Absolutely Positive

Hey look! I made the sort of changes on the blog that you would notice without me telling you!

Don't get too comfortable, though. I'm still trying to suss out what it is that I want. I can't decide if I hate what I've just done yet... I think I'm going to give it a chance for a week or so, just to see how I feel... I might end up reverting to exactly what I had before. If you have any thoughts (positive or negative... I don't mind either way), please leave them in the comments section. I was thinking about doing the plaid on a diagonal instead... Is it too busy? I think I miss my old header, but it just didn't match right... I think I need to monkey around with it a bit more.

I promised a dear friend of mine that I'd try to write a wholly positive post this time, as his stratospheric empathy wounds him whenever I do not. So I'll see what I can do (it might have to be a short post... Which is probably for the best, as I have to catch a plane in the wee hours of the morning and I haven't begun to pack). One short(ish), fluffy entry, coming up!

I brought back my playlist. *the crowd goes wild* I just found the song "I Know a Place" by Petula Clark a couple of days ago, and I'm completely ga-ga over it. It's so cheery! I love learning new songs (okay, so it's definitely not new... but it's new to me). The playlist is longer than usual at the moment (I got a little overly exuberant upon its return...), but I'll be weeding stuff out at some point. I think it's best when it's around 30 songs. Right now, it's over 50 (you could drown in a playlist like that!). So if you're the sort of person that likes to put on a playlist on some random person's blog and listen to it for hours at a time, take advantage of it while it lasts.

I had a performance appraisal session with my boss today. Apparently, I'm quite good at my job, and my boss loves me. She referred to me as a "rock star" during the review a few times (and substituted "super star" at least once). If all goes according to plan, I should be getting a raise in April and a bonus in May. Woo-hoo!

I decided the time was right to inform my boss that I might be leaving in the summer to go pursue graduate studies. She seemed disappointed, referred to the news as "bittersweet", and asked if there was any chance I might come back in the summers to work for the company as a temp (no, no there isn't). It's lovely when your work gets recognized.

And things are good with Brian. It has recently been brought to my attention that most people know more about the problems there than the positives. Which makes sense. I often need to vent about the negatives. It's easier to keep the positives to myself. That, and I feel weird writing them. Embarrassed or something. It's especially odd since he occasionally reads this...

My favorite thing about Brian is that he experiences the world unlike anyone else I've ever met. I love that he watches the Disney channel on a regular basis. I love how obsessed he is with Kara DioGuardi and Platinum Weird. I love that he's more idealistic than analytical, cynical little me could ever be.

He believes in me to what seems like an unrealistic level. Sometimes I think he's happier at my successes than I am. He pays me more compliments than I deserve, and as a favor to him I'm learning to accept them with grace.

Everything he says or writes to me is weighted differently from the communication I have with anyone else. When he tells me I'm beautiful, I believe him. A hundred people congratulated me on my grad school interviews, but the words from Brian made me feel about eight times prouder than anyone else's comments. Tons of people told me they knew I could do it, but Brian's voice was the one I heard.

Sometimes he writes things to me, and I feel... I don't know. I feel like my insides are folding onto themselves and lighting a fire, filling me with the sort of warmth you normally only feel when you put on clothes straight from the dryer. He makes me feel giddy. And powerful. And like I'm worth something. Like I'm special.

He tells me I changed his life. The way he tells it, I'm some sort of angel, sent to put him back on the road to the things he wants. I don't know if that's true, but I do believe that everything happens for a reason. God put Brian and I in each other's lives... And in such a way that we can't see each other. I wish I knew the reason for that.

Anyway. Maybe now I don't sound like such a masochist for keeping him in my life. He provides me with something I don't get anywhere else. And yes, it's an imperfect, incomplete sort of excuse for a relationship, but I think he's what I need right now. I don't think we're done learning from each other yet. Whatever it is we have, it is a good thing. I swear.

I should really be packing right now. I have a plane to catch early in the morning... I'm headed down to Florida with my mommy to take a look at a grad school. I'm a little freaked, but mostly psyched. I'm going down to see if I want to enter into a marriage with this school for three years. And if I do? Well, then, I think I'll be proposing very soon.

It's weird that I'm being this decisive. But for some reason, I'm already relatively certain that this is what I want to be doing for the next three years. But I'm going to take my time. I'm not going to choose until I'm positive that this is the right school, the right time, the right choice.

Oh! I just remembered one more thing to be happy about... It's Shamrock Shake season at McDonald's! Although, actually, my first Shamrock Shake of the year was overly minty and somewhat disappointing. It tasted as though one of the employees had dumped a trial size of Scope into my large milkshake (can they even be called milkshakes? I don't think the ones at McDonald's are made with milk... Potato flakes or something... Really, I don't care what they are; they're delicious). A little over-zealous with the mint. And a little too green as well. I'm sure they'll refine the ratio within a few days. At least, I hope so. Because when they're good, they're very, very good. And when they're bad... Well, it would be better to gargle with than to drink.


May you remember to be positive when life begins to drag.
And may you take the time to be positive that what you're doing is right.

~A~

Picture Perfect

I've been thinking a lot lately about the value of on-camera training as an actor. I focus so much on the theatre aspect of things (I'm from the Midwest... it's what we do) instead of considering film and television. I've never been much of a film person until recently. Especially now that I have Netflix (genius!).

If the graduate program I choose is one that doesn't include it, I think I'll have to seek out that training on my own. I think I'm also going to look into training for voice-overs. And possibly acrobatics and aerial dance (not so much because I think I'll need it... more because it's SWEET!).

I've been told I have a good face for stage (big features, I guess), but I don't know if it's the same for film. I mean, I guess it works for Angelina Jolie...

Also, I'm too fat for Hollywood. Not that I think I'm fat... I just think that they're all unrealistically skinny. I'd be a six-to-eight in a world of zeroes. (Weird to note: I was a zero-to-two a mere year and a half ago... And people were concerned that I might have an eating disorder. For the record, I didn't. I just had much higher metabolism at the time.)

And they're all so pretty in Hollywood. So perfect. When's the last time you saw a lead actress in the movie that couldn't be described as either "beautiful", "hot", "cute", or "striking"? I wish the way I looked made more of an impression on people. The managers at my old apartment building could never remember me (although they always recognized my roommates), and it became sort of a joke between us how I was so unrecognizable (I suppose they really meant "generic" or "forgettable"). And I'm always being told, "you look so much like a friend of mine." I'm always being compared to other people. I guess I just have one of those sorts of faces. I wish I looked more... distinctive, I guess. I would love to be "striking". Like Donna Murphy. Or Uma Thurman.

But anyway. I often extol the virtues of the theatre, fighting on behalf of this art form for which I have such deep passion. I often overlook the other ways I could reach people through acting. If I'm serious about wanting to use acting as my way of changing the world, I think I should really explore all the paths through which I could accomplish that. I shouldn't limit myself to just one medium.

So who knows. Maybe one day, you'll see me in pictures.

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My friend Amanda and I went to the AMC Best Picture nominee marathon yesterday. It started at 11am and finished at 11pm, showing the five films nominated for the most coveted Oscar. Are we crazy? Quite possibly. (We actually both saw Juno ahead of time -- I saw it Friday night, making it the first time I've ever gone to the movie theater alone -- so that we could take a two hour dinner break).

Here are my thoughts:


Michael Clayton
Generally good. I personally feel that George Clooney is overrated as an actor, but he was fine here (I just wish there hadn't been so many close up shots of his face). Tilda Swinton is truly excellent, and I hope she pulls an upset. Tom Wilkinson is also nominated, as a man losing his mind, and he's fantastic as well (and I'd love to see him beat out Javier Bardem, but I'll get to that later). The editing and storytelling are good. But I failed to pick up on the importance of one seemingly innocuous detail -- a sketch in the margin of a book as it's being leafed through -- and Amanda had to remind me of it when the movie was over (I don't remember the sketch at all... and the movie makes a ton more sense as a result. My parents had seen the movie, and they didn't remember it either. Maybe it just wasn't highlighted well enough). The music was good. It was at times suspenseful. I'd see it again, if only for the sake of clarification.

There Will Be Blood
Yes, there is pay-off for the title. By the end of the movie, there is indeed blood. Daniel Day Lewis shows off a truly grand performance in the corruption and decline of an oil man. Paul Dano isn't really on equal footing with him, but he's pretty good. The movie is far too long (three hours, I believe) and the director (Paul T. Anderson) was clearly over-indulgent with his shots. The score was creepy and well done (although it was deemed not eligible for an Oscar nomination). All in all, a good film. But I wouldn't see it again... Spending three hours of my life with this flick was enough; six would be too many. (By the way, the "I drink your milkshake" line is better in context. And actually really sort of terrifying.)

