First Movie Date

The first time I saw a movie on a date was in 2002. I was a freshman in high school, and I was going on a double date with my boyfriend, my best friend (at the time--meaning we weren't best friends after about four months), and her boyfriend. But, things were on the rocks with the other couple, and the guy just didn't show. He was our ride.

My sister drove the three of us instead. We saw the movie They, which was really just horrible. There's more to the story, but you know how awkward dates go. Insert funny comment about hand holding.

I just totally didn't get it. TOTALLY. And this, to me, continues to be funny eight years later. Today what really got me cackling was remembering how after the movie my temp-bff asked, "Now what?" as I got out my phone to call my sister. The bf, eyes wide with excitement said "Let's get food!" as I said "Let's go home." I pretended I didn't hear him. What was he yammering about? It was like nine o'clock. I already ate dinner! He was a crazy. Why on earth would we prolong the night anymore? We'd already spent a couple hours seeing a movie. Without acknowledging anyone, I dialed my sis, we got picked up, and we dropped the bf back at his house. He sort of stood outside the car maybe waiting for a hug (?). I made eyes at my sister like "What are you waiting for? Pedal to the floor, lady."

She said, "He seems nice."
"Huh?" I said.

Totally. Didn't. Get. It.

Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?

Nothing'severgunnastandinmyway

Something exciting is that it hasn't occurred to me that graduate school is the only chance for my writing. That just...hasn't crossed my mind. Often we attempt participation in things, and if we get denied, that's sort of it. But, that's not how this is. I know that if I'm not admitted, I'll probably keep working and try again. Or, I'll keep working and do something else. I think, if at all possible, you should always feel a step above fate.

Oh it's tough when love's a weed.
It grows inside of me.

Sparkle

I am worried the magic is going to disappear if I move even one muscle.

The Rainbow Lanyard

Today's love letter goes to my friend Clara. I like to think of my dearest friends as strands on a summer camp lanyard. My sister used to make those. She made one that was ten colors wide in rainbow order, twisting around itself. I coveted that lanyard SO BAD. I WANTED THAT AMAZING TECHNICOLOR CHUNK OF PLASTIC STRING!

Alas, she did not give it to me. Now, I thank her, for preventing me from looking like the world's youngest lesbian. No doubt I would have gotten it stuck in my bowl cut or accidentally stepped on it with the Timberlands I wore throughout first and second grade.

So I see my friends as those colors, getting braided in and out...sometimes on the outside, sometimes tightly wound in. For example, George was one of my best friends as we inched towards graduation, then we disappeared, then we had one isolated and wonderful Chicago night full of sneaking into hotel saunas and vegan quesidillas a couple years ago. Last December for about two weeks we were suddenly obsessed with each other, but then school started, and then it's just sort of been a while. I'm not sad. It all comes back.

ANYWAY, wow, I'm getting long-winded. So recently, Clara has woven back into my life. I'm not sure what causes this...besides some subconscious similarities in life positions. Or because two weeks ago I made her admit that I officially have the title "Clara's best friend from high school." The point is that lately it's not strange for me to know what she's eating today, what projects she's working on when two years ago I didn't even know where she worked. When I realize this stuff I feel infinitely surrounded by all the people I have ever known--always with me.



What I like most about rivers is you can't step in the same river twice. The water's always changing, always flowing.

Names for My Technology

My first iPod: Frenchie

I bought her a bright pink case. It reminded me of Frenchie from Grease, the girl who accidentally dyes her hair pink in beauty school.

My second iPod: Abner

RIP French--you were hella buggy and froze a lot. The Apple store replaced you with a guy identical. Including the bugs. At the time (2005) my bff was KHo. She had an ex-bf named Andrew who I would always accidentally call Abner. We thought this was really really funny, especially after we figured out the pig in Hey Arnold! was named Abner.

My third iPod: Tootie

Abner died the first morning of Speech Nationals in 2006. Inconvenient much?! There went my pump-up jam playlists! When I replaced Abner, I named the new gal Tootie after a character in my Nationals speech.

MacBook: Bernadette Mac

I wanted something really official and special--like Bernadette Peters. Plus, when shortened, she became "Bernie Mac."

iPod Video: Troy Daniels

When Tootie bit it, I upgraded to a black Video. I was with Kay at the time, and he said I should name it Troy Daniels after a black kid he beat at water basketball who later went on to be a really good collegiate player. I thought this was a good idea.

iPod Shuffle: Calamity Jane

Isn't that a good name for a little pink thing that plays stuff at random?

Little iPod Shuffle: Rosemary

My dad got me a little silver thin shuffie in 2009. The model didn't last long. I listened to it a lot backstage of Summer Brave. I named it after my character.

New MacBook: Kurt

In memory of Kurt Vonnegut's death day (near when I got the new computer) and my favorite Glee character. Dur!

iPhone: Wright

I Love Everybody.

My boss at The Writing Center. A true scholar.

The final nail is in the coffin on my first graduate school application. I feel...nervous. The fatty envelope is gone, and I keep thinking of all the things that would make me a good applicant that I didn't have space for in my statement of intent.

I really may not get into either program I applied for. Both only accept two students per year. Splat. I don't think I will be crushed if I get denied. I'll end up trying again. But, right now what's really important is how supportive everyone has been. So many people have now read and offered feedback on my manuscript submission. People came out of the woodworks to lend an eye to my statement of intent. Including the bff from high school. Including the boss above. And EVERYONE has been so encouraging. I LOVE EVERYONE FOR LOVING ME!

Okay. That's enough emotional barf for one day.

Chang chang changity chang shoo bop that's the way it should be

Hey, It's Okay.

When you think about it, nothing is actually wrong now because time will pass, and nothing ever seems wrong in the past.



"Despite that factor [The Holocaust]--or maybe because of it--we were carried away by nature's beauty, which we had missed for so long." -Viktor Frankl

Happier Times

Too many papers to grade. Too many critical essays to read. Too many edits to make. Everything slows down in exactly ten days.


Capstone writing group, Spring 2010

I played all my cards and that's what you've done too.
Nothing more to say. No more ace to play.

Guide You Home

When I started to attend sleepaway camp, my mom bought a "Camp Stamp." You send away for a little rubber stamp with your name and phone number on it. It's non-washable and easier than conquering your kid's fat stack of garments and a Sharpie. Everything I ever brought to camp has my name and number in it. Now, of course, I don't wear most of the clothes I did as a camper, but there are a few things. A couple old sweatshirts, a towel here and there.

Years ago my mom and I were in disagreement about something. I can't remember what, but I know the issue had something to do with me wanting more freedom, and her wanting to check in on what I was doing. Maybe it was when I went to New York, and she wanted me to call her every night. It was something I didn't really mind, but it just seemed silly--being an adult and having to jump through an arbitrary hoop. I was arguing for my freedom, she for her rights as a mother, and then she said, "It's not like I'm asking you to write my name in your underpants or something!"

My mom has the same name as I do. So of course my answer was, "IT'S ALREADY THERE!"

It just occurred to me that the number is the landline from our old home. If I do lose something in the future, a nice person is going to try to return it to me and find a family who has no need for a purple cat washcloth.

Tears stream down your face
when you lose something you cannot replace.
Lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones.

The Rules

I really like self-set rules. I can see why people don't. Freedom and all that. But, not me. I just like making choices and stickin' to 'em. I was wishy-washy on eating fish for years. Periods of yes, periods of no, then just trying to limit it...but it was just too hard. When it doubt, cut it out. Bye tuna. I miss you most of all.

This summer while teaching Sunday School to a group of juniors in high school, we came across the question, "If we are supposed to enjoy our lives but not be fixated on materiality...how do we live?" It's a good question--for all religions. I mean, Buddhists eat.

So I thought a bunch and studied a lot, and I came up with four rules.

Enjoy earthy pleasures as long as...

1. you're not putting your opportunities at risk. Example: Indulging in an illegal substance for which you could potentially get caught and fined or jailed for.

2. you're not trying to replace a spiritual quality with the materiality. Example: Buying new clothes because they will make you beautiful, instead of buying clothes that are beautiful to compliment the beauty you already possess.

3. you get legitimately angry or frustrated if you are separated from the materiality. Example: Getting extremely fussy when you don't have dessert after a meal.

