Seasons

I've had a wonderful break here at home. Friends and family quality time. A fantastic short term nanny job that dropped into my lap. Opportunities to regroup physically, emotionally, mentally, and all those others -allys from the past year.

In short, I've had a lot of time and space and I've spent it caught up in two places: dwelling in past seasons of my life and anticipating future ones.

Physical settings are often strongly associated with a specific time in my life. Hewitt/Woodway (the Waco burbs for those non-Central Texans) has my mind lost in decade-old high school memories. Waco and Baylor absorb me back into that magical undergrad experience. Traveling two hours north to DFW has me caught up in the first true support net I made for myself - that dear time and place where I had to become an adult of sorts.

I love revisiting all of these places and times. Through the grace of God and really good parents, I was able to navigate all three of these seasons fairly well. Each gave me cherished memories, relationships, and learning experiences. (In fact, I'm still learning from my time as a 17 year old.)

However, spending months amongst these places comes with strings attached in the form of heavy nostalgia. For me this leads to a kind of sweet melancholy. You can only engage so closely with former successful versions of your life for so long before a little bit of mourning comes into play. There are a few "what ifs" and some "if onlys" that will always be there, but there's also a lot of "I wish I still" and "I had no idea how good I had it."

See, the whole concept of seasons is not one of the things they warn you about when it comes to being an adult.

Of course there'll always be hundreds of people shouting out the normal words of advice:
"Use sunscreen now, unless you want skin cancer and crows' feet at 40."
"Whatever you do, stay out of credit card debt."
"Change that box of baking soda in your fridge."

In those three years out of college, I became really good at adjusting to typical adult things: budgeting, paying bills on time, getting my car's oil changed frequently, making it to work a few minutes early, eating green leafy foods, not letting my cat die (even though he tried kinda hard once).

But I was so unprepared for seasons. And I still am.

How do you mourn an era of your life? Is it ok to do that?

Why can't things be the same? Why can't you ever truly go back?

What if you don't want to move on yet?

No matter how perfect my current season looks to be, I'll always have an ache in the parts of my heart devoted to past versions of that current season.

I'll never have the metabolism or dance ability of senior year of high school again.
I'll never have the excitement of living with my best friend in the middle of Baylor campus again.
I'll never have the exact meeting of circumstances that made working at GFAA such pure joy again.

I don't want to go back and completely relive these times, but I miss the gifts they gave me that only existed for that certain period of time. The freedom of college, the naivety of high school, the dreams of a young graduate - these things all have expiration dates. Sometimes it seems simpler to go back before they became the spoiled milk in the fridge (that you didn't notice because of you always remember to change your baking soda box).

No matter how this writing is coming off, it's not a depressing thing. It's definitely bittersweet and a bit sobering maybe, but rediscovering old seasons for me has mainly been a roadmap of God's blessings throughout the last ten years of life. Seeing how much I've been provided for, how much grace has been extended my way - it's easy to get a little lost in it. But it's a beautiful kind of lost.

Dr. Seuss (as always) hits the nail on the head.

On top of all this sentimentality, my summer is a holding pattern of sorts in waiting for my final year of grad school to begin. I'm in the middle of my "London season"...but I'm not in London! It's strange to be missing this grad school season while I'm still in the midst of it.

I also can't stop my brain from imagining its aftermath. There are so many open ended questions for my next season and that bothers me. I get overwhelmed at the too-many options my roadmap shows for a year from now. What if I pick wrong? Move to the wrong city? Bet on the wrong opportunity? What if there are no opportunities?

Just like George RR Martin's readers, I desperately want to be assured that my fan theories are correct and that things are headed the way I want them to go. Or in the very least that my next book will be greater than its predecessors (but hopefully with a lot less violent deaths than George is like to put in).

Also, none of this tool.

Ultimately though, worry is eclipsed by excitement. My anxiousness over the possibilities doesn't match my glee over having them.

And I'm sure a few years down the road, a part of me will long for that lazy, Texas summer I got to spend not caught up in the problems of my present, but instead dreaming about the memories of my past and the secrets of my future.

To the beautiful bittersweetness of seasons,

p.s. - I made a little something about some of the many activities I actually have been up to this summer. I love you so much, Wacotown.

How to Finish Your First Year of Grad School

1. Have your amazing roommate and friends throw a lovely birthday surprise day for you.

2. Put on a kick-awesome 4th of July party to show your European classmates how Americans celebrate freedom.

3. Perform your end of year show (which just happens to be an all-female Shakespeare comedy that you play accordion in) at the Cockpit in the heart of London.

4. Somehow say goodbye for the summer to these amazing, beautiful, talented, lovely people you get to call peers.

My first few days back in Texas have been extra sweet, but (as you can see from above) I was well-prepared for this homecoming. 

To summer and London and East 15 and Texas,

Dear Jenny

This past week, I wrapped up my last week of normally-scheduled classes for my first year of grad school. I would insert a huge, all-caps "WOOHOO/AHH IT'S ALL GOING TOO FAST" here, but I'm not anywhere near finished yet. We begin two priority weeks tomorrow where I'll be in rehearsals for Two Gentlemen of Verona from 10-6 everyday and on July 11th, we open at the Cockpit Theatre! Go here to order all the tickets your heart desires.

For our last context class, our professor had us read a letter written by Stephen Fry to his 16-year-old self. (If you're interested, you can find it here.) We were then tasked with writing our own letter, but this time to ourself at age 65. 

I would call the process of penning this letter overwhelming, emotional, fun, scary, depressing, hilarious, hopeful, and a range of other things. Very similar to the process of just being a girl.

Here are some excerpts from my final product:

Jenny –

            I wonder what’s most important to you now? I know that most of the things I cared so deeply about when I was 16 seem almost silly to me now, only 10 years later. I hope looking back at me won’t make you roll your eyes in scorn or facepalm out of embarrassment. I’d like to think I’m doing a pretty good job of being a general 26-year-old female human.

            It does feel hilariously prideful however, to be giving advice to a (hopefully) wiser person than me. Sometimes though with wisdom comes jadedness. Are you a cynic? I hope not. I hope you never stopped watching Disney movies and enjoying them for what they are. I hope you still wear the occasional ribbon in your hair. I hope when you meet a person, that you see them as a fully-realized, sentient creation with dreams and emotions just as important as your own. 

I used to see becoming an adult as a very small and very rigid box. But it doesn’t have to be that, does it? Maturity doesn’t have to be boring. Sure, be financially responsible, be emotionally available, be accountable in your relationships, but every now and then stay up all night with friends. Take everything in your fridge and try to make one meal out of it. Give yourself a day off to do something stupid. Or do nothing at all. I can already hear you sighing in exasperation, by the way. (I'm already famous for my exasperated sighs.) “That's all easier said than done.” I believe you. The trend for life so far has been to get harder, not easier. I can only imagine how difficult – how heavy – things might be at times for you.

            What gets you through that heaviness? Through the brokenness that you see everyday in the world and in your heart? My go-to’s are Philippians 4:13 and Jeremiah 29:11. I know - super cliché Christian, right? But they're overused for a reason, I think. Maybe my greatest wish for you lies in the fact that you still meditate on those promises and stand in their truth more fully than I can comprehend right now. Because if there’s one thing I could change about myself at the moment, it would be a complete realignment of my heart to the Gospel. I ache for my worth and my joy to be found wholly in God. It’s so hard pinning down your value on any other option. Achievements are fleeting. People are unreliable. Money is a sucky deity. Placing the meaning of my life is any of these ultimately leads to failure. Hopefully you're better at recognizing this than me.

Ok, some quicker, closing thoughts:

Stay active – doesn’t matter how, just keep moving.
Don’t be friends with people who are rude to the waiter.
All good mornings start this way: snooze once, roll out of bed, stretch for five minutes, pray.
Don’t curse so much. It makes it more effective when you do.
To quote Pappaw: spend a little, save a lot.
Keep writing anything and everything.
Sunscreen and vitamin D supplements.
     (On a related note: go to the dermatologist. Even if you went last month, go get all your funny freckles looked at again.)
Remember the legacy of Matthew 25:23.

Floss.
Always have a needle and thread handy.

On stage and in life – earn your pauses.

And as always - sic 'em bears.

P.S. - on a slightly lighter note, as another part of wrapping up our skills classes, we had a musical theatre night where each one of my talented classmates performed. I had the pleasure of singing (in my opinion) one of the more underrated modern-era Disney songs. Feel free to take a peek - 

Catch-up Like Woah

No blog for over a month? For shame.

So what have I been up to? Here's a grab bag of recent life events:

JoJo and I went to Brighton! It involved ferris wheels, vintage shopping (where I got a sweater with bear faces all over it for 5 pounds) and a very cold ocean experience. Watch our adventures above! I think you'll agree that Kitty would be real jealous. (Bonus points for reference-getters.)

I wrote my first piece for The State of Awesome and I think it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Read my sassy post here if you'd like your daily dose of reaction gifs. After that, check out a few of my other SoA favorites - like this one or this one.

We took a field trip (yes you can totally still have those in grad school) to Sussex and explored the villages of Sudbury and Lavenham. These places are the stereotypical "quaint English town" picture you have in your head. We were graciously shown around by a former chancellor of the University of Essex, Lord Phillips who insisted we call him Andrew. We started the day with a visit to Gainsborough House where we had a tea party in the back garden. Later on I made friends with some horses - Sussex Punches to be exact. #whatismylife

 

I've seen some incredible theatre. 

Good People did nothing but reinforce the fact that David Lindsay-Abaire is my favorite modern playwright. Getting to see Imelda Staunton from the front row for 10 pounds isn't that bad either. (Gotta love day seats.) Who knew Dolores Umbridge has a flawless Southie accent? 

Our articulation professor recommended us to see Jeeves & Wooster for top notch examples of the heightened RP accent. While the show isn't boundary-pushing or edgy, it's still fantastic. The physicality and impeccable timing required led to applause break after applause break. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for two straight hours.

Katie and I snagged two return tickets for one of the last performances of Fiona Shaw's one-woman show at the Barbican. What's even better, there was a talkback with Fiona and the director afterwards. This was a case of me not being a huge fan of the show itself, while still have extreme appreciation for what that woman was able to do onstage. I can't imagine the stamina she must have to fill such a big space for such a period of time. Her character work was Beyonce-level flawless.

Our final shows of our first year have begun! While getting to perform at the Cockpit in July is exciting, it also means that some of my classmates will soon be leaving. These shows are the final, culminating performances for those of my classmates on the MA track. Despite this impending sadness, I'm really stoked to be a part of an all-female version of Shakespeare's Two Gentlemen of Verona!

Two Gents (or #2GoV for social media purposes) is believed to be one of Shakespeare's first plays and is therefore thought to have a bit of immaturity about it. That belief combined with a jarring "not-so-happy" ending lend this to being one of Billy's least performed comedies. But honestly, I'm kinda loving it. The story is interesting while not being too convoluted. The characters are super intriguing with complicated obstacles. And you can see inspirations for later Shakespeare works all over the place - everything from Romeo & Juliet to Twelfth Night to As You Like It tie back into this play somehow. 

Plus...it's really funny! I may be slightly biased since I'm playing Speed, one of the two main clowns. I absolutely adore Speed. He is the sassiest boy-servant on paper and literally does not care. One of Shakespeare's greatest tools is giving lower-class characters the moral high-ground. They constantly sit in judgement over the follies of their wealthy masters. Speed is given license to poke fun at and even challenge those around him, regardless of station. That's exciting to get to portray on stage! Perhaps my favorite Speed line, however is not a challenge but a boast to fellow servant Lance- 

"I tell thee my master is become a hot lover!"

I don't think there's a way I can screw that one up. It's too good. Thanks Bill.

I apologize once again, dearest tens of blog readers, for leaving you so in the dark. Here is a cat gif in penance.

To the Bard and all the others,

14 Tube Stop Names You Need in Your Life

Who said blog posts have to always be about life-altering realizations? Take a trip with me, all you tens of readers, into the silliness that is London Tube stop names. In no particular order, here are a few of my favorite station titles:

I know your first question. Are there lots of hipster there? Well I don't know because I've been avoiding this place for that reason. (Jk, love your work Portland.)

The reason here is three-fold:
1. If I am to take my last name seriously, this is my crossing.
2. I pretty much always read it as "St. Pancreas" which makes me think of holy organs which leads to weird ideas for a new three-panel cartoon in the sunday paper.

3. Platform 9 & 3/4 lives here.

This mainly makes it on here because it reminds me of Hugh Grant's hair and the following scene (warning: contains cursing via t-shirt):

Fingers crossed that once I finally visit this stop I will find a castle full of elephants.

This is totally personal because to me Crystal Palace will only ever be a delicious reservation-only buffet right off of Main Street in the Magic Kingdom at Disney World. And before you ask- yes it is a character dining experience and yes I have participated multiple times and yes here is photographic evidence:

Fingers crossed again that when I make it out to this station I'll find a host of Disney characters and breakfast foods waiting for me.

What. Does that mean.

Does Canada know you've got some of their water? They're probably ok with it since they give you black bear fur for your Queen's guards' hats. #shameonyou

#singingtree #newestDisneysidekick

It just sounds extra Englishy and I love it.

While I know that circus = traffic circle over here and that the University of Oxford is 60 miles away, I still picture a nerd version of Barnum & Baileys. Maybe they even hire out of the Elephant Castle.

This is for the 11-year-old boy in all of us.

Excuse me. London is full of old streets. What makes you so special?

They got all them spices.

I don't know if you were aware of not, but the UK has had a lot of monarchs. For some reason, this guy gets his own tube stop? Of course that current lady got Big Ben renamed after her, so I guess it evens out.

I love the Tube. It (mostly) runs well and (mostly) smells ok and (mostly) doesn't cost me an arm and a leg. The whole system recently turned 150 (woot woot necessary upgrades) and with it came this article of amazing fun facts. Peruse to your liking.

To public transportation,

Term 2

One of my friends mentioned off-hand that she was impatiently awaiting my next blog post.

That's for you, Hannah.

Truthfully, I've been trying to blog about something - anything - for a while now. Sometimes there are so many thoughts, emotions, and general things clogging up your brain it's hard to formulate a few sensible paragraphs.

#classic

To put it simply, Term 2 was very different from Term 1.

Harder in good and not-always-good ways.

A little less like a fairytale and a little more like real life.

Still crazy, remember-this-when-you're-eighty kind of fun, but now more fully framed within the heaviness of this world's brokenness.

About a week and a half before I was due to fly to Texas, I found myself (mostly unsuccessfully) attempting to not have a breakdown during rehearsal. Luckily our director Robin is one of the most compassionate, patient men I've ever worked with and understood (even better than me at the time) how multiple things had been piling up on top of me.

My whole life, I've always strived to be the one who has it all together. Being dependable- the one who everyone can always go to- that's a source of pride for me. The past few months, the Lord has patiently and graciously been showing me that in fact I am nowhere close to having it all together.

And- spoiler alert- I never will.

And that's ok.

One of my favorite sayings that I would hear Chandler say over and over at The Village was "it's ok to not be ok." Somewhere along this overseas journey, I packed that little sentence away and forgot about it. The struggle for perfection took hold. The need to be a steadfast rock of an adult began emptying me into a shell of insecurities.

As I was apologizing over and over that Wednesday afternoon in the studio, Robin just kept saying, "It's ok. It's ok. It's ok." I guess he triggered my memory.

It's ok to not be ok.

I missed two funerals in less than two months. I knew I wouldn't be able to complete those grieving processes until I touched Texas soil. That weight influenced me in ways I couldn't really quantify.

There were other factors too. Body images issues. Fear of the future. Apathy. I'm still struggling with all these areas in one way or another. And - say it with me now - it's ok. God's goodness and grace will cover my insecurities and doubts. Some day I hope to be able to fully stand in that truth. Until then, I'll just keep working on being ok with not being ok.

For now, there's Texas.

Whew. Despite all of the above, I pinky-promise that I'm still having the time of my life and wouldn't trade it for anything. I don't have to prove it to you, dearest internets, but I will because going back through these pictures makes my heart full.

In the past term...

...I saw exciting, funny, well-done theatre.

....I continued to make memories with some of the best classmates a gal could ask for. This includes hosting a superbowl party lasting until 5 in the morning, giving europeans their first Rice Krispie treat & Cheddar Bay biscuit experience, watching oodles of Sochi Olympic coverage, taking a Jack the Ripper walking tour on Valentines day, and just generally loving being in the company of such lovely and talented people.

...I fell even more in love with this city.

...I was assured that I have the best flatmate in the history of flatmates. If I want evidence of God's blessings in my life, I have to look no further to the girl who travels twenty minutes on the tube to get me a diet coke the day my grandma passed or walks down to the pharmacy to get me medicine when I can't on my own or stays up until 5 am with me laughing and watching YouTube videos. She loves with fear or judgement and I'm so thankful for that.

Texas has been a wonderful respite so far. My soul breathes deeper around fields of bluebonnets and endlessly sunny skies. Plus, spending time with family and friends is kinda priceless. It's all deserving of its own blog post, so for now I'll leave with - once more with feeling - 

It's ok to not be ok.