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Pre-Wedding Cake, October 2010

This week has been a hard week, and it's not over yet. I am falling apart with physical ailments--also bleeding. How does it all happen at once? My stomach is splotchy, the peel flakes fall onto everything. Crispy snow.

Two nights ago I stayed up very late. I stayed up very late because I had musical rehearsal until nine, and then I went to a longform jam at a seedy pizza bar until eleven, and then I stayed at said seedy place past midnight telling a very patient man about my current quandary: attempt to teach English in the land of seaweed wrapped rice paddies or attempt to be taught more English in the land of cacti and warm winters.

When I arrived home, everything was very still besides my throbbing feet. I wrapped them with socks and tightly-tied sneakers to pull the swelling (like Jay Sean) down, down, down, down, down. I threw a pillow on the ground and elevated the kickers to my bed. The floor was unkind, and I would sleep twenty minutes then wake then sleep then wake. I whined aloud to no one. "This is Gethsemane" I knew.

Today in the acting seminar I am auditing, we had to one by one enter the space in staccato and leave in legato. I walked carefully in one straight line across the theatre. I imagined graduate school at the Exit sign. I was scared and small--fingers jittered STACCATO STACCATO STACCATO. My eyes darted, jerked. Stopped. Then

one
final
JUT
of my forearms. Hands outstretched and
open
waiting for Peace to fall down from the canned lights.
Slowly,
I walked. Oh. So. Full.
In a grand swandive, my right arm swooped around my body and landed on my heart.
L E G A T O.
My legs carried me smoothly forward.

When I was done, there was a faint clapping--an awkward "I shouldn't be clapping at a dumb exercise, but my hands made me clap" clapping. My hopes and fears were in that dumb exercise. My hopes and fears are West.

I will be attending graduate school in Arizona this fall.

An Open Letter to the Former Theme Park Worker on Amtrak I Met When I Was in Fourth Grade

Dear Former Theme Park Worker on Amtrak I Met When I Was in Fourth Grade,

In snowy December, my family was traveling across the Rocky Mountains back from California. You were in our food car on New Years. I don't remember if you worked for Amtrak or if you were a fellow passenger. Regardless, you ended up chatting to me about how you worked at Six Flags for a few summers. To me, you seemed like a celebrity, and I was confused about how you ended up on the train.

I asked if I would ever have a chance to be a character at Six Flags, and you said, "Yeah! You totally could!" which gave me great confidence. You told me the characters you had been--Tweety, Pepe, etc. My mom asked about the weather, "Well, gee, aren't you hot in those big suits?"

You considered. You nodded pensively and said, "You know, it's really hard when it's a cool day because then you are kind of trying to move slowly and not break a sweat, but if it's just a horrible one-hundred degree day, you know you're gonna be drenched no matter what you do, so you might as well get it over with and have fun."

Anyway, thanks.

Love,
Alice

Under the Ocean, Over the Stars

Goals for This Week:

1. Do not burn my tongue on any hot liquids.
2. Remember that every option is actually the best, no doors actually close, and the good rolls on forever and ever.

Our last night at the resort, Nac fell asleep very early. I changed into pajamas and quietly brushed my teeth in the kitchenette. We left the balcony door open all weekend--letting the salt water smell and the waves' chops float in. I closed the door for the night and tip-toed to my bed. But, then, I rethought, gathered up the comforter, and went back to the living room. I reopened the balcony sliding door to a huge whoosh of North Carolina breeze. I pushed the sofa from the middle of the room to the balcony's opening.

I curled up and watched the moon creep across the sky.

I dreamed I was under the ocean. Sea shells. I woke up to the pink just beginning to peek over the horizon. I stretched my legs, squinty-eyed shuffled outside, and watched the puddle of tangerine lift itself into the day.

Eventually Nac woke up and joined me. Eating Life in our deck chairs, he asked, "So, how was sleeping on the beach?"

Snap Back to Reality

It's hard to believe I earned this medal one week ago when I currently feel like a slug made out of Nutella.


The view from our resort balcony last week!

Yep. Eight straight spoonfuls and three Nutella scones.

Other Weird Dichotomies of the Day:
-Grinning ear to ear teaching my Intro Improv class even when someone referenced Chris Brown and I was mentally fixated on battered women for a few minutes.
-Intensely, diligently practicing harmonies in my car for a musical about spontaneous middle schoolers.
-Making choices about grad school in Arizona when snow is on the ground.
-Praying for Peace in church and watching a video of an Eminem impression several times this morning.

Knees weak, arms are heavy,
vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti,
but on the surface he looks calm and ready.

Screen Too Thin

Kevin Spacey only follows eleven people on Twitter.
One of those people is John Stamos.

A. Isn't that weird? That talented man chose the ex-Full House heart-throb to keep up with? Out of all the people on this earth?
B. Isn't it weird that I know this? That I, currently singing along to "Brand New Colony," currently rocking chipped pink toenail polish, currently in Illinois, currently a teacher, lover, sister, pray-er can find out what the star of American Beauty is interested in? It takes all of thirty seconds and two mouse clicks to know.


Yatchface, Spring 2010, Photo by Pookie

When I hold the contents of the world on my lap,
which I do daily,
it doesn't seem heavy.
But it really is.
It really is so heavy--although my attention is pulled into three million different directions.
On CNN, the newsfeed announced, "VICTORIA BECKHAM PREGNANT"
over footage of a Japanese woman
alone, destroyed by waves.
When I hold the contents of the world in my lap,
the screen seems too thin,
my confidence too low,
the words too many,
the trials too many,
the colors too many,
and still, I do
hold the contents of the world on my lap.

I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick where you will sit and contemplate your day.

I Saw Sparks

When I was in first grade I went to a roller skating party at a local Catholic church. A bunch of us kids went right after school. Pretty basic--you skate around the gym to music, and there is a table for candy if that's your bag. My dad gave me two quarters in case I wanted a treat.

I was shocked by his gift. The previous day, my sister and I were with him on an errand, and when one of us asked for something (a movie from Blockbuster? ice cream?) He explained he didn't have the money. He opened his wallet, and there was a ten, a five, and two ones in it. Seventeen measly dollars. My eyes filled out my face. I was six, but I knew a family needed more than seventeen bucks to get by.

I knew I would not spend the fifty cents. I skated around with friends and when everyone stopped for Reese's and Kit Kats, I pushed down into my overall pockets and felt for the sleeping coins. One was gone. GONE. I immediately felt tears welling up in my eyes. I gathered my friends and told them, "Look. My family has seventeen dollars. I lost our only quarter. I'm so worried. We must find the quarter!" They nodded woefully and split up. We rolled around staring at the floor. Must find the quarter. Must find it.

After about two minutes everyone else gave up, but I spent the remainder of the party searching. When the event was over, the skates came off, and I regretfully told my dad the news. "I'm sorry," I wimpered. He tried to assure me it was okay--the quarters were for candy anyway. But I knew he was just trying to make me feel better. I knew the truth.

The next morning the missing quarter was taped up to the doorway of the kitchen. It had been deep in my pocket the whole time. I felt relieved.


Me & Poppa, August 2010, Farmer's Market

Here's the takeaway from that story:

1. Not only did the lost become found and all was well,
2. All was actually well the entire time. Because my family was not going to suffer from losing a quarter--no matter how much I believed it to be so.
3. That is how it always is. Yes, things should work out how they should work out, but ultimately the scope of "things" is much farther and wider than we can possibly imagine.
4. How often are we missing the party to rollerskate with eyes glued to the wooden gymnasium floor?

But I promise you this,
I'll always look out for you.
That's what I'll do.

23

Slou and Me--Reunion 2009, Oklahoma

I need to learn how to take a compliment. How is it that I still can't seem to do it right? I don't even know what "right" is! I could probably execute it if I finally figured out what I am supposed to say.

I also have a crazy craving for McDonald's sweet and sour sauce right now. What would I eat it with besides chicken nuggets? That sauce is totally obsolete to a vegetarian. Bummer.

I know he didn't have the answers all the time,
but you can't tell me that you've never told a lie.

We're almost twenty-three, and you're still mad at me.
So much that I said to you, and I want to take it back now.