Monday, December 31, 2012

Farewell, 2012. You saucy minx.

And now a brief New Year's Eve post to tie a bit of a messy, loose-ended bow on this challenging and bizarre gift of a year....

It's not a tradition of mine to reflect on the year on December 31. Usually that comes on May 16, my birthday, in which I write a couple of pages in my private "Birthday Journal" (a Google doc, really) to sum up what's happened to me, how I've grown, what I'm proud of, what I'm afraid of... It's fun to periodically go back and read them, all in a row, so I'm fast-forwarding through time, and gazing at myself from a place of retrospection, an older sister to myself, whispering, "Keep going."

But 2012 has been profound, and I think it deserves some kind of acknowledgment, however brief.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

"Hitting on" Tom Hardy

Fun fact! The stats section of Blogger reports that my extremely brief post on Tom Hardy (in which I quoted him saying strange yet accurate things about poodles) has gotten more than double the hits of my second-most popular post (on discontinuing my Facebook timeline). Go figure.

Anyway, thanks, Tom Hardy!

Also, sometimes I think Bane from The Dark Knight Rises is my spirit animal? In a non-creepy, non-terrorist, big-muscled, gypsy-accented kind of way.

Don't ask me to explain. Let's just go with it.


Wednesday, December 12, 2012

What do you blog about when you're afraid to blog?

I've had blogger's block. It's not an accident. There's a reason.

I'm afraid to tell the truth.

Five-Trick Pony, as a workspace, lives sort of separately from my author-space. Separate from the whole promoting-Unnaturally-Green-thing, from my Twitter, from my weird alias Facebook, it's a space that's a little more sequestered than it is in the spotlight. (I like to think, anyway.) It's also been a space for me to speak on a host of random things that have crossed my mind (manicures, sweat, and other riches).

For the most part, I've kept it light. Mostly.

And now? I'm afraid to go dark.

Hence blogger's block.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Pulp Fiction / Truth

My sister is visiting me this weekend. Here is a conversation we just had.
Tessa: I want some orange juice. 
Felicia: Don't we have some in the fridge? 
Tessa: I don't know, I didn't check. Does it have pulp? 
Felicia: (nods) 
Tessa: Why, does Marshall like pulp? 
Felicia: No, I like pulp. 
Tessa: Why? 
Felicia: It makes me feel like I'm drinking a real orange. 
Tessa: Really? Because it makes me feel like, 'What is this vomit I'm drinking?' 
Felicia: I can strain it for you. 
Tessa: I don't think there's anything that repulses me more than pulp, in a drink.
Felicia: Huh. 
Tessa: Yup.
Felicia: That surprises me.
Tessa: Well.
Felicia: I'm putting this on my blog.
(more from Tessa and Felicia...)

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

The insaner you are, Tom Hardy, the more I love you

“I feel sorry for a poodle because he's a dog. You know, a dog is a f*cking great creature. They would do anything for you. And the poodle gets a haircut. No one asks if the poodle wants his hair cut like that. Do they? They just f*cking cut his hair like that. And he just walks around. And everyone is like, ‘Why is that poodle so snarky?’ F*ck you.”
--Tom Hardy (courtesy of

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Where slightly sh*ttier stuff is slightly cheaper!

Well, I've found my new "outlet": OUTLET SHOPPING!


Today I traversed the great and glorious expanse known as Philadelphia Premium Outlets, which incidentally was steps away from a nuclear power plant. There, accompanied by my boyfriend and his ma and sis, I shopped all my cares away.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

New Singing Tips Video!

Greeting, blog readers! The end of summer is nigh! I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to fall, a.k.a. the season in which I can wear clothes not solely to avoid nakedness (which would be preferable in the oppressive heat) but rather layered outfits with an eye toward style!

On a completely unrelated note, here's the latest installment of my Super Short Singing Lesson videos! It's about palate and tongue placement and mouth shape when you sing.

(Also, I decided to intersperse Baroque-inspired title cards, on a whim.)


Monday, August 6, 2012

Musings on the Olympics, or, I am my own commercial

Do you watch the Olympics? If you answered yes, allow me to high-five you; if you answered no, I am puzzled by you!

Watching the Olympics has inspired me. It has inspired me to sit on the couch and watch more Olympics, and then think about all the ways I am unlike the athletes I see -- tumbling through the air, gliding in the water at superhuman speeds, doing strokes with delicate names like the butterfly but which should actually be called the splash-as-much-as-possible-and-look-insane stroke, but nobody asked me, did they. These athletes are tireless and inspiring and amazing, and I'm fascinated!

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Wanna fight me?

Sometimes I publicly allude to the fact that I lift heavy weights, like here, or here, or in this blog's author bio (look down and to the left!).

This post is another one of those times!

Because a foundational principle of blogging is that one should provide a window into all moments of one's life -- the fascinating, the mundane -- here is a video that my boyfriend Gentle Rambo insisted on filming. It's of me deadlifting 150 pounds for three reps -- the final set of lifts in a series of three -- and I guess I look sort of cool.

