Hey there Blog friends! Haven't talked to you in a while!- Now I know what you're thinking:
Why's that, Alicen? Why do you keep bailing on us? Where have you been? Do you think you have more important places to be? Why don't you like us anymore? What do you even do all day? WE HATE YOU FOR NOT SPENDING EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR TIME WITH US YOU SELFISH CRETIN!!!
...No? Oh, guess that's just everyone else.
You see, as someone with a great many friends from a great many different groups/circles/cliques (not that that's unique or special, just a fact) I get these sort of questions relatively often. Add on the fact that we have entered a time of the semester where I have been spending approximately 80 hours every week at work(3jobs)/class(18hours)/rehearsal(2current shows)/meetings(2clubs,1e-board)/recordings(2audioshows)/studying(did I mention midterms?!?) And it's this time of year that those responses begin to get a little more visceral, particularly from my more... let's say, socially conscious friends.
That being said, I have been loading myself down like this since about fourth grade, so I've been able to develop a few methods to deal with it. I figure there may be a few of you who are similarly loaded down, or otherwise seeking ways to politely tell people to buzz off, so I thought I might share a few of my own tactics! (and if you'd like to share a few of yours, I'd welcome the input)
So, the first thing you have to decide when blowing people off is whether or not you want to be honest. This decision shapes everything.
If you decide not to wickedly deceive those you love in order to manipulate their emotions and attitudes towards you, it's possible that they might recognize your honesty and appreciate that quality, thus building a strong trust bridge that will lead the two of you all the way to friendship land...
So, If that kind of thing appeals to you, your responses will look like this:
-"I'm sorry, I have four classes two meetings and a five hour rehearsal scheduled for tomorrow, and I really don't have time to hang out"
-"Honestly, I've had this insanely busy week. I think I might just study and catch up on sleep this weekend"
-"Actually, I find your company intensely irritating. Even now, you carry an aura that feels like a yeast infection and sounds like the word "moist," or "irregardless". I'd rather gauge out and feed them to you than hang out. Bye."
But for most, a simple denial and excuse will not be enough. They will expect you to make a time to see them in the future. You can say something like this:
-"I can eat breakfast with you any Tuesday or Thursday between 4 and 6am! How does that sound?"
-"My schedule isn't going to lighten up for a month or so... but, I can go to the mall and watch movies after maybe... April 15th?"
-"I will literally never have time for you. This is a fact."
HOWEVER if your friends are gullible schlubs, and you're the type of person who doesn't mind tossing aside your integrity for the sake of satiating your own selfish desires, dishonesty is the way to go. (This is also the route you're going to want to take if your self-absorbed friends aren't going to be understanding of your real-life situation and need to be lied to.) Down this debaucherous road lies far more opportunity. For example, if you're too busy, and your selfish friends aren't going to take that as an excuse, you'll want to focus on one specific responsibility and blow it way out of proportion, like so:
"Oh I would but my stupid English professor is requiring me to go to a seminar that's like FOUR HOURS LONG, and afterwards I have to write a twelve page paper and make a video presentation about how it relates to the readings we did, all due at midnight. She's such a despotic tyrant, man, allow me to redirect the conversation to complaining about this professor until you feel bad for me and go away..."
Alternately, depending on how horrible you're willing to be, you can make up an emergency/tragedy that they will feel obligated to completely excuse you for. However, depending on the severity of this imagined horror, you'll have to remember to remain upset about it for a time afterwards, or at least remember the lie you told, so that when they ask how you're doing later you can respond appropriately. To avoid some sort of baked goods/ surprise gift/comforting gesture from the golden-hearted friend you are ruthlessly deceiving it's important to keep the tragedy as impersonal as possible:
"As much as I'd love to go with you guys, my second cousin thrice removed just died."
or if death seems to heavy "I'm sorry, my ex boyfriend's older brother lost his foot in a freak canoeing accident, and I promised to visit him in the hospital for the next 38 hours... I can't say no to a cripple, guys."
Or maybe all that's a little heavy for you. Why not lie to make yourself look better?
"Oh I would, but that's when I volunteer helping cancerous toddlers with Alzheimer's in the inner-city learn to find healing through artistic expression"
"I want to, really, but the dean of the law school invited me to lunch. Apparently he wants my opinion before he moves forward with some new business plan..."
