Lanes

 My last year of grad school the campus became smoke-free. It was culture shock when I first arrived, on the heels of my little straightedge midwestern cloister, to see so many students casually walking around with cigarettes hanging from their mouths. Lowsta would zip up to sketch rehearsal on a skateboard, a Marlboro falling from his lips.

Once the signs went up, I didn't think about it again. Occasionally I'd see someone, extremely stressed, power-walking to the parking lot to cram in a light between classes. Once it shifted I couldn't believe my professor and classmates used to stand in the garden puffing away.

A few months into the change I was biking down the street and had to maneuver around some construction. I had to pop onto the sidewalk for a moment to avoid a pothole and cautiously watched a girl in pajama pants walking nearby. I didn't want to knick her with my handlebar. As I passed she started screaming at me, "YEAH I SMOKE. GET OVER IT. IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS." I was so beyond flustered I simply pedaled faster. I heard her screeching as I zoomed away, "THIS ISN'T TECHNICALLY CAMPUS. I'M ALLOWED TO SMOKE."

I was probably halfway home, whiffing that pizza place, before I fully grasped what had happened. I was staring at her, in an attempt to not hurt her, and she decided to digest it as judgement for her habit. I hadn't even noticed she was smoking, and I certainly didn't care. If anything I was feeling self-conscious for biking out of my lane.

Goodbye Disabilities Center

It's been almost three years since I worked at the Disabilities Center. Proctoring tests to disabled students was my part-time job in grad school. I am immensely grateful for the experience. I worked daytime only, on campus, and sometimes I was set in duties where I could read or write. The position helped me become a better teacher and certainly a much better person.

I was let go at the start of my final semester of school. I was devastated. My boss fought to keep me, but I was already a halftime instructor for ASU, and with Obamacare looming, the school was was paranoid about providing benefits. In a truly demeaning manner, the HR person for my graduate program wrote me saying I was being forced out of other work because I needed to focus on my studies. (After providing proof I had maintained an A average during my entire tenure at school she admitted, "Okay, it's about not giving you health care.")

I remember one of my last days at work. I was scribing for a student in a wheelchair who didn't have the use of his hands. I wrote out the short answers for him on his history exam. He coughed and asked if I could reach in his bag, get the water bottle, insert a straw, and give him a drink. "Sure," I said. I was holding the water to his mouth and thinking about the exam topics. I was remembering some stuff about Britain's empire I had forgotten since high school. (Another thing I loved about the job--insight to so many subjects!) He said, "Okay," and I put the bottle away. I had a conscious thought, "That would have felt weird two years ago." Even interviewing with my boss, a woman who was very slow to speak with, what seemed like, little control of her head, had set me on edge. I want to believe I was simply concerned in an interview scenario that I wouldn't nail it because I was having some trouble understanding her, but truthfully I had never spent an extended time with anyone much physically different than me. On that Arizona cool December day, while jotting down answers about British opium trade, the bitterness of being forced from my job melted. I felt a swell of thankfulness for the empathy education I had slowly accumulated without even knowing it.

End of the World

Outside the children leave the school.
There's simply nothing left to learn.
Inside the bakery the bread is warm for those without concern.

Everybody's got a care to throw.
The end is coming but we already know.
Moving bodies turning into gold.
The sky is falling and we're watching it go.

Understood

Just finished reading The Shame of the Nation today, which is a book about the US education system's lack of truly integrated schools. A common theme in the book is that change kind of happens from the bottom, but historically, these poor ("let's face it: black" according to the author Kozol) schools don't get much no matter how bad it gets. Students are taught "I am the change." But ultimately, huge education reform happens on congressional levels. The charter schools grow, stricter rules get shoved onto the most struggling of children. They are not getting the elementary education I got in my (let's face it: white) suburb.

This is always the complaint. Why are all these people speaking for others they don't fully understand? It is an archaic system on a slow road to change. Sure. That's fine. And I'm not blaming congresspeople (let's face it: men) for not truly understanding poverty. Just like I don't blame myself. I can blame someone for not being aware, but to truly, truly understand is a different story. I would have to work very hard to understand. I have learned a lot from this 300 page book, but I am not in those little shoes.

What would it be like if in our culture you could only speak to things you truly understood or directly applied to you? On one hand, this is impossible if you believe in community. We are a web after all. On the other hand, how sweet would it be if it was extremely rude to speak about abortion unless you were currently pregnant? No sharing an opinion on a film unless you've seen the whole thing. Shut up about another country unless you live there?

I'm not suggesting this. I think we should consider other viewpoints. I think we need to. Just a daydream of sorts on this fine Friday afternoon.

Crunch

Not sure how many times I've eaten

at the student union Taco Bell.

