today i just want someone to entertain me
i’m tired of being so fierce
i’m tired of being so friendly

Answers, please. Immediately if not sooner.

1. In the middle of the night - Dog howling, drier continually buzzing, or creeping scent of feline diarrhea?

2. Someone who openly dislikes you or someone who hates your guts and pretends you’re their best friend?

3. Better to date - Senor Mysterioso or Apallingly-Honest-Boy?

4. So busy you never have a chance to breathe, or stuck in a rut with nothing but time?

5. Hands full of papercuts or shoes full of poop?

6. Denmark or Poland?

7. Neat or On the Rocks?

8. 8-ball or 9-ball?

9. You win the vacation of your choice - Stockholm, Sydney, or Sri Lanka?

10. Boutros-Boutros Ghali or Yo-Yo Ma?

11. Let’s say a large, rottweiler-y kind of guy is eating Mac’n’Cheese. You are starving to death, but you hate Mac’n’Cheese. Also, you know full well that if you cave in and ask him for some, he will mock you for the rest of your life. Eat the dreaded, mocking-ridden Mac’n’Cheese, or starve to death with dignity?

12. U-District or Capitol Hill IHOP?

13. Is there anything you want to say to me, but haven’t had the chance? Here it is.

14. Um. Make up your own question. I just didn’t want to end with 13.

in the interest of even numbers i will make myself scarce

Congratulations, Mitch and Kim! As of January 15th, 2003, they are officially engaged to be married. Want to give them some love? You can do it here.

Here are some highlights from New Year’s, since I’ve finally stolen copies of all of the pictures from Neil.

1) Me and my inseparables (Ryan and Julia)
2) Our matching hair-jewelry - Star (me), Diva (Julia), and Love (Casie).
3) A brief suicidal (and then homicidal?) moment at the coffeeshop. Beware the terror of my deadly finger!
4) On our way to the party
5) A brief flashback to our No Exit days
6) Julia with her little sis (Myra) and new brother-in-law (Travis).
7) Golly Gee Whiz, was I pleased as punch to be home!
8) Unflattering Drunken Close-Ups of us at The Party.

In other happy news, I’ve been hired at Mad Science! I’ll only be able to do birthday parties and weekend events for the moment, since I’m still working M-F 9-5, but eventually I’ll get more classes and will be able to quit part/all of my current job. My first meeting with them is after work today, and I can’t wait!

Okay, quiz time.

enfuego

So, you weren’t with me on New Year’s? You wanna see how hot my friends and I looked? It’s okay, I’d wanna look too.

(Pictures are here.)

if you’re hurting so am i

Sunday morning and afternoon

A short, non-chronological list.

Newspapers and scones and coffee and eggs with stuff in them and mangoes and silly movies. Pillow fights. Listening to rain and not having to move my car and not having anywhere I have to be. Crazy, fucked-up little dreams that I’m only now starting to remember, in bits and pieces. Hangovers that you don’t mind, because they’re like sore muscles after a good workout and you feel like you’ve accomplished something. Coming outside into sunshine and really noticing it for once.

In short, a brief - and much-needed - respite from the shitstorm that has been my life recently. Naps. Snuggling with puppy.

Sunday Evening

On Sunday nights, there is always a great division among the masses. Some play Trivial Pursuit, and some play pool. Mostly, I’m a pool-playing mass-piece. However, the TP is going on in honor of her majesty Sjet, whose birthday it is. I could not miss that! Not ever! Alisha and Angie and Patrickopie and Ida are there. I don’t remember who wins. It takes a damn long time to get our food. Angie begins answering every question “Fish and Chips”.

Eventually, I go over to pool, just as Josh and The Girl are arriving for TP. PWe and HSM and Jaye and Safety Cowboy and le Pratt and CF and Frank and Ko (Coe?) and Simon are at pool when I get there. (I arrive just at Gratuitous Ass-Grab-Thirty.) Brooke shows up, and she and I seclude ourselves in a corner for one of our semi-annual “State of the Brooke and Freesia Union” conferences. We are looking very cute.

I get home, and spend a bit of quality time on the phone with Ernie. I don’t think there’s anyone who knows me like he does - we’ve been friends so long that we’ve kind of got each other figured out in a way that I didn’t previously know was possible. He has this innate way of not only seeing through the tangle that I create around myself, but of showing me how to see it too. He can make my most complicated of problems simple by showing me that the complications are all in my head. With one sentence, he totally alters the way I look at my life. This is why I love mah Ernie. Apparently I used to do the same thing for him. I talk to him on my cell phone in my room with the lights off. I feel kind of like we’re having a sleepover. I’m so tired that I fall asleep ON my cell phone. (That’s going to leave a mark.)

Monday Morning

I feel terrible. My head is throbbing and I am dizzy and nauseous, and it can NOT be because of the drink I had at pool. (I always get scotch, but I actually stepped back and drank it on the rocks this time. Just to be safe.) My head is swimming. I briefly consider staying home. I decide against it.

Monday Afternoon

Afternoonboss thinks I have a concussion. This is very interesting to me, because I’ve only told her part of the story. (You don’t want to admit to any more debaucherous behavior than you absolutely have to.) However, if she’s right, that would explain a LOT of things about the last half of the concert. Inconsistencies that I sort of just accepted at the time but which now are making me wonder. Things that happened that really, given what I’d done that night, should never have happened. I begin to feel like much less of a lightweight. Of course, I don’t actually go check it out, because I’m at work. Oh well. The body heals itself in marvelous ways.

