I have known this day too long...

Another late night post. This one though not after seeing a show and having drinks and living a New York life...oh no. This one after a ratchet catering event. I guess I am the type of person that says ratchet now...and writes it in his blog thus attempting to legitimizing it. I do not have the energy to go on about it. After my event on Saturday or Sunday I may feel otherwise.

And life isn't all bad... I will leave you with these two photos.

The jersey I had to wear...for Sabra hummus.

The 24 cupcakes I brought home with me.

This may be my last post ever, because I may die of a sugar overdose. My ideal way of leaving this world.

The Bridges of Madison County

It is almost two in the morning and I have just returned home. I have had some whiskey and have to cater for eight hours tomorrow. This is where my commitment to myself gets tested. I could be eating cheese puffs and watching Parks and Rec right now, but instead I am evaluating.

Saw The Bridges of Madison County tonight. And all I have to say is...

SHAME ON THEM! Shame on the producers who put so much money into it. Shame on Jason Robert Brown for thinking this beautiful story needs to be musicalized...shame on Marsha Norman for jumping on board. Shame on Bartlett Sher who brought me such beautiful things as The Light in the Piazza and the revival of South Pacific for thinking this was worth anyone's time. Shame on Kelli O'Hara for thinking this was worth her time. Or mine. It's not.

I don't know if you have seen the movie of The Bridges of Madison County (I have) or read the book (I haven't), but let me tell you this, it is a beautiful story. It is gorgeous, sexy, and heartbreaking.

Simply, this story doesn't sing. I have held the belief for many years that the reason you musicalize something is only if you can improve the source material. Legally Blonde as a movie sings. It cries out to be musicalized. Something like The Goodbye Girl is a perfect movie. If you haven't seen it...you should. Not the made-for-tv remake with Patricia Heaton and Jeff Daniels; rubbish. Watch the one from the 1970s with Marsha Mason and Richard Dreyfuss. BUT I DIGRESS...The Goodbye Girl is a terrible musical. TERRIBLE. I could make a long list...Carrie, Breakfast at Tiffany's, GHOST. So many.

And Kelli O'Hara is a genius in many ways. Clara Johnson...NELLIE! I mean come on! But I have now seen her twice in the past year and have been left wanting. Brantley said it best in his review of Far From Heaven:

"Playing layers has never been Ms. O’Hara’s strength. What makes her one of the best performers in musicals today is her direct, unconditionally sincere way with a song. Here, when she’s doing Cathy in superficial housewife mode, she’s convincing, but not compelling."

I believe the entire thing is miscast. They are too young. She is much to American. It takes place in Iowa and she is an Italian transplant. I woman who has lived in the states for eighteen years and woefully regrets it. She has two children and a husband and it isn't the life she imagined. But if I were deaf and went to see this show I would not see a woman that doesn't fit. Francesca is Genevieve in The Baker's Wife or Luisa in The Fantasticks; a flower among radishes. I imagine Laura Benanti in a way...someone you could believe to be Italian.

Meryl and Clint Eastwood star in the movie. And the moment you see them see each other for the first time you absolutely get it. Not here. I didn't see it at all. The language at times was very pedestrian. The score was not remotely cohesive.

And so much excess: a cast double the size of what it should be. Set pieces that we don't need. We can go on that journey without it. An ensemble that serves no function other than moving the unnecessary set pieces. And moments of comedy being played out like a musical comedy. The story is sparse. It is so much more about what you physically see and witness...not about what is being said. And they just say too much.

We all know that Jason Robert Brown is one of my favs. If you read my post about The Last Five Years...you know what he means to me. And Parade is one of the most beautiful pieces of musical theatre ever written.

And this just missed the mark. And what gets me the most is the money. So much money put into this that could have been spent on something more valid. But at the end of the day, I am me. I have no Tony Awards to my name...no money to my name. Maybe I know nothing.

And I hope this isn't a post that appears to just rip and is cynical about the American theatre. Because I so badly wanted it to be good. I want it to be great and for people to want to go see it and for actors and technicians to have jobs.

The entire time I was just screaming at "Whyyyyyyyyyy?!?!"

As I was saying last night...what I love about theatre is its ability to reveal myself to me. And this just didn't...

Ninety percent of life is showing up.

It's been a very full day. Good, but full.

Yesterday I knew exactly what I was going to write about from the moment I woke up. In the past hour and a half my thought about today's post has changed at least three times. Again...a full day.

So a little free form...I will attempt to be brief, but succinct.

Tonight I went to the Shakespeare Forum at a friend's urging. It is something I have heard about for a couple of weeks. Every Tuesday from eight to ten at a studio in Midtown a group of people who love Shakespeare come together to watch each other work and give feedback. It's basically Conservatory. I was given the opportunity to go for the past few weeks and didn't take them. I had made plans to go with a friend, but that feel through last minute.

