The FancyPants Factory

Growing Up

2009-08-02T11:30:00.000-06:00

Climbing out from under the table
to where the rocking guerilla stares and
the giant mouse runs too close to your face.
Too close.
Mocks you with the frozen smile and a dry nose.

Where the wild things are
you sit with two tear stained cheeks.
Rage at being pulled from your bowed state
with the view of their shoes and
the nudge from their knee caps.

If only the stuffed mouse would stay away
you could be brave, brave all day.
Who wanted this party anyway?
Oh. You did. Happy Birthday.

Mischief Managed

2009-07-27T17:29:00.008-06:00

The other day I walked from the West Side to the East Side of Manhattan, through Central Park, twice. Both times I was tested, and both times I failed. The first test occurred as I was crossing Park Avenue. Half way across the street and possessing the right of way, I approached two Hispanic men who motioned a semi-truck, which had been parallel parked on Park Avenue, to begin backing up. The truck had been just north of the street on which I was walking. The problem I foresaw was that when that truck backed up to where the Hispanics wanted it, it would have blocked the walkway and left me stranded in the middle of Park Avenue, unable to walk around the truck due to the cars running parallel with me. My time was running out. I had only seconds before the white walking man flashed the red hand and the cars sitting on Park Avenue awaiting their green light started toward me.

So, naturally, I kept walking, looked at the men, raised my arms and shouted, "Guys, I gotta walk."

They looked at me walking toward the truck in reverse, looked at each other, looked back at me, and laughed.

The truck kept backing up, and I kept walking. They kept motioning for the truck to continue. The truck missed me by a matter of inches, at which time, I looked back at the laughing Hispanics and emptied a spew of angry curse words at them.

They laughed.

Later, I was walking across the park for the second time that day, looking down as I walked, when suddenly I heard commotion in front of me. I looked up and saw a cyclist speeding directly toward me. I had seconds to react. Mind you, I was not walking on a cyclist path, but on a walker's path surrounded by other walkers lazily enjoying the beautiful day.

The black man trying to control the racing bike yelled for me to move out of the way. I inched to the left the same time he swerved to his right. I inched to the right as he corrected to his left. With the momentary God-given awareness of freed Neo in the Matrix, I paused, judging in a nano second which way to jump in order to avoid getting pelted and tangled in tire and gravel. I jumped left. He sped past me.

As he did, the curse words again flew out of my mouth at him without a second thought. I looked at the walkers around me who all looked back at the cyclist and shook their heads. I murmered something about hating cyclists and kept walking, heart racing. Then I heard him. The black man. He had stopped his bike. He was yelling at me. Voice booming through the park. He didn't sound nice.

"Girlfriend!"

I kept walking.

"Girlfriend!"

People were looking at me. I kept walking. Didn't dare turn around. Walked faster.

"GIRLFRIEND!"

Ignored him. Kept walking, a different path than usual in order to remain close to people rather than take the more isolated path I usually took that ran under a bridge.

He finally stopped calling after me. I checked to see if he was following me. He wasn't.

Two tests. Both I failed.

I felt in both instances that I was wronged. I was put in danger, and I wanted vengeance. If only to hurt them back through words, I wanted them to be sorry. But in both instances it made no positive difference to my offenders. They did not apologize. They didn't care.

The only one left to deal with my anger was myself. And it felt heavy, and dirty, and dangerous.

I would have rather turned the other cheek than live with that anger the whole day long.

Post on a Post

2009-07-25T18:38:00.004-06:00

I almost took the previous post down because it's misleading. It's not that the things I said were UNtrue. It was an honest post. However, looking back on it, and it's been a while since I've peeked at my own blog, the phrase "I lie all the time," is an exaggeration. I don't lie all the time. In fact, I tell the truth most of the time. On occasion, I lie. On occasion, I present myself in a false manner, which is much like lying. I used the phrase "all the time" because I was being dramatic. Imagine that.

What I realized about myself is that I am in the wrong to judge another for lying when I, too, am not only capable of it, but can lie with the best of them if I choose. Which I have.

But I am not a liar. And I don't hate liars. Another dramatic statement.

I do hate lies. My own, included.

So I'll leave the previous post up with this annoying post on a post, and hope for better posts to come.

Cheers.

I Hate Liars

2009-06-03T23:19:00.001-06:00

I've spent most of my adult life championing that phrase. I hate liars.

Harsh, huh? I'd like to say I've never actually said those words out loud, but...I'd be lying. Liars make me mad. I hate lies. Please don't lie to me. I take offense. I'm offended that you couldn't trust me with the truth. I'm hurt that you feel you have to hide something from me. When you lie, I build a few more layers of wall. I pride myself in sniffing out the best of lies. I'm really good at it. I can catch a person in a lie and they have NO idea I know they're lying to me. I just know.

But here's the thing: I'm a liar.

I lie ALL the time. When I don't want to go out with friends who invite me, I lie. I immediately think of the stories I can tell to get out of it, instead of just saying, "Hey guys, I'm just not up to going out." Because I'm afraid of hurting their feelings, or I feel guilty. But what's wrong with just not wanting to go out? Absolutely nothing.

I pride myself in being a confrontational person during times of conflict, and yet as I confront my friend or my husband with how they've offended me, I keep what really hurt me from them. What I really want to tell them is too hard to say, because it might hurt their feelings. Because it makes me vulnerable. Because it might make them mad at me. Because I don't like how sharing it makes me feel....weak.

I sometimes approach people with false humility. I unconsciously pretend to be less smart, less talented, less capable, so that I passify their ego, so that they'll like me, so that I can gain something from them. It's a form of a lie to get what I want in a backwards kind of way. It keeps me from being my true self.

Yeah so enough of my dirty laundry. The point is I'm done lying. God has made light what was dark.

We all lie. Don't we? We learn to lie as early as we learn how to talk. We learn to manipulate. We learn how to get what we want. Or rather, we just KNOW how to lie, manipulate, and get what we want. We have to LEARN not to.

So here's to learning not to. Cheers.

Stamp of Identity

2009-05-16T10:58:00.001-06:00

"The wax that has melted in God's will can easily receive the stamp of its identity, the truth of what it was meant to be. But the wax that is hard and dry and brittle and without love will not take the seal: for the hard seal, descending upon it, grinds it to powder.
"Therefore if you spend your life trying to escape from the heat of the fire that is meant to soften and prepare you to become your true self, and if you try to keep your substance from melting in the fire - as if your true identity were to be hard wax - the seal will fall upon you at last and crush you. You will not be able to take your own true name and countenance, and you will be destroyed by the event that was meant to be your fulfillment."

--Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation

2009-05-06T06:03:00.003-06:00

It's 8:03 am and I'm waiting to board a flight to Oklahoma. Going to see my parents. My mom, really, for Mother's Day. Seth's Dad is coming to New York for their annual father/son hang-out thingy, so basically, they kicked me out. Perfect timing for being kicked out seeing how it's mother's day and all.

I don't understand why people, who are clearly surrounded by other quiet, obviously very sleepy, people, feel the need to speak so frickin loud. Honestly. Look around man. NO ONE else is speaking as loud as you are. Ssshhhhhh

I have a little secret to share with you all. Remember how we were always taught in Sunday school that flying is "the perfect time to witness!". We should all find out if the stranger next to us is saved because it's perfect! They're trapped! They can't go anywhere! Here's my little secret. I don't do that.. When I sit next to a stranger I like to be left alone. Very very alone. So alone that I bury my head in a book from the moment I sit down. I'm really hoping that loud man isn't sitting next to me. I KNOW he's the kind that nervously and LOUDLY asks you questions even if you're head's buried in a book. Ok. Gotta go. Boarding. Layover in Chicago.

10:48 AM:

In Chicago, home of the two famous O's. I didn't realize when I booked my flight that this second plane here was one of those little ones. Dang it. Not a fan. I didn't have to sit by the loud mouth. Instead I was smack dab in the middle of two babies, one directly in front and one directly behind, and one, if not both, had a poopy diaper. Lovely. I've cheered myself with a bag of Chex Mix and am waiting to board the rinky dink. Wish me well.

Thirty.

2009-04-30T20:36:00.003-06:00

I remember, when I was seven years old, being hid in the back bedroom of a house with all the other kids. Those kids' parents were throwing my mother a surprise birthday party. They thought it would be cute to theme the party "Over the Hill."

My mom turned thirty that day. I remember hearing them all yell surprise through the bedroom door.

Two days ago I turned thirty. There were even a few close friends who yelled surprise when I opened the door. Except I don't have a 7 -year-old daughter waiting in the back bedroom. I babysit a 7-year-old.

My earliest experience associated with thirty is also associated with the words "Over the Hill."

Hmmmmm.

I don't feel anywhere close to a hill.

I was a little worried about thirty. Mostly because when my mom was thirty she had two kids who where 7 and 5. That makes me feel like I'm late on a few things. But I already like thirty. It's liberating. Who cares what everyone else thinks when you're thirty. Everyone else can kiss ass. See, I even said ass when I knew a good bit of you wouldn't approve.

I'm embracing the thirties.

I went to a yoga class today and the instructor had this to say: "Don't fixate on the goal. Fixating on the goal leads to negative feelings towards others who reach the goal and negative feelings towards ourselves if we don't meet the goal as fast as we hope. Instead focus on the present, how you feel in each pose and in each movement. No judgment. Wherever you are today is exactly where you should be."

That's kinda what thirty feels like to me. It feels good.

Welcome to the Club

2009-04-21T01:22:00.006-06:00

LITTLE WOMEN is officially closed.

And I am officially a member of the Actor's Equity Association.

The Engeman theater gave me my card. It's the actor's way of saying, "They allowed me to pay for my card." And pay for it, I did. Strange how it took literally half an hour. Half an hour to walk into the Equity building, fill out my application, write a check, and walk out with my card. That simple. Amazing what money can do.

I went to my first audition as an Equity member this past Friday. It's almost unfair how easy it is to get past the guy at the desk. He hardly looks at your card. Doesn't check to see if it's really you. Doesn't look to see if your card is fake. Just barely glances at the thing you pull out of your wallet and nonchalantly allows you to pass. I mean, it should be harder than that, right? Considering all those mornings I woke up to sit for hours and hours only to be told to go home. Considering all those times I had to use the bathroom at McDonald's because I wasn't allowed in to use the Equity ones? Considering ALL those times I got up IN THE 5'S!!!!

When you're non-Equity, Equity members try to tell you that there's not much difference between being union and non-union. I think they just forget what it was like to wake up in the 5's.

My LITTLE WOMEN cast, who were all Equity members already, threw me a little surprise "initiation" ceremony in honor of being let into the club. They pretended to hold an Equity meeting and when I walked in to the meeting (it being my first), I was greeted with flowers and a Congrats card. It was incredible, really. I couldn't have hoped to have started this next phase in my acting career with a better cast or show or theater. It was very special.

I have also officially begun my week of the "Show Closing Blues." Bleh.

Nanny Diaries

2009-04-15T19:11:00.009-06:00

I took the two-year-old to swimming lessons today. He was a doll. The whole time I sat there with a big grin on my face because he was so cute. His other babysitter (who usually is the one who takes him to swimming) instructed me to, after the lesson, shower the little guy off in the open shower at the corner of the room and shampoo his hair, so we wouldn't have to bathe him later.

The lesson ended. The two-year-old's swim instructor approached me after the lesson.

We'll just call him....Goob.

GOOB:
Have I met you before?

ME:
(thinking) Oh brother... (Then out loud) Uh...yeah, I think once, when I brought his older brother to swimming. I usually work evenings so this is pretty new to me.

GOOB:
(as I'm getting two-year-old ready to shower off) So are you from New York City?

ME:
(thinking) Here we go... (then out loud) Uh...no. From Texas, actually.

GOOB:
Oh. (As I'm heading with two-year-old to the shower) How long have you been working with this family?

ME:
Uh...probably a year and a half, or so.

GOOB:
(While I'm at the shower shampooing the two-year-old's hair) Hey, I was thinking, since I probably won't see you again, I should probably go ahead and ask...

ME:
(thinking) NO!!! DON'T ASK! PLEASE! DO. NOT. ASK!

GOOB:
Would you like to have dinner with me?

ME:
I'm married.

GOOB:
OH....yeah...uh.

ME:
Yeah...haha...I'm flattered...but no.

Note to self and all other Nut Nannies in New York City: when watching child's swimming lessons, watch nonchalantly and keep outward forms of expression to yourself, unless Goob swimming instructor mistakes smiles and *thumbs up* to be for himself rather than for child.

Blogpology

2009-04-14T10:32:00.003-06:00

It's that time, fancied friends, when I re-enter the blogosphere in hopes that there's somebody still there. That time where I profusely apologize for being absent, though it always strikes me a bit vain that I would apologize to YOU for not having any writing of MINE for you to read.

When I'm doing a show, it's hard for me to write. I don't know why. I guess my creative energies are focused somewhere else, or maybe I'm getting all the recognition I need through applause and "Good show"s. Maybe I don't feel the need to prove myself anymore.

Is blogging really all about self-validation?

Sometimes, maybe.

But not all the time. I like it. I like hearing from you guys and reading about what's going on in your lives. I like writing. I like trying to find the memorable things in my day, the small seemingly inconsequential that holds meaning if we'd just let it. And I like sharing it with you. The big things, too. I like holding myself accountable to my own goals and dreams by archiving them. I like having a way to look back.

So, really, I think the reason for my absence, is...I'm just worn out. WIth my free time I want to talk to my husband and catch up on my shows and sleep in and go to church.

But the show's closing this weekend, and I'm preparing mentally for that. which involves remembering how much I like this here form of communication and expression. I hope you guys are still there. Holler if you are. Anyone out there?

Hey Jetsons, check this out:

2009-03-18T16:49:00.001-06:00

Rad.

2009-03-15T00:01:00.001-06:00

LITTLE WOMEN is officially open! Woo hoo!

Hey check it out! There's some great pics at the bottom of the article.

Click here.

Hubbie's New Job

2009-03-12T10:54:00.001-06:00

Remember how I said that my husband just became the musical director at a church here in Manhattan, and that I'd tell you more about it later?

I think I'll just let him explain it to you.

To Be or Not To Be

2009-03-09T07:28:00.005-06:00

Oh fancied friends I am not a dedicated blogger these days. I'm sorry the posts are few and far between, and sorry that I haven't been able to make it over to your blogs to read and comment. But my hope is that you're all well and happy and content.

At this very moment I'm on a train to Northport for another long tech rehearsal. We're behind but all in all I'm very excited about how the show is coming together. Right now my cast mates are probably wondering where I am because I forwent the gathering ritual of meeting before the track is announced. I'm a little grumpy this morning and thought I'd spare them all my sullen face. By the time we get there I should be less sleepy and less irritable - irritable because I lost my scarf in the train station. One minute it was hanging loosely from my neck (I had just undone it because I was burning up hot from the cramped subway ride), the next minute gone. Did it fall? Did someone slyly pull it from my neck when I was indecisively trying to figure out which bottled water to buy? Of all things, my pashmina! It was pink. And pretty. My pretty, pink pashmina is now gone forever. And I didn't even buy it. It was a hand-me-down. Actually I was kind of borrowing it. There. Truth be told. It wasn't even mine. Dadgummit.

I looked all around on the floor where I had been. Missing pashmina nowhere to be found. Someone is walking the streets of New York this very minute with my pretty pink pashmina. Well not really mine.... Dangit.

There's this one part in my big duet I sing with Jo, where I am going to (gasp) change the melody! Actually it's just one note but I thoroughly hate this one note, and sparing you the boring details, I'm just telling you. I'm going to change it! I've figured it all out, and I think my way is much better on all accounts. I'm trying to decide if I actually need to inform my musical director. One thing I do know is that musical theater people don't like changing notes. As a folk-slash-pop-slash-kindofrock-slash-Christian recording artist you can change notes all day long and it's ok! But these musical theater folk....oh no. I might scare the scarf off my musical director (he typically wears one) and bring the whole darn number to a svreaching halt.

"Woah woah woah. (nervous chuckle). Uh.... Fancypants.... You sag a B instead of a D there. (nervous chuckle... Wraps scarf back around his neck).

To which I could have numerous responses.

Number 1: Yeah. I know. Who wrote this song? They kind of suck. I'm not singing the D there.

Number 2: OH!!! Oops. That just kinda happened. But I sort of one it better. What do you think?

Number 3: I am so sorry. My mistake, won't happen again. (or will it, she says to herself)

Hmmmmm. Or I could just work it I win my musical director before hand so as not to risk another scarf being lost, but risking my idea being shut down.

Diva or not to be diva? THAT is the question. What should it be, folks?

Nanny Diaries

2009-03-02T21:36:00.001-06:00

I'm wearing my Beatles t-shirt with camo pants. (My favorite tee designed with a pic of all four guys - John, Paul, George, and Ringo - on the front) I was sure the 7-year-old would say something about the camo pants. I figured he'd get a kick out of 'em, which is pretty much why I wore them. I enter the front door of my nannying destination, where I find my little 7-yr-old, glasses and all, sitting at the table eating a homemade oreo cookie.

7-YEAR-OLD: Why are you wearing a Jonas Brothers shirt?

.....Oh boy.

