Beverley Blog

Two Funerals and a Sad Heart

2008-08-08T14:15:00.000-07:00

“Chicken or Fish,” the stewardess turns to me and says.

“Chicken,” I eagerly reply.

Simple enough choice I’ve had to make many times over in my flying experiences in life because a) who on EARTH would ever dare decide to eat the fish and b) what are the simple-sited consequences? I mean, sure, you COULD get food poisoning, but you could also get hit by a car when you step outside your front door. Let’s not get all type-a super neurotic here and let’s just stick to the point. It’s a choice - an easy choice.

Some choices have not been so simple to make:
Should I move to FL with my family or stay and finish high school in the bay area?
What college should I go to?
Should I move to NYC?
Love him or leave him?
How do I move out?

These choices I tend to agonize over for months and months causing my friends to put in earplugs as I drone on and on relentlessly about these doesn’t-have-to-be-painful subjects. Yet, never have I ever been faced with: which funeral should I go to?

Until this week.

Unluckily or luckily, depending on your view, I am very late in life to experience evoking contemplation on the volatile state of life. My first funeral and I might have to go to two in one day? I might have to go to two funerals in one day ALONE? Turns out that both funerals conflicted, and I chose to go to the funeral of my fellow actor and friend John.

Rushing to Oakland at 6:15pm is quite the oxymoron when in fact I crawled as slow as I possibly could to Oakland, to the funeral service. At one point, I realized I could probably run there faster. So, I got out of my car and started sprinting across the Bay Bridge. Then I opened my eyes and realized it was my turn to finally merge on. Many points in the day, I contemplated flaking on the service by rationalizing the hell out of my fear. “We were only in one show together.” “There will be lots of people there.” “I shouldn’t go if I can’t handle it.” I had never gone to a funeral, and I’m going completely alone. A usual basket case, I welcomed the “I’m going to be late” sentiments to fill the hollow and numb feeling engrossing my state of being, except, being late only extenuated my aloneness.

Speeding, rushing, cutting every corner, I lurked the area for parking. Of course no space is going to be available. I mean REALLY? I rolled down my window, and in sweet solemn desperation I say, “Do you know where I can find parking for the service?” One shiny tear trickles down my face and he says, “You can park right here behind the Hearst.” Fine, you’re right - I didn’t have the perfect tear, but I did have the rock star parking spot saving me 60 seconds. I darted into the church and filed into the very last pew realizing that I had to sit through a catholic mass. In normal circumstances, this would have been fine as I have sat through many a catholic service, but I had to go to the bathroom. I had to go to the bathroom an hour ago, but I was rushing that I just held it. Now, I’m bursting. F**k. Wait, can I think that in a church?

I waited until the blessing of the bread and wine, and made a dash for the restroom. Whew! Perfect timing except for the part of me body slamming myself back into the church when it’s dead silent during prayer – Awesome Beverley.

The service was incredibly touching, and I felt extremely moved seeing the amount of people that John had personally touched. At one point, the priest asked everyone he had ever sung with in a show to come up and sing “What I did for Love” This little corner by the piano filled with people like sardines in a can, and I knew that some others did not come up. In addition, the church filled the pews with people supporting the grieving loved ones.

It was so comforting to be around my ACLO family, and to see people that I have not seen in so long. How I have missed their company, but I’m contemplating now why we wait for tragic events to bring us together. In addition, I was overwhelmed by how many people John meant to, but was he aware of how many people he touched? Are funerals more important to have before the passing of a loved one?

Yes, yes, I’m just regurgitating the “usual” questions we ask ourselves when jarring events occur, but why do we as humans always get so sidetracked?

Get Well Soon.

2008-08-05T12:18:00.000-07:00

What a week, and it’s only Tuesday.

Misery loves company, and I’m telling you I have been surrounded by tragedy over the past couple of weeks. The Universe is asking me to evaluate my life and reminding me that time is of the essence. Every second counts.