Or play it old school and just fake an illness?:
"Hun, you know I'd come if I could, but if I go anywhere but home right now I'll blow chunks all over everybody"
"I cant. I really can't. This headache is so bad I'm seeing stars. My brain is exploding. My head is full of tapdancing elephants. There is gray matter leaking out my ears. Kill me now."
However, that being said, the only 100% effective way to make sure someone won't want to hangout with you plays out something like this:
Friend: Hi there bud, we're all headed to the movies later, do you wanna-
You: *punches friend in the face*
Friend: ....
You: *makes frantic escape*
Friend: "Oh, you're busy. That's cool"
Again, I speak from experience, people. It's the only way... Class dismissed
~Alicen
This blog took me four
Freaking days just to write, I
Wish I was kidding
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Shameless Plugs and Some Almost-Comedy
So I've been trying to get into standup comedy. As the type of person who sees my own life as a sort of long, bitingly sarcastic sitcom, going from making fun of life in my head to making fun of life in a grungy bar seemed like a sort of natural progression. It's come to my attention, however, that not everyone finds humor in the mundane, so mostly, this just makes me come off as a sarcastic butt-head. Occasionally, though people will toss me a few sympathy chuckles, and these have been enough to give me the grand notion that I am a comedic genius worthy of some small, dim-lit stage in a smoke-filled comedy club.
Now, when I began this post, my intent was to just throw down the rough first-draft transcripts of a couple jokes I've written to try and get some feedback... Unfortunately, things that are funny when performed and things that are funny when read don't always correlate.- It's like the difference between reading a play and actually watching that play (and if you've never had the experience of reading a play then seeing it in real life, then GET THEE TO A NUNNERY and by "nunnery" I meant "library" where you can bask in the glory of many a classical/contemporary script, and by "get thee to a nunnery" I was making a Hamlet reference, you uncultured swine)
BUT this is my blog, and I decide how it goes, so I'm throwing some jokes in here anyway, and there ain't nothin' you can do about it! I'll try to clean them up a bit so they're mildly humorous without being performed, but no promises. (a couple of my stand-up ideas I've already presented here, so I won't bore you by rephrasing those. If you're curious, but don't wanna bother wading through previous posts, you should check these out:
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-importance-of-b-word-and-ways-i-am.html
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2013/10/basic-templates-for-interations-with.html
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-uncomfortable-truth-about-boobs.html
http://alicenmoser.blogspot.com/2014/02/little-co2-emissions-on-prairie.html )
Once you've gone through them, I invite you to drown my hopes and dreams in a sea of white-hot criticism (seriously though, some feedback would be awesome, white-hot or otherwise)
On dating a decent human being
So I've been dating this guy for six months now, and he isn't aggressive, or sarcastic, or violent, or mean-spirited... and it's HORRIBLE. Because I am ALL of those things! And after SIX MONTHS of dating me he's remained unscathed by my repulsive personality. Obviously something must be done about this, so lately I've seen every interaction between us as a sort of challenge, to see how quickly I can drag this pure, kind-hearted human down to my level In every fight I am both the instigator and the escalator, and it's really pretty absurd, because no matter WHAT I do, he won't yell at me, won't insult me, won't push me back, and he doesn't even break things! And the WORST part is, I can't complain about it. Cuz if you go around telling your friends "All I want is for him to be horrible, just a little bit, just some foul language or a casual plate thrown against the wall" they don't Sympathize, they just say "You should get help" and start asking probing questions about your past.
On my imagined life as a citizen of Jefferson County.
I grew up knowing I was high class. I know it's not very Christian to compare myself to my neighbors this way, but it's hard not to notice that your home is the only double-wide in the park. What really set my family apart though, was a shameless status symbol we flaunted up on blocks in the front yard. Yes, the Moser family crown jewel: A rusting '88 camaro with velvet interior and maybe half an engine. It was a thing of beauty. I sometimes like to sit in it and imagine that I'm the queen of white trash, overlooking my trailer park kingdom.
~
I'm an adjunct professor at SLU. They don't pay me -yet- but I give daily lessons to the students there on white trash culture. Among other things, I try teach my students valuable life skills like h0w to wire a fuse box with pennies, or use a coupon, or pronounce the word "down" (day-own).
