Paper Towels

The other day I was using the library bathroom at a busy time, and I noticed how many paper towels were used by women around me in a matter of, like, thirty seconds. Really? Five cranks on the handle? REALLY?!

I do not use paper towels to dry my hands. I have two portable drying devices called my outfit and the air. I wanted to scream in the middle of the tiny tiled room. I know it's "just" paper towel, but do you realize you probably use one of those whole rolls for yourself in various bathrooms around the world in, like, a month? And why? So your hands can be dry? A. Like I said, there are other ways to dry and B. WHO PROMISED YOU DRY HANDS WHEN YOU WERE BORN?!

I was thinking about this today when I had ten minutes to spare before class, so I tried an experiment. I stood in the library women's bathroom, and I spoke to each girl as she washed her hands.

"Hello. My name is Alice. I'm here to ask you to please try not using paper towel to dry your hands. If you could try patting or shaking this one time, you might realize you don't need paper towels at all. It's pretty wasteful to throw away so much paper."

In that ten minutes I encountered five women.

#1 looked frightened, but nodded--half annoyed/half scared I was a legit crazy person. She left shaking her hands feebly.
#2 agreed, said, "I guess I don't think about it." But then she shook her hands a couple times over the sink, looked down and said, "I don't want to use my clothes." I commented on how durable her jeans were, and how it was just water. She nodded, thanked me, and took two cranks of paper towel.
#3 I think overheard my conversation with #2. She did not look at me when she came out of the stall. She went right to the towel dispenser, cranked down, blew her nose in it, and she did not wash her hands. I really didn't know what to do.
#4 Used the sink and towels in the handicap stall. RATS.
#5 Just blandly listened, nodded, asked me if I would be doing this every day (maybe so she could remember never to use this bathroom again), and left.

I expected better results. I think I will try this again. Disappointed in humanity.

Horrible Notes in My Theatre History Notebook

Marg. Two weeks ago.

One thing about me is that I write a lot. I write in this blog daily. I write in a gratitude journal every morning, a normal journal at night. I write academic papers. I write full-length plays for seminar. I write at least one new sketch every week. I write essays for an online journal somewhat frequently. I am working on several short stories, little scenelets, I write a very long e-mail to Muff every Tuesday, and short e-mails to my sister every evening. I write stand-up in my head, I write long feedback to my students on the back of their screenplays, I write letters to Sabra hummus and they send me coupons for being a grateful consumer. The writing never ends--even when I'm just listening in class--ESPECIALLY when I'm just listening in class.

Being a comedian, it's not weird for me to put my hands in the pouch of my navy hoody and find a yellow post-it that reads, "Ain't no party like the Donner party." Some joke I felt I NEEDED to remember. (This happened to me today.)

I recently flipped through my semester's notes for Theatre History and found some horrible/weird/wonderful stuff. Here are some snippets:

-It's weird Chinese people work so hard when they don't even have a God to please.
-Whatever happened to survival of the fittest? If you've got a peanut allergy, shouldn't you just die?
-Why do I love the Luhrman R + J so freaking much?
-"It's amazing, and then we write it down, and it's in a book, and it becomes a quiz question: 'what is epic theatre?'"--Prof
-Who decides what is "dominant?"
-Is travel even real?!
-I think you need to understand you only know what's in your head, but that's all anyone knows, so you're entitled to your opinions, as long as you know it's only that.
-Always ask, "Says who?"

Legit. I thought all of these ideas were so important I HAD TO write them down.

Straight up, what did you hope to learn about here?
If I was someone else would this all fall apart?

Denver Wedding

Murried.

Berger and I finished Adventureland last night
right before it was bedtime. Early bedtime. He had to drive me to the airport at 5 AM today.
I tied my shoes silently in the foyer.
"I made you breakfast," he said, handing me a granola bar and my soup dish of two cupcakes:
cranberry almond and orange chocolate chip mocha.

