It was a, well, you know..one of those days.

Greetings all, one and small, rich and poor, less and more. Riddle me this: what happens when your dream, the one you've had all your life, the one you've eaten, breathed and slept for 21 years, suddenly becomes not as appealing as it used to be? What happens then? When I think of the chain reaction of events that have taken place because of my undying devotion to this dream, it absolutely makes me shudder. What if..just what if..I've been wrong this whole time?

Wouldn't that be a horror? What a waste, she'd say! To have spent her days slaving away in a dark, dank room, with nothing but a script, a mirror and a stained carpet floor, memorizing words and thoughts and actions, in the hopes that one day she'd be good enough to repeat them in front of an audience that included more than just her own reflection? The odds of ever making it are, well, extraordinarily minute. But then, what is making it, she thinks? Does 'making it' mean that I am able to make a comfortable living for myself and my family doing what I love? Well, yes, she thinks. OR does 'making it' simply mean doing it? Trying it? Giving it everything for just a few more years? Yes, I think it means that too, she agrees.

Very well, then, what comes next? Something that looks a little bit like this, I'd imagine:

A leap of faith. Yes, a leap of faith.

Thursday, Thursday, Thursday.

This past week, I've felt like I've lived in Groundhog day. I wake up around generally the same time every morning, roll out of bed, wash my face, brush my teeth, and get dressed. I eat breakfast, and go to work. Over and over and over. Last night, however, I enjoyed some much needed friendly diversions in the form of a wine tasting at the Phoenix Public Market with two wonderful people. On the way down to the market, the weather was so nice I kept the windows down, whilst singing "Summer in Ohio" from the Last Five Years. As I pulled up to a stop light, a car that also had its windows down and had been listening to 'a super poppin' beat' turned off their music, pulled up next to me, and begin applauding and saying, 'youuu go girl!' I bowed, as only you can bow while sitting in a car, by waving my hands quite foppishly and inclining my head to them.

Part of my resolution was to journal more, specifically on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. However, today is Thursday. As I'm sure you are all well aware. Call me an over-achiever.

I think I might be starting a new blog called "Ellyn in the Apple" when I eventually make my move to NYC. Right now the date is pegged (somewhat precariously) around the end of April, 2011. So. I'll be keeping busy in the meantime. I was recently cast as Mercy Lewis in a production of Salem:1692. You can read past reviews of the show here . I have to say, I'm beyond stoked to begin rehearsals for this production. We'll have 24 shows beginning in March (yipes!) at the Soul Invictus theatre in downtown Phoenix. I'm also going to be performing in a cabaret variety show with Reign Productions in February, not sure the venue on that yet but I'll let you know.

Yep, I'll let you know. Whoever you are. :)

Days in the Rain

Thursday. My day off.

A few twirls of the wrist, a sharp downward stab, and my hair is piled on top of my head into a bun, secured by a stray mechanical pencil I found on the counter. Because it is such a wonderfully dreary, rainy day, that means I have to push up the sleeves of my oversize sweater and kick off my shoes before I can snuggle into the couch with a cup of tea. But not before running into the next room to wrap my arms around my always-doing-something-productive mother, peck her cheek with a kiss and offer her a cup of Earl Grey. It is certainly one of those days...

However, if I lived in the following painting, my day might go something like this:

"Dear Diary, 

Well, it is certainly another dreary day here in Paris. The winter chill has really set into my bones, it seems. No matter how many layers of silly clothing I seem to put on, it always seems to bite right through and chill me directly to the core. Fortunately, Mark is going to be arriving momentarily and has offered to take me to the theatre for the afternoon. Of course, the theatre is always dreadfully cold as well so I must be certain to wear my fur-lined wrap or else I shall be very sorry indeed.

Oh, I suppose it's not all that bad. After all, I'm used to the rain in England.. I suppose I imagined Paris would be different somehow; an enchanted, perpetually sunny kingdom where men and women were at liberty to roam about in their underthings because, well, they can. Silly, isn't it?  

But, despite the rain, I am glad to be here - even if it is just for a short holiday.  

Ah! That will be Mark at the door. He is always sickeningly punctual, the dear. Ta for now."




But what if I lived in this picture? What if that little girl was, in fact, me at this very moment? I can imagine my day going somewhat like this:

"Dear Diary,

This morning I woke up and GUESS WHAT! It was RAINING!!! I was so excited I ran downstairs and out the door before I even put any shoes on. Mom came outside though and yelled, "Ellyn Elizabeth you better come back in here and get dressed before you catch cold!" I guess I was a little excited. It's just that, I LOVE rainy days. I love how they smell, I love how it makes my house feel, I love the puddles, but I especially love rainy days because I get to use my pretty umbrella. I love my umbrella. I picked it out myself with my Grammy when she took me shopping for my birthday. I guess she thought it was funny that I picked out an umbrella but I love it. I love it so much. Ok gotta go now! Don't want to miss any more raaaiiin!" 





