My Declaration of Indepdence

What is a blog for if not for bold declarations?

First...some context.

I moved to New York City a little over two years ago; June 20th, 2012. I had an internship at an off Broadway theater. I foolishly assumed that getting a job would be no problem whatsoever.

Ha.

For the first few months of living in the city I had no consistent income. I got a job with a catering company, but that work was few and far between. I was applying for jobs like crazy. But I had no terrifically marketable survival job skills. I worked in a library for three months in high school. I worked for a grocery store for a little over a year (Hy-Vee; where there's a helpful smile in every aisle), and I worked for a daycare for a summer. Oh and landscaping for a summer, but that is definitely another story for another time.

And I could only work evenings and weekends. I wouldn't even wanna hire me. And I know how competent I am!

So September had come and I was broke as a joke and my fiance (ugh) was over helping me out. I was over having him help me out too. I was on Craigslist and Potbelly Sandwich Works was doing an open call one afternoon. I knew pretty much nothing about them. But I figured why not go to the open call. I go. I interview. I dazzle them with my college degree and my white skin (it is terrible to say that...but let us call a spade a spade). They hired me on the spot...which I have since learned is not something they normally do. I was going to be working at their location on 5th avenue and 35th street.

I went for my orientation/store meeting and I knew that this was a mistake. But money was money. And I took the job. And I worked nights and weekends. And I don't think I ever cried, but there were days where I would be there and think, "I have to get out of here. I can't be here. This is beneath me. This is a job I could have gotten in high school." I washed dishes for hours and hours and hours. I smelled TERRIBLE.

My internship came and gone and I was still there. Other associates left and new ones came. And I was still there. I moved up in the ranks. They loved me. I had a brain in my head and new how to work my ass off. They certified me as a trainer.

This entire time I was incredibly embarrassed to tell people where I worked. I would always deflect or lie or be absurdly vague or just make it seem better than it actually was.

I thought it was me. I thought...they were giving me money and I needed to be grateful. They thought I was worthwhile and that is worthwhile in itself. I worked hard to become okay with it. I got along well with my co-workers. Incredibly well...they find my sass and my patience to be...interesting?

Through this job I made one of the best friends I will ever have in my life even. That is irreplaceable.

Last summer it even got to the point where upper management was talking to me about becoming a shift supervisor. And I considered it.

I tried to get out of this job often. I would go through periods where I would apply for all sorts of jobs. I got super close a couple of times. But always ended up not getting it.

When I was on dating applications (OkCupid, Tinder...blah blah BLAH)  I would lie. I would pretend that job didn't exist. I was that embarrassed. I spent thousands of dollars on a college degree for THIS?

What is all of this leading to you ask?

Last week I was lead to a decision. Things have evolved over the last two years at Potbelly. I surely didn't think I was going to be coming up on my two year anniversary. (I must state that I believe in the company and their product. I think their sammies are delish.)

But I am better than that.

Gretchen Rubin says, "What I do every day matters more than what I do once in awhile."

So as of October 1st I will no longer be a member of the team at Potbelly at 35th and 5th.

I am going to work my butt off in the next month plus to get a new job. But regardless...I will not be there anymore.

I can't live a reactive life. I have to be proactive. I have the Public which is not going anywhere. My catering company loves me. Surely a person doesn't need THREE jobs.

I am nervous/scared. But I am excited and relieved. The moment I made the decision in my head I knew it was the right one.

If you're afraid to leap...if you're afraid of change...you are a lot like me. But I urge you...MAKE A CHANGE.

You won't regret it.

Below is my unofficial declaration. This blog entry is my official one. (Also, what are friends for if not taking a screen shot of auspicious moments in our every changing lives?)

The Ramblings of a Lunatic.

I feel like I should be writing something.

I feel like I only take to this when things aren't great. And I don't want anyone to see this and think bitch bitch bitch moan moan moan. But whatever.

You could also read this and think, why doesn't he just keep it to himself? Good question. Don't read it then.

I have been kinda silent for a couple of months...because I had a boyfriend and was out "living my life."

But that went away four weeks ago.

And I am still the awesome human being that I have begun to become in 2014.

I have written on here about chronic loneliness that I suffer...and how it can be compounded by living in New York City; add to it that my roommates are always gone. And then add to that more downtime than I am used to. And it is a recipe for...something. A blog post?

I don't want to be in another relationship right now. I don't just men at this point really. And I am a fuckin' prize and intend to wait.

And I have great friends. And they have been revealed in recent weeks; near and far.

And you would think that once you battle loneliness ten times you get better at fighting it. But sometimes you don't. Sometimes you just lean into it.

I am sure there are self-help books about loneliness...and I am certain they all SUCK. I don't intend to write a book about it that doesn't suck, because it would inevitably suck as well.

So often this year when this happens I think it is because I don't like being alone with myself in a way. As in, I don't love the person I am. I mean, I am awesome. But I know I could be better. I know there are things that I could be doing to make life better. Things I could be working towards. I actually have things in my life that I believe really passionately about; a theatrical writing project, a website/blog/idea for cultural curration (talk to me about it), producing a cabaret. I know I should be applying for jobs.

I know I can't live my life like this forever. I know I need to do something to jump start who I am going to be and what I am going to do. In the past I have thought certain things were going to be what was going to define me for the rest of my life. And they clearly changed. Is impermanence going to be the thing I'm know for? Because if so...I will just end it all now. I WON'T. But...hyperbole.

I am making decent money. I have amazing friends. All three of my jobs seem to think quite highly of me and deem me valuable. Which is valuable to me.

And every time I write on here I see me me me me I I I I I. I'm sure that is what my father would say if he read this.

There is a Little Women quote that comes to mind...but it eludes me at this point.

Actually, as I sit here thinking my mind took me to a Beth quote from the movie. About not liking being left behind. AMEN SISTER FRIEND.

Also, it is hard to just text a friend be like HEY I'M LONELY HELP ME.

Really what all of this is coming down to is that I should never let myself have this much time off two days in a row. Even if I am exhausted. Or that being a homebody isn't always the best.

But hey...yesterday I went to five H&Ms in the span of an hour so don't say I don't have goals! 

My heart is completely normal

I was finally able to watch The Normal Heart today.

I first encountered this play my freshman year of college. We had to find a "bulldog" monologue for freshman acting. The goal was to teach us to engage the power of our voice. I don't even know how I found it, searching the library, I guess. I don't remember my feelings from first reading it. But I remember doing the monologue in class and sort of failing miserably. But that was what freshman acting was for...and so interesting that the entire point was to empower our voice and that is what this piece was about. And as an eighteen year old I was trying to empower my voice...I still am.

I don't have a whole lot to say...it's just more than a Facebook status would warrant.

I am bowled over by the courage of everyone involved. Ryan Murphy who is known for campier things such as Glee and American Horror Story. He has certainly gotten a reputation for specific things in the past few years. But he is a powerful man. And I love that he decided to use his power for good.

This is what reminds me why I love theater and cinema and the power of entertainment to speak truth and open our eyes.

Matt Bomer letting himself go to such a completely physically vulnerable place. I read the cover article in this month's Details magazine with him. I have certainly have always enjoyed him. He is an out homosexual and is just so pretty...what more can you ask for? Well he has endeared himself to be me for always.

And Jim Parsons and Joe Mantello. Just all of the men (and women) in this who so desperately wanted to tell and be apart of this story.

And Julia Roberts. We all know how much I love her and why I love her. And I have to say that I was completely shocked by her. I was not expecting it at all; I found her staggering. And I have never known her to be vocal about the rights of gays or anything, but she is still arguably the biggest Hollywood actress. Certainly no one has passed her as far as money made for one movie. And to lend her star power to such a story endears her to me even more. What a class act.

I have to say that I find this bittersweet. I have seen all of my friend's Facebook statuses about how it has touched them and how everyone should see it. Well they are certainly preaching to the choir. I happened to be in a hotel room with my parents the night it premiered. And in every hotel room along with the Gideon Bible they have that little HBO booklet that tells you the lineup. My dad asks about The Normal Heart and I tell him it is not something he would be interested in. It's about the HIV epidemic in the 1980s. And he asks if it is pro-gay (what kind of question is that?). And I say yes. And that was that. I wish my dad could see it...I wish my family...I wish everyone who thinks the way they think could see it; for what it is. Not as a punishment for evil (which may sound extreme...but for want of a better phrase). I wish people could be woken up to what went on, what has gone on, what is still going on...and what will continue to go on. Not just HIV/AIDS, but the stigma. The rank of second class citizens. I know that things have come a long way and all you need is to watch fifteen minutes of The Normal Heart to know that. But man...this world still has so far to go. Not just for my rights, but the rights of women, the rights of various ethnicities. It took nearly thirty years for this play to be made into a movie and even then it was on HBO (which is major coverage), but why not a nation wide movie theater release?

I guess I had more to say than I thought...so what else is new.

Also, something new is coming around the bend for me. Stay tuned folks. It's gonna be a fun ride.

I wanna know how to get through, throught to something new, something of my own.

Do you ever set a goal for yourself and put an intense pressure on yourself to stick to it every day? So much so that you end up making yourself feel TERRIBLE for slipping.

I have made myself this goal of posting every day for a month, as I have mentioned.

And today I am so dog tired. This has just been a WEEK, you know?

But so much of my goals of the year are about showing grace to myself. Hopefully not crossing the line into going too easy on myself.