So much of my life has been going home instead of letting myself have an experience. I am by nature a homebody. Even up until I got there I considered turning around and going home and putting on my pjs and watching television. But because of another friend's encouragement I showed up. Ninety percent of anything is showing up. For me, at least... And what an experience I would have missed out on!

I was filled full by being in a room with theatre artists who love the Bard and theatre and general and understand that it can help us to reveal ourselves. That is why I love theatre...that is why I got into it in the first place. I was someone who didn't know themselves and it helped me figure it out.

For the last year plus I have not known myself. As I said in my first post...I let life beat me down. I turned to my friend on the break and said that it has been so long since I have put myself in this environment. My brain and the idea of critical thinking, and using my director's mind is a muscle. And I have let it atrophy.

I was amazed to see people being courageous and making discoveries and being generous with themselves. I don't know where all of this leads for me; a better place hopefully. And this post is probably my most brief thus far.

But I put myself out there. And I don't need anyone to celebrate me for it. I need to celebrate myself for it.

And next week I certainly intend to go back and I hope you will join me there.

A bone to pick...

Happy Monday, I guess?

Dinner is cooking so I am going to start my post. I will occasionally leave to stir. But no worries, I shall return.

Today's topic was apparent from the moment I woke up. I even was able to form some of it in my head while at work.

DISCLAIMER: I am going to be unleashing some wrath. If you do no care to experience it then read no further. It is not shallow. It is quite deep. So if you don't care to encounter deep wrath either then I suggest you pick up something like Seventeen magazine...or maybe a cupcake blog.

I am very angry at God.

I have many reasons in this life, but today is not about the history of my anguish. Today it is about a beautiful baby girl who is laying in a bed in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unite for Children's Mercy Hospital of Kansas City.

I have to stir...

Okay...my niece Lainey was born in September of 2011 while I was studying in London. My nephew Landon had been born under two years prior. He was born with a cleft palette. His was not major, but it did present my sister and her husband with a unique set of issues. When they discovered they were pregnant for the second time they decided to get a deeper battery of tests to see if their next child would have a cleft palette as well. Just to be prepared.

I remember it was June of 2011 when they had these tests. I was visiting Michael in Arrow Rock. It was both of our days off so we went to Columbia to see Bridesmaids. None of that is necessarily relevant...but I don't want to forget anything. I remember standing by the door of the theater and hearing that things were more grave than we had anticipated. Jonny was working doubles all weekend and Allison was unable to fully help and my parents were in Kentucky so that day I ended up driving to Saint Joseph to be of assistance in whatever way I could. Maybe I just watched Landon. I don't remember that...I drove back through Arrow Rock the next day or so and then back to Saint Louis for work.

Over the next few months I believe we learned that things were going to be complicated to say the least. I was nervous about going abroad to begin with and knowing I would be missing the birth of my niece did nothing to ease my nerves. I remember we had a big party on the lawn the day Kristine was in labor and I was ill at ease most of the time. I remember periodically going up to my room to check my computer to get information. A lot of this is hazy for me, but some of it is crystal clear. I remember finding out that she was born and was happy, but that things were not okay. She was born breech which meant that there was a problem with her hip and that her heart was having problems. I think I don't remember much, because so much was uncertain. I remember going back down to the party and standing outside the tent and smoking a cigarette...a terrible stress induced habit...that seldom happen(ed)(s). I don't remember what night of the week that was.

 I remember a few nights later being on the phone with my dad and things were very grave. They didn't know if she was going to make it. He suggested that maybe I needed to come home for the first part of my fall break which was going to be in a week or so. I really lost it then. I am very blessed to have made such close friends while in London. At this moment it was Hallie, Meghan, and Marie that were really there for me. I also remember Skyping with Michael and just being a complete mess. I didn't know what to do. In the end it was decided that I would stay. And things got better for Lainey. She went home. And so much was unknown. I was gone for two(ish) more months.

When I got back to Saint Louis my entirely family was at the airport. I got to meet Lainey for the first time. I recently discovered a photo I didn't know existed on my mom's old phone that is now my phone of my first time holding her. That night or morning...I don't remember which Lainey was receiving her feed. She has to be fed formula through a tub in her belly button. I was sitting on one hotel bed and Kristine was on the other during her feed. She started to spit up and choke very badly. I couldn't handle it. I started crying. But Kristine is a champ. She just handled it. Made sure her baby girl was okay. After it was all over I told her that I didn't know how she did it every time. She said she didn't think about it. She couldn't. She just did it. What a kick ass mom.

Time to stir...

Back. The next moment of significance, for me, happened about six months later after I had graduated college. I was home with my parents in Kentucky for a few weeks. My mom and I had gone to her friend's house to go swimming. We were lazing about in the pool. Talking about Lainey...I think she may have been in the hospital at that point. But I remember up until that point I had thought that Lainey's life was going to be rough for x amount of years, but she would ultimately live a normal life. It was in this conversation with my mom that I had realized that this wasn't true. I was devastated. I think my mom was the first person in my family to accept this. She has worked with kids with special needs for years. And she is a realist. It's where I get it from. Kristine was accepting it...and was further down the road than I was. My dad had yet to come to the acceptance either. He is above all a man of God, an optimist. He believed that God could truly heal her in that ultimate way. I could be putting words in his mouth...but that is what my mom and I surmised.