One girl I met, before I took her to on a little Jeffco field trip, thought that trailer parks were a myth... like, in her mind, werewolves, Santa Claus and trailer parks were on the same plane of existence. She's studying to be a surgeon, by the way.
On having rich friends
One thing I learned attending Saint Louis University is that people who pay 40,000$ for tuition then go shop at Nordstroms have money problems. Shocking. Cuz when I think of people having financial troubles, I think of people like myself, who order off the dollar menu and then steal all the hotsauce, not people drinking 10$ frappacinos with their vegan strudel. You really start to feel for them, though, because anytime you share a story about not being able to make a housing payment so you can keep yourself shacked up in the crappiest dorm on campus, they'll come back with something just as heart-wrenching, like how they blew the weekly allowance from their parents on an ipad yesterday and now they haven't got money left to buy weed for Saturday. Tragic.
__
So if you'd like to tell me all the reasons these are horribly unfunny and highly offensive concepts please comment!! ALSO If you happen to be a fan of things that are truly hilarious (and ESPECIALLY if you're an anime fan as well) you should stroll on over to my new blog-buddy's site right here http://havocmantis.blogspot.com/ -plot twist, not only are we blog buddies, but we are REAL LIFE BUDDIES. Our favorite bonding activity is doing naked improv comedy at gay bars. That's only barely an exaggeration.
~Alicen
This time, in honor of my blog buddy's distaste for haiku, I'll give you all a rhymey poem instead!
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Actually they're purple
Art is a lie
...well, I tried.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Little CO2 Emissions on the Prairie
Maybe it's just a Missouri thing, but it feels like no matter where I'm driving, if I'm on a highway I'm surrounded by those "Prairie Rehab" signs.
If you're unfamiliar, "Prairie Rehab" signs are just your average metallic, round-cornered road signs with the words "Prairie Rehab" deceptively printed on an earthy brown background. They are typically found where the grass has begun to reach human height, and often in mounds of dirt that are surrounded by interstate on all sides.
... So in other words, the Missouri translation of "Prairie Rehab" is: "We ain't trimming this $#!%". I imagine that when given their budget and faced with the choice between printing a metal sign and paying a friendly lawn-mowing person to make it look decent once a month, that official thought "eh, we'll go with the chunk of metal" and signed the order to slap'em up there.
Now, let's be real, Missouri. You CANNOT tell me you are going to call these grass-wads "rehabbed prairie" unless you have legitimate hopes that someday some wild buffalo will return to inhabit that 4foot patch of dirt and highway trash just inches from the interstate.
-What's that? No highway buffalo, you say? -I suspected as much. Now just admit that you're too cheap and lazy to cut your own grass, and stop trying to pull the wool over our eyes with this phony "rehab" nonsense!
I think the idea of "Prairie Rehab" is that the city hopes we will see it, but not think about it too hard. Like, whatever city official put it up must have hoped that you would sorta glance at these signs from the corner of your eye, and then your subconscious would slowly begin to think "hey, my government gives out free rehab! I should go do my civic duty!" somehow without considering the fact that this rehab is for dirt, and not people. That official pictures you swelling with patriotic pride, and riding off into the sunset to finally start repaying your debts to society. You'll step out of your car after passing that "Prairie Rehab" sign and valiantly go... pay a tax.... or... stop smashing bottles on playgrounds....
Heck, I don't know what you do, I'm barely an adult.
(Personally, I harbor the secret hope that the government knows something we don't about the future of transportation, and in a few years, upon the advent of an age of teleportation, people will start going nuts about all the space wasted on parking lots and intersates, but the government will just whip around like "HA! WE'VE BEEN PREPARING THE PRAIRIELANDS FOR YEARS!!" and then there really WILL be buffalo on the interstate, and the previous paragraphs in this post will make me look very silly.
I think it's good to hold on to some faith in your governing body, even if it's based solely upon the fact that they may or may not be able to teleport at some unappointed time in the future.)
~Ali
My dog is fluffy
My kitty cat is snuggly
Those are not their names
If you're unfamiliar, "Prairie Rehab" signs are just your average metallic, round-cornered road signs with the words "Prairie Rehab" deceptively printed on an earthy brown background. They are typically found where the grass has begun to reach human height, and often in mounds of dirt that are surrounded by interstate on all sides.
