tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20268751409275566802024-03-05T19:08:20.672-06:00pribbles and prabblesyeah we all have our things i guess@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.comBlogger394125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-84970705638035931932016-10-19T09:36:00.002-06:002016-10-19T09:40:09.577-06:00i'm 30I turned 30 a few weeks ago.<br />
<br />
Nearly a month, in fact.<br />
<br />
I meant to write a big reflection-type post with lots of feelings and thoughts, but more than reflecting on my 30-total years--<br />
<br />
--well, 29-total, since I'm in my thirtieth year, if we're being specific.<br />
<br />
More than reflecting on my 29-total years, I've found myself thinking mainly about my twenty-ninth year specifically.<br />
<br />
It was my best year.<br />
<br />
I got to finish my 20's and pass into this grand new decade of (supposed) adulthood by having my very best year.<br />
<br />
How lucky am I???<br />
<br />
It was also my very hardest year, which surprises me since I had a few hard years in my 20's. 2006. 2014. Both pretty not great years. 2010 was hard too. But I think what's different between <i>those </i>years and <i>this</i> year is that I feel like I have so much to show for this hard year.<br />
<br />
Not the least of which is, you know, turning 30.<br />
<br />
I lived in England this year, which was life changing and dream-come-true and lonely and wonderful.<br />
<br />
I visited Ireland, Italy, Spain, Scotland (twice) and traveled all across the country.<br />
<br />
London has truly become my second home.<br />
<br />
I saw 41 plays in Birmingham, London, Manchester, Liverpool and Carlisle.<br />
<br />
I also saw Dave Matthews Band.<br />
<br />
I visited the States twice. I went to LA, Las Vegas, Maine, and of course Utah sweet home.<br />
<br />
I got engaged to the greatest man who ever lived, in Hollywood, CA no less, and then we celebrated in Disneyland.<br />
<br />
I played the greatest prank of all time on my parents.<br />
<br />
I got two sinus infections, a nasty bout of laryngitis, and my thyroid swung low again.<br />
<br />
I performed in three plays.<br />
<br />
I rang in 2016 in London with my sweetheart next to the London Eye and then walked 4 miles back to South Kensington on the greatest night ever.<br />
<br />
I fell more in love with two small cats than I ever thought possible and have relied on them for emotional stability far more than any domestic creature should ever have to provide a human, which they've allowed me to do without complaint.<br />
<br />
I cut a fringe in my hair again, which I think has been a success?<br />
<br />
Turns out everything I thought I knew about singing, moving, standing and breathing are completely inefficient and wrong.<br />
<br />
My sweetheart lived 4791 miles away, but he's been able to visit four times including two lengthy work assignments!<br />
<br />
My family lived 4795.3 miles away, but they've been so supportive and encouraging and I can't wait to show them my home sometime next year.<br />
<br />
I learned to cry again, in pain but mostly in joy.<br />
<br />
I've never felt more excited, terrified, prepared, unqualified or ready for my career as an actor.<br />
<br />
I lost 20 lbs-- and then gained it all back surrounded by my family and the best friends I never could have dreamed.<br />
<br />
I began to adjust to and take on the joys and awkwardness and difficulties and excitement of blended families.<br />
<br />
I have become comfortable with Military Time.<br />
<br />
I was mugged for the first time ever in my life, without even knowing it!<br />
<br />
I gave some drunken Scottish youths a good piece of my mind, like a proper curmudgeon.<br />
<br />
I say "toilet" for bathroom and "corridor" for hallway and "shop" for groceries and (most horrifyingly) "y'alright?" for how are you.<br />
<br />
My social circle has parred down so far I almost don't recognize the former butterfly I once was. I'm so grateful to truly know the meaning of friendship, and to have learned to rely on myself.<br />
<br />
And as I stood on the south bank of the Thames at 11:30pm, 18 September, eating frozen yogurt from a Snog food truck whilst a street performer sang my favorite song "Here Comes the Sun", waiting for Big Ben to chime in my birthday like I heard him chime in 2016, I looked at the National Theatre in the dark and <i>just knew</i> that everything I've done, everything I've learned, everything I've <i>un</i>learned, all of the letting go and taking on--<br />
<br />
--it led me to that exact moment of peace and stillness and accomplishment and pure ambition.<br />
<br />
I'm 30!<br />
<br />
Oh how grand.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-83407343779621496862016-02-15T14:31:00.001-07:002016-02-15T14:35:07.060-07:00i want to be a starI was walking home from the bus stop tonight out here in Erdington and I looked up at the sky when I turned onto my little Grove, as I sometimes do, and stopped right in my tracks to appreciate the stars.<br />
<br />
Stars!<br />
<br />
I can see stars in the middle of my neighborhood!<br />
<br />
This is a thing I never expected when I moved across the world to the UK's second-largest city-- to be able to see stars from my doorstep, and quite a lot of them really.<br />
<br />
It reminded me of that part of <i>The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time</i>, the only part that made me spontaneously weep and weep and weep with the ugliest cry face that a person ever had (especially in the audience of a theatre), just giant tears dropping hard off my cheeks without knowing exactly why, the part about stars that's so comforting and sad and wonderful, all at once--<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"And when you look at the sky you know you are looking at stars which are hundreds and thousands of light-years away from you. And some of the stars don't even exist anymore because their light has taken so long to get to us that they are already dead, or they have exploded and collapsed into red dwarfs. And that makes you seem very small. And if you have difficult things in your life, it is nice to think that they are what is called negligible, which means they are so small you don't have to take them into account when you are calculating something." </i></div>
<i><br /></i>
I feel small in the world these days, living here across the whole world in the UK's second-largest city. Not small in a defeated, lonely way-- just small in a way that makes me appreciate the wonderful, lovely complexity of my teeny tiny little life which is, in the scheme of things, so minuscule.<br />
<br />
So minuscule, but filled with so much light and love and satisfaction and goodness.<br />
<br />
And in a way, the stars and red dwarfs and the galaxy and all the galaxies give me so much assurance that I am meaningful-- my life is meaningful, and my work is meaningful, and my relationships are meaningful-- because some of these giant balls of fire have been dead or exploded for longer than my brain can comprehend, but they continue to live on in light-years so that I can marvel up at them and think really big thoughts. I am inspired by these big, dead, exploded stars that live on in light. They matter. They matter to me.<br />
<br />
And my little (by comparison) life matters.<br />
<br />
What doesn't matter are daily annoyances or hiccups. What doesn't matter are frustrating little details that feel so important-- but aren't.<br />
<br />
What matters is how I treat people. What matters is the work I do. What matters is burning so brightly that my energy continues to burn for hundreds of thousands of lightyears after I'm dead or exploded, because someday, somewhere, someone will look up into the sky and need my light that's still visible, even though I'm gone.<br />
<br />
I can't believe I can see stars here.<br />
<br />
It makes everything so much better.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4099/4869200486_3af40f0521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4099/4869200486_3af40f0521.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Not my view exactly, but pretty close representation.</i></span></div>
@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-14661101924781805132015-12-07T16:00:00.003-07:002015-12-07T16:13:36.397-07:00end of term reflectionsAs of today, I have lived in England for 95 days.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't know why this is such a meaningful thing to me, but for some reason it is. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thursday is my last day of my first term in grad school. We finished classes this past Friday but we're spending this week mounting <i>As You Like It</i> for assessments. It's been really tough. Everything about this semester has been tough. I'm in school 45 hours/week, give or take. I feel like I don't have enough hours in the day/week/month to get everything done that I want to. But first term is nearly over. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So far I've seen 3 plays at the National Theatre, 3 at the RSC, 2 at The Globe, 1 on the West End and 2 at school-- so far. I've got tickets to quite a few more by the end of 2015.<br />
<br />
I've been lucky enough to work <i>on The Globe stage</i>, with members of the company. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've been to London 7 times since September. I'll visit twice more before the end of the year. I snapchat that wonderful silly giant clock every single time because I simply cannot get enough. I <i>marvel</i> that I get to see it with such frequency.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I saw <i>Husbands and Sons</i> the other night at the National and it completely changed me. I feel strongly that it may be the specific reason why I have contemplated acting school in the UK but didn't do it till now-- so I could be here, having experienced my life so far, this exact term, with a full and open heart that I was thrilled to have gutted and turned upside down by a simply terrific play that validates and challenges and questions and focuses everything I think I know about acting. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I haven't had a single anxiety attack since I've been in school.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
One. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Anxiety attack.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I spend my days doing something I love, and looking forward to my future, continuing to do the thing I love, on the scale I seek to do it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel enlightened and energized and defeated and excited <i>every. single. day.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
But it's really hard in other ways.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel quite isolated. I <i>am</i> isolated. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fewer than 50 people in this country know me by name.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fewer than 50 on this continent! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's been an incredibly giant and difficult adjustment for me. I know a lot of people at home. To know so few, to say nothing of actually feeling at all close to many of them, has been one of largest adjustments of all.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel very far away from myself-- from the person I knew even just five months ago, or a year ago, or especially two years ago, or more. Five months ago I was frantically making arrangements to get here. A year ago I had no idea I would be here. Two years ago I had just been here and wanted so badly to come back, but never thought it could actually happen, and I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that a Christmas tree could make up for things I didn't even know were wrong. The years before that at this time of year-- I was just so happy to have a Christmas tree in my grown-up house with my cats, or have my primary class over to decorate cookies, or take a break from rehearsing <i>Urinetown</i> at UVU, or do 100 seasons of <i>A Christmas Carol</i> while flirting with the male ensemble of the show that had just closed when I worked as a dresser while planning the most epic New Years Eve party, or whatever.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's not even me anymore, I think.<br />
<br />
It was me, so it's still in me, but it's not <i>me</i> anymore.<br />
<br />
I think.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Which is hard to reconcile with social media. TimeHop is very healing for me, I love Instagram, but Facebook tends to be quite painful, I've found-- which is weird since I had deleted and just started over with Facebook about a year ago. I don't have the same kind of community or feed on Facebook that I once had, not even close, but I still somehow feel behind. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or left out?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or less important?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When you've had a few years like the last few of mine have been, I guess that's how things go. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When people feel caught in the middle, that's how things go.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When you're ready to move on and up, but other people want to stay the same, or don't want to but just do stay the same, that's how things go.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's surprisingly lonely, is I guess what I'm saying.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But not in the way I expected, at least.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't feel badly for myself. I don't wish I were home and being included in things there. I want to be here. I want to be learning the things I'm learning, and seeing the plays I'm seeing, and living in this country. I was in London yesterday. I'm going to Scotland next week, and back to London next weekend. I sat two feet away from Anne-Marie Duff and the most brilliant, excellent actors who have been on <i>Sherlock </i>and <i>Game of Thrones</i> and all the TV shows and movies I've been watching at home. This is the circle I'm beginning to enter, so of course there will be some adjustment. It stands to reason. I'm ready for it. I'm doing it.<br />
<br />
I'm forced to do a lot of things for myself, which is a giant change. I have to be my own cheerleader and my own biggest fan. I have to include myself in things and push myself ahead and be the most important person to myself, especially on the daily. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And besides-- I have <i>the most</i> wonderful support system behind me, that is all real and true. They know who they are, the ones who have my whole heart and who give me theirs with texts and letters and packages and messages and emails and anecdotes of our best memories and encouragement in the exact moment when I need to hear kind words. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have the most true, true people in my life.<br />
<br />
