The One Where I LIVE HERE.

I counted the days this morning, and my jaw dropped. How is it that I have only been here for only 47 days when it feels like 47 weeks? I feel like I have experienced so much that I can't possibly have been here for less than two months. NOT EVEN TWO MONTHS. I am shaking my head as I type this because it's still so crazy to me.

That's the best word I can put to it. I am experiencing adventures each and everyday: some big, some small, some teeny-tiny.

When you first move to New York City, as I've said before, you have to hit the ground running. There's no learning to crawl or walk in this place unless you're cool with being trampled. I haven't spent an entire day at home since I got here. I haven't avoided the train stations for an entire day. I really haven't stopped to take a breath. Today is no exception. I've been going since 8:00 AM and won't stop moving until midnight at the earliest. Now, I say that and I've found the time to sit down and do this - some days, the go-go-go-ness (made that up, ©) isn't really go-go-go-ness (©) so much as I'm just away from home all day long. It's not something I'm horribly used to. I would have days like this before I moved out here, but nothing this constant. It's just busy. And hard. And even scary sometimes!

Today is one of those days when everything just starts tumbling down on you. Everything. The joys, the fear, the frustrations, the excitement, the nervousness, the giddy feelings, the nostalgia, the feelings of inadequacy. You name it; today I've felt it. And truthfully, all of it points to one simple statement: I live here.

I am full of joy because I am here, just as I knew I would be.
I am full of fear because I don't know where I'm going.
I am full of frustrations because I want to know where I'm going.
I am full of excitement because I don't know where I'm going.
I am full of nervousness because I don't know where I'm going.
I am full of giddy feelings because I don't know where I'm going.
I am full of nostalgia because I don't have the people around to tell me where I'm going. My, how I miss my friends. I ache for their company on a regular basis.
I am full of feelings of inadequacy because I don't know where the hell I'm going.

You get the drift, I assume. It was bound to happen... and 47 days into my adventure here, I am bowled over by so many freakin' feelings. But Angela, you always have a lot of feelings. Yes, I know. But not like this: not all at once. I even allowed myself a good fifteen-second come-apart this afternoon. Am I embarrassed? Not one bit.

Wonderful things are happening here, which is where the joy and the excitement and the giddiness come in. I am meeting and getting to know some special people that I already know are going to be a part of my life for a long while and rekindling and strengthening friendships at the same time. Making friends can be hard and sometimes a bit tiring (or is it just me?), but absolutely, positively worth it.

I got to spend the 4th of July with some of these wonderful people. I had a moment that night as we all watched the Macy's fireworks show over the Hudson River: I REALLY DO LIVE HERE. And I love here.

This city has won my heart in so many ways. The oddities don't freak me out as much anymore. I laugh at them mostly. It's a quirky place, this big ol' city.

I got evangelized to on the way home one night. A young lady named Rose pulled out her Bible and wanted to tell me about why she believed God is a woman. She followed me from the N/Q/R train at 59th Street all the way to the entrance of my apartment building. Rose was such a nice girl, probably 18 years old, and just wanted someone to listen.

I slapped a pigeon one morning. Yes. Slapped. The little buggers are everywhere, and they are fearless, letting you walk within centimeters of them before they flutter off to poop on an innocent pedestrian. I was walking to my train before an audition and there he was: he was pecking at a pizza crust someone had thrown on the crosswalk. I tried to veer around him, and he must've had the same idea because he flew up right toward my face. In a bit of panic, I swatted at him. Apparently my aim is quite good because my palm came right in contact with the breast of that pigeon. I walked jaw agape for a while.

I went and saw Stephanie J. Block at Birdland on July 8th. I have heard of and wanted to attend a concert at Birdland for forever, so I jumped at the opportunity and went on a date with myself. I sat at the bar and let myself pretend like the concert was just for me. It was incredible.

I sang at a bar on the 10th. I had applied (via video audition) a while back for something on Backstage called "So You Think You Can Sing?" and got an email asking if I would come be a part of the competition held at the Cash Bar. I didn't know what to expect, and certainly laughed when I walked up to the door and saw that the bar entrance was hidden behind a fake, out-of-order ATM and had "3/4" in its address. I'm singing there again in the "finals" at the end of the month.

I attended Broadway Barks in Shubert Alley on July 13th. I was working all day, so it was convenient to just walk across the street during the show and hold a puppy or two... or six.

I finally went and saw Matilda. While Pippin is still my favorite thing I've seen here, Matilda didn't disappoint. There were some truly magical moments and some ridiculously talented performers in the show. And at a whopping $27 to see it, I can't complain one iota.

I have gotten to reconnect with a couple of Utah friends who have come to visit and found that they've given me a kick in the pants and that extra boost to re-excite me about what I'm doing here because they truly believe in me.

I have started to put together a mass-submission for agencies in the city. I have to add a few things to each of the SIXTY submissions before I put them in the mail. I am determined for someone to take me on.

I got myself some business cards because I am a business, especially now.

I've gone to seven auditions since I got here. l have not been seen at two of the seven, and I've not been called back for a single one where I was seen. This is humbling, to say the least. I am learning new things at each and every audition and, in hindsight, I am and will be thrilled by that fact.

One of my favorite things that I keep telling myself in all of this is something I actually saw as a tattoo on someone's back my first week here, believe it or not. Classy, I know, but I say go big or go home. The tattoo read, "Fall down seven times, get up eight."

