I'm Tired of Marvin Asking Me What's Going On

My grandparents recently sent me an email (WITH AN EMOJI!!!) telling me they've been hoping for a blog update soon. It was the final motivation I needed to dash one off really quickly. Things have been busy in the House of Chapman. Here's what's going on.

Getting a job! 
I work 20 hours a week as a receptionist for a graphic design company called Royter Snow! I applied on Monday morning, interviewed Tuesday morning, and started work on Wednesday morning. It's really fun! My organizational heart is happy with the tasks I do, and I have plenty of down-time where I'm allowed to work on homework. The guys who run the business are friendly and laid-back, and the building is awesome. (When I mentioned my acting work during my interview, the business owners said I'm welcome to take off for an interview or day of filming if that ever comes up. PERFECT JOB.)
(Incidentally, if you're looking for an office space in Salt Lake City, Royter Snow has two suites available for rent. Only $420 per month. Check out the KSL ad here.) 
And working with designers means my office space is pretty. Here is a picture of the view from the break room.

Cabaret!
OMG WE OPEN ON FRIDAY. I feel super good about the show, and a little nervous about layering ALL the tech in over just four days. But it's happening whether I'm nervous or not. We did a "sitzprobe" with our small orchestra today and I grinned my way through most of "Wilkommen." It sounds SO GOOD. So full and lively and gritty and awesome! If you'd like to see me in vintage tap pants, you can get tickets here. Aaaaaand you'll get two for one*--Jacob is also in it! Surprise! A cast member had to drop out, and the production team was desperate to find someone to replace him, and I put Jacob's name/face forward, and now he's Ernst Ludwig. And he's spectacular. Obviously. Everyone is. Here is a picture of Anne-Louise Brings, who plays Sally Bowles, in rehearsal with the orchestra at a local studio.

Liz gets an MFA!
Still plugging away at my Masters. There are days when I feel so certain that it's the right thing to do, and other days when I question my decision. But deep down, I know that this degree will open doors for me that were previously closed, both because of the degree itself, and because of the writing skills I'm learning. This semester I'm taking two classes: The Craft of Fiction, and "The Rock Stars and the Poets." The last class is as fun and interesting as it sounds. Here is a picture of my homework for this week.

Acting! 
I've had a bit of a dry spell when it comes to casting, and for a while there, it was really rough. As much as I intellectually KNOW that rejection is a big part of this industry, it can still get to you. During July, I had 8 auditions and didn't get cast at all. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but that's twice a week. When you're getting a "no" twice a week, it starts to feel like it must be something personal or something. It threw me into a little funk for a minute, there, and I'm still sort of re-arranging my psyche to help me better deal with rejection in the future. In the meantime, I keep auditioning! The dry spell can't last forever. I do not have a picture to accompany this item on the list.

The Internet! 
I love the internet. So to conclude, here is a favorite thing from the internet lately. In response to a prompt to name the creatures on this old-timey map, someone came up with these species names:

D - Pigdoggle
E - Snuffcumberworm
F - Schnozpoddler
G - Seahorse
H - Piggly Frontwave

(Snuffcumberworm and Schnozpoddler are my favorites.)

*Beedle-dee-dee-dee-DEE.
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All My Salt Lake City Acting Advice in One Big Post

These were originally published as 3 separate entries. But I've shortened and compiled them here, with updated information.

DISCLAIMER: My info is limited to my own experience. There are plenty of other actors out there who will have different advice and different insights. I am not any kind of resident expert--just sharing what I know. So ask around--lots of other folks ARE resident experts.

1. Get good headshots.
This is so so so important. Like, this is what will get you in the door, and help people remember you. Here's what a headshot should be: It should focus on your face, and specifically on your eyes. Choose colors that flatter your skin and hair color, and stay away from black, white, and busy patterns. You should have two main headshots: one "commercial" (smiling, friendly) and one "theatrical" (serious "acting" headshot). If you plan on modeling or submitting for lots of extra work, you can also spend a little extra and get a few "full-body" shots.

2. Remember that there are LOTS of factors that go into casting.
Talent is a part of it, but it's only one small part. Other factors include look, type, voice, availability, compatibility, how much they'd have to pay you, pure instinct, what phase of the moon it is, the will of reptilian overlords, etc. It's impossible to know why casting decisions are made. And remember that success is a numbers game, as much as anything else. For every "yes," there will be at least ten "no's." So just keep auditioning. Sometimes it's pure statistics...the more you audition, the more likely it is that you'll be cast. Keep getting yourself out there, even if it feels like nothing is happening. (And when nothing is, remember the parable of "F you, Matt Damon.") So just give it the best you've got, and don't get too discouraged when you don't get something.

3. Actually, expect to be discouraged.
Sometimes. Not all the time. But discouragement is almost inevitable. So is poverty. Especially when you start out. I think a lot of people start out by thinking that they won't experience discouragement and poverty like every other actor, but you probably will. That's okay. Join the ranks.

