Two Things Good, One Thing Bad

Oh my goodness gracious, children, what a long long time it's been.

I will truly try to update more in the coming weeks.

Now, I have some things to tell you all, some news, so to speak. Two things good, one thing bad. All things very relevant to my psyche a la moment. I did something last week! As in leaving my apartment for something neither work nor shopping related! Yay! And, speaking of shopping, I bought myself a pretty epically amazing item.

Good thing #1
These guys. And also... these guys. For serious, y'all. If Mucca Pazza ever shows up in your town, go to the show. Even if they're just opening, like they were for The Dresden Dolls, it is SO worth it. A thirty piece "circus punk rock marching band?" Yes, please. They paraded through the crowd at first and jumped up and down with us with TUBAS and DRUMS in their hands.
Right, so that happens and I'm like 'Huh, let's see how The Dresden Dolls are going to top this." You see, I've never been a humongous die-hard fan of the group, but after this concert... holy shamole. Amanda Palmer and Brian Viglione attack their respective instruments (she piano, he drums) as if the keys and drumsticks are the weapons they use to beat the villains they sing about. Rapists and bad parents and teachers who never gave a damn. It's teen angst at it's most raw and real and these thirty something year olds pull it off with such sincerity it... it just blows my mind. Amanda Palmer's voice and charm makes me wish I knew her when I was going through all that, because you knew that not onLy had she been there, but she goes there EVERY NIGHT when she performs. She feels what we felt and it comes out of her amazing voice and out of her fingertips onto the keys of her pianos. It's was just so beautiful. And she and Brian have beautiful stage chemistry, like brother and sister, reminding me of Jack and Meg, (who I've, sadly, never seen live, but still) and convincing me that Amanda and Neil Gaiman's relationship is safe and legit and not just a "Hey, let's spread this rumor, wouldn't they be the greatest outcast power couple?" Great. Just absolutely great. Everything about it. For serious.
This girl we were standing next to said, after Mucca Pazza went offstage and the crew were setting up for The Dresden Dolls (the set was great too, just a drum set and her piano covered in dying flowers--and a toy piano (oh, and the costumes too, she wore just a bra and high waisted pants, he just pants and a hat - h to the a to the w to the t (sorry. just hawt. or hot if we want to be totally tasteful))) this girl said "Now, that is what high school was supposed to be like." And I was thinking about that. I think the people who enjoy the music of The Dresden Dolls are the ones who wanted high school to be more punk-rock-circus-marching-band than it generally was. Slash ever was if you weren't a wacky theater kid like me. We were dissatisfied and emotional -- pissed off or sad or whatever it was, it doesn't matter. We felt it. And it kind of sucked.
So that was awesome.

And it kind of brings me to my bad thing. I miss my friends. Those kids I grew up with, all of them are so damn far away. Legitimatly. The person I'm closest to in something like 400 miles is a four year old. Besides Jeff, I mean. I miss having girlfriends to hang out with, I just thoroughly suck at making friends. Even in high school and theater where you're forced to interact with people daily I can't do it. In a HUGE city where I know no one? Yeah, right. Don't get me wrong I LOVE my boyfriend and I can talk to him about anything, but only having one person to talk to every day makes me sad sometimes, especially the whole him being male thing. He's not the type to watch romantic comedies, or eat gallons of ice cream and act incredibly silly. And I like to be that kind of girl sometimes.

So I'm getting a little homesick. Well, friendsick, I guess. But just a little, not enough to be REALLY concerning.

Okay. Okay. Good thing #2

It's a coat. Well, that's a hood, more accurately.

I bought this coat online from Urban Outfitters. Now, I'm not exactly the worlds biggest online shopper, but this guy here had free returns and it was SO cute. I love the little red riding hood thing, and it's warm and it fits me well. It really truly made me very happy. I got free shipping on it too! Pretty much the greatest thing ever. It sinches at the waist and goes out in almost a hoop sort of thing, it's cute. Sorry I can't offer you a full shot but not owning a camera at the moment this is the best i could do. I tried, but the body shots were all kind of wonky. Dirty. And my facial expression is so awk and obnoxious, it was like the 40th picture I'd taken.

Here's #41, I had to show you John and Yoko reigning over my bed, you can see the frame in the shot above and I was like, I've gotta show that off.



There they are. Sigh.

Now, this wasn't the most deep and dark and poetic post. But I'm in a good mood. Hope y'all are good as good can be.

I wish you luck!

New-Ness

Sitting in an apartment which is not just mine but ours, sitting in a big new city with big new adventures. There are bookshelves on these walls now, filled with your books and mine, married together, and OH how I love how you asked if you wanted to marry our books! Marry, what a phrase. Oh how I love you, my dearest. A shelf for the Beatles and a shelf for my graphic novels. This is my favorite room. The living room. In one corner your computer and in another the drying rack I never take down (I'll just have to put it up again next week.) I love it here. On the couch, bay window at my back, coffee's getting cold and it all just feels so real.

It's home.

The kitchen's too small and there isn't enough closet space. But it. Is. Perfect. My very first apartment shared with a man I love. How lovely.

I did it guys! You two readers who may still check up on my blog. I moved to a big new city and I've been here over a month and I'm happier than I've ever been in my whole livelong life!

To be honest, friends, I'm not really sure what I'm doing here. Not really sure what to pursue, what to do with this life of mine, in the long run. Who likes to think in long runs, though? I guess a lot of people. People who want to grow up with jobs that you title "in finance" or politicians, people with lifelong goals. I wanted to be an actress. Now I'm just not so sure.

There are so many things about that "industry" that deter me from what was once my dream. Like any industry, like the fashion industry. I've never let myself become too involved with, or even interested in fashion because there are so many things that scare me about that world. It's too powerful, too judgmental, and too vast. There's so much networking and nepotism involved in fashion and in theater and I am just not good at that kind of thing. I am shy and awkward and I LOVE that about myself. I don't want to go about changing myself for anyone or anything. Especially when I'm this happy.

I love clothes, I love art, I love expression and creativity. I love the beauty of a perfectly crafted dress and a beautifully performed monologue. I love the feeling I get when I'm onstage and I've done well, when I'm offstage and it's over and I've got that post-show high. But the reality of that theater world is just so true to it's stereotypes that I have to run away from it, at least for a little while.

And fashion. This world of fashion. It truly interests me and provokes me and I get excited thinking about it but there are just so many things... so many drawbacks. Tavi and Jane Pratt are starting this magazine. They're taking submissions to start a team and I keep thinking about it. Wanting to submit but being scared of so many things. Scared of what will happen if they like me, scared that that won't.

You should always do the things that scare you most.

I'll write more about fashion later. Think more about that later.

In other news, I've re vamped my blog. Changed a few things. I'm going to buy myself a camera and start taking outfit-shots. There are so many shazzy "fashion blogs" out there, I figure I can spare to add one to the multitude. I'll write about clothes and cooking, been doing a lot of cooking here. Mostly my I'll write about my life. My thoughts on the idea of "grown-ups," what it means to be grown up. If there really is such a thing.

I miss you all.

Talk to you soon.

On And On And On

Well, I have obviously been a tad absent from the blogging world for quite a while. There is a rather distinct reason for this.

I.

Am.

Incredibly

...

something.

Sad, distracted, lazy, apathetic, anxious... all accurate words to describe my current state of being. Not at all busy, quite the opposite in fact, I haven't done this little in years. I'm distracted from bartending school, disenchanted with theatre, and utterly and completely ready to be anywhere but this citytownspace.

My past few posts have read more like sad livejournal ramblings, and that is really not what I created this blog to be about.

When I started this blog I was all about moving forward into this industry, this Twin Cities theatre industry I was oh-so-fond of /curious about. My theatrical life was bustling, with ASR readings starting, auditioning for R&J and doing all the South business. I was excited about everything and doing more than I'd ever done. But it was too much. I got caught up in the action of it all and the life kind of faded out of me.

I was living in one of those shallow action films where so much happens but nothing's really going on beneath the surface. All I wanted to do was keep going and doing so that I didn't have to stop and think or breathe or really feel much of anything. Everything that's going on (epic explosions as Main Character A jumps off a building, love scene with Love Interest B) is perfectly marvelous... but the characters are shallow and the writing's trite and shitty.

So summer brings with it peace. A lull. And I start to think. And we all know how dangerous thinking is.

For once, I've actually come to a few concrete solutions.

I'm running away in the fall. Getting out of dodge, getting a change of scene. I'm going to move to a bigger city and get an apartment and a job in a brand new place. I'm going to have a soul searching adventure. I'm going to find myself before I lose myself in another theatrical endeavor. I may audition for schools out east, I may not. I might audition for shows after a while, I'm not really sure.

All I am sure of is that I can't stand the thought of being in a classroom right now. I want to feel alive; I want to be out in the world making real mistakes and not classroom textbooks B- mistakes. I want to get off the computer and rollerblade around the lake because rollerblading is the greatest activity man has ever come up with. I want to eat a lot of wacky foods and play with the people I love. That's what I want. I want to be with the people I love doing things I love and learning by actually BEING!!! AND FUCKING UP! I love fucking up.

I fuck up more than most people and apologize a helluva lot less. I'm just good at hiding it sometimes. Hello. Actress.

I'm probably making huge mistakes by running away to work and not go to school. I plan on going to school eventually, I really really do. I know that it will always be there and I will one day be ready for it. But that day is not today.

And I don't want to use this blog as a journal anymore.

So it may be a while.

While I take this trip.

Before you hear from me again.

Wish me luck.

Basic Space

Open air.

Going out of town for July 4th. An illicit adventure with an illicit acquaintance to shady parts of a big loud city space. The most basic space I know is the space between us. I'm excited to run away. I may not come back.

I want to get out, friends. I want to flee the city and this life that I am oh-so-unsatisfied with.

My life:

I nanny three days a week. A twelve year old girl who loves the Twilight movies, anything Justin Bieber, and absolutely nothing else. This girl doesn't like to read and she doesn't write or really seem to think all that much. I know, SHOCK!, right? But that is ALL i did as a twelve year old girl. So I'm not entirely sure how to relate to her. And I'm there for her more as a role model than an actual "babysitter." She can pretty much take care of herself, her parents are just worried about her getting into trouble with some kids she's been hanging out with. So I sit around and watch Disney Chanel and get paid $8 an hour to be a "role model" to this kid.

With this money I paid for bartending school. A totally non-legit "school" that (I hope) is going to be a fun time, that is going to (I hope) find me a job, and give me something to do with my life. The guy who runs it is kind of sleazy, but at the same time I feel as though I'll be comfortable with him. Which is cool, because I know very little about mixing drinks and it's nice to feel like I can say "What's grenadine?" and not feel like a major idiot. I signed up yesterday, received flashcards and a packet, and was told to bring my flashcards every time I come in. There's sixtyish drinks I have to memorize, from whiskey and water to sex on the beach to martinis and daiquiris... daunting tasks, right?

That's the most exciting thing I'm doing with my life. I am one boring ass 18 year old. And I kind of love it.

I'm tired of being interesting. I'm tired of falling in love and breaking hearts and having my heart broken. Tired of thinking about how people's brains work, about characters and scripts and relationships. I just want to think about my 4th of July trip, how to make a Screaming Orgasm (shot of vodka, 3/4 shot kahlua, 1/2 shot amaretto, 1/2 shot Bailey's and hazelnuts. A regular Orgasm has sweet cream instead of Bailey's), and what is going to happen to the Fishers. I'm always afraid that I'm a boring person. But the thought of having a boring life is kind of appealing to me now.

Today my loverly lover cut my hair all off. And that's barely an exaggeration.

I've had shorter hair than this a couple times but not for a few years. I love having super short hair, I love love love it. Sometimes.

I'm starting to feel like short hair suited who I used to be much more than who I am now. And I don't honestly know how I feel about that. I want to be that spunky girl with glasses and the shy smile again... but... I think I've been her all along... I just got distracted by wanting to have sex and fall in love and grow up (or maybe avoid growing up). I think now that I feel more or less grown, I can re assess that girl I used to be. Use the spunky shyness but polish it off with the maturity and sex appeal I may or may not have grown into in the past year or two.

You can be a bartender with short hair, right?

I love my house and I love my roommate and I love my city. But right now I have this feeling like nothing's going to work out like I thought it would a month ago. At the end of summer I don't know where I'll be. Here or there?

Not so basic space.

I wish it was just you and me... all the in between's driving me crazy.

Cute outfit yesterday. Forgot shoes I suppose. It happens.

