You wait for a downtown 1 for 15 minutes and then finally you get on it and walk over an ave to the L which you wait for for 20 minutes and finally it comes but then it sits at bedford for 15 minutes and you sit there realizing you could have walked home by now but you don’t move because you could have walked home by now, and dangit, you want the train to take you there, but it won’t, because of a police investigation of something potentially deadly / dangerous, because technically, death is worse than a stupid commute. Usually. Begrudgingly: thank you, police, for you constant investigating.
Instead of some terrifying picture of a police investigation, this instead:
For the first time ever, I am crafting a lesson plan, for the short play class I’ll be teaching at Primary Stages. It’s crazy, to think about trying to teach something that you normally just sort of do, unaware of your own process. But I guess that’s what’s so great about it, teaching makes you dissect your own process, understand it, share it. And so, my students first and foremost will be drinking a lot of white wine, leering at high school friend’s babies on facebook and learning to bite their nails. But really: I think I’m going to combine some great exercises from Grad school with some things that I think will be informative / fun, culminating in a submission party! Will I teach well? Will I be helpful and articulate? WILL I?
This week on Bekah Lastoneontheboat Brunstetter, I finally saw Bridesmaids. It was so packed that Lil and I sat in the back on the floor. Which was kind of a better and more conducive to the giant haagen-dazs bars we had to eat. And it was HLLARIOUS. Specifically because of Kristen Wiig, who is like every one of your funny lady friends rolled into one. It was just great to see the lady version of the Hangover humor, but dare I say a bit more intelligent and biting and more about like, human emotions.
No more will we make our friends gather and pay attention to us, except for milestones! (AND I AM A YEAR AWAY FROM MY MILESTONE. I STILL HAVE ONE MORE YEAR.) Instead, we should buy ourselves presents, or rather, things that wepossibly would have spent too much money on anyways, but can justify as birthday presents to self – specifically, one’s inner child who demands to be birthdayed, paid attention to, and spoiled. I’m sure you remember the great trying tragedy that fell upon me last summer, when my Ray Bans were brutally ganked. I have officially replaced them with lighter, less-fall off the face ones, and have also accidentally acquired a beautiful, delicate little turquoise necklace. Oops; yay.