A Lil' Somethin' Somethin'

"I Clearly LOVE the Smell of This Poop."

2011-07-15T19:05:00.000-07:00

Weeee! I am officially licensed as a New York City Sightseeing Guide!!! No - I am not ready to give you a tour of all of NYC yet. I am so very sorry to disappoint. I am gonna need a second - and a script - of my own or someone else's created. Patience is a virtue. Even when I am ready to give you a tour at the drop of a hat - don't expect me to do it. Much as I only sing on demand for my mother - just because I have a skill- doth not require me to demonstrate it like a dog watching a delectable biscuit in yo' hand. I realize you are just making conversation and that is all you can think of to say - but please don't be disappointed when you don't get the (at least) 24 hour walking tour that would ensue if I really did what you asked. My friend, attempting to quiz me on the eve before my NYC Tour Guide Licensing Exam, asked me "So, who in invented New York?". He was only slightly kidding. Today - when congratulating me on FB he said "So now do you know who invented New York?". And it got me to thinkin'. The depth of my study is wide and varied. While not entirely sufficient - I have a greater understanding of how New York came to be. And like any city - no one person "invented" it - someone may have "discovered" the land and possibly swindled the Native Americans who already lived on it - but no city can be created by one person. I realized my friend was being silly, of course, but I really enjoyed where it has tossed my mind. Through this whole process, while I am no huge fan of studying or taking tests - I have almost entirely enjoyed every second of what I have learned. This is due in most part to the fact that New York has always been made up of those, like myself, who were not actually born here but CHOSE to be here - to follow their dreams, to challenge themselves, to begin again. Anyone who comes to New York and stays - is, most certainly, slightly deranged - and therefore -utterly fascinating. So it has been a wild ride! One of the things I love most was watching the PBS special series "New York, A Documentary Film by Ric Burns" - all 8 DVDs of it. This documentary is interspersed with delicious quotes from the literary geniuses who made New York City their home. Not one to be too immersed in literature - these words were all new to me and really helped me understand what it must have been like to live through all of the intense changes the city has undergone. To read about facts and dates in books is one thing - but to hear the voice of real New Yorkers (the truest definition of which does NOT involve those born here)...is to feel the energy of the city at that time. It made me want to write. It made me wonder where all of our astute observations of our city - and our lives - are now getting recorded - on Facebook statuses. Where will those be for future generations to have access to? We are the ones who are inventing our cities - in this moment. We are who people will be reading about in 100 years - whether or not we make it onto an exam question. It's fun to remember that when you came here to be on Broadway - but this Broadway is an entirely different place than the Broadway you had imagined. It's fun when you find yourself excited to learn as much as you can about the city you have called "Home" for 9 years now in order to become a "Licensed Tour Guide". It's fun to remember that when you are sitting on a subway car that smells like poop. That poop smells the same as it did in 1904 when the subway began. I love this city - and I love that poop. Sort of.

Proud Mary Keep on Turnin'!

2011-06-27T14:30:00.000-07:00

What a weekend in NYC!!! Just when I thought all we were waiting for was a decision on whether or not the senate was even going to vote on the issue of Gay Marriage - midnight struck and they had not only voted - but voted in favor of it! Wha??!?! This should not come as a surprise to me as it most certainly should have happened before all of the other states but, well - almost nothing comes as a surprise to me these days. All I know for sure is that I really know nothing for sure. What was most delightful is that this influential decision came at the start of NYC's Pride Celebration Weekend! I was scheduled to work some events during this weekend's festivities and couldn't have been happier that I was going to get paid to go and celebrate on such an exciting weekend in history.

Now, I have been living in NYC for 9 years and out of those 9 years - I would say I might have missed 3 or 4 parade celebrations. I have a gaggle of close gay friends who I was giddy to go out and support for my first few years in the city. Then as I started to pay some closer attention to politics and the issue of gay marriage started to become an even bigger issue - I found myself really taking notice and getting involved. The parade for me as always been about the celebration of a movement that started on June 28, 1969 with the riots at Stonewall. It is many things to many people: a time to drool over all the hot bodies, a time to get naked and don as much glitter as possible, a chance to walk in shoes and outfits no sane person should be able to stand straight up in, and for many - the time to gawk at all of the above - either with pride, envy, or embarrassment. But through it all - at it's heart - are the couples you see proudly holding hands, many of whom have been together longer than most heterosexual marriages. Through it all it is about how difficult it shouldn't be for couples just like them all across the country to be proud of who they are and who they love. Through it all it is about the movement that began in 1969 when they just weren't going to take the abuse anymore and began to fight for their equal human rights.

Just a few short years ago after I had attended some rallies in support of gay marriage in Queens and the city, after I stood out in front of my local representative's office to show that he did not currently support the gay marriage bill and urging him to do so, after years of doing whatever I could to support this movement - me - a "straight" girl...had a startling realization. I was hanging out with some of my close friends - you know, the same ones I had gone out to support and love with every fiber of my being. We were sitting next to an older gay gentleman who brought up the subject of gay marriage - and Prop 8 - as it was all so HUGE in the news at that time. I was excited by this stranger connecting on this issue and wanting to discuss it with us. They seemed mostly irritated by this older gentleman that, perhaps, might be hitting on them. Worse-they seemed unimpressed or moved in any which way. It was as if they hadn't been aware it was even happening. My heart sunk. Why was this more important to me than it was to them?

Going to Pride with my friends always meant drinking in the bar at Stonewall until the parade was over-then hitting a few more gay bars-and most often hanging out until each of them hopefully found someone to go home with. How was this different than what we did when I'd visit gay bars with them on any other night? It wasn't. The fact that 6+ years of this along the idea that they were generally missing the actual significance of the day or those fighting for it = me opting to avoid the hot sweaty/shirtless crowds of the village in recent years.

This year wasn't supposed to be any different -but then I got scheduled to work in the parade. This sounded all the more fun when things went so well in Albany. So I donned my glitter and off I went!

While walking the route with 4 straight men - 3 of which who happened to be topless and hot - our lack of samples to pass out resulted in something strange. First off-I had a conversation with one of them that was eerily similar to one I had just the night before at a bar. These talks consisted of me claiming the importance of the day and them insisting that no one was going for those reasons but purely to see naked men and freaks-and to find someone to "freak" by the days end. These were straight men who insisted that they "have no problem with gay people and (insert weak proof here)."-but who continued to scoff at my notion that this day actually meant something serious to anyone. To say that these conversations bothered me is to say that I saw nary a nipple at the parade (lies...all lies!). By the time I had this talk with my coworker a few times IN the parade I decided it was futile and I would not waste more energy on it.

Unfortunately we ran out of samples to pass out, which sucked, but then something AWESOME happened. I walked half of the parade making as much eye contact as I could with everyone in the crowd as I wished them a Happy Pride - and blew kisses, slapped high-fives, gave a hug when arms opened up-screaming until I thought I lost my voice (something I usually don't allow to happen as a singer). Every so often we were getting verbally abused for not having free samples walking in the parade-but mostly-I connected with people receiving my wishes and my love. I saw the gratitude in their eyes and I knew they instantly felt how genuinely happy I was about it and I often forgot I was there to hand out chips. The best part was-I think many of them did too!

In a time when we are celebrating the victory of NYC finally making gay marriage legal-the fact remains that those marriages still aren't recognized in 40 other states. Living in NYC it is easy to imagine that everyone is open, accepting, and in support of human rights for all. But even right here in the city I continue to experience these politically correct stock responses which clearly do not reflect their truest feelings/assumptions. It's like when people used to say "I have no problem with black people-one of my good friends is black!". If this exists in Nyc-what is it like in the other 40 states?

As I went home. Drained and worried I lost my voice, I also couldn't stop worrying about whether the arguments of those two straight guys had more truth than I had imagined. How can anyone gain a different opinion of this community when many of them appear so blissfully unaware of their own movement/history? When a huge percentage of them are still fulfilling the idea of the "careless homosexual" that so often puts themselves and their very own community in danger.

Perhaps when you are so much a part of something it is hard to step out of yourself and see what is right. Like the feeling that "Well, I've already cheated on my diet-there's no saving me now-may as well eat more." Or, "I am so in debt I may as well max out this credit card because I can't imagine being able to fix it." This can be the only reason I can come up with as to why some folks prefer to remain uninformed and uninvolved while often perpetuating the old stereotypes.

I used to pay little attention to some of these matters and I imagine plenty are still doing the same. I don't always stay involved. I often get discouraged and ignore things for a minute. But I always find myself inspired to some type of action again. I can only hope that you do too. In a world that has this many uninformed people, why not pay better attention and continue being inspired to do something as we celebrate this step so that we will continue to have something to be Proud of?

Osama is Dead. (This Just In: I Don't Care.)

2011-05-02T21:24:00.000-07:00

Osama Bin Laden is dead. I just can't seem to work myself into much of an emotion about this. I read everyone's comments in my newsfeed on Facebook and I am just confused. I see that I should be happy - that he represents the enemy which we have defeated. I see people celebrating. Of course I also see those that are standing for peace and would rather not celebrate the death of anyone - no matter who they are. Of course these incite the most commentary and debates among the masses. I am not sure if I would have felt this indifference if this happened 5 years ago. All I know is that I don't really care. Not because I think his life was to be valued. I don't care because it won't bring back any of the thousands of lives lost that day or in the 10 years which have followed or the years we have to come. I don't care because I still find the truth difficult to find amidst anything we "know". I don't care because being happy about this is the victory we were brainwashed into thinking we should want and cheer. I never believed it throughout the past 10 years, why should I believe it now? And it isn't because I don't sometimes believe in the whole "eye for an eye" thing. Hell, I am obsessed with "Dexter" for this very primal instinct to retaliate for wrongs that were definitely done. I would be lying if I said I haven't thought perpetrators of horrific crimes deserve equally horrific retribution. Yet I also believe that war is not the answer and two wrongs do not make a right. But, when you are involving countries behind this type of retaliation - where does it end? So one asshole is dead. Whoopee.

"So, What Happened?"

2010-12-08T21:03:00.000-08:00

I recently had another disturbing conversation much like this xtranormal video:

Whilst working a holiday job I am NOT too giddy to return to (but grateful to have), a young co-worker learned that I had gone to college many moons ago. Here is our conversation:

Her: "So what did you go to school for?"
Me: "I got a B.A. in musical theatre."
Her: "So, what happened?"
Me: laughing uncomfortably, "What happened?!"
Her: "Yeah, don't you audition for Broadway?"

I've had many conversations like these. The kind where that one response:

"So, what happened?"

just repeats and repeats in my ear. Sometimes it pisses me off. Sometimes it makes me sad. This time it just made me giggle. A lot.

Whether or not it as simple as this cat thinks it is. Do I still even want to be on Broadway?

Maybe.

The recent closing announcements of two new-to-Broadway shows, "The Scottsboro Boys" and "Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson" has me upset and curious about the current state of Broadway and how it compares to the Broadway that I fell in love with. Two new musicals with compelling storylines and new music MADE IT TO BROADWAY in a time when only jukebox musicals and blockbuster movie-to-musicals which all leave oodles to be desired are being produced and worse, selling tickets. Within just a few short months they get their closing notices and the theatre community mourns their loss. What is the problem here? Is there truly not an audience for these shows? I am inspired by these shows and I have not seen them yet. So am I to blame? I can't afford to see them!! Even at a student rate (which I am far from a student) I have no extraneous cash (yes, people can actually not have an extra $25-35 for a ticket). I have relied for the past several years in this city on the kindness of friends who work in box offices and theatre marketing companies for all of my theatre-going needs. Even when I receive a comp, my word-of-mouth can only go so far. I am well-connected but, to a sea of artists much like myself. I know numerous people who would thoroughly enjoy and support work like this but who do not have the means to. Is that where things stand? Is the only true audience for shows such as these the very theatre community which cannot afford to support it?

Since I have limited time for research on this topic at this moment but really want to get this off my chest, I did a very quick search. The following is from a review of "BROADWAY: THE GOLDEN ERA", (a documentary being shipped to me next from Netflix!) by Seattle Post-Intellegencer movie critic WILLIAM ARNOLD

"If you don't believe Broadway had its greatest years in the two decades between 1945 and 1965, all you have to do is open a theatrical section of The New York Times on any day in this period and you'll see row upon row of listings for plays that are now classics.
It was the heyday of Tennessee Williams, William Inge and Arthur Miller; of Rogers & Hammerstein, Lerner & Lowe and Cole Porter; of "The Glass Menagerie," "Death of a Salesman" and "Guys and Dolls," of Shirley Booth, John Raitt and Carol Lawrence.

And the plays were performed in intimate theaters, mostly without audio systems, at ticket prices that were often less than that of a first-run movie in New York, so that theatergoing could be an affordable part of any New Yorker's life.

Now, according to the nostalgic documentary, "Broadway: The Golden Era," it's all gone, replaced by endless revivals and English imports targeted at tourists, performed in large auditoriums with canned music, at hundred-dollar-plus ticket prices."

Though I have often been saddened by the current state of Broadway, there is always a part of me that feels that if putting an American Idol 13th runner-up in a "Rock of Ages" is what will get a younger audience interested in musical theatre, then I can't totally discount it. But when nothing new can survive in the theatre next door how will that new fan crossover to something closer to theatre?

The good news is that there is still amazing theatre being produced elsewhere. The truest of theatre-goers have been looking Off-Broadway for the past several years to find the creativity, inspiration, and art of live theatre. Clearly Broadway is not where it's at, and even when it is, no one can afford to support it.

So while I begin reassessing my life-long dream of performing on Broadway, I'd like to propose my co worker's question to Broadway itself:

"So, what happened?"

"So...what are you working on?"

2010-11-24T22:55:00.000-08:00

If you are creative or artistic in any sense of the word, you have probably experienced the frustration of the knowledge that you DO have something MAGNIFICENT to share with the world combined with the incapacitation of perfectionism/procrastination (and yes, they are sometimes one and the same!).

I have many creative aspirations and often find myself overwhelmed by them. I am overwhelmed because there are so many different directions I can feel drawn to, but also because I have this sense of perfectionism. I don't want to do something unless it is going to be absolutely perfect (to my often impossible standards) and the most UNIQUE thing that has ever been created. If I do not have the time, energy, or inspiration to produce this product I refuse to even begin. While I embrace and am grateful for that perfectionism in regards to creating things I am proud of, I have learned recently that this is sometimes just another way of procrastinating what I am capable of. I am learning that there is something much more admirable in those who create for the sake of creating rather than the sake of being considered "brilliant". I have created some of the most amazing things from moments when I let go of that need to be the most "perfect/unique/brilliant" and just DID SOMETHING. This is a current goal of mine and I promise it has NOTHING to do with Nike but...

JUST DO IT!

But...sometimes we are entirely too hard on ourselves.

I had the pleasure of reading this blog post at Affirming Spirit many months ago and was so excited by the relief/inspiration it provided me. She could not recall the name of the artist/psychology major who had self-published a book about it.

Here are the breakdown of the four stages as Nancy recalled them:

1 | Gestation

This is the stage where things are quiet creatively, but you are feeling hopeful because you are noticing interesting experiences, gathering ideas, deciding what you want to work on next. This stage comes after the creator emerges from the Renewal/Rest stage.

2 | Inspiration

This is the stage where you find a new idea, or series of ideas, that really feels *exciting*. It might be a single idea, or one idea that quickly spawns many additional ideas. It may be something you observe outside of yourself or something that pops into your mind. The topic feels juicy and pregnant with potential. You begin whittling down the ideas collected to decide what you really want to focus upon.

3 | Creation/Birth

This is the stage where you begin taking action toward materializing the inspired idea, from start to finish. The creator’s energy is high, and they often feel full of life and vibrant. The work may take on a *life of it’s own*, possibly even going in a new direction not considered in the Gestation or Inspiration stage.

4 | Renewal/Rest

This is the stage creators enter upon completion of the Creation/Birth stage. Often, the creator has been focusing so intensely on the previous two stages, that this stage may feel like a comparative shock. New or inexperienced creators may find this stage comes relatively unexpectedly.

This can be a very critical stage for creators because most find themselves feeling low, possibly even feeling depressed, in comparison to the high-energy stages of Inspiration and Creation/Birth. Unprepared, doubt, worry and fear can easily creep in during this time, and in this low-energy stage, the creator begins questioning if they will ever do anything worthwhile again. They simply don’t have the energy to contemplate something new, and often feel defeated because of the low energy levels.

In extreme cases, a creator susceptible to addictions may retreat to drugs or alcohol to deal with the low energy, and/or soothe doubt, worry, and fear. However, if the creator is aware of these stages and knows *this one, too, shall pass*, they can embrace it and move through this stage relatively quickly~sometimes hours or days, versus months or years.

The creator knows they have left this stage when they find themselves entering the Gestation stage as they gently begin gathering more data and being intrigued by new ideas of theirs or other creators.

As a human being, I am a firm believer that we are constantly ebbing and flowing in SO SO SO many aspects of our emotions/world. Any woman knows how cycles affect our moods/over-all well-being. We are just lucky we have been given an explanation for it. Men just keep their insanity to themselves! With so many people on anti-depressants/anxiety medication I wonder if we all couldn't do with a little sit-down about our natural cycles. Everyone feels down sometimes. It is natural and part of the normal cycle of life. I realize there are extremes to this but for me, just KNOWING that these cycles exist and are so NORMAL helps me to feel better.

As an artist, I am even more relieved to read how NORMAL it is to feel so inspired at one stage, to productive in another, and then to just chill out and regroup afterwards. What a relief! I used to feel like such a schmuck when I wasn't "working on anything". As performers we are all so very familiar with this feeling. When making conversation, friends and new acquaintances like to inquire "So...what are you working on?". Sometimes they truly mean well, while others may be judging. I have always HATED this conversation. If I have nothing to say I feel like a loser and if I have something to talk about I feel pretentious mentioning it. What a RELIEF it is to know that we shouldn't ALWAYS be inspired to be DOING DOING DOING! There is a time and a place for it, of course, and if you find yourself stuck in the "Gestation" or "Inspiration" phases for too long (which is different for everyone) perhaps you can give yourself a kick in the arse but just to know that each of these phases are legitimate and necessary to the final product...ESPECIALLY the "Renewal/Rest" stage makes me feel so much better!

As performer who often relies on other people to cast me in order to "allow" me to create amidst "their" show, I imagine these cycles can be a bit more difficult to manage. All us theatre-folk know the depression that follows closing a show. On top of the loss of such magical quality-time with an incredible new group of friends paired with creating something as a performer we must then return to the "what next?" feeling. As performers in NYC we are encouraged to just keep getting out there and auditioning. Sometimes you need to regroup. You need to be able to regroup without feeling like you are lazy. Resting/Renewal is a crucial part to our art as well! I feel like artists in other formats may have a little more control over which part of the cycle they are on whereas performers spend SO much time in the "Gestation" and "Inspiration" cycles while often having to keep putting themselves out there over and over again until someone "allows" them to be in the "Creation/Birth" cycle. No doubt our cycles are naturally continuing regardless - thus causing an overall feeling of unease when some of them don't come to tangible fruition! Oh right...and then we have to work "day-jobs" on top of this! Oye.

Do you feel better knowing that these cycles exist and are perfectly normal? Can you let yourself off the hook and just enjoy your "Resting/Renewal" phase? I would love to know your thoughts!

"The Rally to Restore Sanity Which Nearly Made me Lose Mine" (Part 2 of 2)

2010-11-08T00:46:00.000-08:00

Well hello and welcome to my "Part 2". I set out to write solely about my experiences for the Rally but suddenly out came all that other stuff about the evolution of my eagerness turned disillusionment leading up to this Rally. So, if it interests you, fix those pretty retinas here.

So Stewart and Colbert are throwing this Rally and Arianna Huffington is providing free buses. Awesome! I normally don't try and gravitate towards crowds like this, but it was worth it! These guys were coming together for something positive and, more importantly, funny! I was in. I knew it would be a lot of people because of the press it was getting. When Oprah mentioned it I knew it would be even crazier. What I didn't know is that, due to incredibly poor planning for the 10,000 people Arianna Huffington so graciously bussed in for free, the story I will be telling my grandchildren is a lot more embarrassing and uneventful than it ought to be.

Here's the scoop. You invite 10,000 people to meet you at Citi-Field in Queens at 4:30 a.m. for a 5:00 a.m. departure time, you should probably organize. We got to the stadium at the ass-crack o' dawn and the Huffington Post folk were all very sweet but none of them really had anything useful to say or do. We had to form our own "line" and police ourselves, which grew more and more impossible as each 7 train that arrived dumped more and more people off. Eventually our long squiggly poor-excuse of a "line" became just a mass of people. Oh yeah, and we clearly did not leave anywhere close to 5am. We stood out in the cold for hours. Our buses were all lined up waiting for us, so why were we waiting there? Well, around 6:40 or so, Ms. Arianna Huffington herself came by with her cameras and shook people's hands and evidently hand-picked people to come with her on her bus. I am pretty sure we had to wait for her to get this photo-opportunity before we could leave because soon after she was done...things started to happen. Now, once again....NO organization from the HP peeps. Just a mass exodus toward the buses. You can guess it, my friends and I...and several other hundred people who had been standing patiently since 4:30 a.m. were now the last to board buses, while folks who just arrived at 6:30 and should have MISSED it entirely got on first. Yet we remained patient and calm, all-be-it irritated and cold. Finally we board our bus, which looked like it was stolen off a movie set. Our janky bus from 1969 still had an old school scrolling destination sign on it and there was a sign in the window that said "Jimmy". Our bus driver looked like one of Tony Soprano's peons and definitely looked like a Jimmy. We were informed just before we left that his name wasn't "Jimmy", it was "Jude". We still aren't entirely sure of this "Jimmy"'s whereabouts but we have our suspicions. Now our bus stank and the heat wasn't working. I was confident it would at some point but, no, it never did. The ride was long. The bathroom nasty. Jude kept pulling off the road to go to the bathroom. We hit traffic and after a while we couldn't see any more buses on the road with us. It was after 12pm and we were still on this bus! Jude informed us that his G.P.S. just went out and he was going to have to ask for directions. We wondered if he was even supposed to be part of this whole trip to begin with, he seemed like he just stole a bus and went along for the ride. Suddenly we start seeing national monuments off in the distance, realizing we are now IN the city. We weren't supposed to be dropped off there, we were supposed to go to a stadium about 10 minutes by subway away and we were on our own to get in to the National Mall. One of the passengers uses his G.P.S. on his phone to navigate us where we need to be and Jude drops us off a few blocks from the Mall at 1:30 p.m. With an hour and half left before the mass exodus to the subway and then buses, we get as close as we can to the field. We didn't have a chance. It occurs to me that even had we arrived on time, we wouldn't have a had a chance. You would have had to be in early that morning to get a spot anywhere near the action. Sure, I have lived in NYC long enough to know you can't just show up at the start time of the movie at Bryant Park and get a spot on the lawn but I thought this was different. There had been SO MUCH MEDIA about this I sort of imagined Arianna Huffington would be interested in us actually SEEING something once she bussed us there but obviously she couldn't care less about that, let alone getting us there before the Rally began. We stand near urinals listening to the muffled sounds of, probably Jon Stewart. We can't make out anything on the screens or stage. We walk around a wee bit. We are hungry, so we go wait in line for a hot dog. Then we wait in line for the Smithsonian restrooms. We walk around for another 5 minutes before I suggest we start to head to the subway. In about 5 minutes, the millions of people at that Rally will be doing the same thing. We patiently wait for the subway for about 40 minutes only to find a new line has formed since the Rally let out and we are all filtering into the same stairwell. Once again we patiently do what's "right" while a bunch of other fools essentially cut us. But what can ya' do? Once in the subway terminal things went way faster than I had imagined and soon enough we were on a newer, less janky/smelly, sans mobster-driver bus. It was on our journey home that we found out that all the other buses were given free snacks. Yeah. Free yogurt from Stonybrook, free pistachio nuts, and free Coca-Cola. Our bus got NUTTIN'. Maybe Jude ate it all.

That's what happened when I went to the Rally kids. Grandma rode on a janky bus for 6 hours just to eat a hot dog and pee before turning around and coming back and watching clips of what she missed while she was there on the internet.

Am I a little irked with Arianna for treating us as props to make her look fantastic in the media while feigning interest in our participation once her free buses dropped us off late? Of course. Do I wish I could still get my hands on those pistachio nuts? It'd be cool. But do I regret going to the Rally? I don't think so. At the end of the day, this Rally was HUGE. HUUUUUUGE! A police officer in D.C. said he hasn't seen anything this big in years (other than Obama's Inauguration). It would have never been that HUGE if it weren't for all the media attention Ms. Huffington created with this free bus bullshit. Thousands of people got together FOR something. Something positive and funny. I still can't understand why some media were forbidden by their employers to cover the Rally, but regardless of that fact, people still know what happened that day and how many people came to support it. And I did too....it's not my fault the day was a huge-ass bust for me and my friends. I went. That's something I can be proud to tell my grandkids. Now I better get busy over here and start on the kid part first 'cause I'm gonna be one crazy-awesome Grandma!

"What will we tell our grandchildren?" (Part 1 of 2)

2010-11-08T00:01:00.000-08:00

I spend a lot of time imagining what great tales I will have to tell my grandchildren one day. This is a bizarre fact being that I have no children nor any immediate prospects and I just ain't gettin' any younger. Okay I know 33 isn't old but seriously, I've got lots of story-times planned with my non-existent grandchildren and only an occasional date through OkCupid so you do the math.

Still, I will be proud to tell my grandchildren that when I was a young lady living in NYC the Bush administration finally made me pay the fuck attention to politics and was just so out of control that I finally compelled to DO SOMETHING. I finally felt driven to get out in the streets or find ways I could change an unhealthy situation. There was the Pro-Choice Rally followed by an Anti-Bush Rally all on the same weekend I moved into my 2nd apartment here. My mother's fears of my heading out to an anti-Bush rally were based in her experiences living through the tumultuous 60's. These were dangerous times! I know....I saw "Forrest Gump". What I experienced that year (just before his reelection) was incredible and peaceful. Nothing violent occurred in the slightest-which is fantastic, but I can't help but wonder if that really was for the best. Taking to the streets with like-minded individuals on the streets of my now home of NYC was liberating. This bubble of like-minded folks blinded me to the reality that the majority of our country still wasn't convinced we were up shit-creek and Bush was continuously tossing our paddles out of the boat as we just kept handing them to him! I canvased in the swing-state of Pennsylvania on election day and went to the bar to watch the results with my fellow canvasers. Unfortunately we saw how that one panned out. To say that this changed me is to understate something I still haven't found the words to describe. Up to that point, I had never experienced anything quite so life-altering as I did that election day.

Throughout the next four years I attempted to continue supporting issues that were important to me. Excited by the notion that, if enough people were pissed off about Bush and what he was doing, at SOME POINT they would ALL feel compelled to get out there and DO SOMETHING...even if that something was walking down the street screaming something out....letting it be known that they did NOT approve and support him. I traveled to one rally in Washington D.C. the week that the now majority-Democratic Senate was back in session after the holidays. We were there to show our support and remind them what we wanted them to accomplish in there. The organization we went with also had some other things on our agenda that they hadn't been all that informative about prior. We were, evidently, also there to don orange prison outfits complete with black hoods over our heads - Guantanamo-Bay-style and kneel on the lawn with our hands tied behind our backs. This was in protest of the poor treatment/torture of suspected "terrorist" prisoners. We did as we were told but most of us hadn't signed up for that! Nor did we sign up to walk the streets of D.C. with these hoods over our heads while holding up GIGANTIC heavy signs they wanted us to carry. The worst part about all of this was the fact that we were told thousands of people were meeting us in D.C.. When we arrived, our numbers totaled about 300 or so. We were this tiny smattering of New Yorkers bused in for some huge rally that just never came to be. My heart sunk. Didn't people CARE?!?! Weren't people even more ready now to DO SOMETHING? Evidently not. I don't think anyone even knew we were there that day. Needless to say, I was not inspired or proud. I felt like an idiot running around in my black hood. It was around this time I started realizing the power of being "for" or "against" something and how most protests are "against". This one definitely was. I started to understand that, were I to take part in something else such as this, it was going to need to be FOR something positive.

So yeah...I did go out and canvas in Pennsylvania again for Obama. I lost my voice screaming in Times Square when he was elected. I've been to rallies in support of gay's rights to marry and things of that nature, but haven't felt too inspired to "go anywhere" until John Stewart and Stephen Colbert's "Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear". The timing of it and the free Huffington Post buses were all too hard to pass up. Little did I know that this is what I will get to tell my grandchildren about that day....

Baby Arms

2010-08-23T22:12:00.001-07:00

So, I am a bit busy doing some shows this summer, but have taken some time to compile some pretty wacky pictures I've been taking up here....

If you are bored and have as weird a sense of humor as I, please enjoy:

May I present to you.....

Baby Arms

Play Me, I'm Yours!

2010-06-26T00:58:00.001-07:00

I was born in what was to become The MTV Generation I was a little late for the explosive freedom and liberation of revolutionary changes in the 60's and 70's where music was taken out into the streets uniting people for causes beyond the concert stadiums. I was a child of the 80's and listened to music made on synthesizers and very large computers. Madonna and Whitney Houston were my heros and banana clips were my friends. Somehow though, as I aged, it did not take me long to realize that the music I truly love is that of the 30's and 40's. Of course I can appreciate modern music but I am certain I was born in the wrong era. I long for the days when a party meant everyone gathering 'round the piano and singing some rousing tunes. I feel strange that I know how songs like THIS...

was once a pop hit!

So it should come as no surprise that when I heard about "Play Me, I'm Yours", an art installation of pianos randomly distributed throughout Manhattan and many outer boroughs for New Yorkers to see, play, and enjoy, I was anxious to find some!

I had little idea just how cool it would be when I found one. The first I encountered was at Columbus Circle just behind the huge statue this past Wednesday. I got so giddy! I sat down to wait for the friend I was meeting and listened to the man playing the piano.

Everyone watching him was smiling and enjoying this just as much as I! When I thought about finding one of these I was hoping someone might be playing a song I knew and I might feel inspired to hop up and sing along. Instead, I was stunned as a sort of scroungy older man in the audience (who could have passed for homeless) hopped up and ran over after the other man left and started ticklin' those ivories! The crowd sat full of smiles as we enjoyed his tune, when a woman with a stroller carrying two babies wheeled over next to me. She pushed her babies towards myself and an older woman beside me saying hurriedly, "Would you mind watching them for a moment while I play?" Of course we agreed and she ran over and sat down only to play the most brilliant and challenging song we had heard just yet! "Oh MY!!!" giggled the older woman next to me as she started a round of applause! I watched as one of her babies repeatedly attempted to pull himself out of his slumber. I wondered whether he recognized his mom's tune. On she went only to be replaced by a tourist with bag from the M&Ms store. I was really considering jumping in but the only thing I thought I might be able to play was the Oscar Meyer Wiener song, and decided against it. It was then that my friend met me and we had to proceed with our day. I still want to find myself at another one of these pianos and sing some old standards just to have that experience out on a street somewhere, but wow is this public art incredible! We move to this city to be near this type of energy yet so many of us wrap ourselves into our solitary cocoons with earbuds and our own agenda. We steer clear of the "touristy" areas that initially drew us to this city and grumble at the crowds. I love when someone places something like this in our way and I watch as we come back out of our shells, and smile, and laugh, and connect...the way we were born to do. So get out there and find yourself a piano!

“Play Me, I’m Yours” is an artwork by British artist Luke Jerram who has been touring the project globally since 2008.

From 9am-10pm each day, 60 pianos will be available to play across New York City. Presented by Sing for Hope they are located in public parks, streets and plazas the pianos will be available until 5th July for any member of the public to play and engage with.

Be sure to check out the "Play Me, I'm Yours" NYC site for more information, locations on the pianos (including Queens, Brooklyn, and Staten Island!) and to post pictures/stories/videos of piano sightings!

And to you fellow artists out there who are looking for ways to volunteer, I am excited to learn more about the folks presenting this art along with Luke Jerram, Sing for Hope. Go check out ways you can get involved as well!

*****Update*****I finally got to play my wiener song....poorly...in the middle of Times Square to a smattering of applause! (6/26/10)

"An Anorexic Vanilla Latte Please!"

2010-06-21T22:47:00.001-07:00

I went out to meet a great friend at a Starbucks this evening and encountered, quite possibly, the most unhappy Starbucks employee I have ever had the pleasure of dealing with. I must say, on the whole, I have found Starbucks employees to be quite pleasant and joyous in demeanor. So it should go without saying (but it's too late now) that this grumpy barista sticks out like a sore thumb.

We'll call her "Grumpypants", and she didn't look entirely different than this photo of Jabba the Hut.

Now, unreasonably irritable and unfriendly customer service associates are something of the norm these days outside of Starbucks so I am pretty used to not taking it too personal. Now I have always had trouble ordering drinks at Starbucks. I have grave difficulty remembering all the correct words to describe what I'd like and even in all these years, I still don't fully have it down. Also, I have been a bit out of practice as of late and when I went to order, this is how it went.

Me: "Hello, can I please have a grande...er I'm sorry, I'd like a venti, non-fat, vanilla latte please.
GrumpyPants: "Iced or hot?"
Me: "Oh!, Iced please!! Thanks so much for asking! I have a problem remembering all these words, sorry."

Without much reaction she began preparing my drink. When I saw her pour Reduced Fat 2% milk in, I asked
Me: "Oh...do you guys use 2% instead of non-fat/skim?" (I don't know why this sounded right to me.)
Grumpypants: blank stare as if to say "Bitch, are you going to fucking make me start over?"
Me: "You call skim 'non-fat', right?"
Grumpypants: "You need to say 'slender'."
Me: "What? I though it was 'skinny'? or...'non-fat'".
Grumpypants: "You didn't ask for non-fat."
Me: (still unecessarily polite) "No, I know I said 'non-fat vanilla latte', I forgot to say "iced" which you helped me with, thank you."
Grumpypants: (evil glare as she dumps it out and begins again and...I can't be certain, but she may have just used the same jug of 2%, I couldn't really see...but it was the same damn color.)
Me: (continuing unnecessary politeness) Sorry...thank you!
Random Guy Behind Me in Line : "I heard you say 'non-fat'!"

When I shared this story with my friend I learned that Grumpypants is always this much of a "pleasure" and gives everyone a hard time. I also didn't really notice until I retold this story that she actually said I should have called my skim milk "slender". Now that's a new one. Please tell me she made that one up on the spot?!?! I really wouldn't be surprised if it's the newest ridiculous word in the Starbucks vernacular but geez, when will it end? My friends told me of some awesome twist on the Caramel Macchiato where you order it "upside down". They literally just include the same ingredients but make it in reverse. Evidently it tastes like an entirely new and delectable $5+ treat! F.Y.I. This is one Grumpypants REFUSES to make (at the Starbucks on 49th Street b/w 8th & 9th Ave). I still don't know who discovered/named this, it had to be one of the more pleasant Starbucks workers.

I want to start making up my own.

"I'll take a 'Fat-ass Vanilla Latte with Spanx and a Smile' please!"
"Please pick me up a 'Bow-legged/Big-Boned Caramel Macchiato!"
"Ooh, I'd love a 'Tall-n-Lanky Frappachino with Freckles' please."

In case you care....

2010-06-21T00:17:00.000-07:00

Oh man, I really wish I could feel like I have something decent to blog about regularly. While I don't want to stress myself out about it, I realize that the things I love about the blogs I check up on are that they always have something new every time I visit them. I know a mom who just added twins to her 2 younginz and she is still keeping up with her blog every other damn day! Of course she has a highly successful blog with tons of readers who are waiting to hear what she has to say. I must say it is easy to blow this off when I feel like no one ever reads it. Not to offend you if you happen to be reading this and don't happen to be my brother (thank you Scott!). I'm just sayin'. It give me huge license to ignore it until something huge happens that really makes me giggle or think. Now it sounds like that is rare in my world, and that would be a lie. I giggle and think quite a bit daily. I swear I do! Sometimes I even do them simultaneously. But I don't suppose I look for something every other day that I should come here and tell you about. I try to wait until the mood hits. And unfortunately it hasn't really hit for a second. I was busy getting geared up to do my first solo NYC cabaret, which somehow went smashingly. But now I am back, and I am going to stay focused on finding something to tell you about every other day. Even if that doesn't occur, I imagine I will get here more often than I have been.

And I thank you for your support.

"Extra Extra! Read All About It SUCKER!!!!"

2010-05-10T00:41:00.000-07:00

If you know me you know of my obsession with "The Onion", a brilliant satirical newspaper that is often the only news source I can genuinely trust. I have often found myself obsessed with their horoscopes, but not as of late. Just in case you haven't seen this brilliant periodical, you should do yourself a favor and visit their website and enjoy their news videos. The physical newspaper itself is not only awesome, it is FREE!

Well, a few years ago after a particularly long day out on the mean streets of NYC, I had been looking for the new issue of The Onion to pick up for my subway ride home and every spot I'd come across was out of them. I am pretty sure I even went out of my way to seek it out in a few choice spots, but to no avail. I was dragging my weary bones down 8th Avenue looking for a place to rest my soul when a sort of crazy-eyed homeless guy approached me with a stack of newspapers. I figured he was selling the "Homeless Times" paper that some of these folk are peddling. Just as my auto-response "oh, no...sorry" was about to begin, my eye caught sight of the old familiar font and Today's Weather looming off to the right. This man was trying to SELL me "The Onion"! I couldn't help but laugh. This man thought I was dumb enough to pay $2.99 for "The Onion"? He even pointed out the joke price that used to be printed on it that looked legitimate but was just part of it's brilliant satire. I could NOT stop laughing! I figured this was worth the $3 for the amusement I was getting, and besides, I needed the new issue anyway. So I told him I WOULD buy one off of him, just because I thought it was hysterical of him to sell it. I walked away grinning from ear to ear only to realize, as I glanced down in jest, that I already had this issue, and it was WEEKS old. This swindler not only sold me a FREE newspaper, but he sold me an issue 3-4 weeks old! That bastard still GOT ME! At least it was actually one of my favorite issues. I know that sounds strange but I told you I was obsessed. Every single inch of that issue had cracked my shit up and mostly out loud....so at least he sold me a good one!!

This has long-since been one of my favorite NYC stories, much like the time I saw a "blind" panhandler with a walking stick walk off the subway reading his newspaper.

Well....I was hangin' out in Times Square this past week....acting like a hippie with flyers for "Hair" when this man wanders through.....

Now this is NOT the man who swindled me, but I have never seen anyone else trying this since then and that was at least 4 years ago. So I had another good laugh. I told him all about it...and he kept saying it was probably him. I knew it wasn't but I still needed some documentation. This man was very good humored about it all even though it hadn't been him originally. He mentioned that they stopped putting the fake price on the paper and he assumed it was so that people like him couldn't sell them on the streets. He also mentioned that he recently returned from being "away" for the past 4 years. By "away", he definitely meant "in jail"...which he was also, oddly, good humored about.

Oh where oh where have my crack-tacos gone? Astoria Taco Truck where are YOU?

2010-04-26T03:50:00.001-07:00

I must begin with my deepest apologies for my last post being of the boring insights and disgusting image of Mortadella. I have been mortified that I left you all with that gem as my last post in entirely too long. I know full well there aren't that many of you who even swing past here all that often and those of you who do ought to be rewarded with something other than the world's most hideous looking luncheon meat.

Now...onto more pressing matters.

Those of you who know me know of my infatuation with the Taco Truck here in Astoria, NY. You may recall it from a past voicemail, Facebook status or any number of endless ramblings stating my suspicion of their use of actual crack amidst their delectably unique and fresh ingredients which keep addicts like me running back for more. If you ever heard tell of my new found adoration of limes and radishes, these are the people responsible.

The Taco Truck, otherwise known as "El Rey del Taco" and always parked in front of the Rite-Aid at 30th Avenue and 31st Street (except on Mondays) has recently gone missing, and I am not the only one who cares. I recently read a worried friend's status this past week, as he lives right near it and hadn't noticed it there for about a week. I had my regular two $2 chicken tacos (otherwise known as heaven) about 3-4 weeks ago but hadn't been over there since. I was worried about this when another friend casually mentioned her plans for the taco cart that evening on her way home, and had to warn her that her plans may be thwarted due to it's absence.

On my way to a party late Friday night near their corner, I approached the silhouette of a trunk nearly the same size and shape of the Taco Truck. As I got closer, however, I noticed it was slightly smaller and was covered with some graffiti-type artwork that was drab and frightening. A man loading boxes into this truck saw me slow down as I noticed this menacing impostor and thought he'd try flirting with me (since I was all dolled up and walking alone at 1am). All I could do was look at him sullenly and say "you're not my Taco Truck....where's my Taco Truck?" and sulk away.

Well, I am not sure what the explanation is for the disappearance of one of my most reliably delicious and insanely cheap-ass dinners/snacks, but I am ecstatic I am not the only one who is concerned and people are already trying to get to the bottom of this.

I also had no idea that the people who owned it recently opened an actual restaurant not too far away that sounds pretty delicious as well....though, I'm still gonna need you to bring me back my cart, mmkay?

Mortadella?

2010-03-14T01:20:00.000-08:00

Am I the only person disturbed by the sight of this luncheon meat in my bodega's deli case?

Now, I love me some pistachios, and I can appreciate that they might taste delicious in a lunch meat but man, does it look disgusting! It appears as though it may, at times, contain berries, though all I see here is chunks of FAT. Is this the fruit cake of lunch meats? Does someone actually like this? I don't think I have ever heard anyone order a "Mortadella on Rye", or on anything for that matter.

I am not sure why I need to get to the bottom of this, but if you or anyone you have ever met happens to enjoy a fine Mortadella, please enlighten me!

French Fries and Copious Amounts of Bird Poop

2010-02-12T21:01:00.000-08:00

I remember the first time I visited New York City. I remember the shows I saw, the stars I got my picture with at the stage doors, the grimy streets, and my brother getting swindled in Times Square by some sketchy dudes playing cards on cardboard boxes. I remember the energy I felt in the air and I knew that I would move here one day. Just before all that, I recall my very first step onto a NYC sidewalk just left of the crazies outside of Port Authority. A pigeon shit on my head. Welcome to New York. I knew this was the town for me! That day and many times since, I have been told that a bird pooping on your head is a sign of good luck. While there is no doubt that I am enjoying my time here in the big city...it's been nearly 8 years now and I am pretty sure I am still waiting for that good luck to prove itself.

Last night I had an odd dream. We (castmates, classmates of some sort, and just friends in general) were all staying in the woods near a beach. I'm not sure what we were doing there. En route one afternoon from wherever we went everyday back to our cabins in the woods, we were all crossing the beach when french fries started falling all around us. I don't know where they were coming from, but the sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs told us that if:

beach + fries = seagulls and birdshit

then:

beach + copious amounts of fries = well...you get the picture

So we started to run just as hoards of seagulls came swooping in eating the french fries that just kept falling. This was obviously followed by large amounts of poop on our heads. We had just barely reached the woods we were living in when the 'storm' got real bad. I just remember all of us drenched in seagull poop and wondering who was going to get to use the shower first.

Now, if birds pooping on your head = good luck

What do dreams about massive amounts of bird feces pouring down your face and the faces of those around you equal?

How about copious amounts of random french fries?

"The Anti-Bandwagon Bandwagon"

2010-02-08T13:11:00.001-08:00

Y'no what I'm really sick of? The "Anti-Bandwagon Bandwagon". Don't know what that is? Sure ya' do. It's that group of folks in the world who refuse to "get on the bandwagon" for anything and everything that a lot of people have agreed is awesome, purely because a lot of people have previously agreed that it is awesome. You might hear them saying things like, "Oh...that's been too hyped up!" or "Oh God, that's the LAST movie I want to see, it can't be that great...people are stupid." I first noticed this phenomenon when the movie "Titanic" was out. I loved that movie. I know, I know...it isn't the best film ever created, and it was cheesy, but it was a damned great movie. I don't need to defend myself this many years later, and frankly, I don't care whether you agree with me. Myself and millions of other people felt something when we watched that flick and we did that because we allowed ourselves to get on that bandwagon that the anti-bandwagon bandwagoners were throwing themselves off of and under.

What they just don't understand is that the Anti-Bandwagon Bandwagon IS A BANDWAGON. In claiming that they are so individual and so unique...able to make their own choices and form their own opinions...they are making their opinion instantly opposite to the general consensus, usually without even seeing/hearing/trying said "awesome thing". Now that's just retarded. And sure...there are a few Anti-BW's that do allow themselves to experience whatever it is and will still deny it's possible awesomeness anyway, because that is just who they are. Besides, who am I to prove whether they secretly enjoyed it and are afraid to admit it?

The trick here isn't jumping ON one of these bandwagons but, rather, not allowing their presence to deter you from truly experiencing something for yourself. A lot of people sell themselves short from some silly notions of their supposed individuality.

That is my point at the end of all of this....the whole idea behind hating whatever everyone on the Bandwagon digs is based on this idea that you are your own person and you don't just go along with the crowd. I can respect that. But not if, in doing so, you just hop on the wagon that is going the other way down the road, because that is just a different gaggle of lemmings headed to a really boring party.

"Apple Dapples"

2010-02-06T00:55:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of random things that make me happy, but none quite so much as the names of generic cereal. Since some brand named cereals are $5-6 these days, I imagine I am not the only one who has noticed some of them. These are just a few of my favorites.

There are plenty like these ones...with just a silly sound to them that vaguely describes what they are. But we smart folk can generally figure it out based on our familiarity with the original version, the photo on the box, and our experience with context clues:

Why the extra "r"?

And for those that enjoy getting freaky with their fruits...

Then there are the ones that I can still hear churning through the brains of the creative team as the hours dragged by, stuck in a room with no inspiration left yet still, cereals to name. Someone mutters, "Alright, what've we got? Apples, it tastes like apples. We can't just call it apples....we need another word. 'Apple....', ummm.'Apple Bapple'...'Apple Capple'.....'Apple Dapple'...yeah...yeah, that's got a nice ring to it!":

Or the ones that just could not get any more literal and straight to the point.

I'm unsure how, but this one somehow manages being both too literal and too vague. "With Almonds, Oats, & More (and you pour milk over it and eat it with a spoon...and then you chew it with your mouth...and swallow it down your esophagus and digest it in your belly and eventually poop it out...)". And yet the suspicious "More" leaves far too much mystery for my taste.

These evidently are entirely void of inspiration since I suppose you can't call 'em "Poop Flakes":

But why are they allowed to use this identical name?

"General Beauregard Lee"

2010-02-03T20:06:00.000-08:00

I read today that there is, evidently, not just one groundhog that people look towards on Groundhog's Day in order to predict how soon spring will or won't come each year. Mayor Bloomberg took part in a ceremony involving a one, "Staten Island Chuck", who determined that we would have an early spring which is in direct conflict with Punxsutawney Phil's prediction that we are doomed to endure more of the never-ending winter. Now, I am pretty sure that kindergarten was the last time I actually cared whether any groundhog "saw his shadow" as "they" say, but this is the first I've ever heard of other cities holding these ceremonies with multiple other animals. Evidently, there are several; ie....
"Brandon Bob" of Brandon, Manitoba; "Balzac Billy" in Alberta; "General Beauregard Lee" in Lilburn, Georgia; "Shubenacadie Sam" in Nova Scotia; "Staten Island Chuck" in New York; "Gary the Groundhog" in Kleinburg, Ontario, and "Wiarton Willie" in Ontario, among many others."

Now obviously this just makes this already absurd holiday even more ridiculous, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel like naming a few new ones.

"Goombah Gino"
"Crackah Carl"
"Where-there-be-a-fro-there-be-a-pick Leroy"
"Wigger D-Shizzle"
"Wilma the Butch" (need a lady in there!)

Okay....now it's your turn!

Everybody Poops...now with added Fiber!

2009-04-14T19:52:00.000-07:00

What the hell is up with all the fiber lately? All the...."probiotics"? When did it become so trendy to take a shit? Haven't we all been doing this for years now? Now it's "in" to be regular, and to let everyone know that we are, or aren’t...by what foods we choose to purchase. Getting a colonic is not a new trend, but you may be as suprised as I was to learn that more than one person thought it would be interesting to tape themselves getting one and post it on youtube? I am all for finding this type of relief, and if I weren't a girl, I would totally poo. It is a natural bodily function, and man does it suck when you can't. But these products are getting out of control! Am I the only one who still feels slightly embarrassed when ordering a raisin bran muffin, because everybody knows that the main reason we make that choice is to facilitate a poo? Not that bran isn't delicious, because I actually kinda dig it, but there is generally only one reason I start to crave it. It is not longer a secret that Jamie Lee Curtis poops...and all because her yogurt has "probiotics"...whatever the hell those are. We see in the Benefiber commercials that it now comes in little flavored drink powders that gorgeous "Sex in the City" type women pop into their water bottles and drink 'til they poo (we don't see that part). You can order a fiber "shot" in your Jamba Juice. Splenda is including "a little boost of fiber" now. Fiber One is making all sorts of new treats which I am promptly trying. Generic labels in the stores are even creating their own cheaper versions of these "Chock-full-o-fiber" delectables. I am antsy with anticipation for the day I learn that Fiber One is partnering with McDonalds for McFiber Fries! Eating too much McDonald's already makes some people poo...but now you will be assured instant relief. Is it all just clever marketing? Is there really added fiber? Or is it like when I see "New! Creamier milk chocolate!" on a candy bar and want to buy it to see for myself. Sure enough it tastes creamier, but is it only because I read it on the label? Will we start pooping more because our Slurpi claims "added Fiber shot!"? Here is what really worries me. Why does our culture need so much fiber? Are we just the most horribly irregular generation? This has clearly reached a moment of supply meeting demand. There is obviously a huge need for all of these products, and every one is jumping on board. What about eating the natural foods that have always had fiber in them? Maybe if our country didn't over process and mass produce everything with high-fructose corn syrup in it, our bodies would function normally. Maybe if the water we drink didn't have traces of prescription drug residue that, as most of their side effects includes constipation, we wouldn't need to pay someone to stick a hose up our ass and flush ourselves out. Why is it so much more expensive to eat foods that keep our body working rather then back them up so that they only thing flowing is our money into more and more bullshit? Why is it so much more convenient just to pick up a granola bar with fiber added (never mind everything else that is)? If I weren't a girl, I would totally change that about myself...but I am a girl, and girls don't poo.

Only in New York...I hope.

2009-04-06T16:28:00.000-07:00

So I was heading home last night after seeing a show and grabbing some food with friends, and the subway car that I got on had a homeless guy stretched out and sleeping on the bench. The first thing I do when I notice I am on a car like this is take a small sniff. I have endured more than my share of subway rides with homeless people who smell like poop, or worse....death. I once stayed on a subway car all the way into the city with a man who smelled dead because it was rush hour and I needed to sit down and eat my breakfast on the way to a job I would be standing all day for. Yes, I even ate an egg sandwich whilst smelling death. I don't recommend it, but not just for the fact that it is gross, mainly because I smelled that smelly homeless dead guy all day long. There are still days when I think I can smell him near me. Anyway, I noticed upon sniffing that there was no discernible scent, so I decided to stay. I noticed some crumbs lying on the floor next to his cart. I felt bad for the man, knowing this may have been his only meal that day and it looked like a tiny bag of chips. I wondered if he would be interested in finishing the half of chicken quesadilla I was carrying home. It wouldn't be the first time I had offered someone my leftovers, and generally they have been well-received, but sometimes it can be offensive. I thought about how I wish I could leave him a $50 bill to wake up to instead of a quesadilla. My thoughts drifted to this man and his plight for a few stops until I noticed that he had his hand down his pants. Up to that point, the angle I was sitting at saved me from that discovery. Certainly he isn't doing anything in there....maybe his hand was just...cold? It wasn't long before I noticed that his hand was moving, and there was no denying what it was doing in there. Well fuck that! That foul man is NOT getting my chicken quesadilla! Ah....NYC. Good times. Well...shortly before my stop, I noticed his motions getting more...purposeful when....I heard the sound of water...falling. Still laying across the subway car seat, he had pulled out his penis and proceeded to unload his bladder. From where I was seated, his cart blocked full exposure, but the arch of urine from his crotch and splashing onto the floor was clear. It was then that those at the other end of the car....down-stream of this man's relief show...noticed what was happening. Some were amused, some were appauled. I found myself more amused than anything. I have to say that, while NYC is a much cleaner/safer city than years ago, nothing like this really surprises me exactly. It was a first for me though. I never saw a man whip it out and piss on the subway while laying down, but I did see a man take a dump on the sidewalk in broad sunny daylight near Madison Square Garden though. It was a hot summer day and there were people everywhere. The man made no attempt to conceal his actions, and I saw his bare ass gleaning in the sunlight and the poop coming out of it. But the best part of it all was that he was reading what looked like a paperback romance novel at the time.

Happy Garden

2009-04-01T16:44:00.000-07:00

Well, it only took me about 5 years living in Astoria (7 living in NYC total) to find some decent chinese food. There is a cheapo chinese joint for almost every Starbucks here in the city and all it's boroughs, but the quality generally leaves something to be desired. That was, until I happened on "Happy Garden". I forget just how I happened on them exactly. I think I just was searching online for a new place to go since my last "this can sort of pass as food" chinese place just wasn't cutting it anymore. It is frightening if you ever leave NYC and order chinese food, because the chicken actually looks like chicken, and not some other questionable game. It can be disturbing, and yet...I definitely still eat it. Well...Happy Garden truly is an entire garden full of happy. Happy chicken, moist on the outside, crispy and General Tsao-y on the outside (only if you order General Tsao's). They have eggrolls with fresh ingredients inside a tender, flakey shell and just the right am0unt of egg roll greasiness to really hit the spot. In the first week of discovering this place (on yelp.com), my roommates must have ordered from here at least 3 times. I found myself yearning for a night to be home so I could order in again too. Very quickly the lady on the phone recognized me, but it wasn't just because I was ordering from them a lot. It turns out that we are one of the only customers to request fortune cookies. She finds this absolutely absurd and hysterical, like I am requesting that the delivery boy tapes his eyes back so they look even more chinese or something. I have never been more paranoid about asking for fortune cookies! It is strangely common these days, at least here in NYC, for them not to automatically give you fortune cookies, and I find that highly upsetting...so I request them. This, for reasons I may never fully comprehendm is high comedy.

Fettucini...

2009-03-25T20:27:00.000-07:00

So you may recall a few months ago I posted a blog called "The Princess of Soho?". It was about the newspaper guy on my way to work who spouts out many words to me, most of which I don't understand, and when I do they are often insulting. Well he is still working the corner, and I am still working that job. So I've grown accustomed to the gibberish I don't understand and can recognize his old standby, "I lika you eyes." He may 'lika my eyes', but he still thinks I'm a large woman. Once again he threatened to bring me dresses from his home, and protested again when I said I wear a size 8. He corrected me, "no...10!" What is this man doing with all these dresses at home, and why does he want to give them to me? Well beyond those precious moments we finally hit a new level this week. When I passed him yesterday he mentioned something about cooking as he handed me my paper. I thought he was asking if I like to cook. I mentioned that I am not particularly skilled at it, no. Then he said something about his friend, and how I should call him, and something about...fettucini? I figured he must have a friend who works in a restaurant and he must make good fettucini, perhaps he wanted me try it. "No!" he said. I tried to clarify, certainly he was speaking about a restaurant of some sort. "No!" he replied....and I couldn't make out any other meaning from the repetition of him saying something about calling this man....and...fettucini. So I said "okay..." and walked away in the same cloud of confusion as always. I looked down at the paper and saw that he wrote this man's number out, with his first and last name....and next to it he wrote the word "fettucini". So do I call this man and tell him I heard about his fettucini? Is fettucini some code word for a drugs? Is he using a new petname he has given me and I just don't understand he is actually saying "FATtacini??" Is this man on the corner some mystical matchmaker that lures in your true love via random pasta code words. I really have to call this number.

Ziplock Oatmeal and Tongue Lips?

2009-01-07T20:08:00.001-08:00

I saw a man eating oatmeal out of a ziplock baggie on the subway this morning, with a plastic fork. Now, I gotta hand it to this guy on one hand, because I hate carrying around my plastic container all day after I have eaten oatmeal on the go. I didn't see a man-purse on him, so this is a very logical choice. But...a plastic fork? Everyone knows you eat oatmeal with a spoon! It was amusing to watch as he forged into every nook and cranny to fish out all the clumpy clumps that stuck to every inch of the bag...sometimes squeezing it out like toothpaste.

This was all happening just inches away from a man who looked like he was sitting there sleeping with his tongue half sticking out in between his lips. I instantly caught a glimpse of him just as a tiny boy sidled over towards him to grab onto the pole on that seat. The man's "tongue" startled the boy who immediately let go of the pole and jumped as far away from him as he could. I watched as the boy stared from a far, trying to make sense of this. I did as well. Is this the man's relaxed state? Had his coffee been too hot and he had burnt the poor thing? Every once in a while the small boy would get as close as he could until he grew frightened again and would dart away. Shortly after the boy and his family left the train we were nearing this man's stop. Only I would notice, as he opened his eyes and saw me stealing glances, that his "tongue" was actually just the inner edge of his bottom lip, which was more pink in color against his darker skin. I hope he didn't think we had a "missed connection".

Tiny Dancer

2009-01-04T18:46:00.000-08:00

I had just stepped onto the uptown N train platform below Union Square. I was joining a few others, but it wasn't too crowded, so the wait would not be long. A small woman, wrapped in Muslim sheathes, was playing a synthesizer on the opposite platform. I am calling it a synthesizer because this looked like one of the originals. I mean, the keyboard was so large it nearly hid her entire body. Having finished a tardy, if not spirited rendition of Joy the the World over a week after Christmas, she began the familiar notes to "Fur Elise". Just then, the scrawny homeless man who slid under the turnstile before me approached and appeared to check the time on the digital clock hanging above. Suddenly he began attempting to reach it, as there was a sticker of some sort that he felt it was necessary to remove. The sticker on the clock was just barely in reach and he could only rip it off in tiny strips. He stood on his tip-toes and balanced himself by allowing his free arm to circle himself. It almost fluttered gracefully like a ballerina's port de bra. Having scraped off another strip, he switched arms and popped back up on the toes and proceeded to circle the other arm several times just the same. He repeated these moves several times even as the train came and I left on it. Had Beethoven's gentle melodies overtaken him? For what reason did he feel it vital to remove that darn sticker? To what do we owe his elegance and delicate artistry? More importantly, when can I see it again?

"The Princess of Soho"?

2008-12-26T22:07:00.000-08:00

There are many opportunities to meet random people on the streets of NYC. I definitely have met my fair share of them and am no stranger to undulging in fleeting encounters with strangers, especially since I have spent ample time passing out free samples and such out there. I have learned a lot from these interactions and mostly have fully enjoyed them, but every now and again they can encourage you not to be so friendly.

I've recently been temping at an office in Soho where I pass a newspaper man on the corner. We have always had strange interactions, basically since I am not stopped to speak with him, and he speaks in a really thick accent I can't really understand, and he often hands me something for free. The first time was just an ad insert to the paper, something that normally falls out on the floor of the subway that just irritates you. This baffled me. He has handed me an actual paper a couple times. He sometimes tries to speak with me but we never quite connect as I am in a rush, and it always leaves me feeling weird. I was starting to warm up to our weird relationship until the day he handed me a free pass to get into a night club that weekend. Now he seemed skeevy, trying to promote these side businesses and soliciting to people who aren't even stopping to support the business he is there for.

The day before Christmas Eve I was rushing past, just after 9am...clearly late for work, and he starts attempting to converse again as I stopped to wait for the light. Soon the late changed and I was stuck there as he handed me an envelope he dug out...and begun to say that he had a dress for me...and asked what size I was. Stunned and confused I attempted to answer him when he said "...eh...what size? You are large, right?". I am not sure what I said as I was just entirely confused all around and had no interest in getting this dress from him anyway when he promised he would bring it for me tomorrow.

So once again I walked away from this man amused and perplexed and only a tad offended that he just called me "large". As I entered my office, much later now, I opened my envelope to find a Xmas card. Did he have several of these prepared to hand out to the strangers he connects with that day? Had he originally intended to hand ME this specific card? No, I thought, he just had some pre-written ones to spread random cheer. Was there going to be a flyer for a club inside? A coupon for a sample sale? Surely there must be some other motive. All I found inside was a card with several of the possible holiday messages scrawled inside, and it was written "To The Princess of Soho". It took me by surprise and suddenly I felt horrible for thinking anything irritating about him. Suddenly I felt like a princess! Only I still wasn't 100% sure he hadn't just written out a few of those to hand to any of the ladies he sees. But it made me smile, and even more grateful that I tend to indulge these random encounters, even if it is only half-heartedly sometimes.

Apathy and Human rights...

2008-11-18T22:51:00.001-08:00

There are some that feel that negativity in any form is harmful. I know people who don't wish to hear about the horrible things happening in the world. Not because they don't care or don't have compassion...but because they have too much. I know people who believe that you get what you focus on and, therefore, choose not to listen to or focus on atrocities that occur in the world around them. They would rather focus on and perpetuate good. I would as well. But there are some things that just don't even feel real...until you hear about them from someone whether you want to or not. And while I don't think they need to be focused on, I think they need to be acknowledged, because they are happening. Now. Not 1000 years ago. They are happening now, and we should acknowledge them as if they are happening to those we love, because they may as well be. I have no idea what my aim is in posting this on a blog. All I know is that in this day and age...with the ability for information to spread as quick as this (and it took me a month to read about it), it is unacceptable to ignore this part of our reality simply because it doesn't feel good to consider. Apathy in any form as it relates to concern for another human is, in my opinion, atrocious. So, as we consider our own human rights...I hope we will also consider hers, as they are one and the same. Absolutely no one on earth deserves this.

http://www.amnestyusa.org/document&183;php?id=ENGPRE200810317930

Surveillance Camera

2008-11-16T23:40:00.000-08:00

There are times I really wish I had secretly installed a surveillance camera in my own room. Like the time I was startled awake by my terrified cat projecting himself off me via his back claws in my arm startled by my having accidentally kicked over of a table with a bunch of stuff on it next to my bed. Or like yesterday when I caught myself sleepily putting on two winter coats by mistake on my way out the door.

Someday is NOW!!!

2008-11-15T00:32:00.001-08:00

Someday people will look back at this time and be so ashamed of how many people in this country were so ignorant and cruel.

Someday people will sit with their grandchildren or their great grandchildren and have to explain to them why they thought that two people loving each other was so disgusting.

Someday money won't matter and fear won't be instilled in us by religion or anything else.

Someday we won't accept fear as a substitute for love and unity.

Someday Faith won't refer to "MY God" or "YOUR God", but to faith in our spirit, and each others'.

Someday laws will be there to protect people's rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Someday no law will define what someone else's happiness 'should' be.

Someday there will truly be a separation of Church and State.

Someday the energy it takes to create and pass new laws will move us forward rather than back.

Someday no one will be able to deny that what is done to others is also done to you and that holding anyone back holds everyone back.

Someday I will be able to tell my great grandchildren that I have always believed in and supported love.

Please stand for love today....

Be FOR something rather than against something. Be for love. In time it will work.

Extra Extra!

2008-11-12T20:33:00.000-08:00

These brilliant newspapers were passed out this morning in Manhattan.

Pay close attention to everything...including the ads.

http://www.nytimes-se.com/

I don't care that the NY Times did not issue these. These are BRILLIANT!!!

What do I Value?

2008-11-08T23:29:00.000-08:00

This is Bliss!!!

2008-11-08T05:01:00.000-08:00

I don't know if I have ever been as happy as I was last night...and today! I spent yesterday canvasing in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania to help crucial voters get their votes out! Unlike the canvasing trip I took 4 years ago for the last election, this one was incredibly well organized and we had a terrific day. More importantly we weren't just supporting the "Not Bush" Vote, we were there to support an incredible candidate who is what this country NEEDS right now as well as not being Bush! Luckily there were only a few nasties on our journey. Mainly everyone was AWESOME! It felt SO incredible to connect, face-to-face with people who believe in unity, progress, and possibility. People who push aside their fears in order to embrace change. After canvasing as many homes as we could we got out our cellphones and made calls to those who weren't able to be reached earlier in the day. The campaign workers for that neighborhood were excellent and so accommodating! We finished our time in PA in Obama's Headquarters in Bethlehem. It was so exciting to be in a real campaign office on election night! Everyone crowded around the television, though it would be a few hours before we would learn anything on it. Then it was back on the buses back to NYC. Updates were shared via blackberry and internet on phones and cheers filled the bus. Then we all congregated at The Irish Rogue in midtown to watch the results. I doubt there was any bar in NYC last night that was not electric. In my lifetime I have never been inspired at all nor moved to tears by any political speech, but even McCain's speech was incredible! I really respect him for uniting people with his words. I can only hope they were as inspiring to his own supporters who were not so ecstatic in that moment. But the best moments of last night were in the middle of Times Square...as we joined the rest of the joyful crowds in screams of glory, relief, and general exultation. I could NOT leave this area!! I hugged anyone who would let me...I gave high fives to anyone sticking hands out of their cars as they beeped through the crowded intersection. I took in every smile on every face...I danced with people in the middle of the street. I knew I should head home, but could not tear myself away! I must have been there for 45 minutes or an hour...just eating up this historic moment in every way imaginable. It was bliss! And so worth losing a bit of my voice over. Hallelujah!!!

This is bliss!

2008-11-05T17:38:00.001-08:00

"Create Your Own Reality" Videogames?

2008-10-24T22:56:00.000-07:00

So it's no secret that the brain is a magnificent masterpiece. What is even more magnificent is the way we are learning to understand and control it. Tim Jarvis wrote a delicious article in November's issue of O Magazine which examines how our understanding of the brain is already affecting the way we shop and is likely to help us determine the best potential romantic partners in the future. It delves into the potential to possibly determine whether a 7-year old will one day become a criminal and the ethics of how this might affect our justice system. For me, the most intriguing part of this article was a small additional section called "The Neurocaster" where other predictions were made about how brain science may change the way we live.

Here is my absolute favorite:

Neuroentertainment

"Current technologies (such as video games) will merge with future ones (such as those involving neural feedback), so gamers might wear EEG-type caps that read their brainwaves and pick up their emotions. Conceivably, story lines would move forward in real time, the plot changing based on each person's responses, says Zack Lynch, managing director of NeuroInsights, a market research and investment advisory firm."

Sound anything like the Law of Attraction to you? It is no secret that our thoughts create reality, and more and more people are beginning to understand this. I got chills when I read this. It was like I read myself inside out or something. Isn't this what I am learning to do right now?? Isn't this really how our "reality" actually already is? The technological wizards are creating software and computers to function as reality already does, only most people are rarely aware of it! People already play Second Life on the internet where they live as total other beings with different names, genders, and lifestyles. They interact with other such "beings" inside this new world involved in relationships and careers. One day this may be integrated with the technology to interact with what you focus on. That day isn't so far away as this article written by Mike Steer (CNN in London, England) expains,

http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/science/09/08/Futureofgaming/index.html

This technology already picks up over 30 different expressions, emotions, and actions! Jarvis says,

"If we can interpret basic control thoughts now, it isn't far off where we'll be able to interpret more complex thoughts, even potentially things you're not consciously thinking of. If we can now do it in a non-invasive fashion, it probably won't be long before we can read these things from across the room."

Is this the next step in our souls' evolution?

It is no secret that mindful awareness enhances the results of exercise, healing, and learning. And we know that people can literally change the composition of their physical brain through meditation. Our minds are entirely more powerful than we ever want to give them credit for. I am all for popping on a headset and playing with this type of technology, but this is all the more reason to hone my skills as a Visionary Fairy RIGHT NOW in this "reality" and let the games begin!

The Falling Leaves...

2008-10-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

Well I have just returned from a beautiful weekend in Boston where I saw two beautiful souls get married. It was truly one of the most amazing ceremonies I have ever had the privelige of experiencing. My roommates and I took the chinatown bus from NYC to Boston since we travel in style. It actually wasn't all that bad since we all had our own seats and when I opened my eyes every now and again I had gorgeous leaves to look at out the window! It's a perfect time to get out there and see them! There's still plenty of green surrounding the delcious reds, golds and purples. It is incredible how beautiful leaves get at the end of their lives. I find it only slightly unfortunate that we humans get all wrinkly and start to deteriorate physically as we age. Perhaps this is all the more justification for how much more important it is to continue to nurture our souls as their beauty is what truly has the potential to get more splendid with every passing year.

Paper of Value

2008-10-09T13:37:00.000-07:00

I am loving that this artist is passing out $0 Dollar Bills! Where can I get one? They may as well mean what our regular bills mean, since it's all just paper anyway...

http://www.designrelated.com/inspiration/view/Karen/entry/2668

Short Story Long...

2008-10-09T12:32:00.000-07:00

Well hello and welcome to "A Lil' Somethin' Somethin'". This is a blog inspired by my friend Rachel's "A Little Each Day" who inspired Dennis' "A Little Crazy Everyday" as well as many more. I wrangled with a title for this blog and aside from everything I wanted already having been selected, I was a little unsure as to whether or not I would be able to actually stick with "a little" each day, as I tend to be rather long-winded. Nor did I want to be brutally honest about my need to expound by calling it what it might often end up being since no one would want to read it. Plus, who the hell knows what this'll be? I'm just going to wait and see...right along with you, and at the very least I'll give you.....a lil' somethin' somethin'. (pronounced somewhat like "sumpin' sumpin'").

The Bohemian Steel Gardens

2008-07-01T03:10:00.000-07:00

So I live at the Astoria Blvd stop on the N/W in Queens. This means that you give a lot of directions...to the bus to LaGuardia, and to the Beer Garden. Non-residents of Astoria only venture to this stop in Queens to get the hell out of here or to get down with some beer. It's something I have gotten used to, and much like that warm-fuzzy feeling of being recognized as a "New Yorker" by a tourist asking for directions,it makes me feel good to help whenever I can. The other night as I made a late-night treck to the corner store for something sweet, I found a girl, a little hooched up, frantically arguing with someone on her cell phone. "

Drunk Hooched-out Girl: "Umm...excuse me, do you know where the Bohemian Steel Gardens are? (extremely confused look on her face)

Me: "Oh...yes...you mean the Bohemian BEER Garden." (holding back hysterical laughing)

Drunk Hooched-out Girl: "Umm...yeah, the Bohemian Steel Garden...is that around here?"

Me: "Yes, I can show you where it is, follow me...but it's called The BEER Garden. It's just down this side of the street past the intersection, be careful these 8 lanes of traffic are kind of dangerous to cross, once you get past them and get on the next corner or so, ask someone "Where is the BEER Garden" and someone will point you right at it. Now just careful at this intersec--

Drunk Hooched-out Girl: ----I can't believe it, you know, I asked TWO cab drivers where the Bohemian Steel Gardens were and neither of them had any idea what I was talking about!"

Me: "Well, that's probably because it's called the BEER Garden, not the STEEL Garden."

Drunk Hooched-out Girl: "It's called the BEER Garden?"

Me: "yes, yes it is."

Drunk Hooched-out Girl: slightly giggling and looking back at me while walking out into 8 lanes of traffic as their light turns green "Oh...thanks!"

I sort of hope she made it there.

Human BEings

2008-06-01T18:47:00.000-07:00

I love words. I love weird words, normal words, words that no one uses anymore. My friends know this about me and have been amused at how much fun I have reading a thesaurus. One good friend even gave me a book of bizarre words for one of my birthdays. I love the idea that all words are simply a series of sounds someone made up and applied meaning to put together to define something else that we are essentially applying meaning to. I love that we have so many words for the same objects or ideas, but some really define a situation much better than others. Some people feel that words limit our interpretation of everything around us, yet without them it would take a lot longer to understand it all.

One phrase that has been blowing me away recently is the word that defines what type of creatures we are. We are human beings. I am a human being. We don't say this is my "cat being". We don't refer to bears as "bear beings". They are simply cats and bears. At what point did someone or some everything define us as not only human, but human beings. There can be no doubt whatsoever as to what that means either. We are constantly being. No
matter how much we dwell in the past or worry about the future, we are always in a state of being. It is the absolute best possible way to describe us! This only hit me a few months ago, and it hit me so hard. How long have I been a human being, and known myself as such, and never thought about what that meant? I have been learning so much
about living in the moment and aligning my energy and thoughts with everything that makes me most happy for a few years now, and still...the simplicity of that term and what it referred to never revealed itself. How many other people never think about what it means to be a human...being? All too often I am just a human-thinking-WAY-too-much! I sort of believe that it is limiting not to refer to other creatures as "creature-beings" as well, since they too, are being. I suppose that comes from the superior mindset of man that animals aren't aware of the fact that they are also being, while we are. I don't know that I believe that. All I do know is that this phrase completely reveals a connection between the incredible power of this universe and us as beings in it. Who knows who made the phrase up or if they meant it to be taken so literally, but I'd like to think they did. This is a phrase that I find so precious! If people really think about it, they may remember what's most important.

It's so easy to get caught up in memories of the past or plans for the future but it helps to remember that all we really ever have is this instant and we need to just let it BE. Let ourselves BE. Just BE!

My "Waking Life"

2008-01-05T14:37:00.000-08:00

Why do I keep having recurring nightmarish type dreams where I am still in school and I suddenly remember that I have not attended a certain class all semester and I am terrified it will keep me from graduating? It is generally a science class. I had a break from those dreams until recently, I think. Do you ever dream something that you have previously knowledge of within the dream? It isn't that you are aware that you are dreaming, it's as if it is an actual life which you have actual memories from, but when you wake up you can't tell if you actually did live those moments in prior dreams or if everything, including the remembering of past experiences was encapsulated in that one dream you just woke from. Well I can't be sure if that was a continuation of prior dream experiences or not, but in this dream I realized once again that it was Thursday...and I think I have a science class sometime today, but I can't be sure because I haven't remembered to attend it all semester. What time is that class? Do I even know where it is? And oh, shit...didn't I figure out the last time I did this, that our final was coming up and I was completely unprepared. Even if my professor would overlook the fact that I never came to class all semester, how was I going to pass this exam? I had never even brought my book home! I thought I certainly shouldn't go to class today, because the final was taking place and I had no chance of passing. So I should skip another class, and then find my professor and BEG him to let me take it late. I knew I was going to have to get the book from my locker (yes, I was using a locker in college for some reason) and go home and CRAM everything in my brain temporarily. It would be horrible to not get my degree based on one stupid science academic credit. This was a very common worry when I actually was in school because our school wasn't particularly known for exceptional academic course outside of specific majors. Mine was musical theatre so most of my classmates just had to get our asses to these classes enough to pass them. I often have had these dreams of anxiety that I was not going to get my degree because I had forgotten to attend some class all semester and suddenly I was terrified I would have to stay there longer in order to finish it. I mean, ultimately that is the worst thing that could happen I suppose..I would just have to take that course in the summer or something. I don't know why it brings me so much anxiety. I suppose it is mainly the fear that I would have to tell my mom that I can't graduate yet because I never went to one of my classes. I have always hated the thought of letting her down. Not that she is particularly hard on me, actually she really isn't...but I still hate to let her down...or myself down. That is my worst fear I suppose, that I might let myself and those who care about me down. But ultimately these dreams are so ridiculous because I wake up still feeling nervous about it all and have to keep reminding myself that I have nothing to worry about...I have already graduated! I have a degree (all-be-it a pretty useless one). I had a little break from these dreams until recently. I guess I feel I have been letting myself down somehow? Well writing about this dream just gave me better insight to it than I had before, so that's good. Sometimes just being aware of where it is coming from might help unearth ways to remedy that anxiety. Usually I just feel so ridiculous for these dreams once I remember that I already have achieved what the dream made me so nervous about and there is no good use for this negative energy. If I am holding these anxieties that I am letting myself down, I imagine they are pretty unwarranted and ridiculous as well. If they too serve no purpose why do I hold onto them? I have a great deal to feel good about yet I am entirely too hard on myself. I wouldn't allow someone else to be this hard on me, so why do I put up with it? Well it's about time to stop. If these dreams that feel so genuinely real are completely false scenarios I am fabricating in my mind then the "dream" I am living while awake may present just as many untruths that are as ridiculous to believe as those in my sleeping life. This is what I have been a little obsessed with lately, revealing certain "truths" I have held about myself that no longer serve me and adopting new ones that do. Anyone care to join me?

Living in the moment and more....

2007-12-30T18:35:00.000-08:00

Well...since I have been learning a lot lately about a pretty unfortunate situation..I wanted to share a bit of it with you. To preface this, my mother had some unexpected surgery at the beginning of December. She was put on a ventilator which she had difficulty getting off of for the next 10 days.

Basically my mom is recovering VERY well from everything she has just gone through. She still requires some assistance and a lot of physical therapy to get stronger, but no longer needs a hospital. Since her sister works at a nursing home that can provide that, she is staying there. She is a little on the young side to be in a nursing home, but it really is the very best place for her right now. She is definitely improving every day and I am happy I got to spend Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the day after by her side in her room there. It was the first time we saw several of my aunts, uncles, and cousins who all used to gather over Xmas growing up. Most importantly though, was just being with my mom who is alive and getting well...talking and getting back to normal. The first 2 weeks of this month were the hardest of my life and there were a few moments I wasn't sure she'd be around for Xmas. I am learning a lot from this experience watching her heal and work through some difficulties. These are some simple things that people often gently advise us to do all the time...and we definitely don't always think about them, let alone take their advice. How many times have you been told to "live in the moment"? "Just breathe"? "Don't be so hard on yourself!"? Watching my mother work so hard to breathe of the ventilator...watching her overbreathing, much too quick, and not getting a good exhange of oxygen and CO2 because of it... I am reminded how very important breathing slowly and deeply is. I forget to ALL the time. Not knowing from day to day whether she would get off the vent, or need a tracheostomy, or worse, and when I should tell my jobs I will return to NYC to work because anything at all could happen the very next day forced me to live in the moment...as I never had before. Plans for the future? Memories of the past? They mean nothing in this present moment, because it could be all you have. Watching my mother, who is fiercely independent, struggle with relying on those around her for so much more...and causing herself some added physical distress if she was unable (one day) to perform the physical therapy she so anxiously woke up to accomplish...as well as listening to her apologize for all the things she hadn't prepared for to alleviate our stresses throughout this experience reminded me to not be so hard on MYself for everything I don't think I have done yet...or for not having everything happen as I had wanted it to. These stresses we put on ourselves not only prevent us from being happy but often manifest in our bodies...not always in such drastic ways, mind you...but they are never comfortable!

Now, I have always adored my mother. I have been blessed with a pretty incredible family and a mom I don't think I have ever taken for granted. My brother and I may fight, but in the end...we have a great family, and we know it and acknowledge it often. Before any of this, I have been grateful for it. While my mom was in the ICU I was reminded again how incredible she is. When I went home to see her over Christmas, I thought I couldn't possibly be even more grateful for her and more time with her. Then I found out a friend's father passed away the day before Xmas Eve. There is a lot more that goes along with what she is dealing with right now. Suddenly this vast expansive space of gratitude I didn't know existed opened up inside me. In this I feel I have learned the most important truth here... there is no such thing as being too grateful for ANYTHING!

I know that there still may be some tough times ahead, but it is impossible not to be grateful for these lessons I am learning that will continue to help me learn and grow and get through any situations that may arise...whether they are this intense or not!

Happy New Year everyone!!

ConsumeNation

2007-11-27T00:47:00.000-08:00

So the internet may be overloaded by the end of this decade. Wow. In three years, the potential exists that there will no longer be any room left here?
http://broadcastengineering.com/news/internet-overloaded-end-decade-1126/

Damn. I don't know why I'm surprised. As Americans we are raised to consume. Myself included. Sure some people say it is better to give than to receive, but most of us do so only when it serves us best. We are raised to consume natural and man-made products without any thought as to where it goes once it goes in the trash can, toilet, or drain. That is, of course, if it reaches these waste receptacles at all (motherfucking litterbugs!). New York City is somewhat anal about their recycling (at least for private residences)...but go upstate and everything goes in the same trash can. This is the case all across our country and it is past time that this should change. We know that we are reaching the limits of what we have allowed of our environment but how many national laws are in place to correct this? If the leaders of our country are just barely starting to be concerned with these things it is no wonder that we aren't. We've had this new cyber-space thing to distract us for a while now. I am quite surprised that we are just learning of the possibility of reaching the ends of the internet less than 3 years before it is possible. Look at how many things are completely reliant on the internet! Even though we too much of our time here, a whole lot more than myspace will be affected. Will more "space" be created? Can more "space" be created on earth? When will we reach our tipping point? I feel we have been teetering for far too long. What else can we create to avoid paying attention to what really matters and abuse that until we become reliant on it and consume it's entirety? How can we become the change that is needed if the people who can make/inspire these changes refuse to? ideas?

(I hereby apologize for the use of the space for this blog)

Chill out, Bitch!

2007-08-27T05:47:00.000-07:00

Everytime I get online I feel the need to multi-task. Sometimes I have good reason...and I am very busy with little time to do all I must...so I open up several windows and get to it. I could be in the midst of an email when I remember I should check out some info about an audition and I open a new window to check it out. I could then be going through the casting notices in one when I remember a word I wanted to look up in another, and I do. I could be repeating my cycle of checking one email account, then the next, when I suddenly think that in the past 10 minutes someone might have written to me on myspace...or now facebook...even if I haven't sent out any love, it doesn't stop me from hoping someone sent me some. Sometimes I open up a new window and go back to an old one only to return to the new one having no clue what it's purpose was, but I'll be damned if I don't find one for it. Sometimes I will finish up several things in various windows and close them only to find one still open and see that I was half-way through submitting a resume or posting a comment somewhere. I do this even when I have all the time in the world to be online.

I don't think this is the normal version of A.D.D. that seemed to be the trend when I was in school. This is a new breed that is flourishing via my internet usage with no sign of remission.

The scariest thing is that I just realized I am doing this in my head lately too. I feel like I am constantly multi-tasking everything I think I should be thinking about, opening one window after another only to have to return to each again and again to finish a thought or come to any conclusions or solutions.

Sometimes if I walk away from my computer while I have several windows open and it exits out to the user login section, when I go to sign back in it will notify me that there are already "x" number of applications still running and it will warn me that running too many applications at once is not good for my computer.

I could use the same type of reminder in my brain right about now....and all it would need to say is "Chill out, Bitch!"

Fitness, Made Simple...

2007-03-13T21:08:00.000-07:00

it's made for real people.

WHY can't I NOT sing along with this WEIRDASS commercial with the skeletal and leathery 109 year old man and his weird cult followers who have lost weight with his tapes? These commercials have freaked me out from the first time I saw one, but now I actually sing along (as I do with a lot of things), and sometimes continue singing long after it is done....help me stop!!!

If you aren't in NYC, you probably have no clue what I am talking about.

If you are, you still may not. Unfortunately I still do.

Ah sweet mystery of life...

2007-03-06T23:29:00.000-08:00

So I am walking home very briskly in the entirely too brisk wintery winds this evening when I find myself walking behind a man who I couldn't seem to walk quickly enough to get around without cutting him off in a strange manor. So I am quickly walking behind him, trying to get out of the cold a.s.a.p. Gaining an uncomfortable distance just behind this man, I worried he might think I was some sort of threat to him, but he never turned around or seemed to notice. All of a sudden I hear the sounds of buttocks clapping against one another and I realize this man is farting...farting in my face. Farting in my face in the cold. The blistering winds blew up into my nostrils and I quickly breathed out so as not to allow the uninvited fumes. I stepped back, my jaw dropped and I turned my head to avoid further inhallation. Who is this man that just farted in my face and why did he care not to notice who was around him? I slowed my pace and watched as he slowed and pulled out his keys and turned to go inside my building. This man is my neighbor!??!! I held back, not wanting any awkward "Yes, I am immediately behind you as I was seconds ago when you farted in my face." moments. I shivered around the corner, hoping he'd quit looking at the mail and just go in so that I might. His physique looked eerily like that of my landlords and I giggled in shock at how things turned out. I ended up giving him a few seconds then rounded the corner, had our awkward hellos (which are always that way, even sans gas), and went inside. WHY did this happen? Seriously. It is so absurd and would be absurd enough had it been a complete stranger, why'd it have to be my landlord? What purpose does this serve in my world other than to crack me up and remind me to not take life too seriously? I spend nearly every second of my world trying to figure everything out and analyzing things into the ground until I want to smack myself...and then think about all the repercussions....and never get around to smacking myself! So if you too have this problem, may someone you barely know let a big one out in front of you on your way home tonight.

"Piece of Chicken" $1

2007-02-14T23:18:00.000-08:00

Tonight was incredible in so many ways, but please allow me to share one with you. I keep passing by this place on 45th Street near 9th Avenue called "Piece of Chicken". It caught my eye one night a few weeks ago because the sandwich board out front says simply, "Piece of Chicken $1". Is this the chicken on a stick I see at every corner halal stand? Is this really all they sell? It wasn't a handwritten sign, it was official. It appeared to just be a kitchen. It was all stainless steel and didn't look as though it was an actual restaurant. I was intrigued, but there was nothing in their menu box, so I kept walking. The next time I passed by there were menus, and people inside ordering. The menu boasts 8 chicken/salmon/fish types and 7 side dishes, all just $1 each. This sounds amazing! Especially if it's any good. I was hungry, but felt like going home to eat, not knowing quite what to expect. I may have passed once or twice more and my curiosity grew every time. So tonight I was starving and with no particular meal plans I decided to give it a go. I ordered a piece of fried chicken, a side of blackeyed peas, and 2 small corn muffins, all for $3. As I was waiting for him to package up my food...I noticed servers coming in and going back into a different room with plates of food. I was standing in the kitchen of the restaurant on the corner! I don't even know what restaurant that is, whatever is on the corner of 9th at 45th Street. Whose idea was it to open up a storefront and sell fried chicken and sides for $1 each? This is absurd, and brilliant! Why doesn't everyone do this? Well it isn't the ideal place to go as there is nowhere to sit. I think they have a table or benches out front for the warmer months (not tonight with slush everywhere). So I didn't know where to go with it and knew it'd be cold by the time I got back to Astoria. I ducked into a McDonalds and ordered a diet coke and some heavenly chocolate chip cookies and took a seat. It was actually pretty damn good. The blackeyed peas had a little kick to 'em, and the chicken was tasty and all white meat, which I love. I probably could have eaten another piece of chicken though, as it was small. The corn bread was...well...corn bread is always good to me. Perhaps next time I'll try the BBQ salmon and macaroni & cheese. So next time your starving and short on cash, check out "Piece of Chicken" on 46th and 9th. As I enjoyed my meal I gazed out at the slushy sidewalk and was glad to be taking a break from trying not to slip. My soundtrack tonight was a combination of Amy Grant's "Baby Baby" and the homeless guy having an endless conversation with himself behind me. I love New York.

You should be dancing. Yeah.

2007-02-14T14:28:00.000-08:00

Well last night was a friend's birthday, and since he has been on a huge salsa/swing dancing kick over these past few months, he had people meet him at The Copacabana. I had never been there before and technically have never gone Salsa dancing either. One time I ended up at SOB's for a promotion last winter and even though I was working I got to dance a lot too. On very few occasions do I get to do any of that kind of dancing, but when I do I always love it. Depending on who I am there with I generally find that there are plenty of guys around who are looking for dance partners and suddenly I feel like I have stepped back in time to an era when people went to dance clubs to dance with each other, face to face, her hand in his and his arm around her back, leading her around the floor. It is so very different from the generation I was brought up in where you would go dancing and stand in a clump with your friends shakin' your ass and having a ball. If a guy wants to dance with you he just grooves up behind you and starts grinding. If you are interested in anything about this person and are drunk enough, you grind back. If you are not interested, you politely remove your ass from his pelvic region. I also spent a great deal of my best memories dancing at raves not too long ago. It was here that I really understood the value of my own dancing and how much I enjoyed being all alone while doing it. I didn't need my friends around me on the dance floor to enjoy myself, though if I had a bunch of my brilliant dancer friends nearby, it always made life that much more fun to have them to look up and exchange smiles with. You could always tell when you were around people who just didn't get it when you would be there in your own world getting your groove on and having more than enough fun when suddenly some skeevy guy would start grinding up against you. He wasn't dancing AT ALL the way that you were and you gave no indication that you needed or even wanted a dance partner and suddenly he would throw off your whole moment. I would just have to keep removing him from my body and sliding over hoping he would get the hint. I didn't come there to grind against anyone at all. Even if a guy was hot, that was immediate grounds for dismissal, since he was obviously stupid. There was only a very short time in my life that I welcomed that type of behavior in a club, and it has long since passed. So being at places with people salsa or swing dancing is like a whole other world in a totally different time. If you aren't dancing, no matter who you're with, there is a good chance a guy will ask you to dance. Imagine that...they ASK you if you want to dance. Weird. I don't get the feeling that they are asking you to dance so that they can ask you on a date or get your drunk and sleep with you. They are generally asking you to dance because they actually want to dance. They have some moves, and they want to twirl you around the dance floor. I have found myself dancing with lots of people I would never grind up against, not even in a nightmare. I have had husbands whose wives are perfectly alright sitting out while they twirl me around the floor. I don't really know what I'm doing, but with a guy who does, they just toss me around and give me a twirl and suddenly I feel like I'm a pro. A smile permanently across my face and wishing I was wearing a twirly skirt, I am happy. I wonder why more men don't know how to dance like this and why more people don't go dancing to this music. Sure the other stuff's alright, but there is nothing like this world where it isn't implied that you want to fuck a guy just because you allow him to twirl you around the dance floor. It's a place you could go alone if you just felt like dancing, and you would never have to worry about filling the next spot on your dance card.

Doctor Groove....and I digress...

2007-02-06T02:37:00.000-08:00

Well, I had a wonderful visit to my friend's place in Chicago this weekend. This morning as I rode the L from Ean and John's to Midway airport, I accidentally messed up one of my transfers. It was bitter cold there all weekend, and this morning was no exception. I hate this cold. It's that dry and angry cold that crystalizes the snots in your nose and makes your nostrils stick together. After waiting in the breezy bitter air on an outdoor platform, crowding under the heaters whose presence was just barely noticable, I watched two trains that were going the opposite direction come and go, and FINALLY jumped on the first one I saw on my side of the tracks...only to realize a second later that it was not the train I was waiting for. I had to ride to the next stop, where I knew I would have to get out and stand in the cold again, only to wait for a train to take me back to the other stop to get out and wait in the cold again. It also was a LONG ride to the next (wrong) stop. I was really happy with myself. My toes formed into a block of ice while waiting at this stop on the wrong line (no heater here) and I finally got back on going towards where I needed to get on the correct train. When I entered the train, there was an african american man standing at the door talking to the rest of the people in the car who all happened to be african american as well. They were all facing himand listening intently to every word. Were they just passengers on the L train like myself? Was he their tour gude? Was he a panhandler? Was he a pan handler? I seriously had no idea. Myself and another white lady, who made the same mistake I had, just walked into something, but we weren't quite sure what yet. He was speaking about Oprah, and how he hadn't originally cared for her because she used to seem to throw her money at problems and he wanted to see powerful african american people getting more involved with the problems they hoped to see changed, not just donating their money. He was speaking about what an excellent role model she is now with her donations for her school in Africa, and wished that more wealthy african americans were doing some of the same with their money and fame. As I looked around the train, it seemed that nearly everyone in that car was watching him and listening. It wasn't what I am used to in New York. You might see a few faces enjoying the music someone is playing for them, and the rest are usually doing their best to ignore it. There is a reason for this, of course. We have a lot of smelly crazies on our trains, and several who are less than talented musically. But even when there is someone a little more pleasant than most, none have ever had this affect. Every face was on him and what he was saying made sense. He told us he was going to recite a piece I will hardly do it justice here. It was rhythmic and poetic piece that empowered black men to take a stand. He told them to stop making excuses and allowing other people's excuses to be their own. He told them to be good fathers and good people and to stop thinking about jail as a hobby. Everyone on the train seemed to be listening, but when he finished, I wasn't sure what would happen. I have never seen a "subway performer/speaker" have this kind of effect on an entire car full of people. He offered the piece he had just recited, printed out for $1. He told us of his website. He explained of the work he does around the city for the community. Instantly people were pulling out scraps of paper to write his website down (http://docgroove.com/ ) , including the other white lady who had gotten on with me. At least half of the nearly full car grabbed some money to give him and accepted his printed out poetry.

I was completely struck by this experience. I am still not entirely sure what to make of it. I spent all morning wondering what was it that made his message so clear and presentable? Of course he was an intelligent and well-spoken man, but that can't be all. Are the panhandlers a lot less crazy in Chicago? Was it his audience? I don't feel like his message is anything all that new, but it is definitely something his audience could identify with and felt was very relevant. What if the car was full with people of every ethnicity? Would he have continued? Would it have had the same effect? Who knows what these people did after they went about their day?

I just can't help but think about all the things I wish I could say to a car full of people on the subway. There seems to be so much in this world that needs to be shouted at us, but most of the time people ignore these types of displays. Maybe it just so happened that everyone on that car felt exactly as he did, even if they didn't go around preaching it to people, so they respected someone who did and did it so well. But aren't there enough people feeling the same way right now to produce similar results?

This is what has been getting to me lately. People seem to be more and more aware of so many injustices happening around our country and beyond, but I am not feeling much unity and action about any of it.

What is getting to me even more lately than other people is what I'M not doing. My attention is being pulled in several directions and all of them feel so important to me. I want to find my own way to make something a little better in one or all of these areas, but no lightbulbs are appearing above my head. I am just getting more and more frustrated and antsy to make a difference, but I can't figure out how.

I feel like knowledge is something a lot of people are lacking about all of these situations and that if I can make more people aware of them, more people would feel similar. With all our digital television channels and all of the ways we can be connected to everything outside our own little worlds, it's incredible how much we don't know. We don't really want to know.

Our country is just SO self-absorbed. We have these myspace accounts where we can post 300 photos of ourselves or our family and friends, and log on every day to see if anyone commented on them. I feel like I am 11 years old putting together a scrapbook to show my friends when they sleep over at my house, only it is online and everyone who feels like it can find it and comment on it. Of course I enjoy it too, but it is just a huge distraction. It seems so easy to use it as a means to express who WE are as individuals, over and over and over again. We fill out surveys. We have blogs. You are obviously reading mine right now. Some people blog about their work or their social life, or what they are eating for lunch. People post very intimate details of their lives and then get angry when someone writes a rude comment about it. We don't have to put this stuff out there for everyone to see. I'm all for expressing ourselves but when does that ever end? That used to be something you encouraged your children and teenagers to do (hopefully) so that they would grow up to be brilliant and confident in the hope that it might help them to make the world a better place. Now it feels as though we are just in it to make a better (__insert name of networking website here__) profile.

Few people in the generation before ours are doing much to protect our world for us, and they didn't have all of the same distractions. What will our children and grandchildren have of their world but a time capsule of all of what made each of us "us"? How can we get the attention of a nation who can't stop pimping their profile? (by-the-way, check out my pictures from Chicago on my blog!)

SNEEZE already damnit!!!!!!!

2007-01-12T02:16:00.000-08:00

Ew. I have some nasty allergies or a wicked cold.

I am in Pittsburgh for the first time in over a year...the longest I have been away yet.

Okay.,..do you ever wanna blog, but you can't really blog, because the things you want to blog don't go with the other things you want to blog? You just have too many things running 'round in your brain and they might have connected in some other world but to unite them in this one would only highlight your presently unidentified personalities, of which there are, evidently, quite a few. You have a need to explain to someone other than yourself what is happening in your head and where you have been and where you plan on going, though not everything is up for public knowledge. So what compels you to want to blog them?

My head is exploding with sneezes and cravings and a need for understanding that may never come. Why do we ever feel the need to share our confusions on pages on myspace which can't possibly provide the clarity we seek...and if we had the clarity, would we have anything to blog about? This happens to me an awful lot...but not just about blogging...about writing in general Usually when this happens I just give up and I definitely don't post it. Today I feel like letting this frustration out. Every now and again I feel pretty clear about something and know at least a thousand ways to explain myself, but more often than not when I sit here to divulge my innards, to myself or on a blog I find that I am entirely too congested. And much like these sneezes that completely posess me only when they're ready, I just want them expelled and put into words. Ahhhhh!

Dead Sea Monkeys

2006-12-24T00:04:00.000-08:00

So I recently reprised my role as "booth bitch" for the Dead Sea Pavilion working for a week at the Columbus Circle street fair. I have worked a lot of street fairs and I have seen a lot of crazies. I have gone loopy and come back again, only to find I am still loopy, but often not as loopy as those that visit the booth. I can't even recall all of them, and that makes me sad since they definitely thrust me into a pseudo reality wondering if I was in some strange dream as they spout out unintelligible gibberish with behavior only seen on SNL, Mad TV, and In Living Color. People say strange things, and do even weirder things, such as accepting a free Q-tip we were offering just to be silly and walking away staring at it with a gleam in their eye as though they had just won the lottery. My favorite thing ever uttered in the booth happened this past week when a pretty normal looking woman came in and was interested in the face cream with the Dead Sea Minerals in it, but what she said was... "Umm...hi! Do you have any of those face creams with the dead sea...monkeys....or whatever?" Instantly I smiled, as I always seem to when monkeys are involved. Then the brilliance exploded when I realized there is such a thing as Sea Monkeys...and she was not only requesting Dead Sea Monkeys, but in a face cream! I immediately got visuals of microscopic sea monkey cadavers rubbed all over her face. I started cracking up, and she looked at me like I was insane. She thought I was insane for laughing at her having asked for face cream with dead sea monkeys in it. A last she walked away wondering what was wrong with me. What's most wrong is that I didn't tell her that the dead sea monkeys cost extra.

Funky Spam Subjects

2006-12-21T23:43:00.000-08:00

I'd like to share with you the bizarre subjects of the spam I have been receiving lately in my yahoo account. They perplex and amuse me. I spend at least a few seconds wondering not only what the purpose of spam is, but then...how and where "they" (whoever "they" are) could pair up such random words and why....I have been collecting my favorites and thought I would share them with you. Perhaps they will inspire you in some way.

Sketchy Bohemian
Correspondingly Absent-mindedness
Obtrusive Shiver
Not waggle no yachtsman
All of us havestrayed away like sheep.
He rod a canny
convalescent prohibitively
Have unicorn the vicksburg

Little Gretl...

2006-11-27T17:32:00.000-08:00

Okay, so the cutest kid in "The Sound of Music" is always the youngest, Gretl. The girl playing Gretl in our production is absolutely adorable. I can't possibly do her justice in words, but she is so cute you just wanna chop off her sweet little head and use it as a keychain. Big brown eyes with soft and thick black lashes, and just the slightest natural blush to her cheeks. Stick her in a white dress and she's an angel. She is just 5 years old, and already a consummate professional. She knows all her lines, and songs. Just when we thought she couldnt' get any cuter, she has taken to hugging me and a few others every time she sees you. Several hugs later I mentioned that to her and she said "I'm Gretl, I just want to be loved." That is a line Maria says in the show explaining each child to the Captain. That cute bitch is getting into character! She hands me edelweiss at one point in the show, and after working with it for the first time she asked me where I put it. I told her I put it back on the prop table. She said she wanted to check. So we both walked back to make sure I put it where it goes. She's checkin' her props! I know adults who don't check their props. She is incredible. Some of the kids take a while to warm up to, but not her. She is just unbelievable.

fuckin' walkie-talkie phones and Greyhound buses

2006-11-24T04:05:00.000-08:00

I rode the Greyhound bus home from upstate last night so that I could spend Thanksgiving with my friends (couldn't make it to see the family). The bus ride was less than pleasant, but I was totally expecting this. At least I had my two roomies from the show to enjoy it all with me. Aside from the coughing of a wee child who refused to cover his mouth the ENTIRE way here, there was the obnoxious ghetto couple in front of us with a few kids (think Whitney and Bobby on even more crack). Upon sitting down they acknowledged that their baby just pooped his pants and it was starting to stink...within just a few seconds there was a baby's ass with poo in our face as they wiped it clean. mmm. They set the tone for the trip, but we were all in relatively good spirits. We even had some fun moments with the little baby when she was turning around to smile at us. At some point the man was suggesting that they play some music instead of trying to run the dvd, which was only playing audio and nothing on the screens. Out of nowhere he asked me if I had any Sarah Mclachlan. What? I do have a lot of her music at home, but don't have it on my ipod (damn me), so I mentioned that...asking if he liked her, to which he replied "Umm, she's okay I guess, she's a bit prudish." This makes little sense, regardless of the question of why he would even bring her up in the first place. So then he listed a few of her songs that have been played a lot on the radio as ones he liked. That was totally random. Finally they fix the dvd running and we can SEE it and sort of hear it...it's Lindsay Lohan in "Just My Luck". Not my choice, but it'll pass the time, and it turns out to be a great choice if you want to watch Ms. Lohan experiencing several misfortunes. We are all struggling to hear the movie for a bit when the people in front of us get another call on their cell phone and answer it (again) in the freakin' walkie talkie mode. I hate that fuckin' walkie-talkie phone bullshit. I don't want to hear your conversation. I don't want to hear the loud and unnecessary BEEP before each of you speak to one another. I don't want to hear you shouting into it. I don't have any idea why anyone uses these in public, let alone on a bus or subway with tons of other people. Why do you want other people to hear your entire conversation? Why are you such a fucking asshole? These always piss me off. I don't care if it doesn't use up your minutes to talk to someone that way...do that at home! So we seeth about it for a while as we learn that it's her brother calling her...and he is wasted...and she finds this incredibly amusing, and wants her man to talk to him...loudly...but, as we are having difficulty hearing the stupid movie, they must be having difficulty hearing her brother, so they turn up the volume and speak louder. Finally one of my traveling companions speaks up...sort of as I do a bit as well, though it was more her. We ask them if they could please open their phone and talk ON it, because it's too loud. It was in that moment that this woman sat straight up and turned to look at these horrible people who asked her something SO inconsiderate, and in the dark I could see that she wanted to punch us. She held her gaze a few seconds longer, in case we didn't get what she was saying, but she turned back and opened her phone and angrily explained something about what just happened...saying something about her need to physically hurt "someone". She soon was off her phone, but she steamed over this for a little while longer and I guess eventually got over it. I must say that I am surprised she didn't try to start something when we were getting off the bus later. I don't know why it surprises me when people behave this way. I don't know why this isn't the first time I sat someplace where ignorant people are completely disturbing everyone's experience as it ruined whatever I was trying to do, and all I could think was "if I say something, they are going to hurt me." It is times like that I wish I were large, and strong, and knew karate. Or something. It is those moments that I stand up, walk over to them and kick them hard in the face with my heel...in my head. So we said something, and we didn't die. Woo hoo. Everyone who speaks on the walkie-talkie feature on those phones should be palmed in the face with their own cell phone, repeatedly, while they are mid conversation, so the person on the other end might hear as well.

And yet, this was definitely not my worst experience on the Greyhound.

A Mexican Man and his teeth....

2006-11-01T23:54:00.000-08:00

So I was heading out of my house yesterday...VERY early evening hours...trying to get some errands done before the Halloweeners were out and about. I walk down the end of my street and see one of the strangest things. In one of the little driveways on my quiet little street, I see a mexican man passed out flat on his back, in between his legs is his cellphone which appears to have lost it's battery. So I start to worry...is this man drunk? Did this man get mugged? Is he alive? I see his beer gut moving which means that yes, he is still breathing. He doesn't look distressed. He looks like he is having a sweet sleep there on the sidewalk. I am just baffled. This wouldn't stun me so much in midtown, or even where I used to live, in Sunset Park, Brooklyn where I know there were plenty of drunk mexicans, but here it was, like 4:30 or 5pm on a Tuesday Halloween afternoon, and nothing close to this ever happens on my street in Astoria. But the BEST part of this was, as I was still trying to process what might have happened, I noticed something else. This man's dentures from his top row of teeth were lying a few feet from his...feet. The man lost his teeth. Now I definitely thought there had to have been fowl play. But the sweet smile on the sleeping Mexican's face said otherwise. All sorts of images flooded my mind as I imagined him tripping to his sidewalk bed dropping his teeth and phone along the way...or I saw him wobbling sideways up the sidewalk with his drunk mouth agape, no longer able to control the position of his jaw, or the placement of his fake teeth...perhaps that is when they slid out, and he grabbed his phone to tell his friend how drunk he was and passed the fuck out. All I know is that a mexican man and his teeth were on the sidewalk on my street at 5pm on a Tuesday. Luckily he was gone when I returned home a few hours later. His teeth were gone too.

To the memory of you:

2006-10-13T22:05:00.001-07:00

"The last time I had tank tops and flowing skirts on, I was happy to be spending time with you." "There's that place we used to grab dinner when I was falling in love with you." "It felt so great when you'd lean across the table over the food to kiss me sweetly just because you needed to." " I remember when the weather changed last year I was happy and thinking I might be love with you." "The last time I put on this hat and scarf I was happy and still in love with you." My mind is booming with thoughts like these. The pangs of hurt that once were present every single moment now only return each time I do something that reminds me of you. When I pass a corner we kissed on. When I smell the perfume I wore when we were together. When I think of how you were one of the best things that happened to me all throughout last year when other things didn't seem to be working out...and in that instant I am sad again. I am sad because we are no longer together, and I remember how much you meant to me. In that moment I also remember that you didn't ever feel exactly the same for me and that is why we are no longer together. I remember denying that what I felt was love, even though I knew that was what it was, because I knew you didn't feel that for me. I don't want those moments anymore. I am sick of feeling sad about you. I know we shouldn't be together. I don't want to be with you again. I haven't wanted to be with you since just after you broke up with me. You ended it because we both knew I couldn't even though I knew things weren't right. Will these memories I have of you ever be good or happy? We were very happy quite often. When will these memories stop hurting so bad? I want to be in love again, but not with you...so stop haunting my heart! I want to be in love again, but this time with someone who loves me. I won't stand for anything less ever again and it feels so far off I can hardly take it sometimes. But I do, because I have to. I do because I want to. I do because I know that it is possible, no matter how long it takes to find it. So I will continue to wait. But this is my message to the memory of you and I. Get out of my head and get out of my heart. I don't want to walk these streets thinking about what we almost had. It was never enough then and it's way too much now. Each time that I think of it I just wonder how I let myself feel so much and continue to hurt so much for someone who couldn't or wouldn't do the same for me.

Mmmm...piss in a cup....

2006-09-26T02:35:00.000-07:00

Ah...the piss test. I recently began working a new job and had to visit a local drug testing facility this past week. There aren't too many experiences quite so humbling as pissing in a cup and then handing it, still fresh and warm, to the lab technician. "Here, this was all just in my bladder, but I just hovered over the toilet holding this cup between my legs, aiming the best I could and squeezed it out just for you to pour into a plastic tube and label for me. Thank you for the lovely hand sanitizer to cleanse my piss off my hand, since I wasn't allowed to turn on the water at the sink until you checked the bathroom to make sure I didn't tamper with anything."

I am not sure why I just launched into the preceding rant. I am not at a point in my life where I need worry about the drug test, but somehow, I obviously have a lot to say on the subject, much to my own surprise.

I suppose I understand why companies want to drug test, but really...I don't totally get it. I mean, drugs are bad, mmkay? We all know this. Doing drugs at work is bad. But only if you are an idiot, and are totally fucked up to a point that people realize that there is something wrong with you. If you are stupid enough to take drugs at work at all...or an amount that makes you retarded at work, then you should just be fired, because you will act stupid and people will have no choice but to fire you. What's the point of all this ceremonial peeing in cups and testing shit? If someone has some fun outside of their job, I don't understand why that is anyone's business but their own. You should get fired or penalized for not showing up, calling off all the time, or showing up and being wasted in any way shape or form. All of those are grounds for some sort of consequences, and I don't need piss in a cup to show me that. Maybe if a piss test could indicate whether a person was going to complain while they are standing next to you at work all day, or if the results were to show that a manager was going to be overly condescending or constantly be on a power trip, that would be useful. I think most employers will know quite immediately that they are interviewing a crackwhore or a junkie, and if one slips through the system and gets past that day of training, their ways most certainly won't take too long to be revealed. All those others need to just keep their shit together and save the parties for their off-time.
Thanks for listenin'.

Oh...the crazies!

2006-07-16T14:29:00.000-07:00

There are many times in life that reality is just so kooky that no writer could possibly invent the characters that I encounter on my various jobs here in NYC. Working at the Compusa on 5th Avenue (promoting AOL) has always been what I will refer to as an adventure, so as to cleverly conceal some of my bitter sweet feelings for it. Located in the heart of midtown, entirely too close to the Empire State building, you encounter one of 2 types of people here...the foreign folk, and the crazies. There are a lot of both in midtown, where they walk in all directions at once, none aware that there are hundreds of other human beings anywhere near them..changing their already indirect directions instantly running into you, stepping on you, keeping you contstantly on guard to dodge them, or stand your ground and run into them. Just the foreign folks, the crazies, and me. Perhaps it is best that these folks just bump into you and keep moving, for when they stop, and talk to you...you enter a world that not just anyone can handle. I talk to these people. I listen to them. Not generally on the street, but while working my various jobs. It took me a while to realize that while there shouldn't be any harm in this, they can often drain the life out of you at the same time as they tickle your brain when you realize that this is a real person standing in front of you, talking nonsense. When you stand in one place in a retail store every day or every weekend, these crazies always know where to find you again. I have met so many but right now all I can recall is yesterday. I met a filthy looking lady yesterday here at the store. She was very sweet. She was missing her two front teeth which were framed by the bright red lipstick smeared around her mouth. She had a tragically uneven skin tone, made moreso by the streaks of concealer or foundation strewn about her face. Her eyeliner appeared to have been applied heavily before her head had, perhaps, been held under water for a spell. Her hair seemed plastered to her head, with a slight frizz, and coated in some sort of glycerine-like liquid that was at some point dripping down her temples, but whose thickness had stopped it on it's way . Too thick to be sweat I wondered if she had applied glue? The topping on the cake is a toss up between the swirls of red lipstick that had somehow been spread faintly around her entire face and the numerous whiskers on her chin. She was a sight to behold. I approached her in my section without realizing all of her uniqueness, but once we began, I was involved...and had little way out. So we chatted. I learned she was an actress and she showed me her headshot and resume, a postcard sized copy of a picture she said had been taken on a cellphone, of her standing on a NY city street in front of a subway station, looking like a homeless person with bright red lipstick on. On the back was her resume, which boasted film/tv/commercial credits that my resume can't hold a candle to. Some credits were scribbled in and all was on the back of this postcard/cellphone picture. I offered to take her picture here (one of the parts of the area I am to get people to interact with). She seemed as though I caught her off-guard and she wasn't necessarily at her best, but we gave it a go. She saw the first shot and whipped out her makeup bag saying she needed to touch up her face. The first thing she grabbed was her tube of whore-red lipstick, which she not-so-expertly applied without a mirror. Instantly it began to bleed out into the lines and sweat on her face, on a path towards joining the rest of the "lipstick party" already in full swing on her forehead, cheeks and chin. Then she grabbed her foundation and swiped her finger in it and proceeded to draw lines around her face, poorly attempting at blending it while asking "do I look alright?". I can't answer that! Lying is physically painful to me. I couldn't even begin to point out all of the things that would have required fixing. The most helpful thing I could have offered would be a sponge and a bucket, but this was not an option. She was now looking in a mirror, and if she couldn't tell that she didn't look okay by seeing what I was seeing, what was the point in trying to fix it? Lastly she took out the eyeliner observing in the mirror as she rubbed the dull pencil around both eyes. "do I look alright?" she asked again, smoothing back her glue-y hair and smiling her no-front-teeth smile. "yes, yes you do." I said, pinching back my amusement and wincing at the pain for the untruth. She wasn't ever pleased with her photo, yet she had plans to go to kinkos to copy it and use it for her acting work. A few minutes later when she sat down at the public free internet computers we have here, I cringed as I watched her dirty hands smearing the left over brown foundation all over the keys and mouse. I couldn't wait until she left to wipe it down, but these computers are very popular and I never had a chance...several people cleaned it off with their own hands. Ew. Ew.

Problem areas...

2006-07-12T22:28:00.000-07:00

Ah...the steam room, one of my my favorite havens. Yet all too often people have to come in there and repulse me. Why is that? I have already figured out that I am obviously in the minority of women who walk in there with a towel around them and leave it wrapped around themselves the entire time they are enjoying the steamy goodness. So I suppose I am the strange one here. I rarely enjoy my time in there without some older lady splaying herself on the bench in front of me, periodically rubbing her body and, if I am really lucky, loofa-ing. I am aware that I have already posted a blog about this a while back, but tonight was a special night. Tonight, after one wrinkly lady got through lounging and rubbing herself, a little indian woman with a bit of a buddha belly strolled in naked and stood in front of me. It was just she and I. She started flapping her arms around...stretching out her sore muscles...when suddenly she puts her hands on her hips and begins moving her pelvis in a circular grinding sort of motion. It was as if she were attempting to hula hoop...ever so gently...and her hand slid from her hip onto her flappy buddha belly...as she continued her strange gyrations. I'm doing alright in my own world...not entirely understanding the purpose of this, or if I should be present for it, when she turns and looks at me as she moves. I try not to make eye contact and she looks away. She stretches a bit more and a few moments later she begins this steam room dance again...and she keeps trying to look at me! Is she trying to have a magical steam room moment with me? I wrap my towel tighter around me and attempt to stay in my own world when she speaks to me. "Someone told me that this will help..." as she swirves her hips in slow circles...rubbing her buddha belly...looking for some sort of response from me. I just nod my head and try not to laugh. This happened a few more times before I finally had my fill of the therapeutic steam. Where do these people come from? Am I really the strange one here? Keeping myself modestly wrapped up in a towel? Should I be gyrating for strangers and drawing attention to my problem areas?

Under Pressure

2006-06-26T01:56:00.000-07:00

I have an addiction. I have an addiction that goes far beyond checking myspace (and every other site I have to "check") obsessively and for no good reason all day long. I absolutely MUST listen to the song "Under Pressure" by David Bowie/Queen on my ipod as I am walking from the subway to my apartment in Astoria every night. It is a requirement of my soul. This song took on some fun nostalgic meaning for me when I did a whacked out one act this past year and we danced to this song in it. Since the night I downloaded it, it has seriously changed my commute home and possibly my entire life or the life I live whilst walking home. It is the perfect song for walking to. It is a brisk walk. Not fast enough for when you are trying to get somewhere relatively fast or need to walk quicker in order to get around slow tourists. But it's not so slow either. It is the ideal pace for nearly strutting down the sidewalk, only slightly wondering if people can tell you are walking to a beat that turns you on. I don't quite know what it is about this song. It could have been one of the first things that made me smile during my more recent depressing commutes when my memories get the best of me. I don't particularly feel as if I have been under any sort of pressure as of late. I mean, of course things have been happier for me, but I wouldn't explain it as feeling pressured. It's funny, as the song is speaking about pressure, it has an incredibly freeing effect. I feel like I am in my own music video (a feeling I am all too familiar with) and I feel rain should start falling on me as I walk down the city street with my hands outstretched from side to side as they make their way above my head and I dance into a spin and keep strutting. I don't know why I am so damn happy to be caught in the rain, generally this just makes me soggy, but tonight...tonight I am walking with David Bowie in my ears..and a beat that never fails to make me smile from ear to ear...mainly because the song is so damn good...but also because I am the only one who can hear it.

...for your baby's daddy

2006-06-19T13:23:00.000-07:00

Walking in the West Village last night with a man friend of mine, a guy who was selling balloons and such said "Want to buy a balloon....for your baby's daddy?". This perplexed me for a moment, as there was no baby...nor do I appear to be pregnant...and I totally forgot it was Father's Day...but regardless of all of that, it cracked my shit up.

To anyone who will listen...

2006-05-27T10:05:00.000-07:00

On my way through the subway station this morning where I usually see Midget Michael Jackson Man flailing his tiny manparts (that didn't sound right), I saw a lady shouting out something about God. It was strange, because she was standing there with her purse on her shoulder and her jacket on, and looked as if she was just passing through when she suddenly felt that she just HAD to preach. So she did. No one was stopping to listen, but she kept shoutin'. I have a lot of things I feel like shouting at New Yorkers, but I have yet to do so. Why is that? Am I insane or is she? I assure you that what I have to shout out people need to hear a lot more than they need to hear that God created the universe, and that gay people are evil. I need to tell people to stop being so fucking rude around here. I want to scream at people who just throw their trash on the ground right next to a trash can. I want to have people actually attempt to move out of MY way sometime instead of barreling through me on the street. If you fucking knock my freshly purchased iced coffee out of my hand because rather than turning your upper body just a smidge, you prefer, instead, to ram it into the hand that is holding the coffee...maybe you could look back and apologize as you keep walking...since I now have to go buy another one. I love NYC and I don't think it is just here that people are so rude. I was raised to say please and thank you, and I'm sorry. I say it when I haven't done anything that warrants it. I have some strange syndrome where I automatically default to polite. Most of the time I am proud of that, and happy with the way I was raised...but more and more lately I'm just irked with myself and wish I didn't automatically move out of other people's way or hold the doors when they refuse to acknowledge it or say "thank you, have a great day!" to the people I just handed my money to at Dunkin Donuts who can't even make eye contact with me. Then I get a little sad to realize that being here with people like that changes me a little bit and I find myself making a conscious effort to stand my ground on the sidewalks instead of shifting for everyone else. This makes me sad since I don't need to change or adapt to this rude world...it should be the other way around, but it isn't. Anyway, kudos to this random woman for getting things off her chest to anyone who will listen. She's got balls. But I'd rather see Midget Michael Jackson Man.

More Midget Michael Jackson Man!!!!

2006-05-20T09:19:00.000-07:00

If you don't know who the Midget Michael Jackson Man is, please check out an earlier post in this blog about him. He is a man of the dwarf persuasion who dances to Michael Jackson hits in the subways of NYC.

I caught the lil' guy warming up his legs this morning...a little hopscotch action, sort of..in one place...very briskly...boy those tiny limbs move fast! A good midget subway performer knows to stretch well before a long day of moonwalking less his puny ligaments tear where they meet his teensy hip sockets.

Once again, while the man does a mean tiny crotch grab, I still marvel more at this early Saturday morning ritual I am sometimes lucky enough to catch.

Midget Michael Jackson Man...

2006-04-29T10:03:00.001-07:00

You know that midget Michael Jackson impersonator in the subways in NYC? Well I witnessed him stretching his tiny limbs this morning. I watched him whip those wee little arms around and back and forth like a small sparrow fallen out of the nest, desperately continuing to try to fly though his feet remain firmly on the ground. He was facing the dark smelly corner of the subway tunnel, warming up his mini ligaments and tendons for a Saturday of girations to "Billie Jean" as people stop to gawk. Is it sad that I found this early morning warmup preparation ritual far more entertaining? I will never get that video clip out of my mind.

Gratuitously Rotten Smelly Homeless Man

2006-03-22T18:06:00.000-08:00

This morning I hopped into the brisk air on the subway platform and was met with a train pretty quick, only to rip open my fresh hot egg sandwich and enter a car on the train that just happened to be filled with the stench of Gratuitously Rotten Smelly Homeless Man. There was no one in this car. The looks on my face as well as the few others who had filtered on with me told me I wasn't the only one to smell it. At the far end of the car lay the rotten thing...with all his belongings. Was he dead? How long had his carcass been allowed to ride on this train? Why hadn't anyone cleaned him out of there at the last stop (being that it is the end of the line, where they clean the cars!)? I saw him stir, so the smell couldn't be explained by death. We all looked at eachother in horror, our noses scrunched up as we tried to inhale as little as possible. A few people passed through to the next car. I looked in, but realized that-at this hour of the morning, were I to move, I would lose my seat...which is a coveted position during the morning rush hour...even moreso when you are about to stand outside for the next 10 hours working a promotion. So I stayed there...still eating my egg sandwich...because, well...I had to eat. As others filtered in, no one sat from half way through the car towards him. Many switched cars the first chance they got. I remained. Every once in while, as my nose started to get used to the smell...I feared the idea that I could ever get used to something so awful...would I smell like that all day? Just as I would worry about getting used to it, another wiff would waft all the way down to my end. What the hell could cause that? Was he covered in open sores and lying in his own soiled pants? How long would he be permitted to stay there? I have no doubt his smell would linger LONG after he had been shood out...and some innocent new rider would sit right where his poopy/bloody/corpse-like body had layed all day. I don't know if I was being insensitive to the plight of this unfortunate soul...whose aroma stayed with me and taunted me throughout the day. Was it really nearby, or was it just that strong that my mind couldn't help but have flashbacks? I don't know...there are a lot of homeless people here that sleep on subways...and they don't all smell like that.

Melting Asian Snow Woman

2006-02-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

Here she is folks...this is our creation from yesterday...her yellow yarn hair (which we had used to hoist pasta pots of snow up to the balcony to make her) blew away....and her fig newton asian eyes are drooping, her fig mouth melted off (she likes to bask in the the sun)....but we still love her!

Huge Snow "man-part"

2006-02-12T18:10:00.000-08:00

Today has been a good day. I got to sleep in, with my sweetie...but I didn't sleep all damn day...

My roommates and I all bundled up to go outside and play in the snow!!! It was a little rougher than I am used to (I am such a girly girl...aka..."wuss"). We built a snowman on our front balcony...by hoisting up additional snow in a huge pasta pot with yarn...then, eventually we did the same thing from the roof to the balcony. I must admit, it was a little daunting and I totally felt like giving up when our snowman looked a bit like a pointy mountain blob...and I was cold and cranky....but somehow things started to take shape. Then we got out the "tools". Very quickly we began sculpting him into the unfortunate shape of a penis...TOTALLY unintentionally....but couldn't help cracking up wondering how many people looked out their windows seeing two chicks molding a huge snow "man-part" on their balcony. We were mortified when someone walked by and gave us a thumbs-up, we aren't sure if he could see the obvious dirtiness or not. Well...eventually we got ourselves a good lookin' snowman...complete with fig newton eyes, a carrot nose, and pink wafer buttons....

We took a trip to Dunkin Donuts to get Dunkaccinos...mmmm...

I took a longass hot shower...

....and now Kira is making grilled cheeze and tomato soup....

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!

Those "Brokeback Mountain Types"...

2006-02-04T22:43:00.000-08:00

I am working with a very sweet person who stunned me twice already, all within our first two days of work.

First was as we were sitting in a deli training for our day and eating breakfast, as "When the Doves Cry" came on. A few of us were singing along, enjoying the selections being played on the radio. Upon the mention of Prince's name (his former, now current again), he explained that he hadn't always known that Prince had made that song originally. He knew it only from the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack (an amazing one, by-the-way), and for the longest time thought Prince had just covered that version of it. Okay, so this is a clear indication of his 19 year old youth, right? I'm still skeptical on that one. We all remained stunned that he had somehow been so misled.

Next was today when, upon seeing several men dressed in very tailored and fashionably accessorized funky outfits ( I am sure someone thought they were dressed exceptionally well), he went on a rant about how much he didn't like what they were wearing and saying they looked too girly. Now they were far from dressed in drag and just happened to be very well-dressed fashionistas of some sort. Perhaps they were trying a tad too hard, but COME ON...we are working in front of Fashion Week! Anyway, he launches into his insults with a "Now, I have nothing against those 'Brokeback Mountain Types' BUT..."

Weee!!! Gay people have another derogatory term to mock and label them at the same time! Such a relief! Thank God Ang Lee made this movie because the other names are SO last millenea!

I finally got to see "Brokeback Mountain" last week. My experience of it wasn't nearly what I had expected it would be, but that probably has something to do with how long it took me to see it. I kept hearing everyone else's intense reactions to it all the time, and it just didn't make me emote the way I definitely did when I saw the trailor for it WELL before everyone was talking about it. Regardless of the fact that I didn't weep like an infant at the love story and the tragedy of it's complications, I am, none-the-less, effected. ..>

I am effected in the same way I was after seeing "Far From Heaven" (a BEAUTIFUL movie), a few years back. I always feel so excited when movies like this are made, because I feel like they are going to do SO much for the ignorance and resulting struggles surrounding the lives of human beings that are gay. It invigorates me for a while, perhaps before I see the film, perhaps even while I am watching it. I wrap myself up in the story and how it effects me. My heart leaps with gratitude that someone is showing these stories that are far from new in history of the universe, and I am so proud of the "big hollywood stars" that agreed to do it. I feel like times are changing and have GOT to be getting better!!

Then I wake up. My heart sinks a few feet again as I remember that, even though those stories are set in a time that has past, SO very much remains the same.

Of course times are changing. Just the simple fact that someone produced the film is proof of that. We have come so far and yet we are still stuck very much in that past, which wasn't that long ago. I think I just am so much more immersed in the nore understanding and logical world I have created with those I care about the most, that I forget that, sadly, that world doesn't extend very far, even in NYC! Just when I think it is getting bigger I am instantly reminded just how severely I have overestimated it's scope. And it ALWAYS surprises me.

There are times when I think I will live long enough to see the time when we all really are informed and intelligent enough to talk about these times in history classes and just shake our heads in disbelief at how ignorant we were. Then there are times when I feel as though I will always just be one of the few in the constant state of bewilderment until the day I die. I am confident, however, that the day will come when we will wake up from the nightmare we continue to perpetuate. Hopefully this will happen without creating a new one! ..>

I say "we", because I often speak in more personal terms that separate my beliefs from those that happen to still be less accepting. I am not sure, but perhaps that is somehow why we remain moving at such a slow pace. If we can figure out how to remember to think of ourselves more as "one" then as freakily different individuals, it might be more possible to understand someone else's feelings a little better since, deep down, we are all exactly the same. Those that remain stuck in the past are also just like me, they just happen to be terrified of it. Why are they terrified? Because they don't understand it and don't think it is around them all the time. This is why I am still very grateful for these movies, because SLOWLY but surely more and more people will, at some point, be less afraid.

Drunkard on a train

2006-01-07T18:00:00.000-08:00

I ADORE living in NYC, but there are some moments it can SUCK SUCK SUCK...riding trains home after midnight, drunk, is definitely at the top of the list. Unfortunately I can never afford cabs. It has been a while since I experienced something like this here, though I am no stranger to it.

Right, so I went to an awesome party last night and evidently drank a bit too much wine. While I was there, I knew I was having fun, but at no point did I think I'd had too much. It wasn't until my incredibly retarded journey home that I realized I might not be right, and I definitely shouldn't have been attempting the trip home alone, by subway, at this very late hour. I wobbled my way to the subway station, and automatically went down to wait a very long time for the train. I put some song on my ipod, I don't think I chose an entire playlist, as I was going to pick something else once I got on the train. I remember the train pulling in, and me getting on. The next thing I know, I wake up and we are stopping at the Whitehall Street station. Being that I live in Queens, this is definitely not where I should be. As the train was pulling in, I realized nothing was playing in my lil' ear buds, and took them out to put them away. As I hobbled out of the train to go on the other side of the tracks to head the RIGHT direction, I tried desperately to remember what one song I had listened to before passing the fuck out on the train. I still can't remember. So I am standing on the uptown side finally, waiting. I understand the dreaded agony of the late-night wait. I mustered up as much patience as I could find, and refused to put my ipod back on. I knew it could help the agony of the wait, but I wasn't too in the mood to listen to anything, since I was angry at myself for not noticing which direction I was heading before...and I didn't think I was in any condition to be leisurely enjoying my ipod on a subway. I don't know how long I waited there. A homeless man was taking up one of the benches, and the only other people in the station, who had gotten off the train I did, were sitting on the other one. I could have sat with them, but for some reason I just didn't want to. So I remain in between the two benches, propped against a pole. After a while had passed, something made me feel like pacing, and I paced near some signs that had service changes on them. My drunken head eventually processed some very important information. There are no uptown trains from that station over the weekends at that time. I reread this numerous times until I understood it properly. What the fuck? Why can we walk down there to wait for the trains, if none will ever arrive? Where's the fucking tape stopping us from walking down there? Where are the signs or announcements? I realize I only paid $2 to go the wrong direction home tonight, but I just don't understand why they are alright with customers waiting stupidly on the platform at 2am-ish with no idea that they will never get home that way. Seriously. So I climb the stairs and ask the station attendants. I ask how to get home. They tell me to go upstairs and get the 1 shuttle to 42nd street, or the 4 or 6. They don't tell me how. I find myself near the Staten Island Ferry...in the windy fucking cold, and there is nothing to point me in the right direction. The only thing I can see is that the 1 train is in the station the Staten Island Ferry comes to. So I head over there. The doorway to get to the 1 train is gated. I begin to cry. I ask the man working there, who says to go outside to get the shuttle. "Where???" I ask. He mumbles some streets as I walk out weeping. I just wanna go home. I walk to the streets he mentions. There is absolutely NO indication that I am where I ought to be. I have to walk back down into the original station I came out of. Still weeping, I return to the lady asking "WHERE do I go?!?!?!" One of them does come out of the booth to walk me up the stairs and point me in the direction of the 4/6 train several blocks up the street. He is still talking about some shuttle, which I still can't fucking find. I weep all the way up the street, knowing that I need to pay another 2 fucking dollars once I get there, and knowing after that long-ass wait, I will have to get off at 59th to wait AGAIN for MY train. I just wanna go home!!!! I need not mention once again my state of weeping as I waited FOREVER at that station. Then a 1 train comes, where the 4/6 should be...and I get on, never fully knowing if it is running on the 1 line, or the 4/6 line...I just remain confused and hoping to GET HOME. I remained painfully conscious on this train, thankfully, until I arrived to 59th street. I angrily made the transfer there to the platform to my n/w train. I sat down and waited. It was FREEZING in there. I shivered like a junkie in withdrawal. I kid you not. I was in hell. I just wanted to go home!!!! I wept a bit here as well, as I did throughout various other moments of the trip. I was pissed off at myself for being stupid, at the MTA for not providing info and charging me more money to get home with all their changes, and mainly I was weeping for the week I had. I just worked a few days at a new job for people who don't know what they are doing, with several hard-working people, without any idea when or if we will get any money at a restaurant that shouldn't be open yet. I hate being taken advantage of when I give people the benefit of doubt. I do feel like that wait was at least 30 minutes if not more. Finally, an N. I am comforted, knowing I am finally heading where I need to be. ..
The next thing I remember, I awake sitting in a freezing train in a station. At first I thought we had just made a stop and the doors would shut and we'd be on our way again...I could see where I am, and know how many stops were left. But we just sit there. The cold wind floods into the car, and my junkie shakes return. I peak further out of the train and see that I am now sitting at the end of the line in Astoria, at Ditmars. Only one stop past where I live, but still. I slept through my motherfuckin' stop!!!! What the HELL is wrong with me? I had NO idea I was this inebriated, but yes, I was. Now, when you are at the last station of the subway line, the trains hang out there for a while. I don't know what they are doing with them, but they take a long while to move again, especially at this hour. So here I am, waiting once more...in the fucking cold...getting angrier at myself that I got that intoxicated before riding the subways home. Yay me. I stay freezing and pissed off conscious...finally we start to move again....finally my stop...I run home, it's that cold out. I don't run, but I ran last night. Finally I am home.

Slap o' the holidays

2006-01-01T20:49:00.000-08:00

It is the first day of 2006 and I woke up around 3:30pm. I am 28 years old, and I still thoroughly enjoy having days where I can do just that. So, the big holidays are done, and so is another year. Where the hell did it go? I know I'm not alone in the shock of how quickly time seems to pass from year to year. I may be one of the few people that just couldn't accept it this year though. I don't know exactly why. Was 2005 so great that I just don't want it to end? That can't be right. All I know is that, as Thanksgiving quickly approached, I couldn't comprehend how it could possibly be time. I knew it was coming whether I was ready or not. I knew that as soon as I woke up from that turkey coma, it would suddenly be time for a Christmas tree and presents and figgy pudding. (Okay, strike the figgy pudding. I have never encountered figgy pudding, and I don't know that I ever will.) I knew that, even as the final notes of every Christmas carol were still blaring in the stores, suddenly New Year's eve would be here and I would be required to welcome the festivities with open arms in celebration. I knew all of this, but somehow I just couldn't enjoy it all. From the moment the quickness of these holidays slapped me in the face, my head lay drooped to the side where it landed after the blow. My eyes glazed over and drool may have slipped from my lips. Inside, my mind lay marinating in denial, exactly where it wanted so deperately to be for some reason. "It isn't TIME for this, an entire year can't possibly have passed!" "I guess I ought to get a Christmas tree, but not YET!" Even as my mind refused to believe time was passing, the parts of my soul that always enjoy the holidays attempted feebly to enjoy itself. My inner child would scream out at moments, singing along to Christmas carols as I visited stores, but was abruptly silenced when the reality of having absolutely no money to buy anything for anyone set in. Somehow the days shot past and we never got a tree for the apartment. I never even got out my christmas cds for their annual enjoyment. Things just weren't right. ..>

My body ached from days working in the bitter cold streets of NYC via random miscellaneous jobs all month. I dragged my aching muscles home to Pittsburgh for the holidays, aboard a luxurious greyhound bus. As my stubborn mind continued to resist the holiday spirit, I started wishing I had enjoyed it all more. I even started to look forward to next year at holiday time. I started to think that, even if I didn't feel like it was time yet, I was going to revel in it next year. I would buy a tree as soon as I possibly could. I would hang the Christmas lights that are still in my closet from last year. Whether I had money or not, I would at least send out some Christmas cards. I might even throw a holiday party! I started to get a little giddy thinking how much I would enjoy next Christmas no matter how fast it hit me. Then I realized it was December 22nd. Christmas day had yet to happen! I dunno, it was a very strange moment. It was too late to do all the fun things leading up to the big day, but it wasn't too late to enjoy this one. It was the opposite side of that initial slap o' the holidays, slapping my face back in the other direction to even me out, to shake the contents of my garbled mind back into the moment.

So I suppose I should have some sort of resolution going into this brand new year. I'm not big on resolutions that happen only once a year. I am generally in favor of attempting to make any necessary changes or adjustments all year round, as necessary. Regardless of that, I feel it absolutely vital to make one this year. I can't possibly allow time to get ahead of me this way anymore. I mean, I know it is going to. Somehow it is the nature of time. The longer we're alive, the more memories we have, the more things we hope to accomplish and the less time it feels we have to accomplish them. Every year I'm alive time gets faster than I feel like I can handle. If time went at a speed I was comfortable with, I have a feeling it might never pass at all. We need these holidays, whichever ones you celebrate, to keep us moving, while at the same time allowing us to pause and enjoy some silliness in between. They force us to spend the quality time we need with everyone we love, and help us feel more love for some of the people we'd rather not have so much quality time with. It becomes the best time to let go of whatever the hell we're holding onto from the last year and breathe in the new one, always being reminded to enjoy each present moment because a new one will be here whether we're ready or not!

Re: I Remember Christmas

2005-12-27T05:33:00.000-08:00

I remember Christmas growing up. I remember the excitement as the end of school drew near. I remember baking cookies, holiday parties in elementary school classrooms and buying silly little erasers at "Santa Shop" for all my cousin's presents. I remember walking home from the busstop, smelling the chimneys in my neighborhood, each step getting closer to my Christmas vacation. When I arrived, the fake fireplace was plugged in, and though I knew it wasn't real, it felt toastier somehow! I remember going to bed the night before Christmas, overtaken with the giddiness of the surprises I would wake to find. I might even strain my ears to try to catch sounds of the big guy sneaking around with our presents down there. My brother and I would creep out of our beds at some ungodly hour. We would sneak past my mother's room and down the stairs, being careful to avoid the top one that squeaked. I know we wanted to see the treasures that Santa had brought us while we slept, but I also remember not wanting to see them all right away. I couldn't wait to look through the darkness, still on the staircase, squinting my eyes to make out the shapes of the piles of goodies sitting at the foot of the fireplace. Which pile was mine? Which was my brothers? I would be filled with shear excitement, my heart leaping at the possibilties that lay in the shadows. I would sneak down for a glimpse, and then return upstairs to ponder what awaited me. Mom would hear our restlessness and make us wait as she got up and went down before us to see the looks on our faces. I recall certain Christmas mornings as if they all happened the same year, though I know that is not right. I remember my first cabbage patch doll, the pink stirrup pants I wanted so desperately, and a girl Snoopy doll that Santa had set up inside the door to the fridge on my little kitchen/stove playset. After the mystery of what toys had made up the shadows in that early morning light, I would then become anxious to go to my Grandma's and see all my cousins and aunts and uncles. I would select my favorite present and off we would go. Once there, we would eat, laugh, and play. My cousins and I would put on little pagents to show to the parents (would you guess I was always the shy one?). We didn't all get to see eachother all the time, so this was a special day. It was one of the rare times we were all together, sharing our excitement and love. ..>

I remember how things changed as we got older, as well they should. The pagents had long since come to an end. Since graduating from college and since losing my Grandma, so much has changed on Christmas for me. My relationships with my cousins, while important, have been overshadowed by an amazing and unique circle of friends. I still do my best to see my mother and brother over the holidays, but I rarely get to see all my cousins and their parents. One thing that I always try to do is give a quick call to my closest friends, perhaps hear their voice for a second and wish them well.

I remember this Christmas. Before noon, I received about 6 text messages that said "Merry Christmas". I won't explain how many of them were from that same amazing group of friends. Let me just say that it scares me a little. I definitely don't always send out Christmas cards, and have been known to mass email a greeting or two, but I am nervous for these new methods of reaching out and touching someone.

I enjoy the internet and use it probably too much sometimes. I have gotten to know some people better because of the internet, and know some people nearly well without ever having met them. I can express myself via email/IM/or blog in ways I might not have been able to come right out and say face to to face or on the phone. I'm sure I don't need to tell you the wonders of the internet. What scares me is that some people use it as a substitution for genuine contact.

I have never been a huge fan of text messaging, first because I don't have unlimited texts, and have to pay per message sent/received after a small amount. I use it from time to time, and it definitely can be handy, but when minutes are free and both parties could hear eachother's voices, I just don't understand texting. Obviously I am one of the few that feel that way.
..>

The problem is that so much can be misunderstood on instant messages, texts, or emails. Without hearing the proper inflection, without knowing the sense of humor of the person I am talking to, and them not knowing mine can sometimes cause problems. Confusion tends to arise on a regular basis even when you know eachother REALLY well. Does this mean we shouldn't use this technology? Not at all! I just don't think we should rely on them to have real conversations about important things that should be discussed in a way that both parties can fully appreciate what the other has to say. It shouldn't all be one way...and then the other...and then back again. We tend to feel good that we can get our points across without being interrupted using these methods. Sure, that can be beneficial, but it can't be the end all be all. I have heard of people ending relationships, working, and otherwise, over email. This has actually happened to me, though it isn't how I would have liked for things to happen. I have listened to friends explain their main source of communication with a new potential significant other being through texts. I have been concerned about the future of our connections if things continue along these lines. Regardless of the text messages I received that were, no doubt, a function of selecting all contacts in their phonebooks and clicking "send", I called everyone as I had originally intended. I had to leave a few voicemails, but that doesn't bother me.

I don't have the same things to look forward to on Christmas as I did when I was younger. So much has changed. I continue to look forward to having a moment to speak to my closest friends and wish them well, even if it is to their voicemail. While there can be no substitute for face to face relationships, I hope we can all communicate in as personal ways as possible with eachother rather than all of the new methods that make it so easy to "make the effort" in just a few clicks on a keypad, especially on important holidays!

Steamroom Rebels...

2005-12-15T23:54:00.001-08:00

There aren't many things in life I enjoy in quite the same way I cherish my time in the steamroom at the gym. It's warm, dare I say "hot"? It's moist, dare I say "wet"? The dampened heat blankets my entire body like no bathtub I have ever found. It seeps in through my nostrils, gently coating my throat in loving moisture and makes its way into my lungs. I breathe shallow at first, getting used to the new sensation. Once my breaths are deeper I smile and relax into the darkness and think...or not. The only way I can explain the sensation is to say that it feels like an amazing hot bath for your insides as well as out. The sign warns to limit your time in the steamroom, but I rarely do. I'm just a rebel like that.
The steamroom in my gym is not coed, so the women tend to take some liberties I personally wish they'd rethink. To begin with, most women are entirely freer with their bodies than I ever will be. I am not so closed-minded that I think everyone should be as painfully modest as myself. I realize I am on the entire other end of that spectrum. I walk in with a towel around me, and I keep it there until I am in the shower, and then back on again until I am done changing in the little private changing room. Alright, so let's just leave my strange inhibitions out of this. Basically I am fine with the nude female form freely roaming about around me, though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly baffled by their level of comfort. What I am not fine with, and what baffles me even more, are the ladies who freely flop their nakedness on the benches everyone sits on. It takes only moments being inside the room for every inch of your body to become as moist as the drops of water falling from the ceiling. Wouldn't you want to sit ON something? Yet there I sit in my towel, surrounded by women of every shape and size, lying all around me. Sometimes they splay themselves. Luckily it's often too steamy to really be affected by this. So there I sit, doing my best to stop contemplating why I am so damned shy, when someone walks in with loofa mitts on and she is now rubbing them all over her entire body. I can just picture her little skin flakes floating to the floor and sticking to the dampness. People come in there with lotions, and pumice, doing things they have NO business doing in a public steamroom! Before anyone out there is thinking this is, in any way, erotic, bare in mind this ain't no playboy mansion steamroom. There are rules that instruct women not to do any personal grooming in the steamroom. Evidently, like my staying in much longer than the limited time recommended, these women are rebels too. Tonight it was just one woman and myself. This woman lay splayed out, boobs sagging under her arms, and she hoists her foot up to her knee and starts sloughing. She sloughs and sloughs. I sit there, trying to think...or not think...and all I can think is how her fowl foot grime is just gonna be hanging out after she goes. I imagine it falling on her droopy boobs and wonder why she would even want to do that in here. All I can hear is the sloughing. Not only that, she is grunting and sighing. Don't get me wrong, I feel her...it feels damn good in there, worthy of a sigh or a groan if no one was there, but I can control myself. So she grunts, sighs, and sloughs. She continues this on the other foot, and then begins anew on the original foot. She may start to bleed all over the steamroom, for all the public sloughing she feels it necessary to do. I guess she'd feel fine with that too. Where do they draw the line? Let's cut our toenails together, and shave our legs...enema anyone? There are just some things that should be left at home. It isn't like you can't loofa away the top layer of your skin in the privacy of your own shower. Then you can rub and rub and rub to your hearts content, and I don't have to watch it. It is because of the rebellion of this "no personal grooming" rule that my own rebellion of lingering too long in the moistened air gets cut short. I try to remain as long as I can, but in the busier moments at the gym, I would just rather not have to deal with the other rebels.

No Day But Today...and Yesterday?

2005-11-25T06:41:00.000-08:00

I went to see the new "Rent" movie not once, but two times since it came out 2 days ago. Should I be embarrassed? The first time, my friends and I went to the Ziegfeld Theatre (the BEST to see movie musicals!). The lines were crazy, the theatre was PACKED, and everyone there wanted to be there with their entire being! I have never seen a movie where people applauded from the opening credits, but this is how we started the night.

This show is very important to me, and to a lot of people I know. I cried for nearly every song from the beginning to the end. The entire show isn't ALL sad, but I couldn't help it! I was so happy it was made. I was so proud of it and all the people involved. It made me happy to think about all the people who never knew a thing about the show who will one day fall in love with it because of this movie. I was crying for the tragedy of such a brilliant creation existing on it's own without it's incredible creator being alive on the earth with it. I cried for the beautiful irony of his lyrics about 'writing one song...before he goes...a song about love...from the soul of a young man...'. I cried because he left this legacy of songs behind, not just one. Tears welled up in my eyes the way they always seem to since I moved here and witness people in front of my singing their hearts out on stage (usually live) on the stages of NYC. I cry because it shakes me. I cry because I know how it feels to do it, and I long to be a part of something half as good. I cry when I am afraid I won't get to. I feel chills up my spine because the show isn't only about love and dreams, he created a piece of art that speaks to people about issues we still want to ignore.

The songs of this show bring me back to my dorm room in college for musical theatre. If you weren't listening to the album in your room, and no one on your floor was, you would undoubtedly hear it coming through the pipes in the bathroom from another floor. We were far from alphabet city and not yet starving artists. We were starving college students who were starving to start living for our art. ..>

Tonight several of the same friends and I decided to go again, after eating a lot of food...with a few people who had yet to see it. We made our way to a less glamorous theatre. The theatre was nearly empty (probably due to the horridly cold temps!), and applause after every song just wasn't the tone of the evening. Of course I enjoyed seeing it again, but I was mortified when I heard the my friends on the other end of the row had to endure some ignorant people who never should have been watching the movie in the first place. Evidently these guys gaybashed through the entire movie, saying things starting with "fuckin' faggots..." and getting disgruntled every time a song started. What were these people doing in there?!?!?! Clearly they had just snuck in and should never have stayed. When they realized they were annoying my friends, I guess they decided they ought to stick around and ruin the entire night. I found out about this all upon leaving the theatre. I don't think I need to explain to you how bad this upset me. I just can't understand people intentionally setting out to ruin other people's happiness. I can't fathom how that could be an enjoyable time. It also slaps you in the face. We weren't sitting in a theatre in Oklahoma watching some Jackie Chan Movie, we were in NEW YORK CITY watching about movie MUSICAL about gay people, straight people, people with HIV. Of course NYC is one of the best places to be in our country if you happen to be gay or love those who are...but I think sometimes we forget just how far we haven't come in the scheme of things. We still are living in our very own city with people like that. I guess we need reminded of that, though I still don't quite know what to do about it.

As starving college students these songs inspired us to pursue what is real and genuine...in our careers and our friends and lovers. They showed us how important it is to live and love without regret. I am 8 years older. The NYC we live in is far different than the one these characters lived in 20 years ago. I am still inspired by these words and melodies. The most valuable message Jonathan Larson gave us, in my opinion, is to live in the present moment. As soon as we are thinking about this moment, it is already gone. Did we actually LIVE it? ..>

From the already powerful message that was harshly cemented with his untimely death:

"There is no future, there is no past, I live this moment as my last. There's only us. There's only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road. No other way. No day but today."

I am hispanic....

2005-11-12T14:28:00.000-08:00

I have been doing several retarted things lately...most of which I am entirely too embarrassed to list. The only one I can bring myself to mention, for sheer comic value, is that I accidently checked off that I am hispanic while filling out paperwork for a job I applied for this week. I was being sort of rushed, and I totally thought I was checking off the box for caucasian...but no. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!

The Twilight Zone....

2005-10-28T17:49:00.000-07:00

I think when you turn 25, you are tossed into a new reality. This belief has been validated several times since then. Today was one such time.

I am in a room full of strangers, gathered to work for a small hourly rate promoting a brand on the streets of New York. I am surrounded by squeaky girls commenting on which clubs in NYC are good for picking up guys while contradicting eachother's agreements that you can't pick up good guys in NYC clubs.

They speak over each other and nod excitedly, all of their opinions magically coinciding to provide immediate bonds, for the moment. The topics range from "all the hot guys that were coming off the subway this morning!" to "guys, do any of you have fake IDs??".

They discuss circumsized/uncircumsized penises and their recent trips "studying abroad" in foreign countries. At some points I feel like I'm sitting in a bizarre episode of "Sex and the City" in which the stars' much younger and less experienced understudies have taken over. I am silent.

As I hear a few connect over the shared experience of just turning 19, another comments that 22 is such a 'cute age'. Just as one poo-poo's 25, another makes a pathetic attempt to redeem it by boasting that you will then be able to rent a car. They responded to that just as boisterously as I did on my 25th birthday. The original poo-poo'er defines 25 as an age that means "marriage" to her (she has just turned 19). I observe quietly along with the sweet brazilian girl whose english makes her a weak contender for their astute commentary.

I am trapped in some strange reality where everyone around me is at a COMPLETELY different point in their lives than I. Their realities are as real to them as mine is to me, yet they all seem like strange little giggling aliens! I find myself envious of their trips to Europe that I keep saying I'll take. That is all I am jealous of. I feel like I'm sitting in glass box at the end of the table witnessing an experiment to see what happens when you toss several '22 and unders' in a room with one 28 year old just to see what happens. All I could do was sit there, restrained within the reality I understood in my box, and appreciate everything on the outside as my excruciating amusement.

We continued the rest of our day and I made friends with the brazilian girl, partially because she too had felt a little left out of the ambiguously intimate lunch we had all just shared, and partially because Kate Winslet took one of her flyers!! Although I am now aware that I should have respected my initial reservations about taking this low-payed promotion, I accepted my having agreed to do it. I did this because, like these bizarre giggling aliens, I need the money.

It will only be a few short and quick years before at least half of these girls are in my position, far from marriage after 25 or having had their first baby already. I hope by then I will have experienced my travels abroad and we will ALL be very far from needing a job like this. Until then, I will still be baffled that one of them, born and raised on Long Island, now living in the city mentioned that she voted for Bush last year. She said she had faith in him. She thought John Kerry was evil. This is why I never voted in an election until last year, because when I was young and dumb like that, I knew I had no business being in a voting booth. In the world we are living in right now, though, I can't imagine still being THAT dumb.

"...seriously took naptime for granted!"

2005-10-24T23:52:00.000-07:00

Pet Peeve # 3,989
Filling out job applications...

I have never enjoyed filling these out, because they are so damned time-consuming, repetitive, and they never leave enough room in the boxes to write everything they are asking for. My hand gets all cramped up from writing all tiny, yet maintaining legibility. Why doesn't someone think of a way you can include all of the relevant information of your work experience legibly typed on one pleasant sheet of paper? Oh wait, someone did, it's called a resume (something else I really enjoy creating). What a shame it is that there are still people out there that want you to fill out the regular application. Some will accept your resume in place of filling out the "work experience" section. Some are assholes and make you write everything out again in those tiny boxes that mock the amount of letters in every word you attempt to write. Do they really want to know what job I performed at that store? Well just read the friggin' resume I spent so much time on already! The power trips and busy-work have already begun.
What really has ALWAYS confused me is the section where they want to know about the schools you have attended, all the way back to elementary school! Are you kidding me? When was that relevant? I understand when you are 16 and getting your first job they would have very little to read if you didn't put that, but even then...what did it do for them? If you are in high school, doesn't that mean that you obviously completed elementary school? Then they ask what field of study you took part in at each stage of your school career. What does everyone else put in there? I mean, unless you are in the special classes (special-good, or special-"special"), what other fields of studies exist in grade school and high school? Someone told me to write "Academic". So I suppose my field of study in GRADE SCHOOL was highly academic, whatever the hell that means. Can I just write "Well, I learned to read, and seriously took naptime for granted!"?

Silliness, I say.

What's sillier at 28 years old?
-writing in detailed information about where you went to grade school, middle school, and high school?
or -still applying for the jobs that require that I fill out these dumbass applications?

Sigh.

Mother Nature fights back...

2005-10-17T14:31:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to mention, in light of my silly news report about the umbrella corpses in NYC, that I fully understand how we definitely haven't had the worst of the weather plaguing the world recently. Last week was miserable yes, but even as the rain started leaking into my apartment from faulty gutters around the door to my balcony, and I had several random buckets/bowls/towels to catch it...thoughts of people's entire homes submerged in water as they clung to their rooftop waiting for help were never far from my mind. It seems like mother nature is suddenly retaliating for all the shit we put her through on a daily basis. She is showing us in every nook and cranny of the world that she is still more powerful no matter how much we continue to take advantage of her. Floods are happening all over...earthquakes...tsunamis...dangerous rains and winds....it's insane! I can't help but wonder if these things aren't always happening, and we just don't know about it because when it isn't happening to us we barely pay attention. Certainly the media is very selective with its coverage, but when nothing has happened in the U.S. for a while, how much attention do we pay to these natural disasters in other countries? Sigh.

Umbrella Corpses

2005-10-14T15:33:00.000-07:00

10,000 FOUND DEAD, WITH NUMBERS EXPECTED TO DOUBLE BY END OF STORM

Pummelled with incessent, monsoon-like rain this week, NYC's sidewalks are covered with the corpses of umbrellas that were unable to endure the heavy winds. Walking outside with a raincoat and large umbrella just isn't enough for this storm. Even if your umbrella remains in tact and sees you home, chances are you will arrive very moist none-the-less. Unfortunately, however, most umbrellas won't see their owners to their destinations.

Even more upsetting in these dismal days is that so many umbrella corpses have simply been tossed aside for everyone to walk over and step on. Umbrellas lie in peices on the ground exactly as they were when last their owners cursed them, verbally abusing them for mocking them so. "...I saw one that barely looked like an umbrella anymore.." said a dampened passerby, "...it had been run over by more than one car. Bits of metal and fabric covered the entire street corner! It made me want to vomit, until I got distracted when my fucking peice of shit umbrella blew inside fucking out too!" Bernie Bilko, a resident of a street corner near Tower Records in the east village told us, "I can't even find me any eats 'cause 8 or 9 dead umbrellas always be up in my trash cans!" It is hard to miss these tragic reminders that this storm has yet to be over.

Your umbrella too, may fall victim to the abominable winds. A tell-tale sign this is about to happen is when your umbrella begins to show signs of weakness by suddenly flipping inside out without warning, rendering it useless and slightly humiliating. While there is nothing you can do to prevent this misfortune, if it should happen to the umbrella you love, please take it easy. Take a moment to enjoy a few deep breaths, bid it a fond farewell, and gently tuck it into the nearest trash can (with some crackers for Bernie). Memorial services for the deceased have been cancelled due to rain.

Sleepin' the day away....

2005-10-13T19:18:00.000-07:00

Why did I sleep until 3pm today? I did it because it's cold outside, and moist (and not in a good way). I did it because my cat wouldn't stop cuddlin' with me. I did it because every time I tried to get up he'd gently put his paw on my shoulder and say "don't leave me like this". I did it because the covers were warm, and I was not. I did it because my pillows were making love to my head. I did it, even though I knew it would make it impossible for me to get a good night's rest tonight. All I know is at noon, when I was up to go to the bathroom, it felt like 6am somehow, and my body was hurting for more slumber. It felt unnatural to be alive and conscious.

There are some days it just feels right to live like a monster in a cave, not even pulling back the curtains to see the ugly weather outside. It comforts me to just hear the wind and the rain hit the windows as I stay warm and dry.

Today was one of those days.

I am not ashamed.

The Drum Circle in Central Park

2005-05-08T23:13:00.000-07:00

Walk into Central Park any Saturday or Sunday evening from about 5pm until 9pm...follow the tribal sounds to a cauldron o' cultures moving and singing, clapping and smiling...all to the same primative beats being cooked up by an equally diverse team of drummers. This is the drum circle in Central Park. I was drawn to the sound of the drums one Sunday a few weeks ago and didn't leave for 2 hours. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I watched young people, old people, little babies, someone from nearly every race and culture...some in business suits, some in jeans...all of them moving and laughing and enjoying life! There were amazing dancers who danced appropriately to the african beats while yet others, who normally would probably be embarrassed to dance in public felt compelled to move their bodies regardless of who might see them. Although I have lived in NYC for nearly 3 years now, I never came across this wonderful celebration, but it happens when the weather permits every weekend throughout the summer. I couldn't get this wonderful evening out of my head, and anxiously awaited the next decent weather day to get out there. I had an amazing time again tonight! Something I thought about the last time I was there was how hundreds and thousands of years ago this same sort of thing was happening....people banging on drums and those who were in earshot magnetically drawn to it and into the frenzied dancing for an inexplicable but undeniably euphoric shared experience. I remember thinking how unbelievable it was that we are no different from those people who danced together thousands of years ago. Upon further thinking about this party that I discovered, I have decided that what is even more unbelievable is that several thousand years ago there definitely wouldn't have been so many varied cultures enjoying it together and how fortunate we are to live in a time (and a city) where we can-and do. Ahhhh drums!

Tales of a Starbucks Nerd

2005-04-01T21:25:00.000-08:00

Okay, so one of my favorite things about my AOL job is the weirdos
that I meet here. Last week, a nerdy guy rolled a grocery cart full
of HUGE, old desktop computer parts outside the window and came in
asking for one of the free AOL cds. I gave it to him and he proceeded
to tell me that the AOL cd "makes his computer wireless". This isn't
a correct statement as I understand AOL and the free cd...so I tried
to clear up his confusion. He told me that he is putting together
that computer (he pointed through the window to the cart) and assured
me that the AOL cd makes it possible for him to connect to a hot spot
wireless connection, as he had done it before. I shrugged it off,
since the cd is free no matter how crazy you are and sent him on his
way. I watched him reunite with his cart full of old computer parts
and wave at me as he rolled away with it. My brain raced...."Could
that AOL cd actually make a bunch of ancient desktop computer parts
wireless? How?" Then I could just picture him rolling up to
Starbucks and unloading that shit on a table and surfing the net
amongst the other New Yorkers. I giggled and enjoyed the silly
possibilities.
Later that day, one of my regulars at the free internet lounge in
the AOL store came, and I told him about this guy. My friend informed
me (before I mentioned my silly idea of him connecting in Starbucks)
that he has chatted with the guy-at Starbucks...where he sees him set
up with his equipment surfing the web. Yes. He actually does this.
I love everything about this. Yesterday, this nerdy guy actually came
in again and I was talking with him about his makeshift wireless
desktop computer. He is turning 21 this week and is looking for
someone online to share his birthday with. He is online dating and
sets up times an places to meet chicks around the city...(last night
he was meeting a chick at 8 at Starbucks! I don't know if he brings
his computer or not.

Well...my "regular" came in later yesterday and gave me the address
of a blogger's site that features the "Starbucks Nerd" as he calls
it...I urge you to check it out....this shit really happens folks...
http://www.chrisdiclerico.com/2005/03/30/starbucks-nerd/

Fitness, Made Simple...

2005-03-13T21:08:00.000-08:00