Reflect

Sunset last Friday. The Slice.

I was alone
when I ran the five-mile loop through woods that the boy counselors do the last morning of Pre-Camp.
The dirt flew up in my face. It wasn't that hard.

The sunset appeared twice--
once in the sky,
once at my feet.
The same. It's not that hard.

We arrived at Sunday Night Cookout in matching t-shirts. Swarms of children flooded down the hill before we could peak it. They yelled our names and hugged us.

These are just a few memories of the past
week that will hold me steady this
next week as my sister and I make our way west,
I find a place to live,
she gets on a plane,
and I am alone.

Once in the sky.
Once at my feet.

CT05 Trip 2KX+1

Me & Slou, December 2010

Hey, Dudes:

Tonight Wizzy and Slou made it into town. We went out for Italian, and I used my napkin to mop of pizza grease while the za was still supes hot. So there was a light layer of paper on top of the cheese that could not be separated! It was either lose the napkin bits and the cheese or just go with the slight garnish of paper.

I went with eating paper.

I swear I could not even tell the difference! Nevertheless, Slou cracked up when the waitress asked how my pizza was while eyeing it suspiciously.

The point of the story is that we're all hitting the road at 5 AM tomorrow for our lady trip of the year, and I am not bringing my computer! And then I'm moving to Arizona! So...be patient, Alice Out Of Context lovers!

Love Yas!
Alice

Drake

According to Drake, I must look like the friggin' prom queen today.

Sweat pants, hair tied, chillin' with no make-up on--
That's when you're the prettiest, I hope that you don't take it wrong.

My Heart

In other news, I am cleaning and organizing and packing up my possessions. I come across funny things like this fill-in-the-blanks heart from a doodle/activity book I had when I was 11. The instructions say to write in what takes up space in your heart:



Please note that in my 6th grade heart--

1. "The Simpsons" are almost twice as big as "religion."
2. But "The Simpsons" match "Britney Spears" in importance.
3. "Pork" is bigger than all three.
4. The "Rainforest Cafe" is comparable to my interest in "singing."
5. At least I had the decency to give "Mom" and "Dad" equal, biggish spaces.*
6. Nevermind "Acting" got the biggest space.

*My sister does not have her own space, but neither do any of my friends. I am guessing I went with the lump "Best Friends" to free up the spaces for the other important stuff like "Eloise" and "Boling."

The way that you feel could never be real,
I want you to know I finished the deal.

The Guilties

Me and Pooks, collapsed in our German poofs after like 30 hours of travel.

You know how anorexic girls are like skin and bones but look in the mirror and see a blob of fat? That is how I am with productivity.

I am in this constant state of guilt for not doing more art, but 7 times out of 10, I am feeling that guilt WHILE WORKING ON AN ARTISTIC PROJECT. It's like...I have trained myself to be so productive, I can't even honor the work I am currently doing. Literally, a few months ago I started beating myself up about not being a more serious artist because I opted to write an e-mail to a friend instead of work on a story I was writing while at a coffee shop. And then I realized I was at the coffee shop before musical rehearsal, I had just spent an hour reading an acting textbook, and I was planning to attend an improv jam after rehearsal. Oh, it's destructive, and I KNOW it is...but I sure have a case of The Guilties today.

Okay, so, something anorexics have to do is physically get on the scale and say, "Yes. I weigh 92 pounds, and I have to understand that I am not fat." Please allow me to use this blog to do the same. I need to weigh-in.

In the past year, in order to progress as an artist, I:

continued work on a short story collection
read several books about improv and theatre
participated in a holiday improv mainstage show
was on a longform improv team
went to shortform jams regularly
wrote three articles for an online journal
wrote an article for a published collection that will hit stores soon
wrote an article for the camp newsletter
wrote a blurb in The CS Journal
was in a community theatre musical
taught Intro to Improv for several months
workshopped LC's entire novel
audited an acting seminar
prepared and participated in ACTF
participated in the STL One-Act Festival
participated in the STL 24-Hour Film Festival
wrote in this blog almost every day
made a scrapbook about the past two years of my life
made a book of wedding poetry for Muff and Jamba
wrote a new full-length play to get into graduate school
wrote a one-act play to submit to contests

I also held down two jobs. And ran a marathon.

Okay, Alice. Say it: Yes. I've been very productive with my art this year, and even though that short story collection is not done today (the one at the top of the list), and it might not be done by the time I leave for grad school, I have to understand that I am not unproductive.

Three Awesome Things

1. Hiking at a state park with Dad this morning. The trails aren't long, but very up and down, up and down. After we got to one canyon, we passed a big family of Mexican people all rapidly speaking in Spanish. One overweight, sweaty woman was shouting, but wearing a huge smile. I did not know, but I would guess she was saying, "More stairs!? More freaking stairs!?" I loved that woman.

2. Baking fresh brownies this afternoon and watching a lame horror flick while slowly eating through the pan. Lazing and not having to care about anything is king on Saturday afternoons.

3. Going on an evening walk along the town canal with my iPod shuffling up Elliot Smith as the sun set.

I almost forgot it was twilight.

