Picking Up A Winterfresh Wrapper

Yesterday a Winterfresh wrapper flew out of a girl's bag about ten paces ahead of me on my walk home from the el. I could see my apartment window. The one I put the little ghost in. I guess I need to take that down now. The wrapper flew out and bounced in the wind a moment. I had about twenty seconds to decide what to do. My first instinct was to pick it up because litter. Then I wondered, "Why should I?" After all, it wasn't my trash. After all, I am a pretty good eco citizen. Then I wondered if anyone was watching me and if possibly I might make some money. (This is a very common irrational thought I have potentially spurred by my dad's staple bedtime stories coming from The Children's Book of Virtues. In those stories, good is always rewarded--even tiny good. In fact, it almost seems as thought the more inconsequential good deed bears the most fruit. Like, there were at least four stories about a little sweetheart helping a mouse in the forest and then the mouse gives the chick, like, a million diamonds. Idk it's more complicated than that, but regardless, there is a small part of my brain reserved for impossible possibilities like leprechauns popping and giving me a pot of gold as soon as my hand touched the discarded plastic.) THEN, I wondered if I would have to split my fortune with litterbug up there. After all, she's a big reason why I got to be so rich. Drat. That's obnoxious.

So I picked up the wrapper. Nothing happened. I stuffed it in my pocket and threw it away in my kitchen. I understand the sudden buck at cleaning up after others. We like to think, "But I clean up after myself!" And, sure, most of the time that is true. I don't think I've ever flat-out littered. But, what do I know?! The girl in front of me didn't know.

Not Everyone Can Have

The Limited Edition Marshmallow Oreos were magnificent. And now they are gone. I shared the last few with friends on Friday night. I reiterated my desire for a big ol' pan of rice krispie treats. (If you'll remember I pined for some about two weeks ago on this blog.) Everyone in the living room nodded. Mm. MM.

When I got home Saturday night after a lovely Quesorido (THAT'S RIGHT. A BURRITO MADE WITH A QUESIDILLA. *Taste buds explode with joy*) there was a little boxy package waiting for me. Mysterious. I didn't remember buying anything. I opened it to find a pink box. When I removed the lid...A PILE OF RICE KRISPIE TREATS! From my Chicago Aunt! Who reads this blog from time to time! She read about my breakfast-made-dessert craving, baked some up, and mailed them off!

I shared the treats with roommates and Bisque, ate some myself, and yesterday I noticed they were kind of hard. So, naturally, I took the last five to school to offer to my students who will eat most anything. Indeed. Two screenwriting boys split them. "Where do you get this food?" someone asked. I am often bringing little damaged goods in for the human garbage disposals. "Well, my aunt sent me these." I explained. "I wish--!" a boy piped up before trailing off. "I was going to say, 'I wish I had an aunt.' But I have one. I guess I just wish she sent me stuff..."

Sorry, kid, not everyone can have awesome aunts like mine. <3 p="">

Doing What I Want

Departmental issues etc. etc. led me to be spokesperson of my program in the face of rapid changes that undercut our studies. I did not want this position, but no one else would or could take it. So.

I complained about it to my sister on Thanksgiving, and she was like, "What if you just...don't?" I hadn't considered that. Where there is injustice, something much be done. I told her I had already scheduled the meeting, and I didn't want to back out, but perhaps she had a point.

On the way to improv class I told Kale's BF I hate being in leadership positions, and he was like, "Pssh. Well, be prepared to hate your life." Because I am someone who ends up in charge. It happens to me everywhere I go. From this important meeting to my improv team sitting down at the restaurant last Friday night, realizing the entrees were $15 and looking at me before I nodded, we all got up, and left.

I know other people who wish they didn't have to be in charge, but then when they aren't running things, they fidget like wild. I am not that way. I don't often mind watching most things implode--as long as someone is steering the disaster. However, if everyone's just running around and screaming, I sigh and take the reigns. I realize this might come off as egotistical. I'm not even saying I'm good at being in charge. I'm saying I'm responsible and for some reason people generally respect me.

This summer I sat on a grassy hill with Heart and said something offhand like "Well, it's important we all do things we don't want to." And he was like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa...no?" I was all, "Yeah--I don't want to go camp in Africa, but the Peace Corps is important, so maybe one day I will." And he was like, "Yo, Alice, some people LIKE camping in Africa. Let them do that." That's true for sure. But, is it always true? If you're a good person, should you just do what you want and leave it at that?

Three important things happened today.

