Old Blog - 6.19.2006

Monday, June 19, 2006 

Why Georgia Why? Current mood:  anxious "I am so broken out.. I don't know what's going on with my face." "Don't you have a clay mask to put on it?" Lindsay asked. "Yeah, I still have the one your mom gave me, but I left it in..."  And then I had to think about it. Did I bring it with me to Grand Junction? Did I leave it in Jersey? Was it still with my crapload of stuff in Portland? I didn't have the slightest clue. I used my five-hour drive to Colorado Springs yesterday to catch up on phone calls. (Shhhh, don't tell my mom; I'm 23 years-old and still feel guilty for breaking her rules such as "no talking on the phone while driving") I called Elizabeth, who I have known since I walked into Valley Catholic's first Music Man rehearsal in my St. Pius uniform. She has been working with her auditing team out of Denver since January. I haven't seen her since Christmas and thought maybe she'd like to get coffee or an early lunch on Tuesday when I passed through on my way back to the Junc. "Ohhhh I would love to, but I'm not in Denver anymore!" She squealed. "Wow, that shows how good we are at keeping in touch. Where are you now?" "I'm in San Francisco! Well, and I have to go to Houston like four days out of the month. And then at the end of the summer I switch to this small town outside LA." In two years, I have seen her bounce among San Antonio, Atlanta, LA, Portland, Denver, and now San Francisco -- and I'm probably missing a couple. So I made some stupid joke about when was she going to finally give up this vagabond lifestyle and live in one spot. I don't know why I made that joke. It wasn't funny. And who am I to tease anyone about a lifestyle, really - particularly one that bounces you from city to city? If anyone should understand that, it's me. I don't even know where my clay mask is. I have my winter clothes in Jersey, my summer clothes in Oregon, and my workout clothes in Colorado. I have my theater in Grand Junction, my restaurant in Manhattan, and my next audition in Seattle. I have my best friends scattered everywhere from San Francisco to Charleston. I have my roommate in North Bergen, my sister in Inwood, my hermano in Barrio San Pablo, my parents in Raleigh Hills, and my boyfriend in Portland. And thus the crisis known as "I'm 23 and I've been out of school for a year... what am I doing???" ensues. Ever since I got back from Argentina, I have been trying to think of something I can write that can accurately describe the experience and how it affected me. I can't do it. I have attempted many times, but I think words will just cheapen it. Not only that, I think the effects of that week are still in motion. I'm still being shaped by it. So now that I have returned to my temporary life of curling irons and platform shoes and afro wigs, I have had ample time to myself to try to sift things out. I've started running. I run four miles four or five times a week and it's actually a tolerable experience. My shin splints from the old days of volleyball daily doubles are coming back to haunt me, but my lungs feel incredible. This all began because of a deal I struck with the Doctor about three weeks ago. He agreed to attend a yoga class with me if I'd go on a six mile run with him when I'm in Portland. I'd like to say I said yes because I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend doing something that's inexpensive and healthy, but really I said yes because I'm so damn competitive - even with the Doc I feel like I have something to prove.  But regardless of the initial reason, I'm running now. I don't even take my iPod with me - I just let my mind wander. I breathe in the fresh air and I sing the songs from my show in my head. But mostly, I pray and I ask questions. These are the same questions that have made me cry at night when writing in my journal, but when I'm running they don't seem so frightening. When the questions come into my head, I turn them over and look at them - but I don't let them pierce me and I don't panic that an answer isn't there yet. It brings me peace. I also use Yoni - mi hermano - as motivation. When I start feeling whiny about something, when something feels too difficult and I want to quit, I think about my Yoni and I keep going. I can't go to Argentina and spend a week with the kids in Barrio San Pablo and feel justified making any excuses for myself anymore. I spent three years of middle school prepping for high school. I spent four years of high school prepping for college. I spent four years of college prepping for a career in musical theatre. Now I'm finding that my life is really being carved and defined as I make decisions I hadn't been prepped for. As I prioritize and I make sacrifices and I venture quite blindly into my post-school life. I'm hanging in there. And I'm taking it very slowly, one step ball-change at a time.