I leave work early to go to an interview for Mad Science. On my way, I get my first ticket. EVER. Of my ENTIRE STINKING LIFE. Of course, parking across from the ferry terminal is always a sketchy situation at best, but I really manage to screw myself. (I spackle my own crack, as it were.) I get into a turn lane that is transit-only. As I’m trying to back out of it and into a lane I can legally be in, some asshole pulls in behind me and traps me there. So, I wait for the light and I turn - and then almost go the wrong way past a Do Not Enter sign. I am really flustered, so I take a moment, re-orient myself, and make the proper turn. I pull into a parking space and see the flashing lights of a motorcycle cop behind me. At this point, not only do I feel like shit, but I pretty much want to crawl into a hole and die. Luckily for me, the cop is a really nice older gentleman. He asks if I’ve ever gotten a ticket before - and when I tell him that I haven’t, he explains to me how best to go about the whole ticket process. He is very kind, and very respectful, and he makes a lot of encouraging comments about how occasionally, good safe drivers make mistakes while he happens to be watching. He leaves as I’m filling my meter. I have ten minutes until this interview, and I have completely lost my cool. I lock myself in the car and have a brief meltdown, while I re-apply the makeup that I’ve just lost. I can only thank my lucky stars that he didn’t turn on his siren. I have become a rather unpredictable bundle of raw nerves.

I make it to my interview on time. Brooke works there, and I am so glad to see her that I really have to restrain myself from leaping up to give her a hug the minute she steps through the door. We do a group interview, and then have a brief “teaching audition” in front of each other. The boys are sweet, but neither of them has a performance background, so I feel like that puts me in a pretty good place. Of course, I just have to figure out what the fuck to do with my job - as of this moment, I can’t even do Mad Science because of my prohibitive dayjob schedule. I need to get this situation figured out QUICK. It’s starting to drive me crazy. You know how when something is bad in your life, it’s easy to preoccupy yourself with it? Allow the bad-ness of it to seep into other parts of your world? I’m doing that right now, and the rest of my life is too good for me to allow myself to taint it. Something has got to change.

{Editor’s note: Gentle readers, I hope you all appreciate the formatting I’ve done on this post. Movable Type doesn’t give you the handy-dandy buttons when you’re using a Mac, so I had to do it all by hand. This is especially impressive when you consider how little will I have to do anything right now. See that? I just did it again!}

well i guess you scared me too

I had an incredible weekend. Now, of course, I need another weekend to recover from my weekend, and I am not going to get one. (That makes the baby jesus cry.)

Friday Night

Karaoke at the Empty Space. I knew it was going to be crazy, but I’m not quite expecting the level of insanity that I discover once I arrive. First, Ida and I go out for the ritual fish and chips (which I can’t actually have, due to the cleanse that I am still clinging to.) While there, we run into a Comte and a Jerry Lloyd, and then head over. Josef sings “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” which, after he gives in and takes it up the octave, is really lovely. (It’s fine low, but we can’t hear him very well.) HSM sings “Que Sera, Sera” while your favorite pickle (and mine!) does sign language for it. Alyssa Ford does White Rabbit. Some girl I’d never seen before does a lot of drunken screaming. The Safety Cowboy sings Elton John’s “Daniel” - and just let me say right now that he rocks it pretty hard. When he finishes, his lovely girlfriend “Rackmaster-J” hops right up on stage and plants a big one on him. This merits a partial standing ovation. At the very end of the evening, Tristam and I escape the debauchery to go smoke on the balcony, where we discuss the difference between being an actor and a technical theatre person. Not the difference in job per se, but the difference in essential personality makeup. PWe and Ida and HSM go out to La Casa Internationale de Pancakes, but I wuss out and go home. I had spent the entire night before talking to Kris, and I haven’t quite recovered. Plus, I know I have a big day coming.

Saturday Morning

I drag myself out of bed. I feel like crap on a cracker. I practically crawl to TPS, where I manage to be awake and lively and exciting for an hour and a half while teaching acting to 4-6th graders. We’re about to start a choral poem unit, using my favorite poem from when I was a child. It’s the first poem I ever memorized. It goes like this. *ahem*

Saturday Afternoon

I am doing laundry and drinking coffee and throwing clothes around my room. You know the concert quandry - you’re going to a concert, so you want to dress up. Kind of. But if you’re going to be dancing and drinking and crashing into people and standing on a concrete floor all night, you want to be comfy too. This dilemma always kills me - I have the same problem with parties. At one point, Daniel calls and says “I don’t know if this matters, but I’m going to be pretty casual.” Secretly, I am infinitely glad of this information. Primping continues.

Saturday Night

I arrive at Daniel’s place just as the EXITheatre company meeting is over. I get to see Dina and Ray and Mike and Jessica and Meg and Frankie, which is a total bonus to my already nutso weekend. D gives me a copy of a picture of our sexy hats at the EXIT holiday party. D and I have the “Bring stuff with us and be annoyed by it, or leave stuff at home and wish we had it?” debate. Eventually, we end up at the Alibi Room - I’ve never been here before, and it’s lovely. We have drinks with D’s friends Jim, Jeremy, and Jeremy (one less name for me to remember. Phew.) While here, I have two rather large shots of scotch, neat. After about 1 2/3 shots, I realize that all I’ve had to eat all day is half a bag of raw spinach that I ate for breakfast on my way to class. My stomach is not pleased. So, I order “the fastest food you have”, which ends up being crostini. D and I try to explain to his friends why “toilets” and “lame excuses” are funny. (I start to suspect that explaining inside jokes to outside people is a waste of time.) We finish our drinks and head over to the Showbox at about ten after eight. (Already, I am confused, since I’d somehow convinced myself the show started at eight. Oops.)

