The One about Books and Bells.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #3: "I cannot live without books." - Thomas Jefferson
Every now and then, a book falls into your lap...

I have to share a story.

I'm willing to bet that every person involved in musical theatre that found his/her way there him/herself (as in, they weren't forced into it as a child) has that one show that sort of spoke to him/her and said, "Hey, this is why you want to do musical theatre!" For me, that musical was Aida. It was my junior year, and my choir class was singing an arrangement of "Written in the Stars." My boyfriend at the time and I were the soloists, and for whatever reason, that song was all it took for me to delve right into the show. I downloaded all of the music and memorized it. I became completely engrossed in everything Aida.

So... when we went to New York in 2004, I knew I had to see it live. I'd lived with it for almost a year by then and had never seen it, so when the opportunity arose, I was going to take it. There was all this talk from other people in our trip group about going to see another show, a new show, called Wicked. I didn't listen; I didn't know it, and therefore I didn't care. It's no secret: I was a BRAT and pretty determined to get what I wanted. I insisted - by whining, of course - that we go see Aida instead. So... we did.

And it was such a let-down. Not only did Deborah Cox (who played the title role) blow her vocal chords at the end of the first act, but the quality was just... meh. When I walked out of the Palace Theatre, I still appreciated the music somewhat, but my love for the show was pretty much gone. I'd thrown a fit to see a show that ended up not even being that good. I guess I deserved that.

Two days later, the day before the 2004 Tony Awards, we flew back to Texas. My director had bought the cast recording of Wicked and was listening to it in her Walkman CD player (remember those?) in the seat behind me. About an hour into the flight, she tapped me on the shoulder. "You have to listen to this," she said, and handed me her headphones. There was a small flourish of music as she pushed play and then I heard the lyrics, "I'm limited..."

By the end of "For Good," I was practically drooling. I asked if I could keep listening to the CD, and she let me for the rest of the flight. By the time we touched the tarmac at the DFW Airport, I wanted to turn right back around and fix the mistake I'd made in missing out on seeing Wicked. It would've been the original cast with Kristin Chenoweth, Norbert Leo Butz, Joel Grey, and... wait for it... 2004 Tony winner for Best Actress In a Musical, Idina Menzel (who won the award the day after I discovered the show).

Besides to fill you in on how stupid/bratty I was, I wanted to give a little background on where Wicked came into my life and therefore lead into the explanation of today's tribute.

I know that I join hoards of women - little girls and teenagers, even - that call Elphaba in Wicked "the ultimate dream role." I know how silly it sounds; I know how stereotypical it is. But I would be a fool to pretend like I wouldn't die to play this role. I've said it before and I'll say it again... if I played Elphaba on Broadway for one night and died the next day, I would absolutely die happy.

I'd heard the hubbub of the release of a certain book for a little while during the summer, and I sort of forgot about it until I was taking care of some Christmas shopping on Amazon last Wednesday. It came up in the "Frequently Bought Together" section when I was looking at the description of a different product. Of course it sparked my interest. Amazon has the option to read the first chapter on their site, so I did. I didn't think twice after that; I bought it on Kindle and have been reading it in my free time since then.
Felicia Ricci was the Elphaba standby in San Francisco to Eden Espinosa in 2008. She compiled her experiences during her time with Wicked every step of the way. It's unbelievably detailed - I feel like I'm cheating as she reveals tiny little secrets: how you learn quick changes, where you live when you're out of town, how often you can pee during a show.

But better than that, it's inspiring. She shares the audition process and how she felt as she went through the grueling process. She talks about her insecurities and her ventures, her hardships and her dreams and emotions.

I'm not joking: any aspiring actress - especially in musical theatre - should read this book. How could I not be grateful for such a good read?

Tribute to Thanksgiving #4: "A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same." - Elbert Hubbard
This is Ames and Emily. They are the cutest married couple that ever did live.

I met Ames in August of last year, during The Drowsy Chaperone. I met Emily shortly after we opened, when she would some see the show. We were instantly friends: Ames, Emily, Kyle and I would spend countless hours together and continue to do so as we all auditioned for and were cast in A Tale of Two Cities. After that, we all auditioned for and were cast in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. After that, Ames and I were both in Joseph together.

It's been a little over a year since I met the two of them. I don't really know how to express the appreciation I have for the friendship that I have forged with them. They just seem to make every little thing they touch sparkle; they make things important and special. My birthday last year was special because of them; ringing in the New Year was special because of them... just to name a few.

It seems that there are always things to talk about with them, things to share and even things to debate. I have such admiration for their well-thought-out opinions and outlooks. They are respectful and therefore respectable. They are fun. They are classy, nice, smart, eclectic, and a wonderful privilege to know. I never feel judged in their company.

Above all else, they are remarkably loving... and two of my very best friends.

I feel proud that I can even say that. They are such a special light in my life, and I hope and pray that I can hold onto them for a long, long time.