Stayed in bed today. Busy week ahead of me. Work and bartending school Mon-Wednes, shopping and Eclipse with my roomie's buds Thurs, and probably leaving for the weekend Friday. Maybe Saturday. We'll see. Either way I don't have as much time as I'd like... but then I don't think anyone does. Or they have to much. Dissatisfaction, the American Way.

I wonder if anyone will get it if I just need a change of space. I've always wanted to run away and now I'm afraid I won't have the guts.

We'll see.

I'll decide when I get back.

We'll see.

People Say That You'll Die Faster Than Without Water

Things are awfully new right now.

Well, pretty much just the house.

But that's a big enough thing to make everything else feel new.

I lived in the same house since I was two years old. Well, sans last summer, but that was such an odd situation and I had 8 roommates who were all significantly older than me. I was taken care of. Now it's just me and my lovely galpal roomie. We pay the electricity every month and food et cetera. Still cheaper then paying rent, but we have cats to feed (Slice and Toast) and doors and windows to lock. Responsibilities.

I'm being trained into the living on my own thing. I really appreciate it.

In other news, I am typing from my very own MacBook :) Graduation present along with the iPod Touch it came with. Which is just dandy as the screen is broken on my old one.

I'm also really loving the lack of theater in my life. I kind of want to be a lazy kid for a while, pretend I don't know what I want to do with my life like most of the other teenagers I know. I want to play Shadow of the Colossus and read 100 Bullets. Live off Six Feet Under and comic books. It's been too damn long since I've had this much time for myself, and I want to milk it as much as I possibly can.

It's good... all this newness.

I'm saving up for a tattoo. A dot dot dot ellipses on my hip. Because the spaces between things are just as important as the things themselves, and we say more in our pauses than our words could ever dream to communicate. Should be cheap. Three black dots.

Also MN School of Bartending. $300 for a few days of training, and placement in a job. Thinking of doing it with a pal-o-mine. Because how freaking cool would I be as a bartender? Nanny by day, bartender by night.

Hell yes, please.

Also read Tavi.

What an odd post.

The Imminent Future and Not So Distant Past

That's right folks, I graduate high school ON MONDAY!!

Today I went to South, got my Senior Checklist all signed and turned in, and grabbed me a cap and gown. It was the last time I'll be in that building in a very long time. Right now, at this moment, I feel incredibly surreal.

I recently found out that I won't be getting a job through Step-Up which is a major stresser... and I got some other quite personal bad news that, though I would not classify as a "stresser", is also stressing me out. I have never felt so at a crossroads; never missed the past quite as much as I do at this moment. I just looked through some photos from a few years ago, photos for my "Emma Through The Ages" graduation board, photos from the first year I did Fringe. From the best time of my life.

Acadia was the greatest experience of my life. Fringe '07 was the happiest time of my life.

I can't decide if I'm sad about that or not. You know, it's not as if I haven't been happy since then, I just haven't been so very carefree. I was still me, still sad brooding little Emma, quiet and shy and incredibly silly... I think I just had more fun. Now I feel like I don't have enough time to have fun. Silly, childish fun, like the fun you have when you're running through the streets downtown in the pouring rain, SCREAMING your favorite song at the top of your lungs. Fun like coming home, putting all your clothes in the dryer, putting on a boy's pajamas, and falling asleep by the fireplace.

That is my favorite memory.

I miss those boys.


This is it. I wrote this a while ago.
Called it "Inspired by Condensation." I'm pretty sure it was inspired by something else.
"Laughing so hard our eyes are littered with tears and we're rolling down the stairs in Boy #2's pajamas and blankets and blankets and more blankets. We can hear the rain still dripping outside and our clothes still stuffed into his dryer, rising and falling with a 'thump... thump.' We are happier than we could ever be in our own clothes, connected now through Boy #2's pajamas. Something is holding us together almost painfully, so strong that if we were to be torn apart right now we just might break. Our friendship is made stronger by those clothes we share, Boy #2's clothes. Boy #1 has the camera now and I stand at the top of the stairs and watch them play, the beautiful boys. My hair still sopping wet and I am the only one to whom this matters, those boys with their short hair simply don't care. But I don't want to get anyone or anything in his house wet. His house is clean. Sterile. Nothing like Boy #2 but perfect for moments like this. Our clumsy uncleanliness and pure childish happiness contrast with the bright and shiny nature of his home only to make us feel more alive.
We haven't been friends for that long. And we're oh-so-close. When you've danced in the rain, sung in the rain, ran through streets in the rain with someone, you're bonded. It's an odd experience I hope every teenager has had and it means too much to put into words. The rain brings freedom, and being freed together is something you can never relive, never experience again in quite the same way.
We fall asleep by the fire and then a year passes."

It was about twice as long but I wander from that memory and go into memories of fog and snow, sad, more contemplative memories. But, that's how strongly I felt about them, about those boys and about that time of my life.

I felt free.

I miss that.

Walking across the stage next week will be an incredibly non-freeing experience. I see very little freedom about graduation, friends, I know I should see more but all I see is responsibility.

I just want the Trilogy again. To be a kid. To have adventures and laugh and... I dunno. That was before all the drama started happening, before my life turned into a teen soap opera. I miss that time.

Nostalgia, I guess.

Severe nostalgia.

Anyone know where I can get a good time machine?

Or how to rob a bank?

These are the necessities of my life, folks.

Have a good night.

Fears

It's been a while and I think I got a lot to say so I'ma do two lil' ones.

I used to write for me and only me. The prospect of people consuming my words was just too graphic to handle. Like eating meat it seems savage to me now. I picture people’s eyes scanning my words, analyzing the flavor as the rough metaphors scrape down their throats and they swallow with difficulty. They digest my words with acidic complaints. Bad puns, they say, horrible word use and awful structure. They grimace at the flavor and walk away disgusted.
Maybe I’m just afraid of being bad.
I grew up being told that I’m talented.
And never believing it.
I’m afraid of my family and my friends being wrong. Afraid I’m a horrible actress and a worse writer. Afraid that my beautiful old grandmother only said the things she said because she’s a grandmother and that’s what they do.
But I like to write.
I do.
I want to write my story about the girl who ran away. The one who ran to Brazil and closed her eyes and woke up transported. I want to write about time and pain and the beauty of this world I love so much. I want to write something beautiful and original. I want to show people the truth and beauty of this world. The leaves in the trees.
But I think that everyone wants that.
I want to create.
Wonderful performances that bring audiences to tears and scripts or stories that make people think and smile and remember why they like their lives. The leaves in the trees.
I don’t know.
Maybe I’ll just study optometry.
It’s important. Being responsible for how people see the world, making sure they see what they are meant to see. The first thing people who get glasses notice is always the leaves in the trees. I want to show them the leaves in the trees.
I guess I can do that.
Either way.
We’ll see.
We’ll see.

