For Mark Before He Goes To College

Some life revelations I stole from a friend to make Monday morning brighter.

I wish Google Maps had an "avoid ghetto" routing option.

More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that's not only better, but also more directly involves me.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

I don't understand the purpose of the line, "I don't need to drink to have fun." Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and sticks when they've invented the lighter? (Everything in moderation. Emphasis on 'mostly' and 'moderation'... not 'everything).

Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again.

Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.

There is a great need for sarcasm font.

Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the hell was going on when I first saw it.

I think everyone has a movie that they love so much; it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really, really gets it.

How on earth are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take two trips to bring my groceries in.

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

Was learning cursive really necessary?

LOL has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.

My cousin's Municipal League baseball team is named the Stepdads. Seeing as none of the guys on the team are actual stepdads, I inquired about the name. He explained, "Cuz we beat you, and you hate us." Classy, bro.

Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear what they said?

I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, friends!

While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it....thanks Mario Kart.

MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Bad decisions make good stories.

Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.

Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like, I know my name, I know where I'm from; this shouldn't be a problem....

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't want to have to restart my collection.

There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

"Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.

I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren't watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'

While watching the Olympics, I find myself cheering equally for China and USA . No, I am not of Chinese descent, but I am fairly certain that when Chinese athletes don't win, they are executed.

I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Darnit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

When I meet a new guy, I'm terrified of mentioning something he hasn't already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet anything everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time...

The 4-year old I babysit asked me the other day "What would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that?

It really angers me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

I wonder if cops ever get ticked off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimate d that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There's nothing like being made to feel fat before dinner.

Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles...

As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch three consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn't know what do to with it.

What Makes You Think I'd Lose My Mind For You?

"I'm no sociopath, I'm no Sylvia Plath I ain't no Francis Farmer, I don't fight for you
...
Didn't I see this movie, where the doctor looks like you?
Where the patient for impatient and said, "Sorry, doc, I'm through?"
I know where this is going, and I know what you're about.
Cause I have seen this movie and I walked out
I walked out
I'm walking..."

Next to Normal is my new musical obsession. In The Heights is up there, but I think while it's composition is unique, Next to Normal's is more complex. I haven't started REALLY listening to [Title of Show] yet. But that'll be coming by October when I tire of varying these two.

So right now theatre life includes a lot of Billy Shakes. I'm stage managing Hamlet and I'm assistant directing Love's Labour's Lost as well as playing Jaquenetta and u/s Katherine. That one is in the park which is great. I love being outside. I think this will quickly become an addicting kind of performing.

I actually went to see Shakespeare in the Park in Johnstown this weekend past. It was different from how we're doing it in Pittsburgh but good all the same. Too short of a trip, I didn't get to see all of the gang while I was out there. But! I figure I'll be back up to move Mark in soon so I'll see all of you cool theatre kats at the end of the month. Watched a good friend's final Johnstown performance (at least until next summer) and that was satisfying. Also got to eat Dollar General cookies and free ice cream sandwiches with Amanda (the ever patient dance instructor of my early UPJ years).

Seeing History Boys on Saturday at the Pittsburgh Irish and Classical Theatre.

I quoted Hamlet yesterday without realizing it "Brevet is the soul of wit." I thought I was just quoting the play WIT written by Margaret Edson but SHE was quoting Hamlet.

Accidental intelligence or stupidity for not realizing that I did it? You decide. I'm going to make a light and sound cue outline for Hamlet!

"It is a nipping and an eager air."

"If All My Ideas Were In Your Head, It Would Probably Explode"

That's what I was told by an eight year old I taught last week. Thank you, Quinton. You are forever immortalized on my blog. Congratulations.

I've been getting migraines lately. It's not very pleasant. Hum.

Hung out with Scotty for the first time in years. That was good. We're going to do that more often. Weird how he's found religion and he's better at it than I am now. I remember fighting him about Atheism, even this time a year ago. Best that he has no qualms with cutting me off when I start focusing on something that's dead and gone. That's why we're bffs 4+evah.

I also ran into a chair yesterday. Yes, folks. That's my fascinating life update. I ran into a chair. It was pretty spectacular.

I woke up in the middle of the night and this prompted me to get a glass of water. I stepped into the too bright kitchen to get ice, blinded by the white light. My feet were warm against the forever frozen tiles. Hopping back across the carpet (hoping to warm my feet), I made it into my room and shut the door. That was a mistake. Now I couldn't see anything. I figured that if I walked quickly forward I could sit down on my bed, place my glass on the nightstand, and go to sleep without having to turn on any unnecessary and pesky bright lights. I only got as far as walking quickly forward. I ran into my desk chair (the back of it pushing into my stomach) as I watched my glass of water fly poetically through the air and land not so poetically onto my bed. Not only did I have decide to sleep on the floor with just a blanket which somehow managed to stay dry (yeah, there was no way I was changing my bedsheets at three am) but I also had the wind knocked out of me. The cool and gross part of this experience is the bruise the size of Texas forming on my left thigh.

I don't think I'll be up for a glass of water in the middle of the night anytime soon.

