A Short History of:

To kick off our Creative Nonfiction class yesterday, the professor asked everyone to list topics under three categories: historical events, family/personal history, objects. My ideas included the Titanic sinking, my parents meeting, and gourmet chocolate.

We then had to pick one topic that may inspire the direction of our writing project, and share with the class. "The manufacture of glass bottles," I said happily. "What about the manufacture of glass bottles?" the prof asked. I froze, having not anticipated further questioning. After all, he hadn't asked Alisha, "What about cheese?" Actually, he did, now that I think about it clearly. But now I sat staring at a classmate's giant Dasani bottle as a few meager thoughts trickled around my head, finally culminating in a pathetic, "Um, I'm really interested in the shapes and design.............yes."

He was kind enough to move on.

But I am still disappointed in my inability put two words together properly, so I want to share my actual answer here.

I want to look at the manufacture of glass bottles as the designs and molding techniques changed throughout the last hundred years. When I was younger, my Dad and I would roam the woods around our house and find little dirty glass bottles, which led us to believe a bottling company may have once existed somewhere nearby. Maybe it was just a trash heap that existed nearby, but I would like to somehow connect these adventures in the forest with the history of those bottles we kept as souvenirs.

Laura Time: DC

As an only child, I got used to being by myself at an early age. So I don't have much trouble being a loner today. I LOVE being with my friends, but entertain myself just as well. Once, in the dining hall, Mike asked me if I was sitting by myself, which I affirmed. "Wow, I couldn't do that," he replied. Well, the point here is that I can and often do (though I also search obsessively for people I know, just in case).

When I go out and do something (fun) by myself, I reconcile the singletom by calling it "Laura Time." Going to the mall? Laura Time! Going out for coffee and fizzy juice? Laura Time!

So yesterday afternoon--at the end of a very long work week--I was scoping out some museums online when I came across "The Darker Side of Light: Arts of Privacy" exhibition at the National Gallery (privacy suddenly seems a fitting theme).

Fact: I've wanted to see this exhibition since last summer.
Dilemma: It leaves DC on Monday.
Solution: I planned an impromptu trip to the city today. Alone. And it was so much fun!

The exhibition was fantastic. Everything was dark and a little eerie. If I could have spared $50 to purchase the catalogue, I would've. I wandered around the museum for awhile, and then visited the Hirsshorn (modern/contemporary art) and the Freer Gallery (Asian art). Then I made my way north toward Chipotle and Red Velvet Cupcakery (which has locations in DC and Tuscon, if you're interested) for deliciousness.

The Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company is on the way to these dining locations, so I stopped in to see what was playing. Wonder of wonders, it was Mike Daisy, the monologist who once performed at our school. His show, The Last Cargo Cult, is about Polynesian islanders who literally worshiped (and still do) the power of American cargo deliveries, which were prevalent in WWII. Daisy mixes his own experiences with stories of the world, and it's fascinating. The show was only $15 for a student ticket, but I would not have gotten home until midnight tonight, and I didn't relish the idea of wandering the Metro station alone that late.

Actually, reading the review that I linked above rather makes me regret not staying...but anyway,

A few low points of today: the Metro having technical difficulties and spitting everyone out to wait for the next train; my running out in the street in front of a police car; several favorite paintings not being on display; losing my purse.

But overall, a fantastic, fantastic day. Laura Time was a success.

One place

In college, you're at the same place for four years, but the view changes each time. We're always in different dorms, classrooms, and (at this school) dining halls and theatres. It helps us to distinguish when memories took place by cataloging where they took place.

At the end of this long week and these short four years, I find myself staring at one single view that has remained constant all this time: the view from behind the circulation desk.

Front door, Mac lab, shelves, table, computer and again and again from the view of two rotating wheely chairs. Is this the college experience?

Right now I am bored out of my mind.

Reality Mirroring Fiction

It's been a slow couple of weeks, so there's not much to talk about, but I've noticed a certain trend that I want to contemplate.

I've been memorizing Christopher Durang's Baby With the Bathwater in anticipation of rehearsals, which will begin in a week (remember I'm playing the crazy mother, Helen). Though I've only gotten through the first act, it seems like I'm reliving half of the stuff that goes on. Example: my parents were bickering one day, and they used THREE lines from the scene where Helen and John are arguing. Also (slightly unrelated?) I found myself switching moods radically one afternoon, quite similar to Helen's bipolar tendencies.

The point of a good play is that it draws us into a new world, while forcing us to contemplate our own realities (or something like that). But do I want my world to slip into the bathwater? I don't think so. Those people are nuts.

Church Thoughts

Do people at church ever refuse communion because of a gluten allergy? What if the one of the Twelve Disciples had refused bread at the last supper? "Sorry, man, I'm going carb-free this week."