Atonement
EASILY my favorite. This movie is so good. I thought it was going to be some sappy chick flick, but it's not. The movie is about a character who observes the love story, as opposed to being about the love story itself (and who would've thought I'd love a movie that so prominently featured the C-word?) The acting is excellent (how did James McAvoy not get a nomination? He's stupendous in this), and I now understand why Saoirse Ryan was nominated (although I don't think she should win, based on the other nominees in her category). The sound editing/sound mixing/score = superb (sounds in the scenes play into the score in a way that I don't think I've ever experienced in a movie before, with sensational results -- How was it not nominated for Sound Mixing or Sound Editing?). The cinematography is incredible (including an extraordinary 5.5 minute tracking shot through a beach at Dunkirk. The whole movie is gorgeous). The editing and storytelling are phenomenal (you see several scenes from more than one point of view, and it unfolds nicely), and there are a couple of scenes where it felt like a "classic" film. And it's at times suspenseful, causing me to lean forward while literally sitting on the edge of my seat. The costumes are exquisite (including the breath-taking green dress that everyone seems to be talking about). This is the best movie I've seen in a long time. As soon as it ended, I wanted to immediately watch it again. Phenomenal. Go see it.

Juno
A delightful little film, although certainly not one that makes you think "Oscar". Ellen Page is wonderful in it. The writing is extremely stylized and over-the-top, but once you become acclimated to it, it's fun (if you're willing to suspend your disbelief). Michael Cera is the same character he always plays, but he's well-cast, so it didn't bother me (I haven't seen any range in him as an actor, but he's so charmingly dorky that I can't help but adore him). Allison Janney and Jason Bateman are both great, and I also enjoyed Olivia Thirlby's performance as Juno's best friend Leah. I walked out of the theatre with a strange mix of emotions that I couldn't reconcile. I felt simultaneously lonely, detached from humanity, and maternal. I had a bizarre urge to have a child, but let someone else raise it. I'd see it again. (My favorite line: "Have a condom. They're boysenberry. My boyfriend uses them every time we have intercourse. They make his junk smell like pie.")

No Country for Old Men
HATED it. One of the most boring movies that I have EVER seen. Horrible. Javier Bardem won a Golden Globe for his role as a remorseless killer, but he was just okay. The most interesting thing about the movie is a character that's only in about half the movie (I won't ruin it for you in case you decide to go against my advice and see it anyway). It was incredibly slow-moving. Woody Harrelson wastes what could've been one of the interesting roles in the movie. The ending is completely bland and unsatisfying. There was nothing redeeming about this movie. Nothing. It was terrible. There's a fair amount of gore and guns, which I guess is why certain male friends of mine seemed to like it. I can't figure it out. At the end of the movie, I felt gypped. I think that any and all Oscar nominations for this film are wholly unsubstantiated, and will be greatly angered if it wins... anything. And it's rumored to be a front-runner in several races (God only knows why).

I just got Away from Her via Netflix, so I intend to watch that today (as I've heard that Julie Christie is a front-runner in her category).

My only other Oscar comment? I'm rooting for "Falling Slowly" from Once to win for Best Song. You may have noticed it was on my playlist for awhile (and will be again, I'm sure). It's a gorgeous song that is truly integral to the plot. To be fair, I don't know any of the other nominated songs... But "Falling Slowly" needs to win. It's just... lovely.

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My life feels complicated.
Not that such a thing is unusual.
I feel like I'm telling the same stories to people over and over again.
I'm looking for some answer that isn't there.
Some obvious explanation as to how to solve my problems.
A way to make everything into the way I'd like it to be instead of the way it is.

I keep reflecting on things that have happened.
I've replayed events in my mind so much that I can't recall their original order anymore.
I've wondered if I made the right decisions.
I hope that I'm not steering life in the wrong direction.
(And after seeing Atonement, I'm now keenly aware of how misunderstandings and missteps can alter the course of life.)

I hope that I somehow end up away from this.
That years from now, I'll live a life without confusion.
And without regret.

I hope that I'll lose this aching pain of loneliness.
I hope I'll know who I am and what I want.
I hope I'll find a way to explain myself to others without resorting to typing.
I hope to have things to do and people to see.
I hope to find a base of friends that I can trust.
I hope I'll be intellectually stimulated on a regular basis.
I hope that I'll pair off with someone who fits me perfectly, as though it were meant to be.


May the future you picture be one you hope to live in.

~A~


P.S. You may have noticed that my playlist is sort of... missing. Replaced by one song: "Desperately" by Michelle Branch. Perhaps you should listen to it and then help me figure out why it's been hitting me so hard lately. I don't know how accurately it reflects my state of being, but it's tugged on my spirit when I've listened to it in recent days. (Don't worry... the playlist will return to its regularly scheduled programming at some point.)

Distant & Uncommitted

First off, I have a few random things to mention.

1. I have dot-commed myself! You can now reach this blog at:

http://www.angelaboration.com

Exciting, isn't it? (Don't worry if your bookmarks/links/readers are tuned to http://angelaboration.blogspot.com; those should still work.) Why the switch? I decided that I love blogging and I'm not going to stop anytime soon. It just felt like it was time.

2. Since I'm settling into the blog, I've also switched up the layout a little bit. Instead of trying to build a new template (which I don't have the mad skillz for) or getting a designer (which I don't have the mad moneyz for), I just messed with the HTML and widgets a bit.

- I widened the main text field (so that my post length seems slightly more digestible).
- I broadened the header (to match the new size... although I learned at work that it looks MONSTROUS with certain screen resolutions... sorry about that).
- I moved the playlist over (so that it doesn't take up so much space).
- I added a "What Is This Blog?" field (because I dig my song-infused bio too much to change it, but it's not a good representation of who I am or what I write).
- I added a link list to some of my own favorite posts (because I'm an egomaniacal narcissist... as most bloggers are).
- I now have two blog-roll lists (because I've made so many new dotcomrades and I wanted to share some link love with them).

So basically, I worked on a lot of things that barely changed anything. And I felt the need to point it out in case it escaped your attention entirely.

3. A new dotcomrade of mine (Erin of PB & Razz) made things she calls "Chocolate Yummies" for the Chicago Blogger Meet-Up. They were delicious, and she's posted the recipe (with pictures!). Go steal it!

4. In the days directly following, the meet-up (when the attendees were all cross-linking and referencing each other), my hits SOARED!!! Two record-breaking days in a row. I average in the 20s or 30s per day (which I think is pretty awesome, since I don't update daily). One day last week, the hits dipped to 14. My previous high? A big 66, which I think was a result of NaBloPoMo (and the seemingly defunct "Randomizer" it hosted). The day after the meet-up? I got 85 hits. 85!!!! And the day after that? 115!!!!! Holy cow, I'm famous! Since then, it's dropped off significantly, but I'm thrilled to have had that traffic. I blog for me, not for readers, but it's still nice to feel loved by an invisible audience.

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And now, for the real post.

I haven't gotten any other grad school offers as of yet, but I know why. The other two schools that I adore asked me to apply. And I haven't applied yet. I know, I know. I've got to get on it. The offers period is short, and they're the kinds of schools that people would jump at a chance to go to.

So why am I not on the ball?

I'm having trouble acquiring the requisite recommendation letters.

It's hard even to ask for them. It might be easier if I could ask in person. Or if people actually answered their telephones. But it's tremble-inducing to ask in a voicemail. And an email request seems too easy to ignore or say no to. And all the people I'm trying to ask are INSANELY busy (who isn't?), which makes it feel like I'm inconveniencing them. So I've been leaving voicemails asking if I can put them down as references, saying nothing about the letters I intend to beg from them. I figured that I'd ask for the letters once I'm actually talking with them on the phone.

But there's a problem: I haven't gotten any calls back.

Man, I'm terrified that they're all going to say no.

Why haven't they called back? GAH!

The letters aren't the only problem. There's also the matter of having to write things...

I have to write a "brief statement of purpose" for the one school (the California one), and I'm not even sure what that means. First of all, the word "brief" does not apply to my writing (in case you haven't noticed). Or my speaking. Really, nothing about me is "brief"; that's just not how I operate. And what is this "statement of purpose" they speak of? I guess I'm supposed to write why I want to go pursue graduate studies in acting. That'll be fun.

The other school (the Missouri one) wants two essays, each a page in length (one page??? How am I going to get anything down to ONE PAGE??? Even my "short" blog entries are two pages). Each is supposed to reflect on a significant event in my life; one related to theatre, one not. I think I'm going to plagiarize from my blog (what? It's my own intellectual property. I see nothing wrong with copying and pasting bits from Theatre Changes Everything, for example. Come to think of it, I might do the same for my statement of purpose.)

Frankly, I could easily crank out all three pieces of writing in under an hour. So why haven't I? I don't know. At least a little bit because I feel like it's not worth it to bother if I can't get the letters of recommendation. And a little because I'm worried that I'll put all the effort in and then be heartbroken if I don't get those two offers (which is what happened with a school in Ohio two years ago).

And there's one last reason... I'm resting on my newly acquired laurels.

I feel like I've already succeeded. The school that has already made me an offer is great, and even with offers from the other two schools, I'd probably end up at this one anyway. It's like how you don't do extra-credit work for your Calculus class if you already have an A (unless you're certifiable. Or a Stephen Hawking caliber genius). In a way, it feels like "Senior-itis". It's that feeling of apathy that sets in once you know you're going to hit your goal.

"Offer-itis"

I've got to get over it. All of the above. I know this. And I will. (Please ignore the fact that I'm procrastinating by writing a blog post instead of the other whatnot I should be composing.)

Besides, I think that in order to formally get accepted to the Florida school, I'll have to get letters and write a statement of purpose anyway. Might as well get it all squared away now.

"But, Angela," you might ask, "if this Florida school is so great, why not just accept now?"
(Since a smarter person in my shoes probably would.)

Because I'm indecisive.
Because I'm afraid of commitment.
Because part of me wants to know if I could get other offers.
Because it's hard to make this kind of decision from a distance.

I can't do it without actually seeing the school (or any other schools to compare it with... although I'll be making comparisons to the schools I visited the last time I went through this whole rigamarole). So I'm flying out there a week from Thursday (with my mother... Yes, I brought my mommy to grad school auditions, and now I'm bringing her to visit the grad schools. Don't judge me).

As usual, grad school really isn't the only thing going on in my life. Things have been complicated on the Brian front (because, really, what part of my relationship with Brian hasn't been complicated?).

He said that I try to talk him out of loving me, half hoping that I'll succeed and half hoping that he'll ignore me and go on loving me anyway.

And he's right.

He said I should start trying to get over him.

He's probably right about that, too.

It feels like every couple of weeks, one of us tries to cut off contact with the other in order to take a step back and analyze everything. And you know what? It doesn't help. The most recent attempt was mine, after the long, tearful discussion we had on Saturday night. I didn't even make it three days before calling him again. And the break didn't give me clarity... It just made me miss him.

"But, Angela," you might ask, "if this Brian guy is so great, why not just go for it?"
(Since a smarter person in my shoes probably would.)

Well, probably for similar reasons to the ones I wrote for the last question that you hypothetically asked. (Eerily similar, now that I look at them.)

Besides, he knows as well as I do that this isn't going to work right now.

Brian wants to see me. He thinks one of us should visit the other. I really want to see him (so badly... you have no idea), but I can't help but think that it's a terrible idea. It wouldn't help anything. It would just reinforce how much it sucks that I'm here, he's there, and there's no way to reach out and hug him from this distance. It would just make me want to be around him more, and that's not possible.

And we'd probably get to some awkward place as a result of it, not knowing how to move forward or how to step back. And then everything would get even more screwed up than it is at present.

I shouldn't want to see him. As even he points out, my conversations with Brian are tear-inducing. You're not supposed to go for the guy who makes you cry. Unless it involves tears of joy. Or tears of laughter. But then, I have to wonder... Is it Brian that makes me cry? Or is it the fact that he's so far away? And is crying such a bad thing? I didn't used to think so (see A Little Water Clears Us). It clears us out. It relieves stress. And, perhaps best of all, it forces us to reconnect with our emotions.

Clearly, I have an extreme emotional attachment to him. (How did that happen? He's not even here!) Perhaps the only way to get over that is to cut off contact. A sort of low-tech version of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

But I've tried it. I know it doesn't work.

In this case, "out of sight, out of mind" is wrong.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder" is closer to the truth.

Now that I'm resorting to clichés, it's probably time to cut this off.


May you fight your indecision.
May you develop a sense of commitment.
May you find a little motivation and stop resting on your laurels.

~A~


P.S. I watched the entire first season of LOST last week for the first time. Turns out, I totally dig that show. Don't ruin anything for me! I'm a few episodes into the second season, and I'm enjoying myself.

P.P.S. I've been using the word "whatnot" and the phrase "I dig it" a great deal in recent days. No idea why.

Grad School: Update #3

Today is the first day of the offers period.
The offers period is 3 weeks long.

I have officially received an offer from an MFA Program in Acting.
(The guy actually called me from home, as it's President's Day.)

ETA: It's the school in Florida

I have three weeks to decide whether to accept it.
And I might receive more offers within the next three weeks.

I'll be going out to visit the school and talking with current students and recent graduates to decide if it's the right decision for me.

And if I get other offers, my indecisive nature might turn out to be a problem...

Thank you for all the good vibes, well wishes, and prayers.


May you feel wanted.
And talented.
And valuable.

~A~

P.S. I DID IT!!!

P.P.S. Heh... I wrote this from work. Never done that before. But in this case, I think I'm completely justified. Thank goodness I'm a fast typist.

Chicago Blogger Meet-Up

I've been breaking my own rule and posting more than semi-weekly lately. Please forgive me.

I made some new friends last night. Lovely ones. I attended a meet-up of Chicago-based bloggers from 20-Something Bloggers.

They're neat people. You should check out their blogs.

- Big Time Fancy
- D-Blogged
- PB & Razz
- Places Never Planned
- SoMi
- To Kiss the Cook
- You are flawed if you are not free

It was a bit weird meeting people who already knew things about me (a few of them were familiar with my blog). And I've been attempting to read their blogs so that I'd be ready to meet them, although I just started and thus knew very little. It was interesting to attach faces, personalities, and psycho-physical rhythms to people who had previously only existed in my head by what was evoked through written word. A fascinating little social experience.

I uncomfortably shifted between acute social anxiety and story-mode all night. Sometimes I could talk, share, and laugh. I told stories. I discussed the positives and negatives of various blog platforms. I explained why I try to limit my posting to a couple of times a week (because I could write this much on a daily basis, but no one would read it). It was fun. And I felt like a part of the team.

Other times I had to tune everything out, close my eyes, stare into my lap, and learn how to breath again. I had the misfortune of sitting in the middle of the table... That awkward place where there's a conversation to your left, another to your right, and you're not sure how to be a part of either as you're listening to both. It's like there's too much input to properly sort out anything.

It's hard to explain social anxiety to people who have never experienced it. The best I can put it is that it's like claustrophobia. Like I'm going to drown in a sea of sights and sounds. Like I'm being suffocated by the breaths of others. Like the crowd is strangling me, wrapping around my body like a snake. I choke, my soul turns blue, and I worry I'm going to faint.

Luckily, no such thing happened. Once I had a couple of cherry cokes in my system, I started dancing. And that helped. I think they may have thought I was a lunatic (not that such a label is new to me), but I had to dance so that I could breath.

Sometimes I feel so alone in this city. It's nice to know that I can connect with people I don't know. It's good to know that we all have ways to relate to each other. That there are people out there who understand. At least a little.


Big Time Fancy, Free and Flawed (from "You are flawed if you are not free"), and D (from "D-Blogged").

PB & Razz, Nilsa (from "SoMi"), and To Kiss the Cook.

D and Places Not Planned.

Big Time Fancy, me, and Free and Flawed.

PB & Razz and To Kiss the Cook.

After the meet-up, I had a long conversation with Brian.

I don't want to talk about it. Yet.

Let's just say that it involved a lot of crying (me, not him), and I was up until close to 5:00am.

I don't cry very often. I don't know why Brian has a tendency to bring that out of me. Maybe he's the only person I care enough about to cry over.

Or maybe it's just February. And I'm dealing with S.A.D. or something like it. And maybe I just need to cry.


May you find lovely people and learn to connect.

~A~


P.S. The offers period for grad schools begins tomorrow. Please pray for me.

ETA: The bloggers I met with have also written about our meet-up.
- The Big Time Fancy version
- The D-Blogged version (and his pictures)
- The PB & Razz version
- The Places Never Planned version
- The SoMi version
- The To Kiss the Cook version
- The You are flawed if you are not free version: Part One; Part Two

So Close

(ETA: Recommended listening for this post: "Konstantine" by Something Corporate")


I almost got emotional on the L on my way home from work.

He called.

Ex-boyfriend #1 called.

On Valentine's Day, but not for the obvious reasons.

I haven't heard his voice since June 9th, 2007: the day I broke his heart. The day I set mine free.

Actually... I was the one who decided to break things off, but he broke my heart, too. By not being the person he had been. The person I thought he was. The person I wanted him to be.

I broke up with him over the phone. It may sound harsh, but it was a long distance relationship, and several of our problems stemmed from how infrequently we saw each other. We had been so close, but the distance had put too much strain on things. And I was ready to get out of that relationship. In many ways, I think it was holding me back and preventing me from enjoying things in life.

He was understandably very upset. He told me not to contact him. He said he'd contact me when he was ready.

At first, it was hard not to call him. He was, after all, my best friend.

Around September, I started freaking out because I hadn't heard from him. I actually wrote to a good friend of his to ask her how he was doing. She verified that he was fine, and assured me that he would call me eventually.

Since then, we've had a few mild touches of contact. A couple of text messages to send holiday wishes. A song dedication on Facebook. A birthday present. But that's it.

By the end of November, I was just angry. And I hated that people kept telling me to give him time. I hated that they acted like he was some sort of victim. The moment that hurt the most came from a girl I barely know. She knew my ex, and when I told the story about how he had sent me a CD for my birthday with a card that implied he wasn't ready to talk with me, she said, "Gosh, he's such a nice guy." And she did it with a facial expression that I read as, "How could you do that to him?"

I looked her in the eye and said, "Believe me, if there is ANYONE who knows how great he is, it's me. But we just weren't meant to be."

For some reason, no one understood how much he'd hurt my by cutting me out of his life.

I may have dumped him, but he disowned me.

He screwed up my life, too.

In the three months after I broke up with him, I gained 20 pounds. I dated his opposite. I spent a great deal of time throwing emotions in the general direction of his hometown. Grief. Pity. Empathy. Anger. All in silence, because he had decided to cut me off.

And finally, in December, I decided I just didn't care anymore.

I thought I was over him about a week after I broke up with him. But that wasn't true. I knew I didn't want to be dating him anymore. I knew I had made the right decision. But I was so angry. And the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference. I suppose I truly got over him then. In December. Six months after we had broken up.

I've heard that it takes half the length of a relationship to get over someone. I was faster than that. We dated for two years, and it took me six months.

And then something happened.

Something that terrified me.

Something that made it clear that I had to talk to him again.

You see, my ex is currently getting his Master's degree at Northern Illinois University right now. And his mother works there as well.

And on Thursday, Valentine's Day, there was a shooting there.

I read about it while I was at work. But what could I do?

My mother called me.

"Call him."

"No. I can't call him."

"Call him!"

"Mom, I'm not calling him. He doesn't want me to call him."

I sent him a text message asking if he was alright, not knowing whether that over-stepped any boundaries.

And then he called me.

"Hi, Sweetie," he said. Out of habit, I suppose. It shocked me.

He and his mother were both on campus at the time of the shootings, but they're both fine.

I told him I was glad that he was alright, and that I had to get off the phone to catch the L.

"That's fine."

"It's really good to hear your voice."

"Yeah. You too. I'll call you soon."

"I hope you do."

*******************************************

I don't really know if I want him to call. I don't know what I'd say to him. I feel like I'd have to censor out a lot. While we were dating, he always had a hard time hearing about other males in my life. Stories involving other guys hitting on me. Hanging out with other guys when he wasn't around. Or hearing about other guys in general. On occasion, I thought his jealousy was his way of joking, but I think it ran deeper than that. I think that on some level, he was terrified that he was going to lose me to another guy.

Part of the reason I broke up with him was that I was sick of censoring myself. He asked me not to tell him any stories about going to bars with guys in the cast of the play I was in. I wanted to tell my best friend, my boyfriend didn't want to know, and I had the unfortunate circumstance of having the same person playing both roles in my life.

I don't want to hurt him any more than I already have. So I can't tell him about ex-boyfriend #2 (whom I started dating less than two weeks after breaking up with him). And I can't tell him about Brian. And, well, those have been two pretty significant things that have happened to me in the time since we broke up. Especially the Brian part.

But it's not just relationships. I'd have to leave out Ian. And Ricky. And John. And half of my coworkers. And every other male presence in my life. And if I do that, well, then, I sound like a hermit with no friends, a.k.a. a person who's obviously hiding something.

I can't help it. I always have more male friends than female ones. It's just the way I operate. I remember the night before I left to move into college for my freshman year, I decided to have a bunch of friends over to my house. I called them all to invite them. Phil, Sean, Jeffrey, Nyal, Jim, Mike, Paul, Steve... and Whitney. I remember thinking, "Dear God, what have I done?!" I grew up with brothers. I'm not as good at being friends with girls as I am with guys (although I suppose it's worth pointing out that only a couple of the guys from the aforementioned list are straight... but still).

In college, I found the men. Luckily, there were a few handy co-ed colleges very close by, and so it wasn't difficult. And I can easily say that my two best friends in college were named Mike and Greg. They were the kinds of guys I needed to save my sanity. Greg once skipped going to a Blessid Union of Souls concert so that he could help me study for a test. Mike once took me out dancing the night before I had two papers due, because he could sense how stressed out I was. Greg took me to play mini-golf. Mike to me to an OK Go concert (before they were viral break-out stars). In retrospect, it seems we had all the perks of dating without actually having to make a commitment. And it worked out very nicely. For awhile, at least.

My ex quickly bonded with Mike, sensing that there was no threat there. Although I had a crush on Mike for about 5 seconds, it had quickly been crushed the night I found myself holding his forehead as he vomited in a drunken stupor, weeping about another girl. I used to refer to Mike as the older brother I never had. We fight, both in argument and wrestling. We make fun of each other. And the thought of us ever being anything other than just friends... oh yuck. Feels like incest. In summation, Mike is the definition of "As Good As Gay".

But my ex never bonded with Greg. Probably at least in part because he knew that I had been interested in Greg at one point in time (I used to write poetry about him in my diary-x back in the day. I was pretty crushed on him).

I began dating my ex while Greg was studying abroad (which is the reason I was able to get over Greg in the first place). When he came back from being abroad, it was as if neither of them knew what to do with each other. Greg had been my closest friend and the #1 male in my life. I suspect that, on some level, he and my ex both felt threatened by the presence of the other. As a result, Greg and I grew more distant. It's one of the biggest regrets I have from that time of my life.

I don't think I've ever had as close a friend as Greg, and I'm not sure I ever will again. I could listen to a song and know whether Greg would like it or not. He could gauge my reactions to movies we watched based on how my body moved as I stared at the screen. Not only could we finish each other's sentences, we could finish each other's THOUGHTS. There were literally times when we would look at each other and just start laughing, not even needing to verbalize the private joke that we knew had been triggered simultaneously in both our minds. The joke materialized without ever coming out of our mouths, and everyone else in the room just stared at us in confusion. And while Greg and I will always be able to call each other and pick up close to where we left off, I doubt we'll ever get back to the place we were.

I had very physical friendships with both Mike and Greg (not in a "friends with benefits" kind of way... I never kissed either of them). I spent several nights sleeping next to each of them. I cuddled with them while watching movies. I climbed on them. I sat on their laps. I danced with them at parties, in bars, and at the swing dancing classes I dragged them to. We had tickle fights, long hugs, back rubs, and piggyback rides. I guess that's where my life took a turn for physical dependency. I think they needed it as much as I did. Well, almost as much. That physical closeness helped me from going crazy more than once.

Now, I have a desire to make all my friendships sort of like that, but it's tricky. With Mike and Greg, there was sort of an unspoken agreement that nothing else was going to happen. Greg had gone head-over-heels for a girl back home many years before (which originally put him on the AGAG list... until he flipped the switch... long story). And Mike... well, Mike and I weren't attracted to each other. I love the guy, but it was clear that we were meant to be friends.

Starting new physically close relationships is more of a challenge. I think I've recently managed it with a couple of friends, but it's still very much in the "this could end up going horribly wrong" phase. People misunderstand my intentions. They think I'm flirting. They think it means that I desperately want them, and that I'm throwing myself in their general direction. Or, if nothing else, they think it means they have a chance with me. And then the switch has been flipped in their minds, even though it's still firmly in place in mine.

In fact, that's what my ex thought before we were dating, when I climbed onto his lap and promptly fell asleep. But that wasn't the case at all. In fact, I was declaring him "just a friend" with that action; I was treating him exactly the way I would've treated Mike. If I were at all interested in him (or if I had suspected that he might have been interested in me), I never would've done it. I would've analyzed every action with a little too much preparation. I would've kept my distance.

Sorry. I don't know how I got sidetracked there... Ah well.

The point is, there are a lot of things my ex wouldn't want to know about. In fact, that was one of the things that led to our break up. There were too many things happening to me that he didn't want to know about because he couldn't physically be there to witness them.

It was weird hearing his voice again. And him sounding exactly the same. And it feeling like the conversation had very little weight to it, despite both the subject matter and the given circumstances.

But none of that is the reason I got strung up on the L. No, that I blame on some unfortunate timing from my iPod. Some of the songs weren't even sad... but their lyrical content got to me.

(I've added all the following songs to my ProjectPlaylist above so that you can listen to them if you'd like.)

"You're the Only One" by Maria Mena
A couple of lines got to me. Like, "You're the only one who knows how to handle me," because I felt like that around him for a long time. Another was, "You're the only one who holds my hair back when I'm drunk and get sick." Suddenly I was transported back to the night of my 21st birthday.

"The Rain Song" by The Bangles
In which a woman says she's over a guy and claims she rarely thinks of him, but she remembers every time it rains.

"I Don't Need You" by The Pierces
"Never could look back/Never would look back/Because/I don't need you/And you don't need me"

"Konstantine" by Something Corporate
If you don't already know this song, YOU MUST LISTEN TO IT. Okay, I can't force you, but you really should. It's over 9.5 minutes long, but it's one of the most beautiful, haunting songs I know. And I love it. And I could cry to it without any other stimulation. The line that always gets me is "They'll never hurt you like I do."

Seriously, just bad timing on all of them.

I probably wouldn't have gotten that close to showing emotion, except that it's February, and my S.A.D. brings every emotion a lot closer to the surface. It's like being bipolar for a month every year.

