Appearances & Audition Rooms

Last Tuesday morning, I showed up at an audition for an Equity production of Annie Get Your Gun alongside 300 other people. I was pleased to get "typed in" (i.e. the casting director decided who he'd hear sing simply by looking each of us up and down for five seconds), so my singing audition was scheduled for later in the evening- at 5:00pm, to be exact. I went on my merry way home, pleased that I made it through the first "round"...if you count just standing there as an audition itself. I made myself a ham sandwich and watched an episode of Downton Abbey, forgetting that I was Miss New York for the moment (which is easy to do since this is quite a new concept for me). A quarter into my humble sammy, my phone rang at 3:00pm and a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend who knows someone at Fox News asked if I'd like to be on national television at 9:40 that night. I nearly choked.

The Sean Hannity Show was shooting a live segment regarding controversial Super Bowl advertisements, and the booking manager wanted Miss New York's opinion about the so-called sexist and racist commercials. I had yet to make an official appearance as Miss New York, so you can imagine my surprise (and nervousness) when realizing my first appearance would be on national television. If I messed up, only a couple million people would be watching. No biggie. (Hah!)

Scarfing down the rest of my sandwich (I am an embarassingly fast eater, so that was no problem for me), I immediately started brainstorming my talking points and watching the commercials Hannity would be focusing on. Oh, wait! I have to leave for my audition in 15 minutes! I scurried around to find the outfit I'd been wearing that morning (I needed to eat my food and answer emails in sweats, of course) and ran out the door.

No time to be nervous about singing "I Hate Men," I breezed into that audition room and belted my little face off, condensing all of my bad experiences with dating into one 16 bar audition. Boy, that felt good. Afterwards, the director then asked me this: "How does your dad sing?" Screeeeeeeeeech, whaaaat? A normal person would say "Excuse me?" or "Pardon me, I couldnt hear you." No, no. Not this rosebud. "My dad? Oh, he has a great voice." Crickets. "Honey, I don't care how your dad sings. How's your dancing?" Yes, this actually happened. Through laughing, I told him about my dancing abilities, and gathered my music from the pianist. On the way out the door, I looked back and said, "Sorry! I thought you might need some older guys for the show...my dad's pretty great." If this was any sign for how Hannity would go that night, we were in BIG trouble.

Two hours later, a black car arrived to take me to the Fox News building- straight to hair and make up (thank goodness). After bonding with the women who primped and pampered me, I sat in a waiting area with a really nice gentleman who was taking part in the segment right before mine. We chatted about life and- what else- my love life. He gave me a lot of advice about finding "the one" and seemed to take my jokes about dating in New York really well. Well, what do you know, but a few minutes later, Sean Hannity himself plops down next to me and starts talking to this guy about his career as a pilot. I pipe in, "Hey, my dad flew F-14s in the Navy!" Hannity looked at me like, "You didn't know that this guy was a pilot?" Shortly thereafter, I found out why. This man whom I had taken love advice from was, in fact, Scott O'Grady, a pretty famous fighter pilot who was shot down over Bosnia in the '90s. Whoops. I immediately felt honored to be sitting in a room with him.

My segment of the show went off without a hitch. I'm not one to place much prominence on Super Bowl ads, so I just gave my simple two cents about each commercial and tried to stay myself. Side note: Sean Hannity has amazing hair and is a really nice guy in person.

The next morning, I received a phone call about the audition the day before. I got a callback! Maybe my answer about my dad was memorable...? Unfortunately, the callback fell on the same day as my trip upstate to be a guest as Miss NY at the Miss Fulton County Pageant on Saturday. Such a bummer. I reluctantly informed the casting director's assistant that I would not be able to attend, and started preparing for the weekend. I was extremely disappointed since this show would be an amazing opportunity for my career, but backing out of commitments is just not what I do. Surprise! Thursday, the casting director himself emailed me with permission to skip the initial callback and attend the final reading/singing callback for the lead in the show! I love when things work out. Monday at 4:00pm I would read for "Annie" in Annie Get Your Gun.

With Miss NY's Outstanding Teen, Shannon Ryan, at Miss FC

Singing at and helping with the Miss Fulton County pageant on Saturday was really rewarding. The community really supports this organization, with over 400 people in attendance. Taking pictures and signing autographs for the little girls in attendance was by far my favorite part. Knowing I made them feel special reminds me why I decided to accept Miss New York in the first place. Last night, I even opened an email from the Mayor of Gloversville (where the pageant was held) thanking me for my visit. How fun is that?

Pictures at Miss Fulton County!

Yup, wore the same dress. If it ain't broke...

Linda, my Miss New York traveling companion and all around life-saver and personal comedian, dropped me back off at my apartment at 2:30am on Sunday morning, leaving me just enough time to get some shut eye and wake up in time to get to the Miss New York City Pageant taking place at 3:00pm. There, I sang the national anthem and watched many of my friends compete. My pageant-week roommate from last year's Miss New York Pageant walked away as the new Miss New York City! I'm extremely happy for her, as well as for the other two ladies who won the titles of Miss Cosmopolitan (great title, right?) and Miss Metropolitan (my local title last year). The best part of the day, though, was seeing Claire Buffie (Miss NY 2010 and an amazing friend) and Katie Uze (Miss VA 2010 and one of my first and closest friends I've made competing in the Miss America Organization). Oh, the other best part was finally getting to wear the official Miss New York state crown! The timing of its arrival couldn't have been more perfect since Katie got to be the first to "crown" me Miss New York (something Mallory- Miss America- will officially do at her Homecoming party in March). I started out competing in Virginia in 2008, when I met Katie and my whole love for the MAO began. Then I moved to New York, where I've started my adult life and am beyond honored to represent this state. So, to be crowned Miss New York by a former Miss Virginia and dear, dear friend was pretty darn perfect.

With Katie and Claire

The newest ladies who will compete for Miss New York 2013!

I was exhausted by Sunday night, but no rest for the weary! Monday was the final callback for Annie Get Your Gun! My life feels like it's been plucked right out of a T.V. show lately. Case-in-point: I showed up at the audition with about ten other girls. After reading a few sides (scenes from the show), five of us were left to sing. After I sang "You Can't Get a Man With a Gun" for the casting director, he asked if he could give me some advice. Naturally, I welcomed it. He kindly told me some changes he'd make to my performance, basically hinting that he could tell that I'm pretty green to the audition process. Most casting directors would have cut me, but instead he told me that he sees something special in me, which is why he kept me around until the very end (awesome!). Feeling gutsy, I asked, "Well, would you mind if I sing it again for you, this time applying what you just told me?" Amazingly, he said "Sure, I don't see why not." So I sang again. When I finished, he was so enthusiastic that I could hardly believe his words. He told me that he's rarely seen someone accomplish such an improvement in performance from just a few short minutes of direction. He told me that I was "very impressive" and that he loves my "voice, look, and energy." With one last surge of courage, I said "I sure wish I could re-read the sides now." He looked at me, paused, and said, "You know what? Come in tomorrow at 9:15 before I start my day of casting a different show. I'd like to hear you re-read the sides, as well, and can also work with you on them a bit." Really???? This busy casting director believes in me so much that he's willing to hear me again? And coach me through the scene? Obviously, I have no idea if I will land the role, but the fact that I'm on this man's radar is a huge accomplishment! I feel so honored and special that he's taken such an interest in my green talent amongst the hundreds of actresses who sing for him weekly. I can't wait for tomorrow morning (this morning, once this blog has been published)!

Clearly, my life has become just a bit busy these last few days, but I wouldn't have it any other way. My dreams are coming true left and right, which constantly reminds me of my mom. I know in my heart that she has something to do with all of this, and that gives me so much joy. Each exciting new step gives me more faith that she is still with me, which is the biggest gift of them all.

Speechless: Miss NY 2012!

Not often am I speechless. Don't get me wrong, over the years I have learned to hold my tongue when my older brother pokes fun at me in front of his good-looking friends and have discovered the beauty of a text that can be sent in one single message (pre-iPhone, of course), but communicating my emotions- both good and bad- has never been an issue for me. Then a funny thing happened on Saturday night, January 12, 2013.

Aileen and I watching Miss America 2013

I lost my words.

I was sitting in an apartment in Harlem with six strangers and one friend while watching the Miss America Pageant. These seven people were college friends with Laura Kaeppeler (Miss America 2012) and wanted to watch Laura pass on her title to this year's winner. I had met Aileen, the one of the seven that I knew, during a master class with casting director Bob Cline last November. Never one to have shame in inviting myself places, I asked Aileen if I could join her "Miss America viewing party" since my plans had fallen through. So, here I was, surrounded by mostly strangers, rooting on Mallory, Miss New York 2012 (one of my very close friends) and chowing down on a lot of baked brie. Mal and I met through the Miss America Organization- originally while singing...erm rapping...karaoke with a few mutual pageant friends in the fall of 2011. We then competed together in our local and eventually at Miss New York. Spoiler alert: she won. Anyways, since her reign as Miss New York, Mallory and I have continued to build our friendship. She was even the first person I saw in New York after my mom's passing, when she gave me a build-a-bear from all of the Miss New York girls, as well as a Fresh Direct gift card for groceries (because, as we know, nothing cheers up a pageant girl like food).

Right after Mallory gave me my build-a-bear

Being that she's such a gem, I was sitting on that couch in Harlem absolutely jumping out of my skin each time Mallory advanced in the competition. By the time she was standing as one of the final two, holding Miss South Carolina's hands, I was curled up in a little ball on the couch, my knees tucked to my face (wheat thin crumbs on my lips and plastic tiara on my head) with six people who didn't know me eyeing me as I prepared to explode. Miss America 2013 is.....MISS NEW YORK, MALLORY HAGAN!!!

And then it happened. My words were gone. I couldn't say "She did it!!" No, I could not even muster an "Oh my gosh!!" Instead, what can only be described as a banshee scream came pouring out of my mouth. Honestly, it sounded as though I had just witnessed murder. My voice teacher would have had a fit on account of my vocal chords as this terrible noise erupted from my throat for what must have been at least 15 full seconds. Eventually I stopped screaming when I realized that the neighbors of this stranger's apartment might call the police. Still, no words came for at least a few minutes as I made smaller, shorter shrieks while Mallory walked down the runway as Miss America.

Never once in that moment of mental collapse which resulted in my discovery that I have the chops to possibly star in the next exorcist movie did I think, "Oh cool! Now I'll be Miss New York!" I was not even in the Top 5 in the Miss New York Pageant. As a matter of fact, I've been very open about the fact that due to my mom's illness, I was so unfocused at last year's pageant that I was shocked to find myself in the Top 10. Consequently, when a couple of people this past week exclaimed, "Shannon! Maybe you'll take Mallory's title!", I looked at them as though they had just suggested that in a week from now I'd be on the moon. Crazy-talk.



Myself, Mallory, and Claire last night (sorry it's blurry!)

Well, crazy-talkers, you win. Here I sit, the new Miss New York 2012. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it since, in my mind, Mallory will always be Miss New York 2012. Still, last night I sat around a dinner table with Mallory herself, Claire Buffie (Miss NY 2010 and another dear friend of mine), Teresa Scanlan (Miss America 2011), and Gina Valo (Miss Michigan 2007, who took over when Kirstin Haglund won Miss America), realizing that I was now part of this state-titleholder sisterhood. I took a picture with Claire and Mallory, and Claire said, "Three Miss New Yorks in one picture!" I think that's when it hit me. I may have acquired this title a totally backwards way, but that doesn't mean it's not real. I certainly think of Gina as a former Miss Michigan and my friend Chinah as a former Miss Virginia (she took over when Caressa Cameron won Miss America 2010), so I guess that means that I'm just as much Miss New York as they were their states! (I'm trying to say that with certainty, but I'm not sure I'm nailing it yet)...

No matter how I got here, I couldn't be more grateful. I don't say the word "blessed" very often, not because I don't believe in God, but because I have a hard time deciphering what it means/implies. Those of you with a strong faith, I know that sounds weird, but I won't take the time to explain it now. Somehow, though, in this situation, "blessed" is the very way I feel, because deep down, I know that my mom had something to do with this. Come on, what are the odds? Let's take a look:

In my last year of eligibility in the MAO, I moved from Virginia to New York. My mom was diagnosed with cancer seven days before my local. Three months later, I made Top 10 in Miss New York (the last time my mom ever saw me on stage). Two and a half months later, she passed away, one of the last things she said to me being how glad she was that I did Miss New York because it gave her a chance to spend time with the whole family and to see me sing. Four months later, Mallory wins Miss America (the first Miss NY in nearly 30 years to do so) and all of the girls who placed above me pass on the title until finally, on a crowded bus, I receive an email asking me to become the new Miss New York.

How can I not believe that my mom went to heaven and pulled a couple strings to make my dream come true during what has been the hardest time of my life? This minor miracle of becoming Miss New York is precious proof that she is still with me, still my biggest fan. I know she would be jumping up and down, washing away all of my nerves about accepting this title (do I even look like Miss New York?? Last year's Miss New York, Kaitlin Monte, was recognized by Governor Cuomo for her work against bullying...who am I??), and motivating me to go out there and just give these next six months my all. Who cares that I had put my pageant days far behind me? I am no less capable now than I was when I was eating chicken and broccoli, size 2, and preparing for the pageant seven months ago. All I have to do is shift my mindset and prepare for what is to come! I like knowing that she'd say those things, because I cling to them fervently as I begin this new adventure.

Now that I've written a short novel, I would like to wrap up by saying THANK YOU to everyone who has reacted with such support and excitement. I've said it on this blog before, and I'll say it again, I don't want to be anyone but me. The friends and family I get to call my own make me incredibly happy on a daily basis, whether I'm goofy Shannon who is trying to make it on Broadway along with five million other people, or I'm the reigning Miss New York. So much has happened in one short year, but with the highs and the lows, I think I'm pretty darn lucky feel so loved through it all.

One last thing: AHHHHH!!!!!!! I'M MISS NEW YORK!!!!!

(If you're a first-time reader and like pageant stuff, read my post from a little over a year ago: The Truth About Pageants)

Why Pursue a Resolution

Cousins- Charlotte, Lawrie, Anne, me and Drew

I don't know about you all, but when I woke up on December 21st and the Mayan calendar was put to shame, not a whole lot changed in my life. I wasn't all of a sudden more grateful than I already am for the time I've been given to live, nor did I really care that much that they were wrong. It was just another day. Not in the sense that every day I get on an airplane to head off to the Caribbean (nod to the photograph), but you know what I mean. Similar feelings, or lack there of, have settled in my heart about the new year. Before I continue with my thought, everyone reading this PLEASE note that you should say "Happy New Year" not "Happy New Years." We are celebrating but ONE new year. Sorry, pet peeve, and now you've learned something. Anyways, today is January 1, 2013. I don't believe in the whole "this year will be the best one yet," as if each time the earth revolves around the sun is equivalent to a life reset button.

Who among us has truly accomplished something great as a result of a New Year's resolution? I'm sure many of us have lost seven pounds in January (only to gain eight in February), or perhaps we have stopped using foul language or made deliberate efforts to be more patient. However, did Celine Dion wake up on January 1, 198-something and decide to make her singing career happen? Did Thomas Edison decide on New Year's eve that he would become more interested in electricity? Did Kim Kardashian start dating Kanye because she wanted to die with a man by her side on the Mayan doomsday? Ehhh...actually, that last one is probably a yes. Still, people don't experience the biggest successes of their lives because of the start of a new calendar year. Marriage, careers, deep contentment...these things all start in one of two ways: luck or pursuance over time. Often both. You may say "well, you can START pursuing something on January 1st." True, however the goals to which we commit generally can't be reached without motivation. Motivation is the key to pursuance. And as much as I adore Ryan Seacrest, listening to him count down while the ball drops hardly motivates me to do anything more than refill my champagne glass while I watch couples around me swap spit.

These past few months, I've been more focused than ever on my singing career. I took a three week intensive musical theatre workshop with one of the top casting directors in New York City, found an absolutely spectacular vocal coach, and learned seven or eight new songs. Two things motivated me to do so: 1) losing my mom to cancer and 2) having one particular moment where I looked around and realized, very fearfully, where I don't want to be in 10 years. Knowing who I want to be for my mom/biggest fan and who I want to be for my own pride and longterm happiness made getting the ball rolling a lot easier for me. I am 24 and will blink and be 30. If I want a career outside of the restaurant industry, I can't pray a producer moves in next door and discovers me while I sing around my apartment. That'd be awesome, actually, and perhaps I won't stop praying for that. However, the reality is that I'll have to wait in some really long audition lines at 7am, take plenty of classes to improve, maybe start stretching so I can dance better (ugh, only maybe), and start surrounding myself with people who have similar goals and are working just as hard to achieve them.

Now, obviously I don't wish the pain of losing a family member or any sort of tragedy on anyone in order to provide motivation for life change, but if life is going to be better in 2013, it has to be for some reason other than "no better time to start than January 1st." The good news is that inspirational or light-fire-under-your-butt moments happen more often than we know. We just can't be too lazy to recognize them. Learn from the people around you- who you want to be, who you don't want to be, who you want to befriend, who you wish you had back, and who you should let go. You can find motivation in just about anyone. I firmly believe that humans are a lot like songbirds. Each of us is a unique song, made up of all the other songs we've heard around us. We can pick and choose our melodies and in turn spread our tunes to everyone around us. Perhaps that sounds cheesy, but I believe it to be an accurate depiction of who we become and what we achieve. Community, culture, and other indivuduals are the ultimate shapers of Self.