BIG FAT PANCAKES

Today I didn't feel well. I had unfortunate surprises! Like the band-aid fell off my knee exposing a huge pussing welt from when I fell down running the other night. Like sun-burn on my face (when did THAT happen?). Like getting really frustrated with Atlas Shrugged. I feel like I've been reading it my whole life. I feel like I should have read it ten times by now, but I'm only halfway done. It's called editing, Ayn.

I felt all shaky and weak--only able to eat a few saltines. Then, at 4, I was suddenly feeling better. The gauzy haze lifted off my Life, and I was HUNGRY. DARK CHOCOLATE, my body screamed, GIVE ME DARK CHOCOLATE NOW. I texted Dad asking what dinner plans were looking like. He was busy, busy. I could not wait! Finally, at 5:30 he was home. YES, IT IS CHOCOLATE DINNER TIME. I started listing all our options--each option either ending in brownies or including semi-sweet chips!

...But he had unfortunate surprises too. A crazy day at the paper. A woman down the street murdered her two children, tried to kill herself, and lit the house on fire.

...Oh.
So.
It is time to listen patiently.
I guess.
But in my guts:

CHOC-
O-
LATE.

CHOC-
O-
LATE.

I nodded. Other things. Yes, so sad. I nodded.
I MEANT it, but also half my brain chanted:

CHOC-
O-
LATE.

At long last, "So, what do you think for dinner?"
And I knew, "PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES!"

I made huge heaping stacks of dark chocolate, strawberry, banana pancakes.

We live in a world in which one night a woman can stab a 9 and 11 year-old and the next a father and daughter are sitting at the dining room table with whipped cream and dessert masquerading as breakfast masquerading as dinner.

It's Hard to Remember

But if it's not a positive thought, don't think it.
If it doesn't make you happy, don't do it.
If you're not being humble, back it up and try again.


Lazz driving us to dinner at Mimi's Cafe. March 2011.


You say you want
diamonds on a ring of gold,
your story to remain untold,
your love not to grow cold.

Chocolate Eclair Bar

I just rode around in an ice cream truck! My dad was interviewing the ice cream truck lady for a newspaper story, so, guess who got to tag along? Moi, that's who.

Ice Cream Facts:

-The woman who runs the truck started it because the old ice cream man used to peddle drugs with the ice cream. One night she had a vivid dream about starting an alternate ice cream service, and she got to work.
-She believes this was a message from God, and she refers to God as her boss.
-If I drove an ice cream truck, I would weigh 480 pounds.
-By the end of the half hour excursion, I could barely concentrate I wanted an eclair bar so bad.
-The Spongebob popsicle is most popular with kids.
-The Chaco Taco most popular with men.
-Char bought me the dang Good Humor eclair bar.
-He got a Chaco Taco.
-We ate them on his front porch in the cool summer air.


Ice cream in Germany!

Hold me down, sweet and low, little girl.
So hold me down, and I'll carry you home.

I Do the Best Imitation of Myself

ME: How do you feel about pretending to be me for something?
POOKIE: hm
POOKIE: for what?
ME: A play-reading.
ME: I submitted [a play] to be read by a local group and they want to do it in August.
POOKIE: oh
ME: But I think they want the playwright to be there.
POOKIE: i think it would be very hard to be you successfully
POOKIE: frankly, i'm impressed you manage it
ME: Pretend to be me!
POOKIE: It makes me nervous!
POOKIE: I just watch those people inthose dumb romantic comedies
POOKIE: where they lie
POOKIE: for some benevolent reason
POOKIE: and then before you know it they're embroilled in some zany plot
POOKIE: and then you show up and my new boyfirend who's calling me Alice is all confused

Last night I was east with them and west within
trying to be for you what you wanna see,
but I can't help it with you.
The good and bad comes through--
don't want you hanging out with no one but me.

Crossroads

In ten days, Slou and Wizzy will arrive here in Chicagoland, spend the night, and in the morning, we will go forth on a roadtrip to Michigan! We will meet Trelly and Dunt there, and we will do a lot of wonderful summer things like eat sundaes and swim in lakes and see nature! (SIDE: The fake names I give people on this blog seem reasonable until I string a bunch together, and then it sounds like my best gal pals are carnies.)


Slou. I know I use these pictures from last summer all the time, but I just think my friends are so beautiful.

See if you can figure out how the beginning of this conversation went down if I tell you the ending:

"In retrospect you are more Britney, but I don't want to be the trashy one...I just feel like we need to find a new road trip movie reference."--Slou

All I need is time, a moment that is mine, while I'm inbetween.

To Fly

This morning it was already almost 90 degrees when I set out on my early run. It was a difficult run--perhaps because of the heavy heat or maybe for no reason. Some days things are just harder.

It's Opening Day for second session at camp right now, and I have soaked up the fact that today was filled with brunch and the new Woody Allen movie--no signs of bullhorns or trunks. Opening Day: something I will never miss about summers in Michigan. I remember two years ago in the middle of the summer looking at my Wednesday night garb laid out on my bed and detesting the fact that I would have to put it on. It wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't ugly. It was just...unbearable to me for absolutely no reason to put on the navy cloth skirt and the plain white tee.

