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.