Goodbye, Vegan April

This month was much more of a struggle than my vegan month two years ago. Here's why:

-I was eating in a college cafeteria all of the time then. It was less difficult to be places not eating things.
-Instead of just eating good healthy foods, I tried to skirt around wholesomeness as much as humanly possible while still being vegan. So things like eating thirty Oreos in one sitting or eighty spoonfuls of peanut butter happened a lot. And it took me a couple weeks to realize that's probably why I wasn't feeling super genki like a vegan should.
-I was much more aware that this was a month-long experiment, meaning I wasn't expecting lasting effects, meaning it was just a weird exercise in self-discipline instead of a learning experience. Once I realized how annoyed I was feeling with my self-imposed guilt, I dropped it, and tried to learn as much as I could about myself, my tastes, and my needs. Good stuff happened.
-Usually, I crave ice cream a couple times a month. I got that craving on April 2nd, and it never went away. The ice cream monster in my stomach was so happy today. I wasn't planning on ending this month with an explosion of contra-ban foods--that sort of negates what I was trying to accomplish, but, then, it was time for ice cream with my dad and sister, and, really, who objects to that?


Today, Tone's Cones

I learned:
You have to make every experience a learning experience. Just depriving yourself of something temporarily without learning is the lamest.
Acceptance of self and (through that understanding of self-acceptance) others is key. They key, I say!
You CANNOT be complacent in your actions when you know what you're doing is wrong, but it's healthier to look for progress rather than instant disappointment in yourself. Progress is the key also.

And I said what about Breakfast at Tiffany's?

Missing Michael Scott Already

Today I watched last week's and last night's episodes of The Office, and I cried during both. I love The Office. I have since I saw my first episode--Jim's Party--in George's basement in the fall of 2005. It's one of five shows I have seen from beginning to present (or end), and it is my favorite of them all.

I love Michael Scott.

Can we get a hallelujah for TV really quick? Because, yeah, sometimes it sucks. It's trashy or way focused on consumerism and marketing or, you know, it's just a never-ending train wreck of drama because that's supposedly the point of television? But, WOW, a movie could not ever get me as close to anyone as I am to Michael. I have spent years with Michael Scott. Two hours, no matter how brilliant, could never do the same.

And maybe some would argue that THAT'S why TV is poison--it makes us get close to people who are fictional when real people surround us. I disagree. I think Michael Scott has not disillusioned me with my own social interactions. He has made me be more loving. In real life, I would hate Michael. But, because I didn't ACTUALLY have to interact with him, I laughed at him, and then I grew to care about him, and now I cry to see him leave.

The ship awash our rudder gone.
The rats have fled but I'm hanging on.

Different People

Row boats full of my abroad group in Japan. 2008.

A student whose writing portfolio I graded came up to me in the library today to talk about some of his work in person. Most students don't even see my name on their feedback. It's like they get a form in their e-mail from a divine source.

He thanked me for my criticisms, and we chatted about the pieces a bit. He smiled and went on his way. Then, I had to think for a while. I know it was mostly good feedback...but was I ever harsh? Was I ever vague? I remember filling out this student's paperwork, but I know he was in my final stack, a stack I was slopping through well-past quitting time last night. Did I cut a corner?

I hate that mindset--the mindset that groups of people--students, family, republicans, Indians, trannies, Twilight fans--are just one. It was so lazy to let myself fall into that. One more form to fill out, one more student, same comma errors, one more positive remark after one more constructive.

From now on, when I give student feedback, I will imagine the student stopping me in the middle of the library to talk.
When I perform I will consider every single seat filled with a different butt.
When I drive I will peek at every car and know the person at the wheel has a unique family.
Every Sour Patch Kid I eat has its own soul.

Just kidding about that last one. That's stupid.

Truly Excited!

My beautiful friend Trelly is ENGAGED!
While engagement is horrifying for me personally, I am SO EXCITED for her.
Plus, weddings are built-in reunions with people you love. I kind of wish it weren't over a year away. But, perhaps the wait makes it all the more sweet.



Congrats. Congrats. Congrats on love.

