Another Dilbert vacation strip

Here is the comic strip I initially wanted for my "What to do with my vacation time?" post. It's what I felt like last year at this time:

Fortunately, I was able to finish everything two weeks early, perform in a play, and still go on two vacations during December.

This year? No Christmas show. No work deadline scheduled for December 31. No plans to leave town.

I fully intend to enjoy this holiday season at home, and all of my accrued vacation time!

What to do with my vacation time?

Dilbert by Scott Adams
This situation is very, very true

I'm generally inclined to feel sorry for those people who don't use up their vacation time by the end of the year. What? You are so busy you can't take some time to go somewhere, or sit around the house, or do something other than work? When it gets to October and coworkers are telling me they still have two weeks of vacation to use up by the end of the year, I mentally shake my head (I recently learned that we get an extra 40 hours every five years, and some people have worked here for more than 10 -- I can kind of understand why having to use 200 hours of vacation seems daunting when we have big deadlines every three or four months). If I had that much time, I sure as heck would do my darndest to use it!

Or would I?


At the beginning of the year, I had 120 hours of available vacation time, I didn't think I'd have enough for everything I wanted to do: Scotland, Italy, New York, Utah Shakespeare Festival, Disneyland, etc. So, I planned to hoard it. Before I knew it, it was May and I hadn't taken ANY vacation time at all. I HAD taken sick time, but taking time off work because you're sick is NOT the same as taking time off to travel, or relax, or run errands.

Then I decided I didn't have enough money for Scotland or Italy this year.

Then it was August and I'd only taken 32 hours.

Then I decided not to go on vacation until I'd purchased and installed a washer and dyer... which hasn't gone according to plan and won't be happening this year either. So, I don't need they day off I was planning to take for that project.

Now it's the last day of November and I still have 44 hours of vacation time left. Whatever I don't use by December 31 doesn't roll over to the next year, which is lame, but I appreciate being made/an excuse to take time off. Better yet, my big deadlines were all finished before Thanksgiving, so I CAN take time off! Hooray for government-mandated breaks!

A smart person would space out their vacation times. Not me; I tend to blow it all in short bursts! Thank goodness for the New York trip and my birthday -- otherwise I might have even more time than I already do!

I'm planning to take the week between Christmas and New Years' off work (that will use up 32 hours, since the day after Christmas is a paid holiday). WOOT!! Can't even begin to tell you how excited I am for that -- can you say "dejunk and organize the condo"?!! It's going to be amazing! I LOVE to be at my place during the day, and I so rarely get to! Family time, condo time, friend time, and ME time. What could be better? This stay-cation is just what the doctor ordered!

I'm taking a half-day tomorrow to go Christmas shopping and get my hair cut (sorely needed after the pink sponge curlers).

The question is: What do I do with those last 8 hours?

Probably the best day is Friday, December 23rd. I probably won't feel like working that day before the long holiday weekend starts.

Then again, a part of me really wants to take some other random day off, like Monday the 12th, or Friday the 16th. I don't have anything I necessarily need to do; I just want to sit around in my pajamas and not do anything all day. I didn't get to do that during the Thanksgiving break, and it's much needed after the last couple of months I've had!

Any advice on which day to take off?

I'd like to say that next year I'll space things out better, but I don't know that I will. I'll probably hoard again. I currently only have one vacation in the works, and it's tentatively planned and will only be for a few days. I'd love to go to Disneyland for my birthday next year. Who knows what else will come up and what I'll want to do? And there's something so lovely about being able to take a whole week off at the end-of-the-year holidays...

Do you wish you had my problems? ;-D

Hooray for vacation time!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I have so much to be thankful for, I am glad to have the excuse that today's holiday brings. You'd better believe I'll be telling my family I love them, and that I'm thankful for you, my readers and friends. I hope today is a wonderful one for all of you!

Shirley Temple curls

I've had occasion to wear pink sponge curlers many times during my life. Somehow, there was always an excuse to make my natural curl just a little curlier and more fancy, and the advantage of the sponge curlers in MY hair is that the curl doesn't fall out... actually, the jury's still out whether that's a blessing or a curse sometimes.

A five-year old on Christmas morning

A twelve-year old on Easter

A seventeen-year old getting ready for a performance (on the left).

A twenty-year old wench (on the right).

Failed attempt at 1940's hair, but at least my make-up and cohort look pretty!

After the above photo (I was thirty-one), I wondered if I was too old to wear the sponge curlers much longer. After all, SOME of the curlers I own are probably the originals from the 80's! It made me sad to think I'd grown out of this "little girl" method of styling. I'd worn those curlers to classes in elementary and high school. I'd slept in them a bajillion times (no, they are not comfortable -- the sponginess is totally negated by the hair and plastic fasteners). I had even worn them to work once or twice, when lucky enough to work places where they don't particularly care what I look like. I mourned the end of an era. And yet... I couldn't bring myself to throw them away.