I also feel like when I started this blog I was working so much out in my life and divulging so much and it was interesting and fascinating and people were really responding. Because, who wouldn't? I'm so humble. But now that things are working out my posts are less interesting.

I guess I need to take this to the next level. If I want to be a writer I guess I have to really work at it, huh?

But I don't want this to be a blog about my white boy problems...which sometimes it is, but that's fine, because this is for ME.

Part of being an adult I have mentioned is being accountable to no one, but yourself. Which sounds awesome at points. But then, you have to be accountable to yourself! And that shit is hard.

I have started going back to a piece that I wrote over the entirety of my college career. And I even showed it to TWO people. And that is a big deal. I guess I need to show it to more, but I assume no one cares. And I am too sensitive to let other people read it. But I want to go further. I want to put it out there. As opposed to other opportunities that I don't want to take, because I don't want it badly enough.

I have no idea if that makes any sense...

I guess I can blame it on the Benadryl.

Maybe forcing myself to post every day will exhaust all of the boring-ness and will make me search for the wealth of experiences I have to share.

Growing up in a conservative, Midwestern community with a Conservative father who is a minister has always been something for me. But I don't want it to be that cliche thing where so many people are like, "Oh a preacher's kid...I hear you guys are always the worst...blah blah blah." Ew. Aside from the whole gay thing...I would say I am rather square. Just ask most of my friends.

None of this is probably interesting to anyone but me, but I am working it all out so get over it.

Now I think it is time to start watching Ugly Betty from the beginning for the fourth time...

Growing Up

I told myself a post a day! And I haven't gone to bed yet so it is still the 2nd for me. It is after 1:30 in the morning. I have to work at 9:30 and I took a cab. WHO AM I?!?! (24601? Anyone? ANYONE?)

Tonight felt like a benchmark of sorts. Being with a friend who means the world to me, who I haven't seen in over a year. I think about what we talked about when last we met. And it wasn't good! Things were BAD!

And a sign of a good friend is someone who you can talk to out of the context in which you know them. Yes, I will always hold a grudge that she abandoned me to live in the city of angels as opposed to this concrete jungle where dreams are made.

Again, guys, COMMUNITY COMMUNITY COMMUNITY. That is really what Sondheim and Lapine were writing about in Into the Woods and I certainly think J.K. Rowling was writing about it a LOT in this little series you may have heard of called Harry Potter.

It is vital. And to also realize that our dreams have changed and evolved, because we have changed and evolved. It's a powerful thing. It kind of takes my breath away.

Bottom line: we're all trying to do our best to find our ideal version of happiness.

My April Happiness Awareness

So I guess it has been exactly one month since I last posted. Which is actually quite interesting.

April made for a lot of awarenesses. I let my ruthless pursuit of happiness fall off a bit. Just busy and distracted by new people and new events and LIFE.

It has brought to my attention a new "thing" about happiness. I have talked to a few people about it and now I will share it with you.

There was a week plus where I sort of leaned into my unhealthy habits (i.e. lots of soda, candy, fast food, I even got McDonalds!) And I found all of those things yummy and satisfying. But I was disappointed in myself. I had also let go of my morning routine of waking up with ample time to eat and have a moment and fully greet the day.

Now I am back on the wagon, so to speak. And I truly feel happier. Withholding is a powerful thing. It's a fine line. I give in to soda, because I love it and it is delish, but then feel guilty. I stick to water for 6 out of 7 days a week and on that 7th day when I have soda it intensifies my level of happiness in regards to drinking the soda. Is it worth it? I'm not sure honestly. I was talking to my dear friend, Tessa. And we both seemed to think that no one really has it right when it comes to this quest for happiness. We all have our ways.

And instagramming 100 days of happy has made me so aware of this. If  I wasn't doing that I wonder if I would have noticed. And there was a slew of days where it was the end of the day and I hadn't taken a pic of something that made me happy so I would just make it work. Rather than seeking out that photo opportunity. So now I am back to plunging the depths of my happiness and actually pursuing it. And yesterday I had TWO photos. And there was a third one I could have had!

So why have I gotten back to blogging? asked no one...

Because I need to keep on this path. I think it'll lead somewhere. So for the month of May at least I am going to post every day! You guys will get sick of me!

Also, I am attempting a 30 day cold shower challenge. Stay tuned.

The Most Happy Fella

Well folks, you heard it hear first.

I am in love.

With The Most Happy Fella. (Which makes me the most happy fella...listen to the musical and you will understand.)

Now it is absolutely no secret that I am a lover of the musical theater. I have been since I was a wee little slip of a thing.

My weakness...where my heart lies is in The Golden Era.

And a show I have been aware of for years is The Most Happy Fella. I remember in high school for Christmas I got the TheatreMania Guide to Musical Theater Recordings (also known as my person Bible). This book reviews every recording of every show from like the 1920s to 2003. With a show like The King and I there are like ten plus entries, because there are at least ten significant recordings of that show (I own eight of them).

I remember reading about the OBC of The Most Happy Fella and it gives a brief description of the show and my interest was piqued. At some point I got the two disc OBC...but that doesn't mean much. I have so much music I have never been able to get through all of it.

In college I was introduced to the song Somebody, Somewhere...one of those classic soprano "I Want" sangs. At first it didn't do much for me. But then one day, one recording of it. Just slayed me. Like Amalia Balash standing in front of a mirror asking "Will He Like Me?" That simple. And that is one of the things I love the most about that song and the golden era. Such simplicity. The lush music, the emotion, the character with their one hope. Wanting to be wanted. Needing to be needed. That's what it is. That's what it is.

Last year Kristin Chenoweth did a PBS concert where she sang a lot of well known lady songs from the musical theater. She does this section about when she was first auditioning her agent didn't know whether or not to send her in for the ingenue or the character roles. So she does this scene between the characters of Cleo and Rosabella (playing both roles). It is the opening scene. Two best friends, sassy Cleo and hopeless romantic "Rosabella." They are waitresses and Cleo just wants to go home, but Rosabella discovers that a customer has left her a love note and an amethyst tie pin.

"I don't know nothin' about you. Where you ever go. What you ever done. I don't know nothin' about you. I don't wanna know. I don't gotta know. What I see is kind of young lady. I want to get married."

Cleo leaves to go home. Her feet are killing her. And that leaves Rosabella to sing her song. And when Kristen starts. The combination of the music and the breath she takes and remember sitting there and CRYING because it was so beautiful.

Well the Encores Series at City Center is doing The Most Happy Fella as part of their season. And I knew I wanted to go. I have ALWAYS been intrigued. And I knew I had to. A month or so ago  I was determined. I didn't know how much it would cost, but I just HAD to. This week coming up I haven't even had the money to spend on it, but I was going to when I got paid on Thursday/Friday. Well today I got a text from a friend who had a free ticket to the invited dress. YES.

I am going to detour for a moment to say that this is the FOURTH  time this has happened in 2014. I was DYING to see Beautiful...free ticket. Bridges of Madison County...free. Mothers and Sons...FREE. I must be doing SOMETHING right.

It's been a while since I have seen a classic, luscious Golden Era musical. And one that is new to me! I was transported. Which is precisely why I love it. On the edge of my seat. The music for Somebody Somewhere started and I CRIED.

I have never been a huge Laura Benanti fan before. She just doesn't do it for me. But she is a cut above the rest. Her performance was the epitome of lovely. Shuler Hensely was passionate and touching as Tony. Cheyenne Jackson is a dream and could sing me to sleep every night. Jay Armstrong Johnson is just the most endearing and charming and I want to marry him.

And special mention goes to Heidi Blickenstaff. She gave one of the most sensational performances I have EVER SEEN EVER. If this show were on Broadway she would get rave reviews and certainly a Tony nomination. I want to go see it again just for her! What a voice, and warmth, and what a body! And such CHOPS!

I can't fully explain or describe WHY the Golden Era does it for me. I think because of the transportation factor. It is MAGIC. It is a world where a king can die of a broken heart, where the sheer love of two strangers can make a Scottish village reappear. Where a man can turn a flower girl into a duchess in six months. It is the stuff my dreams are made of.

This makes me happy. Sitting in that theater I was so contented.

And I always think about this feeling and think I am this deep, unabiding love for the art form; a spiritual devotion. If this makes me happier than most things how can I have that every day? What is it? I fear that working in it. Creating it would delude me of it. Maybe I would be a kickass musical theater historian. I dunno.

All I know is I am going to now wear out the OBC of The Most Happy Fella, look up every reputable video on Youtube, and try and convince someone (ANYONE) to go back with me on Sunday night.

Do your favor and watch the link below. 

Kristin Chenoweth performs full-length "Somebody, Somewhere"

Pretty isn't beautiful, pretty is what changes.

Two posts in less than twelve hours? Say what!

This is one of those posts I have been thinking about posting. And I am laying here in bed...even though I should be showering and eating my oatmeal and taking my vitamins, but sometimes a break in the routine is a good thing.

Change.

I'm not talking about dimes and pennies and nickels.

I'm talking about your life altering.

I used to be very opposed to it. It was kind of a hallmark of me. I'm not an astrology guy really, but I do think the definition of a Taurus does fit me pretty perfectly. Very grounded into the earth; stubborn. I can think of times in my life where I have dug my heals in and refused to change or lost sleep because things were changing or got angry with a significant other who was trying to change me. I'm an awesome human being! Who would want to change this?

But you know what...change can be so empowering. Since 2014 has began and since starting this blog I have brought about a change in my life. Something had to give.

