Rewards

To live for rewards is to believe in a majority of times/experiences that are Less Than. Each moment is its own reward. Muffy and I discovered this concept on the train, tummies full of scone, hands full of small boutique bags, cheeks scrunched by sunlight. Easy to say then, right?

But I remembered it so strongly this morning as I ran on a structure that secured me over a large body of water (also known as a bridge). My feet felt so GOOD to be moving, my lungs so powerful, my stupid day full of grade meetings and test proctoring so full of opportunities to be grateful and helpful!

Summer vacation starts at 6 PM on Wednesday, but now is also perfect! Even these dummy screenplays by the freshman at this Arizona state school! These are perfect! My bed is full of them! And they are all little rewards for living. Stapled paper trophies! I won! I won!

Excuse the high schooly bathroom mirror shot, but our outfits were matching!

Date Night?

There was something equally creepy and sweet about the couple that sat next to each other in the Film Ethics: Sex and Violence class I TA'd last semester. Their hands were always locked. When we'd dim the lights, the girl would pull a bag of M&Ms out of her backpack, quietly tear the corner, and pour some into her beau's free palm.

I semi-dread Thursdays at 4:30 because I have to watch the new sex & violence hit o' da week. But that girl in the tight jeans and flip flops, the boy in the plaid shorts, it was their time, and...well, I don't know what else to say.

No Credit

This semester I am taking four classes, TAing two, and working part-time. Also, rehearsals for improv nationals. I was strongly invested in taking a Performing Childhood theory course with the Theatre for Youth PhDs, but I knew it was stupid to push myself just that much over the limit. I decided to audit.

So, this class is fascinating to me. And I want to get the most from this opportunity. So I'm doing all the work. It's not horrible, but it makes a difference to have a few extra hours of reading per week. To me it's worth it...I think. The other day I felt grumpy about my audit decision. "I'm doing all this for nothing."

But I'm already going to graduate with an overflow of course credit. 3 more credits won't help or hurt me. I mean, technically, if I got an A in this class my GPA would bump up...but it's not like my GPA for my DEGREE IN PLAYWRITING is going to get me places in this world. Furthermore, I might have gotten a B. And then I'd just be bitter.

It's strange to do things for no reason. We do it all the time, of course. I am sitting on my front porch because it is sunny. No one has mandated that. I read an article about feminism and the Oscars this morning. I just wanted to. Really all these classes are silly. But in the context of getting something for something, it feels strange not to. A good thing to learn though. A very good thing.

Maybe Curing Cancer

Cancer research using mice. I checked the box for “Approve Funding,” and I greenlit funding for a bio PhD candidate’s dissertation project in which he intends to give mice tumors.

As part of my academic community service, I evaluate grants for the Graduate and Professional School Association once a semester. I find it interesting. Today I read a lot about topographical research in Tanzania, for example.

How could I refuse this student who has such good intentions? That’s not my place. There is no segment on the rubric for “Ethically Ambiguous for the Reviewer.” It was an excellent application. My hamster Jefferson died of a brain tumor when I was 11. He jittered himself to death. He could not operate his jaw enough to eat. He curled into shavings and prayed for an end to the pain. Jefferson has white hair and a pointed nose.

My aunt died of cancer two years ago. And she too was white with sharp features when I last saw her. No one—no creature-- deserves these things.

I approved the funding.

Two years ago I also had dinner with my old buddy Jimbo. He’s a smarty and always has been. We chomped on mushroom pizza and he explained how his office analyzes code to find patterns that will break cancer, but what he really does all day is stare at screens and numbers. Meanwhile, I made like ten cents an hour helping college kids write thesis statements. Jimbo said, “At least I can say what I do for a living is cure cancer.” But that’s actually not true. It’s not true because what if they never find the pattern? It’s actually pretty likely they don’t. I passed those kids on their sophomore writing portfolios. They learned how to use commas. This I know.

Underground improv stage. Chicago 2012.

I talked to Jimbo this morning on GChat while I was in Office Hours. It’s an even shoddier desk in the basement of a crummy building. And the boiler blasts every ten minutes. And he’s been maybe curing cancer for four years.

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.