2009-02-26T22:32:00.004-06:00

Have you ever been in a place in your life where everything, every-single-little-thing, means something. Where you go about your day knowing life is rich. It's not all easy. It's not all fun. But it's all clear. It's all love. Even the pain is love.

Somehow I'm there. I don't know how long it will last. I don't know why it's right now that it is. Every relationship is full. Every act is purposed. I'm thankful for each new day, for every person in my life. My faults are directly before my eyes and known to me, but I'm not afraid of them. I'm seeing light from darkness in a new way.

What is this? What is this but the undeniable grace of God that is given on no account but by the will of the Giver. Grace super-abounding. A little taste of heaven. An awareness of the kingdom of God on earth.

Yet even as I write, I feel its absence in fleeting moments. It's gone. It's there.

And I hope for what's to come, when the Gift is all throughout and around and eternal and near in a way that is fully known, fully realized, fully felt.

Complete.

Update

2009-02-23T00:49:00.003-06:00

Rehearsals are going well. My cast is amazing. My director has issues with sentimentality and therefore keeps cutting more of my lines out of the play, because, well, my character is the sentimental one. The first two times I was like, yeah, that line was dumb. Cool. Then the third time, I thought...hey now, that's three of my lines gone. And if he does it again, I might just have to stand up for poor Beth here and plead her case.

Our Jo was in Cry Baby on B'way before it closed. She's really fun to work with. They're ALL fun to work with. My director included, even though he keeps chopping my lines.

Seth is now the acting music director of Central Presbyterian Church in Manhattan. We led worship today and it was a blast. My husband plays the organ. Who knew? We feel incredibly blessed by the people there and are so thankful for them.

More about the church later. I'm exhausted. Gotta sleep.

Little Women

2009-02-13T12:02:00.005-06:00

Good news! I'm playing Beth in LITTLE WOMEN at the Engeman Theater. (Same theater as OLIVER and WONDERFUL LIFE) Rehearsals start Monday. I can't wait to get started. The show runs March 12 - April 19.

Beth is the second to youngest daughter of the March family.

Here's the website for more info. Click on "Show Schedule," then scroll down to find LITTLE WOMEN. Click on the link for tickets if you're interested in show times and prices. Would love for anyone who's able to come see the show!

I'll update with more info on cast members and let you know how the process is going as we go along.

For Husbands: 10 Ways You Know Your Wife is PMS-ing.

2009-02-09T20:49:00.004-06:00

1. She cries not only at movies like Steel Magnolias and Beaches, but also at random scenes from Desperate Housewives.

2. She stares off in the distance mopingly for no good reason at all. Actually altogether she has a distant look in her eye. Like she's there but not really there -you can't be sure.

3. She wants to cuddle, then seconds later wants nothing to do with you.

4. You think it's safe to joke about her quirks, but when you do, she either cries or yells at you or slams a door or some combination of all three.

5. She keeps asking you, possibly for three to five days in a row, if she's gained weight, even though just the day before you told her no and that she looked hot. You do tell her that she looks hot, I'm sure....RIGHT?

6. She's slacking on chores and household responsibilities. Doesn't want to cook or clean or run errands or much of anything.

7. But she does want chocolate. A lot of it.

8. If she's normally a pretty organized person, you notice her forgetting things when she leaves the house, like maybe even her PURSE! GASP. You'll notice her leaving and coming back inside several times before actually departing the premises.

9. She's irritated at the world when she's not irritated with you, and irritated with you when she's not irritated with the world. Choose your words carefully and be extra sweet, and if....IF....you must remind her that she's PMSing...don't use it as ammunition. She can't help it. Don't discard her feelings because of it. Her feelings are important. And by all means, don't ASK her in the middle of an argument if she is. It won't get you anywhere. Just ask her LATER, when you think it's safe, and ask her sweetly, and then remember so you don't have to ask her AGAIN.

10. She's too annoyed to think of a number 10 on a list she thinks is cliche but will post anyways because she has nothing else she presently wants to write about.

Thinking Out Loud

2009-02-06T12:40:00.002-06:00

Sitting in a Starbucks, thinking. Surely, there is some inherent goodness in us all. I notice kindnesses in the street. Real, genuine kindnesses. More than I ever have before. Maybe I'm more aware now. I am almost thirty, after all. Maybe thirty means you pay more attention. Or maybe this city forces you to watch. Maybe both. There has to be a balance between self awareness and selflessness. Self aware so that I'm not constantly viewing myself from the outside, from what I think other people think. But this is not a selfISHness. To be kind is to consider another better than yourself. To be genuinely kind it must stem from a self aware security, in order to come from the inside out. To notice another should come from the nside out. Coming from the outside in, I can see only myself. But to be only self aware I forget my neighbor, and there the balance is skewed. (Is that the right word? Skewed?)

Thoughts from a Starbucks. From my trusty iPhone.

Nanny Diaries

2009-01-31T08:18:00.000-06:00

I arrive at my nannying destination. 7-year-old boy is in trouble and in his room. He's crying. 2-yr-old boy is NOT in trouble, and 7-year-old thinks 2-year-old should get the same punishment as he does, even though 2-yr-old didn't do anything wrong.

7-yr-old emerges from his room for dinner. 2-yr-old is already in high chair, and through the following discourse is only half paying attention, very happy about eating his food. Dad is sitting down at the table. Mom is putting food is front of them all. I'm...trying to make myself useful.

7-YR-OLD: (whining) Why did you give me a baby bowl?? I don't WANT a baby bowl!

DAD: It's fine. Eat what's been given you.

7-YR-OLD: But I don't WANT this baby bowl!! I'm not eating this!! Put it in another bowl!

DAD: The bowl's fine. You don't need another one.

7-YR-OLD: YES I DO! I'm not eating this until you put it into another bowl!

DAD: There's no reason to dirty another bowl.

7-YR-OLD: I NEED another bowl!

DAD: That's enough! To your room. Now. Don't come out until you can speak nicely.

7-YR-OLD: (glares at Dad)

DAD: Now. To your room.

7-YR-OLD: (still glaring)

DAD: NOW. One...

2-YR-OLD: Two! Three!

7-YR-OLD: (to 2-Yr-Old) You are SO mean! You STAY OUT OF THIS! You have NOTHING to do with this!

7-yr-old stomps out of the kitchen, into his room, crying dramatically. He cries and yells to himself in his room, or maybe to his stuffed animals? Dinner is finished. Dad and Mom and 2-yr-old go to the opposite side of the apartment. I'm still in the kitchen. I hear from the 7-yr-old's room: (He's still crying and wailing to himself.)

7-YR-OLD: These are the LAST WORDS BEFORE I DIE! THE LAST WORDS BEFORE I DIE!

Would you like to see what I live with?

2009-01-29T14:50:00.001-06:00

Seth's Firside Chat:

Eyelash Trouble

2009-01-27T22:06:00.004-06:00

I just pulled out a clump of my eyelashes. Like, probably four or five. At one time.

I spent the last ten minutes asking Seth if he could see a space where they came out, and googling "Do eyelashes grow back."

I found out that yes, they grow back, and it usually takes 4 - 8 weeks.

Unless you have a hypothyroid problem.

?!?!?!?!

Untitled

2009-01-24T13:15:00.002-06:00

Sometimes the world opens.
It says yes.
Or maybe it just says nothing.
A blank white screen with blinking cursor.
The sun's warmth upon a turned corner.

Silence.

Allowing words, allowing steps, allowing thought.
Action.
The poet's canvas.

And if the world is silent...we ask.
Our creation: a mere question,
Dialogue between the created and its creator.
Ask before the world closes.
Ask. Ask. Ask.
Before the screen goes dark and the sun dips behind the building
Or before the clanging.
Before pain, before duty, before the quickening steps,
Ask when the world opens.

2009-01-21T07:42:00.004-06:00

8:42 AM:

Got up at 6. Put on a cute little audition dress. Layered up. Threw my dress shoes in my bag. Pulled on my UGGS. Tromped over to Starbucks. Got a double tall skim caramel macchiato. Tromped over and down to the subway. Went to my audition. Found out they weren't seeing non-Eq. Turned right back around. Tromped over and down to the subway. Am home in my cozy apartment.

It's OK. It MIGHT be possible that in the rush of the morning routine...I didn't shave my legs.

TMI?

Why We Need A Savior

2009-01-20T20:01:00.007-06:00

I'm in an elevator. Enter a 6-yr-old and his mother.

6-YR-OLD: (to his mother) "Buy a dog! Buy a dog! BUY A DOG! I can have whatever I want! YES I CAN!! WhatEVER I want for my 7th birthday. I can have whatever I want and I don't need to ask Abba if I can have it. Because I can have WHATEVER I WANT!"

And why I think that child should get duct tape for his 7th birthday.

New Things I Like in the New Year

2009-01-15T18:52:00.002-06:00

Some new things I like a whole lot lately:

Sudoku: completely addicting.

Haagen Daz Vanilla Raspberry Swirl Frozen Yogurt: delicious and refreshing.

Brussel Sprouts: can you believe it? I made them tonight to look like the picture above.

Superfood: it looks gross but tastes SO good.

Sleeping Pills: obviously

Gap Body Lotion: These I liked all last year but just started using them every day because it gets so dry here.

MacBook: because it kicks major hynie.

My iPhone: because it's rad.

2009-01-14T08:46:00.004-06:00

Hello fancied friends. I'm sitting at an audition waiting to be seen, typing this from my iPhone. Just because I can! It's 9:30 am. Back to the grueling life of the auditionee. 6 am mornings. The last two mornings I was supposed to get up at 6 am and overslept my alarm because I couldn't go to sleep the night before. Well! No more of that.

Drugs.

Last night I took drugs. Good ole over the counter sleeping pills. I fell asleep at 11:30 pm. This is a record for me, folks. Of course I woke up at 2 am and had the weirdest sleep for the rest of the night. I kept thinking I couldn't go to sleep and then I'd look at the clock and it was way later than I thought. The I woke up at 6:30 this morning with these weird images of my dream, even though I thought I hadn't slept. So, maybe not the best sleep ever but I feel nice and rested this morning.

Drugs will be had tonight again.

The plan is to try to get myself into a routine and then I won't need them anymore. That's the plan, anyways.

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

UPDATE: 11:34 AM

I was seen at my audition, very early into the process, like at 10:34 AM or something. Considering the call started at 10 AM, that's pretty rad. There was one guy behind the table, who was a casting assistant, and one accompanist. Both were very grumpy. After I finished singing (it was a good audition), the man behind the table grumpily said thank you, and I cheerily, (I was cheery because I knew I had given a good audition), turned to the accompanist to retrieve my music, smiled, and told him in so many words, "Great playing. That was a lot of fun." (Because it was, and sometimes those accompanists are really bad, and it just came out of my mouth.) My cheery disposition was met with a sarcastic and rude, "Uh-huh." To which I ultimately ignored and left the room, my cheery disposition in tact. So be grumpy all you want, rude people, but you're certainly not going to ruin my day today because I've made up my mind to not be reactionary. You'll end up having the bad day because you couldn't enjoy yourself even though you chose to listen to a bunch of people scream all day. Not my problem. Best of luck. Sincerely, FancyPants.

Nanny Diaries

2009-01-11T23:45:00.006-06:00

7-YR-OLD: Is Hitler a bad word?

ME: No, Hitler's not a bad word. Hitler was a bad man.

7-YR-OLD: He was a VERY evil man.

ME: Yes, he was. You don't want to go around calling people Hitler, though.

7-YR-OLD: Hitler's in hell.

ME: Wellll...I understand why you would say that, but we shouldn't say he's in hell.

7-YR-OLD: But he did very bad things, and very bad people go to hell.

ME: Wellllll...still, we shouldn't say he's in hell.

7-YR-OLD: Why not? He is, though. He IS in hell.

ME: We shouldn't say that people are in hell because that's only something God can say. We leave that up to God.

7-YR-OLD: Oh. Well I didn't know that.

ME: It's OK. Now you do.

Untitled

2009-01-09T21:51:00.003-06:00

It's the light in your eyes
that reveals what was past
and reminds me of what will be.
And I wonder, will I see the light from your eyes
in his?
Will it speak on its own accord telling
the world of its wonder
and cause me to fall further in love.
With you, with him, with life.
With God.

My Christmas and my iPhone

2008-12-31T00:06:00.006-06:00

I hope you all had a very merry Christmas, or a Happy Hanukkah, for all two of my Jewish readers. Here's wishing you all a Happy Happy New Year.

My parents left yesterday. Something about people leaving in a cab...the goodbyes are brutal. You have to rush all the bags in the trunk and then rush all the hugs because the cab is holding up traffic. Then your parents rush into the cab, and the cabbie rushes away. HE doesn't care that you're still waving, or yelling one last "I love you," or telling your dad how to work the credit card machine in the cab. He's just gone. Pedal to the medal. Your parents have vanished.

BUT, the good news is my brother and his wife are still with us. We saw the Nutcracker tonight at Lincoln Center. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I've never seen the Nutcracker like this. Words can't explain. I want to see every single ballet the New York City Ballet puts on from here on out, for the rest of my life.

The other good news is that my parents left me with my Christmas gift: the upgraded iPhone with the fast and furious 3G internet. It's awesome. I've downloaded a free game of Sudoku and have been playing non-stop. I'm an "Expert" now. Record of 38 minutes.

If any of you know my husband, you know that he is a Mac FANATIC. He got his iPhone last year and tried to convince ME to get one, too. But I, the more patient and logical one, said to him, "Nope, nope, nope. I'm waiting till they upgrade. Those suckers always upgrade and you're left with the crappier one if you bought it too soon." My mom and I went to the Apple store to purchase my new prized item. Seth came along. Here's how it went along the way there.

ME: Ready to go to the Apple store, guys?

SETH: Maybe you should just take my iPhone, and I'll get the upgraded one.

ME: Pfshhh. No.

Here's how it went when we got to the Apple store:

MAC GUY is setting up my account. Then he tells me all about my iPhone.

ME: Ok.....Cool.....Ok.....Yeah.....Ok.

SETH: (interrupting MAC GUY with some computer language I don't understand): 110000101 10010010 0100010 001 010100 101010001 iLiberty 01010010 0100 010101 01101 0001 11101. iLiberty 0101 0111101 1111 000101 101 10001 0101 101010101.

MAC GUY: (distracted from helping me. Turns to Seth): Yeah! 0101001 0101 01010 1000010 10111 001 1001 000 11011 111 11 iLiberty 1111 1001 1010101.

SETH: iLiberty...iLiberty....iLiberty.

MAC GUY: 100101 101 1010101 01101 1010101 10100101 0001 10100101 001 101 1011.

SETH: 0111010 1011 1010110 iLiberty--

ME: HEY! Shut up! This is MY iPhone. MINE. MY time.

This is how it went when we got home from the Apple store:

SETH: Hey, can I see your iPhone?

ME: Pfshhh. No.

It's not that I'm selfish. It's that I told him so. And since I told him so, I have no mercy.

If you lived with Seth, you'd understand the glory in an "I told you so." But seeing as you don't, you may all go on believing that I'm selfish, and that I've lost the meaning of Christmas, and so on and so forth. But I'll go on playing Sudoku and pulling up this here blog faster than he can.

Christmas Time is Here

2008-12-23T09:49:00.004-06:00

My parent's arrived yesterday, after two delayed flights and their luggage lost. The good news is they're here. And Laguardia located their luggage. Laguardia over the holidays is never fun.

My parents are staying at our friends' apartment. Our friends, along with their toddler, left this week to see family, and they offered their home to my parents. Our friends live just a block away from us. It's perfect.

We'll be shlepping around the city like crazy tourists. Macy's and Saks today. The Mac store. (Yessss.) And the musical, White Christmas, tonight. My brother and his wife get here the day after Christmas, and my entire family will come see my show on Sunday.

It finally feels like Christmas.

Merry Christmas, folks!

Umbrella Walking

2008-12-20T12:15:00.008-06:00

It snowed yesterday. Quite a bit. All day long. I don't know how many inches, but it was a lot. This is me out in the snow.

Note two things in the picture above. 1) The UGGS. 2) The Umbrella. The UGGS turned up useless by the end of the day because surprisingly and unfortunately, UGGS are not waterproof. My socks spent the latter half of the day drying over the heater in our living room. The Umbrella however (yes, with a capital "U,") was my hero.

Umbrella walking in New York City is not an easy task. It is not a task like crossing the street, which becomes more instinctual with time. Umbrella walking simply sucks. Each time. Every time. It is not fun. It is painful. And it is unfair. All this because people don't give a rat's boohiney about how their umbrellas invade your space, or poke your eye out, or scrape your head, or catch and pull your hair. It's each man for himself. Stay dry no matter the cost.

I have often wondered, why am I the one who always moves my umbrella out of the way for YOU. Why am I always the one who sees the man or woman about to pass me and lifts my umbrella higher than the oncoming traveler's so that the two umbrellas do not interlock and mangle themselves to pieces. Why do I have to get extra wet because I'm avoiding a gazillion little pokey things that could have a detrimental effect on my face.

And fancied friends, I have come up with a solution to my quandary, and the answer lies in that picture you see at the beginning of this post.

See how that Umbrella is very LARGE?

