Bright Copper Kettles

You guys, my favorite things are really embarrassing. Like, really. Especially considering I'm supposedly an artist OR SOMETHING.

I know I am getting an MFA in theatre, and I really should be more quirky, but Hamlet really is my favorite Shakespeare play. And, I'M SORRY, IT JUST IS. I really do "get" cool music, but I still love Andrew McMahon more than anything ever, and that's...just the way it goes.

But, really, as an educated person with a degree in English, I should have a cool favorite book, and, honestly, I do not. I read my favorite book when I was 13. It's a young adult novel, but it's my favorite. Then, Bearclaw gave me her copy of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and I read it one Christmas, and it tied my old fave. I know that book isn't exactly hip and cool. It was on the New York Times bestseller list and all, but a lot of people still hadn't read it or heard of it. It's a great book that people didn't really fuss about. So, I was able to pretend I was a gritty literate, but, no. NO. I JUST SAW A STUPID PICTURE OF TOM HANKS IN THE STUPID FILM ADAPTATION, SO NOW MY ONLY EVEN REMOTELY COOL FAVORITE THING IS EL TOAST.

Ugh. I'm the lamest.

Other Lame Favorites I Am Willing to Admit:

Favorite Play: Death of a Salesman
Favorite TV Show: Boy Meets World, One Tree Hill, Mad Men*
Favorite Radiohead Song: "Fake Plastic Trees"
Favorite Mexican: Chipotle
Favorite Coffee: Starbucks


Mocha from Bread Co--not as good at the Bux. Also, my sister eatin' a brownie. January 2011.

Do you SEE? UGH! I'M SO ANNOYING. But, you know what, at least I own this stuff. Because I bet A LOT of people's fave coffee is Starbucks. Duh. That's why they're so popular. It's good stuff, the Bux. But, at least I say, "Yeah, my favorite drink isn't from the arty little joint in the school of design. I love love mocha frappachinos--what of it?" At least that's what I tell myself.

*This is cool, but it's kind of so cool that it's not anymore.

Four Things From GMail

Today was pretty rough. So, this things needed to be said. More on the roughness when I don't feel so bummed about said roughness.

1. Vince is applying to grad school. We discussed it.

ME: ...Come here?
VINCE: i am actually not familiar with anyone in arizona
VINCE: but it would be nice to be there while you CONTINUE TO FULFILL YOUR LIFETIME TRAJECTORY OF BECOMING STARGIRL

2. Chelle wrote me a reflective analysis of her veggie week.

"Dear Alice,

Today is Thursday therefore my week as a vegetable has ended, but because I know that this is very important to you I've decided to make you a list of things that I've learned.

1. This is very hard, meat is everywhere.
2. People judge you for not eating meat--I found this weird.
3. I have a lot more respect for vegetarians now.
4. I could definitely cut down on my meat consumption.
5. I didn't need meat as much as I thought I would.

Thanks for pushing me to do this Alice! Meep.

<3<3<3"

3. Clara on me feeling guilty about art.

"i don't really love that you feel guilty about not making art. people aren't machines! if you broke, and you couldn't make art, you would still be telling people about the things you think are important, and you'd probably live a great example, too."

4. Muff.

"You’re so beautiful to me that I think of you when I hear Blood Bank."

Rituals: If I Must

No, I suppose I don't have much ritual to my name. What is constant when your family splits and reshuffles when you're fourteen? What can become ritual across state lines? When my fifteenth birthday was a surprise party, sixteenth alone in my father's apartment, seventeenth listening to Jonathan Larson when Clara and her brother crossed the moat to show up with a cactus.

My anti-roots please me. Truthfully. I can be a dandelion spore. Look!

I wrote a list of personal rituals today in Theatre History. We discussed the performance ritual of the Hopi people. My list was tiny and barely existed beyond 2004. It said, "Oldies, Groundhog Day, Tremblay's Candy Shop, Malcolm in the Middle, my grandmother's house near Gurnee, celery stuffed with sharp cheddar."

If I must bring children into this world, I will run with them each fall. I will eat with them each morning. I will enforce a strict policy about attending theatre each spring, Christmas pastries each December, and reflective birthdays. Stargirl is required reading. Diana Ross is figurative king. Quiet. Listen. That train is saying "Hello! Hello town!" If I must.

And, if I don't have to, I will be my own children. And I will fill myself with Hopi hopey.