Once at the Showbox, we run into D’s friends Brady and Gillian. (They are newly dating, and disgustingly cute.) D and I cut in line and send the other boys to the back. I walk through the door, get my stamp - and before my very eyes, I watch as what was once a handful of playing cards turns into a large black smear on my wrist.

The cutters snag a table and wait for the rest of our entourage to arrive. (Okay, okay. They are really D’s entourage, and I have no claim to them. However, they were all damn fun people, and I like to delude myself that they were my entourage as well.) We drink whiskey sours. We watch a certain someone tie double-knots in the cherry stems with their tongue at break-neck speed. We make up disgusting pick-up lines that are appropriate to everyone’s line of work. My favorite of the night - Jim is a plumber. Daniel decides that the plumber’s pickup line is “Can I fill your crack with my spackle?” (Sorry, Z. I think this one has the getting sticky line beat - but only by a little.) We don’t know who the opening bands are. Jim and I decide that the first band might as well have been playing rockabye baby, for all the good it’s doing us. We order more whiskey sours. The second opening band comes on. We order more whiskey sours.

Finally, at ten thirty-something, Concrete Blonde comes onstage. They are incredible. Johnette Napolitano is definitely a force to be reckoned with onstage, and once she steps into the blue light, we are hers. D and I weave our way into the crowd to get closer to the stage. They play a lot of songs that I don’t know, and I don’t care. (They do a great version of “As Tears Go By”.) At this point, I start to not feel so well. I tap D’s shoulder and tell him that I’m heading back to the table. While wiggling through the crowd, I catch someone’s foot and pitch over - sort of sideways - and I wind up landing flat on my back - kind of head-first - on the concrete. (My neck and the back of my head are still really sore. It’s not a good idea. I do not recommend it.) I look up and see D’s hand stretched out to help me up - and I still can not decide if the expression on his face is one of concern or one of amusement. I take some “quality downtime” to recover from what I’m guessing simply amounted to too much alcohol and too many cigarettes in too short a period of time. (Smashing my head into the ground didn’t help matters any.) When I come back, I am totally rejuvenated and feeling fantastic, and I am ready for more. I get back on the dance floor in time to see - among other things - a Leonard Cohen song, a Bessie Smith Interlude, and “Joey” (not necessarily in that order.)

We luck out and find a cab right outside the Showbox. On the way back to D’s place (where I have left my car) I try to scavenge up enough energy to go over to the Dance Party at Benlau’s … and I fail. It’s nearly 2:00 in the morning and I’m still feeling too shaky to drive, much less dancedancedance. Plus, the evening has already been full and wonderful enough.

To be continued…

(Confidential to the owner of the L.E… sorry about the snow. It wasn’t intentional. Neither was punching you in the nose. I just thought you should know.)

and the other, gold

A brief note on the nature of longevity-

Some things do not last. My senior year of college, inspired by my friend Gloria, I bought myself a leopard-print umbrella. Yesterday, it finally gave up the ghost. It stays open, but it doesn’t stay UP. As I’m walking, it gradually sinks until I have an umbrella on my head. I figure it’s paid its dues.

Some things do last. My freshman year, I almost dated this guy named Kris. For several stupid reasons, (namely that we were a couple of scared kids), it never happened. About a week ago, I started thinking about him again. I realized I missed him - and so I emailed St. Olaf to try to find his contact information. We hadn’t spoken since graduation - but last night when he called me, it was like not a day had passed. There was none of that initial awkwardness that often happens when you haven’t talked to someone in a long time. I was able to be more frank with him, even after all this time, than I am with most of the people I deal with on a daily basis. And the best part of it was that we’ve both grown up a lot. We could never talk like this back then, because we freaked each other out. Four and a half hours later, when I finally fell asleep, I was happier than I’d been in a long time. It’s always so nice to (re)discover that there’s another person out there with whom you can actually be yourself.

(Thanks.)

hanging my head in shame

Just a brief moment of silence for the total idiot I’ve become in my old age. Despite going to high school here, I find that I am now officially totally unqualified to apply for this job. I have forgotten a lot of things in the past few years - that, and between AB Calculus and Integrated Science, I kinda got screwed. Sigh.

bon anniversaire

Today is my one-year anniversary at my job. I’ve never had a full-time job for this long before, so it’s kind of a landmark for me. Of course, I’m starting to look for something else, but it’s always good to acknowledge baby steps.

I feel like I’m diving into the abyss. I’m thinking maybe I’m going to ditch the whole office-work-thing entirely. I want to do something that no longer involves sitting at a desk and rotting my brain with computerwaves. I want to be active, and interact with people, and make a difference, and not be a minion.

This would be much easier if I didn’t have to do that whole keeping-my-nights-open-for-teaching-and-rehearsals thing. Goddammit.

Thank you for being helpful and supportive and all-around wacky and wonderful. My friends rule.

political action of the day

Please go here and sign the petition. The flash animation is cheesy, but the petition is important. Thanks.

rock and perverbial hard place

Ugh. Had a really long, emotional conversation with afternoonboss (whom I adore) yesterday. She essentially told me several things:

* I have worked really freaking hard at this job
* I have learned a lot
* I have put up with a lot
* I should be proud of what I’ve accomplished here

Interspersed with those things, we discussed these things:

* This job and I were never suited for each other
* I am miserable here, due to the fact that morningboss has made my life incredibly difficult for the past few months
* No matter how hard I work, my brain will never be brilliant at accounting, since I am just not analytical by nature
* I do not do well when I am under constant scrutiny
* I do not do well when I am constantly subjected to vocal disapproval
* I do not work well when I am placed in the position of mediator between two very emotionally immature people who do not know how to communicate in a rational fashion
* I promised to stay at least a year, and I have made good on that promise
* I need to work somewhere that makes me happy

Again, let me reiterate how much I love afternoonboss. She has been such a mentor to me, and I have learned a lot from her. She has also been very kind to me re: all the crappy dealings with morningboss. On the upside, BIGboss is also totally in my court, since she has been seriously burned by morningboss’s manic mood swings as well. However, I am now once again in the shitty and terrifying position of looking for work again. It sucks, and I hate it. So, now you are all going to take my poll.

