Chapter Two

It's been a while. Too long. So much has happened in such a short time since being back at Gordon, and I don't even know where to begin. Adventures! Friendships! Theater classes! Improv! Sophomore year hit the ground running.

Let's talk about the woods.

I've been spending a lot more time out here lately, thanks to my slightly lighter class schedule and awesome weather. There are so many more trails behind campus than I realized! Often, I'll go out in the morning only intending to find quiet nook to read in for an hour, only to stumble out mid-afternoon with pine needles and flowers in my hair, exhausted and happy, having discovered 3 new favorite spots. I'll explore, read, listen to music, and sometimes picnic. Occasionally I'll venture out with one or two adventure companions, but mostly I just explore on my own. It's awesome. 

Speaking of friends, I gained a whole new group when I made it onto Gordon's improv troupe, the Sweaty-Toothed Madmen! Seriously, these 8 people are the coolest; it's a privilege to be counted as one of them. Aside from the fact that they all have awe-inspiring talent and our rehearsals consist of dancing around onstage and pretending to be chicken farmers or dentists or royalty, they've all become like family to me immediately. We go on McDonald's runs at 1am and have photoshoots and a group text and movie nights. It's no big deal. 

Other than that, life is a lot of things. It's rehearsing in practice rooms for Musical Theater and sprinkling cinnamon on customer's drinks at Chester's. It's Monday night hot chocolates with Austin and Friday afternoon tea-and-reading-time on the beach with Josh and Merisa. It's making Cate and I's third-floor room in Wilson (affectionately dubbed The Birdhouse) look as adorable as humanly possible with coordinating comforters and fluffy pillows and yes, a tiny birdhouse that we are going to paint and hang on the door. It's letters from Madison at New Tribes and phone calls from Mom after class and new friends and old friends. It's the great exhilaration of starting new things and comfortable warmth from picking up old ones. 

In conclusion, sophomore year is the best and I can't wait for it to be cold. 

Oh, and here's the most recent awesome song I've found:

I love this feeling,

but I hate this part...

Contagious Storytelling

About a month ago, I got a text from my former small group leader at church asking if I could be a storyteller this week for the elementary school ministry. I knew, even then, that I'd be doing absolutely nothing, so I casually accepted. I didn't think much of it until I got home and was sent the script. After a week or two of being lulled into numbness and apathy from the hours I'd chained myself to the bed and couch watching TV, I was horrified as I scrolled through the lines and lines of narrative I'd have to memorize.

In the weeks leading up to the service, I sighed and repeatedly regretted letting myself get "roped into doing this" every time I glanced at the script. This week, I worked more than usual and was tired almost every afternoon and of course, didn't want to spend any time memorizing the thing. When I got up at 6am this morning (earlier than I'd woken voluntarily in probably a year), I regretted it once more. Never again, I told myself as I dragged myself bleary-eyed out of bed. I'll make up an excuse next time they ask me, I repeated in my head as I rifled through my mom's closet for a silk blouse. This is the only time I'm doing this, I thought as I drove to church in the bright morning sunlight. I got to church, smiled at everyone. Was given my microphone. Went to pace around lazily backstage. Stumbled through the first service and collapsed in a backstage lawn chair to doze between sermons, silently lamenting my inconvenience and the frigid temperatures backstage preventing me from restful sleep. Just this one time, I grumbled as I got the microphone tangled in my hair.

But when I got onstage for the 9:30 service, amidst the (much larger) crowd of energetic little ones, something mysterious happened. Despite my best attempts, I enjoyed myself. Those darn theater major instincts kicked in and that familiar high of performing rushed into my system, and suddenly, I delighted in making those fidgety, hand-raising little bodies be still and silent with my memorized lines about Daniel and King Nebuchadnezzar's mysterious dream. I loved how eagerly they shot their small hands in the air to answer my questions. I was swept into the captivating power of Scripture; I could feel God's overwhelming love for these little people and suddenly it was of the utmost importance that they realized what the message of selflessness and conviction meant for them.
Against all reason, I cared.

By the end of the last service, I had found my performance groove, once again swept into the story by my love of being onstage. My small group leader hugged me afterwards and asked if she could count on me to be the storyteller more this summer. I hesitated. Still, my selfish heart grumbled something about boring memorization and early mornings.

I can't say I had this beautiful moment of realization and suddenly, I loved the service of storytelling. I don't even know if I'll do it again. Honestly, a big part of me still doesn't want to. But that darn performance high was real, and the spontaneous urgency to be Jesus' vehicle into those kids' hearts was so strong.

How beautiful and stealthy of God to go, "Hey, that thing you're super not excited about? I'm gonna show you how I feel about it. I'm betting you'll like it."
God's love is no joke. It's contagious.

Dear Thursday,

Way to exceed my greatest expectations!

Just when I thought the week was nothing more than mediocre, you decided to show up with a bag of awesome and knock my socks off. It's been too long since Thursdays lived up to my love.

To recount some of your joyous surprises:

-Spontaneous and shameless dancing in Creative Writing (in my desk, no less), followed by an outburst of fist pumps and ninja kicks down the hallway because I just couldn't contain the happiness that Olly Murs and La Roux and New Politics had jazzed into my brain through my earbuds.

-Successful wearing of a headband for the first time in, well, ever.

-The incredibly unextraordinary yet thrilling exchange that passed between an attractive boy in AP Calc and I this morning that went something like this:
Me: "How was the weekend?"
Him: "It was really great."
Me: "Good."

-Being informed that at least one of my writings is almost certainly being included in the six pieces that our school submits to a literary magazine for publishing.

-My first semi-professional audition for a play outside of school (for a lead, no less!) in which a charming and wonderfully intelligent old director man named Fred said I had a "lovely" British accent during my read.

-A long-overdue mint chocolate chip milkshake from Wawa.

-My first college acceptance letter, which just happened to be accompanied by a $16,000 scholarship.... y'know, just 'cause.

All in all, you were a beautiful and unexpected gift! Feel free to take it easy 'till you roll around again....you deserve it, grand friend. :)

Car Rides

Last night was the last Fiddler on the Roof performance.

And it was emotional and joyous and heartbreaking and wonderful, and all of the feelings swelled up inside me, but I couldn't cry. I didn't. I teared up a little during the Chaveleh dance, but that was it. Even then, I had to force it.

I pretended to cry the whole night.

Don't get me wrong, I felt like crying. Practically the whole night I felt the ache of almost-tears in my chest. But each time, it was for different reasons, and none of them ever came out.

But on the way to IHOP, in the car with the four people I'd been riding home with every day, as we belted Phillip Phillips with the windows down and even the boys shed a few manly tears, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes and...

... didn't cry.

I was happy.

Even though people were moving away and the year was ending and the show was over and there were a million things in my life I could have cried over by simply thumbing through a mental file cabinet of worries and plucking one out, I was content. I felt fulfilled and whole and satisfied with where I was just at that moment.

And where was I?

I was in a car with four friends, and we were all together, laughing and crying and singing and happy to be together.

And for the moment, that was enough.

Don't pay no mind to the demons

that fill you with fear...

I Need to Vent and I Need it Now

I'm just going to use this time to mentally prepare for the news that I might not get a part in this musical.

Of course, most of my friends are guaranted certain parts. And I'll be ecstatic for them as if I didn't already know they would get in. I'll geek out with them about how awesome it'll be to be playing such-and-such with so-and-so. And so on and so forth.

And I'll brush off those that say they're sorry about me not getting a part. I'll say that it's not a big deal, and that I'm just happy to be part of the ensemble, and that it's going to be an incredible cast regardless.

And I'll even mean it.

Then I'll go home and cry into my pillow and consider quitting the show and stage managing, or even just doing something else with my time because I can't handle it.

But then I won't want to be left out of all the inside jokes that will happen, and going to IHOP after opening night, and getting to at least stand on stage.

And so I'll accept my ensemble role that I always get in a musical. I'll pretend I love it. I'll learn to love it. I'll be happy for my friends and not bitter or jealous. The show will be fantastic and I'll realize that so-and-so was much better suited for the part to begin with.


Can you tell I've been through this before?


DEAR GOODNESS THIS IS RIDICULOUS. THIS TIME I JUST WANT IT TO BE DIFFERENT. I WANT TO GET A FREAKING LEAD ROLE FOR ONCE.
PLEASE GOD PLEASE I CAN'T WATCH ALL MY FRIENDS GET GOOD ROLES BECAUSE I'M A STUPID JEALOUS TEENAGE GIRL WHO NEEDS ATTENTION AND VALIDATION.

PLEASE LET ME GET IN.

PLEASE.

PLEASE.

Please.