They were the wedding cake. I gave them as an offering to Chelle when she picked me up from the airport back in sunny AZ.
Oh,
I missed sunny AZ
when the entire 94 guests shuffled outside the mansion
to take a friendly group photo.
"Here's who's here to celebrate this lovely thing!"
we waved up at the camera.

KWall suggested Adventureland to me a few months ago.
Finally, the first day of her honeymoon, I watched it.
I loved it a lot.
I loved the love.
I loved the love all weekend.

I gave the readings for the special day, a mid-morning ceremony.
I read in a dress patterned with greyhound-shaped zebras.
A caterer asked if I made it.
Hmm. Don't think that's a compliment. When the caterer asks if you made your formal outfit.


Kath--the best Thanksgiving guest.

"I really loved it," I told Berger. I folded the blanket and patted it onto his sofa.
"Do you feel like you changed?" he asked, which is a good post-film question.
"Yes. I feel like you should do things that are good for you, and that you should be happy."

My friend KWall has a new name. My first memory of our friendship was a decade ago on a beach walk. We talked about the TV show Blossom. She was dating her college sweetheart back then. She broke his heart.
Games, games, games.

Veggie Turkey Day Announcements

THIS WAS ALL VEGAN, AND I CHOMPED IT ALL, AND IT WAS DA BEST!

1. Public Service Announcement Fact O' the Day: Any turkey you eat in the US (unless you bought from a local farm) A. never walked B. was artificially created--turkeys on factory farms have been inbred and drugged up so much that they are genetically too sick to mate.

2. Vegan "Thanksliving" was SUPER DELICIOUS. And, it made me remember that while sometimes I feel like an annoying nutjob veggie, I come nowhere CLOSE to some meat crusaders. Examples: the family that dressed their four little kids in shirts depicting a cartoon turkey that said, "Why must I die for you to give thanks?" and the vegan speaker who at one point yelled, "WHEN YOU EAT MEAT, YOU'RE EATING MISERY." So, be grateful I'm not those people.

3. My favorite newish tradition about Thanksgiving is texting. I know that's lame, but honestly, I think it's the day I text the most people in my life, and I feel super grateful to have more people than I can count on both hands who I love, who love me, and who would literally jump a plane now to be here if I asked them to. When I speak to them all in one day I can't believe it. How did I get so lucky?

Special TDay Lovin: Chelle, Henne, Clara, Muff, George, Jamin, Bo, SVC, Kath, KWall--and that doesn't even include my family, and that's just a partial list!


TDay is also a good day to text people you love, but aren't super present in your life--like these beautiful roommates I had one time!

Gobble

Me last Thanksgiving post-turkey trot run.


This is my second Thanksgiving of my whole life I am spending without any family! The first I was with Kay's fam, and I saw mine the very next day, so, it wasn't like a big to-do.

This picture reminds me a of a very good day. A cold rainy morning run, a fabulous brunch, plenty of lounging. Interestingly enough, I got my first correspondence from Ermo about the graduate program here on Thanksgiving 2010. And now? Tonight I had dinner with Ermo before attending a new play.

The photo above was taken on a good day, but right in that moment I was rather tired, sweaty, even slightly ill at ease. I feel that way now--I have a good life, but today, oh, today, I am tired, have worked hard towards what, I'm not sure, and I am ill at ease.

Tomorrow I will be attending a vegan brunch and Kath will be flying in before I head to a KWall's wedding. Lots to look forward to, but tonight...oh, tonight.

God bless the moon, and God bless me. God bless the somebody I'd like to see.

Utopia

Heidelberg. June 2011.

Today in Dramaturgy the question was "Is there such a thing as universality?" in reference to Robert LePage's attempt to portray it in his works. Rye LIT UP because Rye LOVES universality. Rye believes in golden goodness and a blanket of gooey love that we swim in. I'm kind of with Rye. But I'm also kind of with Blue Eyes who countered, "We have no idea what anyone else's experience is like. And it's the utopian idea that we can all get along that ruins our universe."

"Utopia" sounds so nice, but it's not. It gets us into mud. COMMUNIST RUSSIA: EVER HEARD OF IT?

