GRAD S-COOL!

Y'all my brains are just straight up overflowin' with ideas, and I've only had less than two weeks of class! I swam a mile and a half today, and not one lap was peaceful because my head was busting open with dramaturgical theory.

I'm struggling with an easy assignment for my playwriting workshop--an essay called "Why I Write." The real question is "Why Can't I Figure Out What To Write About Why I Write?" So, about an hour ago, I decided to pump some Nicki Minaj and walk downtown. The walk is safely lit (I say that for Pookie's sake who is convinced I should never go anywhere at night), and people were out and about, but I considered what would happen if I had been abducted right then. No one knew I was going out. All I could think about is how cool and post-modern it would be for the police to find the play Frozen* open my bed.

Game over b---, Gatorade, wet towel.

*About a girl getting abducted.

To Live Doesn't Mean You're Alive

When I was four, I would spell aloud the words I knew to my grandmother: "L-O-V-E" and "L-U-C-Y" (my childhood name then), "G-O-D" and "Y-O-U."

Then, I would mix up letters and asked what it spelled: "L-U-V-E"?
"Nothing," she'd say. That's not a word. It surprised me how many words I could spell that weren't words. The odds of getting NOTHING seemed slim in my head, but, apparently, there are a lot of combos that don't mean diddly.

"L-U-C-K-Y" I announced, knowing full well a wildcard "K" mid-name was just silly. But, no! It was LUCKY. Lucy to Lucky just like that. I tucked the secret under the kitchen chair. I am always very close to luck, I thought.

Often, when I'm jotting "ALICE" quickly, it slumps into "ALIVE."
Lucky Lucy, Alive Alice.

And I will retire with the crown. Yes.
No I'm not lucky--I'm blessed. Yes.