A dear friend recently had an accident that landed him in the hospital for quite sometime, and I feel… I feel… I don’t know how I feel. I think that is my answer to everything these days. I don’t know how I feel just mostly numb. My friend and I were super close for about 2 years. Then without a warning, we slowly but surly drifted apart, and now he’s in the hospital, and I’m not sure how to react. We had recently seen each other a couple of times, and we were defiantly on the way to patching things up, but now this. I’ve acted the only way I know how, which is to be there for him every second that I have, but I just realized just how far I am out of his life. It makes me sad, but I’m still there. I’m still going to the hospital everyday, but he did say yesterday that it gets a little overwhelming because people are there all the time. I don’t want to feel in the way, but I am in the way. I feel like I’m irritating, but I just care. So I’m confused, and feeling messy.

The tragedy does not end. A friend and fellow actor, John Stenger, passed away on Sunday from a massive heart attack. He played the King in Cinderella and was currently rehearsing for ACLO’s production of Grease. It was a complete shock to the ACLO family, and all I can do is stand by and watch my theatre family weep for such an unexpected loss. I JUST saw him on opening night of WSS. I’m glad that I spent the majority of my time catching up with him and chatting to him on the walk over to the gala because it had been almost a year since I had seen him last. November of 2007 was the last time I saw him before WSS. I’m shocked and I’m sad, but mostly I’m shocked.

My friends all around me are grieving, and I’m feeling cranky. Cranky, irritable and grouchy. Is this my way of dealing with all this sadness? All this – well this is part of life?

The Universe is Mad at Me

2008-07-31T14:55:00.000-07:00

I'm 26 years old and my face looks like I have chicken pox.

Seriously, I'm 26.

I should be past chicken pox AND the zits that are covering my face. I'm embarrassed to be out in public

Star Struck

2008-07-30T16:11:00.000-07:00

I have met Hanson twice in my life, and I utterly become a complete embarrassment to human kind.

Once, I drove to Reno from Santa Rosa with a girl I had just met to go to this special concert where you could attend a press release and then get their autograph. This was an event that I thoroughly spent a month preparing. I made them each scarves, and the bag had to be perfect in which I presented the scarves. I also had to have the perfect outfit – an outfit that I was only going to wear once. Turns out I only did wear it once because it got taken when my laundry was stolen. Anyway, I spent weeks preparing for what I was going to say when I shook their hands, and I wanted to make sure that I was not going to act all star stuck and I was going to be NORMAL d –it.

Well, no, that didn’t happen. I shook their hands and I stared at them. I would start to curse myself for blinking, and then I tried to say something funny. Ok, let me rephrase, I tried to say SOMETHING. ANYHTING. I mean I could have said… Hey I love your music. I could have said anything. Nope, I just stared and answered the question, “Hi, what’s your name?” Did I say anything remotely close to I-have-loved-you-since-the-beginning-of-time-and – I-can’t-live-without-you? Nope. Not even close. I’m glad I got my name out, but now I wonder if perhaps I should have used a pseudo name because now I will forever be the girl that stare drooled.

This was a few years ago, so, I figured when the chance came again I would be a little less “star struck”

Yeah, no.

November 2007 they did this “walk” where they walked a mile before the show with people who wanted to join them. So, I decided to go thinking that I would never see them, but at least I would be apart of the event. Oh I was wrong. I didn’t even get time to PREPARE. I got to walk right next to them as if I we were walking together just us. RIGHT NEXT TO THEM.

Did I say anything?
Not even hello.

I even got pushed into Issac, the eldest, and did I say ANYTHING?
Not even hello.

He asked me if I was ok, I nodded. I nodded? Nodded?!?!?!??! I couldn’t say, “hey, yeah sure I’m cool.” No, I become a basket case.

I was SURE that this only applied to Hanson, but alas, I am mistaking! There is another person in the world that makes me act like a complete embarrassment to human kind. Why? I’m not sure, but help me get passed it because this ducking behind corners to avoid you is not working for me.

Goodnight. Sleep well and when you dream, dream of me

2008-07-28T16:11:00.000-07:00

Only once have I laid in a pile of my dirty laundry on the bathroom floor and cried for two days straight. That is, until West Side Story closed, and now it has been twice. Ok, ok ok, I didn’t cry into a pile of cloths when the show closed, but I did cry in my closet.

