"I'm a f***ing Indian woman who has her own f***ing network show."

Dear Mindy,

I’m a firm believer in the fact that the best idols are people you would want to be (best) friends with (it's a tier, not a person). With whom you’d want to be friends. I admire you because you’re a real person, which sounds super obvious, but I’m sure either you or someone else who is reading this knows what I mean. You’re likable and funny, and that’s basically my goal in life. Not only that, you are also an actress, which is also a possible goal in life of mine, and in general a major topic of my blog. Therefore, when my English class was asked to identify our ideal reader, you came to mind.

This blog is a mishmash of drama nerd word vomit, how-to’s on things that may or may not be relevant to anyone’s life but mine, and theoretically visual arts, but that hasn’t really come up yet. It is my hope to be able to say that you would enjoy my blog if you ever read it, and I believe that in some world that could be true.

You are, in a sense, the embodiment of my blog. If you hate it, then I apologize for that horrible insult, but assuming you like it I hope you’d be flattered. You’re real, you’re funny, you’re an actress, and you’re just simply the greatest. You have great lines, as a person and as a character. I hope you realize the positive impact you have on people’s lives, my life, by just being in existence. 

Love,

Sam

I mean, just look at this beautiful person (click here to see this picture in it's native habitat).

P.S. I thought I should inform you that you are my actually-Mexican-yet-Indian-looking friend's theoretical Indian television mother. Thank you.

~~~

In reality, there is no single person to whom I write each blog post. I am not Julie from Julie and Julia. Therefore, and because my blog covers a decently wide range of topics, I decided to include more than one ideal reader in this post.

~~~

Dear Troye,

You’re another one of my role models, not only because you (seem like you) are a great person, you are also extremely involved in art and it’s world. You write and make music with your beautiful voice, act, and make YouTube videos, which I guess could be considered a form of art. Truthfully, I simply admire your personality (and of course, your lovely accent). You are an inspiring human being just because you are a kind person and are following your dreams in doing what you want to be doing.

Your music is lovely, your lyrics are lovely, and your taste in anything visual is generally aesthetically pleasing. You just have this vibe about you (that clearly penetrates screens, as I’ve never seen you in person) that’s very lovely.

This picture was captioned "Troye Sivan on a colorful pillow." (as seen here).

Also, if you are truly reading this, I’d like to say that you should really add Salt Lake City to your Blue Neighborhood tour dates thanks :) and of course you’re adorable, which is something I definitely strive to achieve, a goal which I attempt to extend through my blog.

Love (again),

Sam

~~~

If either one of these people were to read my blog, I would hope that they would leave with the knowledge of what it's like to be growing up in the art world now, a world in which they are each already immersed. I hope they would continue to read based on the stories and the writing style, and I hope that they would hope that I would continue to make my way in this thing we call art.

Although this may have not been the most interesting post, it’s important to identify the ideal reader in order to make a blog, or any writing, better. Knowing your audience makes everything more clear. (WHICH WE CAN RELATE BACK TO MONOLOGUES!!!! AND OTHER ACTING!!!! DON’T YOU LOVE HOW EVERYTHING IS CONNECTED!!!!??)

Thanks readers and ciao and love again,

Sam

wishing I were German + a mini lesson

Accents are pretty weird things. Everybody has an accent, and it’s not difficult for us to talk in our own, but it can take a lot to learn other accents accurately and be able to speak in them.

I’ve always been an accent type of gal. I’ll randomly switch from my own accent to British to Indian to Aussie to Russian to Scottish to Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O'Connor knows what else (ha). The research behind this habit has originated in the caves of random life experiences and seeped its way into my cerebral sponge from movies, exchange programs, the internet, other human beings (if you can believe that), etcetera. I’ve never had to learn an accent for any purpose other than wanting to do so. Until now...

As a pig in Shrek the Musical, I’m supposed to be German. Let me just say that being German is pRETTY GOSHDARN DIFFICULT THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I hardly even have three lines, but I feel like I’ll be able to better impersonate my character if I put myself in a German accent mindset (think in German, sing in German, etc.) (also, German is kind of a classic, you’ve gotta be able to do German) (also, it's way more fun to be German than American, let's be honest with ourselves here, kids).

I watched a few videos of some Germans speaking English, and then a video of a British voice actor doing a German accent, and then listened to the International English Dialect reading whatever whatever website. Even after all of this, I still manage to sound Indian, Russian, or French when trying to sound like I'm from Deutschland, although I do admit my German accent is now only slightly worse than okay. 

Anyway, as a person who’s generally alright at accents, this has been a new challenge (that I 100% brought upon myself because I could do an accent that sounded enough like German to get by in saying lines before I even embarked upon this journey).

Not-so-side-note that I thought I’d point out: The German accent is really pleasing and beautiful. It can sound harsh, especially when one is actually speaking German, but even then it has this good… GAH, I don’t know. I like it a lot. In English, which is mostly what I have been listening to (actually, all of what I’ve been listening to), it can sound sweet or comical (and surely many other things as well) either/any one of which is alrighty-okay with me.

A mini German-accent lesson from someone who clearly doesn't know what she's doing at all:

a little chart of consonants that I found on the top of my head

Other points:

Vowels are a nice Ice Mocha Blended between British and American. Kind of.

Earlier today, my friend advised me to speak like I was complaining, which sounds eh but helped me a surprising amount.

Germans don’t speak with their mouths open very wide, which is a useful thing to keep in mind.

At the end of the day when you come home to me and you're another day older and all is said and done, and when you’re simply much too tired to remember all of these rules thank you very much, there’s always that coughing up phlegm thing. You know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean.

in which I explain how I became a pig

Of course, this all took place on the one day on which we didn’t have our origami-like level-block-things-on-which-you-stand. I had absolutely no idea where I was going, as I had been blocked into all of the songs as a different character and the three little pigs stick together. On top of that, one of the other pigs wasn’t there that day, so there was this other person that I had to pretend was there while the present little pig lead me around like a puppet. BUT I’M NOT A PUPPET, I’M A REAL BOY. Well no, actually, I'm not. I’m a pig. And female. But it's whatever.First, some background information that slowly dissolves into the story:

My high school is putting on Shrek The Musical this year.

I auditioned mostly because, well, why not? At first, I was going to audition for the auditioning experience, as at the time I was still on the swim team and I thought I wouldn’t have enough time. But of course, when I got there and saw all of my people-that-I-actually-like theatre buddies, I decided that, as a matter of fact, I did want to be in the musical.

I was not expecting to be called back, especially because on my audition form I had written “auditioning to audition” where I was supposed to write the name of whatever character it was my heart’s desire to portray. Also because the casting director was age-ist. But that’s whatever.

Anyway, when the callback list was up, I was on it. I wasn’t called back for any major roles, but I was okay with it. When I got to callbacks, we were informed that they had been expecting more people to audition, and that everyone had been called back. Of course. Still, I said “I’ll take it.” Considering my lack of on-paper experience (or any other experience, for that matter), I couldn’t expect to get a lead, or even a role with lines or a solo. And that's totally okay, because if it's fun, it doesn't really matter how many lines you have.

