Monday, April 30, 2007

These kids are so much younger than me

The cast party was Friday, the Dance Commanders' final concert was on Saturday, and the Ron n' Randy Intern Picnic was tonight. On Tuesday is a cocktail extravaganza at Cousin Anna's and a potential sleepover towards the end of the week.

Next Monday, thirty percent of the town will be gone after graduation and finals are done.

Most of them can afford to prenostalgically cram all the fun they possibly can into a week before three months are over and they get up and do it again. It's a sick joke, though, to go through the motions when I know that this could be the last time I'll ever see them. Conversations with acquaintances are motivated by a desperate need to affirm meaningful friendship, but once the hangover is gone, the only confirmation is usually a shadowy memory of a moment of kindness. I've already said good-bye to two of my favorite co-workers. Relationships are limited, flirtations halted, but despite all that you still want...something.

Thank God for Facebook, I guess.

Sunday, April 29, 2007

That which gums the ankle

Those involved in speech and debate/forensics in high school--or college even--are aware of the complex relationship that can evolve between duo interpretaion partners, most especially when it's a male and female. You spend enough time in rehearsal that other people would spend dating; you're both committed to the common cause of analyzing a piece of literature and acting it out. You constantly are evaluating and judging each other and have to be as equally supportive and suggestive. There is almost always sexual tension, one-sided or reciprocal, regardless of preference or who may already be in a relationship.

The one-acts went up this past week, with Out the Window on Friday. Dan and I got nervous towards the end of the process, so we put in some extra hours and ended up with something beautiful. Or at least better than what we had originally. Or at least maybe a passing grade for Jessica.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Clocks

Did you know that you can light dandelion fluff on fire? It sparkles, fades, and then dies. If you have a bundle, the flame spreads to each one, sharing the glints before collapsing in wisps of smoke.

I've never been given to pyromaniacal tendencies, and sometimes I'd rather cliche'dly run through fields of dead dandelions than ignite them. But I can see how the aforementioned could become addicting.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Futures are for dweebs.

The 32nd Annual Theatre Banquet yesterday evening certainly surpassed all my expectations with flying unicorns. It was a rockin'-sockin' time complete with pre- and post- parties which I spent with my dearest friends here who shaped my life and shared my passions.

Rachel called me today and said that she's decided to drop out of the program at Catholic University in Washington DC and moving back to Missouri. She'll probably re-enroll with Nick at Truman to the MAE program, try to get a job as a RCP advisor and after two years teach community college. So this means that I won't be moving in with her in Washington, living there, working, trying to save money, or auditioning because it's closer to New York than Kirskville is, after all. My two most feasible options are either to stay here or move back home to St. Louis as well.

I'm not angry. Just kind of...blank.

But the theatre banquet really kicked ass.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Moral of the Story: Don't go barefoot.

My dad had a lifetime supply of canned pineapple at his house.

I was talking about cereals with a friend today, and I remembered that we ate granola at my dad's house for breakfast almost every time we visited. When he cooked Ramen for lunch, he taught us to appreciate not only the finer points of the thrifty cuisine, but how fascinating it was when the crispy block of noodles metamorphosed into the curly mess. We baked the pepperoni pizzas we got at Aldi's and watched through the oven window as the edges of the pepperonis curled up and made a little bowl with residual grease in the center. In one of our monthly Charlie Brown Encyclopedias, we read about different kinds of holidays, so one winter we "celebrated" both Christmas and Passover. He made sure I got my Little Mermaid cake that I desperately wanted for my seventh birthday. And at every meal on the side was pineapple, my favorite fruit, in rings or bits or puree.

He lived with my grandmother, trying to get back on his feet after the divorce two years ago had financially and emotionally massacred him. My brother and I were allowed to see him every other weekend and he could share us on holidays. The drop-off/pick up point was the parking lot of a Lion's Choice halfway between the apartments.

My dad grew morning glories in the backyard area of my grandmother's townhouse. She grew strawberries and tomatoes, covering them in netting so the rabbits wouldn't get to them. Once while digging she unearthed a little brown porcelain bunny figurine, which she gave to me. Rabbits were my favorite animal.

