View blogs with tag "Avenue Q":
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Walking Down The Same "Avenue" With Different Eyes
Posted on July 3, 2011 12:00AM

Throughout Avenue Q, Logan held my hand. He would squeeze it during parts that amused and moved him the most. He almost crushed my hand when the cast sang the infamous "The Internet is for Porn." I kept looking at his face, waiting for it to light up during the wittiest scenes. I loved hearing him laugh and seeing the crinkles on the side of his eyes. These crinkles would probably turn to crow's feet and our hands would someday wrinkle with age. I never thought of growing old with anyone before, but with Logan, I could see a wonderful future. From where I stood, I just knew I would love him all the more in years to come. -
The Greatest Revenge Is A Well-Lived Life
Posted on July 2, 2011 12:00AM
Months ago, I imagined that night at Avenue Q would turn out differently. I imagined myself gracefully waltzing into the theater with a dashing Logan beside me. I imagined myself sipping a hot latte in the small cafe at the lobby, talking and laughing animatedly with my friends. I imagined looking hot and glamorous in my trendy theater get-up in case I happened to cross paths with Matt or Gia again...and I'd throw the coffee at their faces. (Revenge is best served scalding hot.)
Revenge is a lovely word, isn't it? The word just rolls off the tongue quite beautifully. Guilty of it? Come on, revenge is part of being human. When you've been wronged, your mind schemes effortlessly, like a well-oiled machine spewing out scenarios that will bring you the emotional justice and closure you deserve. These scenarios probably include running over your ex with a steamroller, sashaying in front of him and his ugly new girlfriend, showing off your hot new physique, or--in my case--throwing scalding hot coffee in their faces for the entire theater crowd to see. Oh, if only I had seen them that night... It would have been legendary.
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Warm, Fuzzy, And Clearly Meant To Be
Posted on July 1, 2011 12:00AM

When Avenue Q ended, we weren't able to get our photos taken with the cast. I didn't even get to meet Felix Rivera like I promised myself I would. You see, for the longest time, the theater actor reminded me of "the *sshole," and for reasons I couldn't even comprehend, the two had sort of become...one and the same. It's like hating Ne-Yo or Rihanna because they remind you of an unwelcome person from your past. It's highly illogical, yes, but can you really help it?
It took me a long, long time to separate the idea of Matt from Felix Rivera. But all the same, I wanted an autograph. I was a huge fan. Unfortunately, if you remember, Franco ditched us for his half-Brazilian date so I didn't get my chance. -
Jumpstarting A Career In Writing
Posted on January 25, 2010 12:00AM

It was my debut article as an entertainment blogger. Franco asked me to write a review for Avenue Q and even invited me to join their group of movie bloggers. It felt good to write again and put my thoughts into words.
And what difference the review made. One day, I got an email from an unfamiliar address. She commented on my post about Carla Guevara’s version of “There’s a Fine, Fine Line.” What started as an exchange of insights led to a freelance gig from the managing editor of one of the top publications in the country. What made it more fateful was the fact that K, my first-ever editor, was Matt’s old friend.
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Pain Comes In All Forms
Posted on January 23, 2010 12:00AM

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
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