Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Mein Kampfs

I've been thinking for a long time that I want to write a book. This thought has come to me in various forms throughout the years. Sometimes I'm inspired by events happening in my life, sometimes I'm inspired by reading through my old Facebook statuses and basking in how funny I am, and sometimes (most of the time) when I realize that my family has an insane amount really ridiculous stories that I think the world ought to hear. This last bit is confirmed for me constantly when I casually mention to people that, for instance, my maternal grandfather was adopted by his own mother, or that my last name is Mosbarger due solely to a step-parent adoption situation and that my actual lineage last name would have been DeJesus, but we really don't talk about it due to family secrets (that involve, of all things, the Portuguese Olympic soccer team and tenuous mob ties). Naturally people are quite intrigued.

The beauty of putting these stories in a book as opposed to a blog is that while a blog gives you more instant gratification, it also enables the subjects of the stories to read them fairly immediately and then they can do things like complain and demand that you take unflattering portrayals of them (that you painstakingly crafted) off the internet. And you pretty much have to, or you run the risk of your mom calling and telling you that maybe you went a bit too far. Speaking of my mom, the other really great part of book writing versus blog writing is that mostly everything I know about either side of my family I've gotten out of her, which means the truth is dubious at best. I mean, I'm sure that everything she's told me is mostly true, but how can she possibly know with certainty the truth about things that happened on my dad's side of the family before either of us were born? Even if they are hilarious? With a book, no one except your editor knows what you've written until the unsavory details have been published and by then it's way too late for anyone to protest. Unless they sue, I guess.

Unrelated to this post, really. But who could sue these cutie patooties?!

Unfortunately, in this day and age, in order to get a book deal you basically either have to have a really successful blog and/or twitter feed, or be a Real Housewife of Cedar Rapids, Iowa (or whatever most recent godawful creation Andy Cohen has drunkenly concocted). And so, I'm recommitting to Blatheration. Again. But for real this time. BOOK DEAL, HERE I COME. WATCH OUT, OPRAH!

Addendum: Perhaps you were wondering about the title? No, relax, I'm not a closet Nazi. I started using this phrase when I was choreographing high school musicals a few years ago because I'm morbid and I thought it was funny. Por ejemplo, I would stop a number and announce to my students:

"STOP. You guys! ERGH. Okay. Here is mein kampf. You all look like you're dancing with Urinary Tract Infections. Please be better."

Usually I would throw out the "Mein Kampf" part so casually that no one would catch it, or if they did catch it they wouldn't have time to get the reference because they were high schoolers and their brains weren't fully formed yet. But eventually, after one or two times of doing this, my Oldest Child Responsibility Guilt would kick in and I would get really afraid that I was going to offend someone. So I stopped doing it unless I was in the comfort of my own home, because it's only Ricky there and he's seen into the depths of my soul and already knows I'm going to hell. Except for then that bastard stole my joke and started using it in public and now everyone thinks he thought of it - and I won't stand for that. So I'm using it as the title of this post both because it is a post detailing my current struggles and as a way to reclaim my morbid turn-of-phrase from my joke stealing fiance. I'm the culturally insensitive person in this relationship and don't any of you forget it.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

On Being Here

I feel compelled to start this post the way I seem start all of my posts - with a disclaimer that I haven't blogged in awhile. Sometimes my hiatuses are caused by apathy or lack of inspiration or simple laziness, but this hiatus is the result of so much change, so many new experiences, and so many shifts if my perspective that writing it down has seemed incredibly daunting. As a result, the only way that I could even convince myself to begin was to let go of the need to catch everyone up - the final Seattle days, the cross-country road trip, beginning a new life in a new place that always seemed so out of reach and then, without even realizing it, having routines and knowing people and truly living here - and be okay with just telling you how it is now. 

A view from the road.

It's really, really great.

I will readily admit that as an adult I have struggled with the faith I was raised with and what it means to me. I have gone from questioning, to anger, to flat out atheism, to maybe not quite atheism, to being very convinced in the possibility of reincarnation. It has been quite the work in progress. But we are figuring it out, me and whoever-is-up-there. However, being in this place, at this time in my life, with Ricky, has almost been enough to persuade me forever that someone somewhere has been planning this for me all along. 