Of Tears and Things

Lost is over.

Lost is over and I just don't know what to do with myself.

Damon Lindelof and Jack White should really chat... they are currently the loves of my life and I would really like them to create some crazy artistic love child. Also John Hughes and Quentin Tarantino.

Anyway.

I have this issue where I cry a lot, but can never do it onstage. For instance, the Lost finale: there was this recurring theme in which characters would do a certain thing; (this is me not spoiling anything for those of you intelligent enough to invest brainspace to this work of art) it happened about six times, and I cried like a baby every time. And then, of course, at the end, when the episode and the series were really honestly actually shockingly over and done with I was a veritable puddle.

However, when the forbidden love of my life is banished and I am being forced to take an epic sleeping potion in place of being married to another man... nothing. Not even a drop.

My nurse can cry but I cannot. Sense memory is bullshit and no matter how emotional I feel I just CAN'T CRY. This makes me achingly upset, friends. I feel like a horrid actress and an emotionally immature human being. If I think, if I feel like I am tapping into the same emotions I feel when the tears DO come, and the tears won't come? What does that mean about me? As am actress, a person? I'm probably over-reacting but it scares and angers me. Because of this and other things I'm frustrated with this career I've chosen for myself.

First of all, the logical part of my brain kicked in and reminded me that this is really not a career path that will sustain me and the family I eventually want to have. But I don't want to do anything else. There's never been anything else. Since I was an infant this is all I've wanted to do... besides becoming a fairy, but I'll always be working on that one.

A-I can't cry.
B-I'm awful with people. Interacting, socializing, not to mention networking which is pretty much the bane of my existence.
C-Drama. Already, even now, even TONIGHT I cannot avoid drama with theater people. And, let me tell you, I was NEVER a fan of drama... and I am becoming less and less fanish the more and more I witness and participate (willingly or not) in it.
D-The aforementioned fiscal problem
E-It's been a while since theater has fufilled me like it used to.

More on this last topic. I've been acting without a break since last June. Since Acadia. It's been lovely; Acadia was amazing and Rabbit Hole after it was genius. After Rabbit Hole, however, it fades. Perhaps due to stupid achingly regrettable personal drama, perhaps due to the fact that the shows I participated in weren't exactly... spectacular (by which I mean I did not have the most enjoyable time doing them, or they weren't quality: either/or/both depending on the show). It doens't really matter. All that matters is that I've lost myself in all these theatrics and I need a break to find that girl I know I am and be HER for a while. No Juliet, no Becca, no Amanda, just me. I miss me.

Well... me and my loves. My lovely loves I love oh-so-much. I cannot wait to do nothing but be around people I like this summer.

Sigh.

Imogen.

Readings.

Tonight was less than pleasurable. And I won't have a break from acting doing the readings. I'll be doing more acting than I have in a while, knowing the director. Which, on the one hand, is a good thing, because it will be more fulfilling acting then I've been doing recently. And on the other hand... I want a break.

And now we get into other things. Things like childhood and memories and how I've screwed myself over.

For a while there, friends, I was happier than I'd been in a long time. And then Lost ended (for some reason it coincided with it, I'm certain it was not the cause)... and now I'm confused again. I'd say lost but it's too easy.

I have been so very busy for this past year, and I know everyone says "Senior year goes by so fast" but Jesus H. Christ! I don't even REMEMBER this past year! Highlights, sure; all the dramatic BS that is my life... that I remember.... But where the time went? ... I think it went into working hard on things I thought would make me happy. And now... I realize that I've stopped paying attention to details; I've been obsessed with the big picture, with schedules and plans and making sure I can do all the big things I want to do. And that isn't where happiness is. Happiness isn't in making plans for your dreamhouse and family when you're twelve years old, or headlining as Juliet when you're 18. It's in that boys hand in your hand, that time he called you rapturous; your best friend's laugh or that time she cut your hair in her living room, the long bus ride home where you fell asleep on each other's shoulders. Or the way college students act during finals week-that progression of sleepless stressed study eyes to relieved relaxed i'm-going-home eyes. The way that pretty girl looked as she spun around the dance floor in her fairy dress. How happy your mother gets when the sun comes out. Baking in 90 degree weather because you want a cookie, dammit!

It's in details, moments. This is what children understand but adults oh-so-often fail to remember; it's that sense of wonder and amazement at all the little things that make children so beautiful.

I keep looking at the mistakes that I've made and I forget that I make them because I get caught up in those details, those moments. And I get lost when I try to be happy because I gloss over the details, moments, and look only at the repercussions of my stupid acts. (And most of my acts are pretty stupid, even the good ones.)

This is nothing profound or original. It's "stop and smell the flowers" reworded.

But, you know what, it's how I feel.

And I don't have to figure out the entirety of my future RIGHT NOW TONIGHT. What I do have to do is curl up in my bed, call a boy I love, and relax. Because I had a bad night, true, and maybe even a bad week. But tonight I stood on campus sharing a cigarette with my mother, I got a couple laughs from audience members, and left some hilariously embarrassing messages on my loverly lover's phone.

There's good in the bad, and even if there is bad in the good, the good is ALWAYS there. And if you look for it... you can find it... and if you give it a little nudge it'll multiply for you and grow into a smile and then a laugh and the bad fade fade fades away.

Tonight was bad... but tomorrow is going to be spectacular.

Yesiree.

50,000 Copies of My Face

Oh. My. Word.

Three nights of rehearsal and then we open R&J!!!! It's so magnificently nerve-racking, these few days before opening... everyone realizes that we've got less than a week left and panic starts spreading. But coming from Private Lives, I feel immune to the panic and I just enjoy the new experience of being here with these new people doing this new thing in this new place.

I love it.

I love doing this thing I do and I almost love the fact that it takes me until show week to feel mildly comfortable with the cast. I almost love being the awkward little kid, the baby of the group, asking for rides and not being able to go out with everyone else. Almost. But not really.

