If You Close Your Eyes

The windows were open in the cab. We closed our eyes and leaned toward the sun, like we were sunflowers, positioning ourselves to the rays.

"Lookit those palm trees," Bisque pointed from the plane window. Three swayed in the sky.

It was strange to leave Cambridge. Maybe I will never be there again. I was so ready to get back to the hotel and out of my boots I turned around in the T too late to see the snowy El Dorado of college one last time. Only a pile of slushy stairs.

Before 10 PM room checks, Spiff, Bisque, and I cuddled into bed and watched Poltergeist. I hadn't seen it in fifteen years, and it made me feel little. It was nine degrees outside. And then half a day later we're in 80s. Like dogs against car doors.

It is truly hard to be an optimist about this one.

And the walls kept tumbling down
in the city that we love.

My Top Ten Fave Movies of 2013

This was my favorite year for movies in a really really long time. I loved, LOVED so many. Any of these films would be my stand out number one favorite if they had been out any other year for the past ten years. 2013, I salute you.

10. Insidious II
9. The Conjuring
8. The Spectacular Now
7. Paranormal Activity 5
6. Before Midnight
5. The Heat
4. Her
3. The Place Beyond the Pines
2. Frances Ha
1. Don John

Judge all you want. These are the films that spoke to me.

Honorable Mention: Frozen
Yet to See: Dallas Buyers, Blue J, Short Term Twelve
Movies I Didn't Like: The Wolf of Wall Street, You're Next, The Purge, Gravity, Inside Llewyn Davis, Mama

Waiting Outside

My mom hates all things frightening. When I was growing up sometimes I could sense her confusion  as she walked past me curled up watching Lady in White for the twelfth time or examining a dead possum with just a touch too much enthusiasm. But it's who I was, and my mom shrugged it off like, "I dunno maybe she'll grow out of or into being a weirdo. Yolo?"

I love haunted houses. Like. So much. So so so much. Why aren't they open all year? I'll never understand. I have this really clear memory of being in middle school, reading about a haunted house in the newspaper one day. For some reason the attraction was closing that night or something, and I was el bummed of course. No one was free, it was a school night, etc. etc. But my mom was just super caj and all, "I'll take you." And she did! We donned jeans and headed to this dinky but creepy haunted house in a series of trailers. My mom sat at a picnic table with some paperwork, and I did my social studies homework in line until it was time to go in. I walked through alone, soaking up every drop of blood, every creep with a mask. I came out, and my mom was drinking hot chocolate. She had one for me too. She asked how it was. I told her my favorite parts, but I left out the things that would churn her stomach.

This is a thing I will never forget.

Birthday cupcakes for the Alices. Plus! A ghoul-friend! Mine was chocolate covered marshmallow.

Hit

I was hit by a truck today. On my bicycle. The cliche is true. Time does slow down. One second expands to a million decisions. One minute my biggest concern was wondering if I would have enough down time at work to grade. Next, I see the driver only look one way as he's turning out of the parking lot. I was already in front of his grill. I knew it was about to happen. I screamed with everything I had. My brakes couldn't save me. The vehicle plowed into me. I flew. The tires moved forward, and I thought I was going to die. But, no, it was a lurch from being put in park. A man in construction garb ran around to me asking, "Can I call 9-1-1? I'll call 9-1-1." I had burst into tears. It was as if someone had injected me with a triple shot of espresso. My adrenaline was so high. Busy time of day on a busy street--people stopped traffic, ran from their cars, "I saw what happened!" they yelled. I was partially blind by my nerves. I stood up and all I could think about was how scared I would be if I had hit me. I kept assuring the man I was okay. I was okay. I was really okay. I wanted him to know. I wasn't thinking straight, but I knew I needed to make the man feel like he hadn't done anything wrong. That it was going to be okay.

I wanted to walk. A voice in the back of my head said, "You have to get to school still. You're subbing today. You'll be late." I honed in on that need and started walking. I couldn't stop crying. It was instinctual--surely chemical. My bike chain was screwed up, I walked. I felt like I should call someone, but I knew it would sound much more dramatic between sobs. I put my phone away. I got to the class late, really fine, but still crying. I couldn't stop for about an hour. I held up my bloodied, bike-greased hands and excused myself to the bathroom. I taught. I let them out a little early. I got hit by a truck, you know? I also had two pieces of cheesecake for dinner. I got hit by a truck today. I think it's okay.

EDIT: After to waking up to concerned texts I want to say I AM TOTALLY FINE. I have some scratches and bruises, but I really am fine! I actually had a pretty good day. I was let out of work early and baked and saw some friends and had a rehearsal. I even got my bike in decent working condition at the school co-op for free.

Tree-O

It is my sister's birthday. It's been a grand year for the Pookie. As a close outside observer, I would postulate that this has been the happiest year of her life. It's hard to exactly say why, but I do believe it to be so.

Pookie probably has her own accomplishments and memories on this date of reflection, but this is MY dang blog, so here are some of MY dang thought on her last year:

It's been difficult being so far away from my sister--location, time zone, and also her limited understanding of my life out here. But, we've managed to stay in touch a pretty good amount--not Grey Gardens level like I prefer, but probs Leslie and Anne level. Most importantly, she is "there" for me if I need anything.

One weekend this summer I was suddenly in the grips of a very scary physical problem involving extreme nausea, pain, and itchiness. I called Pooks for a general morale boost and support the morning the symptoms began, and immediately she asked if she should make the drive from STL to Chicago. I didn't think it was necessary, but by afternoon she decided to hunker up anyway. It was a miracle she had that intuition because by the time she arrived (with pints of ice cream as I had texted her in last-ditch despair), I was completely immobile. I could not even walk ten feet to the bathroom. So my sister walked in the door after a five hour car trip, and before even sitting down, carried me to the toilet.

It was a torturous experience--and she did not complain when I spent the whole night screaming, bawling, and whining for backrubs. She cracked jokes, she fetched water, and she stayed until I was able to hobble.

This is my sister. A person who can make what should be the worst moments of my life somehow not.

Takin' pics at Buckingham Fountain. September 2012.

Happy Birthday to my favorite person past, present, and future.

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.)

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.

Bloody Mary

Tonight Big Taco was here. He is en route to a new life in a new city. He has been promising me a ghost story for almost a year, so tonight he came over. It was good to see him--this guy who used to b a good friend. College is funny like that. One quarter you eat dinner every day together, and then you see each other a couple times a month in passing, and then one of you leaves, and then you may never have a traditional spooky story telling night again.

Tonight Big Taco came over to tell me about eerie things that happened to him while he was living in Alaska last year. As to not bother Wiz who does not like scary things, we decided to go into the bathroom and turn off the lights. We were in there no longer than twenty seconds before he said, "I don't like bathrooms without the lights on because of Bloody Mary--" and before he had even finished speaking I had bolted out into the light, banging my knee in the process, and he was right behind me. Exploding from the tile and rustling shower curtain. We howled with laugher, amazed we could be so scared in under a minute. Roommates Wyn and LC heard and came out. What? What's this? We explained and they grinned--also fans of the macabre.

We sat in a circle on the floor of LC's bedroom and scared ourselves silly. I just realized something about myself: I'm really happy when I am scared. I always knew I liked scary stuff, but I am actually really happy when I expose myself to scary stuff. Internally, I checked in as my heart was stomping. I was frightened and happy.

I died so I could haunt you.

When Chickens Listen to Rap?

from my third grade sketchbook

Also, deciding where I am going to live next year is really starting to wear on me. Do I like having a bunch of choices (down to three)? Or, do I wish someone would just decide for me?

Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

Too Much...Little Too Much

There are some actors who can slip in and out of character, and it doesn't seem to affect them at all. Well, I wish I had that skill. Even when I go through a show and think "No...this time it really won't get to me." It does. It always gets under my skin, into my subconscious, and makes me a nutty buddy.

I've written about this before--how being a 1950s schoolteacher this fall made me distrust men. How being sad sack Laura Wingfield in Glass Menage made me self-pitying. How I definitely felt less beautiful as Ruth Sherwood. Well, Robin Hood is supposed to be a comedy. I'm supposed to be big time comic relief. I scream a bunch and hate the forest. No big.


Rex and I horsing around before rehearsal

Yesterday towards the end of our run-through during the full cast scene in Prince Jon's court I noticed there were more bugs than usual. Not like...swarms, but usually there is one fly on set. I could always count five or six. Bradley was breaking character to slap them down. An actor next to me was squashing these flying critters bigger than gnats, smaller than horseflies with his boots from his spot sitting on a stump.

And then he stood up to reveal the top of the stump...completely crawling with hundreds of buffalo gnats. Fat little bodies and big white wings squirming all over each other, pouring out of the wood and streaming down to the rest of the stage.

I screamed bloody murder. That...is not how I usually react to bugs. I like bugs alright--even many freshly hatched larva indoors. But, Lady Quigley is my brain now, and all I could do was shriek.

That's how I nearly fell,
trading clothes and ringing Pavlov's bell.

Scariest Prank Ever Pulled on Alice

Part I

Saw an incredible play last night. It is called The Pillowman, and Lord, has it stuck with me. I think it will forever. I guess most things do though. Maybe every day forever. I won't talk about it. I did that enough last night. But, I WILL say there is an overarching theme about children who get mutilated. Children in general. There are many themes deepen than children, but on the surface there is a lot about kiddos. It was pretty effed up.

Part II

I come back into my room late. Halloween night. I see a cloth on my bed. Oh that's weird. What is that? My bed is made. What is that lump? I pull back the covers to find a small lifeless child. I start breathing heavily. I realize soon that it is one of the very creepy life-size paper mache child puppets from a theatre production a few years ago. I throw it in my laundry basket in the closet with a little shriek and slam the door. I call three people who might be to blame. They swear they didn't do it. I realize I need shorts from my closet. I take deep sighs and open the door. As I reach up I scream--

because there is a face looking at me from the top of my closet.
Look closer...

Imagine that staring you in the face when you're already scared out of your mind. I screamed and screamed and screamed--probably waking up my whole hall. I called Rex--the last person I could think of doing this to me. He said what I knew which was, "Alice, I was with you all day and all night." I am baffled. Whoever did this got me good. Rex came over. Once someone else was here, it was okay to laugh. I took these pictures, and Rex took the dolls away.