With the exception of not being around my family and friends, everything in New York is better than it was in Seattle. Ricky is a bartender at Pegu Club, a world famous Soho bar, and I am a cocktail waitress there, putting the skills I learned cocktailing at Snoqualmie Casino to good use. After years of having opposite schedules and only seeing each other once or twice a week, even while living together, this set up has been perfection. I know the ins and outs of his professional life better than I ever could as just a bar patron, I only have to work three or four days a week to be able financially secure, I have my days free to attend dance classes and auditions, and I get to see Ricky every day. 

Other things that are better - our Washington Heights apartment. It is huge. It has hardwood floors and a dishwasher and huge windows that overlook a small park. I'm pretty sure the deli on the corner in a drug front, but we're two seconds from the entrance to the C train so if you just scamper from between our front door and the subway and not look around or go anywhere else within a mile radius, it's basically like we live in midtown. 

View from our kitchen window, our fire-escape balcony. Perfect for sipping morning coffee. 

And the dancing. Oh, the dancing. I haven't had the chance to see any big shows yet, but just taking class here has been, surprisingly, almost relieving. I had built up New York in my head so much that I just assumed that everyone here is amazing. And that's not true. People here dance like they do everywhere. There have been classes I've taken where I have been the most skilled dancer. And that feels so good. To know that I'm not foolish for being here, or out of my depth, is priceless. My goals feel within my grasp. And that is the best feeling. 

I can't even wrap my head around the fact that less than five months ago I was working 40 yours a week at a job that I hated, running myself ragged trying to do theater on top of it, not making nearly enough money, and never seeing Ricky. And with very little preparation, we picked up and left everything we knew and came here. And now we're here, meeting important and fascinating people, financially secure, living in a beautiful place, and working successfully towards dream careers. The funny thing is, had we moved here earlier, we wouldn't have been able to handle it, and if we had waited longer it very well could've been too late.  

I honestly think someone up there is looking out for me. And their timing is perfect. 

So here's to living life. Here's to pursuing dreams. Here's to being afraid and being fearless. Here's to being here. 

Friday, June 21, 2013

The Top Ten People I Hate Most in the World

1. Jo Jeffery – I’ve known Jo since high school, and she’s been friends with Ricky since, like, first grade so she’s one of those people who is obviously never going to be out of my life. She’s half Puerto Rican and I’m half Spanish-mutt, so somehow we look vaguely enough alike that people occasionally think we’re related. Except that she’s smaller, and her face is prettier, and she tans way better than me. She has lupus, so she never has to work out and is naturally a size zero. Also, because of the Puerto Rican thing she still manages to have a butt and boobs bigger than mine, so it’s not like a sickly lupus size zero, it’s a sexy size zero. It’s the worst (I guess having lupus probably sucks, but still). Additionally, she’s charming and does nice things that I would never even think of, like texting Ricky to remind him of my half birthday (I never in my life celebrated my half birthday). Also, she’s good at a lot of things I’m not good at, for example, using tools for their intended purposes and hanging out with straight men.

2. Ricky –  Having a boyfriend like Ricky makes it really hard for me to relate to other girls and I think it’s starting to negatively impact my female friendships. He cooks for me on a regular basis. He almost always puts the toilet seat down. He’s never cheated on me. He takes me out to dinner all the time and I never have to pay. He’s a stand-up guy who loves his mom and is nice to his sister. He will cuddle for as long as I want to. I have literally nothing to gossip about. Thanks for nothing Ricky.

3. Ryan Bohannon – Ryan Bohannon is an enabler and I want everyone to know it. In his presence I have engaged in a number of disgusting activities that I would never have done on my own and I’m pretty sure it’s all his fault. We have used Taco Time burritos to sign our names on important documents. We have used our own sweat to draw pictures on the floor, reaching into our clothes to gain access to the best under arm and/or under boob sweat pockets. We have seriously discussed sitting my bathtub with water in our mouths trying to see who can make the other person laugh first and therefore spray mouth water everywhere as a legitimate and appropriate way to spend a Friday night. If someone doesn’t intervene, pretty soon we’re just going to be naked and homeless, laughing maniacally to ourselves as we make poop cupcakes. Ryan Bohannon, I hope you die.*