(Fortunately he cuts it right before I turn to the camera and make a truly heinous, "I want to go home now" face, equal parts "I'm constipated" and "I just relieved myself," which is a confusing and rather paradoxical place to be, emotionally and spiritually.)

But, okay, fine, I joke or whatever, but I'll admit it -- I'm sort of proud!

Sunday, July 8, 2012

An actual thing I just did

Subtitle: What has my life become?

Email to: Us Magazine 
From: Felicia 
This is one of the more bizarre missives I will ever write -- but I've noticed the following too many times for it to be coincidence! It seems that in many midtown Manhattan Duane Reade stores, Us Magazine is obstructed and difficult to find! I'm not sure if a competitor is sabotaging you or if there is some beef with Duane Reade, but any time I find Us (if at all) it is hidden behind another unrelated magazine in the display. Life & Style, Star (in my opinion, both lesser magazines!) are always loud and clear, front and center, whereas yours is hidden and out of reach. Anyway, call it paranoia or whatever, but it's happened around ten times, at more than one Duane Reade location. As a fan of Us, I thought I'd let you know, in case there's anything to it. 
And now you, dear reader, know my secret(s). Not only do I read Us Magazine regularly, but I have enlisted myself to protect it from nefarious tabloid sabotage.

Is there a support group I can join?


***10:00PM UPDATE***

DUDES! "Us" just wrote me back!

"Thanks Felicia, we're having this checked out now.

Sent from my iPhone"


Basically, I have found my calling -- as a magazine vigilante for justice.


Sunday, June 24, 2012

The World Under This One

In the world under this one is its mirror image, bent and fragmented, curved and slanted. At first I hoped it a distortion, the way the light breaks over the slats, the grooves, the way it reforms our faces, our heights, widths, minds, so we are heavy footed and alien, monsters of ourselves.

Now I see its truth, the inverse of what we knew, but an inverse of an inverse, somehow truer truth, where straight becomes crooked and other things become love, a love more wonderful than I knew.

In the mirror the prism of sight reflects back on itself, so the crookedness of our feelings, the mire of our confusion, is not a maze but an explanation.

We have memories, yes we have memories, of days before we could see under our own feet, before we lifted up the rug and dug into the floorboards, deeper, to find what was there, before the world had curves and slants and fragments but fit together with illusory perfection, one clear picture, a photograph, of static understanding.

In the world under this one there's another world that scares me.

Sometimes the mirror looks more like a window.

Monday, May 28, 2012

A li'l quote

I love this (and not just because my badass boyfriend tweeted it):

So well said, and so true. Follow Marshall Roy (fitness guru, trainer and philosopher extraordinaire!) on Twitter here.


Friday, May 18, 2012

Nail polish gives me hope

At first I thought society was doomed; then I thought about nail polish. Nail polish gives me hope for the future. Here's why.

Nail polish is synonymous with progress, striving for excellence, refusing to admit defeat, finding solutions to impossible problems, making my digits bling out and shine against the drab color of my computer keyboard.

Forget affordable healthcare, forget job creation, forget sustainable environmental practices. Where our country SUCCEEDS is in the field of MANICURES.

Observe the following, in which I track my complex love-hate history with manicures / polish / the art of grooming -- culminating in a renewing and triumphant ending (photo included).

Friday, May 11, 2012

My glamorous New York City life

My good friend Sam and I just had the BEST FRIDAY NIGHT EVER! We filmed it so you could watch and take part in the adventure! Now you know firsthand just how fun it is to hang out with me.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Two takeaways after seeing "The Avengers"

1. It is an awesomely awesome movie. Go see it!

2. Loki (played (scene-stealingly) by Tom Hiddleston) looks EXACTLY like Rooney Mara.

The end.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Different kind of beautiful

Our culture exalts conventional beauty above all else. It wins out in so many spheres. Except books. On the page, beauty can be anywhere: in turns of phrases, perfect dialogue, sentences that stoke the imagination. The mundane can be spectacular; beauty can be anything it wants.

Except conventional. If writing is conventional, you've got to edit, revise, edit, revise.

In the world of words, who cares if her face is symmetrical? What is she feeling? What is she discovering? What beautiful lesson is being learned? 

This, my friends, is one of the many reasons I love books.

Friday, May 4, 2012


I've been thinking a lot about that Will.I.Am song "I Got It From My Mama" in which Will.I.Am will not stop interrogating a girl about the origins of her presumably bangin' body:

Baby, where'd you get your body from?
Tell me, where'd you get your body from?
Baby, where'd you get your body from?
Tell me, where'd you get your body from?

As you can tell, he's very, very keen on finding the answer. So the girl responds, almost four times:

I got it from my mama.
I got it from my mama.
I got it from my mama.
I got it, got it, g-got it.

My main criticism? The song should ask about other things, too:

Baby, where'd you get your body hair from?
Tell me, where'd you get your acne from?
Baby, where'd you get your pit stains from?
Tell me, where'd you get your overbite from?