Hmmmm? See it?

That's the solution! That's the answer! You see, before yesterday I was walking around with a rinky dink umbrella that flipped inside out with every gust of wind. It was a mere child's thing! Useless. Weak. UNmenacing. Shrinking back from every bully umbrella that came its way. A disgrace to the umbrella race it was. A disgrace to the umbrella race.

But NOW. I've upgraded. Yesterday I was walking along and all of the sudden a man next to me said, "Woah!" and had to do a Neo (you know, like one of those slow motioned back bends) to avoid my Umbrella. As I walked the block I noticed those around me swerve and duck and dive and maneuver, while I peacefully walked along on the ever so beautiful white winter day.

I returned home with wet feet and both eyes.

My Umbrella. My hero.

That's Entertainment

2008-12-15T23:16:00.005-06:00

Warm day today. Like, 64...66 degrees. Very odd for this time of year. But, you don't really care about the weather in New York City. Do you?

Mayor Bloomberg is making budget cuts for all New York City agencies, which includes the Sanitation, Police, and Fire Departments.

A slew of Broadway shows will be closing early 2009, Gypsy being the latest to release its news. Grease, Hairspray, Spamalot, Spring Awakening, 13, Boeing-Boeing, and Young Frankenstein are some of the others joining it in its farewell.

But you don't really want to hear about how the hard economic times are affecting New York City. Do you?

Wouldn't you rather hear about which movies I've watched recently?

Here they are, all fantastic:

Moonstruck

Sleepless in Seattle

Fargo (Oh geez, Margie)

27 Dresses (not AS fantastic, but still pretty good)

The Prestige

Sullivan's Travels

Rear Window

Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf

A Streetcar Named Desire

Here's a list of the ones on my Netflix queue, coming up!:

Strangers on a Train

The Birds

Psycho

Notes on a Scandal

Billy Elliot

A Cry in the Dark

All About Eve

Gigi

The Philadelphia Story

Anyone got any great movie ideas, old classics or not-so-old classics that I should add to my queue? Or just ones you love?

Those Were the Days

2008-12-15T21:28:00.000-06:00

Those were the days when
the china was out
and the rug was new
and the bed in our room
was always a bed.
And suitors came knocking
And buyers came gawking
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
Yes, the dish ran away with the spoon.

Not tired.

2008-12-13T03:38:00.003-06:00

Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.

I'm telling you, this works better than counting sheep.

Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.

A couple days ago, I picked up a guitar for the first time in ages. To play something OTHER than Coal Miner's Daughter and Delta Dawn, which I played one too many times this summer, and sang with a fake Southern accent while dressed in pigtails.

I'm starting to crave the recording studio again, and singing as myself instead of whoever.

But I DO love being imaginary people. The only thing with being an imaginary person is that it takes me a LONG time to wind down after returning to my real self, and now I can't sleep.

Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.

It's working.

Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.

I also tried eating graham crackers (they're actually graham cracker sticks) dipped in peanut butter. That may be helping. I hope we don't find out one day that crackers lead to some kind of incurable disease, because I'd be doomed. DOOMED. It used to be Wheat Thins and Triscuits. But after, oh maybe 8 years of those two kinds of crackers being staples in my diet, I've moved on to Kashi 7-grain. They're delicious! And now I'm into these Back to Nature Cinnamon Graham Sticks. Back to Nature also makes a very good cheese cracker. Much like the Cheese Nips or Cheezits or whatever except they're less fat. And all natural. This is just out of control, this cracker business.

Ya know what I think it is? I used to be a cereal connoisseur. Cereal was my go-to snack. But nowadays, cereal is ridiculously expensive, and if I snacked on cereal, I'd eat myself into financial instability. That must be what started this whole economic downfall in the United States. It's the cereal! Nobody could afford their mortgage payments because they ate too much cereal! Well, I am way too responsible for that nonsense and have cut my snacking expenses in half by substituting crackers for cereal. I should write a book on solving the financial crisis. It would be titled: Eat Less Cereal!

Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.

I've got double shows tomorrow. Matinee and Evening. It's 5:04 AM. This is not good.

Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.

But getting sleepy....

Nanny Diaries

2008-12-11T11:30:00.000-06:00

The 7-year-old and I have just finished two games of War (the card game.) The 7-year-old lies back, very still, and stares at the ceiling.

ME: Whatcha thinkin' Lincoln?...Huh?

7-YEAR-OLD: (Sigh)...I'm in love with someone!

ME: (laughing, can't help it) You ARE?!?! Who?!?!

7-YEAR-OLD: I'm in love with Eleanor! She kissed me on the LIPS!! I'm going to marry her.

ME: When did she kiss you on the lips?

7-YEAR-OLD: And we even went to dinner and there was a two-seater and we sat at the table by ourselves and it was like we were dating!

ME: Woah!

7-YEAR-OLD: Yes! And we even shared our drink and our food!!!

ME: Wow, that really is like a date!

7-YEAR-OLD: Well, just our food. We had our own drinks. And I got down on my knees and begged and begged her to marry me. I said, (he gets on his knees and puts his hands together in prayer fashion) "Please! Please! Please! MAAAAARRY MEEEEE!"

ME: Did she say yes?

7-YEAR-OLD: Uh-huh!

ME: Did Eleanor kiss you on the lips BEFORE or AFTER you asked her to marry you?

7-YEAR-OLD: (thinking) .....Before. But I think I'll have to kiss her again at the wedding. Won't I?

ME: Yes, you will.

7-YEAR-OLD: Will I HAVE to?

ME: Yes, you have to kiss her at the wedding.

7-YEAR-OLD: Why? Because that's what makes us married, right?

ME: Well...no. Because it's tradition. Yes you will have to kiss Eleanor at your wedding.

7-YEAR-OLD: (He smiles and flops on the floor and buries his face into the rug.) Oh just thinking about it makes me sweat!

Riddle Me This

2008-12-08T15:31:00.004-06:00

A few weeks ago at rehearsal during dinner break, discussing the wonderful-ness of dessert:

ME: My friend owns her own cookie company. She's a baker. And she makes the most AMAZING cookies. I'm serious. Her cookies are the Tom and Jerry's of cookies. Mmmmmm. (I continue eating my dinner, happily remembering my friend's cookies. My actor friends are silent.)

Finally...

ACTOR FRIEND 1: (Confused) Tom and Jerry's. What's Tom and Jerry's?

ACTOR FRIEND 2: (Confused) Tom and Jerry's is that cartoon with the cat and the mouse.

ACTOR FRIEND 1: Did you mean BEN and Jerry's?

Laugh laugh laugh. Ha ha ha.

ME: Yeah. Ben and Jerry's.

Laugh laugh laugh. Ha ha ha.

ME: Story of my life.

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

Between shows this weekend, discussing sausage. (Have no idea how and why we were discussing sausage.)

ACTOR FRIEND: I'm not really a sausage link person. I'm more of a patty person.

ME: Yeah. Just give me the James Dean. That's all I want.

ACTOR FRIEND: ......

ME: .....

ME: Jimmy Dean. Jimmy Dean. Dangit!

Nanny Diaries

2008-12-06T10:20:00.006-06:00

Ring! Ring!

7-YEAR-OLD: I'LL GET IT!!! I'll GET IT!!!!!

ME: Say B----- residence.

7-YEAR-OLD: (Picks up phone) B---- residence speaking.

Up and Running!

2008-12-03T00:00:00.008-06:00

Oliver officially opened this past Saturday at the Engeman Theater in Northport, NY.

If you're around and would like to see the show, just click on the Engeman link above for tickets.

All is well! The show's going great. Here's a few pics. Hopefully more to come.

Our set.

The boys.

"I'd Do Anything" That's me back there standing with Oliver and Fagin

Me as Bet

Me as a "Buyer"

Opening Night Extravaganza:

Me and Michelle DeJean (Nancy)

Me and the boys, Troy (Dodger), Larry (Charlie), and Jake.

Me and Neal Benari (Fagin)

Me and Steph (Charlotte) and Rob Gallagher (Bill Sykes)

Me and Oliver!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

2008-11-27T12:20:00.004-06:00

I Shall Scream

2008-11-20T23:38:00.003-06:00

I learned today in rehearsal that I can scream. I'm a pretty good screamer. I've never had to scream, and I don't recall ever just screaming in real life. I watched a behind the scenes on one of the Indiana Jones movies, where the actress COULDN'T scream, but Stephen Spielberg didn't know that until AFTER he hired her and found out she was an AWFUL screamer. Couldn't scream worth a hoot. And it just so happened that this Indiana Jones movie required her to scream alot. So they had to have her mouth the screams, and then go in and dub over someone else's prerecorded scream into every screaming scene.

And ever since I saw that behind the scenes, I've wondered if I'd be any good at screaming. But I never considered any moment of my life appropriate to just try out a scream.

Well, that moment came today.

My character, Bet, finds Nancy dead at the end of the musical. (Sorry if I ruined it for any of you.) And the director and choreographer had this "brilliant" idea that I should scream when I see Nancy dead.

I got a little nervous about it. Went up to the choreographer while the director worked with the other actors and said, I have NO idea if I can scream. I've never really done it before. And he told me to just go ahead. Try it out. Right then and there.

So I mustered up the courage, opened my mouth, drew in a deep breath, and let it RIP.

Everyone in the whole room jumped or gasped and looked over at me, frozen in fear. It was dead quiet. The choreographer just nodded and said, yeah, you can scream.

I said, sure I can, but I don't think my character would do that.

So he said OK, and I don't have to scream.

I feel better now that I know I can scream. Not that there's anything wrong with NOT being able to scream. I mean, Stephen Spielberg ended up marrying the actress that couldn't scream, so he musta liked her anyways. Not that I want my director to marry me...Oh you know what I mean.

Number of times I wrote the word "scream" in this post: anyone?

2008-11-19T20:34:00.002-06:00

Wow. I am TIRED tonight. Rehearsals are getting longer and more intense. We've been rehearsing from 10 - 6 here in the city every day, but it goes to 12 hours out in Northport starting Friday. We open the day after Thanksgiving.

My head may even hit the pillow before midnight tonight. Gasp.

I have a hard time blogging during a show because my life becomes so...routine. I'm literally doing the same thing every single day. Same songs, same dance, same lines, same actions. I think actors crave the extreme repetition of a show, because usually, so much else in an actor's life is so inconsistent. Clarity in an imaginary life is consoling. I think that's also why there's an element of sadness when a show closes. That consoling sameness and the community that comes with it is yanked out from underneath you.

So if I'm boring you'll have to forgive me. I'll do my best to find something worth telling.

See I've even stopped titling my blogs. They just don't seem worthy of titles.

Ahhhh well. I'm off to bed.

2008-11-17T13:56:00.004-06:00

Did I tell you guys that I saw Julianne Moore at Starbucks the other day? She's real pretty.

I don't have much to talk about. I'm about to go to another voice lesson, but I don't really want to talk about that.

Rehearsals are great, but I don't really want to talk about that either.

I had a matzah ball soup that I liked today! There's something to talk about. It was at a real Jewish deli owned by real Jewish people instead of a silly Manhattan deli owned by silly non-Jewish people. Matzah ball soup tastes just like chicken noodle soup! Except for those two big mushy dumpling like things in the center that don't taste like much of anything. It was good. Not sure why people get crazy about it, but it was good. And cheap. Maybe that's why people love it so much.

Nanny Diaries

2008-11-13T21:36:00.007-06:00

A conversation with the 7-yr-old boy I babysit as we're watching the end of a New York Rangers hockey game on T.V:

7 YR OLD: I'm actually kind of glad Obama won.

ME: You are?

7 YR OLD: I mean, I'm SAD that McCain lost because I was for him. But I'm actually kind of glad Obama won.

ME: Really. Why's that?

7 YR OLD: Because he's our PRESIDENT!

ME: Well...not yet if you want to be precise.

7 YR OLD: People should really be glad for their president.

ME: Well that's true. Did you guys have a mock election in your class at school or something?

7 YR OLD: (confused) mock?

ME: Oh. I mean a pretend election at school?

7 YR OLD: No.

ME: Oh.

7 YR OLD: Anyways, it's not like the president can tell us what to do or anything. He can't force us to do things.

ME: Hmmm, it's true that we're a free society, and we make our own choices.

7 YR OLD: Right! We make our own choices!

ME: The president can tell our military what to do, though.

7 YR OLD: We're not at war right now.

ME: We are actually. In Iraq.

7 YR OLD: Oh. But not anywhere around here, right?

ME: Right.

7 YR OLD: I hate wars! Wars are stupid. Fighting each other with knives and stuff.

ME: Well, the United States only goes to war if it's to fight for what's good...to help people. (???) it's always better to try to work it out, though. You're right.

7 YR OLD: Yeah! Work it out! Work it out with YOUR WORDS! Geesh.

ME: That's right. Work it out with your words...... Sometimes countries have a harder time working it out with words.

How Not To Think

2008-11-12T10:00:00.003-06:00

After a grueling lesson with my voice teacher yesterday, and after a 24 hour period of THINKING how NOT to think, I THINK I've got what he means.

In my lessons, during a vocal exercise, he wants me to simply DO what he says, not process what he says and how it corresponds to my own preconceived understanding of the voice. When he asks me "how does that FEEL", he wants to hear a self-aware answer of how that FELT, not a processed THINKING answer about what I THINK my teacher wants to hear.

Two things: He wants me to be self-aware. He wants me to trust him.

Both are very hard for me.

I've been a "singer" all my life, since the 5th grade spring choir concert where I sang my solo, "Tomorrow", with a navy blue and white polka-dotted bow in my hair, while my friend's dad sat in the audience making funny faces and trying to make us all laugh.

I've studied voice since I was 14 years old. All through high school, studying voice was fun. I knew then that I wanted to sing the rest of my life. But in college, the first time I walked into my new voice teacher's studio surrounded by upperclassmen who were confident and comfortable, with classical voices that could burst my eardrums, I felt uneasy, out of place, scared, and insecure.

Maybe it was how all freshmen felt when entering the world of recitals and music hours and practice rooms, but for me, all through college, it never went away. I dreaded my voice lessons. I dreaded practicing. Don't get me wrong, I loved singing. But I loved singing on my own terms. I loved singing in my musical theater touring ensemble. I loved singing in my 4-person gospel group, through which I made a couple of records, my first professional gig, a living for a few years, and friends for life.

But the trained art to singing: I feared.

I felt inadequate. I later realized that it's the things we really love to do that we're most afraid of, because we're afraid of failing if we try.

I really loved to sing, and I was deathly afraid of failing at it. So, I compared myself to everyone around me and found sure ways of finding the negative about myself. I lost a bunch of weight. Too much. And it might have been around this time, or was it part of me my whole life?, that I began to mold myself on account of pleasing others.

In college, I lost myself. It wasn't until I married Seth that I rediscovered my worth in who I was. Seth's love for me reminded me of the love Christ had for me, for who I was at the core, not who I thought I needed to be to make someone else like me. It was and still is a process.

SO, when I walk into a voice lesson with a voice teacher who has successful students on Broadway and internationally renowned opera students, the fears of acceptance and self-worth rush back and there I am, trying to be what and who HE wants me to be instead of just being.

My voice teacher just wants me to be.

That was the lesson I learned in my voice lesson yesterday. That's what "not thinking" means to him. It's a hard lesson to learn, a lesson I haven't quite mastered, one that is a process. But it's a place that, if I can get there, will be a place where mistakes are OK, where perfection is boring, where my feelings are validated and useful, where I am vulnerable and able to trust, not just others, but myself. A place that allows me to be the best artist I can be.

Day Off

2008-11-10T10:59:00.002-06:00

It's my day off today. Rehearsals are going very well. We added in the children's cast this weekend. They are all EXTREMELY talented and well-behaved. I feel very good about this cast on all accounts. Not only are the actors talented, they are inventive, imaginative, and a joy to be with. But honestly, I find that so many actors are a joy to be with. I've not been a part of one single cast that bums me out. There's always the person that you'll never really get along with, but...that's just life.

I always find myself enjoying the rehearsal process before a show opens, sometimes more than the run of the show itself. It's such an exciting time: Finding your character, discovering relationships between characters, and playing with all sorts of ideas. Freedom within boundaries. Your script provides the boundaries, but the freedom lies between the lines, and in making the black and white on paper become color and movement and meaning. By opening night, hopefully, you've solidified enough to be consistent, and then the challenge becomes finding new moments within repetition. But rehearsal is safe. There's no press, no audience, no standard. A clean slate. Who doesn't love a clean slate?

I have a voice lesson today and honestly, I really don't want to go. Voice lessons. Blah. I'll be spending an hour ooohing and ahhhing and eeeehing up and down the octave. See this must be why so many singers run into trouble acting. (None of my fancied friends here, of course.) Too many rules to singing, too much to think about. My voice teacher keeps telling me not to think, but for the life of me I can't figure out how NOT to think. Any suggestions on how not to think?

Nanny Diaries

2008-11-06T23:10:00.003-06:00

I babysat tonight after my rehearsal.

FYI: OK, y'all know I'm not a full-time nanny. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that I'm not. But I DO babysit on a consistent basis for the same family, so I guess you could say I'm the Relief Nanny.

