New York City, part II

Let me just say this: my expectations for Wicked were COMPLETELY blown out of the water.

It was amazing. (Read: REALLY FREAKING ASTOUNDINGLY AMAZING.) Afterward, I was at a loss for words. All of the little tiny nit-picky details that had bugged me about Wicked in Chicago were gone. And so much more! It was wonderful.

The best thing about Wicked is that it is so clever. The script is clever. The lyrics are clever. The music is clever. It's all so well-written. It takes your breath away.

Obviously, I really enjoyed Wicked. =)

Friday morning, we started off by getting lost on the Subway. We ended up in Brooklyn, briefly. That subway station, by the way, was incredibly ghetto. The best ones are the ones where all the tourists go. Anyway, we eventually made it back to Manhattan, down at Battery Park. From there, we boarded a ferry on our way out to the Statue of Liberty.

It had rained all day Thursday, and the fog Friday morning had us worried. However, during our trip over to Liberty Island, things started to clear up. The Statue of Liberty was beautiful. It was even larger than I thought it would be. We walked around the island and took pictures, and I enjoyed it immensely. Definitely recommend it on your future visits. Then we sailed over to Ellis Island. In the brochure itself it says to plan on at least three hours to even begin to see everything at the museum. Well, we sure didn't have that kind of time. So after a brief stop and a glance, we were back on the ferry and heading back to Manhattan.

After lunch, we walked down through the finanical district, past Wall Street and the bull and the square where Peter almost blows up New York at the end of the first season of Heroes. Then it was a block over to Ground Zero. You can't see much, now, because the whole block is wrapped up for construction. But it was still powerful to see this whole block, empty but for the construction cranes. Crazy.

Then it was up to the Empire State Building. I was thinking it would be like the Space Needle...pretty, but not that exciting. However, we got the audio tour as part of our city pass. Totally worth it! I wish we had done the audio tour at the Met. With that, we were able to identify what we were looking at. I've got such a better understanding of New York City now than I ever would have without it. And the view! It was crazy. 86 floors up, you sure can see a lot!!

Friday evening we saw The Phantom of the Opera. We sat on the 2nd row. Seriously! When the chandelier dropped, it was literally dropping right toward me. So cool. However, Phantom just didn't measure up to Wicked, or to the Lion King. Still AMAZING, of course. And the technical aspects were really stinkin' cool. =)

On Saturday morning, we were visited by some relatives of my mother's. I swear to you, I've never heard of most of these people before. I'm pretty sure my mom's only met them once before. But it was nice, I suppose, if awkward. It was my grandpa's sister and her three kids, along with a husband and a boyfriend. They were over for about two hours. The hummus was very popular.

Then it was off to the matinee of The Lion King. Again...astounding. Blown. Away. I was expecting it to be good, but I've seen the movie and we have the original Broadway cast recording. So I wasn't expecting to be surprised. But I was blown away. The puppetry. The technical aspects. But the singing! The vocals were overpowering. I was moved. Mm.

After the Lion King, we hurried over to this big discount ticket place to see what tickets we could get for that evening. We were (yes!) hoping that we could go see Wicked again, but it was probably sold out months in advance. Without Wicked, we were a bit at a loss. Dad wanted to see South Pacific. Mom wanted to see...something else, I can't remember. I kind of wanted to see 9 to 5: the Musical! but only because Allison Janney is in it, and I love her. We considered Mary Poppins, but eventually settled on Shrek the Musical.

Yes, sounds silly, doesn't it? But don't worry, it was still entertaining.

First we went shopping (my mom and her shopping! She's so funny) then out to get some authentic (read: GREASY) New York pizza. I won't lie. I prefer Chicago-style pizza. The thin-crust stuff just doesn't do it for me. The Pesto was good. The grease was gross.

Then it was back over to the Broadway Theater for Shrek the Musical. It was some lighthearted entertainment. I found that the music itself was good, but that the lyrics weren't particularly clever. Lord Farquaad was highly entertaining. But overall, it just didn't compare to the other shows we saw.

Sunday we were homeward bound. I would just like to reiterate here that I hate traveling on airplanes. They make me sick, they are claustrophic, and they are exhausting. After finally arriving home, I crashed from about 8 o'clock pm until 7 o'clock this morning. If time weren't always so limited, I would rather drive.

My feet are sore

In case you didn't pick this up from other sources (aka Facebook, email or ME), I'm in New York City! It's a family vacation with my parental unit, whom I adore for bringing me and indulging me every step of the way. =)

We got up at 3am Mountain time yesterday, caught a flight from SLC to Minneapolis. Our flight out of there was delayed, and THEN we were put in a holding pattern above Pennsylvania for over half an hour while the weather cleared in NY. Finally we landed at La Guardia. Then we took a taxi into Manhattan--and I will make a note here that my mother does not handle taxi rides well. Sorry mom, just sayin'. Finally we arrived at our hotel. It's called the Manhattan Club, and it's literally a block off Broadway, and just a few minutes' walk from Times Square, which we visited later last evening after a dinner at the Whole Foods Market just off Columbus Circle. Times Square, by the way, is a gaudy tourist trap, but it was still immensely satisfying to go and take pictures like any other tourist. There's just something about five-story neon ads for musicals that makes my blood race.

This morning we were part of the studio audience for "Live with Regis and Kelly", except that they had given out too many tickets, and we had to stand off to one side in the aisle. I'm pretty sure we were on TV once, for about a second and a half. But it was still fun to go and see the live filming of a TV show. The stage manager (or whatever her title is) was fun. She had tape on her pants and what looked like four sharpies strung on a lanyard around her neck.

Then we took a stroll across Central Park, which is a lot bigger than you imagine it being, even being forwarned that it will be bigger than you think it will be. We didn't even see half of it. I wore my cute new shoes, and they gave me a blister (or maybe two), but still totally worth it. After exiting the park, we bought lunch from a sidewalk stand, and they totally ripped off my dad. You live and you learn, I guess.

But the highlight of the afternoon (well, the sole thing we did this afternoon!) was visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It is enormous. They say they have over two million works of art. The museum practically takes up a city block. We spent, what? four hours there? More? And I feel like we barely breezed through. I really loved the 19th century paintings (those were the ones I recognized most frequently--lots of Van Gogh and Degas and Picasso, etc), but I also really enjoyed the early European paintings and sculpture. They also had an ENORMOUS wing of Ancient Egyptian stuff--that was the first exhibit we visited, so we spent more time there than those that followed, because we hadn't yet realized that it would take us years to get through at that pace. Anyway, it was an amazing experience.