And the most true cats, who are such a comfort.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think I may have fewer total people (and fewer total cats) in my life than I have had in years (or maybe ever), but they are all of them the most <i>true</i>. The real kind of people who just <i>get it.</i> They never make me feel badly about myself, or my feelings invalid, or my insecurities silly, or my experiences anything less than what I've experienced. I feel like <i>myself </i>with them. I so much prefer this than any social life I have had in the past. As I move on and up, I take with me and am supported by the people who will carry me forever, no matter where I land or when. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
One of them is coming to see me in 12 days, not that I'm counting. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And for now, I've landed in England for 95 days so far, with hundreds more days to go, anxiety-free, creatively inspired, and so ready for my life to take off in the direction I've always hoped and dreamed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Who ever, <i>ever</i> thought I'd be able say that???!</div>
@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-52514509585277065142015-10-04T15:18:00.001-06:002015-10-04T15:18:51.361-06:00what i've been up toHello, there.<br />
<br />
I'm just here, blogging away as I sip hot chocolate in a china teacup and watch <i>Downton Abbey-- </i>in real time! No waiting till it airs on PBS for this kid! I get to watch the final series in real time. Just a perk of living in this place.<br />
<br />
There a lot of perks. One perk is giant cans of my favorite dry shampoo that cost the same as the small cans in the States.<br />
<br />
Another perk is trains. I love a proper train. They're everywhere. I get to ride one every day to school and back.<br />
<br />
Another perk is I can order <i>everything</i> online and have it delivered to my door so I don't have to carry it home. Example: all groceries. Example: cat litter. Example: Indian food at 10:30PM. Free delivery! In fact I need to place an order for sometime tomorrow or Tuesday, while I'm thinking about it.....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
OK, done.<br />
<br />
So what have I been up to since my last post? Well to start, I've thought to blog a number of times and just haven't gotten to it. That means I'm keeping busy!<br />
<br />
I moved into my very own townhouse last Tuesday night and we're all getting settled in quite nicely. I have <i>completely</i> lucked out. It's just wonderful. I have hardwood floors in the front room and dining room, as well as my bedroom and my en suite bathroom. There are fireplaces in the front room and dining room. I have a bathtub in the downstairs bathroom. And as it turns out, I think there may be enough space to hang everything between the armoire and the closet in the extra bedroom. It came to me entirely furnished and outfitted. And the front room is a darker shade of the turquoise color of my old living room, so I feel right at home. Erdington is an incredibly quiet neighborhood, which is quite lovely. And the kitties have been incredibly happy here (aside from the change of litter I tried to make-- lesson learned, we'll continue using the cheap stuff).<br />
<br />
I haven't actually started school yet. That will start tomorrow. I have spent some time on campus getting oriented and attending various inductions. The truth is, the enrolment process has been incredibly trying but it seems it's all finished and I can focus on the real reason I'm here. We had a diagnostic performance for a few of our tutors last week. It gave our small cohort of 8 what we have to look forward to. I'm excited to work with these new friends from all over the USA. Our programme is designed for non-British students, so all the MFAs are American. It's nice bit of home.<br />
<br />
We'll be performing a play at the end of each term this year in culmination of each genre we study. Since this is our "Shakespearean" unit if you like, we'll be working on AS YOU LIKE IT for our first workshop. I'm really glad I've had the experience I do in Utah working with people like Chris Clark, since we have five women and three men in our cohort, making it a bit interesting to put on a whole play. We'll certainly be doubling roles-- I imagine it'll be quite like my PERICLES days! <br />
<br />
We also have a lot of movement classes, including a period movement class. Apparently we'll be studying some folk dancing, which again-- thank goodness for my BYU Folk Dance days!<br />
<br />
I kind of just can't believe I live here. I took a train to Manchester today just for the fun of it (oh and there's also a Taco Bell, it's fine) and I was just overwhelmed that this is my life now. I can't say I'm exactly comfortable yet, but I'm more and more comfortable every day. (I imagine I'll feel QUITE comfortable once my student loan is deposited to my bank account haha...... but really.) I certainly have my work cut out for me, but I'm so glad I'll be able to take advantage of where I live. I may jaunt down to the "Hundred Acre Wood" next weekend, for example, since that's a place I can go like it ain't no thang. I'm overwhelmed daily and I hope I never take it for granted.<br />
<br />
I suppose it's time to wrap up for now, as I have tiny cat named Jenna Macaroni standing in the way of my view of the computer screen.<br />
<br />
Till next time. Maybe eventually I'll stop journaling and actually write an essay about this place...@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-37570581713612843032015-09-20T15:02:00.002-06:002015-09-20T15:02:27.663-06:00where did I leave off?Hi.<br />
<br />
I've meant to update more than I have been.<br />
<br />
The truth is, the last week has been hard.<br />
<br />
Not hard like Week 1, because that was SO HARD.<br />
<br />
It's been hard like-- well, Drew left a week ago. So obviously that's Hard #1. But also, we got so much done (because all we do is win win win, no matter what what) and now I don't have much to do until school starts. I don't really have friends around, and I'm not moved into my house yet, so I'm kind of in limbo.<br />
<br />
But it's ok. Because I realize on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis-- <i>I live here. I live in England.</i> And that makes things a lot better.<br />
<br />
So let's see-- the last time I updated I had just gotten the house. I've since signed for it and move in on September 29. Huzzah. It is rather enormous and much more house than I ever expected to be able to have while I'm over here, but it comes 100% furnished (to the point that my new landlord told me not to buy basically anything unless I ask her if she has something already because she's apparently got so much furniture and appliances and things, which is <i>awesome</i>) and it's in a gorgeous, clean neighborhood, and the train is 6 minutes away, making school exactly 18 minutes from my house.<br />
<br />
Drew and I spent a few days in London. It was pretty amazing. We were able to see a few things that I've never done before (Buckingham Palace tour, London Eye, Royal Albert Hall tour during the dress rehearsal for the final evening of Proms, Shoes exhibit at the V&A) and we saw <i>Matilda</i>, which had us both in tears multiple times. We also had tea at the National Theatre and the food was all based around different plays. It was quite a delight. I wish we had had more time in London, but there will be other trips.<br />
<br />
In fact, yesterday was my birthday so I popped down to London for the day.<br />
<br />
(I get to say that. Can you believe it? I can't.)<br />
<br />
I did a bit of shopping and a lot of strolling, then I saw <i>The Beaux Strategum </i>at the National, which I loved, and then had dinner with Nate Copier before I popped home. It was a splendid day to welcome 29.<br />
<br />
I got enroled for school this week. It has been such a process. But I finally have my permanent student visa and my school ID, so we'll leave it at that because that's what matters.<br />
<br />
I've got a cold and what may be the start of a sinus infection. Here's hoping it's not, since I've got a little performance to do with my class on September 30. We'll be doing a classical monologue, a contrasting monologue and a song. We can do our audition pieces but I think I'll only do one of mine-- Mrs. Lunn from <i>Overruled. </i>I've been looking at the <i>Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, come</i> speech from HENRY VI part III and I'll be singing <i>Stay With Me</i> from INTO THE WOODS. I'm nervous for the performance, which I know is silly because I've already been accepted, so it's not like a test. But it is a checkpoint from which they can kind of grade my progress and it's the first real big introduction to each other in the class, so I want to make sure it's a good representation of me and what I can do and why I'm here. I want to do good work so they can tear me apart for the rest of the year.<br />
<br />
The play I saw yesterday is a Restoration era comedy, which is a time period I'll be studying in the coming year, presented at my favorite theatre. For most of last year, until I got a new phone in March or so, I had the house of the Olivier Theatre at the National as the background of my phone-- the view from the stage, not the view from the audience, so that every time I looked at my phone, I would be able to visualize the view I want to see of that space. I had tickets on the fourth row yesterday and it wasn't until I was sitting there, eight feet from the stage, that I even remembered that phone photo. It felt very close, all of a sudden. Not necessarily tomorrow close, or next year close, or even ten years from now close, but it felt closer than it ever has.<br />
<br />
I live here. I live in England.<br />
<br />
And I'm an actress.<br />
<br />
I'm doing it.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-11059700150545986752015-09-08T17:42:00.001-06:002015-09-08T17:42:22.234-06:00cheers, i live in England now.It is a true thing that the English say "cheers." <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Time.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Hi = cheers. Bye = cheers. Thanks = cheers. Um = cheers. Cheers = cheers. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Drew and I decided it's so universally English that it wouldn't be fair to say until I can officially claim my temporary English status. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
It has been a long, hard week. The longest, hardest week. I have had a few long, hard weeks in the last few years and this absolutely tops the list. As moving tends to do, the mop-up-clean-up of moving out of my apartment in Provo and getting packed up to fly across the world proved to be a more lengthy process than I had hoped. By Tuesday afternoon I just adopted an attitude of "who cares, throw it away" rather than try to pack up the ends of things, whether to take with me or to put in storage. I'm amazed by how much <i>stuff</i> I have parted with in the last 18-months and yet more seems to accumulate. It has inspired me to try not to accumulate more <i>stuff</i> in the next two years because dealing with <i>stuff </i>is so frustrating and obnoxious. And wasteful. But I digress... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tuesday night my parents and Drew helped me pack and repack and repack and repack and repack my luggage. I was aiming to bring 2 checked bags and a carry-on plus a backpack and two cats in their kennels. I ended up bringing 4 checked bags and a carry-on plus a backpack and two cats in their kennels and also a corner of Drew's carry-on. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's fine...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
But I brought with me a whole black wardrobe to wear as a terribly serious acting student and winter clothes and all sorts of things that I'm trying quite hard not to need to buy in the UK, and as shipping is so much more expensive, coughing out a few extra hundred dollars for a few extra bags for two years of my life I guess is a pretty good deal. </div>
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<div>
The biggest thing I have learned this week is that it pays BIG TIME to DO YOUR HOMEWORK. I will probably write a more in-depth post about this another time, but I spent months and months researching and reading and comparing checklists and I'm so incredibly glad I did. I am so grateful for my mom, who is the best planner I know and from whom I learned anything about traveling. I did a lot of groundwork in ensuring my kitties would be able to travel with me and that all their paperwork was in order before we dropped them off at cargo for their flight. They had to go on their own flight through Houston so they could travel together. It terrified me out of my mind for all of the reasons, not the least of which is how legendarily difficult it is to migrate animals to the UK. In practice however, <b>it was so easy. </b>Like, we dropped them off and paid for cargo/customs fees ("Expensive cats," the cargo rep said to me snidely as I paid. <i>Take my money and shut up, </i>I thought to myself.) , and the United Airlines cargo people took them back to the holding area, and it was done. An hour later we watched them get loaded onto their plane at the gate next to ours and I nearly cried (ok I definitely did) when i saw little Lucille 2's ears perking up in the windows of her kennel. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then we got on our plane and flew to Chicago. We had Chili's express for my last meal in the USA and then I got a manicure while Drew had a chair massage. Then we flew to London which was, in spite of the fact that we were in the middle of the plane and couldn't see out the windows, <b>so easy</b>. We arrived at Heathrow at 5:55AM and getting through customs was <b>EASY. </b>The chap checking my paperwork made jokes and was so cheerful. We collected all the bags <b>easily</b>-- they came rolling along almost all together, in fact. Tossed them onto a trolly and got on a shuttle to rent a car. That part was a little less easy, but to be fair, the actual car rental part of the trip was the part we did the least amount of research about. And also in fairness, we had a reservation and we also knew exactly what paperwork we'd need (USA passport and current driver's license), it was just a bit overwhelming to avoid all the up-selling at 7AM. But we got the car, we got it packed PERFECTLY, and we got on the road with GPS and drove straight to Stonehenge. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
STONEHENGE. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Off the plane and straight to <i>Stonehenge</i>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Drew did so amazingly well driving, especially all things considered (the early hour, having never been to the UK/Europe before, not knowing what to expect with the roads and driving culture, and without any experience on my part). We stopped at a McDonald's (obviously...) and were greeted by the Stonehenge cows and sheep, and then changed clothes, and then wandered about gd <b>Stonehenge</b>.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Welcome to the UK, Drew!!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
