The One with 7, 8, 9, and 10.

Hi. My name's Angela, and I'm a slacker.

Okay, not really. I just have neglected this little treasure for far too long. I started my "Tributes to Thanksgiving" in November, let things get a little more hectic than normal and let the last two months slip away from me in the blogging department.

Since I am a lady of my word, I fully intend on catching up on my Tributes, even if it's little by little... but life has a way of being hectic, so I may not ever get around to it. That doesn't mean I'm not grateful, of course.

I have the day off and the road conditions prohibited me from following through with any plans and have forced me to put on pajamas, remove any make-up, and throw my hair into a ponytail. So, instead of braving those white roads, I am going to relish in the things I am thankful for (which I should be doing everyday).

I'll continue where I left off: number seven.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #7: "Some people want it to happen, some wish it would happen, others make it happen." - Michael Jordan

A few years ago, I was having a conversation with my little sister. She said something that has long since stuck with me. She said, "Angie, you've known what you've wanted to do your whole life. I wish I had that." It struck several chords in me: one, a bit of sadness for my sister, wishing that I could just help her find her niche and two, she's right.

I have never, in all my years, wondered what I was going to do with my future. I have known from a very young age and I haven't changed my mind, my passion, my direction since then. I feel very fortunate to have that.

So what exactly am I thankful for? A drive. A passionate, sentimental, powerful, sometimes frustrating and scary ambition.

Which leads me to my next Tribute...

Tribute to Thanksgiving #8: "Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake." - Henry David Thoreau

I'm packing everything up, driving to Texas mid-May, and leaving my car there with my family. I'll spend several days with them and then proceed to pack up approximately four suitcases.

I fly out of Dallas on June 3, 2013 at 6:30 AM. I arrive in New York's LaGuardia Airport at 1:10 PM.

Baby steps. Big, huge, terrifying baby steps.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #9: "A baby is born with a need to be loved - and never outgrows it." - Frank A Clark

When I went home for Christmas, I knew I would be unproductive in the sense that all I would want to do is snuggle little Evie all the time. And that was fine by me. It's amazing how therapeutic being around a child can be. The way a child holds onto you, looks at you, loves you, falls asleep in your arms - it is honestly one of the most incredible feelings in the world. I found that being around that tiny little bundle was lightening my load, making me forget any troubles, and downright fun. I am obsessed with her.

Is it overkill if I express, yet again, my crazy love for my sweet little niece?

With a face this cute, who can help it?

Tribute to Thanksgiving #10: "I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future." - Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol

I have always loved Christmas. It is a time spent with family. It is a time of warmth and joy and charity. It is a time of music and food and gifts, of shopping, of catching up on sleep, of movies, and on and on.

What makes a time like that even more special is being submersed in a performance that shares with its audiences the meaning of Christmas. For the past two years, I have been honored to be a part of A Christmas Carol at the Hale Centre Theatre. Last year's performance was wonderful and special, but this year's was especially touching for many, many reasons. Some unexpected situations occurred during rehearsals that solidified a bond between many members of the cast and production staff. It felt like an honest, new, fresh show. It felt so very, very special and just... important. 

I have never felt Christmas as deeply as I did in 2012, all thanks to A Christmas Carol and the precious people involved.

The One About the Food and the City.

(These next two are from yesterday/last night.)

Tribute to Thanksgiving #5: "To keep the body in good health is a duty, otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear." - Buddha

I am so disgusted with myself lately. While I have maintained my weight by some miracle, I feel unwell. I feel gross. I feel fat and heavy. I feel exhausted, unhealthy, unbalanced, and bloated.

For the past little while, I haven't been watching what I'm eating. It's been whatever I feel like. It's been easy to just eat those potato chips, those cupcakes, that candy bar, that combo meal. For a while, it didn't matter because I wasn't suffering from what I'm feeling now... but it has definitely caught up with me. My body needs a serious purge.

So, what am I thankful for? The ability to know what's good for me. 

I literally came home from rehearsal tonight, pulled out a trash bag and dumped all of my unhealthy food into it. (Don't worry, the unused stuff isn't going in the dumpster. I'll be taking that to the Utah Food Bank.) I went to the grocery store and bought the things I know my body will appreciate, the things I know I can eat and feel good about.

I am grateful for the body I have in its generally healthy state. I am grateful that I have control of what I partake of each day. I am grateful that, starting tomorrow morning, I start over the way that I know how.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #6: "I was in love with New York. I do not mean 'love' in any colloquial way, I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and never love anyone quite that way again." - Joan Didion

After the scare and the destruction Hurricane Sandy, I feel this is more than appropriate to be thankful for. My favorite city: NYC.

The One with the Shopping and the Singing.

So... yesterday literally held no time for me to sit down and write. I'm taking my break after work and before rehearsal today to do numbers 3 and 4. I'll do 5 and 6 tonight when I get home from rehearsal.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #3: "The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her." - Marcelene Cox

I am not a crazy shopper. I hardly ever spend more than $30 on any article of clothing, shoes, etc. I consider myself a great bargain shopper, but I don't really call it a "de-stresser" or anything like that. Unless we're talking about shopping for other people.

With the Christmas season approaching, I am scouring stores in person and online for the perfect gifts for my perfect friends and family. Black Friday? I'm in Heaven.

I don't know where it became such a fascination to me, but I absolutely love finding gifts for loved ones for birthdays and the holiday season. It's just very important to me and always has been.

I suppose I'm about a third of the way done. I still have a long way to go, and I love that!

Tribute to Thanksgiving #4: "We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it." - George Eliot

I'm sitting in my room right now listening to my roommate give voice lessons to a little girl in our living room. The little girl is probably eleven years old and has the most extreme vibrato. I smile about it because, at that age, so did I. And then I'm reminded of a video Martha and I stumbled across a while ago.

A little background: my mom got her bachelor's degree at BYU in Music/French Horn performance. She has always been an excellent musician and made it an important part of her children's lives, too. I absolutely accredit my abilities to the early start that she gave us. Rather frequently, as a family, we would assemble in our living room and stand around the piano and sing while my mom played. It is one of my fondest memories, the one I can recall the best. I loved it. This video is one of those moments (sans Mom playing the piano, of course):

Today I am grateful for this. I think about it often. I smile about it often. And if I ever have kids of my own, I can't wait to share this with them, too.

The One with the Tributes 2012.

This time last year, I was working in an office in Ogden, just finishing up my degree at Weber State University. This time last year, I was participating in A Christmas Carol for the first time. This time last year, I was living with my sister, playing with her pit bull, and perhaps paying far too much money to live in a bit of a dump.

This year, I am working as a hotel clerk in Salt Lake. I hold a bachelor's degree. This year, I am a rehearsing for A Christmas Carol again, playing a completely different role than last year. This year, I'm living with three close friends and paying a lesser amount for a nicer place.

This year, I haven't blogged as much as I wanted to. But I told myself that, regardless of that fact, there was one thing that I did last year that I would absolutely repeat this year when November approached us: my Tributes to Thanksgiving.

For those of you who weren't with me last year, this was a little project I took on (like so many other people during this time of year) where I challenged myself to blog once a day about something in my life that I am thankful for. It ended up being, as I expected it would, a great experience with humbling, pivotal, silly, candid, and difficult moments. It was a great way to remind myself of the many blessings that I do have and an excellent way to forget about what I don't have.

As was the case last year, I am starting a little late. It's November 4th, so these next two days or so will be doubled up on Tributes. I will admit that this go-around will be much more difficult than last year since I don't spend my time at a computer in an office anymore. I feel a little funky right now after having only slept about three hours last night. Forgive me if this entry seems choppy!

Tribute to Thanksgiving #1:  "The one thing that matters is the effort." - Antoine de Sainte-Exupery

Obviously when you take something that you are having negative feelings about and choose to put a positive spin on it, it's likely that those negative feelings will begin to dissipate, even if it's just a little. This is my hope with this Tribute, as the past three weeks have been especially taxing.

Today, I am thankful for my job. 

The truth is, it's not easy. I spend almost the entire eight hours on my feet and dealing with people I would sometimes rather punch in the face than offer my help to. I am blamed and apologize for things I have no control over. I get yelled at, cried to, laughed at. Upon first glance, working at a hotel seems like a relatively cushy job where you get to spend your time sitting around and merely checking in and checking out guests. Not the case, folks.

Now, let's talk about why I'm thankful for it. It is a good job that allows me to have my evenings open to rehearse and/or perform. It has taught me amazing discipline. It has taught me more patience. But above all, it has reminded me how to treat people.

