The One about Alienating People.

Today started as a pretty emotional day. It's just been one of those days where tears just show up for absolutely no reason. I was in the mail room doing the residents' mail earlier and I felt my eyes well up with tears. I even said out loud, "What is going on?!" I had control enough at that moment to stop what I was doing, take a few deep breaths and move on. When the strange feelings went away, I sighed and said to myself, "Thank you, PMS."

I remember months ago when I would've let those misunderstood feelings spin things out of control. But not today. It was PMS; no more, no less.

...

I have been at Weber State for seven semesters now. When I arrived in Spring 2008, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Like just about any college student who attends a new school, I couldn't even imagine what was ahead of me. I didn't know who I would meet, what classes I would learn from, whether my career would bloom as I studied, what opportunities I would have. I only knew a few people - my best friend, a professor, and two other people in the department. I knew where I was going to live and work; and I knew what classes I was going to take that semester.

I dug a hole and practically slept in it for that entire semester; the new people frightened me, the classes scared me, and I even began to wonder if I'd been fooled into thinking I had talent because I was practically invisible. After being in this department for so long, I understand that's how it feels during almost everyone's first semester (unless you're just really lucky). In the semesters following, after getting more involved in the activities on- and off-campus, I started to feel like I was a part of it.

But anyone who has watched me attempt to develop myself over the course of my experience at Weber knows that something wasn't clicking. There was something that didn't seem quite right in my universe. I have made some incredible memories at this school. I have made some wonderful friends. I would not trade these meetings and these performances and opportunities and parties and confrontations and classes and lessons and talks and coincidences for anything. Because they have led me in the right direction in the long run.

However, since I returned to school this semester, I have fallen victim to some (somewhat self-inflicted, I'm sure) anxiety. The first time I felt it was the first day of classes; all I did was merely walk the halls of the Browning Center. Last weekend, I attended a department-sponsored activity - one that I would typically dive right into and enjoy the company of my friends - and I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I caught my legs shaking. I caught myself biting the inside of my lip and pinching my mouth with my index and middle finger - anyone who knows me when I'm anxious knows this happens. I suddenly couldn't handle the crowd. As soon as it ended, I booked it out of there, drove home, dove into my pajamas and was rescued.

I couldn't figure it out, though, no matter how much I thought about it. Until last night when I spoke it out loud...

(You know how you don't really realize something until you actually speak it? Like I mentioned in an earlier blog about finally loving who I am - I didn't understand that that was what I was actually feeling until I actually said the words out loud.)

Association is an amazing thing. Sometimes it can be absolutely wonderful in every way, and sometimes it can just downright mess you up. Of course you know I have to go into detail and explain myself:

The school, the activities and even some of the people remind me of a time when I was extremely unhappy. I associate those things with that feeling - my being overweight, my making horrible choices, my not having any idea what the heck I was doing. Now that things in my life are falling into place so nicely; now that I'm happy; now that I feel comfort in who I am... I have pushed things out of my life because I associate my being unhappy with specific situations. I have alienated people and places. ME. Not all, but certainly some and maybe even most. Remember when I talked about losing friends? It's my fault. Truly. If that's not a big ol' slap in the face and the perfect advantage of learning some serious humility, I don't know what is.

I fully believe that this "issue" is minute when I think of the strides in happiness that I have made over the last four months (tomorrow will mark four months exactly). I think it just shocked me to finally grasp why I was feeling this way. Perhaps that is why I am finding so much joy in meeting and getting to know people at Hale. It's the place that I have been able to reshape myself, especially with this new show - no one really knows what the old Angela looked like and nobody really knows who the old Angela is.

Frankly, though, aside from the anxiety that some situations may cause from time to time, I couldn't change a thing. Just like I wouldn't trade my previous learning experiences for anything, I wouldn't trade this for anything, either.

I am positively, definitively, absolutely happy.

The One with the Before Pictures and the Tale Excerpt.

I want to just vent for a second. That's the trend on here, anyway - Angela's soapboxes. And this could EASILY be viewed as self-absorbed... and maybe it IS. But dagnabbit, I have worked my TAIL off. I'd rather nothing be said at all. I'm getting ahead of myself here... let me explain...