You know the four-letter-word? Not the sort of bad one but the REALLY bad one? The one that rhymes with what hockey players hit. SO, the 7-yr-old asks me at dinner tonight what it means. Some kid said it in school. OK now, I get saying "bagina" in 1st grade, but #*&%? 1st grade? Really?

Cuz when I was in first grade, on the second day of first grade to be precise, a kid told me to say the word "Ship," and I did. Then he told me to say it with a "Z" on the end, and I did (?). Then he told me to say it with a "T" on the end, and I did. And he raised his hand and told the teacher that I said a bad word. And I ran over to the teacher in her pretty yellow dress and swore I didn't mean to, over and over again, and she believed me. That kid was a jerk.

I don't remember when I learned what it meant.

But THIS four letter word? In 1st grade? Private boys school first grade. Yep.

I told him it was a naughty word and that we don't say it. What was I supposed to say? Seriously, do you TELL a first grader what that MEANS?

Seth swears I'm in training. I'm starting to believe him.

Rehearsal: Day One

2008-11-04T19:18:00.006-06:00

Election Day!

But on a less stressful note, guess who I'm singing duets with in Oliver?

Her name's Michelle, and she's Roxy in the musical, Chicago on Broadway. Or she was until she took time off to be in this show. Where I'm singing DUETS with her.

How cool is that?

OK, geek moment over.

Our first rehearsal was good today. I'm gettin', ahem...ge'ing my Cockney accent on.

Our Oliver and Dodger are the cutest little guys you ever saw with really great voices and really great hair.

I met a guy named Neil, who is our Fagin, and when he introduced himself to me, I didn't know whether he'd been on B'way or not. Since he was Fagin, one of the LEADS, I figured: probably. But when I started to ask him, I thought twice about it because what if I asked, "So what Broadway show did you just finish?" and then what if he said, "Uh...never been on Broadway." I would feel awful for making him say that, so what happened kind of went like this.

Neil: Hello. You're our Bet?

Me: Yes! Hi, I'm Amber.

Neil: Hi. Neil.

Me: So...what...uh...(and here is where I thought twice)...brings..... Uh.

NEIL: What brings me here?

ME: Haha. Probably the same thing that brought me here.... Yeah.

He kind of laughed.

ME: So...wherrrre...arrrre you from, Neil?

NEIL: New York.

ME: Grew up here?

NEIL: Yep. Born and raised.

ME: Great! (And I'm thinking, Dangit. He's probably this big Broadway star and I should know who he is and I don't and I've insulted him. I should have just asked what Broadway show he did. Change the subject, dufus.) I really like your glasses.

Ugh. That was stupidly painful.

But yeah, he's done a few things here or there.

Anyways, rehearsal was fun.

Vow to Blog Land

2008-11-03T23:30:00.004-06:00

OK. I'm not gonna do this. I'm not gonna drop off the face of the earth when rehearsals start tomorrow.

Not not not gonna do it.

A Trip to Origins

2008-11-01T13:46:00.008-06:00

Last weekend, Mom and I went to Origins to buy some make-up. I needed some new foundation and mascara. (LOVE their foundation and exfoliating creme, and certain other essentials) So I ask the lady about it, she pulls up my info on the computer, and goes to work finding product for me.

But on this certain day, she's not interested in only finding the product I want, she's interested in selling me MORE.

I've worked retail before. I know how to sell. I've also been putting on make-up for half of my life. I know what I want, and if I don't then I'll ask you, and THEN you can sell me something.

She tells me she thinks I should go a shade darker with my foundation. I say, hmmm...ok let's try it.

LADY: How do you apply your foundation?

ME: (I act like I don't care about applying foundation because I can tell she's smelled meat and is after the kill) (shrug) Oh I just use a make-up sponge. I don't even wear foundation every day. (which is true)

LADY: Well! You should really use a Q-tip to first dab it to your face and then a foundation brush to even it out. Your foundation will last you longer that way. The make-up sponge soaks up too much foundation.

ME: Oh yeah, well I use a brush for my heavier foundation for the stage, but I just don't wear this Origins foundation enough to really care....

LADY: Well! Our brush that I'm using here is nicely-

ME: I have a brush.

LADY: Oh! You have one! Oh ok.

So she applies the darker foundation, which I liked, and then moves onto the mascara.

LADY: Now. You use the "Fringe Benefits" mascara? Because I'll tell ya, I'll really like the "Stay All Day" mascara. The "Fringe Benefits" is really a very light texture and-

ME: Yes that's actually why I like the "Fringe Benefits." My eyelashes are on the longer side and they have a tendency to stick together or go crazy if the mascara's too heavy.

LADY: Oh! Well have you tried our "Underwear for Lashes?" It really works well with the "Fringe Benefits" mascara.

ME: Yeah, I have and it makes my eyelashes stick together.

LADY: Would you like to try it again?

ME: (Big sigh) Sure.

I apply one eye with the "Underwear for Lashes" and one eye without.

ME: I can't really see a difference.

LADY: Hm. well. hm. no. i guess not.

ME: OK.

LADY: Now. Do you have break-outs?

ME: Uh. No not really. I mean sure a little. Every now and then.

LADY: Like at that time of the month?

ME: ......

LADY: What do you wash your face with?

ME: I use Proactive.

LADY: Hm. Because I'm thinking. You have nice skin. You may not need Proactive.

ME: Well maybe I have nice skin because I use Proactive.

LADY: .....

LADY: Oh. Because I was going to mention: We have a new line of organic skin care you might be interested in.

ME: Nope. NOOOOPE. No thanks! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!

I wish. That last line was the "me" screaming inside of me.

Leave me alone, Origins. Leave me be. I'm happy. I'm content.

I don't need you.

So....uh...anyone tried that new organic line at Origins?

He Likes It!

2008-10-31T00:00:00.001-06:00

Happy Halloween.

And Happy Birthday to my hunk of a husband.

I gave Seth his birthday gift(s) 36 minutes ago, and for 36 minutes we haven't spoken. You know a husband likes a birthday present when, after you give it to him, he is so enthralled with it that when you begin a story and then stop MID-story, MID-sentence, MID-word, and he doesn't acknowledge you even started a story. Sethie likes it! He likes it!

It's a book about Star Wars.

Go figure.

Hasn't looked up once since he pulled it out of the bag.

Not once.

You know how they say men are like children?...

OHP!! He just spoke.

Seth: Cool. Did you know the phrase "May the force be with you" was derived from the Christian phrase "May the Lord be with you and your spirit" which St. Paul sometimes uses as the end of his letters?

Me: How do you know that's true?

Seth: Cuz it says here in the book.

What's New

2008-10-29T21:53:00.006-06:00

I have good news.

I booked a show!: the musical, Oliver. Guess all that 6 in the morning stuff pays off. I start rehearsals on Tuesday. I'm playing Bet, and the show's in New York. Which is maybe the best news of all, because I sure like doing shows and sleeping in my own bed at night.

It's the same theater I worked at last year, the one that the New York Times reviewed. It's in Long Island in a town called Northport, so it's a ways out. The theater provides travel, through train or van. But we rehearse at a studio in Manhattan.

My cousin's wedding was beautiful. I'm back home. I'm really tired. The whole extended family went to a karaoke bar AFTER the reception on Saturday, and I'm not sure I've fully recovered. Have you ever been to a karaoke bar with your aunts and uncles and cousins and MOM and DAD? It's kinda weird. I have stories to tell about my weekend, but I'm just so tired.

We're 6 days away from election day.

Seth's birthday is on Friday, and we're celebrating at a friend's house with Halloween cupcakes. Seth and I are going to our very favorite restaurant in NYC on Saturday. TABOON. Mmmmm. Ooh I need to get reservations for that.

I'm behind on laundry, and cleaning, and errands, and my dry cleaning has been at the cleaners for a week now cuz I keep forgetting to pick it up.

The other day, the 7 yr old boy I babysit asked me what a "bagina" was. (Yep, that's how he said it: with a "b") After saying WHAT?? I asked him where he heard that word. He said at school, and that his friend said it was girls' underwear. I said...mmm wellll I think that's a good question for your parents. He asked why he had to ask his parents. I said just because.

That's what's new with me. Getting ready for a new show and discussing the word "bagina."

Riddle Me This

2008-10-24T23:42:00.006-06:00

As I'm getting ready to leave this morning (I'm in Oklahoma for a cousin's wedding), I say to Seth:

Me: Well hun, I'm glad you'll have the weekend for your dissertation. You can really, ya know, bite the bullet.

Seth: Awww, that doesn't sound good.

Me: What?

Seth: Bite the bullet means like, to die.

Me: It DOES?!?! No way! I thought it meant to like, ya know, suffer through it. Get it done.

Seth: No, I think it means to die.

Oh SE-eth. I have a little something to SHOWWW YOUUUU!

Please click here. Hurry! Now! Everyone! Click!

Change of subject. Before I go on, I must insert here: I don't know a lot about designer stuff. Really, I don't. I don't go out and try to buy the best brand names, because I've never cared, and anytime anyone's said to me, Oh my gosh, this handbag I saw was amazing. It was (insert designer brand name here), I think: I have no idea what that means.

Now, along with hand-me-down clothes, I recently got a hand-me-down handbag. Designer. Louis Vuitton.

More on this later. But I had to preface for this next section here.

OK, so after I laugh about the phrase I THOUGHT I'd botched and ask Seth to please not tell anyone, it's time to go. I pick up my sheek Louis Vuitton designer handbag, realizing fully the unprecedented moment, and with renewed vigor SAY:

Me: WELL! Me and Vidal are outa here.

Seth let me get all the way to the door before correcting me.

Oh, and Seth? I think you meant: Bite the dust.

HA! Take THAT oh power in the universe that jumbles up all my phrases of good intent! haHA!! One point: FancyPants.

Confession: Nanny No-No

2008-10-22T11:39:00.008-06:00

What's wrong with me?

I'm babysitting my friend's little boy this week, remember - the heart stealer?. He and I were running errands yesterday, after undergoing the painful process of getting a one-year-old AND his stroller down a flight of stairs in a walk-up building, out two heavy doors, and down another mini-flight of stairs outside.

When we came to a corner and waited for the street light to change at the crosswalk (my rulebook for walking in NYC is modified with babies in my care), a guy sitting on a fire hydrant (couldn't tell you why he was sitting on a fire hydrant) says hi to my friend's curly haired, blue eyed toddler.

He says in a manner much to personal for strangers on the streets of New York City, "Hey little guy! Hi! Ohhhh...WOW!...what beautiful eyes!"

Then the stranger looks at me and says, "WOW! Congratulations!"

Now, aside from the fact that that is the weirdest way to say somebody's baby is cute, like the parents have won some providential prize or something, overlooking that fact, I say with a sheepish grin,

"Thanks."

The light changed. I got my white walking man. I crossed the street.

THANKS? Thanks. THANKS! What? Now why in the world did I take credit for a baby that's not mine?!?! I've been thinking about this long and hard since yesterday, because the second I said thanks and crossed the street, I debated turning around and saying, Ummm...actually.... And though I myself KNOW I am not in any way, shape, or form a nut nanny, I can't help but think: Hand That Rocks the Cradle.

I realize I committed the biggest babysitter crime EVER.

So it's necessary I evaluate the possible reasons I would commit such a hanus crime, and here's what I've come up with.

I'm either

A) A nut nanny

B) A woman whose biological clock is ticking and...it's about. that. time.

or

C) A suspicious New Yorker who just wanted to get across the street without telling a strange man her life story.

I'm gonna go with C.

That has to be it.

Switching Wardrobes

2008-10-19T11:18:00.006-06:00

I switched out wardrobes yesterday, which took way longer than I thought and usurped my previous plans of getting much more done. Sweaters, naturally, take up way more space than rinky dink sleeveless summerwear, and the dilemma caused me to overthrow Seth's claim to his side of the closet.

Poor Seth now has a foot or so at the end for his jeans.

But no worries. I also gave him a drawer all to himself.

I know, I know. It sounds heartless. But really, fancied friends, if you knew how long it took me to organize all our winter wear into our eensy teensy living space, you'd be proud. It was hard. DANG hard. I had to CONTINOUSLY take things out of the closet and say, Nope- won't wear that. It's gone. Nope. Nope. Nope. Ehhhhh, well if I lose some poundage I could fit back into that. Maaaaaybe I should keep it....Nope.

And on top of all that, my friend's neighbor downstairs from her cleaned out HER closet and got rid of HER clothes, and she has REALLY awesome clothes, which she gave to my friend, who in turn gave them to me. We're talking designer brand here, people. Brands I would NEVER buy because the the cost of the tag alone equals my closet's entire holdings. I mean, you can't TURN DOWN free clothes like that! No, you GIVE AWAY clothes you have to fit THOSE clothes into your closet.

Hand-me-downs are awesome. Thank you, friend's friend with impeccable style. I thank you. Once Seth gets used to the new living arrangements, he'll thank you, too.

Picking Apples and a Pumpkin Patch

2008-10-13T21:45:00.014-06:00

This past weekend we went to a farm in New Jersey with some friends for a fall kickoff. Hot dogs, cider and donuts, pumpkins, apple orchard. Fall's here. There's no turning back now.

This is our friends' one-year-old.

Watch out, Seth. This little guy might steal my heart.

One thing's for sure. As of Saturday, I am all about fall.

I'm wondering what that guy behind me's all about.

The only apples available for picking were WAY high up in the trees. So my friend, V, and I shimmied on up and took matters into our own hands.

We ate the apples right off the trees. Mmmmm they were delicious.

This little guy thought so, too.

See what I mean? Heart stealer.

Happy fall, y'all.

City Sights

2008-10-01T20:31:00.008-06:00

I don't have pictures for some of these:

**A woman in a bright pink button down blouse and white dress pants with a large white "Coach" or something of the sort handbag, lying on the ground, face down in the flowers that are sold on the side of the corner mart. She lifts her head, clearly drunk, and tells us over and over how her husband is such a jerk. Her well-to-do husband comes out of the corner store, sees his wife, shakes his head, and exclaims in a heavy New York accent, "What's wrong with you?!?!"

**A man in the back seat of a cab with its window rolled down yells to the driver, "STOP HERE. HERE!!! YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING!!...YES I DO! OH I'LL TELL YOU WHY!!! BECAUSE I'M AN AMERICAN, THAT'S WHY!!!" He gets out of the cab and storms away.

I saw this guy, from the TV show House, crossing the street. Love that show.

And this guy, going into a gym.

This nifty little Smart Car, which I absolutely love.

And as I was shlepping across town for auditions the other day, I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the the shiny windows. It was the first cool day we had, on the windy side, and I forgot that on days like those you need a scarf. I improvised.

Confession: Walk Rage

2008-10-01T19:37:00.011-06:00

As of today, I am a true New Yorker.

A while back I wrote about the different ways of crossing the street in New York City.
Today, I followed #7 in the rule book: Walk Rage.

As I crossed the street WITH THE RIGHT-OF-WAY (oh yes, I had the white walking man), a big white van took a right turn, right into me. Now when this happens, because believe it or not, it happens a lot, what ensues resembles a game of "Chicken." Who will give first? The walker has the right-of-way, but the driver , because he's turning right on a green light, doesn't want to wait on the walker, and consequently "fakes" driving right into the walker, attempting to scare the walker into stopping and letting the car pass, EVEN THOUGH THE WALKER HAS THE RIGHT-OF-WAY.

Now, see, when a driver does this to ME, I ALWAYS win. Because I take #7 in my cross walk rule book seriously. If I have the right-of-way, then I have the right-of-way. That's all there is to it, and they can wait. You might be thinking, hmmm...that's a bit severe considering she could get run over. But the thing is, if you keep walking, the driver has no choice but to stop, because surely they won't run you over.

Today, the white van almost ran me over. We played our little game of Chicken, and he didn't stop, and NOT ONLY did he not stop, he and his Hispanic friend in the passenger seat laughed at me and waved. This I clearly saw, since their windshield was a foot away from my face.

I stopped. I raised my hands in the air. I...(oh c'mon now, don't judge me)...cursed. And as I lowered my hands and the white van passed me, just inches away from my toes, a series of thoughts went through my head in a split second.

That *&#$^ almost killed me.

I had the right-of-way.

How dare they laugh.

And....

instead of bringing my right arm down to my side as I did my left, my right arm suddenly acquired a will of its own. And....

I hit that van.

Really hard, with my right hand.

Right on its fat white side.

And man, did that feel good.

Bailout or No? What do YOU think?

2008-09-29T14:10:00.004-06:00

The DOW closed down 770 points today, 7 %. NASDAQ closed down almost 200 points, 9.1%

The Bush administration's $700B bailout plan failed to pass the House vote. 228 against. 205 for. Only 66 Republicans backed Bush's plan. 132 Republican House members voted against it.

What do YOU think? Should the government provide a bailout at all? Or can the the credit crisis and the market recover on its own?

Anyone wanna talk about it?

Actor's Equity: Good or Bad?

2008-09-28T00:50:00.005-06:00

There are those who would say it's union or die. And some who would pass on the opportunity to join. From the little I know, I'll try to explain the advantages and disadvantages of being an Equity member, and from there I think the advantages and disadvantages of being a non-Union actor will become clear.