Well, as it is, I am in Phoenix, Arizona, on a delightfully rainy day. I have no intention of being anything but perfectly content today. I think I'll go pop in a movie. Or three.

Ellyn in the Apple

So, this morning, I woke up in a lovely studio apartment in New York City at 85th and Columbus. My lovely friend Kjirsten Johnson was kind enough to put me up for two weeks as I adventured around the city, seeing shows, auditioning, spending some time with friends and making new ones in an acting class.

The trip was originally only supposed to be for 9 days, but after my audition on Saturday at The Simon Studio, I was cast in their bi-annual production of "Bard at the Bar" - a collage of various Shakespeare scenes, monologues and songs. My boss was gracious enough to allow me to extend my stay in the city, and Kjirsten was kind enough to allow me to intrude on her life for a few more days. She really convinced me more than anyone about what I should do - it's amazing how we can let the comfort of our lives prevent us from taking risks and seizing the opportunities that will set us on the fast-track to the rest of our lives. So I stayed - and did the show. And just about ran out of money (New York will do that to you.) But can I get a hoorah for good friends and supportive families? Hoorah!

I met a lovely girl named Gillian in the show - she moved to the city from Montana just about a year ago and she said I reminded her of herself when she first moved to the city. She was extraordinarily helpful and really encouraged me to just 'make the leap' because living in New York is never going to be easy. (Funny, that's what my dad has been saying for years...) She gave me the name and number of a woman who will be in need of a nanny in January and also the name and number of her apartment broker.

The show. I got really lucky, guys. The show was absolutely fantastic. It was held at the very illustrious and historic "The Players Club" which was the former residence of actor extraordinaire Edwin Booth.

The interior was even more beautiful than the exterior. I believe it was four or five stories high, with wide staircases covered in red carpet and escorted by rich, wooden banisters. The walls were lined with portraits of famous actors (I took my picture next to one Kate Hepburn..) Up in the dining hall, which was a throw-back to the 18th century, the dark wooden walls and creaky hard-wood floors shone warmly under the light of chandeliers. There was an exceptionally large portrait of Edwin Booth in Hamlet garb (which served quite useful in a scene from Hamlet, where the actor playing Hamlet used the portrait to as the portrait of his father in the confrontation scene with Gertrude.)

It was warm and crowded, and we filled the hall with the words and musicality of my favorite playwright. It was rich - sumptuous, a second Thanksgiving feast, really. Although a stage was provided in the room it was scarcely used by the players, we sat with the audience, and simply got up and interacted with them as we performed our scenes, our speeches, our songs. It felt right - like I was performing at the Globe and was playing and interacting with the groundlings. Shakespeare is, after all, an experience.

Yeah, I got really lucky. Phew. Can't wait to do it again.

I was Audrey in a scene from "As You Like It" and my Touchstone was a delightful New Yorker named Frankie B. You know what? I really like hearing Shakespeare in a thick New Yorker accent.

"Come apace, good Oo-ahdge-ry." (that was the best I could sound out the Long Island pronunciation of "Audrey" phonetically."

Sadly, my digital camera is out of commission, so I took all my pictures with a disposable. I'll post pictures as soon as I get them developed, scanned, and uploaded. Ahh technology. I guess you can be useful sometimes ;)

Well friends, it's time for another of my signature abrupt endings. I'm at the Philadelphia airport and I should probably wander over to my gate.

Ta for now. More to come..I promise.. :)

The Glass

"There's this wall. I'm on one side, you're on the other. And it's really thick, right? Only, it's made of glass. And I mean, crystal clear glass. But I can't touch you because there's this two-foot thick glass wall in between us. And there's no way around it. Or through it, for that matter. Because the wall stretches around the whole world. Dividing you and me forever. Oh can you hang on a second? Someone's at the door."

"Ok, sorry I'm back. UPS guy. Ok so anyway, I can see you, right? And you can see me. We both put our hands up against the wall and we just keep staring at each other. And then I started to cry because I realized our hands will never, ever touch. And then it hits me. I'm going to miss you every day. I'm going to walk around in my world, and look over, and there will be that glass wall, and you on the other side of it. And I'll try to talk to you and be a part of your life, but I won't ever be able to. You saw me crying, so you came right up next to the wall and sat down and put your hand against the glass, and I could tell you were saying something nice because I saw your lips moving and your eyes were concerned, but I couldn't hear you. I couldn't hear anything. That's when I woke up. Crazy dream, right?"

Autumnal Reflections

There have been a thousand-thousand writings and musings and ponderings and angst-ings about the coming season. Consider this post another leaf to add to the pile.

First of all, let me just say, I LOVE the holiday season. I love the weather, I love the clothes I get to wear, I love the relief of the cool, crisp air from an overly-long summer heat. I love how everyone knows Christmas is coming, and it shows on their faces. I love how I feel when I sit inside a coffee shop; as the lights go down outside, the warm orange glow of the ambient lighting inside the shop seeps into my eyes, blurring the world to a hazier, friendlier colour. I love how I dress in this type of weather. I am obsessed with scarves, hats and coats. And living in Arizona, I don't get much opportunity to take advantage of the aforementioned obsession. But it's coming. The winter chill is almost here. I can taste it. I can hear it. I can smell it. And it's flooding my senses.