I feel like I'm so close to being able to talk to him again. Something that I wanted so badly and for so long. And I'm not even sure how I feel about that anymore.


May you find the closeness you crave.
And may you get as close as you need.

~A~


P.S. Monday is the first day that graduate schools are allowed to start making offers. After that, there is a three week "offers period". Please say prayers for me. There are three schools that I'm really strongly considering, and I would be blessed to get an offer from any. But I'd love to have options. Pray for three offers. And also pray that if that happens, I become miraculously decisive. ;)

Singles Awareness Day

Hello ladies and gentlemen.

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

I know most of you think that February 14th is Valentine's Day, but I far prefer this unofficial substitute holiday.

Someone out there will probably point out that the acronym is SAD, and that this is depressing. Interesting, isn't it, that February 14 lies dead smack in the center of the 28-day (or, in this case, 29-day) month that I generally refer to as the month I get SAD (Seasonal Affected Disorder)...

But to the people who would bring up the aforementioned acronym as a way to discredit the holiday, I say BAH! After all, the Valentine's Day shares an acronym with Venereal Disease. Being in a relationship might get you Valentine's Day, but it could also get you a Venereal Disease, and you'll be Single and celebrating SAD soon enough.

And I'm sure someone will comment that this is a fake holiday, and therefore not worth celebrating. But what, I ask you, is Valentine's Day? It's a holiday named for two early Christian martyrs (both named Valentine... and I think at least one of them is a Saint in the Catholic Church), but the closest thing to a religious symbol that anyone associates with it is a Roman mythological figure (Cupid). If ever Hallmark were behind a holiday, this is certainly the one. So I see nothing wrong with celebrating an alternative made-up holiday.

I'm actually relieved (and, dare I say it, excited) to be single this Valentine's Day. The last two years, I was in a relationship over this love-centric holiday. And I hated it. I much preferred the Valentine's Days where I sat around with my single friends to the ones where I was awkwardly trying to figure out how to handle relationship-y things.

I think part of the problem is that I'm not a hopeless romantic. Or even a hopeful one. Yes, I'll watch (and enjoy) the occasional romantic comedy (er... "chick flick"). Yes, I loved the Bridget Jones books. Yes, I own Win a Date with Tad Hamilton! (which, actually, I think I may have gotten for Valentine's Day from my ex... can't remember for which occasion he gave it to me). But those aren't the sort of things that I want to happen to me in real life.

Someone recently asked me if I had a problem with expressing affection... something like that. Maybe I do. I don't know. I just don't particularly care for being bathed in it. Feels very much like drowning. Maybe I have trouble reciprocating as a result. I get too uncomfortable... This particular problem requires further analyzation, but I don't care to delve into it at the moment.

Instead, I'll talk about reasons I don't like being coupled off on this most couple-y of days.

For one thing, as I've mentioned before, I hate surprises. Now, don't misunderstand me. When I say I don't like surprises, that doesn't mean I'm against spontaneity. It's a distinction that some people have difficulty grappling with. I don't like being surprised. I'm all for making impromptu decisions.

For another thing, I hate "couple-y" things. I hate having a song or movie that suddenly becomes "ours" (my ex, clearly not understanding this concept declared that my favorite movie, Animal House, was "our" movie, since we both enjoyed it. No, it is MY movie. I loved it long before he came along. And frankly, I don't remember ever watching it together. Clearly, it was not in any way a part of our relationship. He also once said "our song" was "Elephant Love Medley" from Moulin Rouge, a song that reminds me of time spent with my friend Phil long before it reminds me of my ex).

For another thing, I can't be won over the way other girls can be. And I hate having to pretend that I like that sort of thing just because a guy went to some trouble over it, completely misunderstanding what it is that I want out of him.

Whenever someone performs an incredibly romantic gesture for me (or for a girl like me), my mother refers to it as "a waste of a romantic guy". Most girls would salivate over that sort of thing. But I'm not most girls.

My dad says that he thinks I sometimes take the male role in relationships. I wouldn't say that. I'm just not... I don't know. Standard? I don't need to play hard to get. I genuinely AM hard to get.

I dislike getting presents from guys. In part because, in my experience, they miss the mark (like the time my ex bought me a diamond necklace after a year and a half of dating... It made me question whether he knew me at all. I far preferred Win a Date with Tad Hamilton!, especially since we had a running private joke about my love for that film). And you have to love them for trying (incredibly endearing when they do), but I'd rather just not get gifts at all.

The best gifts are experiences. Not physical presents. Memories are better. But try explaining that to a guy. And that, coupled with the "spontaneous is good; surprising is not" concept... I guess I'm just not easy to please.

But this year, I don't have to worry about any of that. This year I stand single and proud. This year I'm free. This year, I don't plan to do anything differently on Valentine's Day than I do any other day of the year. And I love that.

(Really, though, that's the way it should be. Even for people in relationships. If you love each other, why wait until Valentine's Day to show it? Find ways to express the way you feel every day. Every single day. If you're crazy about each other, why wouldn't you?)

I'm single in every possible sense... But every now and then I contemplate adjusting my facebook profile to read "It's Complicated". Because in my life, it always is. And on the male front... yeah, I think that's probably the best way to describe it. It certainly isn't simple. And while I may be technically single, I don't think I'm really datable at the moment, for a variety of reasons. So my facebook profile currently doesn't have a Relationship Status at all. It's blank. Hopefully, that's the least misleading of my options.

You know, some of the greatest gifts I've gotten recently have been videos that people sent me of themselves through facebook (it really is a marvelous invention, that site). Like the friend who used a Kermit the Frog puppet to serenade me with a Josh Groban song. Or the friend who performed a video strip tease to the song "In These Shoes?" (formerly on my ProjectPlaylist). You understand why I felt the need to propose to both of them... They gave me amazing gifts; they gave me stories. They gave me joy.


May you have a love-filled VD/SAD, whether you're in love with someone else or practicing loving yourself.

~A~


P.S. I debated putting on this last image, as I'm currently a vegetarian, and I know that I have a handful of vegetarian and vegan readers... But I decided I had to. It makes me laugh. Try not to take it too seriously.

Something Better

Every few hours I realize it again.

I really think I'm going to grad school in the fall.

My life is going to be completely uprooted and changed. I'll have to quit my job. I'll have to leave my little hole-in-the-wall apartment. I'll be moving to a state that I'm completely unfamiliar with. I'll probably be living a plane ride away from everyone I love. My life will be consumed by theatre, as I've always hoped it would be. I'll have to work harder than I ever have before. But I know that my passion, dedication, and talent will carry me through. I know that I can do this. I have to do this. I want something better for myself than I have right now.

It's terrifying though. The idea of leaving everything.

Not that I live some sort of ready-made life. But I've never been truly, truly alone before. When I studied abroad, I knew people that were going with me. When I moved out to Chicago, I moved in with a guy I barely knew and another guy I'd never met. But even then, I sort of knew what Chicago was about, and I knew one of my roommates... And I'd known plenty of people who had lived in Chicago already.

But now... Three of the five schools I was interviewed by are intriguing to me. And they're all in places I know nothing about. Places that are no where near anything or anyone I know. And they seem to like me as well.

I really think I'm going to get an offer this time, and not just be left hanging like I was last time. This just feels right.

The waiting is the hardest part. I'm just waiting for an offer (or four) to come in. I want to hop on a plane and visit the schools. But I can't use any more vacation time from work until things start to look serious from these schools... Because if I don't get an offer (God forbid), I have to make my vacation time last until the end of the year. If I do, it only has to last until about July...

It's good that I didn't go to grad school two years ago. I wasn't ready. I had a lot to learn before going. But I'm ready now. And I can't stay here much longer.

Brian said something to me that I have to agree with: there's nothing else I can gain by staying where I am. I've dealt with rejections here. I've discovered how much I truly love Shakespeare. I've learned how to make my own money, pay my own bills, figure out my insurance, plan my 401k, go to the doctor by myself... I've learned how to pretend to be a grown-up. I've learned that my life is not nearly as fulfilling or joyous when I'm not in the theatre. I've learned that what flows through my veins is a solution of passion, creativity, and blood.

I can't get what I need here. I need to get out. Life is... Stagnant. Static. Still. I'm not growing through being here anymore. I've reached a plateau. I need to find the next incline.

I can't sit here waiting for something to happen to me. I have to go find it. I have to get out.

Maybe I'm just saying that because the wind chill put this city into the negative 30s today. Maybe it's because I'm in my apartment with layers of clothing on and freezing because no water seems to be flowing through my radiator. Maybe it's my S.A.D. busting in. But I'm nearing my Chicago expiration date. It's dreary. And cold. And miserable. And so very, very lonely.

Ian came out to visit me this weekend. He thought I was lonely. And depressed. And angry. He wanted to help me talk through some of the things I'm dealing with right now in person as opposed to over the phone. He thought he could help me. And he did. It was a short weekend, made shorter by hassles involving retrieving his car after it was towed. He made me watch Lucky Number Slevin. I made him watch Arrested Development. Good times.