An Equity member has the advantage, first and most obviously, of the support of a union: contracts termed by AEA that producers must negotiate with actors. They include a base salary, health care, worker's comp, and appropriate working condition. Thus, the actor is protected. It's not that every Non-Eq theater pays crap, overworks their actors, or wouldn't provide worker's comp, It's just that some do and wouldn't, and that's enough. In Kentucky, I worked for a non-Union theater that required their actors to rehearse 12 hour days for 42 days straight (no day off), with a show tagged on to the end of the day for more than half that time. While the producer of that theater is a good man, whom I like very much, an Equity theater would never allow such a schedule, and that's why you'll rarely (if ever?) find an Equity theater that produces three shows in rotating rep over the span of 2 and a half months.

Another advantage of being an Equity member is the manageable audition process. Right now, as a non-Union actor, I spend half, and sometimes all, of my day waiting to be seen, because Equity members receive priority. And rightly so. I wouldn't mind so much being able to have a day job, and sign up for an audition time. That sounds heavenly.

And third, for the most part, and I say this timidly and with hesitation, many Equity productions are better quality productions. Some will disagree with me, but in my experience, this is true. (Let me insert here that I know many non-Union theaters across the U.S. that put on outstanding productions, but as a whole, this is what I see.) It's mostly because there's more money in Equity productions, as well as a more experienced team: from producer, to director, to stage manager, design, crew, and cast. All Broadway shows are Equity shows. An actor cannot be on Broadway and be non-Union. Off-Broadway...maybe. Off-off-Broadway, sure.

Disadvantages to being Equity: Well, there's the dues. You gotta pay. There's an initial fee plus a yearly smaller fee, and then working dues, which are a small percentage of each paycheck. There's the fact that once you're Equity, you cannot, or at least shouldn't, perform in a non-Union house. Doing so puts you at risk of losing membership.

Truthfully, there are quite a few disgruntled Equity members in the city these days. They say that non-Union jobs are taking jobs away from them. One example is the touring circuit. Once a Broadway show has been up and running for a certain amount of time, it goes out on tour. Used to be that these tours would all be Equity tours. Now, many are being taken out on tour by non-Union touring companies. Not all, but many. Why? It costs less. And less rules, I'm sure, has something to do with it. But primarily, it costs less. So, consequently, jobs that were previously given to Union actors are given to non-Union actors. Some theaters are also doing an Equity/non-Equity thing, where they hire Equity principals and a non-Union chorus. In many cases, this is how non-Union members earn points toward Equity. And then, there are the infamous reality shows, who hire whoever they want, who cares, as long as it makes good T.V. And non-Union members somehow end up making better T.V.

There are also those who caution an actor of becoming Equity too soon in one's career. They say that once you become Equity you're in a league with the big boys. You're up against the big names, the celebrities, the favorites, the experienced and well-known. Whether that's a disadvantage or just a fact, I don't know. I'd say it depends on the actor and what their path holds. It's hard to say. Non-union actors have gotten big roles in the non-Union houses and are afraid of not working again for a long time if they unionize. And sometimes that happens. But it all depends on one's goals, and if the actor is OK with playing big roles in the non-Union houses, or if they live in a city that holds a lot of non-Union theaters, then by all means, save your money and don't pay the dues. But if you want to work in New York City, and if, dare we say, you want to work on Broadway, well, then, take the plunge. Dive in. It doesn't get any easier. Just go for it!

That's what I know in a nutshell. I don't know much. I'm still learning, and I'm sure there's much more to learn from a producer's side of things, but this is how it looks from where I sit. You can probably see my opinion on the whole thing. I'm all for being an Equity member. I'm ready. But one thing's for sure. I'll read a lot less as an Equity member. I've never had so much time to read in my entire life, and that's not such a bad thing. But reading books, unfortunately, doesn't pay bills. And bills must be paid. The goal is to get them paid by doing shows here in New York City. That's the goal.

What is Equity?

2008-09-26T10:22:00.007-06:00

The Actor's Equity Association defines itself in this way:

Actors' Equity Association ("AEA" or "Equity"), founded in 1913, is the labor union that represents more than 45,000 Actors and Stage Managers in the United States. Equity seeks to advance, promote and foster the art of live theatre as an essential component of our society. Equity negotiates wages and working conditions and provides a wide range of benefits, including health and pension plans, for its members. Actors' Equity is a member of the AFL-CIO, and is affiliated with FIA, an international organization of performing arts unions.

Let me tell you what else Equity does and how it operates. If a theater is Equity, which many many here in NYC and around the US are, (and all are on Broadway), there are rules set up by the Union that it must follow. Such rules as...the amount of rehearsal hours it can require of its actors and crew, how many breaks the actor and crew receives in a given amount of hours, even small details such as what is required for the actor in the dressing room, and most importantly, wages. There are different levels of contracts that determine the pay scale for particular theaters. The differences in pay spread throughout a wide range, depending on things I don't much about. An Equity contract will sometimes pay more than a non-Equity contract, but in many cases, that doesn't hold true.

Another perk that Equity members receive is a more organized and managable audition process. When an Equity theater is casting for a show, there are two types of "open calls" they can hold, after they have held appointments for those actors with agents and whatnot. The first type is an EPA: Equity Principle Audition. This is a call that seeks principle performers, i.e. the leads, the supporting actors... At an EPA, the Equity member arrives early to form a line. At one hour before the call opens, the line of Equity members files through to the monitor to get an audition appointment. The actor picks which time they'd like to audition, and the monitor hands them a card with that time, then writes their name down in that time slot. The Equity actor then comes back at least ten minutes before their time to check in, is seen, and is done. The other time of call is the ECC: Equity Chorus Call. This call is for, you guessed it, the chorus. Singers, dancers, understudies, small cameo parts. But of course, the theater could cast principles or chorus from either call. There are two types of ECC's. 1) For singers. 2) For dancers. At an ECC, the Equity member signs up a week before the audition on a sign up sheet at the Equity building in Manhattan. They arrive 30 minutes before the call begins, and the monitor calls off the list in the order they are written. He gives the actors a card with a number on it 1 - however many there are. The actor waits for his number to be called to audition.

How does one become Equity if one so chooses, you might ask. What you canNOT do, is simply decide you want to become Equity, and therefore pay your dues to a man in an Equity coat (no, the coats don't really exist) and be a member. There are two ways of becoming an Equity member. One is a point system. A non-Eq member "crashes" an Equity audition, or the theater holds a separate call for non-Eq because that particular theater is allowed to offer non-Eq contracts. A non-Eq member works for an Equity theater and for every week worked, receives a point. 50 points equals an Equity card, at which time the actor can pay his dues and join the Union. The second way is for non-Equity members to "crash" an Equity audition and get cast even though they are non-Equity, and are therefore "given" their card no matter how many points they have, if any. The actor then has the opportunity to pay their dues and become an Equity member.

Any questions?

There are good things to being an Equity member, and then some not-so-good things. And there are good thing to being a non-Union actor, and then some not-so-good things.

I am currently a non-union actor.

And since I've bored some of you for entirely too long, and since I've got to work not too long from now, I'll explain the advantages and disadvantages to each in my next post. Till then...

2008-09-24T05:22:00.004-06:00

It was a 6 AM day today. Right now it's 7:22 AM, and I'm almost out the door. I have to sign up for an audition downtown and then zip further downtown for a voice lesson at 9 AM, then back to the audition. Let's hope I get seen. Maybe if we all hope hard enough. I really want to sing this particular song today.

Who has a voice lesson at 9 AM?

Apparently I do, and I'm insane.

Have a great day, folks.

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

Update: 2:30 PM:

Well you all must've hoped real hard, cuz I got seen right around noon, and it went very well. Hooray for good auditions. Woo hoo!

Gettin' Myself Back in Shape

2008-09-22T23:00:00.000-06:00

I should mean back in physical shape. Like...I should be doing lots of yoga...and running...and sit-ups and all that stuff...and dance class.

But I mean back in sleep shape.

It's all about baby steps, see.

My work out plan is simple yet oh so hard: Go to bed fifteen minutes earlier every night. Get up fifteen minutes earlier every morning. Get at least 7 hours of sleep. Until I hit the perfect bed time, which I'm not really sure what that is yet, but I'm thinking lights out, 1 AM is a realistic expectation. That's the goal.

This of course applies to the days I don't HAVE to get up at 6 AM for auditions. Because of course on audition days my eyelids are extra sore since I have no choice in when I get up, and there's no possible way I could go to bed at 11 PM. So on those days I'll just have to set a midnight goal and deal with the 6 hours. Or 5 hours if I can't do it.

See, right now it's 1:05 AM, and I'm already getting tired. This is a good sign, people. It means my hard work is paying off, and I can once again join the healthy happy Early Risers of America who enjoy the benefits of Vitamin D3 consumption. Just look at all the benefits of Vitamin D and the dangers in its deficiency.

I'm well on my way to a happy, healthier lifestyle.

Ding!

(That was the glint from the sun's rays bouncing off my pearly whites in their morning glory)

Quotes for the Bathroom Mirror

2008-09-21T15:35:00.002-06:00

"Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up."

--Thomas Edison

Can't Sleep

2008-09-20T03:08:00.004-06:00

Somebody remind me to never take a Mucinex ever again. I'm telling you, they kill me. 4 hours ago I was stoned, as Seth put it, and now I'm wide awake at 5 AM, and not a lick of sleep. My brain won't stop. My heart's pounding. I'm hungry. So, I'm assuming that would be the other half of that big honkin' pill I took. The white half, maybe. Not the expectorant half, the other half, the half that's a few chemicals shy of crack. I actually took two pills.

I've got a continual and conscious narration of my thoughts going on inside my head. It doesn't help that, with my new reading companion, Wuthering Heights, (which I read right before bed) I'm thinking with a British accent and inflection. Which is both interesting and amusing all in itself: One part of my consciousness listening to the other part speak in proper British form.

Anyway, I've got a dang cold.

Or shall I say...A temporary illness led on by winds of misfortune has befallen me, and I dare say I must take necessary precautions to beseech its retreat. Retreat, I say! Retreat, unwanted ghoul of nature. Ahhh, retreat unto the far reaches of origin that you might sink back into nonexistance and disturb one's slumber no more.

Yeah, so....can't sleep.

I Hate Politics

2008-09-18T22:54:00.005-06:00

I hate them. I hate how the media pushes their way into people's homes with their biased opinions and rude interviews. I hate that it's a big fat game. I hate that Americans don't really know the issues in their entirety. That we have to decipher what we think's going on in the White House from what we hear on T.V. or read in a newspaper or hear on talk radio. I hate that the media thinks we're too stupid to sift through their B.S. I hate that every American thinks they know how to run this country, when they have absolutely no access to intelligence or a cabinet or anything useful but a T.V. and w-w-w dot Yahoo dot com.

I'm not saying we shouldn't vote. Sure, we should vote. We know enough to vote. We know differences in parties and voting records and ethics and personalities. But don't vote on Sarah Palin's speech at the Republican National Pep Rally. Don't vote on Obama's promise to "change." Don't vote on words and ideals. Don't vote because you feel sorry that McCain can't raise his arms above his shoulders. Don't vote because Obama's black. Don't vote because Palin's a woman.

So I'm curious. What's the most important thing to you in choosing a president? What do you look at among the candidates to decide on your pick? Not necessarily, what you look for. I'm not so interested in if you look for pro-life, pro-choice, government regulation or tax cuts. I don't care if you're a Democrat or a Republican. More...if you think voting ethics is most important, or do you look at experience, or...voting record...foreign policy...party...inspiration...faith...taxes...? What seals the deal for you in your vote?

Studying Voice

2008-09-13T00:22:00.004-06:00

You told me not to think.
Just feel.
Describe.
What did that feel like?

And I said I was sorry.
For what, you said.
And I said,

for thinking

And you said,

Very good lesson.
Good concentration.

And I thought, Well I guess I'm not sorry then.

In Honor of Victims and Their Loved Ones

2008-09-11T21:29:00.011-06:00

Conversation tonight with a 7-year old boy in New York City:

He turns 7 on Saturday, Sept 13.

The 7-year-old boy I babysit for had just been put to bed. I see his little frame in the doorway to the kitchen, holding his stuffed rabbit and rubbing his eyes. He hears something in his room, some kind of creaking, he says. We go listen. Nothing. I explain the nature of the walls in New York, how sometimes you can hear the plumbing from the person above... I tuck him back into bed. He says:

7 yr old: Today's a sad day.

Me: What?

7 yr old: Today's a sad day. I saw it on the T.V. in the taxi.

Me: .....You're right.... Today's a sad day.

7 yr old: What were those called?

Me: What were what called?

7 yr old: Those buildings. They were called....ummm.

Me: The twin towers?

7 yr old: No, what was the building called?

Me: The World Trade Center?

7 yr old: Yeah! The World Trade Center! It fell to the ground. What made it fall to the ground? Was it like an asteroid?!?!

Me: .....Well...kind of like that.

7 yr old: Maybe the sun! Maybe the sun CAME DOWN! And CRASHED into those buildings!

Me: ....You know what? This isn't a nice thing to think about right before bed. You need to think happy thoughts before bedtime.

7 yr old: Yeah... Cuz nothing like that would ever happen around here.

Me: Right... Nothing like that.

7 yr old: Was that like....a REALLY long time ago?

Me: That was seven years ago.

7 yr old: Is that a really long time ago?

Me: That was, like, right before you were born.

7 yr old: Oh man. I wouldn't have wanted to be born when that happened.

Me: Yeah.

7 yr old: But that wouldn't happen anywhere around here, right.

Me: Right.... But you shouldn't be thinking of sad things right before bed. Just happy things. Think about happy things.

7 yr old: Yeah. OK. Happy things... Love you. G'night.

Me: Love you, too. G'night buddy.

Quotes for the Bathroom Mirror

2008-09-09T23:30:00.003-06:00

"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

--Thomas Edison

Let it Be Known....

2008-09-06T16:32:00.006-06:00

that I woke up at 6 AM every day this week. That's right 6 AM!!! I got seen four times this week. Four times is good.

I forget how different these auditions are than anything else I've experienced in the music business. Not just because you sing for 1 minute and that's the end of it, but mostly because of the possibility of such negative energy in the room that could eradicate the smile off the face of Richard Simmons. It's always nice to get a cheery "Hi" when I walk into the room. A glance up from the papers on the table is good. A double-take, even better. The best is complete, unbroken attention from the man or woman behind the table. A smile goes a long way. Smiles are good. I like casting directors that smile. They're few and far between.

But that may not be so bad, really. If every casting director smiled at every auditionee that walked into the room, there'd be a whole lot of girls in stiletto heels and bouncy hair that get their feelings hurt when they don't get a phone call.

I find myself sitting AWAY from those girls in stiletto heels and bouncy hair. Not that there's anything wrong with stiletto heels. I like the heels. Just not the conversation. I really don't. I don't want to know the girl's resume and how she knows this director and thinks so and so on Broadway has the worst voice ever and if that girl can get on Broadway, surely she could. I don't want to talk about what song I'm singing or what song she's singing or how she heard the principals were already cast. How she thinks they're not really looking for anyone, they just have to hold the call. I don't want to waste my energy mustering up fake interest, raising my eyebrows, nodding my head, pretending like I care while she throws her weight around.

So now I just sit as far away as I can and read.

But today I didn't get up at 6 AM. Today I went to my friend's surprise 30th birthday party, after I watched Federer beat Djokovic, and Nadal and Murray's match get postponed because of the rain. It was weird that the rain postponing the match on T.V. was the same rain that made puddles on my deck. That was pretty cool.

Tomorrow I'm making my vision board.

This guy...

2008-09-06T16:31:00.010-06:00

is a big fat baby....

if you ask me.

Back to Work

2008-09-02T05:13:00.004-06:00

Well...I'm off to my first day back of auditions in the Big Apple. It's 7:14 AM as I type. I woke up at 6 AM. For all of you who know me, you know that's way too early. But I did it. And here I go.

I'm trying to look at this like I'm lucky for the opportunity to live in this wonderful city and audition for Broadway. That I would hate for one beautiful day to go by without me thankful for being in it.

That's how I'm trying to look at today.

The other side of me wants to crawl back in bed and refuse to once again be the little fish swimming in this great big ocean, and instead walk the park, eat ice cream, and watch tennis. Oooh...tennis...I need to DVR that today.

But I'm up, and it's a beautiful day.

Wish me luck, folks.

***Update: 3:01 PM

Didn't get seen at three different auditions today. Crazy Equity people decided to get out of bed, too. See, the way it works for us non-union folk, is...you get up early, stand in line, and sign up on a piece of paper. That piece of paper is incredibly important, and the number you are on the list is incredibly important as well. Once all the Equity members have been seen at the audition, the monitor starts calling off the non-Eq list. If you're gone when you're name is called, you go to the end of the list. So best stay put and read a book or jibber jabber with a friend. Today there were tons of Equity people, and I signed up and waited, but didn't get an audition. It happens. And the sucky part is that when the auditions are at the Equity building, like they were today, you have to wait in the lobby outside the Equity lounge. They don't even let you go through to use the restroom. Only if you're name is called off the list can you enter the Equity chamber. And use the bathroom. Otherwise, it's the McDonald's on Broadway and 46th. Suckers.

