Caught in the act.

I called April today and left a message. This is not news since we talk just about every other day. But when she called back, she mentioned something to me that I hadn't noticed. The message I had left her was: Hey, April. I got home last night....
Then I went on about how I was organizing and I knew she would truly appreciate that. This wasn't important. She called me about on me saying nonchalantly (sp?) that I was 'home.'
When I went to Madison, I refered to my dorm as 'home' after just two weeks. I guess it doesn't take much besides a place to sleep and my books for a place to be home.

Back in Ohio.

I am feeling displaced.
Being in Wisconsin over break was comforting to some degree. People talk with a northern accent which I notice now and notice how quickly I slip into it. I even said things like: Something, something, eh? More specifically: Oh, how's that new Mexican restaurant doing, eh? I shoveled the driveway in 45 minutes flat- may not sound impressive, but my lines were straight and the snow was heavy.
However, my tolerance for cold was mocked by my family, my friends, and even YMCA employees (Oh, look here, da abominable snowman!).
My house didn't feel like mine. It doesn't help that all the furniture in my bedroom (save my mirror and hope chest) was removed and the wallpaper peeled off to show ghosts of care bear murals. I didn't live out of a suitcase but I did live out of a plastic tote that had to be kept up on the desk so the dog would not hide my clothes behind her favorite chair or the sofa.

Now I am back in Ohio, in my temporary makeshift home where there is never enough room and I am buried under books and papers.
When I was at my sister's beautifully decorated home on Christmas, I was paging through an Ikea (or Icky as my Tyler says) catalog. All the rooms were organized and beautiful. They looked like home. I want a catalog home. I want comfortable, organized furniture. It was perfectly coordinated and compact. I bet they always had fresh vegetables in the fridge, the drawers were always neat and not cluttered, and when they pulled up their pressed sheets to go to bed, they did not have anxiety dreams about shows they were directing or papers they had to write. I bet when they slept, they slept calmly and woke up with non-mussed hair and fresh breath. They patter down their hardwood floors to drink freshly squeezed orange juice and put on cute running clothes for that seven mile run during which they don't sweat, lose their breath, or hurt their knees.
Sigh.
Back in Ohio, I tried to color coordinate my closet which while satisfying did not invoke the comfort of the catalog bedroom in the Ikea catalog.
I don't know when or if I will ever have a beautifully decorated house. I don't think that necessarily makes a home, but neither does a color coordinated closet.
I think the feelings of displacement stem from the incredible uncertainty. I know I am leaving Ohio in six months. I know that I will then be moving to Wisconsin for a short time. After that, I don't know.
In the mean time, friends: beware. I will need to be more focused on organization and coordination. I think it's a coping mechanism. So, if I seem compulsive, give me your pens or pencils to organize. Or maybe I could put your books in alphabetical order. I like to file. I could make you a list. Plan your day. Anything. Just don't ask me what I will be doing next year.

Number breakdowns:
Number of times to local coffee establishment: 10
Days home: 9
Number of trips to local YMCA: 5
Hours of sleep: 95
Number of tiffs with my mother: 2
Numbers of trips to mall: 2 (which was 2 too many, I bought stuff, small town malls have the best deals because no one buys the cute stuff so it goes on clearance)
Number of types of Christmas cookies currently in the house: 7
Books read: 3 1/2 (2 of which were the first day I was home)

It's been nice being home. The first week was a complete blur. I was still reeling from the quarter. I am starting to feel like my old self. I am trying to get ready for Escuela but (as usual) I am not as productive as I would like to be.
Yesterday Kristen and I made cookies together which was super fun. We made gingerbread men which I like decorating more than anything. As Kristen said, the main obejective is to get as many red hots on each cookie as possible. My favorite little guy was my cripple with an eye patch- 'Arrrrr, I am a gingerbread man.'

Mark Rylance touched my shoulder.
I saw the Globe's production of Measure for Measure yesterday in Pittsburgh. It was amazing. It was one of those productions that reminded me why I am doing this (graduate school, theatre). It was brilliant. Measure for Measure is not an easy to do. Isabella has lines that say More than our brother is our chastity, so Isabella live chaste and brother die. That's a little drastic, particularly in the 21st century.
WARNING: Next 3 paragraphs will only be interesting to those familiar with the play.
Edward Hogg was really good as Isabella. He didn't break down until the Duke told him that Claudio was still beheaded (even after the night swap). It was so perfect. Christina and I were both wondering why he didn't break down in the second half. But if you think about it, it totally makes sense. Things had to happen so fast that there was no time to feel. She had to keep figuring out what was the next action, then when the Duke tells her that despite all of the planning and everything they did, Angelo still killed him, she finally has time to feel and she breaks down.
Mark Rylance brought his stuttering style to the Duke and again, brilliant. The inciting action is him handing over control to Angelo because he doesn't like the crowds and he's too indecisive to implant the laws of the land. He's not good with people. And also, he really sucks at being a friar. That's left out in most productions.
Another thing I loved about the production was how they made the audience feel like they were in on the action. They put make up and costumes on in front of the audience (I LOVE preshows!). And especially in the last scene, Rylance was talking to the audience like they were city members. Christina even became Lucio's wife.
After the show, I saw Mark Rylance and told him how much I enjoyed the show and thanked him and he touched my shoulder and he was so kind and so humble. I am starstruck.
Sigh.....

I felt so honored to be a link on Sunday Girl's page, so I thought a new entry was necessary.
The last two weeks have been representative of the graduate school experience. No torn jeans, guitars, or coffee houses, but late nights, little sleep, and counting out nickels and dimes to buy coffee so I am alert enough to teach my lowly Theatre 100 students.
Highlights of the Quarter

1. Handing in my blood, sweat, and tears (draft of a chapter of my thesis) on recycled paper (old drafts of thesis) only to find out that my advisor dropped it and then not only put it back in the wrong order, but read the old drafts instead of the finely polished blood, sweat, and tears draft. Needless to say, he had a long list of revisions for me to do.

2. Laughing and mocking a student who asked me if I was putting together a review sheet for them. Hehe. I still think this is funny. Dumb freshmen.

3. A student wrote to me and said, do you have it in your heart to tell me what to study for my final? My answer: I have it in my heart but you have it in your notes.

4. Convincing a math major that yes, theatre is an integral part of his education.

5. My advisor told me I should be careful on how I use the term 'doubling' in my thesis. As I was doing some research in the Encyclopedia of Theatre and Performance, I looked up 'doubling' and realized that he wrote the entry for it AND I was using the term completely wrong in my paper.

6. Coaxing my printer to print out my application materials that are due TOMORROW.