Did I tell you already that I hate the television? I didn't have cable for about..six years, and when I moved in with my fabulous roommate, I discovered DirectTv. And I'm certain it has turned my brain to mush. I couldn't figure out why I was feeling so lethargic, so impatient, and so temperamental. And then I realized the common denominator: every day  I felt that way was a day I had spent at least an hour watching the TV. It stifled my creativity, it shortened my temper, it decreased my attention span and made me extraordinarily impatient, lazy and depressed. Why isn't television illegal? Anyway, I've decided I'm not ever watching the blasted thing again. I'll watch movies and my Doctor Who and maybe a documentary, but I can get all of those on DVD. Without commercial breaks.

Anyway, the point of me bringing that bit about the TV up was to move into this portion of the post: this season brings out the writer in me. I don't know what it is, but I get..extraordinarily romantic and creative around this time of year.

And hey, while we're being honest, can I just say, I really want to have someone to share the holidays with? Uh oh.. The voice of Bridget Jones just popped in my head.
"...Will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional f***wits, or perverts. Will especially stop fantasizing about a particular person who embodies all these things."

 I don't think I'm quite to Bridget-status, but with the holidays coming up, it just intensifies the whole 'I have been single for a long time' feeling. And I mean, it's not like it's really important or even a priority, but it's just..well..I'm allowed to be a girl sometimes and this is how I feel!
"Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak!"

Oh, and Santa, while I'm blathering on about my selfish desires for romance during the holidays, do you reckon I could have a New Year's Eve kiss this year? For once? Maybe?

And while I'm at it why don't I wish for an unlimited gift card to Anthropologie, a size 22 inch waist so I can actually fit into vintage clothing, a big time movie role, and a plane ticket to Venice, Italy? I would also accept Paris, France, New York, New York, and London, England.

Thanks.

My oh my. Time to wrap it up.

See you soon.

A Friday Free

Glam trobble spilk troht goop. Seenk Maren thumby pluff dumbed.

There now. I've begun. The best way to begin, Frodo Baggins, is to just begin. Trot one finger in front of the other and go on your merry way. Creating something.

This morning, I awoke as usual. I watched a terribly melodramatic 1990's romance film called "Untamed Heart" with Christian Slater and Marisa Tomei. Why did I watch it? Can't be sure. Something about, not wanting to start my day. I had half a grapefruit and two slices of cinnamon raisin Ezekiel bread and aren't you so glad you're reading this right now this absolutely fascinating piece of literature?

This table is really much too tall. Or perhaps the chair is much too short. Either way, I am being forced to sit in an upright position with my elbows almost at a right angle so that I can type this entry without straining my neck down like a great bigluvulating giraffe bending down for a sip of water on a hot day.

See that? I just keep going and writing nonsense. But don't worry, this spur of the moment preamble will certainly lead to something of worth. Or at least of note. Or at least of something not so entirely void of entertainment as this post has been thus far.

Do you know, I am sipping a glorious beverage. A soy caramelized pear tea latte. And it's delightful. And what's more? It's NOT from Starbucks.

Oy. I just stretched my neck. It felt like there was a great big oaf in the middle of a science lab that just ran up and down the laboratory pulling plugs and spilling chemicals and breaking beakers and generally making things spark and spill and crack and causing such a stink that it makes your head spin. That's what I feel like sometimes. A great big robot that's all full of wires and plugs and glass beakers and little metal trays that they can all sit on, and then one day this great big knot of a monster comes in and messes it all up and then I have to go and pour water all over it to cool down the equipment and pull the plug on the whole thing and reboot.

Regardless, this tea latte is delicious.

I do wish people were more considerate to coffee shop employees.

"Hi there how are you tod--"
"Good CAN I get a LARGE cup of coffee thanks."

Seriously? Your day is SO jam-packed that you can't take three seconds to acknowledge that there is another human being across from you -seriously no more than, sixteen inches away? How about some eye contact and maybe, just maybe, a smile?

You ever think about busy intersections? How many cars there are? I sometimes imagine that all the cars are invisible and then I can just see all the people gathered in one spot at this great big intersection - as if there was a party going on! Trouble is, no one else looks around and notices that there are other people around them - hundreds and hundreds of people! Or like in rush hour on the highway, where it's all a dead parking lot. How much more fun would it be if we could all just roll down our windows and laugh and talk and vent about our days to each other? You know there are some people in this world that go through their entire day without a pleasant word from anyone. And now we get creeped out if someone even makes eye contact with us on the highway. What are they going to do, shoot laserbeams out their eyes and turn your car into a great big fiery mess? No.

I have my Friday free today. I could do anything I wanted today. I can literally do anything I want to do today. Anything.

Which is why, at this moment, I am sipping a caramelized pear tea latte with soy milk.