A couple of weeks later I was in the car on the way to the airport with Kristine, just her and I. And we talked very candidly about Lainey and the life she would lead and the life Kristine would lead. I know she at points has blamed herself. Her husband Jonny was married before and had two healthy kids. I hated to see Kristine feel this way. Hated it. I still hate it.

Now I am in New York. I remember leaving tech for a show at Primary Stages and talking to my mom or Allison. I don't remember. It had been discovered that Lainey was very, very fussy and they took her to the hospital and found out that one of her legs was broken and the other one had already been broken. This was the first time this had happened. And the doctors were doing their job. Department of Children and Family was called and my sister and her husband's ability to parent was called into question. They weren't allowed to be in the room alone with her. My sister or someone else had to be present. Landon had to be taken to the hospital for questioning. It was a complete nightmare. And I could do nothing. Eventually things were cleared and everything was okay,but that my sister, the most amazing mom in the world be accused of abusing her child is beyond unfair. Words cannot describe.

The next and greatest moment of significance was in February of 2013. Michael was in Saint Louis for the Muny and I was home in our apartment on the Upper East Side. Lainey had been getting sick. She had been admitted to the hospital with the flu...the respiratory kind. Things continued to get worse. I woke up on a Sunday morning. I was supposed to work that evening. I had a call from my dad about how things had taken a turn for the worse. Kristine, one of my best friends in the world, got on the phone, and through tears told me that I needed to come home because Lainey might not make it. I was in complete shock.  My dad was in the process of getting me a flight home. I was hysterical. I wanted so desperately to get a hold of Michael. I knew he was in auditions all day. I am very blessed for my community of friends and was able to get in touch with someone in Saint Louis who then put me in contact with someone else who then got Michael for me. What a saint that man is. That is really all I can say. He was supposed to fly back to New York the next day. He offered to fly to Kansas City to be with us. We decided that he needed to come home to work and such. My dad had got me on a flight that wasn't leaving until 6ish in the evening. What was I to do until then? I had very little community at this point in the city...very little. I called Brian and Maria, two of mine and Michael's dearest friends in the world. They had been asleep. I told them what I could manage and they were on their way to me. They came with soup and we sat on my couch and watched Friends. They walked me to the subway...I think Brian carried my bag (thanks again, Brian). We traveled as far a we could and then I went my own way.

Time to stir...last one I think.

I packed my bag before Brian and Maria arrived and I had the thought...do I pack for a funeral? It was an out of body experience. What an awful thing to think. I don't wish it on anyone. I did...and thankfully it wasn't needed. I got in late and wasn't supposed to be able to see her, because visiting hours were over, but I got in. She looked nothing like herself. She was swollen and on a ventilator. When I saw Kristine for the first time and we held each other I think we were both a complete mess. I stayed for the next few days and she began to rally. She was deemed out of the woods by the doctors and I traveled home to New York.

The next moment of significance was in early April. Lainey had another break. I remember I was living in Astoria at this point and Michael and I were walking to Brian and Maria's in Sunnyside. I was at a loss, once again. I was crying while walking down Broadway. I verbalized something I had been afraid to, but was thinking a lot. Would she be better off she had never been born, if she had died. As I am typing this I can't even believe it. I eventually talked to my parents about it. I just think that she is the most beautiful creature in the world. She has never done a single thing wrong to anyone. She doesn't deserve to suffer.

Now it is almost a year later. She has made strides in her life. I haven't given a picture of her thus far. She is deaf. She has very sensitive bones. She can't hold her head up. She is still being fed through a tube. She is now on her ninths broken bone. She also has a very weak immune system. And just a few days ago she tested positive for RSV which is in the bronchitis family and now she is back in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit where she was almost two weeks to the day a year ago.

I have had many issues with God in my life. But this one probably gets me the most. What did my sister and her husband do to deserve this? What did Lainey do? NOTHING. Why would God create babies that are so broken? All my sister has ever wanted is to have kids and a family. And now she is a mother of four, for all intents and purposes. Lainey is her full time job. Jonny has to to support them all.

I know all of the answers so many have. God only gives us what we can handle. She'll be perfect in heaven. I know it all by heart. And I don't care. It is little to no consolation to me. Keep it to yourselves.

 I believe in God. I know he is real. I know he should mean a whole lot more to me than he currently does. But this shit happens and I just can't trust him. I know he can handle this post. I know he can handle when I rail at him. He is God. He has heard it all.

I often think of some lines from Rabbit Hole. In act one scene three. The issue of God has come up and Becca says she doesn't believe in him. The following:

NAT (her mother): What if you're wrong? What if there is a God?
BECCA: Then I would say he's a sadistic prick..."Worship me and I'll treat you like shit."

