The State of the Angela Address

(In a crazy get-up to go out dancing with Two-Shots-Up in September.)


I have this strange feeling going through me right now. A need to cry. And I have no idea why.

So, as I often do when I have feelings that I can't explain, I'm going to talk it out with myself. And today, I've decided to do that in writing form. I have no idea what's about to come out. Honestly. So hang on, because this could be a weird ride.

I've been touring a show with my classmates. We do up to 3 performances a day. In our first 6 days of performances, we had 10 shows... which is a worse schedule than Broadway performers have (they do 8 shows in 6 days). We're traveling in two vans. One carries 2 actors, 9 chairs, 9 costumes, 1 sound system, 1 microphone & stand, 1 crate of random whatnot, and occasionally some lighting equipment (depending on the venue). The other van contains 1 stage manager and 7 actors. Some of our performance venues are up to 2 hours away. Then we get there, load-in everything ourselves, set up the show, get into costumes and make-up, perform, do a talk back, get out of costumes and make-up, load-out everything into the vans, and then drive to the next performance venue. (And sometimes, depending on the schedule, they give us each $7 for a less-than-healthy fast-food lunch.)

As you can imagine, it's insane. Most of the time, it's fun. We entertain ourselves backstage by making weird videos. Sometimes, it's really stressful. Sometimes I love my classmates. Sometimes I think they hate me. Sometimes I get sick of them complaining about everything (and each other).

But what makes it worthwhile are the kids. Most of our performances are in high schools. We've had a couple of rude audiences (like one that started verbally mocking us as we performed... or that time a kid in the front row was playing with a metal slinky during the ENTIRE PERFORMANCE, and we all wanted to strangle him with it). But for the most part, they've been great. We've come across a lot of students who are in awe of us. Or have learned more about this Greek play from our modernized production than they did from reading the classical text. And some kids have asked about how they can get into grad school like we did. And it's... great. I LOVE answering their questions. I love feeling like an expert. An authority. A scholar.

Of course, sometimes the schedule really blows. We did three shows yesterday. Which meant I was away from home for 11 hours. Which meant I didn't get to talk with Phil.

I talked to him today for, literally, 6 minutes. Between shows. As he was waiting to go into a work-related meeting. Thank God he has Skype on his phone, or we wouldn't have even gotten that. But it's frustrating to talk in that situation sometimes, just because he's in public and can't really tell me the things he wants to tell me. He doesn't want to get into his personal life in public. So instead he tells me about how he just re-watched Tropic Thunder and thinks it's brilliant, and then I tell him that I thought Tropic Thunder was barely watchable (except for Robert Downey Jr., who was actually pretty great). And then we mentally add it to the growing list of movies that we disagree about. And that's pretty much the whole conversation.

In case you missed it in my Twitter feed a while back, I'm going to see him.

Actually, that story was kind of a big deal in and of itself...

I'm doing something rather uncharacteristic of me...

I'm breaking a rule.

I'm skipping a class.

*GASP*

In two years of grad school, I have never missed a class, rehearsal, or performance. I was 20 minutes late to a class once during my 2nd-year because I somehow convinced myself that it was the weekend (whoops). But other than that, I have pretty great attendance. Actually, I might be the only person in my class who has never missed a class. *goes off to sift through memory* Okay, I don't remember Iceman missing any classes... but he's going to be missing one in November, so we're even.

I don't actually HAVE to miss class... I was originally going to go see Phil from December 2-9 (because I have class on the 2nd and the 10th... but I wouldn't land in the UK until the 3rd and would have to leave early on the 9th, so that's really only 6 days). But I found great airfare on the 27th... So I'm skipping class on the 2nd to have a few more days with Phil.

I am going to get in trouble for this. I am going to be yelled at. I might cry. I'm terrified to tell the head of my program (who is also directing me in a show that begins rehearsing on December 14th... so I hope he gets over his anger by then). Send prayers and good vibes that he's not too harsh on me. Because I do NOT handle confrontation and/or conflict well.

I think it's important, though. As a result of going earlier, I get to go to a wedding with Phil (well, actually, I get to go to the reception, and not the ceremony... But I get to meet a lot of his friends, which is cool). And I also get to travel with him to meet his parents. (EEK!)