We also popped into Salisbury for a moment and I fell in love. Salisbury Cathedral is the first giant, ancient, European cathedral Drew has ever seen, but even with my experience, it was overwhelming and inspiring and a wonderful way to being my adventure in this country. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We popped back to collect the cats from the Heathrow Animal Reception Centre. I've read amazing things about the centre but again, I just kind of didn't know what to expect. The internet and people's experiences make it seem like such a relatively strenuous experience, and being a worrier, I just wanted everything to be fine.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So we arrived (for anyone stopping by the Centre in the future, it is TINY and the carpark is TINY and it all requires some clever driving/parking) and stopped in where a lovely girl came out to greet us. I started to say, "I'm Emily, I'm here to collect...." and she finished my sentence, "Two cats, Lucille and Jenner? Yeah, they're all ready, they just need to be loaded back in their kennels." I guess they were just fine and were let out for a good stretch, and they ate (all of) their food I had packed for them, and they passed their health inspections with flying colors. I signed the sign-in sheet, the staff brought them out, we had a minute to reunite in the lobby, and then we left.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>IT WAS SO EASY.</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
The rest of our week hasn't been quite so easy, and I guess it's to be expected. I had three real goals to accomplish while Drew was here with me, namely: 1. get a local mobile phone. 2. open a UK bank account. 3. let a property. I had really hoped, in my American ignorance, that we'd be able to work quickly in getting it done....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Which is where it stopped being easy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Friday and Saturday were basically wasted, aside from learning experiences, I guess. In spite of my (extensive) preparation, problems have really stemmed from a lack of proof of UK address. I'm staying with the loveliest friends in the world the Cartwrights (even though they're in Utah at the moment) until I find a place of my own, but I sadly underestimated my need to have their address on any of my paperwork. It was on my visa application, but I can't collect my permanent visa from school until my specifically assigned "enrolment" day, and the rest of my paperwork has my permanent UT address all over it. Don't worry-- the <i>cats</i> immigration paperwork has the Cartwright's address but apparently the UK government doesn't accept pet immigration papers as proof of address for an international student.... Go figure.... Just kidding, I totally get it, even though I also don't get it at all. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Another challenge has been that UK banks require an appointment to open accounts. There's nothing really like just walking into a bank and opening an account, especially not in the middle of a giant city, especially not a month before school starts and there are one million new students milling around. We basically couldn't find a bank branch with an available appointment within less than three or four <b>WEEKS</b>. This does not appeal to our American sense of efficiency. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And finally, the go-around is maddening. Essentially I couldn't get a bank account without proof of address, but most branches are incredibly specific about proof of address, meaning they want a utility bill or a letting contract, which means I'd need a house to let, but a lot of letting agencies (which represent a very large majority of available rental properties) require bank information as part of their referencing process. And in both cases, it's needful for banks and agencies to have a UK phone number on file, and a contract requires bank information (but no proof of address-- since by having a bank account, your address has been confirmed-- so at least there's that............. oh brother). We ended up getting SIM cards for our iPhones, which was incredibly helpful and solved at least part of the problem, but felt like really only half a solution to goal #1. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
By Saturday night, I was pretty done. We came back to the Cartwrights and I snuggled the kitties. The only true constant positive of my adventure so far has been how well Jenna and Lucille 2 have adjusted. They are <i>so happy</i> here. I don't know if it's the air, or if it's the fact that they survived a harrowing travel experience only to have solid confirmation that I will never abandon them, or if they just understand that they need to be good, or all of the above, but they are so content. They're eating better than they have in months, really. And even that-- I got a small bag of food to try for them, assuming I'd have to try a few before we found something they'd like since they're used to their food from home, but the first flavor of the first brand we tried has been a HIT. They LOVE it and I think they've even gained a little bit of weight, which doesn't hurt either of them. I'm so so so so so so so happy they're here. Drew has been so supportive and smart this whole trip, but there's just something about their little happy faces that has made me feel like everything truly will work out, even if it's just not as quickly as I had hoped or anticipated. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Sunday we took a mental and urban break by heading to the Belfry for Drew to play golf on their PGA course. It was really nice to get out and just breathe and enjoy more of the countryside. And it helped us make a game plan for the rest of the week, since we have plans to head to London on Thursday before Drew flies to Utah on Sunday. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Our motto yesterday and today has been <b>"ALL I DO IS WIN (win win), NO MATTER WHAT (what): earn the right to say <i>cheers</i>." </b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
Using our American-ness to our advantage, we have managed since Sunday night to:</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Find a bank account appointment 56 minutes away in Stafford for this morning at a Barclays, which was in my top two preferences for UK banking. </li>
<li>Secure a special letter of admission from my admissions counselor which, while it doesn't say I've enroled yet (because I haven't till September 25, which is non-negotiable), it does say I <i>will</i> be enroled, and lists my local address on BCU letterhead. </li>
<li>Email one million local listings on airbnb (Drew's idea, since letting agencies have turned up not much in the months I've been trying to communicate with them) with a terrific introduction to me as a person to see if anyone would be interested in long-term bookings. </li>
<li>Visit a number of agencies in person to register my information and view a few properties in my preferred neighborhoods and within my preferred budget. </li>
<li>Ramble around campus and Drew got a free Red Bull from the door guy while we waited to meet with a rep from the international student office. </li>
<li>Get a visitor pass to use the computer lab on campus, even though I don't have my student ID yet. </li>
<li>Meet the lady who responded quite positively to our inquiry on airbnb, see the house, and FELL IN LOVE, leaving with a solid meeting sign paperwork and a loose outline of when I can move in to my very own house in a very gorgeous/clean/safe neighborhood with a cat door (if I want to use it) and a bathtub and <i>no additional pet deposit!!!</i></li>
<li>Eat Five Guys in front of a giant church.</li>
<li>Experience our first true grey and foggy English day (beautiful, but sinus headache-inducing). </li>
<li>Attend my bank appointment where they took my shiny new admissions letter as sufficient proof and granted me an account! </li>
<li>Made a deposit into my shiny new bank account. </li>
<li>Visit the largest Elizabethan timber home in England. </li>
<li>Get a new phone. </li>
<li>Get a permanent SIM card and phone plan (with unlimited data and texting). </li>
<li>Determine when my house will be available to move in. </li>
<li>Eat a caramel and shortbread flapjack, and drink a pint of Diet Coke. </li>
<li>Have a bunch of English people be just enchanted with our American accents.</li>
</ul>
<div>
I'm missing a whole lot of details in here which I'm sure I'll come back to at some point, but to conclude for now--</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Good night, blogland. <b>CHEERS!</b></div>
@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-12235602869075396132014-11-05T00:51:00.001-07:002014-11-05T01:59:08.547-07:00all I need to know i learned at target<p dir="ltr">There are few things more satisfying than pushing around a shopping cart at Target with one hand and a wrist, because the other hand has a warm, salty soft pretzel in it and there's a Diet Coke resting on the child's seat. It's a smallish cup for a proper Diet Coke, but I guess that's the point of the refills. The more refills you go back for, the more times you walk by the hair products and all-natural bath products and children's clothes and makeup and Oreos and holiday-themed foods (ie. ingredients for green bean casserole) so you find yourself purchasing $70 worth of items in exchange for the Diet Coke.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Potentially worth it, depending on how many refills you get. (In my case, just the two so I averaged only about $15 worth of P.O.Ps). </p>
<p dir="ltr">It's a privileged experience I had, padding around in an oversized sweater (bought at Target) and cut-off shorts (also Target), my feet rattling around in too-big slipper-boots I bought years ago instead of Uggs (Target brand, $19) and my hair escaping from a wrap headband with cats on it-- no work today, no children to tend to, no appointments to meet. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Just me, my soft pretzel/Diet Coke combo $3.49, and the crown jewel of department stores, in my estimation. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I came with a specific mission: to get that soft pretzel and then reclaim my life. </p>
<p dir="ltr">If you think that's a tall order for a visit to Target, you clearly haven't allowed Target to do its job. Breathe. Let it happen. Get some popcorn and wander for an hour or three. Find some leggings that have leopard faces or a YOU GO GLEN COCO t-shirt. Let it whisper to you the secrets of your soul. </p>
<p dir="ltr"><b>Here's what I learned at </b><b>Target</b><b> today:</b></p>
<p dir="ltr">When debating between brand name or off-brand cleaning products, and the difference in price is only $0.39, I can buy the brand name because it's reputable and also-- I earn my own money. This Clorox toilet bowel cleaner has clout and it will save me from doing my second-least favorite chore so frequently. It is my toilet bowl and it is my $0.39.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Whenever I need to run into someone I know in public, it'll inevitably happen in the aisle between girls clothing and check-out. The people I meet are always the ones I need to see and they will tell me what <u>I</u> need to hear. Today, I got a giant VALIDATION stamp from one sassy hairdresser, and blew Chase Brown's mind when we were in the same place at the same time <i>again</i><i>. </i>Amy Poehler believes in time travel-- these brief encounters make me believe too. </p>
<p dir="ltr">(Amy Poehler's book is brilliant and lovely and it is available at Target.)</p>
<p dir="ltr">I need to listen to my gut when I'm drawn to that $3 Christmas ornament. It'll bring me specific joy forever, especially if it's covered in sequins. </p>
<p dir="ltr">As a pet owner, it is my prerogative to weigh my litter box options and then purchase a more expensive brand that may be a better fit for my home that I live in and have to clean. Arm & Hammer BLOWS MY MIND. My third least favorite chore is little more than sandbox time (joke!) because I have the option and I get to choose and I am even rewarded with a $1.50 off coupon.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Polka dot bedsheets and a pillow top mattress pad may do more to make a person (me) feel more like herself (myself) than almost any change to appearance, wardrobe or circumstance. My bed cloud is my oasis. It's OK to invest in things that celebrate that. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I left smiling and empowered. I made specific choices. I am energized and excited in a way I haven't been for weeks or maybe months. It was a relatively small set of purchases that has seemed to have rocketed me to another level of self-actualization. </p>
<p dir="ltr">So much so that I came home and cooked up a bowl of peas and corn. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Because self-actualized people eat vegetables. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And because I like peas and corn specifically. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And because I have to offset the salted soft pretzel one way or another.  </p>
@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-4164995175983042332014-09-18T18:18:00.001-06:002014-09-21T22:07:24.282-06:00Summer of Self(ies)<p dir="ltr">I've had a hard time recognizing myself lately. Just generally-- I have oozed with WHO AM I. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I haven't really known myself lately.</p>
<p dir="ltr">It's safe to say I've had a big year. Big changes, big ups and downs, big successes, and what feels like equally big failures. </p>
<p dir="ltr">(I know I haven't actually failed, it's just colored that way sometimes.)</p>
<p dir="ltr">It's pretty confusing, if I'm being honest. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I feel all of the feelings all at the same time, just swirling around inside me all at once. It's taught me a lot about feelings, actually. How all feelings are valid, and they stem from each other, and how it's so very possible to feel acutely elated and flat lined all at once. My heart chakra can hardly deal. </p>
<p dir="ltr">It's manifested a lot to me personally in my face. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I don't recognize myself. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I mean, objectively I do. I know I'm me when I look in a mirror. </p>
<p dir="ltr">But I just don't look how I've always thought I do. Or how I've always felt? Or I don't look the way I expect to, is probably most accurate. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Especially because it's been a big year. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I should look more sad, or angry, or tired, or old (I'm almost 30!?), or numb, or whatever it is-- but I shouldn't look like THAT to myself because what I look like mostly is just happy. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Happy and beautiful and self-actualized and grounded and brighter than I suppose I have any right to be. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I don't know if I look like that to other people. It doesn't really matter. I've just had the pleasantest time getting to know myself and see ME the way I am. </p>
<p dir="ltr">So I started an experiment. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Starting the April 27, I started taking pictures of myself when I felt happy or pretty or calm or confident or anything that, by social ridiculous standards, I wasn't supposed to feel yet. I had no intention of doing anything with them at the time except to have them handy when I needed to prove to me personally, "HEY. YOU WERE ELATED IN THIS MOMENT." </p>