That is how I feel today...and whenever this stuff happens. And I am not my sister, or her husband or my parents or Allison. They are all living with it more physically than I am. I live here in New York...and that comes with its own set of issues.

I am just so angry at him. And I am ready for him to start proving me wrong. 

I Can Do Better Than That

I want to start by thanking everyone for reading thus far. When I started writing I really didn't think about who would read. Like I have said...this is for ME. Not YOU. But I am overwhelmed. And I HATE to be that guy. But I find it all very encouraging.

Now yesterday's post was A LOT...so how about some lighter fare today?

Music is possibly the greatest joy in my life. And has been for as long as I can remember. I was always that kid that was singing to himself. My family has significant video footage to testify to this. Singing in the shower is one of my very favorite things.

I had always been a huge musical fan as a kid. Annie, The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, Meet Me in St. Louis, etc.

The summer after my freshman year of high school (after I had been in my first musical) I really started to lose myself in a world of musical cast recordings. The library is a beautiful thing.

Today I am going to focus on one specific show and one specific song. At least that is the goal.

My junior year a dear friend (I seem to have a lot of those...) burned me a copy of The Last Five Years. Up to this point I only really knew older stuff and the really knew Broadway stuff. This whole Off-Broadway thing sort of mystified me. But I put it in the cd player in my car and took a listen. And I really had experienced nothing like. There is no other musical recording I know as intimately as that one. Norbert and Sherie hold so much for me. Jason Robert Brown is truly a genius in the way he writes those two characters and the lyrics tell us so much.

This fall the revival cast recording came out. I was skeptical at first. I know a lot of us were. The original was all so many of us had to get anywhere near the production and the piece. Now I didn't see the revival with Betsy Wolfe and Adam Kantor, much to my chagrin. At first I thought they were both working too hard to not sound like Sherie and Norbert. But then I kept listening. And I felt like this recording gave us so much more context. I felt like I knew exactly who these people were, what their world looked like and specifically each moment in which they were singing a song. When Adam Kantor starts singing The Next Ten Minutes I truly believe that they are just words that are a part of his proposal to Cathy...not just a beautiful conceit. I had talked to a friend at length about this new recording and we bonded over the show and how intimately we know it and love it. I finally gave it to him right before Christmas and one of his responses is going to take me into the specific song.

I Can Do Better Than That

He started by saying he loved the change of "met a guy in a class I was taking who you might say looked like Tom Cruise," to "some very well placed tattoos." He said he liked the idea that it made it timeless. Because Tom Cruise certainly isn't the relevant actor for that reference anymore. I thought it was perfectly valid.

Then a few days later or a week later or something I was listening to it and the line about Duran Duran stuck out to me. Why change Tom Cruise, but keep Duran Duran. Assuming Cathy was around twenty-five when she is singing this particular song it would mean she was born in 1988. Duran Duran wouldn't have really been part of her existence in a ubiquitous way to use it as a lyric. I thought that was a flaw on JRB's part, but maybe I was wrong. Again, another week later or so, I was heading home from work and had had some whiskey and my mind was going places and it came on again. And the line about prosciutto stuck out to me. It's a Jewish thing. That's why she says it. The Last Five Years was my Midwestern intro to prosciutto. And I thought JRB was just being clever, but there is a reason for everything. So I clued my friend in on this discovery and he was then asking me about the rest of the list and it's significance. So I was going to put thought into it. So the next day when I was walking the streets of New York I listened to it on repeat; both versions.

Here are the lyrics in question:

You don't have to get a haircut
You don't have to change your shoes
You don't have to like Duran Duran
Just love me
You don't have to put the seat down
You don't have to watch the news
You dont' have to learn to tango
You don't have to eat prosciutto
You don't have to change a thing
Just stay with me

As I was walking it hit me like a ton of bricks. Chills broke out on my arms and tears sprang to my eyes. Not because it was so beautiful, because it is, but because it is so real. Such context! And who even knows if this is what JRB's intention was. This is what I imagine.

So the context of the song is that they are driving to her hometown for him to meet her parents for the first time. The song starts out with her singing about her best friend Carolanne who got pregnant. You know casually telling a story about someone he will meet. But that leads to her thinking more about why she left and why Carolanne stayed. She then goes on to talk about her first year in the city and her first romantic relationship. I imagine Jamie sitting next to her or a conversation that had earlier before getting in the car. He is a little self-conscious. Should he get a haircut, should he change his shoes? Cathy says her dad LOVES Duran Duran. And now she is telling him you don't have to do any of those three things that you were worried about. Just love me and my parents will love you. MY GOD THAT GETS ME.

And the second part of the list I would like to believe goes to the heart of Cathy and Jamie's relationship. They aren't a perfect fit. She quibbles with him about putting the seat down and the fact that he doesn't watch the news, and the rest of the second part of the list. But she loves him. She just wants him to stay. And together they will do the absolute best they can!