... So in other words, the Missouri translation of "Prairie Rehab" is: "We ain't trimming this $#!%". I imagine that when given their budget and faced with the choice between printing a metal sign and paying a friendly lawn-mowing person to make it look decent once a month, that official thought "eh, we'll go with the chunk of metal" and signed the order to slap'em up there.
Now, let's be real, Missouri. You CANNOT tell me you are going to call these grass-wads "rehabbed prairie" unless you have legitimate hopes that someday some wild buffalo will return to inhabit that 4foot patch of dirt and highway trash just inches from the interstate.
-What's that? No highway buffalo, you say? -I suspected as much. Now just admit that you're too cheap and lazy to cut your own grass, and stop trying to pull the wool over our eyes with this phony "rehab" nonsense!
I think the idea of "Prairie Rehab" is that the city hopes we will see it, but not think about it too hard. Like, whatever city official put it up must have hoped that you would sorta glance at these signs from the corner of your eye, and then your subconscious would slowly begin to think "hey, my government gives out free rehab! I should go do my civic duty!" somehow without considering the fact that this rehab is for dirt, and not people. That official pictures you swelling with patriotic pride, and riding off into the sunset to finally start repaying your debts to society. You'll step out of your car after passing that "Prairie Rehab" sign and valiantly go... pay a tax.... or... stop smashing bottles on playgrounds....
Heck, I don't know what you do, I'm barely an adult.
(Personally, I harbor the secret hope that the government knows something we don't about the future of transportation, and in a few years, upon the advent of an age of teleportation, people will start going nuts about all the space wasted on parking lots and intersates, but the government will just whip around like "HA! WE'VE BEEN PREPARING THE PRAIRIELANDS FOR YEARS!!" and then there really WILL be buffalo on the interstate, and the previous paragraphs in this post will make me look very silly.
I think it's good to hold on to some faith in your governing body, even if it's based solely upon the fact that they may or may not be able to teleport at some unappointed time in the future.)
~Ali
My dog is fluffy
My kitty cat is snuggly
Those are not their names
Monday, February 3, 2014
Diamonds Are a Girl's Patriarchal Enemy
It's about time this blog stirred up a little controversy, so in the hopes that some neck-bearded "Red Pill" Redditor/ "Return of Kings" nutjob should stumble upon my humble blog I'd like to post some of my crazy bra-burning bodyhair-relishing feminist thoughts. This one is borrowed from something I wrote for class.
Also, the target audience for this confuses me a bit. Like, JCP decided to use a joke about “throwing rocks at girls” to win the hearts of…
Perhaps they are simply responding to a recent influx of people messaging JCP and asking what types of rocks are okay to throw at women, and "Diamonds" was at once the most lucrative and least logical answer they could provide for such a ludacris question.
-Not to mention all the MEN with ear piercings being hatefully excluded from this diamond-throwing extravaganza (men as a gender group are SOOO persecuted- amirite, neck-beards?)
~Alicen
Feminism is
So today I was checking out people’s reaction to the Coca-cola
ad shown at the Super-Bowl when I found this article http://happyplace.someecards.com/29052/5-things-you-should-at-least-pretend-to-know-today-february-3-2014
which introduced me to JCPenny’s “drunk tweets” during the Superbowl
(the head
of social media at JC Penny was actually texting with mittens on to
promote their new Olympic Mittens, but check it out, they absolutely
come off as
intoxicated- Kia Motors asked if they wanted a designated driver. ha!)
Next I decided to visit the JC Penny twitter page myself in order
to see the tweets, when I found this: https://twitter.com/jcpenney/status/430013553030881280/photo/1
Just in case that link doesn’t work/you have an irrational
fear of twitter, that’s a picture advertising some diamond earrings with a
tweet that says “You can throw these rocks at girls.” Edit: Of course, the day that I posted this, JCP Decided to take down the month-old ad
Okay, I realize that the US is not known for it's competency in international affairs, nor do I pretend to be especially literate in world goings-on, but I'd like to point out that it's only been THREE MONTHS since Afghanistan barely managed to keep
public stoning as punishment for adultery from being reinstated as law (http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/nov/28/stoning-not-brought-back-afghan-president-karzai )
And it's attitudes like this that diminish that hard-won victory for women's rights/human rights.
