The One with Christmas Commercials.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #20: "Good work is good work wherever it's done, in a play, a motion picture or television, and that includes commercials. " - Parker Stevenson

One of the many things that I remember about my early childhood are TV commercials. Maybe that means that we watched too much TV; I like to think we dabbled in lots of different areas of culture, including the art that is the small screen, the telly, the boob tube, the idiot box.

My siblings and I will frequently reminisce about certain commercials, like the "Pizza in the mornin'" one or the "My Buddy/Kid Sister" ad. Silly as it may sound, I'm grateful for these little treasures that make us laugh about our pasts.

As I've been catching up on Modern Family, Grey's Anatomy, and Desperate Housewives on Hulu this weekend, I'm reminded more and more that Christmas is near because of the commercials that have aired in the breaks. As I was watching them, I thought, "They just don't make Christmas commercials like they used to."

And that sent me on the search for my top favorite Christmas commercials I watched as I was growing up. (You may want to go to the bottom of the page and pause the music player before you watch any of these!)

I remember this ad as the first commercial that ever made me cry. I'm fairly certain it wasn't airing with any program I was watching, but instead I saw it on a VHS tape of a Christmas movie my parents had recorded.


"Oh, Bill..."


And this one REALLY creeped me out.


The classic...


And who could forget this one?


I always wanted a polar bear thanks to this one.


There's just SO MANY!

The One with Mom's Love Note.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #19: "I cannot forget my mother. She is my bridge. When I needed to get across, she steadied herself long enough for me to run across safely." - Renita Weems

Today is a very special lady's birthday. When I started these tributes, I was so excited that my mom's birthday fell in the month of November, because that meant that I would have one more reason to gab about such an amazing woman. How I wish I could be with her today while she celebrates in Texas, maybe to help make it a little more special, but the best that I can do is send love from afar and express, maybe a little bit, how grateful and glad I am that she was born. Growing up, when we asked her what she wanted for her birthday, my mom would always say, "Just write me a love-note." I know it's not much, and it couldn't possibly cover everything I feel for my her, but... here's your love-note, Mom.


Dear Mom,

Today it felt completely appropriate to send you a big cyber hug since I’m not with you in person on your birthday. I also thought it might be fun to have a few really kind strangers and perhaps a few familiar friends add their birthday wishes. (Go ahead. Wish my mom a happy birthday in the comments.)

You have been my biggest supporter since… well... forever. You check my blog faithfully; you are the first to be excited about anything I’m doing; you are my best friend; you give me the best praise; you believe in me; we have the best times together.

Mom, thank you again and again and again for everything you are and everything you do. Thank you for serving our family so devotedly. Thank you for picking Dad, too. I count my blessings every single day that I ended up with you two as my sweet parents.

Thank you for being supportive every step of the way as I've planned and achieved goals and struggled to make them. Thank you for NEVER making me feel pressured when I make any big life decisions; and most of all, thank you for being encouraging with the ones I am especially most passionate about.
You work harder than anyone I have ever known. You are the strongest women I have ever known. (Hence the picture.) I know that your strength is why I am as strong as I am today, and I hope to continue to live by your example. In fact, if I ended up just like you, I would be so very proud of my life.

Thank you for every sacrifice you’ve made for me and for Roy and Martha and for the family as a whole. Thank you for loving me through every hissy fit, attitude adjustment, tantrum and tear, every mood swing and anything I ever did that caused you heartache. I hope today has been special for you because you deserve that at least. I can't wait to hug you in a month or so. I love you so much. Happy birthday, Mom!

Love, Angie

The One about Jim.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #18: "A mentor is someone who sees more talent and ability within you than you see in yourself... and helps bring it out of you." - Bob Proctor

For the majority of my life, it wasn't even a question of where I was going to go to college. It was always BYU as a vocal performance major. Eventually it turned to a desire to be an MDT major, but it was still BYU.

But when I applied in 2004 and wasn't accepted (thanks to my only-average ACT scores and 3.5 GPA), I turned to my second choice, BYU-Idaho, where I would major in Theatre/Speech Education. When I got to BYU-Idaho in January of 2006, I started auditioning for shows. In the year and a half that I was there, I was only cast in one production as a chorus member who was onstage for literally sixty seconds. It was all about seniority there; if a role was between a really good freshman and a mediocre senior, it went to the senior. The director of one of the shows even pulled me aside to tell me he would've given me a lead role if the school weren't so fixated on casting upperclassmen.

Because of these little details, I started resenting the school and the department. By the time I'd done three semesters there, I was over it. It wasn't just because of the seniority issue; things just seemed like they were being dealt with so flippantly in the department. Theatre wasn't really fun to anyone there; it was a job, a chore, a pain. I didn't feel that way, so I felt like I definitely didn't belong there.

In the earlier part of the spring semester in 2007, my mom called me with news that one of her closest friends would be directing a show that summer in Jackson Hole and that there was a role that I might be interested in. Auditions were even being held at BYU-Idaho in February. When the time came, I auditioned and was cast in Chaps! and The Music Man.

I've blogged a bit about that special summer before; I really do attribute those few months as some of the most influential of my life for many reasons. Since I was in The Music Man and Chaps!, I didn't work closely with the director of the other show in the repertory schedule, Nunsense. His name was Jim Christian. Of course I'd met him, but I'd hardly spoken a word to him, really. However, after a little while, we started working on the choreography of The Music Man, which Jim was also doing.

We worked on learning "Shipoopi" during one day of rehearsal. I was floored by his patience for the actors in the process. He seemed so smart, so competent, so prepared, so utterly and completely qualified. A few days later, he came into our Chaps! rehearsal to help choreograph one number. Of course I struggled with the steps... like I do. Then Jim said, "I'm here to help you. Let's just break it down into parts. This can be fun, Angela."

For the rest of the time that he was in Jackson after that, I didn't work too closely with him, but I respected and admired him from afar. And I secretly wished I could work with him as my director.
This picture was taken on the last day that Jim was in Jackson, which was opening night of Nunsense. The whole time he was gone, I kept wondering what it would be like to work with him again. In so little time, I had grown such an appreciation for his work ethic and the dedication he put into each individual. I thought the opportunities had passed me by.

During that summer, I was enrolled in six credits at BYU-Idaho: one was an internship at the theatre in Jackson, and the other was a Book of Mormon class. On the day that I thought the class started in mid-June, I logged into my student portal. My face went white when I realized that my class wasn't starting on that day, but it was ending. I emailed the professor and explained my mistake, but I never heard from him. Instead, on the last day of the semester, I received an F in the class. The very next day, I received an email from BYU-Idaho putting me on Academic Suspension. I appealed my situation and was put on Academic Probation.

Then it hit me: I didn't like being at BYU-Idaho in the first place. Why fight to get back in? I could find a better place to go to school. One day in Jackson, someone mentioned that Jim was head of the musical theatre department at Weber State University. I hadn't even really heard of the place, but I took a little bit of time to ask two of the three people in the summer stock cast about the department, the shows and the school in general. After lots of reflection, I knew that Weber was where I needed to be. I knew I had to learn more from Jim.

I know I'm not the only one who feels this way about Jim. He is the picture of a perfect theatre professor. Besides an impeccable educator, Jim is a mentor, a counselor, and a director.

I credit the man for teaching me how to know my voice. You see, before I went to Weber, I knew what could come out of my mouth when I sang, but I didn't know how to control when it happened or how it happened. I didn't know what steps to take to get the sound that would occasionally come out. I had good singing days, and I had bad singing days. Instead of me being in control of my voice, my voice just picked and chose when it would do whatever it was that it was doing. I took voice lessons from Jim during my first semester at Weber, in Spring of 2008 (and almost every semester after that!). I remember leaving my very first lesson, calling my mom and crying (tears of joy, of course!) because I felt like I had learned more about my voice in one hour-long lesson than I had in all my 16 years of voice lessons before. He taught me that I had the power to be the "belter" I wanted to be. He taught me how to take care of my voice. He taught me that it's okay to make a mistake and to experiment with my voice. In one single lesson with him, there was no question that I'd made the right decision in choosing to attend Weber. Every lesson was a development, an opportunity to polish, improve and refine my instrument.

On December 10, 2009, I had a voice lesson. If this days sounds familiar from a few posts back, you'll remember it as the day that my "Papaw" passed away. I'd gotten the call about it around 2 AM that morning, so I'd been sitting with it for some time. Just five days before that, my newborn nephew had passed away as well. My family had been blindsided, and I felt so helpless being in Utah. I walked into my voice lesson, and I couldn't really hide how distraught I was. Without any hesitation, Jim said, "Do you need to talk?" and I just sort of fell apart. Right there. In his office. I couldn't help it. We talked so much about our core beliefs and how to make things like this make sense in order to keep living our lives. He offered personal insights and and open heart. I wept. And when I was leaving his office at the end of my scheduled lesson, after an entire hour of constant reflection, I didn't feel so helpless. Instead, I felt enveloped in an understanding that things really were going to be okay.

I am floored by his talents as a theatre master and Einstein when it comes to voices and acting and dancing and expression onstage. I have met few people with the gusto and strong stand in profession that Jim bestows. He is absolutely, positively brilliant.

But you see, Jim is more than just an outstanding professor or choreographer or voice teacher or director. He certainly is all of those things to the utmost degree. But he is also my friend. A bit of a saving grace, a confidante, who offers wisdom in the most respectable and understanding way. A downright good person.

People ask me why I chose Weber, and it's really for one reason: Jim. Because of his guidance and his incredible knack for teaching, I feel like I have gotten more out of my college experience as a performer than I ever imagined getting. I feel like I learned more; I feel like I played more; I feel like the opportunities have been endless. When I graduate in December, I will walk away with a heart full of gratitude for the chances Jim gave me in performing, knowledge I received in the classroom, in voice lessons, in rehearsals, and in conversations.

Jim has helped me understand how to not only be a better performer... but a better person, too. Simply by setting a wonderful example in his everyday life.

The One about This Blog.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #17: "Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Benjamin Franklin

You'll notice that my last few posts have been relatively short; I have to admit that I haven't been as gung-ho about putting in as much time as I usually do in order to post everyday. A lot of the time I even find that I don't quite finish a post and decide to post it the next day instead.

It's harder than I thought it would be.

But that aside, and certainly more significantly, this blog is a real blessing. Of course I've said that before... only because I mean it. A sweet friend made several very nice coments to me about my blog recently that really got me thinking about it.

I'm not really a public speaker. I never have been. I tend to freeze up a bit when I'm put on the spot to improvise something. I say "uhm" and "like" and "uhh" and "so" a billion times throughout a presentation or a speech or an interview or anything ad-libbed, really. It's just not my thing. But give me a script to read or memorize or a song to sing and those fears go away. I used to think that made me unoriginal... and then I realized that writing is just my form of expressing my thoughts; it's my comfort. I understand that people just work differently; their brains simply function a little bit differently. And that's okay; that's exactly what makes the world go 'round.
I don't know when I became so engrossed in writing. Maybe it's the perfectionist nature I've accrued in my 24 years that started it. I remember being very interested in the writing part of the state tests as far back as the third grade. I used to want to be a writer. In fact, I used to write short stories and poems in junior high that I would spend hours trying to perfect. I'm obsessed with grammar and punctuation. Anyone who knows me (or reads this blog, hopefully) knows that I'm a stickler for grammar, spelling and tidiness in presenting what I have to say, whether it be via text, chat/instant message, assignments, letters... I use commas, apostrophes, question marks, exclamation marks, accents, ellipses, etc. It's actually fun for me to edit a paper. It's fun for me to find new way to use punctuation. Of course I make mistakes, but if I can edit them, I absolutely will.

This blog seems to satisfy my writing urges. It gives me incredible closure on issues that I might not have otherwise stated. It gives me a chance to write the things that I maybe couldn't say.

It's my outlet, my little safe haven, and I am exceptionally grateful that it's here for me to use.

The One with LaChanze.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #16: "He who sings frightens away his ills." - Miguel de Cervantes

Sometimes we feel mad. Sometimes we feel sad. Sometimes we feel frustrated. Sometimes we feel hurt. Sometimes we feel helpless.

I've always loved driving; I've found that it really relieves a lot of stress (if it's just to drive... sometimes having a destination can be stressful). In fact, when I was living in Ogden, on Sundays, I would take about an hour drive up in the Ogden Canyon and just take in the scenery.

But I've found that more than just driving, singing and driving relieves more stress and sadness and frustration and anger and helplessness. It's a medicine of its own. And there is just something about being in your car or your shower or a place where you are the only one who can hear you - there are no inhibitions, no need for insecurities, total and complete vulnerability.

Sometimes I can just get in my car, drive and sing. And all is right in my little world.

I know this video isn't in her room or her car or her shower... but there is just something about how candid and unbridled she is. And maybe some of these lyrics and expressions and soul is how I feel when I sing all by myself.

The One with Modern Family.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #15: "The Emerald City at the end of my yellow-brick road..." - Mitchell

Listen, I know it's small and simple, but I warned you that some of these would be small and simple. It is certainly something that I've grown grateful for because I have used it lately as a little escape from the homework that's been piling up.

I've finished Season One and I'm so excited to keep watching...
It's just honest. And therefore, hilarious and relatable.

They say things that actually have happened to me. Like this... "Calm down, you know I grew up around many animals. One time a rooster attacked me and my mom rung its neck and we had it for dinner."

I'm serious. Only it was my dad and he shot it.

The One with the Puppies.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #14: "Whoever said you can't buy happiness forgot little puppies." - Gene Hill

I won't really say much today (because I'm ridiculously behind on my homework and must focus on that, unfortunately)... except that sometimes coming in from a downer sort of day to a living room full of tiny puppies makes you forget you were ever down in the first place.
I'm amazed that I can sit for so long and just stare at them, not saying a word, and be completely content. They're the cutest, sweetest form of therapy.