After The Tale As Old As Time...

A few months ago, I went home to my parents’ house in Portland to celebrate Christmas and spend a few weeks checked out of school.  More than that I was truly reveling in the reality that I was going to work at the one theatre I had dreamed of working at for 8 very long years. I was high on cloud nine that I had been chosen. I was special and someone recognized that.

As my sister would say, "Oh she's special alright"

Ok so maybe I was understudying with no guaranteed stage time and absolutely no clue how someone was supposed to be a professional understudy, but it was a foot in the door and I was practically emitting sparkles of happiness where ever I went. A theatrical fairy of good will and peace towards men, if you will, cause the holidays only held a magnifying glass to those sparkles to the point where even I was convinced my blood had turned to cotton candy from the sweetness of it all.

During this time, even though all the children in my family are either in college or are in their 20’s, we found ourselves gathered in front of the TV watching one of Disney’s greatest contributions to Americana Beauty and the Beast. (At least I think it was this time. It may have been earlier. For the sake of storytelling I’m deciding it happened over this break. Deal with it.)

Oh like you're all surprised...

Now for those who don’t know, the cheesy sappy spectacle that is Beauty and the Beast just happens to be my favorite Disney films of all time. Yes, I know you could argue the Belle had Stockholm syndrome. Yes, I know you can make a ton of furry jokes based on the two love interests, and even throw Gaston in there for good measure because he covered in hair. I don’t care. It’s campy and has catchy tunes. I will always stop to watch it, I own all the soundtracks, and I saw the touring show when I was young. I like it gosh darn it.

So imagine my horror when the movie sings its final bars and my brother turns to me and says “What they don’t show is them getting caught up in the French revolution within a year and dying by guillotine.”

To say my face looked like someone had kicked a basket full of adorable corgi puppies would be an understatement. My brother had, as is his favorite pastime, gleefully run over something fanciful I liked in a semi-truck full of reality and then had the gall to put it into reverse and back over it again. He wasn’t even sorry about it either. In fact it’s one of his favorite stories.

Ironically this is what I pictured the first time I drove on the highway.

 Little did I know at the time that I was in the midst of my own fairy tale, and that like all stories I was going to have a happily ever after. So to speak. In a weird way. Ok I’m still looking for the prince, but this metaphor still works. Just bear with me.

My happily ever after occurred June 16^th, 2012. On that momentous day I walked across the stage at Raider Stadium on the Southern Oregon University campus at roughly 10:30 am and received my empty folder and the promise of a diploma to be mailed at a later date. Then at 8:30 pm that same day I bounced my way onto the stage in the Elizabethan Theatre on the Oregon Shakespeare Festival campus in the world premiere of The Very Merry Wives of Windsor Iowa. My family was in the audience at both events, and I don’t think I stopped crying all day. I can say that day has to be the highlight of my life because it was the payoff of years of hard work, sweat, tears, and the occasional panic attack at 3 am wondering if I was good enough.

Now here’s the thing they don’t mention in fairy tales, this was what my brother delightfully reminded me of all those months ago, and that is that there is a life beyond happily ever after. Happily ever after happens and then the audience goes away and the characters are left to deal with the aftermath. After all no one want’s to see Cinderella and Prince Charming argue over how much she spends on shoes, or Snow White putting on her avocado mask while the Prince gets worked up over how high the heating bill is for their castle, or even Sleeping Beauty confronting Prince Phillip over the suspicion that their minstrel just might have a drinking problem.

Actually I'd probably pay good money to see that last fight. This man serves as a warning to couples everywhere thinking of hiring live musicians for their open bar wedding.

So that’s where I am right now. I am in post happily ever after shock with no glass slippers and the nearest castle being White Castle in…. Wisconsin.  I don’t even get a prince out of this deal. I got memories and pictures of me in pompoms that my sister will somehow slip into my wedding rehearsal, I just know it.

This is the weird part though, I’m not sad. Well, let me amend that, I am sad that the happily ever after was so short. However, I’m not sad it happened. The memories I made from this experience are precious and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. To be quite frank my future husband/prince realistically charming has big shoes to fill if he wants to top this day.

The other thing about post happily ever after? They never tell you about the awesome adventure potential that can only happen after the magic moment. Unless, you know, they make some straight-to-dvd-doesn’t-even-have-the-original-voices-except-for-that-one-really-desperate-actor-that-just-likes-the-paychecks-thing that can sometimes be interesting. That’s beside the point though. I have worked and slaved to be a part of OSF for over 8 years. Now I have the chance to see what life is like beyond that dream. Maybe it’s grad school. Maybe it’s moving to New York. Maybe it’s selling all my possessions, moving to Africa and trying to do a shot by shot reenactment of The Lion King with real lions?

