Joyous Christmas

Winter has officially arrived in the city, my friends. Every day I emerge from my room with a jacket, a scarf wrapped tightly around my neck, and a big fluffy hat on my head. I don't care how ridiculous I look- It's cold, y'all! Of course, scarves are a much more common occurrence up here; in fact, you might be an outsider if you didn't wear a scarf this time of year. Still. That long piece of cloth I'm wrapping around my neck feels a bit alien to me. It's become a true friend, though.

There's more than just cold to herald the season of joy, though; Christmas is in the air everywhere! This morning I walked onto the street to find hundreds of Santa Clauses running around and chanting and dancing (I even saw one holding up a sign that said "Elves are NOT slaves!!!"). I wish I'd had a camera with me. It was a joyous sight, the Santas' irrepressible joy spreading infectiously to everyone around them. I mean everyone too: I have never seen Midtown so crowded as it has become over the past few weeks. Everyone rushing into the big city to do their Christmas shopping, take in the sights. I can't really blame them. The window displays alone are worth it.

Still, it hasn't been all fun and games. Contrary to popular belief, we actually do work at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, and lately I've been making myself slack off as little as possible. It hasn't been the all-around easiest time of the year, either. For the first time, I've gone through some really bad mood days... you know those ones. They're yuck. But I try not to let those days happen. When they do, I find the simplest and most effective thing to do is take one step back and remember just how many innumerable things I have to be thankful for. It's pretty easy to dispel those bad moods then.

There's no denying that this has been emotional year for me- it would be a bit weird if it hadn't been. I mean, I left home for the first time and moved to a place so completely different from anything I've ever known that sometimes it still pleasantly surprises me that I actually live here. Sometimes I lie in my bed at night and I cry, but for what is probably the first time in my life I can say that those are tears of joy, not sadness. Joy, overflowing from within me. Joy at all the amazing miracles that have been given to me in my life. When was the last time you stepped back and took a look at all the things God has done for you in your life? You might just find yourself tearing up too.

And what better time to be joyous? IT'S CHRISTMAS! This is the most magical time of the year. A time for miracles, for joy, for love. A time to believe. It's a time when friends hold each other tight, pretending it's for warmth but really just wanting to hug each other as long as they can. It's a time when there's nothing more comforting than just being with your family. This is the season of hot chocolate, presents, snow, waking up on Christmas morning, Santa Claus, a time for peace and love. It's the celebration of the most joyous, magnificent, mysterious, amazing event ever to happen to this Earth, the birth of the One who gives hope. It's a time to believe. My life is built on belief that there is something more, something divine guiding me. There's no more wonderful time to believe than this time of year. (You know it's a time of miracles when I somehow manage to meet and take a picture with BERNADETTE FREAKIN' PETERS!)

This season is never wasted on me; Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. So remember that! And spread some of that Christmas cheer!

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU! Enjoy every minute of it. I'll be seeing a lot of you very soon. :)

World-Changer

Sometimes I get restless. Despite the fact that I'm living in flippin' New York City, attending one of the best acting schools in the country, and am one of the most blessed people in the world- I still feel like there's more for me out there. I want to change the world. I've known this almost my entire life- I've felt that there was something very special planned for me for as long as I can remember. But I still get scared; I don't know if I'm really anything special at all sometimes. Who am I to think I could be of relevance to this world?

Yet I can't shake that feeling (I've never been able to shake it): I'm supposed to change the world.

The world doesn't make it all that easy. Earth can be a discouraging place to live, folks; I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. Circumstances can be hard. People can be hurtful. It's so easy to get in a pessimistic, unbelieving, and unhappy mindset. Your heart can break.

But it can also mend. You can believe again.

All around me there are people trudging through life, taking each miserable step just to get to the next. Then there's me, sometimes practically skipping through the streets of New York, a big smile on my face. Maybe that's why people keep staring at me. Well, let 'em stare! Maybe my ridiculously goofy smile will spread to their faces just a little- wouldn't that be awesome?

I'm made to do this. I know that. I feel it confirmed every time I pray, every time I'm in church. God has given me gifts that were meant to be shared with the world. I don't say this out of cockiness; it's a destiny thing. God put the dream in me, and I won't stop believing.

Still, sometimes I get restless. I don't think it has so much to do with not being a world-changer. I think it has to do more with the weak, human fear I feel each time I feel I wanna change the world and a little voice whispers in my ear, "Then do it."

Don't really know why I felt compelled to write this today. Oh well. Inspiring video of the week:

The Tumultuous Week of the (Christian) Actor

The actor's life is a tumultuous one. In the week following Thanksgiving, I have gone from feeling blah about being back, to making a valiant effort to be in a great mood, to extreme disappointment with the school, to being more inspired about my career than I have ever been and once again comprehending the sheer flippin' awesome-ness of God.

I think it's probably going to always be tough to go see family and then return to NYC. Small town life (and Addison family life) and NYC life are so completely different, and while I've gotten to where I can truly say I Love New York, I will probably always be a small town boy at heart. Getting back Sunday night to an empty room and a crowded city made me feel a tad disillusioned, but I bucked up and made a decision to greet the next day full of friendliness and good cheer. And I did, and so did everyone else, and it was indeed delightful to see all my Section 7 buddies again. Then, unfortunately, Monday was followed by Tuesday (make sure and say that with a u-glide!), the suckiest of days, and the day on which I have to go to school from 11 in the morning to 8:30 at night. Also the day of Vocal Production class, the singing class which did nothing but infuriate and annoy me because I didn't even get to sing and I've had this dumb, unchallenging song from Beauty and the Beast waaaaay too long. I'm not learning anything in the class. So by the time I got to Alexander Technique, I was conversing annoyingly with my fellow Section mates how this school truly wasn't worth the tuition, I wasn't learning anything, I wished I could quit, wah wah wah! Naturally, that was the day that I had to stand up and do a monologue in Alexander, and my blah attitude showed through clear as day. Strangely enough, though, when that teacher started working on me, physically and mentally, and made me keep doing it 'til I got it right, I ended up delivering a small, comedic performance that everyone agreed was way more effective than my 'memorized monologue'.

I called my acting mentor, Robin Haynie, to let it all out- my disappointment with school, my strong will to be out working, my disagreements with the techniques we were learning- and do you know what she said? Putting all validness of the school aside (she's always wished I was in a University program somewhere), in either scenario the point of drama programs is to be in a place where you can PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE in a safe environment where someone just might be able to give you some good advice on how to improve. That's a simple truth. It's one that I've realized before, but needed reminding of. And really, it's pretty much exactly what AADA is there for: a place for me to practice my butt off, taking risks, and learning new methods that may or may not be what I choose to use; a safe place to go to deeper places than I ever have. As always, Ms. Haynie delivered the perfect advice. What's more, I think just letting it out and speaking my issues aloud was precisely what I needed to make me realize how meaningless they were. Besides what Robin said being totally true, I have even more incentive to be content: Faith. I have faith that God has put me and will continue to put me exactly where I need to be. Furthermore, I have been blessed- ooooh, have I been blessed! What right have I to complain?

Yesterday we had a Q&A with Judith Light, and it was probably the most inspiring, practical, real thing I've ever been to about my career. Everyone who went left visibly moved- I don't really know how to explain it. Judith was just so open and honest about how she works, and the things that inspire her. She's not a superstar like Kevin Kline, she's just a working, tremendously talented actress who has it figured out probably better than most anyone else. For those of you who can't put a face to the name, Judith Light starred for years on Who's the Boss- I've never seen that show, but from what I hear it's not exactly the epitome of monumental acting; what she's respected for is her decades worth of stage work in plays like Wit, A Doll's House, Hedda Gabler, and currently Lombardi. I know her from Ugly Betty (LOVE) on which she played Claire Meade. Perhaps the best way to share her brilliance is to tell you the main things she said that really struck me, though it will be nowhere near as eloquent as her:

• Acting is a Service Industry; we perform to serve people because they need something- to be entertained, moved, have catharsis, whatever. If they didn't need something, they wouldn't be paying to watch us. So it's important to remember as an actor that it's not about you. It's about what you can give. She talked about when she did Wit (for those of you who didn't see it when I did it, it's a riveting play about a woman with ovarian cancer coming to terms with the false views she's had about life. It's probably one of the most taxing roles a woman could play.). Each night she'd be sitting backstage at half hour to curtain saying, "You know I really don't feel like doing this tonight." And her husband would say, "Well, you've got a half hour to start feeling like it." And this would go on until 5 minutes to show, and then she would say a little prayer: Help me to be what these people need to see. And then she'd be ready to go. Every night.
• To be successful, you have to get to a point of really knowing yourself and your instrument well enough that you can have confidence that you are enough and will deliver the performance needed. It's tough, it takes years of practice, but you can get there. Decide that you deserve it. Decide to greet your work with open mind and open heart.
• There are greater forces at work in this universe, and if you trust them they will guide you to where you need to go. (I think Judith may be a secret Christian.)

I honestly don't think I will ever forget it. And then in class, my partner Ariana and I did the best read-thru of any of the new scenes yet. In rehearsal, we'd had a lot of trouble taking it seriously, so finally I said: If it's not serious, it's not serious. If we need to laugh, laugh. So we did, and we let it all out. And then we were ready. We went for it, and if I do say so myself, we hit it out of the ballpark.

I'm here for a reason. If I open my mind and heart, I can see it all around me. In huge, semi-life-changing things like Judith Light's Q&A to small things like discovering that Forever 21 prints John 3:16 on the bottom of all of their bags. Little affirmations. God has given me a dream, and I am here to fulfill that dream and that purpose. If I let go, he will guide me. I know that to be true. And that gives me more reason to fully devote myself, work my hardest, and believe in what I'm doing than anything else ever can.

We are Enough.

There's something we talk about a lot at AADA, a simple truth we have to be able to trust ourselves with in order to be really great performers: We Are Enough. So many people who act or perform try to put on a show- they pretend, create characters, etc- but in reality a lot of the most fascinating, moving, unforgettable moments come when people are really honest, when they are themselves reacting to their circumstances. It's a rather deep philosophy, and a little bit hard for many actors to believe- including myself. Yet it's true. If anything they've said at AADA thus far has been proven through the work, it's this. When the people working (whether it be in a scene or a song or even a dance) let go and are totally honest and open with their instincts and feelings, we all sit forward in our seats. We all look up from whatever we're doing. We can't take our eyes off of them.

 It's an interesting idea, isn't it? When people are themselves, fully expressed and uninhibited, they are most fascinating. That could probably be applied to a lot more than acting class.

As is generally the case with life, it comes and goes in a rush; life is a rollercoaster of emotions and events, and don't you try to deny it. In one day someone can say something to me that lands and festers like an unattended cut until it messes up my whole day, and then later that night I can attend the most fun midnight showing of Harry Potter of all time and be truly happy. Let me tell you: This was truly the BEST midnight showing EVER. It probably had something to do with the general nerdiness and excitement of the group I went with. We were the ones sprinting down the streets of New York, casting spells at innocent standers-by and screaming as we were pursued by imaginary death eaters. If that didn't attract your attention, you could have just checked out the lightning scars on our foreheads. On top of all that, we managed to be allowed to watch in a special, set-aside theater with probably no more than twenty other people who were all just as excited as us; naturally we all became friends. Not to mention we took some pretty rockin' pictures and I was lookin' fine. By the time I went to sleep that night, I couldn't have cared less what that person said that upset me so much.

I can't not look back, then, and wonder why I even bothered being upset in the first place? Whatever was said to me (or ever is, for that matter) is never going to really matter if I'm fully comfortable with myself and who I am. And what right have I to ever really not be comfortable with myself? Was I not created this way? Was I a mistake? Certainly not. And that's an awesome thought. And you know what else is cool? It works both ways. When I'm fully comfortable with myself and being totally uninhibited and real, everyone else thinks I'm pretty neat too. Those few who don't probably have some personal issues of their own to work out.

In less than 24 hours, I will be heading home for the first time since school started; by home I mean to my family, those fantastical, amazing people who always love me for who I am. Still, I have a feeling it's going to feel a little weird to be back in a small town. Isn't it crazy that I have three weeks left of this semester? This city has been an incredible, totally unique place to live, and I would lie if I said I haven't gotten used to the big city. There's just something about stepping onto the streets of New York. I'll miss it while I'm gone. They're setting everything up for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade that goes right down my street, and a little part of me wishes I could be hear to see it. Having said that, I CAN'T WAIT TO BE HOME AND I AM SHAKING WITH EXCITEMENT!!

Now for the big news: I am getting an apartment! Me and my friend Jake have started the application process for a lovely 4-bedroom on 100th St for nice little price. In typical NYC fashion, it happened in a heartbeat. We saw it one day and signed for it the next. As for those two extra bedrooms, we may have to put them up for rent on craigslist, but as of right now I believe they will be filled by two delightful ladies who I happen to love very much. Their names start with A & J. I will say nothing more...

We did the final performances of our first scenes today in class, and again I had one of my classmates tell me it was fantastic; my personal best, they said. Even our Bill Murray-look-alike teacher, Chris, had nothing but praise for us. It's good to hear those things. It's encouraging. It's affirming.

I am enough. You are enough. We are brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous; it scares us a little bit sometimes. But it's true. And when you are you, you are real, you are uninhibited and open and happy, people will not be able to take their eyes off of you. You are fearfully and wonderfully made; a fascinating and beautiful creation. And those people who don't like it aren't worth a second thought.

Irony at AADA

Life is full of irony, isn't it? Today I felt truly legit. We had a guest speaker come to our school named Kevin Kline. Yes. That Kevin Kline. Academy Award winner Kevin Kline. Came and had a little chat about the performer's life and mingled with us like we were old chums. It was undeniably cool, and he was utterly charming.

The night before was spent working until after 1 in the morning on coloring sheets for Movement Class. Yes. I'm serious. Coloring sheets.

So, essentially, within 24 hours I'd felt both completely grown up and like I was in kindergarten both as a result of AADA. Irony. One of life's most delightful little pleasures. (And ever so useful as an actor!)

I sang my song all the way through for my Section in Vocal Production yesterday and they now all are convinced that if I were to audition for a musical on Broadway tomorrow I would be cast. It's those little moments that make it all worth it. Section work continues to go well, and our group's choreography for All That Jazz is kicking everyone else's butt. The Good Week continues...

I sense an amazing week coming....

Macy's has got the first of it's Christmas window displays out. Giant animatronic scenes from Miracle on 34th Street (Which is where I live. Yeah. Be jealous.), a giant Christmas tree over the entrance, and huge sign hanging several stories high that says, "BELIEVE". Words cannot express how happy this makes me every time I see it. And I've been told by someone in the know, that these are actually just the pre-displays- the best is yet to come. I've been making a Christmas list, downloaded Mariah Carey's 'All I Want for Christmas is You' to my ipod, and started having dreams about snow. I am catching the Christmas spirit, y'all.

Stephanie Derrick, my friend from high school said this in her 30 Things about Me note on Facebook: "Jay Addison is one of the most... energizing, freeing, spirited, moving, motivational people I have ever met." I think it's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me. It pretty much made my life.

The Empire State Building has had blue and white lights illuminating the top for the past week. AADA colors. Represent.

This week I'm rehearsing/choreographing the opening overture to Chicago with my group from Movement, and we are FIERCE. On Wednesday Academy Award winner Kevin Kline will be at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts for a Q&A and I will be attending. On Thursday at midnight, I will be attending Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at midnight on 42nd Street and the fanboy in me will be at full throttle. My friend Jake and I are in the throws of considering/searching for a possible apartment next semester. And in approximately 9 days I will be flying home to my family for Thanksgiving. This is gonna be an amazing week. :)

I love my life. And I love the One who blesses me with it.

Love Overflowing...

I've been feeling an urge to change the world again lately. Every now and then it sneaks up on me and really hits me like BAM! Probably has to do with the scene work we've been doing in Acting class, which me and my partner Kait have been kicking butt at if I do say so myself. We had our midterm evaluations which consisted of all of our teachers stating what they thought of us on a sheet of paper and then meeting privately with our Acting teacher; essentially, they all love me. I kid, I kid. There are plenty of things for me to work on. My Acting teacher's main complaint was that I wasn't being quite the leader that he felt I was supposed to be. Story of my life...