No longer do we wonder
if we're together.
We're way passed that,
and I've already asked her.
So, in January we're gettin' married.

Speak Up

Tonight at rehearsal a castmate I really like made a really ignorant remark. Not just "offensive" by Alice definitions, but legit offensive. He was talking about being approached by an angry black man and literally said, "Judging by the color of his skin, I knew he had a gun or knife."

My jaw dropped. I didn't know intelligent people still actually said that kind of thing. I jiggled between shutting up and speaking up. Of course, my voice won. I said, somewhat passive-aggresively, "Well, you can't assume that--" And I was even more shocked to hear him actively defend what he had just said. I walked outside. I felt some raindrops. I cursed man.

We are taught to speak up. To defend those who are not present. To explore the other and to love him. But sometimes it feels like our noble words get punted so far away. And, really, the metallic junk of stupidity will remain forever.

Break was over. I got into character and focused. How was I going to exchange dialogue--even in a pretend space--with this guy? I sent love vibrations to him. I made no eye contact. And, then, in a down moment an hour later, he came directly to me, apologized, and explained that he was wrong. He knows better, too. He was just mad and scared, and it was out of line. I explained I was just surprised that someone so smart and nice could say something so wrong. He asked, "You think I'm smart?" with a little grin. I nodded and I hugged him. He's no racist.

What if I hadn't spoken up? It's possible he wouldn't have considered his hurtful words, and perhaps he would have said and thought more of those poison thoughts for years. Maybe I made a difference to him and our society, but mainly, speaking up helped ME. I could leave the theatre with warm thoughts towards everyone. I can go to sleep without any nagging grudges. If I hadn't spoken up, I never would have given my castmate the opportunity to show me that I had only seen him at a low-point. I would have just nursed a small hatred until the run ended. This is much better.

Strangers are easy to like.
Thunder and lightening might strike.

An End to End Wishing

I will stop wishing for an end to the vegan month, an end to the running recovery, an end to the paper grading, an end to the wet spring, an end to the stop-n-go rehearsals, an end to commutes. I do hope for an end in all aforementioned points, but the daydreams should be fewer, the moments today grander.


We had an hour to kill. We found this. Japan 2008.

We should try our very best never to put ourselves in situations that leave us longing for time to speed up, because life is quite short, and not being able to revel in every moment of it is quite sad.

Let Us Sing of Easter Gladness

Easter 2009

Eggs.
Pastels.
Rain.
Chocolates.
Hymns.
Chicks.
Peeps.
Bunnies.

Easter, even when I'm not celebrating it on the account of being too old and too vegan this month, fills me with the warmest fuzzies ever.

Holidays in the Order I Love Them:

1. Halloween
2. Cinco de Mayo
3. Easter
4. 4th of July
5. Groundhog Day
6. Valentine's Day
7. Thanksgiving
8. My birthday

All other holidays I actually don't like more than like (with the exception of president's birthdays, which I am indifferent to).

Earth Day should be every day.
Christmas is stressful, cold, and generally depressing.
New Years--see Christmas.
Memorial Day makes it impossible for me to wear white before it.
Labor Day, as far as I can tell, just makes people have barbeques, and we all know what gets cooked on the barbeque, AND WE ALL KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THAT.

Every day can be an Easter!
Filled with benedictions new!

Sincerely

Dude, two nights ago I stopped for gas after rehearsal, and I decided to look at things inside the snack-station. (Okay, I am just now realizing that in my head the building on the gas station premises I have always called a "snack station"--it only just occurs to me writing this now that my secret in-my-head-definition might not be one anyone else uses. Moving on...Except also I should explain I go inside snack stations very often because I like to look at candy and the fridges of colorful drinks even if I don't want to buy any. NOW, moving on.) A thirtysomething guy in nasty brown sweat pants that were kind of like capris came in to pay for his gas. He looked at me and licked his lips.

I headed to my car. Then, a minute later I hear this guy yelling through the rain, "Lemme--lemme--lemme--" I didn't look up because I was still hoping there was some kind of misunderstanding. After all, I was sporting pigtails, a bright yellow headband, and the Catcher in the Rye t-shirt my aunt gave me. Come on, man. But he finally yelled, "CAN I PUMP YOUR GAS FOR YOU?" A little late. I was just getting back in my car.

I'm pretty sure this dude wanted me to feel embarrassed and flustered. I mean, he sure didn't really think he was going to get my number right? In his sketched-out outfit? I mean, did he really intend to take me in my daffodil boat shoes out to dinner sometime? So, instead of getting crazy awkward or scared, I just tossed my hand at him, "Oh, get out of town," I said with a modest grin. And, HE mirrored it back the smile like, "Awwwww, shucks. Okay. I am being ridiculous." And he kind of waved me a good night.

Basically, when you're honest and just open up to people, you'll be pleasantly surprised by the sincerity you find. Everyone knows whats going on more than we everyone else credit for.

Step One

Jamin & Me, Freshman Year Winter Quarter

Sometimes when I think about how much I have changed in the past four years I feel like I am going to explode, or I should have, or I am going to soar to outstanding heights.

Today's anthem has been guilt. I can't explain it. Maybe my father's stint with Catholicism is hereditary. Some days it is all I feel. For everything. Vegan April has magnified this emotion/feeling/burden--there will be a grand update on the whole thing when the time is right, but for now, just this:

Guilt is more wasteful than poor environmental practices, and it serves no purpose in my growth. Or yours. That said, ignorance should still be uplifted, joy unbound, life free, but the guilt, oh, the sagging, dragging, bumping guilt can be cast off. Obliterated by a trillion peace doves flying in tight formations, beaks pointed.

Step One: Destroy the Guilt

Keeping Clean

1. I just re-read last night's post (that karate chopping of keys I did as my eyes were closing) and I was a lot sloppier and more tired than I apparently thought. Sorry for the opinionated, poorly-constructed garble.

2. On Thursday, Pookie, LC, and I went to the midnight Scream 4 opening. We obviously all had late nights, but Pookie had to get up super super early for a special work project. She accidentally missed her alarm and made it to work just in time--but of course without any glamour of morning ritual.


Right after the movie got out. She's still a tad scared.

"I brushed my teeth with Junior Mints this morning. I didn't have time to go to the bathroom, but then I was driving and saw the box laying out from last night and was like, 'Well...'"

Add the Good Stuff (A Soapbox)

Currently, I'm watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution, and I am lah-ovvvvvvv-ing it. Right now I'm watching him argue with the owner of a burger joint in L.A.

The owner has agreed to let Jamie "take over" for a couple days and help make the restaurant more healthy. Immediately, the owner was like, "Well, you can't take anything off the menu" and Jamie was, of course, like "So...how am I supposed to make this place healthier...?" And the owner was like, "Look, man, I have regulars who get every single thing on this menu. So take away any one thing and you get at the very least someone who orders it three times a week not coming back."

And I'M LIKE, "Say what!"

YOU HAVE TO ADD THE GOOD STUFF TO GET RID OF THE OLD CRUMMY STUFF!

Maybe some of the regulars wouldn't come back anymore if the nasty dog-food infused burgers weren't available, but maybe they would be happy to eat the alternative sandwich, or maybe there would just be a new clientele. Who wants to be the person giving someone bad food three times a week because customers will eat it?

The guy who made up the fake Twitter for Rahm Emanuel got so crazy popular that the real Rahm let him donate to any charity of his choice. The guy, a journalism professor, picked a program that encourages kids to write. I remember hearing that and, of course, being happy, but then kind of wondering if a dinko writing club is really the best place to pour a pile of money. And the answer is YES. YES. Because all the world's problems can't be solved by throwing money at bad stuff defensively. But, even if they COULD be solved that way (for a moment) they won't go away unless we've got back-up. Unless we've got the good stuff safety netting the trapeze.


Japan Ladies, Fukoi 2008

Like, maybe it seems better to donate that money to inner-city gang clean-up, but actually, no. A writing group provides kids the outreach, thought, and passion to deter themselves from joining gangs (ideally) PLUS a plan or program for other kids trying to get out! PLUS love and joy and spirit to others uninvolved in gangs to pump the universe with more positivity!

