BLOGIVERSARY!

Alice Out of Context is ten years old! Before this blog I had three LiveJournals, a DeadJournal, and two Xangas. Maybe three Xangas.

The first four were basically public diaries of what I did that day (never proofread stuffed with inside jokes and random song lyrics). The Xangas morphed into poetry and short essays. Then in 2008 I decided I wanted something a little more "professional." I stopped using any place names someone could google to find me (like my college, my work, etc.) and started using pseudonyms for everyone.

For a while. this blog kept me grounded as a writer. In the past few years when writing has become more and more of my life, I rely on it less and less. It serves as a history for some of my special adventures and a weird cut-around log of some of my biggest fears, relationships, successes.

I am grateful to this lil page, which is weird because I created it. How can I be grateful for something I did? As if it's alive and has been here for me when actually I slopped the clay for it in the first place. But who am I to question thanks? Voices are important, and I've always been able to speak mine--however I wanted--here.

It's hard for me to know if 2008 Alice would be surprised by 2018 Alice or not. Interestingly, I don't think so. Every year I can't believe the progress I've made, and yet, I obviously understand it. I did it, you know? I was the one making the steps toward goals, change, whatever. And although I am sometimes amazed by my own life, it's always been inside of me. I am better but I am also the same. At 20 I wanted to work in comedy, and now I do. It took ten years, but in 2018 I got my first TV and film credits, my jokes are broadcast across the country, I met both of my 20s heroes. In fact, they know me by name. I look how I always thought I would look. I live in an apartment that, if I dug into my memory, I am sure matches the next decade daydream. There are parts of my life/me that I had never considered. I think younger me would be satisfied with those too, but sometimes I wonder if she wouldn't and I'm tethered to some stone behind me. Nothing conscious, of course.

Ten years is so many years, but it went by in a blink. I wonder how many people do the, "If I can just climb over that next month," cycle. Today I walked by an ivied wall. It was so pretty, and the sun was so warm, nothing else mattered.

the author, accidentally taking a photo of herself

Dat Art Life

Today has been a very art day.

7:30 rise and get ready for the day while listening to showtunes

9:00 read inspirational essay about originality on the train

9:30 attend a theatre educator's conference

1:30 teach a high school playwriting class

3:30 make the long commute back to the north side while listening to a improv podcast

5:00 workout at the gym while listening to the demos from my new musical

6:20: eat cheese and chocolate while reading an improv blog

7:00 perform music improv show

9:30 go to bar with music improv cast

10:15 purchase tickets to a show tomorrow

10:30 come home and write in this blog

Art all day. And today is not an exception. My life is mainly art all day. Truly, I am doing exactly what I set out to do when I accepted my seat as a new MFA candidate four years ago. And yet, so many days it doesn't seem like enough. Beyond the schedule I posted above, I got two emails about sketches to write, had to resend my film script to Shells for her most recent revisions, and get propositioned for a new comedy team. I repeat: I'm doing exactly what I set out to do. And, still yet, it can not seem like enough.

But it must. Because there is literally nothing else I can do. I have thrown myself full-force into these worlds: improv, musicals, theatre ed, screenwriting. Some days it feels there's so little to show for it. Why are my lyrics so basic? Why can't I get another joke in these pages? Will this kid ever learn? But I am doing all I can do, and if anything, I need to do less.

 I decided to spend fifteen minutes in the steam room after my work out tonight. No phone, no thinking about scripts, no one else. Just me and the steam. In the silky hot tile room, I felt truly at peace. I'm not trying to do it--I am doing it. As long as you're doing it, you're doing it.