Last night I went to go watch my little cousin in the play Alice Through the Looking Glass.  It was sort of like Alice in Wonderland, but even trippier.  Does anyone ever wonder if Lewis Carroll had mental issues?  Because his stuff is pretty effed up.  Perhaps he was on drugs the whole time he wrote.  Maybe I should try that!  Maybe if I’m on drugs, my creative writing will become suddenly iconic, and high schoolers far into the future will want to act out my bizarre stories.


Except wait, I’m already on drugs.  Lots of them.  They’re just legal ones.  Blast.

Anyway, one scene in the play really caught my attention.  It is arguably the only scene in the entire play that made sense.  The Mad Hatter was put in prison for killing time, and he somehow escaped.  Alice (the bitchy little tattle tale) went to go alert the authorities that the Mad Hatter had escaped prison.  The guard, totally uninterested, said, “No, he has not escaped.”  Alice gestured wildly to the prison cell and said, “No, look!  He’s gone!  He got out!”  The guard leaned into Alice and whispered to her, “He may have escaped this room, but he’s still in prison.  He will never escape his mind.”

My eyes were glued to the stage.  I wanted to stand up and shout, “YES! THIS GUY TOTALLY UNDERSTANDS ME!”  Except, you know, I was identifying with a high schooler playing the Mad Hatter in a play that was written while an author was probably on drugs.  That’s not exactly something I should be excited about.  The people in the audience continued looking completely baffled for most of the play (Why is Alice’s pudding talking to her?  Why are those oysters dancing?  Why is that horse riding on that man?).  At least one line made sense.

Escaping my mind would be true freedom, but that’s an awfully difficult prison break.