It's Alive!

Last night I could not get to sleep. Was up for hours getting bonus lesson planning done and suddenly this spec of an idea I had about a play completely took shape and completely consumed my half-dreaming thoughts. I journaled for pages: lines of dialogue, stage directions, climactic images. It spilled out of me like black ink in those old timey pots tipped over.

This morning I began. Here it comes, speeding out of me. I didn't want to stop. I prolonged the workout until I was cutting it close. I thought about these people walking to the train. I have never wanted to cancel class due to creative flow before. A first. They hung with me all day. I have a new pile of essay revisions to grade, but not tonight. Not, at least, right now. I have people to see.

Very early into grad school I recognized I was loathing the hunt of playwriting. I would stay up all night finishing an act, get it ripped up the next day, and keep the document closed until it was my turn for workshop four weeks later. Not a healthy cycle. Not a successful cycle. I wondered if I would ever feel excited again.

Interesting Dirtbags

Two weeks ago I was happily gabbing with Bug at work about, I dunno, macaroons or Lindy West or I DUNNO when a coworker who doesn't usually stop by the reception desk paused gravely in front of us and asked, "Did you hear about what happened?"

It's an off-setting question, but what was really off-setting is that this coworker wore a frown but was holding onto this, like, excitement. And she nodded her head slowly and told us about some kid in Texas who attacked his classmates with a box-cutter that day. "Oh," we said, "oh." And that was kinda all there was to say. I mean, great. Thanks for that? Coworker stood nodding a few more moments, added something like, "Just goes to show..." And then it was semi-evident to me, she didn't actually know what went to show where, but she had thrown out some introductory phrase, so she wrapped it up with, "...gotta be aware of your surroundings." And she shuffled away. And me and Bug, we nodded seriously because we're not monsters nor idiots and that's what you're supposed to do when a kid from Texas goes berserk with a packaging accouterment.

WHY DID THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN? WHY WAS IT SO IMPORTANT WE HAD TO BE TOLD? WHAT DID THAT ACCOMPLISH?

These are the things I asked Muffy today in the Arizona sun while we walked around my campus sipping Jamba Juice. Incidentally, Muffy is next to me watching me type this blog. She had some answers:

"Let me sum it up really quick--Don't write any of this. One is--[she notices me transcribing] This isn't gonna make any sense [laughter]. Okay drama. Um, what was the other thing? No. Okay, don't...[she gets frustrated with me typing her words, but I do not stop]. So, um, wait what was the other thing? Drama and, oh yeah! Power! They want importance, significance. They want to be somebody significant to the other person. You mentioned they wanted to be remembered with that event. Like, in connection to that event. Oh yeah, and then the last thing is that some people feel boring and they get excited when there's something exciting to share because they want to be seen as exciting."

That said, we went on to discuss how being boring and thinking others are boring is not only boring,  it's perpetuating tragedy! Because the more we get jazzed to discuss misfortune, the more troubled folk idealize that attention, and we totally play into it because it's not boring.

Solutions:

A. Recognize that the most exciting things are not tragedy. The most exciting thing is Love. That is not boring. We do not have to wait to be intrigued by disaster.

B. Work toward seeing others as interesting. Let go of the misconception that we ourselves or others are boring. "Imagine if you approached every person and treated them as if they're interesting. I bet people wouldn't end up...doing those things. If you're getting that sort of love..."

C. Continue attempting to find tactful ways to divert conversations surrounding tragedy. Not that it's always unproductive. "Sometimes it is productive, like with the gun control [post Sandy Hook], but the conversation should be productive or it should just stop."

Muffy sippin' Jamba

She doesn't know who I am and

she doesn't give a damn about me.

'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby.

Ladies in Comedy

I just really want to express gratitude for the women of comedy being so important lately. All five Golden Globe nominees for female lead in comedic TV are like huge household names, so well-loved, and they all speak to womanhood and equality. Not a one is just working on her acting career. All five of them go out of their way to address issues of gender identity, success, empowerment.

