I Think You Are Very Successful Now

At least that's what I surmise from bits and pieces of social media. I don't know what major success looks like in your field. I don't know if you still have mountains to climb. I think often about that sommelier documentary. I cannot name a single sommelier or honestly a single fact about wine. In the film some men became certified top-tier experts and some didn't. The ones who fell short are surely more knowledgable than 99% of the world, but ten feet from the summit can feel much farther.

I wonder if you are happy. I feel like I really know you because I saw you back when you were trying to get into your skin. You made fun of yourself for not understanding football and now you tweet about it a lot. I don't think that's fake necessarily. I'm only curious.

We used to talk about how we didn't have any money, how a muffin was a feast. I'm proud of you even though I am a small tick in your timeline. But I don't know. Sometimes I feel like a mark. Are you a mark in mine? I think so. I questioned what you actually liked and what you fronted then. I do now, if I think of it.

My theatre history class is divided into six units--directing, playwriting, tech, etc. We will study modern work and move backwards toward the significant elements of the past. I DO NOT WANT TO TO HAVE ONLY COVERED OEDIPUS TARTUFFE AND HAMLET BY MIDTERM. I have too many ancient playwrights to choose from, the timeline of how directing transformed and the dramaturg was born. But actors from 1800, 1900, even 1950--none come to mind.

That okay Dispatch song. Would you come running if I called your name in a crowd?

Italy: Part Four

The coolest thing about Rome is also what makes it one of the hardest places to travel: there's just cool ancient junk everywhere. It's exciting at first like, "Oh my. What is that huge marble thing! Let us take photographs and reference the guidebook!" But after half a day you're like, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Some important dirt clods." It's tiring really. There's a disease I began to catch called "over-taking-things-in."

That said, I enjoyed eating sweet bread in the shade a stone's throw away from where Cesar's house once stood. "He walked this road," Bisque said. "He probably ate his lunch here once or twice." It was exciting and the smallest bit heart-breaking to see directly into the Coliseum ground level. All those scared little gladiators. We made a lot of Russel Crowe jokes.

The catacombs were cold and creepy. The best was getting out into the country. The greens and the white flowers that bloomed everywhere. The same petals that fell in my childhood backyard. I hadn't smelled them since, and I pressed my face to the plants as we walked to bus stops.

Gelatos, The Spanish Steps. Allegedly romantic but bunkered with annoying peddlers. A good view. A good view. Goodnight, Rome.

Charleston

Dad texted me, "You had anscestors who were on Folly Island during the Civil War." I texted back with a rare three exclamation point response: "We're staying at Folly Beach!!!"

DAD: History repeats itself.
ME: I'm mainly eating brunches.

Cocoa & s'more cake.

Biscuit & grits.

South Carolina is an old place that neither Bisque or I had never been to. It's funny when you travel alone with someone. You sort of are on an island--real or fake, historic or not. You make jokes at the start of the trip about the street sign "Courtenay" and repeat it over and over like a Forrest Gump "Jen-nay!" until it's funny, and it always is, every time. There's a little anthropology needed to unpack the vacation conversations. It all bleeds together. There's no one else.

Angel Oak: biggest oak in da world.

We slipped in an out of Southern accents. We saw Fort Sumter because I am my father's daughter and it didn't seem right to skip it. We looked at canons for half an hour and spent the remainder of the time waiting for the boat on a grassy patch under the confederate flag. I took out the Ziploc of snickerdoodles from Hill. A deer had smelled it in my purse the day before and followed me around the plantation petting zoo. I spent an extra minute admiring the pigs. They deserve life like people deserve life. The slave quarters were white and small. We saw from the nature tram.

Slaves lived here.

Meanwhile, we took happy caramel bites where the war began. "Six hundred thousand people died for this," Bisque said as he chomped again. It was a sunny day.

We had seen it rise. Because I had been up since three anyway. Donned those fleeces and stood with our iPhones bitter and quiet waiting for the star to peek over the water.

Our final afternoon we finally kicked off our shoes to make contact with the ocean. This is Bisque's very first time touching the Atlantic. We stood at the shoreline patiently waiting for the tide.

The mome.

Famous graveyard.

It was both charming and creepy to walk on cobblestones downtown. We started the trip with a ghost tour, so that sets a mood of sorts. We kept passing the Starbucks that was once a gallows. That type of thing. One day it ends. But it doesn't. Roots roots roots.

Insomnia in South Carolina

I have it. So far, so vacay good. We have a balcony room! View:

We went to a plantation yesterday. I fell in love with these creatures called "guinea hens"--chubby little squawky things.