Halfway

I am officially halfway done with my MFA. It was a good semester.

Fall 2012 in 26 Snapshots

Pumpkin bagels on top of the crockpot.
John D. croonin' out my laptop speakers.
Imagining Slender Man in the corner, by my closet.
I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her. Oh-oh-oh.
Longform sets on the park blacktop. Planes overhead.
Grey running shorts. Orange spotted dress.
"We Are Never Getting Back Together."
Chickpeas in the food processor.
Sitting in the back row of Primary Colors with Hill.
Warm-ups with Barren Mind in a Santa Monica parking garage.
Riding my scooter to Los Favs.
Shy boy sitting on the MU stage holding a sign that says "Period."
Wearing combat boots.
Watching The Mindy Project while grading screenplays about sushi.
Ro sitting at my kitchen table.
Stretching in a circle of green improvisers.
American Horror Story discussions in the ed building basement.
"Ball is fine."
The red cover of Topdog/Underdog.
Miming skipping rocks on a railroad track in Wisconsin.
The sink in Ermo's office. The plastic mug on his desk.
The town lake bridge in lit blue.
Ru saying YOLO.
New squishy bicycle seat.
Pincushion sprawled across a sofa in the theatre building foyer.
Opening the door from a dark room to a woman holding two blankets.

Semester Trois Closes

"Hello Alice,

What exactly do we need to put on the title page of the script again? 

Also, I just wanted to let you know that I think you are the best T.A. You are very understanding, fun and optimistic about things and I can tell you care about us which made the recitation class a lot more comfortable. Especially when we had to present our work. I have recommended you to some of my film buddies and I hope your future classes will be as good as our class was! Thank you for a great semester! "

Thee Pop-Tarts by Anton Chekhov

In the past month I've eaten three new kinds of pop-tarts!

1. Pumpkin Pie Pop-Tart. A! It tasted like pumpkin pie! But crunchier! I wrote about it in my annual pumpkin review. Google my full name and "pumpkin." Ye shall find!

LOLOLOL PART OF THIS BALANCED BREAKFAST (Strawberries who am I kidding?)

2. Is the I-Scream Cone Pop-Tart. D-. Sprinkles on a nasty lil choco tart with sugary vanillia(ish) interior. Not sweet enough to be dessert, but definitely not breakfast.

3. I've seen "Confetti Cake" Pop-Tarts on shelves for a long time now, and I'm always not into it (ditto the Sugar Cookie Pop-Tarts...you'd think I'd try anything once, but. No.) But then, Kelloggs changed the little picture on the box from a block of white cake to a cupcake, and voila, it's in my grocery cart.

I TA until 7:15 on Thursdays. And the movie we were watching went a million years late. And I had to talk to students. And I biked home. At 8:30 PM I was famished and so excited for my date with these puppies.

Major A. Tasted like a cupcake! For real! Not too sweet! So enjoyable! Confetti sprinkles!

What Is Appropriate (Huh)

"I love when we talk about what is appropriate for young girls." Hill Gchats me. She is at the front of our giant lecture class we team-TA, and I am in the back, while the 150 film students (mostly men) discuss Kick Ass and how that child was overly-sexualized despite there being no mention or allusion to sex with/for her in the film.

"Her clothes are tight," someone says, referring to the spandex superhero costume she wears. Huh.

I wrote "Huh?" in the feedback section of a student essay after "I don't know what you're saying in paragraph two." Then I quoted the nonsensical sentence. This guy accosts me after class: "Your feedback was unprofessional, rude, and not helpful at all."

Baffled, I followed his finger to the "Huh." I explained I meant I didn't understand, but he attacked again. And then he stood there arguing his paper was much better than I graded it. Meanwhile, he cannot look me in the face. His eyes keep dashing down to my low hanging wooden necklace and back up and down and back up and down.

In our improv show today, Skars was explaining a game, so I walked across the stage to grab my water bottle and two goofy guys sandwiched me with their bodies. I gave a faux shriek. This is part of ensemble work. Skars turned around and said, "C'mon, Alice! Get it together!" and the entire audience laughed. I scampered offstage, and from behind the flats I hear Skars, "Always trying to get attention. Look at how she's dressed!" I cry out in mock anger, "I dress like a librarian!" But it's true. I'm wearing a knee length purple dress and an extra large knit sweater that makes any curve of my body impossible to see.