Like I said when this blog started...I was not a happy person. I was not an entirely pleasant person to be around.

The thing I want to be most is generous of spirit. And I used to be, but 2013 hindered that a lot. I was hurt and in turn I hurt people as well.

We could probably all do with a little change in our lives. I don't mean getting your ears pierced or going blond. I mean picking something, anything, even if it is small (but significant) and vowing to be different, because you know it is unhealthy. Or just not the best. Or just to see how strong we are.

This is going to sound arrogant, but I love the person I am becoming. I am more happy on a daily basis then I have been since college!

I encountered a friend from work on the street last Saturday and she told me that I looked well. And that made me even happier.

And I recently had a conversation with someone of significance in my life in the past few months, and while the conversation was not what I had hoped for. He told me that he could see the changes I was making in my life since we met and that the person I am now is very different from the person I was then.

And I AGREE.

Now I did not decide to change for others...because who has time for that? This change is for ME. And that is powerful stuff.

I know my father would say that the change should be for God...but that's all coming. I can feel it.

And as Kathy Bates says in Fried Green Tomatoes:

"Someone helped put a mirror up in front of my face...and I didn't like what I saw one bit. You know what I did. I changed."

I had this thought yesterday and it sounds the most arrogant, but whatever. I even texted it to a friend. I think the next significant other than comes into my life is going to be so lucky, because I am on the way to being my best self right now. And that even furthers my happiness!

The power to change our lives and make our happiness is in our hands. I spent a year thinking I was a victim of circumstance...and I was, because I let myself believe that. FALSE.

I think if we all worked actively in some small way to be happier in our daily lives we would make our world that much better!

So Far Away...

Hello old friend...

I have been meaning to check in, but things have been busy (always the ups and downs). I have had some ideas in mind about what to write, but just haven't committed.

And tonight is about none of those thoughts.

And I don't want this to be about my sad life and to share my burdens with the world sort of thing.

And I have already been down this road via my blog...

This quest for happiness has been great...and again its ups and downs. Such is life.

Today/this evening my family got some more bad news about Lainey. Very little is known right now, but it is just another straw to add to the camels back.

And I hate being here when they're dealing with shit there. And I know that I wouldn't necessarily be doing anything if I were there, because nothing is to be done.

BUT I WANT TO BE COMFORTED TOO.

And I know this isn't about me...this is about her and Kristine and Jonny. But this stinks.

And another thing is that I know they will read this and they will think "why don't you just come home? why don't you just move closer?"

Because they are my family and they love me and they miss me and i love and miss them.

So often as of late I think of Carole King's words.

"So far away. Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?"

The song is not remotely about my situation at all, but whatever.

I can't fully explain to them why I am here instead of there. I can't explain it to myself. But I am here and I intend to stay here until something takes me away.

A downside...or an awareness of this happiness journey I am on is that I am now acutely aware of when I am unhappy. And I want to satisfy it in a satisfying way. I want to be with friends or have that comfort. Physical comfort.

And I am so bad at reaching out. The way I receive love is through time spent. And in these moments I don't reach out, because I know my friends have lives and can't drop everything. And I know the response will be...I am always here for you...blah blah blah sort of thing. And I will truly appreciate it. But can't you all just intuit that I am struggling and show up with a bottle of pinot grigio? IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

But I digress...

Also...this 100 days of happy on Instagram makes me acutely aware of my patterns of happiness. What makes me happy throughout my days and weeks. And it's the little things.

But sometimes I want it to be the big things. I want a significant other to be there for me. I want a roommate that is a close friend not just roommates (my roomates are bitchin' don't get me wrong) but we all have our own lives.

I guess I am craving community as well. And I have it. In spades, in my life. And more than I have in awhile and it is amazing.

But this city can be so painfully lonely.

Also, I am not one to make things about me. I'm just not.

I know...this blog is about me. But at work I am not going to be sitting there talking to my co-workers and friends and be like...hey I just got this shitty news and I am mad about it and I am sad and I don't wanna be here, so help me make it better.

This post is rambling and there is not satisfying end I would say.

But Cristin Milioti is singing La Vie En Rose and it makes things better...

And Dominos just arrived.

It is going to make me sick probably, but at this point I don't care.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

This isn't much of a post in length, but I am feeling all the things.

I stated at the beginning of 2014 (via Facebook) that I really wanted to take an invigorating literary journey this year. And I have done well.

I just finished Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. And I will say nothing about it. Except that you should read it and it will stay with me.

The 1995 remake of the Billy Wilder classic Sabrina is my favorite movie. I have stated this (via Instagram) before.

There is a moment in that movie where Sabrina has returned home after an evening out with Linus. She comes in and sees her father sitting in his chair amidst a pile of books reading.

"I love so many things about you dad, but you know what I love best of all? That you decided to become a chauffeur because you wanted to have time to read. All my life I've pictured you sitting in the front seat of a long succession of cars waiting for the Larabees and reading."

I have loved that section from a young age. It is something that has been in my mind lately as well. I mentioned it to a friend today.

Tonight I was at work...it was the invited dress for the PublicLab production of Suzan Lori Parks Father Comes Home from the War (Parts I, II and III). This is relevant to nothing other than the fact that it is three (plus) hours long and I was the ticket taker tonight and the house manager sat in so I sat out. I spent three hours sitting in a chair reading.

And I cannot remember the last time I was that content.

My Right to Pursue Happiness

So I am going to focus on something somewhat petty...but still valid that has been gnawing at me for a couple of weeks.

Webster's senior showcase.

A month out from it I always get excited. (Always...this is only my second one out of school.) I know these seniors...I so deeply believe in them and am excited to see them make their New York debut! Go them!

But there is another component that is entirely daunting. And I know I am not the only one that feels this way.

After the showcase there is a little reception/mixer/networking thing that happens where all of the alumni talk and catch up. Many of the professors are there...classmates we never see...past graduates that we have never even met. And there is the dreaded question that is asked...

So what are you up to? What are you DOING?

What a terrifying question.

I am trying to be happy. That is my answer.

I think about my senior year when my life was ahead of me. And I say...oh, I'm interviewing for internships hoping to move to the city...start my life, etc. GREAT.

Last year I remember being apprehensive about going, because I had nothing to show for myself either. I had left my internship...I was working a job that I hate/was not proud of (still working there btw...) BUT...I had a fiance! And I could focus on that! And we had plans! And we were that couple! I know, I know...he's talking about his broken engagement...AGAIN!

My use of ellipses is really getting out of hand.

Now this year...I am still working that job...and I am single. And that is okay. Truly...but I care too much about what people think. We all do. We're all human. I will always care too much. I want to be proud of what I am doing with my life. And I am proud of the life I have begun to carve out. But I can't show them my home...my room in my apartment...my chair that I sit in every morning...I can't have all of my incredible new friends come and line up so I can introduce them and have them tell people how awesome I am. I can't show them my bank account and how there is more money there than last year. I can't show them my relationship with my parents. I can't show them my relationship with MYSELF.

And I know that as I write this I am realizing that all of the stuff I can't show them is the stuff that matters and I shouldn't give a flying you-know-what about that.

But it is the pressure I put on myself...and the pressure that we as colleagues put on each other. We so earnestly want people to succeed in the way we always assumed they wanted to...the reason they went to college.

Which brings me to the second half of this conflict...which is something I have been mulling around for awhile and The Happiness Project (did I mention I had read that?) brought it about again.

I have disparaged friends who moved to New York and then left to move home...or just some place easier. In school I remember professors talking about former students leaving the business and that tragedy or whatever... People who decide to become a teacher. Who get married and have a family...and give up on their theatrical dream.

Now people can read this and choose to pick a fight me in their heads...or in real life. But these are my perceptions which make them my truth...even if they were missed impressions or something.

I love the theatre...lawd knows I do (Color Purple...anyone? anyone?) And I know that I am good at it. I have not a single doubt in my mind. But I have thought often about leaving it in the capacity I thought I was going to be in it. I was a directing major so people refer to me as a director. But I haven't directed anything in about two years. And I haven't really pursued it either. And that is on me. And that is okay. Because I don't know if that is what I want to do...it isn't necessarily a laziness thing where I don't want to work hard or I don't want to do the free stuff, because I have come accustomed to money. Money is a reality. But I believe that if I wanted it badly enough I would stop at nothing to do it.

Bottom line...I don't want my major to define me. I am a writer,a blogger,an amateur chef, a musical theatre historian, a cast recording connoisseur, a lover of hot tea, a television fanatic, a FREAKIN' CHILD OF THE UNIVERSE.

That should define me. That should define all of us. We pass judgement on other people's pursuit of happiness, because it isn't ours. I am not assistant directing on Broadway or off. I am not making a living working in the theater. But I am happier than I was a year ago. And I am a year closer to figuring out what my life is going to look like. I am a year closer to finding my place in the world. And that can sound as cheesy as you want it to, but I am sure you have surmised at this point THAT I DON'T CARE.

But at the beginning of this post I said that I do. Growth?

And you better bet that I am going to look as cute as possible.

Now...I need to get back to comparing and contrasting different versions of As If We Never Said Goodbye.

The years take us miles away from the times we wonder when...

I have definitely dropped the ball on this one...and I am sure so many people out there in the interweb (on the interweb?) have started many a blog post with that line.

Also, I have taken to calling it the interweb, because Judi Dench calls it that in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel...and I figure why not.

I was doing so great on my happiness journey. Because things were easy...everything was going my way.

But life intervenes. And I get pulled under.