A lot

I guess. But I hadn't been since

last January.

Not because I'm being healthier

or something. Just because I got tired of it.

"I'm eating healthy all week," I had announced

because I had a monster of a diet

this weekend thanks

to speech tournament judging, a Friendsgiving,

general Sunday ice cream couchtime.

And I didn't feel good.

Then yesterday as my shift at work ended

I was just

ravenous

for

only

Taco Bell.

So I made my way over and realized

I never see this side of campus anymore.

I saw a student from work in the distance.

When I run into them not in the context of their disability I think

some stuff

about people.

I sat outside at a two-person metal table

in the shade.

A girl came out right after me,

had to sit at the next table back.

I opened the crunchwrap. A bird

pooped on my arm.

If I hadn't been there,

it would have been the gal behind me

wearing a long-sleeve blouse.

Ran into Hill by the theatre office.

Pop cup in hand, I explained, "I was going to eat healthy all week."

Haha, taco cravings! I gestured to the Coke.

She texted me last night:

"I may have Taco Bell today for the first time in forever.

You have shaped the future."

26 Snapshots of Spring Semester 2013

Kath sitting on my pool deck, legs in.

Accentuating attendance policy questions with minor piano chords.

All the women in the hot tub talkin' Italians.

Kissing Bisque at the orange patterned crossroad in my neighborhood.

Educational bug website always open on my iPhone.

Ro egg shaking in her backyard of lights and bikes.

I have finally seen the light. I have finally realized what you mean.

Salmon cardigan. Jean jacket. Chestnut Uggs. Blue Andy sweatshirt.

Palgrave open. Red and white sprinkled cookies on the table.

Boy with huge eyes yelling, "SOMEONE HAND ME A COMPUTER."

Three hour brunch on a Monday.

Cobra stretched out across Ethiopian carpet, peekin all the guys.

Beasts of the Southern Wild on living room sofa, nose stuffy.

Fishtail braiding Muffy's hair.

Tearing up alone in the ugliest hallway, texts from Jamin.

The honest voice of Sitch. The honest questions of adulthood. The cold.

The best improv set in a hotel room for four people.

"But you're not trying not to be."

Balcony monologue aloud. Wood floors.

Slow swing of Ru's body during "Touch Me."

Falafel crumbs on the steps behind the lecture hall.

Four lovers all wearing the same deodorant in Whole Foods.

Planner open to July. Pencil marks everywhere.

Huge room, four professors, vegan cake puffs center stage.

Looking down at a greased peel. Unwashed hair.

Straw Dog day, kicking around gravel, holding the phone.

Quotes from Ru

"Alice, I guess my question is why aren't we watching 'Clueless' and eating Oreos?"

Yosh, Shellz & Cheeze, Ru. May 2012.

"Omg I don't wanna talk about [only having on semester of school left]. I'm taking the whole "I'm just so over school and I'm ready to get out there and perform" approach. While secretly shoveling ice cream into my mouth to cope with the hysteria."

Fracas 2012

Was at an improv festival all weekend with these yahoos.

I'll leak ideas and memories from this trip in the future. For now, I must watch Modern Family and get under covers and go to bed extremely early.

A Couple Evident Things:
-I am grateful to be part of such a funny rag-tag bunch of clowns.
-It was a treat--A TREAT--to be with chums of yore (Jamin and Dizz) like we were actual friends--oh, no big, just a movie here and coffee there. I miss that feeling with so many people. I ask my sister to hang out weekly.
-Improv is wonderful, and I love it, but I am SO GLAD I don't want to pursue it professionally.
-Or necessarily any pro acting to be honest. SWEET HONEY LOAF, LA does not appeal to me.
-EVEN SO! I am quite excited to take a longform intensive in July. It is official. I have made the down-payment. Sometimes we can't see the end result, or even begin to guess what it will be, but we are called to do something, and life is too short not to follow that call.
-Laughing is great.
-It's all going to work out!

I do not want it to be Monday tomorrow, but, guess what? It is.

Spike Lee on January 25th

Tonight I had the opportunity to hear Spike Lee talk at my school. He speech was nothing too new--but it was good stuff. His main messages:

1. It's not cool to be ignorant. I'm talking to you black guys who think you're so tough. Parent your children and go to school.
2. I got where I am today with a lot of support from certain family members. Among those were not my parents who wanted me to get a real job, but, thats parent's job--to help you get stable. Luckily, there are great teachers and grandmas who will encourage you to live your dreams.
3. You need to do what you want to do. Theres no worse existence than hating your job. "I don't drag myself out of bed, I fly out of bed like I was shot from a cannon."

Then, there was Q & A, which was mostly unproductive, but, what can you do?