Yesterday I was reading about the Playboy Riots in Ireland in the midst of The Troubles--early 1900s. It hit me harder than a potato to the noggin': we don't have issues in our societies and cultures because we are different. We have issues in our societies and cultures because we are different, but we try to be the same. It's easy to see someone different than you and be happy, be cool, but it's when we want that person to be more like us for some reason or another, or they want us to be more like them, that the troubles (pun unintended) arise.

I mean, there's no way to completely end assimilation. Just interacting with people will automatically call for compromises, and, thus, the desire to change others, but...I think it's important to avoid the attempt at sameness as much as we can--for the sake of the world and ourselves.

Falling Asleep Last Night

Step right up, step right up, engage in the most beautiful thing in the world, ladies and gentlemen!

Win big prizes! The biggest prize of all! Step right up to the realization that everything is big, and that includes you, and the weekend is a blur of writing in your bed and watching Rain Man in segments, and celebrating the upcoming holiday with friends, one of whom made pumpkin cupcakes and gave you the leftovers. "Danksgiving?" you asked after getting the text. And the guy laughed, "Getting dank is getting high, so, hence..." Oh. You thought, and you drove the van of drunkies home. One said he was depressed he was almost done watching Fraiser. You get that. You finished your play revisions, and you're not proud of them, but they're done, and a girl you do sketch comedy with said, "We got you a present" and it was a t-shirt of Hello Kitty sleeping on a cheeseburger that reads "FOOD COMA." When you first walked in, the host said, "There's only one dish with meat in it! There's ham, but that's it." You thanked him for informing you before even saying hello. You went to a Metallica version of The Misanthrope Saturday and sat in the nearly-empty balcony, and at intermission you turned around to see an improv teammate sitting behind you. Surprise! You say. We're both here on a Saturday night. Alone. You wore shorts because it was 70 all day--cooler at night, but a pleasant bike in your navy speech and debate hoodie.

Step right up because you're doing your best, and what's the worst that could happen? You don't create anything good in three years? You'll still get a good degree. You'll lose scholarships? If you can't pay, you can leave, and you'll be happy because everything is big.

Win big prizes.

Stress Bakin' (Not to Be Confused with "Stress Bacon"--Which You Could Say Is All Bacon, Since Pigs Are Smart and Aware They Are about to Be Cut Open)

Pumpkin cupcake. Strawberry cupcake. October 2011.

There's basically nothing in the world I want to do less than work on my new play. Also, the proportion of desserts I crave DIRECTLY relates to the amount of work I don't want to do. What's that? I have to rewrite my entire play? Oh, but I also want to eat cookie dough and watch Woody Allen's Interiors? Well, I mean, I can't malnourish myself! Come on, people! Cut to the tub of cookie dough empty on the floor next to my bed, where I am curled up into a ball after watching Diane Keaton's mother drown. TGIF!

Do you know girls (let's get gender specific, because I've never known a man with this habit) who show up to class or work or meetings during crunch times with cupcakes and act all frazzled and say, "Oh, I was just so stressed, I baked all this!" and everyone makes jokes like, "Gosh, Cherryl, you should be stressed more often! I mean, amirite?!" I don't buy it, Cherryl. I don't buy even one of your alleged stress-baked brownies. ZERO PURCHASING OF YOUR FALSE STRESS CONFECTION.

Because I get stressed and bake too...but I would never bring stress cake to class, BECAUSE I EAT IT ALL. That's the point. Here's my theory: Cherryl, you want to appear likable, so you baked for your peers, and you don't want to appear like you want to appear likable, so you go with this flimsy thing women have been tossing around for years about stress sugar.

I actually have a really strong opinion about this:
I don't ever care what someone's true or false motivations for giving me free treats is. Feminine implications, obesity in America, the overdramatic attitudes of students in today's world? Important ideas to consider. But, more importantly, did someone just show up and give me a 7-layer bar for no reason?! Keep on bakin', girlfrans.

Sugar, she's so fine. For a small price she blows my mind.