4. Keep an audition diary.
It can be as detailed or as simple as you'd like it to be. This serves a couple of purposes. One, it will help you keep track of who you've auditioned for before, and if you've done any followup. Two, it will give you a chance to record thoughts and/or things you've learned. Finally, it actually offers a bit of encouragement to see what you've gotten, compared to what you haven't gotten.

5. Take a class.
Acting is a muscle, and if you're not working for a little while, taking a class is a great way to help you improve your work. It can also give you "networking" opportunities, and help you build your audition repertoire. Sometimes another pair of eyes can see something about your work that you're not seeing, and can give you additional advice. (I highly recommend Ben Hopkin's class "The Three C's of Acting.")

6. ASK for help, guidance, and advice.
When we first made a plan to move to Utah, I sent messages out to everyone I knew who worked in acting in this area. I asked them every question I could think of, and their advice and guidance made my own career here possible. Sometimes we're afraid to ask for help, because we think it will make us look weak, or we're afraid to bother someone. But the reality is that people often respect those who ask for help, and they're often happy to provide their thoughts. It has always been 100% worth it to reach out to others in the field.

7. Remember that your body is your most important tool.
Treat it well. Learn to eat well, sleep well, exercise well.

8. Don't ever forget your CRAFT.
This is the most most most important thing. This is my deepest belief about acting as a career. In the midst of all of these businesslike tasks--"networking," getting headshots, taking classes, updating your resume, tracking your expenses--don't ever lose sight of your work AS AN ACTOR. Don't get into this for the fame or money. Get into this for the art. Take every opportunity to continue to improve and learn and grow. Challenge yourself. Connect with and listen to your fellow actors, on and offstage/screen. Your work as an actor must be about the human experience. If you don't know why you're doing this, that's okay. But try to find out. Think about and create your own philosophy of acting. Learn about techniques and systems, and find tools that work for you. Continually build your tool-box as an actor. Don't forget why you're doing this. Being good-looking, having a good resume, knowing the right people--none of it matters as much as your CRAFT.

9. Get to know others in the industry
I hate the word "networking." It makes me think of schmoozing people at parties, which is exactly the kind of thing I hate. Don't befriend people because you think they'll be helpful in your career. Think of "networking" as sharing what you love with other people who have the same passions. Think not only about how someone can help you create meaningful art, but how you can help them, and what ways you can create awesome things together.

10. Make decisions about your standards
Are you willing to swear onstage? Portray violence? Sexuality? Are you willing to take off some of your clothes? I'm not here to tell you what to be comfortable with. But be thoughtful about what kinds of stories you want to tell, and what you think needs to be done to tell those stories, and how willing you are to do those things. (For some of my personal thoughts on this, check out this past blog entry about Cabaret.)

1. Get with a good agency.
This is the best way to get great auditions. Most major films and television shows DON'T have open auditions--they just don't have time to weed through everyone. So they'll contact the local agencies and run auditions through them.
BEWARE ANY AGENCY THAT ASKS FOR MONEY UP FRONT. Reputable agencies in this area will take a fee from your paycheck anytime they get you work, but they won't require certain classes or headshot sessions or initiation fees. They may recommend or ask that your headshots are of a certain quality, but a professional agency will not force you to use THEIR photographers. Reputable Utah Agencies: McCarty, Talent Management Group (TMG), Elevate, Stars.
To submit to agencies, keep an eye on their websites and look for an open call. You can also stop by with your headshot and resume, but you’ll probably either need an impressive resume, or a strong recommendation from someone inside the agency.

2. Build your IMDB credits.
This is becoming more and more of an important "resume." It's easily accessible to everyone in the industry (they don't have to know your personal website URL to get info about you). You can put your demo reel and your agency contact info on your page. And you can't fake any credits on IMDB. In order to gain control of your IMDB page, you've got to create an IMDB Pro account, which runs $150 per year, or $20 per month. Your IMDB page will be created automatically if you get cast in something that the film creator puts on IMDB, or you can create your own page and add your own credits. You have to submit your acting credits, and they have to be approved.
NOTE: DON'T LIST BACKGROUND/EXTRA WORK ON YOUR IMDB.

3. Create a demo reel
This can be tough if you haven't done much film. BUT, you can use what you have to your advantage. Don't have anything? Then create your own stuff! Find a few scenes or monologues, and film them. There are a handful of folks in the SLC/Provo area who will help you create a demo reel for a small fee, or you can do it yourself on iMovie or a similar program. Just make it look as professional as possible--this is a casting director's big chance to see your work!

4. Do background work!
This is the very very very very best way to learn about film and television if you’re a complete noob. Don’t do this to be discovered. Do this to learn the ropes. It is EXTREMELY RARE for anyone to be "discovered" by doing extra work. I can almost 100% guarantee that it will not happen. But what will happen is that you’ll get to meet and work with awesome industry professionals, and you’ll learn all the jargon of being on set and how everything works.
You can find out about extras calls here:
G&G Casting
Yun Casting
Utah Actor’s NING
Utah Filmmakers and Actors Facebook group

1. Build your audition repertoire. 
Buy a binder and fill it with sheet music of songs you know, and make 16-32 bar cuttings of them. Bring it to auditions, along with copies of your headshot and resume. Have a handful of monologues memorized or handy (30 seconds - 1 minute, both comedic and dramatic.) Practice often. Build variety. Know your strengths and play to them.