I'm being choked by memories of things that have obviously long since passed. I've decided I will spend the next six to ten months working really hard on not letting that happen anymore. The only difficult part is what that means in terms of friendships... I have no idea where the lines are, what the rules are. Past romantic relationships are a lot easier to determine that stuff. Friendships? Yeeesh. I think that if I can just accept there are different levels of people's involvment in and out of my life and that those levels are bound to shift (and they do... constantly) that I'll be a lot better off.

I'm trying to stretch my own skin into something I feel comfortable with. And avoid exploding heads. One of which I'm succeeding with this week.

Except Valium. In Wee Fistfulls.

About once a month my family goes to visit an elderly couple from our parish. They invite us over to eat. We keep them company. They like company. We like food. It’s a great thing.

After dinner last week we were there and as always, the church gossip flew. This story was particularly wonderful because, while it sounds like it belongs in some email forward that you’ve read a hundred times: it’s not. And it’s true. Because, little old church ladies don’t lie very often.

There is an older woman (well, in her sixties) who is almost cartoon-like. We’ll call her Deborah Donegal, because I don’t know anyone named Deborah or Donegal. She wears ridiculously loud outfits full of bright colors and patterns and she is incredibly loud. She talks with her hands. And loves Jesus, of course.

About a year ago, Deborah started dating a gentleman who lived in the Hamptons on Long Island. She loved her ridiculously boyfriend very much. Her boyfriend had a wife. They lived in a mansion, this husband and wife. He lived on one side, she lived on the other, and the house staff (maids, cooks, butlers, etc) lived in the middle. I think he owned a large portion of an impressive company. Or maybe he was just a dot com millionaire who hit the bubble (I don’t really know what that means, but I know it’s something to do with money).

One day, Deborah received a phone call from Married Boyfriend. He said to her,

“Deborah. Are you going to be home tomorrow?”

She said she would be.

“Good,” he said. “I have a package being delivered to your house. You wait there to get it.”

At this point in the story, I was sure I was going to hear that a hit man showed up to old Debbie’s house and there was a heroic adventure chase in which the sixty year old retired secretary beat out the twenty-five year old killer. In reality, a flatbed truck pulled into her driveway with a brand spankin’ new specialty Jaguar car (don’t ask me what kind – I don’t know) with 29 miles on it. Married boyfriends are not exactly where I see things, morally but geeze. She got a good one, didn’t she?

So that’s absurd and insane but it didn’t end there. This went on for months. Month or two later the phone rings again:

“Deborah. Are you going to be home tomorrow?”

When she asked him why, he answered,

“I have a package being delivered to your house. You wait there to get it.”
So this time, it has to be the hit man, right? The wife of the guy made him say this into the phone with something lethal pointed at him, she’s sending a highly trained killer out to kill the woman her husband is having an affair with. Yeah?

No. Even better.

The next day, Deborah receives an overnight Fed-Ex package. Inside, wrapped in plain brown butcher paper is a thousand dollars. Cash.

At this point I interrupt the story… Are you kidding me? This can’t be for real. Little old church couple assures me that Deborah took the Jag out last week while it was nice out. She used to drive it about three times a year. Always in the summer. Always when it’s not raining. She’s going to sell it soon. A dealer about 20 miles away is offering to pay cash for it.

Deborah’s married boyfriend died about a year later, during the month of September. Sad. Something slow and painfully expected.

Christmas time that year, Deborah received another package. It had a giant red Christmas bow on it, very fancily wrapped and sent overnight via Fed-Ex. Inside the package was a solemn looking jar and a note. From the boyfriend’s wife.

“You wanted him so bad, you B----? You can have him.”

His ashes were inside the urn.

P.S. I just received an eight month full time contract to be an actress in an educational school touring theatre company. Things are looking up!

She Said That's Not The Color I Wanted I Said Blue

William Carlos Williams, This Is Just To Say

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

savingfor breakfast.

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold.

I'm pretty sure this poem inspired the following postcard in the first Post Secret book:

In any event... It's all in good fun and makes me want to eat more fruit that is sweet and cold.

"What is history? An echo of the past in the future; a reflex from the future on the past”

 

I'm already kind of frazzled and burnt out for the summer. I think working the Children's Festival on top of being in a play is what has killed me. Hopefully a three day weekend will help me reset. I'm on two wait-lists for graduate school (one officially informed me, the other I'm just assuming since they haven't sent me a rejection notice yet). I had phone interviews for a theatre in Michigan and in Philadelphia. The one in Philadelphia asked me to go speak to them in person so I'm off to do that in about a week and a half!

Sometimes I wonder if it's a mistake to try and make a career out of something that I love so much. Will it be just 'work' if I do that? I'm burnt out now, what will it be like when I'm doing it 'for real', so to speak?

***

And then I wonder if I'm turning into the very things I hate. Sitting at a cubical, pushing paper and numbers around in circles. I may be good at this stuff but I don't particularly care for it.

***

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Never let it fade away

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Save it for a rainy day

For love may come and tap you on the shoulder some starless night

Just in case you feel you want to hold her

You'll have a pocketful of starlight

(Pocketful of starlight, hm,hm,hm,hm,hm,hm)

That's been stuck in my head. I finished LOST (well, up to the latest season) and a character sings it a little. If you've never watched the show - it's something interesting and addicting, certainly. LOST was also a mode of spending time with a friend I thought I, erm, lost.

"She gave me an ultimatum earlier that day...or at least strongly hinted to one. Be friends with you or chance losing her. Obvious what I chose... So I killed a friendship with someone...to be betrayed in the end, by the person who deemed it necessary...We always wind up with each other. Maybe not romantically, maybe not solidly...but we've both made some pretty wild detours...and here we remain."

I need more friends like this. More emails from people just saying 'let's just fix it and be friends, because it's worth it'.

I need people. Not any one person specifically (multitudes of specific people, actually)... just the ones I've asked to share a bit of my life with. I feel like (a lot of times) I lost -- there's that word again -- the good ones because I was too busy trying to figure out who I was. Am.

I still don't have the answer to that one.

And as much as I wish success, love, and happiness: When they find it, I worry: "What about me?" The answer, quite clearly is "What about you." (and not in the pitying questioning way. More like a statement). I'm letting them go because they have better things to do than stick around here. They've stuck around long enough, anyway.

I'm happy for you. I believe in you.

Just like always.

***

I'm in a strange mood. I was up in the middle of the night to talk to someone I don't see enough. I fell asleep talking to the one person whose emails I save for too long. And I haven't heard from the few folks I used to share meals with daily.

It's weird.

***

For when your troubles startn’ multiplying,
And they just might!
It’s easy to forget them without trying,
With just a pocketful of starlight

Catch a falling star and ( Catch a falling and . . .) put it in your pocket,
Never let it fade away ( Never let it fade away)
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,
Save it for a rainy day.

( Save it for rainy day ) Save it for a rainy day

Perry Como sang this song, which has rounded out the strangeness of my day nicely. This will probably be one of those posts I'll hope to set to 'private' in a month or six.

The Purple Panda

I have a lot of creepy connections to the TV show Mister Rogers’Neighborhood. Before I ever moved to the Pittsburgh area, I watched this show all the time as a child. I think I enjoyed King Friday XIII but I don’t remember for sure. King Friday’s favorite color is purple. That seems irrelevant right now but it isn’t. Trust me.

Years later, when we moved to Pittsburgh, I realized that we were there in his hometown! Thrilling! The Pittsburgh Children’s Museum holds the actual Neighborhood of Make-Believe from the show and I saw it in 2001 when my cousin Michael came to visit (he was really little). I thought it was kind of cool, but being 14 didn’t admit it.

On my sixteenth birthday I came downstairs for breakfast and turned on the news (I frequently watched the news in hopes that a giant snow storm would cancel school for the day. And if that didn’t happen, I at least knew the weather and could dress appropriately… though at my school the temperature changed depending on what part of the building you were in). Mere seconds before I turned on the television, I thought to myself "I wonder if anything cool is happening in the news today, since it's my birthday..."

In a moment which was very Charlie Brown-esque, a solemn reporter announced "And today is a sad day for the city of Pittsburgh and many children across North America. Mister Roger's passed away last night due to..." Oh the irony.

Four and a half years later I gained summer employment working at a nursing home. This was the worst job I have ever ever had in my entire life and I have taken a vow never to do it again. Though many interesting, hilarious, and awful professional experiences happened there, one of many particularly interesting blips on my job radar that summer was Mrs. Aber. I don't remember her first name, only that she was a hypochondriac and a member of the PC unit (standing for "Politely Confused"... the "Garden Level" floor AKA the basement where they threw one staff member, fourteen severe Alzheimer's/dementia patients, and five exit doors). Her son, however, was incredibly nice and charming. He even brought the entire unit flags for the Fourth of July.

I later found out from a supervisor that he was Neighbor Abor. Yes! That's Right! As Associate Mayor of Westwood he assists Mayor Maggie and is a kind neighbor to everyone in Make-Believe. As a good friend in the real Neighborhood, he shares his many interests with Mister Rogers and his television friends. He is also the voice for H.J. Elephant III. Again Mister Roger's crosses my path and (this time) thankfully disappears for the time being.

Hold on very tight now, folks.

For the life of me I can't remember this part of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood story but the intrawebs confirms it's existence. This isn't made up. In fact, some people asked on their blogs what special mixture of crack Fred Rogers' was on when he introduced this concept to the show.
On Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, Planet Purple is a planet on which everything is purple, and everyone and everything is the same. Every girl on Planet Purple is named "Pauline," every boy, "Paul." Purple Panda (played by David L. Nohling), a resident of Planet Purple, can return there "the purple way" (just by thinking). Moreover, all of the planet's inhabitants speak in monotone English.

In his book If We Were All the Same, Fred Rogers details attempts by the residents of Planet Purple, tired of all being the same, to become more colorful.

Planet Purple was discovered by Lady Elaine Fairchilde. Who is she? She’s the outspoken, cranky schemer who took over the Museum-Go-Round after the Froggs moved; often known to say "Okay, toots."

I love that she says "okay, toots."