My Favorite Thing:

A upper middle-age man got up to ask a question and before he could even get a sentence out, Spike was like, "Whoa you could do voiceovers!" Everyone laughed, because the man did have a very distinct, listenable voice. Then, Spike guided him through a trailer, asking the man to repeat after him things like, "Coming this summer to a theatre near you." The man totally played along, and everyone in the entire thousand person auditorium ate it UP. Then, he asked his question, which was about the theme of "Wake up" in Spike's films. This man was oozing happiness. Spike Lee just made him famous among strangers for five minutes.

My Least Favorite Thing:

A child got on a mic and asked, "You're an actor and a director...how do you do that? What do you need?" Spike answered, "Well, you need cameras, and people, and you have to do a lot--how old are you?"
"Nine."
"Well, you're starting at the right time."
Everyone applauded. Um. Okay. He's nine, not mentally challenged. That's a really dumb question for a nine-year old to ask actually. Think about yourself in 4th grade. Did you know you needed a camera for movies? Right. Little attention monger. Why do we clap for children being incredibly average. If the kid had explained a docu-drama he was making, yeah, I would have clapped. But for being alive and holding a microphone? No.

Awesome Thing:

Michelle and Barack's first date? Do the Right Thing.

Declaring Murder: Part III

We've talked about my place of part-time employment, right? I work at a disability center proctoring tests for students. It's different every day. Sometimes I just sit with ADD kids in a small empty room and read, periodically checking if they are cheating. Sometimes I fill in scantron bubbles for kids with casts. Sometimes I walk around campus delivering completed tests back to professors, wondering how many freaking holiday office parties I am going to interrupt, and how come no one has the decency to offer me any of those delicious cookies.

So, recently I was proctoring for a woman with slow speech, a big leg brace, glasses. I had to read her test aloud and follow her instructions from her to look up answers in her text book. It was an intro biology class. She had failed it three times before she told me. A 100-level class with open book exams. Multiple choice.

This woman did not get how to play the game. For example, if the question was like, "When was the first Homoerectus fossil, Lucy, discovered?" she would say, "Okay, check the Index to see if "fossil" is in there." As a proctor, I can't help students with any material based questions. So, I couldn't offer a simple, "You know, fossil gives us a lot of pages...why not try "Lucy" first?" I just sat there, flipping back and forth between all the uses of "fossil" and reading sections aloud. Sometimes I would read the answer to the question in a section of text, and she wouldn't catch it. I'd repeat, but only as much as she would ask me. I couldn't say, "Hey...it's this. It's D. I just read it."


State Fair poultry. November 2011.

She was really nice, but she just didn't know. Ultimately, I think she did alright. I was just so flustered to be a drone. So flustered this is what education is in the United States at the University level. I asked what her major was as we walked out of the little testing room. She explained she was a sociology major--hoping to one day be a counselor for battered women. "So I can help them get out before it's too late, even though I couldn't," she said. "My husband shot me in the head."

I exhaled. I am so glad I was not short with this woman. I am so glad I have learned patience and understanding over the years. Lord help this woman become a counselor even if she doesn't have a brain for biology.

Emizzle from Henne

"I forgot to tell you about the bones I had to pick with your stress baking post...BECAUSE THIS IS ALL I HAVE TO DO AT WORK TODAY, KIND OF.

A. I loooooove to stress bake and I am not a woman (and i'd rather be a woman. just kidding. kind of. being a woman sounds stinky! but they do get away with a hilariously gaudy lifestyle much easier than I do). the point is, i live to make cheesecakes when i should be doing anything but. and i'm baking it all with my wang.
B. I loooooove to give away stress baking. It's just a temporary diversion, and hopefully, by the time baking is done, I am less stressed. If I've taken an hour to bake a cake and then I feel like I am owed that entire cake because I'm still so stressed, I should probably quit whatever I'm trying to do. Also, all stress bakers' hearts would explode with alllllll the funky stress-baking butter if we didn't give it away.
C. What the stress baking giver-away-er is not telling you is how little they did while they were baking. Their paper, in the case of a fellow estudiante, probably is kaka. Being emotionally unstable takes up a lot of time, so rather than scrutinizing people who bake while stressed, we should probably take a long hard look at their dark, dark soul (not mine) and figure out what's actually wrong.
D. I love all uncooked doughs and batters. Sometimes that's enough to push me to bake. Then I've really not needed the baked treat by the time my oven proverbially dings.

The End!

I look forward to continuing this dialogue about treats because I would really like one right about now."

A New School Year

Resolved: The American school system should move forward to begin in November.