This is exactly what I LOVE about musical theatre. And I don't know what I am doing with my life and what is going to happen. But I know that the visceral reaction I had on 35th street between Madison and Fifth Avenue is something I could spend the rest of my life chasing.

I now leave you with the last section of the song.

I will never go back
Never look back anymore
And it feels like my life led right to your side
And will keep me there from now on
Think about what you wanted
Think about what could be
Think about how I love you
Say you'll move in with me
Think of what's great about me and you
Think of the bullshit we've both been through
Think of what's past because we can do better!
We can do better!
We can do better than that!
We can do better than that!

I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

It's a little earlier than I normally post...but today is sadly rife with material. So buckle up.

If you read my post last night you know that I was feeling a little at sea...wistful was what one friend said. I woke up feeling much better.

Then I got a text from my mother. She has read my blog.

Now I guess I knew this might happen. I truly didn't think a lot about who was going to read this. I just thought it was for me. I had talked to a few friends about it, but that was it.

Needless to say...my mother was not pleased with me. She might be reading this right now. I honestly don't know.

I love my mother ferociously. I think most of us do. She gave birth to me. She literally gave me my life. We are also very similar. She is by nature an introvert. She is the baby of her family and I am the baby of mine. I have vivid memories throughout my life of her taking me to the library (she is an even more voracious reader than I am), trips to Aldi (woot!), many morning rides to school. It is largely because of her that I got to go to Webster. She was at all of my theatre performances that she could be. We love to watch movies together and sit under blankets and be cozy and all of those things. I talk to her on the phone more than I talk to anyone.

I just needed to say all of that.

I have been gay all of my life. God made me this way. He also gave me to a conservative and deeply spiritual Midwestern family. Not just my parents - my entire extended family; ministers.

I remember being in kindergarten and other very young and vulnerable points throughout my life and seeing guys whether it was a classmate's older brother or a guy who worked at a shoe store, and feeling intensely.

I remember when I discovered gay porn for the first time. This is hard to admit, all of it. I was in the fifth grade (I was an early bloomer). I would look at it fairly often over the next three years. And every single time after I would hate myself and would pray to God to take those feelings away. I would beg him to not send me to hell. I was absolutely terrified. Then in eighth grade my father discovered that I had been looking at it. And the shame and such piled on even more from my family. And I still went about looking at it and there were periods throughout high school where it was discovered as well. And I always felt this deep, relentless sense of hatred for myself.

Then my junior year I fell in love. We both agreed that we weren't gay. We just loved each other. We were still going to vote Republican and all of those things. This was in September. The next six plus months sent me on a quest. I was still grappling with the fear that I was going to hell. He helped me with that.

Then one night in February while I was taking him home my mother read my journal. Now I shouldn't have necessarily divulged those things and left them laying about for anyone. But she shouldn't have read it. She gave it to my father. I came home and things were not good. I had to call my boyfriend on the speakerphone and tell him that I couldn't pick him up in the morning and why and all of that. My mother was crying and said she was mad at me and threw a Kleenex box at me. My sister's got home and they were told. My sister, Kristine, who I am extremely close to and always have been told me she thought I was disgusting and didn't want to touch me. I was in shock. I didn't cry I didn't yell. I did nothing. My car was taken away from me, my phone, everything. My mother drove me to school the next morning and I just assumed that he and I were over. Then I saw him and we sat in a back hallway behind the theatre and he said we weren't over. I remember sneaking the phone into my room at 2 in the morning and calling him sobbing and he was there. And for that I will always be grateful.

Over the next few months I read a lot and talked to one of the dearest friends I have been blessed to have in my life. I remember a spring day sitting day a gazeebo in a park in my hometown with her. And I fully admitted to myself that I was gay and was proud of that. The next year passed without much remark. My family was dealing with bigger things to focus on me potentially being gay. And people see what they want to see. So they didn't.

Then I graduated high school and was going to be going to college. Three weeks before I was to leave for school I told my parents I was gay. And they told me that they couldn't pay for my college. I could live with them and go to school there, but they would not support the gay lifestyle. That night laying in bed I made the decision to tell my parents I was going to make the decision to not be gay. Because that is what it is to them. They said that didn't necessarily mean that school was back on. My dad left for work and before my mom and I went to run errands she told me she wanted me to go to Webster. She said that she knew how hard I had worked and how big of a deal it was and that she was going to talk to my dad and make it happen. And it did.

They dropped me off at college and were there for part of the weekend. My two worlds were colliding. Webster, one of the gayest places in the world, and my parents. I didn't want to be with them. I wanted to be with my new friends who knew I was gay and didn't care. When my parents said goodbye to me they were both crying and said they didn't know if they were making the decision and I basically didn't care. And for the first while I didn't talk to them too much. I wanted to just live my life. And I felt guilty about it. I still do.

