The One where I Reach Halfway.

My mom has come and gone. It was too short of a visit, but we did a lot, and of course we had a wonderful time together. She saw Five Carols/JingleJacks twice, The Drowsy Chaperone once and then watched me sing in church. We talked lots and laughed lots. She is absolutely the most supportive person I have in my life, and she still loves me even when I try to trick her by buying fat free cheese to put on top of our chili.

We have opened Five Carols for Christmas/JingleJacks, and it has been received so well. We have really lucked out with audiences over the course of the last three performances - here's hoping it stays that way.
I have truly, truly enjoyed my experience with this show. While I have been slightly overwhelmed this semester, the joy in putting this little treasure together has really helped to push me along. The realization that this is my last Weber State production hits me harder and harder each night we perform it. The classes, the professors, the friends, the shows - I have grown so much as a person since my first semester here. But at the same time, it's time to go. Graduating will be such a bittersweet feeling.

Today officially marks the halfway mark.

I have lost 22.5 pounds since September 27. Seven weeks. I have 22.5 more pounds to go. I am finally starting to see the changes. My face is thinner. My pants don't fit. My belts are on the last loop; some don't fit at all. My bras don't fit; that's where the weight leaves me first - I have gone down a complete cup-size. Even my fingers and feet have thinned out. And - I might embarrass myself by saying this - I don't wear a shaper in my casual everyday clothes anymore (I wore one every single day from November of last year until September of this year). All of it is very satisfying... and I'm only halfway to my goal weight.

Today is a weird day. I'm not necessarily in a funk; I'm not sad; I'm not frustrated. Just feeling a little weird. My mom left yesterday, and that could be where this weird feeling is coming from. I remember the last two times she came up to visit, a wave of sadness hit. That's not what this is, so that's why I'm slightly confused.

The weirdness is giving way to two feelings: both heartache and empowerment. Quite a combination. Perhaps that might help you understand where the confusion is coming from. The blending of those two feelings should equal indifference, right? One positive feeling and one negative feeling should balance to a feeling of nothing.

Maybe that's the problem.

I can't seem to find the right words to say what I'm feeling, which is really strange for me - I always have something to say, and I always find some way to say it. But then, I'm not really sure words will be able to form my feelings right now - my thoughts can't even fully form my feelings. Am I making any sense? Bear with me.

Please understand, as you read the rest of this post , that I am not putting myself on a pedestal. These things are not necessarily admirable qualities - in fact, I look at them as weaknesses.

For as long as I can remember, I have been super aware/sensitive to the things that other people say - whether it's about me or about other people that I care for. 95% of the time, I weigh the things in my mind before I say them. This is not my way of saying that I am always a nice person - goodness knows I'm not; I just rely on tact. Or try to anyway... I know sometimes I fail miserably.

I have to understand several things if I'm going to continue to call myself a strong person: I cannot control the way that people talk, I cannot control the way that people feel, I cannot control the way that people think, I cannot control the way that people act. This has resonated so true in my friendships and relationships over and over and over. And somehow I still haven't gotten used to it.

I have to understand that I may feel deeper than some people. I hurt harder than some people. For one thing, I'm a girl. For another, I'm a ridiculously sensitive girl. I can't expect someone else that I am communicating with to feel and hurt like I do. (Why would I want someone to hurt?) I just find myself saying so often, "I would never say/do that to so-and-so... what makes so-and-so think they can say/do that to me?" I have qualities that I know people wish would change or disappear completely, and I don't see that happening anytime soon.

The fact is this: I must come to grips with the undeniable truth that I am me and you are you. And I love you because of who you are.

The One with 17.5 Pounds.

In the spirit of Halloween (even though I missed the boat and it was actually yesterday), I will share this with you...

If I'm remembering correctly, we have a home video of Martha chasing the cars on the road because she was dressed as a dog. I think it's safe to say we lived pretty fearless childhoods.

I'm extremely emotional today. Nothing really specific happened to bring about this level of dejection, so I can probably credit it to one once-a-month thing that probably isn't very appropriate to discuss in a blog. But nonetheless, I'm a basket-case, and I'm going to use my blog as a chance to kind of pour it all out there. Forgive the sporadic display of my thoughts (if that's actually how they end up coming out). I'm more interested in getting things out of my jumbled little brain than making things flow.

