Love from the Wild Child

Hello all.

I am in Paris this weekend.

London has been amazing. I am squeezing every last drop out of it, I promise.

(me in Conwy Castle in Wales)

I went to see Hair, which has transferred over here from Broadway, and it totally changed my perspective on life. Normally, I am a pretty conservative person socially, sexually, and morally (although not politically). But when I saw Hair, I wanted nothing more than to do drugs and get naked.

Later that night, I went out dancing. At one point, the people I was with were getting drinks when I headed down to the basement dance floor of a club. It was just me, the DJ, and a bunch of laser lights. I took over the dance floor in a way that you've never seen. For two songs, I was more free than I ever remember being. I mean, I'm always free when I dance, but not like that. It was like I'd entered another state of consciousness. I wasn't fully cognizant of what I was doing, but somehow I melted into the room and became one with it. (And for the record, I was sober.)

You know what? I am free because I'm HERE. When crazy things happen, I just wink and say, "London". It is the best explanation and excuse in the world.

(Hanging out with my classmates the night I saw Hair. A little drinking was involved.)

I am totally boy crazy. And a little girl crazy, too. This might be crazy, but I think I'm bisexual. I've just been lying dormant for a long time. No, I'm not joking.

I think I already mentioned my crushes on the French circus boys. Yeah, I miss them. They were fun. Mmmm...

(hanging out with my French circus friends)

(Me with Julien. I seriously wanted him and we had fun on the dance floor. But he's in a relationship on Facebook... and doesn't speak much English.)

(Me and Flo. Being around him is joy-inducing. Sadly, he also has a girlfriend.)

(Nael and me. He's the one who actually kissed me, and it was completely awkward. Oh well.)

(Guillaume was totally cute too -- and totally trying to flirt with me -- but my roommate/classmate was crushed on him, so I was a good girl and backed down. And yes, my love Julien is totally kissing my head in this picture. *sigh*)

I have occasional crushes on my classmates, but they're usually fleeting. More than anything else, it's just an appreciation of them as people more than an active sexual or romantic desire for them.

(me with my classmate D-Train, wearing my famous pink and purple hat)

During a production of Macbeth at The Globe Theatre, I totally connected with the actor playing Malcolm. He kept making eye contact with me. I swear to you, at one point he gestured toward me and winked at me during a scene (in which he was in the background and had no lines). Luke -- the nice, cute undergrad who was standing next to me -- noticed my Malcolm moments and commented on them. After the show, Luke was going to a talkback with the actors, so I gave him my business card (which has my name, headshot, and e-mail address on it), and he passed it along to Malcolm for me (who is apparently actually named James). Haven't heard from him yet, but that's most definitely the most forward move I've ever made towards a man. Huge deal for me. (Unfortunately, the phone number on my business card in my American phone... I hope he has the sense to facebook me or e-mail me... Because CLEARLY he's going to contact me.)

My classmate Wifey thinks that Luke has a thing for me. He keeps trying to get me to salsa dance with him, and just generally appears to go out of his way to talk with me and be around me. And I think another undergrad named Nic might have a thing for me as well (he's sweet, and he keeps offering to take my picture with various landmarks). And most likely an IT guy who works for the program named Deron who wanted me to watch the finale of LOST with him.

(Me with Deron)

I have a crush on a Blue Badge tour guide, whom is significantly older than my usual self-limited datable age range. (my Google-stalking suggests he's 39, but I'm guessing that information is old). Dude, intelligence is sexy. Also, he has a great sense of humor. And I'm pretty sure he was flirting with me in Westminster Abbey.

(Me and Blue Badge Seán)

People over here love me. I think it's my cute American dialect. I have been hit on by so many people (men and women) that I've lost track. And the guys here keep asking me if they can make out with me, to which I say no. I don't care how cute the guy is. I am not going to make out with any random nameless person. There has to be at least SOME backstory involved. Dancing with me for 3 minutes does not count.



See those two hot chicks? Yeah, they both wanted me. No, I'm not joking. Look at them, and then look at me. Clearly, they are the hotties in that picture. And believe me, it does not do them justice... They had tight mini-dresses on, and legs that went on for days. And they were really great dancers as well. They wanted me to go to another bar with them, but was celebrating a friend's birthday that night and felt like I couldn't ditch her... In retrospect, I regret the decision. They were HOT.

