Just Having Fun

Right after a scene in which I played a French twin courting my sister's lover, in which I "broke"--AKA cracked a couple smiles despite my best efforts to keep it real--my teacher said, "Okay, Giggles McGee over there..."

And I could not even pretend to be offended because it's true. I've had a really hard time not laughing in class this week. I've just been having so much fun. This whole day has been fun. I woke up in Hunny's apartment and putzed around her book shelves before a nice long walk to class. I am genuinely enjoying this improvatunity. On my way to the el, I made eye contact with one of those street-corner-standers who want you to sponsor starving children. "Oh no!" I cried out among the flocks of Cubs fans. "Oh no! Now I've done it!"The guy handed me a photo of a hungry child. "I was having a guilt-free day!" I mock-shouted. He told me to take a couple deep breaths. Ugh. People not gettng melo-drama.

Long story short--I am now sponsoring a little girl in India.

I mean. It was really only a matter of time.

So then I showed up at Fran's apartment and we walked to the Taco Shop down the block! I got a veggie burrito and she got an octopus tostada! I mean what is up with that! But she enjoyed, and then we had a marshmallow sundae! I mean! Really! How often do you split a sundae with your best friend from elementary school!? NOT OFTEN!

Fran & da ice cream.

Giggles McGee over here. Over and out for now.

One Day at Camp

At 5:40 I'm running with holy sneakers and no headphones. There are rolling grassy fields, and a treeline covering the lake, which I can't see, but I can always hear. By 6:30 I'm sitting on the tennis courts with twenty other young women quietly praying. At 7 AM we're all hustling down the beach steps, cheering children huddling in their suits. We dive into the freezing water, and in the showers Kath and I belt "Crazy"--the Britney echoes across the high school girls' quad. We raise the flag, I eat my oatmeal and peanut butter. I arrange the activities, while little girls zip around sweeping their cabin floors and folding their sheets, I organize Excel spreadsheets. I ring the bell. I talk to the 9th graders about setting goals that mean something. Sometimes they stare at an ant marching by, sometimes they look up and nod and write with urgency in their notebooks. The bell rings, and I sit on the head counselor cabin with my laptop. I read and edit report after report. These are parent lifelines. It's hard to care about each one, harder when the warmth hits my face and my eyes bag, puff, and shut for a little too long. "I'm dragging," I announce, so Kath shoots up from her desk and announces herself, "We should probably hula hoop." We do. I'm back on track. We ring the bell. We see the kids come and go, they pass, they laugh, they've been out in the world, and we've been reading about them. I spend another hour and a half editing. I hoof up to the dining hall. I read lunch table assignments. I walk to the counter to fill my plate with the vegetarian casserole. I read more dang reports. During Rest Hour I read more Viola Spolin and fall alseep until the DANG BELL RINGS AGAIN. Sigh. The bell. I put reports on a flashdrive. I head to the office. I get the mail. I sort it. I make the last twenty minutes of Beach Period--just in time for two games of Mafia. It's my night off, and I have a date with Dunt and Kath. We hit the town. The fancy grill on main street--there are fresh greens and braided bread and coconut curry. Let's not forget the desserts. We don't speak of kids or work, and it feels like we're adults (as we are)--speaking on war and relationships instead of bubbles and yo-yos. We look in shops. I watch a sunset. I'm writing this in Kath's cottage. I have the internet, there's a movie playing. I'm in actual civilization for once. I have nothing pressing to do before bed, no one calling my name. Oh, what good I believe camp can do. Oh, how I know I am blessed to bless. Oh, how I am blessed myself. But, oh, how I want to plan my own days again and how I want to sleep when it's time and how I want to be in a bed without sand.

Everyday Would Be A Holiday

Sitting in bed holding this computer, typing this blog post at 11:20 PM.
Biking home from Boulder's.
Grading screenplays on the floor--a cookie in one hand and grading pencil in the other--while Boulder does dishes in the kitchen.
Chatting it up with the acting MFAs over mashed 'taters, Hawaiian rolls, mac & cheese, and steamed veggies.
Running into JD on my way from class to Boulder's house. Being literally shocked out of speech since it is so rare to see anyone on campus you actually know.
Discussing globalization of theatre--especially China.
Finishing the play Wild Man on the cushy chairs outside the Theatre History classroom.
Writing Muff a long e-mail.
Pretty dec sketch meeting. I wrote one that will require singing and a giant cake puppet.
Getting a text from Boulder that says, "Monday night football party and food tonight!"
Proctoring tests to kids with ADD!
Running four miles to some A. McMahon.
Biking to school in the cool morning.
Reading some S & H.
Leftover pasta for breakfast.
Waking up to "Holiday From Real" at 5:45.

Laboring

Alice + Kath. Sunset on Lake Michigan. Summer 2011.

Today was Labor Day:

-Went running
-Read a lot about dramaturgy
-Met my best friend from Chicago's best friend from college (who happens to have just started a PhD program here) for lunch at a delightful breakfast/sandwich/bagel restaurant
-Wrote at my desk
-Wrote in the kitchen
-Wrote by the pool
-Talked to Jamin on the phone
-Talked to Henne on the phone
-Talked to Berger on the phone
-Baked cookies to celebrate a fellow playwright's new opening
-Gave my roommate and the dude who was studying biochem with him cookies because how horrible is it to be a in a house with fresh baked cookies and not get any?
-Went out to a lil bar to see new friend JD host a stand-up show
-Wrote in this blog

I'll keep working my way back to you, babe,
with a burning love inside.
I'm working my way back to you, babe,
with a happiness that died.