So, on this new year, keep an eye out for motivational experiences and people- both good and bad- that you might usually overlook, and perhaps you will start pursuing something much greater than only eating chocolate on weekends. And hopefully we'll all have a little luck this year, too. Any worthy bachelors still out there?? ;)

Sassy B-Words

New Yorkers are cynical of the people around them. Maybe it's not just a New Yorker thing, but it sure seems like a more widespread problem up here. If someone doesn't smile enough, they're timid and anxious. If someone smiles too much, they're fake and naive. If someone is quiet, they're insecure and boring. If someone talks too much, they're immature and annoying. If someone is young, they're incapable and unrelatable. If someone is old, they're jaded and past their prime.

UGH.

This judgy attitude that precedes any form of worthwhile interaction makes me tired. And sad. When I was in college, I didn't run with a particularly gossipy group. I trusted all of my friends to bring any issues to the forefront, and they did (though issues rarely surfaced). But now, here in what is supposed to be "mature adulthood," I have witnessed far most scrutiny about people's "friends" when their backs are turned than I did in college. Don't get me wrong, my New York friends are great, and most New Yorkers are more loyal friends than I've ever seen, but their attitudes towards acquaintances and those they don't consider "close" friends are sour. This is particularly true in the restaurant world.

I was recently told that another server at work said that I "talk too much." My reaction? Truly, I'd rather that be the complaint about me than any of the remarks I hear about other people. Besides, I do talk a lot. Too much? Eh, that's up for discussion. I've mentioned this comment to a few friends who have all assured me that I don't talk an annoying amount at all, and that it's just become popular to be a "sassy b****" (that's actually the PG version of the real name my friend gave to the overly sarcastic and Eor-type characters that flood this town). Still, I think to myself, why does something negative have to be said about everyone? I mean it when I say that if "talking too much" is all that's being passed around about me, I'm thrilled. But how sad is that? Why should negative energy be so prevalent in my environment that I'm grateful for the way my feelings were hurt? That it's bound to happen, so at least they're not saying anything worse.

No. This is an epidemic that we shouldn't just accept and get used to because sarcasm and rude-but-witty humor is popular. I'm 24, happy with myself, and a generally forgiving person, so I can handle a comment made by someone I've worked with no more than five times. Maybe he had a hangover one day when I was telling a story and my enthusiasm gave him a headache. I don't know. But what he says doesn't bother me to the point that I'm insecure about who I am. I like to interact with people and that will not change just because a cynical New Yorker thinks I'm too peppy. However, not everyone is me. Middle schoolers are probably not able to shake off a rude remark so easily. Neither is a person who has self-esteem issues or an extremely sensitive personality.

This "sassy b****" idea has trickled down to youth, causing outrageous bullying in schools. It has seeped into workplaces, making everyone feel self-concious. It has poisoned relationships and threatened friendships. Thus, it is every single person's responsibility to never make anyone else feel hurt or bad about themselves. This doesn't mean you will get along with everyone, nor does it mean that everyone will deserve the best treatment. However, the guy you think is too serious may have grown up with braces, not wanting to smile. The new girl at work who seems shy may be hilarious and brighter than you think. The older guy with an intimidating weariness may be the most kind-hearted man in the room. The ex-pageant girl who seems fake might actually have a gigantic heart. Focusing on the things you like about a person along with searching for the peices you dont yet know will not only save you a lot of stress (because being a sassy b**** can be stressful), but get you a lot more friends. And if you just don't particularly like somone at the end of the day, how will saying something mean about them change that? May as well keep it to yourself. Gossip doesn't help you, the person you're gossiping about, or the people you're gossping with.

I've fallen into the trap before. Pre-judging someone, saying something mean when I'm annoyed, or delivering a snappy one-liner at the expense of someone else. No one is perfect. But us "mature adults" need to step back at times and re-evaluate the energy we're bringing to the world. We don't have teachers and parents telling us that our behavior is wrong, so our only reminders are those moments we're on the other side (i.e. when you hear that someone said you talk too much). We all know how it feels to be talked about, no matter how insignificant or serious the comment. Thus, my goal is to be more careful about any remark, flighty or purposeful, I make regarding someone else- no matter if I like, respect, or care for them. Because at the end of the day, negative thoughts and remarks have absolutely zero value.

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I haven't mentioned what I've been up to in a while, so here are some picture snippets:

 

Emily came to town!

A bunch of friends came to hear me sing in a showcase

Tommy's birthday brunch

Girls night with Mallory (Miss NY 2012)

Opening night at Carnegie Hall (Chicago Symphony)

Songs for a New World reunion!

Saw "Bring it On: The Musical"

Martini night with Katie (Miss Manhattan) and Elizabeth (Miss VA 2011)

On the Other Side

Those of us who pride ourselves in having social prowess, or even just average on the social awareness scale, have been trained in the appropriate reactions to certain scenarios. For instance, a friend gets a promotion: celebrate! A sibling gets married: drink! A coworker gets sick: text them and tell them to feel better. A puppy gets hit by the car: gasp, be sad. A scary man approaches you in the subway: run or kick his, uh, pain center (as my 9-year-old brother would say). I'll admit, I'm pretty great at knowing what my reactions should be to most situations. But there exist scenarios towards which most of us never want to find out how we'd react. These are the scenarios that define our character. None of us want to know what it'd be like to be evicted from our home, lose a limb, or never see our family again. Yet, only under these extreme circumstances is the truth revealed about what we value within ourselves and on whom/what we depend on for happiness. Under these circumstances, we find out if we are capable of making positive choices when it's not easy, like ourselves enough to keep moving forward, and have surrounded ourselves with people we are honored to call friends. The thought of finding out all of those things about ourselves at once is scary, but for me, I'm glad I have.

After my mom died on Labor Day, 4 1/2 weeks ago, I kept waiting for some terrible reaction. Anger at God, outlash towards my friends, depression keeping me in bed, something. Part of me is still expecting to wake up one day and be a completely changed person. But as the days go on and I'm still me, still laughing all the time, still getting annoyed with needy tables at work, still wanting to lose five pounds, I'm beginning to think that this is simply how it's going to be. I'm reacting to losing my mom by not reacting. Don't get me wrong, I miss her every single day and have had moments of deep pain when I want to call her, but my reaction is certainly not as I imagined. Perhaps not even appropriate at times. But what is appropriate? No mother/daughter could have had a more functional, deep, and intensly close-knit relationship than my mom and me. Many of my friends have even commented that they wish they had the kind of relationship I shared with my mom with their own. So does that mean I shouldn't be able to eat, sleep, or function? Maybe. But I've had a completely different reaction to losing my mom than "My life will never be the same and I'll never be okay." Instead, I've found an unbelievable amount of comfort about who I am and who my mother raised me to be. Because of this experience, I have absolutely no question about what I am capable of handling, where I find peace, or if I'm the person I truly want to be.

I was pretty sure I liked who I was before I knew my mom was going to die. But as the weeks and days crept closer to the final breath of her life, I was terrified. I was terrified of what I would do, how I would feel, and if my life would be bearable. Everyone kept telling me, "Just react however you react, there's no right way." But what if I wanted to jump off a bridge?? What if I wanted to starve myself?? What if I wanted to eat eight chocolate cakes a night?? What if I didn't want to see the rest of my family anymore?? What if I started hating God?? What if I want to drink every single night?? What if, what if, what if??? Those what if's showed that even though I didn't often question my self-confidence, my friends, or the goodness at my core before all of this, I certainly had never had all of what makes me ME put to the test before. Not all at once. Not to this extensive of a test. Was I actually the person I thought I was?

I'll never say I'm happy my mom died. That'd be legitmately inappropriate (and false). But she did, she is with God, and I am still here. More than that, though there's not really anything more than being with God (that's pretty awesome), but for me- more than simply still being here, I am prouder of the woman I am than I have ever been before. Everything about who I am was put to the test to see if I would come out on the other side not only okay, but great. How can I not be great when I know my mom is in heaven? When I know she lived a happy, fulfilled life. When I know that I learned from her so much that will lead me through my own life. When my best friends took off of work to be at the funeral and/or clean out my childhood bedroom. When my coworkers gave me over $1000 out of pocket to cover the shifts I missed. When cards, messages, and phone calls flooded in. When the family my mom left behind is closer than ever. When I didn't react with hate towards God, instead with trust in plans greater than I understand. When I still love to love other people. When I'm still goofy, open-minded, and excited about what lies ahead.

I'm truly glad to be me, knowing that under even the most difficult and heart-wrenching of circumstances, I will be more than okay. I'll come out even stronger. My mom was always that way, too. I am so thrilled to live the rest of my life in her legacy, doing everything I can to make her proud and to remember why she was so proud of me.

With my amazing friends celebrating my mom the night of her memorial service

Mom

I've had a few people ask me to send them the eulogy I read at my mom's funeral last week, so I thought I'd share it with everyone in hopes that we can all remember how truly amazing she was:

Many people say that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I think it’s safe to say that in this situation, that is not the case. We didn’t have to wait until my mom left us to recognize her extraordinary faith, genuine charm, breathtaking beauty, and selfless heart. My mom’s ability to light up her patients’ classrooms, our home, her offices, and her church was undeniable. Everywhere she went, she was easy to love. Not just because she was so incredibly pretty to look at and easy to talk to, but because her number one motivation and joy in life was her relationship with God. With a faith so strong, God’s light could be seen through her without her even needing to mention His name…though she did that often, too. Even during the last weeks, as we watched the unthinkable unfold before us, my mom’s unending belief in God’s unfailing love gave not only her complete peace, but those of us who love her so dearly. Her faith was her biggest gift to all of us and allows us to celebrate her life in trust she is with her precious Father, rather than mourn a concrete ending.

Mom fixing my gown the night before I left to compete at Miss VA

That being said, my mom’s time here was truly something to celebrate. I could talk about her adventures skiing in Vermont, riding elephants in Sri Lanka, climbing the ancient Pyramids in Egypt and Mount Fuji in Japan, or parasailing in Thailand, but instead I’m going to celebrate the time she spent in life as my and Jim’s mother. And I can say confidently that it was her favorite time in life. Mom said that the moment she held Jim in her arms 26 years ago, she had never been so happy and in love. Eighteen months later, I arrived and she embraced being the most giving and energetic mother to both of us. Recently, she so beautifully explained to Jim that when you have more than one child, your love does not divide, it multiplies. Her unconditional devotion to raising us as confident and happy children manifested itself in outrageously time consuming homemade birthday cakes, Halloween costumes, and mother/daughter matching dresses on Easter. She was an amazing sewer- she even made my prom dress from scratch.

Jim's wedding

Fast-forwarding through the terrifying years of raising two teenagers (I don’t know how she still loved us after those ones, but she was a woman of true strength), my brother and I have both been able to get to know my mom as adults in the last few years. Jim and my mom would spend every single Saturday morning that he was home from college, Richmond, or New York together, drinking coffee on the porch and discussing God, life, and, as Jim often reminded me- how to help Shannon survive in the world. She came to New York for Thanksgiving last year and taught Jim’s wife, Lindsay, how to make a Turkey and we all ran the five miler Turkey Trot as a family.  My mom was the only one in good enough shape to not be sore the next day. Jim got married in April, and my mom couldn’t have been prouder as she watched her perfect son marry a woman he loves so deeply. She and Jim took dance lessons to prepare for their dance at the wedding and, through the chemotherapy, exuded radiance as she celebrated in Jim’s happiness.

Turkey Trot 2011

In my life, my mom has been my rock. She and I have always been close, and for these 24 years I could not be more grateful. My mom knew my heart in a way no one ever will. For instance, she sent me dog sledding for a week in negative 20 degrees with ten people I’d never met when I was going through my first real heartbreak, teaching me that stepping out of your comfort zone and pushing your limits will always bring life back into perspective. She supported all of my crazy endeavors, from pageantry to horseback riding to musical theatre. My mom had stage fright and she hated horses. Yet she came to every single one of my pageants, bought a horse when I was in middle school, and could name most Broadway musicals. Pageants, in particular, she even got really into. I remember always having to hide programs in my house from any pageant friends who would come over because I didn’t want them to see all of the scores my mom would write next to each girl’s picture. I always got 10s. My mom and I talked nearly every single day in my young adulthood, and only my mom will ever actually enjoy listening to me go on and on about my feelings as much as I did. She also loved listening to Jim and I sing more than anyone else in the world. She never got sick of it. We sang to her nonstop the day she passed and eventually sent her off to meet God with our voices.

These 24 years, and 26 for Jim, with the best mother on earth are more valuable than a lifetime with anyone else. We will miss her so, so much. Her times of excitement when she’d practically jump up and down and clap with her giant smile, her times of advice-giving when she’d always end up saying “I just want you to be happy,” her serene face during her daily run through the neighborhood, and her tremendous example of living as a woman of God. But I know she is with Him, celebrating, running on streets paved with gold, and watching over us as one of God’s witnesses.
  
Proverbs 31:28, The wife of noble character
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,
    but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
    but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
    and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

How honored I am to have called Kathy my mom.

 

 

To Be Chosen. Or Mostly Not.

There’s something to be said about being chosen.  It starts in elementary school. Well, probably before then, but elementary school is really where it starts  becoming clear if you’ll be one of those “chosen” people in life, or if you’ll be like the rest of us. I’m saying “the rest of us” like we’re a club because it almost makes me feel like I was chosen to be part of that kind-of-depressing-group. Coping mechanism. You see, I wasn’t chosen by Kyle, the cute blonde boy in first grade that I had a crush on (I never went through the boys have cooties stage. And I’m STILL single. This has been a longggg 18 years). He chose a different girl to share pens with, even though I helped him to the nurse when a door swung open and gave him a bloody nose. Then I auditioned for my first musical at age 7: The Wiz at San Diego Junior Theatre. They called back seven kids- I was one of them- out of hundreds who auditioned to be the munchkins (clearly, they were not going for a big cast). Six kids got the parts. You can guess who didn’t make the cut. A year later I moved to Virginia. Between the age of 8 and 12, I did over fifteen musicals with my children’s theatre. FIFTEEN. My poor mother drove me to all of those rehearsals to play what part, you might ask? Townsperson. Random orphan. Townsperson. Dancing barrel. Townsperson. Was I ever little orphan Annie? Nope. I was her understudy. Was I the princess in The Emperor’s New Clothes? Nope. I was her understudy. Was I the Narrator in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat? Nope. I was one of five girls who got called back, and they decided to split the role four ways. FOUR. Guess who, once again, got the boot? I’ll get over it. Mind you, I did get to play the role 11 years later at a different theatre when I was 22 years old...but come ON. Though I’m sure you get the point by now, I’ll give one- okay two- more examples of not being chosen in my childhood. I ran for class council every single year I was eligible. Fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh grade. Never happened. Also, the popular boy in fifth grade dated me as a dare. When I found out, I hid in the bathroom…I really thought he wanted to “go out with me.” But that one I can let slide since he’s now unfortunate looking and has no job.  Thank you Facebook for not making us wait until high school reunions to become secretly happy that the mean kids have digressed in life.

Now that I’ve written a paragraph that any psychologist would be thrilled to dissect, I’ll get to my point. Being chosen feels good. Whether it’s by a man (or woman) who wants to date you, someone who wants to befriend you, a director who wants to cast you, or a boss who wants to promote you, being chosen feels so darn good. I don’t care what excuses we listen to from our own self-preserving minds or the mouths of others, we’d all rather be chosen than convince ourselves that “he wasn’t in the right place in life to be with me” or “I was just overqualified for the job.” No. At the end of the day, you wish he’d told you that you were the girl who he’ll turn his world upside down for or that the director had created a brand new show revolving around your undiscovered talent. Yet, for most of us, these things don’t happen. At least not often. Perhaps ever.

GOOD NEWS. You can get better at not being chosen. Practice makes perfect. I’m a pro. I should seriously teach lessons for $40/hour on how to handle rejection. Adulthood is pretty much the same story as that paragraph about my childhood woes. Just sub the fake 5th grade boyfriend with men who choose someone over me or come up with some other awesome reason why we shouldn’t be serious, replace the theatre rejections with…wait, still the same thing, and swap running for class council with competing to be Miss Virginia/Miss New York. But somehow, the world keeps turning. You come to find that with each rejection, instead of the world ending, you still crave Chipotle just like before and that Modern Family makes you laugh. Then out of the blue you’re chosen for one small thing, and you appreciate it so much more than if being chosen was always a given. You’re so grateful for that one token of acknowledgement of what you have to offer that you become more determined to develop even more to offer, more to be acknowledged. Because you’re working on yourself, you inevitably become a better person. As you’re able to offer more- you’ve taken more voice lessons, worked on your patience, developed your purpose- you begin to see how you are and have been chosen.

I was chosen as the youngest member of Falcon Jazz, our school’s prestigious octet, in high school. I was chosen as a lead in my first ever regional theatre production straight out of college. I was chosen by my sorority and by the a cappella group. I was chosen to work at my restaurant even though I lacked the necessary experience. I was chosen to be a singer at Busch Gardens. I am chosen by my family. Yes, you may think that’s obligation on their parts, but some children are not so lucky to feel chosen and loved by their families. I am chosen by my friends who call and text me constantly to ask me about my life and tribulations.  The more you TRY and see how much you’re chosen, the more you see that you ARE. I’d still love to have a guy sweep me off my feet for the long haul or to be cast as the leading lady in a Broadway show, but when I think about how my friends make me laugh and check up on me daily, how my family calls to say they love me, and how my boss forgives me when I break the cork of a wine bottle, I am not as concerned with what ways I have not been chosen.

It’s hard to feel rejected. I’m not undermining that feeling. But the more it happens, the more you learn that a shift in your perspective can change everything. Each time you’re not chosen, you get better at making that shift. Isn’t that how it works with most challenges in life? You just need a simple shift in perspective. And plenty of practice.

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PS- I hit my ONE YEAR in NYC mark last Friday. How insane is that? I had a mini celebration: