Thanks From a Theatre Snob

Every week I get a wonderful opportunity to give thanks. Some of my friends added me to their "gratitude list" earlier this year. Each week, each one of us makes up a list of what the past few days has taught us to appreciate. Then we email it to each other. It's a wonderful way for us to keep in touch and to keep things in perspective.

This past week I'm most grateful for my visit from my mom and her best friend, Mary. My mom bought her plane ticket in July and has been talking about the trip NON-STOP since then.

Mom arrived on Wednesday and we headed to The Cloisters. That's where I took this picture.
She's cute, huh?

We were slugs all of Thanksgiving. Thank goodness. I needed it.

Mary arrived on Friday and we all went to see "Spamalot," which is the best show I've seen on Broadway. The actors were "on" through the whole show and they kept my interest and attention the entire time.
For those of you who've ever sat through a show with me, you know how much of a compliment this is for me! I even stood for the standing ovation!
I know!
I can't believe it either!!!

The Rebirth of My Master's Project

First and foremost, thank you to those of you who have been there to offer me some serious support over the past few weeks and especially over the past few days. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful people in my life who truly know me and love me. I have no idea how I ended up so lucky.

My "purging of emotions" has helped pick up my attitude. Thank goodness. Taking risks is a scary but good thing for me.

I wanted to give you an update on what has felt like an ever-evolving master's project. I'm in the midst of making a final pitch for a new topic. I'm going to look at Hip Hop Theater and its struggle to get onto the main stage. The playwrights I've been in contact with so far seem to be pretty willing to talk. I just hope my advisor actually approves it.
The master's project has proven to be a thorn in my side. But from the insight I've gained from my friends -- this is simply a requirement of any master's project.

Otherwise, things are improving.

I found out yesterday that one of my professors enjoyed my most recent reported story. She's going to submit the stories from all of our class members (six of us) to Columbia News Service. It's a wire service. Who knows, it could end up in print! If nothing else, I am just glad to hear that my writing is receiving some positive response among an overwhelming amount of negative feedback. Baby steps.

The radio is already playing 24 hour Christmas music. Funny. I thought Thanksgiving hadn't even arrived yet. I must be confused...

Unmasking Myself

I'm not doing so well.

Ever since arriving at the school, I've asked myself, "why did they let me in here?" I still don't have an answer.
The path was presented so clearly before me that this was where I should be right now. I'm just not so sure whether I need to continue.
Quite honestly, I've never willingly taken on anything as intellectually challenging as this adventure. It has drained me emotionally and spiritually. I seem to feel as if I'm the only one around me who is struggling as much as I.
It's humbling to think I'm not cut out for this.

Before arriving, I knew in my heart that this would open doors I didn't even know existed. It's true, but not as I'd expected; the door that's been opened the most is the one leading to my soul and to my true self. It's difficult to realize that I'm not as smart or as strong as I've convinced myself.
It's heartbreaking.
It's embarrassing.

I typically don't give up on things. It's not only that I see it as a sign of weakness, I also figure, "why not keep going and see what happens?" If nothing else, it'll be a good story to tell about "how I actually managed to make my way out of this." But maybe it's time I wave my white flag on this. I'm just not sure.

The feedback I've been getting from professors has been supportive but not positive. It's hard to admit that.

My mother told me something last night about her move to New York that comforted me. She and my dad moved here after they married. My dad was my age. They had been here only three months (the same amount of time I've been here) when my dad called California to his parents to announce they were coming back home. My grandpa told him they couldn't come back. Apparently my grandparents said they'd told all their friends that my dad was going to be a big success, so he had to stay in New York and prove it. Interesting.
They stayed.
They succeeded.

My mother had a different approach with me. She told me to do whatever I want and somehow convinced me I'm not as much of an idiot as I seem to believe I am.

Then today happened.

I woke up fine, went to class, and then I received a paper back from one of my professors. I came home and cried. Again.
Crying after class seems to work well for me.

So here I am.
A lot of you have asked about how I'm doing.
Well... this is the truth about how I'm doing. I feel useless.
It's cyclical. After publishing this post (although I'm still debating whether to do that), I'll likely go back to feeling okay. I'll take it in stride. I'll tell myself, "You know you'll get through this." Because the truth is, I DO know I can make it through this. I've been put through the ringer in this lifetime, whether it was by my own making or just by "life" being dealt my way. I have potential to learn a lot here -- both in the classroom and inside my own head.
I have no idea how I will be once I make it out of here, but I believe if nothing else, I will be a little more humble and a little more vulnerable.

I'm not allowing any comments on this post. And Aunt Jane and Uncle Don... maybe you could not print this post out for Grandpa. I would like him to continue thinking I'm wearing the mask of an intelligent young person.

Rethinking My Thesis

Oh dear. After last month's trip to DC to do interviews and spending a couple months concocting ideas, the last thing I wanted to hear was advice to "rethink" my thesis. But I did.
So now my topic has changed. I spent my entire weekend online searching for something. My roommates didn't know I was here because I was trapped in my room for so long.
I'm hoping this idea will get approval. But since I'm so superstitious, I'm not going to tell you yet about my new topic. Can you just "feel" that it's a good idea?

Tonight I went out to dinner with a friend of mine from Portland who now lives in Salt Lake. KaRyn's the best. She's a genius. She's beautiful. She's funny.
It's so great to know such wonderful people. She introduced me to one of her friends who now lives here. Old friends and new friends: both are great.
This weekend I'll also get to hang out with my friend, Amber. I know her from Portland too, but she now lives in DC. Portland appears to be a good breeding ground for cool people who move away. What's up with that?
My friend Ashley and I are also going to try and get tickets to "Wicked" this weekend.
I'm glad I get to be around so many great friends who want to spend time with me.

Getting Into the Groove

Things are getting better.

I think.

Every day, I seem to go through a cycle: I constantly feel like I'm keeping my head above water, and just when I feel as if I'm about to fully keep afloat, I sink back down. Ugh.

I met with one of my professors yesterday. He gave me some support and advice on how to improve my writing and how to organize my thoughts. Tip #1: Never Give Up. Tip #2: Start with an outline.
I asked, "Will I ever be able to write without an outline again?"
He answered excitedly, "Faulkner used outlines until the day he died! He would put little pieces of paper outlining his books up on the wall!"
"That's not the answer I was looking for."

I think I'm starting to get my brain working in a different form once again, though. Writing essays is just simply a far different beast than writing for television, so I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself; things just take time.

One of my fellow J-schoolers suggested something our class should look into as an investment. Let me know what you think about this tool kit: