles, full of anachronisms, cool, intimate.

Huntie and I are performing a repeat of Bradley's one-act from last winter "Your Mother's Butt" by Alan Ball. We drove out to the theatre tonight for dress rehearsal. We hit traffic and had to get a move on. I busted in, quickly braided my hair, pomped on some base and blush, slid on the lip-stick, shimmied out of my dress and into my suit. Added glasses. I didn't know anyone. It's just Huntie and me, so obviously the girl's dressing room was full of only strangers. I didn't mind. They were friendly in wigs and robes and eyeliner.

I rushed out in time for five 'til places. We performed. It was okay. Just a dress run. I went back, changed, and we left. A short time in a comfortable space. A comfortable space of strangers and tile.


Bradley and I waiting for notes, November 2009

Missouri Loves Company

In starting new things you often come across snags and bumps and jostley old bridges. It has been incredibly comforting for me to be talking to other people who agree with me. I mention what happened with this paperwork, with that person, with those situations...and people don't jump on the negative bus, but they say, "Oh, that's not acceptable!" Or, "I hope you did something about that." It's ESPECIALLY wonderful when the situation is the same. When someone says, "Oh, I know that process, I went through that, that was no good." I'm like, "Yeah! Thank you for seeing that!"

I really don't believe we are meant to agree with problems and Wrong an feed it...but it is necessary for others to let you have that. To be the person to say What You Are Feeling Is Valid. I've Been There. Not in the Oh, Boo Hoo, Everyone's Been There way, but the Yeah. Here's How I Did It way. I thank you. I thank you all who see That and who speak up for it. Who reassure, who reunite, who rekindle love and hope.

And I could make you pay and pay, but I could never make you stay.



This photo makes me happy and grateful. August 2010.

Same Place Blues

LC nomming some chocolate at AWP Denver 2010

Sitting in another coffee shop today. I am failing miserably at my new years resolution to drink less of the stuff. Oh, except I got a smoothie today! So, actually, good for me.

I'm sitting here, and I just saw some young teens come in with backpacks. Then, I had the funny idea that this is a successful place, so it will probably be here in five years--will they? Ten? I just realized that there are no regular places I go to that I have gone to consistently throughout my life. No little chocolate shops, no cafes, no movie theaters, nothing. I mean, camp...and...no really that's it. My family all have moved around tons, and so have I. I have loved places, but no familiar ones--none that I have seen every year for at least ten years. It's actually weird when you think about it. It's also weird to think that eventually I may stay somewhere for fifteen years...will I be absolutely nuts then?

Next time you're going to the same ol' restaurant you've been to a million times over since childhood. Be a little grateful for me, would you?

I like the way you comb your hair.
I like those stylish clothes you wear.

Autumn Dranks

Why do I enjoy Pumpkin Spice Lattes so very much? Perhaps it is the season in general, so brisk and new. I do love the start of schooltime. Fresh starts for all little children across the country. And me, a little twentysomething working her buns off figuring out how to make a fulfilling existence. Starting fresh too--with more fear than a second grader. You know, you think there are things that will be good for you, or will help you, and sometimes you're just wrong, and that really hurts. It really does. And, standing on the edge of things that I believe might be good for me is very daunting because...I might be wrong. And, being wrong will be very inconvenient for me. I don't like that idea.

URGENT: I JUST GOT OFFERED A SAMPLE OF THE TOFFEE LATTE AND IT IS GROSS. DO NOT BUY IT. I REPEAT--PUMPKIN GOOD. TOFFEE BAD.

I need a car you need a guide who needs a map. If I don't die or worse I'm gunna need a nap.

My Beefs

1. When people refer to the central idea or problem as "the meat." "The meat of the story..." etc. Lame. Let's try to get rid of meat, not say it's important. The "meat" of a meal doesn't have to be meat. We can say "The main course of the story"?

2. Just tried the 30 Day Shred yesterday with Jillian Michaels. It was very enjoyable, and I even feel a lil sore! I have a theory that only NBC is actually marketing Jillian as America's hottest woman/toughest lady because...she's obviously fit, but I don't think she's that hott. The video starts with her being like, "I guess you've heard I'm the toughest trainer ever." From who has that been spread besides her? The oldest trick in the book.

3. Still patiently awaiting being settled. My dad gave me some good advice saying--nothing ever feels right at first. Sad, but I found it true. The beginning just feels weird, different, because it is. It's a beginning. He explained moving into his new apartment years ago with only a book and a sleeping bag. Now, that would be weird, but now he is so happy. So...SO!