Also, the target audience for this confuses me a bit. Like, JCP decided to use a joke about “throwing rocks at girls” to win the hearts of…
I suppose the much sought after demographic of American men who follow
dept. stores on twitter and are also devoted to following the letter of sharia
law.
Or maybe all the people out there who wish they could throw rocks at
girls?
People who find violence against women hilarious?
Perhaps they are simply responding to a recent influx of people messaging JCP and asking what types of rocks are okay to throw at women, and "Diamonds" was at once the most lucrative and least logical answer they could provide for such a ludacris question.
-Not to mention all the MEN with ear piercings being hatefully excluded from this diamond-throwing extravaganza (men as a gender group are SOOO persecuted- amirite, neck-beards?)
Hard to believe that the mitten-texts made news, but their demented sense of humor hasn't.
~Alicen
Feminism is
a word for equalism
Just love everyone
Thursday, January 23, 2014
The Five People You Meet In Forest Park
The other day I went for an eight mile run. Directionally challenged as I am, this 8 mile run turned into a 9 mile trot turned into a 10 mile death-slog. But that's just two extra miles, who's counting, right? (the answer is my knees. My knees were loudly, angrily counting)
Anyway, this extra 20 minutes or so (don't judge me) of unplanned slogging afforded me the opportunity to do some people watching, which is something I often enjoy doing in Forest Park, despite seeing prettymuch the same people every time. (And of course I'm not talking about specific individuals, I'm talking about stereotypes, because I'm coarse and insensitive that way)
If you happen to be in Forest Park anytime soon, here's the friendly faces you should look for (actually, you shouldn't need to actively look, because you will be surrounded.
1. The Roller-Blader
Somehow, Forest Park seems to have become the motherland to a roller-blader revolution. And I'm not talking about kids, or even teenagers out messing around and having some 8-wheeled jollies, I mean full grown adults who regard this early 90's novelty with the utmost seriousness. One can't help but notice the hardcore rollerbladers as they glide down the bike path with fancy footwork preformed at dizzying speeds, their flailing arms swiping dangerously close to you at upwards of 15mph.
Another noteworthy fact about these enigmatic figures is that they only exist while in motion.You will never see one come to a stop (and I have no idea how they do it. Like, do you just kinda stop moving and wait, or...?) Nor will you ever witness one putting on or taking off their skates, nor waiting at a crosswalk, or skating to the bathroom, or doing any such "human" activity. However, if I DID catch one in such a state I'd have millions of questions: "How do you stop?/Have you ever stopped?" being the first, of course, but perhaps more importantly, questions like "Do you tell your friends that you're a hardcore roller-blader? Do you race, or... skate-dance or something? Are your skates from this decade? How many children and small animals have you unintentionally squashed?"
These are the questions that plague me.
2. The Watcher
As a female runner I have attracted a lot of unwanted male attention (I could omit "runner" from that sentence, but let's save being a creep magnet for another post). Typically this comes in the form of catcalls or rude gestures from people on the street or, most often, people passing by in cars. The park creeper, however, is an entirely different species, set apart from these commonplace creeps by his frigid silence and his palpable gaze. We call him The Watcher.
The watcher speaks not a word. He can usually be found inexplicably standing motionless beside an empty bench, covered in facial hair and holding a large, dirty bag. Even if he spots you first, you will be able to tell the moment his eyes are on you. Methodically, the watcher appraises your hair, then face, neck, shoulders, chest, torso, pelvis and so on until he's mentally violated every inch of your squirming uncomfortable body. As you pass the watcher (because your path will inevitable lead you to run within mere feet of him) you will wonder if you're about to spontaneously cumbust under the white hot intensity of his inappropriate stare. As you pass by you'll continue to feel his gaze sliding over your sweaty butt as if it were a fat sticky tentacle.
Ugh.