Ok maybe not the last one so much.

My moral for today is that there is life and a new sense of freedom beyond the dream. The potential to astound even myself with what I can accomplish is right at my finger tips and I’m excited dangnabit!

Now if only I could put this much effort into my finances…

Version 2.0

The hardest part of starting a blog (or restarting a blog in this case) is the first post. I’ve actually considered restarting this thing for a couple of weeks. However each time I tried to decide on a subject to focus in on for the grand first post I ended up discarding it as not being witty enough. Or it’s been too hot. Or I was distracted by trashy TV. Or my favorite web comics updated…

You can see where I’m going with this.

(Does the sideways "s" bug you too? Cause it sure bugs me.)

Today, I have had homemade iced coffee, a day off where all I have to do is laundry, and the Olympics start tonight. The bar is set high. So I’ve decided we’re doing this and I’m taking you with me.

In the spirit of high achievement I’m going to expand on a subject I lovingly call Project Tamara 2.0. This is the never-ending-not-exactly-sure-when-it-began-pinterest-totally-doesn’t-help-with-process that I have been under in trying to better myself. To understand this exhausting project I’m going to give you a peek into how my thought process goes.

(Like this! Only technicolor. And a lot more space for imagination. And not a cartoon. So nothing like this at all.)

You see in my mind I’m currently in between versions of myself. There is Tamara that I’ve been for the last 21 years. We’ll call her pregrad Tammy. She worked hard but was easily distracted, especially by dinosaur jokes and fancy cocktail drinks that would often lead to procrastination. Her normal routine of cooking was opening a bag putting it on a baking sheet, guessing a temperature because she tossed away the bag before reading the instructions, and putting it in the oven while hoping for the best. Sustainable but not really fancy. She spent way too much of her paycheck on coffee and tea and premade foods while not really ever lifting a finger exercise wise. So her physical shape, though really nice, has never been truly athletic. She really didn’t see herself running for long periods of time unless zombies were attacking.

The most telling trait of pregrad Tammy was her hobbies. Meaning she would surf pinterest , or watch youtube videos, or see live performances, or even just walk down the street and decide that she’d want to do something. This something could range from playing the guitar (sensible and possibly career advancing) to becoming an expert knife thrower (impractical and could end in large damage costs). Now this wasn’t a problem until the actual monetary cost was factored in and then all these hobbies that were generally discarded after a couple months suddenly became a big problem.  On multiple occasions ramen was eaten due to reckless spending. However from all of these hobbies came this ideal version of myself.

(... Did I mention I want to learn how to throw cards with ridiculous accuracy?)

This Tamara 2.0 is not only ridiculously responsible, financially independent, and interesting conversationalist but the cyborg makes gourmet meals as well. She does crafts for fun and never has to start over because she missed a step. She paints as well as plays multiple instruments flawlessly. To top it all off she bakes from scratch, keeps her home ridiculously clean 24/7, and never leaves the house without looking like she stepped out of a Nordstrom catalogue.

Now before anyone tells me that this version of me is unrealistic, I understand this. I totally get that perfection doesn’t exist. Tamara 2.0 also single handedly saves an endangered species a week, fights crime in her free time, birds and small animals flock to her when she sings, and she is married to Hugh Jackman. She is a mix of Disney princess, Stepford house wife, and Black Widow from the avengers. She does not exist…. Except in maybe the most boring comic book ever, because she wins every fight AND brings the bad guys homemade cupcakes while they’re in jail.

(Kid you not this is what I found when I googled batman/disneyprincess. God I love the internet sometimes)

So why do I say I’m in between these two versions?

Well, because I think I’m making progress away from some of pregrad Tammy’s bad habits while trying to take on Tamara 2.0’s more realistic aspects. This version of myself I just call me, because that’s really honestly who I am.

I still cook the majority of my meals very simply, but every once in a while I make something gourmet like the coffee I’m drinking and am the happier for it (as well as pretty caffeinated). I’ve managed my own money for the past couple summers and now that I’m completely independent I’m happy to say that I understand the consequences of my financial decisions and haven’t been in danger of not making payments yet (knocks on wood). I'm slowly easing myself into an exercise routine because I know my metabolism is not going to last forever, and seeing as I was cast as a dancer in my last job I should make sure I can dance again in the future. I’m following up on those more practical hobbies, this blog being a prime example, and learning to let the more extreme ones go. So I may never be the best fire breather on a unicycle the world has ever seen, but I will work on my drawing skills and finally pay off that mandolin.

… However my amusement at making fun of T-rex’s tiny arms will never go away.

(I mean come on. That's hilarious!)