The One with the 2011 Recap.

As was the case last year, I am taking the time now to look back on the past twelve months of my life. It's been a roller coaster ride of ups and downs and twists and turns, but it certainly has also been a year of many firsts, many lasts, and many experiences and opportunities I wouldn't trade for anything.

Dear 2011, thank you for:

• 2011 resolutions (some I met, some I did not... which I will share in a later post)
• Completely inappropriate laughing fits
• In general, lots and lots and lots of laughing
• Sushi
• Wii Fit
• Incredible productions I was able to attend (especially the ones I didn't expect to be as brilliant as they were!)
• A total of 45 pounds gone (since September 2010), 15 pounds this year
• Grapes
• Maddie and our Make-A-Treat Sundays
• A Tale of Two Cities
• Days of Plenty Benefit Concert
• Slumbies
• Waffles
• Stephanie J Block & Julia Murney
• Size 2/Gold Pants
• Diet Dr. Pepper
• BOOKS
• Time to myself
• Loving myself and therefore loving those around me more
• A dream role
• Mom's visits
• Mom, in general
• New, wonderful, dear, sweet friends
• Old friends
• Some of the most heartwarming emails
• Teachers
• Ames and Emily
• Kyle
• Mackenzie, Rick, Olivia, Jenessa (and many other people who were friends "before" and are still friends now)
• Rockstar Recovery energy drinks
• My new iPhone
• Making my blog private
• "The Book of Awesome"
• Moving to Salt Lake
• Talented, talented, talented, talented friends (Holy cow, did I mention they're talented?)
• Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
• Random (but unbelievably wonderful) acts of kindness
• Nitro Freeze
• Fireworks and best friends
• Back-to-back shows
• Shopping for my costumes... whaaaa?
• Joseph and the Amazing Show I Did a Zillion Times
• The sickness from hell (... I actually am grateful for this because it PASSED.)
• Twitter
• Pinterest
• Learning how to say no
• Tiny Wings (shh, don't judge)
• Fun, fun weekends
• Restarting the blog
• A new bed
• Mary and Martha
• Megan & Megan
• Puppies
• NY apartment-searching
• Homemade Thanksgiving dinner
• Comfortable comfort parties
• Werewolf game nights
• The Help
• Movies and movies and movies
• Tucanos
• New music
• Desperate Housewives
• Grey's Anatomy
• Modern Family
• The Tributes to Thanksgiving blog month
• GRADUATION
• Bangs
• The audition that ne'er saw a callback
• A Christmas Carol
• The trip home for the holidays
• Les Miserables in Dallas (I'll cover more on that later, as well)

I am quite certain that I missed a few things here and there, but I'll fill those in as they come to mind. These experiences and instances are as memorable as they are because of the people that I share them with: family and friends, old and new. I am so humbled by the continuous blessings each and every one of you are.

The One about the Baby.

This is Demarcus James Malone, Jr. He was born on December 4, 2009, two years ago today. He is my little sister's baby boy. He passed away on December 5, 2009, just a day old. He had what is called hypoplastic left heart syndrome and was missing a lung entirely. The funeral service was held on December 9, 2009.

I never got to meet him or even see him in person after he had passed, but I have a deep love for this little boy that I can't explain. My heart aches over the loss that my family felt in his passing, especially my sister. She is a strong one, that Martha. I have said it before, and I'll say it again: she handled and continues to handle her loss with such grace and faith. I love her so much and am proud of her for being such a strong girl.

When a person you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure. He is and always will be a precious treasure.

Rest in peace, sweet little boy. We love you.

The One where I Finish the Tributes.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #30: "When I started counting my blessings, my whole life turned around." - Willie Nelson

Well, here it is. The last day of November and the final tribute to Thanksgiving. It's no surprise that I'm going to write today about the experience this past month's blogging has been and how it has blessed my life.

Approval is a powerful thing. Feeling like an influence of some kind is a powerful thing. Sticking out, feeling important, being well-liked... all powerful forces in human make-up. Sometimes, we even thrive on these things. I would be lying if I told you that I didn't care whether people read my blog or not. If I really didn't care, I wouldn't make it public. It would be merely a journal of my personal thoughts for my eyes only. But I put it out there on purpose...

It's not just for me.

There. I said it.

Does it release some pent-up feelings? Yes. Does it allow me to improve on my writing? Yes. Does it take up some time during the day? Yes. All these things and SO MUCH more? Yes.

But this is the truth. I know that I am viewed sometimes as a snarky person... sometimes catty, cold, bitchy. I know that I sometimes come across that way. These posts, though, from the very beginning - while they have absolutely helped me - are so that people can better understand me. If they want to, of course. I'm not going to force anyone to read this. I want people to understand that sometimes that cattiness isn't cattiness, but focus. I want people to understand that sometimes the bitchiness isn't bitchiness at all, but frustration with myself. I want people to understand that sometimes the snarkiness isn't snarkiness, but misunderstanding. I want people to understand that the coldness isn't coldness at all, but the only way I might be able to hide the hurt I might be feeling.

