We All Talk About Girls

Sunday night Season Three of Girls premiered. Monday morning, despite it being my first day of school, I carved out half an hour in which to watch the first episode over my berries and walnuts.

Girls is important to me not just because I like it (I do), but because it is the great corral of my demographic: liberal women in their 20s. While Girls certainly does not reflect my demographic at large accurately (mainly racially and socio-economically), some aspects of Dunham's conception of my demographic transcend race/money/being fascinating in New York City. Every woman in her 20s not only connects with some aspect of Girls, every woman in her 20s connects with some aspect of Girls on a very deep, almost depressingly accurate level. So, Girls does speak to me truthfully. And, further, people might think it totally represents me. And as far as the dodos who think Girls is trying to completely encapsulate every single young woman in America, I want to know what people think is being allegedly said about "me."

More importantly, most importantly, we all talk about Girls. It is the show most of the women in my life have seen and have opinions about. When a new episode airs the internet goes 'nanners, sure, but in person all the ladies around are chattin' it up. Season Two was a let-down to many critics--especially males--because not much "happened." But don't you see? The fun of it is not the plot moving along. The fun of it is gabbing with girlfriends saying, "I liked that Marnie did that" and your pal saying, "I hated it. If I were her..." It's a conduit for conversations about femininity. It's a backbone. It's a shared source material.

A few years ago while my sister and I were jetting through Season Five of Sex and the City she told me that someone she knew lived in New York during SATC'S heyday. And that everyone was talking about it. Like, you could go to your hairdresser and discuss the ins and outs of Steve + Miranda. I remember being so jealous. I want an automatic TV book club! I want to talk about womanhood every week with friends and strangers! AND NOW MY DREAM IS REALIZED!

So, this makes me happy. Obvs. Then I realized it also makes me a wee bit sad because maybe the reason we all talk about Girls is because it's the one big feminist television oasis in a patriarchal Sahara. But, honestly, I'm going to chalk this one up as a win because shared culture is just the best, and there's time for gender diversity next year. Even when things aren't "right," there are silver linings, and it's important to be grateful for those. They may be gone when the tides turn.

The Problem with America

SHELLS: Alice and her boyfriend etc. etc.
SHELLS' ROOMMATE: Wait, I always thought Alice was a lesbian.
SHELLS: What? Why?
SHELLS' OTHER ROOMMATE: You know. She's all about women's rights and vegetarianism.
SHELLS: So she's gay because she's a...strong person?

Shells Birthday last April.

Ghoul's Night

(LIGHTS UP on FIVE GIRLS--RO, SHELLS, ALICE, KALE, AND PAKE in a CAR, en route to an abandoned motel in Phoenix.)

RO: You guys, I'm looking up skin walkers right now on Wikipedia.
SHELLS: How is that scary?
ALICE: ...because Wikipedia is hAuNtEd! OoOoO!
PAKE: Wicked-pedia.
       (KALE laughs.)
RO: Well, that wasn't scary. I'm redoing my Google search.
ALICE:...You mean...hAuNtEd Google? (Beat.) Boo-gle!
       (KALE laugh.)
RO: ...Is Ya-ghoul good? I can't tell.
SHELLS: No.
ALICE: Hey, guys, what's a ghost's favorite board game?
        (Beat.)
PAKE: Scattergories?
KALE: Boo-gle? As in Boggle?
ALICE: (Bitter someone got her Boggle joke.) Ouija Board, idiots!
PAKE: I dunno. I thought mine was pretty good.
ALICE: What's haunted about Scattergories?
PAKE: I dunno! It's just a fun-ass game!

(GIRLS drive off into the distance. FADE TO BLACK.)

Inadvertent Racism

Ro and I were talking about a largely hispanic neighborhood in Phoenix--let's call it "Guad"--that is often a hotbed of crime, grit, general sketchiness. I backed up the stereotype with a fact:

ME: Yeah, the other second-year playwright lived there last year, and his house was broken into.
RO: Okay, maybe this will make me sound racist, but I didn't even know any white people lived in Guad.

Get it? The joke is that Ro, self-awarely, made a comment about racial communal borders, but, in the process, insinuated that playwrights are all white*. Hilarious, hilarious.

