All Business

Alright, kids. In lieu of a normal post, I have some business to attend to.

1. Curly-Haired Me
I took this picture of myself this morning, and I think I'm gorgeous in it. Awestriking*, in fact. And I felt the need to draw your attention to it, because I'm a shameless attention whore with a vain streak. ADMIRE ME!

*See #5

2. Slogan/Catchphrase Contest
So I'm currently having a new header designed for me by Delicious Design Studio, and I'm super excited about it.

And a realized something: I wish my blog had a slogan. Or a catch-phrase. If I want one, I've got to come up with it fast (as she's working on it right now!), but everything I come up with is unusable, for one reason or another. I've been making suggestions for a lot of blog titles recently, and I think I'm pretty good at wordplay with those, but somehow I'm not as good at this... Maybe it's just because it's for my own blog?

ETA: The TITLE (angelaboration) will not be changing. I'm looking for something to come after the title in the header. A phrase of description or something.

Anyway, I've decided to turn it into a contest. If you come up with a brilliant slogan or catchphrase, and I use it for my blog, I will send you a $10 gift card for iTunes**. I know, I know... That's awesome of me. Yeah, well. I'm ripping off your creativity, so it's the least I can do. Leave all your suggestions in the comments section. :-D (Oh, by the way, if I end up using any of these, you're not allowed to sue me for intellectual property or anything. If you send it to me, I claim it as my own. I'm trading you the gift card for it.) PLEASE HELP ME!

**(Note: If, like Brian, you do not have iTunes, we'll work something else out.)

Lame things I've come up with include:

- The perfect blend of sugar and spice
(Ack! Corny! Plus, I don't think it's even true. It's more a blend of Sweet and Sour -- wink to anyone who knows me in real life!)

- Secretly Cinderella
(which doesn't make sense unless you know one story about me that I can't post on the internet... If it ever got out, it might hurt the feelings of a few people I have no intention of hurting)

- Actress, Model, Dancer, Whatever
(the title of a song, and not entirely true... except for taking pictures of myself, I'm not a model)

- Drama Not Included
(definitely a lie)

- Thief of the Spotlight
(I started calling myself this in a Brit Lit class in high school, although I can't remember why. I think I've outgrown it)

- Groove Is in the Heart
(my theme song... but laaaaaaame)

- Average Everyday Sane Psycho Super Goddess
(A song lyric... It feels like cheating to rip something off of a song)

- Limited Time Offer
(doesn't make sense)

ETA - Elaborations on the Theme of Angela
(in the vein of "Variations on a Theme"... I think it's a bit too "hitting you over the head with my blog title")


Maybe you can do better? *crosses fingers*


3. Grab My Tunes!
Have you ever listened to my playlist and thought, "Wow, Angela has the best taste in music EVER"? Well, you're right. I do.

A lot of times when I can't find a song that I want on my playlist online, I'll upload it to my NaBloPoMo page, and then link to it from there. And I realized... there's probably a way for you all to download the stuff that I've uploaded... But I'm not exactly sure how. Anyway, if you'd like to try right-clicking away at things, I upload it all here.

Also, I'm pretty sure that if you click the "URL" links next to songs on my playlist here, you can get to the sources... You might want to try that as well.

So good luck, sailors! And if you figure it out, let me know so that I can share it with the rest of the class.

(or if you really want something, let me know and I'll e-mail it to you)


4. Novel-In-Progress
The editing process is getting more complicated as I go. I changed a lot this time through. For example, Tyler was a nameless, voiceless character before, and there was only a vague reference to Xan having an ex... Everything that mentions him is new material (and yes, I have ideas of how to use him). Also, there were two other love interests (one of whom was deleted entirely, and the other of whom, Martin, has turned into a married character who has mattered very little so far...)

But because I'm changing so much, not everything that I wrote before makes perfect sense now. On the plane to CT, I finally read everything I wrote in November (I've been reading a chapter at a time, just like you)... and I had to delete an entire chapter. Too much has changed. So I'm almost out of material to edit (I think there are 4 or 5 chapters left), and then I've got to start writing new stuff... but I don't know where it's headed!

Anyway. That's the real reason I took a week off: to stretch out my pre-written material for as long as possible while I figure out how to continue the story. My goal is to write another 30,000 words in April, like a mini-NaNoWriMo. We'll see if that works.

But don't worry... Even though I don't know fully where it's going, the journey isn't a vague mess. The next two chapters are SO worth reading. :-D

5. Awestriking
I don't understand why "awestriking" isn't a word, but awestruck and awestricken are... My friend Heidi and I have decided to start using it as a word. Help us spread it around, and hopefully it'll catch on like wildfire.


Much love and many blessings,

~A~


P.S. I know I already told you to listen to "As a Blonde". You should also really listen to "Big Hair" by The Chenille Sisters, which is HILARIOUS.

P.P.S. While you're at it, I have just become reacquainted with "Sister Golden Hair" because of this theme, and I love it. Oh, and I also love "Suicide Blonde" by The Weepies. And I dig "Red Hair", too. And "Wig in a Box". (Dude, I'm obsessed with music.)

Dye, Dye My Darling

I hope you all like my photo-documentary posts, because you're about to get another one.

In case you missed the memo, Wednesday night was Hair Changing Night.

And I may have left out an important chunk of my hair history in my last post...

All through college, I cut my own hair. I got my hair cut to "fix" that self-haircut of mine around July 2002. The next professional haircut I had was in August 2005, if I remember correctly, and that was only because my mother insisted. And I've had a handful of haircuts since then. July 2006. November 2006. July 2007. February 2008.

The point is, I've cut my own hair in the past. And, frankly, I did a pretty good job for the most part.

Me with friends Laura and Grant in Rome, December 2003. I was still straightening my hair daily.

Anyway. Back to the story.

When I got to the salon on Wednesday, my stylist (Karen) and I discussed several possibilities (one of which including me having eyebrow-length bangs... I nixed that one early on. Bangs always seem like a good idea at the time...

The reason that I needed to mention cutting my own hair is that I experimented with bangs not too long ago. It was December of 2004. The night of my Directing Final (meaning that it was the performance of a play I had directed for class). Everything went wonderfully. And when I got back to my dorm room, I had an urge to grab some scissors and cut my hair. So I did.

