Fifth Grade, Listening to OAR

"I'm in fifth grade" I said to Puhg. We had turned down a quiet street in the neighborhood. It feels suburban even though traffic is behind the houses and the observatory is under the moon. It's so hot in LA, which made me cranky last summer. But this summer we have a new AC unit. Now the August mug feels right. I had my own body at 11. The playgrounds become equipment when they used to be castles. In three more years they'd be hangouts, places to lounge around and gossip. I remember when three of us were draped across the slides behind my old elementary school and someone brought up how N_____ S_______ had jumped up and down at a graduation party and exposed her tummy which was surprisingly soft and pudgy. We'd all honed in on the exact same moment, our collective hive brains humming, "But I thought she exercised." But in fifth grade there was only regular and fat.

I didn't know what middle school would look like and I never thought about it. I had signed up for four weeks of summer camp, but I didn't guess what would happen there. The future existed but I hadn't begun to consider it. In 6th grade when I went to the pool I looked at the lifeguards and wondered if I worked with them who would be my friend and if I would man snack bar or the deep end. I drew myself in a sketch pad holding one of the official red inner tubes. I had a nose ring. I don't know where that image came from, but it came to be, what, ten years later?

The future has been better and worse than expected. What sounds good on paper can be excruciating and what sounds terrible can be pretty good. And awareness can make it all the worse or better.

But so this feeling is here now, I notice. It certainly helps that in the evening we ate raspberry blue gummies, watched Last Action Hero, and ordered pizza. If that isn't 90s vibes. Nevermind the gummies were organic and the pizza vegan (delivered via application) and the movie digitally rented from a super conglomerate streamed straight to our Apple TV. Nevertheless. It was night and there were no plans for morning or forever for that matter. I couldn't hope if I tried. Swam in the afternoon and I'll do it again today.

Spring Awakening

Saw Spring Awakening Friday night. I've had the soundtrack for years, but had never seen it staged. While I love much of it: the concept, the rockin' 90s jamz (Duncan Shiek what UP), there are some things I knew I wouldn't love about it. Mainly, MAINLY have been trying to avoid the line, "Oh, I'm gonna bruise you/Oh, I'm gonna be your bruise" since I first heard it in my earbuds on a Christmas road trip 2008. Woof. But, Ru was in a local production, so I went. Extremely satisfying. (And he was phenomenal. It's very exciting to see one of my artistic friends really making it.)

Thoughts Inspired By the Production:

-In modern times, people must understand their bodies, their urges--sometimes the two in conjunction, sometimes not. Either way, understanding leads to health. Physical and communal.
-Dancing is underrated. I am someone who does not think watching dancing is interesting. But, every time I see great choreography, I am quite pleased. If I as a "theatre person" attach this stigma to dance, consider the layman.
-I applaud Sater and Shiek for exploding out things that we all want to see. Things that are so obvious we didn't even know we all wanted to see! A poppy bunch of adolescents throwing up middle fingers to teachers? Yup. We all want to see that on such a base level no one knew to ask for it.
-I raise my eyebrows at Sater and Shiek for ultra-simplifying the relationship between children and adults in this show. If the point is that we must listen to one another, presenting a completely one-sided argument that adults are unfair and kids are the wise torch-carrier of the future is counter-productive. That's how generations end up feeling superior to the next in the first place.
-No one should want to be seen as unhealthy. And yet, some people do.
-If you play a snappy curtain call song, even if the audience was just subjected to an abortion-caused death, they leave bobbing their heads and smiling. Humans are horrifyingly simple to control.
-I don't care how much game gets talked about the non-linear narrative. Not having an ending to subplots is unacceptable.
-Overall, I've always been a huge fan of this model of theatre. Taking lasting source material and adapting it to current times in a unique and fresh way while maintaining some of the original oak. It's the perfect balance between respecting what has come before and respecting the need for progress in culture.
-We must go on to create a better world.

We walked into the night. Breezy and warm. It's been spring for months in the desert. But, it's official now.

The stars too, they tell of spring returning.

What Is Appropriate (Huh)

"I love when we talk about what is appropriate for young girls." Hill Gchats me. She is at the front of our giant lecture class we team-TA, and I am in the back, while the 150 film students (mostly men) discuss Kick Ass and how that child was overly-sexualized despite there being no mention or allusion to sex with/for her in the film.

"Her clothes are tight," someone says, referring to the spandex superhero costume she wears. Huh.

I wrote "Huh?" in the feedback section of a student essay after "I don't know what you're saying in paragraph two." Then I quoted the nonsensical sentence. This guy accosts me after class: "Your feedback was unprofessional, rude, and not helpful at all."

Baffled, I followed his finger to the "Huh." I explained I meant I didn't understand, but he attacked again. And then he stood there arguing his paper was much better than I graded it. Meanwhile, he cannot look me in the face. His eyes keep dashing down to my low hanging wooden necklace and back up and down and back up and down.

In our improv show today, Skars was explaining a game, so I walked across the stage to grab my water bottle and two goofy guys sandwiched me with their bodies. I gave a faux shriek. This is part of ensemble work. Skars turned around and said, "C'mon, Alice! Get it together!" and the entire audience laughed. I scampered offstage, and from behind the flats I hear Skars, "Always trying to get attention. Look at how she's dressed!" I cry out in mock anger, "I dress like a librarian!" But it's true. I'm wearing a knee length purple dress and an extra large knit sweater that makes any curve of my body impossible to see.

Last week everyone at work got an e-mail with dress code reminders. "That's weird," I thought. "Who is this for?" Everyone looks good at work. The next morning one of my superiors comes directly up to me. No good morning. Just, "Did you get the dress code e-mail?" I say yes, and she raises her eyebrows.  I have no words. I mutter, "Is this not...?" And I reach for my bra strap, which admittedly is peeking around my shoulder, but before I can even apologize I'm hit with, "I see three violations in one outfit." I look down. It's my knee-length orange polka dot dress. I am only quizzical, so she says, "It's a bit short." I stand and show her how it is much longer than my fingertips. "Well," she says, "Definitely not shorter than that." And then she says, "And cleavage." The dress completely covers my whole front. There is not an option of anything else. I show her the cut. I say, "But, you can't see anything" to which she replies, "I could when I walked by." It's not possible! She tells me to wear a sweater and grimaces half-heartedly like, "Yup, those are the rules, wish they weren't, bummer!" My male co-worker was next to me the whole time. Listening and watching someone else define what parts of my sack of flesh that can and cannot be seen.

I love when we talk about what is appropriate for young girls. Huh.

Monster/Saints

Today at the store I bought a tomato and four apples instead of chocolate chip cookie dough Pop Tarts.
WHAT KIND OF MONSTER/SAINT MADE UP THAT FLAVOR?

here's the real confusing question I have about food...if stuff is bad for us (IE EZ Cheez) why doesn't our mouth reject it? Like, why do I still like to eat pints of refined sugars? There's nothing natural about it. Shouldn't my tongue recognize that? I think some people argue that eating "bad" foods does make their bodies send alerts (tummy aches, indigestion), but I actually think most of the time, not very much happens considering the unnatural things we devour.

I am perplexed. This is a major flaw in the human body, or, perhaps it is a major flaw in the way we see health. I'm not sure, but I would like to somehow get to a place where I believe not buying those delicious Pop Tarts was a major flaw in my logic, so I may purchase them tomorrow?

Pizza Challenge

The big one.

Tuesday Boulder pulled up to my condo, radio blaring
Bad to the bone, bad to the bone.
We were on our way
to attempt a pizza eating challenge at a local pie joint.

A three-foot pizza for two people in one hour.
I had only eaten one bowl of oatmeal at 8 AM before
we entered the atmosphere of Italy on soda cups and parmesan in the air.
Boulder stretched. I wasn't nervous.


Boulder channels inner peace to help him complete the challenge.

Our opponent arrived--fresh-baked and glistening with grease.
I was so hungry I imagined grabbing two piping hot slices in each hand and swallowing the burn.
But, I was patient. I patted the first slice with a napkin.
I carefully lifted the oversized triangle into my mouth.
I bit in slow, and chewed.
It was delicious.
I can honestly say I enjoyed every single piece of pizza.
We obviously finished the challenge. Boulder was a groaner.
But, I celebrated each individual piece of crust. Every bit of sweet sauce.
We were given t-shirts and earned our photo on a hall of champions board.


Last piece!

Living in excess every once in a while isn't so bad--as long as it's legitimately improving your life.
I pythoned the calories away and can honestly say I wasn't really hungry again for almost a full day.

Something Is Not the Same

When I was 18 I performed in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
Before the festival, my cast did some Shakespeare classes at the Globe.
One day after class we went shopping.
I was being a cheapskate in preparation for college.
I only looked at sale racks.
Everything was still too expensive.
Then, in one boutique, I found one solitary pair of jeans for just five pounds!
By a stoke of magic luck, they fit!
I loved the heck out of my London jeans.
Until I gained the freshman thirty.
Boop.
I got rid of my little girl clothes as my hips rolled out and my shoulders pulled up.
I put the jeans in storage.
Training for the marathon transformed my body like college did.
I don't look like I'm 18, but somehow the jeans fit again.
A little snugger, a little shapelier.
I also have a pair of green tennies from 2004.
My sister wants me to throw them away. Holes.
I wore them yesterday because it was one of those holes-in-your-shoes days.
I looked down at my ankles at the end of my acting seminar class.
The professor was my professor in Acting I.
The first class I took in college.
The green toes, the London hem.
From the knees down, I was a freshman again.
We're freshmen at life, my friends joke
and my clothes agree.


London jeans! In Scotland! When they were new!

It's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap.

Every Penny Pithy Thing

And I promise it will feel like this,
no matter how bad things seem,
I can promise you this:

That when it rains at the end of February, you will feel the life churning in the grass below you.
You will taste the water, and you will know Better is on its way.
That when you work with your own body, and get very quiet, and sit very still,
it will tell you what it needs.
Maybe even a bag of sea salt potato chips at 11:30 PM.
That when you pinch other people's comfort with your OCD tendencies,
if they love you, they will calm down enough to listen and to try to understand,
and to say It's Okay and not let it spoil the Sunday goat cheese crepes.
That love is blind, and work gets done, and you can eat twenty-five cookies
in one night
and you don't have to feel sick.

And no matter how good things seem,
I can promise you this:

That there is too much butter in the bowl.
That you might have to rush some things.
That you won't really ever know if it's "working out" the way you intended it to "work out."
That people don't always say Goodbye.
That you're always going to be an idiot about something.

But, still, I'll accept it all--every penny pithy thing--
for the wind outside, threatening to become a tornado.