4. The Pope – As many of you know, one of my favorite pastimes is being indignant about political and social issues. If I can be indignant and self-righteous at the same time, so much the better. That is why I freaking loved Pope Benedict XVI. I apologize if I’m offending any Catholics, but that guy was actually the worst.  He went to South Africa in 2005 and announced that condoms “aggravate the problem of AIDS”, he really hates gay people, and he directly facilitated the biggest pedophile cover-up ever in the history of ever. I mean, if those things don’t make your blood boil, then you’re a soulless monster. With Pope Benny, I could basically be outraged 24/7 if I wanted to. You know what Pope Francis has done so far? Refused to live in the Apostolic Palace in favor of more modest accommodations, decided that atheists can get into heaven after all (thanks!), and joined Twitter. C’mon Francis. You know I can’t work with that.

5. My Dad – For my entire life my dad has made a ridiculous effort to be into all of my interests and hobbies. When I was little he coached my indoor soccer team. When it became clear that sports were not my forte, he attended every ballet recital and band concert. He has even auditioned for and participated in a number of musical theater productions so that we could do activities together despite not being able to carry a tune in a bucket. My dad has PhD in aerospace engineering and was so excited that I was taking physics in college that he immediately went to the library and got a bunch of physics texts books and made me my very own study guide. It was adorable. And thanks to him I have grown up into a very well-adjusted adult woman with no Daddy-issues. Everyone knows the most successful actresses are loaded with Daddy-issues. Congrats on ruining my career, Dad.

6.  My (ex)Boss – Today is my last day at work, so Judy isn’t going to be my boss anymore and that is just the worst. Judy wears bedazzled jeans and very fancy flip flops to work. She always has the best nails. In February she took a week off to go to Cabo, got drunk in the airport and spent the entire week texting my team pictures of a stuffed monkey. When my company decided that I was a super duper temp and wanted to hire me on permanently, Judy forgot about the five different conference rooms our building has and pulled me into a supply closet to offer me the job. She is chill and relaxed, but also knows how to get the job done. She spends her days kicking ass and taking names while simultaneously rocking some wicked hair and listening to AC/DC. Judy has raised the bar so high on my expectations for bosses that I’m sure to only be disappointed in the future. Thanks a lot, Judy.

7. Krista Gibbons – Krista Gibbons is literally the most adorable person in the whole world and there is nothing anyone can do about it. She’s super nice and sweet and funny and a little bit ditzy, but ditzy because she chooses to forget everything bad about the world and only focuses on sunshine and rainbows instead of being ditzy from any true form of stupidity. Once she admitted that she didn’t know what the KKK was, and when reminded about it she confessed that she thought it was an imaginary thing and could never remember if white people were in the KKK or black people. Had anyone else in the world announced this I would’ve been horrified, but with Krista we just laughed and laughed and patted her on the head. That’s how sweet she is. Oh, and also she’s a model. I KNOW.

8. My Sister, Maggie Mosbarger – Maggie is seven years younger and is completely disrespecting our birth order. As the oldest child, it is assumed that I will take on the role of “cool, older, big sister” but Maggie has been dominating me in the cool-department since she was in 6th grade. In middle school she was her school’s mascot. She plays the guitar, piano, ukulele, and tuba. She raps. She is really good at popping and locking. Her real-life run looks like a chicken on meth and she totally owns it. I can’t compete with that.

9. Chris Brown – I legitimately hate Chris Brown.

10.   My mom – My mom is probably the worst out of everyone. When I was three she plopped me down in front of “Singing in the Rain” and I never looked back. Together we watched everything that Gene Kelly ever made before moving on to geniuses like Michael Kidd and Jerome Robbins. That same year she put me in ballet lessons without my consent. I mean, technically she claims she asked me if I wanted to take ballet, but c’mon. I was three. I didn’t even know what ballet really was. Through her encouragement I was groomed to be obsessed with musical theater and have never wanted to do anything else with my time – thus dooming me to a life of disappointment and poverty. I’m pretty smart. I could’ve probably been a mildly successful lawyer or doctor or something. I could’ve made money, had my own insurance plan and saved for retirement. But no, I’m a grown woman who spends her days perfecting her Jazz Hands. I hope you’re happy Mom.

*Please don’t actually die.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

My Bodyrock Breakup

Recently I went through a kind of traumatic incident. To put it frankly, I went through a break-up, and a bad one at that. Like many doomed relationships, I didn't realize what was happening right away, despite the many signs. I held on to false hope, defended my love to others, and made plenty of excuses, but in the end I couldn't deny the inevitable. My relationship, after all our ups and downs, good times and bad, was very much over. This particular breakup, however, was not with my wonderful boyfriend Ricky (thank God). No, this breakup was with my internet fitness trainer. 

That's right. As of last Monday, I have officially parted ways with Bodyrock.TV.

I don't know how many of you follow the workout site, but let me give you some background. Bodyrock.TV was founded in 2008 by amateur filmmaker Frederick Light and ex-porn star, Zuzana Marjova. Initially a two person operation, newlyweds Zuzana and Freddy split their time between working in Freddy's family florist shop in Kingston and filming short workout videos in their apartment - videos they would upload to their popular youtube channel. By the end of July 2008, their videos had hit over a million views and Zuzana and Freddy were able to dedicate themselves to filming high intensity, primarily bodyweight workouts full time. They developed a website that, along with their workouts, featured diet and nutrition advice, personal blogs, encouraging "Coffee Talks", and fashion features. With Zuzana as the warm, encouraging, and smoking hot host and Freddy behind the camera handling the technical aspects and cracking jokes, they seemed an unstoppable duo. 

Zuzana and Freddy (and Freddy's creepy glasses) in happier times. 
Then, just about a year ago, in November of 2011, Freddy and Zuzana announced they would be splitting up. Freddy would be continuing to maintain Bodyrock.TV with new hosts, and Zuzana, or Zuzka as her fans affectionately call her, would be finding her own way.

The Beginning of the End
Like many of Bodyrock.TV's millions of fans, I was heartbroken when I heard the news that Freddy and Zuzka would be separating. After years of following their workouts daily, listening to Zuzka's coffee talks, and learning about their lives, it truly felt like I was losing a friend. I knew in my brain that these were just people on the internet that I had never met, but it truly seemed like so much more than that. I had become a part of the Bodyrock.TV community, had shared my fitness journey with other followers, and had even had a brief e-mail correspondence with Freddy himself. Despite not personally knowing these internet fitness gurus, Zuzana leaving the site was going to have a direct, albeit minor, effect on my day to day life. 

However, as sad as I was about Zuzka's departure, I remained steadfastly loyal the Bodyrock brand. After all, as much as I had grown to like Zuzana, I was really in it for the workouts. As a dancer and performer, daily exercise is as much a part of my routine as brushing my teeth and I wasn't about to give up on the free, high-quality workouts I had come to expect from Bodyrock just because the face behind the camera was different.

This is when things started to get weird.

New Hosts, New Attitudes
Almost immediately after the sudden and kind of off-putting departure of Zuzana, Freddy moved back to Canada to live with his brother Sean and started bringing in new hosts. Along with Sean, a bevy of beautiful girls with admittedly lackluster camera presence began rotating through the workouts. Finally, after many failed attempts, Freddy and Co. found a winner with peppy Lisa Marie and very slowly, the message of Bodyrock.TV began to change. 

One of the things I really liked about Zuzana was that she genuinely seemed to exude the message that anyone, with hard work and dedication, could change their life for the better. Zuzana made no effort to conceal her past life as a porn star, and while she made it clear that her life had moved in a completely new direction, she was very honest about her experiences and how they had shaped her as a person. In an interview with the Toronto Star, Zuzka stated that those years "led to years of darkness and abuse". "It was an incredibly humiliating situation - working on fitness helped me heal emotionally and rebuild my sense of self worth."

Lisa Marie, unfortunately, is a different story. 