Just a list

2008-08-29T23:57:00.003-06:00

A list of things I've done in the past two weeks:

Ate
Sat in the living room with the in-laws
Slept late
Sat outside and watched the hummingbirds
Ate
Sat with my best friend right before and right after she gave birth...for the first time
Held a newborn
Blogged
Loaded pics into Facebook
Ate
Beat my parents in Spades TWO TIMES out of three which makes Seth and I the champions
Played tennis
Watched tennis
Ate
Played tennis again
And again
Watched No Country for Old Men, what's up with that title anyway?
Watched I Am Legend
Helped Mom cook
Ate
Watched a movie I've never heard of before from the 80's with Martin Sheen called Believers.
Watched the end of River Wild. Love that movie
Played Apples to Apples with my family.
Made Appletini's for the first time ever. Think I made 'em a little strong...
Held my dog
Read the newspaper
Drank lots of coffee
Ate
Packed three months into two bags
Cleaned out my purse
Talked to my brother and his wife about their calling to be missionaries. They leave next year.
Got a spa pedicure with mom and my sister-in-law
Talked to my in-laws about politics
Made brownies...twice.
Ate mint chocolate chip ice cream...more than twice.

And now we leave for New York. And I feel really sad. And really excited.

Honky Tonk Angels

2008-08-27T22:27:00.009-06:00

Last but not least...

Honky Tonk Angels is the story of three women, strangers at the time, who leave home to pursue their dreams in Nashville, TN. Fate has it they meet on the bus along the way, and the three women, quickly becoming the best of friends, form a singing group: The Honky Tonk Angels. The show is a country music review, loaded with classics, primarily those of three country stars, Tammy Wynette, Dolly Parton, and Loretta Lynn, who once released an album together, "Honky Tonk Angels," in 1993. Instead of making it a review only, the playwrite highlights the music using the stories of three fictional characters: Darlene Purvis, Angela Bodine, and Sue Ellen Smith Barney Fife.

To be honest, I was looking forward to this show the least because I didn't like the script. But once I heard the music, signature classic country music (and I'm not much of a country music fan), and once we got the show on its feet, it quickly became the highlight of my summer. It became my happy place. Maybe it was the familiarity of it. The three of us arrived first for rehearsal and became really close. With only three in the cast, the content and responsibility belonging to each one of us was weighty. A lot of pressure. A lot of work. We pulled together, helped each other out, and through the demands and trials of the show, I think developed a special bond.

Or maybe it's because it's such a fun show. Hilarious, really. And with a rockin' band led by my stud husband, performing those songs each night was a treat.

I don't have performance pics of this one, but here's a few backstage. (I'm Darlene.) And I'm still trying to get my hands on a few clips...

From left to right, Sue Ellen, Darlene, and Angela

Ladies and gentlemen! The Honky Tonk....ANGELS!!!" (Lord help that hair.)

And the real Honky Tonk girls.

A Chorus Line

2008-08-24T23:14:00.021-06:00

A Chorus Line is a musical about a Broadway audition. Specifically an audition for the chorus of a Broadway musical. The show uses a montage technique to glance into the lives of about 16 auditionees, each person based off of a real live actor/dancer from the 70's, since the show was written in the 70's. Due to its innovative story telling approach and rockin' 70's choreography, A Chorus Line was a huge hit at the time. The revival, however, has suffered poor reviews, and it's leaving Broadway at the end of August, I believe.

At Jenny Wiley, I was supposed to be a cut dancer in Chorus Line. That means I was supposed to be in the beginning "audition" sequence, dance the routine, and get cut. But the girl playing Diana Morales was also a featured dancer in Wizard of Oz. At the end of the first week of Chorus Line rehearsals, which was also the first week of Wizard shows, she came down from a lift in Wizard and in doing so, tore her ACL, which is basically a screwed up knee (known to end careers) the very same injury that happens to the character, Paul, in the story line of A Chorus Line. Interestingly enough, the accident happened in real life to her the same day she rehearsed the pretend scene in A Chorus Line.

Long story short, I was swinging about four roles in the show, which is a fancy way of saying I was supposed to be learning all four parts in case something happened... Obviously it did. I stepped into the Morales role, having to learn it in about two days, and then went straight into designer runs and techs. And it was a blast. I never thought I'd be playing this Latino spitfire from the Bronx who can dance her hynie off, but I'm thankful for the opportunity. Morales sings the tune "Nothing," and the well-known "What I Did for Love." Some see her as the heart and soul of the show...such an uplifting, energizing, positive character. I loved her.

So here we are, dancing our hynies off.

Back from the Dead

2008-08-22T23:12:00.015-06:00

It's like I was frozen in ice or something. I get back from Kentucky and find the Olympics more than half over, John Edwards cheated on his cancered wife, Ellen DeGeneres married Portia, and Bernie Mac is dead. Bernie Mac? Not to mention all the other national and international news of which I should be aware.

And I now stare directly into the fact that I learn more from People Magazine than the New York Times. But I mean, come on. We're still at war. It's still Obama and McCain. And "going green" is still the solution to global warming. So...I didn't really miss much there. Oh, and gas prices still suck.

We had no internet for most of the summer, except through Seth's iPhone, which consequently convinced me...I want one. Not just for the iPhone. For the iSolitaire.

What we did have was 42 days straight with no day off. 12 - 15 hour days. Spiders in our bed. Three different housing situations, one which involved a tub filled with backed up poop water. And a broken back. Actually it was a bone sheer and it belonged to me. Bone sheers hurt, but osteopaths are miracle men, especially the one who treated me for free. I was out only one show, and half another, which wasn't so bad, considering how bad it could have been. There was no big accident, no mishap, nothing from which I could gain any extra cash. My back started hurting and got worse and worse until I was walking like my father. One day I took 8 Aleve in a 12 hour period and it still felt like 4 knives were being jabbed into strategic parts of my tailbone.

It wasn't all bad.

I rehearsed and performed three different shows in 12 weeks, made a lot of new friends, learned a lot about myself, played three different Five Cent Stand mini-concerts at three different churches, gave away lots of Bitter Kiss CD's, watched four seasons of "House" with our pal, Joey, sang to my heart's content, discovered Wendy's twisted Frosties, learned to like roast beef, worked as a professional actor, and did it all with my husband right beside me. Can't beat that.

So of course whether you like it or not, you'll get pictures. Lots of pictures. And who knows, maybe a video clip, if I can get my hands on one. I'm glad to be done. I'm sad to be done. I can't wait to get back to New York City.

The picture parade begins:

Wizard of Oz (Dorothy):

"Why it's just like you could read what was inside of me..."

"If I only had a brain..."

"Oh look Scarecrow! It's a man...a man made out of tin! Yes."

"If I only had the heart..."

"If I only had the nerve..."

"We're off to see the Wizard..."

"Well, bust my buttons!"

Lil' Dorothies every night.

This one may have been the biggest fan of them all. She came to every show dressed like a different character each time. (I think she was a munchkin's sister)

A Chorus Line up next...

I'm Alive!!

2008-06-22T19:07:00.004-06:00

Barely.

=-)

I really am sorry for not being able to blog more. But it's impossible, because 1) we were internet-less for about a week or so and 2) when I'm not in rehearsal or doing a show, I'm sleeping or eating and there hasn't been time for much else.

The day we opened Honky Tonk was the day we started Wizard of Oz rehearsals. Crazy. There have been moments in rehearsal when I think I might just drop down on the floor, criss-cross style, and cry. Mostly because of exhaustion but also because of the demands of the roles I'm playing. But the moments pass quickly. All in all, when I'm rehearsing or doing a show, I'm totally engaged and loving every minute.

Playing the role of Dorothy is more demanding than I thought it would be. To be able to sustain a sense of honest-to-God wonderment and child-like awe throughout an entire show takes work! Lots of work! Lots of work to listen as an actor like you're learning so many things for the first time. An actor should be present in the scene work, listening and hearing things llike they're hearing them for the first time, though they've actually heard them night after night. I knew this. But to play a child who is not only listening, but continuously learning... That's really really hard. I had no idea. Everything about Oz is new, never seen before by Dorothy. Witches, munchkins, wizards, the Emerald City, the jitterbug, Scarecrow, Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion.... To honestly receive all of that is exhausting! And of course, then I'm excited cuz I'm going home, then I'm crying cuz I'm not, then excited cuz I am, then crying cuz I'm not, and so on and so forth. Whew! What a ride. But it is such a beautiful show. The story in it is so beautiful, and the lesson I learn from my journey is such an important reminder of where happiness lies.

"If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard, because if it isn't there....I never really lost it to begin with."

And I get to carry around the cutest little Toto you've every seen in your whole life. A real live dog. She's actually played the role before! But we're having trouble getting her to actually DO stuff on stage. She's supposed to run away from the witch, but when she "escapes," a.k.a. the Witch's monkey puts her down on the ground so she can run off stage, little Zoe (her real name) just stands there. And when I put her down so she can go find the man behind the curtain, she just stands there. She doesn't find anybody at all. Just stands. We'll have to remedy this situation somehow. I think the solution involves Vienna sausages.

Anyway, I am so grateful for this opportunity. This has been a pretty hard gig in a lot of ways, maybe I can expound on them later, but nevertheless I love what I'm doing.

I'll try to keep updating! Hope you're all well!

We made it!

2008-06-08T19:57:00.000-06:00

I wish I could be more present these days. We're in 12 hour day rehearsals. Trying to get a show up in 11 days, well...5 more days now. I'm exhausted. But having a blast. Just tired.

The first show to open will be Honky Tonk Angels. I'm diggin' this old country music. I'm actually falling in love with Dolly Parton. Have you heard "Front Porch Swing"? Such a beautiful song. And 9 to 5 is crazy fun. And Paradise Road, great stuff. Dolly just has this facility of voice that's unreal. Such vocal flexibility, while keeping it so pure and beautiful and natural. Love her. I'm also loving Bobbie Gentry and Loretta Lynn.

Other songs...we do a clogging bit in Rocky Top. That's fun. And what else is there...ummm...Cleopatra...Boots are Made for Walkin...The Pill...Stand By Your Man...Honky Tonk Angels (course)...Calling All Angels...Good Girls Gonna Go Bad....Night Life...Harper Valley PTA....Coal Miner's Daughter....Ode to Billy Joe...and my personal favorite.....FANCY!!!

The cast and crew are really great here. So far, no divas. Just sweet people. And that's saying something because this first show is all girls. Except Seth and the band. Three female characters in the show, that's it. And then we have our understudies. And both the director and music director are women. Now that could get crazy, y'all. But so far so good. Seth has to be at all the rehearsals as the asst. musical director, and he plays keys for this show, so he's witnessed an (un)fair share of estrogen-slash-stress induced breakdowns this week. I'm sure there'll be more to come. I'm so glad he's here.

I've never crammed so much information into my brain at one time. I'm loving it.

Kentucky is...Kentucky. It's beautiful here, but it's a culture shock. A little depressing at first, but I think once the rehearsal schedule slows down in July and we have more time during the day, I'll get to enjoy the state park more. Hiking...the lake...sleeping in.....

Hope to post more in the coming days.

And I hope you are all well and enjoying the beginning of summer!

I'll leave you with this, because it's Dolly and I'm just now understanding why everyone loves her so much.

Driving a Standard

2008-05-30T08:43:00.006-06:00

Starting the 13 hour drive to Kentucky today. Stopping at Seth's parents for dinner and good night's sleep. We celebrated my sister-in-law's birthday last night. And now I'm off to Target for the last bit of essentials. Man, I love Target. Target is the bomb dot com of all supermarkets. I also went to (drum roll please) Chick-fil-A the first chance I got. Mmmmmm.

For my sister-in-law's birthday, I got her a real cute bag and put lots of random stuff in it, like jellies. (gellies?) Remember those? They were on sale at Target. I bought myself a pair, too, and I'm wearing them today and I can't wait.

I learned to drive a standard. We're driving my brother's car to Kentucky, and it's a standard. My dad took me out and taught me, and I learned it pretty quickly, if I do say so myself. Except then later, when driving to dinner around rush hour time, I thought I'd show off my new driving skills. So four of us piled into the little car. Me in the driver's seat. Dad front passenger side. Mom and Seth in the back. Seth hadn't seen me drive yet. I was ready to show him how cool I looked driving a standard.

Except that I came to a stop on a HILL, wedged between a long line of cars in both directions. I had to keep inching forward on the hill because we were all waiting for people to turn left. I was scared to death because I had only practiced on a hill in our neighborhood with nobody around. My dad said just do everything normal. Just do it quicker so you don't roll into the person behind you.

So I went into first gear quicker, except I also pounded on the gas every time because I was scared, so everytime we moved I squealed the tires like a bat outa hell and went two inches and had to stop again. This happened I think six times in a row. My dad kept yelling at me to stop and I kept yelling at him to stop stressing me out. And mom and Seth were laughing in the backseat. And some funny smell started seeping out from the car.

I had on bad shoes, OK? They were weird flip flop like shoes. When I learned and practiced on the hill in our neighborhood I was wearing gellies. So obviously, the shoes were bad. I'll just wear my jellies when we drive to Kentucky.

My brother and his wife gave me a late b-day present. A book of poetry by Brian Andreas. I love love love it and was up way too late reading it last night. Here's one I like:

Whenever she stood
in line at the bank
or while waiting
for the bus, I noticed
her feet.
The right always in
front and perpendicular
to the left just so.

Even after 2
children she
still dreamed
of being a
dancer.

Title: Ballerina Mom

And looked what happened in New York today. Yeesh.

Doped Up on Claritin-D

2008-05-27T05:04:00.003-06:00

Not one lick of sleep last night. Not one wink. I blame the 24 hr Claritin-D I took yesterday at noon. I usually take a 12 hr. It's either that or the insane amount of things I hadn't crossed off my to-do list when my head hit the pillow.

Speaking of pillow, wonder if I could fit that into my suitcase?

Nope.

Dangit. I like my pillow.

I'm an idiot and sent the laundry (yes we have ours done for us like oh so many others in the city for the obvious reason that I am tired of hauling that 2 ton bag of laundry down the never ending stairs and down the street and back up the street and back up the never ending stairs) to be done Sunday thinking I'd just call and have it sent back on Monday. Perfect plan since we leave Tuesday, that'd be today. Except that Monday was Memorial Day and they weren't open on Memorial Day, so I didn't get my clean clothes back. And Seth didn't get his clean clothes back. And now I have to call them right when they open in about 45 minutes to have them deliver a clean bag of laundry so Seth can slam-pack in a matter of 15 minutes so that we can catch a cab and head to the airport.

See why I couldn't sleep?

And I've got to mail keys to the subletter and mail rent and clean the floors and drink my coffee and take the trash out and pack my last bit and turn the computer off and write instructions to the subletter and put my face wash (the kind that makes my eyebrows two-toned) into a plastic baggy so it doesn't explode in my suitcase and turn my suitcase two-toned, and haul A down the never ending stairs with one too many pieces of luggage and a guitar.

I'm sure there's more.

And I need to memorize lots and lots of lines.

These kinds of circumstances are the kinds that tell me who I really am.

A type-something girl trying to be type-A and failing miserably. But an anal retentive type-something girl with insomnia, doped up on Claritin-D and slightly irritated she's cleaning a New York City apartment so some other girl can live in it.

Wish us safe travels. We're off to Oklahoma to pick up a car cuz remember we sold ours. I'm sure I'll have calmed down by then.

asdlfkajs!!!

2008-05-25T17:49:00.004-06:00

How do you flippin pack for the whole summer?

Ugh.

I've been absent. It's just because I'm losing my mind. No big deal.

Canceled Debt

2008-05-19T23:26:00.005-06:00

This past Sunday, Tim Keller preached on forgiving others. He used the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant in Matthew 18. Dr. Keller said that the way we forgive others is the way the King forgave his servant (probably a ruler of a designated area underneath the King, like Caesar and the Roman Empire) who owed him a very large amount of money and couldn't pay. Possibly due to a mistake in the ruling of his designated area, but who knows. The King first had pity on the man, or in other words, he related to the man, and the King's heart went out to him. Then he canceled the debt, which meant actually taking the payment on himself, making up for the loss himself, and taking care of whatever damage was done with his own resources. And lastly he let the man go.

And this is how God forgives us. I remember thinking during the sermon...that I sometimes forget what it actually means to be forgiven. "He paid a debt he did not owe. I owe a debt I could not pay...I needed someone to wash my sins away." That God has canceled my debt.

What is due God that I cannot pay him? Perfect submission. Perfect gratitude. Perfect honor. Perfect will. Perfect love. But God paid the debt through Christ. Christ, in his perfect submission and perfect gratitude and perfect honor and perfect will and perfect love, offered up what I owed but what I could not pay, and was sacrificed. He died and suffered the wrath of God. He paid for my debt so that I wouldn't have to.

A concept that is simple enough but so easily forgotten. A concept that can be known without being known.

I prayed that God would help me really understand his forgiveness, so that I could truly learn how to forgive others. And today, God answered my prayer.

