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.

Now Is not Always the Time to Win

Can you imagine how terrible life would be if you were successful at everything? Whatever you were interested in at five years old would be your career right now. I would be a world class grocery store toy aisle designer.

I stretched myself too thin this weekend. I got stuck in bus after bus jam after the informational meeting for a new play festival. I showed up later than I wanted to be for an ensemble audition. 12th on the waitlist. I spent most of the day hovering around the theatre, and when suddenly a slot opened and yes, actually, we were all the way to my number, I was barely prepared. I scuttled in, performed my monologue, left relieved--but much too tired to work on the play contest until this morning. If I had just picked one thing to do I might have done that one thing well.

This morning at 7 AM that's how I felt. I wrote in quiet Sunday sunbeams. I finished the piece hastily and sent it in 2 minutes shy of the 9 AM deadline. Not my best work. But every submission gets a pair of comp tickets to an upcoming preview show. Might as well.

I didn't feel bad though. Ultimately I'm glad I did both because each one gave me a personal victory. Just finishing things is, like, the best you can feel. I've said that before. Honestly, I think I was happier when I sent off my glad school apps than when I got accepted, certainly than when I graduated.

My friend Heart says "Failure is information," which is just peachy. I think of an interview from Jenna Fischer. She explained how she worked in Hollywood for eight years before landing anything tangible. How she had to learn victory for herself just by playing outside her box in an audition--even when she didn't land the gig. My victory was just doing the thing with no more than a minute's notice.  There's something pure and honey-like about knowing the opportunities we don't get go to someone else who needs them more.

Post-Victory Breakfast in Two Parts

Famed Donuts

Jamin & Dizz with swanky coffee. Please note my homemade pb&j poptart.

"This is a dense scone."--Dizz

MLK

I live in an extremely beautiful place. Yesterday I walked downtown, then around the lake. I was gone for a couple hours and wasn't even thinking about it. It was perfect fall weather--sun hiding under thin grey clouds, a nip in the air, but avoided with a simple sweater. There was so much life on the main street--visitors in victory and white wick tees. Yesterday morning was the Phoenix marathon. People celebrated on the patio of the Mediterranean cafe, smiled with beers at the New Orleans-themed joint. A woman limped happily into the used book store. I was nostalgic for my victory day. I showered all the salt off my body in North Carolina. Nac and I laid in bed watching Mad Men and eating Ben and Jerry's from cartons. Everything was slow. A sunset on Shell Island is the desktop on this computer.

I made a big bowl of vodka pasta at 9 PM last night and ate it slowly while watching Hitchcock's Spellbound. Like a child, I recognized today would be a holiday, and I wanted to stay up past my bedtime. I examined my list of letters I needed to write, tuned in to The Mountain Goats, and got out my sharpees. I remembered Dr. King and some of the best things he said. I remembered my best friends and some of the best things they've said.

I am gonna make it through this year
if it kills me.

Victory Yatches

Favies! Fall 2010

Before my writing clinic I couldn't get the projector to work with the computer and the sound was crazy, and I was like "I suck at technology. I just won't do it." BUT GUESS WHAT? I took a breath and messed with cables and buttons and instructions and I FIGURED IT OUT. This is a MASSIVE victory. Do things you can't do! It is so great! And I got to show the students a slam poem before I started the clinic! Because the projector worked! It was semi-raunchy at the end which I forgot and it was really awkward...BUT VICTORY IS VICTORY!

A stranger with a doorkey explaining 'I'm just visiting.'