This realization makes me really happy because it proves that the teeny attempts at Good we make aren't overthrown by the bigger badder fanged evils that sometimes seem invincible. We can be pre-emptive by supporting the good stuff--even the little good stuff. I know people SAY that, but I finally really do get it.

Ladies and gentlemen, here's exhibit "A." Didn't I try again, and did the effort pay?

To Live Doesn't Mean You're Alive

When I was four, I would spell aloud the words I knew to my grandmother: "L-O-V-E" and "L-U-C-Y" (my childhood name then), "G-O-D" and "Y-O-U."

Then, I would mix up letters and asked what it spelled: "L-U-V-E"?
"Nothing," she'd say. That's not a word. It surprised me how many words I could spell that weren't words. The odds of getting NOTHING seemed slim in my head, but, apparently, there are a lot of combos that don't mean diddly.

"L-U-C-K-Y" I announced, knowing full well a wildcard "K" mid-name was just silly. But, no! It was LUCKY. Lucy to Lucky just like that. I tucked the secret under the kitchen chair. I am always very close to luck, I thought.

Often, when I'm jotting "ALICE" quickly, it slumps into "ALIVE."
Lucky Lucy, Alive Alice.

And I will retire with the crown. Yes.
No I'm not lucky--I'm blessed. Yes.

Crawling, Crawling, Crawling Home

Just returned from the state Speech and Debate tournament. It was really fun and nostalgic. State is always at Mizzou's campus. This morning I sat awaiting my judging assignment where I sat right before my final round when I was sixteen years old. That's really cute, isn't it?


Awwww! Me becoming a state champ in HS!

I liked being at Mizzou this weekend. College towns are fun, and even moreso when you know you're moving to one soon. A hot and pretty one at that. My LANTA, I'm so excited. Don't get me wrong, I loved my college experience. My teeny student population on a clifftop, but I'm ready for something new. And did I mention warm?

"It just occured to me that you are moving from Elsa to Tempe...which, in my head, is like moving from Florida to Saturn."--Henne

So often these tiny choices we make explode into huge opportunities or failures. You might have Fall Quarter of junior year free and take a chance on Japan and discover a lifelong passion for the place. Or, you might have a bad day when you first try t-ball and never be athletic again. But sometimes it feels like every single fiber of your being is crawling to something. That's how I feel about Arizona. Since my family stepped off the plane in December of 2005, I feel like each freckle and eyelash, each grain of sand and adobe home has been tugging me back to the desert.

I've been slowly crawling there for six years. I didn't know I would be back so soon, but I couldn't be happier. I know I talk about this a lot on this here blog, but, what can I say, it's important to celebrate this stuff.

I'm coming home from the hardest year. I'm making plans not to make plans while I'm here.

February 28th Emails with My Sister

Pre-Concert, October 2009.


Re: EW

Me: Egg salad belly...
Her: Waaaaaaaaaaaah.
Me: I tried to nurse it with a mini Milky Way. No dice.
Her: Not enough chocolate.
Me: Do you think that's the problem?
Her: Always.

Goodness knows I saw it coming,
or, at least, I'll claim I did.

Building Good Muscle!

Best brunch spot in the world. Closed last month. RIP!

Why are our instincts always doubt and fear? How can we correct this?

While talking to Wizzy about grad school today, I started to feel jittery. But, but, but what if I don't make any friends and I hate it and I'm not tan enough!?

In reality, I've been the new fish in the pond like nine-hundred different times in my life, and it always works out. BUT WHAT IF THIS IS THE TIME IT DOES NOT?

Everything is muscle. Every time I lift the three-pound weight, my arm gets a little stronger. It gets used to lifting up that weight. It expects it even.

Every time I think about my pale skin peeling in the AZ sun, I make my brain ready to imagine that thought again. This is how crazy people are made. You think a thought enough times, and that's really all you can think forevermore. It's why we are dependent on what we don't need and why we miss what we don't want. It's why we jump to doubt and fear first, and it's really not helpful.

In every single moment, I will try to atrophy the bad muscles and empower the good ones. This is my new plan.

Hotel in Arizona made us all wanna feel like stars.
Rental cars and tinted windows, leave another number for me.
Even if I make it through,
that's just something that I have to get used to.

Stop Sex Trafficking

My current laptop backdrop. Summer 2010.

This weekend, I attended a public affairs conference about sex trafficking. Obvi, kind of a downer topic--but hugely important to address. I heard a lot of very unfortunate facts about little girls in other countries.

Out of all the scary (and real) stories involving razorblades and kidlets and burning cigarettes and drug addiction, the saddest thing was this:

Sometimes girls who live in brothels are sent back home to talk about the fun new job they have been away doing for the past few years. Since the girl is trusted in her own town, parents send their daughters away with her, and a new generation of slaves are trapped. Even sadder--sometimes, the original girls realize they are giving too much money to the middle man and simply open their own brothels and exploit girls like they themselves were once exploited.

I am the saddest for the girl who holds onto these scars and finds it fair, fine, advantageous to so blatantly disregard the golden rule.

Instead of getting mad, I will write this and do my best to live it:

1. Just because it has been done to you doesn't mean it is fair for you to do it to others.
2. Just stop. Just STOP being part of the problem!

Tonight, I'm down on my knees.
Tonight, I'm beggin' you please.
Tonight, tonight it bleeds.
Oh why can't I be makin' Love come true?

I Am Falling Asleep (I Usually Don't Blog Tired, But Tonight I Feel Like This Is Really Important. It's Probs Not.)

I love the Scream trilogy. That is such an understatement. I really really REALLY love the Scream films. I am borderline obsessed? I just can't ever get enough. I've seen them...boatloads of times, and I always want to immediately rewatch. I have one billion favorite scenes.

In preparation for Scream IV coming out this weekend (side: OMG OMG OMG!) LC, Pookie, and I had a marathon over the past couple days. Tonight, on my way to Pookie's for numero tres from musical rehearsal, the credit music from the second movie came up on shuffle. I was so happy. Just...beaming.

It's spring. The heat is surrounding me from the roads up. My windows were down, the volume high, the 90s jam was bumpin'. I felt 100% content. I just love so many things--books by Jerry Spinelli, edamamae, my pink running shorts, tulips blooming in Forest Park--and they are all mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. I don't have to share with anyone. And, you know, I do. But, it feels...half-hearted. "In Craven we trust!" I exclaimed to our trio, but if I were alone, I would be just as animated. No one else was in my car. No one else was in my thoughts.

I remember the first springy day in Chicago my sophomore year of high school. I felt like my leg marrow had been scooped out. I really wanted a boyfriend. I'm fairly certain I wasn't interested in anybody, but that didn't stop me from pining pining pining away for someone to share the grass under my feet and the Wicked soundtrack--which I had just gotten into.

I don't know what to make of those high school desires. Was I naive? Or, is a want a want? All I know now is that right now I have zero desire to share anything with anyone. Don't get me wrong, friends and family out there reading, I still love you, but I also love all this other stuff, and I like loving it alone.

I just love Diana Ross too much.
I just love cacti too much.
I just love brown houses and muddy rivers too much.
And magic tricks and buttons and the word "moon" and a piano tune.

Yumba Yuice

The dinner I demanded after my marathon.

There are two Dunkin' Donuts within walking distance of my future school campus.
Last week I told my sister there is a Jamba Juice on campus.
This was before I had made my official choice. She said, "I'm so glad to have heard you have made your decision."

Chain Restaurants Close to My Heart:

5. Cracker Barrel
4. Maggiano's
3. Jamba Juice
2. Dunkin' Donuts
1. Baker's Square

Honorable Mention: Culvers and Mimi's Cafe

I know a lot of people think it's lame to love chains, to accept "Americanized" Italian food, or whatever whatever yuppy mentality. BUT I WILL LOVE THESE RESTAURANTS FOREVA AND WOULD RATHER GO TO A DD THAN THE MOST FANCYPANTS GOURMET PLACE IN NEW YORK CITY!

And all I wanted was the simple things.

So...Money

Went to the bank this week. I am kind of scared of money, so I don't do things with money often. But, apparently, you need "credit" to do stuff in life, so you can't actually fear credit cards forever. Also, apparently, you should get a savings account sometimes. Whatevs.

I was wearing a key lime green sweatshirt and a braid. I sat down in a little office and squared myself with the dude:
"Look. I don't know much. But, apparently, pack-ratting my checking account with every dollar I've made since 2005 isn't actually the best way to do things." So, he helped me out--very nicely too. I asked a lot of questions.

And then came the part where he asked me how much I make a year. I kind of got noodley. "Buh..." I said.
"You don't know?" He asked. "So, you work hourly--"
"No," I countered.
"And you don't know how much you make?"
"No, it's just...well...it's not really 'how much I make a year' because it's just a temporary one-year only type thing and--"
"Well, if you could just guess."
"No, I KNOW, it's just that it's not really an annual salary if I'm going back to school--"
"Well just--"
And then I said it. How much I made this year. And he waited and said, "Right, and for your other job?" And I said, "No. That's it. That's all I made this year."
And he make that OH-MY-GOD-I'M-MAKING-A-FACE-BUT-I'M-TRYING-TO-COVER-IT-WITH-A-SMILE face. I was onto him.

News: I got a Dean's Fellowship for graduate school. This is actually awesome. I told my sister who immediately replied, "Yippee! Your banker will be so thrilled!"


For real--would you give this hobo girl a credit card? Woof. Photo by Dunt--2009.

Oh, why must I feel this way?
Hey. Must be the money.

Changing My Ways

In high school, this guy gave me this compliment:

"Alice, you are a bag of talent."

One of the best, least-attractive, weird compliments ever, right? And he went on to explain he meant he just didn't get how I could be so diverse in my characters (from crippled sad sack to glamourous movie star--Glass Menagerie to Singin' in the Rain). And I went on to explain to him, "They're all me." There's only been one time where I honestly felt very different from the character I was playing. And that's when I was Mama in Chicago. When I was 15. And had braces.

Other than that one train wreck, I have felt close to the rest of my imagined gang. The fizzle of Lina, the sincerity of Laura, the dependency of Rosemary, the awkwardness of Ruth. But, here's the prob, Bob: I really do become them subconsciously. And, I know this is very bad for a person. Stanislavsky may disagree, but Chekhov would tsk tsk.

Lina made me cliquey.
Laura depressed me.
Rosemary made me hate men.
Ruth made me ugly.

It CAN work to a person's advantage. Being Dorothy in The Wiz filled me with wonder day in and out! But, such an effect is rare.

Marcy is making me incredibly bratty. ESPECIALLY during rehearsals. I have never been so annoyed getting notes as I am mid-Marcy. Dear LORD. I feel my eyes rolling and think, "STOP THAT." But, it's too late. The obnoxious middle-schooler in me is already out.

This is a habit I am trying to change thanks to the Chekhov seminar I am auditing. I will let you know how it goes. Because I am just waiting for the day I get cast as a serial killer, and suddenly, all of my friends with dogs are in for a horrifying surprise.

Something Is Not the Same

When I was 18 I performed in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
Before the festival, my cast did some Shakespeare classes at the Globe.
One day after class we went shopping.
I was being a cheapskate in preparation for college.
I only looked at sale racks.
Everything was still too expensive.
Then, in one boutique, I found one solitary pair of jeans for just five pounds!
By a stoke of magic luck, they fit!
I loved the heck out of my London jeans.
Until I gained the freshman thirty.
Boop.
I got rid of my little girl clothes as my hips rolled out and my shoulders pulled up.
I put the jeans in storage.
Training for the marathon transformed my body like college did.
I don't look like I'm 18, but somehow the jeans fit again.
A little snugger, a little shapelier.
I also have a pair of green tennies from 2004.
My sister wants me to throw them away. Holes.
I wore them yesterday because it was one of those holes-in-your-shoes days.
I looked down at my ankles at the end of my acting seminar class.
The professor was my professor in Acting I.
The first class I took in college.
The green toes, the London hem.
From the knees down, I was a freshman again.
We're freshmen at life, my friends joke
and my clothes agree.


London jeans! In Scotland! When they were new!

It's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap.

In Honor of Yatchface

Yatchface trying to stop the fan in our room with her hands. Spring 2010. I can't believe it's been a year.

After a day of walking all over Japan.

YF: UGH. I just wish someone would cut off my feet and replace them with rollerskates!
Me: No you don't.
YF: YEAH!
Me: So if a doctor was just, like, right behind that sign over there and said he would do the surgery for free right now, you would really do that?
YF: No. But, I mean, yeah.

It's an alphabetter way to spell.

I Love You, Aimee Mann

There comes a time when you swim or sink,
so I jumped in the drink
'cause I couldn't make myself clear.
Maybe I wrote in invisible ink.
Oh, I've tried to think--
how I could have made it appear?
But another illustration is wasted
'cause the results are the same.
I feel like a ghost who's trying to move your hands
over some Ouija board in the hopes I can spell out my name.
What some take for magic at first glance
is just sleight of hand, depending on what you believe.
Something gets lost when you translate.
It's hard to keep straight--
perspective is everything.
And I know now which is which and what angle I oughta look at it from.
I suppose I should be happy to be misread-
better be that than some of the other things I have become.
But nobody wants to hear this tale.
The plot is cliched, the jokes are stale.
And baby we've all heard it all before.
Oh, I could get specific but
nobody needs a catalog
with details of love I can't sell anymore.
And aside from that, this chain of reaction,
baby, is losing a link.
Though I'd hope you'd know what I tried to tell you,
and if you don't, I could draw you a picture in invisible ink.
But nobody wants to hear this tale.
The plot is cliched, the jokes are stale.
And baby we've all heard it all before.
Oh, I could get specific, but
nobody needs a catalog
with details of love I can't sell anymore.


Pre-marathon brunch. A beautiful day in Wilmington with Nac.

Not Watching Spring Break!

1. At the gym, turn on MTV.
2. See that it's MTV's Spring Break.
3. Wonder what the point of MTV's televised Spring Break is. Kids that are doing it are there--having fun. Kids that aren't are watching and feeling lame about their lives.
4. Wonder if the majority of kids currently on MTV's Spring Break spent a Spring Break watching MTV's Spring Break, feeling like a loser middle schooler/ high schooler, and promising to one day BE on MTV's Spring Break.
5. Therefore, by broadcasting what a "cool" Spring Break is, MTV has defined it for hella peeps and perpetuated it through peer pressure via programming.
6. Realize a sad cycle for our youth.
7. Decide to watch MTV's Spring Break to see how lame it is.
8. Change my mind!
9. Decide not to even give MTV's Spring Break that satisfaction!!!!!
10. Listen to "Put on a Happy Face" from Bye Bye Birdie!


My Spring Break partners in crime. Photo post-Robin Hood. May 2010.

And spread sunshine all over the place. Just put on a happy face.

Squeak

I went to a local play reading and talkback session this afternoon. Rex sat next to me in the squeakiest seat in the theatre, which set me into fits of giggle while he was trying to participate in the talkback. Finally he announced to the playwright, "I'm sorry. I like, breathe, and it squeaks."


Me and Rex, Halloween 2009

And then I was like, "Rex! OMG! This is my life for the next three years! Watching and evaluating and writing plays!"
And he was like, "OMG I AM JEALS!"
And I was like, "Eeee!"
And my joy sounded like his seat.

Shake down, you make me break.
For goodness sake, I think I'm on the edge of something new with you.

Vegan April Starts Today

The morning before I left North Carolina, Nac and I went running and then had a big brunch. We feasted on everything in the kitchen. Almond buttered toast, pineapple, Nesquik? Yes, please. When he pulled out the deviled eggs, I laughed and laughed and laughed:



This image struck me as so incredibly funny. He kept asking, "Why is it so funny?" and I couldn't even completely say. But, it is funny, right? Like, the whole point of deviled eggs are having the squishy yellow part staring at you all cutely, and this one half just didn't get the memo. Splat.

And people screamin' what's the deal with you and so-and-so?
I tell 'em _______, mind their business.
They don't hear me though.
But I live my life to the limit and I love it.
Now I can breathe again, baby, now I can breathe again.