Silver Necklaces And The Annual Day of Gift Giving

So please just fall in love with me

this Christmas...

Can we just take a minute to appreciate the gorgeous feelings that Michael Buble and Christmas together create. 

For another thing, I went Christmas shopping for a few friends today and as I was browsing the jewelry  section of Kohl's looking for a specific pair of turquoise earrings, I saw those adorable pendant necklaces. 

The ones I'm a sucker for. Just a silver chain and something silvery on the end. There was this one with a snowflake... gah. I died. It actually got me excited to give presents, but also I wondered briefly if anyone is actually getting stuff for me. Woah. 

I just love Christmas, okay?

So much so that my favorite day...probably of the school year... has always been the day before winter break. I wear Christmas-y colors to school and pack my bag of presents for friends/teachers and just spend the day distributing them. Boy, did I knock it out of the park last year. I mean, really. I probably had almost 20 gifts. 

That was a great day. 

Whoever said it was better to give then to receive. They're right. Whoever 'they' are. They've stumbled upon a valuable secret. 

I get really intentional about my gift giving, too. I'm never content with a simple gift card... unless it's a super meaningful gift card. (There's something about Starbucks gift cards that are just perfect for some people.) I think of the perfect, fitting gift for that one person. Then when I find it... it's the most satisfying feeling. The best part, though, is handing it to them, seeing the look on their face when you unexpectedly got them something, and then open it and... no way. You didn't. How....

And you're like, yeah. I did. I made that happen. 

Best feeling ever. 

Unfortunately this year, my resources aren't what they were this year. I don't have a)enough money, b)enough friends that I know super well, or c)enough friends in one place to go as all-out as I did last year.

But notwithstanding! Gift-giving is going to be as spectacular as ever. The gifts I did get are pretty darn epic. Examples:

-Pink pens for this girl in my APUSH class. We don't even know each other that well, but she mentioned like 2 months ago that she really wants some pink pens. 

-A certain TV show-themed mug for a friend. 

-A Batman ornament for my drama teacher (aka my Secret Santa for Drama Club) who love, LOVES Batman.

-Certain TV show-themed suspenders. For a friend. They're that kind of friend.

I can't reveal much more, 'cause I'm not certain who reads this and who doesn't. But after Christmas I'm going to be bragging about... well, the good ones. Some were pure luck, but others were pure genius. Some were a bit of both. 

This was just going to be a post about how romantic and Christmas-y that song at the top makes me feel, but hey. It happens.

#ActorProblems

Here I sit. Waiting to find out which play I've been cast in...that is, if I get cast in any.

Well...I'm pretty sure I will...ish. It's just a matter of if I get my top pick(s).

This is so stressful. I always sink into this unsure, depression state after I audition for plays where I get this feeling like I did something horribly wrong.

So naturally, I'm doing the healthy thing this time and releasing them here. Sorry.

So....miniature rant.

The comedic play I really, REALLY want to get cast in...is a fairly big cast. Two of my good friends also got called back for it. It's written by another friend of mine. But....my two friends were doing a scene together, and, well...they made a rather exciting choice for a scene, which sent us all into hysterics. No lie, it was funny. Really funny.

But it was the VERY scene I'd wanted to do. And I was convinced I could do something different, but just as awesome.

So Friend #1 sits down and says to Friend #2: "I'm SO hoping we get cast for that together, that would be awesome."

Friend #2 says to ME: "I am going to go all the way on (particular stage direction) for whoever I do that scene next with." (I WAS PLANNING ON DOING THAT ALREADY.)

And I'm over here, like:

Well, that never got to happen. They finished with the scenes for that play, and Friend #2 left.

MEANWHILE.

Friend #1 is talking to the writer of this play, and was all, "SO DID YOU LIKE ME AND FRIEND #2'S LITTLE THING WE DID THERE. WASN'T IT HILARIOUS?!" 

I was inwardly seething, thinking,

AND I REALLY HOPE I DON'T HAVE TO KILL SOMEONE LATER IF THESE CASTINGS WORK OUT WEIRDLY.

So...all this is to say that Friend #1 was REALLY good in the other, dramatic play. I think that that play needs Friend #1. 

But the comedy? 

They'll be fine. 

(Author's note-later: I got cast in my second choice play. Friend #1 and Friend #2 are in a play together-of course-but it's not this play to which I was referring in this play. I also talked to Friend #1 about my annoyance and it's (mostly) all good now. But let that happyish ending not distract from the greatness and sheer wit of this post.)