Mere months after Lisa Marie moved in with Freddy and stepped in as host, big changes started happening. Lisa Marie started working out in only her underwear. The promotional pictures that seemed harmlessly sexy with Zuzana, began to take on the edge of softcore porn. We found out that Lisa Marie and Freddy were dating. The camera techniques that seemed flirty with Zuzana - the camera scanning over her boobs and butt while she worked out, began to seem downright dirty. Lisa Marie bent over chairs in overtly sexual positions, Freddy letting the camera linger in decidedly inappropriate places so long that you couldn't even see the exercises or easily follow the workout. 

Example of the now-typical attire and camera angles. 
Then came the body modification. We were given the "privilege" of following Lisa Marie behind the scenes as she got a boob job. Video updates with Lisa Marie in a hospital gown and Freddy in his ever present indoor sunglasses (Seriously, Freddy? What is up with that? It's creepy.) allowed us an insider's pass into the the wonderful world of cosmetic surgery. Soon after, before she even had the chance to recover properly from the boob job, Lisa Marie had undergone a nose job, lip injections, hair extensions, and what appears to be forehead filler. The focus of Bodyrock shifted noticeably from health and fitness to body modification and sex appeal.

One might wonder what the difference between Lisa Marie and Zuzana really is, since after all Zuzana had surgically enhanced breasts as well. On this topic I can only say this: With Zuzana I never got the feeling that she was promoting surgery. She rarely discussed it, it was a personal decision that she made before starting Bodyrock and she left it at that. Her focus was always fitness and health first, and that was something I could respect. With Lisa Marie, her enhancements are featured front and center. Her surgeries are the hot topic at Bodyrock now,and the real reasons for the site - nutrition and exercise - have fallen by the wayside. 

Backlash and the Emergence of the "Haters"
Almost instantaneously, and with good reason, objections, confusion, and opposition took over the comments section of Bodyrock.TV and the host's Facebook pages. People decried the hypocrisy of Lisa Marie's decision to get cosmetic surgery. You can't tout a message of "love yourself for who you are" and then turn around and change every single distinguishable aspect about your body without people sitting up and taking notice. And although Lisa Marie's decision was a personal one, as the face of movement with millions of followers an explanation regarding her decision to alter her body probably would could have saved Bodyrock a lot of frustration. Instead, the hosts of Bodyrock reacted with astounding immaturity. They posted increasingly provocative photos. They posted polls regarding touchy issues, like whether Lisa Marie working out in a bra was too provocative. They continued to feature Lisa Marie's surgeries, while writing blog posts decrying the "haters" and encouraging followers to post "positive" comments. In laymen's terms, they stirred the pot. And they seemed to delight in doing so. 

Lisa Marie before and after.

Freddy currently maintains the site with almost a Big Brother-like attitude. The comments that now fill the pages of Bodyrock's "inspirational" blogs and Facebook posts (which are increasingly a tired refrain of "F*ck anyone who disagrees with or speaks negatively about you.") look like an exercise in extreme ass-kissing. A quick glance down any particular page will yield comments like:

"Screw the haters! You guys rock!"

"People are just jealous and don't appreciate FREE WORKOUTS. You guys are the best, don't let the trolls get you down!"

"I can't believe anyone would say anything bad about you guys. Get rid of the negative energy! F*ck haters."

But if everyone is so ridiculously supportive, why the continuous parade of posts about how pissed off Freddy is and how much the haters are getting them down? Because there is some extreme censoring going on. 

About a week ago, Freddy posted yet another rant about how pissed off he was. In it he stated his frustrations that he and the other hosts were graciously letting their followers into their lives and providing them with free workouts and not getting any respect in return. The comments again were filled with positive affirmations about how wonderful the hosts were - but this timeI wasn't one of them. 

Anyone with half a brain knows how the internet works. Though the workouts may be free for us, Freddy and the gang aren't exactly struggling to make ends meet. Between the site advertisements and exercise equipment endorsements (Oh, did I not mention that? The primarily bodyweight workouts are a thing of the past - you now need a wide array of specialized equipment to complete your "free" Bodyrock workout.) Freddy and the hosts are pulling in over six figures a year. Despite what they would have you believe, these guys aren't putting together these workouts out of the kindness of their hearts - it's their job. And the increasingly provocative content proves that they are trying to pull in viewers wherever they can, whether they are interested in fitness or something a little more raunchy. As dedicated to fitness as they might be, the Bodyrock bunch is also clearly interested in revenue. Very interested. 

The demands for appreciation and respect rubbed me the wrong way. After all, the creators of Google don't send messages to my gmail badgering me for their due adulation. Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg haven't been pestering me for an appropriate expression of my gratitude. As a business, you should be accepting of the fact that not everyone is going to agree with your business practices, especially when those business practices are controversial. People are going to express their discontent, differing opinions, and unhappiness with your product, especially when the product has changed so dramatically from where it began. 

I had stayed out of the many, many debates roaring across the Bodyrock terrain up until this point, but I finally decided that enough was enough and I needed to express my opinion. I worded a thoughtful response, and without personally attacking any of the hosts or the site, I expressed why the recent changes had put me off and made me feel uncomfortable. I wasn't unnecessarily negative, I didn't call anyone names, I didn't speak disparagingly about anyone's appearance or even discuss Lisa Marie's decision to get cosmetic surgery. All I did was express why the negativity and glorification of drama made me feel like Bodyrock was heading in a dangerous direction. Within minutes, my comment had been deleted. 

In the beginning of my Bodyrock.TV journey, I was smitten with the site. I preached the Bodyrock gospel with the fervor of a recent religious convert. But the site I loved isn't the site sitting in front of me now. The comment sections and discussion boards, once filled with other bodyrockers posting their workout scores and offering encouragement, are now filled with hate and spitefulness. Anyone not drinking the kool-aid and expressing any sort of unhappiness or discontent is immediately deleted or, if it's a repeat offender, banned from the site. The hosts, Freddy in particular, that once seemed so proud of their encouraging and inclusive community, now seem to thrive on creating unnecessary conflict and controversy. No one can express a valid opinion, unless it's to shower praise upon the Bodyrock team.. 

I finally realized that the site I had once loved, isn't for me anymore. While I personally don't really have a problem with the hyper-sexuality or cosmetic enhancements, I am concerned for Lisa Marie. Freddy has already demonstrated an ability to be controlling (and creepy) and it makes me wonder how much influence he had over her decisions. The perkiness and zest for life that she had when she first started seems to have all but disappeared, and she has dropped an alarming amount of weight from her already lean frame. Even if Freddy had absolutely no influence over her choices (something I highly doubt) the amount of alterations she's had in such  short amount of time seem to suggest some sort of body dysmorphic disorder, and this is not something to be taken lightly. 

The last video I watched with Lisa Marie, her face looked like a lot like it does here - frighteningly stiff and unnatural. 

But even aside from from my concern, my true discontent lies with the zealous destruction of the community I once held dear. A site that encourages blind fanaticism and censors any sort of constructive criticism or disapproval even in the face of controversial topics isn't a site I can comfortably be a part of.

The upside of all this bitterness is that I have rediscovered Zuzana. While Bodyrock.TV seemed to hit the self-destruct button, Zuzana was quietly rebuilding her life and her fitness empire. She's created a brand new program, dubbed Zwow, that reminds me of why I loved old-school Bodyrock in the first place. Her Zwow workouts are short, uncomplicated, primarily bodyweight, and freaking hard - I've done four so far, and each one has left me literally dripping with sweat. Seems like among the distractions and drama perpetuated by Freddy and his team, I failed to realize how much the quality of the workouts had declined. 

No nonsense. Zuzka getting down to business.

So that's it. I'm proud to say I am a Bodyrocker no more. Zuzana's warm, encouraging energy, combined with her kick-ass workouts are exactly what I'm looking for. No drama, no pettiness, no cooked up controversy. Just love of fitness, hard work, dedication, and the message that no matter where you have been, no matter your fitness level, and no matter what you look like, you can love yourself for who you are and strive to be better every single day. And that, friends, is all I need. 

