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!

The One with the Little Voice.

In New York right now, it's not what you would call "audition season." In fact, it's quite the opposite; it's the slowest time of the year for auditions. I knew this was the case before I came out here and I figure these three or so months that I'm here before "audition season"(August/September/October) will give me the chance to ease my way in, auditioning here and there and letting myself get to know the city. Since most of my days here are fairly open for the time being, there's really no excuse for me not to keep up with my blog every couple of weeks or so. I do, after all, really enjoy writing and sharing my thoughts and adventures.

I've had several amazing and difficult discoveries since my last entry. The most thundering one being this: nothing about this place is easy. (Except finding and purchasing food... that's far TOO easy. It's everywhere.) It's not easy to get anywhere. It's not easy to audition. It's not easy to run errands. It's not easy to make time to visit a friend, even though you're completely surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people all the time. It's not easy to walk a block without wanting or needing to push someone out of your way. It's not easy to be in a hurry. It's not easy to get somewhere on time. It's not easy to keep your hair in the same state it was in when you left your house. It's not easy to sleep. It's not easy to cool off. It's not easy to afford it. It's just not easy. It's not only not easy, it's just plain hard.

When I became conscious of this fact, I had a moment. A moment of "Is this really where I want to be?" A moment of "Am I out of my mind?" A moment of "I want my mom."

By the time I get home at night, I am exhausted, even if I've only done two things all day long. When I wake up in the morning, I have to pry my eyes open and have a serious conversation with myself about whether sleeping an extra hour would be a good idea or not.

I was talking to a friend the other night and expressing this recent awakening. In that moment, I smiled to myself as a little voice in my head said, "True, but every single time you do succeed, it will be so much more rewarding."

I went to an audition yesterday fully prepared and was told after sitting there for four hours that the casting director had decided that he wasn't seeing non-Equity audigoogtions. I'd been told that this might happen, so I thought I had mentally prepared myself. But as I was walking back to the train with the same materials in my backpack that I'd had four hours earlier, I just got outright mad. The anger stirred in me for the half-hour, sweaty, humid, squished-in trip back to my apartment. I even let out a guttural, frustrated yell when I closed my bedroom door. I was hot. I'd put on a skirt and heels and stayed up extra-late the night before tweaking my audition cut and perfecting my résumé for nothing.

Then that little voice came to me again: "True, but every single time you do succeed, it will be so much more rewarding."

I pondered on that for a minute more. It's very common for us to look at the people succeeding as performers and say, "I want that. Why do they have it and I don't?" It's very easy to envy someone who is currently experiencing the triumphs and accomplishments we dream of. The truth is, they have it because they've likely gone through some (or all) of the same things. They went to their share of auditions where they weren't seen. They braved the streets on humid days. They stayed up late preparing auditions. They probably, perhaps angrily, slugged their way back to their homes and apartments with a heavy heart and felt the frustrations I felt. They took the odd jobs, the opportunities that maybe paid less than others. They said yes. They worked hard. They persisted and then one day, it paid off. They were rewarded for the hard work. That was a powerful thought. What's also powerful is knowing that people can succeed in different ways. There are so many different roads and so many different destinations.

No, nothing about this place is easy. There will be days when I want crawl into a hole and let myself be mad about it. There will be days when the difficulty seems normal. There will be days when I will relish in the difficulty. I chose this. I still choose this. I loved this. I still love this. I'm growing as a person. I am SO happy. And as long as I am happy, as long as I choose it and love it, as long as I'm progressing, I know I am in the perfectly right place.

I really, really love New York. How could I not?

The One from the City.

So, I thought about going on and on about why I haven't blogged for so long but realize that catching everyone up on the past five months could really take a long time, when what I really want to do is talk about the biggest event of all...

... as I type this from my apartment in New York City.

I have officially lived here for fifteen days. I'll be honest - it feels like longer because so much has happened in that short time. I have learned so much about myself, about my friends, about this city, and about what my future holds in those few days. You see, it's impossible to gradually learn the ins and outs of this place. You get thrown right in the second you arrive. It was overwhelming, and it still is.

I'll start from the beginning.

 

My flight left Dallas Love Field on Monday, June 3rd, at 6:30 AM. I changed planes at the Houston Hobby Airport and departed there at 8:30 AM to LaGuardia. I met a nice Columbian man on the plane who was flying to New York for business; he asked me what I was traveling for, and I told him. He smiled big and said in somewhat broken English, "You have that sparkle that makes me know it will happen to you." 

As we got closer to landing, my heart started pounding. As we went through the clouds and I could see the city, I felt myself getting emotional. I had this vast sense of accomplishment and pride sweep through me, that this plan that I'd had in motion for so long was finally coming to fruition: to move to New York City. The plane landed at 1:15 PM, and I hurried off. (I've never liked flying - motion sickness mixed with minor claustrophobia and anxiety doesn't often make for a very pleasant experience.) I promptly went to collect my bags and soon found that someone had mistakenly taken one of mine. I waited for them to return and then went on my way with two rolling suitcases, a backpack and a carry-on duffel bag in tow.

