TOTALLY RANDOM for Christmas--part 1

Delirium and exhaustion but lack of sleep=

Barbra Streisand and Audrey Hepburn are jointly responsible for my career path. That, and natural disasters. When I was four or five years old, my mother took me and my childhood best buddy, Ginny, to Galveston. Ginny’s mother and sister came along as did my sister, and we were prepared for a joyous time out on the beach. Unfortunately, due to the fact that Texas has the most obscenely unpredictable, bizarre, and silly weather patterns of any state or country, God pooped a tropical storm on our party plans and we were stuck inside. Imagine two mothers running around after two five year olds, a three year old, and a two year old. Does this sound like fun? In what I can only imagine was a totally chaotic mess of a situation, my mother took the two films she had (either they had them in the condo or my mother had brought them…I believe it was the former because I don’t think we owned them…) and put one in the TV. This film, my friends, was Hello, Dolly! While Hello, Dolly was meant to be background noise and a mild distraction, I reportedly sat Indian-style totally mesmerized by what I saw on the screen. Singing, dancing, a beautiful plot told through music, and a million smiling faces from a different time reassuring me that the world would be as simple and tidy as an adult as it was for me as a child. I thought it was completely magical. My mother was completely befuddled by this situation, but took advantage of it. Once Hello, Dolly finished, she put in tapes one and two of My Fair Lady. I remained completely entranced. To this day, I am bewitched by musical theatre. It seems nobody remembers or loves the classics anymore (except for occasional high school theatre) and it makes me truly upset. So many of my friends in musical theatre have zero knowledge of musicals that predate RENT and it makes me want to gouge out my eyeballs. Musical theatre has taken an odd direction, as of late. It’s very sarcastic. Catchy, with a desire to be epic and extremely passionate, but it kind of just all sounds the same. Pasek and Paul are Jason Robert Brown knock offs on steroids. (Now, I know Jason Robert Brown now sounds like lame High School Musical pop music—thank you 13—and there are exceptions of Pasek and Paul which aren’t quite as blatant knock-offs, but for the most part, this is the case.) Kerrigan and Lowdermilk are pretty decent. The music is technically good. Still pretty darn unoriginal. Pretty bland. And most of the time the lyrics are god-awful (exception being Run Away with Me). All anyone can do is kitschy musical theatre cabaret knockoffs of standards. It’s like we’ve become so frustrated with our extensive knowledge of all musical theatre that we can’t even stand it so all we do is mock ourselves. This is why (for the most part) Lyric Stage’s West Side Story was so reassuring and refreshing. It was classic (well, okay, not officially classic but it’s pre 1970) and just beautiful. The dancers made that production fantastic. I found Tony to be absolutely abominable and while I enjoyed Kim’s vocals, her acting didn’t suit the role (which shouldn’t be something you can say of an actress, by the way…) and it was ridiculous with all that makeup and silly wig portraying Maria. The point is, the full orchestra and dancers completed that show. The essence of what that show is, was there.

People in DFW treat theatre like a business to the extreme. We’ve lost sight of the beauty and art. Bruce Coleman understands a good show. He understands actors. He understands the intricacy and beauty of a good costume (oh my gosh, go see Trysts in Toledo at Theatre Three—it’s hysterical and the costumes alone make it worth your money). Jenny Thurman understands the complete and true importance of character. Genuine compassion and heart of a character. Turning that character into a living, breathing being rather than a performance of look-what-I-can-do. James McQuellin understands the passion of music. The highs and lows, crescendos and diminuendos. The importance of the voice but the precedence of the music, accompaniment, lyrics, and intention. Kyle McLaran understands risk-taking to an unreal degree. I learned so incredibly much from him in Footloose and think he’s one of the most underrated guys in this town. Amy Stevenson understands the importance of gathering friends around for musical theatre cabaret. Emily Gray understands humor and all things British to the craziest level. Matthew Gray is a crazy-fabulous director. These people have no idea how much they have taught me, and while I’m trying to (in small ways) thank them and let them know, I doubt they ever really will. Let’s make a thank-you list, in the spirit of the holidays.

Thank you to…

1. Lola Dill. Piano is my greatest stress release, passion, and channel for all things musical. Without my ability to play piano, I would go crazy and so much of my life thus far would not have happened. More than this, thanks for spending endless hours hounding me about musicality, the curvature of the fingers, and the placement of the body on the piano bench. It’s making my career.
2. Kyle McLaran. For taking risks, for embracing differences, and for continually surprising me with how wonderful your quirks and crazy ideas are.
3. Emily Gray. For teaching me so much about Shakespeare and dramaturgy, for how to truly direct a show, and for being such a brilliant model of what an actress should be.
4. Matt Gray. For the one time you watched Shrew rehearsal and perfectly verbally communicated all my thoughts/critiques and more in a way the actors internalized and understood. You taught me so much in the thirty minutes you spoke, you have no idea.
5. Ed Long. For being a crazy brilliant genius who taught me an insane amount about conducting, musical theatre, classical music, art, the history of Hockaday, and how to tell a story. Even more importantly, for teaching me to capitalize on my passions and pursue them all.
6. BonnieJean Coleman. For setting a goal for me as a pianist to be able to transpose anything, and to hear someone sing and immediately know what to play for them, how to play it, and in the correct key.
7. Beth Wortley. For being a second mother, being the ultimate supporter, being an older version of my endlessly overcommitted and multitasking self, and for appreciating the true class and wonder of a good old fashioned musical. Also, for being a remarkable choreographer and teaching me the importance of a real vision in theatre and dance.
8. Susan Hubbard. For teaching me how one woman is capable of running an entire show and there is no excuse not to complete a task in theatre. One person really is capable of running lights, sound, costumes, backstage, crew, cast, auditions, rehearsals, blocking, musical direction, and choreography.
9. John Weeden. For being a dreamer and helping me realize that’s a part of me and having those huge dreams is more than okay. For embracing and helping me build up my passion for the arts, arts advocacy, and arts administration. For causing me to desperately go live in London.
10. Mr. Maloney. For starting up Odyssey of the Mind and Destination Imagination, and starting this crazy theatrical journey. For helping me write, as a fourth grader, a crazy Holocaustal version of Macbeth and teaching me the difference between intelligence and wisdom. I’ll never forget it.
11. Trigger Butler. For basically being a theatrical character 24/7 and turning all things English into great theatre. For having faith in me. For making me strive to be better in an environment that was almost too easy. For teaching me how to properly shake someone’s hand.
12. Dr. Venable. For giving me passion in language. English, French, Spanish, German, it doesn’t matter. Because of your classes in elementary school, I knew I loved written and spoken word and would enjoy the study of it forever.
13. Mrs. Lee. For being the most kindhearted person I know and for practically crying when I gave you a build-your-own-gingerbread house. You taught me the importance of a thoughtful Christmas gift, 1000 Chinese characters, and the greatest smile I’ve ever seen.
14. Brendan Court. For being a guardian angel and probably subconsciously being inspiration for the list I’m making right now. A few months before you passed, you made a list of all of your friends and your favorite things about them. At your funeral, I remember Abby mentioning that list and how crazy it was seeing how many friends you had and seeing how much you really cared about them all. It’s an incredible thing, truly. I still think of you all the time and wonder what your crazy, kindhearted spirit would do in certain situations in my life.
15. Ginny Seeley. For teaching me how to be a best friend.
16. Katie Specht. For teaching me that I would never be the mature one of our group of friends, but that it was okay cause you totally had it covered!
17. Roseanne Blair. For sitting on the Circus Wagon and writing and plotting crazy schemes and analyzing the social nature of fourth graders. For introducing me to Sixpence NonetheRicher, Rocket (the computer game), incense, Hairspray (the original one that we watched at your fourth grade birthday party) and pretty much being my literary soulmate.
18. Robbie Kessler. For being my first boyfriend and for (ever so appropriately) dancing ballet with me on our first date when we ate parfaits (which recipe came out of an American GirlDoll cookbook) at my dining room table. And saw Harriet the spy—a movie which changed my view of composition notebooks forever.
19. Elizabeth Moran. For enduring the crap that ridiculous eleven year olds put you (and the rest of us) through and for turning out to be a really awesome person while they’re still pretty clueless.
20. Abby Lichliter. For that time when you visited Hockaday and I introduced you as my friend and you quickly corrected me that you were not and the subsequent lesson of how to introduce people. Particularly those with a particular view of themselves. Also, for hours of Mario Kart and dancing to the Dixie Chicks in socks. And watching PG-13 movies in the workout room.
21. Ms. Gwen. Who taught me that dance was not worth it if it was going to be totally and completely utterly miserable. And that really, it’s not dancing if it’s not joyous. Also, to never, ever lock up a fourth grader post-mono and put their recital music on repeat in a rehearsal room until they learned it. Reflecting upon this ten years later, I kind of want to tell you that it scarred me and wasn’t okay. Hmm. Moving on.
22. Katie Powell. For having amazing stage presence and charisma and truly causing me to want to tap dance and be in DBC tap company.
23. Karen Stanford. For teaching me how to tap—utterly and completely. Best tap teacher I’ve ever had and I’m immensely grateful.
