Ex Post Facto

My 8th grade music class was particularly boisterous. The middle school was being renovated that year, so we were shoved in some kind of makeshift used-to-be superintendent's office? We had a first year teacher. I'll call her Miss L. One thing I liked about Miss L was that she started every day by playing a song, and we would journal about it--what instruments we heard, the mood, the tempo, etc. What I didn't like about Miss L was basically everything else.

That class was important to me because I don't remember having many friends in it. Most of the honors kids I was usually saddled with were in band. This was my time to experience what the rest of my peers were up to. Some key things I remember were getting up to do a presentation on my favorite musical artist--at the time a ska band--and a girl said I was probably going to talk about Dreamstreet, which is completely embarrassing because Dreamstreet was the dumb spin-off BSB made for teens two years too late. I had referenced the group and their "hit" once at a Girl Scout trip ironically. This chick did not get irony. I didn't know what irony truly was at the time, but I felt shamed for trying my hand at it. And now I go to satire school.

I also remember when I ran for class president a guy who ran opposite me asked his friend, "Are you going to vote for me?" He chuckled, "No dude, I'm voting for SNAP" (which was my team's ticket name). I thought that guy was pretty bold to make me the butt of a joke one foot from my seat, but I was weirdly not bothered. Despite the fact that that one dude got fewer votes than me, it was a daunting use of (ironically) irony. That jokester made a point to talk to me at our middle school reunion when we were seniors in high school. He asked if I was going to Harvard, and when I said no he was like, "Why not?! I thought for sure you'd go to Harvard." I googled him last year and the only hit was a police report from a DUI he got two summers ago.

So, Miss L. Kids were chattering and joking and goofing as usual in her class, and she said every time we misbehaved she was going to write a letter of "MUSIC" on the white board. So, we kept misbehaving, and by the end of class all five letters were up on the board. She then announced any day we made "MUSIC appear" we did NOT get a sticker on a chart. And if we filled the chart with stickers, we got candy.

"There are so many things wrong with this," I thought. 1. Kids should not be rewarded with candy. 2. Huge boxes of every kind of candy imaginable were available every single day in the cafeteria for 50 cents a bar. The prize for a month of perfect behavior was worth two quarters. 3. We had just learned about ex post facto in social studies class. It meant you're not allowed to make a law in retrospect. And that's exactly what Miss L. did. She explained the rules around her "good class" test after we had already failed. I raised my hand and said this. "We should get a sticker for today because what you just did violates ex post facto." She gave me the biggest, nastiest eye roll I had ever seen.

My reaction was, "I guess that's not how it works here. Or maybe I didn't understand the concept like I thought I did." But the classroom should be a just place, and I did understand. The eye roll, it haunts me. But in a good way. A way that reminds me it might be me who knows a thing or two.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

-Best character was Adrian Brody. His dialogue: magnifique.
-It was extremely refreshing to see a tender friendship between an adult gay (bi?) male and a young impressionable teen that was wholly positive, supportive, zero percent creepy, and endearing. Gay males are often stuck with clouds of stigma about any form of relationships with boys. A good example to throw on the scale against unfair presumptions.
-It was always snowing, and yet no one ever wore a coat. GD, Wes.
-Underrepresentation of woman as always. I get it, you can make whatever you want with your crew of hip funny guys. But, ya know.
-Speaking of hip funny guys: they were underused hella anyway. Did they really need to be smooshed in? Bill Murray barely had a laugh line. What's the point? I wonder if the cameos were because Anderson loves his bros, or his audience mandates the bros, or the bros would be hurt.
-On being in a full theatre: dear lord, everyone laughs when any of the crew just shows up. Literally Murray's face was on screen and the audience died. He was just sitting there and proceeded to say very normal things. This happened for all the big names in the film beside, as I mentioned, Adrian Brody, who's character was actually well-crafted and interesting.
-I love many of Wes Anderson's films, but a lot of people don't and even associate a sense of artistic arrogance with them. I obviously get it. Also, people feeling the need to verbally comment to the rest of the theatre via chuckles "See? I'm a buff. I know Jason Schwartzman is in every movie and always hilarious."
-I mean, it was really pretty. I felt like I was in a felt picture book of winter and sometimes inside the giant pinball machine at the Science and Industry Museum. The details were cutesy, which is lovely and a little annoying all at once. I dunno, does anyone LOVE these movies? I'm a troll idk.
-I liked the story within a story within a story within a story. The themes of endurance, legacy, history, existential crisis covering everything like extremely trendy 1930s wallpaper.
-The humor. Personally, a little jokesy for me. The wordplay is tame, but, again, this word: "cute." Rarely did I honestly laugh, but when I did, it was really wonderful. Some delicious character explosion. Ralph Fiennes though. Dang, his timing was ballin' outta control.
-Okay, I really don't think this is unfair, but I fully aware I might get a stink eye for it: I found this film a giant glorification of murder and guns. Really frustrating. So many people are killed, and it's CUTE. Aww! So cute! Shootouts like mad. Chopped off body parts. It was seriously all so cute. Honestly, worse than a violent video game. I think a little subliminal part of everyone there's brain just stowed away a hidden desire to don an Urban Outfitters skirt and a pistol.
-The love story was very underdeveloped. It wasn't the point, so it didn't need to be, like, extremely complex, but something substantial would be nice.
-Anyway, there were a lot of shots of cake. So. Oscar winner for best picture.