Then along came The Masque of the Beauty and the Beast. I tried using pin curls to curl my hair, but the results were disappointing. So, I broke out the sponge curlers, just to see if I'd like the effect. The rest is history, as I've been sporting a pompadour-and-ringlets style for the play each weekend!

Last Friday, we had a performance in the morning for a couple of elementary school classes. I went back to work for the afternoon, where my hair looked like this:

I suppose I could have pulled it into a ponytail, but what's the
point when I'd just have to re-do it again for the performance
that night, and the folks at work didn't mind?

That night, I nonchalantly walked through the mall to grab some dinner before the show, pretending I didn't notice the people pretending not to stare at my uncommon hairstyle. The hipster kid who served me at Subway, however, was polite enough to actually ask about it. I told him about the play and the sponge curlers, and he said he thought it was cool. After I'd paid and he was about to move on to the next customer, he said, "Good luck, you bad-a**." It was a little under his breath, but the tone clearly indicated that he was complimenting me. I was surprised though; it was the first time I'd ever been called a "bad-a**", and it was all because of Shirley Temple hair! Haha! Or maybe he couldn't help but respect my casual attitude about looking so different in public. Either way, I was flattered.

Here's hoping that after this play closes I'll still have opportunities to break out the sponge curlers once in awhile. Sure, they're tough on my hair, but the effect sure is fun! I'll be sad when I do finally retire them. One can't be a little girl forever.

Only one more weekend/three more performances left to see me in The Masque of the Beauty and the Beast at the Children's Theatre! I hope that if you haven't been able to come yet, that you'll make it this weekend. I think you'll be surprised and delighted with what you find. I'm sure going to miss it when it's over!

Make a Joyful Noise!

 Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise.

- Psalms 98:4, King James Bible

While I was sick, and then when my throat was healing from the horrible cough damage, I didn't sing. I think I've mentioned before that I love to sing more than doing anything else in the world, so this was difficult for me. Sometimes just mouthing the words and dancing was enough to abate the need to actually make musical noise with my voice, but sometimes it wasn't.

But because I didn't want to damage my vocal chords any more than the illness already had, not using my voice was a necessary sacrifice. I hoped that it would only be short-term. My fear was that I'd never get my range or breath control back to what it was (I'm still pretty short of breath) and I still have coughing spells once in awhile. I could hear how scratchy and pathetic my voice was. I stubbornly tried to audition for a musical, and I was disappointed in my performance -- I could normally perform so much better than that! It's probably better that I wasn't cast in that show. But the first couple of weeks of Beauty rehearsals were endlessly frustrating, because I couldn't use my voice the way I am used to, and, again, I was afraid I'd lose it altogether at just the wrong moment.

It wasn't until the follow-up doctor's appointment this month that I realized how much NOT singing had affected my morale. It was bad enough that I felt crummy and didn't get to hang out with my friends, I couldn't sing, either? Talk about kicking a girl when she's down!

When I suddenly had permission to sing again it felt AMAZING!! Even though it was a Tuesday, I found the Friday song on my iPod and sang it about six times -- I figured it was an okay choice since the vocal range is limited (please don't judge me too harshly), plus the Glee cover is so wonderfully peppy. Then I put on a musical and continued to sing. I was so happy!

A dear friend asked me to sing last Sunday at a retirement home where she plays the piano. It was the first time since September that I'd sung in front of anyone. I sang "For the Beauty of the Earth" and I was nervous and shaky, but I did it! Ginny said I sounded beautiful and that everyone was grateful that I shared (I had to leave right after). I'm glad that she asked me to do it; I put my fears aside and shared my talent. Though weak, it's still there, thank goodness.

Here's a video of Andrea (Little Red), Greg (Baker), and Jonathon (Jack), and me singing my favorite song from Into the Woods. Hopefully I'll be back to audition/performance form and get to sing something like this again soon! I've seen several musicals lately and I sure do miss it!

Piano playing pirate

Someday, if I work really hard on my new keyboard and find the needed sheet music, I might be able to play this song like this guy. Amazing!


Happy Friday!

Arrrrrrrrrgh!

Happy (late) Birthday to me!

When my mom asked what I wanted for my birthday, I didn't hesitate:

"An electronic keyboard, please!"

My parents have a piano, but I'm embarrassed to play anything at their house, because I'm so out of practice I fear it would depress my mother. She paid too much for piano lessons for me to sound as badly as I do. I'd love to start playing again, but I generally like my pathetic attempts to be unheard by others... that's probably true of everyone.

Also, it would be MUCH more convenient to prepare for auditions and such if I actually had a keyboard in my home. It's less expensive and easier to move than a piano, and I can plug in the headphones if I don't want to disturb the neighbors late at night!

