Six Weeks in LA in No Order at All

Glitter: I saw Maria Bamford at 3 PM for free in a tiny theatre with 6 other people. Oat milk lattes. Pink brick walls. Walk to the grocery store. Never need a coat, never get too hot. The pool, even if I have yet to dunk in, seeing it when I walk in and out of the creamsicle complex makes me feel like I’m in 1950s showbiz. Happy new used Prius. Scream in a cemetery—it shaped me and shows me, over and over, the power of women. Shant is here, and we can talk about the city we came from. The Poltergeist haunted house. An email from an idol. The library with the patio, the church with the incredible soloist. Long long honest Frank talks. The sushi house that is our own. The cream colored IKEA reading chair. Yosh and his date and my date. Walk-in closet and scale. A narrow way to kick off our shoes. The club I am in. The very good bosses and excellent co-workers. The shows I do. The ghost of a skinny kid who remembers he was stupid. Puhg bought me the tiniest pumpkin. It lives on my nightstand. How many times have I already laughed?

Gutter: How many times have I already cried? The cutest street is anything but at noon on a Saturday. Too many people. Too small of spaces. I have to sit down on a bench and breathe. Once you are living the dream there are fewer off-roads to run on. The highway can be boring. I made up a whole relationship with my brand-new bubblegum scooter and it died Day Two. I did set up a tiny CSI investigation and get a full refund. They said it couldn’t and wouldn’t be done. It was done. Brett Kavanaugh. I haven’t not thought of him a single day since moving. I want it to go away and I don’t want it to go away. That “did I share too much” feeling. That “do I even know who I am” feeling. THE NEVER ENDING PRESSURE TO BE A SMART WOMAN. The canopy of 2040 used as a punchline but so real, so real. I write this at my desk. Work is over, but I'm waiting for traffic to die down before I make my way to U_B to sing my guts out. We let people escape, I know, which I know is part of healing and getting better, but at the same time at what point should people not be able to escape? When they no longer can? I miss getting on stage and futzing around however I want. I never knew I could until I left, and now I know that's exactly what I could do and did (sometimes).

Man Crush Sunday

Shortly after PixieGate 2014.

This was a sunny Sunday in February. I came home from my weekend girl's getaway with Bex. My hair did not. "I'm already used to it," he said. We hopped on our bikes and pedaled downhill to the student-run theatre. The show was luke warm, but we sat in the back row tittering much like those judgey eagles in the Muppets.

"I have so much homework to do," I said, "but I also want Taco Bell." And so we pedaled down the lazy streets of AZ for crunchwraps. We laughed our nachos off, especially after a homeless man asked to borrow my cell phone and then wiped the screen, like I'm the scumbag. I mean.

We traveled through the windy suburbia-oasis. Stopped at the cross section of our homes. Kissed goodbye thirty-seven times. Took this photo. I sang home alone, papers waiting. At my front door I looked at my phone. It was a photo of the sunset and excitement for a new day together.

A Lesson in Yessin'

I hadn't seen Leggo in a year, not since our final improv show. He texted me because he heard I was moving and we started riffing about double dating. It's a little strange to think we made plans just because I'm about to move since based on our track record, if I were staying here, I would never see him again.

For some reason the plans were complicated. Bisque wanted shaved ice, Leggo's gf wanted soy milkshakes, I felt like a receptionist throwing out times and dates. But, after some shuffling we settled on yesterday at 5:30 out in a boonie for the aforementioned icy treat. We were all traveling separate. Twenty minutes before meet-up (I was early) Leggo texted saying they'd be late. Then he called saying his gf ditched. I completely understood and thought I was more than accommodating: "We can reschedule, or not, or I can come see you somewhere else later, or--" he interrupted, "No, I'll just see you there." I asked if he was sure. "It's that or go home, so I might as well come meet you!"

It was a surprise because I don't think, in Leggo's shoes, I would have driven the forty minutes in traffic to be a third wheel and have a glorified slushy. But that was the plan, and he stuck to it. And you know what? We had a really good time. We sat for, like, two hours hanging out in that shop, cracking jokes and diddling with our tiny parasols until they broke. Beyond that, we all discussed our potential artistic futures and realized Hey! We might actually be good connections for one another! It really didn't matter, once we sat, bellies full of blue sugar and laughs, the insecurity with which the whole thing went down.

Buck wild.

Improvisers harp on "Yes And!" so stinkin' much, but, it's for good reason. You just say Yes. You just say Yes and things happen. We all (myself included) are so quick to drop plans, concepts, projects when something blots what we envisioned. It's not a habit. Life is made up of blots. I think Shakespeare said that. "All the world's a blot"? Or, am I thinking of "out damn blot"?

Point is Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes begets Yes and Yes shall reign forever. Hallelujah.

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.

When the Working Day Is Done, Oh

My roommates and I stayed up until 1 AM watching the newest episode of Catfish. Just three lil brunettes side by side on the sofa. Laughing our faces off.

I really loved living with a dude for the previous two years. The garbage disposal was fixed, jars were opened, he didn't care what I was writing about, he played video games alone in the basement. But now?! Now I walk around the house in tanks and undies. Rora puts Dream on the sound-system and we all sing and dance "No chai-ains to unlock!" Ro comes home to make a cuke sandwich when I haven't left for school yet and we gossip our brains out. I get home as she does, hide behind the fridge, and scare the daylights out of her.

I'd say I was in college again, but I don't think that was as fun.

March slumber party!

Five Best Sights So Far

All the chubby Alaskan bunnies.

A playwright watching his own work read cold in a bar cabin, trying not to laugh (because it's kind of tacky to laugh at your own jokes), but beaming through a tight-lipped smile.

The tail of a humpback whale.

Playwright who wrote a one-act about a little girl obsessed with killing things performing "Kiss" by Prince at karaoke.

This photo Bisque texted me. A close up of the map that hangs in his bedroom.

You don't have to be cool to rule my world.

Those You've Known

My doorbell rang at 10 PM on Saturday. No one rings my doorbell. They text "Here" or they clomp in through the garage. I took a deep breath, prepared to see this person, but when I opened the door I was not prepared to see this person. These are the times I understand embraces. I could not stand on my own in a moment of such affection. It was this person who was the person who nearly gave my first roommate a heart attack by busting into our freshman dorm room with a bullhorn. This person who once sat quietly with me in a second story pension in Kyoto and spoke calmly about death and fear. Scents of blossoms and fish rode the fall breeze in through the window. This person is the same person who has held me when I have cried and once made me laugh so hard I threw up. That person was this person, and this person was here in this whole new world part of my life. "You can't take it with you," they say, but I have my doubts.

This song is apropos and incidentally so beautiful I am almost moved to tears listening to it lately:

Now they'll walk on my arm through the distant night,

and I won't let them stray from my heart.

Through the wind, through the dark, through the winter light--

I will read all their dreams to the stars.

March Luck

There are so many wonderful people that surround my life. They waltz in and they take pictures of me while I scoot home in shorts and galoshes in pouring rain. They greet me at the testing center with Jamba Juice. They get the margherita flatbread because I don't eat meat. They put tiny gold boxes on the metal table. I laugh until I cannot stand.

I ask How did this happen to me? On a good day, on a day I have put on real clothes and eaten oatmeal I say I deserve this. And on days I show up ten minutes late to work because I was Googling the cast of One Tree Hill I ask harder, more times, with earnestness.

The theories:

1. People are not only good. They are great. The odds, they're fabulous. It seems like a miracle to be so connected, but we're all miracles, so it's not.

2. I am just so lucky.

Post Encyclo last night. Ladeez.

Tell Me What You Thought About

Today was a solstice day:

-Silent study before sunrise. Lamplit.
-A great ep of Modern Family fuels my workout (Haley + that loser).
-Methods of Teaching Theatre class includes improvisation exercises.
-No students during Office Hours so I grade in the sun.
-Gabbing with Boulder in the far corner of Screenwriting lecture.
-We are short-staffed at work, and I manage everything/one, which is a little hairy, but makes me feel empowered like a pebble might feel empowered. As I clock out, my boss says, "Super Woman" and I pose.
-Many a giggle in the TA office with Hill and Blink.
-Blink, fellow Ethics TA, is loopy and threatens to play the "Thong Song" as students stroll in.
-I get a text telling me to take a bathroom break during the screening portion of class. I walk outside to find Hill and Bisque who present me with a vegan milkshake. And I eat it all! And I am being paid to do this!
-Ethiopian date with Shellz. Big ideas, memories of Sid, lentils.
-Work date with Bug! But we soon realize, we would not work. We would just have Bug + Alice times, and while wonderful, we cannot do such things tonight. Not tonight when I'm trying to ask for thousands of dollars. (Scholarship apps are due tomorrow.) But, we reschedule. That's an important thing--to reschedule.

A certain Kate Moss quote is coming to mind.

The Best Day in May (So Far)

Yesterday, May 9th, was, not to sound dramatic, but the best day in the history of the world:

1. Obama OFFICIALLY SUPPORTS GAY MARRIAGE. First president ever. Good job, Mr. President.
2. I spent the morning listening to The Mamas and the Papas after seeing Dream a Little Dream on Tuesday, which is a musical based on their story as a group. And that music is nostalgic and warm to me.
3. Mindy Kaling has been greenlighted for her own TV show!
4. I started reading on the couch in the afternoon, and then I felt like sleeping, so I did. What freedom. Napping without alarms while the Arizona shines down through the balcony doors.
5. No more disgusting Beyonce lemonade. Orange juice has never been so fantastic.
6. I baked cookies for an evening party, so anyone who texted me during the process was invited over for some snacks--specifically Chelle, Ru, Sid, and Bug. The fact that Ru can just bike over or Bug can throw on a puffy jacket and walk through the monsoon for cookies makes me feel like I live in a real community. And you know how I feel about active communities.

7. We are all surprised by a flash flood. We stand on my front stoop watching the palm trees snap back and forth.

8. My friends are very funny. Very very funny. I laugh and laugh and laugh. Ru says, "Okay, Boo Boo." Sid says, "Anything with Sandra Bullock I hate. Besides Speed."
9. And then suddenly we're arguing about the validity of existence from the human perspective. And Sid is interrupting me to say, "No. No. No. 'I think therefore I am' is ALWAYS true." And Bug is shaking her head, and I'm saying, "We don't KNOW." And then with the same conviction this little Cuban kid is just as adamantly screaming, "Five pictures in a row on Instagram is RIDICULOUS."
10. The entire time I wasn't wearing a bra. No one cares. I'm over it.
11. My grad program all celebrated Burrito's graduation by dining in Blue Eyes' backyard. His wife had made Monterey Jack mac and cheese in a crock pot. I had been craving it all week. I decided to take exactly two bites (worried about stomach mutiny). But, no. It was absolutely life-changingly good and settled perfectly into my system. Oh. It was...heaven. Like, teeny french horns blowing at the pearly gates.
12. They found out I went on a date this week, and when Burrito was pestering me about the guy, and I was saying, "You don't know him," my professor chimes in

Prof: Wait, you're dating men now?
Me: Yes? Always?
Prof: What? No. I thought you were...
Me: Yeah! I mean I write a lot about gay rights, but--
Boulder: I didn't think you were gay.
Burrito: I could see it.
Blue Eyes: To be fair, I got a hint of anti-man from you.

So, got that cleared up apparently.

13. Went home starving since I had opened the option of food to my body. My roommate had made Reese's Cookie Brownies before going on vacation, so I cut one in half and ate just a little bit. Oh. Heaven x 85,000.
14. A very drunk Bug and Ru came over, joined by manic Sid. It's nice to have friends by your side right until you go to bed.

You gotta go where you wanna go,
do what you wanna do,
with whoever you wanna do it with.

Wild, Mysterious Life!

Henne's surprise party! Wednesday.

Henne is probably the person that makes me laugh the most, which is especially extraordinary since about half of the friends I've ever made are involved in some kind of improv/comedy/theatre.

A conversation we had a couple months ago:

Henne: So, I'm imaginary shopping online and being a bitter troll.
Henne: What's going on with you!
Me: I am listening to "Blister in the Sun" and writing feedback for grades.
Henne: Great American Pastime!
Henne: Also, isn't it weird that is Pastime and not Pasttime? Since I thought it was a compound word.
Henne: Life, wild mysterious life!

I was fifteen when he was my best friend--my bus partner to speech meets, the second half of many a Rent duet. But on Wednesday a gaggle of his pals and I were sitting around a small city apartment swapping student stories. Student stories! Adulthood all around. At my fifteen-year old self's best friend's surprise party.

That was my last match.
Our eyes will adjust. Thank God for the moon.

Clara in AZ

This is when we were both slap happy sleepytown USA.


We climbed a mini mountain Saturday morning!

Clara's visit was SO MANY GREATS!

Highlights:
-Bringing her to my sketch show and improv rehearsal--getting to discuss comedy with her visually artistic brain
-So much good food: Ethiopian, pasties, award-winning macaroons, and more
-Going to a dramatic one-man show and decompressing decompressing
-Singing Celine Dion while running
-Poolside conversations about faith, friendship, trust
-Eating ice cream out of the carton while watching a documentary about eating disorders

Why I Love Clara (A Partial List):
-She is honest and forward about expectations/desires (important for visitors)
-We like junk food
-She disagrees in a compassionate and smart fashion
-She is an optimist big time
-Gratitude is the attitude
-Laughing, laughing, laughing
-Pick-up friends

Ideas Mulling:
-Does "it" matter? If it does, then is doing our best enough? If it doesn't, is doing our best futile?
-There are a lot of things that we expect others to do based on our own concepts of not being interested in the temptation they face
-Being frugal is something to celebrate
-Close your eyes and imagine what you really really want--then go after it

This is the big stuff for now.


We may not reach the ending,
but we can start--
slowly but truly mending,
brick by brick, heart by heart.
Now, even now
we'll start learning how.
We can build a beautiful city--
yes, we can. Yes, we can.

Halfway to Adulthood

Post-show last Friday. Some of the guys.

Thursdays we have a weekly improv show in the Student Union at lunch. Then, I have about two hours before I teach my Intro to Screenwriting section, and then there's the mondo sketch rehearsal.

From 4:30 to Question Mark we all work through the final edits of each sketch, get cast, block, memorize, and decide running order. It should be fun, but even the best sketch on its fifth run can become joyless for performers and castmates alike. And even people who are normally grateful (moi) end up hating the very thing I love more than anything.

As I biked home, it rang in my head: I hate comedy. I'm sick of it. I hate writing. I'm done with it. I don't want to laugh anymore. I just want to curl up in a ball, watch Boy Meets World, text like a 15 year old, eat junk food, and forget about all of my potential. So...that's what I did!

Being only halfway an adult is the best best best.

All those nights we stayed up talking, listening to 80s songs.