24. Hockaday. For beating me down to nothing only so I could rise up completely.
25. Meredith McAlister. For forcing me to be a director and giving me an incredible actress to work with. Last Five Years is still one of the best experiences I’ve had in my life.
26. John Glass Aldous. For making me feel remarkably stupid for not knowing 25^th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in Mockingbird Station at the beginning of junior year. You and Lizzie Cochran were the catalyst for my modern/contemporary musical theatre freakout. And for being my gay Scottish husband.
27. Allison Klion. For INFIABSIA and teaching me to love the Beatles and classic rock.
28. Bayla Gottesman. For being my other half for the better part of my time at Hockaday, and for being the most inspirational dancer I have ever seen in my life. You light up the stage when you perform, and I hope to be half as charismatic and passionate on stage as you are.
29. Julie Smith. For being one of the most kindhearted people I know—genuinely.
30. Sarah Satinsky. For never letting the bad stuff get you down. It’s really unbelievable and is quite remarkable to a drama queen like me.
31. Kim Starfield. For taking me to France and for being the ultimate best friend. For teaching me maturity and patience. For being my counselor.
32. Nicole Bullock. For unintentionally gearing me up for what Hockaday would be when your mother started quizzing you on the capitals of countries in the Middle East in seventh grade on the way home from school.
33. Mrs. Rose. For letting me know at a very young age that it’s perfectly alright to be friends with a teacher.
34. Mrs. Westfall. For informing me of the importance of makeup.
35. Mrs. Kohl. For informing me that I never want to take Latin, and it’s not worth burning bridges out of bitterness or making students miserable over trivial matters.
36. Mrs. Case. For taking so much time to help a munchkin with the spelling bee.
37. Mrs. Snow. For teaching me to write fiction creatively.
38. Mrs. Cunningham. For being the most patient teacher I ever had.
39. Mrs. Broussard. For listening to musical theatre in advisory and being patient in listening to my middle school woes.
40. Bess Milner. For being an incredibly patient friend in the worst phase of my life, teaching me what great writing is, teaching me about Catholicism, and being a B*Witched enthusiast.
41. Will Arbery. For being my first love and teaching me more than you’ll probably ever know. My love for classic film and appreciation for great movies completely stems from what you taught me in 8^th-10^th grade. For spending hours every night talking to me and wondering about the world—religion, politics, and our place in it. With you, my tiny existence as a fourteen year old broadened immensely. You taught me to love letter writing. I never really got to thank you the way I wanted to and you probably won’t ever read this, but thank you.
42. Stephen Fox. You are, hands-down, the most sincere person I know. You care about people so much and absolutely deserve unbelievable happiness. You stayed friends with me despite all middle school and high school shenanigans, through the times we ignored each other, when we dated (the first…sixth…eight…tenth…however many times) and after we broke up. You’re a great musician, totally brilliant, a wonderful friend, and a remarkable guy. You’ve given me more lessons in forgiveness and compassion than you’ll ever know.
43. Elizabeth Stevenson. You unintentionally taught me to be nice to underclassmen, regardless. Condescension is totally useless, frivolous, and frustrating.
44. Skylar Harrison. You taught me how incredible the power of determination is. You are truly remarkable.
45. Monroe Lacerte. To this day, I think you might be the happiest and wittiest person I know.
46. Lauren Valletutti. You taught me sass.
47. Jourdan Hurst. You are such a kindred spirit in so many ways. We’ve been through so many of the same things and I love that you maintain the sweetest disposition ever despite what life throws at you. You’re one of my real-life heroes.
48. Maxey Whitehead. For giving an unreal performance in the Crucible several years ago and really making a huge impression of what a great actress should be to me when it was still a totally foreign hobby.
49. Rachel Tamez. For teaching me about college.
50. Sarah Endres. For teaching me that I am not cut-out to be a roommate but that you can be wonderful friends without living well together!
51. Leah Taylor. For introducing me to lez-rock. And for giving me a reason to chase you around Glassell for twenty minutes.
52. Tracy Leigh. For teaching me to be a diva.
53. Darius Anthony Robinson. For teaching me passion.
54. Buff Shurr. For casting me in Thoroughly Modern Millie when I auditioned for it completely on a whim. And for having patience with a remarkably slow 17/18 year old.
55. Rachel Harpool. For showing me true ambition.
56. Laura McLain. For being the best, best friend in the world. For spending hours into the wee morning discussing life and playing the piano. For sharing a passion in music. For being the sweetest person on earth. For having faith in me. For letting me be your friend and accompanist. For staying friends with me since I’ve been home. For still making an effort. For being just plain awesome
57. Jason Villareal. For being a fabulous Indian/Asian and just being a dear sweetheart.
58. Samantha. For teaching me that hostility is never the answer and some drama just isn’t worth the energy.
59. Andrew Campbell. For teaching me that it’s all gonna be okay.
60. Kevin Vichyastit. For being a buddy I know I’ll keep forever and travel with when we’re both rich and famous!
61. Allie Hayes. For being an over-analyzer. For being a brilliant writer. For being a friend.
62. Ben Kitchens. For enduring my quirks and spending a whole summer with me. It’s still a summer that hasn’t been beat.
63. Allen Pierce. For teaching me that it is possible to have a straight male platonic best friend! And for being a darn good one at that.
64. Joshua Doss. For Nemo.

TBC because I'm exhausted...