When I officially bought my tickets (round-trip to London for under $600... Thank you Student Universe!), Phil was so, so, so happy. It might have been the happiest that I have ever made someone as a direct result of one of my actions. As for me, I was pretty elated as well. And I've been counting down the days.

He's going to try to come see me in the last week of January/first week of February. My parents are going to try to plan a visit that overlaps his, so that they can meet him.

Phil goes back and forth on how serious he's comfortable with this relationship being. Which I understand. I do it, too... I just do it more in my head. This relationship is a dangerous situation. But it still feels like I'm still accruing more happiness and positivity than frustration and fear. And whenever I get frustrated, it's because of the situation, not because of Phil. He's great. I just wish he lived within driving distance.

But other than that, things are going well. I'm still crazy about him. He's still crazy about me. And he's cool with me referring to him as my boyfriend now. :)

My classmates have started giving me advice on how far the physical part of my relationship with Phil should go. Some is positive, some is negative. Some is completely unsolicited, and some arises as part of discussions. Not all of it is helpful. But if nothing else, it's nice to know that people care about me and want what's best for me (whether it be protecting myself from things, or exposing myself to them). And that's all I'm going to say about that.

You know what actually kind of upset me today? Like three celebrity couples that I saw were splitting up. Should one be surprised when celebrity couples split? No, of course not. Fame puts a lot of stress on a relationship. But it still makes me feel uneasy.

Maybe it's because I've only recently started to think of myself as the marrying type... But I am TERRIFIED of the possibility of divorce. In my head, divorce is one of the worst things that I could possibly go through. That, and, like, pregnancy out of wedlock (which is, of course, one of the main reasons that I haven't had sex yet). In my head, those fates are worse than incurable diseases and house fires. Ridiculous? Probably. But that's where I am right now.

Okay, let's go on a random tangent:

My self-esteem is in a pretty good place right now. Which is unusual for me (and for artists in general). I feel more attractive than I ever have before (which is the combination of losing weight after tracking calories on SparkPeople, getting half-naked for a play, and having a man in my life who tells me how beautiful he thinks I am on a daily basis). I feel good about my art (and a couple of high-schoolers came up to me yesterday after a performance to tell me that I was their favorite actor in the show... which is amazing, considering that I'm a random member of the chorus). I'm good.

I'm still nervous about the citizenship whatnot. A friend of mine who said she wanted to move to London with me changed her mind this week. It's too hard to do it with visas. And that was a frightening reminder that I'm in a tough spot if I can't get dual-citizenship.

I haven't had time to blog. In any of the places that I'm supposed to. (And note how now that I have time, I'm blogging here... and not on one of the blogs that I'm expected to blog on for professional reasons. I am such a slacker.)

I sort of got a job. I do assistant-type work for a guy who lives in my town once a week for a couple of hours. He was born in 1931, but his two most recent ex-girlfriends were born in 1955. He's a hilarious, dirty old man, who tells me incredible stories. I love talking to him. He seems truly grateful for everything I do for him, which feels lovely. And he recently CC:ed me on an e-mail that he sent, in which he used the following sentence: "Angela is a jewel."

I had my first costume fitting for the upcoming season yesterday. I play an Italian flight attendant ("air hostess") in the 1960s. I'm going to look like the Italian flag vomited on me (green dress, white and red striped tights, white hat, green and red neck scarf). I'm wearing a tight (TIGHT!) low-cut dress, with a hemline that looks like a shirt when I raise my arms. They want to push up my boobs to Salma Hayek proportions. I'll be wearing a sassy black wig and -- my favorite part -- white go-go boots. I could not be more excited.

(So with the wig and the boobs, we're looking at something like this... Which, by the way, is one of my costumes for when I played a Dutch prostitute in a show in September.)

Okay, I've been writing for nearly an hour, and I still don't know why I'm upset.

Maybe I should just blame it on the dramatic emotional tendencies that come along with being an actor.

Or maybe I haven't gotten to the bottom of this yet.



May you know why you're feeling what you're feeling.

~A~