4. the indulgence is one you can pull away from and out of if someone were to need help. Example: Getting so drunk you couldn't offer advice to a family member calling in a crisis.

I really like these. Follow 'em!


Amazing chocolates my mom got me from Bruges! Chocolate--my biggest vice.

Some men are born to live at ease, doing what they please, richer than the bees are in honey.

Chip Chip

Stripes and me two days ago.

Sometimes you don't want to ask any questions.
You know, and they know you know, but you don't know if they want you to know more...or know at all!
So, you just don't ask.
And you think about it. You do.
You spend days finessing just the right fake conversation to lead you to the informational doorstep.
And then POP
someone else,
tactless as a pile of oatmeal spattered across a senator asks point-blank in a crowded vehicle.
And the truth spills out of their all too generous smile.
And you know.
And it really wasn't that big a deal.

But now he's dear, and so I'm sure.

Godspell

Tonight I saw one of the best pieces of theatre I have ever seen in my entire life. It was a modernized version of Godspell that took place in the slums.

Every actor and musician was fully committed, loving, sure, INSPIRED. I sat on the edge of my seat through all the regular "Day by Days" and "It's All for the Bests"! It was...funny and smart...raw and rich...and Jesus. The student playing Jesus Christ was sensational. I have never connected with the crucifixion. Ick. No thanks. But tonight? Tonight I was so moved by this boy's complete humility, amazing voice, and sincere movements that I found myself praying although I do know how the story always goes. Please don't do it Judas. Please.

My heart wretched as the train rumbled faster and faster. A huge light from stage right shot straight into the boy's eyes. Rumble rumble steam shooting. Jesus hit by a train while avoiding the police.

And then he came back for a bow which I gladly leapt up to clap for. He smiled with so much love! They sang one more round of gospel jam and danced away into the wings.

I want so badly to run into that actor. To say Thank You, You Have Given Me So Much. I Understand. But, also, I could not bear it. I cannot take the fact that he is probably twenty-one and sometimes makes rude remarks, and laughs at unfunny television, and has to warm up before hitting those gorgeous notes. Because then Jesus really will be dead.


Far beyond where the horizon lies
Where the horizon lies
And the land sinks into mellow blueness
Oh please, take me with you

Is This Callous?

This summer I ran a 5K. After several rounds of free bagel bites, some stretching, hangin' out, etc. the crowd suddenly burst into a very sincere applause. Why? The race wasn't over. Oh. A blind woman finished.

Let me explain a few things:

1. The 5K was 2.5K in one direction on a straight flat road, a turn-around-point, and then back on the other side of the road.
2. The woman did not run the 5K. She walked it.
3. She used her cane.
4. She was holding someone else's arm also.

Now, don't get me wrong, being blind is a bummer. My grandmother was blind. Bummerville! But, really? That woman did not deserve riotous clapping. I mean...come on. Being blind does not make you incapable of walking three miles. Can people stop doing this? Like seeing someone's differences and then applauding their normalcy?

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

It Has Come to My Attention

Spring 2010

Remember last week when I regaled everyone with my victory over having a nosebleed while running? Having a nosebleed while running made me feel like a warrior. Like when I am leaving the gym and suddenly my iPod is all "Imma play 'Live Your Life' by T.I. and Rihanna!" and I'm all "Yuh duh. This is so perfect right now." And I bop all the way home and nod at strangers like "Yeah. You don't even KNOW what's goin' on in these headphones. Crazy things are goin' down. 'I Want It All' from High School Musical 3 is probably comin' up next."

So...I was retelling that story over lunch today. I was with one of my old directors and Stripes. We were at a food court, and a boy near us had a nosebleed. I launched into my tale of Xena-like proportions. But they just sort of blinked. I was laughing, "See? I didn't have a choice!" But my director said, "You...you could have stopped and cleaned up your blood...?"
"No, but like..." I was loosing my footing, "I would have been late and..."
Enter Rex, sitting nearby in distaste, "You always have a choice."
So...it has come to my attention that perhaps I am sort of neurotic and not necessarily, um, cute.