Old Blog - 4.30.2006

Sunday, April 30, 2006 

Back in the Junc Current mood:  full So I'm sitting here between shows on my first double-show day of "8-Track: The Sounds of the 70s." My eyeliner wings out a little farther than my eyes, my hair is feathered out a la Farrah Fawcett, and my stomach is full of Olive Garden salad, breadsticks, and seafood ravioli. I've been back in the Junc for over two weeks now. I still can't get over how when I was moving to New (Jersey) York, I couldn't have possibly guessed that less than three months after arriving, I would leave to do a show in Colorado with the Cabaret. I really did debate this quite a bit in the three days before I had to give my answer to Steven. My parents, Rochelle, and Erik had to act as sounding boards as I bounced all of my verbal processing off of them: The Cabaret offered me a good contract. They agreed to give me an understudy so I could still go to Argentina. And I would be the alto part in a four-part show eight shows a week for seven-ish weeks.... But I have worked for the Cabaret before. Having a show like "8-Track" might not necessarily enhance the resume. And I JUST got to the city! Did I really want to leave just as I finally was getting the hang of spending too much money, talking back to rude people, and riding dirty public transportation? And what about my job? But Erik put it the most concisely and brilliantly when he said, "You're a performer. Isn't that what you want to do?" I mean seriously, was I really going to give up a job on stage for a job answering phones? Really? So here I am. Been here since Easter weekend. The actor house is significantly less ghetto -- my bedroom has a closet AND a light switch, and the dishwasher doesn't fall out of the wall when you open the door. I have three roommates this time as opposed to six. The car they have provided us is, however, an even bigger POS than the one they provided two years ago. I don't know how somebody let that Volvo pass an emissions test and can still sleep at night. Just sayin. But we get free meals from the Cabaret and free gym memberships. So that's a step up. My roommates/castmates are very considerate people to live/work with and they fill the standard prerequisites required to be professional actors: they drink coffee, stay up late, sleep late, work out daily. They enjoy a good bit of partying but only when it doesn't affect the next day's performance. They make crude jokes and share their food and internet. We like to spend evenings unwinding after a show or rehearsal with some red wine and a movie. It's a very comfortable arrangement. I'll confess something to you guys.. I don't miss New York. Not yet anyway. Not to say I prefer the Junc over New York (or almost any other town), but I will say that the change of pace is refreshing. The people here are nicer and I have hardly spent fifty cents since I've been here. I do miss the access to Broadway and off-Broadway shows and the fact that you can get anything you could possibly need in a two to three block radius.. delivered. And I miss my sister like crazy. But I don't miss the non-stop feeling of stress. I feel like I am relaxed for the first time in three months. AND I'm doing what I love. Eight times a week.  I'm still figuring a lot of things out.. I am constantly re-examining what I'm doing with my life and wondering if I'm making mistakes.. but today I'm happy. And still pretty bloated from the Olive Garden.

Old Blog - 3.19.2006

Sunday, March 19, 2006 

Sha la la la la la la la la... Current mood:  drained I used to say that I didn't like to go anywhere without my iPod. Now, since my move to the big city, it has become an obsession, a necessary item that MUST be on me at all times, as invaluable as my cell phone. There has been only one tragic day in which I forgot to put my earphones in my purse with the pod. This was the ONE day, of course, when the NJ Transit bus encountered more traffic than I had ever seen in two months here.  I sat on the bus in the gridlocked Lincoln Tunnel for an hour. In silence. My soul saw a little piece of hell that day.   I generally leave it on shuffle so I can still get that classic thrill that happens when a radio station puts on the perfect song for where you are/what you're doing/who you're with; of course, that means that sometimes I have to skip through eight or ten songs to get there. But I get there nevertheless. Why not ensure that I have the perfect music to match my atmosphere if I have all the tools at my fingertips? So here are some of my categories:   Walking Music: Used when walking through the city - usually either to or from work. Music that motivates me to move and to match the rhythm of the other city-walkers in the city. It doesn't need to be super-fast in pace like workout music, but it does need to have a pulse. Helps me to make-believe that I am the lead in the movie known as my life. Songs that top this list:   *Have You Met Miss Jones - Robbie Williams - from the Bridget Jones Diary soundtrack. This was actually suggested to me by Thomas when he was over and it came on in my room. He grinned and said this seemed like the perfect song to listen to when you're walking through the streets of New York. So I took his advice and it turns out he was right.    *Perfect Time of Day - Howie Day - This is a great song for when I'm happy to be lonely. Actually, most of Howie Day's songs fall into this "happy to be lonely" genre, but I think this one is the best one to highlight for city-walking purposes.   *Steal My Kisses - Ben Harper. This is good for when the sun is shining and I am not rushing to get to work. Puts a bounce in my step and makes me almost dance when I have to stand at the corner and wait for the light to change.   *Power of Love - Huey Lewis - for pretty much the same reasons as Steal My Kisses. Also it adds that element of nostalgia.   *Beautiful - Carole King... also recorded by Barbra Streisand. (I have both versions in my pod. I'm that big of a dork.) It's the song I have quoted in my "About Me" section right now. It's a perfect song for the city and it ALWAYS makes me smile.   *Short Skirt/Long Jacket - Cake - I like listening to this when I'm walking to work in heels.     Bus/Subway Music: Self-Explanatory.   *Bittersweet Symphony - the Verve - great to listen to while people-watching through the window. Like an outsider looking in kind of thing.   *Believe - Elton John - also great to listen to while people-watching. It makes the lyrics become illustrated in real life.   *Sweetest Thing - U2 - puts me in a happy trance. Makes me feel like I have a secret.   *Drops of Jupiter - Train - should be done while looking out the window. I like to think somebody back home is hearing this song and thinking of me.   *Tiny Dancer - Elton John - I like this one on the bus at night. It reminds of that scene from Almost Famous.   *I Mean to Shine - Barbra Streisand - starts my day off right when I'm on the bus going into the city in the morning.. A great one to precede "Beautiful." (please see section entitled "Walking Music".)   *A Long December - Counting Crows - when it's cold outside and I've finally plopped myself down to go home after a long day. Another one of those songs that I like listening to when I'm happy to be sad.     Workout Music: Favorite music to sweat to.    *Hollaback Girl - Gwen Stefani - still love it. It's my shit. WHAT.    *Golddigger - It's this year's Hollaback Girl.    *Shut Up - Black-Eyed Peas - makes me more want to dance than workout exactly, but it gets me pumped up.    *Fighter - Christina Aguilera - doesn't get me fired up quite like it used to, but I still really like it.    *Can't Get You Outta My Head - Kylie Minogue - puts me in a trance. I lose track of time and then it goes by faster.    *Ms. Jackson - Outkast - because it makes me feel like a badass.     Songs I Never Ever Get Tired Of That Can Complement Any Mood I Happen to Be In: These could probably be considered my "favorite" songs. In no particular order. No explanation given. I think that's the thing about favorite songs. You can't describe why you like them. You just do. *Mr. Bojangles - Nitty Gritty Dirt Band *Happy Phantom - Tori Amos *Starry Starry Night - Don McLean *Collide - Howie Day *Nobody's Girl - Bonnie Raitt *Typical Situation - Dave Matthews Band *This is the First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes *Mr. Jones - Counting Crows *Summer Highland Falls - Billy Joel *Over My Head - Martin Sexton *What a Good Boy - Barenaked Ladies *Dust In the Wind - Journey *Demons - Guster *I Have to Say I Love You in a Song - Jim Croce *One Headlight - The Wallflowers *He Went to Paris - Jimmy Buffett *Bennie and the Jets - Elton John *And So It Goes - Billy Joel     Some of you might have observed I did not list any musical theatre songs in any of these lists.  This was done by design - merely because I feel like I spend enough time in my life discussing, comparing, dissecting, analyzing, studying, and competing with musical theatre songs.  I needed a break and a little self-indulgence.