I need a job that allows me autonomy and flexibility. I need a job that will let me be creative. I want to work with visual art or dance or music or theatre or nonprofits or children. I want either a meaningful job that will lead toward my eventual goal of teaching college acting, OR a fun and reasonably well-paying job that will tide me over and pay my bills until I eventually get into grad school.

On a totally separate note - Thanks, Z. Once again, you took care of me when I was feeling like my life was crap. We saw Strange Attractors (it’s great, and Shelley Reynolds is brilliant, as usual - as were the lighting designer and the costume-princess, my housemates!) and went to Dad Watson’s. We had fish and chips and I had a few stubbies and we flirted with the waitress and by the time I fell head-first into bed, I felt much better about everything. (Z - you’re a rockstar. Sshhhhhh shh sshhh sshhhh shh…)

eat, drink, and be merry

A couple more pictures of people who share my genetic material:

Chowing down with BR before my flight back to Seattle,
and the only Starbucks in the world that doesn’t take their own cards. (Go figure.)

angel in the centerfold

Buy your birthday girls 2003 calendar today!

distraction from interminable employment

So, I told Nonoko I thought she was hot. Right? It’s true. I’m just telling it how I see it. And she says …

nonoko: no way man, i am so butt ugly compared to you
nonoko: i didn’t tell you this before, but i really had issues with myself when I lived with this really hot girl named Freesia
nonoko: because how could someone be so hot?
nonoko: but then, I just realized that its just the way things are

and she sends me this picture, in a vain attempt to convince me that she’s not hot.

The conversation proceeds like this:

freesia: you are even hotter than my new boyfriend.
nonoko: ok, so I have this friend named adam, and its not a very good pic of him… but…
nonoko: he’s in the middle.
nonoko: then luke and I made this.

For the record, “Ricardo” up in the top right corner is Rich. He was my brother when I was Beth in A Lie of the Mind way back in 1998. I got to spit in his face. It was great.

there are faces i remember

Just a couple of new pictures to share with you today. I got to chat with Nonoko, my darling, who was my first UNCO roommate way back in 1998, and who I worship from afar. (She lives in SF.)

Here is Nonoko with her boyfriend Ted, and here is a picture of Rich, Ted, Nonoko, some guy, Luke Ball, and some other guy. Also, check out the Actors Anonymous link in my Theatre section. She’s kicking ass and taking names, and I miss her.

Hey, Nonoko - I almost forgot. If you happen to meet a guy named Kris Wralstad down in SF/Berkeley, have that bitch call me, all right?

affirmation anxiety disorder

God, what a weekend. I was privileged to do 14/48 again - the first time being a year and a half ago at the “14/48 All-Stars” show. (Someone’s sister went into labor and I got pulled in to replace her.) It was a fantastic couple of exhausting days, and despite an 8:00 show flub (stupid non-powdered surgical gloves!) I felt like it went well. Here’s Joe Boling’s complete rundown. He did a star turn himself as (my favorite of his two roles) the father of ZZ’s girlfriend (played by Imogen Love.) ZZ’s penis fell off in that play. That’s all I’ll say about that.

I got to be a Butoh Cultist Acolyte who has a run-in with an overamorous Butoh Cultist Mother Superior, as well as (essentially) a frumpier version of the cop from Fargo. Got to spend some quality time with Martha Austin and Jen Moon and Kevin Lawler and Mark Dias and Alyssa Keene and Tim Moore and Stacey Bush and Anthony Winkler, as well as Matt Fontaine and Dina Maugeri and Web Crowell and Tina Kunz and all the other crazies. (Kisses to you, pickle. You were lovely.)

Now, I’m back at work. Blech. I really wish I was still sleeping.

Oh, and Grunk gave me this picture, taken back last summer while Ernie was here. See that look of puzzled befuddlement? That’s how I feel RIGHT NOW.

postchristmasquizrepository

Okay, this one’s going on my front page. If you want to see the rest, hit MORE…

Which LOTR Actor Is Your Ideal Husband?
brought to you by Quizilla

What’s your sexual appeal?
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Who is your Ideal Lord of the Rings (male) Mate?
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What kind of typical high school character from a movie are you?
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What Lord of the Rings Male and Mood Do You Desire?
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boo ya, mthfka

Guess who’s Stage Managing for Edly’s FringeAct project? Woo hoo!

Apprenticing two acting classes. Auditioning at Schmee. Going to company meetings. Working full-time. Running errands. 14/48. Driving to Issaquah. Staying late. Getting up early. Since Christmas, I feel like my life is trapped in a frantic perpetual motion machine.

Also, here are some pictures you might enjoy!
Me being assaulted by the Massage-O-Matic
Me and Teddy - photoshopped by my mom to look like I’m going gray. Don’t ask.
Bobbi and Bauer giving me Simul-Five, my cousin Ben being bored
The wonders of the “Pushing a button and running like mad to make it to the couch before the camera goes off” method.

And how are you?

qotd

My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night;
but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!

-borrowed from the poster for Influence’s next show. I hear a rumor that Molly is in it.

won’t shut up ‘till you skip around the room

Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Mitcher,
Happy birthday to you!

And many more…

On an unrelated note, we played some rockin’ pool last night. PWe “lost [her] gay”, we dubbed “Rackmaster J”, we were distracted by each other’s racks, we practiced our politest curtsies. There was a lot of smacking of people’s afts. It’s so good to be home.

Also, I have an extra free ticket to see “Strange Attractors” at Empty Space on Friday at 8:00. Wanna come along?

last chance

We go to Mattoon, where I exchange the rather boxy taupe suit for a much sleeker black one. We stuff ourselves at QQ, a Chinese buffet. I hang out with Margaret, my mom’s best friend. She and her husband and daughter moved next door to us from Scotland when I was nine, and she’s been my second mother ever since. I dare you to figure out what the hell she’s saying when she’s talking the way she actually talks. (I understand it.)

While I’m repacking, my parents watch the Velvet Rut documentary and my part of the Mass Murder video. My dad says “Good job, sissy” and my mom says “Well, you made me feel sick to my stomach. I suppose that means you did a good job.”

you say goodbye, i say hello

C and I drive back home through the slush. It’s scary. I find out later that JLo cheerfully got us up, went to work, and was fired. Sigh.

We stop at the Monical’s Pizza in Paxton and stuff ourselves. She comes to my house and I show her lots of pictures, and then she goes. Bye, Casie.

Brandon and I go to Lord of the Rings together - I took him to the first one last Christmas, so we have to go. Jesus God, do I love Hot Elf. He just gets hotter and hotter and hotter every time I see him. I want to bear his hot elven children.

Mom makes chicken and yams and mashed potatoes and we all sit down to have a nice family dinner. It’s a lot more fun now than it used to be, back in the days when it was often a drudgery. Now it’s a treat to sit and chat with my family. Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

More sleep, in my old bedroom - which has been turned into my dad’s office. Luckily for me, all of my old high school theatre posters are still buried in the closet.

a whole decade

Ten years ago, we were all finishing up our IMSA applications. Weird.

We all drag our hungover asses out of bed, and have fruit pizza and mimosas and more ribbon jello. (The mimosas are spilled on the jello at one point. Hilarity ensues.) We don’t have set plans for the day, and as such we lose out on seeing Ernie for lunch. Also, I have convinced myself that we can meet up with Brooke, but she is already in Madison. D’oh.

Eventually, Casie and Jim and I head out to Chicago (after having to come back several times to retrieve things we’d forgotten.) We wander for a bit, going to Starbuck’s and checking out a mall. Mickey calls while we’re in the mall - we’d wanted to get together, but it wasn’t meant to be. I’d called him a couple of days earlier from Champaign, but by this time it was too late to see him there. He was on his way to Chicago, but we had so many people to see that it just didn’t work out. I felt shitty about it, but I couldn’t really talk to him for long, since I kept losing reception and we were going up and down escalators. It sucked. (Sorry, Mickey. I’m an inadvertently bad friend.)

We go to fado, where we meet Ryan, his parents, and his friend Trace (who also taught in Japan with him.) This is mostly Casie’s chance to see him, since I’ve already spent an evening with him, so she sits by him and I hang out at the other end of the table with his parents, whom I love. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, and we have a fun time. Finally, we have to go so we can see Ernie, and everyone says their goodbyes. It’s always hard. Trace says that she was glad to meet me, since she’s heard “so much” about me from Ryan. They both assure me it was all good - I don’t know whether I believe them. Ryan’s folks say they can’t wait to see me next Christmas, and give me big hugs. We set off, once again, into the FRIGIDITY which is Chicago in winter.

We get really freaking lost. We are very late. Finally, we show up at Gunder and Joanna’s. We look at their wedding pictures. I get to meet Ernie’s super-hot new girlfriend, whom I fully approve of. I’m pretty ecstatic that he’s finally found someone who deserves him.

Casie drops Jim off at the Red Line, and she and I crash overnight with JLo, whom I haven’t seen since college. This girl kicks ASS, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her until we arrived. (Also, her boyfriend Peter is a serious cutiepie.) Casie and I snuggle on a futon mattress under their tree. I have a lot of really weird dreams, mostly centered around our evening at Chili’s and other possible outcomes of that situation. Ways it could have gone deathly, terribly wrong. My subconscious is apparently very relieved at how everything actually panned out.

here i go, here i go, here i go again

We cook a lot. Tori comes over and takes me back to her place, where I am surprised to find a picture of me! (Also ex-boy and dogs.) I get to see a fleeting shot of her cat, who apparently is still pissed about a failed vet trip that wasn’t meant to be. When we get back, Casie is there! Casie has been my friend since summer of 1993, and she is the yin to my yang. (Or is it the other way around?) We are really nothing alike, and I couldn’t care less. I love her a LOT, and her new hairdo is pretty scorching.

J and C and I go to Caffe Kopi to do our resolutions. Casie gives me this gorgeous sparkly scarf. J gives C a stamp and wax, and I give C that humongo box of glitter (like the one PWe and I gave HSM for her birthday, but purple. HSM got the pink one, since she’s got this weird fear of purple.) Inside the glitter emporium are three glittery barrettes. J gets “Diva”, I get “Star”, and C gets “Love”. We take pictures of all of them. C nearly dies of a TB-esque coughing fit. Some nice guy takes a picture of us. C runs to the nearby bus station to pick up her friend Jim.

When we get home, Julia’s little sister Myra and Myra’s new hubby Travis are there! They are very cute, and they just got married a couple of weeks ago in Hawaii. We look at lots of pictures, and talk about the “Army Wife Handbook” that Myra has. We rename it the “Wifey manual”, which sounds better.

Dinner is complicated Moroccan chicken and pilaf, along with a lot of wine (we use those little wine glass markers, one of which looks like a snowman at a bar stool). We marvel at the rainbow jello. We drink ourselves silly.

We start getting ready, and I force Julia to wear her little red dress. (If I’m wearing my tiny little black dress, I will be damned if the diva wears something long.) However, she pulls out her dresses from NE and NEII first. I ask Neil if my dress is okay - I tell him that I need a second opinion. He gives me an emphatic yes, and says that if I want, he will give me opinions two through five. (He is a good boy.) Casie’s got this little satiny bustier thing that I have to tie up the back. Between the black dress, the shiny scarf, the fishnets, and the huge boots, I am feeling badass and ready to conquer the world. We all look hot. (I’ll show you pictures.)

We arrive at Kim and Al’s just as a big group of people are leaving. One of them is Zach, whom I haven’t seen in maybe five years. We hug and take a picture, and he leaves. One of this group is someone that, honestly, I was relieved not to have to talk to. Pretending like I’m happy (or even indifferent) to see him was quite a feat of will last year, and I’m perfectly happy to let the forced pleasantries slide. One of this group says that I win the award for the person she hasn’t seen in the longest.

I meet K.C., who was Mitch’s roommate for two years. I’ve been hearing stories about this guy since 1993, and I’m pretty happy to finally figure out who he is. Mike and Tami have brought me a present, which is so sweet of them - but of course then I feel kinda like a schmuck ‘cause I should’ve brought them something too. D’oh. Mike and I leave a couple of drunken voicemails for Mitch - and I remember why exactly it was that I loved hanging around with him so much in high school.

I see a whole lot of people I haven’t seen in years. We drink and smoke a lot. People play Grand Theft Auto. People watch Good Eats DVDs. It’s an odd evening, and I have a thoroughly wonderful time, and at 2:15 Neil and I make our way back.

and the other, gold

Julia and I wake up to the sounds of the whole family wandering around upstairs. For Christmas, I got Ryan one of those travel alarm clocks. Battery-powered, so I don’t have to deal with the wonders of Japanese electricity. It’s got a slot for a picture, and you can record a greeting. Julia and I go through four or five different versions, and finally record something for him (after a brief covert mission upstairs, during which time we tried not to let Ryan know that his dad was helping us find a teeny screwdriver.)

We brush our teeth on tiny Japanese hotel toothbrushes, using tiny tubes of Japanese hotel toothpaste. Ryan makes us his special “Ryan Tea”, which is basically Lipton with a lot of milk and sugar. We gorge ourselves on donuts, and even try this odd chestnut-flavored candy-type thing which apparently “matches” green tea. (He meant “goes with”, or “goes well with”, or “compliments”. Ryan no speak English good no more. Well, sort of. He still remembers weird little grammar rules that I never even knew to begin with.) The texture freaks me out, and after chasing Sean around the kitchen with mine, I give it to Julia. I gawk at Ryan’s Japanese cell phone, which plays a little movie of Mickey and Minnie Mouse dancing and kissing. We watch his mom expertly iron. I feel so warm and comfortable and happy and at home that I don’t want to leave.

We hug everyone goodbye, and we’re off again.

Julia and I miss our turn, and so we take the scenic route back to her place, which takes us probably 45 minutes longer than the initial trip. We go through Clinton, Illinois. I don’t recommend it.

We shop, and start the painstaking rainbow jello that J’s family always has. It takes two days. I buy a big bottle of Maker’s Mark. Tori and Theo come over - Theo and Neil sort through Theo’s Magic cards (I know, I know) and Tori and Julia’s Mom and J and I sit around and girltalk all night. We look at baby pictures of Neil (who was pretty tubby and cross-eyed, but so cute) and Julia, who looks just like her mom did at her age. It’s pretty freaky. Between Neil and Theo and me, we drink most of the bottle of Maker’s. We are in fine spirits by the end of the evening.

I sleep on the couch. The cat, “Poo”, is not pleased.

who among us has the wisdom to know
when a story has truly ended
and when it has simply paused

My family drops me off in Champaign at the cute little house where Julia lives with her boyfriend Neil. The whole way there, I am a nervous wreck. Every time we see a sign for how many miles are left, I shout it out to everyone in the car. My family is ready to have me committed. Every new years, my best high school friends and I get together. Every time we’re together, it’s just like old times. Every time we’re together, it’s like coming back to the realest, truest version of myself. And every time we’re together, we all freak out beforehand. It’s a vicious cycle.

Julie comes out to greet me, and there is much screaming and jumping up and down. My father makes an unnecessary comment about how skinny she is. (He doesn’t always understand what comments are acceptable to make and what comments are not. Especially concerning people’s weight. I love him anyway.) Then, he makes a remark about how he hopes that the fact that Julia goes to church will rub off on me. Julia and I look at each other, sigh, and go inside.

We watch a video of Julia singing “Una Voce Poco Fa” in high school, accompanied by a tiny little mini-orchestra which includes me, Ryan, and Casie. We all laugh at all the same spots that we laughed at the time. We make fun of our hair. We talk about how much we miss people, like Sukha and Mr. Running and Ross and Megan. We feel very old.

After awhile, we drive to Springfield, where we are going to visit Ryan and his family for the evening. The trek across the state is one that we’ve both made many, many times - but not together, and not for a long time. On the way, it occurs to me that I haven’t seen Ryan in almost three years, and I haven’t seen his family in exactly three years. This just makes me more nervous. When we turn onto his culdesac, we freak out. I feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach. We hold hands as we ring the doorbell.

Sean, his younger brother, opens the door. The last 3 years have turned Sean into a grownup. He’s older now than Ryan and Julia and Casie and I were the last time we were all in Springfield together, and that’s weird enough. Then, Ryan comes to the door, and he is just exactly the same. I hug him, and he notices that Julia and I are both wearing huge boots (which makes us both over six feet tall.) We take them off.

We hang out at the house for awhile, listening to music and telling old stories. Eventually, we go to Chili’s, where I order a “Bloomin’ Onion” and then feel like an idiot when I realize that we are not at Outback. I ignore the glare I am getting from the waiter, and change my order to an “Awesome Blossom”, which they actually serve.

We start drinking margaritas and talking, and conversation rolls around to January of 1997. Let me backtrack - in December of 1995, we were all cast in a high school production of No Exit. This is how we met, and was the first of several theatrical endeavors we undertook together. The three of us spent all 2nd semester of our senior year together, and that was where this strange twisted relationship began. In January of 1996 we started rehearsing it. In January of 1997, we did it again. I was taking Interim off, because I hated college and didn’t think I was going to go back. We came to Augustana, where Julia was going to school at the time, and we revamped it. We got rid of all the showy, self-indulgent decisions the original director had made, and we really made it our own. It was far more realistic, and significantly darker than the first version. This was compounded by the fact that the bizarre love triangle had pretty much gotten too tangled to fix, and there was a metric assload of resentment floating in the air. Any time NEII comes up, we get tense, we talk in circles, we don’t ever tell each other the full truth.

I have had just about enough. I have had a bit of margarita, and I am remembering the resolution I made last year. (We all do our resolutions together every new years … it’s a thing. You know.) I made this resolution not to be an innocent bystander in my own life anymore. To take things into my own hands instead of just watching. And frankly, I am sick of this secretive, self-righteous bullshit. I start telling my side of the story the way it really happened - and once I get started, I find that I am unable to stop. Julia’s jaw drops, and Ryan starts to smile in spite of himself, and for a brief moment I think I’ve gone too far. But then I look back up and see that they don’t want me to stop, and so I don’t. Every once in awhile, I look to Ryan - checking to make sure that he’s okay with what I’m spilling, because a lot of it deals directly with him. I interpret his reactions to mean that I should continue, so I do. Ryan occasionally corrects me, and Julia occasionally asks questions, and we are still going strong when the restaurant closes.

We drive back to Ryan’s parents’ house, and hide in the basement. Ryan digs out old mixes that we made for each other, and we say a lot of the things that we’ve all been afraid to admit (to ourselves or each other) for the last seven years. Ryan sings Julia his father’s version of “Make Up My Heart”. Several times, I feel like we should stop, but the momentum just keeps us going until it’s not so early in the morning anymore. The funny thing is, if any of us had done anything differently, we wouldn’t still be together like we are. We probably wouldn’t still be friends, and so it seems like all of this might have been a necessary evil to get us where we are today. What a tangled web we weave.

Julia and I snuggle up on the fold-out couch to go to sleep. Ryan tucks us in. I’m 18 all over again.

land’o’lakes

Back to Minnesota, to my aunt and uncle’s house. Here, I get to play with Bobbi, the black lab/chow mix, and Bauer (as in Ed E. Bauer), the giant chocolate lab stud dog with the gifreakingnormous head. There are also two cats, Bonsai and Squishy (who only has half a tail) and a spastic black bunny named Thumper. For awhile, Bauer traps Squishy between his huge paws and licks her until she is sticky and rumpled-looking. Everyone takes pictures.

We eat at this funny little placed called the Fort Saloon. Brandon and I order Diet Dr. Peppers, and after discovering that they taste funny, we look on the bottom and see that they expired about two years ago. Since we are the only people there, we have full command of the jukebox. We order fried/breaded cauliflower, which my college friends used to call “Smurf Brains”.

I eat about a gallon of Pebberner, the Danish pepper cookies that my mom’s family makes every christmas. This sustains me through two more days of driving, aaaaaaall the way back to Illinois.

Oh, and if you should get a chance, stay at Microtel. Damn, those hotels are nice.

skip around the room, skip around the room

It is Brandon’s birthday. He opens his presents and pretends not to be disappointed in what he got. (He is, however, definitely not an actor.) We get in the car and drive to Fargo, where my cousin’s 4 year old daughter shows me her Barbie anthology, and makes me point out all the barbies that her mommy and I played with when we were her age. She goes to the bathroom, and brings me her mother’s jewelry box to keep me from being bored while she’s gone.

My uncle Jim is just as nutty as ever. He made me a celebrity in college because he and his roommate had an ice rink in their dorm room. Also a working ferris wheel. These stories had become myth by the time I arrived, and my connection to them was always shocking to people.

There is a brief dinner debacle. Baked beans don’t really bake, so they are put in the blender. Sloppy joe mix is overspiced, so it is passed off as taco meat. Much food-based hilarity ensues, while my mother patiently eats the screwed-up food and leaves the yummy ribs for everyone else. Aah, my family.

christ-mas

Scott and new fiancee Carey are on their way. We tell them not to hurry, and they say “Oop, too late. The cruise has already been set!” I eat way too many of my (now deceased) Grandma’s Moco Squares, which are the centerpiece of every christmas. Carey shows off the perfect engagement ring and tells the story of Scott’s perfect proposal, including flowers and carriage ride. Uncle Doug helps me look for used flugelhorns online. We eat hot spiced fruit. My family buys me a 3-piece taupe suit. We play Yahtzee -which was Grandma’s game - and my mom jokes that Grandma is looking over Scott’s shoulder. (He was always her favorite.) At one point, Scott says “Come on, Grandma! Get my fiancee a yahtzee!”, and Carey rolls a yahtzee. Ryan and Nia make little handprints on foggy windows. A group goes ice-fishing on the lake in the backyard. (It is, after all, Minnesota - the land of 1000 lakes.) We all watch the Veggie tales sing-along video that one of the little ones got for Christmas, and the adults all sing along while the kids get bored and go off to do something else. (I have to agree with Liz here that the pirates who don’t do anything are pretty stinking funny. Also, the vegetable who ate the bunny, and the operetta about a hairbrush.)

we wish you a merry

We arrive at my Uncle Jim’s and Aunt Corrine’s in the afternoon. My cousin Donavan does a little skit for us involving my cousin Scott’s and my matching cell phones. Little cousin Ryan (who is about 2) looks just like my friend Ryan must have looked as a child. Luke (his little brother) has inhumanly huge eyes and is the best-tempered baby I’ve ever seen. His parents marvel at the fact that he appears to be completely in love with me, and I get to hold him pretty much the whole time I’m there. My cousin Tiim’s baby Nia is gorgeous but apparently hates women, and screams “No! No!” any time a female relative even looks at her.

and so it begins

Krebsie picks me up at 4:00 in the morning. I haven’t managed to finish cleaning the bathroom (I ran out of cleaning shtuff) or the living room. I leave apologetic notes for the housemates and drag my eight metric tons of crap down to his car. We smoke cloves out the moonroof all the way to the airport, where I have to wait in line for FORTY-FIVE MINUTES before I can check in. While waiting for my flight, I watch a CNN Airport Network Newsbrief that says that in a recent poll, the vast majority of democrats said that they would like to see Hillary Clinton in office next. I find this amusing. I get on the plane and sleep.

In Denver, I buy Mitch yet another “#1 Grandpa” keyring. I text message him about it, and he calls (which keeps me from being bored, since my flight is delayed almost two hours.) He says that he sent me a birthday present, but apparently I just missed it. (Later, I find out that it arrived the day I left.)

2 little girls (sisters, I assume) in matching braids sing “I’ve had the time of my life” and perform a dance they’ve obviously choreographed for special occasions. It involves a lot of spinning, and every time the spinning happens they forget the words. This is all for the benefit of 2 good-looking high school boys (who are brothers). They occasionally look up and smile, but are mostly interested in taking care of their mother, who is partially paralyzed.

I leave several messages for my folks to tell them I’ve been delayed, but apparently they’ve already left to drive the 2 1/2 hours from home to the airport. D’oh.

I get on the airplane, I sleep.

I arrive in Indianapolis - Brandon is huge. I mean, freaking huge. He was big last year, he is even bigger now. He’s tall and skinny and muscly and has a deep Barry White as a teenager kind of voice, and it freaks me out. However, he still laughs like he did when he was a baby, so all is not lost.

I go home to Charleston. I repack. I sleep.

Then we drive for TWO SOLID DAYS, during which time my family laughs at my gas station diet of Gatorade and Teriyaki Beef Jerky.

calm before the story

I get up at the butt-crack of dawn to get things ready. I have to rush to Vet #1 to get Piper’s shots updated and her glands cleaned and her worming check done. Then, I have to rush to Petco to try to get her food to send with her for boarding. They don’t have it. I buy a lot of guilt-toys and guilt-treats. Then, I go to Albertson’s and get her food. Then I rush to Vet #2, where she is being boarded. (By this time, I’ve been everywhere from Aurora and 130th all the way down to SODO.) I can’t seem to bring myself to give her to the vet techs, and have this brief wiggins about the fact that I’m giving my dog to someone else.

I have an unpleasant encounter with a homeless man at the SODO Burger King.

I ditch out on an audition I was supposed to attend, because I just don’t have enough done yet.

I go home, and I pack. I am up aaaaaaall night, packing frantically and making mixes. My high school friends and I always give each other mixes as presents, and these are very carefully crafted works of art. There is a distinct science to the making of a mix the way we do it, and … well, there’s a whole bit about it in the movie “High Fidelity”. Watch that.

The CDs for this mix are spread out all over the living room floor. I’d originally intended to help PWe clean before I left, but I also left the all-important mixmaking to the last minute. Procrastination strikes again! About halfway through, I realize that I’ve forgotten to go to Laughing Buddha to get my conch piercing replaced. I call them, and they tell me that they’d be open for half an hour - and that they’d wait for me, if I liked. I say “You rule!” and split, leaving my Compact Carnage all over the place.

While in Capitol Hill, I buy myself a new ring (to replace the one that my ex-housemates flushed down the toilet) from that nice silver-selling lady at her little kiosk in Broadway Market. I buy myself a necklace I’d been drooling over for months (75% off! Woo!) at Urban Outfitters. I get Julia this gorgeous tin antique-y advertisement thing that has Marilyn Monroe on it from the cute gothboy working at Zen. (You know, that place that used to be the Electric Company or whatever. In Broadway Market. Y’know?) At this point, I am about to leave, having been thrice distracted from the coming home and packing that I know is imminent. However, at the last minute I duck into that little international shop, and find this cd of African Lullabies.

Let me back up a minute - my friend Megan just got this amazing fellowship to travel the world for a year and study lullabies, and for the past few months she’d been living in these tiny little villages in Africa. I go up to check out, and the woman who works there plays almost the whole CD for me. She knows most of the vocalists, and used to sing several of the lullabies to her own children. We have the most incredible conversation, and I leave the place wondering if I can bear to give the CD up. (I still have it. I’m weak.)

I get home and proceed to clean and pack ALL NIGHT LONG. I haven’t pulled an all-nighter in a long time, and I’d forgotten how not fun they are.

without a dope beat to step to

Holy moly has it been a long time since my last post. Okay. I’m going to post about almost every day of my long, wonderful time away from Seattle. This might take a while. Oh - and eventually, I’ll probably go back through and put in links to everyone, but at the moment I just don’t care that much.