Spring Break (Finale)

My visit fell right on the eve of Jimbo's final MBA project. He was high off the relief, chattering and springy, so we walked to St. Louis pizza. A new door opened. More proof that you don't have to be around The Institutions for magic to happen. In fact, that's likely a recipe for unhappiness -> disaster -> closed doors.

On Friday I met with undergrad students to talk about working in comedy/writing/whatever my dumb life is. P weird because I am trash 95% of the time, but in answering their questions I was like, "Oh I kind of know some things it turns out and also have been paid to do all the things that were once my dreams, so who knew!" I tried to write in the library, with a homemade poptart as my prize, but I thought about it so much I just ate it and then opened up a word doc and closed it. It's vacation.

At night my mom and I walked around campus. We noticed an observatory tour starting. I noted strargazing was something I did while visiting the college, but I never went as a student. (Ditto eating a giant waffle.) We looked at Jupiter from the singing lens. At the house she whipped up a huge bowl of cream. I put it in a bowl of strawberries. The air is flower-heavy. Mom holds onto a sprig of lavender. In the morning it is brown.

I get ready slowly, taking photos of the dogs, doing a flat abs workout (sunglasses emoji), packing, shoving deviled eggs into my face. We walk to the general store. I'm on the train now. I feel unproductive, but I'm outlining projects and reassessing my focus. That is work I could not bill but work that needs to be done nonetheless. Summer is shaking out and creeping up.

Alice in Ship Land: Lucky Number Seven

-From the gate this week was about Getting. Work. Done. I drank a smoothie and had half an hour of pool time in Cozumel, but, MAN, did I first sit for hours at Starbucks scheduling gig dates, writing queries, finding teaching work for fall. By night, I had a better concept of my calendar for the rest of 2016, and I floated on the knowledge of shows to hang my hat on when I’m back to reality.

-I’d been outlining my solo show for the past two weeks. Enough was enough. I started the draft Tuesday. I WILL be done by May 18^th when I debark.

-After last week, I needed some adventure. ZPill and I went ziplining in Honduras! It was $50 to get driven a few miles away from the ports and into the jungle for zippin’. It pattered rain, so we were the only two on the whole course. Our two guides took us up a rickey as heck hill in a truck. We bumped the whole way, and the guide kept saying, “This is the last ride in a car you’ll ever have” etc. We laughed when we got to the top. Holy cow. We were high. High high high. We hooked in and leapt. It was incredible. I was soaring over the jungle. The ACTUAL JUNGLE. I saw a paca (fat butted rodent)! We zipped all over the place, and on the last one I flung backward and did an almost handstand in the air. We came down spattered in rust and mud. I did not care. We bought $1 bags of orange juice from the woman who brings all the zip bros lunch. It was too sweet to finish.

-Wednesday night Say was featured in the production show (a janky version of American Idol) because the usual singer was ill. We hollered for him from house left, and the night seemed to be filled with a puff of celebration. I was invited to go out to late dinner, which would assuredly turn into more hijinks…but I felt shell-bound. I went to crew mart for soap and diet 7UP and also got a can of French onion dip Pringles, which I devoured while watching the Jonah Hill episode of SNL.

-There are days the soft serve is good and days when it’s lackluster. I don’t know what makes it so. Sometimes the mix-in is creamier I guess—and sometimes the chocolate has been watered down. Maybe too much ice to flavor ratio? Friday was A+. The chocolate was a deep brown and the rainbow sprinkles were out.

-My roommate has a tumbler she pretends is coffee but fills with vodka so she can carry it around the ship and drink openly from her own supply. I borrowed it for the first time to smuggle milk back to my cabin for some afternoon Captain Crunch.

-The illusionist duo on board have a three-year-old daughter. Luckiest kid on the planet—for her birthday she went to a starfish beach, did ariel tricks on the production hoops, and had a big party with a bunch of 20something performers giving her wads of attention. The birthday cake was vanilla with strawberry icing garnished with a large chocolate shell magician’s hat. At the end of the night a dancer asked, “so is that hat hollow or what?” All the cake had been carefully eaten around it. A guy took the giant knife and started hacking at it to reveal a rich fudgy chocolate center…and all the dancers and comedians LITERALLY SCREAMED IN JOY. We swarmed, taking fistfuls of cake and wolfing them down. After several hunks devoured, a teeny blonde Brit whimpered, “I feel like Bruce Bogtrotter.”

-Having other crew friends is a tricky line to walk. Some people blatantly dislike entertainers—especially the comedians who are privately contracted through our own company. I’ve come to love the port-shopping guide—probably the classiest, richest peer I have. She wears diamonds every day and totes a big ol’ prada purse. She’s allowed to do everything and be everywhere, so we can easily grab gal’s dinner. But my lil busboy friend sees me for a moment, we small talk, and then he has to scurry away. I often don’t have anything to talk about with him because the longer we talk the more obvious our extreme difference in privilege is. And yet sometimes we find ways. Maybe we talk about family or the school systems of our respective countries. This is the world in a microboat.

-Our Friday show felt like pushing a boulder uphill. We had a trio girl’s dinner, and our fabulous friend told us about a recent kidnapping that affected her and I could barely focus. I was replaying fake make-up scenes to songs. I felt disgusted with myself, but what can you do?

- I cracked open the Easter Peeps Saturday and avoided finishing my first draft all afternoon by turning my tongue pink and watching Rick and Morty. (But I DID finish my first draft at about 7 PM, writing on the floor of my cabin!) Out of boredom four of us went to a restaurant for dinner. We were served late, and when the pile of desserts came (bananas foster!) we had four minutes until call time. I announced we had 2 minutes to eat and two minutes to run. We did, leaving a soppy pile of vanilla ice cream behind.

-In the Adult Show I created a game where when an ensemble member asked a question in a scene (an basic alleged improv no-no), they would have to take off an article of clothing. Oh boy. Folds went all in and asked seven questions off the bat. By the end, he was in a tiny pair of bright blue boxers.

Think About Moves Only

Saturday in aerobic step, I fell off my platform. I guess it's a right of passage, and allegedly every one has done it, but it's still a total shock. One minute I was doing a kick ball-change, and then I hesitated, and then I was on the ground.

I was so shaken that I was determined to get the rest of the hour right. I went full-out on each leg lift, arms high on knee steps, big spins. At one point the instructor forgot to call the next routine, and I alone was so focused that I chugged right through the class confusion. When everyone was back on track I thought, "I did great just then." And then I jumbled up the beginning of the next combo. As long as I was focused on the moves, I was killin' it. As soon as I thought about how I was doing the moves, I biffed.

Rejection: Part III

If you keep putting yourself out there--in every aspect of life--you eventually fail into your place. It sounds like a terrible game plan, but it's pretty effective. Sometimes process of elimination is really your best bet. It's not like you've got the entire universe to eliminate. You wade from pool to pool until you eliminate square feet of a discipline. The truth is, you don't want to be invited to every club--however would you know which was best suited for you? You want to be rejected into your very best place. It's so easy for us to decide where we're supposed to be. Truthfully, we rarely actually know what being there will be like. Instead of focusing intently on an arbitrary and unknown goal, why not just be, and see if you keep being closer to that Thing or farther from it?

Love hard and honestly, speak your mind, try for anything you may want to do.

The Beyonce Cleanse

A week ago I began the Master Cleanse (AKA The Beyonce Cleanse AKA The Lemonade Cleanse). If you haven't heard of this via Kelly Kapoor, it is a diet regimen that is meant to detox your system. Beyonce famously did it for two weeks to prepare for her role in Dreamgirls.

The Cleanse:
You drink a "lemonade" of lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and maple syrup 6 times a day.
You also drink laxative peppermint tea before bed and green tea in the morning.

When I began the cleanse, I told myself if I didn't feel good at any point, I would stop. I honestly didn't know if I would get past one day, but I wanted to try it out. It's been a wild school year, and at the end of every big adventure I like to detox everything. This week, besides Beyoncing I've been meditating daily, deep cleaning my bathroom, sorting old files, etc. You know. Getting refreshed! People sometimes try to use this cleanse for weight loss, but doing it for a week has probably lost me a pound or two (although I wouldn't know since I don't ever weigh myself), but I'm sure as soon as I put something solid in my body,  I'll return to normal. So, I'm not measuring the success of this diet by how I have changed externally--more how it's effected me internally.

Notes on the Experience:
-Deprivation. This cleanse supposedly resets your taste buds to be more in line with your body. IE--no more desire for foods we wouldn't naturally want. At first this was SO WRONG. Day Three was my only day of real hunger, and I spent literally hours of the day looking at restaurant menus and recipes online. But, now, Day Seven, that desire is gone. I'm not hungry really at all. I mean, yeah, food sounds good. I miss chewing. But, if I had to eat something, I'd opt for a piece of bread--not the Reese's Cookie Explosion Brownies that glowed from my computer screen four days ago.
     Two Schools of Thought: 1. Deprivation just makes you want it more. Or 2. Deprivation gets you back on track with what you ACTUALLY want.
-Being Social. I was asked out to dinner this week. Couldn't go. I'm not in school, so I am free as a birdy, and I've seen friends, but I know I'd be seeing them MUCH more if I were eating. HOWEVER, I DID attend my friend JD's graduation dinner. Oh. It was super glam. Pre-set menus, JD's parents footing the bill, ARTICHOKE PASTA, CHOCOLATE MOUSSE TORTE. I just drank water and watched the five courses spin around me. While that might sound like hell, it really wasn't bad.
     1. It's usually difficult to abstain from things we want when they are presented to us. But, I thought, we can get them basically any time. Like, yeah, I wanted that torte, but next week I can make that torte and eat it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I wouldn't even WANT that, but I COULD. In just a week. Why feel like the world is going to collapse because I can't have it RIGHT NOW? There will always be more to come, you know?
     2. This was the most focused I've been on other people during a meal in a really long time. I never considered how much eating while socializing tears my concentration. Obviously, eating is social, so I'm still going to eat and socialize, but I feel much more aware of first being attentive to people second to my food.
-Good Feeling. I've spent so much time on the couch since finals ended. It's glorious. I did the exact thing last year--on Pookie's couch. I flopped for days watching Netflix, but the difference? I also ate bowl after bowl of ice cream and crackers. I ended up feeling so sluggish. It's been nice to relax while energized. But, of course, I'm happy to stop drinking that nasty potion.
-Cheap. Nothing pads your wallet like surviving on some lemons and a bottle of syrup for a week.

There's probably more, but that's what stands out. Overall, I'm glad I tried this. I do feel bouncier, fresher. I mean, the toxins have really been flushed out of my body. Amped to ease back into food!

Can't Complain

The moon looks like the moons I drew in elementary school. A thick "C" next to one extremely bright dot of light. A planet. I was on my back in the pool after a full day.

I woke up at 6 to review my Theory notes. I also jumped with Jillian Michaels and made two mugs of soy hot cocoa with honey.

At 11:45 my hardest final was over, and I felt like taking a long walk. And also like grabbing my professor by the collar and saying, "Look. I studied Worthen's concept of producing an audience via realism really hard, and I had some pretty great applications to Marsha Norman's work, so even though the essay questions you ended up giving me weren't about that, you're gonna sit here and LISTEN TO MY IDEAS, BUDDY." But, I had to TA. Which I did.

And then I went to work for hours, and I still could not focus from final nerves. So, I biked home knowing I was destined for the water in the darkness. And after, with a slick bun and smeared eye makeup, I made a bowl of pasta, and I watched Girls, and I ate a Reese's rabbit*, and I'm thinking this is a pretty good life, you guys. I spend all my time thinking about things I find interesting and trying to help other people and trying to make stuff and listening to good music and moving my body in cool ways and consuming delicious things. I really can't complain. That's not a euphemism for, "Things are okay, but--" No. I really can't complain. To complain from my top story room in my white condo in the most beautiful climate in the world as I drink fresh water from my pink Camelback would be absurd. I can't. I can't complain.


Truck stop on the way home from LA/Fracus last week. Shellzor.

*I have been a successful vegan this month**, but I made a deal with myself that I would eat that Reese rabbit my mom sent me for Easter the day of my Theory final, which was supposed to be May 1st, but it was pushed back to today. So. Boop.
**Only one week left y'all!

Be Comforted

Cozy couple in PJS in VA.

Comfort. Capital C, sunny days on bicycles, chocolate cookies at the grad student picnic with Hill, trotting up to our favorite professor's door, being invited in for sits and thoughts.

The Comfort of the subpar but all-you-can-eat chocolate froyo and brownie squares at Sweet Tomatoes. "I want to be fat," I told Smirn. The Comfort of my home here. How it feels to punch in the code on our garage, taking an envelope out of my stationary drawer, knowing there is one pine cone stamp left for this letter Michigan-bound. The people I've met, and how they've turned into the people I can insult, or hug, and how it feels just right.

"You will begin to understand that healing is an effect. It's no longer the object of your intention. It becomes the unavoidable side effect."--Michael Pabst