The One Where I Win the Contest.

In my last post, I shared my most recent adventure of heading back to Texas to participate in Ennis' talent competition. 

When I go to Texas, I usually stay for about a week, and by the end of that week, I am itching to come back to my life here in Utah with familiar faces. However, this latest trip, I stayed for 11 days and was so sad to leave when it was time. I spent quality moments with my entire family. I played with the best dog and her adorable puppies. I wore pajamas 90% of the time I was there. I stared at, held, rocked, dressed, fed, burped, snuggled, laughed with, cried at, sang to, and loved on my sweet niece. I saw some wonderful people. And I sang and sang and sang.

I decided before I even got on the plane to fly to Texas that the trip was all going to be worth it even if I didn't walk away with the $1,000 prize from the talent contest.

But I did. I am $1,000 richer in my savings account (yes, it went right into my savings for the move to New York) because of the votes I received in the audience and invaluably richer in my heart because of the warmth and love of my family and home.

A little over a week has passed since the contest ended, and I am back in Utah, back to the grindstone of work, and back to rehearsal (see what show I'm doing next by clicking here). 

I have a lot of feelings. I always have. I always will. I am a very passionate person in regards to just about everything that I have anything to do with. This blog is, perhaps, a feeling-overload for some people. Maybe I say a few too many cliché phrases. But these words are my feelings, and my feelings are an important part of who I am, who I have been, and I who I will become.

Because I am so emotionally driven, I am an emotional performer. Because I am an emotional performer, theatre is therapy. As I sat in Natalie Toro's master class last month, a distinct question crossed my mind: Who needs therapy when they've got theatre?

Each show I have been a part of has taught me a different lesson, whether it be a lesson in life or a lesson in performing. For example, in playing Madame Defarge in A Tale of Two Cities, I realized the importance of choosing to be better instead of bitter when something goes terribly wrong in our lives. In Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, I learned that, yes, I can play flowers and sunshine and comedy. In Joseph, I learned that I was, truly, a belter. The list seems endless in what I have learned in my ten years of performing.

However, never has a show been as relevant in my personal life as 9 to 5 was for me this year. Again, no, I am not going through a divorce. No, I didn't feel a need to kidnap and harness my boss to a garage door opener. 

But I did find that I was rather tortured in my own understanding of what love is, where I should direct it, and who deserves it. I'm aware that this statement is pretty vague, but I think I'd rather keep it that way for now. Make no assumptions; they're probably wrong. I had a conversation with my mom when she came into town to see 9 to 5. She hadn't seen the show yet, but I explained to her that something had changed inside of me that made me let go of the things I was being tortured by. I said that I thought the role had something to do with it, but I wasn't sure how.

The next day, she came and saw the show. When the show ended, she greeted me in the lobby with the world's best hug. After being interrupted by everyone's favorite Superfan, she said as tears started to well up in her eyes, "Angie, you've let go because you've sang that song every other day since June. It's a constant reminder of what you can and should do." 

And then I started to cry as I realized how spot-on she was. That was exactly it. Singing "Get Out and Stay Out" in 9 to 5 was constantly reminding me that I can control who is in my life, who takes precedence, who I stand by, who I don't, what I choose to let affect me, and on and on and on. It was a constant reminder that I am loved, that I love myself, and that I don't need someone else to be in love with me in order to be happy and feel fulfilled. It was a constant reminder that I am strong, that I am full of love to give to my friends and family, that I have dreams and goals to fulfill that I am capable of fulfilling. It was and is a constant reminder that the important things aren't always easy, but they are always, always worth it.

And you better believe those last two times I sang that song after that performance were the most emotional, satisfying, and liberating.

Moms are so smart.

The One with the Master Class.

Get comfy. This is a long one, folks.

Time for a story: months ago, I signed up for an email subscription to get updates on auditions in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. I don't really even remember doing it, honestly, but I imagine my thoughts when I signed up were that if something came up worth coming back to Texas for, I would take the opportunity in order to see my family and expand my venue repertoire at the same time.

Then, early last month, I was skimming over one of these said emails and I saw this:
GOT TALENT! Ennis Public Theatre (NON EQUITY)
Acts chosen must be available for 5 performances: October 4,5,6,12,13.
Winner: $1000
Runner up: $300

This was the perfect timing and opportunity to make a trip home to see my new niece. I contacted the theatre, sent a video audition and was invited to participate in the competition.

So, here I sit... in good ol' Ennis. I've been here for a week; I am loving the time I am spending in my pajamas with no bra on. I am loving the time off from work. I am loving spending time with my family. I am loving, most of all, snuggling my sweet niece who is the cutest little nugget-of-a-baby I have ever seen (no biases exist at all whatsoever in that statement, of course).