It's been like this forever and I just don't know how to shake it off. I'm just shy. That's the only way I can think of to put it; I'm shy and awkward and I don't do well with people. And that's one of the things that freaks me out about this "industry." My lack of social skills may hurt my career. And I kind of hate that because I'm okay with being socially awkward in all respects but the theater bit. I like to read and write more than party (although under the right circumstances I love partying) and in big groups I get lost most of the time.

BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!!!

The point is that RIGHT NOW things are going good.





I mean, look at this. This is our poster. Coin Purse took out an ad in Vitamin of that poster... 50,000 copies of my face are going to be distributed. That's pretty freaking cool, don't you think? I don't want to come off as being big-headed or anything but I'm not going to lie and say I'm not proud of myself. I am. And I love that photo.

I love my life.

Even if I am awkward and fail in situations where everyone is laughing and bantering in the parking lots and I sit on the curb listening and wishing I knew how to join in, even if I'm younger and less experienced... I have so much fun doing what I do. I love the people making the tomfoolery and I love observing even if I'm too scared to join in.

Please come see my show!! If you can't read the poster it's this Thurs-Sat (20th-22nd) and next Thurs-Sat (27th-28th) at Blank Slate theater (499 Wacouta St. St.Paul) at 7 30 PM-- it's the basement of a church. Yeah, it's that legit :)

COME!! See my Juliet!!

Big-Kid, Little-Kid

So, friends, much has happened since we last spoke. Time has passed, shows have passed, and I'm getting ready to start a new era (as they say) of my little old (young) life.

Today is Tuesday. On Friday I took my last bow at South High, an experience I was not in the least prepared for. Private Lives had many ups and downs (more downs than ups, I must say) but despite all the silly little high school drama, it was sad and scary to take my last high school bow. Now I have to venture out into the real world; I have to be a big kid, go out and find my own auditions and fight for roles. Scary. And in the end, Private Lives wasn't half bad. We had a huge audience that last night and (though my performance was not my best from the run) it was a really good show. My loverly lover stood up and gave me flowers before I bowed. I cried.

I will miss a lot about South High Theater; I'll miss that smelly green room and the massive stage with the awful acoustics. I've been thinking about it and I don't think I'll miss what I thought I'd miss; I won't miss that constancy, that place where I knew I was part of something. Eventually I'm sure I will but right now I just want to make my own life. Be part of me. That's stupid but there's no other way I can think to explain it. I will miss many of those kids though, I have a lot of Sophomore friends I don't spend enough time with, and I'll probably (certainly) spend less time with them after graduation. Sad day. Well... bittersweet day.

Yesterday, Monday, I took my last final. That's a lie, I have one on Friday but the credits aren't going towards graduating high school so I don't really care much. Anyway, I took my Bio final and thought I did better than I did, but I passed the class!!! Woo-hoo!! A "C" is fine with me :) Oh, and remember that Art and Archeology paper I was oh-so-diligent about? I'm not sure what I got on the paper, but it must have been good because I got an A- in the course!! Can we just take a moment to appreciate that I am now officially finished with high school? Okay, so I still have some online health to do, but that doesn't really count, now does it?? I'M DONE!!!

So. New era. Big kid stuff, bows and finals.

Now let's talk about prom! I went to my Senior Prom on Saturday with my loverly lover and a group of theater kids, including two of the loves of my life; Sophomores who I got to know last year when I cast them in a one-act I directed. Anyway I loved my outfit (for once, the last few years I went to prom I was not so keen on my choice of dress, etc.) and actually had a considerable amount of fun. I also got to take home one of the posters they decorated the wall with, they were just giant playing cards, I took the nine of spades :)


My favorite picture of the whole experience. It just looks to me like the lovely, mildy self-conscious but on-the-whole happy and joyful spirit of both that night, and the majority of my teenagerdom. Plus I absolutely love the people in that photo and, of course, they are utterly and completely beautiful creatures.

Also I cut my own bangs. Straight across and 20s esque, but I made 'em a little jagged and unclean, mostly because I am awful at cutting my hair but also because it suits me better. It was this impulse move... I haven't tried to cut my hair since fifth grade (a disaster) but I just went for the scissors and before I knew it... low and behold, bangs!

Went to my first R&J rehearsal since Private Lives, and it was a little intimidating but also quite comforting. We were expected to be off book but everyone was calling lines like nobody's business. I was afraid it was going to be just me, that all these real life professional types would have it down pat already. I don't think I really give myself enough credit sometimes... I mean, I'm a lazy S.O.B a lot of the time, but I do a lot. And I really do try. Maybe I'll be able to match up as an adult... maybe... ;)

So. That is my life.

I want you all to listen to She & Him and Vampire Weekend now. They are my new favorite thing. Check. Them. Out.

Oh, god, I'm tired. Goodnight, friends.

She & Him

ALL RIGHT!!!

Remember back in the day when I had to write that 10 page paper for my Art& Archeology class? Well, now I'm doing part two! Only this one has to be 12-14 pages and I did something to my hand in the show last night and utilizing it is rather painful. And, of course, I'm writing a blog post instead of actually working. Story of my life.

Except... you know... not.

My life's pretty good.

My lovely friends and family threw me a surprise party last weekend! It was actually marvelous. My friends tried to throw me a surprise party before I went to Maine last summer and it was a fabulously valiant effort and we all had fun... but the "surprise" element was a little... nonexistent. Saturday, however, I was achingly surprised.

When I got to Andy and Cheryl's Cheryl was bustling to get ready and she sent me upstairs to grab a tablecloth. When I opened the door to their bedroom everyone popped out and exploded little popper guys! It was like a marvelously stereotypical surprise moment. I cried.

So many people I loved came and we had so much fun.

It. Was. Lovely.

It was a tie for the favorite gift slot, folks.



This is actually the most beautiful thing ever. Some boy got it for me :)

And then my loverly gal pal made me cupcakes. These were very special cupcakes, friends. My galpal and I, instead of saying "I love you," we say "Monkey Banana Cake" or "MBC". Long story. Anyway. This loverly galpal-o-mine made me banana chocolate chip cupcakes with monkey candles on top. MONKEY BANANA (CUP)CAKES!!! I cried like a goddamn baby.

She also gave me She & Him.

If you don't know who She & Him is you really really really seriously should check them out. Because oh. My. Word. It's Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward being awesome and lovely et cetera.