Well, my mom is awesome, and took me keyboard shopping so I could pick out one I could live with. She and Dad gave it to me for my birthday, but I was so sick, I couldn't even carry it home (darn whooping cough!). I got it home a week later... and then let it sit in the box. I tend to do that with expensive, electronic purchases -- I'm almost afraid to take them out of the box right away. I was embarrassed last week when Mom asked if I'd opened it and I had to say "No." I'd had it for almost 10 weeks! Then she said it was on sale, and asked if she could return it, buy it back a couple days later, and give me the difference. Not only did I still get my keyboard, I got a couple extra bucks in cash -- woo-hoo!! Happy (late) Birthday to me!

She left the newly-discounted gift in my house on Tuesday, and this time I didn't hesitate in opening and setting it up. Here it is!

 

Isn't it terrific? I even love that the lesson books that came with the keyboard are light chartreuse, which matches my living room decor perfectly!! A happy discovery when I finally opened that box.

I've played a little bit and, yeah, I'm pathetic. But with some hard work and dedication I mean to correct that lapse in skill. I'll be ready to play in front of my mom again -- and maybe a select few others -- in no time!

Now I just need to buy a pedal and I'm good to go :-D

Money collector

My current calling in my ward is as a member of the Activities Committee. I know what many of you are thinking: didn't the powers-that-be in the LDS church office building do away with Activities Committees? The answer is yes... except for Singles Wards. About 550 people attend Sacrament meeting at my ward each week. Can you imagine a Relief Society or Priesthood Quorum presidency trying to put together an activity for 550 people?! Talk about overwhelming! Everyone who serves in the church does so on a volunteer basis, but even I would consider saying "no" with those kind of odds!

So, I'm on the Activities committee. And I admit, I didn't expect to enjoy this calling as much as I do. We only plan about 4 events a year, but they seem to go well. Plus, I have the added bonuses of liking the other people on the committee, and feeling useful within the committee! I may not necessarily enjoy throwing or going to events like this, but knowing I had a hand in it and yes I'm NOT the hostess... well, it's wonderful! I'm a cog! And I like it!

My main responsibility for the Ward Campout this summer was to collect money from the people who wanted to come. This basically involved sitting at a table between (and sometimes during) classes, having people sign up, taking their money, and answering questions about the activity itself. I also ended up answering questions about random things like where Sunday School classes were, or where the clerk's office was, or where the forms for new members were -- when you sit in the hub of the building and look relatively kind, these things happen. It didn't take me too long to realize this assignment sort of made me the "face" or spokesperson of the activity.

It also gave me the chance to meet a lot of people. I admit, I was nervous about that aspect, but it turns out it quite enjoy it! Seems I only dislike talking to strangers over the phone. Strangers in person I can handle! I actually even remembered a lot of person's names and faces! I'm normally not very good at that! This chore was blessing me in so many ways!

We're getting ready for the Christmas party, and Cynthia asked me to be in charge of the collection table again. She also asked me to make a poster. AAAAAAACK! Just kidding. But I was freaked out by how large a piece of poster board is, especially in light of my typically terrible handwriting. I came up with this:

You'll notice I forgot to mention which Parleys ward the party is for; I did write it in later. And if I'm really nit-picky, I wish I'd put that middle tree between "Dinner & Program" and "December 10 and 6pm", and "Meal will be catered" after the bottom tree. That's what I get for not sketching in the trees on my template design. BUT, I like the trees themselves, especially the jeweled ornaments, and I'm so happy the thing is legible! Yaaaaay!

We started collecting money last Sunday, and a few other committee members helped man the table, but I did have to coach them a bit on what they needed to do (take money, hand out tickets, write down their name and ticket number, information is on the tickets, etc). Those things are kind of fun when I know what I'm doing. I spent most of the time directing people to the Thanksgiving party person who was also collecting money that day (a different committee), but since so many people asked about that one, I'm glad I could help! I did take some money for our own party, and at least people are aware of it now, which was the real goal for our first day.

In addition, my friend Liz, who was visiting with me and ended up hanging out at the table with me, too, was asked for her phone number by at least one man, and Facebook friended by another. I'm a little bit jealous, but mostly happy for her. That's what Singles wards are for, right? And she looked gorgeous that day.

It was interesting to me that I was actually excited to get to church early to start getting the word out for the party. I never thought I'd be good at public-relations-type stuff, because I have such a hard time initially being outgoing, and worry about putting presentations together, and what if I'm in a bad mood? That's why I love my cubicle job so much -- no one cares if I'm in a bad mood :-) But this experience teaches me that I can talk with people and not look like an utter fool. I can be a problem-solver when people say they can't afford the $5 or $10. I can make up (and sometimes get right) answers to questions I'm not sure about. I can have fun talking to new people! I can be outgoing! I can be useful. I am so grateful for this assignment -- it's taught me so much about myself already :-D

We'll be collecting money for the next couple of weeks. I'm looking forward to it! The only downside is sometimes I want to just talk with my friends while others are waiting in line, but hopefully my friends understand when I keep conversations short (another thing I'm not yet good at).

