BECKY KRAUSE

DOING THINGS I DON’T NORMALLY DO

February 7, 2016

In the New Year, I started Doing Things I Don’t Normally do.

Did “The Snake” on the Seaside Heights, New Jersey Boardwalk

Presented my Parents with an Anniversary Speech

Proposed to my Friend.

Roamed the Mall as Paul McCartney.

and

Watched myself Eat Dinner

I want to

keep Doing Things I Don’t Normally Do.

Today I will braid my hair,

go to the gym for an hour,

and

paint my nails orange.

Thanks for reading this

and watching!

WALKING DOWN THE STREET

November 18, 2015

I was walking down the street tonight and accidentally dropped a dollar.

“Excuse me, you dropped a dollar,” a girl walking behind me said.

She handed me the dollar.

“Thank you so much,” I said to her.

She started to walk away.

“Wait,” I said. She turned around.

“Would you want to reenact the interaction we just had. I’ll get a stranger to videotape us. I’ll anonymously upload the video to the internet. And you’ll become a famous hero?” I asked her.

“I have to get home and watch The Flinstones,” she said to me.

“The movie?” I asked.

“No. The TV series. TV Land is running a marathon.”

“Do you have a DVR?” I questioned.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Why don’t you use the DVR to record The Flinstones?” I asked.

“I guess I’m stubborn,” she responded.

“Stubborn against the DVR or stubborn against someone who wants you to or doesn’t want you to use the DVR?” I asked.

“Both,” she said.

“I gave three options,” I said.

“I gotta go,” she said.

“Ok. I understand,” I told her. “But before you leave can I ask you one more thing?”

“Sure,” she said.

“What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”

“I guess start an ice skating dumpling company,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I would ice skate on lakes, handing out dumplings,” she said.

“Oh, that sounds stupid,” I said. “Just because, would anyone have a need for that service?”

“I gotta go,” she said.

“One more question,” I said.

“Sure.”

“Does grave reviews mean a show got good reviews or bad reviews?”

“I think the phrase is ‘rave’ reviews,” she said.

“Oh. What does rave reviews mean?”

“Rave reviews means a show did well,” she told me.

“Ok. I always think the opposite. I hear a show got rave reviews and think it did badly.”

“I have to go,” she said.

“Ok. Bye.”

“Bye.”

GLITCHED PORTRAITS

November 12, 2015

Over the past few weeks, videos on my Facebook feed would freeze in pretty glitches. I took screen shots when they did. And used them as backgrounds for photos.

NEW_GLITCH_5

SUNDAY, 9/26/15

September 29, 2015

On Sunday I ate breakfast at Red’s Sandwich Shop in Salem, Massachusetts.

I sat alone at the counter.

Across from this man.

He seemed nice. Smiling and making conversation with the waitress.

He ordered hot coffee.

And put the most sugar I’ve ever seen anyone put in their coffee.

He held the sugar shaker [see yellow arrow for reference] upside down over his coffee for six seconds.

Six seconds of sugar pouring into his coffee.

He looked up. Saw me staring at him. I smiled. Then looked away before I saw his reaction.

I did not want to over step the social boundary of two people eating alone looking at one another.

For breakfast I ate a vegetable omelet with swiss cheese.

Whole wheat toast.

Potatoes.

A cup of coffee with milk.

I photoshopped a tomato out of this photo of the omelet. I do not like tomatoes. They gross me out.

A woman arrived and sat to my right.

Use the photo below for perspective of the seating situation.

I was sitting on the stool the yellow arrow is pointing to.

“Beautiful day out today isn’t it,” she said to me as she sat down.

“It is,” I said. Looking at her.

I got the feeling she wanted to make conversation with me.

I looked at my food.

I looked around the diner.

Looked at the people.

It was fascinating to be somewhere I’d never been.

Sitting close to many people.

Not knowing anyone.

“Do you want any sweetenah?” The waitress asked me in a Massachusetts accent.

“No thank you,” I said. Smiling in appreciation of the accent.

Who were these people?

They all lived lives. Different than my own.

Coming from and going to different places.

I would never see these people again.

It felt surreal.

A 50-year-old man and woman couple entered and sat at the counter. The waitress leaned over the counter and gave the woman a hug.

Two 50-year-old women sat to my left. One didn’t need to look at a menu to know what she wanted to order. The other wanted to look at a menu.

I finished eating.

Stood up.

“Have a nice day,” the woman to my right said to me. Very friendly. As if she knew me.

“Are you from around here?” I asked her.

“Yes. Live across the street. Thought I’d come have some breakfast,” she said.

“Oh nice,” I said. “I’m from New York. I’ve never been here.”

She told me to walk around. Look out for the Witch House and the Statue of Samantha. If I walk left I’ll go to the water and to look for the willows.

“Thank you,” I said. She was nice. I walked away. Paid the bill at the front counter. Walked back to my seat to leave a tip where I had sat.

“You have a good day now. And have a safe trip home,” the woman said to me.

“Ok, thank you. You too,” I said to her. I told her to have a safe trip home. Even though she lived across the street.

I left the diner.

I walked around the town for an hour on the beautiful Fall day.

CAN I BORROW YOUR PEN?

September 16, 2015

Last night I was waiting for a comedy show to start. Sitting in the audience.

I wanted to take written notes during the show. To remember the sketches. For my Sketch Writing class.

Rushing out of my house earlier, I could not find a notebook. I did find a blank “Thank You” card. I took the card out of my purse. Felt around the bottom of the purse for a pen. Loose quarters and my car key. No pen. I forgot a pen.

A man and woman sat next to me. They were behind me online outside. Now sitting to my right. She had her right hand on his left thigh. A romantic couple.
Ask the woman if she has a pen, I told myself.
I sat in silence for five minutes. Thinking about how the interaction would go.

She will have a pen. Give it to me. And that’s it.
She will not have a pen. Say, ‘Sorry’ and I’ll ask someone else.
She will have a pen. We will become lifelong friends. And reminisce about the day I asked her for a pen. Saying, “Thank goodness I asked you for a pen.” “Imagine if I didn’t ask for the pen? Our lives would be so different. Now you are my Maid of Honor on my wedding day.”

I turned my head right and smiled.

“Excuse me, do either one of you have a pen I could borrow?” I asked.

The girl looked at me.

“A bun?” she asked. “You are asking if we have a bun?”

I laughed. “Yes. A bun to eat,” I said. Going along with the joke.

“No, a pen,” I said. Emphasizing the word pen.

“You had your hand by your mouth, that’s why I thought you asked for a bun.”

I did have my hand by my mouth. The way a chef kisses his hand and shakes it if he/she thinks the meal tastes good.

She unzipped her backpack. Pulled out a shiny blue and silver pen.

“Here you go,” she said. Handing me the pen. “It’s a really nice pen.”

I held it up. The pen was heavy. And engraved.

“It is a nice pen. I can see my reflection in it,” I said.

“I am embarrassed to use [the pen] because it is from my plastic surgeon,” she told me.

“Oh,” I said smiling. Not sure how to react. I wanted to ask her what procedure she got done at the plastic surgeon. But did not ask.

“I will treat the pen nicely,” I reassured her.

I took notes with the pen the entire hour long show.

Filling up the “Thank You” card with penmanship.

The show ended.

Lights came up.

“Thank you,” I said to the girl. Giving her back the pen.

She saw the “Thank You” card in my hand.

“Is that card for me?” She asked.

“Uh,” I said, “yes.”

Slowly handing her the note.

“Thank you for the pen.”

SUNDAY, 8/30/15

August 30, 2015

This morning

I made a cup of coffee.

Next to the Keurig Machine,

I noticed a folder.

Interesting.

I walked with my coffee

to look out the front door.

Gotta luv fresh air.

I walked upstairs.

Holding the coffee

and a pile of clean, unfolded laundry.

I kept dropping pieces of the laundry.

And my coffee spilt.

Haha.

I walked into my room.

On my dresser

saw the Sylvia Plath journals

that I read last summer.

Opened to a random passage.

Sylvia Plath was an American writer.

To me, her journals are painful

and inspiring

in a way I can feel

and relate.

I took the sheets off my beed.

I mean, bed.

Put on new sheets.

Had to spin the bottom sheet around four times.

To find the correct edges.

I folded clothes.

Including

this shirt.

I changed into a tank top

so I wouldn’t get a

t-shirt tan.

Stretched my leg.

Left hand

to left leg.

Wearing a helmet with the number 29182 on it,

my Dad turned off the television.

We left on a bike ride.

On Hylan Boulevard,

we joined a

police escorted

motorcycle ride.

Saw my neighbor Eddie.

He said “hi” to us.

And smiled.

My Dad shot lightening from his finger

twice.

We biked for miles.

Through Staten Island.

Up a hill.

Saw three deer.

Got to Pouch Camp.

A camp ground on Staten Island.

Where my Dad attended Boy Scouts camp

as a child.

50 years ago.

The pathway was lined with

words on wooden signs.

Trustworthy, Citizenship, Compassion, Perseverance, Positive Attitude, Resourcefulness, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, Respect, Responsibility.

I think these are great qualities to have in life.

We walked to the water.

Took a photo

with my iPhone 6′s

self-timer.

He described memories

from the camping/sleeping area.

They slept 4 to a hut.

The hut protected them

from bears attacking them from behind.

It was great.

We walked through a

memorial pathway.

We left

and rode more.

To a break spot.

Overlooking the Manhattan skyline.

Rode home.

A total of 17 miles.

My Dad found a newspaper article he put aside.

About a man who rides his bike around America.

“Forget about psychiatrists or therapists,” is his advice. “Just get on a bike. You can’t be angry, can never stay in a foul mood [after a bike ride]. You have to smile.”

After a bike ride

my Dad and I always feel great.

I made myself a veggie wrap.

Ate it

while watching Alvin!!!! and the Chipmunks.