Ro, Ru, & me. Pore strips while watching Sister Act. 2012.

*To be fair, Rye is white. But! Ermo (head of the program) is Chilean. Burrito** (last year's grad) is Mexican.

**I really shouldn't talk. I am aware that I gave my Mexican classmate the pseudonym Burrito. I deserve to burn in racist hell.

Birthday Play & Marrow

LIGHTS UP on early AM of May 19th. THE DAUGHTER rises and enters the HALL BATHROOM.

DAD (from the hall) : HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
THE DAUGHTER (sullen, annoyed): Dad. I'm in the bathroom.
DAD (beat): Even in the bathroom, it's your birthday.

CURTAIN.

Me and Pops in Germany. June 2011.

But first let's toast to the lists

that we hold in our fists

of the the things we promise to do differently next time.

Conversation about Past Mistakes

We discussed if bad things can be good because they lead to great things.

March 2012.

Coincidence, Convo, Computer

On my bike path from home to school.

1. "Bloodshot" came up on my iPod while I was biking in this sunset last week. It was too coincidental NOT to take a photo.

2. This morning--

CHELLE: I have an apple juice problem. I love it so much. If I had my way, I'd be hooked up to an apple juice IV at all times.
ME: You wouldn't even be able to taste it.
CHELLE: I'd be fine just knowing it was running through my veins.

3. My computer is having some malfunction junctions, which is annoying. But, then, I think about all the things that make my computer tick, and how many of them are tiny and plastic and WHOA all the stuff my computer actually does for being a machine I can just carry around and how I schlep it all over tarnation in the sun on my back and I'm like, "How does it still work at all?"

It's just so high, and I'm so tired.
Come on look up at the bloodshot sky--
the clouds are all on fire.

True Texts From My Dad

Germany!

8:49 AM TODAY

ME: Two hours of sleep. Here I go!
DAD: Duct tape to hold the eyelids open is what I recommend.
ME: I might fail grad school, Dad. Major Boop.
DAD: You still get an A-plus as a great daughter!
ME: There's always workin' at Jimmy John's.
DAD: A good place to regroup.
DAD: Just do your best.
DAD: Enjoy your life.
ME: Good advice, Poppa.
DAD: Take out any frustrations on the anti-abortion zealots.

Today I am really grateful for my family--my mom, dad, and sister who support me despite having no expectations for my success. In a good way.

Theatre History Notes From Today

My professor:

"We want to be reaffirmed in theatre."
"There is something called genius that DOES exist."
"Art starts from chaos."
"Your voice internally is speaking in tongues. Even your own writing is a translation."
"To leave out the contradictions is bad theatre."

Classmate Wagon:

"For all change to occur, you need an impetus."

It should be noted that my prof is from Germany. She has a thick accent and frequently discussed her friendships with people like Tony Kushner and August Wilson. She was quoted in our theatre history textbook. She's so brilliant, I often forget she's speaking a secondary language in a secondary home. But then:

PROF: So...you all [Americans] become the...tossed salad...or...
CLASSMATE: ...Melting pot?
PROF: Whatever you are now.

Apologies and Comedy Updates

You guys, I am seriously not meeting my goal of updating this dang blog every day. If it's any consolation, it's because this week has been phenomenal. I also have a BEVY of starred e-mails in my inbox, so if one of those stars belongs to you, even MORE apologies. If your name is Lazz, and you sent me the best snail mail letter ever this week, and I haven't even started to write back yet, then, well, look, I'm the worst.

There's a campus improv group as well as a sketch group here. I contacted the director this summer to ask how it works, if they audition, whatevs. I was hesitant about going to the auditions because, well, I'm a grad student, and they were probably bunch of goofy dudes. But, getting to do improv is getting to do improv, so I went.

Analysis was correct: a bunch of goofy and offensive dudes. But, like I said, improv is improv, and I had a blast just getting to jam with new people. Made some connections, laughed a ton, and stayed quiet while a bunch of horrible jokes were made. Abortion! Holocaust! Raunch! But really good people very serious about comedy.

Last night's auditions ended, I made a couple connections, and I headed to Boulder's house for fajitas. Most of the MFA cohort was there enjoying delightful black beans, salsa, and fresh baked lemon squares. I chatted with everyone. Theatre! The Feminine Image of Beauty! Male/Female Characters in Young Adult Literature!

I just found out I am cast on the improv and sketch groups. The director and AD just called me with the good news. They invited me to the casting party "later"--it's almost 10 PM now...apparently, these people don't share my bedtime? But, I'm really excited about inviting the crazy/bonkers/non-PC side of comedy into my life as I continue to forge remarkable connections with people in the MFA about big kid stuff.

I just want everyone to know that I had extremely high hopes for grad school last year when I turned down JET. And they have been a million times over exceeded. Life is good for too many reasons to write right now.

Shots

ACTF 2011--Huntie plays a man with one arm. I am his partner.

Today I took a Zumba class. I've taken Zumba before at the Y in the Midwest. There it was very salsa-y with a bit of hip hop. Here at the biggest party school in the country? Zumba involves a lot of butt-shaking and shimmies and the salsa beats are few and far between. More raunchtastic rap including a fully choreographed exploration of the song "Shots." You know the one? The chorus is "SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!"

Anyway, based on the aforementioned facts, men rarely visit Zumba. But, today, we had a special guest. A 40something retarded man. This man really enjoyed Zumba, but he had no idea what he was doing. He kept approaching girls in class and starting to ask what to do, but the moves go so fast, even if we WANTED to help the man, we could not. He aimlessly bopped around and eventually picked up some weights and made everyone really nervous.

A room of young women shaking their booties plus one confused retarded dude pumping weights randomly. SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!

Eventually, he tried to dance in front with the instructor, and she pointed him back to the masses.

In the locker room I saw the tube-top wearing, rap mouthing, instructor. "Hey," I said. "Way to navigate through an awkward class."

She blinked at me and put on a tiny pout. "You thought it was awkward?" She was bummed.

"Oh! No! Just...the company..."

She cocked her head to the side, bewildered, then decided to smile it off, and said, "It was really hot in there!" Then she skipped off.

I am a horrible person apparently.

Memories of Nac

I just found this conversation written down. The morning I left North Carolina:

Alice: Get up!
Nac: No!
Alice: You have to take me to the airport!
Nac: You're not goin' anywhere.
Alice: I have to catch my flight!
Nac: No. I want the vacation to keep going.
Alice: But I have a flight to catch!
Nac: Tell 'em (extremely long pause) to hold up.


Taken right after Avril Lavigne sang through the radio, "So what if I go out on a million dates?!"

Too Much

Conversation with Nac at 2 PM today:

Me: Are you hungry?
Him: Kinda.
Me: Did you eat anything today? Just cereal?
Him: Yeah, but, like, three bowls.
Me: Oh, good. That makes me feel better because I ate all those cookies in front of you and didn't offer you even one.
Him: I knew you wouldn't. I was mentally prepared for that. You love cookies too much.

What part of "no" don't you understand?
I want a man, not a boy who thinks he can.

Some Thing-a-Dings

Told busy Pookie I'd buy her a chocolate shake from the Piasa Pub and walk it to her office this afternoon. Ordering I also decided to get myself a strawberry smoothie. As I began ordering the second dessert (I mean...a smoothie isn't really even a dessert...) I got the ol' raised eyebrows from the cashier. XTian was also working.

Xtian: Is that all for you?
Alice: Hey! It's obviously all not for me!
XTian: (raises eyebrows)
Alice: Okay, not obviously.
XTian: Why I asked.
Cashier: Are you sure you don't want something else too? We've got burgers and--
Alice: No!
Cashier:--chocolate.
Xtian: Yeah, how about a Snickers?
Cashier: Dove chocolate? All girls like chocolate.
Alice: That's not true.
Cashier: If they don't like chocolate, they're not a girl.
XTian: Reese's Cups? Why didn't you get Reese's in your shake?
Alice: The shake is for my sister.
XTian: Okay. Why didn't you get Reese's in your smoothie?


Nac, Me, XTian--post-bowling ice cream


Nac: Alice, Alice, Alice...it's alllllll about Alice.
Grinz: (from her reclined position in bed) Duuuuuuu-uuuuuuuh!