You can find Zuzana at

Friday, October 12, 2012

summer came, summer went

*In an attempt to cover as much ground as possible in the catch-up department, this post will be interspersed with photographic highlights of the past summer that have absolutely nothing to do with anything. You are forewarned.*

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I've been doing a lot of thinking for two reasons. The first reason is that I am unemployed, and as an unemployed person, I have a lot of free time to do things like thinking deep thoughts and washing the dishes multiple time a day. (Our house is freaking clean, y'all.) The second reason is that I am obviously at a place in my life (as an unemployed person) that I need to asses the things I'm doing and why I'm doing them - and decide if these things are helping me to achieve my ultimate goals and lead me on the path to happiness. These things are good. Thinking is good. Having clean dishes is good.

Warrior Dash warriors.

Let's rewind for a second though and think long and hard about why I'm unemployed. Basically Starbucks was the pits because I had to wake up at 3:45 AM and then work for eight hours a day, five days a week, for minimum wage. Now, you may think that because the phrase "AM" appeared in that sentence, that I was waking up very early in the morning, but you would be mistaken. Because 3:45 AM is actually the middle of the night. IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND WAKING UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO SERVE COFFEE TO THE THRONGS OF PEOPLE WHO RIDE THE TRAIN INTO THE INTERNATIONAL DISTRICT FOR MINIMUM WAGE IS NOT WORTH IT.

It's not worth it.

We didn't actually have to think all that long and hard about it after all.

The fabulous Greek Chorus Trio of Seattle Musical Theater's production of Legally Blonde.

Anyways, I decided that when the summer began I would work at Stage Struck again full time, all the while looking for a job to start when fall rolled around. A friend recommended a temp agency that she had great luck with, so I applied, had a great interview, and was told to give them a call when my time at Stage Struck was finished and they would put me to work.

Lies. All lies.

Well, not entirely, but things haven't exactly panned out like I hoped they would. I have been sent out on zero jobs and have been left to scramble about and try to come up with employment for myself. It's been slow going, but I'm hopeful things will turn around very soon.

A very patriotic (and slightly inebriated) 4th of July celebration.

I'm proud of myself though. I'm proud that I have the confidence (or recklessness) to leave a job that was making me miserable without much of a backup plan, and still turn out okay. I'm proud that I can recognize that I wasn't living up to my potential and actively work to change that. And I'm proud to be unafraid to dream big, and take my dreams seriously.

I may not have a legitimate job right now, I may have struggle quite a bit to do things like buy groceries and gas, and I may have possibly sold valuable possessions to make rent this month - but I've also had some pretty great experiences. I performed in a sold out run of a well-reviewed musical. I went on great trips. I learned to sew. I had very late nights with wonderful friends. I cooked a lot. Yesterday I learned to rap a whole song. And if those things aren't what life's all about, then don't even both telling me I'm doing it wrong. Because I'd rather screw it up doing it my way than have a dull time doing it yours.

Double trouble. My sister Maggie and I take on Colorado.

And that is that.

PS. Woah. I just went through and read this after I published it and I think I inadvertently revealed a truth that I have been trying to keep hidden for a long time. Ricky never wears shirts. Like, ever. It's a problem.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Hello Again

Hello blog. I missed you.

I'm back again after another long hiatus. I'm not going to make any promises about returning to regular blogging because we all know by know that I never keep that promise. But I do think I'm going to try.

I feel like I keep coming back to the same place. I closed a show yesterday (bittersweet). I have auditions and callbacks lined up (sweet). I am unemployed once again, by my own choosing (bitter).

Sometimes I think I change jobs too much. But if you are not making any money and you are not happy, why stay? If it's not working, why stay? I'm trying to figure things out right now and hoping very much for a future that allows me to continue doing shows and pursuing my passions while also allowing me to do things like pay rent and eat.

So there is that.

Also, I'm learning how to sew and I made a dress!

That's all. Happy Fall.

Friday, July 6, 2012

My Thoughts on Cancer, or Why Posting That "Disney Should Make A Bald Princess So Little Girls With Cancer Can Feel Beautiful" Meme Makes Me Want to Punch You in the Face

Have you seen this?

Lately I've been seeing it all over the internet, usually accompanied by the caption "Disney should make a bald princess so that every little girl with cancer can feel beautiful!" Then you are commanded to click "like" if you agree! Share this on your wall! Reblog this or you are a heartless monster!

And before I continue, let me just say this. I get it. I get why people think this is cute/adorable/sweet. I know they think that reposting this kind of thing makes them a good person. I get that they are just trying to be sympathetic to the poor kids with cancer. I get it. 