I kept my favorite pair of shoes there: a psychedelic pair of Nickelodeon Keds. We had piles of books donated from relatives and a stack of newspaper comic strips to read. My dad bought workbooks from the education store and made us practice our handwriting, spelling, and math skills. He took us on nature walks around the complex. One winter, the temperatures dropped suddenly and the water in the fountain froze solid in midspurt. One spring, he crushed a cheerio on the sidewalk when we began a walk so when we returned there would be ants for us to look at. On clear nights, we would go out with our telescopes and pick out stars and constellations. When I lost a tooth, my grandmother made a star-shaped pillow with a pocket for me to put it in so it wouldn't get lost before the Tooth Fairy could get to it. But the crowning glory was that he had one of those slip and slide things--where you run, bellyflop onto the wet plastic landing strip, and slide through the crocodile's mouth. I forgot what it was called.

After awhile, visitation rights shifted and we weren't allowed to see him anymore, just visit my grandmother. My brother and I mostly stuck to ourselves, reading the comics and picking fights and skipping our Skip-It outside. One summer day we set up the crocodile slide and went a few rounds before I got a splinter in my foot. My grandmother tried to get it out but I wouldn't let her get close enough. She took us back to our mom's, since it would violate the restraining order if my dad had any contact with us.

My mom was laying out at the pool when we reached her. She took us back to the house and prodded the splinter out after lots of tears, protests, and hydrogen peroxide. We weren't able to go back to my grandmother's house that day. There were only a few times after that incident that we were still allowed to visit her at all. My mom got them deemed unsuitable to care for us and received full custody.

Needless to say, I consumed significantly less pineapple from that day forth.

My grandmother is well into her eighties and in a nursing home. She's slowly losing her marbles one by one, but it's a riot to hear her interact with my dad when he makes his obligatory visits and I'm with them. She grinds on his nerves so much. I've been seeing him secretly since I was fourteen; my brother visiting him for about three years before that. My mom found out about my brother, and though I know she suspects, hasn't been able to prove anything with me. I've lied to keep up the ruse. It would break her heart.

Getting a little rusty with that scythe there, aren't we?

The closest thing I've had to a near-death experience was in a lesbian bar on Christian's birthday.

I'd had a beer at his house, a few at the Central West End Welsh pub that the group went to first, and a buttery nipple shot with Rachel at the gay bar that we went to second. It was the first gay bar I'd ever been to (or Welsh pub, for that matter). I wasn't anywhere near drunk when we headed across the street to the lesbian bar after they had last call. People were dancing, as opposed to trying to impress each other, and it was a more diverse group instead of Rachel and I being the only skirts. I headed straight to the floor with Micah and Shane for a blissful half hour of groove-thing-shaking.

The air was smoky and the sweat was stifling. The cigarettes I had a minute ago with the rest of the group at the table weren't helping either. I started recognizing the feeling I used to get in high school when I'd go running in July--lightheadedness, tunnel vision. Blackness. I tried to get one of their attention. The most important thing was to focus on the empty glass of vodka on the table and regain my sight. My thoughts were scattered in desperate blobs. I couldn't believe that this was how I'd go. I resigned myself to it. If it happened, it happened. I wondered what my mom would think. Goodbye, cruel world.

I woke up on the floor. Shane brought me a glass of water. A short-haired bulldozer of a gal--I'm assuming it was the bouncer--told me that I either had to sit in a chair or go. We went. My mom never found out.

I must lead a pretty charmed life if this is the closest I've gotten. I wonder if there are a few near-misses hidden away in the fabric of time. I don't know what's made me think of this, except for that I learned today that I won't be able to do the drag show at the PRISM dance after all. I've been learning a dance to "Luck Be A Lady." The Frank Sinatra version. It would have been excellent.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Hello, My Name is Clytemenestra Hermione Nebuchadnezzar

I met a guy named Titus at work a few days ago. Seriously. It was on his credit card. I asked him if it was for real, and he said yes, then he asked me my name, and when I told him it was Meredith he sounded a little disappointed.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

One is Pewter; the Other, Fool's Gold

A week ago, a female pal of mine asked if I wanted to have lunch or dinner, seeing that it was Easter and we had mostly nothing else to do. Sounds like fun, sure, so we agreed that I would cook spaghetti in my apartment, she would pick me up, we'd go to her dorm and combine the noodles with her sauce and watch Animal Planet with her suitemate at 7. She suggested I bring Jared, but I asked and he had rehearsal. Later on in the day, I talked to another mutual friend of ours who was feeling a little neglected and decided to invite him instead. He felt awkward about going to the dorms, so figured, hell, I have cable, let's have it at my house. I told her that, and then she said that we probably wouldn't want to all sit around and watch TV, and her suitemate might feel awkward. And despite my insistence otherwise, she cancelled the whole thing. So I ate with my other friend instead.

