Omaha

It’s not complicated anymore.

On Facebook, that is. In life, sure. My life is always complicated. But my relationship status no longer is.

I flew out to visit Brian on Thursday, and found him sick and miserable. Not the same Brian. A little slower and sleepier. And perhaps a bit more negative than normal.

I packed mostly sundresses, as I know Brian loves me in them.

We didn’t get out much over the weekend due to his illness. We didn’t fly kites. We didn’t go on the giant slides he told me about. We never made it to the zoo. He never cooked me dinner. The virus sort of threw a wrench in everything. He just seemed miserable.

But then, I was miserable, too. For other reasons.

On Friday, I made a comment regarding the state of our metaphysical relationship. And it became clear rather quickly that Brian and I had different ideas about what we were and where we were headed.

I thought we were, in some sense, dating. He did not.

He pulled out the traditional male excuse. The one about me being great, “but I don’t know if I want to be in a relationship with anyone right now.” I told him that we were already in some sort of relationship, albeit an undefined one. He disagreed.

I asked him what he was afraid of. Was he worried that I was going to go off to grad school and find someone else? Was he worried that he would find someone better?

I told him that he and I weren’t getting engaged or something just because I thought we were dating. And that we could always break up if things weren’t going well. It didn’t have to be some huge, serious deal if he didn’t want it to be.

We tried to move past it several times, but the argument lasted most of the day.

We were watching a baseball game in the evening when he looked at me.

“You’re upset.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve basically just reduced us to the label ‘friends-with-benefits’.”

He muted the television. “I can’t believe you just said that. I respect you and I care about you so much more than that.”

“Do you? Do you love me?”

He paused.

I wasn’t expecting him to pause.

The first time he told me he was in love with me was back in November, long before we were whatever it was we had become. He’s told me many, many times since then.

“I don’t know. I love so many things about you. And I love you in many different ways. But in a romantic way, I just don’t know.”

God, that hurt. I wasn’t expecting it. How could I have expected that? After all the times he’s called me, telling me that he couldn’t wait to see me. That my trip wasn’t coming soon enough. That he wanted to be there so that he could hold me. That he wanted to see me in person so badly…

“Do you think about me as if… as if I’m just one of your friends? Or am I something more to you than that?”

“I need to think about that.”

What! I wanted to scream. WHAT IS THERE TO THINK ABOUT??? How many times have you told me you loved me? And suddenly, that’s just GONE? Suddenly, I’m just like any other friend? I suppressed the urges to scream and hit him.

“Okay. Think about it. But I’m going to need an answer.”

I spent most of that evening crying quietly while he held me. I couldn’t even look at him. Such an awkward experience to be comforted by the person who is causing the pain.

“I wish you liked me as much as I like you.”

“I’m sorry for you. Because I’ve been in that situation before, and I know how much it hurts.”

Of course, that wasn’t what I wanted him to say. It just made me cry more violently. But it’s not unusual for him to make me cry. He’s just never done it in person before. And it would be a lot easier to be mad at him if he weren’t there, within grasping distance. Giving me the sort of hug I needed. And looking so handsome and so strong. And smelling like comfort.

I was at his house for another three days after that. It’s hard to have a conversation like that with a person. But having to stay in a house with them for days after tremendously worsens the situation. Watching television together. Eating together. Sharing a bed (and cuddling, despite knowing that it wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had). And feeling the entire time like I had to be nice to him. Not only because I’m crazy about him. Not only because he was my host. But because he seemed so ill and uncomfortable.

Saturday was actually a nice day. We stayed in pajamas for most of it. We didn’t leave his house once. I’m pretty sure all I ate were four s’mores-flavored Pop-Tarts. We watched Battlestar Galactica, Firefly, The Office, Arrested Development, and The 40-Year Old Virgin. I got to meet some of his friends, who were delightful. I acted cordially toward Brian, attempting to veil my residual anger. I cuddled with him on the couch and attempted to will all previous undesirable conversations out of my memory.

I could tell you about the pretty things that happened while I was there. How when we went to the bookstore, I laughed when Brian gravitated toward the Military History section. About all the ways we applied the phrase, “That’s what she said.” How words like “shiny”, “gorram” and “frak” entered my vernacular (if only temporarily). How he accidentally head-butted me in the nose, making me cry for an entirely different reason than usual. How I had the combination of Frosted Flakes with milk, and it was delicious sugar heaven.

I could tell you that Brian drank water out of a special backpack the entire time I was there, and I made fun of it mercilessly. Or how he taught me to play a video game called "Portal". How we watched two Indiana Jones movies with his friends. Or about how I jumped barefoot in puddles on concrete in a blue dress as his friend used my camera to photograph the orange sky after a rainstorm.

But in retrospect, none of that seems to matter. I guess the negative outweighed the positive.

During that storm, I thought to myself that everything would be okay. That’s what rain always means to me. I took it as a sign that the rest of the trip would go smoothly. I wish it had.

Sunday night, we lay in bed cuddling. He faced away from me and said he had an answer for me. I immediately knew what he was referring to. He told me he thinks of me as a friend. A very good friend.

I didn’t cry. It didn’t seem worth it to get upset. I just inhaled deeply a few times. And I thanked him for giving me an answer.

“Thanks for playing.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

“No,” I replied carefully. “It’s not meant to be harsh. It’s more like, ‘We didn’t work out. Oh well. Better luck next time.”

The truth is, I didn’t much care if it was harsh. I hadn’t intended it that way, but he hurt me. And in that moment, if I stung him, I felt he deserved it.

“What changed your mind?” I asked it calmly. It was more out of curiousity than anything else.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you loved me, and now you don’t.”

“I’ve changed a lot in the past few months. I want different things now... You’ve changed, too, you know. In good ways.”

His back was facing me. Otherwise, I would've wanted to punch him or slap him or something. If I’ve changed in good ways, shouldn’t he just want me more?

“Did you know before I got here? Would you have known if I hadn’t come?”

“No. I didn’t know.”

“Then… I guess I’m glad I came.”

I said it calmly and quietly. And in the moment, I meant it. Better to end things now than to wait and let them get more complicated.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I didn’t try to change his mind. I know better than that. When things are ending, you just have to let them end. There’s no sense in not accepting it. I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me.

I’m not sure why I was so patient and subdued. Maybe I was in shock.

I found myself saying things that I didn't whole-heartedly stand behind. Downplaying my excitement about grad school and exaggerating my fears about it. I think it's because I know how proud Brian is of me for going. And I didn't want him to be proud of me. His encouragements pained me almost as though going to grad school were some sort of consolation prize in light of him not wanting me. I think I wanted to hurt him. I think I wanted to ruin whatever image of me he once placed on a pedestal. Some part of me thought that it would make things easier. It didn't.

Freud said that we don't fall in love with an actual person; we fall in love with the projection of our own desires. Brian talks so much about passion being important to him, but he hasn't yet found a path in life that he's passionate about (well, maybe he has now with his new goal of being an optometrist... who knows). I think the thing that drew Brian to me was that I had already found that thing for myself. Something that I am wildly connected to and willing to fight for. He mentally defines me by the love I have for acting. I guess I wanted to take that part of me away from him.

We held hands as we fell asleep. I woke up with his arms around me. And I just laid there for an hour or so, not wanting to move him. Eventually, my skin felt like ants were crawling all over it. It was like he was contagious (huh... he probably literally was), and I urgently needed to get away from him. I got up and washed my face, in order to give my sudden stirring some sort of excuse.

Monday was… weird. I physically attacked him a few times. I meant it in a playful sense, but I actually hurt him. I guess it was because my subconscious wanted to cause him pain.

We watched some television. It seemed to be the only way to exist in the same place and not let things get too awkward. But it sucked. Every so often, I’d catch myself staring at him adoringly, and then remember that I shouldn’t do that anymore. I have to stop thinking he’s great. I have to stop caring about him. Because if I don’t, it’ll only make things worse for me.

I did something that I know confused him. He gave me a rare CD upon my arrival. A demo of his favorite band, Platinum Weird (headed by his favorite artist and writer, Kara DioGuardi, whom he mentioned in his interview). Before I left, I uploaded it onto my computer, and then I left it there. He tried to give it to me again, upset by the fact that I wouldn't take it. But I couldn't take it. I knew that if I had it, it would just make me think of him. Too painful to keep, but too precious to destroy or give away. I couldn't take it. Having it in my apartment would've just caused me to cry more.

As I was packing up, I told him that this trip was the first time that I’ve gone someplace alone, where I wasn’t going to or from my family.

“And how was it?” The way he asked made me think of a bed and breakfast owner wanting me to rate my stay.

“My feelings are mixed," I said, before hugging him. "I'm not gonna lie."

He dropped me off at the airport entirely too early. (In fact, I composed the majority of this post at the airport, making it difficult for me to remember to put anything in past tense.) As we parted ways, I hugged him.

“Thanks for coming to visit.”

“Thanks for having me.”

“I’m really glad you came.”

I let that one hang in the air.

“Have a good flight.”

“Thanks. I hate-love-hate you.”

“Um. Okay. I’m not sure what that means.”

“Neither do I.”

“Write me a letter or two while I’m in the desert? Even if it’s just to say that you’re enjoying Battlestar Galactica.”

“I will. After all, I love-hate-love you.”

And that was that.

Weeks ago, we were talking on the phone, and I mentioned my fear: that I would go to visit, and we’d realize that whatever connection we had only worked over the phone. That be being away from each other, we were filling in the missing information with things we liked. That we had built each other up to be more than we were. And that this visit would somehow make us fall apart.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said. And I trusted him. I guess I shouldn’t have.

All those times when he said I didn’t have to worry that I might do something wrong that would make him stop loving me… I believed him.

And look at the result. He doesn’t love me. Brian doesn’t love me anymore. And I can’t help but think that if even Brian can stop loving me that suddenly, that anyone would. I will never find anyone to love me. Because Brian did. And then he didn’t.