Shine

Manta ray from Monterey

Last night the eight actors tried to work our scenes in the hotel conference room. It was occupied by another bunch with the same idea. We waited patiently in the hall. Then, we waited. Then, we waited and yelled "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG ITS BEEN?" to each other--hoping the noise carried through walls

The others weren't budging. We scuffled into the exercise room. Three machines in a teeny space. We each took up spaces--Stripes stood on the treadmill. I sat in one foot of the elliptical, others were cross-legged against the mirror. We did our scenes indeed. Two at a time in near the door where there was just enough space for minor movement. And they were real!

We crouched and bumped our bodies into the stationary bike, but we were all there, really seeing it. I believed I was in a bar with some bratty women, on the edge of Central Park Lake, the fugitive's home, and even in my own scene--the airport terminal. My husband came home without his arm. My husband.

I miss it.
I miss it.
Oh, I miss that feeling of feeling.

While the Blossoms Still Cling to the Vine

Mini Muff Wedding Cake, 2009

I can't be contented with yesterday's glory.
I can't live on promises winter and spring.
Today is my moment and now is my story.
I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll sing.

High Apple Pie in the Sky Hopes

photo by Mia

1. Had high hopes of updating this blog every day this month. But, then I remembered I'm going to ACTF next week and might not have internet. Thus, dreams splattered on the sidewalk.

2. When I was fourteen I loved the song "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World. I thought the chorus was

"It just takes some time.
Little girl you're in the middle
apple pie.
Everything everything will be alright."

3. When I started coaching speech I was overwhelmed by a surprising saddness. It wasn't nostalgia--more this huge hairy feeling that nothing is ever going to be planned for me anymore. I run around these tournaments making an activity happen for high schoolers, but nothing like that exists for me anymore, right? So wrong! I feel really good about this concept lately. Like not only is that not something to fear because I can make my own plans that are better than adults planning speech meets. I mean, step back and think about that. I was scared I wouldn't enjoy things as much as high school speech meets. Um. Crazytown called and wants their president back.

Today while I was sitting alone in a classroom waiting for students to come in with little prepared political speeches I was overwhelmed by the feeling that things are constantly being laid out for me--and with less stress and anguish than the busy speech adults must endure. Simple and good things are just plopping down in front of me. Falling from the sky like houses post-twister.

It's to Jimmy Eat World and those nights in my car,
when the first star you see may not be a star.
I'm not your star.
Isn't that what you said?
What you thought this song meant?

Epic Run (And I Kinda Hate the Word "Epic")

Girliest gym bag ever. Lilac socks and all.

Ran ten miles today at the gym. I only had two hours to do this. Very busy schedule this morning.

A. I was watching an episode of SNL on my iPod around mile 3 and caught my headphone wire on my hand. The iPod jumped off the little shelf and nearly flew under my foot. I offered up a little yelp. Boop.

B. I got a nosebleed at mile five, but I was on a schedule, so I just...bled. Shirt = super disgusting.

C. I now am running like a real runner. I invested in new kicks, shorts, and socks. These things MAKE A HUGE DIFFERENCE. I can't believe how with the right kind of shorts my back doesn't hurt, and my feet are virtually blister free after seriously having blisters from running for the past like...five years? I started the think about all those conversations people have about Olympians and if special water-resistant swimsuits are legit blah blah blah. And then I was like "DUH! THE OLYMPICS SHOULD BE NAKED!" Because then...you know...there's no question. It's just, well, it's just how it is!

I can't decide if I'm a genius or not.

Victory Yatches

Favies! Fall 2010

Before my writing clinic I couldn't get the projector to work with the computer and the sound was crazy, and I was like "I suck at technology. I just won't do it." BUT GUESS WHAT? I took a breath and messed with cables and buttons and instructions and I FIGURED IT OUT. This is a MASSIVE victory. Do things you can't do! It is so great! And I got to show the students a slam poem before I started the clinic! Because the projector worked! It was semi-raunchy at the end which I forgot and it was really awkward...BUT VICTORY IS VICTORY!

A stranger with a doorkey explaining 'I'm just visiting.'