Old Blog - 2.24.2006

Friday, February 24, 2006 

It's about time for a new blog. Current mood:  mellow  Category: Food and Restaurants As I passed through the dining room of Del Frisco's earlier this evening to use the restroom, I overheard this exchange between one of our servers and one of our patrons: "Would you like your drink straight-up? On the rocks?" "Yes." I guess one should never assume that just because a person is willing to spend thirteen dollars on a cocktail to go with his or her ten-dollar salad before a fifty-dollar steak, a couple of ten-dollar sides, and, finally, an eleven-dollar dessert, that the person actually has any kind of street smarts or common logic. I have run into this quite a bit since beginning at Del Frisco's one month ago. A perfect example occurred yesterday. A woman berated me on the phone because she felt she was getting jerked around. Apparently the first time she called for a reservation, "some girl" (that was me) had told her that the nearest parking garage was on 48th Street. The second time she called, however, "some other girl" had told her the nearest parking garage was on 50th Street. So which is the closest, huh?? 48th or 50th?? Why are people telling her different things??? Maybe because the restaurant is located on 49th? Here's another exchange I enjoy which happens quite frequently: Anonymous Stupid Patron: "Hi, I'd like a reservation for tonight." Personable Reservationist: "We have 8:00 and later available for tonight." Anonymous Stupid Patron: "Do you have 6:00?" (Excuse me.. is this thing on?) The best is when people think they can haggle with me like I'm a Canal Street vendor. Anonymous Sneaky Patron: "Hi, I'd like a reservation for 6:00 tonight." Adorable Reservationist: "I'm sorry, our first available reservation for tonight is 9:00." Sneaky: "6:30?" Me: "9:00." Sneaky: "7:00?" Me: "9:00." Sneaky/Starting to Get Whiny: "You don't have ANYTHING earlier?" Me: "No, I'm so sorry." ((Subtext: "At this point, even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you.")) My favorite FAVORITE people, however, are the "just across the street/just upstairs" people. These are the people who work in businesses either located upstairs of us in the McGraw-Hill building, or somewhere in one of the many nameless buildings in some direction across one of our cross-streets. Because these people are located so very close to us, they seem to think this is being the equivalent to Del Frisco's best buddy and therefore entitling them to special privileges. For example: No Logic Across-the-Street Person: "Hey can I get a table for two at 5:30?" All-Knowing Reservationist: "I'm sorry, we don't have any openings until 6:30." No Logic Whatsoever: "Can't you squeeze me in? I'm just across the street." Insert dream sequence here: RESERVATIONIST: "Ohhhhh, you're just across the street?? Why didn't you say so?? We actually have one table for two at the window that we have been turning down to everyone who has called so we could save it for someone just like you who could just cross the street and come over and sit down. I'm so very glad you called." I mean seriously. So please don't misinterpret my blog mocking to mean I hate my job because as a matter of fact I really like it. I get a free meal at 4:00 everyday, a handful of jelly beans every night as I walk out the door, and tips that almost double my paycheck every week. And I get paid weekly -- did I mention that?? Every young and slightly irresponsible person's dream. AND, just as I wrote that last sentence, the head chef came into the office and offered to bring me dessert - anything I wanted. I chose the butterscotch cheesecake. Life is good.