We went to a "games night" party that a friend of mine threw on Saturday night. We played Apples-to-Apples until nearly 4:00am. And then waited in the way-below-freezing cold for an L train that took far too long to arrive. I don't remember the last time I was that cold for that long. I thought we were all going to die before it showed up. And then when Ian and I got to my apartment, it wasn't much warmer. I was shivering for another hour before I could get to sleep, even under a pile of blankets with two pairs of pajamas and a fleece on.

I was glad Ian came. I think he was right. I think I was lonely. I needed there to be someone else here. Someone just to sit with and watch television with. Someone to complain about the weather with. Someone to shiver with. Someone to discuss politics with. Someone to prevent me from sitting in my apartment silently freezing for the majority of my weekend. Someone to help me begin to sort out the problems without solutions. I think he may have saved my sanity. For a little while, at least.

My penless pal Ricky has been incredibly helpful in helping to keep me sane as well. Through our facebook video exchanges, I feel like I'm having face-to-face conversations with someone... even if the reactions are a bit delayed. And he came over last Monday pre-auditions and let me express myself and chill out for a while. It was nice to have him around.

I am lonely.

I'm in this city, surrounded by buildings and people and events and ideas... And I feel so alone. And stuck.

I don't get nearly enough hugs in my life. Or physical closeness in general. And it's not even about wanting to make out with someone or anything like that. It's about almost falling asleep on someone's shoulder between L stops. Or having someone close enough to stroke your hair in silence. Or being able to huddle for warmth in the dead of winter. I want more cuddling in my life. Romantic, platonic, whatever.

Someone recently told me I should buy those sun lamps they sell for people with Seasonal Affected Disorder.

What do they sell for people who suffer for physical attention deprivation?

I need that.

I need something new. Something different. Something better.


May you find something better for yourself.

~A~


P.S. Not really related to this post at all, but there's a great Natalie Imbruglia song called "Something Better" that I like. I'm not sure that it's right for this blog or for my life at the moment, but I've temporarily put it on my ProjectPlaylist. It's about someone staying in a fun-but-imperfect relationship until something better comes along.

Grad School Auditions: Update #2

Hello my lovelies!

This morning at 11:39am, after some of the usual coughing and dancing, I performed my monologues to the grad schools. There were fewer grad schools in attendance than there were the last time I was here (it fluctuates a great deal, as many schools don't take students every year, but rather every two years or every three years). I don't think I quite "nailed" the pieces, as I had in the screening round, but I was happy with the performance.

After waiting for several agonizing hours, I got to go wait in a room and get handed a sheet of paper that would reveal whether any schools wanted to have a follow-up interview/callback/information session with me.

Last time I was here, I received five interviews. A little voice in my head was worried about not getting any... About regressing...

But guess what...

I GOT FIVE INTERVIEWS!

I know you're as excited as I am.

I went to all five interviews today. I won't post the schools (just in case they try to search for my blog, as I may have mentioned that I have one in an interview... whoops). But I'll tell you the states where they're located...

- Arizona
- California
- Florida
- Illinois
- Missouri

So aside from the East Coast, America loves me. Or at least the grad schools do.

I felt good about the interviews. One school had me do both pieces again. One school videotaped one of my pieces to show to the other professors. One school wanted to see an additional piece. One school asked me an insane amount of questions about myself. And the last school just told me about themselves the whole time. Five very different callbacks.

I'm very excited about a few of the schools, and I definitely plan to follow up. And I could tell that a couple of them seemed to love me.

But don't get too excited. Mustn't count chickens yet. After all, remember what happened last time...

I was being heavily courted by two schools. Both asked me to come visit. One of them was having their students call me to try to persuade me it would be good for me. The other asked me to send in an application with three recommendation letters, as they "can't make an offer without an application in." And then what happened? Neither school made me an offer. I ended up on their wait lists.

But everything happens for a reason.

There was a reason I didn't get into grad school two years ago. And I think that reason is because I was meant to go to grad school now.

Two of the schools I was called back by today had also called me back the last time. And one of those schools flipped a 180 in my head today. I guess two years really has changed me (actually, it changed the program a bit as well).

Four of the five schools made specific reference to the fact that I wasn't coming directly from undergrad, and that was a plus for them. So I guess my college advisor was right: I did turn myself into a minority.

You know, I got the same number of interviews as last time, but since there were far fewer programs represented here this time, I'd say I did better. Ratio-wise, at least. I'm ecstatic.

None of the schools are allowed to make any offers for a couple of weeks (really lame rule that they put into place). If I get any offers, you know I'll mention them. In the meanwhile, I wait with bated breath (and baited hook).

With any luck, I'll be in grad school in the fall.

:-)


May opportunities come knocking at your door.

~A~


P.S. The Julliard thing didn't pan out. I was just too late in applying. Oh well. Everything happens for a reason. ;)

Grad School Auditions: Update #1

I did my two monologues in three minutes for the screening judges today.

And I got into the next round!!!

WOO-HOO!

(If you don't know what I'm talking about, read about the grad school process HERE)

I was freaking out last night a little bit. I found out that a couple of my friends didn't make it on to the next round, and I became nervous that the same thing would happen to me. Luckily, a combination of phone calls and video messages from Ian, Brian, and Ricky helped me settle down and start believing in myself again. And they distracted me from the audition enough that I was able to sleep. (It was nice to finally hear from Brian... Hadn't spoken to him in a week).

My mother got into town this morning (she was supposed to get here last night, but the inclement weather shut down the airports for awhile). I had time to do my monologues for her exactly once before going to orientation. And after orientation, I performed them for both my mother and a woman from the housekeeping staff that had chatted with my mother while I was gone (she gave me a suggestion... which I actually took... Sometimes you get advice from the strange sources, but it doesn't make it bad advice. And in this case, it wasn't bad).

I went to the waiting room about a half hour before my scheduled audition time. When they gave me a 15 minute warning, I walked out into a huge hall space with a bunch of other actors. They were all doing physical warm-ups and mouthing their monologues to themselves. And I thought, what could I do right now that would best relieve the tension and stress from my life?

So I began to dance.

Yes, seriously. In the middle of a hall space. In front of a bunch of "serious" actors (different from "serious actors", you see). With no music. Full out dancing. And I just closed my eyes and went with it. I did the Twist. I started hearing songs in my head like "Shake It" and "Ruby Blue". I was dancing like a maniac. And it totally worked. I stopped stressing. I stopped thinking about the audition altogether. I decided not to care if all the other people there thought I looked like a lunatic. What do I care? If this dancing will help me get into grad school, then I'm doing it, gosh darn it.

When I was on deck, I told the guy ahead of me to break a leg. He said, "Thanks. You too. Oh, and I really liked your dancing."

A couple of minutes and a mild coughing fit later, it was my turn.

(Have I mentioned that I have bronchitis? Because it turns out that The Plague is at least part bronchitis. I went to the doctor after my boss nicknamed me "Typhoid Mary" due to my fits of violent hacking. I ended up with a prescription inhaler. I've been using it for about a week now, but the cough still isn't completely alleviated).

I nailed the screening round. I actually recognized one of the judges (she had been my screening judge last year, and had also been a judge for me in the Irene Ryan competition at the American College Theatre Festival a few years back), and I think that made me even more comfortable (I couldn't tell if she recognized me). During my second monologue, I had both of the screening judges laughing. When I finished my pieces, I said, "Thank you", and they said "No, thank YOU." I think they were genuinely entertained. :)

And somehow, I managed to do it all in two minutes and fifty seconds. TEN SECONDS TO SPARE! Party!

As soon as I finished, I knew I was going to make it on. My audition rocked. Seriously. I was at my best. Frankly, if they hadn't moved me on, I would've questioned the judges' mental health. (Please understand that I don't mean to sound arrogant... It's not often that I feel confident after an audition. Generally, my self-esteem tends to default to the low side. But, after all, Confident/Cocky is a Fine Line)

Sadly, several people I know were here as well (a couple more auditioned today), and none of them made it to the next round. It makes me feel a little guilty...

But I'm not going to focus on that (as insensitive as that may sound).

Because tomorrow, I'm going to perform my monologues in front of graduate school representatives. Tomorrow is the most important day of the year for me. Tomorrow is the day that I prove myself.

Please continue to pray for me and think good thoughts. I'll let you know how it all goes.


May you find all the confidence you need in order to make it through.

~A~

Dropping the Shoe

As a first order of business, I bet you've noticed (unless you're a Reader reader) that my music didn't harass you as soon as you stumbled onto the page today. That's because I re-installed the coding so that it's no longer on auto-start. So if you want the music, just hit the play button (or any track you fancy). And if you don't, then you won't have to rush to hit the pause button before the music starts. You're welcome.

So it's been a pretty good weekend...

I decided I needed to get my hair cut before grad school auditions. I meant to go last week, but life got in my way. Luckily, a woman I met through my Shakespeare workshops is a hair stylist, and she said she could fit me in on Saturday.