And here I am, standing up for the eighth and possibly ninth and tenth time as I head into another audition on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday of this next week. Fall down ninety-nine times, get up a hundred.

These adventures are visceral. I am living in moments and loving every single scary, hard, frustrating, exciting, giddy, joyous moment because I LIVE HERE.

The One That's Super Cheesy.

Angela, what are your favorite foods?

All things coconut.
All things peanut butter.
All things cheese. Especially cheese.

And since I love cheese so much, I'm just going to pour some cheese all over this post. If you're annoyed with sappiness, walk away now; the ending might make you throw up.

I am captivated by the idea of the five languages of love. This topic has come up in several different conversations over the past couple of weeks especially, and I can't help but wonder why it's so prevalent right now.

(I've talked about this in a post before. If you don't know what this is or what yours is/are, go here. Read about it and take the assessment!)

The interesting thing is that sometimes the way that we give love is different from the way we want to receive love. At least for me. Which is a little hypocritical, isn't it?

Let me explain.

I prefer to receive love in this order:
Words of Affirmation
Quality Time
Physical Touch
Acts of Service
Gifts

However, I prefer to give love in this order:
Gifts
Acts of Service
Quality Time
Physical Touch
Words of Affirmation

Why is it that the one way I prefer to receive love is the most difficult for me to express or give? And why is it that the one way I prefer to give love is the one way that I care least for?

I know this, and I have been trying to be better about it in my day-to-day life. And to do so genuinely.

I am a gift-giver. I always have been. Christmas, birthdays, for any reason at all, I love to spoil the people that I love and care for. Sometimes, I even have to tell myself to take it easy, as my pocketbook won't thank me for all those gifts later. I guess I have this idea in my head that if my expression of love is materialized in a thoughtful gift, there's no question or doubt that I care for them so deeply.

In stating that, I recognize that the difficulty I have in giving Words of Affirmation comes directly from pride. Literally I just figured this out. I am afraid or too puffed up or too aloof to say, "Hey, you're one cool guy/girl." I think these things, but it takes some serious inner-monologuing for it to actually emerge through physical expression, written or spoken.

I am a very emotional person, a very expressive person. I always have been. So where did this come from?

Gifts are easy. 

Words, however, can be picked and poked and dissected and reformed and twisted and manipulated. It's happened to me. It's happened to many people. But that's a scary thought, so why not just avoid the possibility altogether?

To give a gift is an action, right? And don't actions speak louder than words?

Not necessarily. 

There is an intangible concept that can speak louder than something that can be held in one’s hand. Hearing the words, “I love you," or "You are awesome," or any form of this are so important for the development of our characters — hearing the reasons behind that love is priceless. And, therefore, a gift in and of itself. A delicate, utopian, soothing, cherished and treasured gift.

I have been sitting on that statement (in the picture above) for a long time and have never, ever found it more true for me than it is right now. 

Occasionally (and I mean very rarely, so don't anyone worry about me), it can get really lonely here. I am lucky enough to have known a couple of people before I moved, and I've latched onto them. But still, to up and leave so many people I'm closest to and to come to a city where I know almost no one is scary and a little sad. There are days when I get misty-eyed thinking about them. It's easy to get down on yourself here, too, when you get turned away from auditions or don't get a single callback, when you feel ugly because of the humidity, when you eat too many slices of cheap pizza. It's harder when you don't have your number one fans around to cheer you on. I love it here and am still ridiculously and literally thrilled EVERYDAY to be here. I can't imagine being anywhere else, nor do I want to be. BUT I miss the people who know me like the back of their hands. I know that one day I will be able to say that about some people here, but right now, dagnabbit, I miss those special people.

Since I left my family and dear, dear friends in Utah, I have ached for them over the course of the past eight weeks. "Did I take them for granted? Do they know how much I care about them? Do they CARE how much I care about them? Did I TELL them?" I've asked myself those questions over and over. Regret can be a nasty little hussy.

But I haven't died. I'm across the country loving them more than I did when I was standing right next to them, if it were possible. Missing someone is a part of loving them. I am thankful for the phone chats, the FaceTime, the texts, the emails, the expressions of love through "You can do this, Angela!"/words of affirmation.

We all need words of affirmation, really. So here goes... (Is it so weird that I'm so nervous to do this?! That's how hard it is for me.)

To my darling friends and family: I wish you could be here. I miss you horribly. I wish I could laugh with you and hug you and spend real face time with you. Thanks for being who you are. Thanks for letting me vent and complain sometimes. Thanks for being stupid with me. Thanks for letting me cry sometimes about stupid things. Thanks for letting me bounce ideas off of you. Thanks for laughing at my jokes. Thanks for being so talkative and for letting me be talkative, too. Thanks for supporting me. Thanks for being nice. Thanks for being funny. You're talented. You're pretty. You're handsome. You're beautiful. You're wonderful. You're freakin' cool. You're fun. You dress nice. You drive well. You're a great cook. You're so creative and artistic and loving and hilarious and awesome and just everything a girl could ask for in friends and family.

(I'll let you guys decide which quality belongs to which people. Ha!)

I want to be better about this. I think, really, we would all walk a little taller and love each other a little deeper if we expressed it so freely.

I LOVE YOU. YOU ARE AWESOME.

I feel better already!