Oh, Memory/Won't You Speak To Me?

In chronological order, the 30 most important songs from the year I was 25:

1. Sex on Fire, Vitamin String Quartet
strangely bright nights in my lonely AK hotel room
2. Heartbeats, The Knife
exploring small coastal towns in Alaska
3. Safe and Sound, Capital Cities
summer love in pools and cars
4. Sexy and I Know It, LMFAO
a constant friend on the sweltering Vegas strip
5. What You Want, Legally Blond
"keep your head down and get things done" jam of 2013
6. Mirrors, Justin Timberlake
sweeping the cabin with my teen kiddos
7. Seize the Day, Newsies
teaching boys how to improvise and dance at summer camp
8. Sing Me A Lullabye, Daveit Ferris
driving the tree-lined Michigan roads, goodbyes
9. We Can't Stop, Miley Cyrus
moving into the new pad
10. Everybody (Backstreet's Back), The Backstreet Boys
middle school dreams realized
11. Whistle, Flo Rida
getting ready in my stuffy 100-degree September bathroom
12. He Loves You Not, Dream
belting around the house with roommates
13. Breakfast at Tiffany's, Deep Blue Something
intermission music for my thesis play
14. Middle Distance Runner, Seawolf
respite from never-ending rehearsals
15. Let Her Go, Passenger
light at the end of the tunnel, coffee shops and laptops
16. Let Me Go, Phantogram
worry about the future, a laser light show
17. Untitled (Love Song), Counting Crows
solitude mornings, chopping berries
18. Don't Save Me, Haim
dog days of teaching Improv 101
19. Let It Go, Frozen
making it in, making it in despite the cold
20. The Trapeze Swinger, Iron & Wine
loving that Bisque
21. Friday Night, Eric Paslay
radio anthem during South Carolina Christmas
22. Story of My Life, One Direction
free falling winter break
23. Maybe I'm Amazed, Jem
walking in the Santa Monica sun, sure
24. Roar, Katy Perry
how I started every single marathon training run
25. Pompeii, Bastille
the reminders that life is good
26. Everlong, The Foo Fighters
the times I didn't need to be reminded life is good
27. Soldier, Gavin Degraw
reflection while working with prisoners
28. Stuck Like Glue, Sugarland
the dawn of a new happy aerobics era
29. Will I?, RENT
graduation, the melancholy of night and money
30. Timber, Ke$ha
Italy was lovely, but it's no escape

Last year's list: 24

My Sister's Day Today

It's my sister's birthday. In honor, my favorite memory of her this past year:

I'd never seen a James Bond movie before, but I'd heard Skyfall was excellent. It was showing on the cruise, part of the "Movies Under the Stars" program. There was a giant screen above the pool on the top deck of the ship. A movie played every night. Popcorn was made, hot cocoa stand. The title was accurate. The stars were visible right above, just beyond the film. Glaciers slinked past. Sounds gorgeous, but it was also ALASKA AT NIGHT--read: face freezin' off.

Yet, my sister, even though she'd already seen the movie, gave in to my pleading to go. We joined the eight other people on deck chairs, piled on the blankets, pulled our hoods up. I brought us a plate of all the desserts and fancy cheeses offered in the buffet. She a book. "I can't feel my toes," she said forty minutes in. I puppy dog faced her. She pulled her hood in tighter and kept reading. Periodically I'd interrupt to ask a question about Judy Dench or something. We laughed a lot. We shivered. The double chocolate cookies were the best. "This movie is longer than I remembered," she garbled into her scarf. The credits rolled, we discussed the best parts, we shuffled our Uggs to our cabin.

Two Hearts/ Two More Weeks

When I was in Alaska I drew our initials in a snow heart. I texted him the image, and he responded:

I left AZ June 25th. It has really been too long.

I'm fractured from the fall,
and I wanna go home.
But it takes two when it used to take one.
It takes two when it used to take only one.

Cruise Happenings in No Particular Order

The very first night of the cruise, we boarded, moved into our cabin, headed to dinner, went through a safety training, and then Safe Haven was playing on a giant outdoor screen above the upper deck pool. It was 40ish degrees out, but for some reason I really wanted to see this stupid movie.  I cuddled under some blankets with a mug of cocoa and watched the mountains float by.

Pookie watchin' sea lions.

-Zumba with (as far as I can tell) all the Koreans on the boat. Koreans love Zumba? One day I persuaded my mom and sister to come. It was the day there was a routine to "Gangnam Style," and what I wouldn't give for some video evidence of that five minutes of my life.

-Attending and regretting an event called "Pastry Extraveganza." It sounds as wonderful and horrible as you might imagine.

-Spending time at a window desk in a teeny "Writing Room"! Writin' plays 'n' stuff! My thesis--she's in full swing.

-Magic show! Saw lady get sawed in half and levitate.

-Laying on a hot rock in the spa while the boat hit some choppy waters. Being swayed on a relaxation stone--not bad.

-Goat cheese souffle. Fresh papaya. Oh, hi, mushroom gnocchi.

-Seeing lots of rad wildlife: caribou, moose, bear, whales, sea lions.

-Glaciers chunking off. They are bluer than you think.
-The wilderness of Liarsville, flannel dudes playin' guitar.
-Walking the top deck while the boat went full speed ahead toward Vancouver, my sister and I nearly flew off into the ocean, carried by blasting icy winds. I yelled, "I'M KING OF THE WORLD."

I was happy to come home--no more pants please--but I am also very happy I went. Coming home is nice:

Hill's doing.

Flowahs from my dude.

You're here. There's nothing I fear.

Haunting

When I die I'm coming back as a ghost. I'll be at the help desk and the lady will say, "Now, if you take our basic package, you spend some time in purgatory and then eventually head on up. Or, for a premium we can send you express to heaven--"
"What about your ghost options?"
"Well, we usually reserve that for our embittered or rage-filled guests--"
"Sure, but I am just really interested--"
"According to your file, Ms. _______, we have heaven as...a giant trampoline made of Peeps? You're not interested?"
"I just really like ghosts is the thing."
She sighs, "Well, let me get my manager over here. And! You know you don't get any powers, right?"
"Not even ceramic skills?"
"Ha. Ha."
"And I have hungered for yooooour touch--"
"Yeah. You and every other person that comes through this office. Look. You want the haunting program director or not?"

My sister and I visited the cemetery for people who have died trying to climb Mount McKinley. (Some years two, some eight. In 2002 three brothers all together--27, 21, and 15.) I liked being there. I told her--my sister, I mean--that she will know my spirit remains because I'll be blowing on her with peanut butter breath for all eternity. I tell this to Bisque and he says he'll find my face in a burnt marshmallow--like a Jesus watermark. I tweet that and Shells counters, No, a Pop-Tart. Options.

AliceSr and I went on a ghost tour of Anchorage on Sunday. A woman committed suicide in the bathroom of the hotel we were staying in. Apparently something would snatch at women's ankles and shake walls until the stall was locked permanently. The chicas on the tour trickled in, took photos. One announced, "It smells like blood! It smells like blood!" and I rolled my eyes. It often smells like blood in the ladies room.

You flew out on a plane,
came crashing into the ocean,
and then you haunted me.
Don't have a clue what's the motion,
so every now and then it feels so soothing
when you float on a bit and move right though me.

#Privilege

This morning I had blueberry sourdough pancakes while looking out the window at the tallest mountain in the country.

Yesterday the summer opened up, and although there are mounds of snow on the ground, the sun was bright enough to bake in (which I did on a deck chair on a bridge over a creek).

I needed that. I truly did. Valdez was breath-taking, but it was not home. Everything was grey and chilled. The Midwest was fine, but the moment I stepped out of the Tucson airport in 2005 I knew I was meant to be a desert rat. It felt right.

If I had never been to Arizona, I probably would have gotten along in Chicago. Heck, I might go back. But now it will be harder. I know it's not my fit. And Alaska! Alaska! What if I had been born in Alaska and never left? I would have thought life was about being uncomfortable? I mean, perhaps I would have mended my ways, but sometimes I think we are who we are and that can't be sewn differently.

So, I guess what's weird, is that traveling to Alaska has made me feel a lot of compassion for transgendered peoples.

"We are who we are."--the immortal Ke$ha

Anchorage

It feels like Alaska is still selling itself. Like, every corner has "Alaskan halibut!" signs. But, like, this is YOUR city, Alaska. Don't you know you have fish? It feels disingenuous everything is moose-themed and gift shops are more abundant than what the people require (shoe repair? groceries?).

"Be who you are" and "Say what you mean" seem to be the two most prominent themes of my trip so far. Either because that's what I'm being shown or simply what I'm seeing.

Motorbike to cemetery.
Picnic on wild berries.
French toast with molasses.
Croque and baked Alaskas.

Side: extremely spotty updating as the second leg of my trip begins.

Leaving the Last Frontier

So. The final conference gala is in two hours. I've been here for exactly one week. My jaunt up north has cost seven days of my life and a couple thou from the grad and theatre schools' budget. What am I taking home? (A partial list):

-What are we ever taking home--a nice consideration.

-Transactions. Give the characters something to do. Move the stage.

-"Why is this a play?" is a good question.

-It's not hard to make it serious. Make it enjoyable.

-We know the end: we die. So, what's so important in the middle?

-I don't care enough about playwriting maybe.

-I don't care enough about having fun maybe.

-Get personal.

-A stupid idea, written well, is often better than a new idea.

-I can eat a lot of Cap'n Crunch if there is a Sex and the City marathon.

-You can judgit or you can lovit.

-React as if nothing is personal. It actually never is.

-If you don't want to be concerned, don't be concerned on behalf of someone else.

-Pretty much everything can be overanalyzed by some loser as a metaphor about gender in society. And that is me. I am that loser.

-Music.

-It might be beautiful objectively, but it's still okay if you don't like it.

-You also don't have to have a reason to have your taste.

-Or to be you. (Barf, but, y'know?)

-Audiences need some built-in discussion time. I believe this, but I'm not sure how it can happen.

-I need to perform periodically to keep myself unblocked.

-Feel guilty or don't about shutting down when you need to shut down?

-Say the real thing.

Five Best Sights So Far

All the chubby Alaskan bunnies.

A playwright watching his own work read cold in a bar cabin, trying not to laugh (because it's kind of tacky to laugh at your own jokes), but beaming through a tight-lipped smile.

The tail of a humpback whale.

Playwright who wrote a one-act about a little girl obsessed with killing things performing "Kiss" by Prince at karaoke.

This photo Bisque texted me. A close up of the map that hangs in his bedroom.

You don't have to be cool to rule my world.

Thoughts on John Logan's Red

-Reading the bio of John Logan is like Holy screenwriting credits, Batman.
-As a general rule, I get a little bored by art about art. But, it was good, so what can you do?
-Why are we obsessed with leaving an imprint on the world?
-It was so refreshing to see a character completely self-absorbed who made no apologies for it. There are times we all wish we could be so egotistical. Seeing it let me feel it, and just feeling it vicariously through an actor feeling it vicariously through Logan feeling it vicariously through Rothko was enough vanity to last me at least a year.
-There are many cliches in the beginning of the play. It's hard to mind too much because the dynamic of the characters is rich. Then, when the cliches are actually called out, to the surface, wow. Wow, wow. Just say what we all know.
-To hate the world's progression (even if it's not progress) just leaves you poorer and bitter. Roll with the punches, be who you are.
-The play takes place in the 1950s, but nothing about it made it seem so. I actually didn't like this. I want to see America in the 50s. This is America in the 50s, is it not? I see 2013 everyday. Let me draw my own connections past to present.
-Movement is not boring.
-I wish I could see theatre and not think things like, "I wonder how much this company's budget for canvas is."
-We've got to figure out how we expect/shouldn't expect intermissions. Red was a 90-minute one-act. I did not have to go to the bathroom, so I was pleased every time the lights fell and the house didn't rise. I was pretty entrenched in this world, and I had zero desire to make chit chat with the other conference attendees around me. I think the best solution is to be sure intermission and run-time is always in the program. Perhaps that provides audiences too strict a format, but I think it's important to know. After the 70-minute mark, one starts to worry there WILL be an intermission...and this is the longest play ever. Never worry your audience about being an audience. As humans, yes, worry them. But as seat-fillers, please do not.
-It's hard not to see suicide as beautiful when all the best people keep doing it.
-The last line should have been cut. Super cheap. Come on, Logan. Leave the question open.
-To me, this play was more about the intimacy we come to find with whoever keeps showing up. I believe Ken and Marc portray a type of terrifying relationship. Their arc seems to argue, in intimacy you have nothing of your own. And one of you must leave.

When I was your age, art was a lonely thing: no galleries, no collecting, no critics, no money. We didn't have mentors. We didn't have parents. We were alone. But it was a great time, because we had nothing to lose and a vision to gain.

I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

"Seriously though, eating eggo waffles braless in ALASKA is unforgettable."--Ro

There is very literally nothing I'd rather be doing this night of May 19th than enjoying a s'more scooby snack, writing a commissioned piece of theatre criticism, wearing pjs, and listening to the Annie soundtrack in this luxurious queen. And there's a new Mad Men on in an hour?! Like what da heck, get right out of here! It's so powerful to know what you love and to make it happen for yourself!

Get me now, holy cow, could someone pinch me please?

Z to K

Left for Alaska this morning. Boulder pumped his fists in the air when I got to the bar Thursday. "We goin' to the last frontier!" And I barely smiled. I couldn't put my finger on it. Well, yes, I could. It's just that we kept getting emails from the conference director that it was still snowing up there, and I only got a week of summer vacation, and will the conference even be fun, and I just like my life right now! Why botch it?

Flew all day, writing criticism articles with deadlines so so fast approaching. Tired. Cramped up from three planes. The last, a roller-skate. But when I set foot in my final destination, a dinky town surrounded by snowy mountains with dat frash fresh air, WHOA. I am staying a luxury suite on the grad college's dime. Everything is gorgeous. It's snowy, yes, but there's a harbor and a giant fish sign and oh YEAH, I'm here for a VERY EXCITING CONFERENCE, which I had forgotten. Poof. The woes, they woe-no-mo'. That ain't me! Keep moving forward. The important stuff moves with you.

I AM IN ALASKA! I HAVE ARRIVED!