This morning, someone asked me if I had a "before" picture. I laughed and brought up a couple of pictures that I will probably share again when I reach my final goal weight. It's a little embarrassing, but maybe it's about time to share since I talk about it so often on here:
This picture is from July 2010 - during Annie Get Your Gun. Note the belly. And that's with a shaper on.
This picture is from August 2010, just a month before I started Weight Watchers (I just realized this is the first time I have revealed what weight loss program I have been using!). This is the heaviest I have ever been.

So. I share these pictures, and this person responds, "You don't look that different." To be completely honest, that makes me a little concerned. Am I losing my mind here thinking that I don't see that person anymore when I look in the mirror or when I look at pictures? Am I losing my mind here by being proud of the work that I've done because I see how different I actually do look? I'm sure she meant it as a compliment - or did she, I don't know! - but I took it as a slam. To work so hard all the time on something only to be told that my work hasn't paid off...

... okay, I'm done with that.

Now, on to less materialistic thoughts and feelings...

I sit and think about how lucky I am to be able to call my mom and just talk to her about everything and nothing at the same time. I sit and think about how lucky I am to be able to pick up where I left off in my friendship with Mackenzie, even though we aren't able to talk very often. I sit and think about how much I laugh and joke with, tease, and how wonderfully understood I am by Kyle. I sit and think about how tender and protective Maddie is. I know I bring all of these things up a lot. Because I think about them A LOT. It's pretty clear that I'm a sap about a lot of things. I turn into a puddle when I really sit down and weigh the blessings that are in my life. Believe it or not (because I'm naturally a big baby about "life" situations), for a book or movie or musical or play... it takes a lot. But have you ever read A Tale of Two Cities? I had to read it as an assignment in tenth grade, and I remember just skimming through it... as I often did with any book that I was "forced" to read in school. But over the course of the last month, especially, I have immersed myself in it all over again - this time because I wanted to. This book isn't an easy read, folks. I have to frequently stop and look up definitions of words that I didn't even know existed.

It. Is. Brilliant.

I have this awful habit of, before getting too far into the story, reading the last page of almost every book I have ever read leisurely. It's juvenile, really, and impatient, but I've just always done it. Since I know how this story ends, though, I wasn't really ruining anything when I, this afternoon, thumbed to the last page. I put it off for a long time, but I couldn't wait any longer. (Spoiler alert: I'm about to quote the ending... if you don't already know what happens, turn back now.)

As I read the last section of the book - Chapter 3.15, entitled "The Footsteps Die Out For Ever" - I literally sobbed. Luckily, I was in my room alone, so no one could see me become a total puddle of tears. This reaction is a culmination of a lot of things - my recent immersion in the show, emotionality thanks to my "monthly visitor," the writing, the absolute heartbreak and rebirth that this last section of this beautiful book states:

The two stand in the fast-thinning throng of victims, but they speak as if they were alone. Eye to eye, voice to voice, hand to hand, heart to heart, these two children of the Universal Mother, else so wide apart and differing, have come together on the dark highway, to repair home together, and to rest in her bosom.

"Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question? I am very ignorant, and it troubles me - just a little."

"Tell me what it is."

"I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom I love very dearly... and she knows nothing of my fate - for I cannot write - and if I could, how should I tell her! It is better as it is... What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am still thinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me so much support, is this: -- If the Republic really does good to the poor, and they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she may live a long time: she may even live to be old... Do you think:" the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much endurance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and tremble: "that it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the better land where I trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?"

"It cannot be, my child: there is no Time there, and no trouble there."...

She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before him - is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two...

The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the pressing on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it swells forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away. Twenty-Three.

They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefullest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophetic...

"I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all mean in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day... I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place -- then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement -- and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice.

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done;
it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

Even as I typed it, I felt myself having to fight the tears from returning. Isn't it just so beautiful? I am amazed at the effect that words can have on a person. I don't believe that there is a better ending in any book I have ever read or even heard of - truly. It is undeniably perfect.

(And I am so lucky that I am going to get to watch my sweet best friend deliver that ending so perfectly night after night. Honestly, I need to soak up the friendship I have with him now because people are going to want to just steal him away after they see him portray this beautiful character. I get all warm and fuzzy inside when I think of how proud I am of him.)

