A "Wicked" Review

As my previous post said, on Saturday, I went to see Wicked in Eugene. I never thought I could enjoy a show this much.
Even though I knew how it ended, the words to every song, and had watched more than a few clips on Youtube, I was still blown away.
The set, the lights, the costumes, and especially the actors were....and I have found myself using this word too many times these last few days...AMAZING!
There was an insert in our program that said Elphaba was going to be played the by the "standby" that time, and me Keisha wondered about the difference between "standby" and "understudy" was.
But from the moment Elphaba sings of her fantasy life in "The Wizard and I." I knew this was going to be a great show.
Actually, I knew it was going to be a great show, when the Time-Clock Dragon came to life in the first seconds of the play.
I have taken several videos, but I'll only put up "Defying Gravity," because even days later, I still tear up watching it. The emotion and power is felt through, even with my bad focusing skills. LOLThe stage: The curtain was a map of OZ, and that is the cool Dragon, who's eyes also glow red at certain points in the show.


Defying Gravity



And this is the video for Defying Gravity.

Already I can't wait to see the play again. It comes to Portland over my birthday next year...who knows? But for sure if I go, I am making my Mom come. There is no way she's going to miss this if I go again. LOL I know she would love it.

Squeeeee!

Today is a good day. Today I'm going to see Wicked. It's been about three to four years, that I have obsessed about this musical. I have wanted to see it for a long time!
For those of you who don't know.
"Wicked: The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz," is based off of the novel by Gregory Macguire. "Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West."
The novel is no way near as entertaining as the musical. I read it last summer and had to push myself through it because it had none of the charm or quirk of the musical. I don't recommend the book.

Well anyways, today I'm off to see Wicked with my besty from high school, Keisha. And it was all because I posted a random blog a couple of months ago:

I Love Musicals!

So here I sit, all dressed and ready to go hours before I need to, watching a Dexter to pass the time. Sigh...always ready too early. LOL
Anyways, soon I'll post pictures or videos that I have and my thoughts about the play. Gosh...I can't fricken wait!!! To see Defying Gravity.

Here's the best quality video of that song:
Although, Idina Menzel had just had an asthma attack before going on, so her vocals aren't the best. But, still an amazing song.

Defying Gravity

So, super excited. Can't wait. Must find something to do to pass the time. LOL

Here's a Rhinestone story....

I've been giving out a lot of Rubber Boots stories, so I thought it was time for a Rhinestone one, so here you go.

Rhinestones:

I knew I had nothing to worry about. This was simple. All I had to do was go to the church and hand out bags of goodies to the kids, smile for pictures, and hope that the calf didn't poop on the grass. But I couldn't shake the nerves. This was my first official event as a Dairy Princess. I stared at myself in the little mirror in my room, adjusting the tiara, making sure the point wasn't off center. A princess mustn’t have a crooked tiara. I heaved another sigh, and looked at the time. Then rolled my eyes. Nerves. I'm always ready too early.

So I hopped onto my bed with frustration, and snatched my laptop. I'm ready so early, I can fit in another viewing of a Supernatural episode. But as cute as Jensen Ackles was, he just couldn't keep my attention, and fifteen minutes later; I left for the event a full hour early. My mind full of excuses:

“I'm not sure where I’m going. I don't want to be late for being lost.”

“I can drive slow, I get more Foreigner songs in that way.”

“I think I need to get some gas anyways. This will give me the time I need.”

Because, after all, along with a straight tiara, a princess must always be prompt.

Sadly, the swooping, heartfelt lyrics of “I Want to Know What Love Is,” could not help me. My fingers gripped the steering wheel of my Ford Ranger Troy, and my knuckles were white. For some reason I had this horrible feeling that I was going to mess up. But I couldn't mess up. It was so simple.

I have done harder things than this before. Speech tournaments were way more difficult than this. And I was First Alternate last year. I can do this. But the pinching metal teeth of my tiara was a painful reminder of just how official this was. I was representing a whole county of farmers. I had to do this right. The thought of messing up, entered my mind and my heart lurched in my chest.

I stopped at a red light and took a deep breath. Absentmindedly I stroked my hair, the cold band of metal passed under my fingers. Soon memories flashed by, the cows, my family, my coronation, school. I had overcome so many barriers and obstacles in my life. And no way was this any kind of obstacle, for years I had dreamed of wearing the tiara, I couldn't wait. I had wanted this for so long, and worked hard to earn the right to wear one, and now, here was my time. This year, 2008, was my year to reign over Marion County. To represent all the hard working farmers and be the face of all dairy products.

Fear and nervousness was soon replaced with excitement. And I couldn't wait to get to the church and spread the news of dairy.

My Dad's intro...

Still in a funnier mood. Here's my Dad's intro in the book.

My dad is one of the coolest people. Well, maybe not cool, but he sure is fun to hang around. Even if it is only 8 degrees outside, and there's three inches of ice on the ground, and it's midnight. Midnight! He will cheerfully tell you, in his annoyingly perky morning person way,

“Hey, the milker made it this morning...”

Yes! I'm thinking. I get to go back to bed, I get to back to bed! In a lovely, and happy sing song voice in my head.

“So why don't we just do the chores now.” and off he goes.

Whistling.

It's midnight, and he's whistling.

And I am armed.

With a pitchfork.

If that isn't some sort of death wish, than I don't know what would be. But I still gave the milk cows their alfalfa, fed the calves milk, and helped my dad with the flush. So I guess it was all good in the end.

When you look at him, especially in pictures. My dad seems like an imposing person. He's tall, bald, has a goatee, and bulging biceps. But really, he is just one big teddy bear. Maybe that's because he had raised two daughters, and only one son. When you're outnumbered, it's hard to stay a rough and tough dairy farmer all the time.

We have spent countless hours together on the farm. Been through many adventures and some just rather ordinary days. But I wouldn't trade any one of them for the world.

Another story...

I was debating whether or not to write about this. But, it is what happened, and when I look back; it really is a funny story. Just embarrassing.

So, enjoy laughing at my expense. LOL

Rubber Boots:

It's actually funny that I mention PETA. Because when I was really little, maybe 7 or 8. I would have fit the mold of a PETA activist just fine. It all happened when I first saw a cow get butchered. I had no idea what was going on, and had never seen anything like that before. And I guess when you're really little, seeing a cow get strung up by her legs, with blood dripping down her neck, can be kind of disturbing.

Which is odd for me, because this was the same little girl who was just dying to watch Jurassic Park. Huh, go figure.

So I took to my bedroom and I made my thoughts known. I wrote my dad a letter, well, not really a letter. More of a rant. Sigh, this is probably one of the most ridiculous things that I have ever done. I'm sitting here rolling my eyes and sighing in amusement and embarrassment as I write this.

A drew a picture of a man, smiling devilishly at a poor sick cow, holding a knife. And underneath in my big scrawl I wrote, “I hate, hate.....(there were lots of “hates,” and I don't remember how many) butchers.” Or “killing.” I can't remember which either. I've tried desperately to block this from my memory. But at opportune times my mom keeps bringing it up. Never letting me forget.

Well, once this “masterpiece” was put together, I left it on my dad's pillow, and went to sleep.

It's easy for you to figure out that I got a good talking to the next morning.

But these days I can say that I am guilt free when it comes utilizing a terminal animal. We once had a program that would pay us for the cows, and the meat would go to charity.

I even got familiar with the men who would come to the farm to do the job. Once I talked with them the whole time, and they gave me an impromptu anatomy lesson on the cow.

They asked me why I was working, and I told them about Washington D.C. And it went from there. Eventually, I actually found the process to be fascinating, I've always enjoyed exploring how things work and why. And seeing how big a cow's liver, or heart is- is fascinating.

And once I got older, I got more involved in the process, I would move the cows with the tractor and help clean up afterward.You might think the stomach contents of a cow would be the grossest thing you'd have to hose down, but really, all it is- is chewed up grass. It looks a lot like what a lawn mower might spit out.

And one more thing, we have the best hamburger in all of the U.S. We know where it comes from, and how it grew. And it is some of the tastiest meat I have ever had. Home grown cows make the best hamburgers. We even donate meat to our church to help feed the hungry.

It's easy for me to say that I have no need to return to my brief life as a PETA activist.

Just a taste....

So, I seriously doubt any of my high school friends would remember this. But on the very last day of class, in College Writing, I talked about how I wanted to put down all of my dairy stories and make it into a book.

Well I am finally making good on that promise.
Mainly because while I was sitting in my Art 101 class, I came up with the perfect title, and I thought that this title was just too good to not do anything with.

"Rubber Boots and Rhinestones: The Life and Times of a tomboy-princess"

So, just to test the waters, here's the introduction.

Rubber boots

&

Rhinestones

The life and times of a tomboy-princess.

By: Lydia Atsma

Introduction

As a farm girl, growing up, I had little to no fashion sense. At all. Everyday was the same for me, some graphic t shirt, most likely had a horse on it of some sort, cotton jeans, and a french braid. It didn't help that I was also gifted with my Dutch genes of hugeness. Finding jeans long enough to fit me, and stay decently fitted was another challenge altogether. Once it took all of one month for me to grow out of my clothes.

So since my outfits seemed to have more of a limited lifetime than normal people, I just really didn't care about how I looked when I attended my little middle school. Which happened to be the same middle school that my dad and his siblings went to.

But, there was a glimmer of hope for me at one point.

I loved shoes.

It must have started out long ago, before I even moved to the farm. One of the very first Christmases that I remember. It was my turn to open a present. Eagerly I tore through the wrapping. Wrenched open the box, and heaved the tissue paper willy nilly. Inside, was one pair of the pinkest of pink cowgirl boots. The exact same boots that I had begged for for months.

Bright pink, with a sequined design, and the cherry on top: fringe. That right there must have been the moment that I would covet any heel, boot, sneaker, or flip flop that tickled my fancy in the store. That and......

Probably the most fashion-less shoe I have ever worn:

The rubber boot.

Rubber boots and rhinestones. These two things don't seem to have much in common. But in my life, they were the biggest source of inspiration, joy, sadness, and frustration. I spent my whole life as a dairy kid, and two years in the Dairy Princess/ Ambassador program. Both of these things led and contributed to who I am today.

And they also made some wonderful memories, and unforgettable lessons in the process.