There are two more nights of the competition, this coming Friday and Saturday at 7:30 at the Ennis Public Theatre. If you're in or around the area, please come see the show. The performer with the most votes wins. And I'm not too proud to say that $1,000 would really help out a girl heading to the big city in a big, big way.

For reasons I can't exactly pinpoint, after I go out to see a major production, I'm always drawn to blog. Last Christmas when I was home, my mom took my sister and I to see the 25th anniversary touring company of Les Miserables. All the way home I was thinking about blogging. By the time I got home, I was too tired to sit down and do it. And then I never did get around to it.

Last night, I went to the Music Hall at Fair Park to see the national tour of The Addams Family. To tell you the truth, the material itself wasn't my favorite. Anyone who is a performer knows that it is sometimes difficult to sit and watch a show without critiquing, questioning, stealing ideas, noticing tricks, or even cringing deep down when something seems a bit wonky or awkward with a performer or moment on the stage. While I did enjoy the show last night - I even went by myself to see it - it was no exception to this critical thinking. I found myself drawn to certain performers more than others, like Douglas Sills as Gomez, Gaelen Gilliland as Alice Beineke, and Courtney Wolfson as Wednesday. 

Of course, this always happens. But why? What is it about him or her that makes him or her more alluring than anyone else onstage? Why am I, as a performer, completely engrossed in these performances? What can I do to be that captivating? And lastly, it was so clear that these performers were connected to these characters... what could I do to be that connected and therefore love my craft even more?

I was asking all of these questions and more as I watched. It was even strange to me that I was having this deep of an internal monologue regarding these performers. Why the overload all of a sudden?

And then it hit me. Duh.

I'd read an article in August that said that Natalie Toro would be performing at Salt Lake City's Pioneer Theatre in its production of In the Heights. She would be reprising the role of Camila after having played it in the 2009 national tour. I knew of Natalie Toro from another production, as most people would probably recognize her who know the show: Natalie Toro originated the role of Madame Defarge in A Tale of Two Cities on Broadway. (And if you don't know the show, you should.) 

I've admired her performances since I came across a YouTube video of her singing "Out of Sight, Out of Mind." I studied her portrayal of Madame Defarge from the cast album to the PBS concert DVD. I purchased her solo album. So, when I read that article in August about In the Heights, I knew that I would have to go see it so that I could finally admire her work live and in-person.

Then another email popped up in my inbox, and in many others' as well: an email from Hale Centre Theatre with a forwarded email from Natalie, announcing that she was offering a Master Class. I immediately reserved a spot in the class, excited to hear from someone who had been around the block several times.

I had a close friend in In the Heights who was nice enough to give me tickets to see the final dress rehearsal preview of the show. I loved the show. Its high energy was contagious, and the storytelling absolutely beautiful. And I remember very clearly thinking, as I watched Natalie perform, that she was going to teach me so much in her class. Her performance, alone, said that to me.

I met her after the show, and her personality struck me by surprise. I was almost shocked that she was so genuine and so open and kind. She didn't have to be that nice to me or make me feel that special and important. But I walked away so grateful that she had. I love when people exceed my expectations. I've always striven for that in people's expectations of me.

When the master class rolled around at the end of September, just five days before 9 to 5 closed, I was nervous and excited. I literally had no idea what the four-hour class would entail.

I soon learned that Natalie Toro is not only an outstanding performer, but an incredible teacher, too. She has oodles of knowledge in that brain of hers, and she is sharing that so selflessly in these master classes. (You can read the details - in her words - of the workshop here.)

The class was small - about 15 people. It was about acting the song, connecting personally to the material you are singing. In the second part of the class, Natalie did one-on-one work with each person who brought a song to work on. Without giving too many details or sounding too pretentious, I want to give words to describe the experience: it shook me, stirred my soul, and downright opened my heart. 

She had shown me the power in using the experiences I have had and will have in my real life and applying those experiences, with extreme specificity, to every.single.word in every.single.song I sing. It was really a beautiful learning experience and it came from someone with success in her belt, yes, but a solid heart and true passion for her craft.

At one point during the class, shortly after I had gotten up to sing, I raised my hand as a sort of epiphany struck. I said, "I can't wait to apply what I have learned in this class to the four performances of 9 to 5 that I have left this week."

Ever since that class, I have utilized the mental and emotional tools I learned there in the songs I sing. I have applied them in the best way I know how. And, yes, in the event that I am watching a show like The Addams Family, I am thinking about the application of those tools. It was so positive, so important, so special and humbling. I am passionate about the experience, and there's no shame in that.

And even as I sit here and type this, I am shaking my head... because I can still go on and on about it, even two and a half weeks later. I am shaking my head because I am amazed that I am still learning and amazed that I can continue to learn from so many people for the rest of my life.