I've been asked on dates by men from at least 4 countries.

The first was Blake, an American who works for the program in an R.A. sort of way. He's actually younger than I am. He started flirting with me about an hour after I landed in this country.

We had a nice long talk one day, and he asked me out for coffee (which has yet to come to fruition). Then last weekend, I spent a good amount of time hanging out with him in Liverpool and Wales. We talked, danced, and flirted. He sent me text messages telling me that I should come hang out with him in various locations. But the last night we were in Wales, he ended up making out with some other chick on the dancefloor at a club (I don't know who she was... either a Welsh chick, or an undergrad). No big deal. I have other men around... But then this morning our trips aligned briefly (mine to Paris, and his to Amsterdam), and he was both flirting with me and actively following me around. And then he sent me a text message from Amsterdam saying that he wishes I were there... So we'll see.

(Blake and me on a hill in Llandudno, Wales)

Actually, at one point I was pretty sure that another guy with Blake's job was flirting with me as well. But he ended up going for my classmate/roommate instead of me (same classmate/roommate that went for circus-boy Guillaume, actually), so that shut the door on him.

A statuesque black man in a suit approached me in a club and wanted to get to know me better. He's a Brit named Nsikan who works for the United Nations. I gave him my e-mail address instead of my British phone number (because I hadn't memorized it yet), and he has been actively pursuing me through that medium. Unfortunately for him, I have a very busy schedule...

A Palestinian man named Wael wants me as well. He's a musician. And tomorrow, in London, he's performing in a show that Will.I.Am. and Cheryl Cole are also scheduled to appear at. I think he's in the opening act or something. He told me he could get me in backstage, but unfortunately, I'm in Paris.

(me and Wael in a Reggae club)

So far, I've only actually gone out with one of them. He's an Italian (who lives in London) named Alessandro, and he's delightful. As Captain Hammer would say, "Not my usual, but nice." He took me to a really terrible Bollywood dance-based show with a pathetic excuse for a plot. And then we went to a bar and got drinks that were called "I Can't Believe It's Not Watermelon". And then we got on a double-decker bus to Trafalgar Square, and I learned that my usual apprehension regarding public displays of affection does not apply in foreign countries. At all. The next day, he took me to the Camden Town market (which was great fun), and was just charming and lovely the whole way through. He really, really wants me. He wants to steal the purple and pink hat that I'm always wearing, and not give it back to me until I come visit him in Italy.

(Alessandro and me in Camden Town.)


But enough about boys.

I bought a great dress. I'm in love with it. I saw a girl wearing it around town, and I stopped her and asked her where she bought it. She told me it was at TopShop for 70 pounds (roughly $105). But when I got to TopShop, it was only 60 pounds (the tax is included) and I get an international student discount there, bringing the total to 54 pounds (roughly $81). Expensive, but it's the first major purchase I've made after being abroad for over 3 weeks. And it's totally worth it to me. Dude, I look hot in it.

Note: That photo makes me look deceptively skinny. I have actually gained weight since getting to London. I don't usually think of myself as being on a diet, but I watch what I eat (which is usually mostly made up of South Beach Diet bars and SmartOnes frozen meals), and I'm not doing that at all here. I have started eating ice cream, french fries, and mayonnaise here (all of which have been on my Forbidden list for awhile back in the USA).

I'm a wild woman.


Anyway. I thought you all deserved an update of my plot.


May you find your wild side.

~A~

Circus Folk

(Me dancing with one of my new friends. 05/11/10)


(Note: I'm composing this quickly and without editing, so I apologize if it's a boring/confusing/badly composed post)

So in case you haven't been reading my twitter, there are two things you should know.

1. I'm in London.

2. I have met (and become obsessed with) a bunch of circus-trained performers this week.


So. Much. Hotness.


I like to dance. A lot. I make a fool out of myself on the dancefloor. And circus boys? They keep up with me. I love that.


They've been in this show in London, in which they use their circus skills as part of their story-telling. It's about 11 people with different mental problems (schizophrenia, obsessive compulsive disorder, amnesia, manic, intermittent explosive disorder, agoraphobia, hypochondria, sex addiction, insomnia, paranoia, & multiple personality disorder) It's brilliant. I saw it three times. And it was worth it.

The videos do not do them justice, but you'll get an idea:



(And if you speak French, I guess you could watch this. The three men that speak in it are three of my favorite buddies in the group, and you get to see them do a little of their stuff.)

After I went to see their show the first time, we (meaning the three classmates who came along with me and myself) went out dancing with them.

And then I saw the show again, and went to a bar with them.

And then I saw the show again, and went out to lunch with them.

And then their show closed, and I went out to some bars and a house party with them (that was last night... didn't get home until 6:15am).


Of the 11 performers, I've hung out with 8 of them, and I'd say that 4 of them (three guys and a girl) I now consider to be my friends (even though one of them doesn't speak English terribly well).

(NOTE: A guy who is not one of those four kissed me last night, but it was awkward... so I'm just going to pretend that didn't happen.)

I can't tell you how hot they are. Each one hotter than the last. Maybe that's just because I'm sexually attracted to talent... But I think that's only part of it.

I realize that I just met them, but I am horribly sad that they've left town. One in particular I would like to pack into a suitcase and take back to the USA with me, because I think we'd be great friends. And my crush on another one was ruined by Facebook tragically informing me that he's in a relationship (somehow I wasn't bothered by the fact that his English isn't extensive and my French is nonexistent).

It's just nice to dance with people who want to dance. So nice. It wasn't a sexual thing. It was just an appreciation of movement.

And they kept encouraging me in my own movement work. I've always wanted to learn contortion, and they gave me some pointers on how to move forward. They also complimented my "lines", and the natural arch of my foot and point of my toes, and my extension, and my flexibility (this was in a bar, by the way). And I ended up learning a new trick already just from their verbal advice (a wall-assisted back-walkover, which I'm very proud of). They gave me greater belief in myself, even though they'd only just met me.

And it's nice to have people to hang out with other than people I've been in school with for two years. I love (most of) my classmates, but I liked being able to meet people beyond them. It's not an opportunity I usually have in Florida.


Next weekend, I signed up to go on a trip to Wales and Liverpool that the university is taking the undergraduate students on. I'm the only person in my class going. In some ways, I'm glad to get away from my class. But in others... Well, at the ripe old age of 25, I'm going to feel out of place around undergrads.


Ugh. I'm lonely.


London is good, though. I've been having a great time. Unfortunately, I think I'm getting sick. I've had a cough since March that won't quit, and the coughing fits I've had over the last couple of days have given me a wicked sore throat (one more reason why that one French circus boy probably should not have awkwardly kissed me).


Also random: British men love me. I don't know why. I get hit on over here on a daily basis. In the USA, when I get hit on, it's something to write home about. But here? Left and right. It's like magic.


Okay, I should stop writing this nonsense and go work on my playwriting homework. Blergh.


Ugh, I feel sick.


May you make friends who inspire you and believe in you.
And may you never feel lonely when you're not alone.

~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.

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...?

Callback to a Wedding

I feel like my blog posts have been very list-heavy lately. Mostly because I've been chronicling my life through them more than I used to. I've started considering trying to force myself into the form of shorter, more frequent posts. Even just experimentally. Just to see if I could. Anyway, there is a poll on the upper-right column of the blog that will be up for a week. Please add in your two cents (it's anonymous).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


On Friday morning, I had a text message on my phone. It came from Ex #1. He sent it at 4:18am.

"I am drunk. And Waiting on a World to Change is playing. Thinking of you."

My thoughts:
1. A drunk text? Really? NOW? I FINALLY talked with him after a 10-month hiatus, and now suddenly he's open and communicative and texting while drunk? WTF?
2. Why was he still out drinking at 4:18am on a school night? (He's in grad school)
3. That's not the name of the song. It's Waiting on THE World to Change.
4. There is NO reason that he should think of me because of that song. No correlation between me and John Mayer whatsoever. And didn't that song get popular AFTER we'd broken up? WTF?
5. I'm not thrilled that he gets drunk and thinks of me.

I think I liked him better silent.


In contrast... Around 7:00pm, as I was walking out the door, I got a delivery. I bouquet of roses. I didn't have to read the card to know they were from Brian.

I've never been to any acting school... but this is my spin on improv, Sunshine.

He's pretty great, right?

I put the flowers in a vase and headed out to my "third callback" for Tony n' Tina's Wedding.

(Note: No idea why they call it a third callback. First of all, I've only had one previous callback, so if anything this should be the second. Next, it wasn't a callback at all. It was just an opportunity to see the show.)

I ran through a torrential storm on my way there, blinking as I was temporarily blinded by lightning that erupted from the sky in large flashing panels. By the time I arrived, my wet dress clung to my legs, my makeup had streamed down my face, and my hair -- which previously had looked phenomenal -- resembled a dead animal. Despite this, I was comforted by the fact that it was raining (as is my habit... see A Little Water Clears Us). I knew that things would be alright.

I sat down next to the other people who had been called back during the pre-show. Dan, Mel, and Leticia. We compared stories about our callbacks (none of our partners made it on to this round). Dan's partner sounded great, Leticia's mediocre, and Mel's was about as unclear on the instructions as mine was.

(Example: They had the same "stuck in a box" scenario, where one person wants to stay in and the other wants to get out. So Mel started off as the desperate one trying to get out of the box, but then her partner started doing the exact same thing. So Mel switched and started acting like she wanted to stay in the box, but then her partner started agreeing with the points she made then as well. So there was no conflict whatsoever.)

The show really begins in the half hour before curtain, during the pre-show. There's a group of people called "Black Staff" (named as such because the reception hall is owned by a man named Vinnie Black) who are in training to be lead characters, and they did a great job of starting the comedy early. Plus, I had a whole conversation with "Tony's Grandmother", who started telling me that he went out to Vegas for a bachelor party the night before, missing the rehearsal dinner, and she hoped he'd shave before the wedding.

The first part of the show is the wedding ceremony. It's in a little chapel, and you start getting a feel for the characters. There's Tina's gay brother, a pregnant bridesmaid, an over-zealous photographer, a singing nun, Tony's dad's hotsy-totsy girlfriend, and Tina's recently rehabbed ex-boyfriend, among others.

The best part of the show is the reception. You do all the normal wedding reception stuff (including the chicken dance), and the various characters all have things they do that are absolutely ridiculous. They also all come around and interact with the tables.

At this particular performance, there happened to be a large girl scout troup (middle schoolers) taking up half the room, which was very entertaining in and of itself.

I let my fellow callback buddies know that I have absolutely no problem whatsoever with getting out on the dance-floor and making a complete and total fool out of myself. Dan said he'd be completely willing to go with me, and so it began. We were dancing up a storm along with some people from the cast.

When I saw cast members trying to get the audience to dance, I figured I'd help out. So I started getting some of the girl scouts to dance with me. AWESOMELY FUN! Dude, do you know how much experience I have being the only person dancing and trying to persuade others to dance with me? A TON. And do you know what my success rate is? Not great. But at this show, when you try to get people to dance, THEY DANCE! They realize that by participating they're getting more out of the experience, so they comply!

At one point, one of the bridesmaids (Donna, the attention whore one) started dancing with Dan. So I accused her of trying to steal my man, and then went and started dancing with her "boyfriend" (Dominic, who was played by the guy who I think was hitting on me at my first callback). Then she came over and tried to start a fight with me. It was HILARIOUS! LOVED IT! Later in the show, Donna got up on stage, pointed at me, and said "This song is for you." She then proceeded to sing "Hit Me with Your Best Shot". It pretty much made my day. Awesome.

At the end of the show, the four of us callback people were instructed to stay and talk with the stage manager (whom I had met the previous weekend). She started talking shop with us, explaining the ins and outs of the show. Apparently, when you work on the production, they give you a book explaining all the crazy details of backstories and relationships between the characters. They talk about Tina's crazy aunt and Tony's brother, neither of whom are in the show. They mention who was the confirmation sponsor of whom, and which characters got in a fight in the second grade. Anything and everything you might want to know, which gives the actors more to riff on in collaborative improving. It's really fascinating.

She said that by the sheer fact that we've gotten to this point, we should know that they think we're talented. But getting this far DOES NOT guarantee that we'll be in the show.

The reason that we were asked to see the show is that it's not for everyone. Having to do the chicken dance 5 times a week, eating the same food over and over again... it can be rough if you're not made for it. She said that we should think about it for a day or two, and that if we were still interested, that we should call her and then she'd let the director know.

So I called her the next day. I told her I'm still interested. *fingers crossed*

Of course, the whole thing with me going to grad school in a few months could be a problem, so they might not cast me at all. The stage manager knows I'm going "in the fall". She doesn't know that I'm planning to move in the beginning of August. And if they ask me to disclose that information... Well, they might not to invest that much time and money training me to be there for such a short period of time.

And getting cast might screw up trip my to Nebraska to see Brian next month. But I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

In the meantime, I'm hoping to get this show. I really do think it'd be fun. I don't mind being "Black Staff" for 3-5 weeks, as even they seemed like they were having a good time. And it would be good to get that improv experience under my belt. And dude, I'm totally willing to shake my bum on that reception dance floor five times a week. No problem. ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


In other news, Tipp from A[tipp]ical Thoughts has presented me with an award!


Eek! It's an honor just to be nominated!

So I'd like to spread this love to a couple of bloggers who have made my day.

- Kristen from This is the story of a girl..a complicated girl.
She recently referred to me as "a phenom of a blogger" (which was quickly added to my Compliments Book). It totally made my day. And she took me up on my Pay It Forward Challenge and held her own contest. You go, Kristen!

- Cheryl from Places Never Planned.
She also took up my Pay It Forward Challenge. Lately, she's been naming her posts in the style of Friends episodes, which is brilliant. And really, I just love her blog. Whenever it pops up on my Google Reader, I get so excited to read it. :) I really dig her style.

- Renee from A Beautiful Day in the Reneeborhood.
She says I inspired her to blog, and I'm so glad! She's a born writer. And has great taste in formal wear. ;)

Spread the love, ladies!



May you make someone's day today.

~A~

Grad School: Update #4

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


May you find somewhere that you fit.

~A~


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

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

Chicago Blogger Meet-Up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

D and Places Not Planned.

Big Time Fancy, me, and Free and Flawed.

PB & Razz and To Kiss the Cook.

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

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

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

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

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


May you find lovely people and learn to connect.

~A~


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

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

Grad School Auditions: Update #1

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

And I got into the next round!!!

WOO-HOO!

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

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

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

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

So I began to dance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

~A~

Nobody Knows Me at All

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

Happy February.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

- I honestly believe that I'm fascinating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- I have an intense fear of being raped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


So that's all for now.

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

~A~

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

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

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

Little Adventures & Big Transformations

Sometimes, I'm spontaneous. Despite my love of planning and my hatred of feeling out of control, I need a little kick every once in awhile. I need to do something different. Something unexpected. Something wonderful.

For example, on Tuesday, I dyed my hair. Black. My mother was terrified that with raven-esque hair against my pale skin I'd look like Elvira. Luckily, I don't. I might look slightly less American. A man asked me yesterday if I was Greek. So I've got that going for me.

I like to fill my life with tiny little adventures. Silly, goofy, fun events that make everything just a little brighter. The sorts of things that could be described in earnest as “good clean fun.”

I like going to Meijer (it’s a grocery store, if you’re not familiar) with a sock full of pennies riding the kiddie rides at the front of the store (a gyrating pink pony and a vibrating purple dinosaur… and I like “racing” my friends on them). I once had a picnic at midnight in the center of a traffic circle. When there’s a nice rain, I put on capris and flip-flops and go puddle-jumping (there was supposed to be a torrential storm today, but so far it’s just been cloudy… very upsetting).

In high school, my friends and I would secretly leave presents on each other’s doorsteps or front lawns (such as windmills, cookies, or tennis balls) and then accuse everyone else of being the perpetrators (I took credit for a few more of these events than I was actually a part of, in order to help the people behind the mysteries to disguise the correct path of blame… although I did take participate in many… like the time I was an accomplice to leaving two beta fish on my friend Phil’s doorstep. I take partial responsibility for that. My partner who drove the getaway van shall remain nameless).

My freshman year of college, my friend Mary would allow the use of her car in order to “kidnap” our guy friends and take them places. Usually it involved us bringing them to fast food joints, which they loved. Once, we rounded up four of them, brought them to Meijer, handed them each two dollars and told them to buy Mary and I a present. The person who used the two dollars best would win a prize (which was a shirt representing our dorm’s mascot, the McCandless Monkeys… The back read, “Who’s Your Monkey?” At the time, I thought that was hilarious.) I still have some orange balloons and a fake rose from that excursion. Good times.


I enjoy taking part in these activities because they make for good memories, and often make good stories as well. They make my life a little more wonderful. It’s hard to get excited reminiscing about times spent alone in my apartment. And I’m not going in to work tomorrow to excitedly tell people that I spent my evening watching television shows on the internet (which is the greatest invention ever for people like myself who do not own televisions) and composing a blog entry.

I was able to tell the folks at work about what I did yesterday night. I went out to see “Altar Boyz” (a friend scored free tickets, which make any show a little better). It’s a play/musical about a Catholic boy band. If you know a bit about Catholicism, and you have a sense of humor about it, then I recommend it. There was a line in which the “thug” band member made reference to a girl looking “Mary Magdalicious,” and I completely lost it. All of the Altar Boyz cast members were attractive, which also helped. I was having an internal debate for most of the performance regarding which one I thought was hottest (I was to the point of salivation over three of them).

After that, my friends and I headed to “Live Band Karaoke”, which was a strange and fun experience. I was the crazy girl dancing right next to the stage that everyone assumes is drunk (which, unless you can get drunk off of ice water, I wasn’t). Several people complimented my dance moves during the night. It’s nice to know that I haven’t lost my skills, despite lack of practice (well, practice in public, anyway). And I performed “Walk Like an Egyptian”, because that was the only song on the band’s prepared list that I knew well enough to attempt to sing. It turned out to be a great choice, as there are frequent guitar solos, which translates to “dance time” for me. I’m never going to be the best singer at karaoke (a title that often crowns my former roommate), but I can sure as hell be the best dancer. Or at least the craziest dancer. I’m satisfied with that.

Not to say that I’m a bad singer. I’m certainly not. I have a good amount of vocal training, but it’s really more choral-training than the belting-pop-rock-training that would come in handy in a karaoke setting. I don’t go into vocal acrobatics and ululations, I don’t get throaty and guttural, and I can’t nail the high notes in chest voice (although I can most definitely hit the low ones… I was always an Alto II, if that means anything to you). But I head-bang, jump, and gyrate, which I think is just as entertaining. (I mangled my neck while head-banging last night. Lots of pain today.)

So for my birthday next week (my 23rd, which will be on Thursday the 25th), I’m trying to come up with a little adventure to go along with it. Something much more interesting than going to a bar. Maybe I want to play mini-golf. Or go out dancing. Or go bowling. Frankly, I’d be happy gathering with a large group of people and just traipsing through the city en masse and acting like giddy children, but I think it might be difficult to convince my companions to play along with that…

As a side note, if you’d like to cheer me on my birthday but have no desire to get me a gift, please ask for my e-mail address and send me a song that you like (even if you don’t know me), or leave a recommendation in my "comments" section. I think that would be a lovely present. I’m musically eclectic – or at least more so than the average person – and I am always excited to learn new things.

I love being twenty-two. It’s a fun age to say. For some reason, saying “I’m twenty-two” reminds me of the movie Steel Magnolias when Annelle orders “a cherry coke” at a wedding reception. As a child I enjoyed Daryl Hannah’s line delivery on that. It’s probably why I’ve taken to ordering cherry cokes now. It is my signature drink.

For the few occasions when I decide to order alcohol (my upcoming birthday, for example), I have an unconventional signature drink. I walk up to the bartender and ask them to make me “something that doesn’t take like alcohol or oranges.” And then I pray.

Sometimes the bartender seems exasperated by that request, but usually they appear to enjoy the opportunity to get creative. I’ve gotten some good things (Stoli Blueberry and 7-Up, or any flavor Stoli, is pretty good. So is an Alabama Slamma, which I don’t know the ingredients of. And something greyish-purple called a Violent F*** which I misheard as Violet Funk for most of the night, and I think it sounds much nicer my way), some great things (my new favorite drink: a Jolly Rancher, which is comprised of something watermelon-flavored like Pucker or Midori, cranberry juice, and sometimes vodka), and some terrible things (something nasty that was bluish-green… I got it after 4 Alabama Slammas, when I was intoxicated enough to drink it anyway… That night didn’t end well). I hate the taste of alcohol, and I can detect it with extraordinary ease (I have powerful taste buds, apparently). A waitress once brought me a “black cherry & Coke” instead of my usual cherry coke, which turned out to be horrendously vile. Long Island Iced Teas taste like someone spiked a punch bowl with cleaning products. Even strawberry daiquiris taste venomous to me. And if I don’t make the “no orange” specification, I always end up with some variant on a fuzzy navel (and I hate oranges almost as much as I hate alcohol).

I drink everything quickly as a way of disguising the flavor. I think alcohol is an acquired taste, and, like coffee before it, it’s one that I’ve never gone out of my way to acquire. So I basically take most of my drinks as though they were shots. I’m just that sort of a person. When I read a book, I like to read it in one day. When I write a paper, I like to do it in one sitting. And when I drink something containing alcohol, I like to do it without coming up for air very much. I like to think it’s part of my idiosyncratic charm.

I didn’t really drink before I was legal, and I had a scandalously traumatic 21st birthday (I should’ve spent that night in a hospital bed), so I’ve never really warmed up to drinking. I had a couple of weeks this past May when I started going to bars with friends, but as I’ve said before, I’m just as happy sober as I am when I’m drinking. It doesn’t really appeal to me.

How do other people spend their birthdays? Are bars the only option past 21? There must be a better way. Is going to the zoo too lame? I can’t have anyone over to my apartment, because it’d be hard to fit too many people in here at once without it getting awkward and uncomfortable (tight quarters, you know. Snuggly for me, but I’d imagine unpleasant for a large group).

I don’t remember the last time I had a real birthday “party”. I’ve had “celebrations”, but it isn’t quite the same. Middle school, perhaps? It seems so long ago. I hope that someday I’ll have space to have a party again. Or, better yet, perhaps someone else with space will throw a party for me so that I don’t have to think about anything past what I should wear. Yes, that sounds rather perfect.

I wish I lived a more fabulous and extravagant life than I do. I fantasize about being Charlie from the movie High Fidelity (Catherine Zeta-Jones' character). Yes, she was a witch, but her life looked incredible. I want to live in an unnecessarily expansive apartment and throw lavish dinner parties. I want everyone I know to be clamoring for my attention. I want to spend every waking moment dressed to the nines. And I want my old body back so that I can look good in the designer dresses that I envision myself in. But we can’t always get what we want.

How do people fall into those sorts of lives? Are people destined to be fabulous? Why can’t I be that?

A friend of mine would say that I can be whomever I want to be. That’s nice in theory, but it doesn’t work in practice. Whenever I attempt to be who I want to be, I feel like I’m acting. I’m not being true to myself. How can I improve on myself without feeling like someone other than me? I can’t live my life cloaked in falsehoods. I want to be poised, but I’m too hyperactive for that. I dream of orating like a scholar, but I’m more random and indirect than that. I want to be a social butterfly, but nature has left me a little too socially inept (or, at very least, socially ill-equipped). I hate pretending to be something I’m not, but I don’t always like who I am. It feels like I’m trapped.

Perhaps I’ll always be the quirky, eccentric, quasi-loner, crying out for people to notice her. I suppose it’s not so bad. There are worse fates. And I’d rather be flawed than a fraud.

Still, I daydream about being a popular, picture-perfect highly-esteemed hostess with a flair for fashion, a knack for networking, and a gift for gabbing.

*sigh*

Time to snap back to reality. Here I am, sitting alone in my apartment. Again. Unimportant, uncelebrated, unmemorable cellophane girl. My birthday is one week from today. I have no definite plans. I have nothing fabulous to wear. I have no wonderful adventure to look forward to yet. No one wants to throw a party for me. Heck, I don’t even want to throw a party for me. Mostly, I just want to hide under my covers and not come out until I feel less unattractive, imperfect, and vulnerable than I presently do. I’ll pretend I’m wrapped in a chrysalis, and that once I emerge I’ll be able to fly.

Is it my imagination, or do my blog entries always end on a darker note than they start on. That’s probably not healthy… For some reason I drag myself into pools of torment in which to wallow. But after I finish an entry, I feel great. There’s a sense of accomplishment, and I feel as if I’ve gotten some things out of me that I’ve been hanging onto for too long. So although this might not seem merry and bright, I hope it doesn’t bring you down as you read. It’s really an upswing for me. I promise.

May your life be fabulous and filled with little adventures.

~A~