I had always dreamt of having bangs like 99 on Get Smart. Not when she had the short hair, but when she had the long hair and her bangs fanned out from an upside-down V over her forehead. I thought they were awesome, but I never had the guts to go there. But that night, for some reason I threw caution to the wind.
Me with the 99-bangs, December 2004

The biggest flaw in this plan was not in the execution, but in that I had failed to recognize something crucial: 99 had straight hair. It didn't work out perfectly, as my hair is not straight. Despite this, I actually really liked the bangs at first. Sadly, they were not well-documented. Only two semi-decent pictures of that cut exist: that last one, and this next one (and even these aren't all that great).

At a Christmas party, being sassy. December 2004

Tragically, the awkward growing-out process was extremely well-documented.

One of many pictures I have where my bangs look this horrid. With friends Ashleigh, Crystal, and Monica. January 2005.

The point is, I think I've been permanently scared off of bangs as a result. I'd rather not risk it.

Anyway. Back to the story.

The "before" picture

Okay, so that's not a perfect "before" shot. Karen brushed out my curls before it was taken. But you get the idea.

All foiled up

I looked like a martian. Haha.

Half-bleached, half darkened

I didn't actually get to see this stage. Karen took this picture for me.

And now comes the big reveal...

After shot #1

After shot #2

Me with my stylist, Karen.

Pretty awesome, right? I feel like a total rock star.

Karen darkened up my base color significantly. Then she put in purple and red colors. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure what she did. All I know is that I dig it. And it's also fun to have my hair straight... I hope it still looks as fab once my hair is back to its original texture (I haven't washed it yet... I'm not supposed to... something about the color locking in?)



I loved test-driving it at work today. I got a lot of positive feedback.

And my coworker gave me perhaps the best compliment I could've gotten.

John: I like how it's so dark. It brings out how light your skin is.
Angela: Do I look like a vampire?
John: No, you look striking.

Allow me to quote my own post (Picture Perfect): "I wish I looked more... distinctive, I guess. I would love to be "striking"."

Ha! Success!

*SNAP*

Um, yeah. Have I mentioned that I love my new hair? Because I do. I'm sort of obsessed with it.



I'm thrilled. Effing brill move on my part. I was born to have weird hair. Oh! And now I can check one more thing off of my list of things to do before I die: Dye my hair an unnatural color. Yee-haw!


May you be brave enough to change.

~A~


P.S. As long as I have my Hair-Themed playlist up, listen to "As a Blonde" by Fefe Dobson. I LOVE that song, and it was what inspired me to dye my hair in the first place.

P.P.S. The title of this post is the episode of Daria in which Jane tries to dye her hair to match her painting, "The Lady or the Tiger". And if you caught that, you win major points in my book.

An Award? Excellent!

Thanks to the ever-lovely Jenn, I have gotten my first ever award! Dude! How cool is that?



(Congratulations to my blog-buddies Cheryl, Jamie and Nico, who have received it as well!)

And it looks like I get to hand it out to 10 other Excellent bloggers!

So here are my picks, in alphabetical order (would you expect me to do it any other way?):

1. A Beautiful Day in the Reneeborhood by Renee

2. Big Time Fancy by Joy

3. D Blogged by D

4. Dr. Katie Goes to Med School by Katie

5. is it real, or am i dreaming? by Carole a.k.a. Deet

6. PB & Razz by Erin

7. Ramblings of a Madman by R.E.H.

8. SoMi by Nilsa

9. To Kiss the Cook by Jessi

10. Whatever and Ever, Amen by Cleric


You should go check out those blogs, as they're all pretty rad. (I wouldn't have bestowed this Excellent Award on them if they weren't.)


Much love and many blessings,

~A~


P.S. Yeah, I know I didn't post a real blog post this weekend... I was out of town and just not in the mood. But I'll probably write one on Wednesday or Thursday. We'll see.

P.P.S. For all y'all who are reading my novel-in-progress, I'm sorry to make you wait... But I deleted an entire chapter of what I've already written, and I needed to take a week off to scramble and start putting some of the pieces back together. But the next couple of chapters will be worth the wait. ;)

Homeworkouts & Hairdos

I started making a list of things I want to do before the grad school whatnot begins. But grad school decided to begin a little earlier than I anticipated.

I have homework. Already. From the school that *technically* I haven't even applied to yet.

(I know, I know. I've got to get on that whole application thing... But I did mail in the letter confirming my acceptance of their offer today, so that's something. I'll start contacting some new potential recommendation-letter-writers tomorrow. I promise. Or maybe Friday... I mean, the application isn't technically due until May 1...)

Yes. Homework.

Exercise homework. A sort of fitness regimen, if you will. A homeworkout.

And recommended reading. That'll be a piece of cake. I read with speed. The biggest problem with that one is actually shelling out cash to buy the books. What a pain. Why don't people just give me things for free?

The exercise thing is trickier (by the way, I think I have successfully learned how to spell exercise now. Yay for making an effort to keep my New Year's resolutions!). I hate exercise with a burning passion. So let me share what was written (everything in italics)...

Work on your fitness: aerobic, anaerobic, and flexibility and
flow.

I looked at that list and was briefly transported back to high school, as I'm sure that's the last time I came into contact with the word "anaerobic". Just that one sentence, and I was already groaning.

Running, speed walking, treadmills, elliptical machines, and swimming are good for aerobic work.

Well, running is out. Generally, I only run when I'm being chased. Or when I'm late for something. I mentally associate running with punishment. In gym class, whenever you did something wrong, you had to run laps. Punishment. Not something that you do for recreation. Speed walking is pretty much the same way. For some reason, I would actually consider a treadmill... but I don't have access to one. Same with an elliptical machine (to be honest, I'm not even positive what an elliptical machine is). And swimming is a big fat HA! I don't do swimming. I don't wear swimsuits. I don't much like large bodies of water. And I definitely don't want to be swimming where other people might be swimming. God forbid they should see me splashing around, completely clueless, wearing a hideous bathing suit and praying that my body looks less terrible when distorted by the water. No. Too terrible to contemplate.

I've been taking the stairs a lot at work (12 flights up a skyscraper, thank you very much), which I'm pretty sure is aerobic. Of course, that's only like 5 minutes a day, 5 days a week... But it's something. And I dance a lot, which I'm sure is aerobic... Alright, I've got to dance more. My coworker suggested buying something like Hip Hop Abs or Turbo Jam (the latter of which she owns), but I don't think I really want to shell out $60... (Although Rockin' Body did look tempting... I'm so easily suckered by informercials).