College passed unremarkably. I went through a breakup, I fell in love again, my family met him as my friend. He totaled my car, he went with me to a wedding, he took me to the hospital at 2 in the morning when I had kidney stones, he spent Christmas day with us, he spent the forth of July with us, he was there always. And my family chose not to see it. And I didn't tell them. And it was always financial.

 Then graduation rolled around and we spent a couple weeks together before I was moving to New York on the 20th of June. On the 18th I came out to them. I told them I was gay. I told them I was in love. I told them I was going to get married. And that it wasn't changing. The next forty eight hours were terrible. My mother didn't speak to me and my father kept on telling me all about God and saying things I have heard all of my life. I didn't fight, because I knew he couldn't make me see his way so how could I make him see mine. And in time I was off to New York to again live MY life. And the next few months were fraught. My relationship with my father became more and more strained. Letters were sent, books were sent, lots of Bible verses. And I one point I said I couldn't handle it anymore. All the random texts and such. It was too much. And so he stopped. He and my mom started seeing a therapist and they were working through it.

I am getting tired of telling all of this, because it makes me oh so weary. Cut to this Christmas when things came to a head again. I haven't spoken to my father for almost a month. And I don't know how I feel about it. Not good, obviously. But when I was home I had a breakthrough. I have told friends this story for many years and they always say I'm so sorry this has happened to you, I hate that your family has done this to you. And I have always stood firm saying that they are loving me the best way they know how. But when I was home I realized...I deserve better. I am worthy of more; of support. And I would say that this feeling of worthlessness has manifested itself in some very ugly ways in my life and in my relationships.

I had no intention of telling "my story" as it were in this post. Heavy stuff for a Saturday evening. But it all comes down to this. My mother and I sent texts back and forth today. She doesn't want me to cut her out and I have no intention of doing so. I was made to feel worthless again. My mother told me I don't know how it is affecting my family. But they have each other. What do I have? Nothing...or so it feels like at moments like that one.

I am a very good liar. I lied to my family for six years about being gay, about boyfriends, about friends being gay, about friends and professors having partners, about everything. I did it so much that it was closer than second nature. And lying is a bad thing. And leads me to be the bad person. But you know, I shouldn't have to lie to my family. The people that are genetically predisposed to loving me.

I almost thought about giving this blog up, because of that response from my mother. I didn't want to hurt her, because I love her so much and if I could spare her from a second of hurt I would. I know she has spent her life trying to do the same for me. But I was texting my friend from last night. And I guess it was his turn to be the wise one. I will share what he said here, because then it is easier to hold onto than scrolling through my phone. This is reminder for all of us. I don't think he'll mind...

"Well so it sounds like your mother loves you very very much, and is desperately clinging on to whatever part of you she can get. So give it to her! There's so much more to you than who you're dating. Give her all of those things too!...She's grasping for anything she can take. So give them to her! You love her too! And you want this to work! So the gay thing obviously can't be reconciled now. Fine. But, Michael, there is so much good in you that is a product of HER raising. And all parties are losing sight of those things. Remind her of those things. You're an incredible human being, my friend. Remind her of that. I think that's where you start."

I have awesome friends.

This blog is about working things out in my life. And I guess I am already doing that...directly. This part of it is painful, but I have to believe I'll come out on the other side.

Falling in love with love...

Well this evening has made me very introspective so settle in...I will attempt to be brief, but will probably fail.

I want to be in love.

And I hate that I want it so badly.

I am a hopeless romantic. And I have been for as long as I can remember. It is a hallmark of who I am. I blame it on all of those viewings of Cinderella as a kid (and maybe as an adult...).

My childhood was filled with Disney princesses falling in love, Maria finding the Captain, Eliza finding Higgins, Esther Smith finding John Truitt. Then when I got older Meg Ryan found Tom Hanks on top of The Empire State Building AND in Central Park. Julia Roberts found Richard Gere, Holly Golightly found George. (I know I am mixing characters and actor names...I don't care.)

I fell in love with my female friends starting in seventh grade. And I didn't stop for two years. Middle school was tumultuous to say the least. Then at the beginning of high school I thought maybe love wasn't for me. I was going to be that cynical, single guy; the one that hated kids and just had a fabulous life with fabulous friends. I was going to write for the New York Times or dance and sing on Broadway. I didn't need love.

Then I fell in love...my junior year of high school. And it was head over heels, deep head spinning love. And it was with a boy. (I know I have shocked you all!) And we loved each other and it was forbidden and it was real and true. And intoxicating. And it lasted for three years. And it was great until it wasn't.

And after that I wanted to be free and experience college the way I had seen others do and they way I thought I was supposed to. I wanted to be over him, but I didn't want to love someone else yet. It just didn't enter my mind, I think. Maybe it did and I have blocked it out.

Then I fell in love...again. And it was everything my first relationship wasn't. And it was unexpected, and it was so simple and unromantic (there was lots of romance, but not that whole tortured romance bullshit.) We thrived. He did things for me that no one ever could. He was there for me through tough things. I was there for him. We had created a community and a legacy.