<p dir="ltr">Or confident or pretty or calm or anything, really. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Selfies, OK???? </p>
<p dir="ltr">A lot of frigging selfies. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Selfies on purpose, selfies for insta, selfies saved from snap chat (thanks for snapping with me everyone-- you've been a tremendous help!).</p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey self, you have really good hair today. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, this skirt has next looked better. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, your eyelashes are really long. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, your lipstick is great. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, people think you're really funny.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, you saved that cat and she had a great life because of you. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, you have a lot of friends. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, people want to date you.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, you have a chance to help others. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey, the stars are really bright tonight.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Hey--</p>
<p dir="ltr">There has been so much momentum. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And I have-- I have used those pictures as a pep talk to myself because hello, IT HAS BEEN A BIG YEAR and sometimes I need to physically remind myself of my worth. </p>
<p dir="ltr">(And now is as good a time as any to also acknowledge those others who have reminded me of it too, even though it's kind of embarrassing to me because being vulnerable is hard but I have a picture of that too because hey, I can do hard things!!</p>
<p dir="ltr">You lovely, dear, perfect people know who you are-- especially three of you. Thank you thank you thank you. Please let me take a photo of us together to add to my album.) </p>
<p dir="ltr">The best part has been, however, how the photos have changed for me. I started quite shallow, as I think these things require, but also because I have had moments were I just couldn't recognize all the pieces of my face together in one whole. It didn't look like me all together, but those eyes did, and sometimes the mouth, and usually the nose, so THIS IS WHAT I LOOK LIKE, SELF. </p>
<p dir="ltr">But it progressed quite naturally into feelings and learning who I am, what I look like, when I feel a thing-- even a sad or depressed or confused or lost thing (and there are plenty of those). </p>
<p dir="ltr">And has recently become much more about what I offer as a person, where i come from, WHO I come from, where I'm going, without much emphasis on the look at all except that I'm one cohesive package. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Selfies have changed me. </p>
<p dir="ltr">What had the capacity to become an obsessive, shallow bad habit has proved to myself that I have worth and value and much to offer at the most fundamental level-- most especially a lot to offer myself and not anyone else. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I recognize who I am.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I know me.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCpAH74ZgO0UCtz-D5CI0TSP27yUDDi6sYFZuYmHZpLJcB7AU0VyD43obwpq6565NmUpMi5-h2FFcdWe3MxHtiHRgfpP3D-KmM0hWUor2T__uyKvxwzLbRTJTccFnCPuJcTN4BwD7HQ/s1600/PhotoGrid_1411081943916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCpAH74ZgO0UCtz-D5CI0TSP27yUDDi6sYFZuYmHZpLJcB7AU0VyD43obwpq6565NmUpMi5-h2FFcdWe3MxHtiHRgfpP3D-KmM0hWUor2T__uyKvxwzLbRTJTccFnCPuJcTN4BwD7HQ/s640/PhotoGrid_1411081943916.jpg"> </a> </div>@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-56386053685785210182014-06-26T16:35:00.001-06:002014-06-26T16:44:17.772-06:00unity by binaryHave you ever felt yourself splinter?<br />
<br />
I don't mean just scattered bits of you, trying to figure out how to accomplish too many tasks or juggle too many social engagements or which pair of earrings to wear this morning.<br />
<br />
I mean your literal, actual soul-- your identity-- just splitting apart like the ends of my hair that need a trim?<br />
<br />
You know, my hair is a great metaphor. Because those strands of hair that are splitting-- the origin is one strand that separate into two and three and maybe more little bits. So it's all really the same hair, just different sides of it.<br />
<br />
You know?<br />
<br />
I've been splintered.<br />
<br />
Not exactly in a bad way, before you jump to conclusions.<br />
<br />
It's actually allowing me to inspect each of the little bits and figure out where they split off from the singular me, the united me, the United States of Me, and why they split, and how exactly they split off from USM (United States of Me).<br />
<br />
And how it's possible that I see and feel two sides of every individual thing in every single moment.<br />
<br />
You know in the last season of LOST when there were two different versions of the same story? There was the linear continuation of the same story we had been watching (and scratching our heads about but never stopped watching because Ben Linus was just so freaking good and we just had to see if it could actually come full circle ((which it didn't really, let's be honest with ourselves)). At the same time there was the second new story that told us about what would have happened if the crash never happened-- if the LOST never happened.<br />
<br />
[Truthfully I take umbrage with Sideways Land of LOST because I just didn't really like the story and the finale was not the enlightening experience for me that it seemed to be for everyone else (except for Sun and Jin <i>obviously</i>). That said, it's created a perfect illustration for me.]<br />
<br />
I feel like I'm living like that final season of LOST. I have the linear me that's marching down the same, albeit unpredictable, unified USM path I've been on my whole life. I grew up, graduated from BYU, got married, have done a lot acting, had some jobs, am getting divorced, will do something else, etc.<br />
<br />
And there's the Sideways Land me (SLM), which has been snapped back 5 years. I've just finished college and have the whole world at my feet. I have no money but 1000 prospects in every possible area of my life. My name is mine again. My contact lens prescription is the same. A surprising number of My People are still single, and even if they're not I've seen more of them than I have in years-- I mean, it's uncanny and wonderful. I never changed the URL to this blog. The only things that have changed (I mean, not really, but you know what I mean) is the presence of my three cats (much to the surprise of my dog-loving heart) and my thyroid condition (hyper-turned-hypo, making me a hyper-hypo).<br />
<br />
These two sides of me aren't mutually exclusive. It's the same me starring in both worlds, on separate planes but always in the exact same moment. In one single minute I can be grieving and grasping at straws to heal, and giggling at a thoughtful message that brightens my vision of the future.<br />
<br />
I feel invincible and glorious while I'm fallible and dull.<br />
<br />
Lovely and interesting and ugly and tedious.<br />
<br />
Unmotivated and ambitious.<br />
<br />
Loved and unloved.<br />
<br />
Overwhelmed and free.<br />
<br />
Sexy and frumpy.<br />
<br />
A world of binaries that very few people seem to understand.<br />
<br />
What people don't see is that I mourn by embracing opportunity. I am busting out of my skin as I sit still. My soul sings in the silence, or sometimes my throat sings so I can be silent.<br />
<br />
I laugh and cry all at once, one feeding off the other in a grand cycle that's occasionally confusing but always informative.<br />
<br />
It's weird.<br />
<br />
But it doesn't feel weird. It feels natural.<br />
<br />
Weird and natural. And weird.<br />
<br />
All splintered and skipping around trying to grasp at reality and possibility-- constant dichotomy that's thrilling (terrifying), difficult to explain (easy to feel), resentful (grateful), hopeful ( sense of impending doom...).<br />
<br />
And strangely, it's all driven by love.<br />
<br />
So unexpectedly, I am driven by love.<br />
<br />
I have never loved more-- and that's no dichotomy.<br />
<br />
In each win, as in each loss, a little crack is chiseled into my heart that's not breaking at all but expanding it into this giant, enormous heart that just wants to hug everyone.<br />
<br />
I want to spend time with everyone, and talk to everyone, and really <i>know</i> everyone, and help everyone, and support everyone, and give everyone gifts, and bake everyone pies, and spend a warm evening with everyone piled on blankets in a park under the stars holding hands.<br />
<br />
The splinters are magnifying my capacity to love.<br />
<br />
And so maybe it's not like my hair at all-- not split up sides of the original USM.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's the other way around.<br />
<br />
Maybe the splinters are the original parts, emerging from all around and swirling together to make this whole, loving, loveable person.<br />
<br />
The me I've always been all at once-- that I've just never given myself the chance to feel and see and be it all at once before. <br />
<br />
How fascinating.<br />
<br />
And not at all boring.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-63726471414735783322014-03-23T23:37:00.001-07:002014-03-23T23:37:59.495-07:00i can do hard things 5This was a hard week.<br />
<br />
Just generally.<br />
<br />
A hard week.<br />
<br />
A lot happened-- a lot of tragedy, a lot of joy, a lot of confusion, and confusion on how I should deal with all of it at once.<br />
<br />
I feel like I did a pretty good job and I didn't (entirely) self-implode.<br />
<br />
I also learned how I need to keep my people close to me and that it does take effort-- but not all that much-- to do so.<br />
<br />
(On that topic, I have really, really excellent people.)<br />
<br />
I did a lot of hard things this week.<br />
<br />
High-five, self.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-16669541865391797262014-03-16T22:34:00.000-07:002014-03-16T22:34:11.663-07:00i can do hard things 4I've had ideas for other posts swirling around my head this week, though nothing has really stuck enough to sit and write about it. Maybe that's part of the problem? I should just take the time to write it out and then it would come together? Who can say. I'll try that this week.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I took an audition. It should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me at all that this particular audition was filled with a lot of anticipation and expectation. It's for a role I love in a show I love that could allow me to play opposite the guy I love, so.... it's kind of a big deal to me. And I did it. And it wasn't the worst. And I haven't been cut yet. Now the hard thing will be to not put too much weight in what happens next. What will be, will be.<br /></li>
<li>I performed <i>Les Mis</i> five times in less than three days. It may not sound like much, but by the middle of last night it was just really hard to keep my eyes open. I think some people misunderstand me and think by being physically tired that I've moved on emotionally (or maybe didn't even invest in the first place), but that's not at all true. The body just gets tired sometimes, you know? It actually makes me care about the show even more because I know how focused I can (and should) be. Anyway this week kicked off the rest of our busy, busy run and it was a good indication of how I need to sustain myself.<br /></li>
<li>I cured a blossoming sore throat/cold with just a steamer for my throat, a lot of drinking water, and some essential oils. I drank some oregano and it was THE WORST. But I didn't die, and in fact my health improved. <br /> </li>
<li>I refrained from eating an entire box of oreos (in one sitting).</li>
</ul>
I guess my week wasn't all that hard. <br /><br />#firstworldproblems? @emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-76946956503774499352014-03-09T23:42:00.000-07:002014-03-09T23:42:07.615-07:00i can do hard things 3<ul>
<li>I stood up for myself. This week I found myself in the middle of a fresh he-said-she-said, interestingly with someone I don't actually know. I mean we've spoken a few times, but we don't know each other. So instead of letting it fester (or worse-- letting it continue into communities of people who also don't know me but think they do), I personally nipped it in the bud. And concluded with a zinger that I'm particularly proud of.<br /></li>
<li>I had a really helpful and empowering voice lesson. And I realized that I'm good at this. I have a lot to do, but I've come a long way in the last year (with the help of some wonderful folks) and I'm really excited to continue to work hard and get really good at it.<br /></li>
<li>I've accepted myself in the Now. Improvement and self-actualization are on-going goals. But the journey really is exciting in itself, and I'm interested in validating myself as I go. I'm working hard. And it's just as important as the end results.<br /></li>
<li>I auditioned for another commercial and was not nervous even at all. Instead, I'm able to take it exactly as seriously as I need to and keep it in perspective. <br /></li>
<li>I blogged twice.</li>
</ul>
I'm really glad I started this little weekly tradition.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-32663169907499386842014-03-04T00:37:00.003-07:002014-03-04T00:37:41.899-07:00aiming to self-actualize<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">"Authenticity requires a certain measure of vulnerability, transparency, and integrity."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
-- Janet Louise Stephenson</div>
<br />
I started reading <i>The Princess Diaries</i> around the time the movie came out. I read them through college. It's a whole series, really quite charming (more charming than the movie, though I love the movie and it's terrible sequel), focused on an ordinary girl finding herself in extraordinary circumstances and trying to self-actualize through it all.<br />
<br />
The idea of self-actualizing has stuck with me. It's always been my goal. To me, it means more than simply becoming the best I can be. To me, it means becoming the best I am <i>meant</i> to be.<br />
<br />
As I've gotten older, I realize all my ideas and ideals tied into becoming self-actualized really have to do with becoming an authentic self. Recognize your truth and live it. Be nice to people. Don't lie, especially not to get ahead. Accept yourself and others.<br />
<br />
I love the quote at the top of this post, outlining the ingredients of authenticity. I like that there are three simple steps. It's not all that hard. As a society, we tend to seek "simple" foods, "simple" toiletries because it means they're more pure. Three simple steps to becoming purely authentic. I'll take it.<br />
<br />
I feel like I'm a pretty vulnerable person. My personality combined with my job (where people decide for me how much I deserve to earn) and my career (which is subjective and expects people to have opinions about my talent or even myself as a person based on whether or not they like a performance) puts me out there pretty regularly. I try to be approachable and open honest lines of communication. I allow myself to be vulnerable.<br />