Tonight we're going to see WICKED. I'm very excited. I'd probably be more excited (as in, ridiculously, uncontrollably excited), except that I saw it last year in Chicago. Don't get me wrong, I'm still very excited. =) But for me there is a magic in a show that I've never seen before. That's why both Phantom of the Opera and the Lion King have a bit more hold on me right now. We're also thinking about seeing a fourth show on Saturday night, possibly the Fantasticks? We'll have to see--we were planning to go to two museums today and only made it through the one, so we'll have to see what happens. Either way, I'm a happy girl.

Yay for New York City!

Behold!

(I would recommend clicking on it and watching in the Facebook window, then you don't have the funny blog background.)

The Value of Hard Work

Today is Friday. Normally I am a great lover of Fridays. There's just something about them that makes them seem infinitely brighter than the rest of the week. Maybe it's the imminent freedom of the approaching weekend. Or maybe the sun just shines more on Fridays (not that it seems that way on this rainy day!!) Today's Friday seems particularly bright, however, because I am pretending the roadshow does not exist. That's right. Today there is no roadshow. It will come back tomorrow in full force, but for today I am blissfully ignoring its existence.

What I really wanted to write about today is the somewhat abstract concept of hard work. It's been on my mind as I watch people and society around me. Our society has grown remarkably lazy, as no one will hesitate to point out. People (I use the term in its most vague and general terms) seem to expect rewards to simply be handed to them. Jobs. Diplomas. Money. I see this at work a lot--people who call in wanting refunds, because times are hard, and expecting to get money just for the asking. Well, friends--times are hard for us, too.

Hard work is not a concept I have appreciated in every part of my life. I have had my lazier periods--still do, in fact. There are a lot of nasty or difficult tasks that come through a persons' life.

However, I am coming to appreciate just how beautiful and important hard work really is.

There are plenty of platitudes out there about hard work; I will try to spare you. But with utmost sincerity I can tell you that when you really work for something, when you work so hard you think you'll explode with the stress of it, when you've given everything you have and still you are asked to give more...well, I believe that's when you really find the value in it, whether it's a job, education or church, a relationship or a friendship. Putting in the effort gives these things value.

I look at my college experience, particularly in the theatre. My last show there, Henry V, was immensely challenging. It required hours upon hours of effort, and every last drop of ingenuity I had. I gave it my all, everything and more that I had to give. There were other shows like that too, but Henry V truly stands out as the crowning jewel of my experience there. I loved that show. And it's because I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to be happy, working as hard as I was. And amazingly enough, it worked.

I look now at my singles' ward experience. Through college, I never had a ward that I really cared about. I always wanted cool callings, and was regularly disappointed by the things I was asked to do. My efforts therefore were lackluster--I went to church, I played the piano in Sacrament meeting or whatever my calling was, but that was the extent of my efforts. But my current ward...I went in with the desire and intention to challenge myself. I asked for a challenging calling--not a glory-filled one like I had always imagined that I 'deserved', but something that would stretch me and my skills, something that would take effort and preparation. I was called as a gospel doctrine teacher. Since that calling, nearly everyone I have told of it has sympathized, bemoaned my fate. And yet...I don't find myself complaining. It's difficult. It's a lot of work. It scares the crap out of me every single time. But...I wouldn't give it up for the world.

I look at this roadshow. I have been commended for taking it on, but honestly, I didn't think about it twice when I was asked. And it has been so rewarding--challenging, certainly. Frustrating at times. Chaotic and maddening. But I've gotten to know more people, I've gotten to write and direct, to teach a little and to enjoy these wonderful people who have sacrificed of their time to participate. Throughout the entire experience, I have not begrudged the work and the time and the effort, because it is so worth it!

I don't mean to be self-righteous, and I don't mean to preach. This is more a self-exploration of these things anyhow--realizing that when I have given of my efforts as selflessly as possible, I have enjoyed the experience more. I want to explore the things that I have realized are important.

My point here is that the joys of hard work apply everywhere, to everything. Nothing in this life is going to be easy, and if it is you're probably doing it wrong. The Gospel of Jesus Christ was not meant to be easy--we have to work for it, every moment of every day we have to restore our faith and our desire to follow the direction we have been given. Our daily life was not meant to be easy--we should find ways to challenge ourselves, to force ourselves to grow and improve. Whether its through work or hobbies or friendships, we will be happier if we are active and involved and seeking to challenge ourselves. And when the trials come--hardships through family or finances, through personal challenges or deep questions, my response to you is the same: just keep trying, and have faith. The same goes for relationships, whether with spouses or siblings or children or aunts or cousins or friends, close or the barest acquaintence. Relationships are not easy. They take work, hard and something grueling effort, whether to overcome anger or to overcome apathy, to fight the little annoyances, or to win their heart each and every day. Nothing worthwhile is easy, and if you stop working to keep the things that are important to you, you will lose them, more often than not simply through your own indifference.

The Roadshow: Part Y

I'm really mad at myself, because I meant to take pictures at rehearsal tonight and I totally spaced it. There was even a great moment where, exhausted, J.T. and I were still up writing song lyrics and arranging a reprise. Oh yes, dear reader, we are ADDING a musical number--ANOTHER musical number--with the performance less than three days away. Oh yes we can! And I totally should have gotten a picture, at least of the musical rehearsals this evening. I am an utter failure as a historian.

Other than that, rehearsals are going fairly well. Tonight was hard, people were tired--I certainly was--and the energy wasn't quite where we wanted it to be. Hopefully tomorrow is better--it had better be, or I'm going to kick some booty, I'll just say that here and now! Then we have Friday night off (Hallelujah!) and then Saturday is the big day. So keep your fingers crossed folks we are counting down the days!

The Roadshow: Part X

I think I've discussed the roadshow here and there, but let me reintroduce you to this madness that has been consuming my brain power for the last month. My stake (a local chapter of my church, a grouping of the smaller wards) is having a roadshow, which is this Saturday evening, and I was asked to take charge of my ward's portion. During December, I wrote the script and lyrics around the theme of service and in the mandated setting of a garage, among other prerequisites. Starting after the new year, I have been dragging various ward members by the scruffs of their necks to get them to practice and learn this mini-musical. Even though I'm a theatre regular and know how the thing goes, I was starting to feel nervous there for awhile. Fortunately, things are finally starting to come together, as I knew they would.

I happen to have a fantastic musical director, who just seemed to appear right when I needed him and possessed of the perfect skill set for the job. I don't think this would have happened without J.T., and I'll say that with a perfect frankness.

It's been a long time since I've been in a directorial role--since taking Directing II in the spring of 2007--two years ago now. (Wow.) It's a totally different mindset than being a stage manager, as I am accustomed to, and it's been a very nice stretch. This is a relaxed setting. It doesn't have to be perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. There are no judges here, of any kind. No grades or reviews hang in the balance. This has been FUN. It's sort of a mockery of theatre, but then, what musical isn't a bit tongue-in-cheek? Tonight I spent half my breath telling the girls to "Keep giggling!!" (the other half was telling them that I couldn't hear or understand them, but that improved as the night wore on.)

God knew I needed this. He knew that I needed to stretch my theatre legs, but not too much. He knew that I needed a chance to get to know more people in my ward. He knew that I needed something to occupy my mind and my time during this period of my life, brief though it is. He knew I needed a goal to work toward, and people to chivvy toward it with me. So yes, it will be a relief to put it behind us, but I don't intend to take much time off afterward--I'm getting used to having church business to keep me busy.

Look for more roadshow updates as we get closer to the big day!

Being Mormon...for real!

After my graduation, life toned down a lot. I will tell you that working a full time job is a lot easier in many ways than going to school. No homework, for one thing. And the schedule's a lot more consistent. There are other reasons. But beyond that, I don't stage manage, and I don't belong to any clubs, and my work isn't competing with those other things any more.

The exception to this rule is becoming my church involvement.

Throughout my life, I've been a relatively active member of my church. I go to church every Sunday, and I've always gone to the occasional ward activity that sparked my interest. But that was usually it. I was never a very good visiting teacher, and I can count on my fingers the number of times I've been visit-taught in my life. I thought I was doing fine.

But in my new ward (new being since August...) I'm finally finding out what being "active" can really mean. I was talking to my best friend about it the other night, and there is a marked difference. "Church" is no longer a Sunday thing...it's kind of like belonging to a really big, personal, all-inclusive and pro-active club that has an infinite number of faces and aspects.

For instance, there is Family Home Evening.

In singles' wards I've been in before, FHE has been broken down into smaller units of 10 people or so, with a "Mom and Dad" called to plan and execute the activities each week. This system certainly has its merits, and its possible that my ward will soon or eventually adopt the system. However, for the past few months, our FHE has not been broken down. Each week, every member of the ward is invited to come to the church--its always the same time and place, which is REALLY nice--to participate in a wide range of varying activites. There have been sports, games, serious religious talks and discussions, outings like bowling and visiting Temple Square, and any number of things. I've found this ward to be a lot more creative than others I've attended. With the whole ward invited to attend, I've met a lot more people than I would have by just attending church. Also...it's fun. :)

Also, as mentioned there are Visiting Teaching and Home Teaching. Now, I'm only on the receiving end of the latter, as I am of the female type (in case you hadn't heard). However, I'm gaining a newfound appreciation for visiting teaching. Basically, I have a partner (who is phenomenal, by the way, and I'm enjoying our growing friendship enormously) and we are assigned a handful of girls in our ward (3 at the moment). Once a month, we go visit these young ladies, to see how they're doing, if there's anything they need that we can do or arrange for them, and to offer them a brief spiritual message. I still have yet to be visited by my own such teachers, however I am finding that I enjoy going out and doing the visiting. It has helped me connect with other girls in the ward, and it helps me expand my own spirituality. That sounds vague, I know. But basically...I'm learning to love near-strangers simply by virtue of visiting them and sharing with them this gospel that I love so much. It's a pretty powerful high, actually.

There is also Ward Prayer. Now, I haven't been a frequent attender of this activity in my current ward, but I think I'll be changing that. Sunday night, the ward members are invited back to the church for a very brief gathering. There is a spotlight of one of the newer members (and my ward ALWAYS has new members), a hymn, a spiritual thought, and then everyone kneels down and prays together. And then there are treats and socializing afterward.

Ooh, and on Sundays themselves, there is Ward Choir. My attendance is often irregular, but man, there just isn't anything quite like singing in a choir, especially singing really beautiful arrangements of religious songs that you've known your whole life. I freaking love choir.

Then there are Ward Activities. These are similar to FHE, but on a grander scale. Recent editions have included a Halloween dance, a Thanksgiving dinner, going to the bowling alley (though that one didn't turn out so well), and this weekend we're going ice skating at the 7 Peaks arena.

Also there are temple trips. My ward is starting to get better about making baptisms a part of the ward trips, and though I haven't been with them, I still try to go on my own regularly. Makes a crazy difference in my life, I can't even tell you.

And of course you can't forget the Calling. Some people fear it, some people resent it, some people avoid it like the plague. Others tolerate and endure. Some find fulfillment, others actual joy in their calling. Some just go about it like its nothing out of the ordinary. Most of my callings have been music-oriented, whether playing the piano for some meeting or other, music coordinator, chorister, etc. Now, I am...{drumroll please!} a Gospel Doctrine teacher. Yes, you may wince in sympathy here, laugh, or whatever best pleases you. I've only taught once so far (#2 coming up this Sunday). It's definitely a challenge, but I think it helps me expand my own thinking and studying skills. So, I guess I'm in the endure/fulfillment category. Hopefully enjoyment will come.

And now, the real summation of my blog--this weekend I was asked to head up my ward's portion of the Stake Roadshow. I've been to one roadshow in my life, many years ago, and I don't have strong memories of it, besides it being cheesy and almost painful, thespian that I am. However. I heard that there was going to be a roadshow a few weeks (months?) ago, and I'll admit that it perked my interest. However, with things like this, me knowing myself as I do, I know that I have to be in charge, or not involved at all. Events of which I have an inkling of what I'm doing drive me crazy to watch someone else fumbling through with no idead of what they're doing. So yes, while I will enlist the help and support of as many people as possible, I'm glad that I've been actually put in charge. Committees have the tendancy to drive me up the wall. As a friend of mine said, "None of us is as dumb as all of us."

So at any rate, I'm in charge of the roadshow. It has to be 15 minutes long, the setting is in front of a garage (although it may be inside a garage or beside a garage, the packet isn't entirely clear), and our ward's theme is Service. Oh, and it's in just over a month. The other wards have been prepping for a couple of months now. Yeah...funsies!

Actually, I'm pretty excited about it. It's been too long since I've done anything dramatic, so being given free license to take charge of the project makes me immensely satisfied with life. I'm sure that once I've dived headfirst into the madness I'll be a little...um...shall we say irrascible? But there can be no denying the enthusiasm that even this mockery of theatre brings to my soul.

In all, I think my church is the bomb. (Bet you haven't heard THAT phrase for awhile! Hee hee). Oh, and I think you all should go, cuz it's rockin'. :)

Direction and purpose

School is cool. Real life sucks.

This evening I was talking to Melissa (my best friend) on the phone. At one point in the conversation, I said something to the effect of, "Melissa, let's go back to school. Where do you want to go?"

This led into a discussion about the virtues of USU in Logan, and we "decided" we would go next year, once her student loans from our first time around are paid off.

I'll tell you what--even the half-kidding declaration of going back to school made me feel better about life.

I've been feeling pretty directionless for some time, since before my December graduation, even. Theatre is something of a dead end for me. Don't get me wrong, I love theatre and I love stage managing, probably more than anything I could ever choose to do, except maybe writing. But (long story short) I crave mental, financial, and spiritual stability, none of which are available with a career in the arts. This summer was so very fulfilling, and if it could go on forever, I would be set for life. But alas.

So now I'm home and facing the rest of my now-empty life and wondering what on earth to do with it. I applied for a half dozen jobs this morning, and will continue to do so, but I consider them "filler" until I can figure out what I really want to do. Going back to school is actually a viable option, as I have and will continue to discuss. Going on a mission is still in my frame of reference. Wailing in frustration is--at least internally--a constant.

No matter what happens, though, I need to find direction and purpose. I can't live without it. I have driven myself for too long--and been going without for too long--to continue this way for much longer. Coming from "Ivona, Princess of Burgundia", we must go onward and upward forever.

Life updates

Yesterday, I taught a stage management master class, which was optional and open to all the students here. I had seven attendees, which I am told is a decent number for this workshop. I taught for about an hour and a half, and we were crunched at the end because I ran into dinner. My students were engaged, they asked questions, they laughed, and I felt like it was a success.

It was a kind of test, for myself. To see how I liked teaching. Granted, I know I can't get a real sample from one small workshop, informal, teaching one subject that is most familiar to me. However, it was, as I said, an experiment. It was surprisingly nervewracking! I wanted to hold their attention, I wanted them to respond, to ask questions, to laugh. And they did, which was swell. But I'm not sure that I really liked it. Teaching, for me? Who knows.

Now I'm knee-deep into theatre rehearsals. This year I'm stage managing the theatre department's "Round 2" performance, a show called "Ivona, Princess of Burgundia". It's an interesting piece, the directors are doing some unique things with it. I'm reserving judgement until it's over, because the process is guarenteed to be...interesting. I'm stepping in a week before the show, to learn it, get to know the cast and directors, then call the show. It's totally unrelated to anything that happens in the real world. (We're getting the set design...today...hopefully. We load in in two days, tech the day after. This is craziness.) So if I utterly disappear for some time, it's not because I'm dead. Well, hopefully. My brain may be leaking out of my ears, but hopefully I'll still be alive.

I have no real thoughts today. It's hot, I'm tired, and I have no down time. I'm currently watching the BBC's Robin Hood again (the second season comes out on DVD next month), I'm halfway through "Eclipse" in preparation for next week's "Breaking Dawn." My hands hurt--one of my fingers has been twitching for several days, and now both hands are starting to ache. If I get carpul tunnel, I'm gonna kill somebody. Oh, and I really want to cut my hair. Like, all of it. But I must perservere in the hopes of growing it out.

That is all. Peace.

A Mormon girl working in the theatre on a Sunday afternoon

My mother complained to me today that I haven't blogged in forever, so I endeavor to remedy that. I'm pretty sure my mother is my only consistent reader, so I do try to keep her happy. You know, besides all of the OTHER reasons I try to keep my mother happy. :)

Part of the reason it's been awhile is that we have been kah-razy busy the last few days. I've talked about Site Specifics before. Basically, it's theatre based on the venue, rather than on a script. However, that means we don't have the base of a theater to work from--we're building from the ground up, creating scenery, lighting and sound effects, and anything else you can think of, to a PLACE--anywhere on campus the directors like and can get approved. Once we're past, I'll post more details and hopefully some pictures. But like I've said before, this is pretty much the coolest thing we do here. The most unique, anyway. It keeps our whole crew hopping for the week leading up to the shows.

At church today, I couldn't help noticing how many pregnant women there were. I kid you know, half of the Relief Society is pregnant. Granted, it's a pretty young ward, lots of toddlers running around. But still, I don't think I've ever been in such a group. All these crazy bellies! It was strange to see the age differences, too. There were expecting mothers who looked no older than me--their early twenties, if that. There were late-twenties moms with a kid or three already. But then there were a couple pregnant women who seriously had to be in their late thirties or early forties! Now, there's nothing wrong with this, of course, it's just funny to see the difference. The young mothers were spry and cute, with tight-fitting maternity blouses and chic skirts with expanded waistlines. The older ladies...heck, they don't care anymore, they were in loose, sack-like, flower-printed dresses to keep cool and comfy. I had to laugh. Those younger moms will learn!

Have you ever had a group of babies staring at you all at once? Toddlers, too, I guess. I don't know why I'm a target for this attention. Sitting in the congregation, surrounded by the aforementioned young families, I kept catching these young watchers. I would smile, then look back at the speaker, or my hymnbook, or the wall somewhere away from their wide, innocent eyes. There was the little boy next to me, his older sister on his other side, the little girl and her littler brother in front of me, and the four-year-old redhead in front of them. Hardly a moment went by where there wasn't at least one set of eyes on me. I didn't see them staring at anyone else in particular. Maybe I had Sharpie on my face? It was somewhat disconcerting, I'll admit. I didn't really mind, though. I like little'ns, as Sam would say.

It's hard to remember that it's Sunday, at work. That's part of the reason we (Mormons in particular) try not to work on Sunday, I suppose. Everybody's talking, everybody's in a rush, people are irritated and frustrated and tense and trying to make things work. Nobody around here but me is trying to focus on anything else, I suppose, but if they were, I'm sure they'd find it just as difficult as I do.

Part of the mission statement here is that we function as an artists colony, separate from the outside world and focused entirely on the kids' art. That's the biggest focus, really--the kids. Still, the atmosphere here is infectious. All of us have said at one point or another that we feel inspired here, that it affects our own artistic inclinations. I can't help but to write. One of the other women here broke out her paints practically upon arriving. There is just something about being surrounded by other artists that invokes the muse.

My accomplishment

I reached Erie, Pennsylvania at about 6:30pm (local time) this evening, completing my third straight day of driving. That's nearly 2000 miles, folks, and that's a lot farther than it sounds. Nearly 30 hours of driving, all told.

I drove across Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and a corner of Pennsylvania. And I'll tell you what--there's not a whole lot in most of those states, across I-80. Lots of farms. Cows and corn. Into Ohio, there started to be trees, and by Pennsylvania there were lots of trees. A few blips that were major cities and towns. Cleveland was exciting. But that was about it.

And I still love driving. This in no way quenched that exhilarating sense of freedom that driving gives me. I'll be glad to rest, but I'm looking forward to doing it all over again. Also--audiobooks rock the planet. New discovery.

And so now I'm here for the summer, working at PGSA as the ASM again this year. I'm excited--seems like a good crew this year. But I'm just excited to be busy! The monotony of the last few months has been killer, so it's great to be back surrounded by theatre people, doing what I've been trained to do.

Staring real life in the face...yet again

I promise that the Arches blog IS coming, there is much to write about, many fun stories to pass on to posterity. I just haven't had it in me the last few days, but believe me, it will come.

Tonight I finished a really good book. Mistborn: The Final Empire by Brandon Sanderson, a professor at BYU, actually. It's the first really good new fantasy book I've read in awhile--I've continually turned back to my old favorites, disappointed or bored by newer stuff. But this one was a pleasant surprise, a recommendation from my Sam. Interestingly, Sanderson is the one asked by Robert Jordan's widow to finish The Wheel of Time series--ergo, I had heard his name before reading his book, but only made the connection afterward. After reading Mistborn, I have some hope for the conclusion of Jordan's epic--don't get me wrong, I fanatically read Wheel of Time at one point in my life, but as it got stringed out and the books got more and more involved and covered less and less time, I lost some of my fervor for the books. But hopefully we will see a good--and conclusive--end to it. At any rate and either way, I really enjoyed Mistborn, can't wait to get my hands on the second book.

Getting onto Sanderson's website somehow led me to BYU's--I'm not sure what the connection is there, except that I've been meaning to check out BYU's undergraduate catalog for awhile. Do not mistake me--I have very little intention of ever attending BYU. However, I did hope to find some inspiration there, as far as my future goes.

I'm very seriously--almost certainly--considering going back to school for a second undergraduate degree. Hear me out.

I went to college the first time, absolutely certain of what I wanted to study. Theatre and English sometimes struggled for control over my soul--theatre eventually winning out--but it was always those two things. Sometimes I was one major, sometimes the other, for a long time both, but it was always those two. I never strayed, I never considered other options. I knew what I wanted to do, and I did it.

I've come--long before I graduated--to regret that singlemindedness. I certainly regret my decision to graduate early, missing the chance to take a few extra classes, to spend a little more time preparing for real life. But that is neither here nor there.

I want to take more classes. I hope always to be furthering my education, if not formally, but while I have the opportunities to do so, I would like to stay in school. I want to study things I have never studied before. I want to find and develop new passions--maybe even ones I would never find otherwise.

Thus, my search of the BYU (and UVU) catalog, hunting for ideas. Classes I could take. It appeals to me greatly to simply enroll--without declaring a major, with no set plans, just to explore, to learn. I want to take classes for the sake of increasing my knowledge, without worrying about graduation, without worrying about GPA, without any other pressures. I've come to learn how little those things actually matter, and I want the chance to do it over again.

I want the chance to be involved in things. I loved being a theatre major, I loved doing the shows--but that's all I did. I was involved in Honors, but I could only participate up to a point, because the theatre always came first. I didn't join other clubs, I forfeited my involvement in those I did join, because the shows consumed so much of my time and energy. Without the shows, I can only imagine the possibilities.

Melissa and I had a long discussion in the car on the way to Moab, about the current generation, and about why people in this day and age jump from job to job, from career to passion to addiction, without truly dedicating their lives to anything. I don't really want to become that, I don't want to be dissatisfied with my life. I have experienced passion, I know the hold it can have. I wouldn't say that I have lost my passion, it's still there, but I believe--I must believe--that I have a capacity for other passions. I want to find those. They may not be as glorious or as invigorating as the theatre, but I hope to find new passions that are a little more stable, in more ways than one.

The Nature of my Passion for Theatre

This spawns from a conversation I had with my mother Monday night. We were talking about why it wasn't entirely a bad thing that I didn't get into grad school--but that is not the point here. Let me explain.

My passion for theatre is not just about doing shows. If that were the case, I would have attached myself to a community theatre four months ago, and would be perfectly happy wiling away the hours for no money, but plenty of enjoyment. But that's not it. My passion for theatre (and I'm sure many of my theatre friends would agree with me) stems from the challenge.

Sure, we could do Seussical and The Importance of Being Earnest until our hair falls out, but there's very little challenge in many shows. I felt that in high school--once a year, my drama teacher would do a big musical with every student she could cast, and very little effort on anybody's part. Sure, it was a lot of work, a lot of time, but it didn't take soul. That's what I'm talking about.

These little community theaters don't often have it. They are trying to make a profit, trying to stay on their feet, so they do fun family shows that bring in the audiences. Around here, anyway--but that's Utah for you. They're not pushing artistic boundaries in any way, they're just trying to do a show with what little money and talent they have available to them. Now, this is no offense meant to community theatre--I practically grew up in one, and I would not love theatre the way I do without that experience. But I'm an adult now, and I've learned what I want.

Theatre is meant to push boundaries. It is meant to make people think. That's why it's there. If you just want entertainment, you might as well go to the movies. Live theatre, in its nature pushes boundaries simply by nature of having real people right in front of you. Theatre is supposed to cause the audience to reflect, to take what they see and apply it in some small way to their own lives. And as is very frequently the case, they often do so by affecting your sensibilities.

I'm a good Mormon girl. I try not to swear, I try not to be vulgar, I try to leave certain things, certain topics alone. But some of the most profound theatrical experiences I have had, have come from watching or working on shows that offend my sensibilities--Sticks and Bones or The Pillowman. Sometimes it's not even a matter of sensibilities, but rather shows that challenge artistically, like Henry V or Shooting Stars. Anybody in those shows will attest that they were an entirely different experience from How to Succeed or Lend Me a Tenor. All shows have the capacity to be good. Most shows have the capacity to be challenging. But only some shows have soul.

Okay, now that I've insulted half of you by dissing your favorite shows, hear me out. I liked those shows too. But there is something different that I am trying to achieve. It's not enough for me just to do shows. I--like many of you--give every show I work on everything I have to offer, heart and soul and blood. It is only rewarding when I get something back, when I feel like I have truly achieved something at the end. Otherwise, you just end up feeling drained and resentful. Haven't you ever felt that way at the end of a show? If not, I think you must be on something. It happens that way all the time, because not every show can be so rewarding, or the world would explode.

Nevertheless, this is what I seek. The challenge.

Just doing theatre isn't it. Just getting a job at some theatre somewhere isn't it. Sure, I could do that. I could live out of my suitcase for five years, jumping from theatre to theatre, and at the end of it, feeling pretty much the same as I do now. That's not the life for me. I applaud those of you for whom nothing appeals more. I thought it would, too, but I've gotten a few months under my belt and I have a better picture of 'real life' than I ever did before I graduated. I have a better picture of what I want out of my life.

I've talked to a few people about possibly going back to school to get my teaching license, and teaching high school drama. Generally, my theatre friends don't seem to like this idea--they seem to think I'm settling, that I'm not reaching for my dreams the way they want me to. But I can see the potential in teaching--the potential challenge.

It's not going to be for me, personally. I would never reach my artistic potential. That's not the point. But do you realize, that rather than just direct The Music Man every year, I could help those kids find their challenge, find the soul in those shows--every year! Every year its a new journey, a new challenge, and new experiment to find what means soul to those kids. That's what my drama teacher did for me. God bless Syd Riggs, who showed hundreds of kids at Orem High what it meant to produce art, rather than just having a good time! So many people tell me, "Oh yeah, I did drama in high school," but in the end it didn't mean anything more than being a part of something, having friends. That's good too, but there is something more that can be achieved, if the teacher will only try.

I'm not sure I'll go back to school for that, I'm not sure I'm up to being a teacher. I haven't made that decision yet. But that's why it appeals to me. I'm not settling--I'm striving to find potential in a life that will give me what I want out of my life. But that's another story.

Meeting Expectations

I've discovered over the years that there are certain people whom I will always want to please or impress--some to a greater degree than others. I can pinpoint these people, and I have a good relationship with each of them, albeit a very different relationship in each and every case.

For instance, there is my best friend. I always crave her good opinion of me, and I simultaneously always crave her own happiness. At the core of our relationship, however, is our religion--I feel that the closer I am to my religion, the more peaceful our relationship is. HOWEVER, this is the one person who I can completely be myself with. There is no one else whom I so completely trust, with every aspect of my life. I think everyone should have such a person.

I have another friend, a very close friend. We've gone through four years of college together, pursuing the same career--sometimes a cause for contention or competition, but most often a source of mutual aspirations. Despite everything, I always want to impress this dear friend with my prospects--where I'm working for the summer, where I'm going in six months, my dreams and goals. We've shared them for a long time. But recently we've kind of met a fork in the road--he got into grad school and I didn't. But in addition to that, I've realized that this road we've been traveling together isn't one I want to be on anymore. But, because of the nature of our friendship, I don't know how to explain to him that I don't share these mutual goals and aspirations anymore. The path that I want to take may not be as impressive to him, and I fear losing his respect.

There is my family, particularly my parents. For their sakes, I want to make something of myself. Pursuing our religion helps, but mostly I just want to be able to do things that make them proud of me. Oh, and my mother really wants grandchildren. I'll be perfectly happy to oblige her, as soon as I find their father.

I also have a favorite cousin, and I think for her it's good enough just to be myself. We've made similar mistakes, we share a lot of opinions, we share in the immediacy of our family, and she's honestly the one person whom I can talk childbirth with, without it getting awkward because I don't have my son anymore.

There are my high school friends--God bless them--who are dearer to me than nearly anything else in the world. For them, it's frequently a religion thing: am I dating, what's my calling, etc. They could often care less about my career, as long as its something that makes me happy. And as long as I'm doing SOMEthing. Hopefully soon I'll be able to remedy that. The only problem is that they don't want me to move away. My career would cause that, but my chosen career is becoming less appealing every day.

My professors, for the most part, want me to be successful at this chosen career--and NOT succumb to this religious inclination toward home and babies. Certainly, I want them to be proud of me also, but I think they are going to be the first ones I disappoint.

So what of myself? This is what puzzles me on a daily basis. What expectations do I hold for myself? They are often conflicting. I want to be successful, but as the days roll by, I more and more often question what exactly I want to succeed at. Certainly, there is much temporal glory to be had by being a woman pursuing a career. I have wanted that. But do I anymore? The older I get, the less that seems to matter. I used to mock women of my age (and younger) who settled down and started their families, without ever pursuing anything outside the home. I thought "They're not making anything of themselves, they're wasting their brains." But I don't really think that anymore. There are plenty of important things to do, at every stage of life. Pursuing a career is very grand, and I would love to do it. I love the theatre, I love the arts. But I don't think I could be content living that life. There is so much more to it.

I guess the greatest expectations I have to meet are the ones that HF and I work out between us--what satisfies His expectations while still generating my own happiness. I just have to figure them out, that's all.

Disappointment versus Devastation

I got two rejection letters today, one from UC Irvine and one from the University of Delaware.

Okay, so of course I'm disappointed. I really wanted to go to grad school. I'd be one of the first in my family to do so. It would have been a great experience. But I'm not devastated. My mother held me like she expected me to cry when I told her, but I didn't cry. Maybe I will later, I don't know. Frankly, I'm just glad I'm not waiting around anymore. Waiting to hear was even worse than knowing the answer.

Now, I can move on with my life. Where I'll be moving on to, I have no idea. I'd kinda been hoping to go to grad school so it would occupy the next three years of my life and I wouldn't have to make any big life-changing decisions. But alas, HF never makes things easy.

Next week is my last class in Phlebotomy. I have to pass the final exam, complete an externship, and then I'll get my certificate and be a phlebotomist. So far, I find it entertaining. Whether I can do it long term, I have no idea. But it's a place to start.

I am spending the summer in Pennsylvania again this year. At least I'll get a little theatre in 2008, even if its the weird version of my art that PGSA offers. I think it'll be fun, and help me not feel like an utter failure as a theatre student.

Realistically, looking back, I thought I'd be married by now. I still hope that will happen in the relatively near future, but as HF has taught me again and again, I can't stake anything on it--I just have to wait, and do what I can in that area to make things happen. Eventually it will work out.

So, yeah. I'm a little directionless right now, but I have hope and limitless possibilities (except, of course, that I'm limited from grad school!) I can go in any direction I choose, I just have to do that--choose.

Inspired by Gregory

My friend Gregory recently posted a blog on his MySpace concerning a Life List. He described starting a list in high school, a list of things he wanted to accomplish during his lifetime. It echoed with me, because I happen to keep a similar list. As Gregory himself said: "... partly because I love lists and partly just for fun, I have decided to post my working life list. And I encourage you to create your own list—what do you want to do with your life?

So here are some of the things I want to do with my life: (in no particular order)

--Serve a mission.

--Publish a book (at least one).

--Learn to play the saxophone.

--Learn how to cook well.

--Go to grad school (I find out in March!!)

--Get married in the temple. (Really, what kind of good LDS girl would I be without this one?)

--Raise at least three children.

--Work on a Broadway tour.

--Stage manage all of Shakespeare’s plays.

--Work in politics. (Preferably in DC, because its a great place.)

--Learn to tap dance.

--Travel the world. (Vague, but really I just want to see everything.)

--Live in a big city—NYC, D.C., Chicago, Philly, London, or the like. At least for awhile.

--Live in a small town, at least for awhile.

--Live in another country, for awhile.

--Write a book with Sam. And actually finish it. Maybe it can be the one that gets published!

--Raise pets. Dogs, especially. Beagles.

--Work in publishing.

--Become bilingual, at least. The languages I would most like to speak are: German, Spanish, Russian, Italian, and Mandarin. Following those are the rest of the world's languages.

Day 3: Photos Abound

It's not even funny how excited I was to finally see Wicked.

The Oriental was a beautiful, very ornate theatre. You never would guess from their exteriors how exquisite these buildings are behind the facade. If only I could have taken pics inside...

Thus these are mostly pictures of the marquee. I wanted to take pictures inside, but Nick couldn't handle the crush of people.







I had this thing with taking pictures of the theatres downtown. It was the only time I allowed myself to be a "tourist" and snap photos--because this is what I was in Chicago for: the theatre.





Overall, Day Three was brief and spent mostly at the airport. Nick left early in the morning to catch his flight. Then I had a great interview with Rick Cunningham from Delaware-PTTP. Just really great. This was after helping a little old man cross the street. I'd never pictured myself as that kind of person, the one to stop and help the little old people cross the street, but there I was in Chicago with an octagenarian on my arm, chatting about the snow and the public transportation system.

After checking out of the hotel, I took the El back to O'Hare, where my flight was delayed several times because of fog. I ended up arriving in SLC nearly two hours late, but my dear Christopher is patient, and came to pick me up once we had finally landed.

So I'm back in Taylorsville, heading back into real life again, keeping my fingers crossed for the next nervewracking month and a half before I find out about grad school, and who knows what else.

Day 2: Photos to Come

Day Two began at an obscenely early hour with Nick's alarm. Despite the fact that I had no interviews, Nick made me get up and out of bed. I guess he needed emotional support. :) I encouraged him to go over to the Palmer House and see if Ron Schaeffer from UMKC was still around and could interview with him. So off he went, for nearly three hours. I chilled at the hotel. It was spectacular. Nick came back, having successfully gotten the interview. We talked for awhile, and then out we went.

We had heard that The Goodman offered student tickets for ten bucks. Conveniently, our hotel is only a couple blocks down the street, so we walked down to the theatre. Currently playing is Shining City, which neither Nick or I had ever heard of. The synopsis reminded us a bit of Blithe Spirit. We decided to look around a bit more. Just down the street is the Oriental, which just so happened to be playing Wicked. Now, Nick had already seen Wicked in Chicago, so I was quite hesitant to suggest it, but fortunately he is a loving soul, and he agreed to see it again. So we bought tickets, learning only after purchase that we were attending the 2:00 matinee. We had been planning to go to The Art Institute during the afternoon, and I'm still a little bummed that we didn't get to go. But I wouldn't have given up Wicked for the world!

So, with our afternoon suddenly consumed, we went to a little corner bakery/sandwich shop, where I had a great "uptown turkey" sandwich. Nick and I talked about the pros and cons of revolving doors, while freezing every time someone went in or out of the place. Then we went to Borders to kill time before the show. Nick and I discussed the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer, we talked about the Beatles and "Across the Universe", and we seriously delved into the graphic novel section. Nick bought a book of poetry while I seriously resisted a CD and the entire graphic novel section. Then it was off to Wicked.

I heard the soundtrack of Wicked about a month after it opened. A friend of mine went to see it on Broadway, and brought back the CD. This was probably my junior year of high school? Anyway, he got a couple of us together one afternoon, and told us that we just had to come listen to a couple songs. We got in his car after school and just sat there for an hour and a half at least, just listening to the whole thing through. Fell in love with it instantly, and brought this love to many other friends along the way.

So, seeing it at last, in Chicago of all places...nothing like it, my friend, nothing like it in the world. The set was huge and mechanical, the lighting was just fantastic, some really cool moments. The costumes were weird, though I kind of expected that. Why Galinda wears white for so long, I will never know. Defying Gravity was everything I expected it to be. Oh, but the Galinda was weird. Her character choices were very strange, I don't know if they're unique to this actress, but she was jerky and awkward and I didn't much care for her. Because of where our seats were (I think) it was sometimes hard to hear, especially Elphaba (which was stinky), and we had this terrible usher! He kept walking up and down the side aisle right next to us, and during "For Good", he stood behind us making this awful noise, like he was jangling keys or something, it was so loud and distracting! I was hoping Nick would get up and say something, but alas. Overall, though, great experience. I am SO glad we went. Totally worth my forty bucks.

After the show, we went back to our hotel. Incidentally, it was a long freaking show. Nearly three hours, including intermission. At any rate, we took a scenic walk through the freezing, windy streets back to our hotel. It was actually quite beautiful. Back at the hotel, we turned on The Superbowl. Last year was the first year I watched it, and I found the experience quite enjoyable, so I didn't mind a repeat. We watched maybe an hour of the game before we both started to get hungry. I decided that, seeing as how we were in Chicago, we should go out for some deep-dish pizza. (It also seemed like a good Superbowl-watching food.) So, after asking our friendly doorman for a suggestion, we headed two blocks down to Giordano's for some pizza and football.

As we ate our delicious fried calimari and spinach-mozzarella pizza, it started seriously snowing outside. We're talking horizontal, the wind was so strong sometimes. Oh, and by the way? When you're walking on the sidewalks in Chicago, you have to beware of falling ice. Nick and I almost died. Anyway, we watched the Superbowl, until--at three minutes left on the clock--the satellite gave out in the storm. We, and all the other customers in the place, waited for the game to come back on, but in vain. So we hunted for our waitress, left an outrageous tip because we just wanted to get out of there, and off we went into the storm. My poor new shoes were not up to the inches of snowfall, but we were laughing hysterically by the time we got back.

We thought the game was over when we got the TV on in our hotel room, but there was thirty seconds left on the clock, and we watched the madness of the false end to the game, the Giants thought they had won, but one second remained. Down again, and then it was over, the Patriots defeated in their hopes of a clean season sweep.

Then we settled down to watch a special episode of House. About three-quarters of the way through, Nick went to plug in his phone and realized he didn't have it. We scoured the room, missing the end of the episode, but determined he had left it at the restaurant. Poor soul, he had to trudge through the snow, back to the grumpy manager of the pizzeria to get his phone--but at least he got it! And now he is reading Bukowski and feeling intellectual, I suppose.

Nick flies out early tomorrow, leaving me alone at the hotel. I have my interview with Delaware in the morning, then I get to entertain myself until my four pm flight. I have a book with me that I'm sure could keep me occupied for awhile. Maybe I'll just ride the Central loop and see Chicago. It's certainly an appealing place.

Chicago: Day 1

From where this picture was taken, you can see my hotel. Unfortunately, from where this picture was taken, you can't see the Sears Tower today, because it's cloudy, foggy, and cold. Not that cold has anything to do with picture taking, except perhaps the photographer's ability to point and click, fingers being frozen.

Other than the weather, though, Chicago is great! It's a really great city. Of course, I love most cities, but Chicago is definitely one of the most interesting I've visited. The people here are very friendly. They also walk the streets in large numbers very late at night. Seriously, eleven o'clock in the evening, the sidewalks still full of people. Maybe they were all out-of-towners?

My flight from SLC got canceled, supposedly due to mechanical problems. True answer? Delta Airlines is one giant corporate cheapskate. No joke. There were maybe fifteen people waiting for the 200-passenger plane. So what does Delta do? That's right.

However, waiting for the flight along with me was none other than Matt Neves--SUU Arts Admin MFA Director extraordinaire. Those of you who know Matt Neves probably know my opinions about him, and those of you who don't, don't need to. Suffice it to say--I was very grateful that he got me bumped up to first class on the next flight, very grateful that he got me a meal voucher so I didn't starve to death at the airport, and very grateful that he didn't talk to me the whole way there.

Speaking of the meal voucher--I was waiting in line at the Cinnabon (healthy, I know, but I simply could not resist the smell of cinnamon with seven dollars of Delta's money in my hand), I met this random old guy in line. I accidentally bumped into him, and he dripped Starbucks on his hand. I felt awful. Then a little further down the line, he laughed at me as I tried (rather unsuccessfully) to get napkins out of the absolutely retarded dispenser. Only a little further down than that, he started talking to me. (=Tweener) He asked me where I was heading, what I was doing. He has a niece in theatre, so he was enthusiastic in his questions. But then I asked him where he was going. He and his wife were going to Africa for two weeks to work at a medical clinic fighting AIDS, and to go hiking. Not safari-venturing, just hiking. He listed off about a dozen things they wanted to see, all of them humanitarian. I don't know how on earth they'll get everything done they want to do while they're there, but his enthusiasm was really catching. I ordered my Cinnabon and a large OJ, then wished him well. On the way out, I stopped to greet his wife, whom he had pointed out, waiting for him just beyond the cash register. I wished her good luck in Africa, then went on my way.

Once in Chicago, I grabbed my pink duffel and headed off, through the cavernous airport underground, past the music makers dancing in the corridors, to the L. The El? I haven't determined how people actually spell the colloquial reference to the CTA--the elevated train that runs through Chicago and its suburbs. Let me tell you, it took a lot longer to get downtown from the airport than I expected. The burbs go on forever. The L was fun, though. I saw a lot of interesting people, heard their voices and got into the rhythm. I like Chicago.

The hotel, Club Quarters is under construction. The doorman liked me. I sat in the lobby for nearly an hour, waiting for Nick while he finished an interview, and we got talking about the crap that's on TV. There was a lubricant commercial on, and he burst out, "That's just the next thing to porn! And my kid's watching that?" Things weren't like that in his day.

As it turns out, our interviews were all scheduled for Saturday, not Sunday. Nick and I still haven't figured out where we messed up. All the paperwork I've dredged up from the depths of my email say Saturday--though, never in a clearly distinguishable place. I got lucky--both of my interviewers let me reschedule with them. Still waiting to see on Nick's.

Walking back to our hotel from the Palmer House at eleven o'clock last night, a man stopped me on a street corner. I thought he was going to ask me for change, but rather, he asked me for directions. "Where's the Union Station?" he asked. I couldn't quite hear him, so he asked me again where he could find the Union station. I apologized and told him I wasn't from here, that I didn't know. He thanked me for helping. Some people passed by us, and he called out to them, but they just kept walking. "Can't get any help," he said sadly. They probably thought he was asking for change, too.

Today life just sucks

Laughingly, I told my boss:

"I've signed into an apartment, and I'm scheduled to move in on Friday. I guess it depends on how much work you throw at me! And by the way, I'm definitely hoping for more--I need to be able to pay for the place, you know!"

He wrote back and said:

"Realistically how many hours a week would you need until things really ramp up?"

NOT the answer I was looking for.


I'm job hunting again. I'm looking for part-time right now, maybe to off-set the absolute lack of money coming from what I thought was my ideal job. But if I can't find part time, it'll be full time, and then what? I'm an underpaid college graduate bumming my life away in suburbia, hoping to get a break someday? Hoping to pay the bills rather than hoping to find joy in pursuit of my passion?

I hate moving out. I hate packing. I don't mind moving in, I don't mind unpacking. It's just this, right now--the state of flux. It doesn't help to have all this uncertainty surrounding me--will I be able to pay for my new apartment? It's not looking like it!!

I don't know what I want. I have friends and relationships here, in Salt Lake and in Utah, relationships that I cherish more than anything else in the world. But what do I want? I have grad school interviews this weekend--I get excited about grad school more than most things left to me, but to what end? Am I even going to pursue theatre? Suburbia has opened its mighty jaws and is attempting to swallow me whole. It won't be long before rent becomes a mortgage to pay.

I'm terrified. I'm depressed. Tonight, I'm lonely. I know everything will look better tomorrow, but today, complaining to my blog is what suits my needs.

Today life just sucks.