I had two of my worst shows in the history of the run this weekend. I got stuck in the window during the Quintet, and I was a whole beat behind the orchestra. This would normally be “coverable,” if I was singing by myself. Alas, I had all the jet boys, all the shark boys and Anita depending on my to be on the beat. I couldn’t get back on because I was lost and I couldn’t see the musical director. I started to drown in the dark dark waters of “where the hell am I?” Then Tony came in at the right spot instead of following me and rescued me from the dark suffocating waters. WHEW! The 60 seconds that the flub up lasted caused me to be on guard for the entire 2nd Act! Nothing could help me.

Then on Saturday, the acting seemed to just be there without effort. Act 1 felt solid, and Act 2 was falling into all the right places. Until, “A Boy Like That” turned into “A Note Like What?”

I’m serious.

When I got to the part where Anita and I sang together, I made up my own notes and sang whatever. I thought… oh Bernstein, you missed this one, - it should sound like THIS. Ok, that’s not what I thought, but I could not find the right notes. It was horrible. I totally messed u p, and I couldn’t get back. However, Tony was so solid that night I remained in the show. Plus, it was the last thing I sang… so, it didn’t matter.

Sunday’s show was utterly fantastic!! I think that I cried throughout the whole show, and it was just so amazing to be part of just an amazing production that I know will be with me forever. I got to play my dream role. I got to learn a lot about myself, my dreams, my hopes and my aspirations.

I will miss you dearly WSS.

Just One More Weekend.

2008-07-25T16:46:00.000-07:00

I can feel my heart drop as I type this.

I can't believe I only have three more performances left. I'm trying something new this weekend. I'll tel you all about it on Monday.

Tough Times

2008-07-24T16:05:00.000-07:00

It’s been a very tough week over here in my neck of the woods. I discovered that my address was listed incorrectly so, I still haven’t received my renewed drivers license. Very upsetting, but I started wondering if the DMV has my parking address wrong then maybe…..so does… DPT, and sure enough $420 worth of tickets are on my account marked as unpaid, but GOOD THING I CHECKED. I also got into a car accident on Sunday, and my insurance company has to be all involved, even though, it’s a little fender bender. I, also, still have to pay for the crown that I just finished. So, I’m 26 years old and I am in financial ruin.

Yet it could be worse, and in this hellish week for me, I was reminded that real tragedy exists. My financial problems can happily sit for years, but all will still be well. I will be able to pick up the phone and hear the voices of my beloved family. I will still get to walk onto the stage and sing my heart out tomorrow night. The time I have to live this life is so short, and it always seems to take so much energy to REMEMBER. People always say it. People always say it. People always say it, but I still find myself rediscovering the validity of these potent words.

Ode to San Francisco

2008-07-22T13:53:00.000-07:00

Dear San Francisco,

Why do you hate me? Why do you get my address wrong and send my drivers license to Antarctica? I guess what really gets me is the fact that you never told me that you sent my license to Antarctica; you just kinda did it. You had NO problem finding the right address when you asked me to pay you $28 to get it renewed, but somehow within those 10 days you managed to find a new address to send my license too.

Not only have you made me drive illegally, you've also stolen my keys and then driven my car to places I can't park and then you ticket me. Why did you do that to me? What have I ever done to you San Francisco?

Nothing!

I give you money.. all my money. I do not leave trash in your house. I do not vandalize you. In fact I shower you with love.

Stop hating me.

Another day in New York

2008-07-21T14:04:00.000-07:00

My whirl-windy life is spinning to a close with only one more weekend of West Side Story left. It’s been a gradual withdrawal since we, work work work - open. Then we have a few days off in between the show and the pick-up rehearsal, and then we have days off in between the 2nd weekend and the last. Then I’ll say farewell to my beloved show and cast to start working on the next show which is Patient A.

Patient A will be a small production in SF for one weekend in September. It’s about a 22 year old girl who contracts Aids through her dentist in the 1980s. The last play I did was Crimes of the Heart in ’05, and I decided to do this production because the story really intrigued me. We go into rehearsal August 3rd, and I’m supposed to be memorized by the 25th of August. That is about a month away and I have pages and pages of monologues that I better get cracking on. (sigh) I’ve just been so focused on West Side Story and getting the singing and acting perfect that it’s been hard to think about anything else. I think this week I’m going to start shifting my focus just for a second.

The Critics

2008-07-18T13:20:00.000-07:00

Every time I write about West Side Story, I think it’s my last post because what MORE could I possible have to say about this d-show.