Support One: How beautiful it was tonight as I walked along the canal outside my father's house--cool, crisp, aromas of burning leaves and sweaters coming out of the closet. Students would be free to enjoy the perfect weather and feel grateful to be shoved back into buildings as the climate became more bitter (instead of more beautiful).

Support Two: The holiday schedule of our country would align nicely to the new schedule. Halloween would be a last hurrah before the school year, and Thanksgiving would be a brief beginning break (akin to Labor Day). A half-week Christmas break would serve as a stopping point between quarters, and Spring Break would be longer. A long spring break makes the most sense ever, does it not?

Contention One: Isn't summer the best time to have kids free? Or, late spring for some schools?
Answer: No. Summer is mainly too hot to enjoy. Having a fall break would be much more relaxing, and there is not much wrong with having shorter nights for the bulk of a school's vacation. Spring and early summer are also prone to more allergy-issues than fall. Again, happier children.

Contention Two: But, what about swimming etc?
Why can't everyone swim during the end of the school year for pizza'a sake? We only fill our breaks with children bopping around in pools endlessly because that's a good activity for the time we have off. Plus, most schools will still have August off.

In conclusion, all American schools should begin in November instead of September or August. Thank you.

No More Pencils, No More Books

on the lake with Wizzy, Kay, and Lando Two Summer 2009

I am not required to be in an academic classroom ever again! Although, I'm sure I will be. I feel my future of teaching gurgling up inside me more now than ever. Neither here nor there. I am done with every test, paper, project, portfolio, meeting etc. for the quarter. And next quarter I have no class. No class! I will be taking

-the spring play for credit
-my capstone (independent writing work)

and that's ALL. I will be auditing a gender theory course, but that will have no requirements of me.

I could be cliche and say it seems like just yesterday I took my first college course, and, in some ways it does, but it also feels like it has been a long road from freshman year to my final no-class spring. I am very very happy.

In other news, I have officially accepted my job as head counselor at camp again this summer. I am pleased as punch. I just got the staff list and am ever so thrilled by the group of women I will be working alongside on Lake Michigan. I must remember this moment for the days when I am so sucked into camp I feel like I cannot breathe: I really want to be there. Additionally, Kay, Tacos, G-Bear, and Lando Two will be in the kitchen. Who could ask for anything more?

I can't wait for summer and the Warped Tour.

Bragging Rights

If not on your own blog, where else?
Guess who got a 97 on her American Lit mid-term?

I got a rose and small chocolate cake from Kay delivered to my door this afternoon.
Here is a picture of us from last night's talk:



Really, I'm just wasting time. I can't seem to be productive because I can only focus on my breakfast for dinner day with Phyl coming up in fifty short minutes.

Priorities

Wonderful Town 2009

Take a close look at your options, and decide what you should do.

Since I was aware of the concept, I have always thought my priorities were pretty sturdy. I've always been somewhat intelligent, rational, grounded, etc. I know how to keep my "priorities straight." I know some people who surely went to college to learn how to deal with priorities. Some kids go into school not understanding how to manage time so they can do their work. How they should ration money. How do they balance the potential to be with a lover all the time and keep friends etc. etc.?

I think I had that stuff figured out pretty well. What I don't think I knew was how to prioritize my "good" priorities. For example, school is always a priority. Always, always, always...but this week it was too hard to focus on my classes and appreciate my opportunities at ACTF. School. Not a priority for a few days. And...that makes sense. My life is going to be far more determined by what happened at the conference than by what happened in the classes of American Lit I missed. So my grades suffer? So what?

Incidentally, a woman who saw me in semis offered me a spot as Lucy in You're a Good Man Charlie Brown in her summer stock company. So, there's that to think about. I kinda don't care what happens to my GPA.

You could make your own decisions or do what they tell you to.

Some Things

1. Huntie is the best scene partner in the world. We made it to semi-finals here at ACTF for the Irene Ryans. Totally supportive and so talented. I'm sups lucky.
2. I love acting.
3. I love our director and the friends I ge tto share this trip with--especially Bradley. How special this is our second time at this festival together.
4. I am really really behind on my schoolwork. I cannot stress this enough.
5. I don't care.
6. This is worth it.

Nothing

Me pre-nap in my London bedroom. March 2008.

When there's only one week of school left in the quarter everything every single thing seems more appealing than finishing the little bits. The powerpoint, the blue crab paper, the production write-up, the last edits on the last story. Have all these daydreams of sitting alone in a room with a good book and a canteen and a script (see photo). It's nothing new. But, I've always figured it was a school thing. I'm just starting to worry...is this how its going to be for the rest of my life? I guess if I go into education eventually. Next year when I'm slugging around between opportunities I certainly won't have these daydreams. That dream will be my life. I wonder how the reverse will feel. A longing to be in a room with a million things and people.