2. Get audition coaching.
Starting with my "Oklahoma" audition, I've been going to Audition Advantage in North Salt Lake, and IT'S SO AWESOME. Erin, Jeanne, and Anne are all amazing. They can help you find a song, give you info about the production team and what they'll be looking for, coach you on the acting and singing, help you cut your music, help you pick an outfit, RECORD A REHEARSAL TRACK. I love it. No matter how good you are, it's always helpful to have fresh eyes. When I went there with my audition song for "Oklahoma," I was thinking I don't know what else these ladies can do for me. But Erin helped me break down the song and fill in the gaps, and I don't think I would have been called back without her guidance. It runs about $60/hour, but they'll also pro-rate that if you take less time.

There are lots more companies, but here are the ones that I've worked with, seen shows at, or heard great things about. (If you have strong feelings about the content of plays you're interested in performing in, I'd encourage you to research the shows themselves. Note that generally, Hale Orem and Hale West Valley will always produce "family-friendly shows.")

Instead of taking up a bunch of real estate on this page with lists and links, I created this Google Spreadsheet.

1. How do you format your resume?
Simply. You can see how I've done mine here. Print out a dozen copies, 8x10, and put them in your audition binder, so you don't have to worry about it on your next audition.

2. Should you join Equity (Actor’s Equity Association, Theatre Union) or SAG (Screen Actor’s Guild, film/television union)?
That's up to you. There are pros and cons, and it takes some research, but for most people, the answer is "no." The theatres in Salt Lake are limited in how many Equity contracts they can offer, and if you’re Equity, you HAVE to work under an Equity contract. You don’t have to be a member of SAG to do a SAG project in Utah. Joining a union always includes this dichotomy: You'll get less work, but it will probably be better paid work. I’d say become eligible, so you can put that on your resume and show you’re legit, but wait to actually join.

3. How do you find out about auditions?
Most theaters will post their audition info online. Film and television projects will usually just cast through agencies, but sometimes independent projects will send out casting calls on the Utah Filmmakers and Actor’s Facebook page.

Under construction

Sorry if things are a little messy around here for a few days...I'm re-vamping the ole blog, but I don't quite have time to do it all at once. Love you guys.

Don't be a snob.

I downloaded Pokemon Go this weekend. Jacob and I spent part of our 6-year-anniversary wandering around a park in Sugarhouse, catching pokemon and collecting poke balls and incubating eggs and trading duplicate Pokemon to Professor Willow for candy. I was never into Pokemon as a kid, so this hasn't been the same "childhood dream come true" for me that it has been for some people. But it's still been awesome.

But I've seen some folks on the internet who feel it's their duty to spread things like this:

Or who keep perpetuating blatantly false stories about how Pokemon Go caused a major traffic accident. Or who take to Twitter to announce their disdain for the game.
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To which I say:

You guys.YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE INTO POKEMON GO. But that doesn't make you superior to other people. It doesn't mean you're better than other people. It means you're DIFFERENT from other people. It means you have different tastes and interests. OTHER PEOPLE PLAYING POKEMON GO DOESN'T MAKE YOUR LIFE WORSE.

In fact, the phenomenon is making life better for a lot of people. It's helping people overcome social anxiety and depression. It's allowing people to connect with one another. It's helping people explore their worlds. It's creating bonding opportunities for friends and family members. In a huge way, it's reminding people that we're all part of this big, huge, human family. I can go to a public park, and complete strangers can call out, "Are you a Pokemon trainer?" and we can all sit in the grass together doing this silly thing that connects us as people.

And if ever we needed something that connected us, it's now. It's been a rough year or so. (Decade?) Trump continues to gain popularity despite the fact that he has repeatedly done and said things that are blatantly racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, and anti-Semitic. ISIS continues to destroy lives and monuments. Black men continue to be killed by police officers. Our LGBTQ brothers and sisters are still not safe. So if there's something as harmless as a game that effectively brings huge amounts of people together, despite race, class, gender, political party, religion, or sexual orientation? Let's grab that and run with it.

Or at the very least, let other people grab it and run with it, even if you're not interested.

"In a pair of lacy pants": A Defense of Being the Mormon Cast Member in Cabaret

If you follow me on other forms of social media, you may have noticed that I'm in rehearsals for Cabaret with Utah Repertory Theatre. I'm in the ensemble, playing one of the Kit Kat Klub girls, who works in the nightclub in "a pair of lacy pants." (Incidentally, this is the one show I've done in the past several years that my dad and stepmom are able to come see. The one where I'm dancing in my underwear. I gave my dad fair warning, and he replied that he's not prudish, and truth be told, he knew me as a toddler, and has seen me dance in less than my underwear. Fair enough.)

You may be thinking, "But Liz! 'Cabaret' all sex and stuff! You're a True Believing Mormon! What are you doing dancing in your underwear?!"

I'm dancing in my underwear because I believe in the story that Cabaret tells, and I think it's important.

Here's my philosophy; the six main ideas behind my decision to do Cabaret.

POINT #1: THEATRE CAN TEACH AND INSPIRE AND MAKE US BETTER HUMANS

Brigham Young once said, "Upon the stage of a theater can be represented in character, evil and its consequences, good and its happy results and rewards; the weakness and the follies of man, the magnanimity of virtue and the greatness of truth. The stage can be made to aid the pulpit in impressing upon the minds of a community an enlightened sense of a virtuous life, also a proper horror of the enormity of sin and a just dread of its consequences. The path of sin with its thorns and pitfalls, its gins and snares can be revealed, and how to shun it."

And I agree. But I don't think that limits valuable theatre to ONLY "The Testaments" and the Nauvoo Pageant. Mormons don't have a monopoly on truth and virtue. We can learn important lessons about how to be smart and kind humans from so many sources, including shows like Cabaret.

POINT #2: NO DARKNESS --> NO CONFLICT --> NO DRAMA --> BAD THEATRE

Therefore, actors are needed to play the parts that aren't always saintly. If the Bible was made into a stage play, SOMEONE would have to play Jezebel. You simply can't have good storytelling without including people making bad choices.

(And to be honest, I don't even know if my character's choices to work in a nightclub are all bad. I haven't decided yet.)

Sometimes there are just characters making choices, and you as the audience can evaluate if they're good or bad, or why they made them, or how you can live your life differently because of their example.

POINT #3: IT'S PRETEND

I just finished a play wherein I set things on fire with the intention of killing people. The play before that, I kissed two men who were NOT my husband. Those are both bad things in real life. Significantly worse things than dancing in my underwear, if we're being honest. But it's not REAL. I can't bring myself to believe I'll be held accountable for things I'm doing in character. There are a handful of things I don't think I will ever do onstage or on camera, but the majority of them have to do with whether or not I feel the work is valuable.

POINT #4: I BELIEVE IN THOUGHTFUL STANDARDS THAT NOT EVERYONE HAS TO SHARE

If you're uncomfortable with shows like Cabaret, I think that's okay. You have a right to abstain from the things that don't feed your soul. You also have a right to do so free from judgement. But that judgement needs to go both ways. Others have a right to participate in things you feel uncomfortable with. I, personally, don't feel uncomfortable with the content of Cabaret. I've thought and studied and yes, even prayed, about this decision for myself. I won't be offended if you don't agree with the content of the show, or feel uncomfortable, or don't want to see it. (I'm a little offended by the idea that you might think I'm a heathen for participating, because I feel it doesn't give me due credit, but that's my own issue.)

POINT #5: I ALWAYS WANT TO GROW AS A PERFORMER

I haven't played a dance-heavy role since...2006? After several injuries in my early twenties, I shifted my focus away from dance and more towards acting and singing. I still enjoy dance, and I'm fairly decent at it. But this show will push me to re-awaken and strengthen skills that have laid semi-dormant for a decade. Skills that I know will make me a better performer. And it gives me an opportunity to explore and shape a character unlike any I've played before. I want my acting jobs to push me into new territory, to force me outside of my comfort zone just enough to help me grow.

POINT #6: RELEVANT ART SHOULD BE DONE

When we had our first meeting as a cast this week, the director and several cast members talked about the deep need they (we) feel for this show right now. Because here's what Cabaret is actually about:
- It's about the dangers of nationalism, when it runs unchecked.
- It's about what happens when a leader shows up and promises to fix the problems of a lot of people who are underemployed, disenfranchised, and angry.
- It's about blaming an entire group of people for the problems of society.
- It's about a time and place in history when LGBT rights were being fought for, and sexuality and gender was being researched and honored, and the LGBT community was given a safe haven from bigotry, before a World War sent the entire movement underground again.
- It's about joining the crowd without trusting your own heart and conscience first.

Those are lessons we need now and always. As the granddaughter of German immigrants, as an LGBT ally, as a citizen of the United States, and yes, as a Latter-day Saint, I feel a duty to share these lessons. It really is okay if you feel uncomfortable about the context in which these lessons are shared. But for me, I'm grateful for the opportunity.

Thwarted Plans

Here's why yesterday was a bummer.

The first part of the day was just one of those dumb days when little things just keep going wrong. The store doesn't have the one thing you're looking for, you can't load the podcast you want to listen to, and you hit every single possible red light. One of those days.

But then, that night, I finally got around to opening my financial aid letter.

Wait. Lemme back up.

So, I'm getting my MFA in Writing right now, through an online program. I started in January, and made this plan: Take 9 credits per term in order to graduate by summer 2017. During this time, I work a few times a month for the U of U as a simulation patient, and pursue acting, all while working on my degree for a few hours per day. I'm eligible for enough financial aid to cover the cost of tuition and have a little left over to supplement my income, so that I can focus on acting and school.

Great plan, right?

So, I got my financial aid letter for the next school year, and apparently I am eligible for $12,000 LESS than what I was expecting. Starting in July.

Plan THWARTED. All kinds of thwarted.