So, she got me their two albums AND a ticket to their concert in June! It'll be my first 18+ concert :)

Oh, goodness, friends, I'm so excited.

In other news we've had two performances of Private Lives and both have contained disasters. This is kind of awesome, actually, I was afraid I was going to learn NOTHING from this experience, but I am totes muh goats learning how to deal with crises. The houses have been small but the shows have been fun, and they're getting better and better.

And I have one page left of my paper.

Which I'll do after the show... shut up guilty voices in my head! I need to relax for a moment before the show tonight.

Okay? Okay.

Whew.

Wish me luck tonight!!!!!!!!!!!

And I wish you luck in all you do :)

R & J

All right so I'm old now, whatever. LET'S TALK ABOUT THEATER!!! After all, that is supposed to be subject of this blog, rather than silly teenage ramblings.

At the moment I am in two shows concurrently (plus a reading), something I've never done before and probably never will. At least not during finals week. Woo-hoo time to fail Bio!!! Anyway, it's stress city. Private Lives runs next week, which means I'm missing a week of Romeo & Juliet rehearsal... and Romeo's going to be in Czech Republic that week. It's not the worst play to run without the two main characters however, there are plenty of scenes they can do without us.

Private Lives = under-rehearsed
Romeo & Juliet = over rehearsed

Maybe I only feel like R & J is over rehearsed because I just did a reading of it and I already knew the script and character pretty well. (Side note: I'm pretty sure I am Juliet. Minus the situation of her life and death and all, I achingly relate to her) If I hadn't had that experience I'd probably really appreciate the extra work with the script.

Private Lives is another story. We preview Monday and we've never had a full run. Ever. We've never even had a run of Act III, there are some parts we've only done once, without direction or blocking from the director. And the director! God! I never felt like he cared about the show and JUST got my first set of notes from him. We preview MONDAY!!! It is AWFUL to go onstage feeling this under-rehearsed. Our director told us to go see a show this weekend at Southwest (our competing high school for pretty much everything, including theater) because "they know how to have fun onstage." Please don't criticize us for not having fun, sir. It's difficult to have fun when you HAVEN'T BLOCKED THE ENTIRE SHOW OR GIVEN US ANY NOTES EVER AND WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL WE'RE DOING. AT ALL. So. That's upsetting. As evident by the superfluous caps.

R&J is going pretty well though, I think. I'm the baby of the cast mega-time, but I think people like me well enough. I hope they do. I'm achingly shy and incredibly quiet, so it's usually more of a pleasant acknowledgment, I feel. I'm connecting with the director and the woman who plays my nurse, so that's good. Romeo's another story. I'm just a tad too awkward... but it'll totes happen and be marvelous.

We also had a photo shoot the other night! Apparently the poster is going to be a close up of my face. So that was not at all intimidating or overwhelming. Slash the most intimidating and overwhelming and slightly to incredibly awesome thing ever. We took photos with the Capulets, shots of the poster, other (non-poster) individual shots, AND Romeo and Juliet shots. It was pretty hectic and awesome and legit. We rehearse in this mega huge building that used to be a massive art gallery, and we have access to the whole thing, so there were portraits in the basement, shots in one room upstairs and more in another room.

Crazy.

Crazy life.

I'm really happy with that show and really glad to be a part of it. Being able to play Juliet in a steam punk Romeo & Juliet??? That's pretty much the greatest thing ever.

God, I'm happy.

At this moment.

Direct contrast to my last post, I suppose. I kind of go up and down a lot.

I've had a good few days. The photo shoot was on my birthday, I got a lot of love on my birthday, and more yesterday, and yet more today!

My next post will be documenting my gifts :)

Tonight is family celebration time, I plan to have boatloads of fun. Good plan? Good goddamn plan!!!!!!!

Thanks for listening :)

When Wendy Grew Up

A few years ago I started hating birthdays. I started contemplating what it meant to grow up and, not coming to any concrete conclusions, decided whatever it meant I didn't like it. So I read Peter Pan and fantasized about running away to Neverland and forgot all about what it actually meant to grow up.

In four days I turn eighteen. I've been trying real hard not to think about it and to hide behind the old "Eighteen is a number, it does not make me an adult." thing, but it just ain't working. There are many things that worry me about turning eighteen, typical things. Seventeen is a really good wall to hide behind, tell a creeper you're underage and they tend to back off (not that I can't lie, it's just easier when it's honest). It's a safety blanket from the world of responsibility.

I hate responsibility. And growing up means responsibility. But I've always been incredibly self-sufficient and I have no problem with doing what I need to do to survive on my own. Working legit jobs, paying reallivegrownuptype bills, feeding myself, those things scare me quite a bit, but they aren't what really bothers me.

So what it means to grow up:

1) More responsibility. That sucks but I can easily accept it.

2) And this is where I get sad. I won't be able to get into Neverland or Narnia, and, even though it's silly, that thought really makes me sad. And I'm not even sure if I could get in today, I might be too grown already.

So what marks being grown enough not to get into Narnia? When do you stop being able to fly?

Let's consult the expert:
"Why can't you fly now, mother?"
"Because I'm grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way."
"Why do they forget the way?"
"Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless that can fly."

So am I gay, innocent, and heartless? I try to be as gay and heartless as possible, but sometimes... I'm not. I get sad a lot, I always have, and sometimes the reality of the world bogs me down. And innocent? I've pretty much been there done that when it comes to falling in love and getting my heart broken, I've seen and dealt with grief, and physically I'm pretty darn growed. I don't know that I am innocent and gay and heartless, but Wendy, does that really mean that I can't fly? Or is the only reason you couldn't you didn't believe you could?

She didn't even try.

And I legitimately do believe in fairies and a world of make-believe come true, and I understand that there are things that are beautiful about being an adult that children don't really experience. But it breaks my heart to think that I can't get into Narnia or Neverland, and I refuse to accept that just because I've experienced adult things that children never will, I will never go back there. Maybe if I believe I can get there even though I'm older and wiser now... maybe Peter can still fly in through my window and carry me away.

This boy I used to love, my bestest friend in the whole wide world who I haven't talked to in ages and who I'm probably growing apart from finally, said something in his blog when he was going through this same thing. He said "Growing up isn't realizing magic isn't real, it's believing in it anyways." And that was okay for me then because I didn't have to grow up because he was old and I wasn't.

But now I'm thinking about it. And sorry, kid, that ain't it.
I believe in magic. Neverland will always float around in my brain with fairies and mermaids and pirate ships. I will never stop believing in that magic and I think that there are a lot of adults that believe too. Or at the very least I hope that there are. And if that's what it means to grow up then I think there are a lot of adults that aren't "grown-ups" and if that's true then you can grow without growing up.

I don't ever want to stop growing, because I believe that this world is a beautiful place with so much to offer, and every second I spend doing something new I grow a little.

But I still dream about floating on oceans with mermaids and flying around with fairies. And I believe it's more than a dream.

I can see people laughing as they read this.

But that's okay.

That's me.

I'm a lost girl, and I will never grow up.

That place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming...

Up until yesterday this was my plan:

Defer admission from the UofM (slash utilize their application review program) until next fall and take a loverly year off. Use that year to work and save up money and then go to college like a respectable young woman.

Now, I'm the type of person who likes a plan, and I don't really like to admit it. It's not like I was that obnoxious twelve year old who walked around with portfolio in hand talking about her five-year plan.... But I totally had a five year plan. Even a ten year plan. And that plan was always changing but it always changed from something concrete to something else concrete.

So when I got this phone call saying my request for deferral was denied... for the first time I felt like I had no idea what I was going to do. I still don't, not really, and that scares me. Part of me feels like I totally messed up my life because I was too damn lazy to fill out financial aid forms.

No, I know that's not true.

And as I'm writing this, I think maybe it was meant to be. I don't want to go to the U, I don't really want to go to any university... or if I do, one with a conservatory program. Acting is what I want to do, it's always been what I've wanted to do. I think I had this misconception that it would be pretentious and needlessly difficult to go to a conservatory or even just a training program. But I think I need some difficult (I'll try and steer clear of the pretentious bit though) There's a lot I need to learn about this acting thing and there's this whole big shell I need to break out of.

I've been thinking about New York City.

A lot.

I've been thinking about everything. My life. How I'm not very happy with it at this point. I think I've never really taken the time to imagine what the next few years living on my own and starting school will be like. I'm afraid I'm going to end up doing nothing with my life because all I've ever wanted to do is act and they all say that's not really a career. But it's the only career I've ever wanted.

So.

New plan:

Take a year off, a legitimate year off. Work a lot (meaning find some sort of paying real-life job--I'm thinking nanny by day, bartender by night. Sounds cool enough), sleep a lot, read a lot of plays and books and word-like things. In the fall, take a trip to NYC- tour schools I think look good and decide whether or not I like the city.

Now, this is the shaky bit.

After that first year off, I will either start school right away (depending on things like money and preparedness, etc.) or I will go live and work in New York for a year, checking it out, making sure it's a good place for me. My loverly lover recently got some good results from a website called greataupair.com and I was thinking about maybe au pair-ing in NYC for a year before school.

I know what you're saying "One year off turns into two, and before you know it it's nine or twelve!" This is what I'm afraid of. This and running out of money, not being as determined as I think I am, my laziness, etc.

I've never felt so lonely in my whole life... and now I'm moving away to be really truly on my own.

In one week I will be 18 years old. I feel like such a stereotype.

Blech....

Okay, scrap all that here's my plan:

Go curl up with the lovely giant bear I traded (for the love of my life, Slush) from a dear dear little lady and go to sleep to some soft music and lots of cuddly blankets.

Good plan?

I think so.

Goodnight, world.

Lower than Deep

One thing that saddens me: I cannot remember the last time I read an entire book.

I used to read all the time, and I mean all the time. Teachers would yell at me, not for talking in class or causing a disruption, but for reading while they're trying to talk at us. And all of a sudden I don't even have the goddamn energy to read a book.

And theater? God, theater used to be the only thing... the ONLY thing that could jerk me out from that hole of self pity and teenage angst. I would get on that stage and whatever heartbreak or misery I was feeling would just float off me as my character and the energy of the show took me away. It was an escape, it was always an escape but it was also the only thing I ever really LOVED doing.

And now it's so real. The rest of my life is happening now, I have to graduate high school and move out of my parents home and be a big girl now. I've been waiting to do that for years but I didn't think how it would impact... everything else. Theater. My escape. Now it's my life and it's another stress and more pressure and more responsibility and another grown up detail for my new grown up life.

It's really scary. But it's always been scary. All of a sudden I feel too small and insignificant to fit in there. And I don't really have the energy, or the bravery, to even try.

And maybe I'm whining and being bratty and stupid and I should be thankful for everything that I have and, believe me, BELIEVE ME, I am so so grateful for this life. And I know that I've got more and I've come farther than most kids my own age, and yes that looks good and yes I'm mature and "old for my years" but I. Am. Still. Just. A. Child.

And right now I feel like everything that my life used to be is changing. Including that place that idea of a place that used to be my sanctuary my safe place. It's tainted with the drama and stupidity of my "trying to be as old as they think I am" and it all just seems kid of wrong.



And I wish I could relax. My shoulders hurt from being up to my ears.

Carlos Castaneda

My hands are falling apart.

Layers and layers of my nails are peel peeling off and it looks like someone took a tiny little axe to my cuticuls. My scar is pink and white and it almost looks as if it's glowing... as though something from inside wants me to pay attention to it.

They say that if you want to control yourself in your dreams you just have to look down at your hands.

I think my hands would scare me awake.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-CHERRY BOMB

Here we go, kids! This is my aunt Ivy's recipe, I believe she actually used it for a catering company she ran at one time. And, fun fact, it was my aunt and uncle's wedding cake!!

THE CRUST
Ingredients:
1c. flour
1/4c. sugar
1/2tsp grated lemon peel
8tbsp(1 stick) butter
1 slightly beaten egg yolk




Combine flour, sugar, and lemon peel. Cut butter until crumbly.




Add egg yolk, mix well.



Pat 1/3 of dough onto the bottom of an 8inch springform pan, sides removed. Seriously, remove the sides. It is not fun if you forget. Also, you will probably end up needing about 1/2 the dough, which is completely fine, do not fret, friends.



Bake this at 400 degrees for 7min. Cool.

While this is going on, you can start on the filling and then, once the pan is cool, do the sides.
The sides: butter the sides of pan and attach it to the bottom. Then pat the remaining dough on sides to a height of at least 1 3/4inches.