I love my ward!

My life in metaphor: senior year

I find it extremely annoying when people try to fabricate lessons out of regular life events. I once went on a date where my escort took me to a dance concert. On the way there, he said "Wouldn't it be fun to look for all of the lessons you can learn from this activity and then discuss them afterward?" I laughed, because I thought -- hoped really -- that he was kidding. He wasn't. So, I had to make up a bunch of stuff I learned by watching a dance concert. It was a weird date. I just don't think that absolutely everything that everybody does during the day has quite that much significance. Can't we just sit back and enjoy life once in awhile? Or even twice in awhile? Am I allowed to just watch a ballroom dance concert without having to think about things like, "Wow, when you work really hard together, you can accomplish things waaaay more impressive than you could do on your own" or "when even one person is out of sync, it throws the entire family out of whack until you can all adjust."

And now that I have that rant out of the way, I'm going to break my own arrogant rule, because I've been thinking about this particular metaphor a lot lately and I think it's pretty profound. It's profound to me, anyway. As I dissect that period in my life and apply it to now, I'm learning quite a bit about the way I approach events...and how much I still don't have figured out.

(Actually, this is more of a parable -- or maybe even a rime -- than a metaphor (as in "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" which is a super-long poem that I managed to slog through in a college poetry class, and now see references to everywhere in literature -- most notably, the "albatross around the neck" imagery). The following story is too long to be a metaphor, but since I love my blog title, I'm leaving it as is.)

**WARNING -- this post is very long**

The Story
I was first exposed to the Madrigals during an assembly at my Junior high school. I remember sitting audience left, and watching the singers closest to me as they sang in perfect sync with the rest of the 24-person group. I still remember who some of them were. Six singers sang each choral part, and when they broke into 8 part harmony, my music-loving heart was overwhelmed. The most amazing part? They didn't need a director. One person in the front blew into a pitch-pipe, another subtly nodded her head so they could all keep the beat, and everyone knew their parts and sang with intensity and a smile. They were amazing.

I knew then that I wanted to be a Madrigal someday.

I had a voice that most of my acquaintances agreed was very pretty, so I went about finding out what I needed to do to become one of "The Mads." At the high school, you needed to take at least a year of one of the other choirs, you needed to audition (of course), and when called back you had to pass a "sight-singing" test, meaning, I had to be able to read music.

Choir girls!

I enrolled and participated in one of the choirs for my Sophomore year, and when in the Spring it came time to audition for Mads the next year I decided against it. Very few Juniors were ever selected, and I wanted a bit more practice with sight-reading. I realized I was putting all of my eggs in one basket -- one shot to make it or break it -- but I knew that I fit all of the requirements, so I enrolled and participated in A'Cappella the next year.

The next spring, just before auditions for Madrigals for my Senior year, we had auditions for the Fall musical, which was My Fair Lady. I auditioned and was called back with three other girls for Eliza Doolittle. I didn't get the part. I was very disappointed because she was the only lead female who sings, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I'd be in Madrigals, so it would even out. I wouldn't be a complete unknown.

When it came time for the auditions, I was ready. I sang a song that I knew I rocked, and everyone who was listening (consisting of everyone else auditioning and a ton of interested observers) said that I did really well. When I filled out my audition form, there was a section that said, "What priority would you give Madrigals, if selected?" I love to sing more than any other activity in the world. I remember thinking "It would be my first priority -- even before theatre." At that time I had a reputation as a true theatre-junkie who not only did as many school plays as she could, but was also active in community theatre. I did seven different plays each during my Sophomore and Junior years. But I decided that the last part of my thought was overkill, and wrote simply, "Madrigals would be my first priority."

I was called back. So far so good. My sight-singing went okay; I hit all the notes but got muddled with the timing. But as I looked around at all of my friends my confidence was high. I was going to be a Madrigal. I just knew it. I couldn't wait to see my name on the list outside of the choir room.

Unfortunately, I had to wait. It seemed like forever but was probably only a week. For some reason, I didn't remember it taking so long the year before, but that was probably because I didn't have so much invested that time.

Finally, finallyThis was it! I was going to see my name and my dream was going to come true! I pushed my way to the list and stood in front of my friend Michelle (who was almost six foot and had no trouble seeing over my head) and gleefully scanned the names.

My name was not on the list.

I went numb, and it took a few seconds for it to register.

When I could finally accept that I was not a first or second soprano, or a first or second alto, and I realized I had to get out of the way so that others could see the list, I turned to Michelle -- who WAS on the list -- said, "Congratulations" and burst into tears. All of my best friends in choir had made the cut, and I hadn't. Instead, I was the nobody who everyone felt sorry for. I learned that day there's no such thing as a "sure thing"; I've never been able to take an audition for granted since.