Around A Corner

I've acted since grade school, so obviously I've been on a few different stages in my day.

But the transition from Okinawa's to Virginia's stage was massive.

Backstage, they were all preparing to do their pre-show energy-boosting rituals, as all performers do, when I suddenly realized the absence of the Energy Ball routine, the one I'd always done with fellow cast members before every high school show I'd ever performed. Someone just kind of looked at me, said it would create the wrong type of mood for our show, and then they all proceeded to start a different ritual than I was used to.

And like a cannonball right to the gut, the fact that for the first time, I was performing with a different family than my own, struck me full force.

Not gonna lie. Until moving here at least, I hardly ever cry. But my eyes welled up right there and then. 

No matter how comfortable I had become with these kids, they weren't my family. They couldn't be. 

Back in the dressing room, I was trying to sniffle my now freely flowing tears back in when a kind soul entered to give me a hug. He said how supportive everyone still was of me, and how they all would grow to be as close with me as I used to be with my Okinawa family, and it was so, so calming. 

So even though you don't read this, kind soul, thank you.

And then, of course, I went onstage and dominated with everyone like we actors do.

I've officially been adopted into a new family. 

I Can Do This

I made the play. 

I MADE THE PLAY.

To me, this means I can be okay. Here. In this supposed heaven-forsaken place to which I've been sent for no fathomable reason. I could make friends. Have things to do in the afternoons. Be myself. Be expressive. Be happy, even. 

You know what?

I might be okay here. 

Imagine that. 

I've been waiting to smile, yeah

Been holding it in for a while

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear God,

I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry that I always want to turn everything into a movie where it's all about me. 

I'm sorry that I let the enemy tell me lies about all the people that don't love me when in reality, they do. 

A lot.

I'm sorry that I think about boys too much.

I'm sorry that I wimped out on the book of Joshua this week, because it's an amazing book. 

I'm sorry I don't listen to You as much as I talk AT You.

Same for the way I talk at my parents. 

I'm sorry I don't let myself trust that you'll still be there in Virginia. 

I'm sorry that I refuse to believe you'll give me joy there.

I'm sorry that I dwell on the lack of youth group and drama friends and not enough on family in the states and new opportunities to serve and make friends.

I'm sorry for inwardly grumbling about not having clothes for the Cambodia trip instead of letting you fulfill me. 

I'm sorry for acting too sorry, when really I just want other people to feel sorry. You know what I mean, so it's okay that this makes no sense. 

Thank you so much. 

I love you. 

-Abby

In the Spotlight For Now

Tonight was our Far East drama showcase!
*shivers*

I was so nervous beforehand. But in those situations, you just have to pretend it's just rehearsal, that no one is watching but Ms. Deakins (who's really a harsher critic than our parents would be anyways), and that no one is going to notice if you mess up a line.

And guess what? It was AWESOME. 


I was even told that Bailey and my duet about being spies was good enough to make mainstage! Granted, mostly it came from my little brother, but it felt good nonetheless.


And now, there is only to wait until Sunday.....

Well that, and pack.
And buy gifts for my secret pal on the team.
And worry.
And do homework.

Come to think of it, I should go. 

When It's Not Just A Joke Anymore

I'm really, really, lucky.

No, really. I have parents that I like, a physical appearance that I'm at peace with, friends that have never stabbed me in the back, good grades, and I've never once come close to doing bad things to others or myself.

What's wrong with me????


Everyone else seems to have anywhere from one to all of the above problems. Do they feel superior to me? Inferior to me? Jealous of me? Should I be jealous of them?

And now I'm on the Far East Drama Team, and I'm playing a suicidal girl who kills herself with a razor, and...and...

I don't know what that's like to be depressed. And some people in the room with me might. 

So I could go one of two ways with this. Be the best actor I can and IMAGINE what it's like.....or do a wild method acting thing and start thinking of "safe" ways to "pretend" to mess up my life.

I'm actually leaning toward option B. And that scares me a little. Because while I'm not actually serious about wanting to kill myself or hurt others, what if that's what it ends up becoming? Or maybe other people who ACTUALLY struggle with this kind of stuff think that I'm disrespecting them and their struggles? That's not at ALL what I want to do.

So what's a normal, sheltered girl to do. I can't just laugh it off and joke about it because for some people, it's not just a joke. It's real.