FILLING
Ingredients:
5 8oz packages cream cheese (softened)
1/4tsp vanilla
1/2tsp grated lemon peel
1 3/4c. sugar
3tbsp flour
1/4tsp salt
5 eggs
2 egg yolks
1/4c. heavy cream



Beat cream cheese until creamy, add vanilla and lemon peel. Mix sugar, flour, and salt; blend into cheese mixture. Add eggs and egg yolks all at once, beat until just creamy. Gently stir in heavy cream.
Turn into crust lined pan.



Bake at 450 degrees for 10minutes. Reduce heat to 300 degrees, bake 55 minutes, or until center appears set.



Remove from oven, cool for 15 minutes. Loosen sides of cake from pan, either with the little thing if you have a pan that has a little thing (teeheehee), or with a spatula. Cool 1/2 hour longer, remove sides of pan.



YAY!!! YOU DID IT!!!

Now you can decorate it with whatever sort of loverly toppings you want. I went with berries to go along with the whole Springtime thing.



Love. Love love love.

In other news I had a fantabulous sleepover with my loverly lover last night, we had our annual take-a-lot-of-stupid-teenager-y-pictures-of-ourselves evening. But I had just found this AWESOME top in my sister's closet that I am going to wear every day for the rest of my life.



Thems is cherries!!! Fo sho!!!
I also decided that what I really want to do with my life is become a rock star.

So that's that.

Enjoy the cake, folks!!!

Pretty In Pink

My life thus far:

A lot has happened.

I started to write a history of my theatrical life and it turned out to be much more extensive than I had presumed it would be.

And so.

Bullet points it shall be.

-Childhood = dreams of being a fairy

-Age 9ish, classes at Children's Theatre Company... dismal failure... an acting dry spell after that.

-High school = cast as a lead in the first show i audition for, as a freshman. This is a big deal. Sophomore year is rather personally intense and I lay off on the onstage drama for some of my own. Junior and Senior year are more theatrically abundant.

-Last summer, summer after Junior year, i get cast as an intern at Acadia Repertory Theatre. My aunt and uncle manage it. Spend ten weeks in a house with nine other actors in Bar Harbor Maine, miles away from my parents ;) Changed my life.

-I get back from Maine and, that week, audition for the first show of the season at South, my high school. Rabbit Hole. Get cast as the lead.

-This show is directed by a director I worked with the previous year, on The Seagull. During rehearsals for Rabbit Hole he asks me to audition for a Shakespeare company he's putting together. I do. I get in. I become an actress and assistant director for American Shakespeare Repertory.

-ASR is my first professional gig. Actually that depends. Does it count as professional if you're not getting paid? I say it does. Thus my next bullet point.

-I recently auditioned for Coin Purse Theatre's Romeo and Juliet. I was cast as Juliet. This was (is) a really big deal for me. A) It's my professional gig (full production, ASR does readings) and B) It's Juliet.

And... that's my career thus far. Aren't you glad I didn't go into as much detail as I wanted to?

Anyway. I start rehearsal for R&J on Monday.

That's pretty much my life right now.

That and tomorrow I'm making a cheesecake. You best believe it funna be my first food post.

And I got my hair cut. Slash my lovely lover cut it for me.

And two people in one day told me I look like Molly Ringwald. I was like "Pretty In Pink Molly Ringwald, or 2010 Molly Ringwald at the Oscars?" She's actually insane now, I'm pretty sure.

But I love me some John Hughes, so I take it as a Pretty In Pink-esque compliment :)

Well folks, now you're all caught up on me.

Stay tuned, kids, the greatest cheesecake ever's comin your way!!

Oleanna

For about a month and a half now, I've known I've got this ten page paper to do for a class I'm taking on Greek Art and Archeology.

I've got four pages written.

It's due tomorrow.

My plan was to get on the computer and "hunker down" as they say. But I kept thinking about Facebook and the entry I wanted to make on this here blog and my ability to concentrate on the task at hand dissipated. That happens often with me.

Thing of it is, I hate school. I've been a PSEO student for two years now, taking college courses at the UofM and I am Oh. So. Done. It makes me feel stupid, it makes me feel trapped and unhappy and bored. I'm not worried about doing this paper well, I'm worried about getting it done... and that really bothers me. I like to feel proud of the things I spend time doing, and I NEVER feel proud of my school work, not for years now.

So I devised a plan. A gap year plan. I'm going to defer my admission to the U for a year (I've got to get on organizing that) and find an apartment and live on my own (slash share an apartment with a loverly galpal) and audition for shows around town and work and gather up some cash.

I'm hoping to get acting work. That was the kicker in this plan. That I will learn just as much (if not much much more) actually doing shows, then I would in a classroom. Because to be honest, I've learned more in EVERY OTHER PORTION OF MY LIFE than I have in a classroom.

There are of course, the cons to these pros-- the whole riskiness of a gap year and the possibility that I won't go to school ever. But the pros far out way the cons on this one.

I read this play with a friend the other day, a Mamet play called Oleanna. It was about language and communication and people being crazy and Mamet-y, but there were a lot of monologues concerning the bullshit nature of the Higher Education System. Hit close to home.

Sometimes I sit with my shoulders up to my ears. Just naturally I get tense thinking about school, tense and stressed and I have knots in my back like you wouldn't believe. Too knotty for a seventeen year old ;)

Six pages left to write.

It'll happen when it happens....

Hello Again, Virtual World

I like it.
I like being on the interweb and I like to write.
I like the idea of sharing just enough about myself.

The beautiful thing about the internet is the connections you can make. It's also the incredibly frightening thing.

I shouldn't have deleted this blog but I really didn't think that anyone was going to read it and that was the important thing... for a while. Now I just like the idea of having a place to impartially document my life. To write about things honestly, but not too honestly. The kind of things I'd like people to read after I die. Because God help the poor fools who look in my journals.

And I would like to have a place to write about theater, about this world I'm trying to stick my foot into. Because there are things I really hate about it, things that scare me and anger me, things that make me question whether this is really what I want to do with my life. And then there are the things that make my heart go pitter patter, the things that make me tremble (in a good way) and remind me why I love to do what I do.

So here we go. I shall try not to be too whiny, too confessional-y. And I'm certain I'll write about things other than theater. I'm big on clothings and style and the world of fashion (sort of, we'll get to this soon) and I love food and boys.

But I can guarantee you I will rarely, if ever, discuss boys on this blog. That's where the personal and the honest get too personal and honest.

So.

All right.

Here we go again.