The last few weeks of school were awful. It was bad enough that my dreams had been dashed, but then I started hearing rumors from reputable sources stating things like the reason why it took the choir director, Mr. Lee, so long to decide was because he was back and forth whether to choose me or so-and-so. So, then every time I saw that girl for the next year I thought, "If it hadn't been for you, I would have been in Madrigals." And Mr. Lee even pulled me aside one day, said that he was sorry that I didn't make it, but "at least you still have theatre, right?" I could have died. For the rest of my life I'll wish I put "It would be my first priority -- even before theatre" on that audition form. He was so kind, and obviously trying to make me feel better, so I agreed and found a private place to start crying all over again.

I decided to sign up for A'Cappella my Senior year, knowing that all of the Madrigals would be in the class, and hoping that it wouldn't hurt to see them every other day and be reminded of what I had lost. After all, I still loved to sing, I loved the choir, and I loved my friends. But that first day was torture. Mr. Lee took all of the sopranos into another room to determine if we were first or second sopranos. If we didn't know, he'd have us run a few scales. Well, each of my friends responded with a "Well, I'm a first soprano in Mads" or "I'm a second soprano in Mads." I hated them. I was filled with jealousy and raw pain so acute that I wanted to scream and hit them.

I had decided to quit the class, until I heard Mr. Lee say my name. Shocked, I listened as he explained he wanted me to be one of the two secretaries for the choir, to take roll and help organize selecting a dress and so forth. I was surprised to hear that the other girl wasn't in Madrigals either -- usually one of the secretaries was. I said, "Yes" and made it my goal to work hard and not let myself regret it. I stayed true to that goal.

The Fantastic Mr. Santa Claus --
how I wish the Children's Theater
would do it again!

I stayed in A'Cappella and most days it wasn't too painful. The Madrigals practiced outside of school, and I just kept doing what I had been doing -- namely, as many plays as I could. Since I wasn't in Madrigals, my Christmas season wasn't terribly busy I even did a play in December, which I hadn't done the previous years. This turned out to be a good decision, because during the Christmas Choir concert, I became so upset when the Madrigals sang that I had to leave the auditorium. It was too hideous to see them sing those songs when I had wanted for so long to belong. I cried in the lobby for their entire set list.

Somehow, it seemed like I just missed being the star in every play that year. I played a lot of small parts, and my drama teacher told the entire My Fair Lady cast one day that I had the BEST cockney accent, and I had a lot of fun, but my fragile 18 year old ego rankled that I always seemed to be the girl people were entertained by but didn't remember afterwards. Even when it came to drama competitions, I always came in fourth, which meant that I didn't get to advance to the next level.

We came again to the end of the year: time for the annual "Disneyland Choir Tour." Basically, you sign up, pay for the trip, go to extra rehearsals to learn the songs and dances, and then get a on a bus with all your friends to perform and play in Las Vegas and Disneyland (we also visited Universal Studios, but didn't perform there). The Madrigals were all pretty much required to go, and the rest of us could sign up until the bus was full (assuming the guy/girl ratio wasn't too off... you need male voices in a choir). This year was a bit different, because instead of going after the school year had ended, we went the week before Memorial Day, so we had a few weeks left of school when we returned.

The trip was a blast! What better than fifty or so teen-aged friends crammed onto a bus for days on end, then running around in the southern California sun? I'd gone on the choir trip the year before, but somehow I only remember performing at Disneyland during my Senior year. We took a billion photos to commemorate our awesomeness. The best part was that we knew we'd still have two weeks back in school to solidify new friendships made on the trip... that was the hard part about scheduling the trip at the end of the year.

Universal Studios
My fanny pack is awesome

On the one Sunday we were on the tour, we visited the Los Angeles Temple. This was cool for me, because my parents were married there, and to my knowledge I had never seen it in person. I imagined my parents as newlyweds and wondered what the future would hold for me. I had a crush on one of the guys in the choir and hoped we'd get to spend more time together after the tour.

I don't remember if the whole choir got to perform in the Visitor's Center, but I know the Madrigals did. I'd managed to watch their performance during the Spring concert, but just like at Christmas, I couldn't do it this time. It just crashed in on me that they had all had a year to bond with each other, and had amazing experiences, and I had not been a part of it.

Again, I left the room to find a place to cry. My friend Laura S. found me and comforted me until she could ask what was wrong. I told her. I felt sorry for myself that I didn't get to be in Madrigals. I had wanted it for years, did everything I thought I could to make it happen, and I'd spent the whole year watching all my other friends grow closer through an experience that I couldn't share. My Senior year hadn't been anything like I had wanted it to be. I felt so small and empty and pathetic.

She said, "Megan, would you have been able to do City Rep if you hadn't been in Mads?"

That brought me up short.