 And then we got engaged...I wanted to marry him from the moment I knew I loved him. And I would have too, but I was still in college and I was still in the closet with my family. But we were going to last forever. I graduated. I "came out." I proposed. And I didn't regret it then. I loved him and thought forever was us. Cut to almost a year later...when one night sitting on the steps outside the New York Public Library on the phone with my best friend I realized that forever was not in the cards for us. And in the three and a half years we had been together that thought never once entered my mind.

"I don't think two people could have been happier than we've been."
    -The Hours

I am a hopeless romantic, but I am also a skeptic. I do not suffer from delusions. I never have and probably never will. I just have been so blessed in my life. I know the power of love firsthand.

I am twenty-three and am single in New York City...like so many others. And I had never had to do the grown-up dating thing. But now I am doing it. I feel like a veteran. Because it sucks. And I'm good at it. I am not ashamed to say...but it still sucks.

After my engagement ended (I hate saying that, because now for the rest of my life I will have always been engaged.) I was looking around for the next person to disappear into. I walked lonely down the streets calling out for him. I was Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love divorcing Billy Crudup and diving into James Franco. And I had no idea.

Then it happened briefly...or at least I tried to make it happen. And boy was that a dumb idea. I suffered the consequences.

But I'm still here. I'm standing strong.

All of this stems from an evening with a friend who was down because of a breakup. Which lead me to share things that I hadn't looked at too closely in awhile. So now I am unpacking them I guess. He said that he fears he is incapable of love (you are capable). And we all think that at some point.

As P!ink says, "We're not broken, just bent. We can learn to love again."

I know that I will find the man of my dreams and we will have beautiful children and a beautiful life together.

I know I am supposed to stop looking for love, because that is when it will find me...blah blah blah. I know that I am simply not able to give anyone else what they need right now. Because I am figuring out what I need to give myself.

Romantic comedies may have ruined me a bit...and a lot of America. But am I still going to fall asleep to Sleepless in Seattle tonight? Probably...

Now I need to figure out how to get back into my OkCupid account, because I think it locked me out...

Why can't it be like it was?

"Well tonight was really MY night." Anyone? Anyone?

Today I had the sheer delight of not leaving my apartment. You know those days? So good.

I wasn't out amongst the masses which may give me less perspective on what to right...but I am sure I can make it happen for us (me).

I am a very nostalgic person. I don't know where it comes from inside me, but maybe telling you about it will illuminate something.

I don't think I like to live in the past. In New York City it is very hard to do. When the rent is due every month you gotta keep your head in the game every day. Just a little tip from me to you...don't say I never gave you anything.

Tonight I watched the movie Premonition with Sandra Bullock. You probably haven't seen it...and I don't mean it in that obscure hipster way...but in the fact that its one of those movies that slipped through our collective consciousness. The story of the movie is not relevant to this post, but my first viewing of it is.

Now I have dealt with some shit in my life. I believe we all have, but I have really been through it. My senior year of high school my family went through a very hard and ugly period of transition. But out of that I have some very fond memories right next to the very ugly ones that I have yet to be able to get rid of. My dad had lost the job he had been at for seventeen years; since I was born. So in the interim while he was looking for a new permanent position he drove ninety(ish) miles to the church he preached out before we moved to Missouri. He would spend half the week there and half the week with us. The first night he went...I wanna say it was a Sunday, but that seems wrong to me we were all sad. Sad that he was leaving, that mom was sad, that shitty people did shitty things to us and put us in this shitty situation. My sister's boyfriend who was not good for much (sorry Allison), but came through for us that night. He got the idea to order two Tuscani pastas from Pizza Hut (remember when those were a thing?) and said we should watch Premonition. Now the subject matter of that movie is not the greatest idea for sad people or a woman who is missing her husband, but again, not the point. We all hung out in my mom's bedroom. Me, my mom, Kristine, Allison and her boyfriend. And I don't remember a lot of details of that night, but I remember loving the experience of watching the movie, and it being sad, but beautiful in its sadness. And I remember being together, and I remember being a little less sad.

I have watched this movie once or twice since then, and tonight was the first night in a few years. I watched it with a friend who had never seen or heard of it. He was very disappointed in the ending, and I was too. I was watching it and thinking "Why do I like this movie? I thought it ended better than this..." But it was the memory that I loved...not the movie.

I guess my life up to this point has been pretty great. I've been alive for nearly twenty-four years. That is nearly 8,760 days. When I think of the deep pain I have felt and witnessed in my life it probably doesn't even fill up a full 365 days. So I guess I should count my blessings.

I do miss a life where I didn't have to make so many decisions. When you're in high school you do your homework or your get punished, you do your chores or you get grounded, etc. Once I graduated high school my life really became mine. Yeah...my parents paid for it and I won't deny that. But I went off to school and was able to live my life the way I wanted it to be lived (freedom!) But with that comes specific obligations (Ever After? Anyone?) My first year out of school I have questioned almost daily the decisions I have made since I made my first own decision of what college to go to and what field to go into (another post for another time).

Life is anything but simple. I don't think we want it that way...not yet at least. But do I ache for simpler times? Absolutely.

Blood may be thicker than water, but that doesn't do me much good

The title of this post would make a good country song, but that is so not the point...

It is day two and I am already feeling the pressure to deliver.

My issue today is focus. I have so many thoughts going on, but I need to reign it in. Writing when feeling divinely uninspired equals no fun.

BUT...I gotta give the people what they want! (FALSE - This is for ME, not YOU.)

Today I had the fortune of seeing my very favorite play...which happens to also be the play I directed for my senior capstone in college. Dinner with Friends by Donald Margulies. It is also the last thing I directed...almost two years ago. Glad all those student loans are being put to good use, ma?

But that subject is too much of a drag for this cold weather. Don't worry, we'll get there...

Dinner with Friends is the story of two couples who have been friends for many years. One couple (Karen and Gabe) introduced the other (Tom and Beth). The play starts with Beth telling Karen and Gabe that she and Tom are getting a divorce. What follows is tumultuous. It is about what happens to couples, to friends when life intervenes. I think this is something we all know too well. I remember vividly the day I first encountered Dinner with Friends...and looking back it is kind of apropos of the subject for today's entry...I'm getting there! Get off my back!

 So...it was my sophomore year of college, and my roommate was directing a cutting of the play. We had talked briefly about it, but I possessed zero context. It was a Tuesday...and her cutting was part of what Webster called ETs (which stood for Every Tuesday...even though we did not have them Every Tuesday...). That Sunday I had gone through a break up...my first real one. And it blind sided me. And I knew I was going to be seeing him that day at the ET. And one must look their best when seeing an ex. I wore an oatmeal colored sweater (which is still in my dresser) and brown pants (which I never do!) and I started styling my hair a new way...I know you are all riveted. I was nervous, but my dear friend Emily (the friend I would call if I had killed someone and need help burying the body) picked me up and we went to the grocery story to get flowers or something for a friend who was performing that day.

What is the point?

Well...in the car she gave me a silly book called Friends Love You Warts and All. It was a very sweet, entirely unnecessary gift, but so welcomed.

Connections. Connections.

In the second act of Dinner with Friends things have reached a very precarious point. Karen...my favorite character and the one I most identify with (she is my girl!) says:

 "I spent the first twenty years of my life doing whatever the hell I could to get away from my family and spent the next twenty years trying to cobble together a family of my own."

Heavy shit, right? Well when I directed it I had an inkling of what that meant. I thought it was beautiful and I got it (in my head). I had traveled abroad, I had gone through four years of college and formed some very intense bonds. But 2013 really illuminated that phrase.

As previously stated, 2013 knocked me on my ass. The end of the year was kind of the pellet on top of a big pile o' turds. My trip home to visit my family was, to put it mildly, not great. I was aware of how I fit less...in a way I had never felt. And it was HARD. Don't get me wrong. I love them very much, but so much has happened in my life that they were not fully a part of. So much has happened to me and for me.I am still trying to work it all out.

While I was home that line of Karen's kept on ringing in the back of my head. It just wouldn't go away.

While 2013 sucked eggs, one thing it made me aware of  (and is already apparent in 2014) is the community I have been gifted with. This time last year I was without that. And people came through; old friends, new friends. We are making each other our family.

And I must say that I find that exhilarating.

This post rambled...a lot. But that's okay. 2014 is about many things...one of them being apologizing less.

This wasn't as poignant as I was hoping...but I am seldom as poignant as I would like to be.

"I could write a blog. I have thoughts."

Like Julie Powell from Julie & Julia I've done it. I have spent the past hour plus agonizing over colors and fonts and verbiage. This is my blog.

The question to address in this first post is "Why?"

Since a very young age I have loved writing. I am sure my mother could pull out some old spiral notebooks with stories I wrote. Stories about love and heartbreak and dreams coming true; kind of my modus operandi.

To be completely real 2013 knocked me on my ass. Being out of school...something I did for the majority of my life also knocked me on my ass. Moving to a city I thought would open its arms to me, moving so far from my family and my best friends...it was all too much. This blog is part of an attempt to get back on the horse that is supposed to be the life I want. You can read it or not. It's really for me more than you. It's selfish...I know, but don't worry, you'll get over it.

So why not just write a private journal? Because self accountability is not my strong suit. And because I know I'm not the only one out there trying to get his life together and find happiness. Any bookstore has a section that proves that. I figure if my triumphs and failures can help others learn then I have done some good. Or at least provided some amusement.

I have lived my life as a predictable human being. But hopefully this blog will not be that. Some days there will be music, some days there will be a book review, some days there will be discussions of a theatrical nature, some days there may even be tales of woe from my attempts to find the man of my dreams (uh oh!).

From here on out expect the unexpected! Maybe together we will figure something out. Maybe not...