Bright Copper Kettles

You guys, my favorite things are really embarrassing. Like, really. Especially considering I'm supposedly an artist OR SOMETHING.

I know I am getting an MFA in theatre, and I really should be more quirky, but Hamlet really is my favorite Shakespeare play. And, I'M SORRY, IT JUST IS. I really do "get" cool music, but I still love Andrew McMahon more than anything ever, and that's...just the way it goes.

But, really, as an educated person with a degree in English, I should have a cool favorite book, and, honestly, I do not. I read my favorite book when I was 13. It's a young adult novel, but it's my favorite. Then, Bearclaw gave me her copy of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and I read it one Christmas, and it tied my old fave. I know that book isn't exactly hip and cool. It was on the New York Times bestseller list and all, but a lot of people still hadn't read it or heard of it. It's a great book that people didn't really fuss about. So, I was able to pretend I was a gritty literate, but, no. NO. I JUST SAW A STUPID PICTURE OF TOM HANKS IN THE STUPID FILM ADAPTATION, SO NOW MY ONLY EVEN REMOTELY COOL FAVORITE THING IS EL TOAST.

Ugh. I'm the lamest.

Other Lame Favorites I Am Willing to Admit:

Favorite Play: Death of a Salesman
Favorite TV Show: Boy Meets World, One Tree Hill, Mad Men*
Favorite Radiohead Song: "Fake Plastic Trees"
Favorite Mexican: Chipotle
Favorite Coffee: Starbucks


Mocha from Bread Co--not as good at the Bux. Also, my sister eatin' a brownie. January 2011.

Do you SEE? UGH! I'M SO ANNOYING. But, you know what, at least I own this stuff. Because I bet A LOT of people's fave coffee is Starbucks. Duh. That's why they're so popular. It's good stuff, the Bux. But, at least I say, "Yeah, my favorite drink isn't from the arty little joint in the school of design. I love love mocha frappachinos--what of it?" At least that's what I tell myself.

*This is cool, but it's kind of so cool that it's not anymore.

Expert of Nothing

Wall. Coffee date. April 2011.

When it comes to school, I pride myself in not being a BSer. I do all the reading. I am honest when I don't understand things. I research extraneous information for context. Yet, sometimes, even I end up saying things in class discussion a little too positively, a little too sure. Then I have classmates who outright say in passing they didn't read, they don't understand concepts, they don't even like the class...and they speak anyway.

I mean, that was the majority of my undergrad experience, but this is grad school, and it still happens. How did we get programmed to be happy to do what is least required of us? And this is how I understand people just...don't KNOW what Stonehenge is. Because information gets passed from one generation to the next under a veil of laziness. Through a river of BS.

I am an expert of nothing. It boggles my mind that so many people in academia pretend they could ever be an expert of anything.

Last night we went out to the orchard in the snow.
There in the constellations, the big dipper far below.
We walked through the blackness, felt the endless space around,
and you bent down on your knee and picked an apple from the ground.

Faith

Legends of the Hidden Tempe sketch. I think Chelle really does look like a contestant.

"I've just come to the personal conclusion that the test in life is choosing to have faith, because it's a lot easier to not have it."--Chelle

City of Angels

We lost our regional competition for the National College Improv Tournament. In the first round. Bum-town. SERIOUS bum-town. But, c'est la vie.

This morning I actually got sad thinking about it. I wasn't sad after it happened. I was too excited to see my friends! My beautiful LA friends who came to see me perform a sub-par improv set! And Jammin took us to a veggie grill! And we had froyo! And I got to spend quality time with Dizz and be surprised by Yapan boyz! And then everyone was partying like mad when I got back to the hotel! And then when I was going to sleep I was too excited about brunch! And then I was excited to be home in my own bed! And then I passed out before I could eat dinner or brush my teeth!

And then I woke up.
And I have nine million hours of research to do. And class. And work.
And I suddenly remembered waking up in a pool of sweat last night, so I had taken off all my clothes.

And I got sad.


Right after we lost. Look at most of 'em tryin' to be troopers! I'm clearly just amped about friend time.


Jamin. Always and forever my FAVORITE improv guy.


Dizz at brunch. I love this girl. We ate a cactus omelette. We did not see Jake Gyllenhaal.

Regardless, I had a GREAT weekend. I know I have a lot of opinions, and I do things like hate Chic-Fil-A for firing gay employees or refuse to play racially insensitive car games, but truly I'm such a creme puff. I love these new improv guys with all my heart, and I love my old pals with whom I got to spend only magical moments with.

Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner.
Sometimes I feel like my only friend.
Its the city I live in, the city of angels.
Lonely as I am, together we cry.

11.11.11

What a special day!

1. I am one of those losers who finds significance in the time being 11:11. Today? Boom. Bananas.*

2. It's my dad's birthday! Toot toot!

So, my dad is pretty great, you guys. He's really funny and loving. A couple things about this summer when I lived with him: I was always encouraging us to go on more walks together, I stole all his candy bars and replaced them with granola, we had a really really nice time.

My sister sent me these quotes from a conversation they just had recently:

"I walk a lot. Not as much as the little czarina of walking would
like, but enough."

"Do you know what she did with [my candy bars]? I thought maybe she
hid them and then on my birthday she would tell me where they were.
No. She gave them to the camp counselors! I tell you, she's just a
complete monster. She's out of control."


Us at Starved Rock on a hikelet.

*"Boom. Bananas." is something I shouted out in a scene during rehearsal this week. I was a corporate exec with a wonky catchphrase.

Declaring Murder: Part II

So, remember last Thursday when I updated with lots of sappy e-mail quotes, and I said I had had a rough day? The roughness was this: a student was suspected of having violent tendencies towards me to the extent that my professor and the department wanted a security guard outside my classroom.

The storm has passed, and I am fine. It was really a "better safe than sorry" thing. This student of mine had been doing poorly all semester: absences, poor work, etc. and, well, his grade was showing it. I met with him one-on-one and sent him helpful e-mails, but, nope. He still insisted on blaming me for his bad grades. And, technically, I did give them to him.

Anyway, he dropped the class--destined to fail, and he was very mad. And he made his dislike of me very known. And, I could deal with that, but then two additional students made meetings with me to argue grades of a recent assignment. Both students failed and for good reason. They were livid, and they took it out on me. I got to sketch rehearsal completely fried and sad.

Chelle explained, "Oh, yeah. I've totally been completely mean to TAs, but really I'm just mad at myself for not doing well." I suspected as much, but it doesn't make the arguments less draining, my consistent politeness to everyone less tense.

I guess I just want to say is we should be honest with ourselves and others--even little toadstools like TAs--because we all have hearts.


Sidestreet in Heidelberg. 2011.

On a positive note? Today in class a student was casting kids to read his scene, and a guy raised his hand.

STUDENT: Okay. But you have to say the "s" word.
(Everyone laughs.)
ME: Thank you for the public service announcement.
STUDENT: Who else wants to read?
(Another GUY raises his hand.)
STUDENT: Okay. But you have to say the "n" word.
(No one laughs.)
STUDENT: Just kidding!

You and me we sweat and strain, bodies all achin' and wracked with pain.

EDIT: Chelle just read this and texted me, "For the record my TAs aren't as nice as you and they never can speak English."

Kath. Lake Michigan. July 2011.

"I mean, I hate the meat industry too. A lot of people do, but I don't know if anyone hates it more than you."--Henne

I am learning how to bend. I know that sometimes we must just LISTEN and BE WISE about things instead of scientifically studying, proving, deciding, and mandating. Like that conversation with Henne. I had this PLAN at 5 PM. This PLAN to go home and go on a five mile run and shower and see Chelle and do a ton of work before rehearsal...but then Henne and my phone call extended beyond my bike ride home...and then it extended into my running time...and so I only ran two miles. And, then, I saw Chelle, and then I read a lot of new plays and did very little of my planned workload. BUT, the conversation with Henne and the reading INSPIRED me. So, yeah, sometimes we have to be a little "irresponsible" to ourselves in order to get the good stuff.

But if you try sometimes, well, you just might find
you get what you need.

Declaring Murder: Part I

"Alice, this is George. I'm calling you for three reasons. The first reason is to ask if you're gonna be around later today because I wanna talk to you. Um. Just to talk, not for any, like, direct reason. I just wanna talk, um, but I can't really ask that since this is an answering machine and not you, but that was the intention. Um. The second reason was that I need to know who Yatchface is on your blog, because I was reading it, and I was just curious (laughing) about whose nickname that is, and then the third reason is that I'm going to declare my intention to murder you before you murder me*. (Big sigh) That's all. Uh, okay, I hope you're doing well, and I miss you, and I hope that we can talk soon. Bye."


George & Me (looking like previously posted Yatchface photo). Chicago. December 2009.

Then, I called George back and we were able to talk for like two seconds before I ran into class. She asked for a phone date later. Henne had asked for the same earlier. No time, no time. Improv and dinner with my mama and HOMEWORK AND GRADING EATING MY SOUL.

"Sorry," I said to George, "I've already turned down two phone dates for tonight. Now if only I could get a real date!" Haha--I'm such a jokester. But, really, Josh from Clueless* could ask me out right now, and I'd have to tell him no. To quote another fictional crush I'd still have to turn down--Troy from High School Musical: "Got a lotta things that I haveta do."

Then, after I biked home, I found this in my voicemail:

"Hi, Alice. It is Clara. I love you. Bye."


Clara & Me in my AZ bathroom.

*So, I've decided to plot George's death, so she appreciates her life more instead of wiggin' about PhD applications all the time. She told me this makes me like the villain in the Saw movies. You see creepy? I see a hugely successful franchise.
**NOT to be confused with Paul Rudd. Ew--I'd turn down Paul Rudd even if I was anti-busy. Josh is the moneymaker.

All I wanna do is be with you, be with you.
There's nothing we can't do, just wanna be with you, only you.

AZ State Fair & One Kay Quote

In other news, my mom, her sistah, and I went to the AZ State Fair this afternoon. It was a grand ol' time.
Fried Food I Tried: oreo, peanut butter, Twinkie, Snickers, and peach (The peach was my favorite, and it is pictured below.)





"Are you seriously going to try to argue with me that the deep-fried cheese you just ate was healthy?"--Kay to me, Illinois State Fair 2010




Everyday it's a-gettin' closer,
goin' faster than a roller coaster.
Love like yours will surely come my way--
a-hey, a-hey-hey.

Mems, Cremes, Neve

Memory:


A photo I took of me and Yatchface the first day we were friends. "Look," we said. "Look at the way we sat. Our knees are friends." And then that night we went out for sushi together. Fall 2008.

My mom and aunt are here visiting. I had trouble climbing the stairs to my bedroom just now because my stomach is crushing my lungs. Boop.

Cupcakes I Ate Tonight:
-chocolate marshmallow
-birthday cake
-red velvet with icing
-red velvet with cream cheese
-salted caramel
-peanut butter chocolate

Random Fact:
Collective Soul came up on my iPod today, and my window is open--it's fall--but a California fall in a college town, and I hear party kids being rowdy outside...it makes me feel like I'm in Scream.

Four Things From GMail

Today was pretty rough. So, this things needed to be said. More on the roughness when I don't feel so bummed about said roughness.

1. Vince is applying to grad school. We discussed it.

ME: ...Come here?
VINCE: i am actually not familiar with anyone in arizona
VINCE: but it would be nice to be there while you CONTINUE TO FULFILL YOUR LIFETIME TRAJECTORY OF BECOMING STARGIRL

2. Chelle wrote me a reflective analysis of her veggie week.

"Dear Alice,

Today is Thursday therefore my week as a vegetable has ended, but because I know that this is very important to you I've decided to make you a list of things that I've learned.

1. This is very hard, meat is everywhere.
2. People judge you for not eating meat--I found this weird.
3. I have a lot more respect for vegetarians now.
4. I could definitely cut down on my meat consumption.
5. I didn't need meat as much as I thought I would.

Thanks for pushing me to do this Alice! Meep.

<3<3<3"

3. Clara on me feeling guilty about art.

"i don't really love that you feel guilty about not making art. people aren't machines! if you broke, and you couldn't make art, you would still be telling people about the things you think are important, and you'd probably live a great example, too."

4. Muff.

"You’re so beautiful to me that I think of you when I hear Blood Bank."

Good News (10)

1. My Dramaturgy paper came back: 29/30.
2. My Theatre History paper came back: 29/30.
3. I haven't been able to find my iPod for the past week, so finally I realized...yup. I left it on a treadmill last Thursday. I started looking at the new models and peeping my budget. Just to be sure, I asked the front desk if a small pink shuffie was turned in. The guy told me it was unlikely. But, then, lo and behold, he emerged from the back room with it. "You're really lucky," he said. "This never happens with iPods."
4. My mama and aunt are visiting this weekend. My mom is bringing scones. My mom actually makes the best scones.
5. Sid just called about some comedic stuff and ended the conversation saying, "I think you're right. I think you've got me on this factory farm stuff." (!!!!!!!!!!!!) Veggie debates!
6. Muff writes me THE BEST e-mails.
7. This morning I woke up early to finish some reading for class, but then I just talked to Henne on GChat. I finished the reading anyway, and I love Henne.
8. Chelle got an iPhone. I can now text her Emoji. This is huge.
9. Chelle is wrapping up an Alice-inspired veggie week.
10. Christmas displays in CVS. I don't care if it's commercial, I can't wait to eat a Reeses tree.

There's a lot more--but I will stick to 10 for today, so all of you don't have to feel TOO jealous.


My mid-term desk. THIS PAID OFF!

Adult Swim: A Parable About Worry

Pookie and I were all about the public pool in our summertime youths. ALL. A. BOUT. IT. Splashin', and mermaidin', and jumpin', and slidin', until--TWEET TWEET ADULT SWIM.

To the snack bar we would go! And if we forgot money...we'd pout. Fiddlesticks. Nuts to all those 18 and older. One of these pouty times I remember Pookie turning to me and saying, OKAY PAUSE--This story makes Pookie sound like a brat, but, the brattiness is necessary to the message. UNPAUSE. She said, "I can't wait until I'm 18, and I can swim, and you can't."

AND I WAS REALLY MAD.

"Noooo," I whined. "Noooo..." and then the whistle blew, and we dunked ourselves back into the cool water, but I was fuming. I was probably six and plotting about how as a 7th grader I was going to trick the lifeguards into letting me swim so my sister would NOT get the better of the situation. And, I gave myself a heavy head full of schemes and angst. And I was not happy to be somersaulting in the June heat.

The truth of the matter is that I think that summer was the last summer Pookie went to the pool with me at all.

GONNA LIVE FOREVVVVAH!

Stripes & Me. January 2011.

We call ourselves The Holy Trinity--Stripes, Muff, and I. I don't know exactly how it started, but I think it had to do with chanting in my car on the way to The Chocolate Bar right before graduation, "LIFE NOT DEATH." We swore over pot de creme to carpe diem forever and ever amen! For fun we personalized it. We asked...Okay. Who is who? And we all knew. The barefooted Stripes who travels on whims, the floating Muff with her metaphysical ears perked, me with my stubborn Truth. I like writing e-mails to Stripes and starting them "Dear Jesus." LITERALLY. It's almost half as funny as getting e-mails that begin "Dear God--"

I worry semi-often that one day I will claim some type of fame, and someone will be dirt-digging on me, and while I'll be clean as far as drug addictions and assisted theft go, the diggers will find much better. They will learn that I have friends who call me God, and I never ask them to stop. Someone will recall that my computer wallpaper was a frame of Clueless. And, I wasn't being ironic.