Today I ran on the gravel path along the town canal. My heart didn't even seem to be joyfully pumping. It was a sullen child stomping in my chest. As I passed a jogger and a baby in a stroller, I waved and said, "Good morning."

Yesterday my dad and I went to a local bee farm. We saw a presentation on honey-making, and I got some beeswax lip balm. When I think of bees flying, I never consider that it is hard for them. They just...crawl around and suddenly lift off into the air. Sounds nice, looks fun. Flying.



The baby probably saw me pass, covered in sweat and thought, "Looks fun. Flying."

That 70s Dream

On Ashton:

Last night I dreamed Ashton Kutcher was my husband. It was kind of a set-up for a movie we were in that was being shot over a period of years, so we had to pretend to be married for the duration of the project, but, throughout the course of filming, we actually fell in love.

It was really weird because when I was going to bed last night, I was thinking, "It's so nice to be alone on a bed big enough for two."

On Stuff:

The things you want represent qualities you want, which you actually already have.


Lazz at the haunted house we went to. May 2011.

Not a thing to do but talk to you!
We're all alright! We're all alright!

Hot Dog!

Jamin: OUCH!
Me: Are you okay?
Jamin: OUCH! I'm making a hot dog. I know. You're offended. OUCH! This hot dog is HOT!

Today was a super lazy day here at Camp S______. Some of the days activities include, but are not limited to: finding my old LiveJournal and then tinkering around LJ seeing if people from HS ever updated theirs again, watching three episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond, and falling asleep while playing a game on my phone.

Probs what's sadder than my "lazy activities" are my "productive activities": scrapbooked four pages, wrote a poem, did a Jillian Michaels workout (which invokes doing super easy looking exercises like lifting one foot or something but make me sweat like a horse), and sat quietly.

Hooray for summer!

USA!

Happy Independence Day!

You guys, I dislike a lot of things about my culture (wastefulness, consumerism, and close-mindedness), but I do love America. For real. I love it, and I love the 4th of July.


Sissies celebrate America. Photo by Char.

Stuff I Like about the Fourth:
Veggie corndogs are in the freezer.
The air-conditioning is blasting. (Which makes me strangely feel like a kid again.)
American rah-rah songs.
Lemonade and apple pie.
Red, white, and blue.*
Relaxation.
Small-town appreciation.
Sunshine.
Fireworks.**

The best thing about the 4th of July is that it's a holiday that everyone celebrates (nationwide), and there's no wrong way to celebrate it! Think about it. Most holidays are exclusive when it comes to who you should be with on the special day. Some require romance, some family, and some friends. But the 4th can be any and all! It's not like lacking a boyfriend on Valentines, family on Thanksgiving, or friends on New Years, or working on Christmas. You can do WHATEVER YOU WANT with WHOEVER YOU WANT or NOTHING AT ALL and there is no judgement involved!

And, THAT, my friends, is what I call liberty and justice for all.

*Good country colors are important. Take it from the girl whose HS colors were brown and orange.
**Even though they are bad for the environment.

Motivation

Having a lot of trouble getting motivated in my creative endeavors as of late. I guess because 1. I know I will be sinking in creative endeavors in just a couple months at school, so I 'm worried about burning myself out. 2. Because when I work on projects alone, in the end I usually step back and say, "I have no idea if this is the best or worst thing I have ever done." 3. What's the point?

Recently on this blog I wrote, "Everything you do is important." I think that's true--otherwise I wouldn't have written it. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem! Right? But, gee does it get tiring--especially when you have no visual meter for the importance of said activities.

I had an inspiring experience last night though. I saw stand-up with Nac downtown. We had a really good time. Leave it to us to sketchily stash a ton of Reese's Cups in my purse and eat them in a not-so-dark performance venue.

Anyway, the drive home was BRUTAL. I haven't been to sleep later than 10:30 since getting home from Europe. It was just past 11 when we called it a night, but I figured the drive would be okay. Ugh. I was wrong. It was raining, every highway I took was under massive construction, hence traffic was a nightmare, I felt insanely hopped up on sugar, and did I mention I was OUT OF MY GOURD SLEEPY?

The real clincher was that on a usually already congested part of 1-90, construction had scrunched the highway into two lanes. Right lane was mostly truckers, and the left lane was marked off by those big orange traffic barrels. Whoever laid those barrels must have thought he was real funny, because they were IN the left lane. So, on my left as I'm driving on a city highway are these orange barrels, and on my right--trucks. It took all the mental strength I could muster to time narrowly avoiding the barrel by waiting for a break in the line of trucks and swerving right and vice versa. I know this all sounds complicated, but the point is--IF THE DUDE (OR WOMAN) IN CHARGE OF PLACING THOSE BARRELS HAD JUST DONE A GOOD JOB, I WOULD NOT CURRENTLY HAVE A BABY ULCER.

It really does matter. It REALLY does matter.