As I was waiting for the bus (for far too long) to go to the salon, I was absent-mindedly staring at the road, and I saw this piece of paper in the street. It looked a little like a receipt, and I didn't think much of it. It had clearly been driven over many times in the dirty slush and looked nasty. But as I continued to zone out while unfocusing and refocusing my eyes in its general direction, I realized it looked a bit like money. So when the cars were stopped at a red light, I walked out into the middle of the street and picked it up. Sure enough, it was a dirty, sopping wet five dollar bill. Hurrah! I think the other people at the bus stop may have been envious of my eagle eyes. Of course, then I was stuck with this cold, disgusting, limp piece of cloth-paper money in my hand in the freezing cold. I waved it wildly in the wind, trying to get it to dry off, but gave up and folded it into some loose papers in my purse.

I'm excited that I finally have a story to tell that involves the phrase "and then I found five dollars."

I feel guilty about keeping it... Is that weird? I mean, it clearly didn't belong to anyone around. And I lost about $14 dollars last week when it fell out of the shallow pocket of my work pants... So maybe this is the universe's way of giving back to me? I don't know... Maybe I should give it to a homeless person. Still undergoing a moral dilemma about this seemingly inconsequential bill grab. Let me know if you have any opinions on the subject.

Back on track...

I rarely get hair cuts. My last was in July 2007. The one before that was in November 2006. So when I go, I usually get a significant amount cut off (several inches), but my hair is so long at this point that you probably wouldn't notice if I didn't tell you.

Karen (my new friend and hair stylist) was trained to cut hair straight and dry. She did some preliminary cutting with my hair wet, and then blew it out and straightened it with an iron. I was a little cautious about this initially, as my hair is not straight, but she assured me it would look right when back to its natural state. And I trust her. So I walked out of the salon with hair so straight that I could actually run my fingers through it (see above photo). That never, ever happens.

On my way back from getting my haircut, I was standing waiting to cross the street, and I was honked at by a car carrying two men. They waved at me. I smiled and waved back, not knowing what else to do. And then the man on the passenger's side winked at me and blew me a kiss as they drove past.

I stopped to get some pizza before hopping on a bus back to my apartment. And as I was sitting at the bar, two men walked by on the sidewalk right outside. I don't have great peripheral vision, but I could tell that they were looking at me as they passed. After passing, one of them actually walked back to the window to look at me again. I made eye contact with him and smiled. He smiled back a little sheepishly, for having been caught, and then went to catch up with his friend.

I love it when strangers check me out. I don't think anything makes me feel more attractive than that.

I know, I know. I'm setting back the women's movement. I shouldn't want to be treated like a piece of meat. But I do. I like it. It would probably bother me if they actually tried to hit on me or something. But just staring at me and blowing kisses? Made my day. Seriously.

Maybe I should straighten my hair more often...?

Maybe there's a part of me that's boy crazy. I have, after all, proposed to three different men in the last two months.

*waves to Barry, Ricky, and Brian*

But maybe that's just because I've been watching too much Arrested Development (in which the character Maeby proposes to people frequently). Especially funny about the proposals, by the way, is that those are three people whom I pretty much only communicate with via internet and cell phone. Apparently, I connect with people on a stronger level when I'm not actually around them? I don't know. And, in case you're curious, I haven't received a solid response from any of them yet. (Fingers crossed! Maybe they'd be up for polyandry?)

But then, as I mentioned in my last post, I can't imagine anyone ever actually wanting to marry me.

I'm sort of working that out through my novel, actually. I posted the fifth chapter today, and it involves my main character day-dreaming about possible weddings.

When I started the editing process for this, I separated my original Word document into 18 documents, so that I could work on each chapter individually without being distracted by the others. Today, I decided to start a new document, in which I'm copying and pasting everything that I've published in the private blog. So as of today, and the end of chapter 5, I am at 23,229 words and I'm on the 54th page. Keep in mind... My original, unedited 18-chapter document is 56,032 words and on the 148th page. So obviously, it seems wrong that less than a third of the chapters should account for half the words and more than a third of the pages... So I went back to my original document and looked at where chapter 5 ended initially: The very tip-top of page 46, at 20,219 words. WHAT??? Here I thought I was going to clean it up, make it less wordy and more concise... And I've added about 8 pages and 3,000 words (which I'm guessing is mostly dialogue). I'm worried that this is one step forward and two steps back...

But it's fun to edit it. I've taken out a couple of romantic interests for the main character, as 8 is just too many. That'll take out at least one first kiss, but that's alright I suppose. As much as I love writing about first kisses.

In life, I romanticize the first kiss. I imagine it to be so wonderful. Particularly that moment before of not knowing whether the kiss is going to happen or not... It's exhilarating.

My friend Anna and I (and a couple of our other friends) refer to it as the "Drop the Shoe" moment. We were in a production of Cinderella together. At one point, the Prince and the Herald were on stage together, and one of them was holding a pillow bearing the glass slipper between them. And as the scene went on, they kept moving closer and closer to each other, and the sexual tension was palpable (we had one sequence of photographs that was particularly good proof of this...). Of course, both of the actors were straight, but we always joked from the wings that they should just drop the shoe and go crazy on each other. Hence, the "Drop the Shoe" moment was born. We'd stand backstage chanting "Drop the shoe! Drop the shoe!" Sadly, they never did. (Too bad. Would've been hot.)

But it doesn't always happen like that. In fact, I've had some really terribly timed first kisses. And it takes away that moment. Like my first kiss, which happened right after I told the guy that I didn't want him to kiss me (although in retrospect, it was a good thing). Or the guy who was playing keep-away with my car keys when I was trying desperately to get home and planted one on me. Or my first boyfriend, who kissed me as I was in a hurry to get into the security car that was getting me back to my college campus (the security people do NOT like to be kept waiting... and the guy was watching, which was horribly awkward). Or my second boyfriend, who kissed me when we were in an incredibly uncomfortable position on a couch. Or the most recent guy to give me a kiss, who asked if he could kiss me (which was endearing, but it removed the moment).

Now, don't go thinking I'm some sort of rampant kissing fool. I'm not. Even if you include the men I've had to kiss on stage (which I only do when trying to pad my numbers), I'm only up to eight. And I'm occasionally reluctant to count the keep-away-keys guy... He kissed me (or tried to) on multiple occasions, but it was always a sneak attack sort of deal. I didn't really have the option of whether to kiss him back...

But anyway.

I think I've only ever really had a Drop the Shoe moment once before a first kiss. I won't go into it, but it involved a football metaphor. He tried to kiss me twice that night before I actually let him. And it was without a doubt the best first kiss of my life (even though the guy ended up being pretty unimportant). God, it was hot. I mentally revisited that moment for weeks. So much so that I actually dropped a class as a result of it... But that's a story for another day.

To be honest, I think the best times I've had that moment were ones when the kiss didn't happen at all. Where, for some reason, the shoe never left the pillow.

If you read my diary-x back in the day -- which I think is three of you -- you might remember that I had many moments like that with my friend Greg (among other people). Including this one from May 2004:

It had been raining earlier, so the roads and the trees were wet and glassy.
The sky was starting to turn red from the sunrise.
It was kinda perfect.
He almost kissed me.
I knew it.
I almost kissed him.
I think he knew it.
But we just waited until the droplets of water returned.

We stood there
Silently
In the sunrise rain

I can still feel that particular moment in all its perfect, metaphoric, metaphysical glory.

(That's one of only a handful of passages I still have from that blog, since it was accidentally erased. I have it thanks to getting it in a PM on BWW from my friend Chris back in the day... you know, back when I used to carefully compose poetry in blogged form, instead of the insane rambling posts you read now.)

Those moments... *sigh*... That moment is easily the sexiest part of the chase.

With my first boyfriend, we actually had a moment like that long before we were dating. We were walking down a hallway in the basement of a dorm (Regina, between Room 16 and the dance studio, for all the SMC readers out there) a few steps behind another friend of ours. I don't remember how or why it happened... But suddenly, he grabbed me and dipped me. Right in the middle of the hallway. And his face was so close to mine. And I thought he was going to kiss me. But he didn't. I would've let him if he'd tried. It was hot. In fact, that was the moment that made me take him off of my As Good As Gay list ("flipping the switch", if you will). Without that "Drop the Shoe" moment, we might never have dated.

I had one with my second boyfriend, too. For some reason, I was terrified that he was about to kiss me... We were waiting for the L, and my train arrived right before he could. He kissed me at the spot where my jaw meets my neck... Oh, that was way hotter than our first kiss ended up being.

In case you were curious (and why wouldn't you be?), the hottest kiss of my life was from the same guy as the football-metaphor first kiss. It involved being pinned against the side of a mini-van in heavy rain around 2am. We were drenched. And, really, it should've been cold and gross. But it wasn't. It was unexpected, and exciting, and sexy as hell.

It's really too bad that things didn't work out with him. We had amazing, inexplicable chemistry. What I wouldn't give to revisit chemistry like that... I hope someday I can find it again. I hope it wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime deal.


