Quirky Monday: The Boy Who Never Grew Up

Dream roles?

Artists get asked this question more than once, for multiple reasons. We all have them--that role we want to play more than anything and will do whatever it takes to get it(including crazy gym workouts, like some people I could mention--but won't).

I have more fun designing, writing and directing than acting, but I do have a shortlist, like every other artist I know. It's changed, yeah, but there's always been one that's remained at the top of the list since I was---I don't know--six?

Peter Pan.

Guys, the Disney movie was one of the first VHSs my family got--and it was all I wanted to watch. I was convinced that Neverland was a real place, and that some day I would learn to fly and go spend the rest of my life there. I was certain that if I could figure out how to throw myself horizontally forward hard enough, and at just the right moment, I could fly; and once I learn how to do that, getting to Neverland would be a piece of cake!

I remember the first time I heard the soundtrack to the original Broadway musical. Did I get it? Not really, it was a soundtrack so some of the songs didn't make much sense in my seven-year-old brain. But I did enjoy walking around the the house singing "I Won't Grow Up" at the top of my lungs.

The Provo Library had a VHS of the film they made starring Mary Martin in the 70s, and I watched that so many times I'm sure I drove my mom out of her mind. It wasn't until I saw two separate productions at two different high schools, that it finally clicked: this was a musical, not just a movie. This was a play someone wrote! I'll never forget the feeling I had, watching it live and clapping with all my might to get Tink back to life.

In 2000, A&E released a recording of a revival done in California starring Cathy Rigby. You guys, the times I watched that movie--oh my goodness!!!

Being old enough now to get all the mechanics of the film, and that it was a play, and that it was getting produced again, I realized why I had been so obsessed with it in the first place. Ok, the two reasons.

1. I want to play Peter Pan before I die.
I do. More than you can possibly imagine. If we're talking logistics here, I would love to portray that role because it's one of the few parts in my vocal range, so I wouldn't have to worry about straining or falsetto or any of that. Also, Peter gets to fly. Like a lot. Who wouldn't want that?

2. Everybody in one way or another,  wants to be Peter Pan. Period.
I mean, never grow up? Fly? Live in a world with no cares, no worries, just have fun? Fly? Fight pirates and Indians on a daily basis? Fly? Have a fairy for a--sort of best friend? And did I mention fly? Who wouldn't want to fly?

And yes, I did see the ABC Live Presentation. I know, I know, but it was "Peter Pan" so I gave it a shot. One of the stupider decisions I've made in my life. And I saw the awful film starring Jason Isaacs(question: did they have to up the romance when it kinds didn't even really exist one Peter's side. I mean, hello, he says his feelings are "those of a devoted son"--he's probably not even thinking about romance or whatever. Plus, Wendy in the film? Not so pretty. Just not--but that's just me, so whatever). AND I may or my not be counting down the days until "Pan" is released--and saving moola to a) go see it in theatres multiple times; and b) buy the DVD upon release. Because THIS:

Here's my question: this show gets done over and over and revived and revamped and re-everything-else-ed because it's a legit classic(see 2, above).

Who wouldn't want to be the Boy Who Never Grew Up?

Name of the Game: Discovery in Music...Oh crap!!!!

Ok. I have lost count of the number of times I have said I'm in trouble on this blog. But--

Guys. I'm in trouble.

So much trouble.

I have made a discovery that I never thought I would make.

I have come to like something I swore I would never go near.

Never.

Never ever.

And then it happened.

One little Youtube video, one little song, and it was all over. This song.

Crap.

Crap, crap crap!

Guys, I think I like country music.

A lot.

Ok, maybe not all country music, but there's some good stuff out there. Florida-Georgia Line, and Tim McGraw and Big and Rich and....other stuff. That I can dance to.

Maybe that's the problem.

See, any music I can dance to, I like. That song up there? I can dance to it, so I like it.

Yes, I said I wouldn't ever listen to it.

Yes, I said there was no way anyone could convince me it was a genre worth giving a chance.

But now I have, so there you go.

Name of the Game: Thespian Perils

"I went the the chiropractor today/yesterday/going tomorrow..."

"Rolled/twisted/broke/sprained my ankle/foot/hand/. It's now elevated."

"Muscles hurting. Hooray!"

"New muscles discovered. Now hurting. Hooray!!!"

"Just got stabbed/shot/kicked/smacked/punched/for real. No big deal."

Yeah. Stuff like that shows up on my newsfeed, nearly every day. No, it's not because I'm friends with klutzes, and hunters, and maniacal crazy people--ok, maybe some of those are true, but the main reason is because I have friends who are thespians. 

And guess what? I can always tell when a show is going on, even if I haven't seen all the publicity and stuff, because of the social media posts like those above. In theatre, you don't have  stunt doubles--most of the time. 

Yeah, I can see in shows like Beauty and the Beast you kinda need one for the Transformation, but most of the time it's you, onstage getting beaten to a pulp or attacking someone with whatever weapon is close at hand. 

And when you're not doing that(cause not every show you're ever in will have a fight) your running the backstage marathon to get from one side of the stage to the other; and change costumes in sixty seconds or less sometimes--in the dark(or the semi-dark depending on where the dressing room is and the size of the theatre and all that).  

We do this by choice. When BYU did The Count of Monte Christo a lead actor broke his foot on opening night and performed the rest of the run.

 I was in a production of The Scarlet Pimpernel and Percy Blakney cut his hand open on the guillotine(why we had a real blade, I'll never know; none of my business; moving on...) and still finished his epic fencing match;

Right, so that's just SF make-up, but that's what the guy's hand looked like AND HE STILL FINISHED THE FIGHT. And the show!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And showed up the next day with thirteen stitches and finished the run.

 Last year, I got a blinding migraine mid-stunt and by some miracle was able to finish my fight without killing anyone.  

I have now seen three separate actors walk into three separate stage weights, get various injuries and still finish either the performance or the run--depending on the gravity of the injury. 

Guys. We do this for fun. Not on purpose; stuff happens, it's bound to.  You know what the upside is? For one thing, we could get awesome scars and stories to talk about later("yeah, I sliced my hand on a guillotine while I wielding a rapier and stuff"); but we also get an idea of how committed we are to a project. 

Yes, there are sometimes extenuating circumstances where we need to call it quits; but we hate doing that. We put so much effort into our art, we hate backing out and letting people down. 

We put one hundred percent effort into everything we do. We get cut; we get bruised; we pull muscles; life happens. And when it does, we take it in stride. 

Artists do crazy stuff, and crazy stuff happens to us. But sometimes, we get dang good stories out it!

Quirky Monday: The One with The Tree--And my First Bite from the Theatre Bug

When I was three years old, two things happened: I got bronchitis for the first time, and  I played a tree.

That's right.

A tree.

A tiny little-3-foot-pine-tree that no one wanted for Christmas.

Did I mention that I was already scrawny and undersized anyway so the casting was perfect?

A friend of my mom's had written a cute little Christmas play for our Church Christmas party. She had everyone else, but she needed someone to play the little tree.

Me.

I got to stand center stage for twenty minutes and get sneered at by snobby ladies, kicked by spoiled brats, and finally adopted by a sweet family who wrapped me up and took me home, the end.  The best part?

I had a solo.

The playwright had taken Christmas carols and written new lyrics.  Things like:

"Buy our trees/If you please/ We can't wait all day/ Cash your check or credit card/ we don't care just pay." (sing that in your head to the tune of Jingle Bells, and you'll get an idea.)

My solo was to the tune of "Silent Night", and I got to sing it all by myself, in front of an audience. Or so I thought. Originally, the plan was to have the audience sing with me, so I wouldn't be scared of singing alone.

I'm sorry. Me? Scared of singing alone? Was she insane? This was my song and I was going to sing it by myself, thank you very much.

So I practiced. And I practiced, and I went to rehearsals, and got my costume and was so ready to perform...

And the night before the performance, I started hacking up a lung.

Literally.

Bronchitis.

I was sniffing and coughing so much I couldn't breathe, and my throat was the size of--I don't know, something really big.

What if they had to cancel the show? What if I got fired? What if I let everyone down?(In my three-year-old mind, the show would blow up if I didn't show and my theatre career was ruined.)

But, I did make it to the show. My mom bundled me up and got me in the car and wouldn't let me take my coat off until I got on the stage. I got up on that stage and grabbed my mic and started...croaking(to the tune of Silent Night):

"Cod id da nide/Doe wod id side/Win-der wid/whirls ad bides....."

And that was just the first line. But I was in the show, and I was going to perform.

The theatre bug bit me that night. Bit me hard.

I haven't left since.

Name of the Game: My Take on Social Media

Yes. I have a Facebook account.

And an Instagram.

And Twitter.

And a blog.

I use each of them for different things. See, before all I had was Facebook, and all I did was write really longs statuses every day and share more links than were probably needed. On a daily basis.

I used my blog to post writing snippets and that's about it(mostly for my cousin, as--being in Cali-- that was the only way she could read my stuff.)

And I used Twitter for snark. I made sarcastic comments and things, just cause.

Then I took a Social Media class and a Blogging class my last semester in college(aka three months ago GAK was it really only three months!?!?!) where we were given the following assignments:

1. Be active on social media(aka have an account on Facebook, Twitter, Blogger, etc)
2. Be social on social media(like things, reply to comments, have conversations, etc.)
3. Use your blog effectively(whatever that's supposed to mean)

Yeah, I still like things on Facebook. Except now, if there are comments, I reply to them. If there's a conversation that I'm a part of, I stay involved in it--as much as I can(because really, you can only get so "involved" over the internet--because it's not face to face). The difference before this class and after this class is that there are now more than a few people I want to keep in contact with--and only have a few of their numbers, so Facebook is really the only way to talk to them.

This blog has changed too. My assignment was post three times a week in the last month before finals(which--incidentally, was only two more times a week then I posted anyway--when I remembered to). I'm not going to lie, it's kind of nice to write about anything I want and then see who reads it.

However, Twitter is still my snark spot. Do I have a sarcastic comment? Is there some kind snark begging to get out of my head? Well, then, I tweet it. And my twitter is connected to my Facebook anyway, so either way it'll get seen.

Quirky Monday: La Chocolat

Right, ok.

So remember last week, I said there two two things I could not live without and one of them was glitter? Well, this time I'm going to tell you about the other one. You give me this, we'll be best friends. You give me a lot of this, we will have serious talk about the positive direction our friendship will most definitely take. You bring to me on a date? We might have a DTR(ok, only kidding on the last one).

All right, the other thing I really truly can't live without is:

You guys, it's bad. It's terrible! I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself. I think my mom must have eaten a ton of the stuff before I was born because I really truly can't get enough. 

The problem, though, isn't just that I eat it. The problem is that I really only eat certain types. Yeah, I know--I'll snack on the odd Twix or KitKat or those Crispy or Mint M&Ms; but those are just really---waxy? Yeah, they're waxy. So much cheap waxy--blech. 

And the stupid thing is I didn't used to think so. Until I worked a summer job at a chocolate shop. Now, this particular chocolate shop had a particular policy. You had to know what all the chocolate tasted like. So during your shift, you had to eat it. I'm not kidding. Oh, I was in so much trouble!!!!

This chocolate has no wax. None. It's melting point is higher, and this means that it costs an arm and a leg just to buy it, but OMG it is goooood! And not just cause it's chocolate. See, this company makes a cream that is to die for! They call it a rum ball.  And it's--well, somebody needs to make up a word for what it is, because I don't have one. Anyhoo, this is what they look like:

Yeah. Yeah. Could not get enough. Ever. I still buy some if I've been really really good for month or something. 

They had a sign at this shop that I loved. I even had it on my favorite quote list for a while:

"If a man won't open your door on the first date, be careful. If a man gives you chocolate on the first date, marry him!"

Shallow, I know, but I loved the quote. A friend of mine heard this quote from someone (not me, by the way) and I guess he remembered it, because when he asked me out, he brought me chocolate. He got a second date. And not just because of the chocolate--but it helped(I'm kidding).

Yes, I eat too much of the stuff. But hey, if you gotta have a weakness, glitter and chocolate is ok with me! And also because:

And yes, I did post that on Facebook, but it bears repeating. You're welcome!

Name of the Game: Me and the Fourth!!!!

Guy, this weekend is the FOURTH OF JULY!!!! WOO WOO!!!!!

And I take holidays super seriously. Like scary seriously.

When I was little on Memorial Day, I would a) wear black, because that's what they did in the movies; and/or b) scatter petals on the graves because that's what they did in Little Women and I thought it was better than flowers. For some romantic reason.

The whole month of February(since it's Valentine's Day on the 14th) my nails are either pink or red. i also pull out my stack of chick flicks and watch one every night.

In December, my nails are green and red. Ad all the Christmas movies come out(I have seen every single version of A Christmas Carol--including the silent version. Not kidding. Also, this is the month I watch Little Women  at least twice.)

October, my nails are black and orange--or whatever(this is recent thing, still working on it). And my Halloween movies come out--the classics and the new ones!!!!!!

The State of Utah celebrate July 24th, so on that day I'd dress up in 19th century clothing(or the closest thing to it) and wear that all day.  And I would eat cornbread and jam--because that's all pioneers ate, apparently.

On on July Fourth, I did--and still do--wear red, white, and blue.

Yeah, ok, so everyone does this. But I have other quirky things I do. Sometime during the week, I watch Yankee Doodle Dandy(because CAGNEY!!!!!) and I also watch 1776 because-- weel, it has songs like THIS:

AND--for those of you Boy Meets World fans--it also stars Feeny as John Adams.  

Yeah. That is what I do on the Fourth. 

You're welcome.