1. The big meeting. Now, I've said my piece, I've voiced my programs needs, and that's as far as I have to go.

2. Leaving, I walked with Ermo across campus. We discussed the pros and cons of what had just happened and then chittered a bit. I realized we were both walking to the same place, but I had nothing more to say. Usually, I try to be honest about every stupid thing--including not white lying about "Oh, I have to go to the library now," but with "Do what you want, Alice" dancing in my head, I did just that. I walked down the library steps thinking I would pause and then head back in the direction I had been moving with Ermo when I heard my name being lovingly called by three friendos. One I almost never see. I sat down and we three proceeded to have delightful conversation. I would have missed it if I hadn't been selfish. And not even selfish! I'm no dummy, Ermo was running out of stuff to say too.

3. I saw a play. It was good--some parts great! Awesome choreography, tech, acting, space, costumes...but I was still bored at part. Not the play's fault at all. It had just been a twelve hour day at school, and that's enough. And in that odd headspace of unwanted boredom I realized that theatre is really dumb sometimes because no matter what you make, people will hate it. Even if they want to love it or objectively do. And there goes the last scrap of definitive drive I had toward my degree.

In short: from now on, I think I will try doing what I want? Updates forthcoming.

"Back in My Day, a Text Message Used to MEAN Something!"

It did though! It used to be ten cents! And it felt like a genuine little communication. I loved getting a good text message. I would keep the best of the best. I got an iPhone a year and a half ago, and I do love it, but it keeps all my texts ever, which you'd think would be more fun, but it's not. It's more helpful for certain. But, fun? I'm sure my elders would disagree--but there was a romantic aspect of an impermanent screen of text. I could scroll through the greatest hits and feel all loved and good-humored.

When I traded my cellular I had a collection of maybe 50 undeletable (according to moi) texts from the five year period I had my ol' phone. I typed them out, and I just found the doc today. They're all gold, but I'll share a few bests from my sistah:

12.20.2009

“How’s Texas, Sweatpant Princess?”

6.1.2010, 12:34 AM

“You were so great tonight! Surprise for you on your bed!”

8.19.2010

“YAY! Meant to go for a run but ended up at the _____ for sodas. Kisses!”

10.8.2011

“Muffler gone. Call comm. safety.”

12.24.2011

"I love you too you little punk."

1.6.2011

"Look Who’s Talking Now has held up remarkabley well. Did you know Diane Keaton was the voice of the poodle?"

Pooks in Germany 2011.

Look forward to more entires like dis, y'all.

Wild, Mysterious Life!

Henne's surprise party! Wednesday.

Henne is probably the person that makes me laugh the most, which is especially extraordinary since about half of the friends I've ever made are involved in some kind of improv/comedy/theatre.

A conversation we had a couple months ago:

Henne: So, I'm imaginary shopping online and being a bitter troll.
Henne: What's going on with you!
Me: I am listening to "Blister in the Sun" and writing feedback for grades.
Henne: Great American Pastime!
Henne: Also, isn't it weird that is Pastime and not Pasttime? Since I thought it was a compound word.
Henne: Life, wild mysterious life!

I was fifteen when he was my best friend--my bus partner to speech meets, the second half of many a Rent duet. But on Wednesday a gaggle of his pals and I were sitting around a small city apartment swapping student stories. Student stories! Adulthood all around. At my fifteen-year old self's best friend's surprise party.

That was my last match.
Our eyes will adjust. Thank God for the moon.

8.5

Chomp chomp chomp!

Last Saturday I went to the performances of a 24 Hour Play Festival and then to see some of my improv team dudes' longform group do a set at a tiny artsy venue. I really liked having a night of watching people perform. I've been onstage so much lately, I forgot how nice it is to be an audience member.

Chelle told me I was going to be surprised post-show. As promised, I got into her car, closed my eyes, and started singing "Super Bass." When she told me I could open my eyes, there was a warm box of thirteen donuts on my lap. LOCAL LATE NIGHT DONUT SHOP! We were headed to a party after, and I biked, so my only option was to eat all the donuts before going home. Can't bike with a box of donuts, you know?

To make a long story short, I managed to give 4.5 away, but the party ended for me sitting in the driveway with Chelle and a couple other girls, as I nommed through 8.5 fresh donuts. People would come and go--sometimes they took a donut, sometimes they didn't. One guy, who had done improv that night, passed, and I said, "Great show tonight." He was hopping into a car. "Thanks!" he yelled back.