This picture was the background on my computer for most of my first year of college. I wanted that. It always seemed to me that the guy had just decided to start dancing with the girl out of no where. Caught her off guard. Trying to make her smile, maybe. Or trying to get her to kiss him. I don't know. But I love it. I'd drop the shoe for a guy like that. Or, in this case, I'd drop the flowers.


May you have many reasons to "drop the shoe."

~A~


P.S. I'll be auditioning for grad schools on Tuesday and Wednesday. Please pray for me. (Or, if you're not a praying person, think positive thoughts. I can use all the help I can get.)

P.P.S. I know I've mentioned this a few times already, but I thought I'd reiterate... If you're interested in reading my work-in-progress novel, just leave your email address in the comments section and I'll add you to the list of approved readers for the private blog.

P.P.P.S. I edited my last post and added a great quotation at the bottom. If you're a Reader reader, you may have missed it, so you might want to go back and check it out.

Nobody Knows Me at All

I know this is technically late, but you got two last weekend, so I think we're even.

Happy February.

My S.A.D. (Seasonal Affected Disorder) started a little early. I almost started crying at work on Wednesday. And I snapped at two coworkers on Thursday morning when they were making fun of me. But I'm sick of being the butt of their jokes, even though I know they don't mean anything by them. I hate being teased.

I don't know how I'm going to make it through this month. I hate February.

Last night, I went to yet another coaching session with Susan and Jeffrey (the 4th time I've worked with them in 7 days, by the way). Jeffrey recently told me thinks that I have what it takes to get into Julliard (which is where he went). He says I have a "great instrument", that I'm "very talented" and seem "driven and passionate" (that last part was after giving him my "theatre can change the world" speech in the middle of a bar). I looked into it. Their auditions are this coming week, but you had to have sent your application in back in November. Jeffrey said to call them today to see if they'll let me audition anyway. So I might.

I worked on Juliet's vial speech last night. And I had a complete emotional breakdown. It felt great to be that vulnerable. And then I had several glasses of wine (which is something that I never, ever do. I don't think I've ever had more than a half a glass in my life before last night. I think I finished off more than half a bottle by myself. And for someone who doesn't drink... Well, let's just say I may have made some dumber decisions if I hadn't gone straight home after class. And as it was, I made three facebook videos for people.)

But that sort of vulnerability is something I don't feel a lot in life. Really, I feel it most in my acting and in my writing.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone really knows me. Maybe I head people off at the pass too often. And there are so many things that run through my head that I've never verbalized.

I talked out the early stages of this entry with a new friend of mine (from Shakespeare classes... what else?). She said it might be a good idea to leave some things out. I guess it's because of the adage, "never in writing." But I don't know. Stupid as this may be, and as much as I may regret it, it feels right in the moment. And if there's anything that acting teaches you, it's living in the moment.

And I'm in a truth-serumed sort of mood, so here goes. Here are a bunch of things that you probably don't know about me...


- I assume that I'm smarter than at least 85% of the people I meet. Maybe 90%.

- Whenever I look at my results on the application "Compare People" on Facebook, I ignore all the really positive responses I've gotten (100% wins for Most Naturally Talented, ranked #1 Most Creative... etc.) and instead look at the negatives (why does no one think I'm sexy? And they don't think I'm smart? Or that I have a good body?). And I develop complexes as a result.

- As often as I talk about the possibility of never settling down and having a family, there is a part of me that wants to follow exactly in my mother's footsteps. Because my mom is awesome, and being just like her would not be a bad fate. And since three of my coworkers have been pregnant simultaneously, I think I've got a light case of what Megan would call "baby fever". But it's very, very, very mild. Mostly, I'm still terrified by the idea of actually having to raise children.

- No matter how good I am at something, I never think I'm good enough.

- I honestly believe that I'm fascinating.

- I have a hard time imagining anyone ever loving me enough to want to marry me.

- Even though it's commercial and cheesy, every time I hear the song "To the Moon and Back" by Savage Garden, I come close to tears. Same for my favorite song, "I Want to Save You" by Something Corporate (what does it say about me that my favorite song makes me want to cry?)

- If I don't think I can do a good job at something, then I probably won't do it at all.

- I dance down the sidewalk on my way home from work every day when I think no one's watching. And sometimes when people are watching. And I mouth the lyrics to whatever is playing on my iPod. Last week, a homeless man came up to me while I was dancing on the corner waiting for a car to pass and started dancing with me.

- Sometimes, I think I'm the coolest person on the planet (and that I have more fun than anyone else), but that no one knows it but me. (Case in point: I dance while I'm walking home. What's more awesome than that?)

- As soon as I find out that someone is an actor, I make a snap-judgement attempting to gauge their abilities. And I've been proven wrong many, many times.

- Other than judging abilities, my first impressions of people are usually pretty good. But I rarely trust my gut instincts, as I think it's unfair to do so. And then it takes me long periods of time to rediscover what I knew at the very beginning.

- Whenever I'm really stressed out, I consider cutting off all of my hair. Sort of like Deb in Empire Records, but not quite that drastic. About a week ago, I actually picked up a pair of scissors, held it up to my ponytail, and fully intended to cut it all off. But I chickened out when I remembered grad school auditions and the fact that my head shots show me with long hair.

- Sometimes I feel as though I play a character in my life more than I play myself.

- When I can't sleep, I put a pillow at my back and try to imagine that it's a person. And that I'm not alone. Some nights, that's the only way I get any rest at all. Other nights, I fall asleep hugging a pillow. Clearly, I hate sleeping alone. And I don't mean that in a sexual way in the least. I just really like the idea of another person in the bed. But, as I talk (and apparently sing) in my sleep, and I have a twin-sized bed, and I'm a horrible cover hog, no one ever shares a bed with me. So it's all just in my imagination. *sigh*

-I think that my tastes in music/movies/television/books/etc. are far superior to everyone else's.

- I honestly believe that I am immune to the flu.

- When someone hurts me, I'm bitter about it for a very long time. I thought I was going to see a person earlier this week who hurt me quite badly a couple of years ago and is apparently unaware of that fact. And I was gritting my teeth just thinking about it.

- I love walking around in my underwear and a t-shirt. Even now that it's winter and my apartment is often cold. But I never walk around naked. I just don't.

- Every time I step on my new scale, I write down the date, the time, and my weight. For no good reason.

- I hide cash around my apartment. Just in case.

- I have an intense fear of being raped.

- I think I'm a great story-teller. And no one can tell me otherwise.

- Running seems like a punishment to me. Therefore, I generally only run when chased. Or if I'm really late for something.

- The thing that hurts me most is when people say, "oh, well you don't count." Usually this happens when I am an exception to a rule they're trying to prove, and they're saying that I don't count because of how quirky and generally against the norm I am. As though I'm considered an out-lier because I'm close to the edge of the bell curve. It makes me feel like a freak every time. And I hate that.

- I once tried to convince my mother that I was a lesbian so that she'd stop trying to imagine (or create, or force) relationships between me and every male I mentioned from school. It didn't work out well.

- I sent in like four postcards to PostSecret. None of them ever showed up on the website. I was fully disappointed. My secrets were way better than some of the stuff I've seen on there.

- Whenever I don't fully know the lyrics to a song I'm singing, I use those moments to take a sip of my drink. Or I'll turn away from people and just sort of mumble through those parts. And act as though I know the lyrics when I clearly don't. I don't think I'm fooling anyone.

- Every time I make a bet, I lose. Seriously, every time.

- I sucked my thumb when I was a kid. Every once in awhile I wonder if I'll gain the same sense of comfort from sucking it again. So I try. But it never quite works.

- The first thing I notice about guys physically is generally their teeth. A good smile can really win me over. Or biceps. I have a weakness for good arms. Like Matt Damon in The Bourne Identity. *drool*

- I rarely go without a bra. And I NEVER go commando. It's just uncomfortable.

- When people go by their full names, I have a strange need to nickname them. And when they go by nicknames, I desire to call them by their full names.

- The concept of sex is stressful to me. Seriously, just thinking about it freaks me out.

- There is a part of me that assumes I'll be famous someday for something. I think about how I'll deal with all the media attention, and the autograph signing, and being swamped with fan mail and friend requests from strangers on facebook.

- I have a friend who ruins everything she tries to introduce me to. She's not a great story teller. She explains things badly. She spoils endings of things (or important aspects of them) when trying to convince you that they're worth watching/reading. And I always end up disliking the things she talks about just from their descriptions (or songs she thinks I'd like based on her a cappella renditions of them). But then, if I actually experience those things while separated from her, it turns out that they were right up my alley. So we actually have similar tastes. And she just really sucks at the way she recommends stuff. But I would never tell her that.


So that's all for now.

May you find a way to feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable.
May you discover something that you want to do for the rest of your life.
May you learn to trust that people won't use information to hurt you.
May you make it through February (and help me make it through as well).

~A~

P.S. You should listen to "The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson on my ProjectPlaylist. Because it's full of lovely thoughts. And I can't listen to it just once. It's currently an 8-times-in-a-row song for me.

ETA: Here's a lovely quotation I picked up in Shakespeare class:

"Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction."
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry