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This is an article I wrote for my high school newsletter, The Cherokee Scout. Cherokee High School’s spring musical, and my last CHS performance, will be Les Miserables.

“Do you hear the people sing?” Do you want to?

Cherokee's esteemed Drama Guild is proud to present this year's musical production of the widely acclaimed musical spectacular, Les Miserables. This stunning, Tony-winning drama follows the story of ex-convict Jean Valjean and his mesmerizing development from eighteenth century rogue to a saintly nobleman caught in the turmoil of a revolution.

So why see a show you can’t even pronounce? (It’s Lay-Mizz-Err-Ahb, by the way.)
Well, first of all, Valjean’s story has inspired many since its publication in 1862, and has dazzled audiences since the musical opened in 1980. Hounded by wayward hero, Javert, a policeman whose “black-and-white” views obstruct all reason, Valjean is constantly on the run after breaking his parole. En route to freedom, he is saved by a Holy Man who believes Valjean has the power to become a beacon of light in a shadowy world.

Years later, Valjean had shed his criminal past and has become incredibly successful while France’s streets are infected with poverty and despair, thick with prostitutes and thieves. As the years pass, he witnesses the horrors that take place and stands beside the young men who have chosen to fight against the hierarchy which created such misery.

The second reason why you should see Les Miserables? Susan Boyle. That’s Right! The song she sang on Britain’s Got Talent was one of the most famous songs from the musical. Are you convinced now? Filled with captivating music and intricate lyricism, brimming with suspense, blazing with romance, and peppered with comedic charm, Les Miserable is an experience that you simply cannot miss.

Tickets go on sale 4/19/10 for show dates beginning on 5/21/10 for anyone interested.

I’m obsessed with being a kid. Not with being childish, but with that pre-K excitement that only a shiny “Great Job” sticker can bring. I try to equate this kind of obsession to a mid-teen crisis of sorts, or a childhood “Bucket List”, considering I have barely six months of legal childhood left.

But, in reality, it is actually a very healthy thing I have grown to appreciate, something I try to playfully flick at others in my life.

It is simply a child’s view of the world.

Now I don’t mean we should all throw tantrums in the cereal aisle at WalMart. I mean that we should appreciate everything in life with a pristine and slightly impractical enthusiasm. So what if a broccoli casserole just exploded in your oven? Did you have fun making it? Are you mature enough to order pizza and clean up the mess?

I hope so.

Are you enough of a child to laugh it off, smear a little of it on your nose, take a goofy picture, and giggle every time you open the file on your desktop?

That would be nice, wouldn’t it?

At a time in my life when being “grown up” is no longer encouraged, but mandated, I find myself clutching at old, familiar things while contemplating new wisdoms like a seven-year-old contemplates his new, “big kid” bike. It’s a strange type of growing, no longer upward toward the sky but inward toward the heart, no longer wishing for more trees to climb, but wondering at how many I have climbed, and at how many I have yet to discover.

Being a grown-up is a tough responsibility, and sometimes we scribble right on top of it, never realizing that it came and wondering later where it went. The most important thing to do, then, is never to grow so old that we forget to grow up and remember to retain the innocence of childhood. A child wishes to be older, appreciates his youth, and cherishes the smallest details of life.

When you can truly view life like a child, you are able to see, hear, and feel life as it’s happening, and experience true generosity.

Of course, there can be a few side effects.

Thinking like a kid can lead to extensive coloring book collections, Disney Princess lunch boxes, and pink painted tiaras made from soda bottles and hot glue. But I’m okay with this. It’s a cushion of sorts, absorbing the new discoveries of my shiny new adult mind with a gentle cuddle, covering them with “Finding Nemo” rub-on tattoos, and tucking them safely away.

It’s a pretty nifty thing. I like it.

So I have learned to smile for no reason, to hum “Under the Sea” while doing laundry, and to make every day of growing up a special adventure.

Relax. Laugh. Enjoy.

Because every minute is important. Live it with fervor. Live it genuinely.

Live it like a kid.