Don’t you want to see what the critics have to say?

Despite my voice teachers very pointed advice of - DO NOT READ REVIEWS when you are in the show, I could not help it I’m addicted. Given my current self esteem issues, I really should have heeded her advice, but I did not. It’s ok, this is going to “toughen my skin.” I just have to keep repeating that to myself over and over maybe it will sink in.

So far there have been three reviews. One lady loved us, one panned us and one obviously didn’t see it.

Alameda Sun showered the cast with complements, and I was very very very flattered by some of the things she said about me. You can find the full review here, but here is a snipit: “Ingenue Beverley Viljoen as Maria blows the socks off this production with what is the most authentic performance I've ever seen at ACLO (and many other stages);” Very very kind. The reviewer “got” some of the different themes we tried to accomplish in a few of the numbers including the “Somewhere Ballet,” and she seemed to really love the show. Our Riff was mentioned, but I really wish that the reviewer discussed a little more about the absolute talent that came from his performance. My friends and family thought he was show stopping, and I agree with them. Riff and I talked briefly about the review because I expressed my concerns, and he reminded me of something extremely important in our conversation in addition to all the loving praise he unnecessarily poured on to me. :)

To be able to touch at least ONE person in the audience that way was enough is truly a gift. He’s absolutely right, and I’m glad I read this review before I read the 2nd one.

We were reviewed by Insider Bay Area by the lady that everyone has deemed “crazy.” Yet her nasty review was very pointed, and I had to disagree with a lot of what she said. I don’t know maybe it’s because I’m too close to the show and because I’m too close to the cast to really be able to look at it with an objective eye. You tell me. Here’s a snip it: “Any musical company can perform an occasional disappointment.”
“Encinal High School was far better in terms of dancing, drama and character growth.”
Ouch, but then she says, “The major actors turn in exceptional performances.” So, if we are exceptional was Encinal High Broadway bound? It doesn’t matter. I’m mostly upset that she was wrong about the TEAM effort in this show. This show is good because all of the actors push themselves to their personal limits. We’re all in this together, and I think she is wrong about the dances falling flat.

Our third reviewer didn’t go to the show, and I’m not convinced she even got a program. So, it’s not even worth pointing it out to you. She got Riff’s name all wrong, and she congratulated him on his amazing ability in Officer Krupkee. That song is in the 2nd Act, and the Rumble is the end of Act 1. Enough said.

We Finally Opened

2008-07-17T11:36:00.000-07:00

West Side Story had a seemingly successful opening weekend, despite the mic mishaps, and people greeted me with extreme flattery that I meet with gratitude. I’m starting to come down a little bit from the glory of opening an amazing show which I truly feel privileged to be in this excellent production.

I woke up on Saturday, and I just had to meditate for twenty minutes to remind myself of all the things that tech week jaded for me:

I love love love to do this. I can’t imagine doing anything else, and I’ve worked extremely hard on this production and on this role - EXTREMELY hard. There are singers in this world that will never have the opportunity to sing and act such an incredible role, and I am truly lucky to be here in her shoes playing her role in this destruction of love amongst violence and hate.

Here are my issues: WHO.CARES.WHAT.ANYONE.THINKS. Please, let’s repeat this, WHO.CARES.WHAT.ANYONE.THINKS. This 5 word sentence gets in my own way. I’m so owned by what people think and what people say that I can’t RELAX and it gets in my own way. This reason is probably the number one reason that road blocked me in college because I was so OBSESSED with being perfect, and being RIGHT that I couldn’t enjoy the process of learning all about a new person. All these lessons in college are things I think I have finally learned, but I can’t let go of the negative feels I have towards my experience, which is STILL causing me to get into my own way. I try and think of all the things that will help me deal with this, and I keep debating grad school. Then I think, WHY? Do I want to go to grad school so someone there can tell me that I’m a good actor?

Bottom line: I must find the confidence within myself, otherwise, I’m going to miss out on all the fun.

We got reviewed by the Alameda Sun, and from what I heard the review is good. They don’t update their website daily, so, I haven’t read it yet, but this is an article that they interviewed me for during the rehearsal process.

I gave Maria everything I have inside of me, and that is all I can do. I can’t ask myself to give anything more than my personal best, and if it’s not enough – then it’s not enough, but it’s all I got and I’m happy with it.