I just browsed through past Golden Globe comedienne nominees and winners, and, let me tell you, things hava changed. Like, women on TV used to be funny...I guess? But, outside that, they were mainly just bein' pretty girls. I don't want to discredit any of these historic women or blame them. Some are significant--Carol Burnett, Tracey Ulman...sure. But Calista Flockheart, Jennifer Anniston, Jenna Elfman...what have you done for me lately? Sarah Jessica Parker, you are a symbol of your generation, of womanhood, of relationships in general...but what have you said?

These women are all a product of their times. Things are different now. There's tweeting to the masses and women's history month essay contests and a support system, which we ALL owe a pretty hefty thank you to Tina for. It's a new world, but we still owe thanks. I'm giving it. Thanks.

I do also realize that all the nominees were white, and I look forward to seeing even more progress regarding otherness in the future.

That Is How I Know You Go On

When I finally pulled the suction from around my eye hard enough to lift my goggle onto my forehead, I had swam a mile. I only had a minute to cool down before I had to hit the showers if I was going to make it to Theory on time. I rolled onto my back and propelled slowly towards the North wall, watching the morning clouds over the palm trees.

Tonight I saw Titanic in 3D. I was excited all day. This morning, twelve hours before I would be in the theatre, I packed my theatre loyalty cup in my backpack, so I could get a large lemonade for a dollar. Forget the haters, I love this movie. One hundred years ago today Titanic set sail on its maiden voyage. It was destiny to buy half-off Easter candy at CVS with these comedy boyz and walk through the glowing outdoor mall and land in seats and watch the love story that moved me when I was ten.

As a fourth grader I really got the "Live life to the fullest" message. I wrote, "Life is a gift.-Jack Dawson" on a small slip of paper, folded it, and tucked it into my shoe before school the next day. Tonight I liked the message of willingness. Jack could not have planned to die by iceberg. Cal could not buy his way to Rose's heart or escape from the sink. Leo said something like, "We never know what cards we will be dealt." How two years ago I had no steamy idea of my future, and, yet, I have one. I could not have willed that. It's just what happened. How one year ago, my mom was living in England, and poof poof poof, changes occur and she's in a small Illinois bungalow. How one-hundred years ago tonight people were celebrating like their lives meant something, and in four days, they were bubbles and fish food. But their lives do mean something, even if they never could have guessed their lives would mean me screeching Celine Dion into the night as I stand, arms wide open on the handicap ramp outside the theatre.



And Rose laid on her back, in pain from the suction of the propellors, gazing up at the night stars.

Near, far, wherever you are.
I believe that the heart will go on.

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.

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.

Not Possible

It simply does not seem possible that I am so happy and ready in one minute and so scared and upset the next. How is it that the greatest blessings and grand realizations of love occur within an hour of petty disturbances to my mental health?

I just don't want to live this way anymore. I don't want to live knowing the Good but accepting the bad every other glance and breath. IT'S NOT POSSIBLE, ALICE! It's just not.

You turned in your capstone today. You are sitting with your beloved hamster as you type. You are full of free cookies. FREE cookies. You have Pookie--the patron saint of baked goods and DVDs and Muff the elixir of true life in the flesh. You have inspiration texts, and a best friend in your diary, and you love to have long runs and think about how wonderful It All Is. No more complaints please. Please?

Calm down and go to bed. This is ridiculous.

Real Stuff:


A List to Keep Me Sane: Excited Fors
-Last day of work in the pub ever tomorrow. Writing my name on the senior wall.
-Watching the Scene Study Final
-Dinner with Kay
-Scary film at Bradley's pad
-Date with the Holy Trinity
-Buying new underwear
-Finally spending extended time with Jamba (breakfast!!!)

Okay? So can it. And sleep. You're not done yet.

Champion

I feel more successful after a work-out if all numbers on the machine match up than when I am actually fast or strong. Boop!

This morning I lifted weights and stair-stepped. I got off exactly as the machine hit 1.0 miles and 15:00 minutes. Exactly.

So wonderful. And, yes, it does take me fifteen minutes to stair-step a mile. And, yes, I still sweat copiously.