HOWEVER. Every time I see this meme I get mad. Beyond mad. I get Hulk rage. And if you are my friend on facebook and you've posted this, chances are I've already mentally punched your face a little bit. Probably more than once. I'm really sorry.

Here's the thing though, for a long time I seriously had no idea why this bothered me so much (I mean, I had an inkling, but you know.) Why would it? This is a really nice sentiment, right? People are just trying to be cool to little sick kids, Kate, back off! But I just couldn't shake the anger, and finally I just gave in to it. 

And here is why.

My sister had cancer. Her name was Ansley and at the beginning of 4th grade she found a lump on her foot that turned out to be rhabdomyosarcoma, a kind of soft tissue cancerous tumor. This discovery catapulted Ansley and our family into a horrendous seven year journey that included multiple relapses, experimental treatments, and eventually her death in 2008 at age seventeen. The abstract "poor little bald girl" that you sympathize with when you post this meme was my reality. And not just my reality, that poor little bald girl was my little sister. Which leads me to:


I.) Superficiality 
At it's core, the message of this meme is "Look at those poor little girls with cancer! They're BALD, guys! That is so sad. Seriously, guys. Those little girls must feel so bad about themselves. I mean, there is no way they can feel pretty. They are missing their hair! OMG I have the best idea! Disney should make a bald princess so they can feel pretty! DID I MENTION THAT THEY ARE BALD?"

Now, I'm just drawing from my own experience here, but when my sister got diagnosed with cancer her potential lack of hair was seriously the least of her worries. In fact, amid the stress of her being constantly sick, the doctor visits, the operations, and the ever looming fear of death, her hair loss was, like, fun. In sick and twisted way, Ansley loosing her hair was the consolation prize of every relapse. The first time she was diagnosed, we plucked it off her head in clumps and threw it at each other. We draped it over our Barbies blond hair to give them a new look. We hid piles of it under things to scare people. We played hair salon. Later relapses had us cutting her hair really short and then picking out designs onto her scalp. And after her last relapse my mom, in one of her more brilliant moments, had the idea of braiding her hair into little tiny braids all over her head. Then, as they fell out one at a time, she allowed Ansley to put them under her pillow for money Tooth-Fairy style.

Also, every time she had to face losing her hair again, she got to pick out a new wig - a highlight for any girl, cancerous or not. She had blond, brown, and red, in varying hair styles. Beauty for every mood and occasion. 

Ansley in her favorite wig.

Please don't reduce little girls with cancer to superficial babies who only care about their looks. Being bald is not a big deal. You know what is? Having cancer and trying not to die.

II) Diminishing the Issue

If you only posted about little girls with cancer, this whole thing wouldn't be an issue. If you did Relay for Life, and raised money for cancer every weekend, and volunteered in a children's hospital on the regular I don't think this would be a problem for me. But the main reason this meme ticks me off so much is that people re-post and forget. People see the picture, think it's sad, and click "share" and then it leaves their mind forever. And that's okay for most people; for the many lucky people who haven't experienced childhood cancer. But when you repost that picture and someone like me sees it? It sure as heck doesn't make us feel warm and fuzzy or brighten our day. It reminds us of something that has affected our lives in a tremendous way. It reminds us of loss. It reminds us of a life experience that has shaped us to our very core. And it makes me want to tell you to shut up because you don't know what you're talking about. Little girls with cancer are my thing, thank you very much, and when you fully experience what it's like to be one of those little girls, or be a little girl with a bald sister, or - God forbid - have a little girl of your own with cancer, then you can talk about it all you want and we will listen. But you don't. So stop.

Posting the bald princes picture because you think it's cute, and then posting the picture of Justin Bieber and One Direction, and then posting that quote about how boys suck and you need a real man totally negates how seriously you obviously care about cancerous kids. Please do not make me think of my dying sister and Justin Bieber in the same minute. It makes me hate you.

So, that's it. Are my reasons biased and a tad illogical? Very possibly. But, before anyone tries to start an argument with me, remember, I have the trump card. My sister died of cancer and if you disagree with me you are an asshole.