<br />
Integrity has been an interesting journey for me. I have, in my past, been wont to lie for reasons that don't particularly matter. I've been caught. I've been treated for and am working on my impulsiveness that has lead me to behave in ways that aren't flattering. I've had to learn what integrity really means, to me and to others. In my work, it involves not stealing money. In my profession, it involves being true to the character I am playing-- not playing for laughs, not acting outside the realm of the role's reality. I have worked to define and live with integrity.<br />
<br />
Lately, I've been overwhelmed with the need to add the last part of <b>authenticity </b>to my life. I seek to be transparent. <br />
<br />
I don't mean vapid. I don't want to get away with things and then shrug my shoulders because at least I'm owning it. I mean, I guess that's part of it-- to own my life, to own my choices, to accept them as mine and not blame others. But I don't want to be insensitive or obnoxious about it.<br />
<br />
What I mean is, I don't want to talk about people behind their backs. I don't want to be talked about. I don't want to say things to others that I wouldn't say to the person involved. I don't want to talk about how I know that he knows that I said something that he thinks is terrible so he told someone else about what I maybe did but he doesn't want me to know that he knows or that he told but meanwhile someone tells me he knows and told but please don't tell him I know that he knows because this other person also knows.<br />
<br />
Are you kidding?<br />
<br />
I'm not kidding.<br />
<br />
I seem to find myself in the middle of these situations a lot lately. Maybe it's the culture I'm a part of. The subjective nature of my business and the needful presence of critics opens the door for people to kind of just say whatever they think without consequence. I'm a part of it too. I hate it, but I know I am. And I feel awful for participating.<br />
<br />
But what I guess I mean to say is, I don't want to be a part of that anymore. I don't want to be a part of lying. I don't want to protect people who lie. I don't want to put words in peoples' mouths and I don't want to have words put into my mouth.<br />
<br />
I don't want people to think I'm going to judge them. That I am judging them.<br />
<br />
I struggle most of all with the knowledge that people think I'm going to judge them. I see myself as a very open, trusting person. I'm pretty good at recognizing my own mistakes and don't blame others for making mistakes of their own. It is not up to me to judge someone for a mistake or choice or lifestyle or opinion. I don't care if our mistakes or choices or lifestyles or opinions differ.<br />
<br />
Bottom line: I feel like people are slipping away from me and I hate it. Maybe it's just another one of those times in life where I come to a crossroads and the most important people stay and the less important people go another direction and it's just part of life. Maybe we're there. I don't feel like there's been any particularly earth-shattering, life changing events in my life that would force me to such a crossroads, but maybe I'm there and I just need to face that.<br />
<br />
But I want to change myself in the meantime.<br />
<br />
I don't want to have to defend myself and defend the fact that I'm a nice, understanding, communicative person. How nice, understanding or communicative can I possibly be if I'm defensive about it?<br />
<br />
I want to be considered honest but kind. I want to be considered a good friend. I want people to feel like they can talk to me without judgement. <br />
<br />
I don't want people to assume I'm not going to like them for a choice they've made-- but never talk to me about it.<br />
<br />
I don't want people to tell other people that I hate them-- when I've never talked to them about it.<br />
<br />
I don't want people to assume I look down on them for making choices I choose not to make and jump to conclusions-- without having ever told me about their new life or choices or ideals.<br />
<br />
I don't want to shock people with ideas or opinions that I consider to be honest but they consider to be rude. It's weird to me that I seem to shock people, because I really feel like I'm just being honest but somehow things misfire and there's a web of misunderstanding that we're all caught in until suddenly it's fixed and we're friends again. I don't want to cause misunderstanding. I want to avoid people's aversions to me, causing them to require some space before coming to understand what I meant in the first place and then we go along as if nothing happened. I need to address that things have happened. I need to fix it. I need to suck the poison from my life before it becomes poison.<br />
<br />
I'm going to try really hard to stop shooting my mouth off. I'm going to try really hard to address a problem immediately before it snowballs into something it never should have been. I'm going to stop finding myself in the middle of other peoples' problems. I'm going to smile more. I'm going to tell people nice things more frequently. I'm going to be thoughtful and go straight to the source when there's a problem.<br />
<br />
An arrow has to be pulled back before it can shoot forward.<br />
<br />
I'm finished pulling myself back.<br />
<br />
I'm finished being inauthentic to anyone, especially myself.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-22953155453387896442014-03-03T02:04:00.001-07:002014-03-03T02:04:13.589-07:00I can do hard things 2<br />
<ul>
<li>I posted a long blog. It outlined a lot of my feelings. It made me feel like a writer again and opened myself up for criticism and misunderstanding. But mostly people understood me. A lot of my recent friends don't know that I'm okay at writing. Now they know a little bit.</li>
<li>I filmed a commercial and it was an overnight shoot. It's mostly scary and hard because I'm not really sure how I'm going to look in it. I think I might look kind of goofy. But I did it and I was awake for like 36 hours and I didn't fall asleep at the wheel on my way home. </li>
<li>I resolved to lead a more transparent life. I'm composing a post about this but I've started taking steps to do this-- to be honest, open, truthful. I don't really care if people lie to each other. But I don't want to be lied to, so I refuse to lie to others. I want people to know exactly who I am without having to clarify or explain myself. I want to be transparent. </li>
<li>I was kind of a manager at work sort of. It didn't suck and I wasn't the total worst. Only a little bit the worst. </li>
<li>I didn't take any heart pills. Getting my anxiety under control. Blammo. I did start some melatonin and have been regular about my oils. Feeling good. </li>
<li>I accepted that I haven't been good at crossfit in the last few weeks and will be returning this week. I can lift heavy things. I can push myself. I can reach my goals.</li>
</ul>
@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-6599718993326749502014-02-24T21:30:00.001-07:002014-02-24T21:31:34.922-07:00thoughts on this show<span style="font-size: x-small;">Not that I need to disclaim anything to the twelve people who read this blog, but I feel the need to mention that I began this post last night, well before the most recent (and, frankly, most scathing) review of our little production was published. This is in no way a response to any review, merely the conglomeration of thoughts over the last few months.</span><br />
<br />
It is a very interesting thing to be part of a phenomenon.<br />
<br />
I use that word carefully. I don't mean to say I am a phenomenon, or that my peers are a phenomenon (though I openly suggest they are phenomenal), or even that this production I am a part of is an unmatchable phenomenon.<br />
<br />
What I mean is, <i>Les Miserables</i>, in and of itself, is a phenomenon. And it is interesting to be a part of it, in my own small, local way.<br />
<br />
I confess that I have not particularly bought into the phenomenon of it. I didn't ever really "get it" the way most people seem to. I wasn't raised on it. I haven't known every word of the show since I was a kid. I haven't seen every possible production available for me to see.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I'm familiar. I was a high school drama kid. I sang a <i>Les Mis</i> medley in 7th grade the same way all middle school choirs did. I saw the movie. I watched some concert versions. I appreciate that people faint about it. It just hasn't been my personal end-all-be-all.<br />
<br />
All this being said, there has been <i>phenomenon </i>surrounding Hale Centre Theatre's production of this show since before it was announced as part of the 2014 season. Hundreds of people auditioned. The audition and callback process was arduous, intense, at times heart-wrenching and filled with defense. It seemed ludicrous and amazing that there was such hype and anxiety and <i>expectation </i>surrounding a production-- any production. <br />
<br />
To me, that also meant the process would be packed with possibility for something potentially special. The sheer amount of emotion involved-- positive and most certainly negative-- has been overwhelming for me from the start.<br />
<br />
Overwhelming from <i>before </i>the start.<br />
<br />
But people were, and have been, taking it seriously. Which is why I wanted to be a part of it. I know it would be special, I knew it would be serious. Who wouldn't be excited about that?<br />
<br />
And people <i>have</i> taken this seriously. Our entire cast has been more prepared from the very first rehearsal of any production I've been a part of. People have <i>worked.</i> And when something didn't work, they worked harder. And worked harder again. And changed it, and worked more.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say without hyperbole that I have seen some of my peers' most brilliant, vulnerable, lovely performances in rehearsals and this first week of performances. We have cried. We have laughed. Always conscious of the <i>expectation</i>.<br />
<br />
I'd be lying if I haven't worried-- agonized?-- over the <i>expectation. </i>Not even necessarily of the show on a whole, but of my particular role. I am genuinely surprised as anyone that I was actually cast as Madame Thenardier. I have read the book. I am more than conscious of casting precedent. It goes without saying how this role is "usually" cast, and I understand I am not "usual." I am grateful and humbled for the opportunity. I know that it very easily could have been someone else. <br />
<br />
The same goes with members of our cast in roles with equal (or more) precedent. No one involved is blithely unaware that they may be "against type" or "too young" or "unusual."<br />
<br />
Because there has been this looming <i>expectation</i>.<br />
<br />
Which people seem to feel incredibly inclined to share.<br />
<br />
And I get it. This is one of the most beloved musicals of all time-- perhaps <i>the</i> most beloved. It has been playing for 30 years. There have been revivals upon revivals. There have been tours upon tours. Everyone knows this piece. Everyone has strong feelings (in some cases, it seems, extremely negative) about this piece. Everyone feels some amount of ownership, especially since the release of the movie last year. I think the personal ownership people feel about this story and this music is profound. This is what art is about. It's about reaching people. It's about conversation. It's about history and society. <br />
<br />
And yet, the frequency with which local people have weighed in with such low expectation has been discouraging.<br />
<br />
In truth, the feeling is that people (not all, but some very vocal) have <i>hoped </i>this would fail.<br />
<br />
Fail!<br />
<br />
Of all things in this world to hope for failure, what a silly thing! <br />
<br />
But the <i>expectation</i>! The incredibly transparent distaste for people involved or the theater we are working at; the years of school, training and experience in varying levels of professionalism providing people the "right" to dissect casting and production value; the fact that "I have loved this musical since I was nine and IT IS MY DREAM SHOW"-- so many facets of why people are filled with expectation.<br />
<br />
Which leads them to talk about it.<br />
<br />
And it gets nasty, if I'm being honest.<br />
<br />
That there was an expectation for it to <i>fail</i> before it even opened-- well I'm afraid that says a lot more about the viewer than it does the cast or directors or producers or design team or the theater.<br />
<br />
If a person HATES the show to begin with and resents the hype around it-- they've already made up their mind about our production before they've seen it.<br />
<br />
If a person resents the specific theater community, how they operate and feel in competition with their business-- they've already made up their mind about our production before they've seen it.<br />
<br />
If a person is jealous they weren't cast and feels the people who were cast aren't right for the parts they got-- even if they're at all correct (which is a different discussion all together), they've already made up their mind about our production before they've seen it.<br />
<br />
It's so incredibly vapid.<br />
<br />
And sad.<br />
<br />
Because this theater fosters good work. They strive to tell stories, sound pretty, look good, and touch hearts, exactly the way any other theater company strives to. And they're good at it. Whether you like their seasons, their productions, their talent, 23,000+ season ticket holders means they're doing <i>something</i> right, even if it's not to your taste.<br />
<br />
I get it-- I understand that it's impossible to please everyone. I've never expected to please everyone. Since the moment I got my casting call, I have been armed with the confident knowledge that there will be people (perhaps many, perhaps few, perhaps my own friends and cast mates) who don't like what I do or how I portray this character. The fact is, I've made choices for this role based on my age, based on my experience, based on my comparison of the character in the novel versus the musical. If people don't prefer it, that's not on me, especially because I know I've done everything in my very own small power to satisfy all of those people and, perhaps most importantly, myself.<br />
<br />
A woman the other night, whom I've never laid eyes on, told me bluntly that she loved the show but that I am far too thin for the part.<br />
<br />
(Considering this is the first time I have ever been accused of being too thin, I refuse to take it as the genuine criticism the intended it to be!)<br />
<br />
It's not my problem if people don't like me.<br />
<br />
My overall success ultimately has nothing to do with an audience's opinion. Even a reviewer's.<br />
<br />
I'm just baffled by how outspoken people have been and are being about their seeming disgust for this production. <br />
<br />
Another fascinating aspect of the <i>expectation</i> is the constant comparison-- to other productions of this musical, to the movie, to other people who auditioned, to other musicals being produced in the area which have nothing to do with <i>Les Mis</i> and that have every right to receive praise and attention in their own right.<br />
<br />
Our team is not comparing ourselves to any other local shows. Our cast is not saying we are the #1 show in the area. We do not think our show is the only one worth seeing, nor do we think the production value is so great that all other theaters pale by comparison. It's simply not true. There is beautiful, important work being produced all throughout the valley. The hype and <i>expectation </i>surrounding and unnecessary comparisons to <i>Les Mis </i>has, in most cases, generally been thrown at us, bewilderingly. <br />
<br />
Ultimately, I am quite proud of the work we have done and the pains that have been taken to make this story accessible and as unique as the combination of center stage, over-familiar music, and details specific to the novel and script will allow. I'm proud that tickets are hard to come by. I'm proud that people have such strong opinions. If it were worthless drivel, no one would care to have strong opinions, which tells me there is value to this production.<br />
<br />
We have had months of anticipation and criticism. I know over the next two months, we'll continue to receive direct criticism.<br />
<br />
But when people applaud and rise to their feet before the last note of the show is finished being sung, suddenly--<br />
<br />
--it's quite moving to be a part of a <i>phenomenon</i>.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-58348464575208018832014-02-24T01:01:00.000-07:002014-02-24T01:01:01.910-07:00i can do hard thingsIt's been a while since I posted.<br />
<br />
More than a while.<br />
<br />
I should have been updating for the last year, because things have been pretty great.<br />
<br />
I was in four shows in 2013 and I directed one.<br />
<br />
I signed with an agent and have done some acting jobs. I am an actor. <br />
<br />
That one performed at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, so Ames and I went to England and Scotland and France and we saw a TON of theatre.<br />
<br />
I held down a job (the same job) for more than a year and was rewarded with a shiny gold pin. This job supports me being an actor.<br />
<br />
I also do Cross Fit now, which probably sounds really bad-a and I guess it is, even though I'm still kind of beginner-y. Someday I'll lift really heavy things, but in the meantime I just lift normal-weighted things. <br />
<br />
For 2014 I'm trying to do this thing where I say "yes and" to the world. I'm trying to do hard things, self-actualize (my goal since 2009 and forever before then), and become an all-around good person. I want to be brave. I want to be kind. I want to be known for my kindness and not for unkindness or (worse) indifference.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to do hard things.</span><br />
<br />
I'd also like to blog more because I miss blogging and it's something I should be doing, for myself and for posterity (mine or other peoples'). I have felt like I don't have much to say or anything interesting to write about or maybe I can't even write very well anymore at all, so I stopped. But I want to start writing again.<br />
<br />
So I'm aiming to blog once a week about the hard things I've done-- hard for me, anyway. I'm sure my challenges are mostly lame and reek of privilege but it's my life and I want to make it my best one. A weekly self-empowerment wrap up.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">SO-- this week I...</span></b><br />
<ul>
<li>Hugged people. I used to be a huggy person, but I haven't been for years for some reason. But I'm trying really hard to show physical affection for people, especially ones I like. So I hugged a lot of them. In some cases, I even hugged them a lot of times.<br /></li>
<li>Cried. The beginning of the week was hard for me, I guess you could say. I'm finding challenges in my life that I've not had to face before and frankly never thought I'd have to. Also being in the cast of <i>Les Miserables </i>has made me extremely sensitive-- I hope it's making me more compassionate. I don't want to be a crying baby all the time, but it's okay to feel things. Maybe I need to write about my feelings more so I can channel the feelings a little more.<br /></li>
<li>Went out for hours at a time with and around other humans not wearing eye makeup. This is literally something I have not done for years and it made me nervous for only one second. But you know, the crazy thing about exercising a lot and getting in touch with what's great about me, I don't really need the makeup. This is huge for me. And probably has much to do with the fact that I am pretty ugly in the show so clean skin without eye makeup really isn't all that bad after a whole day of purply dark circles under my eyes. A major achievement.<br /></li>
<li>Blogged. High five, blogosphere. I'm back. </li>
</ul>
@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-30787532582238397672013-01-28T14:57:00.002-07:002013-01-28T15:02:35.296-07:00sentimental joyHey blog-land. It's been a while.<br />
<br />
I've been doing this little show lately that has been nothing short of a dream come true. Does that sound sentimental and dramatic? I don't care. It's true. I love this play, I love this production, I love this cast. I have looked forward to every single moment and I'm really sad it's closing on Saturday.<br />
<br />
The show is a hoot. It's hilarious. It's so satisfying to be a part of something that makes people laugh. It makes me happy.<br />
<br />
And my little cast makes me happy. We're just a small little troupe. I've very rarely felt so connected to a whole cast like this. There's a distinct unselfishness we share on this stage-- and off, for that matter. I've rarely felt so supported by a team of people, which only inspires me to be that much more supportive of them. Every single night we delight in each others' performances-- we look forward to each others' successes and love to share and recount them. We take turns being "the funny one" and work very hard to avoid stealing each others' thunder. I have experienced a specific lack of arrogance in my castmates. We laugh through our pre-show routines. There's no shortage of compliments and encouragement. It is distinctly <i>joyful</i>.<br />
<br />
I love what I do. I get to spend my time being creative and silly, wearing beautiful clothes, making people laugh, and working with a team of folks who share my passion, process and ambition. I aim to improve and they help me.<br />
<br />
I am so incredibly lucky.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-40077317449596303002012-10-17T12:23:00.002-06:002013-01-28T14:58:10.021-07:00reach<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXepS4f21kjla4QTQVvj_Vr2V9R6ogKs4esrUySjS4ZuGpYPAFzq4Es7fre0tCWYSSDZR9ZimAV70eE_L9fuuqBGHuoewHK_vMiXWjkoyskpwB7BIYJz_hJdwGdNbGb4kBtW6Y1b-AqA/s1600/Reach.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXepS4f21kjla4QTQVvj_Vr2V9R6ogKs4esrUySjS4ZuGpYPAFzq4Es7fre0tCWYSSDZR9ZimAV70eE_L9fuuqBGHuoewHK_vMiXWjkoyskpwB7BIYJz_hJdwGdNbGb4kBtW6Y1b-AqA/s640/Reach.png" width="336" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via <a href="http://www.marcjohns.com/blog/" target="_blank">marc johns</a>, who is the best</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This inspires me today.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-55864885640470694962012-10-02T13:47:00.003-06:002012-10-02T13:47:56.676-06:00i miss my sanguine eyesI am 26 years old. I was going to write on my birthday as I have in the past, but I haven't felt like myself lately. That word-- <em>lately</em>-- is relative. To be more specific, I haven't really felt like myself for the last 18 months or so. I have had glimpses of myself that remind me who I am-- remind me who I want to be, and what it is to feel happy, centered, and whole. <br />
<br />
That week last summer after I recovered from the sinus infection of doom, so blissful and performing in a ridiculously fun role and grateful to know what it is to be grateful...<br />
<br />
Christmas morning, with all my handmade Christmas presents...<br />
<br />
That performance of <em>Crazy for You</em> in the middle of the run when I could have kept tap dancing for 20 minutes. And that other performance of <em>Crazy for You</em> when I realized the good things about me that would be great on television...<br />
<br />
When I had lost 3" from my waist and dyed my hair blonde and marched around Boston, MA with Ames and my parents, looking at all the historical things I love about America and laughing about our kitty Jenna...<br />
<br />
Little flecks of memory that flash by and I can take a deep breath and just <em>be</em> for a second.<br />
<br />
All at once, though, I've felt so sad, like I'm losing parts of myself. Maybe it's getting older, maybe it's becoming more hardened to "life," maybe it's feeling like I "should be" doing/creating/being much more than I am. I laugh a lot, but not the same. I don't feel so smart as I maybe used to be. I actually care about my shrunken bank account. <br />
<br />
I don't listen to music anymore.<br />
<br />
I used to listen to music constantly. I used to love finding new bands, learning the words to entire Rocket Summer albums, going to concerns, falling asleep with Jared Leto in my ears, allowing my heart to soar with film scores. Music is spiritual and it speaks to me.<br />
<br />
I think my spirit has just been too jumbled and exhausted to be exercised by music.<br />
<br />
Music has become much more technical. I practice singing. I study voices and technique and vocal tricks. I buy albums of artists I love because they're by artist I have loved. Anything more requires too much investment, too much freedom, too much vulnerability.<br />
<br />
This morning I finally got around to having a listen to Mumford & Sons' <em>Babel. </em>So much hype was a turn-off for me. My brain and heart can't seem to handle so much texture in music-- I need clean, simple sounds that kind of disappear behind more pressing matters like procedure manuals and timecards. No time or energy to spend time on something new and different and exciting.<br />
<br />
So unexpectedly, my soul was tired enough to be stirred. <br />
<br />
In the midst of questioning (yet again) my professional ambitions; weighing my educational, financial, and work responsibilities; throwing myself into the most deeply emotional role I've ever played; trying to keep it all together and become centered-- I felt <em>awake</em>. <br />
<br />
And happy.<br />
<br />
And relieved.<br />
<br />
I think sometimes we are able to embrace our own best potential when we maybe just have no other choice. I need this level of spiritual wellness. It is vital to me. How have I forgotten it? <br />
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<em>I'm starving for music, new or old. What are some of your favorites? All suggestions welcome.</em>@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-54028762404067669812012-09-04T13:49:00.000-06:002012-10-02T13:50:06.625-06:00livingThis summer I did a few great things--<br />
<br />
I tap danced.<br />
<br />
I ate a lot.<br />
<br />
I lost weight without even trying.<br />
<br />
I cut my hair off and dyed it blonde and it's longer on the right side than on the left.<br />
<br />
I flew back East for ten days and saw my family and swam in the lake. <br />
<br />
I went to Boston and ate a salt bagel.<br />
<br />
I touched the desk where Lousia May Alcott wrote <em>Little Women</em>.<br />
<br />
I snuggled my kitties and laughed for hours and hours about them.<br />
<br />
I was cast in a Big Important Role that somehow feels bigger and more important than other roles I've had.<br />
<br />
I finally bought the green bathing suit I've been wanting for three years and a big floppy dock hat.<br />
<br />
We secured a way to go to Europe next summer for a month.<br />
<br />
<br />
In some ways it felt like I didn't even have a summer because I never stopped moving long enough to take it in and appreciate all the changes and growths and opportunities. <br />
<br />
I am a lucky girl.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-4005602090950157762012-08-17T15:26:00.000-06:002012-08-17T15:26:38.075-06:00revised repostI don't like to be told I'm wrong. I don't think many people like to feel
belittled or stupid or ignorant or made to feel like their opinions, because
they are not "popular" or whatever, are wrong.<br /><br />As we're approaching the
Big Day where this country will collectively participate in a political spring
cleaning, there's more "discussion" than ever, and I'm all for discussion-- as
long as it's remains a <span style="font-style: italic;">discussion</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">DISCUSSION: </span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"><span style="font-weight: bold;">consideration of a question
in </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">open </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">and usually informal debate.</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: 78%;">(thank you merriam-webster.com)</span><br /></span>I'll be
honest, while I do not consider myself a staunch Republican, I do consider
myself moderately conservative, which means my views tend to swing toward the right. I do
my best to consider platforms, social issues, figure out my place within this
crazy mess, then vote accordingly. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">What this means is I sometimes end up on the "wrong side" of social and political issues from my friends and family. That's ok with me, since I think it's terribly interesting to learn and try to better understand differing views. Unfortunately the sad truth is that social/political/religious/etc opinions (<em>1. a view, judgement or appraisal formed in the mind about a particular matter. 2. a belief stronger than impression and less strong than positive knowledge</em>) tend to be up for disagreement or disapproval but not <em><strong>open</strong></em> for <strong>DISCUSSION</strong>. We are reduced to a sarcastic battle fo wits, name-calling and finger-pointing. There is not a lot of <strong><em>openness</em></strong> involved.</span></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"><br /><br />Recently, a link was posted on Facebook by
someone I know, supposedly with the intent to "open the discussion" about universal healthcare and not intended at all to sway votes or opinions. Firstly, what else could her intention
have been other than to sway opinions? I should hope that an <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">open</span></span>
<span style="font-weight: bold;">DISCUSSION </span>should absolutely aim to
encourage participants to re-evaluate their stances, the outcome being a better
understanding of the opposing view at very least. Though she may not have opened the conversation with a declaration, "This is what I think and I want to share it" or even "Anyone who doesn't agree with me is wrong," the implication is there, and that is great. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">But secondly, I have found
that the following conversation has been anything but <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">open</span></span>,
since opposing views have given their arguments only to be told that they are,
in so many words, <span style="font-weight: bold;">WRONG</span>. So in other
words, this conversation is not being <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">opened</span></span>, but absolutely <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">closed</span></span>.
Apparently, universal healthcare is a <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">closed</span></span> issue and therefore not a <span style="font-weight: bold;">DISCUSSION </span>at all, and those who might disagree are misinformed, ignorant, and unconstitutional, letting their
unpopular political or social beliefs get in the way of what's "fair."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">Of course, then there's the swirling vortex of topics relating to Mitt Romney and the LDS church, gay marriage and the LDS church, economics and the LDS church, etc. etc. etc. Of course, being LDS myself, my political and social beliefs are influenced by my religious convictions. That being said, my religious convictions are also influenced by my political and social beliefs. The two are definitely inseparable, but absolutely not mutually exclusive. Any actual <strong>DISCUSSION</strong> of these things would reveal that pretty quickly and plainly. And the implication that I am misinformed, ignorant, brain-washed and
unconstitutional <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>entices me to
participate in any public forum of this nature...<br /><br />Some tips for liberals who
might hope to "discuss" with us crazy backwards conservatives who may or may not also be religious:<br />1. We tend to
be as firmly planted in our beliefs as you are in yours.<br />2. Just because we
are conservative does not mean we are ignorant. We earnestly believe in our
conservative views as you do in your liberal. It is not a lack of information or
"forward thinking" that landed us here.<br />3. Do not site or twist the words of
spiritual leaders or literature in order to support your claims that will make
spiritually-influenced political opinions hypocritical. It only leads to a more
convoluted circle.<br />4. Sarcasm is unattractive. I'm really grappling to find
<span style="font-style: italic;">any</span> humor in this most serious
situation, and sarcastically making fun of our beliefs- and therefore, of us, to
our faces- will not spark a very <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">open </span>DISCUSSION.</span><br />5. The old adage
may just hold true: don't discuss politics or religion among friends. There will
never be black-and-white answers, exchanges of well-informed (from either
perspective) opinion will never result in an absolute change-of-heart.<br /><br />I
hope we're all as well-informed as we can be in our political and religious (or unreligious) beliefs. I hope that we have each
studied platforms thoroughly and have formed decisions for ourselves so that our
votes will reflect what we believe will prove the best course for this country.
I know this is what I have aimed to do, and I sincerely hope that those with
differing views (especially those who know me well, regardless of their own
political stances) will give some credit to my own informed
opinions.</span></span>@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-79078077802751394292012-08-16T16:04:00.000-06:002012-08-16T16:20:24.708-06:00on being just the same as everybody elseI want to know-- what's the problem in blending in sometimes? <br />
<br />
I've been stewing over a lot of thoughts lately because it feels to me like I've been bombarded with inspirational quotes lately to <i>be unique!</i> <i>be yourself! </i>Don't be afraid to <i>be a unicorn! </i>Always with these kinds of photos to draw your attention to something <i>special</i> and <i>different</i>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzieQ9mK1N6iggaQQ-y7iHk5OYToXMkXFPw_-r2QVGqAPnt7H76y7R3IzQS9Fy1VAybKls74u6na2gO7oKDIWh0VcxCcUyJku8_OGKPAx7WlqomagwLuuw8RwU8hJO-a9iad2-xHzwRA/s1600/242.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzieQ9mK1N6iggaQQ-y7iHk5OYToXMkXFPw_-r2QVGqAPnt7H76y7R3IzQS9Fy1VAybKls74u6na2gO7oKDIWh0VcxCcUyJku8_OGKPAx7WlqomagwLuuw8RwU8hJO-a9iad2-xHzwRA/s320/242.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This makes zero sense to me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />The most exhausting to me has been the unicorn metaphor. It keeps popping up here and there, had a stint on <i>Glee</i> (network television's indulgent celebration of diversity and all things <i>different</i>), and it's driving me crazy. Unicorns, first of all, don't exist. They don't. Humans exist, and weird humans exist, and weird humans with weird differences from other humans exist, but unicorns are not a thing. <br />
<br />
It's just that sometimes I feel like we don't really have the right to be <em>the same</em>.<br />
<br />
I think so frequently in a quest to embrace and accept ourselves and each other, we start to focus too greatly on the fact that we are, in the end, all the same. We are human. We share life experience. We celebrate, we grieve, we have frustrations, we have foibles. We are not different. We are common. The specifics are all unique, but ultimately we are the same. I don't think that's bad.<br />
<br />
Of course, for just as many mantras to be a unicorn, there are as many reminders that we <i>are</i> the same. We all deserve the same civil rights. We all deserve access to healthcare. We all deserve to love other humans. We deserve the right to individual expression.<br />
<br />
So tell me-- if we all deserve these things (and others), why must it be so dreadfully and socially unacceptable to want just kind of normal things and to aspire to be kind of a nice, normal person?<br />
<br />
Take, for example, Shanna, my favorite contestant from the most recent season of <em>The Glee Project</em>.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://img2-1.timeinc.net/ew/i/2012/08/01/Shanna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img2-1.timeinc.net/ew/i/2012/08/01/Shanna.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Now I know what you're thinking, and you're right. I hate <em>Glee</em>. Why would I watch a competition show where the whole point is to become the next <em>Glee</em> co-star? Because it's the greatest competition show ever, of course. Watch it and try to disagree with me.<br />
<br />
Shanna has an INCREDIBLE voice and, from all accounts on the show, was incredibly easy to work with. She rarely had critiques and was consistently asked to do hard things-- you know, like wear a meat dress a la Lady Gaga for ten hours on a video shoot. No biggie, right? She was eliminated ultimately because she is <strong>normal</strong>. <br />
<br />
When asked what kind of character she saw herself playing on <em>Glee</em>, she said she'd be "the athletic girl who can sing and joins everything." Apparently this wasn't a clear enough identity and GOOD BYE SHANNA. <br />
<br />
This following Nellie, another wonderfully normal girl with a killer voice, who I found incredibly relatable exactly because she was so aware of who she is as herself-- which is not the sex kitten they tried over and over and over to force her to become, and when she crippled under the discomfort of that veneer, GOOD BYE NELLIE.<br />
<br />
(Interestingly, in the final episode when all the contestants returned to be in the final music video, the editing of the show was such that Nellie and Shanna were conspicuously deflected.)<br />
<br />
And if we're being honest, the show's winner Blake almost didn't win because he wasn't definable as anything but the nice, good-looking jock. In other words, he didn't have a gimmick that was interesting enough because the appeal of <em>Glee </em>is the vulnerability of people with quirks and differences worthy of being slushied. If I'm reading into the semantics correctly here, normal people apaprently aren't vulnerable. <br />
<br />
What's interesting is that, while I recognize and have learned to celebrate my own unique qualities, the basic reality is that I am one of those Normals. I'm an average-sized girl of average height with naturally average brown hair. I fit social "norms" in that I'm attracted to men and I'm politically moderate. I have a wide range of interests and, while I'm pretty good at some things, am not necessarily a freakishly talented person. I have a lot of friends in a lot of different circles and don't especially identify with any one particular group or institution. In my own way, I am the girl who can sing and joins everything. And as a result, just like Shanna, many times, I am just not special enough to get the role, get the job, or find the right pants in my size. <br />
<br />
I feel like that's majorly wrong. I feel like we're beginning to compare traits and characteristics that are incomparable, yet we become defensive about our weirdness and that my weirdness is so much weirder (read: better) than your weirdness. I deserve more attention than you for my extra weird weirdness. Only weird people need to be represented on TV because there isn't enough of this teeny tiny specific demographic represented in our popular culture. Forget about the fact that it actually might be kind of weird to be normal because normal is normal, not weird. <br />
<br />
The truth is, I don't feel particularly represented in popular culture. "Normal" women on television (since I'm running with the <em>Glee</em> thing) are represented by characters like Grace on <em>Will & Grace</em> (gorgeous redhead who is eating all the time but remains thin and apparently has bad hygiene?), Liz Lemon on <em>30 Rock</em> (head writer and producer of a successful comedy show who also eats all the time but remains thin and apparently has bad hygiene) and Jess on <em>New Girl</em> ("adorkable," gorgeous woman with a beautifully "unstylish" wardrobe who is also thin [can't say whether she eats all the time because I stopped watching]). So even the "normal" women on television aren't actually normal. None of them are below a size 6 (though they try to pass off Tina Fey as at least a size 8-- I'm NOT buying it) and i guess in order to be normal I'm not supposed to cut my toenails? I'm sorry to tell you, but not cutting your toenails is ACTUALLY weird, and also gross.<br />
<br />
In discussing this topic with some friends recently, someone posed the question, "But would you watch a show about someone normal?" <br />
<br />
Duh, I would-- which is why I'm excited for <em>The Mindy Project</em> this fall because while all signs point to this being a show about a smarter, Indian Jess from <em>New Girl</em>, at least she's a size 8 or 10 AND THAT IS TOTALLY NORMAL! <br />
<br />
So I guess what I'm saying is, I don't want to be a unicorn. I don't want all my friends to be unicorns. I want us to be nice pretty horses who all run around together and eat carrots, and some of the horses can be unicorns, and some can be zebras, and some can be very small, and some can pull plows, and some can be the fastest racehorse of all time, but at the end of the day: we're all horses.<br />
<br />
At the end of the day: we're all humans. We're all the same. <br />
<br />
Let's try to concentrate a little harder on that.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-63021464597846651552012-07-30T16:37:00.002-06:002012-07-31T11:08:11.013-06:00thoughts on pride<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Proud people breed sorrow for themselves."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- emily bronte -</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>wuthering heights</em></div>
<br />
I have generally thought myself to be a rather grounded person. Having once been a pretty dreamy girl, allowing my thoughts and actions to be dictated by whim and romance and laughter, I feel like I've arrived at a satisfactorily balanced approach, combining spontaneous positivity with an unshakable grip on reality. I think that's why I've been so self-reflective over the last few months-- trying not to let the "harsh realities" of my world blind me from the simple (and grand!) pleasures of life, always conscious of arguing dualities.<br />
<br />
I've been unemployed-- but I don't have a job I hate.<br />
<br />
My cats are wonderful and hilarious-- but that won't pay the bills.<br />
<br />
Money is tight-- but I have so many clothes I never wear, things I never use, and extra pounds around my waist from abundance.<br />
<br />
There is never one way to look at life. My feeling has been that it must always be observed through both eyes, that focus together to form clarity, unity, and harmony within myself. The worst and best of all things must be balanced, and anyone who ignores that balance is enormously proud of themselves.<br />
<br />
My earlier years, with so much emphasis placed on shopping, texting, staying out late, flirting and skirting by in school, are a source of embarrassment to me. I look at myself and see a prideful girl-- one who knew it all (or consciously pretended to know it all) and thought I was better off for it. I pretended that I couldn't see then the consequences of my actions. Of course it was pretense because I could vocally acknowledge the results of my behavior at the time, but took my sweet time in changing my tune because <em>I knew better</em>. I was young, I was in college, I deserved that play time.<br />
<br />
Prideful. <br />
<br />
And my pride dictated the unhappiness that resulted from the constantly overdrawn bank account, the addition to my phone and computer, the lack of attention to my health and safety, the brash and loud personality, the sub-par report cards. <br />
<br />
I'm grateful for the people who tried to tell me so at the time. <br />
<br />
But then I became a you-so teller. <br />
<br />
It's interesting to flip-flop in your life to such extremes because then you're mantled with this overwhelming sense of <em>experience. </em>You learn to care more. You learn to care too much. I looked around and saw all these other whimsical life players with their hopes and dreams and laughter and general disregard for Real Life or even just a steady job-- moreover, I saw for the first time their sorrows. <br />
<br />
I could see how flirting shamelessly can make you seem desperate and sad, not darling and attractive. I could see how constant shopping at specific stores doesn't make you more awesome, especially without any regard for where the money is coming to pay for it all. I could see how being liberal, loud, out-spoken doesn't make a person carefree, but bound to the constraints of their liberality. I could see how our own prideful choices, made with a laugh in the face of humble reason, makes us sad and filled with regret. <br />
<br />
Then, seeing how I was braizenly swinging on this pendulum between acknowledged lack of experience (<em>I'm so young! I'm still learning too! I can be a grown up and still have fun!</em>) and simultaneous grown-up-edness, I tried to wipe my hands of it all. Fine-- make your choices, no matter how destructive. You know your own life better than I do. It's not up to me to make you happy. I can't tell you how to be happy if you're convinced, and are so vocal about the fact that, you have to <em>live</em> it in order to <em>learn</em> it.<br />
<br />
<em>I</em> seek to be teachable. I seek to learn from mistakes. I seek to be open to experience. I seek to be an example of hard work and integrity. I seek to be free from the bonds of pride.<br />
<br />
Anyone who professes to seek improvement but refuses to step out of the vicious cycle of poor choices due to extreme, absurd self-assuredness-- is a fool.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Isn't that the most terrible thing? It sounds like the most terrible thing, when I put it that way. I paused before I wrote it, and then deleted and rewrote it, and then deleted and rewrote it all again, trying to think of another, kinder way to express my feelings. But I can't.<br />
<br />
In my deepest, most immediate heart, I believe it. <br />
<br />
Foolish people acknowledge what's wrong in their lives and continue to waste day after day after day in doing nothing but talking about it. Foolish people LOVE to <em>talk</em> about it.<br />
<br />
And yet, there's this terrible double-side to pridefulness in being proud of our lack of pride. <br />
<br />
All the attempts at humility and learning and openness and integrity is sullied with a hard edge that makes me just as sad as the silliness and overspending and irresponsibility.<br />
<br />
I am <em>proud</em> of how un-prideful I am. <br />
<br />
And you know, doesn't that breed just as many problems? Aren't I just as much caught up in the whirlwind of foolishness by caring how foolish others are? Doesn't that equally make me a fool? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So I'm trying this new thing: I'm trying very hard to forget my pride (and all the feelings and emotions and ego wrapped up in it) by losing sight of others' pride. I'm detangling myself from the cycle of proud sorrow since misery does love company and letting go.<br />
<br />
It means I'm letting go of people, too-- and that's a sorrow in its own right. <br />
<br />
I seek to be teachable. I seek to learn from my own mistakes. I seek to be open to my own experience. I seek to be an example of hard work and integrity for myself. I seek to be free from the bonds of my pride.<br />
<br />
I guess that's all I can do.@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-33091207782846917482012-07-30T15:47:00.003-06:002012-07-30T15:47:28.496-06:00summer wrap upI haven't really posted this summer. What a shame. I won't waste time justifying (to myself, mostly) why I haven't or pretending like my life isn't interesting (because it is, and I don't think it's bad to say so). I'm sad about it. I miss writing. I don't know why I don't write more. <br />
<br />
Cue rehashed commitment to writing and blogging.<br />
<br />
Here are some bullet-points about Summer 2012:<br />
<ul>
<li>I am working at Seven Peaks again, sort of. Corporate company, payroll assistant. Same song, different verse.</li>
<li>Ames and I have been in <em>Crazy for You</em> all summer at Hale Center Theater Orem. It has been wonderful and exhausting. We close on Saturday. Come see us if you can, please!</li>
<li>Ames and I have been cast in <em>Oliver</em> at Hale Centre Theatre for the fall. I have been cast as a lead in a musical. For anyone who knows me, and even those who don't, I am unaccustomed to being taken rather seriously in musical theater, especially in a serious musical. I'm terribly excited and scared.</li>
<li>WE ARE GOING TO MAINE ON SUNDAY! Please take a moment to enjoy the view:</li>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVn5PIa-JSTryND14RfEuGMJABtCYOl6Jr_wX9Va-hDUrjSCEyLshjd-3oXZmD-cfDF2aKcObLhGFL5NXUjevHAKsxlLzqcnSp_WKc5udRKAUqHq74DcBvioInNKZI92wdEXAZQ70r4g/s1600/169336_3832276359596_108312627_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVn5PIa-JSTryND14RfEuGMJABtCYOl6Jr_wX9Va-hDUrjSCEyLshjd-3oXZmD-cfDF2aKcObLhGFL5NXUjevHAKsxlLzqcnSp_WKc5udRKAUqHq74DcBvioInNKZI92wdEXAZQ70r4g/s640/169336_3832276359596_108312627_o.jpg" width="640" /></a>
<li></li>
<li>I dyed my hair last night. It is currently "cheetah chic" owing to the sploches of brown that didn't bleach out evenly. We'll Take 2 tonight to fix it and also attempt to white out some of the brass. We're going for something more like (also tempted to cut it off and style like this on a daily basis):</li>
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Anyone read any good books lately?</div>
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</div>@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026875140927556680.post-70302161421072402612012-05-09T02:02:00.003-06:002012-05-09T02:02:20.515-06:00how do i do this?Guys.<br />
<br />
What has happened to the blogger layout since I last posted?<br />
<br />
Apparently I don't blog frequently enough.<br />
<br />
I mean, this is really freaking me out. It kind of reminds me of the old old blogger days, back in 7th grade when Aaron F invited me and a handful of friends to "blogger" and I had <i>no idea what it was</i>.<br />
<br />
That's how I'm feeling right now with this layout. It's all scary and sleek. How do I do this?<br />
<br />
I find myself asking that question kind of a lot lately. <i>How do I do this?</i> The skill set required at my job is coming back pretty quickly, though I'm feeling inefficient and somewhat ineffective. I want to fix things. I want it all to run easily and well. <i>How?</i><br />
<br />
I'm in rehearsals at night. I'm not a stranger to rehearsals, but I haven't legitimately tap danced in a while, for example. <i>How</i> do I move my feet to make those sounds? <i>How</i> do I move my body twelve different ways and directions all at once? <i>How</i> do I get past my silliness and insecurities? It feels like it should all be second nature, and yet it doesn't seem second nature somehow.<br />
<br />
I used to blog a lot. I used to write essays a lot, and then I would post them on my blog. In a large sense, I'm not even sure I feel like I know <i>how</i> to write essays anymore-- or even dopey little blog posts. Have you seen this blog lately? What a dreadful pity. <i>How</i> do I begin? <i>How </i>do I know what to write about? I used to write all the time about school and life and <a href="http://emdab.blogspot.com/2010/05/eat-it-juliejulia.html">making soup</a>. <i>How do I do this??</i><br />
<br />
It seems very trite but the things I feel like I confidently know <i>how</i> to do are basically limited to watching TV (movies annoy me lately-- <i>how</i> do I watch a movie without feeling annoyed by it? I'm watching <i>Chocolat</i> right now this moment ((well, really it's playing in the background, I'm not really watching)) and even though I'd call it a Top 5-er and I'm obsessed with Juliette Binoche and I need those red shoes amirite ladies? Ugh. Movies. Annoying.), online window-shopping, and being obsessed with my cats.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i><b>Let me stop you right there and clarify</b>: </i>I didn't say that I know how to be obsessed with cats generally. I specifically know how to be obsessed with my own cats three (well, 2.5 really, since Jenna is very small and is only half the size of a normal cat). <br />
<br />
But they really are the most hilarious and charming creatures. And they make me so happy. So is it really wrong? Is it wrong to love them so much? I ask you. Especially because I never have to ask myself <i>how</i> to love them. I just do. They don't get bogged down with anxiety or pressure to be the best or favorite cat because they're all the best one and they're all the favorite. They don't ever have to look at that hair elastic on the floor (Trevor's favorite toy) or consider their bowl of food and ask themselves, <i>How do I do this? </i><br />
<br />
I feel like it would be great to never have to ask myself, <i>How do I do this?</i><br />
<br />
I'm not saying I'm jealous of a few neurotic cats, you guys. I'm just saying it must be nice not to get inside your own head so much.<br />
<br />
I guess I just need to start practicing again, give myself credit where it's due, and stop comparing myself to everyone else (which is a separate topic altogether).<br />
<br />
And there is nothing wrong with the things I confidently know how to do. Mostly.<br />
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<br />@emllewellynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315498526572842896noreply@blogger.com2