Come back Muff, 3/10

But I'm still loco enough to choke you to death with a Charleston Chew.

Hoarders

There is this show on A&E that is actually the scariest thing I have ever seen. It is called Hoarders, and it is about people who hoard their stuff like it's their job--more than that--like their life depends on it. It's really creepy/scary/weird that people don't see their lives as nuts as they are. I know that that's a pretty judgmental thing to see. After all, with all my belongings cluttering up the living room as I pack super super s-u-p-e-r slowwwwwwly I could be confused with a minimal hoarder.

Why is it that no matter how long you have, packing always takes too long and always goes to the last minute? I'm sick of it.


Bradley--He is a fast packer. The only one I know.

Also, tonight I beat my personal Pac-Man high score of all time: 93,000 points bada boom.

And I won't wait for you forever, while you run around like JFK.

Nick Cannon

MI 2010

Everything is exploding.
My head hurts.
Everything is exploding.
Could this be worse?

I'm broke, meanwhile, Nick Cannon makes millions to look drugged/bored out of his mind while MCing America's Got Talent. First of all, Nick Cannon has not done anything with his life. He was a host on Snick and then had a watered-down version of Punk'd on cable. I'm sure he had no creative power behind the show. Then, he was in a lame romance movie or two, and then he got the best wifey eva. And...now he explains acts with the excitement of a bedbug.

WHY NICK CANNON WHY?

All this breathing in.
Never breathing out.

Dang Latina Cantina Language PCness

Am I the only one who seems to have endless difficulties when it comes to Latino things? I don't even think that's the politically correct way to say what I mean here...Okay--here's what I mean:

1. The big whoopsie is saying "Mexican" when referring to two Mexicans speaking a language. It makes you sound like a major squat brain, and, really, the best of us have made that error. "Do you speak Mexican?"--an instant goober is born, and really, it is a totally understandable mistake.

YET

2. Because of Number One, when I am referring to Mexican cuisine I sometimes (in attempt to not sound like a ding-dong) automatically say "I ate at a Spanish restaurant," which of course, is super wrong. Chimichangas and tapas are way diff, my amigos.

3. There's also no umbrella food term. Like...Brazilian and Columbian and Mexican...do you say South American? I guess that makes sense. As I'm typing this I feel like an idiot. Like everyone else really does know how to refer to everything, and all my future potential employers found this blog and are reading it RIGHT NOW laughing and HOOTing, "WHAT A JERK!" I just...I mean...Asian food is just Asian, can be more specific, but, if you don't know...it's Asian. Okay. I'll shut up now.

Really, maybe everyone feels stupid about this stuff, so that's why everyone gets freaked out and thus the jealousy spurred people to fearfully make up the stereotype that Latino/a people (is that even what you SAY?) are dumb. Beating them to the punch before they realize us WASPS ain't got a clue on the board game.

Upside inside out! Livin' la vida loca!

Reunion 20Dime

Last weekend had a reunion with my elementary/first high school friends. Hadn't seen them in years. It was nice--but weird. Yet another strange effect of Facebook. It's really never that long since you've seen someone. I look forward to college reunions where no one has seen my face in a decade. But, the reunion, yes, the photo above shows the nice happiness of a relaxing night.

There was this one day I spent like...twenty minutes looking at an acquaintance's wedding photos on The Book. Then, randomly, I saw her at the gym. I was like, "Oh, hey." And she was sort of like, "Oh...I haven't seen you in a long time..." and it was clear she was thinking, "Why is Alice acting all crazy non-chalant to an old pal?!" and then my eyes bugged out of my head because I was being a total jerk! D'oh.

I'm your biggest fan I'll follow you until you love me.

Loozing Da Mined!

Wilderness. Woke up early to have breakfast with my aunt. Supes sleepy. Driving drowsy. Milling slowly around, watching Synecdoche New York and it felt like it lasted my whole lifetime...kind of the point of the movie, but come ON. Come ON. Great reviews, but I feel like I lost my mind. Also, I can't believe it's not even 3 PM!

I appreciate art that shows us how horrible life is when we wait, but I also get it. And, I already read Death of a Salesman. So. You know.

I'm sprawled out considering reality and Full House, so I guess I should go on a walk now.

I wonder if she knows which way is down.

State Fair 2010