And this one really has little to do with me getting in my own way...I think.

In high school and college I battled a myriad of stomach issues. My junior year of high school I had my gall bladder out, which is something that happens when you're sixty, not sixteen. And that was a battle. I lost like twenty-five pounds and spend the next two to three years getting sick...a lot. And it wasn't fun. And I had lots of tests and such and no one ever had anything to say...which is aggravating. In the past few years it has really just been stress and anxiety induced. But over the past two weeks or so I have been getting really sick. And I am not going to get too deep into it, because I have my limits. But I woke up Monday morning and it all just sucked so I called my mom, because...when things suck you call your mom. And so this week has been filled with a lot of bland food...no dairy and very little acid...and it makes me realize just how much dairy and acid I ingest every week.

And I don't know if my sickness had anything to do with this feeling...but on top of that I was walking to work on Monday with the feeling that I couldn't believe I was going there. I couldn't believe that I have been working at this job that doesn't make me happy...that pays me very little...that I could have gotten when I was in high school...that I could give 50 % and it would still be better than anyone else. And that is not to say I am arrogant...it is quite simply the truth. I mean...I moved to this city to make my dreams come true...to fall in love...to create a life...to fulfill my destiny and all of that STUFF. And here I am doing nothing to make my dreams come true...because I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE.

I don't. So I just do what I do every day.

I am happy to be in this city, in this neighborhood, with this community. I have never been so grateful for the amazing friends I have.

But I also talk to my sisters tonight and miss them terribly and wish I was sitting on Kristine's bed having this conversation with her as opposed to sitting on separate beds over a thousand miles away from each other.

I tell myself I am Jo March. And I believe it. So firmly. But I also believe that there were times that Jo March didn't want to be Jo March...that was often the point. Maybe if she was Meg who was contented to live in a house with a husband and children and have that life...or if she was Amy who was a brilliant painter and traveling Europe and falling in love with Laurie...or Beth who was so contented with her life.

I know I said that I was a Winona Ryder Jo March...but some days I just think that I want to be astonishing. And I just can't get there...

It's so far away (cue Carole King).

This week was one of those weeks where I wanted to give my notice and move to San Francisco...and live some kind of Moon River type life.

I have made so many references in this post is is verging on the absurd.

This is probably a bummer post for a Friday night...but it is where I am. And this is all for me. Not you. 

Here is another reference...I wanna find my way back to then.

Now I am going to eat some macaroni and cheese...even though I will suffer the consequences. And as the popular phrase goes...You Only Live Once.

A Love Letter to Terrence McNally

Dear Mr. McNally,

All I can say is "wow." (Truly I am about to say much more...but overall...just wow). Tonight I had the supreme joy of seeing your new play, Mothers and Sons. And I will get back to that.

The summer between my junior and senior year of high school I was doing community theater with a friend and she was reading a copy of Love! Valour! Compassion! and A Perfect Ganache. I remember the cover was of the guys in their tutus dancing. She told me a bit of what it was about and I knew I had to read it.

I bought Love! Valour! Compassion! on Amazon...the only place a young, closeted gay man in Missouri could get a copy. It is my favorite play in the world. It was the first human and somewhat positive and realistic depiction of homosexuals that appeared relevant to me (as in, not of the Will and Grace persuasion). The characters of Arthur and Perry were the ones that jumped out to me the most. I saw myself in Arthur so much. I remember making my boyfriend read it immediately! I then went on to get a copy of Corpus Christi. It was the published version with Jesus in his underwear...I had to work pretty hard to hide that from my parents. I remember being so enamored of it and that you would have the audacity to write something like that. And I looked it up and saw all the backlash you got and I just knew you were a fearless man. I have since read Lips Together, Teeth Apart (which I did a reading of and almost directed in college), Frankie and Johnny in the Claire De Lune, Master Class, Some Men, A Man of No Importance, and Ragtime. All such beautiful work.

Last summer I had the joy of going to the performing arts library at Lincoln Center and watching the original production of Love! Valour! Compassion! I think I cried through all of it. The part where Bobby, Arthur and Perry are in the car together and Bobby is describing how he imagines them is so perfect; all I aspire to.

Words can't describe how excited I was when I saw that Mothers and Sons was coming to Broadway. It immediately went to the top of my list...I am a struggling writer/director/whatever and my funds are very limited...especially this time of year. But through a very dear mentor I was able to sit fourth row center this evening and see it. And I am forever indebted to him for that. To track the journey of where we as a community have come through the work YOU have written is an amazing thing. The moments that got me in this one were when the three of them were together being a family. When Will sits on the couch talking about how he always knew he wanted to be a dad and the joy he gets from that. It is so tangible to me. I saw myself revealed on a Broadway stage. What an incredibly powerful experience.

I know that I have gone on...and I was I was more well spoken, but the bottom line is that I feel like your work has made me the theatre artist and proud gay man that I am today.

As sincerely as humanly possible,

Michael P. Raymond

P.S. Your Author's Note in Love! Valour! Compassion! is something that I think about almost daily.

Things I Think Are Fun

I'll just get right to it.

The Happiness Project, The Happiness Project, The Happiness Project. Read it. I IMPLORE you.

She dedicates a month of her year to fun and leisure. Her number one commandment is to "Be Gretchen." And part of that entails knowing what she finds fun and what she doesn't find fun. She even talks in a really beautiful way about the sadness she felt thinking about her own happiness and the limits she has, because she knows there are certain things that she simply doesn't find fun. I can't properly capture it and my copy is in my bag which is not within grabbing distance...and I already shut the light off so you'll just have to read it.

This book has inspired me to do a lot of listing. That is something I find fun. And it helps me think critically!

I have done random, shallow lists mostly on the subway and it just puts things in perspective. Things such as items I want to save up to buy (paint for my room, chukkas, new towels, etc.), traits I would value in an ideal mate (someone who will meet me at the subway station just to walk home with me), potential things I want to do for my birthday (it usually blows, last year I catered a wedding. This year I am going to engage myself, even if the day is spent alone!), and the topic of this post...things that I find fun.

Things I Find Fun
- watching television
- sudoku
-cooking/baking (ideally for/with others)
-grocery shopping (when I have the money)
-libraries (I possess cards to any major system of any city I have lived in for more than six months)
-bookstores (when I die just bury me at Strand)
-drinking hot tea (makes me think of London and the ritual of putting  the kettle on, and a nice cup of camomile can solve a lot of things)
-pinterest/stumbleupon
-going for a walk
-trying a new restaurant or bar.
-yoga
-making lists (obviously)
-laying on a blanket in the sun in a park
-seeings shows
-going to the movies
-listening to my music
-shopping for clothes
-cast albums in general
- taking a nice hot bath
-lighting a candle in my room
-playing board games/cards

I made a list of things I don't find fun, but it is smaller and it was harder to think of things I don't find fun...which is good, I guess, because that means they aren't prevalent in my life. And by things I don't think are fun I mean that other people do find fun.  Going to the dentist doesn't count, because who actually would find that fun? Some examples...

-working out (the idea of a gym membership or having a six pack or beefy muscles does not remotely appeal to me)
-going to museums (If Doug were to read this he would shake his head. I just do not take pleasure in them. I know that I should. I just know myself.)
-clubbing (never would I ever...except that one night in London for Marie's birthday...)
-loud concerts (unless it were Reba McIntire or Sara Bareilles I probably wouldn't bother.)

I encourage anyone to take the time to write out an actual list of things that they find fun. And see how prevalent those things are in your life. If they aren't...then do something about it. I am.

Brooklyn and back (TWICE!)

I haven't been very good at this lately...and I think that is actually a good thing.

I am not divinely inspired, but I want to take stock of my weekend.

I like to have my "me time." No one likes it more than I do. I seldom spend more than one night out in a row, and if I have to work an eight hour shift you are hard pressed to get me to go anywhere other than my bed.

I also tried to have this conversation with my family over Christmas and they just didn't get it. I am constantly anxious about lack of downtime. If I close at work we are allegedly supposed to get out at 10:15, but in the past with crappy managers we would sometimes get out of there after 11. At the Public shows are flexible sometimes and shit happens so the schedule says one thing, but that doesn't mean I am getting out at 10 o'clock. And that stresses me out. I want to clock out, run to the train, so that I can get home and lay in bed and watch tv for the maximum amount of time before going to sleep. So I miss opportunities to stand at the bar and talk to friends or go to Taco Bell or that nugget place everyone talks about...

Friday night I went to a friend's cabaret show and loved being able to be there and to be with other friends I don't see as often as I would like. Then after that I went for drinks (as opposed to going home, my inclination), then after that even I went to a friend's apartment in Washington Heights, because he needed a friend.

Also, this weekend I went to Brooklyn...TWICE. It's a good thing I got my passport renewed.

Saturday night one of my nearest and dearest was painting in an artist's salon in Brooklyn (where else?) and out of that I got to spend two amazing hours on the subway (one hour there, one hour back) with a new friend having great conversation and I can't put a price on that one.

And Sunday I worked an eight hour shift...which sucked. And many times throughout the day I contemplated just going home after work even though friends were hanging out in Crown Heights. But... I did it. I WENT. And had the grandest of times! And didn't get home til 2:30! ON A SCHOOL NIGHT GUYS!

I am going to be egotistical for a moment. (Truthfully this blog is all about me finding happiness so it is probably all VERY egotistical.) A few weeks ago I thought some friends from work and I should spend time together outside of work. So I reached out...and we have not only done it once, but TWICE. And I did that! I am responsible for the hours of fun that have been had!

Now this sounds like a lame post...and it kinda is.

But reading The Happiness Project has been so inspiring to me. And I am only halfway through! But I see this woman engage her life in a new and takes baby steps and it makes it all feel so manageable. And to see her results. And I forget how vital community is. And even though I had to wait thirty minutes for the N at Herald Square last night I truly didn't care. Which is a BIG thing for me. My general nature of anxiety was just kind of absent in a way.

And also, a weekend spent supporting friends in various ways makes a person so much happier.

Lena Dunham...I just don't get it.

I am mad at Lena Dunham.

And that is probably what she wants.

I feel like she does everything in her life on her show to enrage people. Who knows. To even provoke discussion.

I have been an advocate for her since she came onto the scene. I loved the first season of Girls. I thought the second season had great merit. I think all of the conversation that was stirred up from the Patrick Wilson episode was very interesting. And her fearlessness in the way she presents her body is very admirable.

I have been watching all of season three diligently and have been annoyed and frustrated with these characters and this writing and the entire point of it all.

This past week really took the cake for me, though.

The bulk of the episode to me doesn't matter. But part of it deals with her college boyfriend/ex-roommate/ex friend, Elijah. They both happen to be vacationing in the same town near the Hamptons. We have seen Elijah in the first and second season. This is the first time we see him this season. He is with three of his gay friends and they see Hannah (not knowing it is her) in a bathing suit and they are laughing at her, because she is chubby and is wearing a bikini in civilized society. They then spend the rest of the day/weekend with the girls. And the depiction of the homosexual community is all surface. I am not saying it is wrong and that there aren't gays out there like that, because I know there are. But that is the only depiction and it is so incredibly unattractive. These men are all surface, they are mean and ugly to each other and to the girls. They are belittling each other. Elijah claims he might be in love with the guy he is seeing. He wants to tell him this. And when the moment comes the guy is such an asshole and Elijah has low self-worth so he tells him to forget it. And to distract him he starts to go down on him.

I was enraged by all of this. And I am not that type of gay. I don't use phrases like hetero normative and such. I am a proud gay man and live my life as such. My revolutionary tendencies come from leading by example, I guess. But this all felt so backward. And some of these men were, in fact, gay actors playing these roles and I wonder what the point of it all was.

And I think about the new television show, Looking, that plays on the same night on the same network as Girls. It is about three gay men living in San Fransisco. The main character, played by Jonathan Groff, is in search of a boyfriend. And I find it all to not be entirely flattering, but to come from a place of truth and to show a wide cross section of the homosexual community. This past week's episode was inspiring to me, because it was truth. He has started seeing a guy and they wake up together and simply spend the day together. They go for breakfast they do different things together in the city and go for walks and talk about first relationships and coming out and real life stuff. And the episode is just the two of them...as humans, getting to know each other.

I just don't get it. I have come to trust that Lena knows what she is doing, but maybe I am just missing the point of all of this.

It just leaves me feeling very cold...but I know a new episode is on tomorrow night and I will probably illegally watch it on Monday morning.

The Happiness Project

It's been two days guys...and I have yet to go two days without posting, but I am trying to be a little less rigid with certain things in my life and show myself grace..blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!

This week I started reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. Now a lot of people might find these types of books silly or whatever...but I am a searcher. Eat Pray Love is one of my favorites and this is very Eat Pray Love esque (sans Julia Roberts).

And Gretchen wasn't as lost as Liz Gilbert. She knew she was happy with her husband, her two kids, her writing career and her New York City life, but she also knew that life is short and she should maximize her happiness. She decided to dedicate a year to happiness. Each month spent on a different virtue.

Now I read the first chapter sans pen and paper so I didn't take notes (I am going to go back and do that.) So this post is going to be about chapter two Remember Love (focusing on her marriage...and just relationships in general).

I don't want to take anyone's reading experience away from them, because I HIGHLY suggest this book. I just wanted to share some pertinent thoughts.

For each month she chooses a general theme and then four or five different bullet points to focus on.

Don't Expect Praise or Appreciation

This one is BIG for me. I have lived my life busting my ass to do a good job (unless it related to math or science). I work at a job here in the city that I really don't like, but I still give it as much as I can. And it is all because I crave that validation from other people. And I have craved that from significant others. And one thing I have been working on this year is letting that shit go. She talks about how she craves "gold stars" in her life. One sentence that I read that seems so simple really struck a chord with me. She is quoting a friend's parents.

"They always said that you have to do that kind of work for yourself (nagging chores, etc.) If you do it for other people, you end up wanting them to acknowledge it and to be grateful and to give you credit. If you do it for yourself, you don't expect other people to react in a particular way."

 I would say that I often do tasks for others, but with selfish motive. I want my roommates to be grateful I did the dishes or that co-worker to be grateful I picked up their task, because I had extra time. But I have been given a gift of being single and independent in this city and truly I don't HAVE to do anyone's job for them. I just have to worry about my own. The only reward that matters is the one I give myself. And I need to remember that.

Fight Right

"In marriage, it's less important to have many pleasant experiences than it is to have fewer pleasant experiences, because people have a "negativity bias"; our reactions to bad events are faster, stronger, and stickier than our reactions to good events...it takes at least five positive marital actions to offset one critical, or destructive action." 

The idea of a "negativity bias" really struck a chord with me. I have known inside that this is true. I have felt it. But to read it in a book and have a name put to it is pretty awesome. And I think back on where I went wrong in my last relationship and how I can do right next time. And this is so a place. At the end it was all negative experiences and we seldom reinforced with positive.

No Dumping

This one is obvious. I am SUCH a dumper in my relationships. I always assumed that is what they were there for...my negativity...and there can often be a lot of it. But she tested this and her lack of dumping (in her marriage and I would say even friendships) had no negative affect on her or her relationships. It just dissipated.

Show Proofs of Love

"There is no love; there are only proofs of love"

- Pierre Reverdy

I love that. Again, I knew that I loved him and I thought that was enough. I needed to show him my love every single day. I needed to make his birthday special, to take his laundry in, to go to bed when he did.

Early this week I was having a conversation with a friend about how I was craving physical intimacy. Just with friends...you know lately I have gone to work then just come home. And I am not always a hugger by nature. You would seldom see me hugging co-workers. But we NEED that affection.

"Hugging relieves stress, boosts feelings of cloesness, and even squelches pain. In one study, people assigned to give five hugs each day for a month, aiming to hug as many different people as they could, became happier." 

This next one is probably the biggest one for me.

"I'd always followed the adage 'Don't let the sun go down on your anger,' which meant, in practical terms, that I scrupulously aired every annoyance as soon as possible, to make sure I had my chance to vent my bad feelings before bedtime. I was surprised to learn from my research, however, that the well-known notion of anger catharsis is poppycock. There's no evidence for the belief that 'letting off steam' is healthy or constructive. In fact, studies show that aggressively expressing anger doesn't relieve anger but amplifies it. On the other hand, not expressing anger often allows it to disappear without leaving ugly traces." 

Woah...that is all I have to say to that one.

In the last section of the chapter she goes on to speak of finding her happiness formula. The short phrase that sums up how she believes we need to live/act to be happy. Part of it for her is "feeling right." The feeling that she is living the life she is supposed to lead. That is right for her - whether that be occupation, location, marital status, etc. I LOVE that idea. Because that is truly my quest...whether I had a name for it or not.

So I am going to focus on living right.

And for today I am going to let my annoyances go without airing them. I will report back.

The Bechdel Funeral Home

I saw Fun Home seventeen times. Ushering for the Public has its perks

This is a post I could have written awhile ago, before I even had this blog, but I feel like it is coming full circle now due to the release of the cast recording.

I saw it first as an audience member towards the beginning of October. I had been really excited for it. I am an avid fan of Judy Kuhn and Michael Cerveris is always a good time. That was really my knowledge of the piece. I really thoroughly enjoyed it. I wanted to love it more than I did. Anytime I see a show I always measure it against other theatrical experiences. Usually seeing Other Desert Cities front row center at the Booth or seeing Giant in the Newman at the Public. This time I was measuring it against Giant...because it was in the exact same theater. Giant was such a visceral experience. I had never seen anything like it and I was on the edge of my seat and many tears were had. I saw it twice. And that was when I was broker than a joker. This time paled in comparison. Not to say that one is better than the other or anything, because they are two completely different shows.

I then ushered it the following weekend. And for many times over the next three months. I went through a period of hating it, because I saw it so much. Then I was away from it for weeks. There was a cast change. Then I was away from it again for two more weeks, because of Christmas and such and then I ushered it for the closing week.

For those of you who have no idea about the show I will give you a brief rundown. It is based on a graphic memoir by Alison Bechdel. Music is by Jeanine Tesori and book by Lisa Kron. It is the story of Alison as she is writing her memoir and it all relates to her relationship with her father. She came out as a lesbian her freshman year of college and a few months after that her dad allegedly committed suicide by stepping in front of a truck, because he was a closeted homosexual. The role of Alison is played by three different actresses young (age tenish?), Medium Alison (college age - the Playbill referred to her as Medium Alison which I find quite bizarre), and present day Alison (age forty-three). Present day Alison is telling all of the story...she is seldom offstage. You see that her father was a very particular human being who was quite tortured and affected her so deeply. Judy Kuhn played her long suffering mother. I think that really does it.