He has said in the past that the more he learned about me, the more he loved me. Even if I told him something less than positive or flattering, it made him adore me more because I had chosen to share it with him. Clearly, that didn't end up being the case at all.

I trusted him. I believed him. I’ve never put as much faith in another person as I have with Brian. I opened up with him. I told him things that I would never tell anyone else. And now I feel betrayed. And broken.

I’m not in any sort of relationship now. Not even a metaphysical one. And I’m not going to be over it for awhile.

There's always a level of disappointment when the potential you saw in something didn't pan out. I think that's especially true when it comes to dating. But this is different than my other experiences.

I’m wounded.

Not in the way I was when I broke up with my first ex. I was the one who ended things. I was in control. And although the process was painful, I felt free when it was over.

I’m numb.

Not in the way I was after my second ex. He broke up with me, but my heart was never really in it. With him, I just didn't care.

I’m single.

But this time is different. This time, I’m really hurting. A week ago I was writing everything I loved about him, and now I’m writing about how he ended things. It seems… wrong.

How can I be this hurt when he was never technically my boyfriend to begin with? And if we were never dating, as he claims, then why do I feel like I’ve been dumped? And why, oh why, does it hurt this much? He may have been a metaphysical boyfriend, but my pain sure doesn’t feel metaphysical.

I don't know why I should be surprised. It should've occurred to me that, sooner or later, he'd realize that he deserves better than me.

I guess this is what I get for not keeping him labeled "As Good As Gay".

I never thought I'd cry over a break-up. I made a deal with myself long ago that I would just say "Thanks for playing" and move on. But it doesn't feel that simple this time.

I didn’t cry in front of him, of course. But I did cry. At the airport as I typed. On the plane, after I realized my phone had fallen out of my pocket. At the lost and found desk at the other airport as airline employees tried to track down my phone (prompting one of the employees to tell me, "he's not worth it, Sugar. It's his loss."). On the L, as I tried to read through my tears. In my apartment as I checked my email. I’ve never cried this much as a result of a guy before. Ever. And I hate it.

I kept it together at work today. My sadness is beginning to turn into anger. I have an urge to shave my head, doing away with the hair that Brian loves so much. And maybe to eat my weight in pancakes and turn my body into an unrecognizable blob so he can't lie anymore and tell me he thinks I'm beautiful. But I'm not quite irrational enough to ignore that these actions would hurt me more than him.

I felt like our complicated relationship was helping me grow. But the way things ended, I wonder if I'll regress. I no longer trust anything he said to me. All the compliments he'd convinced me to believe. My self-esteem continues to plummet with each additional moment I spend thinking about this. If Brian doesn't want me... BRIAN... Brian who cared so much about me... Brian who told me he couldn't stop thinking about me... Brian who said he loved me... Maybe there's no hope.

I just wish... I wish I could understand. I wish I knew what happened. And I wish I didn't feel so stupid for falling for a guy who clearly couldn't care less about me.

I feel weak. I feel pathetic. I feel alone. I feel worthless. I feel discarded. I feel unloved. I feel miserable.

Is this what it means to be heart-broken?

I can’t tell.

All I know right now is that my heart is still beating.

And at the moment, that’s all that matters.


May your broken heart keep beating,

~A~





P.S. Brian answered half of the interview Sunday. He finished typing his responses Monday, as I lay next to him on the bed. He read all the answers aloud. And I felt vaguely violated by the fact that I was allowing him to take over my blog, especially under the given circumstances. But it felt wrong to not go through with it. I doubt that I’ll ever let someone guest blog again.

P.P.S. I actually felt guilty writing this, because I don’t want him to read this and feel badly for what happened. That’s how much I care about him. I’m the opposite of vengeful. I warned him that I'd be writing a post about this. And that it would probably be bitter. And that he might not want to read it. Part of me hopes he doesn't. Another part of me wants to obsessive-compulsively check my statcounter until he does. Maybe things will be easier to express through the written word than the spoken one.


P.P.P.S. The conversations I included in this are recited from a memory that may have been clouded by emotions. Therefore, I cannot speak to how accurate they are. In my head they’re pretty close to what transpired.

Ask Brian: Part II

Brian probably won't be happy with me for including pictures with this post, as he was sick when they were taken. Oh well. I think they're fun.

I know that many of you (especially those who have declared friendship to me on such lovely platforms as Facebook and Twitter) are anxiously awaiting details of my visit to Nebraska over this past holiday weekend, but you'll have to wait a little longer. I've already written most of what I want to say, but I thought it best to post Brian's answers first so as to have them be less tainted by the events that transpired during my stay.

In case you missed the set up, this is a sort of quasi-guest-blog, written by Brian. The questions are a mix of things asked by me, and things asked by my readers in the comments to a past post. He was kind enough to type some replies during my visit, despite having an illness that he kept referring to by various inappropriate titles (including "The Bubonic Plague", "Ebola", and "Lou Gehrig's Disease"). Enjoy.



From me:

What were your first thoughts when I suggested interviewing you?
A lot of people are going to be forced to listen to everything that’s about to come out of my head. Excellent.

If someone I'd never met asked about me, what would you say to describe me?
Energetic, driven, diverse. I would say that your theater study is indicative of the greater you – focused and eccentric, but something beautiful.

I know you've mentally blocked most of high school from your mind... Do you have any memories involving me from back then? Do you remember anything about what I was like?
Just this and that from Chemistry class, obviously. I don’t remember a whole lot about you or anyone else. In your case, I think it’s because you were too thin for my eyes to spot you.

Can you reference a private joke between the two of us that might make other people roll their eyes?
Anything in a blackcent.

If I had let you guest-blog in a more normal fashion, what do you think you might have written about?
I’d probably write about my perspective on current events and life in America as a member of the armed forces – heavily interspersed with the nonsensical and dry, sarcastic observation, Or I might just write about how great Metal Gear Solid 4 will be. Those are equally important.

What are my best qualities?
You adapt and deal well with change – you’re also willing to bring it into your life in order to get what you want, instead of being unable to let go of what you’ve had before. You also don’t spend a lot of time idle. You accomplish quite a bit, whether you realize it or not.

What do you wish you could change about me?
I don’t think anything about you should be different.

What do you think your life will be like in 25 years?
Happy, wealthy, married – the three things I want out of life, long-term.



From Jenn:

What would you say are your best and worst characteristics?
My best is that I have a great deal of ability and capability, and that’s served me very well through my life so far. My worst characteristic is that I’m sometimes prone to ignoring what it is that I want and need to do. My problem has never been knowing what that is.

Do you see yourself moving to Iceland any time in the near future? Do you have any intention of ever living in Iceland?
I have hoes in different area codes.

If the Michael Keaton Batman and Christian Bale Batman got into a fight, who would win?
I think the idea that Michael Keaton could beat anyone in a fight is a little ridiculous.

What are your goals as a blogger?
To remember things that are important to me, to share the important things that I’ve learned, and to work out my own thoughts in writing.

What inspires you?
Good storytelling, everyday miracles that masquerade as coincidence, and the beauty you can find in almost anything.

How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
That’s classified. Ask again and you will be reported to your local information security officer. Move along, citizen.



From Katelin:

How did you meet Angela?
Probably in high-school Chemistry, taught by Mrs. Ciszewski. We probably discussed why she had the strangest name out of all the faculty.

What is one of your weirdest quirks?
I say ‘are you serious’ a lot – enough to get made fun of at work for it. I also have a compulsion for lining things up. All the hangers in my closet are evenly-spaced. My brother tells me that he’s going to mess up all my hangers when he comes to visit. On that day, I shall end him.



From Kateless:

[Angela Note: Kateless went to high school with Brian and me. Hence why one of these appears to be a private joke.]

What are your top three TV shows of all time?
Battlestar Galactica, Firefly, and Shoujo Kakumei Utena. These should all be mandatory viewing.

Can you roll your tongue?
Yes. I can also turn it upside-down. On a side-note, I’m not entirely sure why this question is so popular. Can I start a social caste system based on this capability? Sorry, I can’t talk to you. You’re not a ‘roller’.

What was your dream job when you were 10? What is your dream job now?
When I was ten, I wanted to make kickass videogames for Squaresoft. Now, I want to be an Optometrist.

Can you drop an egg from two stories and protect it's fall using only the following: Six slurpee straws, two cotton balls, a roll of scotch tape and soap on rope?
I can do it better than the Mason team!

Did you have a parrot growing up? All my memories of the inside of your house seem to have a parrot.
I can’t believe you remember that. Yes and no – we did, but it was a stuffed parrot. It was red, remember? We always used to catch hell for playing with it, because mom was worried it would fall. As we all know, stuffed animals suffer permanent damage when they fall on the floor.



From kristens81:

What did you think of Angela in T&T?
She was pretty fantastic, don’t let her be modest.

Are you commitment phobic?
No, but I’m not the kind of person who needs to be in a relationship, either.

Cologne?
Eternity by Calvin Klein, or Cool Water from Davidoff. Great stuff.



From Alexa:

Who is your favorite musician/band?
Kara DioGuardi. Google her. She’s the greatest singer/songwriter you’ve heard of and yet know nothing about.

Do you prefer mangoes or coconuts?
The coconut’s tropical. This is a temperate zone.



From Zonder:

Who do you think you are?
Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya.

What gives you the right?
You killed my father. Prepare to die.



From CK1

If you are the child-having type, which would you rather, a boy or a girl, and why?
Probably a girl, because even though it would cause me all kinds of anxiety later, I can’t pass up the opportunity to terrify the living daylights out of whatever boy comes to date my daughter.

If you could only eat one type of fruit for the rest of your life, what fruit would it be?
Bananas, because they’re delicious.

What is your favorite drink?
I’m a sucker for citrus of any kind.

What is your favorite physical Aiea feature?
Her hair. Isn’t it great all the time?

What is your favorite non-physical Aiea feature?
The way she can be open about all the things that she’s feeling.

What annoys you the most?
1) People who complain about being cold, and then do nothing about it.
2) When other people’s motion sickness stops me from having a good time.
3) Girls that lie with cameras.
These are the only three things in life that make me really upset.



From Jes:

[Angela's Note: Jes went to high school with Brian and me as well.]

How's Deb doing? I haven't seen her in forEVER.
Mom’s just fine. How’s yours? ;)



So there you are, cats. There's a little dose of Brian. Enjoy him while you can.


~A~

P.S. I lost my cell phone somewhere between the Omaha airport waiting area and my seat on the plane. If you would like to get in touch with me, feel free to write an email to angelaboration(at)gmail(dot)com. Additionally, if you have any further questions for Brian, you may send them to that address and I will forward them on.

Ask Brian: Part I

See the handsome guy on the right? That would be Brian. (Try not to be too jealous, ladies.)

Several weeks ago, Brian expressed an interest in guest-blogging. But meh... I'm still not sure how I feel about having a guest-blogger. I like my blog being mine... you know? Someone else coming here and doing their own thing would feel like graffiti. Or like the blog had been invaded by foreign powers. Or contaminated. I think I'd want to erase it and make my blog clean and pure again.

But the concept of guest-blogging is also intriguing. I wonder what he'd write. He keeps a blog, but it's private, and even I can't read it, except for a couple of posts he has e-mailed to me. Aside from those, the only writing of his I've really read is from e-mails and facebook messages. But from what I can tell, he's an excellent writer and has a long-winded streak to him (no wonder we get along so well). Besides, I like him so much that I'd like to share him with all of you.

So he's sort of going to guest-blog for me. But it's really kind of fake guest-blogging; the type that I have some control over. (It's my blog, so I see nothing wrong with making this all about me.)

Brian has agreed to a blog-form interview (quite like D did with his friend Alexis back in February).

And, being the sort of indecisive person I am, I actually asked him what I should ask him. And he suggested opening it up to my readers.

So there you are.

Most of you only know me from the internet. And now, you have a chance to learn about me from someone who knows me pretty damn well in real life. I have a few questions I'd like to ask him myself, so I'll probably slide those in as well.

Or if you wanted to know more about this enigmatic Brian character that I mention so frequently, you could always just ask him questions about himself. I'm sure he'd answer those as well.

Please submit all the questions you'd like to ask Brian in the comments section of this post (or e-mail/facebook them to me). I'll send him a bunch of them, and his responses will be featured in a later post.


May you start trusting others with the reins from time to time.

~A~

I Think I Like Him

I freaked out. For reasons that seemed good at the time. But I shouldn't have. I don't have to with him. I'm just too stupid to have figured that out yet.

I wore a green dress. It got a positive response. He's never seen me a dress before. Well, no more than the people who read this blog have. In pictures, but never in real life.

In real life. It's the one way I rarely get to experience him. In person. I prefer it to every other way. There are so many more things about him to enjoy. The way he looks. The way he smells. The way he feels. The way he tries to read my face (and often fails miserably -- but it's endearing that he tries).

He smells nice. Manly, with a bit of laundry detergent mixed in. Clean. Like home, somehow. He said I smelled good. I imagine that at the time I smelled like sweat, stale shampoo, and marinara sauce. And maybe a trace of grapefruit from the perfume I had put on that morning. He insisted that it was a good scent.

He came to see the show. I had my friend Anna be his date for the evening. He seemed to enjoy the audience participation. Hell, he created his own character, complete with lisp and backstory (he and Anna were "engaged" and fighting over the color of bridesmaids' dresses at their upcoming nuptials when I passed them at one point). He applauded madly as I danced on the bar (even as I *almost* fell off about four times... apparently, despite my lack of peripheral vision, I have a well-compensating sense of balance). He told me after the show how he thought I was great.

At the bar with the cast, he sent me text messages from 10 inches away, carrying out a secret discourse while continuing to converse with the others at the table. And at one point he called me out for being "rude" and texting "someone" after he came all this way to see me. I laughed and put my phone away. And then I got him to dance like an idiot with me to some techno music. It didn't even take much convincing.

He's protective of me. But not in an overbearing way. Just in a cautious one. Wanting to keep me out of the bad situations that I have a tendency to get myself into (the sorts of situations that I won't discuss here, but don't worry... it's me; therefore, it's nothing scandalous).

Every so often, I'd catch a glimpse at him, and really see him. Because so much of our relationship is sight-unseen, I forget how attractive I find him. But some moments, it strikes me out of the blue. He's a good-looking guy. Of course, I'm probably biased...

He's so warm. His body is, I mean (though the same could be said for his manner). Mine is always cold. And I have this tendency to get temperature-induced Tourette's ("Freezing! D*** it! AH! Cold! F***!"). He says he doesn't like it when people complain about being cold. I guess he's making some sort of exception for me and my notably poor circulation.

I learned last night that he's an excellent cuddler, which I'm excited about for future use. He's aware of his position and physically attentive. And if it hadn't been for a particularly annoying alarm clock emanating from the apartment next door for the better part of the morning, I think we would've slept quite well on the futon in his friends' loft.

He rushed around in the morning and packed up his things. I stood back, wanting to be near him, but not wanting to get in the way. He dropped his bags, walked over, and enveloped me in a hug. I forget what he said exactly, but it was lovely in the moment. Something about how he'd been worrying that he was forgetting something, but then he saw me and realized that hugging me was what he'd been forgetting. (It turned out later that he'd also forgotten his camera and a pair of socks.)

Logically, I just saw him a matter of hours ago. But I miss him. More than I probably should. Most likely just because I know how far away he is.

I'm seeing him again this week. Thursday through Monday. Five whole days. The longest I've been around him in one go in the entire time we've know each other has been... about 14 hours, back in August. Megan was there then, and I was dating Ex #2 at the time. This is going to be just the two of us, and the only people we're attached to are each other. I'm looking forward to it immensely.

I'm going to be in the show again tonight, for the third night in a row. I feel like I haven't had a weekend because of all the rushing around. The next few days of work at my "real" job are going to be rough. But at least it's a short week. Half a day on Thursday, and then I'm going to go in one of the metal tubes in the sky that Brian spends so much time in, and before long I'll be in Nebraska.

I spoke to my youngest brother earlier today. He came to the conclusion that if I'm willing to go to Nebraska for five days, then I must really like this guy.

I think I do.


May you find someone you really like.

~A~


P.S. Thank you for all the encouraging comments on the last two posts. I'm glad to announce that I'm oh-bee-kay-bee now.

Mascara Napkins

You know what's a weird feeling? Crying in public.

Sitting on the stairs of the grey urban jungle outside my office building. Hearing the drilling and horrid mechanical noises emanating from the construction site fifteen feet away. Surrounded by other workers taking their lunch breaks in solitude on the concrete campground. Hoping that none of them can see the tears in my eyes behind my violet-lensed sunglasses. And knowing that they can see them on my cheeks and chin. And wanting to stop, but feeling helpless and unable to.

It's almost as strange a feeling as trying not to cry as I type this, sitting at my desk.

You're the only one who can make me cry. And I know you don't even understand why I'm crying. Not this time.

I bought myself a lunch. I took my laptop outside. I had every intention of having a lovely lunch hour. I've been trying to convince myself that I'm fine. And that I'm overreacting. Because I probably am. But I'm not going to apologize for feeling hurt. That's how I feel.

And I then I called. And then I hung up. And then I cried.

And then I got in an elevator, and a guy I know asked me what was wrong, which is always the last thing I want to hear when I'm trying to calm myself down, because it throws a stick in the floodgates as I'm trying to pull them shut.

The funny thing is, this isn't the first time that someone in my life has done this to me. This is just the first time I've wanted to cry about it.

But I'm not mad at you. I'm upset. And I'm hurt. And I don't understand. And I'm so frustrated by the fact that you don't seem to understand why I'm upset. But I'm not mad.

And I have this bizarre mixture of emotions. Because I care about you too much to ever really be mad at you. And I just want to see you, and hug you, and be around you. But I also want to understand.

Or scream. One or the other.

Damn it. I'm crying again, and I honestly didn't realize it until a tear dripped into my mouth just now. Crying at work. Classy, Angela. And I just blew my nose into a napkin. Yup. Really classy.

I'm wearing my sunglasses at my desk now. I am nothing if not unconventional.

I spent most of yesterday trying to talk myself out of being upset. I bought my favorite pasta for myself at a restaurant that I love and took it home. I watched reruns of LOST that I've already seen. I tried to go to bed early, but I couldn't sleep.

I got up before 5:00am this morning. Yes. That's how torn I am. My insomnia is back in full force. I watched last night's "The Office" and "Lost". I curled my hair, and I did my make-up. I tried to make myself pretty. Even though I'm not going to see you tonight.

It doesn't matter now. My mascara is everywhere. Mostly on the napkins from my uneaten lunch. I'm not going to eat it. I'm not hungry anymore.

My coworker just asked if I'm okay. I told her I was just having a bad day.

Do you see? Do you understand why I'm battling about whether I want to see you? Because I don't know how many chances I'm going to have to be around you, and I don't want to miss them. But I also don't want to ruin them.

I'm working here until 4:45. My call for TnT is at 6:00. I don't have time for this today.

I wish it would rain.

~A~

Censored

I often type with my eyes closed. Does anyone else do that? Or if not closed, then at least looking away from the screen. I look at the ceiling, or the wall, or my legs. If I watch my hands as they work, or the words as they leap onto the screen, I think I'd be less likely to be able to write as freely as I do. I'm less likely to censor myself when I'm staying in my head. It's a trick I used heavily during NaNoWriMo, and I've grown to like it. (Of course, I think people think I'm nuts whenever I work on my novel in coffee shops... oh well.)

There are so many things on my mind, but I just don't know how to compose my thoughts. That's right; me. Unable to write. Go figure. But the thoughts are there. Tangled, and stuck somehow.


One is that things aren't going to work out the way I wanted them to.

Two is that I'm not sure I want what I thought I wanted.

Three is that I want to cancel several plans I've made.