This guy was at my improv show Friday night. Afterwards he was hanging around with my cast. I said, "Oh, we haven't officially met." He said, "Yeah...I saw you at the party, but I was leaving, and you were, like, having a girl pow wow..."

"Oh, I was eating a box of donuts."

"Haha! Yeah, something like that!"

"...No. That's what I was doing."

"Oh."

The moral of the story is that I love Chelle. She's undergoing surgery right now, so, this one's for her. <3



I said, Excuse me, you're a hell of a guy.
I mean, my, my, my, you're like pelican fly.

Sketchy Girls

Yesterday night as I was biking off campus, the parties were just getting started. Thursday night and the streets are flooded with packs of students hitting the bars. I waited at a light with two other young men. One tatted out with long gnarly hair holding a skateboard and one guy in a suit holding a briefcase.

A triplet of girls walked in front of us yapping loudly to one another--they all wore skin tight skirts that barely ended below their butts. The guys watched the ladies as they passed. The skater inched back to the business dude in an attempt to have a private conversation away from me. I braced myself to eavesdrop their offensive banter. But the skater said quietly to the other guy, "It's just like...where's your self-confidence?" The business dude nodded. "They're young. They have a lot to learn."

So, that was nice.


Girls with self-confidence! The ladies of my sketch group! Out for Ethiopian food to celebrate our first sketch show of the year! It was this afternoon! It went well!

Sunrise Surprise

Sunrise on Shell Island. 2010.

In June Dusty and I were going out for Indian food, and it was a hot hot St. Louis night. Cicadas wiggin', humidity boiling.

I said, "This is going to sound stupid, but...I just can't get over the fact that I've known you for about six months. That I met you for dinner in January and it was blizzarding...and now...here we are about to say goodbye, and we're in shorts."

He said, "Yeah...you're right. About you sounding stupid. Have you heard of seasons?" Smarty-pants.

But I still can't wrap my head around the fact that change comes to regularly and expectedly to most of the world. Just a few minutes ago I was watching the sunset over the palm trees outside my window. And now, besides the dim glow my lil laptop is beaming at me, it's pitch black in my bedroom. And tomorrow...the sun will rise! Like...what!?

Come on. Sometimes doesn't that all blow your mind?

Surprise, surprise--
never something I could hide
when I see we made it through another day.

Work Out, Not Up

Today I am reminding myself of the ever-present Good.

I get so worked up in things I need and want that sometimes I can't actually see their faces--like how you can't tell a friend is gaining weight, a light bulb is getting dimmer. All I see are these little chunks of life, and I cannot figure out where the change happened or understand that it might be good for me.

Applying for JET is a perfect example. I am writing all these statements and filling things out and getting paperwork together in an attempt to get an interview and be offered a position. Even though I am working towards it, and I want to do it, I barely consider actually working there as I am so focused on getting there. Maybe that's a good way to live--in the present, working on the task at hand without daydreaming. But, if I do not get an interview, I know I will be disappointed. Failure, you know. Yet, I have spent so little mind energy deciding why it would be a great and necessary experience...I really shouldn't feel any regret. It's just the trying for something and not getting it that would really ruffle me. A faceless opponent indeed.

With these things that plop into my life unannounced, I almost never get excited or even relaxed. I just feel muddled by the sudden whips of fate. But, I should work out, stretching my arms wide to what everything brings. Jumping up and down may burn calories, but it also burns my thinking capacities to see a good future despite surprises.

Your bags are packed. Not a word was spoken. Guess we said everything with "goodbye." Time moves so slow. Promises get broken on that cold day in July.

People Cycles

First time I saw Laz he was looking goofy in a Simpsons t-shirt. Bopping around in the glassed-in picnic table hallway of the lunch area at PWest HS. The next time I noticed his existence was in a one-act play he was spontaneously part of at the end of the year. It was Albee's Zoo Story abridged. Suddenly it was fall and he was my brother in Menagerie. He joined Speech too. I considered him a dear dear friend. We had Directing/ Acting II together. He asked me to prom. He was a better date than I could have conjured out of fantasy.

Throughout college interactions have been sparse. One summer we took turns standing each other up. We write sporadic letters with cds attatched. We exchange the occasional wit via Facebook. Friday night after a dynamite show I found Laz in the lobby with my sister. It was a hearty surprise. I literally jumped up and down.



Excuse my post-show hair. Trampy, I know. But I was much too busy with Lazzy for showers.

I wonder why it is that when something from our past arrives--barely an anachronism--we are so elated we could simply die. Or excitedly eat two bowls of ice cream and a slice of cookie cake. One or the other I suppose.