I was so blessed to get to see it so many times, because it helped me to really dissect the show. And boy, did we. As ushers we talked about it constantly. Different realizations we had...perspective, what we thought of the new Medium Alison. Everything. And most people don't get that experience.

(There is another blog post in here about seeing the same show over and over again, but this isn't it. )

One of my first reactions and things I take away from it are the ability of these women to write songs that so completely capture an experience I have had in my life.

The first song is Changing my Major. It happens right after she has sex with her first girlfriend (her freshman year of college). The song is about how she is going to change her major to Joan (the name of her girlfriend) and the metaphor goes many different places. It just so captures a human experience...not a homosexual one necessarily...Joan is sleeping in the bed with her and she sings this song. It is just so magical and sweet. And one anyone could relate to. In the final week of performances my high school boyfriend came and saw the show randomly. I was sitting there watching the show and when it came to Changing My Major I was struck with the thought that my version was about HIM. It was surreal.

The second song is Ring of Keys. It is sung by ten year old Alison. She is at a diner with her father and as she goes to get the waitress she notices this old school butch lesbian walk in delivering packages. She sings, Ring of Keys, the best song in the show, possibly the best song Jeanine Tesori has written. It is about the experience of knowing that there is something in this person that is a kindred spirit. As a child you are too young to process this feeling. A repeated phrase in the song is "I know you." I can't specifically recall when I had this experience as a child, but I know I had it. More than once certainly. It's a powerful thing.

And finally, Telephone Wire. This song is sung by present day Alison, but as she is reliving the final significant conversation she has with her father on a break home from college. They take a late night car ride. And she sings about getting the courage to speak to her dad honestly. To "say something," to him. To have a real relationship. It is the song that gets me the most in the show. I have not had this specific experience, but I know that moment of being in the car with your parent(s) and nothing the things around you. Being so completely aware of your surroundings, because you so badly want to say something, but are so completely terrified. And certainly after having a tumultuous week at home with my father to then coming back and watching the show. It resonated in a completely different way.

Randomly, going back to Giant. I LOVED Giant. It was so grand, and lush, and MESSY. And beautiful. Fun Home is not that. I find it intimate and heart wrenching...and most significantly, CLEAN. Giant did not seem produce-able to me. Fun Home is so completely produce-able. I get so jaded by the state of the American musical sometimes. Bridges of Madison County being an example...Hands on a Hardbody being another one...Cinderella too (I include that, because of the new WRETCHED book). I so badly wanted them all to sweep me away and be brilliant. But they seemed rushed and messy and just not good. Fun Home is not that at all. So completely refreshing to see a well made play. What a rarity in this world it seems. I have seen so many shows since moving to New York. I truly couldn't count. And to see something that well made gives me hope for the theatre...for my life.

After the show closed a friend from work (blog shout out to Rachel!) was kind enough to let me borrow her copy of the book, Fun Home. And as much as I grew to love the show I loved the book instantly. It is one of those books . The kind I have been chasing...the ones that stay with you. That you can't get out of your mind for days, weeks, months, years after you read it.

Also, this is a facet of this post, but not entirely related. My final semester in college I did a Queer Theatre Independent Learning Experience with a fellow classmate and my directing professor. We read a book called Out on Stage about the history of gay and lesbian theatre, we read relevant plays, and the semester culminated in a night of scenes from gay and lesbian themed plays. One conversation that we had was about what does the future of queer theatre look like. Another conversation was about the lack of lesbian themed plays throughout the history of American theatre. I think Fun Home is the answer to both of those questions. And it is kind of awe inspiring to work for the theatre that produced the answer to such big questions.

And thanks to dear friends I was able to listen to the new cast recording as I wrote this blog. I posted on Facebook and within minutes three friend sent it to me. I AM LOVED!

Grace (who is she and what does she have to do with this?)

I will not be posting tonight, because I am busy trying to show myself some grace.

I urge you to take the time to do the same.

"I'm so broke that it ain't funny."

I am taking a break from House of Cards Season Two to write this...the sacrifices I make for my writing. (Bah!)

I don't entirely know what to write so bear with me.

This might sound a little like my Jo March post...but maybe a little bit more bleak.

I am so broke. Just so broke. Not the most I have ever been, but close. And I know many of us are.

I work three (ish) jobs. One that is consistent (at least five days a week). One that has periods of downtime. And catering which is hit or miss (but pays BANK).

Three jobs. I have a college degree. And an above average IQ (I don't know this for certain...but I am fairly positive).

This post isn't even about finding a job to turn into a career or a lifelong passion (Jo March) this is about making ends meet and not wanting to kill myself or losing every second of free time I have and my self-respect.

When I first moved here I thought it was going to be so easy to get a survival job. It wasn't. I went about three months without a steady job. And then the one I got ended up being not that steady. I have never applied for so many jobs in my life. And not hearing back and thinking I am perfect and just coming up short is so hard. This is why I couldn't be an actor. All that rejection. TOO MUCH. I see so many posts on Playbill or even just about other jobs in this world that aren't theatre related and I think "I could do that." I should apply. But then I don't. Because it requires retooling my resume and writing a cover letter (aka the bane of my existence.) Again...there is the passivity that has become the rule in my life. It also helps that I got a new computer and can't afford Microsoft Office. It is a catch-22...yet not remotely funny.

I made my rent last month. It was close, but I made it. And I will make it this coming month... I won't get to splurge on anything with my tax refund probably, but I will have a roof over my head. And that is something many do not have.

And truly I want for very little. Yeah I wish I could buy more groceries, but I am not hungry. Yeah I want to buy that cute jacket at H&M or those cute boots, but I have an abundance of clothes. Thus far this year I have seen 1 or 2 shows a week. I was able to buy Pringles a few hours ago. The frozen pizzas I like were on sale.

But more than anything it is the stress and anxiety. The fact that February is the shortest month. And that I spend so many nights in, because I can't afford to go out, but then I get sad or restless, because I am stuck inside. I had to turn down friends on Thursday, because I couldn't afford to go out. And I had a GREAT night in. But it still just SUCKS.

And I don't know if there is a point to this. But it is where I am today.

In other news, the library is free and I got Better Nate Than Ever by Tim Federle and The Happiness Project (which goes right to the heart of 2014!) Book reviews to come.

I love love.

So Valentine's Day, huh?

We all know that I am the most hopeless of all hopeless romantics...does that make me a hopeful romantic?

So many people who are alone...or even people that aren't go on about how this day was created by a greeting card company and how it means nothing and how they don't need a specific day to tell the person they love that they love them.

But I disagree.

Valentine's Day was always a big day in our house. And I really have no idea why. I think, because my parents just love each other so much. We would always have dinner in the dining room. Something nice, and drink sparkling grape juice out of the nice glasses. And have this jell-o and cool whip dessert. We would always get chocolates and one nice gift; one year Jo Dee Messina's cd, another Josh Groban's.

I had forgotten about these dinners until a couple days ago when talking to my manager at work. Some of my warmest memories with my family.

This year was my first Valentine's Day in six (?) years without a significant other. And I was so incredibly okay with it. I love this day. And I love sharing love with my friends. So I went to dinner with a friend and then we saw the Transport Group's production of Almost, Maine by John Cariani. One of my very favorite plays.

I forget just how perfect it is. So well written. And John Cariani was in it!! It is nine different vignettes about people finding or losing love in the fictional township of Almost, Maine. All of this happens on the night the Northern Lights are visible. And it is just so magical. There is the woman who carries her broken heart around in a brown paper bag, there are the two best friends that literally fall in love. There is Hope...who is looking for her place in the world. And Jimmy who so desperately wants to be found. And Rhonda who is "hung up there," but Dave is persistent with her.

I just love love. And I think putting love out into this world never truly hurt anyone.

Love on the R train.

So what will follow is a true experience I had on November 23rd, 2013. I was going to save it for my Friday post, but I have little to actually say tonight. I wrote it the night it happened.


Tonight I found myself on the 8th Street/NYU subway platform around 10:45…a place I often find myself. It had been a long day. And the cold had settled in unexpectedly. I just wanted to get home. The platform was mostly empty. You were in the little concession area. I was standing there with my headphones on. Wearing all black, black pants, black pea coat, black scarf, black converse, black fingerless gloves. I noticed you right away. I don’t know if you noticed me. After a few minutes the train shows up. It was an R and I needed the N. You got on…so I did too. The train was mostly empty. I decided to sit opposite you as opposed to next to you. You pulled out your phone and I pulled out my kindle. I was playing Sudoku you seemed to be playing a game of some sort. There were some very annoying girls sitting near us as well. We caught each other’s eye occasionally. I observed you. Tall, nice light brown hair and fair skin. You were wearing nice jeans, a black pullover and a black top coat with brown boots. A look I could never pull off, but you did. At one point you looked up and saw me looking. I smiled and you gave me back this great smile that made my heart jump. I told myself if you were going to Astoria I would give you my number. We get to 42nd street and you get up. My heart fell a little. You are standing holding onto the pole as the train pulls into the station. Before the doors open we look at each other again. You turn back to me, I think you are going to introduce yourself or whisper something in my ear, but instead you plant a kiss on my cheek. And disappear. The doors close and as we pull out of the station I see you walking.

 I am flushed and my heart is racing. We get to 49th street and I think I hesitated. I had no pen to give you my number. I should have grabbed your hand and made you stay for one more stop. I should have gotten off and gotten your number and just grabbed the next train. I hesitated. I am a guy who loves and lives for romantic comedies and this was the beginning of it. What a romantic New York moment…so fleeting.