Cybex, Nautilus, Free Weights, Pilates, and Power Yoga are good for anaerobic work. Anaerobic work builds your stamina for voice and also ups your metabolism, helping you to use calories well and to burn more fat, thus becoming leaner.

I'm pretty sure that part of that first sentence was gibberish. Cybex? Nautilus? I think those were aliens in a sci-fi flick I saw once. My mother used to do pilates and tried to get me to give them a try once... I was bored out of my mind. Same thing happened when I tried Yoga, although I'm betting that "Power Yoga" is more active...

I think I'm going to buy some weights online, as this is the least repulsive of the suggestions. I had a whole discussion with my coworkers about how massive of weights to get today. I was thinking I should start small, like 2-3 pounds. One of them said to do 5, and the other said I was a wimp and should do 8-10. I don't know... I think I should go smaller and just do more reps... After all, the possibility of me hurting myself is pretty large, as I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

Do you think Tai Chi would count as anaerobic? I took a class in "Tai Chi for actors" once, and I totally dug it. Maybe I'll ask my professor if that would be alright...

Flexibility and Flow can be addressed through yoga, stretching classes, or body rolling work.

Seriously? There are such things as "stretching classes"? That just sounds funny. I'm not sure I want to know what "body rolling work" entails... And you already know my antagonistic attitude towards yoga... Damn. I can't figure out the least of the evils on this one... I'm pretty flexible already... Maybe I can get away without it? *sigh* I guess I'll look into this stretching and body rolling stuff. But I am NOT doing yoga.

There was nothing in the email about changing my diet, but I know I'm going to have to. Theatre grad school is extremely physically demanding (one of the current first years lost 40 pounds in 5 months). I'm going to have to start eating a lot healthier.

Also... The current first year class contained three vegetarians, and all of them switched over to eating meat within the first couple of months of the program. NOT because it's required of you; they don't care if you eat meat or not. But you need a lot of protein in your diet in order to get through it, and the easiest way to do that is by adding meat back into your diet.

I've also heard that when former vegetarians start eating meat again, they lose weight (which would be great... I could stand to lose a few pounds at the moment). Which I guess makes sense. I think I've been eating more since becoming a vegetarian in November. The food is lighter, so I don't feel as full as I used to. Sometimes I'll eat a whole meal, and then eat a slice of bread or two just so that I'll feel more satisfied. And I don't think I'm getting enough protein, which is probably sending my blood sugar completely out of whack and making me feel hungry sooner than I would if I were eating meat. And I'm lacto-ovo, which means I'm still eating cheese to help get protein (more than I used to, actually). And cheese is like 30% fat (for the record, I will never give up cheese... I'm addicted to it. But I should eat less of it). A lot of foods that are vegetarian-friendly are high in calories, carbs, or sugars. I know I'm eating more carbs than I used to (mostly pasta and bread -- which horrifies my South-Beached parents).

I know I have at least four readers who probably aren't thrilled with me after those last two paragraphs (three vegans and a vegetarian, that I know of)... Sorry guys. I told you back when I started that the vegetarian thing was going to be rough on me. I'm just proud of myself for lasting as long as I have. I'm sure I've helped to save several cows, chickens, and turkeys in the past four months. And I've developed a whole new appreciation for salad (especially with spinach leaves... and I love salad dressing. I highly recommend the Balsamic Vinaigrette and Honey Dijon Vinaigrette made by Cindy's Kitchen. I get them at Whole Foods). But I think we all knew it wasn't going to last... I love chicken fried rice far too much to be a vegetarian forever. I'll try to stay this way until I move to Florida. And who knows? Maybe I'll become a vegetarian again once I've finished grad school.

Really, though, I don't know what my reasons are for being a vegetarian in the first place. I don't care about animals at all. I don't believe in global warming (because it's all a lie... but that's a platform for another day). I think it's mostly just so that I can say I tried it. And part of it was because I thought it would be healthier (but the ways I compensate for no meat aren't healthier at all). And a little because it feels elitist to be able to say that I'm a vegetarian (which, I'm not going to lie, is fun). But I hate it. I miss meat so badly, I can't even tell you. Whenever I go to a restaurant, I'm completely miserable. You have no idea how badly I want to order chicken... Or a cheeseburger... Or even just eat Sloppy Joes.

Anyway.

As I said before, I started making a list of things I want to accomplish before grad school:

- Dye my hair something bold (don't worry, I'll explain)

- Finish the first draft of my novel-in-progress (wish me luck on this one... I've put 11 chapters online, and I STILL don't know where it's headed... I have plenty of plans and ideas, but not the entirety of the ending. I wouldn't care, but there are people reading it online now, and I don't want to disappoint them by leaving the story half-written and open-ended)

- Lose another 7-12 pounds (for the record, I could lose over 20 and still have a healthy BMI)

- Learn the musical A Tale of Two Cities well enough to discuss it (I own the demo, and the pre-Broadway run of it just took place at my grad school back in November. It would be handy information. Plus, I hear it's really great.)

- Whiten my teeth (and start wearing my retainer again... my teeth don't look as perfect as they used to)

- Read the 2 books Margaret recommended (obviously a recent addition)


I mentioned the hair thing briefly at the end of my last post. (ETA: Whoops. I think it was actually two posts ago.) So here's the deal... I have had pretty much the same hair my whole life. It was always long, because that's the way my mother liked it. That, and I was always doing plays. I thought that having long hair made me easier to cast (especially for things like Fiddler on the Roof). And then once I was in a show, I wasn't allowed to change my hair (pretty standard, really). So it stayed: long, brown, and boring.


(Amy, Meg, Megan, and me after a performance of "Fiddler on the Roof". I mentioned both Amy and Megan in Michigan Loves Me. Believe it or not, my hair was several inches longer than this at one point in time. November 1999.)

At one point, my hair reached down to my third lowest rib (I memorized that, as I figured it would never get that long again). I wanted it short so badly. I used to dream about cutting my hair...

So I did. One day, the summer before I went to college, I pulled out a pair of scissors and started cutting.


(After my haircut attempt. June 2002.)

Oh, I probably also should've mentioned that this was back when I *thought* I had straight hair, and fought with it constantly. I didn't realize how much texture my hair has until I got to college... Anyway, I thought I'd done a decent job (it wasn't nearly as uneven as it looks in this photo), but my mother was terrified and insisted that I go to a salon so that they could "fix it". Which was fine with me. It ended up getting even shorter.


(That's the best pic I could find of the short hair... sorry about the dark background. That's my friend Sean. Some people think he looks like John Mayer, but I don't see it. June 2002.)

With my hair short, I started noticing that it was indeed wavy.


(awwww... freshman me. October 2002.)

Although I fought it a great deal... That was the year I discovered straightening irons.


(me with Marisa. I ended up living with her in Rome our sophomore year. Spring 2003.)

And then I started missing it long. So I grew it out. And now, I get a haircut about once every nine months. (I'd post a picture, but I'm sure you know how my hair looks now. And if you don't, you can scroll up.)

As for color... It's pretty much always been brown. My mother used to insist that my grandmother would have a heart attack if I dyed it. After all, she grew up with my grandmother saying that you should "keep the color of hair that God gave you". But I dyed it black to play Diana Barry in Anne of Green Gables, and she didn't seem to care. Since then, I've only dyed my hair with temporary dyes. They're supposed to wash out in two weeks, but they linger a little longer in my hair. I've done various types of red, purple, and black, but they really only tint my hair... It's never a drastic change.

Why? Because I have to look like my headshot. Those things are expensive as all get out. And when you don't look like your headshot, you really just have to toss them out and start over. Very important as an actor that they represent you.

But now, things are different...

Between now and the time I start grad school, I won't be in any shows. There's just no time. If I auditioned for something now, the performances would be going right around the time that I'd be quitting my job and packing like a mad woman. And while I want to look like my headshots when I get to grad school, I have a five month window when I don't feel obligated to look like me. And so I don't want to. I'm going to have to let jobs dictate the way I look for the rest of my life. I'm going to take advantage of this time and go nuts.

I don't want to change the length, as I like having it long at the moment. It's a lot easier now that I've figured out that I don't need to fight it to make it look good (I totally dig it in the picture at the top, for example... totally messy, but in the way that makes it look like it might be intentional). I still go through phases where I imagine grabbing scissors and chopping it off again, like I did that one time... maybe someday I'll stop fighting that urge. Just not now. For now, I'm keeping the hair.

I sent a text message to my stylist, Karen, to ask if I would make a good blonde. After all, I've worn blonde wigs in shows before... including one show where people told me that it looked great. (look in Theatre Changes Everything if you want to see... I've put enough pictures in this entry already). She responded that it would be way too much upkeep, considering how dark my hair is naturally.

I suggested becoming a redhead, but she thinks it would be tough to find a shade that would be good with my skin tone. She says I look good with dark hair, and should keep it dark.

Drat. Maybe I'll just dye it navy. Or violet. That'd be dark, right?

Her suggestion was to put in streaks of "copper and plum". So maybe I'll go that route... I just know that I want a big change while I can still have one. I wouldn't mind not looking like me for a few months. I'd like a break from being me, just for a little bit. I am an actress, after all. I love being people who aren't me.

My hair appointment is on Wednesday, the 26th. Karen said we can discuss it then. If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to leave them. The decision is still up in the air.

Moving on...

There have been four more introduction e-mails sent by my future classmates:

- One fellow is "a life long Alaskan" who likes to fish and hike. He is a songwriter and does slam poetry.

- A girl writes, "I'm from Southern California area, but I am not "So Cal"." Among her interests, she lists classic films, "science fiction nerding out", Alfred Hitchcock movies, vintage everything, old hollywood glamour, thrift shopping, and musical theatre.

- A thirty-something guy who got his BA back in 1997 (I was in 7th grade!). He's had a really interesting life, including being a nanny to twins and living in Japan for a year. And he's currently in the cast of the national tour of the musical The Wedding Singer (Side note: I LOVE THAT SHOW!)

- Another California girl (who went to undergrad with the one above... meaning that there are two sets of people in my class that know each other already from undergrad. Weird). She loves art (especially surrealism and modern). She loves dance (mainly hip-hop and modern). She loves to decorate. She also writes, "I am totally a poetry groupie, I can't do it worth a damn, but I am always there to support a great poet!"


I'm so excited. I think my class is going to be fascinating! There's only one guy who hasn't written back yet... I hope he does. I feel like I have an incomplete set or something right now since I'm missing his e-mail.

Anyway. I've got to go get dressed for the karaoke party I'm headed out to.


May you occasionally take a break from being yourself.
Don't be afraid to try on someone else's shoes (or hair).

~A~


P.S. I had an intense urge to title this post, "Work It out, Chameleon!". Haha! Oh, that makes me laugh (and for no good reason). But I decided it was a little strange, and that I would be the only one laughing.

Leading with Cheer

Forgive me for being egotistical, but I believe that I am an asset to any group to which I belong. For example, I think my workplace will be a lot less interesting when I'm gone (although I'm pretty sure that only two of the people in my department have realized this thus far). And I think that my grad school class is going to be a more cheerful, energetic bunch because of me.

I think that in many ways, I can be defined as a cheerleader. And perhaps a cheery leader as well.

I come by it naturally, as my mother has the same gift/affliction. In fact, the DJs on her favorite online radio station (Martini in the Morning -- they play mostly standards, and my mother would be ecstatic if she knew that I was advertising them on my blog) refer to her as the station's Head Cheerleader. Whenever she sees a martini glass, she has her picture taken with it and sends it to them. Her automatic signature on any email she sends has a Martini in the Morning graphic on it. She even worked the station into our family's Christmas letter (no, I'm not kidding). She's a one-woman advertising campaign.

And, well, I'm the same way. I like to get people excited about things. I like to bring people together. And I'm not afraid to step up and take the helm. My mother taught me well.

The current students at the grad school to which I'll be matriculating this fall have started sending out "Welcome" e-mails to my class. So I decided to take some initiative; I turned into glue and began binding us all together.

First, I put everyone's e-mail addresses into my address book. Then, I used the Facebook friend-finder thingamajigger to befriend as many as I could find. And then, I sent them all an e-mail, introducing myself. Here is a portion of that e-mail:

My name is Angela. Some people call me Angela, some call me Aiea (which rhymes with Maya... but don't worry about having to spell or pronounce that. Angela works just fine). I'm 23. I grew up in Michigan (near East Lansing) went to Saint Mary's College in Indiana (it's the women's college that's across the street from Notre Dame), and I've been living in Chicago since fall 2006. I have two younger brothers who are in undergrad, and my parents live in Connecticut. I love to write (I'm working on a novel right now... it's seriously terrible, but it's a blast), I love to dance (often at inappropriate times), and I would be completely unable to function without music (and I'm pretty eclectic in my tastes).