Squeaks is doing so well..

2008-07-15T08:24:00.001-07:00

Yes, I checked to see if she was breathing, and she still likes people thank god.

I'll give you the full update

2008-07-14T17:46:00.000-07:00

after my family leaves on Wednesday, but I think it went well. The audience seemed to really like it. Here are some shots...

Meet Squeaks

2008-07-10T16:48:00.000-07:00

I’m obsessed with the show. Just two more runs before an audience and I’m starting to let the nerves and anticipation overcome me. I’m drilling my trouble spots in my sleep, and yet it never seems to be enough, but I promised… no show talk next post… tomorrow will be the prep talk post. It’s just I can hardly think about anything else except my angel.

I have a new addition to the Viljoen household party of one now party of two. As you can see from the picture below I am not the good looking one in the family.

She came to my household on July 2nd 2008, and I am so thrilled to have such a treasure in my life. So far she loves to chase her tale, play with her little jingle ball and hang out peacefully in the bathroom. Sometimes she meows when she freaks out, but trips to the vet have been amazing. Being in her travel case has been a plus since she loves LOVES her travel case. She sleeps in it in the bathroom, and she has been quiet in driving in the car. I hope this lasts. I also hopes she does well meeting people. My whole family is coming into town this weekend, so, I am hoping that will give her a chance to socialize her. She’s so special in every way. I love her dearly.

Find more pictures of her here

Look How Cool This Is

2008-07-10T09:28:00.000-07:00

T minus 6 days

2008-07-07T13:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I start to have these dreams of being trapped in a cave and being forced to do the show over and over and over and over again.

I had that dream about West Side Story last night. I went to sleep tossing and turning to the music and lyrics of, "when you're a jet, you're a jet all the way from your first cigarette to your last dying day." The faint sounds of the orchestra and singers slowly fade in as I type those words, and I slowly slip off my chair to lay beneath the table.

This weekend was tech, and I'm afraid of the balcony. It doesn't look that high up, but its high enough for me to feel fear. I can't hear my entrance the first time I sing in the entire show which ALSO happens to be the hardest part in the ENTIRE show for me to sing. I know... I know... it's weird, but I can't help it. I think I have started to turn it into a mental thing, and I'm doing everything I can to not feel nervous about it and just SING. Ugh. Just get me through this week. I swear, tomorrow - you're going to have a "squeaky" surprise.

Love

2008-07-02T15:38:00.001-07:00

My friends and family,

I am so blessed to be so loved, and thank you so much for sharing my special day with me.

Thank you Thank you!

I'm sleeping and standing at the same time.

2008-07-01T16:37:00.000-07:00

... and it's July 1st and we are opening in 11 days.

Some days I think, oh it's going to be fab. Other days I want to hide under the table and pray pray pray pray that when I open my mouth the right notes will come out of my mouth. I don't care if it's the right words. Just please please please may it be the right notes. Please. I will do anything!!!! It would be a special bonus if the notes actually sounded GOOD. We are running the show again tonight, but we are doing it without Anita. It threw me off the last time we did it, but this time - I'm ready to be focused.

In other news, today is my last day as a 25 year old. I'm having mixed feelings about it, I'm getting older and going through so much in my life. I want the time to pass, but I also want it to stand still. This time, though, I'm feeling pretty damn loved.

What's the Best Way to Manage Heart Break?

2008-06-27T12:51:00.000-07:00

Check into heart break hotel and be the lead in one of the most amazing stories and musicals of all time!

I’ve been blessed to be working so diligently on such a challenging and wonderful role with an incredibly talented cast. I mean really. It’s heart stopping. It’s not possible to be feeling sad about love when you’ve got this amazing tenor singing in your ear lyrics like, “all the world is only you and me.” “today the world was just an address a place for me to live no better than alright, but here you are..” I don’t care if it’s fake, you can not be sad! Ok, so the whole dying thing kinda puts a huge wrench in the whole experience, but nothing’s perfect.

We ran the whole show recently. Each time it gets better, but the Chino scene is still a mess, and I’m still finding so so so much anger and I can’t find the sadness. I keep hoping that it’s going to come, but so much is going on in my mind and my brain that it’s feeling not real. Plus, I have this haunting voice in my heart that keeps reminding me of college, and how I felt so unsuccessful. It’s discouraging. I don’t know. I’m feeling a little bit confused. Plus, I have this other big thought on my brain at the moment.