Suddenly, I found myself in this terrible conundrum. Here were my options:

1. Keep taking 9 credits per semester, but get an additional job to make enough money to pay the bills. This would necessitate giving up acting for the year, because I don't have enough time to work as an actor, take 9 credits, AND work an additional hourly job.

2. Drop out of school altogether, get an additional job, and continue acting work.

3. Reduce my credit load to 6 credits per semester, meaning I'll graduate LATER, but which gives me enough financial aid to continue my current plan of working as an actor and my several other jobs.

After freaking out for about half an hour, I finally chose Option #3. My acting career is really important to me, and I didn't want to give it up. I also didn't want to drop out of school. I'm disappointed about taking longer to finish my degree, but ultimately, it's the option that allows me to pursue both my current goals and my future goals. It's the one that makes the most sense. But it's still a bummer. Because time. And because money.

It means that my budget is a little tighter than I had planned, so I REALLY need to get more paid acting work if I want to do anything except pay rent and utilities. Things like the orthodontist and new character shoes just have to stay on the wish list until and unless I get a paid gig.

Luckily, there are lots of those to be found around here.

(But, Liz? Doesn't Jacob have a job? He can support you both, can't he? Yes. He does have a job, and he could, theoretically, support us. But a few years ago, we decided to split our finances. Our shared monthly bills are split evenly, and anything else we do with our own earned money is up to us. This is the best solution for our marriage. I don't claim to believe that it's best for everyone, but it's DEFINITELY best for us. We do help each other out in emergencies. But I'd really like to hold up my end of the deal and pay for my share of things. Someday, our circumstances may change, and we may shift the way we do things. But for now, this is how it works, and I want to do my part.)

The final chapter to this mini-drama is a happy one, though. I posted that above-pictured Facebook status in the wee small hours of the morning last night (time makes sense?), feeling a little lost and trying to embrace my vulnerability. And I woke up this morning to this ENORMOUS outpouring of love and support, far more than I was asking or hoping for. I had private messages and memes galore to lift my heart, and lifted it was. I was humbled by the kindness that so many showed me. I feel incredibly blessed to be surrounded by so many large-hearted people. It makes disappointments far easier to bear. Thank you.

So here's to a longer MFA career with less money, with loving friends and family by my side! Onward.

Walmart stake out

I had a homework assignment last week to go to a public place and write what I was observing all around me in an unusual form. Inspired by my beloved X-Files, I did a stake out.

Note--At 9:38 pm, I was approached by a police officer and asked to move out of the handicapped parking spot. My explanation that I was doing a homework assignment did not impress him.

Observation Log
Saturday night, June 4, 2016
Orem, Utah Walmart
Stakeout location: a handicapped parking spot just north of the market entrance (where I am illegally parked).

9:03 pm
I am Dana Scully, sitting on watch duty, badge hidden, red hair framing my face. I’m looking for stories. I’m an emotional voyeur, watching the faces of the people walking in and out of the Walmart, waiting to see if their faces will tell their secrets. Trying to remain somewhat inconspicuous, laptop notwithstanding. Carts roll with a metallic rumble across the pavement, the white noise of the I-15 in the deep background. In the summery dusk, potted flowers wilt in front of the store entrance. It’s warm, in the upper 70s. My allergy pill is wearing off.

9:06 pm
Older couple. 50s or 60s. Both wearing striped shirts. His is white, hers is pink. A silver car rolls by, windows down, classical pop piano blaring. A guy in his twenties walks past my cracked window; he’s too thin, angular jaw and long brown hair. He’s got a goatee and he’s talking with concern to someone on a cell phone, one hand in his pocket.

9:09 pm
Students from Utah Valley University push each other around in one of the carts—the kind that has the plastic seats for kids. They’re laughing hysterically, and in my 30-year-old wisdom, I think fondly of the days when I could be obnoxious in public without feeling obnoxious. Sirens suddenly ring out from Sandhill Road behind me. A fire truck and two ambulances. Their alarms change in pitch as they get closer, closer, then farther, farther.

9:11 pm
Inside the lobby, vending machines stand side by side with two redbox kiosks and a “treasure shoppe,” one of those rigged arcade games where you use the claw to try and get a stuffed animal. Two kids—I imagine them siblings—stand side by side to try their luck. I wait to see if they’ll win, but of course they don’t. Growing up, I always begged for quarters whenever I saw one, and my parents never let me try. My mom finally gave in at a Denny’s when I was 11 or so, and with one swift, smooth movement, I gripped a white puppy and let it fall into the slot. My mom was astonished, but I don’t know why. I always knew I could do it.

9:14 pm
This is the second person I’ve seen walk out of the Walmart with a limp. I feel like an a**hole for taking a handicapped parking spot.

9:15 pm
Two boys in their late teens stand next to the potted plants. They chat, with false shows of bravado. One’s got mismatching socks. They take turns pulling out their phones and scrolling through. Displays of masculinity so absurd, they’ll crack into a thousand pieces if you bump up against them too hard.

9:17 pm
I hear a wolf whistle…once…twice. It’s not aimed at me, but I’m enraged by it anyway. I could give whoever whistled the benefit of the doubt (maybe they’re just signaling a friend), but these teenage boys by the potted plants have got me all caught up in toxic gender constructs.

9:19 pm
A flashing yellow light signals a line of carts being returned by machine to the overhang. I wish they’d had that machine when I worked at Walmart, walking through the parking lot with an itchy yellow vest, Idaho sun high above me. Age 19, working full-time with two other roommates. We’d get snowcones on our way home every day, then sit in the warm living room, discussing episodes of House.

9:21 pm
Spotted! Returned Mormon missionary! Modest khaki shorts, navy blue t-shirt with a compass on it, the words “Arise” written across it. Hair tidy and militarily short. Glasses. He’s carrying two bags, and I feel certain that if the doors weren’t automatic, he’d hold them open for you.

9:23 pm
In the few minutes I’ve looked down to type, I missed it—the moment that shifts between dusk and twilight. I wait to catch it every summer evening, but it always happens in the moment I blink, or look at my book, or get distracted.

9:24 pm
Orem, Utah is mostly white. Lower middle-class and blue-collar folks frequent the Walmart the most. People speak in that regional accent peculiar to the Rocky Mountains. (“Mou-ins.”) I hear an occasional phrase in Spanish, a sentence or two in Arabic that makes me glance up. Two brothers, each pushing a shopping cart, in what sounds to me like heated debate, but it could be the media informing my interpretations.

9:27 pm
A middle-aged woman in her Sunday best strolls by, holding an unopened game of Monopoly. I begin to make up a story about her. Her college-aged children are in town, and she ran out at the last minute to pick up a game to play, to keep everyone awake and together at the kitchen table. Or maybe she’s teaching Sunday School tomorrow, and she’ll use the fake money as an object lesson. Or maybe she’s found some craft on Pinterest, and she’ll spray paint each of the pieces and glue them to a frame.

9:37 pm
My allergies are getting the better of me. I’ll wander into the store myself now, make my way to the pharmacy. One package of Allegra D. One of the white, lower-class Mormons in Orem, Utah.

The Finish Line

I just sprinted through 3 days worth of work and homework and to-do list items in one day.

Late last night, I suddenly realized that my schedule was alarmingly full for Friday and Saturday, and wouldn't really give me much time to do all the things I needed to do. So I had two options: don't do any of it, or do it all today. I chose the latter.

I've been "on the go" since about 8:30 this morning. It's nearing midnight. Logically, I know I should go to bed like, RIGHT NOW, but I needed to take a moment and detox. Then I can take all the survival stress of today, fold it up, put it away, and leave it until it's absolutely necessary. (Or dismiss it entirely, really.) For me, stress is sort of residual...unless I consciously tell myself "It's all taken care of," I'll have this sort of background hum of stress for the next few days/weeks/months after a mini-crisis like today's.

But dammit if I didn't write a short screenplay, critique five flash nonfiction essays, respond to two poetry critiques, clean the house, buy groceries, take care of my nephew, do laundry, work 3 hours, write four notes to friends, plan a Sunday school lesson, make rice krispy treats, pick up a prescription refill, and balance my budget. TODAY.

I'm exhausted.

But now it means that I can give my full attention to working at the U of U tomorrow and doing a performance of Jane Eyre, and then doing TWO performances of Jane Eyre on Saturday, followed by an sibling-in-law family reunion.

Listen, I'm not sharing this because I recommend it as a lifestyle. It was kind of awful. Every time I got near my bed, it was like being sucked into a vortex...I just wanted to lay down and just...lay down. I'm sharing it because I have a compulsive need to write about my experiences, and to assure you that if you are feeling overwhelmed, you most likely CAN do all those things on your list.

I mean, it's probably fine if you don't, too. I've taken that path plenty of times. The world hasn't stopped turning every time I don't get things done.

Anyway. If you feel like validating me for accomplishing hella things today, that's cool. I'm going to bed, though, so I probably won't read it for a while.

photo via Seattle Municipal Archives, "Footrace 1925" 

The Island King

Dug this out of the drafts today. This is an old entry from like, November, inspired by the story I told a friend when he laid down on the couch before rehearsal and said, "Tell me a story!" Also inspired by my mother, who has made up short, enchanting stories like this one since my childhood, and continues to do so to this day, occasionally posting them on her blog. 

Once upon a time, there was a young boy. He lived all alone on a desert island. One day, as he was walking along the perimeter of his home, he thought to himself, "If I am the only one here, I must be the ruler." He stopped and said out loud, "Why, I'm the king of this island!"

And no sooner had the words left his lips than an enormous crowd of people appeared. They came out of the jungle, they stepped up from behind him in the sand, they crawled out of the ocean. One among them stepped forward, bowed before the boy, and said, "We have been waiting the arrival of a king."

The boy was surprised, but took this all in stride. Just to be polite, he bowed in return.

"Thank you," he said.

The man who had spoken looked up at the boy. "We have been waiting for a ruler who can slay the creature who has us at our mercy." They explained that their island floated on the back of a giant sea monster, who would occasionally eat a wandering islander, but they couldn't figure out how to destroy it without also destroying themselves.

Well, the young king had never been asked to do something like this before, so he was a little unsure how to proceed. He gathered all the island's scientists to form a plan. (They were just sort of "freelance scientists," as the island didn't have any universities.)

Finally, they came up with an idea. It was a little risky, but it involved killing the monster and then attempting to re-inflate it using primitive bellows. They all gathered the necessary supplies and on a certain day, they gathered to enact their plan. They were just about to thrust their spears into the creature's side when suddenly they heard its voice rise up from the sea!

"Oh, do not slay me! I only wish to be loved! I do not mean to eat your people. I mistake them for seals and other sea creatures! I'm sorry for the sorrow I've caused you."

The islanders and the king stood back in amazement. Finally, the boy king spoke. "Creature, if we wear bright colors when we swim, so that you do not mistake us for seals, can we live in harmony?"

"Yes! Yes!" the sea creature cried.

So the islanders all agreed to wear bright colors whenever they swam, and the sea creature lived in harmony with them, letting them float on his back, and joining his voice with their island festivities. And they all gathered their weapons of war, and build a mighty monument out of them, and there it remained on the beach for the rest of time, as a reminder of the day that the young king brought peace to the the island.

Fortunately/unfortunately

There's this improv game called "Fortunately/Unfortunately." It makes a better workshop/drama class exercise than show game, but it goes something like this:

Actor 1: "The plane is ready to take off!" 
Actor 2: "Unfortunately, I'm not on it." 
Actor 1: "Fortunately, I'm friends with the pilot, and I told her I'm on my way." 
Actor 2: "Unfortunately, I've just been detained by TSA." 

Etc. 

I'm styling today's blog entry after this format. Here goes. 

I saw "Peter and the Starcatcher" at the Hale tonight and it was magical.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to see a handful of friends after the show, because "Captain America: Civil War" came out tonight.

Fortunately, I do have a best friend in Jacob, and I get to see him all the time.

Unfortunately, some of that time is occasionally spent in asking him to do nice things for me, because I suddenly realize, with literal sickness, that all I've eaten over the past 6 hours is a donut and my blood sugar is like, a really big problem.

Fortunately, Jacob does nice things for me, like buys me grapes and bread and things that are easy to digest and that will raise my blood sugar so that I don't feel on the edge of death, and will let me eat them while laying in the back of our van in a grocery store parking lot, because that's how classy we are.

Unfortunately, my digestive system is wrecked a little, from today's roller coaster of nutrition/lack thereof, from anxiety, from poor habits.

Fortunately, I've got Pepto-bismol.

Unfortunately, Pepto-bismol doesn't help much with anxiety. And anxiety is a b***h. When will I get paid? What if no one likes the essay I submitted for workshop? How did Trump become the Republican nominee? Is that lint or a spider? Is the zombie apocalypse starting? Am I actually not a very good actress? WHAT IF NO ONE REALLY LOVES ME?!

Fortunately, 99% of the things human beings are anxious about rarely come true. I've got enough money, it doesn't ultimately matter if no one likes my essay, it's just lint, zombies aren't a real thing, I'm a decent actress at the very least, and I'm fairly confident that at least a handful of people love me.

Unfortunately, Trump is still the Republican nominee, though. Still anxious over that.

Fortunately, I can...

...hold on, I'm still a little anxious about Trump.

Okay.

Fortunately, at this point in my life, regardless of the presidential primary results, I get to do what I love on a DAILY basis. Every single day. I get to do what I love, whether it's writing or learning or acting. Yesterday, I had such a perfectly lovely day. I shot a commercial for RC Willey, and there's something about being on a set that I just adore. I'd been craving it lately, and yesterday, I got to satiate that craving. While in front of the camera, I got to improv and act and make people laugh. In between takes, I made new friends, had some great conversations, ate wonderful food, and for a solid hour, sat on a cool, breezy porch on a sunny spring day, reading a book and thinking. I'm learning more and more about writing, turning corners and reaching goals. I get to spend every other evening performing onstage (and recently got a favorable review in the Deseret News--hey!) with other capable and talented people. Jacob and I are moving towards our mountains.

Life is good.

Forward. Stop. Reverse. Forward, forward, forward.

Yesterday was like an emotional game of Simon Says. "Simon Says make long-term plans!" "Change your long-term plans!" "Wait, Simon didn't say!"

Here's where yesterday started:

In the front seat of my van, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for the 35-minute commute to my new job. In order to communicate the insanity of yesterday, I should also mention what's not pictured: me going on roughly 3 hours of sleep, attempting to deal with debilitating allergies/a possible sinus infection, and some residual back pain from a displaced rib.

But I was choosing to be positive.

Yesterday was my first day as a Special Ed Paraeducator at Dan Peterson School in American Fork. I accepted the job about a week ago--I subbed for several weeks before being offered a position as a classroom aide. The day went fairly smoothly--I filled out paperwork and spent the day in a class where I had subbed before, feeding, changing, repositioning, and working with secondary and post-secondary students.

Then in the afternoon, I got online to start my MFA homework. And learned that I was actually able to take an additional class, which would allow me to graduate an entire semester earlier than I had planned. And that I had enough financial aid to live off AND take that extra class.

I had known about the financial aid, but not about the class. And the class was the straw that broke the camel's back--it clarified for me something I already knew in my gut, but was too afraid to admit.

It just didn't make sense for me to be working almost 30 hours a week at a job I didn't necessarily need, when I could be spending that time advancing my MFA. Especially when I was already spending 20-40 hours per week working on a show. Especially when I already had a job at University of Utah, which would force me to get a sub for two or three days per month if I was working at Dan Peterson. Keeping the job at Dan Peterson meant spreading myself so thin, trying to walk towards so many mountains at once. It made the most sense to quit the job at Dan Peterson.

But what a sh*tty thing to do--quit a job on the first day. And it was an awesome job. A beautiful job. I loved the kids. I still do. Those sweet students. Working at Dan Peterson felt, for all the world, like Alianza--a group of smart and caring people doing some amazing things in the world of education. I felt welcomed and at home, and it was so rewarding to do that work, even in the moments when it was difficult.

I spent an hour or two agonizing over my decision, thinking, talking with Jacob, praying. Quitting the job at Dan Peterson made the most sense, emotionally, financially, professionally, mentally, and spiritually. But I hated to put the school in such a terrible position--without an aide, AGAIN, for who knows how long until they could hire someone else. My ego was afraid of what everyone would think--that I was flaky or unprofessional or weak-spirited or selfish or any number of things. What would the principal think? The teachers? The other aides? And my heart didn't want to leave those students, or that place of belonging.

But I had to move toward that MFA mountain.

So I called the principal and left a message, apologizing and inarticulately tendering my resignation. She called me back shortly afterwards, expressing understanding but saying she was sorry to see me go. I originally thought about trying to stay for a few extra days this week, just to keep them from needing to find a sub, but my MFA classes began already. And it's tech week. If ever I needed the time to devote to school, it's this week. So that was it. My first day at work was also my last.

After that horrible phone call with the principal (horrible only because it was so difficult), I did my homework, tried to eat some dinner, then went to tech rehearsal for Jane Eyre, where I stayed until almost midnight. (And where I also gave an abbreviated explanation of my situation to several kind people who asked how my new job was going.) And then I drove home--listening to the BBC for the 45-minute commute and eating Reeses Pieces to stay awake.

Here's where yesterday ended:

In the dark, around 1 in the morning, barely awake, physically and emotionally exhausted, sitting in the front seat of my van, trying to muster the energy to get into the house and go to bed.

I stayed in bed for as long as I possibly could this morning.

Then I drove to Dan Peterson School again, this time to fill out resignation paperwork. The staff was kind and understanding, and said they would welcome me back when I was able to work again. I thanked them for everything, then left the office. Halfway down the hallway, I glanced over my shoulder at the classrooms where I would have been working. J's class, with her sweet students, where I subbed for weeks and felt so much love and belonging. T's and K's class, where I would have been spending my days, with those students who were smart and funny and rebellious. I took a step towards those rooms at the end of the hall, wanting with my whole heart to just say goodbye, to say thank you. But I couldn't quite bring myself to do it.

A small part of me was afraid of what the teachers and aides would think--I didn't want to face their possible judgement, both for leaving and for visiting their classrooms to say goodbye. But ultimately, I didn't do it because I knew that it's very likely that I will never see those students again. I have never been good at goodbyes. I hate them, because a goodbye is never as fulfilling as knowing you'll see someone all the time. I can never say enough, or say what I mean. And in the case of some of these students, they might not have heard or understood me anyway. And it would have been selfish of me, to interrupt their school day and their routine just to attempt to satisfy my need to...I don't know, have a grand gesture of closure.

It's possible that I'll work for Dan Peterson School again someday. But I don't know when, and I don't know which students will still be there. Some of them may move. Some may graduate. And the harsh truth is that some of them may die. Dan Peterson School is a place for students with both mental disabilities, and physical disabilities. Some of them are considered "medically fragile." Some of them have DNRs. The staff regularly deal with seizures and falls. So I knew that if and when I return to the school, it won't be to this same situation, to these same students.

So I walked out to my van and drove to the library to do my homework, crying the entire time.

I know, ultimately, that this was the right decision. Working at Dan Peterson School was the right thing at the wrong time. I would have been just as heartbroken to give up additional schooling. This was a difficult choice between two very good things. I'm sad to have to give up one of them.

But I'm also so blessed. I get to do other things that I love--I get to act, onstage, and even be paid for it. I get to write and study and read and learn. I get to choose my own schedule in some ways, as I pursue my degree. I've got an incredible husband--this amazing companion, this best friend that will listen to me cry and let me talk through things when I'm in crisis. I get to spend my evenings in a theatre, surrounded by brave and kind and talented people, telling stories. And I'm healthy and well-fed and I have a working car and clothes and enough cash to make ends meet. I clung to all of these truths with so much gratitude all day yesterday, and I'm filled with them today.

So here's to grad school, to theatre, and to everything else I'm lucky enough to have.