I thought that was a good introduction to me. I tried to involve my personality and not just facts (hence all the parentheticals... I think they demonstrate my hyperactivity and ability to digress rather nicely). But I also didn't want to scare them off (too soon to give them a full dose of the insanity that is me). Hopefully, I struck a good compromise there.

My class is twelve students (seven guys, five gals). So far, six of them have followed my lead and composed their own introductory emails.

- Guy from D.C. who goes by the nickname "Thrill" and says, "I have a very different kind of personality, I have nothing but Crunk Juice inside of me almost ALL the time. I'm a little big ball of Crunk energy."

- California girl living in Texas who started her email with "Huzzah!" and went on to write, "I have strange taste in music and stranger taste in books... but I make a mean apple pie."

- A fellow who has lived in Manhattan all his life writes, "I was a competitive swimmer until I went into the LaGuardia "Fame" High School and fell in love with drama."

- A girl who started in the program two years ago, but left after a semester because of family troubles. She's starting again with our class. She writes, "I'm a red headed "Jersey Girl" through and through."

- Michigan guy who is "an avid reader", a "TV drama junkie", and says, "currently The Frames have stolen my heart."

- Another Michigan guy (side note: the Michigan guys went to undergrad together). This one writes, "I find foreign affairs really interesting, as well as anthropology, spanish lit and history." He started the email with "Yo dudes" and ended with "Rock on".


So I'm excited. Seems like a fun bunch. And like we're all different sorts. So that'll be fun. :)

You might have asked yourselves, "What are the odds that THREE Michiganders would end up in the same tiny MFA Acting program in Florida?" But here's the even weirder thing: I know there are already at least two Michigan students in the program (one is a second year, one is a first year). So 5 out of the total 32 students that will be there next year are from Michigan. Which means that along transportation equipment, cereal, and Christmas trees, thespians are clearly one of the best exports that Michigan has to offer.

I formed a facebook group just for our class. I figure it'll be nice to have a forum for figuring out all the things we might want to discuss. Five of us are in it at the moment.

The next mental debate I'll have on the grad school front has to do with my living situation. Three of the aforementioned future classmates expressed interest in finding a roommate. It's way cheaper to live with someone, and you can wind up with a bigger (and nicer) place as a result. But I don't know if I really want to be cohabitating with someone whom I'm going to be seeing in every class. There would be no escape.

And there's also the tiny little issue of applying. I STILL haven't lined up my recommendation letters. I'm not too worried, as I'm pretty sure I have until May... But still. Should probably get on that. I tried making a couple of calls today, but I ended up talking to the usual voicemails. Ah well.

Aside from trying to start the ball rolling on cohesion within my class and avoiding other grad school whatnot, I've also been pretending to be an adult. I actually did my taxes today. And you know what? It was totally painless. Piece of cake. I also edited a chapter in my novel (a good one, I thought. I was pretty happy with it). And I tried to clean my apartment. My mother tried to help give me a jump-start on it while she was here, but we didn't get all that far.

I started going through my makeup today, throwing things out. You wouldn't believe how much makeup I have. It's obscene. Particularly since I wear very little (often none) on a daily basis. No makeup case is big enough to hold all of it, so I actually bought a tackle-box at Wal-Mart several years ago. And, frankly, it barely fits in there. I might need to find something bigger soon.

Speaking of new things, I recently made myself a new book to write in. I already have a book for poetry I've written, a book for quotations, and a book for lists. Well, now I have a book for compliments.


I'm getting a lot better at accepting compliments than I used to be. And certain people in my life seem to be happy about that *cough, Brian, cough*. So I've decided I'm going to start writing them down. Besides, it'll probably be good for my self-esteem. I'll be able to look back on nice things people have said about me whenever I'm feeling as though I'm worthless.

(Ha! I was about to write that it'll come in handy next February when I'm going through Seasonal Affected Disorder, but then I realized... I'm going to be in FLORIDA! I won't have SAD next year!!! Woo-hoo!)

As one final thing to mention, I love Jenn. No, seriously, I love her. Remember when I guest-blogged for her? She actually sent me Thank You gifts!


Two scented candles (delightfully green, I might add), and a lovely notebook (I'm such a sucker for blank pages in pretty packages). And all this after she allowed me to write on her blog for a day! I feel like I should be sending HER a present, not the other way around. Anyway, thank you Jenn!

I now have the beginning of what I fear will turn into a wicked headache, so I've got to stop staring at my computer screen.


May you lead some cheers of your own.

~A~


P.S. I switched out my other plaid background for one with only two colors. Is it less busy? Or is it equally problematic? And is it less fun? I can't decide what I like and/or want.

Tenacity & Complexity

I have the sort of tenacity that can't be taught.
The sort that borders on stupidity.

Tuesday morning, I woke up and stared at my alarm clock, waiting for the moment it went off so that I could pounce on the snooze button.

You're probably thinking, if she was up, why didn't she just turn off the alarm?

Because I might end up falling asleep again, and then there would be nothing to wake me up. And although I was awake, it wasn't to the level that I wanted to start moving around yet.

The alarm went off. I dutifully smacked the snooze button. I stayed in bed.

Suddenly, I had a tremendous pain in my abdomen. Out of nowhere. Not cramps. Not a stress stomachache. A pain that I had never felt before. Horrible. I couldn't get up.

After a few minutes of this intense pain, I called my mother. My mother is a registered nurse, but she lives in Connecticut, and therefore wouldn't be able to help at all. But this was the kind of pain that I had to verbalize. I had to tell SOMEONE. And thanks to the difference in time zones, it was about 7:30 for her, and therefore I knew she'd be up and about.

I was in enough pain that I had trouble breathing the words out to explain. She was worried (and understandably so). She told me not to go to work, and instead to go to the doctor. I explained to her that I didn't want to go to the doctor. After all, this was a very important day; the day I was going to get to see Brian.

I ended the phone conversation and got a call a few minutes later from my father. My mother had called him and insisted that he try to talk some sense into me and diagnose me over the phone (my father is a doctor). He was asking me to describe the pain and rate it on a scale of 1-10 (10, he said, was getting your head cut off. I couldn't help but think that getting your head cut off would only hurt until they sliced your nerves... and that the whole thing would probably take a second. Amputating a limb with a rusty saw without anesthetic would probably be a better 10). I said it was between 7 and 8 (although really, what the hell does that even mean? I have no rusty saw amputation memories to compare it to).

