A blog about cars. No, not about sports cars or a new car purchase or detailing and "ride pimping" or... I don't know... venting about used car salesmen. More like a couple of random anecdotes regarding events of this past weekend, both dealing with cars. (Can the end of that sentence be considered a clever pun? Dealing with cars... car dealer... I'll admit it wasn't intentional, but I find it amusing after-the-fact. I consider it a funny on my end. You should too. ... additional side note that I didn't want to do a "parentheses in a parentheses" for so I added a dot dot dot within this set of parentheses despite the fact that it's a relatively separate comment (don't know the technical term for a dot dot dot)... darn, parentheses in parentheses, unavoidable. Anyways, long-winded way of saying additional note, I just spent 15 minutes looking up figures of speech to try and determine if what I said was actually a pun versus a euphemism, hyperbole or whatever else... 15 minutes later and I still don't know what it is. Funny that I spent so long looking up that, to no avail, yet I don't look up the real name of a "dot dot dot", though I could probably find the answer to that in under a minute.) Anyways, returning from ongoing side note land....

So, car anecdote #1: You know that horrible moment when you get out of your car and then think to yourself, uh oh.... what did I just do with my keys? And 9 times out of 10 they're in your purse, where you absent-mindedly placed them several seconds earlier as if on auto-pilot, without realizing you had done it. The remaining one out of every ten times they're on the roof of your car or, god forbid, locked inside. Well, Saturday evening I pulled into my driveway and had this moment of panic mere seconds after getting out of my car. Instinctively, I rummaged through the depths of my purse, even though I knew if my keys were there they would be somewhere right on top. After 21 seconds of rummaging I walked back to my car, where I saw them, taunting me on the passenger seat. Okay... not a problem. I'll get the spare. Go inside my house, go to where we keep all of the spare keys, sift through about 19 different sets, don't find my car key. Where's the spare? Let's call people who may know... 15 minutes later, no one knows. Good... missing a car key. I have a valet key, but that's in the car. Time to call AAA. I've never had to call AAA from the luxury of my own home, as its always been a "call from my cell phone, whilst sitting in my non-functional car and usually freezing or sweating to death" type of situation. Calling from home with no immediate needed usage of the car, a definite bonus. Of course, it was this situation where they showed up in 10 minutes, rather than the usual 50+ minute waiting time. Now, watching the half-hour scene that ensued upon AAA man's arrival was mildly hilarious. Let's call this part of the story "Problem Solving 101, or Unsophisticated Methods of Breaking Into a Car". So, some young guy shows up with a rubber wedge type of device and what looked like one of those orange sticks you use when checking the oil level for your car... except elongated to about eight feet. He shoves the wedge in the upper part of my driver's side door, by the window, and sort of hammers it in a bit, to create a gap between the car and the door. Next step... inserts the orange stick. He fumbles around with it a bit... clearly trying to get it to poke the automatic lock button. I stand there, silently watching. 8 minutes later he asks me if it's a "push lock" or a "pull lock". I reply push, to which he groans and says "that explains it". (Sentence sounds raunchy out of context, first part anyways) Then he realizes it's too dark to see what he's doing so he pulls out his cellphone, which he has to open and close every 10 seconds in order to utilize it as a makeshift source of light. I fully realize that at any point I could have gotten him a flashlight or at least offered to hold his cellphone for him and be the designated opener/closer, but my sitting back and watching was much more enjoyable. He tries pushing rather than pulling the automatic lock for several minutes before switching to work on the manual lock... who knows whether he was trying to push or to pull with that one.

Fastforward another few minutes and he switches to the passenger side door. My immediate thought... does he really think it will be easier on this side versus the symmetric other side he was just trying? I quickly realized that he gave up on pushing/pulling any of the interior locks, be them automatic or manual, and switched instead to trying to hook the keys from my passenger seat onto the orange stick and move them up and out of the tiny space created by the wedge-like apparatus. It's at this moment that I curse the large gaughtiness of my keychain preferences. After several attempts at squeezing the set of keys through the wedged gap he tries to just get them close enough that he can stick his finger in the gap and press the unlock button on the key. This doesn't work either. The keys fall from the orange stick, as if in slow motion. He prods the keys with the stick end, apparently trying to press the unlock button on the keys, but all this does is slide the keys around on the car seat. It seems all hope is lost. He pauses, whether he was contemplating the next move or giving his other hand a rest from opening and closing his phone, who knows. He decides to give "bringing the keys out of the wedge gap" an attempt #2. Unsuccessful. But attempt #9 worked. The keys fit out the gap. Who knows how. I thank him for the amusing show and he's on his way. If you were to ever break into a car, I don't think an 8 foot orange stick would go unnoticed, nor the likely half-hour time block it would take to accomplish your feat of law breaking. Not to mention that how this guy managed to successfully get into my car depended upon the keys being locked inside in a visible and "easily accessible" location in the first place.... if I were you I'd just smash the window and replace it later.

On to car anecdote #2: This story has two parts really. First part... I'm driving home at some crazy late hour of say 3:30 a.m. on Friday night slash Saturday morning. As I pull onto my road I see what seems like 8 kids scatter from the middle of the road and run into a nearby yard. Teenagers on a sleepover, I assume. Slow down and drive by them, continue up the street, eventually pulling into my driveway. I was on my cellphone and didn't want to go inside yet, which would risk waking others up and them overhearing my conversation. So I turned off the car and sat there, still talking. Fastforward maybe 40 seconds and I see someone run up to my drivers side door, from behind the car and then like hit it and run in the other direction. I SCREAMED like I didn't know I was capable of screaming. (I have this odd fear that I will be attacked someday and not be capable of screaming because whenever I've tried to fake a scream a.k.a. scream in a non-frightening situation, it hasn't come out right. Now at least I know I can scream.) My first thought was that it was my brother trying to scare me, then I realized he's not 14 anymore and also, probably not awake. Instantaneously I come to the conclusion that it's those kids I passed by, who wanted to scare me so they must have chased my car up the street... otherwise how would they know it was me and my car, since I turned my car off upon pulling into the driveway? Remember, I'm still on the phone. So I'm explaining what just happened, the cause of my ungodly scream, when what seems like only 10 seconds later the same kid runs up to my driver's side window while another comes up to the passenger side. They yell something to each other ("what is she doing?") and I hear the passenger side door handle click. Sound like a horror movie yet? Thank goodness my car automatically locks so the door didn't open. I pound my window frantically and the kids scream and run away. I'm so shocked by what just happened and that these stupid teenagers actually chased my car up the road just to be jerks that I'm just angry, rather than frightened at this point. I'm expressing this on the phone, as I look around to see where any of these kids are and see absolutely none. While normally I would be paranoid and think they're hiding behind my car or a tree, I had an odd sense of knowing they left. I got out of the car, made sure it was locked and not even running, half-tempting them to come back and dare face me, went in the house, locking the door behind me. I was prepared to call the cops, half-convinced they would come back and hit my bedroom window or something to freak me out even further. And although I probably could have called based on what just happened alone, I thought of it more as a "stupid, annoying teenagers, need to grow up" thing than a threat to my safety. Though I didn't think about what could have happened if the one had gotten my door open.

That was part 1. Part 2 occurred 2 days later. I'm lying in bed, it's the morning and I'm awake but lazy and don't want to get up yet. I hear the phone ring and my brother answer it and hang up a few seconds later. I hear my mom ask who it was and he says "it was a recorded message from the police saying there has been a string of car break-ins and robberies in our neighborhood between the hours of midnight and 7 a.m. over the past few days so be sure to lock our cars and leave nothing valuable in them." I sit up in bed. No wayyyyyy.... I think to myself. Those annoying kids were car thieves... or, more accurately, car item thieves? Obviously I'm making a huge assumption, but it's a natural, albeit proof-lacking, conclusion. I decide to tackle my phone-phobia and call the police, partially to be a good citizen and partially because part of me likes being a tattle-tale when I know it's right. They listen to my story and say they're sending a cop over right away to get a written record of my account. Cop car pulls in the driveway a couple of minutes later. I re-tell the story again. I give the physical description of the one-kid I saw, halfway hoping they brought one of those "draws the criminal's faces based on the description" dudes with them, knowing they probably didn't. I'm asked if I could recognize him in a line-up. (This is fun!) My imagination again goes wild and I picture them having a whole line-up of men having to say "what the f*** is she doing?" one at a time, so I can pick out their voice as well. I'm sure I won't even be called again, but I can have my 2 second "crime witness with-little-risk-to-myself-because-criminal-is-a-kid-and-it's-a-petty-items-in-a-car-theft" fantasy. The cop gives me more detail on the case than I am fairly certain he's supposed to before leaving. Now I have some paranoia that the children's gang will find out I gave them a lead and destroy my car or something. But really I'm just hoping to hear some exaggerated, will never happen, story on the news about a group of underage car bandits who were stopped before causing more havoc to an otherwise quiet neighborhood.

Finally, a comment only (very) mildly related that interestingly enough seems more relevant due to the previous mention of looking up figures of speech... the homonym-like relationship between cars and my last name, Carr. Fairly obvious, I know... that connection in and of itself is not what I wanted to point out here. I feel like everyone at some point growing up thought up funny names... Eileen Dover, Anita Bath, Paige Turner, etc. Well at some point my brother and I realized our grandfather actually has a name like this... his full name is Robert Alan Carr... nothing strange, but you could call him Rob A. Carr, pretty funny. This weekend we joked that my brother should name his first daughter Lisa. Any others you can think of? Okay, so it wasn't related at all other than containing the word car.

So, another audition story. I've been determined lately to wait around until a non-theatre related blog topic came to mind because I don't want to bore you all with my redundant themeage here. However, this one's too unique to pass up and frankly I want to be able to go back, read this and remember the bizarre experience. So feel free to consider this a self-indulgent blog for my memory's sake and not for any of you. Anyways, it was an audition for A Chorus Line. If I were to get a part it would be my third time doing this musical. One might say I'm addicted to the show. Ironically, I don't love the show itself. But, it has a lot of great parts and is one of very few shows out there where I feel like (in pre-professional theatre land) dance wouldn't hold me back from getting a role. I always knew the music and the general idea of the show but when I first saw it however many, many years back I remember thinking "okay... there are five people in this show I would love to play at some point" (do you know me? can you name them? haha). I consider myself lucky to have been able to play one of them already. This time around I'm hoping for one of three of the remaining four. (One too many numbers in that sentence there.... haha... one too.... one two....) Anyways.

I get there all prepared in my "I'm a dancer but not trying too hard" outfit, my dance bag full of 8 different kinds of dance shoes and my sheet music for a song that's slightly different from the style of the show but shows off both a lighter side as well as the big old belt, i.e. some variety and range all packed into 16 bars. I'm a little nervous, as always, and a bit frazzled because I was 5 minutes late for when the "optional" warm-up was supposed to start. However, nothing had begun yet and everyone was just sitting around so it was all good. My friend Janice was there too so I was very happy to know someone else there. About 8 of us showed up for the warmup. Now, I knew going into this that the choreographer was a ballet guy. Didn't know what to expect or how that whole ballet background thing would go over with this show or the audition. The warmup was a ballet barre. Okay, that's fine. Don't get to do much stretching really, but I can do that before the actual dance audition bit, right? Let me say that the fact that this was called an "optional warmup" was kind of silly. After the ballet barre we went center floor and then did stuff across the floor. Essentially he was assessing our basic skills. Turns. Kicks. Jumps. It was a Dance 101 class, "show me that you have the essentials down". I seriously bet that anyone who wasn't there for this "warmup" was at a huge disadvantage. Especially once we found out what the dance part of the audition would consist of. At the end of the warmup he threw on some salsa music, taught us one little cha-cha type step that we did a couple of times. I figured he was just trying to see if we could move a little more freely, with some personality. Then he tells us we're to do that salsa step and then improv for 16 counts. Fine. I can do that. Throws me off a bit but whatever. Then we're told we can leave and they'll call us in one by one in a bit. Naturally, I go and choreograph my 16 counts of "improv". Well.... I'm called in and the 16 counts goes by and then there's another 16 counts, and another, and some more.... in the end I ended up having to improv for about 3 minutes all while the choreographer shouted things like "show me something!.... and jump!... turn out of it... start from the top!" (the top of improv?). It was insane-o. Considering I haven't had an actual dance class in 2 years and that the basic ballet 101 warmup deal that brought me back to 4th grade nearly killed me, I was dead after 3 minutes. I'm out of practice and out of shape. But I did it and I did it as well as I possibly could, considering it was improv. Today, day after, I have that sore but strong thing going on... it feels good. Anyways, as each person was coming out of this 3 minute improv thing we all started talking, wondering if there would be an actual combination to learn, a legit dance audition if you will. I had a feeling that the improv would be it. I couldn't imagine going through 3 minutes with everyone to then teach and perform a combination as well. My guess was right. The salsa improv was the dance audition. I really think all they could have gathered from that was whether you had rhythm, some level of confidence, some personality, and I suppose some basic technique... assuming with your improv you decided to do some actual dance stuff versus all salsa stylistic things. When I list it out like that it does seem to cover the essentials but I didn't mean it to be a positive statement. haha. I just mean that a huge part of this show is technique and that wasn't necessarily seen unless some auditioner is an excellent improver. As for me, I decided mid move what I would do previously... my body was behind my mind. Wait... reverse that... mind behind the body. As a result I'd be prepping for a jump and deciding on my way up what jump to do and wondering on the way down what I just did. But I feel like I committed to everything, even if my mind was confused. Commitment is essential. On to the singing/acting component...

This part of the audition was a little more standard but very brief and still a little bizarre. The group of 8 of us or however many were all called in at once. We're told we're each going to read from the show and sing. They say "you're all singing from the show right?" to which everyone else responds with an immediate yes except Janice and I who look at each other, look back at them and then say "well, we can!". I guess with this place you're expected to sing from the show and that's pretty much it. Good thing I know the music. As I'm announcing what part I'd like to read for and sing I'm deciding which part I will read for and sing. Though I intended to ask to read for Val, I asked for Kristine at the last second, mainly because I'm nervous and you can be nervous when reading for her but Val has to be beyond confident. And then I sing Val's song. The accompanist played it literally about one-eigthth of its normal speed. No, that's not right. Much slower. It was painfully slow. Painfully. We didn't get a chance to set the tempo beforehand and I hate those auditioners who look at the pianist all panicked and annoyed like trying to get them to speed up. I had a feeling he wasn't going to follow if I sped up anyways... I halfway attempted it during one of the lines that's spoken but then ended up just having to wait for the music to catch up to me. So I sang my 4 bars or so of Dance 10, Looks 3 as a ballad. All's good. That's right, it was about 4 bars. Sure I'm an exaggerator and I'm exaggerating a bit here too but it was really short. And that was the audition. 3 minutes of improv dance, 10 seconds of singing, 8 seconds of dialogue. And from that they pick the line. How? I have no idea. I was going into this thing already with a "we'll see what happens" kind of attitude rather than a "I need to get this or I will cry with disappointment". Partly because 2 of the last 3 shows I did were Chorus Line so it wouldn't KILL me to not do it again so soon, partly because it is a long drive to rehearsals, partly because I'm already in a show right now, partly because I know other shows I could audition for instead if I don't get this and partly because I'm learning more and more to not put all my hopes into auditions because it usually leads to disappointment. Really, at this point I'm just curious... curious how this show will be run, curious how they'll cast it, curious as to what parts they may consider me for even if I'm not offered one (which I'll presumably find out when callbacks are announced). We shall see...

So I just finished creating an extra long, extra intense, extra detailed, extra insane "Who are you most like from A Chorus Line?" quiz. Yes, to answer your question, I am that cool. My motivation stemmed out of boredom and I knew creating this quiz would be a process that would eat up a lot of empty time, but still be fun for me... for one, I knew I would include all 19 main characters... the line crew plus zach and larry. This meant each question would need 19 possible options. Also, it meant I would need a lot of questions... since there would be so many options it would be easy to select answers that belong to a whole array of characters and therefore get an inconclusive/inaccurate result. It also meant writing up little summary result things for each character ("You are so and so because...") and finding a great picture of each character to go with it... because pictures are fun. So, in summary I wasted a lot of time putting together this ridiculous quiz that probably about 7 people will take.

To me though it was fun... and I'm used to this sort of thing. Well, not writing quizzes. I mean the character analysis junk that goes into it. I know these Chorus Line characters inside and out, but very few people ever think about say, what the character's favorite childhood game would have been (question #9). Well, I'm one of those very few people. All because of one of my first directors, who I did 4 or 5 shows with. It was one of my first musicals, I never really did any acting before, and I had a bit part... a role, but a tiny one without much character development or anything. I was young and had no idea there was any sort of "method" to acting, nevermind multiple methods and I never considered in-depth character analysis. Well, about a week into rehearsals this director gave everyone in the cast, ensemble included, a homework project. We all had to write a detailed analysis of who we were, our character. It could be a list but it had to be as comprehensive as possible. Full name, physical characteristics, personality, family background, interests, favorites (everything... book, movie, food, music group...), least favorites, fears, hopes, what you're ashamed of, what your friends think of you, what your enemies think of you, what you think of you.... you get the idea. If you could think of something else to add, great. In the end it meant each of us had to research the time period so we could give appropriate answers for the character and we had to really give some thought as to who our characters were. It gave everyone a story and our director made sure we knew our story inside and out. I'll never forget one time I walked into a scene and the director stopped me immediately and said "where did you just come from?" then "why are you going here now?" and questioned every response I gave as well. In other words if I said "home" she'd say "where's home? what were you doing there?". It was a mortifying experience for me, someone who doesn't much enjoy answering questions about herself, nevermind "making up" answers on the fly about "someone else"... and feeling interrogated is hard when you're someone who can shut down under verbal pressure. But for that very reason you can be sure I thought of all of these things before ever walking onto a scene again. So, very early on I learned what it meant to really know your character and become that character. It was my first lesson in acting and something I use to this day.

Creating this quiz brought back all of those memories, of the character profiles and such, since that's essentially what I did for these 19 characters. And it made me wonder, if I were to create "a profile" for myself, what would I find? If I had to sum up my life and who I am and then read it over, in its summarized, list-like form what impression would I get of myself and would I like what I see? It would certainly be a lesson in self-discovery. I'm not going to lie, I think I would make one of the world's best character studies. haha. My mother was talking with me at dinner the other night, asking me all sorts of questions about how I think in various situations. At one point I laughed and asked why she was asking me all of this. Her response? "I know you better than 99% of the rest of the people in your life and you're still such a mystery to me. You intrigue me". My response? "So you like psychoanalyzing me?" Her response? "I do". I've always thought of myself as a very self-aware individual with strong perceptions. But I've just recently started learning new things about myself. Things that intrigue even me. Not all of which I'm proud of. Many of them seem to contradict other aspects of who I am, thereby expanding the interest of my imaginary character profile tenfold and then some. I'm not sure yet if these things are just new realizations, but parts of me that have always been there, or if they're new to my life... changes from growing up and coming into my own. Probably a mix of both.

Maybe the next time I'm bored and want to waste a few hours I'll do this suped up character analysis of myself and call it a condensed auto-biography. Part of me is afraid of what I'd see, but part of me knows everyone has strengths and flaws. I'm one of those people who believes that everyone, underneath it all, is good and worthy of respect and love. Everyone does what they think is best... whether it's best for themselves, best for others or a combination of the two... and both things are important, neither is better than the other. I may just be discovering some things about myself, and good or bad, they're making me feel more connected to myself, to others and to the world around me. Which is a good thing. The more I live, observe and experience the more I'm enjoying the learning process of life.

So, I finally have something blog-worthy. My hilarious injury stories. That's right, I used the words hilarious and injuries in the same sentence. Some of my funniest memories happen to coincide with moments of excruciating pain. And they all have to do with theatre/dance. Let's skip further pre-amble and jump right in...

Story number one goes back a little over a year ago, early January of '08. I'm back at Wheaton for pre-season for dance company... the best slash worst time of the college year (for theatre folk equate it to hell week). Essentially, we're in rehearsal for 8 hours a day, everyday, for about 9 days straight... learning up to 7 new works from the various choreographers that come in and reviewing the old routines from last semester that we probably forgot over Christmas break. You know an injury is coming since I gave the blog topic away in the opening paragraph... you would probably assume it would happen on day 6 or so.... when I'm somewhat into the process and my body is just overworked. Probably would also assume it happened mid extreme dance move. Such was not the case. Try day #1 during warm-ups. We're sitting on the floor, essentially in "indian position", which I know is probably a politically incorrect term, but I don't know what else to call it... criss cross apple sauce? Anyways, we're sitting like that and leaning our bodies forward, over our legs... nothing intense or anything, and I feel an odd sort of pop/pull on the right side of my back. It doesn't hurt, just felt funny. I think to myself, "hmm, that was weird" but kept going through the exercise. I finish the entire floor warmup, still not in any sort of pain. Then I stand up and I can feel it. Nothing too bad, but I knew I had a long week+ of dancing ahead of me so I asked to sit down, maybe stretch it out some more. Well, fast forward about 2 minutes and I'm on the floor, unable to move ANYTHING, and sobbing uncontrollably. Some college health guy comes in to examine me and he can't get me to so much as lift my pinkie without my screaming out in pain (no exaggeration). It's pretty clear, I need to go to the hospital. An ambulance and stretcher come to pick me up. They give me an insane dosage of morphine through the IV at the hospital because I keep saying I don't feel its effect, I'm still in insane pain. The doctor man tells me it's as clear a diagnosis as possible, I merely threw out my back. I think he HAS to be wrong... there's no way that's all this is. I couldn't even move my pinkie without a shooting pain stemming from my back. He insists that's all it is. I still think he is wrong, but I don't argue. Only thing to do, he says, is get enough morphine in me so that I'm able to get out to a car and get home... he'll write me a prescription for Percocet or something and some anti-inflammatory jazz that I'm allowed to take up to 4 times a day and I'll have to be on complete bed-rest for at least 2 weeks. I'm complaining because I'm not feeling the morphine and I'm convinced there's no way I will ever be able to get to a car unless they completely sedate me and do it themselves. Eventually they tell me if they give me any more morphine it would be too dangerous (after commenting on my unnaturally high level of tolerance for it and utter shock that they weren't even noticing it having any sort of effect on me) and that I should try getting out to the car. Well, the minute I stand up boy do I FEEL THE MORPHINE. I got super super dizzy but was able to slowly wabble out to the car, relying heavily on my friend Laura, who went with me in the ambulance, and the dance company director, who showed up later at the hospital and would be driving us both back to campus. Now, on the car ride home Cheryl (dance director) says I have to get some food in my system (this whole process took most of the day, god knows how many hours, and I hadn't eaten anything) and she insisted on going to the pharmacy at that moment to get the prescriptions as well as pick up one of those moist heating pads, which the hospital man recommended. She takes us through the McDonalds drivethrew, which in and of itself, if you know Cheryl, is hilarious. She eats nothing and has been known to make weight comments about dancers (oblivious to how they are received, not out of meanness. She's a little clueless... understatement), so the fact that she insisted Laura and I get something "of substance" from McDonalds cracked us up. But then she goes through the CVS pharmacy drivethrew, all the while commenting on how miraculous it was that there were drivethrews for such things now and asking if we were sure she could turn in the prescription there. We get up to the window and she gives them the prescriptions. They ask when we'll be back to get them. She says we'll wait.... at the drivethrew window.... not caring that it would take at least 10 minutes and there may be cars behind us. But the pharmacy man doesn't tell her that she can't. Just gives a funny look for half a second before remembering to be professional. Then, she decides to ask to the pharmacy man if he can run into the main part of CVS and also pick us up a moist heating pad, giving specific instructions on which type of heating pad would be needed so be sure to find the right one. I'm fairly certain this is not in their job description, to go shopping around CVS for random items for pharmacy drivethrew pick-up customers. Cheryl asks us if we need anything else, so she can ask him to get that too. Well at this point Laura's in the back seat trying not to laugh and I'm cracking up on the inside and drugged out of my mind, which is making the entire experience that much more hilarious. I'm realizing now that this is one of those stories that may not be funny in the re-telling, but if you were there and heard her ask the pharmacist to pick up the random store items for us as well, you would have found it funny.

The next two stories are much more recent and much funnier in the retelling. So, first one involves another (though MUCH less severe) back injury. I'm doing a couple of musicals this summer with a group up in Danbury (about an hour from where I live). These past few weekends I've had rehearsal for one show in the morning/early afternoon and then a performance of the other show in the evening... with about a 4 or 5 hr break inbetween. Since I live far away I just stay up there during the break, along with another few people who are in both shows and don't leave either. It is designated nap time. I pull up a lounge chair bench prop piece thing and fall asleep. Wake up, feel okay. Hour or so later back hurts. Another hour or so later and I can't get out of my car, finally realizing it's actually a pretty bad injury that won't just go away. I go to the doctor the next day... spasm and torn muscle. Nothing too severe, can still be in the shows (though advised to "be willing" to skip the first one or two, "if necessary"... which obviously to me means, go for it), just have to be careful and rest inbetween. Lots of ice, anti-inflammatories and Valium. I make it through a performance or two with little problem. Then, one performance night, mid tap trenches, I feel it... bad. I get offstage and about 10 seconds later someone else realizes something is wrong. Suddenly there are about 6 people there to help me. Someone is pulling me out a chair, I have about 3 people changing my shoes, another one holding a flashlight so they can see what they're doing, 1 trying to make me laugh to lighten the mood (and laughing made it hurt more so I was trying not to laugh but also nervously laughing at the situation of everyone catering to me and being so helpful. And of course, telling people to not make you laugh because it hurts makes everyone laugh more). And I'm sitting there trying to avoid crying, to no avail. I'm told not to go back onstage and to wait until they can get people to help me back into the house. I'm asked if I can walk (assisted) or if they will need to carry me in on the chair. I can walk. I get inside and everyone's asking how I am, they're all being super nice. Super stage manager Janice goes out to find my family, with my helpful assistance of telling her what they look like.... "there's my mom and about... well, some other adults... and 2 younger people... my brother looks like me"... that was the extent of my family's physical description, aka I gave her an impossible task of finding them, though she assured me she would, and she somehow did. Someone asks if I have any of my medicine with me. I take a Valium. Music director then tells me red wine relaxes the muscles. Well wouldn't you know it, I just happened to have a bottle in my bag. When I say this the reaction is hilarious. I do not normally have bottles of wine in my purse. I am not an alcoholic. The fact that I happened to have a bottle of red wine was a hilarious coincidence because I had picked some up for the night before, had most of it still left and had forgotten to take it out of my bag before coming to the show. I tell her that I just took a Valium. She tells me it's okay, have some wine anyways. I'm in pain so it's good advice in my mind. So here I am, sitting in a chair, having just taken a Valium and now sipping red wine from a 1.5 Liter bottle while crying and laughing as others go by at the absurdity of it all and knowing how ridiculous I must look. That's funny part number one... happening to have the red wine and then sipping it from the bottle after taking a Valium. On to funny part number two... the method of getting me in a car to get home. My brother pulls his truck up to the house and I'm assisted outside. After joking that they should just put me in the pick-up part of the truck we try to actually get me in the back seat. It is somewhat high up... I will not be able to just "climb in". Amazing Janice decides to act as my stepstool to get me into the back seat. But getting on all fours leaves her too high up, so she gets in plank position, nearly lying on the ground, held up by her forearms, while I step on her back to get in... next I'm kind of pushed into a lying position across the back seat. Then there's the whole ordeal of do I want my hair taken out? shoes off? feet hanging out the window so I fit better? something to prop under my knees? a pillow of sorts for my head? I have Janice on one end, taking out my hair, Ron on the other, adjusting my feet, and Anna and who knows who else outside the car, laughing with the rest of us at the hilarity of the situation. Then there's the rolling factor. Unless my brother drives 15 miles per hour the entire ride home I will probably roll around, quite potentially right off the seat. So they push the front seats back as far as possible to "tuck me in" and secure my position. The whole ordeal was my best worst memory to date. Yes it was painful, but it was also highly amusing.

Fast-forward another week or so and I'm in the foyer of the rehearsal space (henceforth referred to as Richter), with a few castmates, during another break between rehearsal and a performance. (No longer will I take naps there). Anyways, all of a sudden I get a HORRENDOUS charley horse. I'm talking worst one of my life. It was in BOTH my shin and my calf and there was no relief to be found. My foot was stuck at a ridiculous angle and I could not, for the life of me, get it to move to stretch it out. I was literally grabbing my foot with both hands and pulling at it, and yet it would not budge from its bizarre position. (You know how when you get a cramp your toes or whatever will get stuck in a funny way and the only way to get relief from the pain is to manually move your toes to a normal position to stretch out the muscles? Well, it was that, but my entire foot. And it would NOT move). So we're all laughing because my foot looks ridiculous but I'm nearly in tears also because of the pain. Janice says I should stand up on a cold floor, and we all know the only way it will go away is if I can manage to stretch it out, which probably involves standing. So three people help me up. I'm a little more than half-way up when I realize there is no way I will be able to stand. So someone goes and grabs a chair to slide behind slash under me that I can just collapse on. And I'm in so much pain, all I want to do is crash to the floor and helplessly grab my awkwardly bent foot. The second the chair is behind me I start to go down, with Janice in front of me, essentially completely supporting me. I turn into her arm on my way down and out of sheer pain I open my mouth to let out a cry and it slowly closes.... on her arm. By now I'm in the chair. A few seconds of silence.... assessing the situation (Is Trisha okay now? It's all quiet and calm). "Owww! I think I bit you." Laughter ensues. I most definitely bit Janice's arm on my way down to the chair, and she never said a word about it until my "ow, I bit you comment". Now we're all cracking up, not only because I bit her but because I said "oww" first before saying "I bit you", as if it hurt ME to bite HER. I proceeded to apologize 817 times for biting her while trying to alleviate my charley horse pain, which did eventually go away, but left my leg muscles sore slash weak for the entire rest of the night and into the next day. It was like the spasm was a workout my legs had never seen the likes of before. I decided bananas and water were my only hope in preventing it from coming back.... wanted to get a bunch of bananas but the store was closed because it was July 4th so I got a smoothie at Starbucks instead that had a banana in it. Came very close to eating the single banana that was in the kitchen at Richter, before realizing it was a prop that the lead character would eat on stage later that night in the show. Imagine if I ate her prop? Especially on a day all the stores were closed. Janice probably would have bitten me.

So now we laugh that a lot of the funniest moments at Richter seem to occur when I am in pain, and that Janice is always somehow on the receiving end of it as well. Oh, and not really related, but I'm going to attempt to make a mild connection between the two because I want to mention it here, is a dream that I had. The mild connection of which I speak is that it involves potential pain and Janice. In my dream I'm at Desert Moon (essentially a step between taco bell and a sit-down, full scale Mexican restaurant... there's one near Richter we visit often). And someone walks in, pulls out a gun and says "Everyone, on the floor!". Not two seconds after I get down to the floor do I feel something pressing against my back. I'm sure it's the gun and that I'm going to be shot as an example to the rest of the people that this guy means business. (Didn't find it amusing during the dream that this was occurring in Desert Moon of all places). Then I hear the voice of the "gunman" and it was Janice. She yelled "Give me your Harry Potter or else I'm going to jack hammer your spine!". It suddenly occurred to me that the thing pressing against my back was a jack hammer and not a gun. And in my dream state I remembered that Janice had seen me reading Harry Potter at Richter at one point (even though in real life I never have) and she must have really wanted the book.... badly enough to jack hammer my spine, if need be, to get it.

So there are my funny injury stories. A drivethrew CVS moment, some Valium and wine, being manhandled into a truck, accidentally biting a friend, and getting a jack hammer to the spine at a Mexican cafe.

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So here it is... in ranked order, my list of what makes being in a show enjoyable. Because I'm sure you're all dying to know my thoughts on the matter. My order for this here list has changed considerably from what it was, based on the two shows I'm currently in. If you're like me and you read into things (or I've been telling you stories about rehearsals) I'm sure you will be able to figure out what aspects of my current show experiences are beyond amazing, or on the other side, horrendous based on how these here ranks have changed. (That is, if the topic hasn't bored you enough that you already stopped reading...) In some cases I'll just say how these shows affected my opinion flat out. Eliminate the speculation. Speculation leads to misconception which leads to rumors... because I'm sure everyone will be gossiping about this stimulating blog of mine. I am, however, brutally frank. Just getting that out there. Warning.

I'll start with #1 in importance (previously #4) if only because I hate the suspense associated with "countdowns"... start with the good stuff- it eliminates reading in reverse. So, numero uno in determining how happy I am doing a particular show is the director. If you have an awesome director things run smoothly, and you are inspired slash in awe of their creativity, perception, visions etc. Their energy and personality sets the tone for rehearsals. I've always thought this. I've had a couple of great directors and I tend to follow them around, show-to-show, like a groupie. On the other hand, an awful director can destroy a wonderfully written show with a super talented cast. Worse than that, at least from a performer's perspective, they can completely ruin the overall mood of the cast and enjoyability of rehearsals... causing a rise of frustration that eventually leads to anger/disappointment outside of rehearsal. Just as I've had some brilliant directors I've had some horrendous ones, and they can completely ruin the experience. Whenever I have an awful director my first reaction is usually "I want to quit" and my later reaction "I want to take over". But I've never quit and I've never taken over, so no worries there. There's my praising and venting.

#2 (previously #3) = Cast. Though this may seem straight-forward, "The Cast", in its high ranking number 2 spot, encompasses a lot of things. First off, they have to be talented, because if they're not you will feel embarassed to be on stage with them. Let's be real, we all think it. If you have an untalented set of people, forget it... you ultimately want every show you're in to be the best it can be and it's AWESOME to work with a cast full of talent. But then there's also part of you that doesn't want them to be too talented. If there's too much talent you are overshadowed. And if there's a severe excess of talent you can be intimidated (I have to sing and dance in front of them?!?!? What will they think of me?). So there has to be that balance between "how could they not currently be starring in their 32nd Broadway show?" and "never open your mouth or attempt to dance again, even in the privacy of your own home because then your own pets may disown you". A great or awful cast, talent-wise, can certainly affect your level of rehearsal and performance satisfaction. What I'm primarily referring to here though doesn't really depend on talent. It's more basic: are they good people to be around? A nice cast, with energy, some humor, and good work-ethic can make the experience 817 times more enjoyable. And of course the reverse holds too... if it's cliquey and full of complainers you end up begging for the show to start so you can skip right to the performance aspect and avoid the rehearsals.

#3 (previously #1) is your part in the show. Not necessarily whether you're the lead or not, but how featured you are in whatever you are doing. Let's face it, everyone wants the best parts. And about 98% of actors think they deserve the best parts. I buy right into the stereotypes. You end up counting your lines, determining who is downstage center the most in the group numbers, decide upon your "rank" in the show in terms of size of the role, decide upon your "rank" in the show in terms of talent, decide upon your "rank" in the show in terms of audience likeability, and the list goes on. You can't help but feel a bit of pride when you realize your part is better than so-and-so's. And you probably won't be too happy if you get zero-stage time. The old saying "no part is a small part" or whatever it is... it's a lie to 95% of the performing community. It's an aspect of being a performer. We all want to be featured and we all get upset when we're not featured to the level "we deserve". It's a narcissism thing. I'm not ashamed to admit it. And I know you're nodding to yourself in acknowledgement.

#4 (previously #5... aka didn't change much) is the choreographer. Now this isn't just because I'm a dance person. I feel like the choreographer has a HUGE role in the level of satisfaction you have doing a show. First off, it's usually a majority of the cast who considers dancing their weakest point... the choreographer has to be encouraging, helpful, and make the steps at an appropriate level yet exciting for the audience to see without "dumbing-them-down". They also have to work with a wide variety of levels. I feel like the dance aspect of the show is where the cast is most likely to get frustrated. The choreographer is the primary person who sets the mood at these rehearsals. There's a way to make it fun and enjoyable. I've seen a bunch of choreographers get frustrated with the cast for "not getting it" and just as many make the steps easier as they decide it's "too complicated". Only the best are able to inspire the cast to work at it while convincing them that they will get it. A choreographer who isn't just good at making up the steps, but who can also lead the dance rehearsals and gain the like and respect of the cast makes a world of difference.

#5 (previously #6) is the costumes/makeup. This one is simple. Who doesn't love getting dressed up? Who doesn't love finally "looking the part" once the performance time hits? Great costumes and makeup can make the show so much more exciting to the performer in the great costumes and makeup and really boost confidence as well.

#6 (previously #2... can we say giant leap?) is how much you like the actual show you are performing in. I used to think this was key. Be in a show you love. If you connect to the story and the music you will enjoy the experience that much more. While I do think it can help, the satisfaction from rehearsals and the overall experience do not rely on this at all. I've been in shows where I've HATED the plot, songs, characters, dialogue... the whole bit, and yet I've LOVED the experience. Same goes in the reverse. I've been super excited to do certain shows I essentially had memorized before joining a cast, including knowing bizarre random facts about, oh I don't know, how the original assistant lighting designer came to be part of the show, and yet I've really not enjoyed the rehearsal experience at all. Surprisingly, how much you like the show itself makes little to no difference in satisfaction with the experience.

#7 (has always been #7) is the musical director. I get their importance and all and yes, it would be lame to have one who was really mean or did absolutely nothing, but I've never done a show where they've had a profound meaning or purpose to me personally. I take the score home, plunk out the alto notes, learn them, go into rehearsal and sing them. Simple as that. Musical directors make a huge difference in terms of the vocal performance level of shows, don't get me wrong. They just don't really effect how much I enjoy a show or not.


So that's my list. I should probably mention that the crew also falls into the cast bit in #2... both in the talent aspect and the likeability aspect... though I feel no competiton from them, they should know what they're doing. And with that, I'm off to rehearsal.

So this blog is really just a small look into the mind of Trisha... how neurotic I am and how my thought processes generally go. I've mentioned it before, but in case you're new, I take the train to work. Previously I've gotten monthly passes, mainly for convenience, considering I just figured out they actually only save about $2.20 a month. But anyways, since I started my two shows I've had to take my car into work quite a bit in order to get to rehearsals afterward. Henceforth and forthwith (totally don't know what that actually means, but I wanted to say it), I ceased the use of the monthly pass and decided to buy 10 trip passes and use those whenever I do take the train.

Well, today was a train day. I haven't taken the train to work since last week and this weekend I switched some stuff from my main purse to a different one. During the drive to the train station this morning I thought to myself "you should probably check and make sure you have your ten-trip pass thing in this purse Trisha". But then I decided I was being paranoid... there's no reason that I would have taken it out because I didn't need it in my "weekend purse". So I didn't check. Sit down on the train, pull out my book and go to grab my pass for when the conductor comes by. If it wasn't already blatantly obvious, the pass wasn't there. Now, if we know me at all we also know I don't carry around cash. Reason number one, credit cards are easier to use, harder to lose. Reason number two, I can get away with saying "sorry I don't have any cash" in various situations, which always leads to spending and lending less money. So I'm on the train, ticketless and cashless. What do I do? Well about 187 scenarios run through my mind. Really about 3, but I exaggerate. Let's discuss what went through my mind...

Option 1: Fake sleep. Pray they don't try to wake me up. If they do, fake deep sleep. Pray they won't want to make a scene by shouting at the sleeping girl. If they do, fake death. If pulse is checked, fake coma. But then how do I stop faking in order to get off at Stamford for work?

Option 2: Get up and just walk around the train for the entire 40 minute ride, never stopping long enough for a conductor to find me. If spotted and looked at in a questioning manner ask which car has the closest bathroom. Pray I'm not standing in front of one as I ask it. If I am, play stupid, clueless girl who gets really embarrassed when she is told she's standing right in front of it. Or, only if verbally questioned, say I was headed back to my seat in the other car, and just came from the bathroom.

Option 3: Spin-off from the bathroom idea... wait until the conductor is a few rows away collecting tickets and then get up and ask him where the closest car is with a bathroom. Make my way in that direction, by the time I'm back he's gone through my car and collected all tickets. Maybe to be safe instead of returning to my original car I will instead sit down in the car he came from previously, where tickets were already collected and where he wouldn't be looking for "that girl who went to the bathroom while I was collecting tickets".

Option 4: Pretend I don't know I don't have my ticket. When conductor comes by rummage through my bag. Keep rummaging. Hope he's tired of your rummaging and "comes back" to you, but never does. Only if needed say "I can't seem to find it".

• Option 4a: Play the pity card. When told I can't find it, conductor will say I can pay with cash. Open my wallet, show him it's empty. Offer him the ticket I happen to have in my wallet (from over a year ago, never used) from Stamford to Rye, NY as alternative payment... even though it's expired and about $5 less than a ticket for the trip I was taking. If needed, get teary eyed.
  
• Option 4b: Flirt my way out. "Are you reaaaaally going to kick me off? How about you let this slide and I'll.... (smile coyly, pause for effect)..... let it be our little secret"

Option 5: Play it cool. Super slick. Hope the conductor recognizes my face as one of the people who always has a monthly pass (because up until May I always had), tell him I left my pass at home by mistake, but say "you've seen me before, I always have the monthly pass" and hope I'm in a relaxed enough manner that it will just slide. If it doesn't, pull a complete reversal and give him attitude about how I refuse to pay for another ticket when he knows as well as I do that I have a monthly pass, already paid for, sitting at home. Refuse to pay, knowing the next stop is Stamford so if he kicks me off, I'm where I need to be anyway.


Basically the only guaranteed option is 4b, because men are men. Especially men in their 40s who are being flirted with by a girl in her 20s. But alas, it's also the last one I would actually do. I'll play dead, walk unnecessarily essentially playing grown-up hide and seek for 40 minutes, be completely conniving, cry, or throw a tantrum... but probably not flirt. Notice tell the truth and just be upfront about the whole thing is never an option that crosses my mind. I decide to fake sleep while all of this is running through my head, in case that's the option I go with... I want the people sitting near me to believe I'm actually asleep by the time the dude comes around. Finally I start hearing "tickets please" and the sound of the conductor's hole punch. The pressure's on and I can't decide whether to go with option 3 or an option 1, 4a hybrid (fake sleep as long as possible... when it comes to the fake death step switch instead to option 4a). My heart is racing, I'm sweating. Really, this isn't a huge deal, but I get worked up over minimal things. His voice sounds closer. I decide it's too late to go with option 3 and still be convincing that I'm not just trying to get out of paying for my ride so I go with the hybrid and do my best deep sleep impersonation. Time is going so slowly. I'm sure that any second my neighbor will tap me on the shoulder to give the man my ticket. But wait... can it be.... it sounds like his voice is now a row or two ahead of me.... dare I peek? No, too soon. Too risky. Could be my ears being hopeful. Heart rate is fastest at this point. Then I hear the train car door open and close. Could he have collected all other tickets and just went along to the next car? Dare I peek NOW? No, still too soon. I end up waiting a good 2 minutes of silence before daring to open my eyes. Even then, part of me was sure he'd be standing there, glaring at me... suspecting me as a fraud all along. But alas, he was not. The sleep trick worked. Brilliant. Now for my ride home this afternoon....

Teenage years. You hear the good and the bad associations all the time... "it's the best time of your life.... 30 years from now you'll look back and think about how great things were in high school... cherish it now while you're young" as well as "prime suffering years... I know it's hard, it gets better as you get older.... identity crisis, you don't know who you are yet" and etc. and etc. I can only understand the negative side of it really. Jr. high and high school years are the worst. For several reasons. Even just looking back now makes me want to get in a ball and cry. Okay, I'm being dramatic.

First of all, there's this extreme desire to simultaneously want to fit in and to stand out. And you think the only way you will be accepted is if you act a certain way, even if it's entirely not you. I distinctly remember in junior high thinking I would definitely be one of the cool kids if only I swore. I mean, that's a ridiculous thought. (You can tell this was the younger years of junior high because it's swearing versus the whole drinking, partying, sex thing). Yet, I was so sure of it. In my mind it was the only thing holding me back. Maybe I chose to think this to justify to myself why I wasn't one of the popular kids... I could say to myself "self, if you woke up one day and started swearing you would be a cool person" and I'd never have to worry about what if that wasn't the case because I knew swearing is something I wouldn't do. Another silly anecdote here... there was a time in like 1995 when they were going to add an M&M color to the standard mix and you could call in and vote on which you wanted. The "cool girls", who I was on a casual talking basis with, but never included in the elite club, told me to vote repeatedly for blue. I'm talking they would all call each other at night to say how many times they were able to get in blue votes. And when I was asked I sure wasn't going to give a disappointing number. The kind of sad thing is that I really wanted pink. I still remember feeling incredibly guilty because I threw in one solitary vote for pink. When blue won they felt accomplished. I was a secondary accomplice. Perhaps an accomplished feeling accomplice... until I realized that I was secretly hoping pink would win to spite them all.

So those swearing and M&M stories were like the pre-teen and early teen years. Junior high stuff. By high school you're somewhat more comfortable with yourself and have some sense of pride. You may still want to hang with the popular crew but you wouldn't do anything they say just as an attempt to please (like vote for the color M&M THEY decide is best even though you think otherwise.... you might say you did it, but actually doing it? No). By high school I realized that believe it or not, even if I swore I wouldn't fit in with them. But I also started to realize maybe I didn't want to. Sure, on an ego level I would have loved it but it's also fun to join the "cliques are stupid" clique. Whereas early teen years you want nothing more than to fit in and be exactly like everyone else, late teen years the last thing you want is to be cookie-cutter. You want to be known. We're all individuals, but what makes you unique? The torture of high school is finding that out and becoming comfortable with what you find. Plus, I don't know if what I went through in high school was so much worse than the type of things I go through now or if it just felt that way because it's the first time you have to learn to cope with difficult things. (Because let's face it, other than hating the fact that your gym class just switched from scooters to football, you didn't have that many concerns when you were little).

Maybe I'm generalizing... I'm sure plenty of people had horrible child childhoods and loved teenage childhoods. Or both were okay, great, or lousy. But I really think those jr. high/high school years are the worst. At least by college you're pretty settled into yourself and stop caring what other people think so much. All I'm saying is that I highly doubt I will ever wish I could go back to my teenage years... maybe in the sense that I'd like to go back and give it a do-over, knowing what I do now, but even that's unlikely. No thanks, let's just erase age 12-17 all together. Take that back, let's remember it so that we can look back and think "I'm so glad that's over". Never again will I vote blue if I want pink. (Or keep quiet about my love for Megan Corkery on American Idol, now gone for weeks, despite her odd love of acting like a bird and general hatred by 99% of viewers) And to this day, even though I'm plenty old enough to not worry about being yelled at by a parent for swearing, I don't care what people think when they find out I still don't swear. I'm who I am and I'm realizing this has kind of turned into a "be proud of who you are, accept your differences" after-school-special. Ughh

So I hesitated before deciding to share my audition story, mainly because if I get the show and become friends with any other cast people on facebook they could quite easily find this here blog, read, chuckle through the first half, and decide to hate me by the second half. But I decided to share and just avoid making friends. It's more my style. (By the way, if you ARE from one of the shows and just read that, it was sarcastic. I'm a sarcastic person. Now that that's clear...)

So, on Saturday I went to go audition for the 3 shows which make up the summer season at an outdoor theatre group in Danbury. Three shows in this case are defined as Funny Girl, A Chorus Line, and Children of Eden. In researching this theatre it seemed somewhat more legit than your average community theatre. For starters, I found out about the auditions on playbill.com, a fairly legit site. There were also 4 days of auditions, spanning over 21 hours, rather than the usual 1 day, 3 or 4 hours. They requested that you bring a headshot and resume. The director/choreographer of A Chorus Line has done choreography on Broadway (including the well known "Telephone Hour" from Bye Bye Birdie). But it's non-profit and there's no pay. So I couldn't decide in my mind if it was just a kind of suped-up community theatre trying to appear as more than it is, or a pre-professional, step below the big-time, type of place. I arrived at the audition still unsure.

So I get to the audition site which is one of those K-12 private schools, and it looked like a barn. I walk into the barn, grab a sign-in sheet and sit down to fill it out. The usual questions... age, height/weight, voice type, songs prepared for the audition, rehearsal conflicts, sign your life away saying you will not demand pay, desired roles, favorite nursery rhyme... the norm. I decide to say "yes" to auditioning for all 3 shows rather than the 2, 1 or ever-confusing none option. I decide to say "yes" to accepting ensemble for one show and "no" to the other two. (When I told this to someone on Monday she appeared SHOCKED... "but, don't you think you need to work your way up Trisha?".... in my head I replied "I worked my way up. Just not with this group" (I decided upon seeing the barn it was probably more community theatre-esque. If more professional-ish, I could agree with her) and my mind followed it with a "don't judge me as an overly-confident-in-their-own-talent snob". Out loud I made up something more polite about how rehearsals were an hour from work and an hour from home and I knew it would be taxing so I'd rather only make the commitment if I have a role... which I suppose can still sound theatre snobby, but...) Anyways, the fact that I was auditioning for Funny Girl and said no to ensemble was almost a joke. To be quite honest I DETEST the show, found Barbara Streisand ridiculously annoying in the movie, and would not want to suffer through being in the ensemble. (Add in, month later... I'm in the ensemble and actually quite enjoying it. haha. I apologize for the severity of my pre-conceived notions). But I knew that although I would never be able to pull off the comedic characterizations, or the powerful 18 solo songs, or convince the audience I am Jewish, I might as well put down that I'm auditioning for the lead of Fanny Brice. In the 1 in 10,000 chance I actually got it, it would be a great resume role. A Chorus Line I instantly checked "no" to ensemble, because I did not just want to be in the opening number after already doing the show before. No thanks. For desired parts I wrote Val, Kristine and Judy... three of only four I can realistically play. (Here's the breakdown even though I'm sure none of you care all that much. Cassie and Sheila I'm too young to play. Two out of nine parts out. Connie I'm too tall to play unless they can somehow shrink me 10 inches or so. Three out of nine out. I know there are better singers out there to be Diana and Maggie (plus, no matter what you do to me I can not come close to looking Puerto Rican, and no matter how much you train me I can not force myself to be a first soprano with belt). Five out of nine out. Leaves 4: Val, Kristine, Judy and Bebe.... my realistic options) Then for Children of Eden I put down my desired role of Yonah, knowing I had a super small chance of getting that too, but then responded in the affirmative for ensemble... their ensemble is in like 16 numbers, and I love the music, so I would very much so love to do anything in this show.

After looking over my sheet, chuckling again to myself that I put down Fanny Brice, I go to turn it in. Immediately after sitting down again, an older man comes up to me and introduces himself. I immediately recognize the name as the man who will be directing A Chorus Line, who did the broadway choreography and such, but (perhaps stupidly) do not make it known that I know who he is. I smile and say my name. He asks if I will be singing or dancing today. I reply "both". He smiles, says "good" and leaves me be.

First reaction.... Well this is good. The director of A Chorus Line sought me out in a room full of auditioners (auditionees?) to make sure I was auditioning for his show. Definite good start.....

Second reaction.... Singing or dancing? Singing OR dancing? You're never given a choice! You have to do both! Does this mean if you choose to dance at the audition you have to have something prepared? Think back to what it said on playbill.... "Prepare an uptempo and a ballad, be ready to sing just best 16 bars if necessary. If asked, be prepared to dance or read from the script"..... be prepared to dance.... that doesn't say have a dance prepared.... but it also doesn't say be prepared to learn a dance combination..... If you can't tell, I'm getting paranoid. Of course, it never occurs to me to just ask someone what the audition process was. Instead I start running through all of the dances I've done in the past 2 years (that are still somewhat committed to memory), trying to decide what I can do for them... with no music... and without running it beforehand besides envisioning it in my head. All of my choreography, which is freshest in my mind, is too bizarre and doesn't show off anything, and anything older I forgot. I don't really come to a firm decision on what to do when I am called into the audition room. As I'm walking down the hallway to the audition room I decide if it comes down to them just saying "ok, now dance" I will visibly panic, do a double turn, kick once, say I have a flexible back and cringe as they stare at me, expecting more.

So I walk into this tiny tiny room with about 8 people sitting there for casting, and the pianist crammed in the corner. As I walk in some lady gives them my info sheet, resume and "headshot" (prop from A Chorus Line at Wheaton... comes in very useful) and introduces me as "Trisha Carr, who is auditioning for all three shows". The "all three shows" bit causes a kind of gasp on their end. I wouldn't think it that unusual, but apparently it is. Since the lady already introduced me my normal opening audition line is all thrown off and I don't know what to say, especially because they were shuffling through papers, muttering, and not paying the slightest bit of attention to me. So I decide to just make a bad first impression and walk straight over to the pianist to hand over my music. Not knowing if I should do the ballad first or the uptempo, 16 bars or the whole thing, I start to just pull all of the sheet music out as one of the casting people says (reading off my info sheet) "Oh! You've Got Possibilites (song name, not remark about my potential)... good choice". So I guess that means I'm starting with You've Got Possibilities. The one I know I can belt my life away to in real life but have never attempted at an audition because I know my voice always fails me when it comes to power and auditions. I set aside the safe ballad I know I can do well, and go with the risk, all because casting lady says "good choice". Well, I say bad choice. Because after the first note I sang I realized that the nerves were taking over again. I hate it. I don't get nervous for performances... people are there to enjoy. But at auditions their sole purpose is to judge you and critique, and that always gets the better of me. I sound like 2 completely different people at auditions and not. So I struggle. That much is clear. Some notes are okay, but whole picture is NOT. So I end feeling kind of miserable, knowing I've screwed myself over in terms of hoping to get a part in any of the shows, but I don't let it show that I feel this way. I feel more miserable when it is made apparent I will not be singing the other song. Then, Children of Eden man says "will you read me these lines for Yonah?"

First thought: What? He's asking me to read for the part I wanted after I sang like that? He's nuts! Or has pity for me....

Second thought: I don't care, I get to read!

Third thought (upon looking at the script): Panic. First line: "Japeth?". Second line: "No Japeth, it's not right." Do I know how to pronounce Japeth? Just because I've seen the show, I'm Catholic and supposedly "know the Bible" and it's the husband of the character I said I wanted, I'm expected to know how to pronounce it? Well, I can't ASK how to pronounce it! I should know, given it's the part I said I wanted. To not know says I don't care enough to know, I'm unprepared, I'm un-Bibley cultured, I can't read.

Luckily, mid third thought I hear Children of Eden man say to another "Yah-pah-teth" in a funny tone and then chuckle. To me, it's clearly him saying Japeth, and it's just as clearly him mispronouncing it. So I take advantage of the moment and say (in a totally "non-Trisha" way... it was giddy and confident but nervous-- not an oxymoron, think an outspoken, outgoing person asking a question, with no fear of looking stupid, but knowing it's a ridiculous question to ask and they will probably be laughed at).... now I lost track of my original sentence. Right, so I take advantage of the moment and say "Waiiiit, how DO you pronounce it???". Well they loved that. Laughter ensued as they tried to calm the nervous girl by saying "don't listen to him, he's kidding around, the way you know it is right, (for a minute I feared they would stop right there, but they continued...) It's Jay-pith". So I felt better after they thought my question was amusing and I knew how to pronounce it. Worries came up again mid read-through when I realized I could totally be straying from the scene's intentions. It was one of those scenes that could be performed a bunch of different ways.... I went the quiet emotional, contemplative route but halfway through realized it could totally be an angry emotional, stubborn type moment. I hate finding out mid-scene that it can be interpreted differently. And because I only saw the show once I don't remember how it's usually done and there weren't any comments in the script to help me out. So rather than completely change tone mid-scene I kept going with the quiet emotional thing, wishing I had the chance to read it before then and decide if it was the best choice. I always tend to see scenes as quiet emotional first go around.... like that scene from Chorus Line at Wheaton... I was so confused why the director wanted me yelling, because I read it completely differently... then once I did it, I could see it that way too. Anyways... I still don't know if this Children of Eden scene should have been angry.... seeing as I was reading as a female character from the Bible I think probably not, but who knows.

After I do the read through the Chorus Line guy says to me "and you said you would be dancing for us?". Here it is again, panic. Do they expect me to break out in a dance right now? If I say "yes" will they be silent and wait for me to start? So I say (in that same, not me, confident scatterbrained way) "I was under the impression we'd be learning something?" Well, that made off better than the pronounciation comment. They found it downright hilarious. Comments like "That's the best thing I've heard EVER during an audition! Hilarious! This girl's adorable!" came from the 8 with all the power while the pianist played a little jingle as if for me to dance to. They told me yes I'd be learning a combination and continued laughing (with me? at me? at me in a not so bad way?). I said something stupid like "just making sure!" along with an exaggerated "phew!" gesture as I left the room saying thank you. As I left I heard more comments "I LIKE her, she's got spunk, precious, world's best singer". Okay, last one was not said, but the others all were. I thought to myself, hey... if I didn't walk out singing my best at least I made a strong personality impression!

As I'm learning the dance combination some woman comes in, hands me lines and says "they want you to read for Kristine when you go back in". I guess I kind of did portray myself as a Kristine. Or a Judy. Anyways... dance combination, legit original choreography, no changes, even has that ridiculous turn into arabesque into jump turn thing that always terrified me (though now that I've done it I can say it's much less scary than it looks). The evil side of me was very happy that non-dancers would not be able to pull this off (come on, we all have evil thoughts). The punishment for this evil thought was that in my small group of 4 who would be showing the combination to the casting people there was one girl who was CLEARLY the best. I was hoping for the dance part I would at least be able to shine above the others in my small group setting. But no, there was awesome girl. Let's just refer to her as that from now on-- Awesome Girl. Yes, she's a returning character.

So we go in, do the combination a few times, director guy asks if we were all given lines to read or not. Awesome Girl replies in the negative. Well that just won't do, this girl can dance! "Oh no, oh no, you have to read... get her Val's lines". If she wasn't asked to read after singing, why give her Val's lines, one of 3 female characters who has a legit song solo? I'm a horrible person. But at least I know it and am not afraid to admit it. It's one of those things you can think, but shouldn't say outloud. I type it here... essentially the same. Anyways... I read for Kristine. All is wonderful. Then, Funny Girl guy throws me a curve ball. Remember how I said I'd never have to read for Fanny Brice? Well, in a way I was right, but in a very bad way I was wrong. Funny Girl guy must have liked my dancing, or reading of Kristine or something right then and there enough to say to me "Okay, now do me a favor. Read those same lines again but with a thick, New York, Jewish accent".


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"I'm sorry, what?"-- internal thought bubble

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"Okay!"-- external verablization. Now the worst part of this wasn't reading lines in the accent, it was trying to pull off nervous, forgetful Kristine's lines in a Fanny Brice way.... they could not be more opposite. The accent was just the kicker. Of course, I didn't think to practice the accent beforehand, because who on earth would actually think I was right for this role? But I start... "I mean, I used to watch everything on TV that had dancing on it. Especially, oh... what was it? Um..." except, oh god, it's coming up British. I pause. Hold back a nervous chuckle. Pause for a painful 10 seconds or so, come really close to saying "I'm sorry, I can't do it, I'm just really nervous" (which I only later realized was nearly a word for word quote of Kristine), but decided to continue. I'm glad I did, because then things started sounding right. I channeled my inner Streisand and thank goodness, I'm suddenly sounding like a Jew. I'm thanked and Chorus Line guy asks me to come back tomorrow. Callback.

So fastforward 22.5 hours and I'm back, not knowing what to expect. After sitting around for about 15 minutes some woman says "If you're here for callbacks for ACL and want to go over the dance the assistant choreographer is in the other room and will practice with you". So I get up and go. After running it twice I'm pulled to the front of the room by Assistant man for others to watch. Confidence boost. woot. We run it about 87 times. An hour later Chorus Line guy comes in to watch. We're split into groups of 5. Though I try as hard as possible to avoid it, by standing on the opposite side of the room, I'm in the same group as Awesome Girl. Last thing I want. Of course, after my group he pulls Awesome Girl aside. He ends up pulling 2 others aside too from the rest of the group. They're asked to read. Awesome Girl for Cassie. Obviously. I later found out she's played it twice before... and she's 4 years younger than me.... way too young to play it when it's being cast somewhat by age, but it was clear they were eyeing her for exactly that purpose, and rightly so, given the other people there. I mean, she's Awesome Girl. They get pulled into another room to read. We continue practicing. Assistant man gets fed up and says (paraphrase... I did not memorize his speech) "I know not all of you have danced before and that this has to be a process. I'm willing to teach slowly and will happily give corrections, but if I'm giving the same corrections over and over again and seeing no changes it tells me you're not teachable. In all of you here today there are only two of you who I would say "Hired!" on the spot, that's it. So the rest of you pick it up if you want this". As he said the two of you bit he stared me down. Others turned to look at the source of his stare. It was awkward. Obviously Awesome Girl is person number 2. At this point I'm thinking it's much more community theatre than the pre-professional ideal I was hoping for. In a group of about 30 maybe 6 had dance training... actual training. This wouldn't be the dance busting version of A Chorus Line I was hoping for. In a way I got my wish because I wanted to appear as the second best dancer.... not first best because I did not want any chance of being Cassie again, but second best still gives me a good chance at securing one of the 8 other line members. Another hour later Chorus Line guy comes in and watches us again... different groups, but yes, I'm still with Awesome Girl. Whole time director man is beaming at her. I feel sad. He calls a different set of 4 people to read/sing. Not me. We can all leave now.

So my hopest of hopes is that assistant man has some say, or director man did notice me next to the shine and sparkle of Awesome Girl. I'm trying to convince myself that he loved my reading of Kristine so much that he decided then and there that's who I would be and there was no need for me to read/sing again. One can wish. Now I just wait for the phone call. And I'm not very patient. Watch, I'll be cast as Fanny Brice and not get into Chorus Line. I bet that's what happens.


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UPDATE:
So, as I mentioned earlier I got cast in the chorus of Funny Girl. I came very close to declining... but since I did not get in Children of Eden at all (the one show I really, really wanted) I decided to do it. Now I'm taking it as a sign, because I found an audition I want to do in July and low and behold the director of that (I found out later) is also the director of Funny Girl. So he will see me in Funny Girl, fall in love with my star quality and I'll get my desired role at July audition. haha. That's MY plan anyway. Plus, I'm actually enjoying Funny Girl more than Chorus Line right now. I'm a happy little ensembler. As I also just said, I am in Chorus Line. Funnily enough the part I got isn't one of the four I mentioned earlier as my only possibilities. Even more funny is that it's probably the one part I should have thought of for myself after I messed up my vocal audition. I got "Larry", Zach's assistant. The part hadn't even crossed my mind even though I figured it would go to a girl. But once I got the phone call I was like "righttt... that makes sense" since Larry has to be a strong dancer and can be a horrible singer... which is what was heard at my audition. I almost said no to Chorus Line also... because I really, really was hoping to be on the line and it was so disappointing that I wasn't... and I was sad that I wouldn't be singing, essentially at all. And it's going fine so far... we've only been dancing and it's a slow process, but enjoyable. And another note, Awesome Girl isn't in either show. I'm convinced she was offered "Larry" first and turned it down. Who knows.

This here blog's topic is things that irritate me and things that excite me way more than they should. Let's jump right in and start with irritant number one...

People who pee on public toilet seats. To be completely honest, I don't understand the purpose of "hovering". I get you don't want the germs or the stds or who knows what you think you can catch... but in reality there are WAY more germs on sink handles, door knobs, counter tops etc. and about 98% of STDs can't survive once exposed to air... and even if they DID linger around, you would need a break in the skin to be affected. So if the skin on your butt is not bleeding, you are safe to sit on a toilet seat. But what do people do? They hover. Because they're paranoid and grossed out. And we all know hovering leads to splattering, which leads to more hovering. It's freakin annoying. If everyone just sat down then the public restroom world would be a much happier place. There would be no pee on seats and it would be perfection.

Irritant number two is really irritant number two and three. Both relate to how others perceive me. One (two?) is that I am ALWAYS "the approachable one" in public places. You know how you'll be lost and need directions, or want to know the time and you look for a friendly face to ask? Well, the friendly face is always me. I get approached by sooooo many strangers. Which is fine in a way... it's nice to know I'm viewed as approachable. But I am hardly a people person and probably the last person who would enjoy being approached by you. Plus, I always have an inner dialogue going in my head. If you interrupt the inner dialogue you often become the subject of the inner dialogue and it's not always pleasant... if only because I'm then thinking "there's ANOTHER person who approached me!". Second thing (third?) is related... strangers' first impression of me is "hey, approachable girl", and yet in social situations, others' first impression of me is "stuck up snob who is full of herself". If I could get somewhere in between, leaning toward the approachable side I would be happy. I feel like because I'm quiet and don't know how to talk to people I come across as stuck-up. People say I'm judgemental, yet I'm constantly judged and misunderstood. Tis not fair. There are irritants number 2 and 3.

Last irritant is recent. My need to think of funny blogs has entered into my dreams and it's ANNOYING. Something will happen in a dream that's amusing and in my dream state I will think to myself "I have to remember to put that in my blog". I'll give a couple of examples, both of which happened in dreams during the same night. In my dream my work has hired a new employee. She's introducing herself to me and like puckering her lips in an exaggerated fashion before saying her name... so I think "okay, she wants to do like a kiss on the cheek thing". As I lean in she starts slowly saying her name... I realize English is her second language and she has a very difficult to pronounce name and so the pursed lips were really her preparing to over-pronounce her name for me. I made an idiot of myself by leaning in for a kiss. My thought? "Must add to blog". In another dream one of my high school math teachers somehow re-entered my life. He showed up uninvited to some family party of mine and in the end of the dream he told me "although we shared undeniable passion he was 40 years my senior and it would never work" and then he kissed me. (Now this teacher I can promise I never had any sort of crush on). My first thought (mid kiss) was "Oh my god, I have to tell Griff I kissed an old math teacher!" Second thought, blog story! Now if these things happened to me in real life, sure they would make good blog stories, so my dream mind self was right to think "blog!". But they didn't happen in real life, and I'm not going to just make a blog about funny dreams so I'd be very happy if my dream self would stop screaming blog whenever something happens. (Although I will admit that upon waking I did spend a moment laughing that I thought to myself "I HAVE to tell Griff". haha)

Now the little things that make me incredibly happy... every morning and every afternoon when I'm waiting for the train I secretly hope I am standing in the prime location where, once the train stops, the door will be right in front of me. It's a little one-up I get on the others around me. I get excited if the door ends up really close to me and absolutely ecstatic if it lands so that I am right in the exact center of the doors. It's a bit OCD but if that train stops and I'm dead center between the doors I get REALLY excited. It's one of those little things I can be happy about during the day and I know it gets me wayyy more excited than it should.

Next one really doesn't make much sense, even compared to the train door thing. But if I get sent an email that's like a quiz or a fill out about me type of thing I get really happy. I enjoy filling these things out even though I know no one reads them. Maybe it's a narcissism thing, maybe it's the joy of self-discovery (although I don't know how much typing in my favorite color and preference for summer over winter leads to self discovery). Maybe it's just I enjoy that I'm special enough to someone to have them think of me when determining who to send the email to (because you know they wouldn't annoy just anyone with these things). But yes, I enjoy getting tagged in facebook in these things, filling them out, and thinking that maybe just one random person will actually read it.

Another little joy is similar to the train thing in that it's something I encounter every day. I park in a commuter parking lot every morning. It's tiny... there are 4 rows of cars. I regularly park in the 3rd row, sometimes forced to the 4th. If there is a spot in the 2nd row it starts my day off on a really positive note. Even though it means literally only about 4 seconds less of walking (and sometimes actually more depending on how far down the line the empty space is) the fact that I was able to park in the SECOND row versus the third gets me really excited.

In summary it doesn't take much to make me happy.... and I want everyone to sit on public toilet seats.

I've been thinking a lot of random, yet somewhat interconnected thoughts lately. I will try my best to verbalize them and their interconnectedness. Please, try to bear with me on this blog and get through it. I think it might be rewarding in the end. Or maybe not, but I want it to be given an honest effort, because it's different from my normal blogs and I'm testing the waters here. One, I've been thinking about passions... what it means to be passionate about something, what are popular common passions among people (music, fashion...), what I thought my passions were, what they really are, etc. Next, (totally separate thought with no relevance to my passion theme yet), I found myself consciously making an effort to think of an inspiring blog and I thought of how much it slash I have changed since this here blog's onset. Back in 2004 or whenever this was created (oh my gosh, was it really 5+ years ago?) I found the humor in everything and writing a clever, funny blog was effortless. I did it daily at one point. Now, I try to force out funny when in reality all I can really think of and want to talk about is more philosophical in nature. Is this just me grown up? There's nothing wrong with writing a philosophical-esque blog, but I miss the funny side and feel like that's what this blog has been about from the onset... the random, everyday occurrences that I find humor in. It saddened and yet intrigued and contradictorily (so not a word) in some ways excited, me to realize that maybe my way of thinking of things has changed and matured in the past 5 years. Third thought is really the connection of things... In realizing how my thought process or whatever you should call it has changed, (which remember, started with thinking of a blog topic), I thought more in depth about passions and how my passions have changed over the years... and if they have changed, was I ever really passionate about those old things in the first place? I came to the conclusion that there are passions, things of interest, intrigue and inspiration, and, for lack of a better word, affairs.

Oh yes, they are three distinct, entirely separate categories which I can place my "hobbies" into with ease. In going with my new turn to philosophy, let's start with definitions. And because I like listing everything in my life let's do it in a list like fashion.

1. Passions: Passions never leave you; they are intrinsic to who you are and something you can not live without. I believe that most people have one "ultimate passion" that started at an early age and is held throughout life. Other passions can develop over time. If something is your ultimate passion, you know it- absolutely no doubts- you will be 80 years old and still obsessed. You know the lame mantra that is so typically overused and paraphrased by way too many people.... if you can't stop thinking about something, it's the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about before you go to bed, then it's your passion? I think if this holds true for a solid length of time, I'm talking years, then it's a passion. Anything less than that solid, currently undefined, length of time and it could be an affair, we'll get to affair in mention #3.
   
   I know my ultimate passion and it's no surprise to people who know me. Since I was 8 years old I have been obsessed with musical theatre. I will see absolutely any production at any level of experience, if only to learn more about my favorite art. I've followed performers, composers, lyricists, directors, choreographers, like a religion. And I KNOW that 60 years from now I will still go through NYC withdrawals in a matter of weeks after visiting Broadway. No questioning, no doubting, this is my ultimate passion.
   
   And in all honesty I think I only have one other passion, and I say I think because it's currently developing. I believe my other passion is choreography. I had absolutely no respect for choreography as an art form in and of itself prior to 3 years ago. If anything, it was something I rolled my eyes at. I won't go into the whole "turn my perspective around" moment again, but in the past three years I have found myself unable to stop creating choreography. When listening to the radio, whether or not I leave the station on or change it depends on if I could see myself choreographing to the particular song on at that moment... if I can, I instantly start thinking about steps. I'm not kidding, choreography guides my radio listening. Throughout the day I think about new moves to the soundtrack of silence from my office. It's something I literally CAN NOT stop thinking about. And this has majorly influenced my viewing of musical theater as well. Suddenly my favorite thing about a show is its unique choreography, or on the other end, I'll end up overly critical of shows that are, in every other way, remarkable, but where the choreography is tired and unoriginal. It's funny to me because I never really saw musical theater as a "prime spot" to feature unique choreography. Musical theater dance, stereotypically, has the sparkle and the jazz and the tricks meant to impress... not innovative choreography and dancing. If that's what you wanted you go and check out any of the many professional modern dance companies. I think I'm getting off track. And I think what I was trying to say here is that I've found beautiful choreography in unlikely places, I'm seeing it everywhere. And to be clear, by beautiful I mean odd, odd inspires me and odd is beautiful. The musical theater dance reference was just an example and a way to bring together my two passions.
   
   Both of my passions I enjoy partaking in myself as well as observing. I don't think you need to be a partaker for it to be a passion, but I do think you need to be a partaker for it to be your ultimate passion. For example, lots of people are passionate about music, but not all of these people are musicians, songwriters, singers, etc. However, for something to be an ultimate passion you must love it so much that to not partake would kill you. You don't have to make it a career, you don't have to do it regularly, you don't have to be good at it (I have a great example I won't disclose here). But you've meddled in it and enjoy every second that you are meddling.
   
   
2. Things of interest, intrigue and inspiration: These are the things you enjoy reading about, watching tv/movies about, and are pretty much a constant interest in your life. They just make you feel happy. Mine make me feel kind of nostalgic, or maybe the whole "warm & fuzzy" thing is a better description, but they have that same sense of excitement and warmth as opening a box you found in your attic of old keepsakes, untouched and unseen for years. (Lamest description ever right there) I have a few of these... some will sound random and bizarre until I explain: numbers/logic, food, makeup, movies, scents.
   
   Numbers and logic, logic and numbers. Mentioning it here made me instantly think of a professor at Wheaton who I never knew very well and yet who said to me in a conversation (obviously it was said during a conversation) "so your major is math... is that really something you love?" It was a question full of disbelief and doubt. Not disbelief in the "everyone else in the world is afraid of and detests math, so I can't comprehend how someone could love it" kind of way, but disbelief in the "you seem so passionate and talented in other areas, but yet you chose math. i don't get it" kind of way. I replied with a "yes I love it" not because I love math in and of itself but because it's honestly all I would have wanted to study. I would have much preferred studying math to art or theater or psychology or anything else. There is definitely an innate love of logic and numbers in me. I love when things work out and there's a solution, I love solving puzzles, I try to systematically make sense of random things that are largely nonsensical. And parts of all of that are in math. I don't call it a passion because it's not something I find myself constantly thinking about. But I will always be intrigued by new puzzles; I will always enjoy carrying out everyday calculations (like the ratio of steps to my bus stop to the number of seconds it takes to walk it, graphed out over time- done in elementary school); I will always enjoy mapping things out in an effort to transform random information into concise stories (like the time I tried to create a venn diagram of sorts to determine groups for one of my dances based on individual dancers' strengths), and I will always be a mathy/logic nerd at heart.
   
   Food... I could spend all day watching the food network or reading Gourmet magazine. I'll even read restaurant reviews for random places throughout the country. One of my favorite "unwind" things at Wheaton was to sit in the dining hall (that's not the food interest related bit, no worries), and read the food section of the Boston Globe. It's typically the only part I read. I don't enjoy cooking, just eating, and clearly hearing about food, innovative recipes, etc. I've had one true fine dining experience, (because I still can't justify spending so much money on food), and I still find myself constantly thinking back to it. Food is definitely something that interests, intrigues and inspires me.
   
   There's not much to say about makeup other than that I constantly find myself visiting sephora.com (or spending hours in the store) browsing through new products and dreaming about purchasing it all. I have 16 makeup related websites in my bookmarks, ranging from brand specific like covergirl.com to the more product review, news, makeup swap, message board free-for-all type of sites like makeupalley.com. I got depressed when I got a full time job and had to face the fact that I had to wear natural looking makeup rather than my normal, wear it all, try everything, it always washes off, approach. As a result whenever I'm not in work I go overboard and look ridiculous.
   
   Besides makeup my other constant splurge, make me feel good, impulse type of purchase are dvds. I don't over-analyze movies or get into deep conversations about how so and so film was ground-breaking in its camera technique or use of lighting or anything like that, but I really enjoy all types of movies. I've watched and loved all genres, including foreign films and silent films. It's one of my personal goals to watch all of imdb.com's top 250 movies of all time before I die. I don't do it to be cultured and I'm no movie snob, one of my favorite movies is the horrendous Simply Irresistible and you know I was first in line to see Confessions of a Shopaholic, but I just love movies. They make me content.
   
   Last on the list I believe was scents. This is largely related to beauty, and I guess food too, though not necessarily. I love researching about perfumes and know all about top notes, middle notes and base notes; I love reading about the science and history behind it all and I know that my preferred fragrance family is oriental woody, rather than any of the florals, softer orientals, mossy or dry woods, or citrus, green or water "fresh"s (I also know that there are multiple ways of grouping families of scents, including one by the French perfume committee, which is an actual group). But my love of scents goes beyond perfumes. And no, it's not just enjoying the smell of freshly baked bread either, though I enjoy it as much as anybody. I can say that my favorite article in any magazine is one that pertains to scent. It's a common topic... why we're attracted to certain scents, how scent is related to memory, how smells can effect your mood (arometherapy anyone?)... type of article sound familiar? I even picked up the current $5 issue of Vogue almost entirely because when flipping through it I saw an article with two giant paintings of a nose and a title that read something like "The marketing of scents". The title wasn't actually that lame and it didn't even have anything to do with marketing, more like... scented air in Vegas and custom perfumes or something, and it's bugging me that I can't find the article online... I'll just replace with the real title later when I get home and have the article in front of me.
   
   So yes, if there's something you can't read/hear/see/experience enough of, but it's not something you think about constantly, I'd say it fits in here, to the "things of interest, intrigue and inspiration" category.
   
   
3. Affairs: Affairs are things you try out... fall in love with for a period of time but then slowly fade away. In this category are a lot of the things you might have said you were passionate about when you were younger. Affairs come and go, but you always have a soft spot for them. (I feel like I'm writing the results to the end of a quiz or something... "Your color personality is brown. You are grounded, down to earth and appreciate the small things in life...")
   
   I'd say I've had two affairs. haha... I'm still immature enough to find that phrase slightly amusing in this context. Anyways, they would be art and poetry. There was a period of time where I wanted to be an artist and a period of time (even through college) that I wanted to be a poet or writer.
   
   The art story I find oddly entertaining... I loved art in elementary school and even took private art lessons for several years. I continued to take art in school when it was no longer required and considered it equal in level to my love of singing and dancing. Then came time for high school... the first time in my life I wouldn't be able to take both art and choir. By this time I had stopped the private art lessons and taken up private voice lessons instead... since I was just starting to get involved in actually performing in musical theater. I decided to try out slash apply for the honors level choir and the honors level art class, figuring I'd let fate decide which path I chose if I got into one but not the other (too conceited to think I wouldn't get into either, which of course is what happened. hah). But it was still a turning point. Because I realized I loved singing so much, and was so disappointed to have not made it in the honors choir, that I would skip a year of History and instead take the "normal", elective level choir as well as a Voice class for credit at school in order to make my way in with the choir teacher and improve enough to make it into honors choir next year (which I did). So even though I had the opportunity to (if I really wanted) skip History and take an art class and choir, I chose two singing classes. And since then I haven't picked up a paintbrush or a piece of charcoal. Looking back, I think art was one of those things I did because I was good at it and I enjoyed being good at something and to look at what I created... not something I genuinely loved the process of doing. It's funny though that something that was once so big a part of my time and life and that I did enjoy has faded out. Now I'm confident if I were to pick up a set of pastels again I would have no idea what to do. It definitely doesn't make me feel inspired.
   
   Other one, like I said, is poetry. And this is a big one. I've always loved writing poems and genuinely thought I had a shot at being published in something besides the state papers and school publishings. I knew from about 9th grade I wanted to major in math and for a long time part of me wished I could do creative writing instead, but I wasn't confident in that as a logical career path. At least, I was certain I would do a creative writing minor. As I got older and high school was ending and college was starting I realized I wasn't writing as much.... what used to happen naturally and I'd have to pull out a scrap of paper while on the bus to jot down an idea was now coming in gaps measured in months. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that poetry was a huge outlet for me... I'd often write while crying about something or because I was feeling extremely hurt or scared.... and that by the end of high school I was feeling a lot better about my life so those emotions weren't there as much, but there was definitely a decrease in the writing. Then I took a poetry writing class at Wheaton and what happened? I ended up dropping it three-quarters through the semester. I hated being told when to write or what/how to write and I hated having my poetry critiqued. Things that were meant to inspire made me feel constricted. And I felt like everyone else in the class thought of me as an amateur in comparison because I was a math major amongst the english folk. I dropped the class in a fear that it would make me hate poetry. Ironically, while I do not hate it, I literally never write anymore. I think the last time I wrote a poem was maybe two and a half years ago... and I only wrote it because I thought to myself "hey, you haven't written a poem in awhile, let's sit down and write one". Another "passion" virtually gone.

It's funny to me because based on these definitions I've given here dance and singing aren't even included. I know they're related to musical theater and choreography, but they're really separate. I love dancing, I love singing, but they're not things I constantly think about and they're not things I follow (I will very rarely pay to see a dance performance or a vocalist, and if I do I often sit there thinking "I wish I spent this money to see a musical instead"). In other words, they're things I love to participate in much more than watch. I think why I love musical theater so much is because I get to dance, I get to sing, I get to act (which I also love, but aspects of it terrifies me), and it's always in preparation for a show (and I love performing). With dance there's the technique classes and long preparations for a show whereas for a musical it all happens usually in a matter of weeks, which means less wait time until you're on stage performing. Maybe I should have made a fourth category of things you enjoy but don't obsess over. Isn't it funny that two of my biggest loves fit into this "other" category?

So yeah, I don't know. I was just thinking about a lot of things. Things you may call passions really aren't, and things change over time, with a select few remaining constant. I guess I'll continue pondering... this was a long blog and really poorly written. I can see my senior year expository writing teacher having a heart attack at it's longwindedness. But I had an urge to express my more philosophical thinking, rather than force another attempt at a funny post.