Keep It Fresh, Loving

Today I had to call a couple offices for information about my grad school applications. I SWEAR TO JALEPENO POPPERS I read all the websites and supporting links as THOROUGHLY AS POSSIBLE. Still, there were bits of information simply not available. Oh, you say you need to send proof of measles vaccination with my application? Oh, good, you have included a link...to the health service page of the university. Great. A smiling drop of blood on a treadmill with health tips. WHERE THE VACCINATION FORM AT?

Or, "Be sure to send the transcript directly to the Graduate School." WHERE THE ADDRESS AT? NOT ON THE WEBSITE THAT'S WHERE.

So I called. And after being on hold for about twenty minutes I get an extremely peeved woman. I am a chipper chipmunk. I know those jobs aren't all swingsets and nougat bars. But she cut directly through my hoy before I even finished my sentence "Yes, I see I need a vaccination f--"

"THAT'S THROUGH THE HEALTH DEPARTMENT YOU'LL HAVE TO CALL THEM."
"Okay. But, I'm just asking if I need that shot before I am admitted, or if I only have to--"
"IF YOU DON'T GET THE SHOT YOU CAN'T REGISTER FOR CLASSES."
"Okay. (Smile) But if I'm just applying...I can wait--"
"YOU DON'T NEED IT TO APPLY."

Good gravy. What did I do wrong? I realize that might be a question she gets all the time, and she cannot help with it...but for honey's sake, she could just know IT WAS NOT ME CALLING HER THOSE PREVIOUS NINETY TIMES. If anything, she needs to pay the website designer an angry lil visit.

It's a good reminder. We needn't treat new people with old problems with immediate animosity. It's really okay.

It's true. Look how they shine for you.

Stretched Out

I'm a singular person. I love theatre and its strong peanut butter balls of ensemble, stuck together and dusted with coconut. But, generally, I spend time with people one-on-one. The more people the more anxious. I know it can be good for me. I have evidence of course. But, mostly...I don't scoot towards flocks of friends. In conclusion, I have these little friendies sprinkled over the country like paprika on a deviled egg.

I love them, my pretties.

They stay in my heart, but where are all MY little bits? With each of them? No one has the carbon copies. No one knows how I used to make up dance routines to "Viva Forever" AND what I think about Graff's opinions of academic language. The tactics I used, how many bites it takes to finish a yogurt, how long my laundry was in the basket unfolded. I realize everyone lives in twelve trillion particles, but something seems...fishy that no one can pin them all down. Not even me?


my longform team, performing last week

It's hard to explain except to say we're on our own in every way.
Someone who says they'll stay, may just be waiting around for some luck.

Bye Bye Baby

January 2, 2011

Blanche has been staying with her gramps since Thanksgiving. I was in transit for over the school break (including taking a train back here from Chicago) so she was returning home to me in two weeks when my dad next visited.

This morning he called to say she died last night. I am sad, of course. But, hamsters die. Little hearts. And, what kind of life is a little cage anyway? Still, I wish I had gotten to have her just a little bit longer. She was great company, adorable, and she really did lift my spirits. There's nothing like cozying up with a good book and a hamster. I recently put a picture of her on the desktop of my work computer. Yesterday my dad texted me to say he was listening to a duet of Blanche running in her wheel and the strangely similar sound of coffee percolating.

Some great memories of Blanchie:
-As aforementioned, the times she would just curl up on me as I did homework.
-The random places I would bring her--like newspaper pitch meetings, play auditions...whatever.
-When she escaped her ball and I found her just sitting upright under a chair, uninterested in going much farther.
-The way she was trained to climb the bars when she wanted a snack or to be played with.
-When she would lie on her back pressed against the bars of her cage when she got too hot.
-How she would keep Muff awake at night when we were roommates.
-How I really wanted to see her after I had gotten my wisdom teeth out.


I'll be the other hand that always holds a line
connecting in between your sweet heart and mine.
I'm strung out on that wire.

Five Things (1/8)

I do this from time to time. We know how it goes right? Ohmahgah...I just pictured if this blog were a "Favorite Things" type blog like the one Mindy Kaling had...or like what Oprah deems to be "in." But unlike those two beautiful goddesses' picks, all my stuff would have not an ounce of 1) Trendy, cutie, glamness or 2) Practicality.

"Hey guys! Alice's new favorite stuff for January! Trying to Wear a Cheap Target Fleece in Lieu of a Real Coat and Being Excited that the String Cheese Purchased last October Doesn't Expire until Mid-February! Oh, and ladies? Four words on fashion: Disintegrating Gray Sports Bra! It goes with everything. If it doesn't, make it! Happy New Year!"

Cool. So, my real five things I'm grateful for today.

1. To follow up on the Nikes my blistered feet so needed--they are wonderful. My odd-shaped feet were thanking me profusely today at the gym. Shout out the the five-year-old who sewed the pink swoop on the sides.
2. MY BED. The best part of my little intern suite is the kind sized bed I have in it. I never thought I would want a bed this big, but now that it's here, I don't know how to live without one! I use one half for sleeping and one half for sorting all my work, papers, readings, etc. The perfect system! Productivity and organization without ever leaving your mattress!

To my right. Note the checked housewarming gift from Muff & Jamba!
3. Orange juice. I swear every commercial during Father of the Bride II (which I watched on my run today) featured the pulpy stuff, and immediately after leaving the gym I had a huge, icy glass of OJ. You know how sometimes you crave things and then you get them and you're like "Aw it was better in my mind..." THIS WAS NOT ONE OF THOSE TIMES. IT WAS SO GOOD.
4. Did I tell you guys about this string cheese I bought?! Oh right. I did. Really, this was a vital discovery.
5. My sissy and LC. Good peeps.

As bad as I am, I'm proud of the fact that I'm worse than I seem.

Here's One

This morning I saw that it was snowing, and my knee-jerk reaction was crawling back into bed and pressing fast forward. BUT I am a happy person now! Things are going well for me! I need to stop hating winter so very much. I promised last fall! I promised after falling in love with "Blood Bank."

And then it came to me, slow and spinning like the flakes outside, a good winter memory.

When I was a freshman in high school I played Gavroche in Les Miserables. It was the first time I sincerely got acting. I was all about that part. I died on a barricade and everything. My family was impressed with me. I had grown up and died in front of them. My grandmother could not believe it. To her I was still four. Her eyes were wide looking at me like No. No, that couldn't have been you.

She wasn't a stereotypical harsh grandmother, but she wasn't a cushy one either. She just didn't quite know me. I had never spent time alone with her, but a couple weeks later she called my dad and arranged a one-on-one visit for me. She had purchased tickets to a new musical, Seussical the Musical , and wanted to make an event of it. Just us. The actress and her grandmother.

My dad drove me downtown, and the three of us had lunch at Marshall Fields (EFF MACY'S!) Dad left us, and I just didn't know quite how to act or what to do. We looked at the furniture, the Christmas windows, the jewelry. We made our way to the theatre, and I was surprised by how much I feel in love with a show based on Dr. Seuss books. We ate chocolate mints throughout the performance. She was very interested in my opinion of the acting, the songs, the costumes. I told her, and in the dark we caught the train back to her house. She told me stories about the 1930s, and I stayed the night.

For Christmas she gave me a square glass ornament that read

November 1, 2002
Alice (Last Name)
A Star Is Born

It was not opening night, but the night she saw the show.

Oh the thinks you can think, think and wonder and dream, far and wide as you dare.

This Happened

Me: I really like it...for real.
LC: I love it!
Me: And I think the relationships are so good!
LC: I know! I think it's the most realistic teen drama ever created!
Me: I know! (Beat) Besides the vampires.

Homework

This term I am auditing a class called Advanced Writing Seminar. It is the training course for tutors. I never took it as a student, but the skills it teaches would make me way better at the instructing parts of my job.

We have only had one class so far. I was immediately shocked by being back in the classroom. I don't know exactly why. I work at a high school and a college. I appreciate learning, and try to make as many things as possible educational. Just ask my sister. We can't get through even an episode of The Vampire Diaries without me needing to pause and ask her several reflective questions about relationships, writing, art, or wooden stakes.

So, why did I freak out when a syllabus was suddenly in my hand. IT'S BACK! MY ACADEMIC LIFE IS BAAAAAACK!

But, I just did the reading for tomorrow's class. I quieted the busy blank of brainwaves. I folded myself up in my pink comforter. I held a highlighter and waded through the information. A cool night, dark water, lily pads, a boat barely knocking the dock.


Summer 2010, photo by Dunt

It felt good.

When the sun came up. We were sleeping in. Sunk inside our blankets.

WHY DID I THROW THEM ALL AWAY?

Today I met with my boss at the Writing Center about this term's projects. I am jazzed. I have my bearings in this job, and I now know how to work it. Also, now that I am comfortable, I love it. So many people my age aren't yet working in fields they genuinely want to support. I am. Hella blessed, y'all.

So, today my boss was giving me some projects relating to assessment of a program for freshmen. At the end of this year's program, all the freshies had to write evaluations that I spent several hours of my life reading, assessing, pie-charting, etc. I spent a couple weeks on the project, but then all the evals (a fatty fat stack) just sat in my drawer. So ugly and taking up all my space. The project was long over, so I decided to throw them out.

FLASH FORWARD TO TODAY! I'm sitting in my boss's office, and she starts explaining a project I am to do. I just have to re-document all the evaluations in a new way. Oh, no big...Wait...

I THREW THEM ALL AWAY!

It's bad. Really bad. Because there's NO way to get that information back. At all. And, so she's giving me directions, and explaining how valuable this project will be to show the administration and I am listening but all trying to not let my face show what is going on in my brain which is

I THREW THEM ALLLLLLLL AWAY!

I returned to my desk. Trying not to wig the heck out, I carefully opened my drawer. Sure enough. There was the binder I had organized them all in. Empty as the day it was born in an office supply factory. I sighed a big sigh. I picked up the binder, and saw ALL THE PAPERS I HAD THROWN AWAY!

It flooded back...Me holding the huge stack over the recycling bin, and then thinking, "Oh what the heck. I'll just keep them."
Packrats unite. Hallelujah. Praise Allah.

Dance Around

Just dance around. Don't make any choices.
You're never going to know
what to do!
Tra la la.
Dance around.
Tra la la.
Dance around.
Just dance around. Don't win any hearts.
You're never going to know
who to love!
Tra la la.
Dance around.
Tra la la.
Dance around.


Muff & Jamba, wedded big time

Spirited Away

On the morning of New Years Eve, Pookie started watching Spirited Away. I was about to go running, but I was stuck to my seat. Totally absorbed. My heart literally got heavier. I missed Japan so much. I know the right thing will happen with next year, but right now it feels like my whole body is yelping for Nihon. I even started reviewing my hiragana.


Mahji, Fukoi


Nac & Jamin*, Tsuwano


Grinz, Kyoto

*Jamin used to be referred to as Bradley on this blog. However, after the creation of Jamin/Bradley's fake name, I made a real friend with the name of Bradley who I also talk about on this blog...with a different name...Too confusing. So, now, forevermore I'm using Jamin' for my bestie once called Bradley.

You'll be saddened to know the train tracks you once walked as a young boy are now nothing more than a graveyard.

Midnight

So, in order to beat New Year's last year...last night didn't have to live up to much...considering last year I was out of my mind in pain from my wisdom teeth removal, at my sister's new house with only blue birthday cake ice cream and potato chips for food, and watching The Little Mermaid with my dad.


Wisdom teeth, photo by Pookie

BUT it was a GREAT night. My dear dear friend KWall was in town, so she and I had dinner to be followed by St. Louis's First Night, which was wonderful! My improv group performed to three full houses until 11:30 with breaks inbetween for the ladies and I to go out and see other shows and sights. We ate baked goods saw a sand sculpture and bopped to music and most importantly...visited the Regret Wizard.

There was this dude in a Wizard outfit with little puddles in front of him. We wrote down our regrets of the year on slips of paper and watched them vanish away into the puddles. Later we reflected on it. I asked them if they felt their regrets soften after watching them disappear. "No," said KWall. I agree, I don't feel like time has been reversed, but it surprisingly made me feel better...if only to know I have the hindsight and forethought to know when I messed up in 2010--enough that I can write it down and tell myself never to repeat the offenses.



We watched fireworks while Katy Perry played. Improv guys were all dancing around acting zany. I was happy. Am.


Yeah, I'm the one in Dusty's coat because I forgot my own...Come on! It was like 60 degrees when we were heading out!

Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y