I've painted a doom-and-gloom picture, but really my overall Senior year was a positive experience. It just wasn't the one I had always hoped for. I had thought being in Madrigals would make me important. I'd wanted to belong to the elite singing group so that I could know that I was one of the very special, talented ones. When that didn't happen, I didn't know where I belonged. So, I just kinda did what I'd always done, tried to be happy for my friends, tried to not think "what if" too often. What else could I do? I'd given it my best and it hadn't worked out. I still had to live my life, so I did it the only way I knew how.

An Observation
I happened to hang out with a group of Madrigals a few years ago, and they all started reminiscing about the good times they spent together and talking about how they should do a Mads reunion. I apologetically interrupted and said, "Um, guys. I wasn't in Mads. I'm not a part of that group." To my surprise, none of them remembered this seemingly significant fact. Short of my actually sharing the Mads experiences with them, they considered me part of the group. The amazing singer divide had been all in my head; they had never looked at themselves as better than I was. They didn't treat me any differently than they were because in their opinion I belonged there. It was quite an eye-opener to me. I may have felt left out, but it wasn't because they purposely excluded me. My friends were, and still are, awesome.

How does the story apply to me now?
I wonder if you're thinking "How in the world is that freakishly long story a metaphor?"

Well, I've decided that I haven't changed much since high school. I still approach things the same way.


My life has totally NOT turned out the way I thought it would. I thought that I would marry somewhat young (like, my last year of college), have kids pretty soon, and never had to work or support myself. I NEVER would have imagined that I'd be thirty-three, a career-ish woman, and on my own.

My mom got married when she was twenty-one, so I took for granted that I'd get married at twenty-one, too. But when I was twenty-one, I went on a mission instead. During my mission, some of my companions (I had two at the time) and I made up futures for each other (that was the companionship I where I compared our personalities with Designing Women -- I was Annie Potts-- and Golden Girls -- I was Sophia, of course). My companions decided I was going to be married at twenty-four and-a-half, do a lot of travelling with my husband, and start having kids at age twenty-seven. By the time I was thirty-three I was supposed to have three kids.

That was the expectation, and now that it hasn't happened I have a hard time not feeling cheated. I sometimes see my SAHM friends with their one-to-four kids and am overcome with jealousy. I hear them complain about their husbands and wish I could complain about mine, too. I love them and celebrate their joys and commiserate with their sadness and force myself not to wish I were in their shoes.
 
I continue to do what I've always done. I do whatever feels natural and I try not to question it. I graduated with a Bachelor's degree in English, and when the editing/newspaper jobs didn't come I took another job that seemed likely. Now I'm doing technical writing and I quite like it. I never thought I could work for a living, and was afraid that I wouldn't be able to support myself. Not only have I learned that I CAN support myself, but aside from my mortgage I've never been in serious debt.

I continue to do theatre, because why not? I'm coming into my stride and finally getting the good parts I wanted in high school. I've made a list of dream roles and am looking for opportunities to sing and perform. I won't always be young and cute (old and cute, maybe, but not young forever) and I'm taking advantage of it while I can.

I save my money and paid time off so I can travel and see as many places on my bucket list as I can.

I enjoy my life as much as I always have, because I have the nagging feeling that this way of life won't last. And I hope it doesn't.

But I feel like there's a time-bomb over my head and I won't know when it's going to go off. Will my life ever change? Would I know what to do with myself if it did? I'm afraid to make long-term plans because I don't know what's going to happen one, five, or ten years from now. Buying the condo was hard for me, because it was yet something else I didn't think I'd do alone. I never planned for a career, and I don't know if I want to do what I'm doing for the rest of my life, should it come to that.

I know that life isn't static -- I change with every experience every day.

My main desire for this life is still to be a wife and mother. If I met the right guy tomorrow I wouldn't hesitate giving up my current life, just like if there had been a spot for me in Mads I would have taken it in an instant. Last choice is still chosen. Dating and marriage ares not something I have total control over and that worries me.

At the same time, there's something comforting in knowing that my life situation doesn't mean that I'm not good enough -- I just haven't found the right person... or I have but neither of us know it yet. Was I talented and dedicated enough to have been in Madrigals? Yes, I was. Am I cute and fun and smart and loyal and forgiving and dedicated enough to be a good wife someday? Absolutely.

Conclusion
Eight years after high school ended, I was lucky enough to be cast in A Christmas Carol at Hale Center Theatre in West Valley. I was part of an octet -- a group a third as large as the Madrigal choir. It was supremely cool singing with those other seven (well, fourteen, counting the other cast) talented performers. Years after the Madrigal disappointment, I still got to be part of an elite singing group. The Hale and my fellow octitians will never know how much that experience meant to me. My favorite memories from that show are standing in a circle around the piano, singing my heart out, and amazing music director Anne Puzey not having anything to tweak in our performance. It made for an awesome Christmas and still makes me happy when I think about it. That's the reason I continued to audition for so many years afterwards, even though I haven't been cast again. It was totally worth all the fear of rejection!

Wassail, wassail to my M/W/F cast!

My married time will come. I have a hard time believing that if I live for another thirty years that I won't get married SOME time between now and death. It'll be different than I anticipate, but it will be just as worth it.

So, there you have it: my Madrigal/marriage metaphor. If you made it all the way through to the end, you're either a really good friend, or I did an okay job with my story-telling. Either way, thanks for sticking with me!

Inspirational speech... by pretty much everyone

On this fine Monday morning, I'm looking at a long, long, week that will likely go by too fast for all that I need to accomplish at work. Luckily, I'm in a far better position to get things done by my deadline then I expected last week I would be! And, the good I have planned for my limited free time should balance -- if not outweigh -- the bad. I can do it! And the Thanksgiving 4-day holiday is just around the corner!

Even so, with Mondays being what they so often are, I figure we could all use a little inspiration:



Thank you, Hollywood!

Happy Monday!

Beware the awesome tarantulion!!

Okay, folks. Here's the blog you've been waiting for! One two weeks in the making!

The one that reveals what we think a tarantulion might actually look like! (For my other Tarantulion posts, click here and here.)

Has anticipation been building? Are you ready to have your minds enlarged and/or blown? Well then, let's go!!

First, we have a picture submitted by my friend Keri. Revel in her awesome vision:

I love that it has paw/claws AND spider-legs. Seriously freaky and cool!! Great job, Keri!

And here's mine. My particular brand of artistry made this come out far cuddlier than I would have liked, and there are supposed to be four eyes and two fangs, but you get the general idea:

Anyone else want to submit their drawings? I still want to see what you thought of when you first read the phrase "Tarantulion."

Oh, and I still think it would make a great "B" movie. Anyone up to THAT challenge? Pretty please?

Thank you, Mr. Conley, for giving us something fun to imagine. Your comic strip rocks and your characters are hilarious!

I've been reviewed!!

Ever since I first heard of the Utah Theater Blogger Association (UTBA) I have been terrified I'll be reviewed. Family and friends tend to be nice, but strangers don't have to be! I put so much into each show that I do I can't bear to have a stranger tell me -- let alone the world wide interweb -- they didn't enjoy my character. I've been in several plays reviewed by this group (all well-received, luckily), but they've never called out my individual performance.

Until now.

When I saw the review for The Masque of the Beauty and the Beast pop up in my reader feed last night, my heart nearly stopped. But, it turns out, the reviewer and her daughter not only enjoyed the play, but they liked ME in it!

The blonde sister (Smyth) was hilarious with excellent comedic timing.  Her off-the-cuff remarks and use of body language added several layers to their story. 

Hooraaaaaaaaaaay!

Come and see me in this play, and bring a friend or two. I just can't believe that you wouldn't enjoy it (I don't say that about every show I'm in). It's magical and whimsical and fun and cool. Click here for ticket information.

If you don't come, I'll make this face:

So very, very frumptastic. I both love and hate this photo at the same time.

Okay, fine. I'll probably make that face if you DO come, but then it will be in character!

The handsome Prince, carrying his Beast mask

Sisters (Beauty in the middle, and Haughtense on the right).
Funny enough, I'm the tallest one. We all know I'm on the
short side of average, so it always makes me giggle when
I'm one of the tallest girls in a play!

Three grotesques, all ready for another pure awesome performance.

Only nine performances left. Hope to see you there!

Generic v Global

Once of the products at work has the word "Generic" in it. I know this because I've been working on the documentation for this product for the last three months.

During one review early in the process, one of the engineers noticed that some of the screen shots said "Global" instead of "Generic". I was embarrassed I didn't catch it before I sent it for review, but that's what reviews are for! I fixed up the doc, they fixed the product and sent me new screen shots. All is well.

Today, one of the most frustrating people to work with sent me a review of the Release Notes. In it, he crossed out every reference to "Generic" and replaced it with ... you got it! "Global" After a quick mental check to make sure I was right, I poked my head around my cubicle to the guy next to me.

"Just want to confirm that XXX stands for 'Generic' and not 'Global', right?"

"Yep."

It's unkind to revel in other people's mistakes, but considering the way this guy has been putting me off lately, this happening just made my whole day!

And now back to my regularly scheduled work, fixing the rest of the stuff the frustrator sent me to do. To be fair, he DID send me this information three days sooner than he usually does at this point during a release. That feels like a victory, too, and I am very grateful!

I am smiling so hugely right now.

And it came to pass

I live a fairly charmed life: loving family, comfortable home, terrific friends, steady job, plenty of opportunities to play, et cetera, et cetera...

But sometimes I feel sorry for myself, or angry for days at a time. I don't like feeling that way, but unless I lock myself in my room for the rest of my life, it's unavoidable (actually, after spending the bulk of September sick in my room, I can safely say that solution won't keep me from feeling sorry for myself after very long...)