Now that I've spoiled the ending for you - and maybe even made you a little weepy from repeating Charles Dickens' incredible phrases - please come see the show. I am in the Monday/Wednesday/Friday cast - the show plays at 7:30 PM on those nights, and I also perform on Saturdays at 12:30 PM.

I almost want to make a guarantee.

That, if every audience member allows himself or herself to be immersed in the plot and characters, there won't be a single dry eye in the audience.

The One where I'm Still Angela Jeffries.

My job has two offices. One office is slow, and usually only has one or two people working in it at a time. I work in the slow office about 6 hours a week and in the busy office about 12-14 hours. Usually, when you see a post, it's when I'm in the slow office. Sitting in a (most of the time) quiet place gives me the opportunity to catch up and reflect on things that are going on in my everyday life.

This morning, I read my entire blog. Now, I know that's only 19 posts, but many of you have learned that I can be pretty long-winded in the things I have to say, so it took a good hour to read everything. It's interesting to realize that I only started keeping this journal at the beginning of September. I wonder, sometimes, why I chose to sit down on September 6th and start logging my thoughts. I was incredibly busy at that time, so something big must have happened, and I wish I could remember exactly what it was. I can't remember if I was just reminded from someone else's blog post that I had signed up for an account a while back. Part of me wants to believe that my subconscious knew that a big change was around the corner. Truthfully, the only thing I remember from June through September is the constant funk and pity I wallowed in because I felt no control; all I can remember is that I felt very, very, very sad. I suppose I'm looking too much into things when I say that when I read those blogs in September, I feel the sadness sitting in every word.

Interestingly enough, the day before I started my "diet," I wrote: Sometimes I get tired of being the strong girl, the one with the big, independent personality. I admit to wanting to be taken care of on occasion. I admit to getting physically and especially emotionally tired of wearing the armor. I admit that that tiresome feeling has become more prominent in my life lately. I admit that I have no idea how to handle it. Which is something else entirely - I hate not knowing how to handle every second of my life. I consider myself a very controlled person. I know how to budget my time; I know how to act in front of people; and I like to think I know what's going to happen tomorrow. I think spontaneous activities are a blast, that's not what I'm talking about... it's those unexpected situations that take hold of our lives. I'm not quite sure how to explain it.

I joked on Sunday with Maddie and Jenessa that during the summer, I cried and cried, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know how to get rid of this feeling." Now, things just sit so right in my life; I find myself - instead of crying - smiling as I say, "I don't know what's wrong with me! I don't know how to get rid of this feeling!" That is not my way of saying that I want to get rid of the feeling of contentedness; I'm simply noting the irony. I have nothing to complain about.

Honestly, though, this blog has blessed my life so much. I have always loved writing; it has always come to me so much easier than talking or giving speeches. I do wish that I had started this much sooner; it has become strangely therapeutic - something that I don't really take very lightly and something that I hold very close to my heart. That being said, I also look forward to the updates my friends make on their blogs. I don't think any of the friends that I follow realize that I do, in fact, read every single post they make; and there are so many people whose blogs I would love to read if they ever started one. It's like a little cheat; I get to peek into loved ones' lives. I love being given the chance to learn more about the people I admire.

...

I've talked about this with a few people, and I still can't seem to grasp an understanding of it. Before I step up onto the soapbox and beginning rambling about this subject, please know that this is not a complaint in any way; it is something that has merely been in my thoughts for some time now. It is, however, important to me. Here goes:

I thought that gaining confidence in myself and finally loving myself would be all positive. I remember once my mom said, "You have a good life. All you need to be totally happy is to love yourself." Now I do. And, don't get me wrong, I am unbelievably happy with where I am now and where I am headed. (I still believe that the most important thing that we do in life is continue to set goals and reach them, set goals and reach them, set goals and reach them.) But one thing has struck me as rather odd... and honestly, very sad.

I have lost friends since I started caring about who I am and who I am to become. Some of my closest friends have literally become mere acquaintances. I have so many questions for them and so many questions for myself. I continue to reassess myself everyday - to make sure that I am equalizing my humility and confidence. It is a line that I never want to cross. I do fear that my sudden boost of confidence and happiness has turned people away from me - that it is being interpreted as arrogance. A close friend said to me, when discussing this exact subject, "Maybe they don't know how to deal with this new Angela - this happy Angela." I'm sure that part of it is that my group of friends has changed in the sense that I am seen less at school and more at work and at the Hale, but another part of me wants so much to understand what went wrong. And then to hear that malicious things are being said about me from people I called dear friends - it's really, really heartbreaking, and it makes me want to stay where I am in my happy little oblivious bubble.

But what REALLY matters is that I still have those people in my life who matter the most. My mother has been a beautiful support to me through everything in my entire life - my whole family has, but especially her. She has pushed me through some of the worst times of my life, maybe without even realizing that's what she was doing. My darling best friends continue to take good care of my heart and allow me to help nurture their own. The unconditional love leaves me absolutely speechless everyday.

I swear that I KNOW that I have so much in my life that needs improvement; I absolutely know that I am so far from perfect and that that will be the case until the day I die. I'm not a fool who is blinded by a tiny little success in reaching a goal.

I'm still sometimes really stupid and emotional. I'm still silly, and I still make a complete fool of myself. I still hope and wish for things. I still love just as much, if not more. I still make stupid decisions. I haven't forgotten Who I should continue to thank for everyday of my life. I still laugh; I still joke. I haven't forgotten who I am or what, who, and where I come from.
I'm still that crazy-looking baby who chewed on meat bones. I'm still Angela Jeffries. I promise.

The One about My First Show.

Did you know that the first full-length production I ever did was Annie?

(That's Symba - one of the many dogs my family had while I was growing up. I loved this dog; we were able to pull him in and use him as Annie's canine-friend Sandy in the production. He was a good dog most of the time. However, during our second performance, he decided to test my patience: he ran right past me, off the stage and right into the audience. The next night, I put a piece of BOLOGNA in my pocket so he would stay with me onstage. His nose was buried in my pocket during all of "Tomorrow.")

Although I was actually trained classically and as a soprano (weird, huh?), I remember I used to sit in my room and play CDs and tapes and sing along with them for hours, trying to mimic the sound the singers were making - the ones I remember best are Celine Dion, Patsy Cline, Meredith Edwards, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston and... Michael W. Smith. Maybe I should accredit my low voice and alto tone to him. But if I was in any place but my bedroom or living room, my shyness took control of my performance. Nothing ever would come out of my mouth like it did in my safe havens.

Until one day, I had a breakthrough. Or what led to a breakthrough, anyway.

It was fall of 2002; I was in tenth grade, and I was fifteen years old. I wasn't in the theatre program at my high school - just choir. But my choir teacher insisted that I audition for Annie. I did, and when I was cast as Annie, I remember being so scared. At the exact moment that I felt that fear, the director walked over, stood right beside me, put her arm around me and said, "Now, we're going to have to work on getting you out of that shell. You can't be shy anymore." I couldn't forget those words during the rehearsals and performances, and the truth is, I will never forget those words for the rest of my performing career, at least.

I bring that up because the last few rehearsals I've attended of A Tale of Two Cities have brought about the start of an awareness of how long and hard I've been working on this craft. I've been addicted to theatre for almost nine years. (When I type that, it really doesn't seem that long, considering there are literally people whose first steps are taken on a stage.) I feel so lucky to be able to build my skill over and over and over with each show.

I talk about it a lot, I know. Those who know me well know that when I'm focused on something, my mind hardly - if ever - wanders from that subject. It is, as one could easily tell from reading previous blog posts or having conversations with me, one of the top three most important things in my life. (I'll let you figure out the other two.)

Now, some could look at that statement and scoff at it. What kind of quality of life is a life in theatre?

A damn good one, ladies and gentlemen.

I do not feel like I have missed out on anything in life. I have a lot of years ahead of me, yes, but so far, I have been thrilled with and grateful for the experiences that have been dealt to me (even the hard ones): motivation, respect, professionalism, ambition, care, honesty, health, regime, discipline, scheduling, creativity, commitment, happiness, absolute joy, pride, sadness, compassion, empathy and sympathy, acceptance, disappointment, heartbreak, friendship, priority, jealousy, hope, frustration, hard work, tolerance, social skills, you name it. And, as always, I can't forget to mention the people that I've been so blessed to meet and grow to love in my experience as a performer.

One day, I hope to be able to sit down - just for my own records - and specify each experience above and how theatre has been a part of that, but for now, maybe listing those things can help you understand how it is hard for me to look at my addiction and call it anything but a blessing.

Someone once told me, "If the first thing you think about when you wake up in the morning is a stage, you were born to be a performer." I know I am not alone when I say this: what if you dream about it, too?

The One about Expecting the Best.

It's probably 80 degrees in this office right now. I would rather be freezing than sweating like this. At this point, I've only been here for 13 minutes, and I've already stepped outside... twice. Funny thing is, I was actually just thinking as I was walking into work, "I want it to not be cold anymore." Okay, Angela. Here you go. UGH. I'm sorry, Universe. I'll take the 13 degrees outside, thank you.

And since we're mentioning "Universe", what better time to talk about it? I have this really, really awful habit of taking a situation and expecting the absolute worst thing to happen. I know I'm not the only person to ever do this, but I also know it's a flaw in my everyday life. I feel terrible for the countless people who sit and listen to me talk circles around a dilemma. SO many people. And of course, 99% of the time, things end rather nicely instead of going the awful road I'd insisted that it take. I'm going to admit something that I'm a little embarrassed about: once, in a deep conversation, I actually gave someone the advice, "Always expect the worst, and you won't be disappointed."

Although there is an element of truth to that statement, and I meant well when I said it, it is not a truth that I want to live by. "Always expecting the worst" deprives us of the opportunity to learn. If we expect the worst, then what is to be gained from not getting it? Nothing. When we expect the worst, we are also depriving ourselves of another beautiful opportunity: HOPE. Why do you think posters and placards and decorations and billboards and speeches and songs and poetry and plays so often express that single word? It's not a joke. Hope is absolutely one of the greatest gifts I think we have been given as individuals. Why on Earth would we reject that gift by "expecting the worst." Hope is completely gone in that case. I suppose that's why the statement "Plan for the worst, and hope for the best," is so popular. It may not be the most positive statement, but it's a step up from our hated "always expect the worst."

I understand that disappointments will come; I understand that I do have to face reality. And I have been disappointed, and it's pushed me down a long, awful road that takes a long time to recover from. Obviously expecting the worst isn't working very well.

My new mantra is this: Expect the best and hope for even better.

It's not naive; it's positive. And I am always aiming for more positivity.

A perfect segue: I haven't officially shared my weight loss progress in a little while.

I have been working out at least four times a week, as I aimed for in my last post. More recently - as in the last two days - I've become a bit obsessed. Last week, I went running in the neighborhood, slipped on the ice, and fell right on my backside. I already had a faulty hip; that fall didn't help at all. So, I justified that fall by buying Wii Fit Plus. I love it. Now, whether my roommates love it or hate it because of the noise it makes on the hardwood floor in the living room... that's something else entirely.

I never realized that, as time went on and I got closer and closer to graduation, people would constantly ask, "What are your plans after you graduate?" But it's been non-stop - since the semester started, especially. I have honestly said my plans out loud probably 40 times in the past month or so. No exaggeration.

So. The plans? I've expressed that I want to move from Ogden to Salt Lake after I graduate. That's still in store. I hope to continue to build my resumé with opportunities here in Utah and then get on with it.

By the time 2013 hits, I want to be packed and ready to move to New York.

I'm going to do everything I absolutely can to get this. I have had countless dreams and imaginations about this place. I have cried because I ache for it. I have squealed out loud when I'm alone just because I think about it. I want city. I want New York City. I want to make a performing career in New York City. More than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. And I expect to get it.

As I aim for this, I have to remind myself all along the way: Expect the best and hope for even better. What could possibly be any better?

The One with the 2011 Resolutions.

I'm a copycat. So... this next little quip was an idea inspired by/stolen from Emily's latest post. The truth and fact of the matter is, she's just too cool to not copy.

Seeing a calendar hang on my wall that reads "2011" is a little freaky. Because I feel like things are soaring by. This year, I will turn 25 years old; I can't believe that. That being said, I think it is important to recount the last year's blessings. So, like Emily, I have compiled a list - some things obvious, others cryptic - of things that have helped to mold my year and, ultimately, who I am.

Dear 2010, thank you for:

• Bringing my family closer than ever
  
• The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee experience, cast and production team
• The remount and, eventually, performance at ACTF of Sleepy Hollow
• A performance at the Kennedy Center of Performing Arts
• Getting rid of a particular poison
• Testing a friendship to the utmost degree
• Victoria's Secret
  
• Annie Get Your Gun
• The Drowsy Chaperone
• Meeting new, dear friends
• Positive, positive, positive theatre experiences
  
• A new job - a good new job
• LOST and Biggest Loser
  
• Audra freakin' McDonald changing my life
• (I can't believe I'm going to say this...) The 3-month-long funk
• Testing another friendship
• ROSS
  
• Five Carols for Christmas
• Losing 30 pounds
• Subway
• Opportunities
  
• Getting out of the funk
• Knitting (stolen from Emily's list - except she mentioned crocheting)
• A Tale of Two Cities and a dream role
• Yogurt Creme cookies from Texas
• Long and much-needed conversations with wonderful people
  
• Letting some of my new friends become potential best friends
• Size 4
• Honesty
  
• Mom

My last post focused on one specific goal that I am aiming for with my weight loss. I am going to take this opportunity and use this post to join the thousands of other bloggers out there that publicize their resolutions for the new year.

I used to think things like this were a joke. And sometimes, let's be honest, they are. But only because the goals are either 1) unreachable and unrealistic and 2) all talk and never actually worked on by the person. I have thought through each of these goals and thoroughly worked through how they will be achieved. Having such success so far with my weight loss goal really motivates me to actually follow through with each and every one of these.

Lose 18 more pounds.
Yep. It only seems fair to talk about it again and include it in THE LIST. I have moved from the 30 pounds lost point, which is good, but I still have a long way to go. My stubborn little mind and heart want and are convinced that I can reach my goal weight by mid-February; we'll see if my body will let my mind and heart have their way. A more materialistic goal within this one is to wear a size 2 in pants. When all of this began in September, I was wearing a size 12. Right now, I am sitting in the awkward in-between of a 6 and a 4, and while that progress has been one of the extra little excitements in this journey, I do want to eventually comfortably fit into a size 2.

Work out.
While I was in Texas, I went to the gym a couple of times. I have always hated exercise; my excuses consist of the time it takes, my busy schedule, how tired it makes me, how little progress I see, etc. But in all actuality, there really is nothing like walking away from a good work-out. I, therefore, aim to work out at least four times a week. I am very busy everyday, but I can take at least 30 minutes somewhere in my day for my body's well being, even if it's just a jog in the neighborhood.

Get A's.
Last semester kicked my butt. My GPA suffered immensely from the overload on my schedule with work, school, and two shows. This semester needs to be different. I have so little time left, I need my grades to reflect what I have learned in my years at college. So, this semester and next, my grades will not only improve, they will be as perfect as I can make them be.

Make new friends.

I seem to say it so often: I have been lucky enough to have some of the most incredible people come into my life - this year, even. I value these relationships, along with the ones that I have had for years, so much. This is going to sound a bit harsh: I fully intend on weeding out the bad in order to plant and nurture the good.

Improve as a performer.

As I mentioned in a couple of blogs previous, I have been given the unbelievable opportunity to be in the west coast regional premiere of the musical, A Tale of Two Cities. The role, Madame Defarge, is one that I have been dying to play for the last six months. Now that I have the chance to do so sitting in the palm of my hand, I have to mold it. This role is going to do a number on the performer in me, I have a feeling, but all in a good way. This truly will be the toughest role I have ever played in my whole life. I have so many goals set within the boundaries of A Tale of Two Cities alone. I won't go into every single one of those (yet), but I can certainly summarize them. I want to fully grasp every aspect of this character and understand her as best I can. Until I push myself to do so, I cannot be happy with the product that I put onto that stage. I refuse to come to a standstill with her; I will continue to grow and push myself until the show closes. This will take wit, confidence, trust, healthiness, gratefulness, and humility. Along with Tale, I also have specific shows that I am extremely interested in, however, for the professionality of it all, I will leave those goals private. Just know there's always something ahead that I am working for and crossing my fingers for.

Graduate.
Right? August 2011. I will be done with my five-year journey. I have decided that I won't be "walking" at the graduation ceremony, because all that I am focused on receiving out of this is a piece of paper that tells me that I made it through and that it was all worth it.

Move to Salt Lake.
This one kind of freaked me out to type, and honestly, this is one that could easily bleed into 2012 depending on a lot of things like my job here in Ogden, my financial situation, etc. But this is definitely something that I will be shooting for the second I finish school.

Bring more positivity into my life. Redefine friendships.
Pretty self-explanatory. It's about taking care of myself and becoming a better person.

So there they are. In black and white.

The truth is, my life never has been this sweet. I have never had more confidence and positivity in my life. I am unbelievably grateful for the experiences that 2010 brought. I have no doubt 2011 will bring just as many for me to learn and grow from. And so it begins.

The One where I Plateau.

Coming back to Texas means more than just getting to see my sweet family. It means getting to see my dear Mackenzie.

At some point, God said, "Angela needs someone to come into her life who is going to 100% get it, who is going to be able to cry and laugh and joke and gab with her about anything and everything, who is going to feel as passionately and strongly as she does about situations, who is going to always have something to talk about, who doesn't get bored with her, who is going to absolutely 100% listen no matter what."

When I'm allowed friendships like that that bless my life as much as this one, I know God really, really loves me.

Which easily segues into another topic. Over the past few weeks, I have assessed the friendships that I have and I am realizing the solidity that stands in so many of my friendships and the liquidity that sits in so many others. The assessment and realization of these friendships have created a foundation with which I choose to lay down when building each of my friendships. It's a fact of life: some people just fit together. I fit with my solid friends, and I can count those who I absolutely believe will be lifelong friends (family not included, though they are definitely my friends) on two hands. And with those odds, I consider myself very lucky.

The trend seems to be that I only come home once a year. It's interesting to realize that, as time has gone on, year after year, the people that I interact with in my hometown become less and less. There are really only two or three people, aside from my family, that I have remained in full contact with anymore. I'm actually okay with that when I step back and look at the people that grace my life everyday. I'm more than okay with that.

My friends are so wise. Really. I lucked out. I have the best variety of people in my life, the best company, the sweetest and most open hearts, and the funniest little snots I could ever know. All nestled into my little heart. Is this corny enough for any of you yet?

In lieu of a texty conversation I had with a wonderful friend, I want to share with you a very special blog. I can't even imagine how many people read it; I think it would be safe to say that it has truly touched THOUSANDS of lives. I've referenced her blog before, and that's just how serious I am about it. I have experienced so many emotions and learned so many lessons from this woman. Click here and take a gander at her blog, okay? You'll love it.

Christmas was perfect; the whole family was here. I love when that happens. We spent some very sweet time together and took a special mini-trip as a family in the afternoon. I even stayed in my pajamas all day long. Sometimes I get a little jealous when I think about other families running around non-stop to various houses to exchange gifts and eat fourth and fifth meals... but I really wouldn't have my Christmas any other way.

This is definitely the most time I have spent at home on a visit, and it's been relaxing. Sometimes a bit boring when I'm the only one here at home with absolutely nothing to do, yes... but this is what coming home should be like. Family. A friend or two. And relaxation. Relaxation I absolutely needed.

However.

plateau - to reach a state or level of little or no growth or decline, esp. to stop increasing or progressing.

That's what's happening to me. I think my weight loss has hit its plateau. Unfortunately, I got so worked up in the fact that things were going so well that I didn't factor in levelling off like this. But it's happened, and I'm not happy about it. I suppose I should've seen this coming. But I didn't.

This has been very hard work - I wish everyone would have to experience this change. My eating habits have given me an unbelievable sense of control; I have taught myself very quickly what my body needs and doesn't. Now, my body is in control and I have to regain control of it. The truth is, I haven't done a lick of exercise since I started losing weight. I knew that gaining control of what I ate would make the pounds melt off. I had no idea at what rate, I just knew I wanted it to happen. Now, I have to exercise in order to lose the other 20 pounds that I am aiming for. It's more than fair, right? 30 "easy" and 20 "hard"... right?

Just because it's "fair" doesn't mean I'm not frustrated by it. But just because I'm frustrated by it also doesn't mean I'm not driven and excited at the same time. And the truth is, there is no better time to get to work than right now.

2011, here I come.