She is generally the antagonist when a storyline calls for one, but her neighbors are quick to forgive her because they understand her so well. It is discerned during the series that she has low self-esteem and is extremely self-conscious, and because of this, her neighbors are extremely patient with her until she finally learns her lesson. Despite her own faults, she consistently shows King Friday when he is wrong about something and frequently goes to extremes (such as physically moving her museum or modifying a comet) to do so.

Who cares?

I certainly didn't until about twenty four hours ago. For the second year in a row, I'm a summer intern at the Pittsburgh International Children's theatre for the second year, and this time I get to help out with the Children's Festival (which, is going to be great. It's next week and you should come... I'm VERY excited about it). One of the shows is a live and interactive presentation of Mister Roger's Neighborhood. Mr. McFeely and his speed deliveries are the star now that Fred has passed away. Apparently on a professional level, while he's very nice, Mr. Mr. McFeely is also very unorganized.

While making final arrangements with my supervisor, I could hear her on the phone saying,

"The Purple Panda? Oh! Yes, yes, I will. I will. Yes. The Purple Panda. Got it."

She hung up the phone and let out a stream of air she was holding in, perhaps to avoid exclaiming a 'bad' word. One of my co-workers laughingly asked:

"What are you talking about over there, pandas and purple and what?"

My supervisor came out from her cubical... When this happens, it means someone is in trouble, someone is getting more work to do, or someone is about to hear a story. This was a story.

"Do any of you remember the Purple Panda?"

No and what the hell are you talking about!? I couldn't say that so I joined my fellow interns in staring at her, dumbfounded.

"Well it's this character from Mr. Rogers and the guy who originally was the Purple Panda lives in Seattle so I told Mr. Mr. McFeely that there was no way that were were flying him out for two shows. Mr. McFeely agreed that wouldn't be necessary. I thought that we had agreed he would find someone local to play the Purple Panda but apparently that has become my responsibility four days before the festival starts."

Walking back to her office she asked in sarcastic hope which one of us wanted to dress up like the Purple Panda. "Don't all jump at once!"

You all know where this is headed, friends.

As I went to throw out the ticket sales information for the day, I practically ran her over. "This could be your big break," she said with a smile, "the last four years of your life worked to this moment." The whole office was making fun of it, yes. It's ridiculous... yes. And this lady wrote me countless letters of recommendations for graduate school. Yes. I said yes. "I'll do it."
"You will? Are you serious?" She laughed as much in relief as in jest of my new title. Purple Panda the Festival Intern. I should have business cards printed.

As she called to tell Mr. McFeely she had found him a Purple Panda she said "As much as we're knocking it, this really is a good chance for you. When you get him to focus, Mr. McFeely knows a lot of people."

Mister Rogers ended every program telling children... "You've made this day a special day by just your being you. There's no person in the whole world like you. And I like you just the way you are."

Who's playing Mister Roger's Purple Panda for a week? This kid. Right here. Mister Roger's is haunting my life.

"I Think There's Just One Kind of Folks. Folks."

After spending one year with people...

- You recognize their laugh in a crowded room, or across campus.

- You know what will make them angry.

- You learn how to hold a conversation with them.

- You watch them succeed at a task that first seemed overwhelming.

- You understand their sense of humor.

- You can call them to ask for directions when you get lost driving.

- You hear their best stories.

- You let them cry alone so they can have some 'space'.

- You discuss romance.

- You listen to their secrets.

- You see their dreams ahead of them.

- You recognize sparks of talent.

After spending two years with people...

- You know their favorite color.

- You see who they are falling for (you don't have to ask anymore)

- You fight with them over trivial things... And laugh about it not an hour later.

- You call them late at night for all sorts of things (adventures, tears, catching up).

- You travel.

- You share stories together about "that one night last year when..."

- You gossip.

- You fall into step with each other.

- You broaden your friendships by introducing other people from other places.

- You pull silly stunts.

- You ice skate.

- You get organized.

After spending three years with people...

- You recognize their knock on your door.

- You see a flaw or two.

- You know when they are lying.

- You remember the names of their siblings.

- You can dial their phone number from memory.

- You swap clothing.

- You share similar tastes in music.

- You are a part of the same organizations.

- You offer/receive unsolicited advice.

- You have conversations about the details, the broad things have been covered before.

- You remind each other about the essay due next week.

- You grow up a little.

After spending four years with people...

- You can tell what mood they are in based on the way they answer the phone.

- You forget to mention things that are important to each other.

- You laugh at things from three years ago.

- You speak in future and past tense almost interchangeably.

- You disappoint them and break their heart.

- You pretend to place less value on their opinion.

- You dance around the issue to avoid an argument.

- You have matching t-shirts.

- You know why they are wearing their favorite outfit.

- You sing together.

- You read their body language accurately.

- You grow apart a little.

- You see what that spark has turned into. And you're happy for the transformation.

I'm a college graduate. That's weird to say.

Coming up next: A summer of theatre. Followed by [ERROR_PATH_NOT_FOUND: Invalid Entry] in the fall.

Just Hold On

“Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”

It'll get better.

And Why Do You Sing Hallelujah If It Means Nothing To You?

A lot can change in a month. Heck, a lot can change in a day.

Golgonooza has passed for the last time. My cast was incredibly successful. Their transformation was impressive to say the VERY least.

I've been rejected by VCU (though the visit was incredible) and was given the suggestion "that (I) need to take a few years to get (my) feet wet in the real world before coming into (their) graduate program. (They) would suggest that (I) work in a non-academic theatre environment for a while..." I'm waiting on two more but since I haven't heard back from them at all yet, I'm thinking they're just waiting to send out rejection letters until those offered spots say they accept. I knew going into this it may take as long as three years before I am accepted. I have no choice but to wait. So... I'm waiting.

People will talk. They'll have their opinions, their "I told you so"s and "I knew it all along"s. I can still hear the echo of a person five kisses back saying: "You are talentless." Ten schools agree.
I may be talentless but I'm also determined... and perhaps foolish enough to continue persuing things that bring me incredible joy.

Keep your head down, your chin up, your nose clean. What have you.

I don't know where I'm going now. This was my plan of action for next year and I have no back up (which is a mistake - obviously). I keep asking (without reply)...

"What am I supposed to do?"

Hate To Break It To Ya, But The Ocean Is Not Going To Take Your Gold Card.

I was really fed-up by the day after my birthday and started one of those "10 Things About 10 People" posts. You know, you write about people and don't say what their name is so that they can have fun going crazy trying to figure out which comments are about them. I ended up only getting to person five before I quit. But each person had one to three paragraphs. I saved it as a draft and haven't looked at it until today. Some of the stuff I said, though really honest... would not be taken kindly. I'm only around for two more months and while that was therapeutic: why start problems.

I like to think I'm some kind of tough and confrontational "I don't care" attitude person. I'm really so afraid of conflict I will do almost anything to avoid it.

I'm going to NYC to see whatever is on sale at TKTS and In The Heights (which, if you haven't heard the cast recording... you need to go listen to it quickly) tomorrow and Wednesday. We're staying at some IPod hotel with bunk beds... which is incredibly cool.

Graduate school responses are as follows:

1 interview3 no answer yet4 "you suck"2 "we'll take you but we're not an accredited institution"

So that's cool. In the way that the word 'cool' is dripping with sarcasm. Although an interview is grand... I mean hey, I only need one place to say "yes!" and where I'm interviewing they take (get this!) HALF of everyone they talk to. I just have to use my charm and good looks to get in (again with the sarcasm! BAM!). I will stay confident for the interview but past that... well, I'll be done so my confidence can deflate and I can just sit and allow total strangers decide my entire future. I can't tell you how much fun that is.

Good new is I have an internship at the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust again AND I get to be a teacher at Saltworks! At least my summer is planned! :-) I can't have more fun than working two theatre jobs. Knowing me, I'll try to do a show and throw some waitress-ing in as well.

“This is a test. This station is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is only a test…If this had been an actual emergency, you would have been instructed where to tune in your area for news and official information. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program"

And It's "When You Wish Upon A Star!" Not "When You Wish Upon A Planet" or "Saturn"!

I'm playing Marcie in Almost, Maine in the scene "Where It Went". I'm also running lights behind the scenes at Dancing At Lughnasa. Let me know when you can make it! :-)

For the fourth time in 20 years the Pitt-Johnstown Theatre Department is performing double repertory theatre. From February 19 to March 1 (Thursdays through Sundays), two theatre productions will play in alternation at the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center’s studio theatre, for a total of eight performances.

This season’s repertory consists of Brian Friel’s Irish play, Dancing at Lughnasa and John Cariani’s Almost, Maine.

In Dancing at Lughnasa, five unmarried sisters labor to hold their family together in 1936 Ireland. Their struggles are complicated by the arrival of their older brother, a retired priest from Uganda, and blessed by the presence of a small child. The play made its New York debut in 1991.

Cariani’s Almost, Maine is new, having opened in New York in 2006. The comedy features a cast of 19 and depicts nine simultaneous happenings on a late snowy evening in the tiny town of Almost, Maine. Frosty weather notwithstanding, the play is a warmhearted valentine, each encounter punctuated with the magical northern sky illuminated by the aurora borealis.

Performances of Dancing at Lughnasa are at 8 p.m., February 19, 21, and 27, and March 1. Almost, Maine plays February 20, 26, and 28 at 8 p.m., with a 2 p.m. matinee on February 22.

Tickets are $15 and can be purchased by calling the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center at 1-800-846-2787 or 814-269-7200 from 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Mondays through Fridays. The box office is open for in-person sales from 9:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Monday through Friday.

Discounted tickets of $13 are available to senior citizens (over 62 years of age) and members of the Pitt-Johnstown Alumni Association. Tickets for students and children are $10. Additional information is available on line at: upjarts.com.

Chicago

Chicago. The book The Jungle says: "In the twilight, it was a vision of power."

I have on audition done and about five to go. I had my first ever 25 hour day on Saturday (because Chicago is an hour behind Pennsylvania) and that was fascinating. Last night I snuck down to the third floor of the hotel and found a room unlocked that was similar to today's audition rooms. So I practiced for about an hour before doing some girly stuff (my nails, bubble bath) and getting some shuteye.

There's a really pretty church about two blocks away and since I had a great first audition, I figured it would be best to say a quick thank you in mass.

The superbowl is tonight but to be honest I don't know how much of it I'll watch. Double auditions tomorrow means I need some more zzzs.

You'd think I would be nervous, but so far it's just been really exciting. Keep those fingers crossed!

I Once Was Lost, But Now Am Found

Wednesday

8:54 a.m. Six minutes until I’m expected at work, and I haven’t left my dorm room to make the frozen trek across campus. I want to look somewhat decent for the first meeting of the campus choir, because I’m the president. That sounds like bragging. I'm not, it isn’t that big of a deal really. I sing, do paperwork when the school needs it, and make sure we get our required service project in for the semester. Ironing my shirt took longer than I thought, and I had to do something with my hair that ends with burning the nerves off of my finger tips as I juggle hot rollers. It’s grown too long to let it air-dry curly. When I do that it looks stringy. I spin around and use my bare feet to dig through the piles of clothing on the floor. Trying to find my other shoe is like trying to find a miniskirt in Vatican City. Sure, it’s probably there someplace but you’re going to have to work really hard to find it.

8:56 a.m. I let the apartment door shut behind me as I tuck my hair behind my ear. For goodness sake, I forgot to put on earrings. Because I’m wearing purple, I can sport my birthstone jewelry (amethyst) that I’ve been receiving since I was five. I have two pairs of purple earrings. The first set is just the stones set rather plainly. The second set, though, they’re my favorite. They have a tiny (like, pinprick tiny) diamond set above a little teardrop cut of amethyst. I have a matching necklace and bracelet, too. Probably the nicest thing I own (since my laptop is slowly but surely dying and I don’t have a car).

Jamming my key into the lock, I tell myself that I try too hard to make a good impression. It just pushes people away. Then I think, “Well, I might as well look nice while I do it,” and throw open the door.

I only wear that set when I want to feel extra pretty, so I reach for my earring container and pluck out the favorite set. Placing the container on my desk, next to the pile of papers I have to sort through and the text book I didn’t read, I drop one of the earrings. You know, Murphy’s Law has yet to fail me.

8:57 a.m. Scrambling on the floor has not helped me find this earring. It isn’t under my laundry bag, didn’t fall into a desk drawer that was half open, and certainly isn’t under that DVD I have meant to return to Blockbuster two weeks ago.

A reflex my mother instilled in me when I was five years old kicks in as I say aloud in a sing-song voice, “Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony, Please look around. Something’s been lost and must be found.” As a child, I watched my mother say that and not two minutes after, she would find a missing piece of paper she needed, the dog who slipped into the laundry room when she wasn’t looking, my brother’s clip on tie, etc. From somewhere in the house I would hear a triumphant cry of “I found it! Thanks Saint Anthony!”

I’m late, forget it. I’ll keep looking later today. Thanks a lot, Antonio. Now I’m really late. I throw in the not as favorable yet still acceptable earrings and half run across the ice.

9:05 a.m. The phone rings at work. It’s my boss.

“Arts Center.”

“Late again, today?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, I…”

“Early is on time. On time is late. Get your ass to work on time!”

“Yes…”

*click*

“…sir.”

Friggin earrings.

9:34 p.m. I still can’t find the missing one. I vow to clean this weekend, not mention to my poor grandparents I lost their favorite gift to me, and swear it has to turn up eventually. I mean, it’s an earring, it can’t go far. Right? Right. I hope.

Thursday

9:52 a.m. Crap! I forgot to look for the earring this morning. Well, there’s always tonight.

2:34 p.m. I grab the yellow ‘sign-in’ sheet and write my name as a tutor for writing. Basically, I get paid to sit and do homework, since it’s a rarity that someone comes into the Academic SUPPORT (they are calling it ‘Success’ this year, and after three years of hearing ‘support’, I think ‘success’ sounds like a cheesy way to make struggling students feel better about themselves) Center to ask for help on their papers. The other tutors and I discuss the lovely -26 wind chill factor and how it’s supposed to go up to a balmy 0 later tomorrow.

3:47 p.m. Another half of an hour and I can go home. I’m sick of reading Dante’s Inferno, I can’t concentrate. More idle chatter ensues until one of the work study students who sits at the front desk approaches our table.

“Did anyone lose an earring in here yesterday?”

Everyone shakes their heads. “I don’t think so,” says Megan in that slow way one talks when trying to think back on the events that happened the day before.

“Are you sure? We think one of the tutors lost it. It’s purple…”

“YOU were wearing a purple earring, Mich!”

Yes. Yes I was. But I had both of those when I came home. It’s the pretty one that I was missing, and I lost that four hours before I came in to tutor. "I’ll take a look, but I don’t think it’s mine."

Front Desk Girl opens a drawer and pulls out an earring with a tiny (like, pinprick tiny) diamond set above a little teardrop cut of amethyst. Thanks Saint Anthony.

New Year, Same Goals.

2009 started with House, tears, and resolutions.

The first is to get into graduate school. Followed by cutting my calorie intake down to 1400-1800 a day, working out five to six days a week, and drinking about a liter of water a day. Next is to not pursue any sort of romantic involvement between now and July. Not kidding, here. I've about given up on matters of the heart for now, the best thing I had ever seen ended up biting my in the backside. Last is to not get so stressed out/take things so seriously.

I'm not doing really well on the first and last ones. Graduate school stuff is due in the next three days and I'm so overwhelmed I had to step away for a sec. To write about how overwhelmed I am. Which is stupid, but there you have it. I'm trying to breathe but this is just... I get to the point where I shut down and say 'screw it' to everything. And I know that's bad, I'm not giving up, I know how close I am but I just put a ton of pressure on myself and I freak out and feel like I'm going to scream/cry/throw up and then I start writing run-on sentences.

It doesn't help that I am writing emails about things that happened last semester to professors about clubs - not that that's bad, but I'm having really poignant memories of my last days of the semester with the ex and it's bringing up six million more bad feelings. Wah wah, whine whine, heartbreak heartbreak, whatever. I know, I'm a pain.

Last calendar year hurt. A lot. I have to push through this stupid paperwork to prove I'm worth something. It's hard with all that baggage in the way. It's too much right now. It's too too much. I'm strong, I can handle it but it'd be nice to have a little help here and there.

Heard This On The Radio... It Felt Appropriate.

Snowy nights and Christmas lights,
Icy windowpanes,
Make me wish that we could be
Together again.
And the windy winter avenues
Just don't seem the same,
And the Christmas carols sound like blues,
But the choir is not to blame.

But it doesn't have to be that way.
What we had should never have ended.
I'll be dropping by today.
We could easily get it together tonight.
It's only right.

Crowded stores, the corner Santa Claus,
Tinseled afternoons,
And the sidewalk bands play their songs
Slightly out of tune.
Down the windy winter avenues
There walks a lonely man,
And if I told you who he is,
Well I think you'd understand.

But it doesn't have to be that way.
What we had should never have ended.
I'll be dropping by today.
We could easily get it together tonight.
It's only right.

No, it doesn't have to be that way.
What we had should never have ended.
I'll be dropping by today.
We could easily get it together tonight.
It's only right.

Christmas: Part II. The Not So Merry Side

When someone loves you, and you love them... sometimes, it feels like fresh air. Like you never had a chance to breathe before. And sometimes, when that person you love has things bigger than them, they have to stop loving you. At that point, you can't fix it. You can't do anything to get the love back, they totally detach in a matter of hours... days... not even a week.

When that person breaks the news, the other doesn't see it coming. Which is the bad part. And they're crushed and feel like they can't breathe anymore. That's the worse part. And then they feel selfish because as much as they HATE everything the break brings... it makes sense. It has to be that way. This is not the biggest thing in their life... but it's the biggest thing in yours. So you're a mess, and they aren't.

But they have bigger things. This is tiny. So you should get over it...

Easier said than done. But, at least you understand it. Even if you never had a chance to start.

Good things last the shortest amount of time.

All The Way Home I'll Be Warm!

"In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'" -- Dave Barry

Let It Snow is my favorite carol to sing. O Holy Night is my favorite all time Christmas carol. These are all good things. I'm a big fan of Christmas. We're going to spend time with the extended family next week and all will be well. I have a bit of shopping to do yet, though. Not a ton, but a little. I'll get to see some of the girls for laser tag before I leave, and that'll be fun. Fingers crossed.

It's funny how easy it is to miss someone. Especially around holiday time.

Being home is good in small doses, something Ryan and I figured out about three days ago. We went to the South Side and grabbed dinner. And he taught me that when in Pittsburgh, whatever you do "Don't go to Edna." Sarah McP helped us figure out what we wanted to do around the 'Burgh, bless her heart. She's a guru, and I love her for that. I texted him a reminder of this learned lesson as I headed into Oakland to use Hillman Library today for various graduate school and recreational uses. His response was "Amen, sister! Don't even think about it." Apparently for his senior project next fall, he's having a Ryan Show which will be awesome. Go him. Speaking of senior projects: when will Dr. Eatman get back to me on that, eh? Perhaps a well-placed reminder email is in order. If next semester doesn't kill me, I'll be graduating. Heaven help me.

Oh! P.S.! Totally in the play "Almost, Maine" and I'm super excited to say that I'm re-uniting the Team Theatre Kids duo with John to be an unhappily married couple. Head shots after I get home, that's a tid bit nerve wracking. But not as much as the insane and intense amount of work I have to do to get graduate school applications in. Yikes.

Went to Reconciliation at church on Monday night. It was the weirdest/best I've had in a while. I knew the priest was going to be sweet. First, his name is Father McCool, and second he's straight from Ireland. All good things. So I say 'here's my sins! I'm a dipshit!' and he literally said 'It's not the end of the world'. No lecture, no 'cut that out', no nothing. I like that. Too bad a lot of the time it's all 'Jesus loves you but if you don't stop you're probably going to burn'. Well, I'll just take the good, thank ya.

My mom just called and offered me free food at her Holiday Themes From Around The World office party. I had to hang print outs of the flags for every state in the USA and every territory in Canada on a Christmas Tree. Yes, you too can birth children and let them grow up to be your personal office assistants for times of good tidings and comfort and joy! :-P I'm not bitter, just annoyed that I had to tie flags to a tree for a Christmas party no one in her office was excited about. But! I got twenty bucks for having a cute face out of it (thanks mom) so I can't complaine.

Got all A's and a B+. I think I need to write Jim Moore about that B+. Because these are the last grades that go out to grad school, and it's only the second B+ in my whole major so - I'd like to see what I got on the final, etc. It'll drive me nuts otherwise, I did four extra credit assignments and worked way hard on my final project (if the morons who filmed each other impersonating Brittany Spears have an A, I'll be furious). Wait and see, I suppose.

I'm not actually saying that much here. Let's see: Graduate school, stressful but good if accomplished. Christmas, very good. Friends and love, also good. Family, good in small doses. Reading! Oh am I reading. I'm taking books galore out of the library and just devouring them. It's an addiction, but I don't think I'll be recovering anytime soon.

So, this is Christmas.

Happy happy whatever you celebrate, friends!

You Keep The Air In My Lungs, Floating Along As A Melody Comes

T-minus one hour until my Thanksgiving break starts. It's going to be busy. I have to:

Get graduate school applications in (I just printed out about thirty different articles on writing personal statements)

Start on three assignments for classes (write a paper about Moses, write a paper about Hamlet, create a portfolio for now and five years from now so that you know where you're going with your life as far as your profession goes)

Make sure I'm solid on my acting class scene (Spoils of War, I'm playing Elise and she's almost like the character Mame if Mame was a mom and slept around)

Convince my mom to take me shopping on Black Friday to get an external hard drive because Beatrice (my laptop) is slowly and painfully dying. Recently she's taken to making a noise as though she wants to fly off of my desk and refuses to load internet pages quickly. These two things in combinations with a nasty Trojan virus and vanishing files reappearing in odd places makes me a little worrisome. Thus! External Hard Drive to back up all my important things.

Did I mention graduate school applications?

Read through the twenty-five (no joke) plays I borrowed from Dr. Eatman and find monologues to use as potential audition materials for graduate school

Read aloud the two plays UPJ theatre is performing in the spring and practice how I would play each part, since the auditions are cold readings and I want to be super prepared because it may be my last show at UPJ. Ever. Yeesh!

Spend time with my family, maybe go on a date, spend time with my friends maybe, and do laundry. That's my Thanksgiving in a nutshell.

Aaaaaaaaaaand I'm off to be a writing tutor before packing and heading homeward! Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving everybody!

You Better Look At What You Got. Over Here, Hello!?

Merrily We Roll Along is quickly drawing to a close. I've learned a lot about myself and about my acting style. I still have a long way to go, though. Weekend two started yesterday. It was hard going back into it cold, I wish we had gone through it once on Wednesday when we took production photos.

In the dressing room people were talking about Tramp Stamps. Let's just say I'm not pleased that people think my three inch long, one inch wide (don't make this a 'That's what she said" moment, har har... *eye roll*) tattoo is a tramp stamp. It's a pretty derogatory term, all things considered. Yes, I did get it on my lower back. But did you ever think that it has personal meaning or sentiment to me? Or that you'd really piss me off and make me feel self-conscious when you tell me that's what my tattoo is? Because basically you're calling me a whore. Which, NEWS FLASH - I'm not.

People who read this are going to think a few different things, depending on who they are.
1. "She's self conscious because she IS a tramp."
2. "She's high and mighty."
3. "Shut up and stop complaining."
4. "I never thought of that... okay, I'm sorry. I'll think more carefully."

I really feel bad about myself, even 15 hours after the conversation. I'll get over it, I'll be proud of who I am and so on - in a few days. But for this moment: Displeased. the worst thing of all, is that these were my friends talking. Not just some random people.

I totally lost my technique for singing 'Now You Know', and the second we ran through it I recognized that. Of course, then, the whole first act I was freaking out about it. Not so much walking around going 'OH MY GOSH I'M GOING TO SUCK!' Just, running through it over and over in my mind. Right before the scene where the song comes, I walked up to Tony (who plays Charlie and is on two antibiotics as well as a steroid for a severe case of strep throat: he's not to go to classes again until Monday and was lucky the hospital let him out.).

"I'm really nervous about 'Now You Know'. I don't have it."

He looked me straight in the eye and said the nicest thing another actor has probably ever said to me, and the best advice as well.

"Don't be nervous. When you get nervous, you clench your hands and you tense up on stage, I've watched you do it. Relax.

"Now, you want to know the secret to not being nervous? I'm not nervous because I have her, and him, and her, and her..."

He pointed to our fellow cast members, the crew running around helping props get into place and costumes go on smoothly

"...And all of these people to thank for it. Because of them, we're here. You are good enough to be a principle. And you are good enough NOT to be nervous."

Holy motivational speech! I was ready to cry at that point, he was being so nice. Did I mess up the song? Eh, I've done it better but it didn't sound bad, per say. I'll re-practice today before the cast gets in, and do better tonight.

***

In other news...The Philly's won the World Series! Pretty much fantastic. Michael was there with my uncle and I'm guessing he'll have that memory for the rest of his life. I remember being able to stay up late watching games that went into extra innings.