A few weeks ago, my friend Suzanne posted this on her blog:

Opposition in all things, right? I was reading a story somewhere, and the author said her mother would comfort her in hard times with the phrase that went something like, "The scriptures would use the phrase, 'and it came to pass', not the phrase, 'and it came to stay' ". I like that idea.

I like that idea, too! It helps during tough times to remember that I won't always feel that way. Time heals wounds, and troubles work themselves out (or I work them out).

I'm almost healed from the whooping cough and pneumonia (did I mention the whooping cough? That wasn't confirmed until a few weeks ago). My play is open to the public and going well. I got to spend some time this weekend with my brother Aaron and celebrate my sister-in-law with many of her loved ones. I may kind of want to punch and/or yell at people at work right now, but that won't accomplish anything; every deadline is like this and yet everything somehow manages to get done.

Crummy times come and go, but there's always something to look forward to. After all, if I don't have to deal with frustration, pain, and loss, I won't grow... right?

500 Miles with Doctor Who

I discovered this video on Tuesday, and have watched it at least once a day since. It's helping me get through this crappy work week. I love it!! I may or may not want to sing every time I watch. (Keep an eye out for a few random famous people that even we Americans would know -- LOVE!)


Maybe after I finish up the West Wing series, I'll have to finally start in on Doctor Who. My curiosity is officially peaked to the max. Plus, I already have a huge crush on David Tennant from his performance in Hamlet *Swoon*

Not David Tennant, but still funny.

I know what I'm doing Thanksgiving weekend... you know, when I'm not performing ;-D

Opening night tonight! Hope to see a few of you there!!

Still time to submit a Tarantulion drawing!

My challenge to draw a tarantulion wasn't met with very much enthusiasm. In fact, one friend said she didn't even read the post because she was afraid she'd see a photo of one on my blog. I suppose I can understand that; I really hate it when people post photos of spiders. I'm just sayin'.

But until Darby Conley posted that comic strip last week, there weren't ANY references to tarantulions anywhere on the internet. Just think of it: the creative field is wide open! You could be the person who sets what future generations imagine when they hear of the fearsome beast.

After all, the only reason everyone thinks Frankenstein looks like this is because of the 1931 movie.

I also blame this movie for giving people the wrongful
impression that "Frankenstein" is the name of the monster.
It is, in fact, the name of the scientist who created the monster.
There's your literary nerd fact of the day.

It's like the Kenneth Brannaugh version never happened.

Don't you want a hint of immortality? How cool would that be?!! And how cool if I discovered you!!!

If you decide to submit a drawing, e-mail it to me at dizzyblonde78 at msn dot com. I'll post them all next week...

Come on! Don't assume someone else will have the same idea you have... and don't let your believed lack of skill discourage you. If it makes you feel better, you can say your nephew drew it. I won't judge!

And, yes, I'll be posting my own sketch. I'm willing to potentially embarrass myself if you are :-D

Happy Thursday!

Don't think about zebras

The first time I learned of a certain "swear" word, I was probably about ten, and one of my little brothers said, "Hey, did you know [he spelled the word out] is a swear word?" Embarrassed that a younger brother knew something I did not, I immediately countered with "No, it isn't!" Turns out I was wrong, although I couldn't tell you when the "badness" was confirmed to me. To this day I have never used it and never will. But sometimes I wish I was still innocent enough that I'd never heard it in the first place.

Well, in the interim time I've discovered more bad words. Words used in movies that bother me each time I hear them. Words I wish people in polite society wouldn't use, especially when yelling at me.

Even now, I'm encountering new words not to say. The latest was from the movie Easy A, a movie I quite liked and wouldn't mind owning. Now that I think of it, I've heard the word before but never knew it was a bad one. I've probably sung it, snuck into musicals the way it sometimes is. It was the only bad word I noticed in the movie, and I only noticed it because she was sent to the principle's office because of it. Otherwise, I would have had no idea and wouldn't have given it a second thought.

It's probably better they did make such a big deal, because I might have ignorantly used it myself :P I love playing with words! It's so hard to leave one unsaid, especially when it was locked into the forefront of my brain!

A part of me immediately wanted to look it up to find out what it meant. But I didn't really want to type the word into a search engine because 1) I was a little afraid to find out the meaning, and 2) I didn't want it showing up in my history (I know I could wipe the history, but it still feels wrong).

The other part of me -- the part that didn't know yet what it meant -- wanted to use it.

I know what the new word means now -- a friend enlightened me and I'm glad she did -- so I'm less tempted, but it's still on my mind, as illustrated by Ray Romano in the last two minutes of this clip:


In an attempt to distract my mind and focus on stuff I would NOT be embarrassed to say, I've been watching classic movies and reading young adult fiction. I think about it the forbidden words less often now, but now that I've learned it, it'll probably pop up in my brain every once in awhile.

I apologize if through this post I might have inspired you to think of "ugly" words. What do you do to get those kind of things out of your head?