In the end, I was cast as a Duloc citizen, a guard, and a happy village person, as well as a fairytale creature tbd by costume availability. Alright, I thought. I can deal.

About forty people had auditioned. The teacher had been told to expect sixty, which is sort of a mess to begin with, but again, whatever. Right off the bat, a few people crossed their names off of the cast list. Within the first few rehearsal days, a bunch more people had decided that they no longer wanted to be fairytale creatures (which I honestly don’t understand. Who wouldn’t want to be a freak?).

At this point, our group numbers looked kind of ridiculous because we had gaps everywhere (well, have, present tense).

Now, with five weeks left to rehearse, we have twenty six people in our cast. TWENTY. SIX. PEOPLE. At the very least, the cast is supposed to have forty to fifty members, and we have TWENTY SIX. Okay.

More backstory:

This one girl literally showed up for rehearsal two and a half times. I’m not even exaggerating; I’m fairly certain that's an accurate approximation of her attendance. She was the third little pig. At this point, you can probably guess where this is going to end up, but I’ll tell you anyway just for the health of it (I saw that on a paper towel dispenser. Clever paper towel manufacturers). And because I probably shouldn’t end a post in the middle of a story.

So.

We arrived at rehearsal last Friday and this girl is not there. AGAIN. Not only that, she also didn’t tell anyone that she wasn’t going to be coming. AGAIN. The director said "She’s cut," and that we needed a new third little pig. Short-story-shorter, she picked me.

Some minutes later, the girl showed up. The director took her into another room, and, from what she later told us, gave the girl the option of either playing a smaller part or dropping the show. The girl dropped.

So now I’m the third little pig.

this is who I am now (picture courtesy of GazetteXtra)

Of course, this all took place on the one day on which we didn’t have our origami-like level-block-things-on-which-you-stand. I had absolutely no idea where I was going, as I had been blocked into all of the songs as a different character and the three little pigs stick together. On top of that, one of the other pigs wasn’t there that day, so there was this other person that I had to pretend was there while the present little pig lead me around like a puppet. BUT I’M NOT A PUPPET, I’M A REAL BOY. Well no, actually, I'm not. I’m a pig. And female. But it's whatever.

why, hello there!

Everyone is always telling everyone else to be themselves. But what if being yourself means being other people? If that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, or even if it makes quite enough sense but you’d like to keep reading thank you very much, please see A1.

No! Not that A1! This A1:

A1.

Welcome to A1.

I am constantly talking in different voices, reciting monologues from the middle of songs whenever it seems necessary (or, more accurately, whenever I feel like it), and am at risk for bursting into song at any given moment. Being myself means playing different characters in everyday life.

This is a phenomenon that I (and many other people as well) refer to as acting.

How I see it, everybody acts all the time. Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean everybody is being constantly fake or over-exaggerated; that’s obviously not true. Think about it, though: do you act (ha) exactly as the little you in your brain does? Do you project every thought, every idea, every secret, every emotion in your head out into the universe? Even when your guard is completely down or when you have a genuine reaction, the contents of your brain does not pour out onto your chrome yellow carpet while you’re watching Netflix. It just doesn’t happen, and if it does, you should probably see a doctor and call a carpet cleaner. 

“Nobody doesn’t dance.” That’s what the choreographer of the musical at my high school told us on the first day that we worked with her. Whether you’re in a professional dance company, take classes for fun, jam out in your bedroom when you’re home alone, or subtly tap your foot along to elevator music, you dance. Even if you think you “don’t dance” (and believe me, I thought I didn’t for a long time), it’s almost inevitable that you do.

I’m fairly new to both acting and dancing in the “taking-classes-and-being-technically-correct” sense, but they’re both things that everyone does, and that anyone can do.

A2.

The past few weeks have been filled with new things. I started a new theatre prep class, two new ballet classes, and a classical jazz dance class. We started rehearsing for the school musical, and I’ve met a bunch of new people and made a bunch of new friends. And now, I’m starting a blog!

Confession: this blog wasn’t born out of my own desire to share my thoughts with a cold and uncaring world (Brownie points if you got that reference).

It’s an assignment for my Honors English class.

Dun,
      dun,
           dun.

(KIDDING!! I love English!! And my awesome-great-fantastic teacher Mr. Parker!!!!

        I do, I really-truly do.)

That said, I’ve been looking forward to this assignment since I heard about it almost a year ago. I’m excited/curious to find out how this blog will change throughout the year and where it will end up.

I was thinking I’d pick a song to go with each blog post, but I don’t know how well that will go, as I’m having trouble even thinking of one song for this one. Maybe I’ll just make a list. Who knows?

Anyway, I’m pumped for this blog.

Night (or morning, depending).

xxxx,

Sam

find the new friend, the old friends, and the me