I got it from my mama.
I got it from my mama.
I got it from my mama.
I got it, got it, g-got it.

Think about it, Will.I.Am, for your next remix.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Internet worm hole leads in One Direction

Recently I fell down a deep, dark internet hole. For reasons unholy unjustifiable unbeknownst to me I found myself watching a perplexing video of the British boy band One Direction playing together on the beach. Don't ask me why, it just happened.

It reminded me of that "say I'm a bird" scene from The Notebook (below). If I had to cast the boys in the roles I'd say Harry Styles (the one with the longest, most unkempt hair who throws the towel) would be Ryan Gosling and all the other guys would be Rachel McAdams.

[ In unrelated, though actually related, news: I've decided it's high time I posted totally random/worthless stuff on this blog. Lately my brain has been leaking and I need this blog to catch the drips. You might think of these posts as longer versions of my unapologetically worthless tweets, which, on principle, rarely contribute anything to society. So forgive me in advance. Then enjoy! ]


Friday, March 23, 2012

I am so fearful of a blank Word doc...

...that I'll sometimes start new projects / posts / paragraphs / chapters in a completely separate and "less threatening" context -- like an email window, or a Stickie note, or a scrap of paper. Then I'll copy and paste later.

Sounds crazy, right? But this way, beginning is much less intimidating. The water in the pool seems warmer. From there I can jump right in, instead of dip one toe and recoil from the cold.

File under: Neurotic. Weird. Writer's tip/writer's shame.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

My beef with NBC's "Smash"

In this corner, weighing hundreds of thousands of channel views on YouTube, is "Submissions Only," a hilarious web series about which I gushed last month. It parodies New York's theater audition scene, has great characters, brilliant comedy, and is at the same time procedural and informative. Aaaand in the other corner, with swiftly declining ratings, is "Smash," NBC's soap opera drama that chronicles the mounting of a Broadway musical. There's sex, tears, British accents, lots of montages of Catherine McPhee/Megan Hilty gazing longingly, swallowing their pain, singing through hardship, and reaching for the stars!

Okay, okay, I'll stop being cheeky. As you can probably tell from my preamble, "Smash" is not my favorite show. But, here's the thing: I watched the pilot and didn't hate it. In fact, I liked it. I was rooting for it so hard! It's a TV show about Broadway, for Pete's sake! And that's awesome! 

But since then, my hopes have been all but dashed. As the characters get flatter, and the stakes get lower, and the camera-mugging gets muggier, disillusionment has overtaken me.  

The show's just not working. Here's why.

(DISCLAIMER: I understand only three episodes have aired, so I freely admit that this rant post is by no means conclusive. Let it thusly be deemed cautionary -- an airing of my grievances. I remain hopeful that these train wrecks flaws can be resolved before it gets canceled throughout the remainder of the season. Let it also be noted that I'm no expert on some of these matters; I can speak only from my limited experience in the biz of show, armed with my relative ability as a writer/performer to identify when something rings true and when it makes me want to vom comes off as hollow.)

Friday, February 3, 2012

"Submissions Only" is freaking fantastic

Yo dudes! I may be behind the times, but I finally got around to watching every single episode of Submissions Only, a web series that parodies the New York audition and theater scene, and I am totally HOOKED. If you're at all curious about what it's like to work as an actor in New York City, particularly as a musical theater actor, this is a very accurate (not to mention HILARIOUS) glimpse into that whole world.

The series showcases mondo-talented actors whom you'll recognize from stage and screen -- featuring the insanely funny Kate Wetherhead, who also (brilliantly) writes and directs (alongside Andrew Keenan-Bolger), Broadway star Santino Fontana, whose name sounds like an Italian soda spritzer (and who is, as the Italians say, molto simpatico), as well as Colin Hanlon, whom I saw play Fiyero on the Wicked tour, and whom I occasionally see working out at my gym, looking extremely strapping (no, I haven't yet said hello; instead I lurk in corners, staring wantonly). Bonus: There are tons of great cameos from the ├╝ber-famous, including Kristin Chenoweth. Yay!

So, what are you waiting for? WATCH IT! Check out the complete episode roster here -- and brace yourselves for lots o' laughs.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

My Facebook timeline ends here

Eight years of ups and downs, prying questions, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings. It's time to end it.

I'm talking, of course, about Facebook.

You, like me, probably waste hours on Facebook. You constantly check your mini-feed, looking up old friends, supplanting real conversation with "Miss you!" Maybe you browse through their photos, read through old exchanges, piece together their identities from fragmented clues.

Like me, you've probably gotten pissed off at Facebook once or twice. Since its inception, Facebook users have endured dozens of interface changes, many of them jarring. Each time, we rise up, indignant -- Facebook's gone too far! -- before letting quiet acceptance weigh over us, like a heavy, cozy blanket.

But I won't that happen again. Not today! Because today, I met Timeline.

The e-straw that's broken my Facebook's back.