After dropping off my bags, I met up with my friend Dalton. We have been friends since we were 16 years old. I would say he's the friend I've kept around the longest, my oldest friend. He is a dear one, too, that I think will always have a special little place in my heart. He has helped me so much, in so many ways, and he continues to do so here in this big, big world called NYC. I met a few of his friends that night, let my phone die, and was out until well past bedtime. I had purchased my MetroCard earlier that day, and it was time to head back to the apartment. Dalton and his friends gave me very clear instructions on how to get back. But anyone who knows me at all knows I don't listen to directions well. It's almost automatic that I shut down when someone is giving them to me... even if it means my safety might be involved.

Needless to say, I got lost on the way back. I ended up in an area that I'm sure I couldn't find again if I tried. It was a frightening neighborhood, and it was late. The crazies were out. I hurriedly made my way up to two girls sitting on a stoop and asked them where the street was that I was looking for. They pointed me in the right direction and I practically jogged there, my feet achy from my boots and the day's activities. I couldn't call anyone for instructions or reassurance or company. I was a mess. When I crawled into bed, I laid there in silence and asked, "What am I doing here?"

I woke up late the next day and decided I would make my way to a place I was at least a little more familiar with than others - Times Square. It was a sight for sore eyes, really.

As I walked around the popular tourist spot, I became keenly aware of something quite potent: I over-romanticized New York City. When I visited as a tourist myself, I saw the pretty places - the expensive hotels, the tour bus, the taxis, the nice restaurants, the safer streets, the beautiful night lights on Times Square. Some of those things still fascinate me, but there is so much more to this place than those things. I've seen some ugly parts of NYC. It's dirty. It's gritty and scary and big and can swallow you up in one single gulp if you let it.

And yet, I don't want to leave.

Since that first full day here, I have had many adventures. I snagged a job selling merchandise at a few shows. Because of this job, I've been within inches of Andrew Rannells, Clive Davis, Bernadette Peters, Megan Hilty, Tina Fey, Lea Salonga, Marc Jacobs, Swoosie Kurtz, Elton John, Zachary Levi, Matthew Morrison, and Krysta Rodriguez. Because of this job, I've made some decent friends and some decent money that will help in this expensive city.

I've seen an off-Broadway show called Unbroken Circle. I've seen Once, Peter and the Starcatcher, Kinky Boots and Pippin, all on Broadway. (The latter of which is literally the best thing I've ever seen in my entire life... I'm not kidding. If you get to see ONE show in New York, choose Pippin. It will blow your mind.) 

I've had far too much 99-cent pizza. I've had gigantic cupcakes and tasty cookies and delicious paninis. I've walked probably 100 miles since I got here. I've done the lottery at Matilda and Wicked. I fully intend on returning to try again... you know, since I live here and all. I've lost five pounds. I've slept soundly, even with a rumbling train and late-nighters on the streets. The grittiness is still very alive, but I'm learning to deal with it. I've learned how to discretely, yet obviously, show that I'm carrying pepper spray on my keychain. I've learned to never take a cab. I've learned people on the street will always ask you for money. I've learned to take a backpack when I go grocery-shopping. I've learned how much I can fit into my backpack when I go grocery-shopping so that I can make the trek back to my apartment without my arms falling off. I've learned how to check for bed bugs. I'm learning MTA's system. I'm learning how to dress if I'm making a expedition to the other side of the city. (In other words, never wear heels if it means a long walk. Wear tennis shoes or rain boots and bring your heels with you in your purse/bag. In turn, no heels also means less cat calls in sketchy stations or streets.)

And as of yesterday, I've started to learn about auditions. 

I auditioned for the national touring company of Ghost at Ripley-Grier. I was there for eight hours. I went in at 8:00 AM and finally auditioned at 4:00 PM. I didn't get a callback, and that's okay. Because I'm learning that that's also how things work around here for most people. I learned yesterday that while my music library is extremely extensive, my audition cuts are not. I need to focus on putting together more 16- and 32-bar cuts that will blow people's minds when I use them.

I'm learning where to look for auditions. I'm learning how to act at them. I'm learning how to not act at them. I'm learning they are time-consuming and hard work. I'm learning that if I ever tell anyone that I'm a performer and they belittle the work by saying with a patronizing smile, "Well, that's fun," I'll likely punch them in the face and/or invite them along to an audition. I'm learning that warm-up locations are hard to find. (Tip: when a train comes by or an announcement comes over the speaker in the station on the way to your audition, use those mere seconds to do a loud warm-up. I'm not kidding; I found ten opportunities yesterday to make this happen, and I took each one.)

I'm learning that the love that I have for my friends and family grow as I move farther away from them. I'm learning that to miss them is very, very real and a very tangible feeling.

Right now, I'm learning. That's the biggest thing about being here at this moment, I think, if you weren't able to catch that. I am soaking up one of the greatest cities in the world and loving it at times, hating it at others, but never wanting to leave all in the same minute.

I am a passionate young lady in a passionate city. I don't know if I will ever get used to the hustle and bustle, but I know that I could grow to love it and call it my own.

I am proud that I am here. I am proud that I am learning. And I am proud of absolutely wherever this crazy road leads.

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.