Also saw SEVEN gators sunning themselves! So much fun to be had on the plantation! Meanwhile! A few generations ago, slavery!

More Dang Wed-Dang

During this:

The ladies looked like this:

This moment is history in the making, but it is also just another moment before the moment we all hit the dance flo'--another moment after the DJ said, "For their first dance as Mr. and Mrs.--", a moment after many moments of meeting Trelly my first day of summer camp. She wore braided pigtails. That moment after many moments when she was born...after many moments when her parents had their first dance at their wedding. This moment before the moment Dizz and I fell alseep in our hotel bed reading our respective novels, like it was an ordinary night. It would have been if we had not been in Milwaukee. It's history in the making, but it's also just a moment.

Bold but True Statement of the Week & Labor Day

Human History trembles, buckles its knees, and crumbles in terror if you force it face your Potential.

On Labor Day I enjoyed a cone of pear and gorgonzola ice cream. Photo with Shells here. Snapped by Bug.

You can't stop today as it comes speedin' down the track,

Child, yesterday is history, and it's never comin' back,

'Cos tomorrow is a brand new day,
and it's don't know white from black!

Today's the Day

In the green room before my class's final performance, we stood in a circle, hands on backs on hands on backs as an ensemble for the last time. I have truly loved these people. The combination of acknowledging I might never play with any of them again mixed with standing in the historical spot where teams of old pros to newbies to originals have paced in anxiousness almost brought me to tears.

Today is the day you decide to move, or risk, or speak we have learned all month. This is the 1% of time Life is grand and wild. Today is that day.

Be in the scene you want to be in, I was told--more barked--this week. Why aren't you having fun? Our teacher yelled, genuinely angry.

Walked down Addison for what seemed like the last time ever. It's probably not, but it will never be the same. Not like it was on August 9th, 2012 when the rain had just cleared and the cool set over the peanut peddlers and the giant aluminum pop can cut in half--Wrigley Field. And the crowd crushed a crashing sound wave. I scuttled to the Red line for the last time--not the last time, but the last time on August 9th, 2012.

Del Close's notes taped inside a cabinet backstage. "Weird" written on the flat where the audience could never see. Listen and response.

Horrible photo of my classmates, but also kinda cool--like it was taken from a disposable camera in 1985.

IN OTHER WORDS: My improv class is over, I've learned a ton, I feel so grateful.

ALSO: Breather from blogging while I work on a few projects. Be back soon.

And, baby, isn't this your chance to make a break from circumstance?
And isn't it enough to prove today's the day?
And isn't it enough to prove today's the day?

Not Meeting TJ

Something rad about the Chicago improv scene is how transparent everyone is on the performer-to-performer level. Like, on Sunday I got to see my teacher perform in his show. I'd just spent the whole week chatting with him. He said, "I encourage you all to befriend me on Facebook."

The woman who INVENTED longform bops around the building. We do our lame warm-ups on the same stage that Tina Fey, Tim Meadows, Amy Poehler etc. played on. They were all once in Level One. I spill coconut water as I'm trying to tip-toe through a talent crush's class. He waves his hand like, "Eh, don't you worry!"

Some people are comfortable with this easiness. Javvy and I talk about how amazing the Tuesday night set was. A member of said set walks by. Javvy says, "Hey man! Great job!" I keep quiet. I know people like compliments...but all the time? From randos? Maybe he's just trying to get to Starbucks before he teaches, you know?

This leads me to how I haven't met TJ yet. For those of you who don't know, arguably the best improv show in the world currently is one called TJ & Dave--featuring, as you may have guessed, TJ and Dave. TJ is a phenomenal performer. I've gotten to see him a few times in different shows, and every time I am totally blown away by his skill.

I'm also blown away that for being THE man of improv in 2012, he is so accessible. He just walks around the theatre kindly and patting friends on the back. He hangs out at the bar for a moment. Tonight as I left a show he was in, he was outside on the sidewalk with some dude chillin'. I keep having opportunities to meet him. I mean...this is THE GUY. I SHOULD meet him. But...I think of what questions I have, and then I don't really have any. Like...I know what people say secrets of improv are. I could ask about his experience, but I could also save his time and find an interview online. Honestly the only thing that's not a dumb question is "What does your arm tattoo signify?" But what? Am I just going to meander over to him sometime and ask and then peace?

At the very least I could just say, "I love your work," shake his hand, and then I will have officially met TJ. But, honestly, as I thought of that, I realized that whole interaction would be for me. I don't want to GIVE him anything. I just want to be able to know TJ held my hand. In twenty years when people are talking about "the greats," I want to be able to say, "Yes. We met." That's rude of me, don't you think?

EDIT: Right after I wrote this post, I went to sleep. I dreamt I was auditioning for the second role in a two-person play starring TJ. Wut?

That Is How I Know You Go On

When I finally pulled the suction from around my eye hard enough to lift my goggle onto my forehead, I had swam a mile. I only had a minute to cool down before I had to hit the showers if I was going to make it to Theory on time. I rolled onto my back and propelled slowly towards the North wall, watching the morning clouds over the palm trees.

Tonight I saw Titanic in 3D. I was excited all day. This morning, twelve hours before I would be in the theatre, I packed my theatre loyalty cup in my backpack, so I could get a large lemonade for a dollar. Forget the haters, I love this movie. One hundred years ago today Titanic set sail on its maiden voyage. It was destiny to buy half-off Easter candy at CVS with these comedy boyz and walk through the glowing outdoor mall and land in seats and watch the love story that moved me when I was ten.

As a fourth grader I really got the "Live life to the fullest" message. I wrote, "Life is a gift.-Jack Dawson" on a small slip of paper, folded it, and tucked it into my shoe before school the next day. Tonight I liked the message of willingness. Jack could not have planned to die by iceberg. Cal could not buy his way to Rose's heart or escape from the sink. Leo said something like, "We never know what cards we will be dealt." How two years ago I had no steamy idea of my future, and, yet, I have one. I could not have willed that. It's just what happened. How one year ago, my mom was living in England, and poof poof poof, changes occur and she's in a small Illinois bungalow. How one-hundred years ago tonight people were celebrating like their lives meant something, and in four days, they were bubbles and fish food. But their lives do mean something, even if they never could have guessed their lives would mean me screeching Celine Dion into the night as I stand, arms wide open on the handicap ramp outside the theatre.



And Rose laid on her back, in pain from the suction of the propellors, gazing up at the night stars.

Near, far, wherever you are.
I believe that the heart will go on.

High School Friendships

High school relationships get a really bad rap--like "dramatic" or whatevs. But, honestly, I never experienced much of that. SVC--one of my prized HS pals--just got an iPhone, so we've been Emojiing all day. Duh. We've been talking about how we met, and I just want to give a shout out to how spontaneous friendships can be in high school, and how truly great that is.

HOW WE BECAME FRIENDS:

-We had English class together, and one day everyone was supposed to be silently reading The Scarlet Letter. We weren't. We were both looking around the classroom, and then at each other.
-I used to mismatch my shoes in HS. At first it was an accident, and then I thought it was cool. Trendsetter, what? SVC was the only person who noticed.
-He remembers some time when the teacher turned her back, and I flicked him off. I have no recollection of this, but that doesn't mean I don't think it happened.
-We started saying "hi" in the parking lot before school.
-He was a captain on the debate team, so his AIM was on a whiteboard in the team room. I copied it in my planner, and we would IM at night.
-We read each other's Livejournals.
-We decided to hang out some Friday. He got my number, called me, and we ended up watching Biodome with a bunch of people.

And then we became best friends. What!? But, we did.

SINCE BECOMING FRIENDS:

-We helped each other establish academic ideas.
-We traveled to Scotland.
-We've coached each other through break-ups and other crisis, near and far.
-We listen to and respect each other's opinions.

Some real, adult, solid friendship-type ish, y'all. Based on goofing off in class and a Pauly Shore movie. Friendship can be anywhere.


This is us at the first gathering of HS pals after we'd been exposed to college.

All the Greeks to Me

George in Chicago. December 2009.

My days here are almost always very full. Today, for example, was a typical day. I woke up early, biked to school, hit the gym, went to Theory class, TA'd for Screenwriting, went to work, biked home, did laundry, made dinner, called my sister, went to a surprise party.

But when I sit here, looking at this big white box, I don't think I have anything of value to share today. And that's so weird, isn't it? I can be awake for seventeen hours and maybe nothing new happened. New things like I ate a Luna bar I've had since my senior year of college or I got a chocolate cake from George in the mail today. Yes, new things like that, but nothing innovative and worthwhile. Isn't that strange? That so many days are interesting but also not? That so much happens, but it doesn't.

We're studying Plato in Theory and all Greek history seems like it happened in one day, but it was really hundreds of years. I lump Sophocles with Aristotle. That's like someone in the future imagining me and Ben Franklin bonding over froyo.

We were only one push from the edge.
There it is.