Should I move to New York in January?

A lot of my theatre friends have slowly jumped off the ship into the big apple, and just today I got an email from one of them that said, “I’m moving to New York in January. Do you know anyone who wants a roommate? Hey, maybe you can be my roommate.” She was probably joking when she wrote it, but it really got me thinking…. Maybe it’s time I move to New York. Sure, I don’t have my card yet. Sure, I could use a couple more big roles, but I’m net getting any younger. Plus, I have no REAL ties here in the bay area except my relationships, and it’s only going to get harder to make the big move.
I’m seriously considering it.

We Ran the Whole Show

2008-06-25T22:59:00.000-07:00

We ran the whole show! I didn' t know we were going to go through ACT 2 so I hadn't gone through my script.
So I had to call line a bunch. Ugh! That's annoying. I didn't want to have to call line, but I did. My singing was all off and just messed up.

It's ok.
Next time we do it... it will be better

Love of MY Life

2008-06-23T11:06:00.000-07:00

The hardest scene in the show for me is the one where I’m with Chino and he’s telling me how Tony, the love of my life, killed my brother. It’s really difficult to get to the place where I can really relate to that type of loss, and then go into a fit of anger and rage when the killer comes to my bedroom window. This Friday, I think I found my motivation. Instead of saying, “He killed your brother.” He should say, “He stole your cell phone” because when I left my cell in a cab this Friday, I fell apart and started crying and screaming while chucking all my crap around my apartment. – yes, like a crazy person.

The worst part about the whole thing is that I knew it 5 seconds after I got out of the cab, but I couldn’t turn around and chase the cab down. Oh, it didn’t help it was Friday and lost and found was closed until Monday. So, there I am stranded without my cell phone. I counted down the moments until I could get it back from Yellow Cab prison, and the entire weekend made me actualize just how deep my dependency goes.

So this morning I geared up for operation –Saving-Private-Cell-Phone and headed towards the ends of the Earth, (or errr San Francisco – but, seriously, same thing !) to conquer Yellow Cab Prison. This can’t be part of San Francisco I thought as I parked my car on the gravel road and headed towards the lost and found office walking amongst the broken cabs. – There have been so many times when I myself wanted to smash in the windshield of a cab, and there was something mildly satisfying seeing those broken cabs.

They did not make finding the lost and found office easy, but eventually I was reunited with my greatest treasure and I feel restored.

Life as a Singer

2008-06-19T15:45:00.000-07:00

It turns out - I can’t read. Oh, and I should definitely trust myself a little more than I do because everyone else CAN read and learned that I did NOT have to be at rehearsal until 9pm last night. All I had to do was sing “I Feel Pretty” in front of people who have already heard me sing. So, the pressure was off – until I have to. Yet, I’ll be a little more prepared this time and I’ll be a little more grounded.

From the comments of my last post and the conversations I had last night, I wanted to clarify a few things about my anxiety I have about singing.

I’ve always loved loved loved loved to sing since I was the mere age of 5 years old and just because I sang on the way to P.E., randomly bust out into song on the streets or have the tendandcy to sing at the most random times during rehearsal does not by any stretch of the imagination make me a good singer. It just makes me a crazy person who loves to sing. There is a difference – fine line, but a difference. I am not one of those lucky crazy singers that came out of the womb singing not crying. I might have thought I was singing, but really, I was just shrieking. Never have I ever had one of those freak voices that was just plain talented… it took a lot a lot a lot of hard work and a lot a lot of practice.

