Right Right, Sure Sure

I wonder where the impulse to be right comes from. I suppose there are a lot of possibilities, and I would assume they vary person to person. There may be people who truly don't care if they are right or not, but I'm having trouble thinking of any.

We all have that memory of the time we fought a little too hard for something we were a little less than half sure was right. And yet, something compelled us to do it. Is it a power thing? The need to be respected? Why did you need to be the expert about what Alec Baldwin said in that one interview all of the sudden? What made you do that?

For me (I think) it's mostly the need to validate my memory. I used to have a flawless one. It's a little hazier now, which is kind of nice, because I shrug a lot more and am like, "Yeah, okay, could be, idk, pass the Oreos?"But when I know what I know, it seems wrong to not do what I can to make the truth heard. No matter how dumb it is?

I've mentioned the mantra of my favorite college nomad Stripes: "Do you love yourself enough to be more happy than right?" There's a lot of healing in that. Sometimes, just be what you are, and make what you are happy. Yet, Right can't fly out the window.

You know, people used to be wrong and not know it forever. Pre-smartphones. "When did Good Will Hunting win the Oscar?" "1999." "That's way too late. It was '97 or earlier." "No, it never won the Oscar." "Huh, well, I don't know. Wanna call someone and ask?" "No, you idiot, we're playing basketball, and that's way more fun that trivia minutia. SLAM DUUUNK."

Maybe this new possibility of fact-finding will breed people who learn not to fight as hard because facts are in pockets. So that could be nice.

Defense

Today at 3:30 MST I defended my Master's thesis. I wasn't too worried.

My committee (four professors who have been giant shaping mechanisms for three years) sat smiling at a rectangle table. They were good-natured because I brought them cookies and because they knew what I knew. The heavy lifting is in the distant past now--my play opened half a year ago, my comprehensive exam was in February.

They asked me a few questions. They made a few comments. The feel was "Good on you" and the meeting was more "You have a lot of places you can go!" vs. "Let's navel-gaze at where you've been." I feel excited to move on. I love/ have loved school. But this chapter is over, and I have no desire to drag my feet.

I had to leave the room. I felt a pang of concern. It's strange to stand outside doors while people talk about you. I waited longer than I expected to. Wasn't it just yay or neigh? What's taking so long? Is someone asking I do more revisions of something? I stood still because I had nothing in my hands (which never happens anymore--hi, cell phones). The door opened. They said I'd be a Master. They all hugged me.

I don't usually love hugs, and this wasn't an acception. But that's fine. I know I have learned a lot in grad school, and most of it these people don't even know. That's also fine.

The library. Took this my first week of grad school.

I remember going out to dinner with my cousin when I was living in San Diego winter 2007. A strange thing. We went to a nice Italian place and one of his friends joined. We both got risoutto. Halfway through the meal she mentioned she had just finished her final grad school exam that day. I remember thinking it was an odd way to celebrate such a big thing. A rando dinner with two friends and a cousin? But now I get it. I'm here. The show must go on.

Pause

I've been feeling shifting sand lately. I look up an employment page, get sucked down a wormhole of articles about this generation's workforce, think about writing, comedy, watch some vines, feel I did a lot but blink because my eyes are tired of the universe I stare into on my iPhone. An interesting thing about the internet is that when it's over, you close the boxes, and it's like you've done zip.

The world is very big lately. I had things to do tonight, so I pushed Bisque out of my house around 7. He made a little kissy face as I closed the door. I turned around when there came a knock. I opened. He beckoned, no words. Pointed. A blazing hot pink sunset over the palms. Too good for words. Too good for a photo. I have nothing of it. We stood hugging a long time.

Some Things about Forgetting Your Phone at Home

-I have absolutely no concept of time. I have asked a lot of strangers for it.
-Made plans for tonight that are contingent upon a play I am attending. I will show up when I show up. I tell this to Bisque, and he says, "It will be just like the 90s!"*
-Freeing. There is nothing in my hands.
-I wanted to take a picture of the sunny palm trees. No dice.
-This should be a post about the beautiful people of Chicago, Illinois. But the photos are on my phone.
-Hope there were no emergencies today with people near and far.

*Friday night I got off at the wrong el stop when meeting Sitch for dinner. I called and we tried to plan where to meet. "I suppose...we should just walk toward each other?" And Sitch was smart enough to specify which side of the street to walk down. East we decided, and as I hung up, I got a bitty chill. The mystery of when I will see my friend who I haven't seen in a long time! Even though we had just talked voicebox to voicebox. Oh, cell phones. Oh, cell phones.

Muse! Concert! Phoenix! 2013!

-brilliant performers in terms of filling a fat stadium with energy

-visual aspects of the show: rad x a milli (lasers whaddup)

-so darn danceable--and dance we did--hop, sway, twirl!

-best song: "Madness" (for singability, technical effects, colors)

-worst song (but honestly still not even that bad): "Liquid State"

-I feel like a part of history now that I've officially watched the lighter evolve into the flashlight app for iPhones

-the line "this ship is takin' me far away/far away from the memories of the people who care if I live or die" is so amazingly romantic in every sense...and live, it made me consider the people who do care if I live or die, which is, like, the point of art

-called my sister during "Supermassive Black Hole" and she texted "SUPER MASSIVE JEALOUS KISSES"

-sound quality: crystal clear

-as always with huge concerts, I wish there was more personability, but Muse tried their best with the thematic set-list, with the friendly retorts, with the stark and sad video footage of our current world

-people always rave about how Muse is da best live band ever, but, like, yeah...they have an extremely valid point

Video Pyramids!

The night was warm! The night was young! Bisque and I drove off to meet with our other concert-goers. Everything was perfect, so I said so. And our windows were down. We approached three people  on foot. "They should know," he said. So I yelled at them. I yelled, "EVERYTHING IS PERFECT." And one yelled back: "Woo!"

How much are you worth?
You can't come down to earth.
You're swelling up, you're unstoppable.

"Back in My Day, a Text Message Used to MEAN Something!"

It did though! It used to be ten cents! And it felt like a genuine little communication. I loved getting a good text message. I would keep the best of the best. I got an iPhone a year and a half ago, and I do love it, but it keeps all my texts ever, which you'd think would be more fun, but it's not. It's more helpful for certain. But, fun? I'm sure my elders would disagree--but there was a romantic aspect of an impermanent screen of text. I could scroll through the greatest hits and feel all loved and good-humored.

When I traded my cellular I had a collection of maybe 50 undeletable (according to moi) texts from the five year period I had my ol' phone. I typed them out, and I just found the doc today. They're all gold, but I'll share a few bests from my sistah:

12.20.2009

“How’s Texas, Sweatpant Princess?”

6.1.2010, 12:34 AM

“You were so great tonight! Surprise for you on your bed!”

8.19.2010

“YAY! Meant to go for a run but ended up at the _____ for sodas. Kisses!”

10.8.2011

“Muffler gone. Call comm. safety.”

12.24.2011

"I love you too you little punk."

1.6.2011

"Look Who’s Talking Now has held up remarkabley well. Did you know Diane Keaton was the voice of the poodle?"

Pooks in Germany 2011.

Look forward to more entires like dis, y'all.

Dis Iz Mai Lyfe Now

"Fall, then figure out what to do on the way down."--Del Close

That Magic Moon: E-mail from my Dad

Hello Alice!

I read your blog this morning.

I was looking at the moon too, last night. The same one as you, I believe. I was coming out of the library and there it was, a crescent hanging over the treeline across the street in the western sky. To the upper right of it there was another bright light in the sky. I wondered what it was. It wasn't moving and I thought maybe it was a planet. So, I fired up the iPhone Star Walk app, got a fix on the moon and tried to figure it out. It was overcast. All I could see was the moon and the bright light. But of course the app showed all the stars. I guess that was a reminder that the stars, like so many things, are in their places even when you cannot see them. Other people were coming out of the library and no doubt saw me on the steps holding my cell phone skyward with both hands while the screen twinkled and spooky music played. Oh my.

Love you,

Dad

My dad in Germany. June 2011.


I see the moon and the moon sees me. The moon sees somebody I'd like to see. So God bless the moon, and God bless me, and God bless the somebody I'd like to see.