Fall Semester 2014 in 26 Snapshots

Graduated in May, but the semester life is far from over. This was probably the hardest semester of my life. Long train trips to the south side to bring a playwriting program to an underserved school, the neverending stream of late work from community college students, the lower paychecks, the higher rent, the days of inherent 4 mile walks, the beginning of the blistering cold nights. But I MADE IT. And, even, I am emerging from the swamp I felt I was drowning in back in August somewhat...victorious. Good student evals, a promotion, two new works on stage, opportunities to perform. There's gold in these hills, folks, and I am leaving the apartment everyday with my pickax and my bus pass, grammar books, and my hot pink mace.

HS boy with a high top explains how it hurts to hear men are jerks.

Screaming about soup with a vocal fry in the cabaret space.

Eating two baked potatoes across from my mom, janky steak house.

A billion cheese cubes in the VFW hall.

Droopy eyes at Bisque, Spiff dances wildly, Ogie the monster.

Bisque in the snow holding cocoa under the A. McMahon moniker.

"It could be so much better." I feel a mirror behind me.

Fall trot with Pookie to the shopletts on Broadway.

Sittin' at the southern kitchen table talkin' educational loans.

My dad takes photos of me getting the high score on Pac-Man.

The barefoot audition.

The Daily Burn, parfait, Friday Night Lights tradition.

Sneezing my face off in class. Gel making me use it.

Sitch and I are the annoying people on that Wednesday night bus.

Oopa! All the saganaki with aunt 'n' uncle.

Crying at what was to come in the New Mexico desert.

Kicking my feet in bed after opening the congrats email.

Using poofs as chairs for living room improv sets with Meat Gang.

Eatin' a ghost cookie on the hottest October (makeshift birthday) day.

The wannabe gym coach putting up his hood to read a poem in 100.

The quiet gamer pretending to flip a table in the 101 debates.

Ripping on the sweetie pies of Tuesday/Thursday.

The pros and cons of living in Saudi Arabia with my tutee at the library.

Wooden post painting where we are members.

The longest and most literal Labor Day ever.

The lightening machine at Science and Industry.

This list was so much harder to make than usual. I barely scratched the surface of things that are monumental because things are packed! Packed, I say.

26 Snapshots of Fall 2013

Cutting berries at the kitchen island to Counting Crows in underwear.
Dancing to "Ain't No Mountain High" at the Beverly Hills Montage.
Feet up in the back row of the blackbox, hospital bed on stage.
Festive trainride to the Walnut Room. My mom's gloves.
Standing at the basement green lockers, red, getting screamed at.
Opening the garage after my dad had visited. New lightbulb.
Corner of my boss's office, scanning papers in the dark after close.
Lavender spilling her guts about love, sun blinding us. Chais in hand.
Legs across Bisque's lap. We whispered throughout Insidious 2.
Pumpkin cake wafting into living room ghost story night.
Rora, Ro, and me. Catfish buffering on the trunk in front of us.
The nerdiest kid high kicking in improv warm-ups.
Dizz running out of her house to hug me as Jamin vined behind her.
Power-walking past the tan houses at 6 AM Wednesdays.
Running a five down the lake with Bex in 100 degrees. College mems.
Two-man improv sets in my bedroom with Shells about ghost abortion.
Kevin Smith's book on airplanes. On couches. Late late late.
"Not my fault, the fault of the earth, and the sweet scent of your hair."
Inspecting the haunted house wall paint. A clown cackling behind me.
Leftover pilaf on the balcony. People partying below. Bikes chained.
Jillian Michaels to Orange is the New Black.
Blasting Frozen under my fur hood on Black Friday, northside.
The very real "Was Titanic good?" debate with my Screenwriting kids.
Everyone in playwright's workshop stumbling over the n-word.
Peeling myself off the sticky sheets, stumbling into doorless bathroom.
Opening the email from The Program after standing up from Jillian Michaels. I called up the stairs to my dad, "I got in." He yelled back, "To what?"

Dream 8.25

Pretty much half my mental energy is being used to solve problems within my thesis play, and the other half is pretty content irrationally freaking out that I'll never be able to solve any of them/my work will be a complete and utter disaster/disappointment to everyone ever.

Last night I dreamt it was auditions, my director was using sides from an old play about covered wagons. He told me none of my pages were good enough.

My dad and sister picked me up and drove me to summer camp. They were being really nice to me. Too nice? When we arrived, it wasn't camp at all. It was an insane asylum.

Then I was in the house I grew up in. I knew it was a mistake. Because I somehow knew the landlord was going to trap me. My roommates were some shrimpy kid I had never met and Huntie. Huntie sang a song about his ex-girlfriend that was so sad and beautiful I cried for hours. Sitch was there visiting. He lifted up his shirt an exposed hundreds of cuts on his stomach. He told me he did them himself, and  before I could console him, our landlord found us. He was also my professor. I tried to talk to him about class, but he told me what I had hunched. The house was being turned into a concentration camp, and I was enslaved forever. I ran to the basement, but there was no escape. I tried to text Bisque goodbye with a blue emoji heart. There wasn't enough reception for it to send.

26 Snapshots of Spring Semester 2013

Kath sitting on my pool deck, legs in.

Accentuating attendance policy questions with minor piano chords.

All the women in the hot tub talkin' Italians.

Kissing Bisque at the orange patterned crossroad in my neighborhood.

Educational bug website always open on my iPhone.

Ro egg shaking in her backyard of lights and bikes.

I have finally seen the light. I have finally realized what you mean.

Salmon cardigan. Jean jacket. Chestnut Uggs. Blue Andy sweatshirt.

Palgrave open. Red and white sprinkled cookies on the table.

Boy with huge eyes yelling, "SOMEONE HAND ME A COMPUTER."

Three hour brunch on a Monday.

Cobra stretched out across Ethiopian carpet, peekin all the guys.

Beasts of the Southern Wild on living room sofa, nose stuffy.

Fishtail braiding Muffy's hair.

Tearing up alone in the ugliest hallway, texts from Jamin.

The honest voice of Sitch. The honest questions of adulthood. The cold.

The best improv set in a hotel room for four people.

"But you're not trying not to be."

Balcony monologue aloud. Wood floors.

Slow swing of Ru's body during "Touch Me."

Falafel crumbs on the steps behind the lecture hall.

Four lovers all wearing the same deodorant in Whole Foods.

Planner open to July. Pencil marks everywhere.

Huge room, four professors, vegan cake puffs center stage.

Looking down at a greased peel. Unwashed hair.

Straw Dog day, kicking around gravel, holding the phone.

The Beautiful People of Chicago

I am behind on everything. Probably because of this:

Dusty!

Nizz at Austrian bakery/cafe.

Some blood.

Fran. BFF ages 6-14.

Sitch. Eatin' Forever Yog.

 Not pictured: AStanSr, Chicago Aunt, Holies, cousins, BA6, Hunny and Hunny's BF.