He then told me to lie on my back, use my hand to push where it hurt, and then release it suddenly. I did this, and then ended up screaming into the phone, crying uncontrollably due to the amount of pain I felt as a result of this seemingly innocuous action.

"Angela, call 911."

"I'm not calling 911."

"You have to. You have to go to the hospital. You have to get in an ambulance"

"I wouldn't even let 911 send an ambulance when I was hit by a car. You really think I'm going to let them get me now?"

He then used some phrase like "positive rebound" or some other nonsense like that... and said that it was not good.

I refused to call 911.

He started using scary words like "ruptured" and "cyst".

I refused to call 911.

He said I might have "internal bleeding".

I refused to call 911.

He said something about not wanting to pick me up at a morgue when he and my mother came to visit on Wednesday.

I tried to laugh in defiance, but it came out as muffled crying.

He said that if I wasn't going to call 911, then HE was going to call 911.

I told him that I was still in my pajamas, and that if 911 was to be called, then I wanted to have pants on before they arrived.

As I said before...
I have the sort of tenacity that can't be taught.
The sort that borders on stupidity.

My dad called me back a few minutes later. I had pants on, and was walking around alright. I told him the pain had gone down to about a 4 or 5. I told him I was going to work. He said that if my pain had gone down that much, that it was probably going away on its own. It probably wasn't internal bleeding after all.

You know what that means?
I was right.
HA!
And no ambulance required.
RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT!
ME ME ME!
This means that for the rest of my life, when someone says I need an ambulance and I refuse, I now have a story to point back to as evidence, saying that I'm right.
HUZZAH!

I went to work, feeling the level of pain increase and decrease at random intervals throughout the day. I told coworkers in my vicinity, but didn't tell my boss. I figured I'd tell her if I was going to the hospital, but until I reached that point it wasn't vital. Besides, I was taking a half day.

I left work at 1:00pm, grabbed some food on my way out of the building, and ate it as I was waiting for the torturously slow L to arrive (for the record, you get weird looks when you're eating a caprese salad with a plastic fork at an underground train station).

Brian would be arriving at O'Hare at 2:27pm, with a 2-hour layover before his next flight.
His flight landed early.
My train got in late (as a result of construction, which I'm very bitter about).
By the time I met up with him, he had found a way to change flights so that we could have a few more hours to hang out.
(Because he's brilliant and fantastic.)

And it was lovely and wonderful and delightful and fun and happy and every other positive word in my vocabulary.

We didn't even really do anything. We just talked. And at one point I was accosted by a homeless woman who was convinced I was "following" her. And I performed a couple of monologues for him (so now he has officially seen me act, which he never had before).

We grabbed some dinner at a food court. Brian called it a date. Whether it was our first date or not depends on what you'd call a night back in August in which we hung out in my car in a Steak & Shake parking lot until past 5am... (if you have the patience to look for it amongst a sea of words, you can search in Michigan Loves Me). That being a date is debatable. I was dating someone else, so at the time I definitely did not consider it to be a date. But in retrospect, I can see how one might come to the conclusion that it was... I guess it doesn't matter. If we hadn't been on a date before, we've been on one now. A very casual, impromptu, almost silly sort of date. Which is exactly the kind of date I would've chosen.

It was a beautiful evening. And well worth avoiding a trip to the hospital for.

And saying goodbye wasn't fun.

As of Tuesday night when he got home from his trip, Brian and I are now an official "It's Complicated" on Facebook. I invited him into that state of quasi-relationship earlier in the week, but he'd been computer-less until that point. I don't know exactly what that means or whether it changes anything, but it felt... good. It's nice to sort of publicly acknowledge that something is there. Even if it's something undefinable and convoluted. It's there.

A metaphysical relationship. Definitely. (As I mentioned in a guest blog last week).

My parents, who have only met Brian once, really like him. Which is good. So do I.

They are now in town. And they're thrilled that I'm not dead as a result of mysterious internal bleeding. I hung out with them last night, and then had lunch with my mom today. She wants to come over and clean my apartment for me. The thought of me living in mess makes her nuts. I can't help it. I nest. If things are too organized, I can't think properly. Ah well... If she wants to clean my place, I'm not going to stop her. Maybe then I'll find the most recent arrival from Netflix that seems to be M.I.A.

Anyway.

I realized two huge, important things on my way home from work today.

1. I'm happy.
Seriously, truly, happy. So happy. And I love life. At the moment, everything is working out quite nicely. Is it perfect? No, of course not. There's no such thing as life being perfect. I'm not rich. I'm not in a production right now. My family lives in a different time zone. My metaphysical boyfriend is in Ne-flippin'-braska. But it doesn't matter. None of that matters, because I'm happy. Even with everything exactly as it is. I'm going to graduate school in the fall. I feel validated as an actor. I've got a best friend again, and he makes me feel good about myself. It turns out 23 is a far better year than 22 was. Yes, I'm a very happy bunny.

2. I figured out why Brian and I have to be apart.
I believe everything happens for a reason (and not just because that's the way it is on Lost), and Brian and I haven't been able to figure out why he's in Nebraska and I'm in Chicago. But today, it made sense to me. We reconnected with each other because we needed each other. And the reason we're apart is because we were going to end up being apart anyway. If we were both in the same place right now, think of how hard it would be when Brian had to go wherever the heck the air force tells him to go. Think of how hard it would have been for me to make the decision to move to Florida for grad school. But because we're already at a distance, we're still able to do the things we need to do. And as I said in that guest blog (two references to it in one post... that means you HAVE to read it now), the distance between us is the width of a cell phone. It doesn't matter whether my cell phone is in Chicago or Florida... I'm not giving up anything with him by moving. This is already built-in to the given circumstances surrounding our quasi-relationship.

That might sound dumb, but it came as a great relief to me today. Knowing that I don't have to worry about the distance ruining things. Because we've already dealt with it. We've dealt with it the whole time. It's not ideal, but it's not insurmountable either.


May you be happy in imperfect times.

~A~


P.S. I'm considering dying my hair something that isn't brown. Suggestions?

P.P.S. I will be holding a giveaway soon. Yes, a giveaway. As in, you can get free stuff from yours truly. I hope to post the details within the next week or so, but it's dependent on someone else... You'll see.

Cuddle Bunny

(Picture taken 02/29/08, in the city where I'll be attending graduate school. You should be very jealous right about now.)

The last week has been marked by the following events.

- I saw 5 plays in 7 days. And, shockingly against the odds, none of them was bad.
- I guest-blogged for two people (hence my missing post this week... I figured I'd covered it. And I think both of my guest posts are pretty great, so please go read them if you haven't done so yet).
- I became completely and totally obsessed with Lost, finishing seasons 2 & 3 in a week (well, technically I'll be done with season 3 on Monday night -- I saved one episode for myself in an effort to stretch it out a bit longer).
- I changed my relationship status on Facebook to "It's Complicated" (because, let's face it, it is).
- I have put off figuring out how to do my taxes for another week (but I did pick up the necessary forms from my old temp agency so that I can properly do them).
- I got my application and acceptance letter from grad school (I have already been made an offer, but I have to apply to the school as a formality).
- I had a really great cuddling session with a platonic friend.

And now I'll just expound upon that last point (because if I explored all of them, you'd be reading for the next several hours, and I wish to spare you that grief).

On Saturday night, my friend Mike's band was playing in a Battle of the Bands (I have previously mentioned Mike in my post So Close). And his band effing rocks. They won their night in the first round. Last night was the second round (in which the competition was exponentially more talented), and they came in second in the night. This means that they are officially qualified for classy elite third round. I'm so proud of him!

(NOTE: For the handful of you reading my novel-in-progress blog, I have to mention that the character of Sam is NOT based on Mike. I've never even mentally cast him in the role. But yes, upon editing it I've recognized a couple of similarities -- namely that he's in a band and I think of him as a brother)

(NOTE: If you are not reading my novel-in-progress blog and you would like to, leave your email address in the comments section. It's an invite-only soiree. Very exclusive.)

At the end of the night, Mike made a comment that we hadn't had a good cuddle session in awhile (I think the last one was in July. He was drunk. We were lying down on a narrow couch in a room full of people. And we were watching Shaun of the Dead at the time). I think he craved that physical closeness as much as I did. And so he and I headed to an apartment that some of his friends live in, and we crashed on a giant, sinfully comfortable air mattress. And it was glorious.

I love cuddling more than I can possibly say. And I'm a completely indiscriminate cuddler. I'll cuddle with men, women, gays, straights, I don't care. Most nights, I cuddle with a pillow or two, pretending that there is a human sleeping next to me.

Cuddling is particularly enjoyable when it's with someone who fits you. I don't mean personality-wise; I mean it in a completely physical sense. Some people's bodies just fit together well. Like legos. Or puzzle pieces. And other people... well, it's like trying to put two Slinkies together; you end up with a big tangled mess. Or sometimes, it's like a Slinky and a Rubik's Cube; two things that have no business being near each other in the first place and are better off alone.

But my As-Good-As-Gay friend Mike happens to be a very good cuddle match for me. Supreme. He's definitely in the top three best cuddle-partners of my life. In fact, he might win the title. He's that good.

He and I are mysteriously able to avoid all of the "awkward arm placement" scenarios that arise when I cuddle with other people. I'm not entirely sure how it works... I find it's best not to over-analyze these things. Besides, if I thought too hard about it, I'd be trying to recreate the experience with every other cuddle-buddy I ever tried out, and that would ruin half the fun. (Besides, if extraordinary cuddling is to be had, I think it's something that has to arise spontaneously.)

And perhaps the best part about cuddling with Mike is that, because we don't get into awkward positions, there's never a time when either of us pulls away. I have a tendency to wake up a lot in the middle of the night (curséd insomnia). I wake up less than normal if there's good cuddling taking place. And with Mike, whenever I do wake up, he's holding me. That's a beautiful thing.

Now, I'm not saying that this is always for the best. I understand a "squeeze-roll-and-release" move if you're having trouble sleeping. That's cool. Do what you have to do. I understand. I'm just saying it's nice when you find someone you don't have to do that with.

Ex #2 was a self-proclaimed "sensational cuddler" (I thought that was a notable adjective, so I remembered it). But then when I cuddled with him? No. Not sensational. Not remarkable in any way. Actually pretty terrible. The body match was mediocre at best. He wasn't attentive at all. And he always ended up on the other side of the bed (which, in a twin bed, is a bad sign). And then he accused me of being a terrible cover-hog (which I am) and singing in my sleep (which I still don't believe that I actually do).

For the record, Mike has never accused me of being a cover-hog. Probably because I'm not tossing and turning all night when I'm wearing another person like a blanket. I wrapped myself up in Mike, so I didn't need to grab the sheets.

Ex #1 was a good cuddler, save for one thing: he always wanted to be the little spoon. Not good. I'm 5'6". He's 6'2". He was a bigger sort of guy, and I was a tiny sort of girl (at the time... that was before I packed on my hibernation weight). The spoon position is really only going to work well in one configuration. And him being the little spoon? That wasn't it.

It's also not good when people think that spooning is the only way to cuddle. I prefer to mix it up a bit. I have about 3 preferred cuddling positions, but to try to explain them in typed form would only prove inaccurate... They're really so much better when demonstrated. And since I can't do that here... I guess you'll just have to imagine.

I wonder if there's some sort of reference book for good cuddling. A "Cuddle Sutra", if you will. Maybe I should write one...

I hope I'm a good cuddler. I've never really questioned it. I mean, I love cuddling. And I'm sort of a connoisseur of cuddlers... But how can I possibly gauge my own abilities? I suppose it's impossible. Particularly since I have no idea what other people look for in their cuddle-buddies. I only know what I myself look for...

So, in case you missed the memo, here are Angela's rules to cuddling:
- Do cuddle with people that you have completely platonic relationships with, provided you're clear about intentions beforehand
- Don't try to cuddle with people who don't want to be cuddled with
- Do tell someone if you get into one of those "awkward arm" scenarios and your circulation is being cut off
- Don't attempt to be the little spoon if you're clearly the bigger person
- Do consider holding on instead of rolling over
- Don't feel like you have to stay in the same position all night long (it's okay to reposition... or to separate yourself if you're having trouble getting comfortable)


May you find someone who fits you.

~A~

Guestblogging #2

I know, I know. So soon, I do it again.

I guest-blogged for my friend Renee over at A Beautiful Day in the Reneeborhood (I helped come up with her blog name, just so you know).