Old Blog - 2.03.2006

Friday, February 03, 2006 

I don't live in New Jersey; I just sleep there. Current mood:  drained  Category: Travel and Places I was not scheduled to work until 4:00 this afternoon. On the agenda for the morning before work: Pick up my shit at the Amtrak station in Newark. Mapquest told me it was approximately 12 miles and about 25 minutes from my apartment. Sure the directions involved a few complicated steps like merging onto three different highways, but I was up to the task. I put half a tank of gas in my little plum Saturn, got a 20 oz. iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts, popped one of the "Welcome to NY" mixes Joe made me into the cd player, and headed down the road about 10:30 to give myself plenty of time.   Surprisingly enough, the mapquest directions got me to Newark without a single problem. Once I got there, however, there before me lay this gigantic campus of "Newark Pennsylvania Station" that was most definitely not user-friendly. Nowhere in this maze of one-ways that intersected diagonally was there any indication of where one would drive up to pick up a parcel. After circling twice, I finally pulled up to a curb that had signs saying explicitly, "No Parking - Tow Zone" - despite my recent luck with tow zones - put on my hazard lights, and ran inside to the information desk. The man, of course with a barely decipherable foreign accent, points me to walk this way, take a right here, and a left there to go pick up my parcel. I then explain to him that I need to know where to park my car that is near the parcel pick-up area. He starts pointing me across the street in another direction. Because he clearly can't put two and two together, I then explain that I need to park somewhere NEAR the parcel pick-up so it can be loaded into my car. At this point some very intimidatingly large man standing next to the information booth (who I don't know whether he worked there or just felt like being a really big asshole) starts SHOUTING at me that I can't park in front of the station because I'll get towed.   Refusing to be intimidated, I shout "I REALIZE that!" up at him, and then once again reiterate that the signs are not clear outside and I don't know where the hell to park my freaking car so I can pick up my package. The really big asshole asks me where I am parked right now. Illegally, ok? Illegally. THAT'S WHY I'M ASKING FOR HELP. Barely decipherable foreign accent informational man then gives me some vague directions about pulling out of the station, making a right, and then looping around. Fine. Whatever. I'll probably be towed by the time I get out there anyway.   But fortunately I am not towed, so I follow the vague directions and find myself at a parking garage. I pull up and ask the man in the booth if this garage pays by the hour. Ohhhh of course not. This is a monthly garage for people who have passes. He gives me slightly less vague directions toward a parking lot that pays by the hour. Of course, I have already pulled into his lot and there's no way to go through without a pass, so he has to hold up traffic and direct me as I back out. At least he was nice about it.   I finally find the pay-by-the-hour lot. I pull up, get my ticket,  and drive into the lot which, I should mention, has no marked parking spots. The cars are all over the place like some blindfolded adolescents had parked them. I roll down the window and ask a parking attendant where I should park. He responds very quickly in a COMPLETELY indecipherable accent as he points in a very ambiguous direction.   "I'm sorry, what did you say?" I ask.   Indecipherable jibberish repeated. Arm still pointing in ambiguous direction.   "I'm sorry, I can't understand what you're saying. You want me to park where?"   Indecipherable jibberish gets very heated and arm begins to flail. I can feel the PMS emotions boiling inside of me.   "Look, I need you to be patient with me." ... the nicest way I could tell him to go fuck off.   The man then throws his arms up in the air and storms off. Another parking attendant comes over to me with a sympathetic smile on his face who then points me into a spot. He asks me if I'm okay because by the time the car is put in park, my head has been dramatically thrown onto the steering wheel as I begin to bawl. I can't even get the words out about how much time I'll need to leave my car there, so he patiently instructs me to leave the keys in the ignition and then leaves me to pull myself together.   I make it into the station, find my parcel with no problem, and a very nice man helps me take it out to my car. When I go to the booth to pay and the indecipherable accent parking attendant sees it's me he actually TURNS AND STORMS OFF. Patient parking attendant man sees this and then runs to the booth to help me. He again asks if I'm doing okay. I reply yes, but I am just shocked about how rude people are in this town. He nods his head empathetically and glances in the direction of indecipherable  accent man and says, "Yes I know how that is."   SOOOO adventure over, right? Hardly. It hadn't occurred to me before I left this morning that I should also get directions off of mapquest BACK to my house from the train station. In most places in the world, you can simply reverse the directions you took to get there, right? Right. In NORMAL places anyway. It took me an hour to get home. I had to ask two people just in Newark how to get to the interstate because it wasn't marked how to get back onto it going east. They both gave me inaccurate directions but after about twenty minutes I ended up finding it myself. Then I couldn't find the exit from the interstate to get onto the highway leading back to North Bergen that wouldn't take me through the Lincoln Tunnel. I had to ask two different toll booth attendants who were both fairly nice and actually gave accurate directions, but not without me getting honked at by the impatient assholes in their cars behind me.   So.... 3 hours, 35 miles, 20 ounces of coffee, 8 dollars in parking, 2.50 in tolls, 2 dollars in tips, a chunk of gas and a slew of tears later, I have my gray rubbermaid tub that I sent via Amtrak for reasons of "convenience".

Old Blog - 12.29.2005

Thursday, December 29, 2005 

2005. A Recap. Current mood:  nostalgic  Category: Life At the end of every year I like to do a little personal inventory: highlights, lowlights, memorable moments, memorable people. Usually this is done in my journal, but thanks to blogging, which still holds a lot of novelty for me, now you all can be privy to this information which probably means nothing to you. But here it is anyway. 2005. A Recap. New Shows Added to My Resume: No No Nanette The Music Man The Secret Garden New States Visited: Nebraska Iowa Indiana Illinois Ohio Connecticut Star Sightings: Claire Danes Keith Hernandez New Experiences: NY Showcase First NY audition/interview First speeding ticket Learning the Yorkshire Dialect Choreographing 100 7th Graders Non-Theatre Jobs Held: Barista at Coffee People Marketing Assistant for Nationwide Insurance Babysitter Marketing and Sales/Page's Errand Bitch at Off the Wall Magnetics New People Enhancing My Life: Erik Yoni Maria Kristi  Megan  Felicia Adam Reed Chelsie Isabell Amy Kristen Eloy Bill Favorite Memories: Mardi Gras Margaritas with Dave Clemmons St. Patrick's Day in the Village Disney Erotica Party "No More Nanette" (and "Have You Seen My Baby? Booyah Booyah") Birthday at the Rio Thomas's MT Video Road Trip Karaoke in Connecticut Wicked with my RoommateSisterFriend Taylor the Latte Boy Dublin Pub The Missing Shoes Pappacinos Dressing Room Moments The Boiler Room Adam's House Cannon Beach Steven Nash's House Danny Black's Jazz Classes 7-Dollar Christmas Adventure  Lowlights: Ohhh you guys don't want to hear those, do you? Honestly, nothing specific comes to mind. Saying goodbye to people in Greeley was harder than I thought, living back at home with my parents has definitely had its moments, and I absolutely spread myself way too thin this fall with too many commitments. I'm not proud of my inconsistency with staying in touch with people (although myspace.com has definitely helped things) and I wish that I could have figured out a way to make more time for my friends here in Portland while I have been home. Overall: Quite a bit of transition for me this year. I suffered through post-graduation trauma as I faced the realization that I can no longer hide in the safety-net of college. I ended up staying home longer than I thought. I got cast more in a few months in Portland than I did in four years at UNC. I made new friendships. I rekindled old ones. I gained an Argentinian brother. I met somebody special. I bought a plane ticket. Now I am preparing for another year of transition. I can handle it I think. I'm actually pretty thrilled for it to begin.   Happy New Year!!

Old Blog - 12.22.2005

Thursday, December 22, 2005 

Just hiccup already geez. Current mood:  pensive I haven't felt like I've been able to get a good, normal, deep breath in four or five days. I end up making little gasping sighs. It feels like there is a hiccup high in my chest, at the base of my throat, that can't be released. A small little ball that wants to jump out but can't. I have to consciously tell myself to swallow. When I do, it makes my stomach churn. Nerves to be addressed, ya think?  It's a beautiful Oregon wintery day - it looks like God removed all color and then turned on the sprinkler system. This was the weather that made me happiest in Colorado. But here in my not-quite-heated office, with an hour and forty-five minutes left to waste, upcoming holidays for which I am NOT prepared, a relationship that is requiring more maintenance than originally planned, and an impending move across the country, I just end up pouting. I wish I could snap out of it