Two new favorites from the Gym Chronicles: An entire team of some indistinguishable sport, all foreign. Probably Austrian or Swedish. Don't know why I would assume that since I have no idea what Austrians or Swedes look or sound like, but there you go. They all came in together in their spandex outfits and pulled the mats out into the middle of the floor and stretched in an unorganized manner. This lasted maybe 10 minutes. Then they all finished, stacked the mats back in the corner, and left. Good workout, huh? Second favorite: An old man who stood next to his wife jogging on the treadmill the whole time she ran, waiting for her to finish because he just wanted to be with her. His only activity was asking whether she needed more water or a towel or anything. Altogether now: AWW!

I watched Toy Story 3 with some friends from school tonight, and I must ardently warn any college freshman against watching that movie unless you are prepared for a big fat cry-fest. Lemme tell ya, we was all in tears. Such a good movie, but boy does it hit home right about now!

Home... I've been missing that place lately. When I think of home, I think of a place where there's love overflowing... I love that song. That's one thing that NYC, with all it's endless thrills, adventures, and excitement, is not: a place where there's love overflowing. That place is home, with my incredible, amazing, irreplaceable family who I miss like a you-know-what. THIRTEEN days until I go home; yes, I am counting. And yes, I cannot wait for those thirteen days to go by. 

However, there's just something about stepping out onto the streets of New York City. It's so alive, people everywhere, all ambitious (Some a little too ambitious. I'm talking to YOU, lady who nearly took me down on the sidewalk and then bustled off as if it was my fault.). This city is a place of energy, dreams, and people. People with the capacity to love; only most of the time they don't. They're too scared, or too busy, or selfish. Maybe they've spent their life never really thinking of anywhere as 'home', never giving or receiving love? But what if they did? You can either let this city make you feel very small, or you can feed off that energy and feel on top of the world when you step onto the sidewalk. It ain't always easy, but as much as I can... I choose the latter. And maybe when I get filled up with that energy, I could send it back out, in the form of love... overflowing from me and infecting the people around me, filling hearts... a world full of love... and then maybe this city, this world could be, just a little bit, like Home.

(At least that's my cheesy, dramatic, eternally optimistic idea.)

Halloween, birthday, and everything in between

Halloween night found us headed to the Greenwich Village Annual Halloween Parade. To get a mental image of this truly unique event, picture more people than you can possibly imagine packed onto about ten blocks with barriers set up along the sides of streets and cops hustling people back and forth across the street every five minutes as they laugh their heads off at the ridiculousness of the situation. Somehow it works- this is an awesome Halloween event. The parade itself is all volunteer, and anyone in costume can join in, which fits in perfectly with the wonderfully indie spirit that the Village is so famous for. The crowds may sound nauseating, but actually they're fantastic- everyone is happy and in costume and you're all justling and bustling to try and make your way to the front to see; meanwhile the parade ranges from people in their old 70s clothes to giant mechanical skeletons the come up and try to eat the crowd. I was so glad we did this, and I was glad my sister Amy was there to do it with me.

In fact, it was a lovely weekend all around spent with Amy; there is something about family that can never be replaced with anything else. From seeing Driving Miss Daisy with James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave (Sooo good!) to exploring the park and perusing through Chinatown and Little Italy, it was a grand old time (Except for Saw 3D! I have spent most of my teenage years avoiding this film series, but Friday night after we found out Rocky Horror was sold out and no one wanted to go home after getting all dressed up, it was decided to go see this supposedly final installment in the infamous torture series- these movies are RIDICULOUS. Seriously, the worst movie I've ever seen, so sadistic and sickening, and just... ugh. Really. Why America?)

But other than that, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and Amy and I had by far the best costumes of anyone. There's still so much we didn't get to do while she was here. There was some whispers about the possibility of bringing her laptop next time and just staying for a week or two... hm... sounds like a good plan to me... I won't lie. Sending Amy off on the subway to the airport on Monday was pretty tough. Kinda like saying goodbye to my parents all over again.

But then school came. And everyone was happy to see me, and in a good mood, and afterwards they surprised me and took me out for dinner and desert as a late birthday celebration. It was one of those magical little NYC moments. I love those. The other day I was walking to school on 34th, like every other morning, but this morning someone had decided to set up a little stand selling classic books rather than the usual sunglasses or pictures or touristy crapola. Instead he sold his classic titles with a great big smile and for a full block there were people sitting, standing, walking with their noses in copies A Tale of Two Cities and The Great Gatsby and To Kill a Mockingbird. That was cool.

It was a wonderful birthday; It's a wonderful life. Things didn't go exactly as planned, but it's New York- do they ever? And would it be nearly as interesting if they did? Instead it was a weekend filled with spontaneity, exploring adventures, great big care packages from Mom and Dad, a big box of homemade cookies from Ms. Clara- that alone made the birthday a MAJOR SUCCESS, and great time with my sis to remind me how much I love and miss my fantastic family! I'll see you soon Addison Clan, Thanksgiving is just around the corner!

Meanwhile I'll be here. Changing the world. One small step at a time.

The Public Gym Chronicles

I grew up on a farm in Texas. I was never in athletics in school, and I only really started 'working out' a little over a year ago, right after we came home from our Central American Expedition. I spent mornings jogging along country roads, just me and the animals and the occasional passing vehicle. I lifted free weights in my house, never for an audience of more than my family. Now I live in NYC, and I've met a fascinating beast: The Public Gym.

Granted, my gym is complimentary and in a hotel. But never underestimate the amount of characters you can encounter in here. Let's break them down, shall we?

First you got your studs. These are the guys and girls you really only see once or twice, but that have somehow managed to tone their bodies into perfectly sculpted statues. They know all the moves. They've mastered the weight machines, they know what on-the-floor exercises to do, they never really get sweaty, and, if they run or bike or eliptical, they look great doing it. Meanwhile the rest are left to gawk enviously at them as we pretend that we are just as adept at the gym.

Next, don't give me hate for this, is none other than your giant black guy. Do not call me stereotypical, I have seen to many of them in the short time I've lived here. Huge, intimidating giant-men, they don't use the cardio equipment, but dominate the weights. They are all over those things, pumping, pumping, pumping, and they make sure and leave their mark too- these guys NEVER wipe down the equipment after they use it. You can clearly tell when one of these breed have been around because each and every weight machine is drenched in sticky sweat. Ew. I suppose I could broaden this category to include all the middle-aged men, but let's be real. I'm talking about the black guys. The white guys just sweat all over the treadmills as they try to run their middle age away.

After that we have what I like to call the Wannabe Frat Pack- large groups of college-age guys who all come to the gym together with the best of intentions but quickly reveal that they have no idea what they're doing and are far too interested in each other to really get anything done. Unfortunately this makes for a crowded gym, with skinny white boys scrambling around from machine to machine. This group has a girls variation as well, but with a slight difference: The large groups of girls that come together don't even really put up a pretense of working out. They just spread all the mats out in the corner and camp out there. Somehow I find this much more tolerable. Hello ladies....

Last, but most certainly not least, you have the new guy (or girl). They've just moved to NYC (I'm taking some dramatic license, they might have been here for years), and they're turning their life around, baby. This guy is actually at the gym for the right reason: he's running, biking, and elipticalling away, lifting weights as best he can (which is not so great) and sweating up a storm; he's working out. I like this guy. And he always wipes down the equipment after he uses it.

And then there's me. Quietly jogging on the treadmill as I watch The View, and trying to figure out the best way to utilize the weight equipment. All these fancy machines are nice, but I miss my homestyle workout. Push-ups on the floor are still better than the dumb "sitting bench press" that they have. Still, I see a lot more interesting people this way; I've just outlined the major groups. There are always those that fit no category. Such as the man running on the treadmill in Middle Eastern robes, a turban, and a full beard. I tell you no lie.

Happiness is Finding a Pencil

I'm not your average 18 year old. I find joy in some of the most random things in life. I also work very hard to find joy in as much as I can every single day in life. I wasn't always like this; I can't quite put my finger on when happy-go-lucky became my mantra, but it's something I believe in with all my heart. The funny thing about it is that this way of viewing things is such a total part of my life that I sometimes forget that other people don't look at things quite the same way that I do. It's a little uncomfortable when I get reminded of that, like last night...

It was a night spent with my beloved Section 7, we left school and got something to eat (Chipotle is just as good in NYC!), and then grabbed my copy of The Shining and headed to 1760 EHS Residence to watch that sucker. It was a delightful night. I had a wonderful time, because I love just spending time with people, talking and watching movies and doing random things that we can laugh at later and no one else will understand. But somehow the conversation turned to more serious things, and mostly the issues people had with those things; people talking about school, about our Section and the people in it, about their home lives. And to discuss is one thing. But that really wasn't quite what this was. This was people talking about their dissatisfactions with their current situations, complaining. Negativity.

And it made me uncomfortable. It's not like the things they were saying weren't legitimate- I'm not someone who won't admit that life is less than perfect most of the time. But Because I am in such a happy place, it took me totally by surprise to realize that most people aren't. Most people are unhappy about many things, and (I'll admit) most of them have a right to be. There are lots of not-so-perfect, not-so-happy things in this world, even in my life. But I just don't care to care about those things. I'd much rather be amazed at how many wonderful things there are in my life. That's worth focusing on.

It reminds me of a song: Happiness is... finding a pencil. Pizza with sausage. Five different crayons. Telling the time. Having a sister. Climbing a tree. Two kinds of ice cream. Happiness is anyone and anything at all that's loved by you. There were many reasons that I loved being a part of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. That song was one of biggest. We could all take a lesson from it. I find happiness in everything I can- in being flustered at the NYC post office, the fact that I have play-doh sitting on top of my desk, the fact that we have tried three times to sit through The Shining since I've been here and haven't succeeded once, walking through the rain to school with my ipod playing my jams; these are the joys of my life. And when life's imperfections show themselves, don't get unhappy about it. Thank those imperfections for making life interesting! A perfect world would probably be a drag anyway.

Wake up in the morning (feelin' like P. Diddy) and choose to be happy, choose to find happiness, even if it's in the smallest thing like... finding a pencil. It's not always easy, but it's always worth it. Choose to find happiness, and you will. I guarantee it. :)

Git 'er Done, acting school style

A tumultuous couple of days (really more like couple of weeks) has resulted in a revelation. For over a week now, we've been working with our partners on Meisner repetition, but with a twist; one person is in the room (it is 'their space') working on a difficult activity, and the other person is waiting outside the door. The outside person knocks to come in and has a reason for coming in (an objective). But the dialogue between the two must be based solely on what is observed of the partner. That probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but think of it this way: If I entered the room of my partner and she said "You're wearing a black shirt.", I would repeat, "I'm wearing a black shirt." and we would continue that way until something else happened that forced us to acknowledge it. Like she began trying to do pirouettes. Or jumped in the air and screamed. Or started crying.

The problem with me was that I didn't understand the point of the objectives because our teacher almost never let us say them. If we did happen to say them ("I need to borrow a cucumber."), he would ask, "What in her manner said to you that she wanted to know what you wanted?" Well, she opened the door. She stared at me expectantly. Sometimes she asked what I was doing there. Are those not indications of her desire to know what I want? It frustrated me endlessly, to the point where I began to spend Acting class disconnected and annoyed every day.

Well, two days ago, it was my turn to go with an activity. I chose shuffling cards, trying to do the bridge. It was something I'd never been able to do and always wanted to, and I created a backstory of having to master it to get a well-paying one night casino fundraiser job so that I could afford to fly home for Thanksgiving. We went. My partner came in. Pretty quickly she achieved her objective and borrowed my phone. The session was over. Chris, my instructor, was not pleased.

In a long speech he successfully pointed out how I was not involved in what I was doing, I didn't believe my backstory, and Faye and I weren't really responding to each other honestly. He asked how much we had practiced over the weekend. I wasn't going to lie. We hadn't practiced at all. Without really saying so he clearly suggested that lack of involvement was the kind of thing that resulted in not being reaccepted second year. I believe him when he said that he wasn't trying to be a threatening old acting teacher, but the point was true: If I wasn't willing to put in the practice each day, what was I paying thirty thousand dollars for?

So we did it again. We raised the stakes. The job was the next day, and I had to spread and flip the cards across the table. If I didn't get this job, I wasn't going home for Thanksgiving and the family wasn't going to bother having it. Dad had called the day before and said how much it would mean for me to find a way home. We restarted. Faye came in and we did the repetition, and it got intense. It was real, but it also had to do with the situation I was actually in in the class. I finished and sat down.

My head was buzzing all night and all day the next day. The time came for Vocal Production, in which we were having our midterm, part of which included performing a monologue, and then singing it. This was the first time I'd really acted for my Section, and the first time I'd sung for over half of them. I got up. I did Biff from Death of a Salesman, and I don't mind saying it was good. Several of them were in tears. And then I sang. And they applauded. Afterward one of them came up and took my face in their hands and told me that I was the most talented person they'd ever met.

And it was exciting! It was scary to perform for them, but then it was so thrilling to see myself appreciated. Is that vain? I don't think so. You see, with the stress of school and adjusting to a new life and trying to make friends, I think I'd forgotten how much I really love what I'm doing. I love acting, performing. It's what I was made to do. I fully believe that. But that doesn't mean that I don't ever get frustrated or distracted and forget what I'd doing here. But having my lack of motivation laid out for me and then getting the opportunity to once again see that my talent, this dream of mine is legitimate was a reawakening for me. What am I doing at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts if I'm not going challenge myself, take risks, learn as much as I can, work as hard as I can? I can do this. I think that's what Chris was trying to get me to realize. If I devote myself completely to the craft, I can do fantastic things. So that's what I've got to do. It's what I was made to do.

Happy Days are Here Again...

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am completely, totally, and irreversibly in love with Glee. There is something magical about this show, and the whole world has noticed it. It deals with so many issues, from the trials that go along with adopted children and their biological parents to the disintegration of a marriage, and it somehow manages to be the most relatable show on television while being, essentially, a high school musical. The first couple of episodes of Season Two (which just began) had left me with a rather dissatisfied taste in my mouth. Glee had been phenomenal, entertainment industry-changing in its first season, but the transition into the sophomore season had been a little rough to start. But then came last week's episode. It was back. It was strong. It was dynamic, engaging, moving. It was Glee, reinstating itself as the show that's here to stay. The profound effect this had on me led me to consider just what makes a great Glee episode.

In the first several episodes of this season, Glee had struggled with various things left behind by the previous season. They were awkward, and no one seemed to know just how to handle them. The show had struggled to start anew, a necessary task for any renewed show, and it had a little trouble finding its feet in its new circumstances. New characters had shown up, and they took adapting to. New situations, stories had begun and the uncertainty of what was to come was almost tangible.

Then they accepted it! They adjusted to the changes. They adapted. They worked it. They looked all the new, uncertain things about their new season in the face and said, "We're going to face you, head on." And, baby, did it work. Of course, it wasn't all perfect- would an all-perfect show even be an interesting show? There were strange, uncomfortable moments (Santana and Brittany??!!), big risks (the removal of a super-popular character- I'll say no more); but they faced them and addressed them. Most importantly, they kept going forward. They didn't let any of the uncertainties, insecurities, or more difficult situations bring them down- they let them take them higher. And they delivered an episode that could honestly be called fantastic.

It is always amazing to me how much art can reflect life. What's more, we can even learn from art. Here I am thousands of miles from anything I've ever known, in New York City, living on my own. Everything about my life has changed. There have been awkward things left over from my past experiences that I've had to deal with. There have been new characters. There have been uncomfortable days when nothing felt right. My goodness, there have been changes! There were times when I figured I was resigned to a dissatisfying experience, the changes were just too much to adapt to.

But that's not me. Not anymore. I am here, on this earth, to enjoy and fulfill every possible minute of my life. This is a mantra that I've realized over the course of the past couple years, and it's not just from me- God didn't make us to be dissatisfied. So I adapt to those changes! I face those situations! I respect them because they make my life as interesting as it could ever be! And I pray each night that I will use the next day to be productive, uplifting, HAPPY. It's not always easy as pumpkin pie. There are still uncomfortable moments, even just last night, and there are still risks that have to be taken. But there's nothing that says we have to be brought down by those things. Instead we can love them because they are the experiences that make our lives, and we find joy in working through them on our way. I've talked before about Glee's famous platform of Don't Stop Believing. It is the heart and soul of that show. They lost track of it a little bit when they started their new season. You can't blame them. It's easy to lose sight of things for a bit when you're adapting to new situations. Trust me. I know. But those words are just as true today as they were when they first sang them. Don't Stop Believing.

And, of course, that is the final element of what makes a great Glee episode, and a truth that I fully believe in and endorse: Always have a fantastic song in your heart, and sing it so the world will hear. A song that helps you remember to love each moment, embrace your life for all it's worth. That's what they did, using as their inspiration two women who famously always supported the happiness cause. Ten points to anyone can say who those women are.

Happy Times. Happy Night. Happy Days are Here Again.

Let's talk about Boston...

Last weekend, me and some of my friends from school decided a random trip to Boston sounded like mighty fine idea, so we got us some $30 roundtrip bus tickets, hastily booked a hotel (quite an ordeal in itself, let me tell you), and prepared to head out Sunday morning to be back Monday night.

Of course, the trip began with all of us sprinting through Chinatown to catch the bus before it left us. It was bound to happen- I mean I am an Addison. But catch it we did, and to Boston we went.

I love this town. I went once before with my parents and got the tour from my cousin Haze, and this time I was able to pretty easily find my own way around, so I was pretty quickly thrust into leader position. After touring through downtown, the Boston Common, and Charles Street, we hopped a train to Cambridge and strolled through Harvard amidst OctoberFest in full swing. As delightful as OctoberFest looked, some people in the group were quite ready to find our hotel (which was in Somerville, suburb of Boston/Cambridge); Jake and I had managed to literally get no more than an hour of sleep the night before the trip. Finding the hotel, however, turned out to be easier said than done. I suppose you could blame me- I made the reservation, didn't have a working phone number, and had forgotten to print out a google map- but I was walking at a steady pace in what I was fairly certain was the right direction the entire time. After a few hours (during which time we got authentic Mexican food from people who barely spoke English and played on a delightful little children's playground), the rest of the group was beginning to doubt my leadership. Fearing mutiny, I agreed to walk back to Harvard and find a taxi to take us to the hotel. There was a small moment of snappiness due to the large amount of walking and stress over the unknown location of the hotel, but I would not have any of that! We were on an adventure, and adventures are meant to be enjoyed every minute. So we got desert, got a tour of a Harvard dorm from one of the girl's high school friend, and found ourselves a taxi. Away we went, and, sure as spring, I was heading in the right direction the entire time! I knew where I was going! They all agreed to give me a pat on the back for that one. At the hotel, the check-in lady decided to check ID and try to enforce the rule that no one under 21 can check into a hotel, even with a reservation. That was not happening. We were staying in that hotel. I had a talk with her, and she let me check in. There's not much that Southern charm and good old fashioned begging won't get you.

The next day we moseyed around Cambridge/Harvard for the morning, and I wondered why on Earth Harvard couldn't themselves a decent drama program so I could live in that fantastical place. Afterwards, we headed back into the city and finished off the grand tour with Quincy Market, Boston Harbor, and Little Italy. After that, it was time to head back toward the bus station, but not before introducing my friends to the wonderful game of Ninja. I enjoyed every minute of our trip to Boston, even when things were unsure and semi-out of control- I get that from my parents. That's one thing a six-month expedition will do for you. You learn to enjoy the life lived moment-to-moment, without plans... Happy-Go-Lucky, as I like to say.

Really, truly, honestly. Boston is my favorite city in the U.S. It's phenomenal. If you ever get a chance to visit (or better yet, live) there, do it. You will never find a more charming, clean, fun city anywhere. I love it so very much. Of course, I had some pretty great friends to make the experience all the more fun.  

Easy A

Let's talk about Easy A. Most of you have probably heard of this movie- well, let me rephrase that statement: Most of you under the age of 25. It's a little high school flick starring the delightful Emma Stone about a girl who unintentionally starts spreading rumors about her own sexual activity with unfortunate results. This starts when, in a spur-of-the-moment decision, she decides to lie about losing her virginity to a college student, sparking further and further lies to help her own and others reputations, eventually coming to being paid to say that she 'did things' with less-popular students. Naturally, the whole situation becomes out of her control and leads to situations she could never have expected. I honestly really liked the movie, and thought it had a lot of good things to say.

But what's really worth thinking about is the portrayal of Christians. Amanda Bynes plays the Christian girl in school, head of the 'Christian club' that really just goes around condemning people and acting pretentious. These kids sit around and sing African American hymns to guitar and protest all the things they can possibly find to be anti-Christian, while really only accomplishing annoying the crap out of and alienating everyone. These situations are funny, but, for a Christian, also uncomfortable because it's not that far from the truth.

It gets a little more upsetting than that, though. When things really get out of hand and our little heroine decides to seek help from God, she heads into the nearest Catholic church and sits herself down in a confessional. She pours her little heart out in a genuinely touching scene, only to open the screen separating her from the priest to find that there is no one there. After that unsuccessful attempt at Christian condolence, she heads to a Methodist church to speak with a pastor. This does not go well. She never really gets around to what she wants guidance about because the pastor can only really focus on telling her over and over and over that there is a Hell. Furthermore, she discovers that this pastor is the father of her Christian schoolmate that has been giving her the Hell she went to the church to try and find some help for.

To an average viewer, these seemingly harmless scenes are nothing more than laugh-getters. Sadly there's a little more to it than that. A young, confused teenage girl going through a small crisis finds, instead of a helping hand, a practical enemy in the Christians at her school. It's not just her, though. Everyone hates the 'Christian clique' at the school, and for good reason: They're a bunch of judgemental, pretentious, exclusive little kids. Despite this clear discouragement, our leading lady still heads to the church for guidance when she feels truly overwhelmed. But what does she find when she opens up and is honest about what she's feeling and the things she's unsure about? An empty chair. No one listening. People who don't wanna listen, but just overpower, never even allowing her to speak her mind. It's truly disconcerting to realize that the church, Christians are seen this way. It's more disconcerting to realize that it is probably based in some truth.

If living in New York City for close to a month now has taught me anything, it's that people everywhere are lost, looking for something, anything to give them a little reason. This movie is a perfect example of that. Yes, it's a silly, fun teenage flick. But that doesn't mean it doesn't have something to say. Has the church become so distanced from the world that it can't be a place of help when an 'outsider' seeks it? Are we so engrossed in being different from the world that those wishing to can't find solace? When the world comes to us after all their efforts have failed, and pours out it's insecurities and unsureness for us, will we listen and be there and show them the love they seek? Or will we be an empty chair? Hard questions to ponder.

Going to acting school in NYC, I am surrounded by people without faith, people who measure their lives by fleeting, material things. Don't get me wrong- They are delightful, fantastic folks and I'm so glad I know them, but I am different from almost all of them because of my faith. It doesn't get to me. I have absolute confidence in my belief, and you know what's remarkable about that? I don't have to be forceful, pushy, pretentious, judgemental or any of those other unfortunate Christian cliches. My unwavering faith speaks strong enough on its own. And when people come to me with their issues and questions (and they do), I listen. I don't judge or condemn. I tell them what I know to be true. And I show them love. Love is all over the Bible. '...For God so loved the world...', '...love thy neighbor as thyself...', '...Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love...' God was pretty big on love. I'm pretty sure he intended the church to be so as well.

There was one more scene in that movie worth looking at: Near the end when the main girl is broadcasting a live video blog which she has coerced everyone into watching with a (false) promise of taking her clothes off, we see the aforementioned insensitive pastor watching on his laptop and becoming angry when the girl does not go through with her promised strip-fest. This unfortunately not far-fetched scene also has something to say, albeit in an unintentional way: No matter how different we aspire to be from the world (as we should; God demands holiness), we still are part of it. We are not Christ. We are not above our fellow man. We are just like them- we just happen to have reason to try and be better. We should listen to what they have to say, show a little understanding, a little love. I'm pretty sure that's what big J.C. would have done. I hope the church, Christians can get back to that.

The Emotional Cartwheel

So, once again, Movement proves to be the more interesting and challenging class. We had an assignment to watch our partner walk around the room, then begin to follow them, then continue walking like them while they watched. It was rather difficult, and very interesting. I suppose it really sums up what Movement class is, at its core, all about: We can communicate so much with the way we move and hold our body, so much so that it is an actual part of our identity. Naturally this would also be true when we're on stage playing a character. It's definitely worth pondering as an actor.

The same day we received the written form of our 'Movement Evaluations'- the second day of class, someone came in and filmed us moving around the room (sitting in chair, looking out the window, etc.), and that film is available to be watched in the library. We were given the written evaluations done by our teacher while he watched us. While I suppose it isn't really the biggest thing in the world, mine was a bit of a wake up call. Body Type: Brawny. Problems: Head Thrust, Disconnected Arms and Legs. And Below Average ratings in the actual Movement/Dance categories. I want to change this. I am NOT below average. I wanted some incentive to really work, and here it is.

Other than that, I finally stood up to do my activity in Acting. We had been assigned to pick an 'activity' that was physically challenging for us. We find a simple reason for doing- based in some sort of emotional truth- and then we try and complete it in front of the class. Meanwhile, our partner is standing beside us, commenting on everything we do and we have to repeat it back to them. I decided to (attempt) to do a cartwheel. There are many reasons I want to do a cartwheel. My family can all do it, Amy has tried to teach me for years, I feel like a cartwheel is something everyone but me can do, etc. But when it came to finding an emotional truth to work from, there was really only one: I thought of you. You're probably not reading this, and now is the time when everyone gets all hot and bothered because I'm being mysterious. However I feel it worth mentioning for the sake of the truthfulness of the blog and the openness about the way acting school works. I focused on the thing that brings up the most feelings within me, still, and I worked from it. I worked on that task for you. And boy did it bring that cartwheel right to home.

You see, that's what acting is all about. Finding that emotional truth, whether it be yours or your character's, allowing yourself to go the places where normally you wouldn't go, exploring them, leaving them all out on the stage (or screen!)- and then letting them go. For awhile I didn't really see the point of this exercise in Acting; why would you put someone in an uncomfortable situation, add in another person to put them on edge, and essentially try and create emotional moments out of nothing. Well, perhaps it is this: If we have never been willing to let ourselves go to emotional, personal places in our everyday lives, then we have to find a way to ease ourselves into allowing those moments to happen. Does that make sense? We've got to find a way to start losing our fear of letting our truths be displayed while doing 'the work'. So by doing these seemingly simple exercises, and allowing them to become bigger, more dynamic, volatile things, we take one step closer to becoming that elusive, respectable thing: The Honest Actor.

Name This Post! (I can't think of a title!)

Here's the latest goings on:

Friday we had our first person start crying in class, unfortunately it was due to how much of a you-know-what the teacher was being rather than some kind of important emotional breakthrough. Sucky. This teacher is really a butthead. Not naming names. That evening I had a lovely WR with Elizabeth Victoria Joblin during which I was introduced to A Very Potter Musical, aka the funniest thing I've seen EVER. You can watch it on youtube and you SHOULD watch it on youtube. It's amazing!!

Saturday I forced myself to get up and go to the gym, then headed to the park (the Central one) with my breathing partner (what a hilarious title) and buddy Jake to do our Vocal Production practicing. The practicing didn't happen. The park was too dang awesome, and then we happened upon this huge mystery museum and were unavoidably drawn in. It turned out to be the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art and begged to be explored, so we gave in and bought a ticket- Did you know that prices at almost all museums in NYC are 'recommended'? You can pay whatever you darn well want to! Score one for the cheap people!

After that it was time for a real adventure: All throughout the day I'd been playing phone tag with this guy named Paul Miller who had a personal assistant position available at his apartment in Greenwich Village. After I finally got out of the museum at 7, he decided to go ahead and just get the interview over with and I could come out there right then. I'd never been to Greenwich Village. I rarely take the subway (read rarely as 'never'). But okay! So I called in a new-guy-in-the-big-city favor and frantically called my friend Alex to find out which trains to take. She wonderfully informed me of a one-train direct route and I was on my way. Well, naturally, that train wasn't running it's normal route on the weekend. Thankfully, I'm not ashamed to ask the random man standing next to me what the hell I'm supposed to do, and it was a simple one train transfer and one more stop. I found the apartment, interviewed/chatted with the guy and landed the most relaxed, come when I want to assistant job for $12/hr. Oh yeah!

So I headed back to the room, but couldn't just sit still! The night was young! So I sent out a text inquiring who wanted to do something chill and The Social Network was seen at 11:55. Fascinating, sad, excellently-made, almost uncomfortable movie. I highly recommend it. It's quite an experience.

Sunday I headed back to charismatic, crazy Times Square Church with my friend Christiaan from school, and he said it was probably the best church experience of his life. After that I had a date with my show buddy (and subway helper) Alex Campbell to see La Cage Aux Folles with Kelsey Grammer singing his big heart out- that didn't mean much. But he's a charmer. Afterwards, she took me to a surprisingly cheap Mario Battali restaurant called Otto that had amazing pasta! Then I headed back to my room on the subway (I'm becoming a regular at this!) and video skyped my family for the first time since I've been here. It was my Mom's 50th birthday, and everyone was there. I would have loved to have been there for it.

But I'm here. And this is where I'm meant to be. This is really happening. And God's got it all under control. What's that verse? 'For I know the plans I have for you... plans to prosper you, not to harm you... plans to give you a hope and a future...' Something like that. I need to learn that one. That one's talking about me.

In finality I would like to say that I find it hilariously awesome that one of my roommate's favorite shows is COPS. He's studying to be a police officer. It's the little things.

When You're Smiling, the Whole World Smiles with You

I couldn't sleep last night. Don't ask why.  A bit more on that later.

Life is moving along here. School is good: In Movement (aka Dance) we had to learn a short routine in like 10-15 minutes and then perform it to music with our partner. It wasn't until the instructor, Robert, said so that I realized it was a simulated audition. I was one of five he said he would have hired had it been the real deal. Obviously his standards were a little different than reality, but still... it made me feel a little better about myself that day. Other than that, I would just like to say it is a little ridiculous how much I end up laying on the floor at my school. Literally, like every class.

Random adventures seem to be the name of game, from going out to a restaurant on Broadway where the waiters sing to you (job opportunity??), to invading the student lounge with birthday cake and party hats for roomie Greg's bday. I experienced my first rainy NYC day the other day, and loved it. For some strange reason I cannot even begin to explain, the minute I stepped outside and felt the cool rain hit me, a big smile came over my face. I popped up my umbrella and put in my headphones and listened to my jams as I walked to school (An experience I highly recommend.).

Still. I couldn't sleep last night.

It was one of those weird, tossing and turning nights when you can't stop thinking about things that you don't even really understand. A million questions coursed through my mind all night, a million little insecurities, questioning my own decisions, the way people think of me, my talent, etc. It carried over into the morning and made for a blah day at school where I did not feel like working at all.

Now here's where it gets a little interesting: My entire group had an off day today, noticeable enough that our acting teacher cut short our class by almost an hour because the work just wasn't happening. The dynamic had changed, the energy wasn't there. Something was different. Either today was just a generally blah day, or... I had a much greater effect on the group than I realized. Who knows. But it's worth thinking about.

The lesson is this: I am so blessed with so many opportunities other people wouldn't even dream of, with family and friends anyone would kill for. What right have I to not to be grateful and happy? God has given me so much to be thankful for, and I never know how far a bad attitude about my stituation is reaching. Wouldn't it have been better if I had just shown up for classes with a smile and given it my all? Would acting class have ended an hour early, or we would have gotten good work done? Wouldn't it have been better if I'd looked on the bright side?

We all have days when it's tough; that's part of life. The other part is being enough of a grown-up to look beyond what gets you down and see the good. As further proof of my point, this is the second time I'm writing this entry. The first time my computer blipped and I lost all the writing. Lemme tell ya. That tested me. But I took a walk, regained some perspective, and sat down to write it again.

I challenge you to do this. No matter what happened the day before, wake up each morning and tell yourself it's a new day. Today you're going to be outgoing, happy, and productive. I've made a pact with myself to do just that. Today is what you make of it. Today you're going to greet the world with a smile. Because when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you.

To Chinatown and beyond!

New York City Weekend:

1. Discover a delightful park two train stops away from your dorm. Madison Square Park, the sight of the former Madison Square Garden (Did you know there was an old one? Me neither.). The old arena has now been torn down and replaced with a shady, eclectic park with well-managed gardens and fountains, frequent free concerts, and artsy booths set up along the sides. That's not even mentioning the Shake Shack, a famous little burger and ice cream hut that has lines streaking all the way across the park at lunchtime. A lovely park is nice enough, but may I just say that around 23rd street is a wonderful neighborhood altogether. Unfortunately my roommate says housing is expensive there. Ah well, you can't have everything.

2. Spend a fantastic night out in Chinatown and beyond with my Section from school. Not an assignment; we just happen to have the best Section in the whole dang school. Chinatown is an experience if there ever was one; eventually the signs stop using English and completely switch over to Mandarin and Cantanese (There are at least 9 different variations of Chinese, according to my friend Vivian from Hong Kong), and your waitress only speaks enough English to make an educated guess at what you're trying to order. There is an intersection where Chinatown and Little Italy literally meet, and that, my friend, is one of the most interesting intersections in the city. Take time to examine it- Just hold onto your wallets. Time literally flies by in this city- it's not long until it's 2 in the morning and you're still out having a blast!

3. Church on Sunday morning, naturally (A habit my Section-mates find 'So cute!'), getting dressed in the dark because my roommates are still passed out from the previous night's adventures. Walking to church in the crisp, morning air you can feel fall beginning to engulf the city all around you.

4. And, as is tradition with all college students, you spend Sunday afternoon catching up on all the reading and schoolwork you've been supposed to do for the past week. That's the way it's done, isn't it? Of course,  most college students don't have assignments like, 'Lay on the floor for thirty minutes breathing as deeply as you can and trying to align your body. Then speak your vowel sounds aloud using proper technique.' Oh, AADA. I'll just read the assigned plays.

And that's the weekend folks! Of course, there's still Sunday night. :)

Butt-Kicking First Week

First week of class coming to an end, I'll give you a basic breakdown of the classes:

Voice & Speech- A class to teach us proper diction, projection (although that word is a no-no here), and to implement within us the General American "accent"/way of speaking. This is a style of speaking formed by Edith Skinner some time back that supposedly gives no indication whatsoever of where you are from, your age, etc. It's extremely proper and sounds a bit pompous to tell you the truth. The second class had us learning the way to pronounce our 'o' sounds: think of the word 'hot'. The 'o' in 'horrible' should sound the same way it does in 'hot. Say aloud to get the full effect. Also try with 'orange' and 'forest'. It's strange. This class also implemented the 'u-glide', a term you might be more familiar with, but it left me feeling a little doubting of the necessity of such a subject since it seemed to me that speaking in such a manner would alienate any normal person.

          Theatre History- Boring. Plain and simple. Haha. We read a bunch of plays, have many more reported to us by classmates (a task I will have to do at some point later in the year, something I'm NOT looking forward to), and we listen to a man lecture. I suppose reading plays and learning history could be semi-intriguing, but at the moment I'm just not feeling it. I guess this is the way AADA can still call itself a school.

          Vocal Production- SINGING! Heck yeah! Buuuut.... we don't sing until after the mid-term. First half is spent on just speaking properly, then using song to continue teaching that ideal. When we get to singing, though- Imma own it.

          Alexander Technique- The most hippy class you'll ever take. Involves a lot of laying in the floor, breathing deeply (actually that just happens alot around AADA, in practically every class), and finding perfect inner balance. It's a very subtle art, enough so that they split the sections in half so that students can have plenty of one-on-one attention. I will say that after the teacher personally worked with me and got me to Alexander-walk across the room, there was a noticeable difference. A light, wholeness to the body. Most easily described as Zen.

I might take this moment to explain how AADA works. The class of 125 is split into sections of roughly 17. These sections go to every class together everyday. The idea is to get the sections really comfortable with each other so that the acting work can be honest and personal. My section is pretty rockin'. We all like each other quite well and are actually getting together this weekend for dinner and a night out. Go Section 7!

          Movement- Let's call it what it is: Dance. And it is tough. The warm-up alone gets me sweatin' big time. Today we started on the choreography of All That Jazz from Chicago. As much as I thought I was gonna hate this class, I gotta say that it is undeniably fun. Not to mention it's pretty much the only class where we actually do something, especially since Acting hasn't really gotten started yet. I don't if my utter lack of skill will allow me to pass, but I'll enjoy failing with the other boys.

          ACTING- This is what it's all about, isn't it? Already there have been several minor little revelatory moments for me. Acting is all about honesty, truth, doing under imaginary circumstances. It's so easy to think of acting as putting on a show- It is not. It's being as emotionally open as you possibly can, exploring feelings and experiences that other people are scared to really go through in their every day lives. After all, that's why people pay big bucks to see performances- They want to have feel by what they see, feelings they would be too frightened to explore otherwise. Forgive me for waxing philosophical, but it's a beautiful thing. However, that does not mean that I am above admitting when it gets a little silly. There was a moment yesterday in Acting class when are 17 of us were standing in a tight circle, massaging the back of the person in front of us, breathing deeply, and sighing loudly. I couldn't help but laugh as I wondered what someone from Kemp, Texas would think if they had walked in that room.

          Speech Practicum- The final class of the week, essentially a class made for putting into practice those things we've been having thrown at us in Voice & Speech and Vocal Production class. And it also explained to me the great mystery of General American: If we learn to speak in the most proper and simple way we can, then we can take our voice any direction a play or character might require, whether that be by location, age, social status or all of the above. Yet another minor revelatory moment at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, and perhaps a little proof that they really know what they're doing.

And it's kicking my butt. I feel exhausted already, and no I haven't been staying up until all hours of the night. As the girl in Company that I chatted with after class explained to me: If the first week is kicking your butt, then the school is doing its job. You're on the right track. Prepare your buttocks for continued kicking as the weeks progress. Good to know, Company Girl. I'll prepare my buttocks accordingly because I'm gonna give this my all.

The Honorable Beggar?

In acting class, we were asked to bring in something, an object, that had special meaning to us. Before we shared our objects, we were asked to repeat a simple line requesting a peanut butter sandwich in whatever way we chose. Everyone gave their little performance of the line and we moved on to object-share time.

Nothing could have prepared us for how moving the sharing of the objects became. One girl shared her baby blanket and the stories that she'd made with it over the years. Other people shared pictures of their best friends, things people had given them that had meant something unique. One girl shared a stuffed animal she'd had since she was two that her father had given her. Her father passed away a couple of years ago. Half of the class was in tears after that one.

The point was that the simple displaying of our honest feelings about something we really cared about was much more interesting, engaging, and moving than the little peanut butter sandwich 'performance' we'd each given. The point was well-made and a very interesting idea to ponder. It leads me to this question: Is the beggar man on the corner who holds up the sign that says, "Keepin' in Real: I Need Money for Weed!" more honorable than thosebeggars who come up with the sob story of the century?

I'm not so sure about that. But as far as acting goes, this class was right on the money.

First Day of Class!!

So I don't know why, but for some reason even after a wonderful day spent with the delightful Alex Campbell, when I got home (Wow, I just referred to the New Yorker as Home.) last night I really felt the need to watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Foolish movie-obsessed boy! I hear you cry.

Well, yes. That's what I am. So I watched it on Netflix and it was quite satisfying.

But... That meant that I decided I needed to lay in bed a little over half an hour after my alarm went off the next morning. Mind you, my classes didn't start until 2 in the afternoon, but I had to workout before school and, as a result, shower, and fix myself something to eat, and hopefully go to Staples before heading to AADA. Well when I finished working out, I was somewhat shocked and dismayed to discover that it was almost 1 p.m.. Still I didn't fret, figuring everything was still under control. I showered, made a sandwich and scarfed it down, and of course checked Facebook. Well, naturally, three people chose right then to start chatting with me, and it is so rude to just ignore those chatty people. By the time I finally brushed them all off it was necessary to power walk all the way to school, and Staples was definitely out of the question. At about 2 blocks from the school I started sprinting, but it was of no use.

I was late.

Thankfully, the Voice and Speech teacher had the goodness in her to let it slide the first day of class and not deduct from my GPA, but it was slightly awkward when she came to the part in her syllabus about the inexpressible importance of being on time for every class. Oh well...

School was about as interesting as a first day of class introductions can be. We discovered how common favorite movies can really bring a group together, and how out of a group of seventeen at acting school in NYC, chances are each person's favorite actress is Meryl Streep. Oh Meryl... Acting class was spent talking about ourselves, where the tale of the Addison Expedition Through Central America was met with pretty unanimous respect. Not gonna lie, I'm never above bragging about my family's adventures. After that we spent a rather ridiculous amount of time discussing a definition of acting, which (again not gonna lie) got a little old. I was ready to stop talking definitions and show 'em how it's DONE! But we'll get to that soon enough.

Once school finally let out (7 o'clock at night!), my buddy Jake and I decided Taco Bell was worth it tonight. I didn't realize just how much worth I was talking about- those 79, 89, and 99 cent burritos that are so delightful at every other Taco Bell on the face of the planet? They don't do those in New York City. Six dollars for two burritos! Geez, talk about a reminder that you're in the big city!

I won't lie, though. After several weeks of almost exclusively dry goods-type food, those burritos tasted worth every cent. :)

A Somewhat Crowded Date

Seeing how I was out until 3 in the morning Friday night, Saturday and I weren't introduced to each other until well into the afternoon. A chill day was in order. After heading to the grocery store with the roomie (Can you believe there's a K-Mart a block away from my room?!), I turned on Skype, and, lo and behold, who should sign on but the delightful Elizabeth Victoria Joblin! We spent the entire afternoon video chatting it up, and decided we would make an evening of it. We disconnected briefly to fix our dinners (chicken salad for me, noodles and meatballs for her) and then reconnected to have our meal together, with movie plans being talked about.

Well it turned out we weren't the only ones attending our Skype date. Before I knew what was happening, my room was full of raucous Long Islanders planning to head to the Little Italy festival- Or so they said. 8:30, their first proposed departure time, came and went. Then 9:00 came and went. Then 9:30. Not that I would normally mind a poppin' soiree, but today was my chill day with Liz, and apparently this ever-growing group of people were finding a cramped dorm room more interesting than an outdoor Italian festival.

Not to fear, though, Elizabeth and I continued to enjoy ourselves as we observed the revelry from our little corner and found amusement in the questionable state of the party's sobriety. We even found several people who found our conversation more interesting than the group and joined our little club counting down the departure time. Not to mention it was undeniably amusing to watch everyone's reaction when I would inexplicably burst out laughing because of some unheard-by-them remark Liz made.

Eventually, they did depart and I kindly asked the roomie if the party could be taken elsewhere upon returning, which he graciously agreed to. I make it sound a little out of control, but I really have two of the most generous roommates. So, the date was back on. Liz and I watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, a surprisingly depressing little show, and chatted 'til the conversation topics ran out (an exaggeration, as the topics would literally never run out between the two of us.). My lovely evening spent reconnecting with home reminded me again how blessed I have been in all aspects of my life, from upbringing to family to friends to where I am today. This morning was spent hunting down (and eventually finding) a church suggested by my Aunt Claire, which was quite an adventure in itself...

But that's for another day... :)

The City that Never Sleeps

I don't care who you are. Nothing can prepare you for your first time in this city. I suppose if this is where you were born and raised, you might be a little more adjusted, but something in my gut tells me that even born-and-bred New Yorkers have a moment in their lives when they look around and say, "Whoooa." It would be totally understandable to do so- New York City is a place unlike any other. And I've been a lot of places.

Hi. I'm James Guthrie Addison. You can call me Jay. Ever since I was in a high school production of Cinderella at the whopping age of five, I have wanted to be an actor. I grew up in a small, Texas town, with a father who was pastor of a local Baptist church, and this upbringing influences every part of me; I am a Southern kindness-oozing, fun-loving, Christian. Now, thirteen years and lifetime of experiences later, I have moved to New York City to attend the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. This is the place that helped train Kirk Douglas, Lauren Bacall, Robert Redford, Adrien Brody, and Anne Hathaway. If I do say so myself, this is legit. This blog is my life, my experiences as I attempt to navigate my way through one of the toughest performace schools in the world while adjusting to life lived at one hundred miles-per-hour in the biggest city in the United States.

 Arriving in NYC was quite an experience from the start, especially with my Dad at the wheel in rush hour traffic. Dad at the wheel in big city traffic is an experience I suggest everyone go through at least once. After winding our way around streets that bared no resemblance to the directions given to us, we finally inched our way past the whistling and gesturing police man and came to a stop beside the New Yorker Hotel which would be my home for the next nine months. After unloading my mountains of stuff and tossing it in my completely insufficient space, my parents bid a quick a farewell and went speeding off out of sight- No worries. They would be back a day later.

The next two days were a blur of school auditions, registrations, voice evaluations, and very little food. I won't lie. It was no stroll in the park to be suddenly thrust out on my own; this city, with its millions of people, can make you feel very alone. When the second night by myself rolled around, I couldn't quite bear the thought of sitting alone all evening again, so I set out to the one place I could think to go: Broadway. That's when the magic first happened.

Strolling along, looking around at the bright lights and big dreams all around me, I began to remember exactly why I was so determined come here, and my cold, lonely little night started to feel a little warmer. Observing the people rushing by all around me, it's easy to think you're in the most impersonal city ever, but look a little closer: See the gangsta-looking black man go running to return a dropped five dollar bill to a little girl. Notice how the whole street works together to find the woman who left her green sweater on the bench and give it back to her. In a way, New Yorkers could be considered even closer than almost anywhere else; an unimaginable mass of people, all bound together by their beloved city. Somehow, even on that lonely second night, God had a way of taking me right where I needed to be: By pure chance, I found myself at the entrance of Times Square Church right as the evening service was starting.

Wednesday brought the return of my wonderful, fantastic, marvelous parents- they had never been such a welcome sight! They would spend the next two days with me, and first on the agenda was Promises, Promises starring the woman I have been in love with since 8th grade, Kristin Chenoweth. Following a delightful show (highly recommended), I, naturally, wanted to be a true nerd and try and wait at the stage door to see my dearest Ms. Chenoweth. I quickly found out I wasn't the only true nerd; there were enough people queued up to meet the woman that guards and crowd barriers had to be brought out! She emerged, to screams from all (no shame, including myself). No crowd barrier was containing me- I zipped my way around that silly diversion and leaned my head around the stern security guard who'd planted himself directly in front of me. "Kristin! Take a picture with me, please!" "They won't let me, honey! But I'll blow you a kiss!" Which she did. Which was nice. I suppose I should have taken a picture, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably. As I walked back to my hotel later I realized that I truly love that woman more than anyone else standing there- I doubt there's another celebrity who could thrill me so much by NOT taking a picture.

The next day was spent entirely with Mom and Dad, doing all the fun touristy stuff that the locals scoff at. I have the best parents in the world. You may think that you do. You are mistaken. The best ones are mine. For a final breather, we decided to drive completely out of the city for dinner, get one last breather before settling in for nine months. I won't deny that I was scared. How could you not be? Not only to be thrust out suddenly on my own, but to move from Small Town USA to flipping huge Metropolis. Trust me. It's scary.

Yet something had happened over the past week. I'd come to the point of realization that I was on my own and returned. I'd looked around me at what at first seemed like an alien planet, and found simple, human comfort. What's more, I'd experienced magic: Broadway. Times Square Church. Kristin Chenoweth. Spending a whole day in complete peace and delight with my parents! MAGIC. As my parents prayed with me parked outside of the hotel for the final drop-off, I still felt overwhelmed. This time, though, it was with a peace that I've come to know over the years, a peace that comes from Somebody much higher than you and I. A peace that passes all understanding. Armed with my new-found peace, I hugged Mom and Dad tight and then turned to face my new life. I had a fantastic night and an equally sweet next day, making all kinds of new friends along the way.

I know that this is where I'm supposed to be. I am probably the most blessed boy in the whole world, and I'm not going to forget it. I'm going be confident in my faith in God and enjoy every minute of my time here. Maybe it took my parents really leaving to realize that it was real. Now, I'm gonna change the world. And this city, of all places, is the place to do it.