We have been needing to pay a particular amount of money to a particular person who will remain unnamed but is kinda like a doctor but isn't. It was a big bill. So big that I needed to wait until some money from Mr. IRS came in. It did. I called this office today to request the final amount of the bill, and I was told that we owed nothing. That the person we owed canceled the debt. That the amount was written off as a doctor's expense. That we were free of the debt. She reiterated, quietly but weighing her words slowly and deliberately. I needed to pay nothing.

This man to whom I owed money took the debt upon himself and canceled it. He understood us. He related to us. His heart went out to us. And he let us go.

God wasted no time in granting my request. My understanding of His forgiveness was of the greatest importance to Him, to grasp how deep and how wide His love for me is. And He used a fellow Christian forgiving me my debt, to show me His love. And He's hoping and waiting for me to do the same to another soul in need of forgiveness, so that they may not only see, but truly feel, the love of God.

V and her Vision Board

2008-05-17T23:46:00.005-06:00

My friend, we'll call her "V", keeps telling me to make a "vision board." She even bought me the materials: a white poster board. That's it. A plain white poster board. And on this poster board, my assignment is to cut pictures out of magazines and paste them onto the poster board, write words, what-EVer, she says, to remind you of your goals. But not just my goals, she says. My dreams. Then she says I am to put the vision board where I can see it every day so that every day I will have in plain sight what I'm going for, reaching for, dreaming of, hoping for. Even if it's crazy.

The reason, she says, is because you're more likely to actually DO those things if you see them in front of you. Literally.

I believe her. I think it's brilliant. I love the idea.

But I can't get myself to make the darn vision board.

Why is that? Why can't I put my dreams down on paper so they're out there for the whole world (really it would be seen by only me and the hubs but it feels like the whole world) to see? It's either that I don't have any dreams, or that I don't care about them, that I'm ashamed of them, or that I'm afraid to put them down on paper because that makes them real, concrete, perhaps laughable, and extremely vulnerable.

Well it's not because I don't have any.

It's definitely not because I don't care about them, because why would I go to Kentucky for 11 weeks if I didn't care about acting? Why would I make records and go on tour if I didn't care about singing? Why would I make a fool of myself in dance class if I didn't care about dancing?

It's not that I'm ashamed of them because... am I ashamed of them? Why would I be ashamed of them? I'm not hoping for shameful things. Why would I be ashamed of something that isn't shameful?

I could definitely be afraid of them.

Why are people ashamed of their dreams?

The best answer I can come up with is that we are ashamed of what it takes to accomplish the dreams. We are ashamed of what we think will be necessary behavior to accomplish our dreams. We think "going for it" is living for ourselves, rather than living for God. We think "going for it" means being self-centered and selfish. We think profession should be in our lives only to make money to support our families and buy things and store the rest away for rainy days and college funds and retirement.

We also think dreams mean really really big things, when they don't necessarily have to be. Although they might be.

The thing is, we have a choice as to how we pursue our hopes and dreams. I had a choice to wait for the perfect man to marry. My dream came true. I could have stopped trusting that God would provide, and I could have sold out and married someone I didn't love, or someone who didn't love me. We have the opportunity, for Christians the ability, to choose God every day. I have a choice to be selfish with my life whether I'm pursuing a dream or not. I have a choice to love God and love my neighbor every single day, whether or not I'm looking at a vision board. Striving for a desired profession isn't a sin, it's how I strive for that goal that determines holiness.

Yet for some reason the artist is told, if you're not "singing for God" you shouldn't sing. If you're not "writing songs for God" you shouldn't write. If you're not "making films for God" you shouldn't make films. Yet the accountant doesn't "punch numbers for God" and that's OK. The engineer doesn't "drill oil wells for God" and he's smiled upon. The dentist doesn't "fill cavities for God" and he's a hero.

So that's it, then. I won't make my vision board because I've been told that "singing for God" makes singing OK? If I put "Broadway" on my vision board, then I'm endangering my soul.

And putting "Broadway" on my vision board sure looks laughable. I mean, that looks pretty dumb. Who really believes they can be on Broadway.

Uh...that would be...the folks on Broadway.

And what happens if I don't make it to Broadway? Then everyone laughs at me.

Nope. They don't. They say, well - good going there, Fancy. It was a fun ride.

And the folks that do anything different, like the folks that secretly rejoice if I don't succeed, are jerks. Plain and simple.

And the folks that secretly hope I don't succeed now while I'm trying? Well,....that sucks. For me and for them. For me because I sure could use all the encouragement I can get. And for them because they're missing out on a fun ride. And for the record, making a living as an actor or a singer doesn't have to mean Broadway. But wow, it sure is a fantastic goal, right?

So I'm making that vision board. Right when I get back from Kentucky, I'm making it.

On Lists and Galoshes

2008-05-16T22:11:00.007-06:00

Nothing I had planned to do today got done, not counting the big stuff. Big stuff equals things other people count on me doing. Other stuff, the "nothing," equals the stuff on my to-do list, the stuff I count on me doing. Not a one of those things got done today.

I live off of to-do lists. I love them. Sometimes the only way I can go to sleep at night is to make a to-do list for tomorrow. The worry exits my brain, runs down my arm, through my hand, out my fingers, into the pen, and enters the ink that is transferred to my paper, and wah-la, I can sleep. I inherited that trait from my dad. He writes a to-do list on a little sticky note before he goes to bed every night and sticks it to his bathroom mirror. I know this because when I was little, and then not so little, I saw a sticky note on his mirror almost every day while he was at work.

Getting nothing done on my sticky note list means I can't cross anything off, which stresses me out. Especially when I have a cazillion and one things to do before leaving for Kentucky. I can't afford days where nothing is crossed off of my sticky list.

I managed to meet with a praise and worship group at 11 this morning at our apartment, then run over to the Upper East Side in the rain to "work" a birthday party where I danced with 9 year old girls and glittered their faces, ran back over to the West Side to babysit a 6 and 2 year old for a couple of hours where I played with them, bathed them, cooked for them, fed them, and cleaned up after them, ran back to my apartment to meet my husband so I could cook for him, feed him, clean up after him, and then went on a date with him.

We saw Prince Caspian. Loved it. Really really loved it.

So while I accomplished nothing on my to-do list I ran around like a crazy woman all day long. In the rain. In my galoshes. Which are pink with a multi-color criss cross pattern on them. And I like to call them galoshes rather than rain boots. When I play duck-duck-goose with the boys I babysit, I like to fake'em out by saying every word I can think of that starts with the hard sound of the letter "g" and galoshes nearly always ends up in the duck-duck-goose vocabulary. And it's nearly always followed by the 6-year-old, who waits in anticipation for the word "goose" to coincide with my hand patting his head, slumping and tilting his little blond head up at me, and through his smart spectacles inquiring, "What's galoshes?" And I say in between heads, without missing a beat of course because I'm quite skilled at the game, "They're rain boots."

"Goose!"

And we run.

And I ran all day long and got nothing done. It's alright. As long as I make the same list out for tomorrow I should be able to sleep just fine.

Summer Theater in Kentucky

2008-05-14T23:30:00.009-06:00

Well folks, in a matter of weeks, I'm off to theater land again. Theater land nestled in the mountains of Kentucky. Yee haw.

I'll be away 11 weeks. The whole summer. Away from my charming city to live in a cabin in the hee-ills.

But don't fret, fancied friends. For two reasons. 1) Seth is going with me. The whole 11 weeks we'll be together in the hot burnin' sun, workin' our ever livin' arses off. He's the associate music director for the whole shin-dig. Now isn't that somethin'? When I auditioned for the job, they asked me to bring my guitar to the call back and play a tune or two. Absolutely, I said. But really what I meant was, absolutely, I'll have my husband bring my guitar because I ain't truckin' that thing around the city all day. And whadoyou know? Seth brought that ther' guitar with 'im to the call back and landed himsay'lf a JAWB!

2nd reason) We'll be havin' a blast! Three shows in rotating rep. That means we rehearse 1 show, perform it while rehearsing another, perform those two in rotation, while we rehearse a 3rd show, then perform all three shows in rotation for the rest of the summer season. Ai-ya-yai. Lots of work but lots of fun.

We're doing the following shows and I'll be playing the following roles.

The Wizard of Oz: Dorothy

Honky Tonk Angels: Darlene

A Chorus Line: Understudy (yikes, they haven't told me who I'm understudying, but I'm a bit nervous about it cuz they could make me swing 3 different tracks or something. I'm also worried because the dancing might kick my bleep!

I'm really, really excited about playing Dorothy, mostly because "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" is one of my favorite songs, and was played when Seth proposed (thanks to our pal Joey) and was also sung at our wedding (thanks to my lovely MOH Laura). And also because Judy Garland is one of my favorite singers. And also because it's a really fun show. And also because I get to wear the ruby slippers. Yesssss.

Honky Tonk Angels is a review of folk/country hits, told through 3 women's stories of leavin' home for Nashville, TN and following their dreams. It's growing on me, now that I've heard the music. Great music, and I get to play the gee-tar. Always fun. And sing songs like "Coal Miner's Daughter," "Ode to Billie Joe," (SUCH a cool song) and "Fancy," among loads of others. I think there's around 25 songs in the show.

And I've told you all I know about A Chorus Line so far.

The theater's called the Jenny Wiley Theater in Prestonsburg, KY. So if you haven't planned a summer vacation yet, why not Kentucky?

See schedule of shows here.

So I leave you with this, fancied friends, and hope that I can sing it half as well as she does.

Officially 29

2008-05-12T01:10:00.001-06:00

My sweet man of a husband came home last Thursday, and we officially celebrated my 29th birthday together. So 29 I am. For sure I am. And ya know, the more I say it the cooler it sounds. It sounds more adult than 28. Maybe I just feel more adult than at 28. I probably feel more adult than at 28 because I'm almost THIRTY. If I'm not an adult by 30, I better re-think my life. See, now, even as I say that, there's a little voice inside of me saying, "Nooooo! You can never grow up. Neverrrr!"

Oh, the injustice of it all.

Ever wonder what age we'll eternally be in heaven? When we get our new bodies. Like, will we be forever and always the age we were at death? Or will we be the age of the best year of our lives when years mattered? Or will we be the age when we looked the very best, but we'll look even better? Vain thoughts of a 29 year old.

Maybe we get to pick. Maybe we get to say....OK, God, I pick..ummm...32. Remember, God? I looked GOOD at 32.

Hey, it could work.

Eckhart's New Earth (Part II)

2008-05-07T13:00:00.010-06:00

I'm becoming prone to making a statement in one post, and then recanting it in a later post. The cause being one of two reasons. #1) I speak too soon. #2) I allow myself the freedom of changing my mind. The latter is the better habit of the two. The habit of keeping an open mind, within boundaries of faith and reason, is a habit I choose to foster and hope to keep.

I said in an earlier post that Part II would be about why Eckhart Tolle's novel, "A New Earth," is not worth reading. I had previously bought the book and after reading the first chapter, formed that opinion. However, in order to respectfully and properly respond to the book, I needed to read more. I did read more, a majority of the book. For the sake of time, I skimmed parts of it. After doing so, I've decided to give it a good slow read, that in ways it actually is worth reading, when viewed through the correct lens with the awareness that my core beliefs will differ from the author's.

This book should be read with caution, but has the potential to, in fact, aid the Christian in the working out of one's salvation.

It's not surprising, actually. That the book might be beneficial is not surprising. Eckhart Tolle acts as a philosopher, observing humanity in its being, function, and purpose. He uses spiritual language to do so, quoting Jesus more often than any other spiritual teacher. He never misquotes Jesus. Misinterprets, yes. But some of the language is the same and some of the lessons are the same. Which I feel supports the truth that there is a Supreme Being, a God, who is observed and noticeable by all of humanity. By the very essence of humanity as a race, we see God. The major religions all have a similar purpose. Each one sees the dysfunction in our race and tries to alleviate it and renew humanity, individually and as a whole. Christianity is unique in that its founding prophet, teacher, leader claimed to be God. Ultimately, we believe that Jesus Christ, the second person of the divine Trinity, God himself, became man. God took on the nature of man and so redeemed mankind, making the way once again possible for direct union with God.

Ego: that is how Tolle describes the dysfunction of humanity - the thoughts and ideas associated with "I" that lead to false personal identification. This false personal identification is a consciousness which most commonly defines itself through possessions: what I have, what belongs to me, what I want. But it is also the idea that "I" is just that, an idea. The word "I" is a very small word for such a complex individual, and we tend to define our "I" by things, roles, our bodies. The ego displays itself in opinions, resentments, the need to be right, successes and failures, comparison, posturing, greed, the need for power, to name a few... Sounds like what we Christians like to call Pride. This idea is the basis for the majority of the book, and it makes sense to me. I see it. I understand it. Seeing this can help me in my life.

So what does Tolle see as the solution to this dysfunction? Awakening. Awakening to the inner being underneath the ego and then fusing it to your outer purpose, or in other words, responding to the world around you with the new consciousness of your inner being. Yes, in ways this idea can help me. But it doesn't get to the bottom of the problem, and that is: how will the dysfunction be eliminated completely? Obviously the need is within us to eliminate the dysfunction entirely. It will not be eliminated completely by this spirituality alone.

Tolle states that his book is a book on spirituality, which can be molded into any person's choice of religion. He believes one can separate religion and spirituality. I personally, don't see how the two things can be separated, for to ask oneself questions about one's spirit will ultimately lead to questions about that spirit's creator. Tolle goes so far as to discourage religion, saying it is a form of man's ego, a system of doctrine, that leads to ideologies which cause war and dissent. In fact, Tolle likes Jesus very much. However, he dislikes Christianity. He says the following of spiritual teachers, such as Jesus, and then further of religion:

"Those rare individuals then spoke to their contemporaries. They spoke of sin, of suffering, of delusion... They then pointed to the possibility of awakening from the collective nightmare of "normal" human existence. They showed the way. The world was not yet ready for them, and yet they were a vital and necessary part of human awakening... Their teachings, although both simple and powerful, became distorted and misinterpreted, in some cases even as they were recorded in writing by their disciples. Over the centuries, many things were added that had nothing to do with the original teachings, but were reflections of a fundamental misunderstanding... And so religions, to a large extent, became divisive rather than unifying forces... They brought more violence and hatred... They became ideologies, belief systems people could identify with and so use them to enhance their false sense of self. Through them, they could make themselves "right" and others "wrong" and thus define their identity through their enemies, the "other," the "nonbelievers" or "wrong believers."

Incorrect. False. A relative truth formed from his own perspective.

Christianity teaches that truth is handed down from a Supreme perspective. Not our own. That's what's missing in all of this. If spirituality can exist apart from a system of beliefs, specifically apart from Christianity, then it will be a spirituality whose effectiveness of the renewal of man is limited. A spirituality derived from man himself cannot correct his own dysfunction because he is limited by that very dysfunction. We must be given a renewed spirit from an outside Source and an outside perspective. And it's given to us by the Incarnation. By God becoming man, taking on death, and presenting the new man, the new resurrected awakened man, before God for eternity as a Living Sacrifice. This is what Christ meant by "the way." It is "the way" because it is God's way.

Christianity requires an element of spirituality that Tolle does not mention: Faith. We must accept Faith. We must awaken to it. We must keep it. The faith to believe what God has said is True.

While Running with Imogen

2008-05-06T15:48:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, with my new running shoes on, Imogen Heap blaring through my Ipod, I headed downstairs to walk-slash-run the park. ('Walk" being the operative word.) On the way down the stairs, I ran into the older man who lives right below us. We greeted each other. I removed one ear bud just in case he was in a talkative mood. He was.

He commented on what a nice day it was. He had just finished the 5 mile trail. Oh yeah? I said. I'm just about to do that myself. With an expression that denoted pain and exhaustion, he said something in return that ended with what sounded like the words: "at the end there." I chuckled, because at the very time of his response, Imogen kicked it up a notch in my left ear, and I had no idea what he said or what to say back to him. So I chuckled.

He says, No I'm serious! I laugh even louder as I head down the stairs. Good to see you! I say. Yeah, he says grumpily. As I stepped out of my building I realized he might possibly have said something like, "I fell to the ground and the ambulance came and they had to revive me at the end there." Or...."I collapsed from heat exhaustion at the end there." Or...."I accidentally ran into a cyclist and broke his neck at the end there." Or...."You know I live below you and you're a really loud walker and I wish you'd walk more quietly up there." It occurred to me that he might consider me a very evil person now.

It was a crowded day at the park. Not only were the meadows jammed with picnic-ers, the trail was jammed with runners and walkers and cyclists. Occasionally, I had to use quick thinking logic to maneuver through and avoid injury. At one point on the trail, a point where I was running down hill and uncontrollably gaining speed, I came upon two very slow walkers, strolling along on that beautiful afternoon. I couldn't run around them to the right due to the two cyclists approaching me from behind on my right. I edged toward the left curb to pass the dawdlers, and as I approached, at the very last minute, the couple (the girl being closest to the left curb) dawdled to the left, blocking my way. I had no choice. I had to do it.

"On your left." is what I meant to say, loud enough but calmly enough. Due to the downhill-ness and Imogen Heap blaring in my ears, and the fact that I'm in awful shape, what came out was,

"ON YOUR LEFT!!!"

The girl jumped a mile in the air, quickly stepped to the right, stopped, and then cringed her shoulders to her ears, waiting to be trampled flat.

I didn't run her over.

And later, the WALK-slash-run in me satisfied, I waited at the crosswalk to head home. A taxi pulled up, out of which a forty-something man in a suit appeared carrying two duffle bags. Imogen was finished blaring in my ears. This time I heard plainly.

"Wow, it's a gorgeous day!" he said, to my surprise, addressing me.

I attempted a polite chuckle to acknowledge the pretty day. (Apparently, I chuckle when I don't know what to say.) A cyclist sped toward us. I guess the forty-something man knew the cyclist and addressed him by name.

"George, it's so beautiful here!"

The taxi sped away but the forty-something man in the suit stood and looked at me.

"At my place in Southampton it was raining cats and dogs!"

I gave him a sarcastic smile through pursed lips that said, "You don't impress me. Get over yourself," looked away and crossed the street as fast as I could.

Very eventful day in the park.

Oprah's and Eckhart's New Earth

2008-05-04T01:18:00.000-06:00

I thought the last post about Oprah would be the last. I lied unknowingly, but I feel the need for one more post on this subject, and then onto the Catholic Church.

First let me explain what I've decided my response to Oprah should be. I feel it important to think on because already, I've had a Christian woman ask me if I think Eckhart Tolle's book(s) would be beneficial to her life and should she read them. If I remember correctly, Oprah claims her web class membership is in the millions. And furthermore, Oprah has been, to an extent, open about her beliefs to the public, not only open but she tends to share and teach others what she learns. It's our responsibility as Christians to listen, consider, and compare what she shares to what we believe. The problem is, I'm not sure we're very good at listening and considering. What I think we're good at is reacting. Which is very different and usually gets us into trouble.

The non-believing world often sees Christians as close-minded, judgmental, arrogant, dogmatic, and mean-spirited. Some of those accusations we won't ever be able to deny. We are dogmatic. To an extent, we have to be. We do have to exercise judgment and discernment as necessary in defending our faith. But I don't believe we have to be close-minded to do it. I believe we can consider with an open mind the ideas of someone who believes differently. Open-minded doesn't mean foolish. It means being able to listen, consider, understand. We certainly don't have to be arrogant or mean-spirited. When we are presented with views that differ from ours, we don't have to scream and pout and make a fuss. We need to be rational and level-headed. We don't need to be afraid of a differing belief. And we certainly don't need to exclude any person from our lives just because they believe differently than we do.

I don't care one way or another if a Christian watches Oprah or not. It's up to the individual. I like her show. I'll keep watching it.

Oprah calls herself a free-thinking Christian. She believes there are many ways to finding God. To me that sounds as if she believes there are many ways of salvation, and as Christians we believe Christ is the only way of salvation. To say you believe in Christ (to call yourself a Christian) but also believe in multiple ways to God tells me you're confused about what Christianity actually teaches. It tells me you're confused about what the Incarnation and the Son of God's sacrifice actually means. To me, she seems like a powerful woman searching for truth. I sincerely hope she finds it. If I were her, I'd be careful about searching in front of the whole world, and I think one day she might be held accountable for that.... But because she does claim to be a Christian, I can't go any further in discerning what her beliefs are in their totality until we sit down to coffee and talk. Maybe one day. Who knows?

I had actually planned on relaying some of Eckhart Tolle's novel. Why I think his book is not worth reading. Didn't get to it. There might have to be a Part II here.

Chick Flick Alert

2008-05-03T13:54:00.005-06:00

Going to see this movie with my girlfriend in about 10 minutes.

And I bought this double feature at Dwayne Reade for 10 bucks. These 2 movies included:

I bought it BECAUSE it said $7.50 off a viewing of Made of Honor at participating locations, only to discover that my theater is not a participating location.

Oh well. I'm still glad I bought the movies.

I am so watching both of them, and then probably Dirty Dancing and Cinderella Man, before my husband gets home.

Love you, hon! But I need a break from LOTR and the Matrix...and Kill Bill...and Star Wars...and Indiana Jones...

Birthday Fun and More

2008-04-30T00:04:00.005-06:00

Mom and I had a great time in the city. We saw Gypsy with Patti LuPone Saturday night. Wow, what an actress. I love the moments when I'm at the theater and I get a chill up my spine. More like a chill up the neck and behind the ears and then...gone. I wait for that moment. It's when the actor and the music, or the set, or the lights, come together at just the right moment, and this indescribable...thing...happens. What you see is real. Not imaginary, but real. Real life. But better. More powerful. Magic. Patti LuPone made magic on Saturday night.

We had tea at Alice's Teacup. The best scones around. Not me and Patti LuPone. Me and my mom.

We had dinner at Taboon, where my mom couldn't help but tell the waiter it was my birthday, and the waiter couldn't help but put a candle on our chocolate lava cake but to my relief, refrained from singing, and the table next to us couldn't help but start singing anyway, and then the whole restaurant was singing, and then my mom yelled out, "Her name's Amber!"..."Happy BIRthday dear...AMBER!" they all sang, and I couldn't help but bury my face in my hands, and then the old man with shoulder length grey hair came to our table and toasted my youth and my mom for spending it with me, said "his poetry tonight was my youth," (woah - pretty deep stuff there), then he couldn't help but assure me youth doesn't last. Bright smiles. Big toast. Thank you's.

Youth doesn't last.

Thank you for reminding me, dear old man.

I joke about it, but really, is that a necessary reminder?

We shopped at the local thrift stores. I'm telling you, you can score big in these parts.

I got a new pair of running shoes (not at the thrift stores but at the DSW in Union Square) so I no longer have an excuse for not running the park. Ugh. I'm doing it, but I hate running. I'd much rather take a dance class, but wow, it's expensive. My last pair of running shoes lasted me about 8 years. No lie! Obviously, I didn't run in them much.

We killed a roach the size of my big toe - with Pledge and Seth's shoe. The only roach I've EVER seen in this apartment. With Pledge because I didn't have any Raid and it was the quickest solution. It worked! Slowed him down enough for mom to smash him with Seth's shoe while I stood on the couch barefoot. I don't smush roaches. I just can't. I hate that crackling noise when the shoe hits at just the right place.

And my stairwell smells like an animal crawled up the wall somewhere and died. Either that or someone in one of these apartment's is dead and nobody knows it. Creepy. The smell is disgusting. Not in my apartment, thank God, but definitely in the stairwell.

Gross.

Thanks Mom, for a fun-filled (roach and all) birthday weekend. Love you.

29 Years Old

2008-04-27T10:38:00.005-06:00

My birthday's tomorrow.

29 years old.

I think I'd rather turn 30.

29 seems blah.

Very depressing.

My mom's here for my birthday, so I'm a bit distracted from the blogosphere, which is always nice once and a while.

Seth's out of town for my birthday, but I'm TOTALLY fine with that because it actually means I can stay 28 for a few days longer. I don't REALLY turn 29 until I celebrate with him.

I made that rule up.

I like it.

American Idol: Memories

2008-04-23T23:19:00.003-06:00

OK, as a singer and a theater lover, I have strong feelings about this performance. I'm wondering, before I smear my opinions all over the place, what you thought (or think). Both Randy and Simon didn't like it. Paula, of course, did. You all know the song. Barbara Streisand. Cats. Andrew Lloyd Webber. Whether you watched the show on Tuesday night or not, I'd love to know if you like what you hear or not, and why. Then I'll smear my opinion all over the place. While certainly respecting yours. Cool? Here it is.

Positive Post Tuesday - My friend, Audrey

2008-04-22T09:56:00.005-06:00

I have a friend whose name is Audrey. Audrey's 10. Audrey played Chip in the production I was in of Beauty and the Beast in Houston. She's currently singing as a member of the children's chorus in La Boheme at Houston Grand Opera. A professional singer-actress at the age of 10. Wow!

Audrey is my email buddy. She calls it BIFF: Best Internet Friends Forever. She keeps me posted on her life. What's going on at school and what's going on with her "career." She's got boys that won't leave her alone at school, and it really annoys her. I don't blame her or the boys. She's a very pretty girl. And boys get sort of stupid when it comes to pretty girls. But I agree with Audrey. They should leave her alone.

The first time I saw Audrey on stage, she was 7, I think. In Oliver. She was the smallest little tyke up there, but she absolutely glowed. I couldn't stop watching her. She was practically trampled by the other, bigger kids on stage who were dancing like theater-crazed maniacs all around her. But Audrey's smile and the twinkle in her eye were mesmerizing. I knew right then that the stage was where she belonged.

I admire Audrey for that twinkle in her eye. It's there off stage, too. She has the ability to look at every circumstance like it's a gift, and she's just glad she's a part of it. She takes nothing for granted, but delights in the smallest bits of what life offers.

I admire Audrey for her obedience to Christ, and her faith in prayer. When one certain boy wouldn't stop bothering her at school, Audrey (though, of course, very frustrated and annoyed) prayed for him. She said that God would fix him, but that God should fix her first so that she could have the right attitude to pray for him.

Here's what Audrey said after that:

"It is very amazing what miracles God can do. I feel very fortunate to have a great God like I do."

I hope for the faith, love, and fortitude that I see in Audrey. I hope for that ever-so-bright, fear-be-afraid, twinkle in my eye, that unknowingly dares the dead to rise, awakens the worried to a Father's presence, and demands the fearful to face the unknown.

Love ya, girl!

BIFF

Back to Catholicism

2008-04-20T23:48:00.007-06:00

I'm about ready to get back to those Catholic blogs-slash-discussions-slash-questions-slash-readings.

Ya know, the Pope being in town and all.

I thought his visit was extremely positive. I sure like that guy. I admit, I was sad to see him board his plane and leave the United States of America. I even got a little teary eyed. Which I thought strange, but nevertheless, true. I don't know why I got teary eyed. Maybe hormones? Or maybe it was the look on his face and the way he smiled at people. He seems so stone cold until he smiles and then there's such a light and joy and gentleness and humility.

Pope Benedict had a little something to say about illusion. I thought it relevant to our recent discussion and my recent thoughts. Here it is in his address to the U.S. Bishops:

"For an affluent society, a further obstacle to an encounter with the living God lies in the subtle influence of materialism, which can all too easily focus the attention on the hundredfold, which God promises now in this time, at the expense of the eternal life which he promises in the age to come (cf. Mk 10:30). People today need to be reminded of the ultimate purpose of their lives. They need to recognize that implanted within them is a deep thirst for God. They need to be given opportunities to drink from the wells of his infinite love. It is easy to be entranced by the almost unlimited possibilities that science and technology place before us; it is easy to make the mistake of thinking we can obtain by our own efforts the fulfillment of our deepest needs. This is an illusion. Without God, who alone bestows upon us what we by ourselves cannot attain (cf. Spe Salvi, 31), our lives are ultimately empty. People need to be constantly reminded to cultivate a relationship with him who came that we might have life in abundance (cf. Jn 10:10). The goal of all our pastoral and catechetical work, the object of our preaching, and the focus of our sacramental ministry should be to help people establish and nurture that living relationship with “Christ Jesus, our hope” (1 Tim 1:1)."

Read the entire speech here.

Read about his 6 day visit here.

If you're interested in past Catholic discussions on this blog, go here first. Then here. Then here. Then here. And lastly, here, which is ironic because the title of that one is "Beginnings." Ahhhh well. All in good time.

Question

2008-04-18T01:17:00.003-06:00

Is success an illusion?

(I'm really asking.)

I said in an earlier post that success was an illusion. I'm not sure that's right.

Do you think success is an illusion?

Letter to the Man One Floor Higher

2008-04-17T01:18:00.001-06:00

Dear Man Who Lives Above Us,

How do you do? My name's FancyPants. How are you liking your place up there? Too bad you don't have a deck like us. But I bet your place is great. We love ours.

I hope you're not bothered by our late night movie watching habit. We're night owls, you see. We're trying to be careful and keep the volume down. It's the least we can do. Don't you agree?

If I could make a request, Man Who Lives Above Us. We have a vent in our bathroom that leads to outside. I'm sure it's some city rule or something. But you see, somehow, because of that vent, I can hear you when you're in your bathroom. I hear when you turn your shower on. I hear when you flush your toilet. I hear when you yell at your wife or friend or partner or whoever. But most disturbing to me,

I hear you fart. And it really grosses me out.

So do you think you could fart a little quieter? I mean, it's the least you could do. Don't you agree?

Thank you, Man Who Lives Above Us, for understanding. Best of luck in this crazy city we call home.

Sincerely,

FancyPants

Behind the Black and White Dress

2008-04-15T09:40:00.007-06:00

If I were to be completely honest with you, I would tell you how, when I was at that fancy shmancy party on Saturday night, I hated walking around by myself. That I felt ridiculous and out of place. That I kept noting how my dress seemed a little tighter, and kept wondering if my purse was too big. It didn't match my outfit.

How I wanted to be the one on that stage, and how when I watched Kristen, a looming sense of doom crept deeper and deeper within my spirit. Thoughts like, I'll never get there. I'm not that good. Am I that good? How did she get there?

I might seem really bad to you, if I tell you all of this. But then again, to some Christians, I was already really bad because, every once and a while, I enjoy a good martini.

And then, some of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Some of you know what it's like to walk amongst pictures of what you're not, and have *something* tell you that you don't have it and won't get it. Something tell you, lie to you, that it will make you happy. Lies of comparison and envy.

So maybe by me saying all of this we can help each other realize that comparison bites and should be thrown straight to hell. That success is an illusion, that money doesn't make us happy.

Some people believe that pursuing a dream is selfish, self-fulfilling, self-pleasing, especially if this dream is found *in* the world. When in fact, that pursuit requires perpetual self denial, diligent cross bearing, insistent battle with temptation. Specific temptation tailored just perfectly for the targeted soul, exposed and vulnerable. Things are not always what they seem.

P.S. To my good friend, Kathy, if you're reading, please don't stop inviting me when you get to do Kristen's hair. These thoughts in this post are merely one side of the coin. I am honored I was your guest and next time, I'm making myself talk to Aaron Sorkin.

Schmooze City

2008-04-13T10:20:00.008-06:00

Well, fancied friends, I have once and for all been introduced to High Class USA. A night of shmooze is what I attended last night. All for a good cause, mind you. But shmooze, none the less.

My friend invited me as a guest to a benefit for ACD research: a cocktail party with hor d’oeuvers and specialty drinks, a silent and live auction, after party lounge with champagne and desert, and drum roll please, a concert by Kristen Chenoweth. You can imagine my glee when my friend texted me and asked me to attend. Kristen Chenoweth?!?! Oh boy. My friend (who does my hair) was doing Kristen's hair for the event. So I texted back Yes! and she said they'd email me an invitation.

I never received an email invitation, so yesterday I called my friend to get the details and to tell her I didn't receive the invitation. She said they'd send it, but she didn't really believe that they would. Lo and behold, at around 4 PM, I checked my email and what did I find? An invitation attached to an email which read,

Our apologies Amber. We thought you had this information..

You are confirmed for 1 seat for the show. The attached document will give you any information you need. Otherise, please email....

Thanks! We look forward to seeing you tonight!

...Well! Thank you! I graciously accept your apology! I look forward to seeing you tonight, whoever you might be.

And then I realized. I don't really know what ACD is, and if I'm attending a benefit for ACD research I better know what it is, right? So I googled, "What is ACD?" , and here's what I found:

"ACD stands for Automatic Call Distribution. It is a service that enables a call to be placed on hold until an employee is available to take the call."

Surely not. Surely I'm not attending a benefit for telephone technology? So I looked again and found this:

"What is a CD? We are all familiar with a CD, but what exactly is it?"

Hmmm. Not very helpful.

The invitation also said "Broadway concert cocktail attire a must." Ohhhh-kaaaay. Broadway cocktail? What the heck does that mean? I asked my friend, and she didn't know either. I searched my closet and found a black and white dress, or I could go with a red dress.... Geesh. Which one should it be? Seth finally said the red dress might look like I was trying real hard to draw attention to myself, so I went with the black and white dress. It was an excellent choice. I would have looked like the last burning flame amongst the ashes in that red dress. Thank God I didn't wear it.

My friend had to be at the benefit hours early to get Kristin ready, so I arrived alone. In fact, I spent a good bit of the evening alone surrounded by very shmoozy people. I didn't know what to do, except just walk around or stand at the bar. Once I perused the silent auction table and pretended like I had a lot of money. That was fun.... Once I sat next to a woman who looked nice and started talking to her. She was a doctor, and then I found out what ACD was. It's a respiratory disease that babies are born with. Their lungs don't operate properly, and they usually die within 2 months from suffocating.

OK, so not a telephone technology benefit. That was confirmed.

These people were at the party.

Actor Bradley Whitford
Writer/Producer Aaron Sorkin
I didn't talk to those guys.

Actor NiCole Robinson
I talked to her but I think I called her Amy. Dang it.

And finally, the lovely, Kristin Chenoweth.

Who is the epitome of effervescent joy on stage, and wow, what a singer.

I took a picture with Kristen and got her autograph. I told her she was lovely. She told me I looked lovely. I told her the story of how I met some of her relatives on a plane ride to Tulsa, OK. She said she had lots of relatives and had no idea who I was talking about.

I think we could be great friends.

Thank you, Kathy, for a wonderful night!