The only thing that really kept me going was my sheer love for singing because I have a list of stories that would make any normal person run away in complete utter humiliation. For example: in Jr. High School, I auditioned for EVERY SOLO EVERY YEAR. At the time, I thought I was pretty lucky, but now when I think about it I really really looked on the bright side because every year there was about 10 solos offered. In the 3 years I spent there I got 3 of them. In 6th grade I got the first line of the Chanukah song, and in 8th grade I got to sing a verse for the graduation concert. The real humiliating moment was my 7th grade solo in the 50’s concert. Ooo, it was humiliating. The entire Jr High group of singers puts on this 50's bandstand type of event, and then they perform it at schools in Southern California. It was a WHOLE Elvis song, and the rest of the “cast” sang back up behind you, but you also had to do these adlib parts. So, before my audition, I spent DAYS thinking of the best adlibs for the audition. I did, I had the best adlibs, but I couldn’t sing the song. So, the solo was given to someone else. The teacher said I had the best adlibs but I was “flat on all the parts of the song and I kept just getting flatter.” Well, turns out that the original soloist couldn’t do the tour. So, she asked me to sing the solo during the tour. WHAT A PLEASURE! I was so thrilled and I practiced for WEEKS. When it was my turn to sing the song at a concert in front of AN ENTIRE SCHOOL OF ELEMENTRY KIDS or whatever, I crashed and burned. I mean it was horrible it was HORRIBLE. I think I even dropped out because I could tell it was like the tone-deaf child singing in the shower for the entire world. I even overheard people talking shit about me after the performance. It was all anyone could talk about. Cause Jr. High wasn’t hard enough right?

Then in high school, I just had to have the most talented boyfriend ever (well at least I thought so) and all my friends were just the CREAM of the crop when it came to singing and acting. I always stood in a shadow wishing waiting and hoping it would be my turn, and I’m not sure why but people still had faith in me, even though, I crashed and burned over and over and over. I used to be in a quartet, and I was the WORST one. I NEVER sang my part right and the coach at one point threw her hands up in the air with me because I couldn’t even sing the basic melody to a song with out going flat. I pulled the entire group down. I knew it, they knew it, but they were my friends and they knew I was working so hard. I think the national anthem was the only thing I managed to get, but when we sang “Yesterday” I was the one singing the melody and I dropped out because I was singing bad notes. I might as well have been singing “Jealous Guy” cause that’s what it sounded like. I managed to get the lead in the high school play my senior year, but I didn’t sing… I screamed.

College things started to seriously turn around for me. I started singing pretty aggressively with a very talented teacher. I started having recitals and I started playing leads and I had a few bad notes, but things started to really pick up for me in those 4 years I lived up in Santa Rosa. My self – esteem was clearly an issue, and I got in my own way all the time. I still fight in this battle, but we’re talking about YEARS of humiliating singing experience’s here.

After college, it took some time before I found the right teacher, and NOW in just the 1.5 years I’ve been with her, my voice and life has completely changed. I started in choruses, moved to understudy’s and now I’m singing Maria in WSS.

Three things never changed for me in the entire process: 1) I love to sing. 2) I never stopped working or trying even amongst the tears. 3) People believed in me, and they believed in me when I didn’t. –I’m still not sure why.

I still work HARD at singing, don’t get me wrong, my story is not over. When I got to my voice teacher, she called me her charity case because I wasn’t of the caliber she usually taught. She doesn’t feel that way any more she thinks of me as her protégé esk type of student and that “I’ve come so far.” So, when a fellow cast member came up to me after rehearsal and said, “have you always been a great singer?” I meant it when I said, “No.” And you’ll have to forgive me if I have mild hesitations and anxiety to sing in front of people who are extremely talented.

I Feel.. Forgetful

2008-06-18T15:02:00.000-07:00

Sorting huge piles of laundry this morning, I thought to myself, I'll just put these two loads in before my 9pm rehearsal tonight. Continuing to pack for work, I forgot my rehearsal shoes, my script, and forgot to pack my essential cup I use to transport tea back and forth. Mieya, I'll do it when I get home after shopping at Victoria Secrets.

Come to find an email from a friend of mine, "I saw someone in your show yesterday and he can't wait to work with you tonight." What? I'm coming in at 9pm tonight to work on "I Feel Pretty." Let me just check my......schedule.....that's sitting on my kitchen table. DRATS!

"No problem," says Google Docs who safely has stored my schedule into every computer I own.

"Oh," I reply, whew I don't have rehearsal cause I'm not in Act 1 Scene 5 "America" Wait, wait, does that say Act 1 Scene 5 into "America?" Ugh, what is Act 1 Scene 5? Let me just check my......script.....that's sitting on my kitchen table. BEVERLEY!

Drying the tears from my face and picking me up from under my office desk, Myspace says, "Don't worry. You can just stalk cast members and ask them."