And, I have to say, I think this is one of the funniest things ever. And you should read it. But then again, it's like 2:30am and everything is funny to me right now... I don't know. I still think you should read it.

Guest Blogger Angela: Eavesdropper Extraordinaire

Much love!

~A~

Guestblogging #1

I guest-blogged for my buddy Jenn (aka FreeAndFlawed) today. Guest-blogging, for those who aren't familiar, basically means that I did the same thing I usually do here, just over there. And I know how much you love what I do over here. So you'll want to go there to see what all the fuss is about. Yes? Yes.

Go check it out!
Guest Blogger Angela: Going the Distance

Ciao!

~A~

Grad School: Update #4

Ladies and gentlemen, congratulate me. I'm going to graduate school in Florida. And I couldn't be happier.

(That pretty much sums up the entry... You could really just stop reading now... Unless you WANT to read a long rambling account of exactly what I've been doing... But really, it's more for my own need to chronicle my life than it is for you... In any case, you've been forewarned.)

(By the way, is the word "forewarned" ever really necessary? I suppose you can always substitute "warned"... Sorry. Semantics.)

While I was there, I kept having moments in which I thought, "NOW I love this place" They happened so many times that I'm really not certain when I made the decision to attend.

I left my apartment at an unholy hour on Thursday morning (just hours after my last post, if I remember correctly), met my mother in Atlanta, and ended up in Sarasota in the afternoon (after two flights each). We were exhausted as we pulled into our hotel in a rental car, but not so out of it that the décor escaped my attention. There were two identical prints of an ugly house hanging on adjacent walls; the mark of a classy establishment.



To be perfectly honest, I don't think we did much of value that first day. We drove around to try to get our bearings. We got food at a chain restaurant (where we received repeated, adamant warnings from a hostess there not to venture into the BAD part of one of the suburbs). We looked at an apartment that was HUGE, but far too out of the way to be practical. I think I showed my mother my blog to ask her opinion on the plaid (and switched it to the diagonal... still not sure how I feel about it). Then we were both so exhausted that we went to bed. Exciting.

Friday morning, I met with my "student guide", Kirstin, who was about as delightful as a person can be. We went to a Starbucks and just discussed the program at length. Everything she said made it sound like a good fit for me.

As I met the rest of the students, I got a good feeling. As though I'd known them before. In a dream. Or in another life. Something like that. Or maybe they just remind me of people I already know. In any case, they seemed like friends more than strangers. I was put at ease, which is something that rarely happens to me when meeting new people (if you'll remember, I have social anxiety).

I attended a voice class with the first year students. If the average person saw it, they'd probably think the class was full of nutters. But not me. I found it fascinating. And it was thrilling to me to experience what it's like to be in a classroom of students who are so committed to their exercises, no matter how ridiculous they may look.

That's one thing that I think I missed out on in undergrad. There were always a couple of people who complained or put forth half-effort when they didn't understand the reasons for things. I always went for it, no matter how stupid I felt. And more than once, I felt alone in that. It's not like that in grad school. Or, at least, not at this one. No one holds back. They all go for it.

I went to lunch with a few students as well as another prospective student who is on the waiting list. They answered every question we had, and with every response I found myself falling a little more deeply in love.

At one point, I asked a third year if there was anything she wished she had known that might've prepared her better for the grad school experience. She replied that trying to explain it would be like trying to explain what pregnancy was like to a woman who had never been pregnant; you can describe it all you like, but she won't really understand it unless she experiences it. The other students then joined in with the analogy, saying that each year of school is like a trimester in pregnancy. You suffer through the morning sickness, and the swollen feet, and the back pain... but in the end, you have so much more than you started with.

I then attended an acting class with the second year students. They were doing Shakespeare scenes, so I was of course geeking out in the corner throughout the duration. And when they weren't acting, I loved how well-spoken they all seemed to be. They're clearly intelligent people on top of being gifted actors.

I wanted to get up and prove that I was one of them. Or that I could be. Eventually.

Strangely, I recognized one of the second year students from the first time I did grad school auditions two years ago. And another of the students recognized me. And I realized that, as this school called me back two years ago, I would've been in their class. There's something sort of funny in that.

I'm glad I wasn't in their class. I needed the last couple of years in order to figure myself out.

In the afternoon, I met with the top banana of the program. I told him I was excited about his school, and that I was about 95% certain that I would choose it (the truth is, I had already decided at that point, but I wanted to tell my parents before I told him). He replied with, "We want you to come here. What can we do to convince you to accept?"

I can't tell you how extraordinary it feels to be wanted by a program that you want.

That night, my mother and I attended a somewhat controversial production of a verse play that the second year students were performing. Several people walked out (many of them during a scene with sexual content). To be honest, I found it exciting that people walked out. They weren't indifferent. I think that's proof that the actors did their jobs. For the record, my mother and I both enjoyed the production.

I started telling the students after the show that I had made my decision and would be there in the fall. They seemed stoked. I think they like me. I know it sounds silly, but I honestly didn't see that coming... I guess it never occurred to me that I might make friends there. I had only thought about going to learn. And I sort of thought I'd have to dilute myself in order for everyone else to be able to handle me. But I'm not concerned about that anymore. It seems as though they'll take me as I am. What a lovely surprise!

We went out to a bar, and several of them got out on the dance floor with me. And then I felt... Man. It felt like home. It felt incredible. Like it was meant to be. On top of every other wonderful things about this school, it comes with people who will dance like fools in bars. Perfect. :)

On Saturday, I called the top banana to tell him that I was for sure coming in the fall. He was driving, and was so thrilled that he accidentally drove in the wrong direction.

My mother and I found some apartments that will work nicely for me (although there's a part of me that wants to just buy... I mean, I'm committed to Sarasota for three years anyway... And the market is terrible right now, which I think would work in my favor).

We went and saw two different productions put on by the repertory company (aka professional actors interlaced with third year students) that were both excellent. They served to increase my confidence in my decision and joy at the result.

It still hasn't hit me. I'm sure it won't until I'm actually down there attending class. But I'm so amped that it can't be put into words. I don't know if I've ever been more excited about anything. Ever. This might take the cake.


May you find somewhere that you fit.

~A~


P.S. Surprisingly, one of the students at my new grad school has already tracked down my blog. *waves to Ghafir*

P.P.S. Dude, am I really that easy to track down? Maybe I should take a cue from my friend at Big Time Fancy and use a pseudonym online... But then I'd have to switch the title of my blog. Drat. Oh well.