Tornado

This week I spent a few days at my dad's. Major events include visiting the new healthy protein shop. I had a Captain Crunch 180 calorie, 4 grams of sugar shake, and I can't stop dreaming about it. Walks through main street, past the new blinking movie sign and into the teensers coffee house. I feel at ease out of the city. I get the high score at the pizza parlor Ms. Pac-Man. I watch King of Queens while grading papers and journal in the room above the stairs, train horn blowing by.

Puhg came, and we ended up at dinner on a very gloomy night. We ordered a big pretzel and salads while the sky went black. Soon everyone in the restaurant's phone started going off. Warnings, warnings. I, usually calm about these things, felt nervous to be next to the window. It was headed for our town. The trees whipped around. The manager led us all to the basement, where some guy brought his beer and an angry woman complained. There was no cell service and soon the power went out. The street held tubs of water. I said I felt safe, and someone near me said maybe the ceiling would collapse. I doubted it. But I imagined my computer--probably not backed up since my last play revision--being lifted from the living room of my dad's house. I am first a writer.

In a half hour the lights weren't on, but we were welcome to go back upstairs. Our food had finished. I ate the warmed, icky salad. Everything was on the house. Puhg got two craft beers while my dad looked furiously for info online, prepping for the onslaught of work at the paper. Small towns ain't bad. It had been the plan to see Get Out, but the theatre had no projectors running, so we watched Arrival in the living room. Things change but they're still good. The tornado destroyed a nursing home. Only one person and a lot of property dead. The governor came out the next morning. I had the most peaceful night's sleep I can remember. The window was open, and everything smelled like rain.

Christmas Cereals!

After Thanksgiving I was completely spent. I told Bisque, "I am having cereal for dinner tonight." He dare not stop me. At the Jewel I found not one but two cereals contending for my taste buds, so, what the hay, I got them both.

They were gone in 48 hours. I ate cereal for two days straight and I do not regret it even a little bit.

Sugar Cookie Pebbles - A+
Presentation - Delightful! Like a bunch of happy holiday twinkle lights. Bonus sparkle from the truckload of sugar involved.
Taste - Like the actually promised sugar cookie! Seriously! A heaping spoonful tasted like a dozen tiny sugar cookies. What is not to love?
Substance - Airy. Hard to make a complete meal (but not impossible, as evidenced by the fact that I did it). Did I check the nutritional chart? Oh absolutely not.

Christmas Crunch - A
The exact same as regular Crunch Berries...except said berries are red and green. Is this a problem? As someone who would be cool eating C. Crunch as a final meal on death row, I say no. A change in presentation alone ain't bad. How can you really improve perfection, ya know?

"At this point, you're major Crunch." - Bisque

Leaving the Last Frontier

So. The final conference gala is in two hours. I've been here for exactly one week. My jaunt up north has cost seven days of my life and a couple thou from the grad and theatre schools' budget. What am I taking home? (A partial list):

-What are we ever taking home--a nice consideration.

-Transactions. Give the characters something to do. Move the stage.

-"Why is this a play?" is a good question.

-It's not hard to make it serious. Make it enjoyable.

-We know the end: we die. So, what's so important in the middle?

-I don't care enough about playwriting maybe.

-I don't care enough about having fun maybe.

-Get personal.

-A stupid idea, written well, is often better than a new idea.

-I can eat a lot of Cap'n Crunch if there is a Sex and the City marathon.

-You can judgit or you can lovit.

-React as if nothing is personal. It actually never is.

-If you don't want to be concerned, don't be concerned on behalf of someone else.

-Pretty much everything can be overanalyzed by some loser as a metaphor about gender in society. And that is me. I am that loser.

-Music.

-It might be beautiful objectively, but it's still okay if you don't like it.

-You also don't have to have a reason to have your taste.

-Or to be you. (Barf, but, y'know?)

-Audiences need some built-in discussion time. I believe this, but I'm not sure how it can happen.

-I need to perform periodically to keep myself unblocked.

-Feel guilty or don't about shutting down when you need to shut down?

-Say the real thing.