Last week everyone at work got an e-mail with dress code reminders. "That's weird," I thought. "Who is this for?" Everyone looks good at work. The next morning one of my superiors comes directly up to me. No good morning. Just, "Did you get the dress code e-mail?" I say yes, and she raises her eyebrows.  I have no words. I mutter, "Is this not...?" And I reach for my bra strap, which admittedly is peeking around my shoulder, but before I can even apologize I'm hit with, "I see three violations in one outfit." I look down. It's my knee-length orange polka dot dress. I am only quizzical, so she says, "It's a bit short." I stand and show her how it is much longer than my fingertips. "Well," she says, "Definitely not shorter than that." And then she says, "And cleavage." The dress completely covers my whole front. There is not an option of anything else. I show her the cut. I say, "But, you can't see anything" to which she replies, "I could when I walked by." It's not possible! She tells me to wear a sweater and grimaces half-heartedly like, "Yup, those are the rules, wish they weren't, bummer!" My male co-worker was next to me the whole time. Listening and watching someone else define what parts of my sack of flesh that can and cannot be seen.

I love when we talk about what is appropriate for young girls. Huh.

Where Does Being Nice Get You?

"Nice" is basically an insult these days. I mean, I think so. I take it as "in lieu of a real compliment:" It's the backside of a silver spoon or a perfectly triangle slice of yellow cake.

And most of us at one point (or many) times in our lives have asked "Where will being nice get me for real?" Indeed, there are times we feel we cannot be heard if we're nice, successful if we're nice, loved if we're nice.

When you're an educator, and a student meets with you, and the student is nice, it's really hard not to help her succeed in the class. I wouldn't act immorally and pass a failing kid or offer extra help to some and not all, but I am hard-pressed to find flaw in a nice student.

When I worked at at Marble Slab, I remember it was literally as simple as Please and Thank You if I was going to help a customer out of a credit card jam, getting a discount, putting a cherry on top. Just being nice, the whole world opened up for those people.

In rehearsal this evening we discussed the US involvement with Pakistan. Complicated to say the least. And Jersey said, "It's so stupid. It's like paying a schoolyard bully not to beat you up, but, meanwhile, you're a six-foot juicehead!" Point taken. But, part of it is about...niceness. There's a niceness.

Nice flowers at a nice wedding in 2010.

Seriously consider what could have been avoided in the history of crime, violence, and hatred if everyone were nice. The immediate reaction is to say, "No, no. The nice guys would just get taken advantage of." But would they? If EVERYONE was nice. If everyone were nice, wouldn't domination seem a hassle?

No Other Day!

Woke up to a text from Heart who reminded me "Today is August 23, 2012! There will be no other day quite like it."
There's something about the first day of school. Something good.

This is surreal. I flew in yesterday--met by a giant bear hug from Boulder and a dinner invite. I sit at his counter getting the gossip and watching him chop peppers for his eggplant parmesan, which is my favorite.

It's effortless to punch in my garage code, second nature to climb the stairs and drop my bags in the bedroom on the left. "I have grown," I decide, so I shove my bed into the opposite corner.

I bike to campus like I've done it hundreds of times. Because I have. Curly is on the corner of Mill & University. We embrace like we've done it two times because we have and his shoulder hits my jugular as I say, "It's good to see you" so I sound like a drunk chipmunk.

I TA. I see many a familiar face. I TA. I regress to 14 as Hill and I write summer Q & A on the backs of syllabi while the professor lectures during Sex & Violence. Class is out early, and I decide I'd like a smoothie. I run into Blue Eyes! Who hasn't eaten all day but can be persuaded to make a meal of froyo with me. I wonder what we look like--the chicadee with first day braid and the grey-haired family man, discussing Mormon youth over pomegranate non-ice cream.

First day of Senior Year 2005 with SVC & Hunny. So long ago!

So this is happening. Year two, here we go.

Declaring Murder: Part II

So, remember last Thursday when I updated with lots of sappy e-mail quotes, and I said I had had a rough day? The roughness was this: a student was suspected of having violent tendencies towards me to the extent that my professor and the department wanted a security guard outside my classroom.

The storm has passed, and I am fine. It was really a "better safe than sorry" thing. This student of mine had been doing poorly all semester: absences, poor work, etc. and, well, his grade was showing it. I met with him one-on-one and sent him helpful e-mails, but, nope. He still insisted on blaming me for his bad grades. And, technically, I did give them to him.

Anyway, he dropped the class--destined to fail, and he was very mad. And he made his dislike of me very known. And, I could deal with that, but then two additional students made meetings with me to argue grades of a recent assignment. Both students failed and for good reason. They were livid, and they took it out on me. I got to sketch rehearsal completely fried and sad.

Chelle explained, "Oh, yeah. I've totally been completely mean to TAs, but really I'm just mad at myself for not doing well." I suspected as much, but it doesn't make the arguments less draining, my consistent politeness to everyone less tense.

I guess I just want to say is we should be honest with ourselves and others--even little toadstools like TAs--because we all have hearts.


Sidestreet in Heidelberg. 2011.

On a positive note? Today in class a student was casting kids to read his scene, and a guy raised his hand.

STUDENT: Okay. But you have to say the "s" word.
(Everyone laughs.)
ME: Thank you for the public service announcement.
STUDENT: Who else wants to read?
(Another GUY raises his hand.)
STUDENT: Okay. But you have to say the "n" word.
(No one laughs.)
STUDENT: Just kidding!

You and me we sweat and strain, bodies all achin' and wracked with pain.

EDIT: Chelle just read this and texted me, "For the record my TAs aren't as nice as you and they never can speak English."

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."

This Just Happened One Minute Ago

My original comedy boyz eatin' donuts outside. 2008.

Burrito came into the TA office, looked at Boulder's desk, picked up a magazine and said, "I always knew he was gay."
I look over at Burrito inquisitively.
"Oh...because he has this magazine with guy on the front--I mean--he's not really gay. I'm just joking."
I blink.
"But I guess being gay's not a joke...Okay, fine. WELL, NOW I FEEL LIKE AN ASSHOLE! THANKS, ALICE!"

Success without words!

If you were gay!
I'd shout, "Hooray!"

LOST FAITH IN HUMANITY

ALICE BOUGHT A SUPER BIG JAR OF MIXED NUTS AT TARGET TWO WEEKS AGO TO LAST HER THE ENTIRE SEMESTER. SHE LABELED THEM AND PLACED THEM NICELY IN THE CUPBOARD OF THE THEATRE TA OFFICE. SHE ATE LITERALLY FIVE.

A WEEK LATER (TODAY) I DECIDED TO GRAB SOME NUTS FOR CLASS AND FOUND HALF THE JAR EMPTY. AND DON'T TELL ME IT WAS HALF FULL, BECAUSE IT WAS NOT! IT WAS HALF EMPTY! I AM SO SERIOUSLY MAD RIGHT NOW.

And I really just can't let it go. It's silly to be this mad, but really? Really?! It's a small office! Why would someone steal from someone they know in their very own office who is CLEARLY POOR BECAUSE WE ARE TAS!?

I guess what I am thinking about is how wrong theft really is. It's one of those things that we seem to think has shades of grey surrounding it. "No, I wouldn't steal a car, but just a handful of mixed nuts from a HUGE jar? It's such a big jar...She won't miss them..." Well, I do. I do miss them. Especially because nuts aren't cheap, y'all. The jar was fifteen bucks!

Sunday was my first improv rehearsal, and during our break I went to the bathroom to find a huge line. Weird. But, there was some giant sorority rush event happening in the building. Then, I saw a room where girls were streaming out with these delightful mozzarella and tomato sandwiches. I told the two girl improv understudies. We three, not dressed up in the slightest, walked into the room, took cookies and rice krispies, and I was about to go in for the sandwich kill when I overheard a girl saying, "Who are these random people just taking our food?!" and then I ran away.

I thought it was funny, and I didn't consider it stealing. There were hundreds of girls, and they all looked super dolled up in super richy clothes...but what I did was stealing. And that was wrong. Period.