I have never used Missed Connections before and you probably haven’t either, but if I don’t put this out there I fear my heart will leap out of my chest and race back to that subway car and that moment at Times Square/42nd street. This time though I wouldn’t hesitate.

I implore you to share this with the world. If you know a young man who has retold you this story send him my way. 

The Sound of Music Live with Carrie Underwood

This post may not be relevant...but I had very strong feelings when it aired and did not have a platform to express my feelings.

Also...I accidentally took a nap from 8 to 9:45 so I am up and watching videos of Audra McDonald on Youtube...like I am generally want to do.

I must start by saying I was VERY excited by this concept from the beginning. A live staged version of The Sound of Music a la Julie Andrews in Cinderella or Mary Martin in Peter Pan. I sadly was not alive to witness those live, but I have read about the power such things had.

Then I got wind of Carrie Underwood and was certainly skeptical...but hopeful (a la Amy Adams in Into the Woods).

I was still very, VERY excited to be able to watch it live. The experience of it all, but I had to work so I DVRed (is that correct?) it. I got home and my roommates were part way through it. I watched a bit and then went to my room. They  told me to lower my expectations greatly. And what I saw of it was very soap opera-esque.

Now let us back all the way up to get my general feelings and history of The Sound of Music in my life. I still remember so vividly watching it in Ms. Thompson's first grade music class. I remember the room, where I was sitting. I remember that I was sick and missed the first day of viewing so it started with the terrace scene with Max, the Baroness, and the Captain. I was obviously enthralled. I got the movie for Christmas or my birthday on VHS. And watched it over, and over, and over again. Three summers later my community theatre was doing it. I was the prime age to play Kurt, but my family was taking a trip to Israel (#class) so I was unable to audition. Our worship minister/later my voice teacher played the captain and my music teacher (Ms. Thompson) was the Mother Abbess. I remember my mother taking me and being obsessed. I believe it was my second live musical.

Cut to my sophomore year of high school. It was announced that we would be doing The Sound of Music for our spring musical. It was of course my dream to play Rolfe. I sang On the Street Where You Live for my audition...a brilliant choice if I do say so myself. I nailed it. Then at some point I thought maybe I should set my sights on playing Friedrich. But truly being a sophomore was poor...not old enough to play Rolfe not young enough for Friedrich (not a girl, not yet a woman).

I was cast in the ensemble...aka a fat lot of nothin'. My sophomore ego was VERY bruised. I did end up getting bumped up to playing Admiral Von Schreiber when both of our Rolfe's left, Herr Zeller was bumped up to Rolfe, etc etc. I landed a boring scene with a few lines that meant nothing to me. I was a DIVA.

After that I was very meh about The Sound of Music. I haven't watched the movie in many years. I just didn't care a whole lot.

Now it is the night of the live airing. My roommate's finished it and I started it after. It was very late and I got about forty five minutes in. I was very turned off by Carrie and Stephen Moyer. I thought maybe that was going to be the extent of my experience.

I must again interrupt the story to say that over that night and the next few days I saw a whole lot of backlash via Facebook and other social media sites about the whole experience. It really turned me off to people. Especially the fact that Nelson Mandela had died that day, but Carrie Underwood dominated the news cycle. Perspective people.

A week or so later I went back to the viewing one afternoon after work. I don't know why. Curiosity, I guess?

And I must say, I was swept up. I am not going to break it down in any major way, but there are things worth mentioning.

In any revival of a musical or play I hope to learn something new/have something new revealed to me (a la Denis O'Hare in Into the Woods). Now it has been made clear that I know this show intimately. And there were moments that I grasped in a way I never had; the gravity of it all. From the moment he receives his orders to what it truly means for him to perform with his family. And then the moment at the concert where Uncle Max makes the announcement that the Von Trapp family will be singing one more time. Now the book of this musical is VERY clunky. Certainly no South Pacific. I always viewed this bit of dialogue as extraneous. But it so DIRE. Max is saying this, because there is no other way to let them know that men have shown up to take him away immediately. And it is that moment that saves them. And then the final moments with Rolfe in the abbey. There were many tears throughout the entire experience.

Some shout outs:

- Those four actresses doing How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? was just delightful! The staging, those four consummate Broadway professionals! When they all got down on their knees to pray. That should be done in EVERY production it was so smart! 

- I have never found Laura Benanti entirely relevant to my life in any way, but I loved her portrayal of Elsa. She is certainly underwritten and under appreciated...and not the character we see in the movie version. She was lovely. And human. And there are some moments that show a bit of her uglier (human) side and she leaned into them. She presented no judgements.

- And the most special of shout outs to Audra McDonald. What a revelation as the Mother Abbess! I read an article about her approach and skepticism of her playing the role. And she brought such humanity. The scene leading up to Climb Ev'ry Mountain resonated in so many ways. Her honesty. She made the dialogue sing. And then her straightforward acting of the song. How could I not be stirred up?

Now, for Carrie. She is one of the most gifted vocalists of our time. She is one of the most celebrated country stars of the twentieth century; the biggest thing to come out of American Idol. An actress she is not...I will not say she is. And her voice does not fit the music. But she was so completely committed. And her sincerity in that scene before Climb Ev'ry Mountain is all I could ever ask for in a Maria. I bought exactly what she was selling. And she handled it all with grace. I commend her. (And I am sure this all means a lot to her...) So we can all say that she took a role away from a Broadway actress or whatever...but first we must look at the SCADS of theater people in that filming.

And most importantly...and NBC's point, I believe, is that if it hadn't been someone like Carrie people wouldn't have seen it! Because, while Laura Osnes would do it with aplomb. She would not bring in the viewers.

The NBC execs didn't sit in their office and think "Oh, I wonder what programming we could do for all the pithy, bitchy gays of this world? Oh, I know! The Sound of Music starring Carrie Underwood." They thought about Julie Andrews and Mary Martin. And the experience they may have had as a child sitting on their stomach on the floor of the television room tuning in like the rest of the country to watch a live musical event. And they thought that as a world we are so caught up in everything else and we don't come together enough. And that night nearly twenty-two MILLION people tuned in. Not that many people see a Broadway show in a YEAR.

Now I must leave you with two things.

1. The reason we all love Carrie Underwood.

2. One of the many reasons we all love Audra McDonald.

Status Report

I missed my three week anniversary of this blog yesterday. You can blame my friend, Katie. I mention her name, because I have yet to convince her to read my stuff. I was at her birthday party/housewarming. Lots of wine...that is all that is to be said about that.

I am going to cop out a little tonight and do a status report. Like on Friends when they would do those flashback episodes to moments that we've already seen. Like when Ross decides not to invite Rachel to the wedding.

But a status report is good. Keeps me honest.

I have found doing this to be exhilarating at moments. Since starting I have gotten rid of any and all dating apps in my life. I just don't need it right now. I want it...but I don't need it. And this past ten days has been hard, because it has shown me how addicted to it I was. Swiping when I am bored can be so easy. I don't know if I will ever go back to them. I would like to leave it up to fate/God...

It has been a month and a half since I have spoken with my father. He has communicated via text, but I have not reciprocated. I don't remember who said this to me (and at this moment it is driving me crazy) but the longer I go without talking to him the easier it becomes to keep doing that. And that is bad. My last post was about the book Blue Like Jazz which I am really, really enjoying. Anyone that has ever had really anything more than a passing experience with the church should read it. I am the most skeptical of pretty much everything...but this is opening me up a bit. I am a searcher, and this guy is too. He is also an introvert, which of course I dig. He referred to himself as that cordless drill that has to charge for twenty hours just to be functional for three. I enjoyed that.

My mother and I had a great talk on the phone on Saturday night which was just really lovely. I should probably call her after I finish this. (Sorry mom!)

After I posted about my coming out experience and such my gorgeous, kind, funny sister (I say this, because she thought I was giving her bad press.) got very, very angry with me. My family has said that if you cross her it might be the last thing you do; it is one of my favorite things about her. She got very angry with me and was angry about life and general and I bore the brunt of that which is fine. I am tough as well. But at the end of this conversation she addressed the fact that she had called me disgusting that night my junior year of high school. Update: she doesn't actually think I am disgusting. Unless I like fart on her or something... It really meant a lot. I guess I didn't know how much it had affected me until I wrote about it on here.

And talking about her brings me to Lainey. She is out of the hospital...she has her tenth (eleventh?) fracture. Her brace is leopard print (obviously). But today Kristine sent me a photo of a drawing her therapist helped her do. It said it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And I may be crying a bit right now.

I have no focus on my career goals right now. Money has just been so tight and I feel like I am a character in a Brecht play. I am trying so hard to survive that the thought of moving up evades me. That being said...a friend sent me a posting for a part time Broadway blogger for a website that I am applying for. So maybe that is something.

I have always appreciated my writing, but I never thought it might be something that I am known for. Every day I am made aware of my community. And it is a very humbling experience. People who I went to college with read my blog, friends from work, high school teachers, my cousin who lives in Turkey, not Katie...but lots of others.

I hate to be "that guy," but I am just so very grateful that anyone is reading this. I don't know if you have learned anything about yourself through reading this...but my fingers are crossed.

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller

Tonight on the hour long subway ride from Astoria to Crown Heights, Brooklyn I started reading Blue Like Jazz.

It is a book I had been vaguely aware of...I remember being at a conference in Chicago my junior year of high school where the writer was speaking. I don't remember what he said or anything.

I remember reading the back of the book at said conference and being vaguely interested.