Four is that I have too much to do, and I can't do it.

Five is that I'm avoiding so many things that I'm bored as a result.

Six is that it's a good thing I don't easily succumb to jealousy.

Seven is that I think most people underestimate me.

Eight is that I think most people overestimate themselves (but I don't think I'm one of them... hypocritical, I know).

Nine is that I hate how stereotypically female I can be sometimes.

Ten is that I'm not the romantic sort, and I don't think I ever will be.

Eleven is that I'm sick of writing (and I'm beginning to wonder if I suck at it).

Twelve is that I can't write about the things I want to write about, and that only makes me want to write about them more.



I think the most frustrating thing in the world is Twelve, and it's the reason that I'm not writing most of the other numbers.

There are things that I so desperately want to discuss, but I'm smart enough not to do so on a public forum. I hate that. Most are things that I'd have no problem mentioning in person, but the written word seems exponentially more dangerous than the spoken one. And so I leave things unwritten.

Self-censorship is a tricky lesson to learn.

And even when you know it's a good idea, it doesn't make you less grumpy about it.

Why, oh why, do I blog under my real name? Why am I so easily findable through search engines? Why didn't I have the foresight to not tell anyone that I was starting a blog?

I just have so many thoughts that I want to release. And this has been my outlet. And when it can't be... It's upsetting.

Earlier this week, another blogger (one I don't read as much as I should... it's a solid blog) broached one of the subjects that I wish I felt I could. And it just upset me more.

*sigh*

But even the things I can discuss of that list... I shouldn't. Or I don't want to.

So here I am, the 18-wheeler crammed beneath the underpass. And here you are, reading worthless words. Ah well. Maybe next time.


May you be better at untangling your words than I am.

~A~


P.S. I recently watched the movie Dan in Real Life, and I loved it. But even more than the movie, I LOVED the soundtrack. It was done by a man named Sondre Lerche (SAHN-dreh LAIR-kay, from what I can tell). And it's fantastic. Check out some of it on my playlist above. Particularly "My Hands Are Shaking" and "To Be Surprised", which are probably my favorites. But it's all good.

Names Weekend

Prepare yourself. My snarky side is about to come out. And some of you are not going to like it.

For most people, this weekend is important because of Mother's Day (happy day to all the mothers out there!). But for some of us, Mother's Day weekend is exciting for an entirely different reason: it's the weekend that the Social Security Administration releases the lists of the top 1000 most popular names for either gender from the previous year.

To see the list, click HERE!

Now, as some of you might know, last year I won a Baby Name Pool out of more than 600 entries. You guess three names that are going to rise, and three that are going to fall. And the woman who wrote one of the definitive books on naming has this whole series of calculations to figure out who did best.

I entered again this year, but I did quite badly. My choices were actually pretty solid. I predicted:

Eva would rise (it did. #125 to #117)
Ava would rise (it did. #5 to #4 -- which is a bigger jump than it sounds like)
Aiden would rise (it did. #32 to #27)
Britney would fall (it did. #471 to #564)
Lindsey would fall (it did. #186 to #226)
Hayden (for a boy) would fall (it did NOT. #73 to #71)

I was convinced that the exposure that Hayden Panettiere has gotten over the last year would make people begin to associate Hayden with females, but nope. It's still in the top 100 for boys. Ah, well.

But one false move is not the reason that I'm going to lose. Last year I won despite thinking that Shiloh would magically appear in the top 1000 (it didn't... I jumped the gun. It ended up hitting the charts this year) and that Angelina would rise (it fell a couple of spots). The reason I'm not going to win is because I made a bad call with the name that everyone else picked to be the breakout riser of the year. I thought they were jumping the gun the way I did with Shiloh. Boy, was I wrong.

Miley

I thought it would take another year for Miley to hit the top 1000 after the massive rise of Miley Cyrus this year. But I was SO wrong. After NEVER having been in the top 1000 before, it entered the charts at #278. And not only that... Two sound-alikes showed up as well! Mylie was #861 and Mylee at #556 (I won't even begin to express my disgust at those).

Maybe it was time for a name like Miley. After all, Milo re-entered the charts in 2001 after a 35 year absence and has been on a steady upswing since then (in 2001 it was #981, and in 2007 is was #548).

But it's sort of embarrassing, really. There's no way that those parents can pretend that they "made it up" or got it from another source. Every single one of those girls is named after Hannah Montana. Which will be fine until:
1. Miley Cyrus goes the way of Lindsey and Britney (you know it's possible) and is suddenly NOT something you want your daughter to be compared to.
2. Miley Cyrus fades from the public eye and the name is suddenly dated.

I have a coworker named Tenile (she was named after "The Captain and Tennille"... but spelled differently. Yes, one letter away from "penile"). I rest my case. This is why you should not use a pop culture name. It's a bad idea.

Aside from that, Miley is very much a "girl" name. Not a "woman" name. People forget that their precious little princesses are going to grow up one day, and some names just don't age well. try to imagine a voting ballot in which a 50-year-old woman named "Miley Jones" is running for Senate. Awkward, isn't it? *sigh*

Whenever a name jumps up to the top 1000, it's news. When a name jumps that quickly, it's HUGE news. Like Nevaeh. After P.O.D. front-man Sonny Sandoval mentioned in interviews that he had named his new daughter Neveah -- heaven-spelled-backwards -- it became a phenomenon. In 2001, this little publicized "name" entered the charts at #266. NO ONE saw that coming. And now, in 2007 it was #31. That's gotta be a record. And why does no one seem to mention that spelling things backwards is supposed to be demonic? I don't get it. What I REALLY don't get, is how "Neveah" (haeven spelled backwards?) was #891 in 2007. People are idiots.

The names that entered the charts this year that were not on last year were:

Girls:
Adalyn - (Part of the trend of removing the front-consonant from another popular name..., like Madison/Addison, this is Madelyn/Adalyn/Adelyn)
Adelyn - (Ditto.)
Alannah - (This was only on the list one other time, in 1990, which I'd bet had something to do with Alannah Myles singing "Black Velvet". No idea what caused the appearance this time.)
Aliana - (Aside from the similarities to "alien", sorta pretty.) ETA: Did people start using this as a result of Lindsey Lohan's sister Ali -- short for Aliana? Dear God, say it isn't so!
Allyssa - (Man, people. Learn to spell.)
Alyvia - (Ugh. Ditto.)
Anabel - (The Spanish spelling. Anagram of "be anal")
Antonia - (YAY! A legit, pretty name!)
Audrina - (Stupid reality television. Why would you want to name your daughter after her?)
Azaria - (Like Hank Azaria? You've got to be kidding.)
Azul - (No idea.)
Celine - (After a random appearance for one year in 1931, it left the charts until 1994, when it popped up thanks to a certain French-Canadian songstress. It only had a one year absence for 2006, and now it's back at #986. I wouldn't be surprised to see it fall off again in 2008.)
Delia - (Yay! Another lovely legit name!)
Devyn - (GAH! Badness!)
Dixie - (Watch out! The South is rising again!)
Diya - (It's a type of light that's lit during Diwali. More likely, it has something to do with this chick)
Emmy - (Emily and Emma have been top 10 names for awhile now, so I was surprised to see that the only other year this name was on the charts was 1885.)
Evie - (I prefer it as a nickname. Perhaps it showed up because there are a few celebrities that use it as one. Namely, Evan Rachel Wood and Evangeline Lilly.)
Giada - (I am fully in support of this name -- the Italian form of Jade -- despite the fact that it is celebrity inspired. Giada De Laurentiis seems pretty cool.)
Giuliana - (Gorgeous! Maybe arriving because of the similarity to the popular Liliana?)
Graciela - (Back after a 1-year absence. Technically, it's a nickname for Gracia, but I like it well enough)
Hayleigh - (GAH! There are too many spellings of Haylie and Kaylee on the charts already! AHHHHHH!!!!)
Ireland - (5th appearance since 1998. *rolls eyes*)
Jaeda - (Jada is a Biblical MALE name. I don't know what this is.)
Jailyn - (Because anything with the word "Jail" in it must be pretty.)
Jaslene - (I can't believe I didn't see this one coming after America's Next Top Model winner Jaslene Gonzalez.)
Jaylen - (Well, it's better than Jailyn, but not by enough.)
Jazlynn - (Who did this? I want names.)
Jocelynn - (One "n" wasn't enough?)
Jordin - (Reality television just won't quit. American Idol winner Jordin Sparks is to blame for this misspelling.)
Joseline - (Makes me think of Vaseline. Anyone else?)
Kelis - (Well THAT was a delayed reaction. Has Kelis done anything lately? Anything at all since Milkshake?)
Kylah - (First thought: KY Jelly + loofah.)
Lillianna - (Also on the charts are Lila, Lilah, Lilia, Lilian, Liliana, Lilianna, Lillian, Lilliana, Lillie, Lilly, Lily, and Lilyana. I think I spot a trend.)
Londyn - (That's a stripper name if I ever saw one.)
Madilynn - (Oh, look. They found a way to make the "Mad" part more prominent.)
Marely - (Was this supposed to be Marley? Because it looks like it rhymes with barely. They somehow made "mare" into an adjective. And then used it to name women. How empowering.)
Maren - (This is actually the Danish form of Marina. I wonder if any of the parents who used it knew that.)
Marlen - (According to BehindTheName.com, "Blend of Marx and Lenin. This name was created by Communist parents who were eager to reject traditional names." It used for boys. This is why you should do your research before naming a child. That, and it sounds like a fish, and the male name Marlon -- as in Brando or Wayans.)
Maryjane - (This name was a constant on the charts until the early 1960s, which I'm guessing is when it became part of drug culture. It had a 1-year appearance in 2005, and now it's back. Good marijuana crops last year?)
Miley
Mylee
Mylie
Olive - (First appearance since 1950. Exposure of this came from Little Miss Sunshine as well as the new daughter of Isla Fisher and Sacha Baren Cohen. I sorta dig it. It's a fresher turn on the highly popular Olivia.)
Shiloh
Shirley - (2006 was the only year since 1880 that this name was absent from the list.)
Sky - (Another good stripper name. Makes me think of Marlon Brando in "Guys and Dolls")
Yamilet - (Apparently it means "Beautiful" in Swahili. But to me, it just looks like Hamlet with a Y and an additional syllable.)
Zaniya - (Apparently means "Healthy" in Lakota)
Zaniyah - (Where did these two come from?)

Boys:
Adin - (Aidan, Aiden, Aydin, Ayden, and now this. Just what we needed.)
Amarion - (Because Omarion wasn't creative enough.)
Amos - (Back after a 4-year absence! Yay!)
Bentley - (Naming your kid after a car is not going to make him more likely to drive said car. Unless you want him to be an ironically named chauffeur.)
Dax - (First appearance since 1978. Scarily might have something to do with this guy. *shudder*)
Daxton - (Because Dax wasn't unusual enough? How did MULTIPLE PEOPLE think this was a good idea?)
Dereon - (Why are people naming their sons after Beyoncé's women's clothing line???)
Dimitri - (Variant of the Russian name Dmitriy.)
Eliezer - (Oooh! A great Old Testament name. Happy to see it!)
Eliseo - (Totally legit. The Italian/Spanish form of Elisha.)
Elvin - (Means "elf friend". No, I did not just make that up. Interesting choice.)
Emery - (Not wild about this name, but I'm glad to see it on the boys list again. It's been absent since 1982, and is now #962. Distressingly, it's #571 for girls.)
Fletcher - (Back after a 3-year absence, following the trends of "surnames" and "olde English occupations". A fletcher was an "arrow maker".)
Fisher - (Back after a year. Ditto on the surname/occupation trendiness.)
Immanuel - (Maybe these parents just really like Kant?)
Isaak - (The German/Russian spelling of Isaac.)
Jagger - (Back after a 2-year absence. I bet you can imagine what celebrity inspired this one.)
Jaidyn - (GAH!!! It was painful enough to watch Jayden make a MASSIVE leap this year. Did Jaidyn really have to appear as well?)
Jaren - (This is what happens when you put Jared and Darren in a blender.)
Jarvis - (Apparently a derivative of Gervaise. I find it unattractive.)
Jax - (As in "Beakman and Jax"? Dude, Jax was the chick.)
Jaydan - (I think you know I'm upset.)
Jayvion - (I'm stumped.)
Jayvon - (Ditto)
Kelan - (No idea.)
Kellan - (I went to school with a Kellan, so this actually doesn't bother me as much as it probably should. Might have something to do with this guy, but I doubt it.)
Kelton - (Oh, wait, I have an idea. Are these three just so that people can use the nickname Kel without resorting to Kelly? Like this guy?)
Killian - (They really want to emphasize the "kill" in Cillian. Probably legit, but I don't understand why it's desirable.)
Kingston - (Blame Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale for naming their son after the capital of Jamaica.)
Lyric - (Another confusing one. It's been on the girls list since 1995. Usually, boys names are stolen by girls, not the other way around. I'm actually going to applaud the wretched name as being a sign of the women's movement instead of weeping at how terrible it is.)
Madden - (Despite the "Mad" part, men convinced their wives to name boys after this guy. Or maybe after his video games, which is even more disturbing.)
Mariano - (Yay hooray! Back after a year.)
Nery - (This one is all this guy.)
Nikolai - (This is Nikolai's first appearance on the chart. I bet it had nothing to do with Gogol, but I don't know where else it would've come from.)
Raiden - (Follows the "ends in -ayden" trend. Makes me think of Raid. And also like it's a verb. "We were just raidin' the pantry for snacks.")
Rayan - (Really? People didn't recognize how much it looks like rayon?)
Reilly - (Originally entered the charts in 1996, and is now back after a year. Probably falling off in popularity because Riley is #52 for girls. Barf me.)
Rishi - (Maybe in the news because this actor received a few Lifetime Achievement Awards this past year?)
Ronin - (Really?)
Slade - (Aside from sounding like a cross between "slash" and "blade" -- two things that every child should live up to -- also a British glam rock band. Do your research, people.)
Tegan - (Another instance of a girl name showing up on the boy list. Go figure. It's a Welsh female name, meaning "fair")
Turner - (Another surname. I'm guessing that the dictionary would list it as "one who turns". Back after a two year absence.)
Vince - (Back after a 15-year absence. *sigh*. Give your kid a full name, so that they have options. Vincent. Vincente. Vincenzo. There are better choices here.)
Yael - (ANOTHER girl name? This is an Old Testament name of a woman who killed the captain of the Canaanite army. And ten bucks says they're mispronouncing it as "Yale")
Yurem - (Might have something to do with this kid?)



The other two huge jumpers of the year were Jayden and Addison.

Jayden follows the current "ends in -ayden" trend for boys. Someone else on a naming board I frequent posted the following compilation:

"There are now 7 different ayden names in the top 1000, 41 including spelling variants.

Jayden 26148 total(10 spellings) This puts it ahead of Jacob.
Aidan 29371 total(10 spellings) This puts it way ahead of Jacob.
Brayden 12748(7 spellings)
Hayden 6657(3 spellings)
Caden 17755(9 spellings)
Zayden(at 588 ) 426
Raiden(at 923) 210

80,567 total"

That makes my soul hurt. Well, not Aidan. Or even Aiden. But Zayden, Brayden, and Raiden... GAH!

As for Addison, it's been on a steady incline over the last several years, particularly lately with the exposure through Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice. In fact, a friend of mine just named her daughter Addison last week.

2006: Addison #28 (7,599 girls)
2007: Addison #11 (11,823 girls)

So even though a 17-place rise doesn't look massive on paper, by number of births it's a 55.6% increase. In one year. Holy cats!

And it's worth noting that Addisyn, Addyson, Adison, and Adyson are also on the chart.

ETA: I can't believe I forgot to mention my biggest pet peeve about Addison... There's a disease with this name. It's not far off from naming your kid Parkinson. Almost makes the fact that it's a surname meaning "son of Adam" not matter.

I was excited to see Madison bumped down from the top 3 for the first time since 1999. It fell to number 5 as the result of the rising of two lovely names: Ava (now #4) and Isabella (now #2). I'm always happy to see nice names at the top.

Madison is a particular foe of mine much in the same way that Nevaeh is. You see, Madison entered the charts in 1985, the year after the movie Splash came out. In the movie, the female lead (played by Daryl Hannah) is a mermaid who starts living amongst people. After walking down Madison Avenue, she decides that her English name should be Madison (as humans cannot pronounce her Mermish name). Tom Hanks' character announces that it is "not a name!", but she insists. So parents decided that it would be a "unique" name for their daughters. And it has been taking over ever since.

People seem to ignore the fact that it means "son of Maud". And the fact that it is "not a name". Nope. Now it's sparkly. They nickname their daughters "Maddie", and they think it's cute. It has been a top 10 name since 1997, and most people who use it now have probably never even seen Splash.

Ah, well.

Part of me is glad that lovely names like Bernadette (off since 1983) and Linus (off since 1940) have still evaded notice. Maybe that means that if I ever have children, they won't be too popular to use. *crosses fingers*

If you're interested in finding names that ARE NOT in the top 1000, I started making a list a couple of years ago when I was in my name-obsessed phase (back when I was writing a book on names). I haven't updated it in far too long, so it doesn't reflect the things that have entered and exited the charts the last couple of years. Maybe I'll get around to it at some point. In any case, it's a good place to start.

Go here for the list, and marvel at all the work I put into it.

That's all for me right now. If I think too much more about names, I'll get depressed.


May you be wise enough to put some thought into all the naming that you do.

~A~

Because I'm Hot

I keep getting hit on at the weirdest times... And by the weirdest people.

A couple of days ago, I was clothes shopping, and the dressing room attendant assigned to me happened to be male. He kept trying to get me to try on tighter, more revealing clothing than I was. And at one point, when I tried on a cute flowy top over my pants, he said I should really consider wearing it as a dress. Um, no. There's no possible way I would be able to sit down in it. Frankly, even walking in it as a dress would be risky. Not only is it short, but there's some embroidery at the bottom that has a lot of open holes. As in, if you were looking, you would be able to see my underwear through said holes. From a distance, it would probably be alright... But again. I would NOT be able to sit without my bum being on the seat and flashing everyone else in the room.

(See picture at left. Notice the dark wavy streaks in the pattern on the bottom? That's where the holes are. Hence why I blurred this picture and made it in black & white... Otherwise, it's like "Hello, Underwear!")

Yeah. It's definitely not a dress. And it looks way cute with dark jeans... so yeah. I think that guy was just trying to see me as close to naked as possible.


My juice was flowing in mad form today.

For the record, I don't look particularly amazing today. I didn't shower today (I can't shower everyday... I have dry skin, and over-washing makes it even drier). I curled my hair yesterday, and it's sort of a weird clumpy, semi-curly mess now, so I put it in a ponytail. I had no makeup on (except for residual mascara from yesterday). I was wearing my glasses instead of contacts. I was wearing some ugly-but-shamefully-comfortable tan pants, a black tank-top, and a wrinkled button-up shirt that I didn't realize until I got to work was missing the middle button.

On the L in the evening, a man was clearly staring at me. A man in some sort of construction helmet. I don't know. It was brown and had a light on it. BLATANTLY staring at me. Smiled at me whenever I glanced anywhere near him. I tried to avoid making eye contact. At one point, two seats opened up next to each other. I sat down, and he of course took the seat right next to me. He looked a little embarrassed as he removed his helmet and tried to smooth his hair. He continued to stare at me. So I pulled out my TnT (Tony n' Tina's) book to study things. This did not deter him. He started asking if I was going home, if I was studying, if I was still a student... I gave mostly one-word answers. He then started talking about himself, and how he was going up to Great America. He got off the train smiling.

Then I went to get some food at Under Dogg. The guy working there (he seemed to be alone) was smiling at me a little two much. When I couldn't decide on a flavor for my shake, he walked over to the ice cream tubs, opened each of them, and came back saying that he thought the strawberry would be best today. So I ordered strawberry. And then he looked at me, giddy almost, and said, "Really? You're going to get the strawberry?" Um, yes. What? He grinned at me the whole rest of the time I was there.

I went to my friend Mike's band gig at a bar. My friend Mary came in from out of town, and we were hanging out together. At one point, I looked behind me, and it looked like Mary was threatening two women who were much larger than she. Mary is a 5'1" skinny blonde sorority girl who couldn't hurt a fly, so it's always funny to see her angry, On top of that, she currently has laryngitis and I'm sure she wasn't getting very far arguing with these women. . Apparently, she was attempting to defend my honor or something because said women were ogling me. Later in the evening, one of the women came up to me to apologize for "the misunderstanding" and explain that she and her friend had just been discussing how I had a "great butt", and that they didn't mean to offend me or Mary. She then proceeded to instigate high-fives with me about six times in reference to my "cute butt". I'm pretty sure that she was trying to hit on me. It was pretty awkward.

I guess it's kinda flattering. It's always nice to feel attractive. I just wish I were being hit on by other people... I don't know. Classier people, I guess.

Ah well. Guess I can't complain.



May your juice be flowing.

~A~


P.S. Someone Googled "Tony n Tinas Chicago" and found my blog. And has revisited it a few times since then, just in the past few days. (Um, hello, if you're reading... Awkward...) Anyway, I got a little gun shy and took down a couple of posts regarding that audition process (for multiple reasons), just in case the person reading is involved with the show (which I suspect is the case). Freaked me out pretty bad. I guess I can't even complain. After all, I'm the idiot who puts personal stories on the internet... Every once in awhile, something happens with my blog that makes me feel a little too vulnerable to the outside world. It hasn't been enough to make me quit blogging or turn this private yet, but it might someday. Anyway. There's your heads-up.

P.P.S. If you are someone I know in real life who found this blog through a search engine... Read at your own risk. I'm not going to apologize for the things I've written. I don't want to censor things I write in the future. If you don't like it, then you don't have to read it. And please don't go telling other people I know in real life what you've read, because it just makes my life more screwed up. And isn't my existence awkward enough without any catalysts? I rest my case. Thank you for your cooperation.

My First Wedding

I was a few minutes late leaving my apartment, so I hailed a cab to get to the theatre. Didn't want to risk the bus dropping me off after call. Didn't want to make a bad impression. It was, after all, my first day on the job.

I got to Tony n' Tina's with plenty of time to spare. I sat down with the ASM (assistant stage manager) Matt (he's in the play as well as ASM-ing it... because you can do that sort of thing with this show). He had me fill out all the paperwork. He read me the list of rules. Things like:

- No swearing during "Cha" (that what they call the pre-show, but no one seems to know why) or the wedding ceremony whatsoever. Try to avoid swearing during the reception (except Tony... he gets a pass on that). No F-word at any time.
- No insulting audience members. (Clearly, this is not Ed Debevic's.)
- No breaking character unless you think someone is in physical danger, and even then you can only break to the stage manager.
- (this one is verbatim, including capitalization) "NO ONE IS TO TRY TO ARRANGE A DATE WITH A MEMBER OF THE AUDIENCE DURING THE SHOW. This cannot be excused as a "Character choice" and may not happen."

The SM (stage manager) Lauren (who also helps tend bar... because you can do that sort of thing with this show) went over some more contract points.

They gave me a red folder which they referred to as a "book". Matt said, "This will be like your Bible. Except you'll actually have to read this."

- 12 (twelve!!!) pages are lists of rules.
- 9 (nine!!!) pages outline what happens during the course of the show
- 84 (EIGHTY-FREAKING-FOUR!!!) pages are back-stories about the characters and their relationships.

Why so many pages of back-stories? Because if you're going to be doing improv in these characters, you've got to know them inside and out. And you have to know everyone else's information so that you don't contradict anything. And these things are DETAILED! The book lists every character's relationship with every other character from both perspectives. It tells you what every character's birthday is, what schools they attended, what hospital they were born in... It's incredible.

And here's the wackiest part: I haven't even gotten a script yet! You get the pages of the script that your character is on (reminds me of Shakespearean actors just having their own cues and lines) once you get assigned a character. And you get a whole other folder with that character's blocking and even more information about their back-story and relationships. Almost everyone in the cast plays more than one role, depending on the night.

But before I even get a role, I am going to be tested. Literally. There are 6 tests on this material to make sure you know the show. My first test is on the order of events that happen during the production. I think I take that one next weekend. I'm thinking of making flashcards or something...

Directly after the paperwork, they gave me my costume and a name tag that said "Carmella", and then said, "We're just going to throw you into it. You'll be fine." Trial by fire. *sigh*

For the first 3-5 weeks, I'll be on the "Black Staff". It's like being a waiter, but more fun. During this period of time, I will absorb the show. I will learn by watching. And I will be doing all the things Black Staff does.

What do we do?
- We socialize with the audience (in character) during Cha (yes, we all have characters!)
- We preset the reception during the wedding ceremony
- We pour small amounts of champagne into minute plastic glasses
- We laugh at the corny jokes that the "reception hall owner" makes
- We do a ridiculous 30 seconds of choreography called "The Champagne March"
- We serve food from the buffet
- We clear plates (I'd say this is about 60% of the job)
- We encourage the audience members to get up and participate in things (mostly dances)
- We keep an eye out to make sure that audience members, chairs, and spilled liquids aren't in the way of any chases or fights
- We make sure that audience members don't go exploring areas of the set that they're not supposed to
- We participate in some of the dances (I just read in my handbook that the Black Staff girls get to dance on the bar at one point! WOO-HOO!!!)
- We distribute the wedding cake
- We put on hats and glasses and dance however we like to "Sweet Home Chicago"
- We usher the audience members out and on their merry ways

The job is part waiter, part actor, part chaperone, and part janitor... and maybe part Richard Simmons.

Now, there are Black Staff characters in the red folder, but Carmella is one of a select few that isn't in there. If you're Carmella, then you get to do whatever the heck you want. You get to create a brand new character (and then you have to write your own bio... which I think is due next week. Who knew there would be so many homework assignments?).

I think that you might know me well enough by now that you could guess my reaction to, "make up a new character right now that you have to stick to all night... and GO!"

Clearly, there was only one option for me.

Last night, Carmella was obsessed with dancing.

Predictable for me, I know. But they don't know me yet. And I knew I could make her funny and entertain people during Cha with it. Carmella was really into disco. And she wasn't a particularly good dancer. I made her pretty awkward and ridiculous, but shameless. It was a blast.

There were two guys on Black Staff with me last night, both of whom have been in the show for a long time (every once in awhile, you have to go back on Black Staff... either to fill gaps in the line-up or to help train newbies). They would tell me what to do about 5 minutes before we did it. And aside from one small bit of me looking like an idiot (I couldn't find my tray of cake slices in the extremely small kitchen), it actually worked fine. I didn't die. Thank goodness I'm a fast learner.

The first time I walked into the kitchen, the three chefs started talking at me in Spanish. When I looked confused they said, "What, you don't understand Spanish?" When I said I didn't, they took to just whistling at me every time I entered the kitchen (which you would know was their way of joking with me if you saw how uniformly dumpy everyone looks in Black Staff apparel).

At the end of the show, an older gentlemen whom I had chatted up in Cha and danced right in front of in "Sweet Home Chicago" walked up to me and said, "You were the best." I made up something about how working for Mr. Black is a fun job. And I smiled on the inside. I felt as though I really could do this job. :)

It was the last performance of the girl who played Tina yesterday (she's worked there for a total of 4 years), so everyone went out to the bar after, and I was invited.

One by one, the actors came up and introduced themselves as people (as opposed to characters). And, without fail, every one of them asked me, "Do you know what character they're considering you for?" I have no clue (the SM told me I'm not supposed to know yet, and would find out AT THE EARLIEST in a week). Then they'd ask what Black Staff character I had tonight, as some of them are sort of like junior versions of the larger roles. But since I was bio-less Carmella, that didn't provide them with any hints.

So they guessed based on look. About 4 or 5 of them told me they picked me out as a Tina right away. But no one goes straight to Tina. You play another role first and work your way up to Tina (and who knows if I'm going to be around long enough for that...). The general consensus was that I'm too skinny to play the slutty bridesmaid, and I'm too tall to play the pregnant bridesmaid (the last two people who played her with regularity were 4'11"... it definitely adds to the comedy). Several people guessed that I'd be the awkward/geeky bridesmaid. A few guessed that I might be Tony's father's girlfriend, the stripper. And one guessed that I might be Tina's cousin, the singing nun. I guess we'll have to wait and see.

There are two other interesting pieces of information that I received...

1. In July, there is a week in which Frankie Avalon joins the show. Apparently he knows the producers and does it as a favor to them. He plays the character of "Tina's Godfather" (who normally doesn't exist). The entire reception is retooled around his presence. He sings "Venus" and "Beauty School Dropout". The cast barely interacts with him outside of the performances. And the cast is not allowed to touch him.

But still... Dude! I'm going to be in a show with Frankie-freaking-Avalon! HOW COOL IS THAT?!?!


2. I'm sure most of you remember the story about my callback for this show (it was, after all, pretty memorable). Imagine my surprise when the stage manager informed me that Chuck starts Wednesday.

Yes, you read that right. They're hiring Chuck. I asked the SM about it (if you remember, I ran into her and discussed my frustrating callback already). She shrugged and said that the director sees him as fitting one of the roles. Which, beyond being completely flabbergasting, causes me a few problems:

A. I'll probably have to improv more with him.

B. I have now bad-mouthed this guy and his callback to the SM as well as all the people I attended the show with (two of whom, Dan and Mel, are also starting within the next week). EEK! Not smooth on my part. Because he didn't attend the show with the others of us, I figured that he hadn't been asked back. And I was unfortunately mistaken. And acted extremely unprofessionally. STUPID, STUPID ANGELA!!! GAH!

C. I now cannot mention in front of anyone in the cast that I have a blog. Because if any of them finds it and reads the post about Chuck (even though I changed his name), it'll cause problems. I don't want to step on any toes. Especially because there's a pretty good chance that Chuck will end up being in the show longer than I am (there are so many more male characters than female ones... a guy could rotate through the roles in that cast forever... plus, I already know when I'm leaving).

Yikes. But I'll deal with all of that as it happens. If I learned anything yesterday, it's that I'm capable of rolling with the punches.

All in all, it was a pretty good first day. And now I get to go to weddings 5-6 times a week. Wish me luck.


May you be able to think on your feet.

~A~
(aka Carmella... at least until further notice)


P.S. As my readers Heidi, Amy, Kate, Jes, and Sarah might remember, I once played a character by the name of Carmel. And I really loved that role. It was the first time that I had a real character instead of being in the chorus or being a dancer. I wonder if playing "Carmella" is some sort of sign...?

Girls' Night In

Welcome to my first attempt at quick and dirty blogging. Let's see if this is even physically possible.

(Technically, the poll doesn't end until tonight, but it seems that most of you are interested in me giving this a shot, so I shall oblige. At least for a little while.)

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Yesterday morning, I got a call from the people at Tony n' Tina's Wedding. They said they wanted me in the show. *SCORE*. They asked if I could start that night. I said no, as I had plans. So I'm starting today. My call is at 4:00. I'll be on the wait staff for the first month or so. The stage manager said they're just going to "throw me into it" today... I'm a little nervous.

Oh, man. I don't know how I'm going to be working two jobs for the next few months. I might want to die. My "real" job is Monday-Friday... I generally leave my apartment at 7:45am and get home around 5:30pm. But now with TnT's, I'll have shows Wednesday-Sunday... Which means I now have no real weekend. And I won't have time to go home after work, so I'll be going straight to the theatre, and probably getting home around 10pm most nights (I'm guessing). Anyway. If I become noticeably absent from the online world, you'll know why.

I couldn't start the show last night because I was meeting up with a few lovely Chicago bloggers for a Girl's Night In.

Kayleigh had Jenn, Jessica, and I over to her *gorgeous* apartment for a night of general debauchery. Jamie was supposed to join us as well, but sadly had to back out (we still love you, Jamie!).

Originally, we had planned to watch Sex & the City all night (as Jenn owns the stunningly packaged full series), but we never turned on the tv. We just spent the whole night talking about our families, our problems, and our blogs. It was wonderfully cathartic. And these ladies are positively delightful. We discussed everything under the sun, including a man who kept a rat in his pants. At one point we went on a field trip to get pizza, and I ended up distributing mints to some confused-but-amused restaurant patrons. And before the end of the night, I got some quality cuddling time in with Jenn. Good stuff.


Jessica, Kayleigh, and Jenn with their pomegranate martinis

Jessica, Kayleigh, and Jenn again... I was trying to figure out the timer on my camera, unsuccessfully.

I pressed the button and jumped in front of the camera. Hence why they look like my backup dancers.

Me with my new buddy Jessica.

Jessica, Jenn, and Kayleigh on the couch that "gives back".

What? I felt the need to cuddle.


Alright, I'm off. I've got to go find black shoes before my call.


May you have the opportunity to make new friends.

~A~


P.S. For more about the night...
- Jenn's Version
- Jessica's Version

Answers Written by My Heart

To start off, here are some "real life" pictures of me that my boss took with her iPhone.
That would be me, candid and gleeful.

What could be making me laugh this hard? A little something I found on this list of worst album covers. (#17)


I made it into my desktop background yesterday afternoon. And then I started cracking up again when I was shutting down my computer. And again when I booted up this morning. And again when I shut down today. And again now, as I was uploading these pictures. THAT is how funny I think it is. I don't remember the last time I laughed that hard. I couldn't breathe. It felt incredible.


I don't know what it is that hits my funny bone so hard. I think it's just that he looks so darn happy! He's a happy flasher! And he's asking people to buy his album and expose themselves to him! AND to Cajun music! And the bright colors just really bring it to life... He's not an attractive man. And he's wearing a cowboy hat! BAREFOOT! (Oh, man, I'm cracking up again.)

Moving on...

Today, I stair-climbed a total of 48 flights up and 38 flights down in my skyscraper workplace. And that's on CONCRETE, baby. And skyscraper floors are taller than apartment building floors, I've learned... I did an additional 10 apartment floors up and 10 down as well. I'm awesome.

One more thing I did today? Went to Looptopia by my lonesome (sadly, Jenn had to back out due to weather concerns). And I got this:
Awesome, isn't it? I had people stopping me on the street complimenting it. When I told them that a woman hand-painted it on my arm on the first floor of Macy's, they were ALL surprised. In person, it apparently looks like a real tattoo (I guess they didn't notice the glitter). She painted it in about 3 minutes. It was unreal. And it's completely sweet. Love it!

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I'd like to thank everyone who left me questions on the last post. I was sorta worried I wouldn't get any... But I did! A bunch! And some really great ones, too!

I will now attempt to answer them all to the best of my ability.


When you see yourself in the future (as a ‘grown-up’) are you happy in your visions? Why? What is it that makes you happy, or not, in those imaginings? (Kateless)

To be honest, I don't envision myself in the future very often. At all, really. Maybe it's because of those recurring dreams I had as a child that I would die at 27 (as I explained in Fateful Birthdays). Maybe some part of me doesn't believe I have much longer, so there's no point in imagining a future that won't exist. (Morbid, I know.)

But if I were to imagine myself in the future? I imagine things going one of two ways.

1. I get what I want, and I'm happy.

2. I don't get what I want. I convince myself that I'm happy.

I don't picture myself being unhappy. Casually disappointed, perhaps, but not unhappy. After all, everything happens for a reason. And I have this feeling that if I don't end up where I want to be at present, it's because life will bring me down some other path. I think I'd be happy with that.


What is your dream role – that you could do only once on stage? And secondly, what role would you love doing on a recurring basis (as in a long-running show – or even a show that travels)? (Nilsa S.)

I actually have lists in my "Book of Lists" on this subject. Roles I'd love to play. One list in musicals, one in plays.

If I were only going to play a role once? I think I'd go with Vivian M. Bearing in W;t. I'm not old enough to play her yet, but I'd love to one day. She's an English Professor and John Donne scholar who is dying of ovarian cancer. It's really a phenomenal play, and she is both the main character and the narrator. I can think of no role that I'd like to play more. But I don't think I'd want to do it for a long run. Too exhausting.

As for a role to play over and over again... I think I'd rather like to be Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream. It's such a delightful play that I think it'd be lovely to do a long run of it. And Helena is an extremely passionate character. I think my psycho-physical rhythm fits her rather nicely. She is, after all, a bit of a spaz.

If the questions were applied to musical theatre... For one performance, I'd love to be Fantine in Les Miserables. I think I could do a particularly stirring rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" if given a chance. And I do love to rule over the low notes down in the "but the tigers come at night" bridge (yay for Alto IIs!).

For the long run, I'd go with Domina from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. I'm not old enough for the role yet, but I think I'm destined to play her one day, and I'm going to rock it. She's egotistical, horny, aggressive, and completely bi-polar. Inhabiting her on a nightly basis would be a hoot.


Can you recall your favorite day, and why was it so special? (Alexa)

This question was tricky to answer. It's hard to think of a favorite day. Mentally, I just go backwards to recent great days.

And then there are days that I know are beautiful in my memory now, but might not always seem that way as circumstances change. Times I spent with Ex #1 seemed greater when I was dating him than they seem upon reflection now.

I had a particularly lovely night last August sitting in my car in a Steak & Shake parking lot until past 5am. It was the night I really started to know Brian. I can say at this moment, that night and the night after it were two of the best nights of my whole life. But if someday Brian and I part ways, I'm sure those nights will slowly fade from memory.

Actually, I can think of one more favorite memory. I was a junior in college. I was supposed to go to a concert with some of my friends (Blessid Union of Souls was playing on my campus), but I had a European geography test the next day in my Humanistic Studies class that I KNEW I was going to bomb. I decided not to go. And my friend Greg skipped the concert and showed up at my dorm with maps in hand to help me study. He spent hours drawing maps of Europe with crayons while laying on the floor of my dorm room. He taught me mnemonic devices about the "Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire" coming on after "Frasier" (to explain where Belarus was in relation to the Ukraine... Get it?) Knowing that I had a friend who cared that much about me... That was pretty special. It wasn't a full day, but that event was so special that it was one of the best days I've ever had.


Do you like creamy or crunchy peanut butter? (Alexa)

Usually creamy. And in sandwiches, definitely creamy. But every so often, I get a massive craving for crunchy.


What are you looking forward to the most about your move? (Jenn)

Having a sense of purpose again. I don't have that here. I feel like I'm just floating along in the world until something else comes along. And now, at least I know that something else IS coming along. Once I'm in grad school, I know I'm going to be worked to the bone and completely burnt out most of the time. But I'm looking forward to that. It'll be better than what I'm doing now. I feel like I'm just wasting time right now.


Will you send me a postcard? (Jenn)

Um, YES! Of course!


Are we ever going to meet before you move away? (Carrie Lea)

I really hope so! I think that I'll be having some sort of Going Away Party before I leave. If nothing else, you're invited to that!


What is your biggest regret? (Carrie Lea)

It's rare that I tell this story, but I'll do it for you.

My father went to the University of Michigan for undergrad. When the time came for me to apply for college, he desperately wanted me to apply there. My high school guidance office had this official rubric for the UofM application, so that you could see how likely it was that you'd get in (so that you didn't have to waste your time if you weren't up to snuff, I guess). I filled in my information, and it was clear that I was going to get in (I had a pretty good GPA, tons of extra-curriculars, and high standardized test scores... plus, I was a legacy).

But I didn't want to go. I knew that UofM had rolling admissions... So I kept putting off the application. I think I finally mailed it in at the end of February. And my plan worked. I didn't get in.

I think my dad was heart-broken. He's never said so, and I know he would vehemently deny it if asked, saying how proud he is of me. He's the smartest person I know (no, seriously, I'm not just saying that because he's my dad -- the man is a genius). I think he hoped that he'd passed that down to his kids. And he DID pass it down to me. I'm the kid who got a 98 on her lab practical final in college biology, despite being a theatre major. I'm the kid who is most likely to be able to guess the composer when he plays classical music on the piano. I'm the kid who remembers all the trivia my dad spouts out when we travel (in Chicago, he pointed out that the Allerton Hotel used to be the tallest building in the city, and that "Wolfram Rd" is named after the German word for the element Tungsten). But I think that getting into his Alma Mater would've proved something to him that I don't have the opportunity to prove anymore.

In retrospect, I don't think he would've forced me to go there. But I was in high school, and I felt a lot of pressure from my parents at the time. I think my dad just wanted to know that one of his kids COULD go there. That we had the option. And between my brothers and I, he knew that I was the one who could get in (my brothers are both incredibly smart guys, but they didn't look as good on paper as I did).

Maybe on some level I was afraid I wouldn't get in. That I might disappoint my dad. And by putting off applying until February, I would have an excuse. So that now I can say, "THAT was the reason I didn't get in. Not because I wasn't good enough. Just because I mailed it in too late." Maybe it was just a way of protecting myself... And my dad.

There. That's the biggest regret I can think of. I regret not mailing that application in September. I regret ignoring a way that I could've made my dad proud because I couldn't see beyond my own wants. And I regret being too afraid to try.


If you were to die in a week, what would your legacy be, and is that a satisfactory legacy? (dkdisch)

Huh. That's tough. If I die in a week, I think all I leave behind are memories. People who would say that I was quirky, funny, hyper, and marched to my own drummer. People would say that I was talented, had a lot of potential, and would've gone on to do great things (because that's what you always say when a young person dies, regardless of validity... no one is going to try to prove you wrong).

I'm proud of the work I've done as an actor, but by its nature it is fleeting, impermanent glory. Not much to call a legacy. Frankly, this blog is more permanent than anything I've ever done in theatre. And seeing as how my last blog was completely erased in one fell swoop (R.I.P. Diary-X), I'm painfully aware of the fact that this is going to disappear sooner or later as well.

I think that my legacy is more in how I have had an impact on others. I've been a friend. I've listened. I've advised. I've cheered. I've played the court jester for the sake of others' psyches more times than I've been comfortable with. Admittedly, all these things seem minor, but I believe they've made a difference in the moment.

As to whether it's a satisfactory legacy... I don't really care. Once I'm dead, I don't need to have some lasting impact on society. I don't need to be remembered 100 years from now. So I guess, yes. It's satisfactory to me, if only because I don't crave being immortalized.


Do you prefer to take pictures or be in them? (Stranger Danger)

Oooh. I like them both for incredibly different reasons... I think this one depends on the day. If I feel particularly good about the way I look on a given day, then I'd rather be in them. If I look like I do on a normal day, I'd probably prefer to be behind the camera as opposed to in front of it. Taking pictures of other people. It always makes me happy.


What song would be playing in your version of Hell? (Tipp)

My first instinct was to say "Beautiful Day" by U2, which always makes me feel sorta seasick for some unknown reason. Next, I thought of "Justify My Love" by Madonna. Then I thought about Ex #2 making me listen to a combination of Elvis Costello and The Decemberists on a regular basis, and that was pretty distasteful as well. But I'm sure there are worse things. Like Marilyn Manson. Or Twista. Or Paris Hilton. Or "Something Bad" from Wicked. Maybe just a mix of all of the above.


Do these jeans make me look fat? (Pixelation)

I see nothing bad at this angle. From a distance, no problems whatsoever. ;)


Do you in any way feel that your desire to act and be creative is a means of disconnecting yourself from reality? (R.E.H.)

No, I don't think so. If anything, I think it brings me closer to reality.

I know there's a quotation that I should draw on now, but it escapes me... My paraphrase is, "We are never closer to being ourselves than when we are wearing masks."

I've learned a lot about myself from the characters that I've played. When you connect with a character, you learn all the ways you are similar to the character and all the ways you differ.

If ever I use theatre as a form of escapism, it's when I'm an audience member, not when I'm acting.

Tangentially related: I do think that working in the theatre in any capacity gives you a heightened sense of drama in life.


What is your biggest failure? (Heidi Renée)

The immediate things that leap to mind are more "what are your greatest injustices" and "what are you most bitter about" than "biggest failure".

One is a playwriting competition where I made it to the final six, but didn't place (and my play was DEFINITELY better than two of the three that did... comparable to the third).

Another was a role that I deserved to get (I was the PERFECT for it, and everyone knew it. And I totally rocked my audition), but didn't because of the casting pool (I was also the best for a smaller role... and there was no one else who could fill it).

But I don't think that I failed. I blame other people for those things.

Man, I could fill a book just with memories that I'm bitter about.

I guess I'd have to say doing badly in a playwriting class I took my freshman year of college is the closest I can think of, and even that I have to qualify...

I had to get special permission to enter the course as a freshman because it was like a 300-level and I hadn't taken any previous college English courses (I tested out with my AP English score). But they let me in due to the strong background in playwriting I had, having done competitive playwriting in high school (and doing quite well in it). It was a 6-person class, and I believe I was the only one with any experience whatsoever. And I think I ended up with the worst grade.

The reason I say I have to qualify this failure is because it wasn't really my fault that I did poorly; it was a matter of circumstance. It became obvious to me about halfway through the course that my professor and I had extremely different styles. She hated what I was turning in. And the one time she shared her own writing with the class, I didn't get it (NOTE: I won't write what it was because I don't want her to find this... but if you're ever around me in real life ASK ME!!! There's a ridiculous story involved). I don't think she appreciated what I was going for, and I didn't understand what she wanted from me.

Here's an example...

At one point, we were given an assignment to write what she called a "Sister Monologue" -- a monologue opening up to your sister. Except I don't have a sister. So she said to write it to our best friend... but all my closest friends were guys (when I told her that, I think she thought I was just being difficult... I did, after all, attend a women's college). So she told me to make something up.

I worked extraordinarily hard on this assignment, trying to prove myself. I ended up writing three different monologues.

The first was a girl talking to her brother, whom she had been dressing like a girl and treating like a girl for most of his life because she wanted a sister. She had found out that he didn't want to dress like a girl and be her "sister" anymore, and she was bitter but attempting to forgive him. It was dark, creepy, and hilarious. I was incredibly proud of it. It was a fascinating piece, if I do say so myself.

The second was a girl confronting her former best friend, who had verbally abused her and ditched her in favor of a better clique. The girl started off a bit angry and bitter, but ended up thanking the best friend for leaving her. She decided it had made her stronger and given her more character. She realized she was better off not having a friend who would so easily trade her in. It was a bit more raw and emotional than my usual works, and I was pretty pleased with the end result.

The third monologue was to a "sister". It wasn't good. I wrote it only so that I was, in the strictest terms, fulfilling the assignment. I don't even remember the angle of it anymore. It lacked something that the other two had.

So the assignment was due, and I handed all three in. My professor refused to read them all, as she was too busy (there were 6 students in that class, and I'm pretty sure it was the only one she was teaching that semester... but whatever). She said to pick one. We would also be reading one aloud in class for a different part of the assignment. If I remember correctly, I turned in monologue #2 and I read #1 aloud. My classmates LOVED #1. They were all laughing.

When I got my grades back from the assignment, I think I got Cs on both parts. And I remember that on the hard copy of #2, my professor wrote something about having "missed the point of the assignment" and "not understanding the sister bond". NO KIDDING!!!

Anyway. So, I qualify that it was really on the list of "greatest injustices" and "things I'm bitter about", but at the time I really did feel as though I'd failed by doing badly in the class that everyone expected I'd do well in.

(As a side note, that professor and I get along really well now. She's a lovely person. And as an actor, I think she's one of my biggest fans. She and I just weren't a good professor/student match.)


What is your biggest victory? (Heidi Renée)

Getting into grad school.

I'm the first theatre major from my college (as far as anyone can remember) who is going for an MFA in Acting. There are plenty of actors who sprang out of my high school and are doing quite well (including my friend Stephen who is Equity, and my friend Jeffrey who recently appeared as "Todd Jansen, Nellie Yuki's ex-boyfriend" on an episode of Gossip Girl), but none of them have gone to grad school. I feel as though I'm blazing my own trail. And I'm incredibly proud of that. I made a choice based on what I wanted, not what people around me have done. And I worked really hard to get it.


If you could have any superpower what would it be? (Meg Kathleen)

When I was a kid, I had a dream in which I could change my size at will. I could shrink down to being 2 inches tall to eavesdrop. I could grow to 15 feet tall to intimidate. I could be 5'9" for the times I wanted to be a runway model. For years, I wanted that power.

Then for awhile I wanted to have a "save game" function for my life. You know, so that whenever I screwed up I could just "revert to saved" and live that part over again. But then I realized I'd spend too much time trying to get everything perfect. So many good things have happened to me in life as a result of not getting things right. Everything happens for a reason, and to fight that would ruin everything.

Now that I'm older... I'd choose muscle mimicry (like Monica from Heroes). Basically it means that if you see someone do something, then you automatically know how to do it. It's a great power because you're not outwardly a freak. And what a cool gift! Suddenly, I'd be a sensational ballroom dancer, a concert pianist, a karate expert... Dude, I'd finally be able to moonwalk without looking stupid. Who wouldn't want that power?



So, there you are. I hope you've gained even more insight into me than you normally would from reading one of these Olympic-sized posts of mine. And I hope you've enjoyed it.


May you find answers within yourself.

~A~


P.S.
Hahahahahahaha! I hope that never gets old!