Deux

May 2012.

Today was the last day of school before fall break. I toted my new floral purse to work stuffed with the lesson, Dave Eggers, and a banana I stole from Ro's fruit bowl. At work I coached a student through a panic attack and my boss asked me if I would walk in the homecoming parade to represent the disability center. "No, my family is coming to see my thesis play." I told her, and she asked if they might rather see the parade. She wasn't kidding, which was actually refreshing. It's just a stupid play. I left at 1 PM, trotted out in my grey sweater, waited on a sun-doppled bench under the small tree out front of the design building. I love the concrete bridge, the cul-de-sac where people kiss and ride. Shells pulled up, windows down, and yelled, straight-up yelled, "ALLLL ABOOOARD!" I cackled like crazy. She took her lunch to see Don Jon* with me. We bought matinee tickets and joined three other people in the theater. Shells and I have a very similar sense of humor, and there is nothing like that.

We snuck foil-wrapped Chipotle into the movie. In the parking lot we remembered it was the first place we ever hung out one-on-one. We'd already become fast friends through sketch comedy, so one afternoon almost exactly two years ago we ditched everyone getting drinks after the show for burritos. I keep writing and deleting what I love about her because it's just boring to everyone else, but, mainly, I am so grateful I showed up in the desert with no one and two years later am surrounded by someones. Things move. There's nothing to be scared of.

*This is my favorite movie I have seen in 2013. A+.

Take That Towel Off Your Head

There was a Muslim girl on my high school Speech team. She was quirky and her favorite game was asking people, "What if a dead body fell through the ceiling right now, what would you do?" She only wore long sleeves and always wrapped her hair. I asked her if she had ever been swimming, and yes, she had, at a Muslim summer camp.

Our team of 20ish kids gathered for our yearbook picture in brisk south suburbs February. We were all goobers, and the photographer had to shush us a few times. Right before he snapped the photo he said, sure as cement, "Will you take that towel off your head?" Silence. Our teammate tightened her jaw and just said, "No." We took the picture, shuffled back into our coach's classroom, and DIED LAUGHING. One coach wrote it on the blackboard, "Take that towel off your head." Another suggested we put it on the back of our sweatshirts. The girl's face was in a permanent "I cannot believe that just happened. What a GD idiot/lunatic." I thought the whole thing was hilarious too! Some dude who called what was clearly a religious garment a towel! See, I had never heard the term "towelhead" before, so I thought it was legitimate ignorance instead of prejudice ignorance.

Tonight I attended a lecture about humor in religion. It was interesting enough. The speaker--a professor from a prestigious school--basically tackled two concepts. The first--religion and comedy have a giant commonality: they were created to help people get through tough things. The second--a brief look at how humor plays a part in Judaism, Christianities, and Hindu/Buddhism. I repeat: it was interesting enough.

I was there because my thesis play (a comedy) explores religious themes. It also explores judgement (in conjunction with religious themes). Judgement and analysis from within a faith and judgement and analysis from outside a faith are two very different things. So I asked why is it we love to make fun of religion so much? I offended the speaker by saying, "For my demographic, religion and humor are basically synonymous." The dude stopped me and shook his head and gave a kinda PC answer, but was sure to end it with, "Those two are definitely not synonymous." But for me, it feels they are. Even religious people I know make fun of themselves--and DEFINITELY of others. If you must have faith, the least you can do for yourself as a 20something is not take it seriously.

Does my teammate still think about photo day? I hope so--because that means it was an anomoly. I truly do hope it's one goofy anecdote, and not a drop in the bucket. Did we make it all better when we joined in on razzing that moron? Or did we sweep her pain under the rug? No one else believed what she believed. Did she step forward from that day with more conviction? Less?

I left the talk repentant for speaking out of turn. Like, who am I to say what to an expert? Perhaps I THINK I look outside my own self, but not farther than others who are essentially just like me. And then this tall chick with the sides of her head shaved said, "I really appreciated your comment" as we left the hall. More.

Vegan April Starts Today

The morning before I left North Carolina, Nac and I went running and then had a big brunch. We feasted on everything in the kitchen. Almond buttered toast, pineapple, Nesquik? Yes, please. When he pulled out the deviled eggs, I laughed and laughed and laughed:



This image struck me as so incredibly funny. He kept asking, "Why is it so funny?" and I couldn't even completely say. But, it is funny, right? Like, the whole point of deviled eggs are having the squishy yellow part staring at you all cutely, and this one half just didn't get the memo. Splat.

And people screamin' what's the deal with you and so-and-so?
I tell 'em _______, mind their business.
They don't hear me though.
But I live my life to the limit and I love it.
Now I can breathe again, baby, now I can breathe again.