When I was home at Christmas my sister had the book on her shelf and on instinct I took it. And set it on my shelf here with the vague intention of reading.

I have a lot of vague feelings apparently... (Apparently I have a lot of vague feelings?)

ANYWAY...

There was a gentleman friend that I was spending a lot of time with around this time. And he had just read it and felt very strongly about it. He and I spent a lot of quality time together from beginning of December through end of February. Neither of us are in the proper place to take care of someone else (me, let alone myself).

I found him to be a Godly man. Which you seldom encounter in this city. This city, to the naked eye, seems completely devoid of God. You can argue with me on that point if you wish. I encourage it actually! But finding a Godly man was/is refreshing.

Now in my generation and in the theatre, and in this city I feel like talking about God and a personal relationship with him is very much not a thing. And it wasn't until I came to this city that I was aware that he might be something I need in my life. Feeling the way I have felt at certain points I just felt like there had to be someone else that could take some of it for me. And if what I remember from my upbringing is correct...God is that place.

Now I could go very deep into things right now, but that isn't entirely necessary.

Thinking about God is inextricably linked to my relationship with my father, him being a minister and all. And sadly the animosity I feel there gets in the way of dealing with God as well. (Add it to the list...)

I have been in a reading rut for the past week and knowing I had an hour long subway ride I put that book in my bag...I think because it is the only book on my shelf that I haven't read yet.

I cracked it open and am about sixty pages in. And I am very resistant. All of that anger that I have been used to for the past six (plus) years is so incredibly present. But some things just really jumped out to me that I wanted to put here.

The first is what this girl has to say about believing in God and being a Christian. She is from Atlanta and everyone in her family is very much a believer. She claims to be an Atheist. But recently she has been feeling God's presence. 

"I can't get there. I can't just say it without meaning it. I can't do it. It would be like, say, trying to fall in love with somebody, or trying to convince yourself that your favorite food is pancakes. You don't decide those things, they just happen to you. If God is real, He needs to happen to me." 

That is something I have been trying to communicate to my dad for YEARS and there it was right in front of me. Something I probably couldn't even explain to myself. 

And the second is something that is even a bit more universal. If this blog is about a quest for happiness...and 2014 and my life itself (my super objective for all you actor types...).

"I don't think, however, there are many people who can stay happy for long periods of time. Joy is a temporal thing. Its brief capacity, as reference, gives it its pleasure." 

That just really hits the nail on the head for me. How can I feel so bad that I don't have joy in my life at this moment? It all just means that when it reappears I will feel it that much more intensely.

(The syntax in that last sentence is off, but its after 1 AM so I hope we can all let it fly.)

I'll put my little black dress on.

My roommate's boyfriend has an old English word-of-the-day dictionary and he told me last night that I am a melomaniac.

Melomania is defined as an inordinate liking for music or melody : excessive or abnormal attraction to music.

I took this as a very big compliment.

I often think of life in terms of a music video. I will pick a song to start playing on my ipod right as I walk out of the subway so that I can walk down the streets of New York with a big ass smile on my face and I can feel like the world is my oyster. And sometimes it happens organically. 

There are moments when I am packed in a subway car...and didn't get a seat. So I am standing for a long time and my arms are sore and I am zoned out, because I can't really read or do sudoku standing up. Then a song like What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction (JUDGE AWAY!) and I cannot help but get a big dopey grin on my face. And I imagine myself in a music video where I get the entire train of the car to sing along with it and it is a beautiful thing. 

For those of you keeping score at home, this week was a rough one. And today I was not entirely successful at combating it. I did make a strawberry cream cheese bread for a dinner party tomorrow night and made a turkey burger with mac n' cheese and fries for dinner. 

But today I wanted my post to be filled with some hope and joy. For me. 

Sara Bareilles' most recent cd, The Blessed Unrest, has been a source of much joy for me in the past six months. One song in particular and it has been in my head a lot lately. 

I see this as a music video so clearly. 

The first two chords sound wistful and sad in a way, but they don't last long. And this song is whimsical in away. The groove of it is very Pretty Woman to me. I imagine the may character of the music video looking into her mirror. She is sad. She may have just kicked her boyfriend out or may have been humiliated in some way. I could even see a college girl in her communal bathroom with mascara running down her face. But she makes the decision, just as I have, that this is not going to be a sad story. So she takes a shower, she does her hair, she uses her eyelash curler and she puts on that one outfit that makes her feel like the sexiest person in the world. And maybe she doesn't even put this dress on to go out for the night. Maybe she just dances like a fool in her dorm room. Because that is what I would do. And this song totally gives me the image of a camera zooming out of the building so you see her in her window just going to town. And then maybe you see women (and a few men) who have all done the same thing and they are all in their own windows dancing in their metaphorical black dress. 

This is a silly post. But I want this to be a place of creativity as well as a place to vomit my emotions. 

And if anyone wants to get in touch with Sara's people about my idea, please feel free. 

Can't 2014 start in March?

Well I feel like I really screwed the pooch this week...

I don't know if that is the proper phrase...it just so happens to be one of my favorites.

I really did get dumped on this week in various aspects of my life. And I did nothing about it.

I let myself be so completely passive. And that has been a lot of my problem since moving to New York. It is why I haven't moved up in many ways. I have certainly changed and grown and am in a better place. But I think about if I was more active I could be in a better place.

A saying in my family will follow:

If if and buts were gifts and nuts we'd all have a Merry Christmas. 

Now I have no clue what that actually means, but I think it has something to do with not wondering about what if and having regrets. Blah blah blah.

I guess tonight is one of those nights where I am going to divulge more than I intended to.

I have battled depression/anxiety for the past three years.

And not many people have known. My family and a few close friends.

It started in the winter/spring of my junior year of college. I had piled on so much stuff and was really going hard at school. And I loved that. But I was getting overwhelmed with one thing after the other. I ended up having to back out on an opportunity that I didn't want to, but I knew I couldn't handle it. That was in March.

It wasn't until end of July/beginning of August that I actually did something about it. I didn't think it was depression. I am far too self-aware and logical to deal with that. I have a great life, how could I be depressed? Well there was a sobbing mess in my parent's living room that was certainly going through something. It all came to a head, because I was terrified of going to London. Terrified. And I couldn't share that with most people. They would have thought I was nuts. You get to study abroad! What an amazing experience! But I so badly didn't want to go. I had this conversation with my parents and we then set up an appointment with our family doctor and had a consultation and it was deemed best that I be put on an SSRI for anxiety. And it helped. Immensely. I don't know how I would have been able to cope with home sickness and life and stuff without it. London was the best three months of my life and I learned so much about life and theater and myself.

When I got back from London I went off the medication, because I thought that was the source of the problem. I was happy to be home with my family and then with Michael and then at school and dealing with casting week and all this stuff. But then that finished up and I had a lot of down time. And that lead to another sobbing mess sitting on my couch in Saint Louis with my parents via Skype. I went home for a restorative weekend with my parents and again we decided it would be best for me to go back on the medication. And again it helped.

Now I was weary of going on an anti-depressant. I know the stigmas attached to them. And I know that as a society we are largely over prescribed. I truly believe that...even though I have no actual proof and have read zero articles. I do believe it. This is my blog...get over it. But I found it that it was a placebo affect in away. It didn't solve my problems, but it helped me get out from under them. It allowed certain thoughts to quiet so that  I could focus on the ones that mattered.

And I stayed on them through the end of senior year, through coming out, through moving to New York. And then I couldn't afford health insurance anymore and I quit them cold turkey.

And going through the changes I was going through my first year out of college and in New York City, and dealing with an engagement and a contentious relationship with my family. I don't think I knew it at the time that, that was an issue. I just tried to cope.

And I have mostly found my way to the other side. Because I had to. I have not taken medication for well over a year.

But many days it is a battle.

When I get depressed or anxious it isn't about losing sleep and insomnia and that sort of thing. All I can seem to do is lay in bed and watch television and be entirely passive. The world outside of my room is too much to handle. In here it is safe.

And since being single and moving into a new apartment and having a new job and being super busy things have been great. But after going home and coming back here and now all of the sudden having a whole  ton of downtime, because the Public is on hiatus and dealing with the weather and the brokest time of the year I just got hit with it this week.

 I gave up on my life for the week.

And again, I am too logical and self-aware to do such things. I know I should reach out. I know if I were to text friends and said hey I am struggling with this and I need you to come over or do something they would. I know if I called my mom or my sisters they would help me through it. But that is too active for me in certain moments.

And there was a time senior year where I did reach out to two friends and they claimed to hear me and then were too busy with their own stuff to help me. And I get that. I don't expect much. I tend to assume nothing. But it makes it harder to reach out again.

And again, this isn't a reach out thing. I don't want this to be an oh pity me, text me, check in with me, because I am woefully depressed.

This is me speaking my truth. Because if I process it in this way it becomes a bit more breathable (like linen pants).

That is not to say don't reach out. I always want the people in my life to feel free to say anything to me. Even if that thing is you're a crock of shit.

The final thing that is in my mind and doesn't have a lot to do with anything...but it kind of does.

A Little Night Music is one of my favorite musicals of all time. And the finale gets me every time. Frederick has just almost killed himself in a game of Russian Roulette. His wife has left him for his son, everyone has basically gone away. Except for Desiree the woman he has jilted. I could go into this. But he is laying on the ground and she is holding him. And there is quite a bit of humor to all of this. And he says,

"Well I think I should get up and confront the world."

And I guess I agree.