I will never walk into a hotel, into an airport, into a restaurant, into a salon, theatre,  library, etc. without making eye contact with the person tending to customers/patrons. I have found that the mere glance and smile from a guest can truly brighten my day. I choose to be the person who the employees remember because of how pleasant I was, not how crabby or how hateful or impatient. I have grown to respect those in the service industry so much in the past eleven months of working at the hotel. The job isn't easy. But smiling is.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #2: "A baby is a little bit of heaven on earth." - Author unknown

This really needs no words.

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.

The One with Some of the Plans.

It's been almost a month since I posted last. I really should learn to be a bit better about this. I think about blogging often. I think I feel like I have to really set aside a good two hours to get a good entry in, so unless that time is available and I feel up to using the brainpower to make it happen, I just don't make it happen.

But tonight, I do. It's 12:30 AM on September 8th. My sleep schedule has gone completely awry for a number of reasons, and I'm feeling wide awake, so I'm going to use my time wisely and share my thoughts with the world wide web and the few friends who read this old thing.

9 to 5 has been open for three and a half weeks now. There are three and a half weeks left in the run. And I am utterly and completely in love with every minute of this show. I know, it's nothing new, right? I'm sure I sound like a broken record with each role I get to play lately.

But this one... this one is different. This is the most rewarding role I have on my resumé. Because of the difficulty in finding who Judy is, because of the uneasiness I had in the rehearsal process, because of the discouraging moments, because of the moments of defeat... because I have finally found Judy and continue to find new things for her to do and about her, because I'm no longer uneasy and instead just giddy and nervous, because I'm encouraged by each moment, because I feel like I have figured things out, because the cast is so amazing... because of all of these things, the pay-off in performing the show for audiences has been unequivocally the most valuable opportunity I have had.

While I was talking to a friend last night, who I said these things to, she mentioned that she noticed that because I put so much of my heart into each show, I almost always feel like the current show I'm in is the top. And maybe that's the truth. If it is, and she said the same thing, I hope the next one I do takes the cake and on and on and on until the day I die.

Proud. That's probably the best word I can use to sum up this show. It's not perfect; the writing is interesting in some parts, the plot is mild, I'm not always pitch-perfect, I have forgotten a line here and there. But I am proud of it all. I am the most proud of the work I have done in this show. I am the most proud of the chemistry I share with the other two female leads in this show. I am the most proud to present this show for my friends, co-workers, and family. I am blown away by how much fun it is, and how, while it is consistent, it is never the same. It keeps me on my toes and, in many ways, keeps my head in the clouds.

I'm grateful for that, though. The part about it keeping my head in the clouds. Because on my days when I'm not doing the show, I have to keep my feet on the ground while I prepare myself mentally for what's happening in approximately nine months.

Don't worry, I'm not having a baby. (But speaking of, my little sister DID have a baby: meet Everleigh Lynn!)

New York. The plan, only fairly tentative, is to leave next June. In nine short months. By then, I plan on having enough saved up to allow me to live comfortably enough before I find a job or jobs. I have been reading books and doing endless research about playhouses in the city and its surrounding areas, and I'll be honest, I have found myself more recently becoming a bit discouraged.

As addressed in a previous post, I am lacking in dancing abilities. I will be taking some classes over the next few months, but the abilities aren't a natural part of me. It's frustrating and scary to read in practically every audition posting, "please wear dance shoes" or "be prepared to dance." When I come across things like that, I automatically see instead, "turn back now" or "run far, far away."

The thought even crossed my mind recently that I maybe shouldn't go because I am so horribly terrified of that aspect of "trying to make it." But then the sound advice of a mentor and friend resonated loud and clear in my head. She said, "If you go and try, you'll never regret it. If you don't go and try, you always will."

This whole post could really just be viewed as my own personal pep talk. And today, that's okay. I'd rather be lifted up than bring myself down; wouldn't you?

So... dancer or not, I will try. I am not giving myself a time limit; I'm just going to work as long and hard as I can. If I try and fail, at least I will have tried and tried my damnedest.

But honestly, when I think of it, all I can do is imagine myself succeeding. It's been the one sure thing I've known my whole life; this is what I want to do for the rest of my life, and I will work my tail off to make it so. There is a reason why I feel as deeply as I do for this art form. There is a reason why I ache for it. There is a reason why I love it this much. I know it's so I can get out there and just do it.