3. The Chatty Cross-Walker
Just as the Roller-Blader only exists in motion, the Chatty Cross-walker only exists while standing at a crosswalk, and only in the middle of a very intense, very important workout. It may be confusion / curiosity that spurs the cross-walker's rampage, or it may be loneliness, but whatever the case, the cross-walker sees you as a susceptible target for their barrage of unnecessary questions and pointless stories. The cross-walker somehow manages to attach themself to you like a superpowered magnet, rooting you to the crosswalk and entrapping you in their poisonous web of frivolity. Many a brave runner has watched their hard-won Personal Record perish in this cage of wasted words. Should a similar fate befall you... God rest your soul
4. The Baby
The Baby lurks around every corner. Under every shady tree. Between every young married couple. Ever. The Baby lies in wait, preparing dangerous levels of brain-melting adorableness for whatever fool winds up caught in it's tractor-beam of cute. There is no way to avoid The Baby, nor any way to counter the googly-eyed, heartwarming, thought-dissolving effect The Baby will have on you. When encountering The Baby, your only option is to submit yourself to basking in it's glorious baby-ness and hope to God you'll be able to keep yourself from touching it's angelic, pudgy little face... because that's pretty creepy of you, man.
5. The Competitor
This person is probably using whatever mode of transportation you are. You will encounter them only when you are running/walking/biking/ice skating at a leisurely pace, simply enjoying the beauty that surrounds you, or perhaps the zoo animals, or the heartwarming sight of children on a swingset. Whatever the case, once you become lost in a sweet daydream brought on by the lovely environment of the park, The Competitor materializes just beside/behind/ahead of you.
The Competitor carries within them an aura which will rip you from your pleasant reverie and strike you with an instant, impossible hatred. As you gradually quicken your pace to match/surpass the competitor you will find yourself slowly consumed by an irresistible competitive urge. No matter how hard you try to ignore the competitor, and slip back into the land of bright green grass and singing birds; the competitor is always there, just a bit too close, watching you from their peripheries, goading you to fight them, race them, defeat them, DESTROY THEM
And you will probably kick their needlessly-competitive-attention-whoring butt, but as a result you'll get all sweaty and tired, and you'll probably end up running out in front of a car/person at an intersection and feel like a dweeb, and in your embarrassed confusion the competitor will pass you again and start the idiocy all over again...
~Alicen
Dumb red-light Camera
You're taking all my money
You are such a poop
Anyway, this extra 20 minutes or so (don't judge me) of unplanned slogging afforded me the opportunity to do some people watching, which is something I often enjoy doing in Forest Park, despite seeing prettymuch the same people every time. (And of course I'm not talking about specific individuals, I'm talking about stereotypes, because I'm coarse and insensitive that way)
If you happen to be in Forest Park anytime soon, here's the friendly faces you should look for (actually, you shouldn't need to actively look, because you will be surrounded.
1. The Roller-Blader
Somehow, Forest Park seems to have become the motherland to a roller-blader revolution. And I'm not talking about kids, or even teenagers out messing around and having some 8-wheeled jollies, I mean full grown adults who regard this early 90's novelty with the utmost seriousness. One can't help but notice the hardcore rollerbladers as they glide down the bike path with fancy footwork preformed at dizzying speeds, their flailing arms swiping dangerously close to you at upwards of 15mph.
Another noteworthy fact about these enigmatic figures is that they only exist while in motion.You will never see one come to a stop (and I have no idea how they do it. Like, do you just kinda stop moving and wait, or...?) Nor will you ever witness one putting on or taking off their skates, nor waiting at a crosswalk, or skating to the bathroom, or doing any such "human" activity. However, if I DID catch one in such a state I'd have millions of questions: "How do you stop?/Have you ever stopped?" being the first, of course, but perhaps more importantly, questions like "Do you tell your friends that you're a hardcore roller-blader? Do you race, or... skate-dance or something? Are your skates from this decade? How many children and small animals have you unintentionally squashed?"
These are the questions that plague me.
2. The Watcher
As a female runner I have attracted a lot of unwanted male attention (I could omit "runner" from that sentence, but let's save being a creep magnet for another post). Typically this comes in the form of catcalls or rude gestures from people on the street or, most often, people passing by in cars. The park creeper, however, is an entirely different species, set apart from these commonplace creeps by his frigid silence and his palpable gaze. We call him The Watcher.
The watcher speaks not a word. He can usually be found inexplicably standing motionless beside an empty bench, covered in facial hair and holding a large, dirty bag. Even if he spots you first, you will be able to tell the moment his eyes are on you. Methodically, the watcher appraises your hair, then face, neck, shoulders, chest, torso, pelvis and so on until he's mentally violated every inch of your squirming uncomfortable body. As you pass the watcher (because your path will inevitable lead you to run within mere feet of him) you will wonder if you're about to spontaneously cumbust under the white hot intensity of his inappropriate stare. As you pass by you'll continue to feel his gaze sliding over your sweaty butt as if it were a fat sticky tentacle.
Ugh.
3. The Chatty Cross-Walker
Just as the Roller-Blader only exists in motion, the Chatty Cross-walker only exists while standing at a crosswalk, and only in the middle of a very intense, very important workout. It may be confusion / curiosity that spurs the cross-walker's rampage, or it may be loneliness, but whatever the case, the cross-walker sees you as a susceptible target for their barrage of unnecessary questions and pointless stories. The cross-walker somehow manages to attach themself to you like a superpowered magnet, rooting you to the crosswalk and entrapping you in their poisonous web of frivolity. Many a brave runner has watched their hard-won Personal Record perish in this cage of wasted words. Should a similar fate befall you... God rest your soul
4. The Baby
The Baby lurks around every corner. Under every shady tree. Between every young married couple. Ever. The Baby lies in wait, preparing dangerous levels of brain-melting adorableness for whatever fool winds up caught in it's tractor-beam of cute. There is no way to avoid The Baby, nor any way to counter the googly-eyed, heartwarming, thought-dissolving effect The Baby will have on you. When encountering The Baby, your only option is to submit yourself to basking in it's glorious baby-ness and hope to God you'll be able to keep yourself from touching it's angelic, pudgy little face... because that's pretty creepy of you, man.
5. The Competitor
This person is probably using whatever mode of transportation you are. You will encounter them only when you are running/walking/biking/ice skating at a leisurely pace, simply enjoying the beauty that surrounds you, or perhaps the zoo animals, or the heartwarming sight of children on a swingset. Whatever the case, once you become lost in a sweet daydream brought on by the lovely environment of the park, The Competitor materializes just beside/behind/ahead of you.
The Competitor carries within them an aura which will rip you from your pleasant reverie and strike you with an instant, impossible hatred. As you gradually quicken your pace to match/surpass the competitor you will find yourself slowly consumed by an irresistible competitive urge. No matter how hard you try to ignore the competitor, and slip back into the land of bright green grass and singing birds; the competitor is always there, just a bit too close, watching you from their peripheries, goading you to fight them, race them, defeat them, DESTROY THEM
And you will probably kick their needlessly-competitive-attention-whoring butt, but as a result you'll get all sweaty and tired, and you'll probably end up running out in front of a car/person at an intersection and feel like a dweeb, and in your embarrassed confusion the competitor will pass you again and start the idiocy all over again...
~Alicen
Dumb red-light Camera
You're taking all my money
You are such a poop
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
A Bit of Perspective
I am nineteen years old. I’m in school. I live with my parents, and they pay my cell phone bill, among other things. I am terrified of the day that I will no longer be covered under their medical insurance.
A friend of mine is about 9 months pregnant. She expects the baby in just two and a half more weeks. Shit. That is horrifying. It’s utterly terrifying to me, that I can have peers who are married, engaged, expecting…That those things could concieveably happen to me
But she is so excited! She posts pictures of her ultrasounds and her baby bump. She can’t wait for her daughter Nevaeh to arrive, and she invites the world to join in her joyous expectation.
This isn’t about fear, or mistakes, or regret. This is about a new, innocent person. This is about something beautiful and precious. This is about humanity, and love that nests deep in the human soul. This is about life.
Someday I hope I'll be mature enough to see it that way.
~A
Two Serious posts
in a row! Sometimes I like
to just contemplate
Thursday, January 16, 2014
An Unhilarious Post About My Life-Party Philosophy
Today, I was taught a lesson in unnecessary enthusiasm, and it was beautiful. It began when my uncle came to visit me at school. He lives in Vermont now, but today Scott Trade flew him in for a job interview (cool, right?) and since his flight home wasn't until evening, he had some time to come hang out with me on campus. We got lunch together in the student center, then explored a bit, and we ended up in the theater.