Now that you've been warned...

I weighed myself this morning (as I do every Monday morning) and I only lost a half a pound this week. Frustrating, truly. Discouraging, too. I suppose it's better than gaining or not losing anything - blah, blah, blah. The thing is, a weight loss that low makes it easy to give up altogether. Why work on something as hard as I do this, why keep so strictly to something like this diet, why deprive myself of some of my favorite goodies for months at a time when the result is so pathetic? I have made a huge change in every little thing I put into my body. Every bit of it is weighed, measured, counted, thought about. And I lost a half a pound. In one week. It sucks.

But...

... the fact of the matter is this (and this is where I talk myself out of my pity party)... I have officially lost 17.5 pounds. In five weeks. That's nothing to pout about, and it's certainly something to be proud of. I'm allowed to say that. I recognize that this diet has done something so much more than just make me "skinnier."

Before I'd started this diet - from the beginning of July until the end of September - I was the most depressed I've ever been in my entire life. I spent countless hours honestly sobbing over who I've been in the past, who I am, and who I was going to become. I was fixated on an unbelievable sense of sadness that I thought I had no control over. I realized, very recently, as I looked back on the past months, that my life has taken quite a turn.

It didn't take a show, a boy, a haircut, a grade, a class, a compliment, or a job to lift me back up. It took something that gave me an intense motivation; it took my waking up one day and realizing that I want to be different, that I had to be different - physically and emotionally. That's what happened the morning of September 27. I hadn't planned on starting a diet that day; I didn't prepare for it; I didn't have a "last supper." I just remember looking at myself in the mirror as my eyes adjusted from the previous night's sleep and recognizing that I have every bit of control over how I feel. That's exactly how this feels... most of the time. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I have this friend, see, who is absolutely the dearest friend I have ever had. I don't know quite how the friendship works, but it does. I think it isn't far from the truth when I say that this is the most tried and true friendship I've ever known. Sometimes it's hard for me to really find the right words to describe this person who has affected my life so immensely. No one knows me better than he does. I have more fun with him than I do anyone. I am more myself around him than I am, and ever have been, around anyone. He puts up with a lot from me; we bicker back and forth a lot, but I appreciate the challenge he brings. He doesn't just let me be right; he's not intimidated by me or trying to outshine me. Somehow or another, we get each other. When we met, I know neither of us expected to become close friends. He especially has a sour first impression of me, and I don't blame him. I'm just glad he didn't let that stamp our relationship for good. There have been times when I have called him when I've been an emotional mess and he has come to my aid; there have been times when my little car has gotten stuck in the snow, and he has helped me, literally, shovel a path on the street and dig out of it; he has changed my flat tires; he has braved all-night homework assignments with me; he's driven to Texas and back with me - I'm willing to bet if you name something, we've been through it together. I have such a deep unconditional love for him.

Whenever I'm having days like today, for some reason or other, the care that I have for him always resonates in my mind tenfold. He probably knows those days exist because he'll get a text from me or a message or something that expresses my appreciation for him. I am so very, very grateful for him. I just hope he knows that - always - no matter how bratty or difficult I'm being on a given day.

There are a handful of famous women that I admire: Carol Burnett, Audra McDonald, Kate Winslet, Judy Garland... and then there's one that I just can't even think about without getting emotional.

Julie Andrews. Honestly, there isn't another celebrity that brings tears at the mere mention of her name. There isn't another celebrity who is more graceful and gracious. To me, she is the absolute picture of elegance and class.

Last night, I watched the Oprah episode of the 45-year reunion of the entire cast of The Sound of Music movie (or the VonTrapp family part of the cast, anyway...). As Oprah talked with the now 75-year-old Julie Andrews one-on-one, I was absolutely engrossed in everything that was said. One thing stuck out to me more than anything: Oprah asked Julie when and if she knew that her voice was special. She said she was about 13 years old when it hit her. "I recognized that that gift - and it is a gift - gave me an identity." Julie Andrews understands more than anyone, I think, that the talents we receive are absolutely gifts and to take each day as it comes and each opportunity as it comes and to never let a moment pass when we aren't truly grateful for what we've been given. I think that is a wonderful lesson that all of us can learn and remember.

My mom called me the night that that Oprah episode aired and talked to me about how affected she was by it; that's what made me want to find it and watch it. Just as we were about to hang up, my mom said something I will probably remember for the rest of my life...

"Thanks for being my Julie Andrews."

The One where I Plug Drowsy.

The One with the Wednesday Blues.

A letter for this day of the week:

Dear Wednesday,

I hate you. No, really. Why is it that you have to live up to your nickname, "Hump Day," and make me feel all rotten inside? What do I have to do in order to kick you to the curb? There are songs and poems about you and how much of a funk you put people in. I like Mondays more than I like you! Just stop it. I feel fatter on Wednesdays; I feel SUPER stressed out on Wednesdays (more than normal); I feel sad and down on myself on Wednesdays. Why is that? It's a good thing I get to end you with some of the most charming people I know in one of the most charming little musicals I've ever been a part of. Otherwise, I would really be out in search of some way to get rid of you completely. You're lucky, Wednesday. Really lucky. Don't mess with me today.

Thanks bunches,
Angela

Ho hum... it's Wednesday.

I know how crazy it sounds, but every Wednesday for the past month and a half, I have hit a wall and been thrown into an absolute funk; it doesn't matter how well I prepare myself (how much sleep I get the night before, how well I eat, how much or little I have do in any given class), it happens. Unfortunately, today is no exception. There is just nowhere to run, nowhere to hide in the middle of the week. I recognize that this all sounds pretty dramatic. I just really, really, REALLY hate Wednesdays.

So, this post's purpose, for myself and those of you who may be in my same boat, is to cheer us up. For example:


Sometimes a picture of some snuggly, sleeping puppies is all it takes. I want a puppy all the time, but on Wednesdays, I want two. One for each arm to wrap around and snuggle with.

...

There's this show I'm in called Five Carols for Christmas/Jingle Jacks. I've mentioned it before, but I haven't really dove in and given any description of the show and/or the experience. It opens in two and a half weeks at Weber. I really, really think you need to come see this show. I mean, look at these pictures already...As if the hairstyles and costumes aren't enough to win you over, let me pitch the plot to you. Two one acts. The first act involves five women in the 1950's singing about Christmas at the annual PTA Christmas show. And every woman is named Carol (or Car'l or Karil or Queryl or Carroll). The second act is set modern-day; four lumberjacks. In a boy band. Who make pancakes. Darling, huh? It plays November 12-13 and 16-20 at 7:30 PM, plus a 2:00 PM matinee on November 20. Come see it, okay?

I am in love with this weather. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love the cold and the snow. In fact, two years ago, it didn't snow on my birthday. Four of my friends went up the mountain with shovels, loaded snow into the back of a truck and surprised me by putting snow in my front yard. To this day, that is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.

I love coats; I love blankets; I love heaters; I love gloves; I love thermal; I love boots; I love snow angels; I love snowball fights; I love "ruining" a perfectly white, untrodded-on blanket of snow. I feel like I've been waiting forever for the chill to hit. Now that it has, it's time for the snow to stick so I can play in it. (Play in it, not get my car stuck in it. That, I will admit, is not fun.)

Mom Countdown: 15 days.

Sometimes I dig myself an early grave and never end up in it. That's a good thing, right? Yes. And no. Sometimes I am so certain that things are going to end a certain way that I talk myself out of going through with it. For whatever reason, I think I can predict the future, and of course, my predictions are usually worst-case scenario. I have been fretting about something for the past two or three months. Yesterday, I finally came to grips with something and realized how not a big deal it had to be. Sure, the relief that swept over me was great, but so not worth the anguish I put myself through because of it.

There was a quote I heard the other day that really struck me:
"You're not alone. Don't pretend to be."

That's pretty powerful. Simple, yes. It's something that I am very adamant about. Why is it that we insist on being alone? Why must our situations always be so incomparable to someone else's? Wouldn't it be easier if you could just relate to someone instead of insisting that you are "alone?" The statements, "You don't understand," or "no one understands" when used in that regard are so frustrating to hear. While, yes, you are your own person and you do have situations that are unique for you, your life and your personality, someone somewhere gets it. I honestly believe that. A small example: I cannot describe how it feels when I am belting my heart out on a stage in front of hundreds of people. But someone somewhere, I truly believe, feels the exact same way as I do in those moments. It is unfair and immature, in my opinion, to close yourself off by saying that you are the only one who is dealing with something or "understands." Sometimes, comments like that just seem like excuses.

I'm not saying that I am completely innocent in this aspect. But I recognize that it is sometimes present in my life (my frustration with dancing, for example), and I am trying to rid my vocabulary of those ignorant statements.

I hope my "soapboxes" don't ever offend anyone or overstep any boundaries. I'm a very expressive person, and I am very passionate about a lot of things. The truth is, I want people to not feel alone. I want people to realize that, without trying to sound too cliché, there's hope in a situation and that someone else can be there for you because they've been through it or are going through it, too. It's not about "one-upping." It's about taking care of yourself and others... because, let's be honest, if you realize that your situation is something that can happen again to any given person, you are more prone to helping someone else through it.

And, really, who wouldn't want to do that?

The One about Maddie.

I really appreciate reflective people. I appreciate when I can sit down with someone and just talk about anything and everything and feel like a better human being when I walk away from the conversation. When I asked Maddie last summer during Joseph rehearsals to room with us when she started at Weber, I had no idea that I was going to have countless meaningful conversations with this sweet girl. I am so grateful for her willingness to humor me and hear me out so often. I have watched her grow up so much in the past year and a half. It's really incredible.Last weekend was interesting. It was filled with all different types of discouragement. And then, the other night when I got home from Logan, Maddie helped me wrap it up and kick the discouragement in the butt. I don't even know if she realizes she did that. And unless she reads this blog, I don't think she ever will realize it. (I could be a good friend and tell her... but what's the fun in that? Let's just find out if she reads this...) I have been through so much with her; she is one of the three people, besides my own mother, to literally hold me when I've cried. (And she was with me when I saw Audra in 110, which is, to this day, the most incredible theatrical experience of my life.) I just really love her.

What's the point of discouragement? Back-handed compliments, talking down to people, or just flat-out saying, "Don't bother," or "Get real." I have my heart set on goals that I want to accomplish in my life. Everyone does. Or everyone should.

As with everyone, there are people around me that attempt to discourage me from my even bothering to obtain goals. When I see this happening, I have to stop and take a look at these people. I ask, "Is this someone who should be in my circle of influence? Can this person really help to guide me to obtain what it is that I am aiming for?" Now, I'm not saying that the only reason I allow people into my "circle of influence" is to boost my personal goals; I'm saying that positivity and encouragement is vital in anyone's life. Anyone that tries to single-handedly push me away from things that I find important is not worth keeping around. I think we could all benefit and afford to recognize that sometimes it's okay to do inventory on the people in your life - throw out the bad and bring in the good. I have so much good in my life; who needs the bad?

I'm going to be a bit of a "theatre dork" and express my absolute love of raw performances. When I see something that is so rooted in the ground, so honest, so filled with adrenaline, I can hardly contain myself (if they're good performers, that is). This has happened only a number of times in my life when I have watched live theatre. It's hearing someone inhale so deeply for the next note they're going to hit; it's the flubs that happen because of adrenaline. I love the humanization of performers.

When I was growing up, my mom would talk about how we should never do things "halfway"... I'm going to be honest right now. I feel very "halfway" in my life right now. I hate saying that. It's only been for the last couple of days; I'm a little sick, so that might be why I don't quite feel 100% as I usually do. I am working, going to school, rehearsing a show and performing for another show. It's a lot. I know I am capable of handling this much at once; but it's hitting me later than I thought it would, and it's taking a little more than a second to really grasp it all. This is a challenge that I am facing and will eventually overcome. I wouldn't trade any of these things I'm doing for anything. I just am really learning how to balance my time, my health, my sleep, my eating habits, my feelings, and my grades, too. I am going to make it through this, and you better believe I will be here with a full report when it happens - with lessons learned from all of it, too.

Okay, seriously? Look at this.

I don't even know whose baby this is. I'm talking about the onesie... from the brilliant mind of my mother. Cute, huh? The baby's pretty precious, too. Go like her page on Facebook.

And speaking of mom... I get to see her in 21 days. I cannot wait.

(Oh, and guess what? My pants are loose. 15 pounds and counting.)

The One about Jackson.

I love my little sister. More than I can say. We don't talk nearly as often as we probably should, but I think about her so much everyday - what a beautiful person she is and how grateful and lucky I am to have her. Life hasn't been a bowl of peaches for her, but she has handled it with more grace than I can even begin to comprehend. It actually makes me a little weepy to even try to imagine the things she has been through. It's those graceful moments that make me look up to her. I'm so proud to call her mine.

(Let's just talk about this picture for a second. Martha is so tiny and looks sunburnt. Our couch is so bad. I never wore pants or shorts - just ran around in my underwear for most of my childhood; this is proof. And I didn't have eyes back then, either.)

Sigh...

Okay. I'm just going to say it. There are people that I don't like. They are very few, but they do exist. There are people that wound me and wound my friends and/or family, and often my opinion of those people, no matter how hard I try, doesn't change. There are personalities that clash, there are people who tick us off. It happens.

(This is so different from first impressions; first impressions are a wonderful thing - even if they aren't right. I am fascinated by them; they allow us to see ourselves as well as others imperfectly. They allow us to make mistakes; I feel like we are better because of wrong first impressions. Do I sound crazy?)

But sometimes those opinions do change. I'm not talking about the first impressions... I'm talking about when someone severely wounds me or my sweet friends and/or family. I have heard before, from numerous sources, that I forgive too easily, that I let people back in too quickly. That may seem the case. But I assure you that I do not make the road back into my heart an easy one to travel. For those of you who have walked it and made it back to me, I hold you more closely than you can imagine. Does that sound totally narcissistic? I am just grateful for the care you took to nurture the friendship - I promise I have to walk that tough road back as well.

And another thing, I don't just dislike someone just for the heck of it. There are always reasons that I perceive as valid. Just as one person has his opinion, I have mine. You are subject to yours, and I am subject to mine.

Phew! And that was my soapbox. I know it's so much less mature and less positive than the rest of my entries have been. I just have been sitting on that soapbox for a few days, and I wanted to say it.

One of my dearest friends, Molly, has an incredible blog. I became well-acquainted with her through it during the production of Peter Pan she and I were in back in November and December of 2007. She actually is much of the motivation of my starting one; she shares her thoughts and feelings so openly, too, and allows so many people to be lifted by her words. She is absolutely one of the strongest people I have ever known.

I have been very nostalgic lately. I'm usually pretty reminiscent, but I have been more so lately. Something was said to me in a Carols rehearsal last week that just opened that door and the memories have just been flooding in. I have changed so much in the last three and a half years, especially. Why three and a half years, you ask? Three and a half years ago, I auditioned for and was a part of a summer stock theatre company in Jackson, Wyoming, that changed my life.That began a spiral of events that absolutely led me to the physical location I am today... but more importantly, it very heavily contributed to the mental and emotional growth I have experienced.

At the end of that summer, I decided to wrap up some of my thoughts in the "Notes" section on Facebook. In one passage of the makeshift one-day blog, I said this: "These last two weeks or so have been an internal and emotional hell for me, to tell you the truth. I have let myself be affected too much by how I am treated. I don't regret the hell I've gone through, though. I am grateful for it. Because I could have walked away from this summer without really comprehending why I came here."

Sounds a little impatient of me, doesn't it? To have expected to understand why I went the Jackson immediately following my working there? I had no idea that that summer was actually beginning to weave the next however many years of my life. Going into that experience, I can say I only expected to walk away with something a little more impressive and a little more professional on my performance resumé. The things I found during that experience are priceless. I found my best friend. I found my school. I found tidbits of my talent, and ways to utilize it. I found aspects of professionalism. I found humility. I found honesty and genuineness. Those finds have grown to innumerable amounts in the last three and a half years. While I absolutely believe I would have still grown with a different experience, I like to think of that summer as the one that really put things into motion for me.

Since I have left Jackson, I have luckily held onto that best friend I found there. I have loved my school and am graduating within the next year. I have learned more about my craft and have found even more ways to use it. I have become more knowledgeable in professionalism. I have taught myself even more humility, and I have striven to become an even more real and honest (sometimes too honest) individual.

I am always, always trying to be a better person. When I get a lapse in judgment and do something stupid, I try to teach myself a lesson from that. I do not see myself as perfect in any way, shape or form. I, like everyone, am simply learning - slowly but surely - who I am going to be for the rest of my life.

Exciting.

The One with Ten Pounds.

Let me rephrase something that I said in my last post. I am, in no way, ungrateful for the gift I have been given to sing. I am grateful for those roles that I do get cast in sometimes simply because of my voice. I'm afraid what I meant to say was that because I am such a slow learner with dancing, my chances of getting any role I want - whether I can sing it or not - are affected very substantially. That makes more sense, right?

Sometimes I really hate making decisions. It comes with being an adult, I know. But sometimes I don't want to be an adult. I've talked about this before - how I'd like to be a toddler again. It's just that the responsibility that comes with being an adult can be a bit overwhelming. Sometimes making a decision that you feel is better for you and will push you personally in the right direction - emotionally, physically, financially, career-wise, etc. - is going to let someone else down. And the consequences, big or small, must be reaped. I understand that is a fact of life. But understanding it doesn't mean I have to like it. I'm afraid I have a big, fat decision that is going to really affect my next semester, but I really feel like it is the best thing for me. I can't miss the opportunity.

We opened The Drowsy Chaperone, as I said in my last post, and the audience's responses have been aboslutely wonderful. I sit backstage during a lot of the show waiting to go on just listening to the laughter that emits from the crowd. "It does what a musical is supposed to do - it takes you to another world... for when you're feeling blue." I was told after our Saturday matinee that one lady was practically sobbing when the show ended because it let her escape for just a couple of hours from a really tough few days she'd had previously. I love hearing about things like that, even if I can't say I've contributed too much to it. It really is such a sweet show, and I am so lucky to be a part of it.
My mom is so cool. She started up a website for her embroidery business called Bloomers and Boxers. She is even blogging on the website about her progress with the business, and it's really fun. If you yourself have any little ones or know of anyone who does or will in the near future, you'll want to check it out. You'll die when you see how precious everything is. The website is still in progress, but there are still quite a few things to look at. So... go look: http://www.bloomersandboxers.com. I'm so proud. :)

Speaking of my mom... she is coming to see me next month. We'd been talking about it, but I wasn't really sure it was going to happen. But I was surprised by a flight itinerary in my email inbox. I actually giggled when I saw it. She's flying in on November 11 and staying until the 14th. This means she'll get to see my in both of my shows. I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am for this to happen! She is my greatest support.

AND speaking of support, I have the sweetest friends on the planet. It is such a sweet blessing to hear one or two of them laughing in the audience or to see them from up above the audience where I'm loading into one of my contraptions. They are all so precious to me.

Okay. Let's talk about it. It's become a pretty prominent part of my everyday life lately, so why not? I'm dieting. YUCK, I hate that word. But I hate even more when people say, "It's not a diet; it's a lifestyle." So, I've come up with my own lingo and mantra regarding the matter: "I'm treating myself better, and I'm feeling better about myself." A lot of words for one idea, I know, but I like thinking about it that way instead. It seems... well... healthier. So. The results so far? I've lost ten pounds in two weeks. It can be frustrating to look at myself and not really see a huge difference, but I can definitely feel it. I may not get as much sleep with my busy schedule as I should, but I'm less tired because I'm more energized and less weighed-down by the fatty food I had been eating before. It's a big change, but I am so thrilled with the results, which are so much more than the minus ten pounds that the scale shows... I'm talking about the self-esteem attached to the progress, the energy and the endorphins. Even my performances have become more energized. I don't have a single complaint about it - I don't even miss the fatty foods. I feel so good. And I still have so much further to go.

I had a blast from the past this weekend. Has anyone else ever seen the movie Mac and Me? We used to watch it at my house all the time when I was little. It is the weirdest, yet most charming little movie ever. It may or may not be a bit of a rip-off of E.T. I'll let the poster speak for itself...