I learned later that she was mad at me because she wanted it to be more of a girl's night, a one-on-one thing. Which doesn't make much sense, considering. And now my other friend is mad at me again because he thinks that I don't want to spend time with him as much as I used to.

Last night I tried to talk to and show concern for someone that I still care about and respect very deeply, and was subsequently snubbed and ignored. Granted, I was a little drunk so I suppose it could have come across as mildly creepy. Still.

OK, guys. I get it. I'm getting a lot of messages here, but the one that comes out the clearest is that next time, I shouldn't fucking bother.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Coffeehouses make you smart

Customer: What's the Chai like? The one in the tea bag? Does it have honey or spices in it?

Patrick: Yeah, a little. And cinnamon, ginger...

Customer: Well, I don't want anything with honey. What about your green teas?

Patrick: We have a premium green here. (points to middle of shelf)

Customer: What about the one on the end?

Patrick: That's Honey Ginseng green tea.

Customer: I'll take some of that.

Monday, April 9, 2007

Hypersomniacs Anonymous

I've recently gotten into the habit of using sleep as a coping mechanism.
Sometimes it's a by-product of trying to read in bed and suceeding only in dozing and paying off more towards a four-year sleep debt. Other times it's an effort to quell the cloudy mess in my conscious mind that makes it hard to be productive when I am awake.

My dog is asleep right now. It's the first time I've seen him in that state since he was a puppy. He doesn't let himself drift off when I'm around and awake. Even now his eyes aren't completely shut; whether it's a protective instinct or just the way he is, I don't know. His feet and snout twitch like he's chasing something in his dreams.

Saturday, April 7, 2007

No Melanie Daniels

Leah told me that the worm probably graced my windshield because a bird picked it up, then decided it didn't want it and dropped it. This makes sense because all the robins around here became morbidly obese the four or five days of rain last week and one more morsel was just too much.

Or the bird could have been launching its own neo-Hitchcockian attack against Kirksville mankind in retaliation for their air pollution, neverending hunting season, and poor food scrap quality, all while taking advantage of a weekend downpour's worm harvest.

Too bad for the worm, though--it died nonetheless.

Friday, April 6, 2007

Rolling back prices on natural phenomena

Did you know that sunsets are mostly just dust particles interefering with wavelengths of light? Cool colors are scatterings by molecules in the air, whereas red, yellow, and orange are light reflecting off soot and smoke closer to the earth. When I railed against pollution as an idealistic elementary school environmentalist, one kid pointed out that without pollution, we wouldn't have changing leaves in autumn or sunsets. Ever since then I've watched what I've said about tailpipes, other than to poke fun at their ridiculous size on souped-up West County cars. Sunsets appear at diffrent times each night, and the latest sunset actually occurs a little after the summer solstice. The sun will go on rising and setting no matter what happens to anyone on this puny earth--save a nuclear cosmic disturbance.

When Ben and I broke up three years ago, we swore to remain friends and that there were no hard feelings, and to prove that we went to Wal-Mart, which is what friends do here. As we left, he ran into a friend of his and started chatting, where I stared outside at the pastel orange sunset outside. Four months later he met the girl he eventually got engaged to.

Statistically, coincidences are inevitable.

Yesterday, Jared and I left Wal-Mart with our Combos and Turtle Chex Mix, respectively, only to greet through the sliding doors a scarlet sunset crowding the horizon. It was stunning. He told me not to be emo and I chortled at the very thought. I'd seen this coming for quite some time, but I'd still thought it wasn't too late to change things, or if I waited a little longer it would get better. He looked happier and more relaxed than I've seen him in months. I suppose that counts for something.

I'm fighting the good fight against The Emo. It's too close to call.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Terror Watch, Level Red

I took a trip to St. Louis yesterday for the duration of twenty hours, half of which were spent sleeping. It was not a wasted trip: I saw The Host, a Korean monster movie, and The Birds, a classic American thriller, and spent time with Christian and his mom. Before I even turned on the car, though, I got in and met face to face with a quandary: a worm on my windshield.

Maybe I am ignorant or of little faith, but this was enough to puzzle me off and on throughout the trip. True, it rained the day beforehand, but a downpour doesn't make a common earthworm strong enough to brave the metallic jungle of my car's exterior to wriggle onto my windshield for no apparent reason. I was left with no other explanation than someone put it there. Some vicious urchin placed this poor worm on my car in either mysterious retribution for a forgotten misdeed of mine, or else I was the victim of the first annelid terrorist attack in known history. Somehow I'd like to believe the latter.