For anyone who has seen a Shine Through program or has read Falcon’s Prey or Lymeria, you probably picked up a pretty obvious “Confidence is the way of the future!” vibe. For six plus years, I have been using writing as an esteem booster, and for four of those years, I have used motivational speaking to encourage others to find their own ways to gain confidence. But it was only this past summer that I myself learned the most important thing about confidence.
It came like a slap in the face. Simple, easy, obvious, and smarted like no one’s business. Why hadn’t I realized it before? It’s not like the idea was so otherworldly that I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming. The scary thing was that it was all so there, like a shop window you pass on your way to school, but fail to notice. Then, on a rainy day, as you find shelter under the awning after dejectedly walking home from missing the bus, you notice. How could you have not seen the beautiful things inside?
I have been practicing the art of self esteem my whole life. I have also enjoyed the fine sport of a good challenge. So, naturally, when I was shoved into the role of Lola in Damn Yankees a few weeks ago, I accepted the character as a worthy opponent. Boy was I in for a ride.
During the short breath of air before senior year, I discovered just how tough one of my biggest fears truly sized up to be. Lola was a fierce, sassy Latin seductress who drove men wild and got all the big dance numbers. I am a short, operatic piece of white bread who giggles at uncomfortable intervals and dropped out of tap class in the seventh grade after the first day. Nonetheless, I announced my determination and dedication to both the director and choreographer with a brave face and mounting courage. It wasn’t long till I was stepping on everyone’s feet and being told that my “sexy” voice sounded like Forrest Gump. It was turning into a long summer.
Opening night came on a Thursday. A long Thursday. A hot, sticky, muggy Thursday.
Being a veteran of the theater since age six, I had only occasionally experienced the butterflies and the shakes. Acting has always been, well, my thing. And I was always proud of the hard work I put in to make each performance my best. On that stifling, suffocating Thursday, I was perfectly ill.
Stage fright. Was I seriously falling victim to stage fright? Well, first the nausea, then the headache, and as I popped a Tylenol for the abdominal pain, my teeth chattered so loud that my friend offered me his jacket…in August. It was stage fright, the bane of the acting world, the vampire that seemed to suck all confidence out of my jugular. I felt the cold breeze of terror slide beneath the walls and through the cracks of my one true stronghold. After years of struggling with my self esteem, with bullies and loneliness, I had never once thought that my acting could ever be the target.
I moved out of the dressing room, where most of the cast sat in a messy circle singing the Beatles, and wandered off into the wings, or the side of the stage where everything was blindingly dark. I didn’t want to be seen in all my nervous glory. As I clung to the curtain ropes and tried desperately not to hyperventilate, I pondered.
Why this? Why now? I was finally at the moment in my life where things seemed perfect. My whole life I had wanted half of what I have earned over the past few years, and I can’t possibly be more grateful for it all. I have ventured far from being the friendless, overly-obsessive fat kid. I even refused to do many things that I loved out of fear of judgment and disappointment. Now, I have more friends than I can count, am starring in roles I had only ever dreamed of playing, am the author of two novels, have had the opportunity to reach out to young people across the nation, am complimented on my previously non-existent sense of style, and I’m loving life more and more each day. I thought that, if I could valiantly vanquish Lola in all her skimpy costumes and Charo-esque accent, I would finally have reached the top of my mountain, and could sit back and enjoy the view from my throne.
So it’s obvious why that slap in the face hurt so much. I realized, after sprinting uphill to receive my prize of a life’s supply of self esteem, I would never be able to.
Confidence is not a destination, but a sometimes bumpy, always scenic road that can lead you nowhere but up.
At the moment, I was struggling through a pothole.
The lights on the stage faded to black and I realized in a panicky hiccup of time that it was my turn to go on. Still keeping my head high, but feeling my knees tremble, I felt my way across the stage and sat on the chair placed slightly stage left, my heart pounding louder than the percussion from the orchestra below.
I had about twenty seconds to collect my thoughts and keep myself from fainting. What was I supposed to do now? The realization that I could never have perfect confidence was enough to throw me off balance, and with the added stage fright, I needed to resolve things fast. So, even if I completely conquered the Lola beast there and then, I would not be the queen of anything. Okay, that didn’t help…
But if I overcame my insecurities anyway, I would still be proud of my performance and still have a lot more self esteem than when I started. Better… And, if I knew that I would always have challenges to face, Lola wouldn’t seem so monstrous. Getting warmer… And most importantly, if I let go of all my inhibitions with this show, and realized that I was no superman, then I would be able to relax and enjoy the challenges and rewards that life would bring with a brave heart and a deeper appreciation. A little preach-y but as close to perfect as it would get with three seconds to go…
I took a deep breath. The lights came up.
And I had the time of my life.
So now, with Damn Yankees behind me and a life of improvement before me, I feel just fine. Knowing that I will always have a battle to fight makes me stronger. And knowing that my confidence will only grow brighter whether I win or lose makes me look to the future. We are all capable of making ourselves just a little better than we were the day before. That piece of proverbial comfort food may be just what we need to push ourselves just a little farther each day.
It gives us a gratitude for the things we have and the excitement to try new things. Confidence is always right beside us, waiting for our permission to give us a little nudge or a great leap to do what we never dreamed possible. So pack your sunscreen and charge your cameras. The long road of confidence is a beautiful thing. Snap a few pictures. Write a few postcards. And above all, enjoy the journey.

There are a lot of things that we take for granted. The plastic wrappers that individualize cheese singles, those couple of seconds between songs on a playlist that give our minds a chance to cool off from the previous song and get psyched for the next one. But possibly the most important and most common thing that we take for granted is the impact a parent makes on our lives.
So, maybe your relationship with your mom isn’t that great. She’s still the reason you’re here, and the one who paid for the cheese singles and the iTunes cards. And maybe your relationship with your mother is wonderful. Do you recognize every red sock pulled out of the laundry to rescue your white hoodie? Every yellow light sped through to get to your three-hour-long clarinet recital? Every time your toothbrush magically appeared in your sleepover duffel when you swore you had left it on your sink?
Mother’s Day was inspired by common meetings held by mother’s who lost their children in battle during the Civil War. Their meetings brought awareness to a mother’s role in American society, leading to a Mother’s Day Movement on the second Sunday in May of 1877, regarding the temperance movement, similar to a modern Mothers Against Drunk Driving. Ever since then, the observance of Mother’s Day has continued every second Sunday of May since.
What’s the big deal? Mothers have been our first everything. Our first best friend, our first idol, our first hero, and the first one we went to when we were sick, upset, or simply felt like bugging someone. Clearly, Mom deserves some recognition for being there every time. Conveniently enough, there’s a specific day on the calendar to do just that!
So, if you don’t have a fortune to spend on jewelry or flowers, or enough creativity to create a photo collage, or enough time to clean the house with a toothbrush, take just one minute to say thanks. You don’t even have to do it in person! Write a list of the things you appreciate your mother for; things she would never expect you to notice, like the fresh carton of milk in the fridge or the cell phone charger (which you thought you had lost) that wound up sitting on your bed when you got home from school. Put the list in her purse or wallet, or any other place where she’s bound to find it. And, if you’re that reluctant to say anything, send her a text that reads “tnx”. Those three letters will mean more than any number of gardenias or begonias.
Every day is Mother’s Day, so let Mom know that you appreciate her. Start to notice those little things that she does for you. Those things can add up quickly, and deserve an expression of gratitude every once in a while. Don’t take your mother for granted. Show her you care.
Happy Mother’s Day!