The Books That Make Us

"What are the five books that make up your personality?"

This was a question I had never pondered. I read all the time, but there is a difference between reading a book, loving a book, and have a book make up a part of who you are. Although Wuthering Heights is one of my favorite books, I don't look at it and think, "That right there? That's me." And there are other books that I aspire to be, like Mao's Last Dancer or Living My Life. But when prodded to name five books that I would recommend to someone seeking to understand the basics of Rebecca, these are the five that I came up with.

(Listed in alphabetical order)

1. The Clockwork Universe by Edward Dolnick

This one's for my logical side; the side of me that wants to understand everything. As a fangirl of both history and math, this book made me so excited about the world. Plus, Edward Dolnick has a great writing style that is casual while informative, and I've enjoyed all his books that I've read.


2. The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E Lockhart

My all-time favorite YA novel. I don't like most YA novels. But this one is fantastic. I recommend it to everybody. (Technically that's every book on this list, but this one is especially readable.) It's funny, it's thoughtful, it talks about subverting the patriarchy. I'm Rebecca Waite and I support all these messages. I relate to Frankie in both her struggles and her self-discovery.



3. The Harry Potter series by JK Rowling

Because Harry Potter is my life and I can't choose one. The characters, the magic, the everything. My mom once told me that I see the world through Harry Potter tinted glasses, and she's not wrong. These books defined my childhood and continue to be perfect. I'm in a constant state of rereading this series.



4. .Packaging Girlhood by Lyn Mikel Brown and Sharon Lamb


This is the book that really turned me into a raging feminist. This affected the way I look at media, marketing, and the mothering of my future children. If you're not angry, you're not paying attention.


5. Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself by Alan Alda

I've always loved Alan Alda, and both of his books are great. But this one especially has affected me. I read it as a nineteen year old who was between colleges and unsure what she was going to do with her life. (Possibly nothing has changed)
"The meaning of life is life." That resonated with me. And it helped put into words why I so love performing. I read this one about every year and it's always good.

A Blog For Friday

Isn't it funny how you blink and a month is gone? It's like that saying, "The days are long but the years fly." I don't know what happened to April. (In the interest of full disclosure I recently wrote October when starting a journal entry, so a missing April is just the tip of the iceberg.) Between the fact that I'm taking a brief break from theatre and having a boyfriend who doesn't get off work until late in the evening, I have spare hours that I'm not used to having.

"What does Rebecca do with this free time?" you may be asking. Watching random independent films on Netflix, mostly. I have watched films about old men that teach robots to rob banks, a child obsessed with death who accidentally becomes a YouTube sensation, and authors who are simply too happy to write. Oh, independent films. I also rewatched High School Musical for the first time in probably five years. That film is bad. Horrible. And I love it. The production quality of Disney Channel original movies never fails to disappoint.

I'm also working my way through an Andrew Jackson biography. I've spent the last few years being very much Not a Fan of Mr Jackson. In fact, he was up there with Alexander Hamilton when it came to early American history people that I really can't stand. (I already know I'm a nerd, you don't have to tell me.) But it turns out that this author is skilled at creating a balanced portrait of an imperfect, but not completely evil, person. I was a little bit mad about this. I wanted my suspicions to be confirmed with facts. And some of them were, but I just can't summon up the same level of rancor as before.

I also finished a bizarre book by JD Salinger called Franny and Zooey. I'm sure it's all deep and symbolic and whatnot, but I just didn't get it. Mysticism and suicide and dysfunctional families, oh my! Mostly I read it because I felt I read something by Salinger but didn't have any desire to read Catcher in the Rye.

I'll be moving at the end of June, which is going to be a huge change. I've lived with the same two girls for the last three years, and I've grown accustomed to their habits. It looks like I'll be moving further south, which I never thought I'd do. The things we do for love. Ahh. Stress. I don't super want to think about that right now.....but if anybody knows of cheap month-to-month housing in the Orem/Provo area, hit me up.

It's been five years since I performed Into the Woods. That just hit me. Also, I've randomly become obsessed with Passenger and Fall Out Boy, two bands which are very, very different. Life is funny.

Anything Can Happen (If You Let It)

“Mary Poppins says that anything can happen, if we would just get out of our own way.” 

Ain't that the truth? I’m in a production of Mary Poppins in Draper at the moment, and we all go around saying, “Anything can happen!” now. At first it seemed silly to me. And perhaps it is. I mean, there are things that can happen, and there are things that cannot happen. But who knows? In the words of Michael Buble: “I guess it’s half timing, and the other half’s luck.”

This is my year. There’s been something in the air since the very first day. Odd numbered years are always better, and 2014 was a year that got progressively worse. I was going through a weird personal crisis at New Years, and I kinda had the feeling that this year was going to be a defining one, whether positive or negative. I had the unexpressed feeling that I could spiral down the path I was on, or I could make some changes and start the exhausting climb upwards. In hindsight, I was aching for the luxury of giving up, to recline in mediocrity, even though I knew I couldn't. So in late December I was clicking through a New Year’s Resolution generator and ended up finding one that resonated in me, even though I’m sure no Buzzfeed employee expected it to improve anyone’s life: “I resolve to make better bad decisions.”

"I might not be able to commit to making good decisions yet," I thought, "but I can make better bad ones." Baby steps.

So I’ve been trying to live by that. I started going to church again. I cut way back on the hours of mindless Netflix consumption. And I faced up to the fact that I only get to be young once, and it would be a shame to squander it with stupid choices I could not pretend were anything else.

I doubt I can take much credit for the improvements in my life. Half timing, half luck. But so far I’ve been hired full-time at the most secure job I’ve ever had, performed one of my all-time favorite roles with a perfect cast, and started dating the kind of boy I honestly didn’t think existed outside the boundaries of young adult fiction. I can’t say if it’s something in me that’s changed or the universe conspiring to make me happy or the calm before the worst 2016 of all time. But I am completely happy. And I haven’t been completely happy in years. It is a strange country to find oneself in. There’s a great quote from a Graham Greene novel: “He felt a kind of loyalty to unhappiness, as if that was where he belonged.”

I don’t know. Things are really pulling together for old Rebecca Waite. And it’s baffling and wonderful and a little bit terrifying. When life is grand I get afraid of losing it; of having everything I've ever wanted in my grasp and then managing to blow my one chance at not screwing up. I have coping mechanisms for dealing with misery. I'm not quite sure how to deal with happiness. I have a daily quote calendar, and one that struck me last year was “Nothing happens, and nothing happens, and nothing happens. But then EVERYTHING happens.” One from last week: “At any point you have the power to decide that this is not where the story ends.”

Anything can happen if you let it.

Actor Crushes

If there is anything more lovely than the feeling you get when someone *gets* you, I don’t know what it is. Finding multiple people that do is nigh unto a miracle. I've had several experiences like this over the last few weeks, but the ones I'm writing about today are the theatrical ones.

The production of The Importance of Being Earnest that I was in closed on Saturday. I played Cecily Cardew, and it was one of the most delightful theatrical experiences I’ve ever had. Oscar Wilde’s words are sparkling, the corset and costume made me feel “excessively pretty”, and it is an intoxicating feeling to hear laughter after your lines. But more than any of these, the cast is what made the show spectacular. I have seen almost all of these people in multiple productions, but never worked with them, with one exception. I was in Hello, Dolly! with Bryan, but had only interacted with Jeff, JoAnn, Andria, Jorden, and Connie from the perspective of audience-to-performer. I saw Heather in a stunning production of Company, but the others I had seen not at all.

Bonding with these talented and hilarious people over the last three months has made me so happy. I love that feeling of connection and chemistry from running a scene so many times you can do it in your sleep. (I am the person who will insist on making show jokes the entire run and afterwards as well. These phrases of dialogue have permanently entered my vocabulary.)

Small, tight casts are literally like family. There were only nine of us, which is smaller than my actual family. This was a cast in which I had a deep connection with any member; something that goes beyond the level of being in a show together. I know them and they know me. They put up with my crazy, and I love them for it.

Over the course of rehearsing and performing this show I have obsessed about Comic Con, a boy, Leonard Nimoy, going out with the boy, Into the Woods, going out with the boy again, my obsession with all things British, and the boy a few more times. They really have been saints for listening to my vent my emotions while pacing endless circles around the stage, the green room, the dressing room. 

(Pacing IS my emotion, and almost involuntary.)

I feel so much and fail so spectacularly at putting emotion into words. I could talk about this show, this cast, this experience for hours. In the end it’s all about love.

Like Cecily, I feel very happy. 

Conventions: A Joyful Spirit

I’ve just ended my third fan convention. They are my favorite places. I’ve been thinking about what makes them so wonderful, because it isn’t only the geekery. The geekery is awesome, but there is so much more to them than that. It isn’t only the presence of celebrities, although being in the presence of talented people is intoxicating. It’s more than the merchandise and the cosplay and the panels. What makes conventions the best of all the places is the spirit of the thing.

When I first went to my first convention last April I must admit I was afraid. I had never been to anything like this, and I was going alone. I was apprehensive that someone would mock me for not cosplaying, or call me out on my lack of knowledge on comic books. I had heard horror stories of girls being attacked as “fake geeks” who “only want to attract boys”, and that doesn’t sound like my cup of tea. What if someone asked me about issue 37 of the original Batman comics?

But as soon as I walked through the doors of the Salt Palace I knew that things weren’t going to go wrong. Not only were they not going to go wrong, but they were going to go very, very right. To be quite honest, it was love at first sight.

I have never met a rude person at Comic Con. This is not to say they don’t exist, but they are by no means prevalent. I have never felt judged for not cosplaying, or for not being a part of a certain fandom, or not knowing everything there is to know. I have never seen anyone else berated for such things either. The only thing I feel at conventions is unadulterated love. Love for television shows, love for books, love for cartoons and steampunk and obscure references. We rejoice to find others that feel the same fire of obsession, to be surrounded by it.

Standing in lines to meet amazing people who I’ve only seen on the silver screen can eat up hours, but I’ve encountered some delightful partners-in-waiting before finally reaching the prize. I love people who make me forget that I’m shy. I’m not naturally talkative around strangers, but these people don’t seem like strangers. That sounds cliché, but they are my people. Geeks may be “in” at the moment, but hardcore fans are still viewed as a little on the odd side by general society. Here we all fit in. (Except for maybe that one guy in a sports jersey who didn’t know who Carrie Fisher was. It's like the opposite of high school.) Trekkies, SuperWhoLockians, anime nerds, and a myriad of other fandoms mingle in harmony. No one is judging, saying someone is “too geeky” or “not geeky enough.” It’s an enveloping and welcoming atmosphere; it feels like home.

I don’t know if all conventions are like this, or just the ones in Salt Lake. Does it have something to do with the fact that they're new to the city? (The first one was in 2013.) Ours are certainly smaller than San Diego’s, but they sell out, and the number I heard bandied about was fifty thousand attendants on Thursday, which is nothing to scoff at. I’m sure that celebrity guests flatter every convention they attend, but it did seem they were particularly fond of Salt Lake. Tom Felton said that our con had more of a spirit of pure joy than he usually felt, and I accept that as true. Even when I was exhausted, sore, and frazzled, I was still so glad just to be in the presence of all these outstanding nerds.

I wish the world could be more like Comic Con. If you're obsessed with a movie that no one else has talked about for ten years, that's cool. If you aren’t into a certain show, well, you get a strong recommendation and a smile, but not shame. You came in a bathrobe converted into a Jedi costume? Sweet. You spent three years and a thousand dollars making a Wheatley that would speak, light up, and rotate? Dude, rock on. You can dress in thick layers to be Thor, or very little to be Poison Ivy, and I will be equally okay with you.

The sensory overload that overwhelms you at a convention is only the tip of a marvelous iceberg. Although the hundreds of booths, artists, and vendors are amazing to behold, it is not the merch which makes Comic Con. It is the people, and their instant acceptance of each other. Bono said that a geek is a person full of passion, unencumbered by cool. What an excellent explanation. We love what we love, and we love it with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. We have laughed, cried, and debated over fictional universes probably more than some of the people creating them have, and we are not ashamed. The rise of the fangirl is a splendid thing to be a part of.

I am already anxious for September to arrive, bringing a new convention and a fresh wave of geeks from out of the woodwork. To look around and realize you are among thousands of people who, without knowing you, accept you, and to automatically feel the same about them is glorious. Life is beautiful when we find something to love like this.

Rebecca Blogs FanX (Saturday)

Well, friends, another convention has drawn to a close. I'm already anxious for September; Comic Con is one of my absolute favorite things. Yesterday was a rather bittersweet day, as I couldn't shake the shadow of it all ending, but it was still great to be there, mingling among my people. If I get around to it I plan to write a longer post about the "joyful spirit" of conventions, because it fascinates me. 

I had rehearsal till noon and a callback at two, but in the brief time between these things I went to Artist's Alley and bought a sweet Spike poster. Original art is so wonderful. I love the coloring and the cigarette and his gorgeous cheekbones. While at that table I heard, “Rebecca!” and looked over to see my friend Andrew at a different table and ran over to talk to him. It was nice to see him again. I've met people I know all three days, and I love that.

After the callbacks, which involved lots of dancing, I was tired and starving.I was starving and got nachos and a hot dog at the food court, then went into the ballroom for the last even, the cosplay contest. I’ve never gone to one of those before, but I plan to in future. It was a good note to end on. They had a kid’s category first, and I sat there and cried. I love how people love things like I do, and kids are an emotional weak point. There was a “dark power ranger” who started break dancing, a shy TMNT, and several Links. Too cute. The kid below is Thorin Oakenshield....my camera quality sucks.

Some costumes are amazing! The clockwork man that I saw the first day was there, and the way he walked and turned to face the audience so mirrored the episode he’s from-- creepy good. A girl in the Cinderella rags dress spun around and it turned into the ball gown. Glad I caught that on video; it was like magic. I have no idea how she rigged it up. Post-apocalyptic Ash Ketchum was unexpectedly hilarious to me. (Speaking of unexpectedly hilarious, Han Solo singing ‘Royals’ in line behind me the other day definitely belongs in that category.) Tulio and Miguel, Edward Scissorhands, a Bowser made of balloons, Al Capone: the entries were as varied as the attendees. The costumes that won were two girls playing Thor and Loki , and they were legit. It apparently has taken them three years to get them put together. They did a kind of dance duel and Thor gets stabbed and hits Loki with the hammer but then hugs him and it was perfect. (I saw a Thor going down the escalator with a child yesterday and in my head he was like, “Let us descend carefully down these moving stairs, child.” Oh, Thor.)  

I was very emotional and tired and everyone was dancing and I just wish the whole world could be like Comic Con where everyone loves things and nobody’s judging or mocking and it is an exuberant and glorious place that I think everyone should visit at least once. I never wanted it to end.

Rebecca Blogs FanX (Friday)

Friday is always the best day of conventions! I’m going to start with the highlights of today, because I want to scream the following sentences from the rooftops forever: CARRIE FISHER PUT GLITTER ON MY FACE. AND TOM FELTON GREETED ME BY SAYING “HELLO, MY LOVE.”

AHDLKFJKSLDJFLKSDJFKLSDJFKLSDJFSLKDFJSKLDJFKLSJFKLSDJFKLSDJFLSKJFLSDJFOIESRUOIWEROIWERJOIWEJRN<VN<MVNC<NVVNPAJERPWJEPDFLJFLSDJFahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The con opened at eleven this morning, so I was there at eleven. The line moved remarkably quickly, aww yeah. I headed straight to the celebrity row. Carrie Fisher was at her table and I joined the line. It was very slow moving. To say those words does not extent the slow moving-ness of the line. It did not move. As I eventually got closer I observed that Carrie Fisher is tiny. Tiny! She had her dog, a French bulldog named Harry, sitting with her, and she was rubbing glitter on all the meet-and-greeters. Why? Because she's Carrie Fisher and she can do that, that's why.

I stood in line for two hours. She went on break once for probably forty minutes. I stayed. It’s Carrie Fisher. When she went on break she looked at me (the wrap around line I was in had put me near her table) and said, “We’re going to replenish the glitter. This is stale glitter.”

She did come back. I made it to the table and picked out a photo for her to sign and suddenly I was standing in front of Carrie Fisher. Carrie Fisher. Princess Leia. PRINCESS FREAKING LEIA. I could tell from watching that she was a celebrity who liked to keep a distance from her fans, with excellent reason. I’m sure she has heard insane stuff since this all blew up in the seventies. The appropriation of slave Leia into popular culture makes me sick. So I knew that I wouldn’t want to try to chat her up or anything, because I'd probably end up telling her about the childhood pillowcase I had with her face on it, and that's not cool. She thought the girl in front of me was Rebecca and then I said, “No, I’m Rebecca,” and she said, “You’re Rebecca” and then, “Close, please” meaning to close my eyes in order to get silver glittered RUBBED ON MY FACE WITH THE ACTUAL FINGER OF CARRIE FISHER. She was telling someone about her dog while doing it, and then sang, “Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca” to some tune that I’ve heard before but don’t know, all with my eyes still closed. It was a very surreal moment. She wrote “Love to Rebecca, Carrie Fisher” on the picture. She was a gem. Observe me showing off the glitter:

It was about 1:30 and I went to the ballroom to see who was in there. It was the original Uhura from Star Trek, and she has a very nice singing voice! After her panel was Felicia Day. Felicia Day is the bomb. She at one point made a face and then said, “I did a dumb face cuz I got awkward. HI.” Felicia Day is me. She automatically says yes to anything Joss Whedon offers. She has written a book, to be released in August! Once on the Supernatural set Jensen was making fun of her during their fight scene and she hit him so hard she dislocated her thumb. She was so great.

Then it was Tom Felton’s panel. Tom Felton. Tom Felton. The man is so freaking sexy. HIS VOICE THOUGH. British accents are the most attractive of all the things. He was sorted into Gryffindor on Pottermore recently, and so everyone was teasing him about that. “I had to be in bloody Gryffindor.” And the first time he met his girlfriend she was an extra at the Gryffindor table. “The signs were already pointing towards my true house.” He’s in the editing process of making a documentary about conventions and super fans, how cool is that?? He clearly has an insider’s perspective. He thinks it’s bizarre that people act like conventions are weird, then yell at a television for two hours about a game that doesn’t affect them at all. “This is not right at all.” Describing how he got to be Draco Malfoy: “I managed to sneer pretty bad.” If Harry had accepted his offer of friendship, “I probably have just kicked his arse.” When he’s nostalgic he says, “Scared, Potter?” “If you see me wandering around saying that to myself don’t think I’m crazy.” He met a very naughty spoken six-year-old. When meeting people on set everyone loved the trio and was afraid of Tom. He says that Alan Rickman embraced the fear he inspired and would say things like, “Tuck in your shirt, boy" along with giving out cuffs to the back of the head. A little girl asked Toma question and he asked how old she was and she said nine and he said, “You’ll be getting your letter soon” and it was adorable.

So after that panel I went to get in line to meet him. It was a very long line. I know I said that the line for Carrie Fisher didn’t move, but I was further back in this one and it Did. Not. Move. This line ended up being almost three hours. Luckily the couple in front of me were friendly and we became line friends. The wife’s name was Katie, I don’t know the dude’s name. Life friends are a funny phenomenon. The husband complimented my shirt (Calvin and Hobbes/Star Wars crossover) and asked my name about an hour in. We're all fans of Firefly, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and conventions in general. Husband accidentally called me a liiiiiitle bit pathetic for being there alone, but our line friendship survived nonetheless.

We saw a dude wandering around in a sports jersey and I remarked it is the opposite of high school-- one jock in thousands of nerds. The husband: “Maybe he’s a geek in jock’s clothing.” A girl dressed as Oliver Queen asked if I'd ever been to Spain, because I look like someone she met on a plane there. At some point we realized that we had moved forward quite a bit in line. It really was strange-- I don’t remember moving. Neither did wife Katie. There is only the line, stretching out into infinity. But we did move, but then the volunteers started warning that Tom was leaving at seven (it was 6:20), and we were not guaranteed to make it through. I felt lame about that, as did those around me. But I waited, hoping against hope. The husband said, “Watch as he goes away right when we get there.” I berated him about putting such things out into the universe and made him take it back. "If I don't get my autograph, it's your fault, and you will be cursed."

Then the volunteer came to get the last ten people and blessed be this day for I was one of the ten. At this point my heartbeat raced out of control because he was right there being his gorgeous British self and I was going to meet him and I couldn’t handle it. A sticky note with my name was stuck to the headshot for him to sign, and suddenly I was standing in front of Tom Felton.

He is so hot in person.

He was looking around for more pens, because apparently the markers they had been using were starting to run out. So he wasn’t paying attention to me and I was standing there not knowing what to say and finally he looks at me and I go “HI” in probably the weirdest possible way. He says, in those dulcet British tones that make me absolutely melt, “Hello, my love.”

HELLO, MY LOVE.

IN BRITISH

THIS IS NOT REAL

Then, “Rebecca, is it?” Yes sir that is me. I think I made some noise of affirmation. Tom said, “I see you met Carrie earlier. Got glittered.” GOT GLITTERED. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with how that phrase sounded coming out of his mouth, but the obsession is real. I said I was a big fan of Carrie Fisher. He started to sign the picture. I was freaking out because I wanted to ask if he hated monkeys (it's a running joke between my roommate and I) but knew the time was short.  I said, “I have a quick question for you which I promised my roommate I would ask.” Tom Felton: “Hit me.” Me: Do you have negative feelings towards monkeys because of your death in Planet of the Apes?” He looked a bit thoughtful and said, “No, I don’t think so.” I said I was scared of them and he said, “Oh, I’m scared of them. I guess I’ve always had negative feelings towards them, but not because of the film.” HAAHHA YES HE DOESN’T LIKE MONKEYS SCORE. I put out my hand for him to shake and he did and I was shaking for probably the next ten minutes. Katie and her husband were waiting beside the table to talk to me, which I thought was exceedingly nice, because usually your line buddies just vanish into the mists of time. But we said our goodbyes and they thanked me for providing entertainment in line and I was shaking so bad for like an hour because TOM FELTON SAID “HELLO MY LOVE” in his British accent and ahhh

He wrote “To Rebecca, Love Tom Felton, Draco.” He has the most lovely handwriting.

I could have stayed a bit longer (I haven't had a chance to look at even most of the booths this time around, and am not sure how much time I have tomorrow), but I had to go home and get ready for an audition and scream to my roommates about how fantastic fan conventions are. CARRIE FISHER PUT GLITTER ON MY FACE AND TOM FELTON REMARKED UPON IT.