I want people to understand, by reading this, that I am trying to be a better person everyday. I want to be held to my written word. I want to work harder because it's out in the universe for anyone and everyone to read.

That being said, these tributes over the past month have produced some expected results in my behavior, but they have also produced some unexpected reactions from some of the people reading them. People didn't comment much on the actual blog, and that was mildly discouraging at first, but then I started to feel like my words were putting me in a better mood, that showing gratitude made me love people better. Then, I received responses from loved ones all over the board - my mom, my brother, my friends, some of my teachers, from people that I never expected to actually be reading it, and, more recently, one from a complete stranger even who stumbled upon my blog because she was searching for a picture of a "chili-bowl haircut" in Google. Most of these responses occurred toward the end of this month, and most of them were private messages or emails or text messages.

It wasn't necessary for me to receive these responses, but every single one certainly touched my heart and pushed me to keep writing. Even about the little things.

I know, and I hope you know that this whole challenge this month wasn't for the purpose of acclaim. More important than these tender responses was what I felt as I finished each tribute. Each one came from the very bottom of my heart, some from so deep that, until it was written in its own little post, I didn't realize I felt so strongly about them.

It was not easy. Not even a little. It was time-consuming. But the time spent on these little pieces paled in comparison to the blessings I received because I counted my blessings. An endless cycle of gifts, blessings, treasures, cherished moments and memories. This gave me to the opportunity to realize that I've got it real good.

The One about Miss Harper.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #29: "You don't have to be a 'person of influence' to be influential. In fact, the most influential people in my life are probably not even aware of the things they've taught me." - Scott Adams

Back in April, I focused part of a post on another very influential teacher, Miss Harper. She was my high school theatre director. Truthfully, I've been sitting here for several minutes trying to figure out where exactly to begin in an attempt to explain such an astounding person.

I think I'll start from the beginning; that usually seems like a smart move.

When I was a freshman, my best friend at the time, Jasmine, told me that the One-Act Play she was in was short one of its roles and there would be an audition reading that night. The weird thing is, I don't remember much of that reading, except walking away with the role. I bring this up because that was my first taste of "acting," my first attempt, really (unless you count the Wizard of Oz spin-off in the fourth grade... which I don't). Jasmine loved it and, if I'm remembering correctly, was actually quite good at it. She told me that I would love it, too, so I decided to take a whack at it.

Is it terrible that I can't even remember what the play was called? Why can't I remember? Because just two days later, I had to drop it due to scheduling conflicts. I remember, though, during those two days, being told how special it was to work with Miss Harper, how much fun it was. For those two days, I was intimidated by the whole situation, including Miss Harper and the cast of the show.

For whatever reason in the Universe, I got that little taste of theatre, but didn't become fully immersed in it until the next school year when I played Annie in Annie. I've talked about it before, that pivotal moment right when I saw the cast list on the callboard when Miss Harper put her arm around my shoulder and said, "Now, we're going to have to work on getting you out of that shell. You can't be shy anymore."

And somehow, in those few seconds, I was immediately attached and drawn to this teacher and determined to come right out of my shell in order to make her proud. Rehearsals were alien to me, but Miss Harper was very clear and helpful and explained anything I didn't understand. She was very patient with me and so kind to me, too. I made the decision, during the run of Annie, that I would absolutely take a class from her the next year.

I had boy problems during my sophomore year. I had my first boyfriend, my first kiss, and my first heartbreak. I was (and always have been, I suppose) a bit dramatic, of course, but I also wore/wear my emotions on my sleeve. The day after John and I broke up, I was walking down the hall to the choir room, which was just past the Black Box classroom. Miss Harper usually waited at the door as her students came into her class each day so that she could greet them. I would always say hello to her. This particular day, I was really down in the dumps and didn't really know how to handle what I was feeling. Miss Harper knew something was up and sat me down to talk. I skipped choir that day and, instead, sat in her office and cried and cried to her about what I thought, at the time, was the worst thing that could even happen to a girl. It was a bit pathetic, considering John and I had only been dating for a couple of months. She didn't make me feel like what I was saying or how I was hurting was wrong or pathetic, though. Instead, she just offered kind words and a listening ear.

By the time I left that day, I realized that I had placed all of my trust in this person. She had been completely selfless and completely helpful. I was so grateful for that. Throughout the rest of the school year, I would come by and visit every now and then even though I wasn't in the theatre classes. I would hug Miss Harper on the way to choir. We would talk about what I wanted to do with my life, and I'm pretty certain she's the very first person I ever told my "Castle on a Cloud" Les Miserables experience from 1994 (you can read it at the very end of this post). She encouraged me to consider enrolling in theatre classes for the next year.

And I did. From there on out, I participated in the department in any and every way that I could - the drama club, the Leo Awards, the fall musical (Into the Woods), the spring One-Act Play (J.B.), the garage sale, the car washes, you name it. That continued through my senior year with The Wizard of Oz and By the Bog of Cats. With each day, I felt myself growing as a performer. With each day, I was becoming more and more passionate about it.

I won't get into too much detail, but I will say that Miss Harper helped me through some extremely steep moments of my teenage life. She did so with such love and care that I am floored when I think about it now. She never judged, only lifted me up. On the flipside, she also strongly encouraged my performing aspirations. She challenged me to work harder. She tested me. She questioned my choices. She complimented and constructively criticized.

Because of her support and her believing in me, because of her pushing me toward my goals, because of her teaching me and giving me the proper tools to grow as an actress, I believe she has been an important guidance to get me where I am today. Because of her kindness and her spirit and her heart and her teaching skills and her passion for the arts and her understanding and expression of them, I have been able to pursue a career that has become one of the single-most powerful forces in my life.

She truly has a gift of teaching; I would be a fool to not show some gratitude to her for pointing me in the direction that I was meant to go in in order to chase my greatest dreams.

Today she is the teacher that I keep in contact with the most from grade school. When I am home for the holidays, I like to make it a point to see her, to catch up with her. But when I'm not home, even from 1,500 miles away, I still feel that amazing support I always felt when I was in her classroom or in her rehearsals. She affected my life, she blessed my life, and she continues to do so even now.

...

So it's clear, as I've highlighted these wonderful people in my last few posts (and even ones further back this month like Jim and Adam), that I have really lucked out in the teacher/mentor department. Interestingly enough, though, when I decided that I was going to do this, that I was going to point out these great people, I didn't know how effective it would actually be. On me. How much it would touch my heart to write about them.

Each one made me feel proud of the people that have been part of my education. From Miss Hunter to Jim Christian, from Mrs. Ritchey to Mrs. Owens, these people have so powerfully made such permanent and precious handprints on my heart. It hasn't all been rainbows and butterflies; some of these men and women taught me lessons that were very difficult to learn; sometimes I needed a good metaphorical slap across the face, and they were the best ones to do it.

I have attended eighteen and a half years of school, and as my schooling (for now) comes to an end, it's my turn to give back. I must, in my day-to-day experiences and actions, make these people proud by living what they've taught me, whether it be in math or nature or reading or singing or performing or appreciating or analyzing or health or safety... I really could go on and on forever. I choose to give back to them by being a good person and by living my dreams and my life in a way that would make even myself proud.

The coolest thing is, I'm not the only one who feels this way about these great people. These amazing men and women continue to alter and touch the lives of so many students, day in and day out, even after retirement. I hope that those who are learning from them are not taking them for granted.

They are truly some of the best people I have or will ever know.

The One about the Theatre.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #28: "Acting is fun for me and it doesn't really matter how, whether it's hard work or easy work, it's always fun." - Tommy Lee Jones

I want this to remain as professional as possible, but I always want to "gush" about it as much as I can.

The last sixteen months have been very busy for me, which I prefer. It's been especially busy thanks to one place, though. Since August of last year, I have been driving to and from West Valley City to a theatre that has sort of become one of my favorite places to be.

The Hale has been an incredible place to work. I have met some of my closest friends there. I have experienced some of my greatest memories there. I have discovered myself there. I have experimented; I have worked; I have cried; I have died laughing. So much has happened in that little building that I am grateful for - from the auditions to the callbacks, from the rehearsals to the performances - and I would be a fool to avoid saying these things about it in these little tributes. It has, after all, been a huge part of my life for quite a while.

It is a positive force in my daily life that I have held onto, luckily. The people, the shows, the atmosphere, the entire experience, has been so pleasant and put-together. Each show has had its ups and downs, but each show has allowed me to grow more and more as a performer. It is a place that I feel cherished, secure, and unharmed. It is a place I love to be, and I am so glad I get to be there.

The One about Mrs Owens.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #27: "A good teacher can inspire hope, ignite the imagination, and instill a love of learning." - Brad Henry

I played the clarinet in the band in sixth grade at the intermediate school and continued playing it through my seventh and eighth grade years at the junior high. By the time my seventh grade year rolled around, I was sort of over it. I needed something else to hold my sanity intact, it seemed. So, during registration at the end of my seventh grade year, I chose choir in addition to band.

Growing up, after I was about eight years old and on, I got picked on a lot because of my weight and my hair and my boyish facial features. When I entered junior high, I only expected it to get worse. And it did.

My seventh grade year was pretty terrible. My hair was in its infamous chili-bowl cut. I was a troubled teenager. I made myself - and my mom, especially - miserable. I cried a lot. I was really negative and I felt horrible about what I looked like. I wasn't a mischief; I was shy and quiet most of the time. It was just a mess of negative emotions all over the board. But really: junior high, for just about any kid, sucks.

Except there was one hour of everyday when I was in the eighth grade during school hours that I was able to sort of be a "star," and that was in choir. I took everything in my life pretty seriously (you think I'm bad now?... be grateful you didn't know me then!), so I was very focused on staying as alert and on-the-ball as possible. It wasn't hard for me to do because it really was so enjoyable. Thanks to Mrs. Owens, the choir teacher.

From the very first day I met her, she made me feel like a million bucks. She had groups of four people come up to the piano and sing for her. If I'm remembering correctly, it was "America, the Beautiful." She kept looking at me while we were singing, not saying anything, just with a curious expression. She came up to me at the end of the class and asked me if I had taken voice lessons. I told her I had been for eight years. She said, "You have a gift." That simple.

The class met first thing each morning. Mrs. Owens made us laugh, made us cry (good-cry), made us think, and (silly as it may sound) made us grow. It quickly became the reason that I liked going to school. It became the thing that made the rest of the day just right. Mrs. Owens also taught at the high school when she left the junior high campus. There, she taught four choirs: Mixed Choir, Ladies' Choir, A Cappella Choir, and Show Choir. That meant that when I finished my eighth grade year at the junior high and moved onto the ninth grade at the high school, I would still get to have her as my teacher. When I started the ninth grade, I decided to take both Ladies' Choir and A Cappella Choir and dropped out of Band.

Choir became a little safe haven for me. It was its own little room far away from the rest of the classrooms, with high ceilings, stereos, risers, and whiteboards. My ninth grade year was so wonderful there. I met some people who became dear friends; I went to Branson; I sang my heart out; I even danced a little. Mrs. Owens absolutely became a mentor, someone I felt I could talk to for hours, someone who I could listen to for hours, someone I could joke with, someone who took good care of her students. She was the teacher who made her choirs feel like they were a chorus of angels because of how hard we worked. She taught us how to "blend" as singers, how to feel what we were singing. She was the teacher that made learning music enjoyable. She was that teacher who stopped teaching us music momentarily in order to talk to us about the attacks on September 11th, in order to ease our minds even a little. She was the teacher who let us stop singing to go see the snow falling outside. She was the teacher who made us laugh until we cried, the teacher who joked with us, the teacher who pranked us. The teacher who absolutely and undoubtedly loved her students from the very bottom of her big heart.

Toward the end of my ninth grade year, things started to get a little weird. The seniors were taking extra initiative in preparing everyone for the next year. There seemed to be more tears than even I thought normal. I had an inkling something big was going to happen at the end of the year, but I wasn't sure what it was.

One day, during Ladies' Choir, we were rehearsing a Disney medley we would be singing for the concert at the end of the year. At the very beginning of it, I had the solo, "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes." Mrs. Owens was accompanying us on the piano. As I sang, I watched Mrs. Owens' eyes well up, and tears started to fall. That's when I knew what was happening. She was leaving my high school to go teach somewhere else. I didn't say anything to anyone about it - besides my brother - because I still wasn't sure. But sure enough, a few days later, Mrs. Owens had us all sit down, and she told us the news. She would be teaching at another high school closer to her home. I was so sad. She had become a dear, dear friend, and I was so sad that I wasn't going to get to learn from her anymore.

The next years of high school came and went. I found my niche in theatre, but I stayed in choir. I saw Mrs. Owens at competitions and we would hug tight. We wrote emails back and forth for a while. I even went to visit her at her house and talked to her for several hours. She offered advice on boys, college, and life in general; we talked about her choirs and her personal life as well. Then I graduated and went away to college. I came back one year and attended her Christmas concert. As I watched and listened to her choirs sing, I was filled with such an overwhelming feeling of advantage and gratification for those two years that I took classes from Mrs. Owens. I felt so lucky laugh with her, cry with her, learn from her, and just know such an amazing lady.

The One about the Bedroom.

Tribute to Thanksgiving #26: “Better keep yourself clean and bright. You are the window through which you must see the world.” - George Bernard Shaw

Listen. I know it seems like a stupid thing to be grateful for, but I just finished cleaning my room. As I look around at the small space, I have such a sense of relief. Sure, in a few hours, it could be a mess again, but for now, things are in such order. For whatever reason, I'm able to get more done on my homework. I'm able to blog better. I'm better to even sleep better. Next up, laundry. And everything will feel just right. It's so easy to feel at peace. See? There are tiny things to be grateful for.