This was (Today) right after auditions and callbacks had commenced, and before cast lists got posted (which is tomorrow) so I was feeling a little insecure about my place/lack thereof in the department. Besides that, I know he has some friends in the arts community, and as a kid he had taken me on backstage tours of the Muny (it's a huge deal in St. Louis) so I was a little wary of what he might think of my school's high-school-cafeteria-turned-theater.
To my surprise, though, our facility absolutely delighted him. He was so happy, just to see me in that environment. Without even knowing whether or not I'll be able to preform on the stage we were touring, he lit up and talked about how proud of me he was!
This was such a different attitude from the one I'd been mired in all week - fretting and fussing and hopelessly struggling to measure up to expectations I wasn't fully clued-in to. What a reality check, to step back and just appreciate what an incredible thing it is to get be educated in this environment at all. To tell the truth, I'm a little embarrassed to think about how self-centered my attitude has been all throughout audition week. That gratitude is refreshing.
The reason I named this blog "Lessons in Unnecessary Enthusiasm" is because I have a tendency to get overly excited about what are considered "small things." If people are in a position where they have to say something they like about me, it's usually that I've got no reservations celebrating the little victories, or happy coincidences, or everyday beauties that people normally don't take time to appreciate (it's that, or "you're nice"... depends on the person).
The way I see it, though, the only way to live joyfully is to turn your cluttered backpack of a life upside down and shake it with everything you've got in you until every single lucky penny, and half-birthday, and secret smile sits on your floor- ready to be lifted up and made it's own confetti-covered float of that day's parade. I'm sure there are people who disagree (either with that thought, or with the convoluded analogy I used to express it) and that's okay. If they ever wanna join my life-party philosophy, though, I'd celebrate their entrance.
Today was a great reminder though, of how important it is to celebrate what we have already. No matter what sort of crap you might have going on, there is something wonderful to be grateful for. Thanks to my Uncle and a few other lovely people for reminding me of that today.
~Alicen
Sorry for having less giggles and more typos today. You may expect better of me when I'm less stressed... which is code for never. You still get a haiku though:
Got so much Homework
Why am I not doing it?
Cuz my dog insists.
This was (Today) right after auditions and callbacks had commenced, and before cast lists got posted (which is tomorrow) so I was feeling a little insecure about my place/lack thereof in the department. Besides that, I know he has some friends in the arts community, and as a kid he had taken me on backstage tours of the Muny (it's a huge deal in St. Louis) so I was a little wary of what he might think of my school's high-school-cafeteria-turned-theater.
To my surprise, though, our facility absolutely delighted him. He was so happy, just to see me in that environment. Without even knowing whether or not I'll be able to preform on the stage we were touring, he lit up and talked about how proud of me he was!
This was such a different attitude from the one I'd been mired in all week - fretting and fussing and hopelessly struggling to measure up to expectations I wasn't fully clued-in to. What a reality check, to step back and just appreciate what an incredible thing it is to get be educated in this environment at all. To tell the truth, I'm a little embarrassed to think about how self-centered my attitude has been all throughout audition week. That gratitude is refreshing.
The reason I named this blog "Lessons in Unnecessary Enthusiasm" is because I have a tendency to get overly excited about what are considered "small things." If people are in a position where they have to say something they like about me, it's usually that I've got no reservations celebrating the little victories, or happy coincidences, or everyday beauties that people normally don't take time to appreciate (it's that, or "you're nice"... depends on the person).
The way I see it, though, the only way to live joyfully is to turn your cluttered backpack of a life upside down and shake it with everything you've got in you until every single lucky penny, and half-birthday, and secret smile sits on your floor- ready to be lifted up and made it's own confetti-covered float of that day's parade. I'm sure there are people who disagree (either with that thought, or with the convoluded analogy I used to express it) and that's okay. If they ever wanna join my life-party philosophy, though, I'd celebrate their entrance.
Today was a great reminder though, of how important it is to celebrate what we have already. No matter what sort of crap you might have going on, there is something wonderful to be grateful for. Thanks to my Uncle and a few other lovely people for reminding me of that today.
~Alicen
Sorry for having less giggles and more typos today. You may expect better of me when I'm less stressed... which is code for never. You still get a haiku though:
Got so much Homework
Why am I not doing it?
Cuz my dog insists.
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