Sure enough, Act 1 Scene 5 is the 80 minute Balcony Scene jam packed with non-stop kissing, caressing and singing with Tony and Maria. So, I would have waltz in at 9pm watching Tony singing to his own arm. Egads! Crisis averted.

However, tonight will be the first night that the entire cast gets to hear my voice, and my voice singing the Maria material. I knew from day one that this day would take a lot of mental preparation for me including tea drinking, line studying, song practice and focus. I work so hard to get a role, I get one, I jump for joy and think, Oh God, people are going to hear me sing.

Having other people in the cast hear me sing is worse than having audience members hearing me sing because the audience members can run and hide from you after the show, and it's so dark out in the audience you can not see their facial expressions. It's a win - win situation here, but your fellow talented actors staring at you in rehearsal makes me want to jump out the window. Causually walking into work today thinking that I'm just gonna sing with my "girls" but nooooooo, the day has come!

Feel the fear and do it anyway. - someone famous said that...

Practice with Potential.

2008-06-15T16:35:00.001-07:00

"I stopped singing in grade school because someone told me I sucked," says my masseuse during my 90 minute massage that accidentally turned into 60 minutes. The words shook me to my core until she said, "I didn't know why I stopped singing until I worked it out in psychic therapy." Um, I hope you can't read minds also because I'm starting to feel mildly uncomfortable laying naked on your table. 40 minutes later and more relaxed then ever, I started contemplating the idea of potential. When is it ok to rely on potential and when is not?

My amazing eye-brow goddess said to me once, "Potential is a mind-f*ck" when referring to our oh so awesome boyfriends. We quickly spiraled into a conversation of how life is too short to be using the phrases: "putting up with" or "he's working on this." I left feeling totally side swiped and blind sighted by potential in a lot of aspects in my life. Always hoping, waiting and wanting in eager anticipation for "something" to happen. Filled with thoughts of "stop waiting" - "don't settle" - "it's never gonna happen" - "things don't change," I walked away feeling more alone then ever.

Yet, I've heard "you've got potential" used to describe myself so many times that I couldn't imagine how things would be if I didn't believe I had it. If I didn't believe that I could change or if I wasn't hopeful, then... oh, I can't even think of the then.

So, I'm not a quitter... sadly, I'm not a quitter. I'm filled with too much hope.

You wore your suit...

2008-06-13T14:46:00.000-07:00

...and I flocked like a bee to honey.

I'm here, and I've been writing. I've been writing one of those letters. You know, the letters that you sit and spend WEEKS writing and perfecting to describe exactly how you're feeling; then you never send it.

Here's the opening paragraph to one of mine:

As the days pass by, it has become painfully obvious that my words will never reach your ears, but these emotions that have infected my heart, body and soul and must come out in one fashion or another. That lurking eminent feeling of loss looms over me and fills me with dread. Yet, for the first time, in a long time, wrong or right, risking or not, sad, elated, scared and excited, I just plain don’t care. This is who I am. This is how I feel and I'm going to tell you about it.

aaaaand scene.

These letters can be extremely therapeutic for a young dramatic lady spending her days reflecting tenaciously on her current state of mind. I started writing this letter in a very different place. I had the hopes to actually give this letter a home, but then it happened. I felt it in the pit of my stomach and I could not control it. Up, up, up it came and out went the word vomit. That disgusting, nauseating and vile-should-be-kept-to-yourself words dripping with all this feeling came out, and I was done. Now three single spaced typed pages later, I lay at the bottom of the bathroom floor dry heaving words. Type. Type. Type. delete - delete - delete - delete - delete. (sigh)

Regardless, is it really safe to be actually inking these type of things?

It's that constant debate. What's too private for the Internet? Should you really be writing it in your journal? If you write one of those letters then should you burn it later?

It's pretty hard for me to edit myself when I'm puking up words, so, I use my journal or write those letters and then stick it in my journal. I have a few safe people on journal burning duty if anything were to happen to me. Yet, I'm still not convinced that my words will never be unread, but should I care if I'm dead? - That's how I rationalize it. I won't care. I'll be dead.

So in the meantime, it all comes out to help organize the emotional roller coaster I take myself on, and if anyone were to read it, I would say: It's your own fault! I didn't open the journal and say please read this.