Originally published on August 28, 2019 on WordPress. Copyright 2021 Lady in the Blue Box Publishing, written by me, Rachel Beth Ahrens, All Rights Reserved.
singer, songwriter, Broadway writer/ actor, multi-Tony Award Winner, rap singer, Hollywood actor (in training)
(Does this guy have any flaws? Seriously?!)
Twitter update: July 25, 2019 (birthday number 31)
@Lin_Manuel writes:
Gmorning. Get what you need—sleep, coffee, a moment to breathe, an overdue talk you’ve been putting off—so that you have the capacity to be kind. The space to do better. Make room for the miracle. Make way for the miracle. (You’re a miracle yourself, you know.)
Gnight. Get what you need—sleep, quiet, a phone call with a friend, tea— so that you have the capacity to be kind. The space to do better tomorrow. Make room for the miracle. Make way for the miracle. (Allow to yourself that you are also the miracle.)
My brain’s response: No, I don’t believe you. I’m hardly a miracle. I stink at everything, which is why I’m mentally sick. #12minutestorainbows (which is failing to trend on Twitter. Nobody cares.)
Note: this video above is from Stephen Colbert- If you fast forward to the middle, he talks about his new book G’morning, G’night, with a series of his tweets, which particularly includes the heartfelt tweets posted in the aftermath of chef Anthony Bourdain’s suicide.
@RachelBeth99 replies in a WordPress blog post:
(this is my heart speaking)
Message @Lin_Manuel,
Lo siento, if I ever have been hostile to you in the comments on one stupid video clip of your breakthrough musical, pissing off hundreds of evil Miranda loving YouTube trolls. That was uncalled for.
That was years ago. This past month, I had to do some serious re-evaluating. There’s several reasons why:
This guy at karaoke named Chef Ron (some karaoke stars like Tornado wish to remain anonymous in giving their last names) sang the most awesome version of Dwayne Johnson’s Maui song, killed it. You know the one I mean: “I killed an eel, I buried its guts! Sprouted a tree, now you’ve got coconuts! …Look at that mini me Maui, ti-ti-ti-tappin! What can I say, except…”
Then, on my birthday, which the tweets you posted above were dated (I was born 7/25), I watched a movie with you in it: “Don’t believe the things you’ve read, you never know what’s up ahead, underneath the lovely London sky…” Didn’t know you could do a British accent, it was lovely.
And don’t forget, “Once upon a time, in a nursery rhyme, there was a castle with a king, hiding in a wing, for he never went to school to learn a single thing…” I don’t call it rap, I call it spoken word or free verse poetry.
See, that’s all that song lyrics ever really are, they’re poetry. Lyrics and poetry are the same.
Like the song says, the cover is not the book. I have that song on my iPod now, and it’s running through my ears even now, without wearing headphones. I know every word that Emily Blunt sings.
And by the way, real rapping is the stuff you did on How I Met Your Mother, the “I’ve just been handed a news flash, the word Canada is unrhymable” one. That was incredible. Did you write that one yourself?
Of course you did. So was every rap you did on Jimmy Fallon’s “Wheel of Freestyle” with Tarik from The Roots. Smooth.
I’m losing myself in my knowledge of musical stuff, and my immense education of movies and media. I was a journalism major in college at Towson University, so I know who Walter Cronkite is, and Scott Pelley from 60 Minutes and the CBS Evening News was the Keynote Speaker at my graduation ceremony in May, 2011… but my favorite movie of all time is (pardon me for this, it’s going to sound dumb)—Doctor Strange, 2016, Marvel Studios. But I’m also still such a girl, because my favorite classic old movie features the icon Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, from the 1960s.
And if you really want to see how old fashioned I am, wait until I start talking about the Marx Brothers—There’s a M*A*S*H episode where the 4077th unit makes a movie, with Alan Alda playing the Groucho version of his surgeon self, Hawkeye—before I drop into the conversation of silent movies. The Artist is absolutely breathtaking, but Charlie Chaplin in the original uncut 1925 version of The Gold Rush is my favorite.
By the way, you worked with Ben Whishaw, the guy who played Q, the Quartermaster, in the James Bond movies with Daniel Craig, the last two movies specifically.
What’s he like?
Thought I’d ask for shits and giggles. I’ve had my laugh, I’m done.
This is what I really intended to say, before I crack myself up here with references and jokes, for we both know they’re just stupid and not funny at all.
I looked up your Twitter account and just sifted through it, until I stopped at a video of you singing “Cheering for Me Now”, using a montage of the people of New York, real people. The only thing that put me off was you were in “the blouse” and cravat. As I listened to it, I wasn’t sure whether to like it or hate it, because a very long time ago, before I dated Anthony, Hamilton was the musical I taught myself to despise entirely. It was the worst possible time to put that show on Broadway because Sara Bareilles had been working herself to the bone to get that Grammy Award, or at least a Tony for best original score.
(Sorry, but Jenna Hunterson is a better character in a much better musical made after an indie film about domestic violence against women- the musical you bashed was called Waitress. I had been rooting for the late Adrienne Shelley’s movie for years.)
For a very long time, Mr. Miranda, I hated you. I thought you were going to be the definitive end of what Broadway truly is. All my life, my mom taught me of the musicals she grew up with, for she was in two high school musicals, both by Rodgers and Hammerstein: Oklahoma and South Pacific. Mine were very different from hers. Perry Hall High School’s final spring musical for the Class of 2006 when I graduated was Bye Bye Birdie (I know, stupid decision, Mr. McShea). But my favorite show we ever did was junior year- Oliver, based on Charles Dickens. And the last musical show I ever did was summer community theatre at the community college I’m attending now, Cockpit in Court’s production of The Music Man, where my mom and dad had a family affair in the show—ALL of us were in the townspeople choir. I had to dance the “Shipoopi” and I’ll admit it, it was fun because during the live show performance, I fell on my ass when my dance partner twirled me around at the end, and it didn’t hurt that time- I was literally on the floor laughing.
And the best part of being in The Music Man? I never told anyone this, but the woman who played Marian (the librarian) and I sang “Goodnight My Someone” backstage together after every show after the goodnights, since we were so full of energy before going home… Get this, I wrote my own harmony to it and sang it while she did the main melody. Take that, trombones.
But it sucks that it’s been such a long time since I wrote a piece of music on paper, that now I just write pointless poetry that goes on and on… I’m frightened to publish another thing on WordPress because my bloggers hate the way I bitch and moan… And as I’m listening to a vintage John Legend song on my iPod speakers, I’ve had to make some major modifications to my judgment, especially on the song “Cheering for Me Now”.
I thought that song was a real Broadway song about modern day New York, with all those “ordinary people” on the NYC streets. But when I downloaded the MP3 “by accident” (but not really—you’re a fucking good singer, sorry) and I looked at the golden words across the top of the cover art of the digital music, it read: “H*MILTON: CHEERING FOR ME NOW, Music by John Kander, Lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda”.
Pardon my Irish. Fecking hell. I’m such a sucker.
In the words of Burt Reynolds as the Don Bluth-animated German Shepard: You tricked me. How could you?
I still won’t go to Broadway to watch Hamilton, even if I tried to get a ticket. No way in hell. Here’s why: my last out-of-state vacation was to go to Boston for a science fiction convention rooted in costumes, Costume Con in Historic Salem, with an authentic witch theme. I crocheted and hand sewed an entire Doctor Who-Jodie Whittaker Thirteenth Doctor costume entirely by hand, and won a grand prize of NADA. I already learned from your interviews that you speak fluent Spanish, and I know very little since I got up to Spanish III in high school and haven’t brushed up ever since. And college second language courses, even community college ones, are ridiculously hard. But I remember that nada = nothing, literally.
I’ll put this simple as I can. Dad got sick. Ruthlessly sick, which lasted all summer long. Diabetic staff infection in his leg, they had to take it. Stage three rectal cancer, requires major removal of the organ to replace with a bag. Physical therapy, chemo and radiation lasted through Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, my parents’ anniversary, my birthday, all the way until right before I went back to class.
Basically, I’ve lost my power to create something amazing. I don’t know if there’s a flaw to you.
But hey, I can speak a little sign language!!! My DSS counselor was my professor last semester and she’s permanently deaf, and one of her deaf students who’s friends with me now sits next to me in business class. You’d like him. I’m learning a ton more from them both.
But I still don’t know if any of that will get me anywhere. You probably got your start writing music early and got offers left and right from other theatre producers before you had your breakthrough with the story of one of the Founders of our country, Alexander Hamilton.
By the way, how does hip hop, rap, break dancing, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and the Declaration of Independence written in 1776 have anything to do with each other??? Whiskey tango foxtrot… Maybe it’s all the chatter that I’ve heard.
You know this quote very well:
“Everything is possible, even the impossible.”
I know it doesn’t seem that way now, but you make things look so easy. September is coming and you say you’re coming back to Broadway soon to do another show of something. But right now, you haven’t updated Twitter in what feels like more than a month, and you said you haven’t been able to put it down, until now.
I miss your good nights and good mornings. They’re just like my fuzzy pink blanket that I’m using to fall asleep. And you know what, the next thing I’m going to do when you log in to Twitter first thing when Labor Day gets here, I’m going to click the Follow button. Yes, I said it, the girl who used to hate the newest history musical craze and rather watch 1776 than Lin-Manuel Miranda in breeches… now has totally caved. I’m going to regret it.
I’m sorry if I ever was way too harsh to you. Be kinder to yourself. This is hard for me because I’m living with a fatally sick father, a stressed mom, and a mental illness of my own, plus a huge physical disability where the doctors have told me, “Chewing bubblegum is not allowed for you anymore, and we don’t care how it helps you with your anxiety or bipolar disorders… And more importantly, NO SINGING!”
Screw the doctors. Strawberry bubbles and movie popcorn are delicious.
Oh, that’s right, you’ve never heard me sing either. And I’m way too skittish to post a video of me singing a cover online. I love singing, but I choose not to sing in front of a camera.
But this Saturday, it will be too late for me remaining anonymous, because I’m in a karaoke contest semifinals, grand prize $1,000, and I’ve already chosen the perfect song for it. They have posted all the contestants’ performances online, on Facebook. I’m the one with the red hair singing Alicia Keys.
Still, things are not great right now. The news I see in my Facebook ticker, the trending topics on Twitter, television, class lectures, it’s all nothing but misery and I can’t stand another minute of it. I wish there’s something I can do to help the Amazon Rainforest. I would really love to donate to Water.org to help third world countries in Africa have full access to clean water. I don’t want TMJ disease anymore so that the jaw pain would stop and I’d have no more migraines.
Truthfully, I’m kind of jealous that you get to write music with THE Alan Menken. Galavant was a gorgeous medieval-times-meets-musical TV show, but I was so mad that it got the axe after season two. Weird Al in the monk’s outfit was the best part. Also, don’t you dare tell anyone… promise… Princess Ariel? Well… she was my first model. I adored Jodi Benson. I wanted to BE her.
Tell anyone, and ELSE. Sorry, that came out wrong: Don’t tell anyone, or ELSE. If anyone asks, tell them my favorite Disney character was Princess Anastasia Romanov, from the Don Bluth movie with Meg Ryan. They’ll understand. (Maybe)
You can do anything, you’re a music genius, heh, and we both know it. But me? I’m worth absolutely zero. I have no reason to bark at you or any of your Miranda fans whom think you’re hot shit that they have no music taste. Please forgive me.
The only time you’ll see me singing in public is either singing along to the 80’s music in the CCBC-Barnes and Noble corporation owned bookstore at college, or singing at the new private karaoke lounge Round One opening up in Towson Town Center mall later in the year.
My muse is sitting lonely, alone in the place where the lost things go. I’ve said goodbye to my dreams and passions, the things I used to live for.
I wish they were right where I left them so I can start over.
So good night.
Te quiero.
I wish I had something nicer to say about myself.
Love, Rachel
Oh yeah, Lin-Manuel, I have to say, love your shirt. The one you wore on Stephen Colbert. “Mr. Write”. Did you have it made for your website, or are you looking to sell it on NaNoWriMo.org? I want one that says Ms. Write on it.
Pretty please?
That is all. Good night.
Additional message to self:
Good morning, Rachel,
Just one more day. One more breakfast. Take a cool shower this morning, don’t worry about your parents coming home for another few hours. You are NOT completely alone. Cinder the dachshund loves you like the goddess puppy she is, even for 11 years old. *Ties this tweet to your heart* *Ties the other end to your friends in the outside world who are connected to your phone* *Checking knots, turning them into pretty bows* There. Done. Now stay there, Chuck, relax.
Good night, dahhlin,
Sleep well. Your dreams are not dead. Because when you fall asleep tonight, your dreams will come crawling back to you, just wait. “For when you dream, you’ll find all that’s lost is found…” (Emily Blunt as Mary Poppins)
Take your Trileptal and birth control at 11:30 and don’t you dare put it off. Take Latuda no later than 2 a.m. Take pain medicine if you feel any kind of pain before you go to bed, don’t you dare wait until you wake up in the morning. Wear that mouth guard when you sleep.
Anthony loves you fiercely, like Fiyero loved Elphaba, or like Ogie to Dawn. The only reason why your mom cares too much is because she worries about you and dad. Mom loves you unconditionally.
Someday, someone will find you, and hand you your dreams of your future in waiting.
*Ties this message to your heart* *Ties the other end to your mother, boyfriend, Tiffany, Kerensa, Tracy, and your father Robert* *Checking knots and turning them into pretty bows*
There. Done. Stay in bed. Tug twice only for assistance.
Sloane. Slainte.
-The Loveist/ Lady in the Blue Box
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