Pursued By A Bear

A brain, a heart and some courage.

Lately, I've been quiet. 

I'm not the only one, I've noticed. Many of my bloggy friends have abandoned their regular writing schedules over the past month to just marinate and take things in. Ain't nuthin' wrong with that.

Yesterday was my birthday. It wasn't a "monumental number" birthday. However, I was struck (and perhaps a little prideful) by the number of people who took time out of their day to send a text, call, email or drop a quick line on facebook to me. I had no idea that many people...cared.

Last year, I was ALSO amazed at how many people on facebook said Happy Birthday to me on my wall. (Facebook is good for something, after all!) I vowed in a status update to return the favor and post birthday wishes back to my friends. But, of course, my resolution lost steam by October. I kept forgetting. Or I assume my "friend" would think I was weird for writing something heartful - and public - on their wall. (Silly, since they ARE Facebook FRIENDS, right?!)

This year, when I got my first Happy Birthday message, it felt great. I remembered how I failed at the chance to be lovely with people all year long. I vowed to give everyone a gift back. I vowed to stop whatever I was doing when I received their message and I vowed to give them my whole attention.

And then I would respond with my whole self.

And I wouldn't edit it.

That last part is particularly hard for me. I'm keen on cultivating an image, I suppose. I edit this blog all the time. I edit emails several times before I send them. I erase status updates and links if they are older than a few days from my Facebook wall, only to have friends repeatedly contact me with:

"I tried to find that post from a few days ago and now it's gone! BOO!"

Why do I do this? Am I afraid a new friend will stalk back a few pages on my Facebook wall and make snap judgements about me? Yeah,I think about that. Of course, the Irony of that is that I am fairly exclusive about the friends I accept on Facebook in the first place. I have hovered at about 200 friends for years. A couple of times a year, I weed out people who don't interact with me. I know. Harsh. But it's a social network. I figure "be social and network with me...or else you don't get access to my life this way." -- So, truly, speaking of cultivated, this is a circle of people who love me. Why so much concern?

Anyhow, about half of my Facebook friends reached out to me yesterday to say hello and wish me a Happy Birthday. If you ask me - that's good odds with the Facebook. I've collected quite an amazing circle of people. It felt great to take that in.

I decided to reply to everyone with my full attention. I wanted to give back to them and I also wanted to allow myself the freedom to say "I love you" and/or "You mean so much to me and this is why..."

sSo often, I'm so careful. I edit myself. I don't wish to be like that anymore. A birthday is a great time to "birth" a new habit. So, I am going to stop deleting stuff from my facebook page. I am going to stop making revisions once I post entries on my blog. I delete far too often in those two places in order to cover up "evidence" of myself. I don't think that's the direction I should be going. I need to work on being mindful enough the first time I write something that I don't feel the complusion to go back and tweak...and tweak..and tweak again.

(I won't give up my email habit quite yet, though. My job as a Managing Director of a theater company requires a cool head. Sending the 7th rendition of an email has saved my butt more than once!)

Brain. Heart. Courage.

 
 
(I posted this entry with only ONE proof-reading. See? I CAN DO THIS.)

 

 

Close only counts in horseshoes and blogging.

I've updated my 101 list.

This came out of necessity. Things move fast here in NYC and some of the old items were exhibits, activities or food establishments that have expired or are now undergoing extensive renovations.

(I am, however, holding out for the Edgar Allen Poe  house, which is rumored to be so far in the hole financially that it may never reopen. Let's hope this is not the case!)

For example, Lulu & Mooky's.

Lulu & Mooky's was a liquid nitrogen ice cream parlor that was the IN place 2 years ago.  I had a hankering for ice cream last month and I happened to be on the Lower East Side, so I googled Lulu & Mooky's only to discover that they have loooooong since the writing of my list gone out of business.

Boo! I needed to replace #9 on my list.

I was keen on replacing with another food item. I remembered that Vietnamese sandwich places get good write ups frequently in TONY and I've never had a Vietnamese sandwich, so I added that to my list.

Last week, on my way to the Jitney, I stumbled across this place. The line was at least 40 people deep and stretched all the was down the block. They must make some pretty good food!

Hmmmmm.

I made a mental note and decided to grab a sandwich before work this week.  Luckily, the pre-noon line looks like this:

 

And I got this:

  

 That's a grilled peach sandwich with bacon, chives, jalepenos, chili mayo, pickled carrots, cilantro (er, sorry, Catherine - I know it offends thee) and cucumber. WHAT. Just...git in my bellah, wouldja? YUM.

 I didn't learn until AFTER eating my sammy that Num Pang is actually a Cambodian sandwich shop. Oh. Would it be totally cringe-worthy if I shrugged and said,

"close enough"...?

I'm sure Vietnamese sandwiches are good, too.

(aaaand that's #9 on the list - DONE)

School: in bullets

So busy just APPLYING to school.  I'm not even IN yet and I am having a hard time stealing away to write for fun on mah blahg.  This does not bode well...

* I haven't applied for school in 20 years but I am comforted by the fact that the protocol reminds me very much of the military.  Every task that you think will be hard to accomplish actually turns out to be really easy (ordering a transcript took 3 minutes - online! Technology is great.) and everything that should be easy is a bit of a cluster**** (i.e. my online application is SO READY to be submitted -- now, if only the school would update the drop down menu so I can indicate that I want to begin school in Jan 2012...)

* I am making the right choice. I was a wee bit intimidated by the admissions essay request, which was basically: "Sooooo tell us about yourself in one to five pages, no less than 500 words".  How in the world can I write something impressively erudite enough to get into grad school with a writing prompt THAT broad? I put it off for D-A-Y-S (twitter was SUCH a good time waster) until I couldn't put it off anymore (see: Qwitter) and once I buckled down and fashioned a little outline for myself, I wrote that stinkin' essay in one hour flat. And it was FUN. So, I can do this...

*...but not without proving I don't have cooties first? Even though my program is exclusively online (that's the BEAUTY of it) I still have to comply with NY State law and prove, as a student, that I have had my MMR vaccinations. PLURAL.

Let me tell you a little more about THAT: for someone who is about to turn thirty-cough-cough, my medical records are spotty at best. I never get sick enough to require a doctor. I've never been a patient in a hospital. How did I get this far in life without a significant medical paper trail?

First of all, I don't HAVE any pediatric records readily available. I suppose I could dig, but my pediatrician passed away many, many years ago and I have no idea where to begin looking. I am assuming I would have to seriously diiiiiiiig. My mom was all, "Oh honey, you had an MMR shot - the documentation is in your baby book" -- which, yes and no.  She wrote the date of one MMR shot. Next to it she wrote:

"Horrible reaction! Hives for a week!" 

So there's that.

Second, I had to get a primary care physician in order to complete the school immunization form. I have never had a regular doctor in my entire adult life.  So, I got a referral from a friend. I saw him today and I explained,

"...I need to get this shot? But I don't want this shot because I understand it's a series of shots?"

He was all,

"I can't count the one shot you had you had as a baby because there's no doctor signature next to the date. However, I want to avoid giving you the shots, if possible, due to the documentation of the reaction.  You must have been cleared as immune at some point in your life -- how did you get this far in life without running into this before?  Didn't you have to take a physical before starting college?"

And I was all,

"I KNOW. I vaguely remember a "Do-You-Have-A-Pulse...Great" physical in the campus clinic, but don't you think I'd remember shots? Plural?  That seems a little traumatic to me...and trust me, doc, I'M AN ACTRESS. I'd remember getting shots!"

So the only thing he can think is that at some point a blood test was run (My ENT ran extensive allergy testing when I was in high school. There. That's my one medical thing. I had chronic sinusitis and it was interfering with my musical theater career!) and it happened to be in my files and showed that I was immune to measels, mumps and rubella.  So no one at the health clinic on campus felt the need to bother me about the shots.  

Of course, I have NO IDEA where any of that paper work is now, twenty years later.  So my (new!) doc just decided to run another blood test. Hopefully, no shots for me. I should know by Friday.

 * Oh! One more thing: I hope I actually graduated in 1996?  Because I walked in a graduation ceremony, but the very next day I was on a plane to NYC and I never looked back. I never even picked up my diploma. When I was arranging for a transcript to be sent to my new my school, I also ordered one for myself because I can't squelch this niggling fear that I didn't finish all my classes. Fingers crossed.  I will also know this by Friday. Hurrah?

 

Qwitter

On Wednesday morning, I woke up and promptly cancelled my Twitter account.

I woke up and I knew in my heart it had to go.

I didn't even think twice about it.

I loved it, but I am tired of saying "I don't have enough hours in the day." 

 

Do you feel like you need to "clean house" before the Fall begins? What do you plan on doing to help yourself find more time in the day?

"There. Now isn't that better?"

My life does not have a whole lot of troubles. I don't know why I often feel like it does.  "I'm so overwhelmed!" I say. What? Really? I am able to feed myself and clothe myself and keep a roof over my head, so...shut it, right? I don't have troubles. Not really.

This week I had three projects that were competing for my attention. I was so behind on my schedule of How To Get It All Done that by Wednesday afternoon, I had to just throw my hands in the air and say,

"Welp, this won't get done by any of the deadlines. Just won't."

On top of all that, I have just received the opportunity to go back to school for a couple of years. And - bing! - so overwhelming. That's immediately where I went in my head. But..really? Is it that overwhelming? I'd be doing it online. The fiscal part is taken care of. Yet I have been battling such resistance over the past few weeks.

I like the "idea" of getting an advanced degree...

I'm sure I would be "proud" once it was completed...

But it will take an immense amount of work and isn't my life already...hard?

I had a conversation with Fred about it on Sunday night. He was incredulous with me. All my hemming and hawing? HELLO, who doesn't want a free degree?! WHO TURNS THAT DOWN?!!

The conversation was not going anywhere for quite awhile. Finally:

"You wanna say it? You should say it."

"What...?"

"Come on."

"..."

"COME ON!"

"Okay, fine. I WANT THE PRIZE. I JUST DON'T WANT TO WORK FOR IT."

"There. Now isn't that better?"

 

("I'll take Spoiled Brats for $400, Alex.")

I don't want to work for it.

That's what it is. Right there.

There's this (weird) story I made up in my head as I was transitioning from being a child to being an adult: at some point in my late teens, I got it into my head that I am not talented enough to have "Being The Star" as my job. NO -- I must work my way up the ladder, one little minion job after another, and then and only then will I have done enough to deserve a little applause.

Now, I know "Being The Star" is work, actually. But, to be honest, it's the kind of work I'd prefer to be doing. It's FUN work. I have felt resentful many times over in the past 20 years as I watched "The Star" waltz in to rehearsals and get catered to.  All their needs met ("Yes, sir. Yes, miss. Right away!") and, ahem, usually by me, as an administrator, working behind the scenes to make it all appear magical.

I know stars do a lot of work on their own. There are no overnight sensations. Don't believe what is said or printed in entertainment news. Nobody ever gets Discovered. All actors, nay, even "personalities" - we all work our butts off to craft an image that we show to the world. In addition, the very talented stars spend hours upon hours in solitude crafting their talent with great diligence. Ya gotta give props where props are due.

I like idea of spending hours in solitude with my work. That is so much more enjoyable than running around like a chicken with my head cut off, making sure that all sorts of administrative tasks stay juggled. Somehow I got the idea that this solitude is a luxury that's...not for me?

Somewhere along the line, I got it into my head that I didn't deserve the fun work and the fun job at the same time. Somewhere along the line, I decided that the fun job is only a reward for doing a bunch of un-fun work first.

I decided to throw my hands up in the air this week and say,

"I will not finish all this in time."

...and then I proceeded to re-organize my To Do into two columns:

Things I Will Actually Do

and

Things I Will Proudly Choose To Bullshit My Way Through Today.

This is just splendid. It might turn out to be my new modus operandi. So far, no one can tell which list my actions are coming from.

Also, I'm feeling better. It's good to acknowledge the Diva, yes? We, as a culture, give certain people permission to be divas all the time -- so if I'm not hurting anybody, why not take it back for myself?

Okay. So this...golden opportunity I have. I still have to figure out what I am going to do with it. Can I turn the idea of work into fun?

Last night, I decided to take one class in Spring 2012. Just to see what it's like. If it's not for me, I'll bail. The first "tier" of the program involves selecting 4 classes from a pre-approved list. Then you move to a second "tier" that is your emphasis in the program. I have always loathed general education classes. Why are you people making me suffer before letting me learn something I actually WANT to learn?

But here's where the Universe decides to shine on me, see? I scanned the approved general education list and on the second page at the bottom, I discovered this:

"Cultural Diversity: American Musicals"

Wow.

I know I can kill that class. And it won't even feel like work.

Isn't that better?

MYOB

Ah, unsolicited advice.

First of all, I know I have done it. We've all done it. Someone tells you a problem and you think, "Aha! I can fix this!" -- but can I just say right here and now how much I loathe being on the receiving end of unsolicited advice? I mean. Hi. Do you not recognize me as an intelligent person that has alreadly exhausted the obvious?

I had a person in my life a few years ago that capped off almost everything I said with,

"Well, you know what you should do..."

It drove me nuts. Fred turn it into a joke. He'd wait until I was in a perfect tizzy over something and then he'd get a shit-eating grin on his face and yell "YOUKNOWWHATYOUSHOULDDO"...then he'd duck and cover.

Nobody likes a busy body.

Last night I was on the subway with my friend Nat and we were creating an accountability plan for going to auditions. Just one a week. For practice. Mind you, we're both married women and working hard at our own theater company here in town. It's not likely, on one audition a week, that we'll book any of the gigs that we're planning on auditioning for. That's not the point. The point is that we recognize that our audition skills will get soft if we don't continue to work them. It would be beneficial to our confidence as artists to just get out and do one audition a week; to keep our song books and monologues fresh and the noises in our heads at bay.

So, we were sitting on the subway, chatting about our plans - like, not even griping about the state of auditions, which is easy to do - no, no, no: we were just talking about our plans to go to Equity Principal Auditions once a week and joking that it is a perfect plan because there's no way we're going to actually book anything from an EPA anyway.

(That's the truth.)

(But, God...? Feel free to prove me wrong. ANY TIME.)

Suddenly, an old lady sitting next to me blurts out,

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN NYC?"

...and in my head, I was like,

"Ex-cuse me?"

(...because her tone was suggesting that there is always a correlation between the amount of time you are in NYC and the amount of success you've encountered.)

...and then my next thought was,

"Honey, please. There's not enough time here to tell you about my life journey. So you just go back to the word find you were workin' on, Ms. Random-nosy-subway-rider."

But she was the pushy type; so I thought,

"Eh. I'm gonna mess with her."

So I gave her an innocent face and loudly declared,

"SIXTEEN YEARS."

I was hoping that would knock her off her course. I was dying to see what she would do with that information. Unfortunately, she wasn't even listening to me! She went ahead and launched right into her story about her (former) career and agent-this and agent-that and broadway and off-broadway and, you know, TV is really where it's at...

(Talking about herself is all she wanted to do. Okay.)

The funniest thing was that she had to get up while she was talking because her stop was coming up. She was flailing all over the place because she was more intent on talking at us than concentrating on her own balance. She rushed her speech at us as she was walking out the subway door and it was shutting on her.

Now - who does that? Who decides to hijack a subway conversation 2 minutes before their own stop?

I felt so psychically dumped on.

I suppose it's one thing to overhear a conversation and say, "Excuse me? Are you actresses?" and - you know - only choose to do that if you are going to be on the train long enough to have an even exchange with the people you just interupted. 

But to just launch and leave? Really?!  

There have been times when I have wanted to chat with someone on the subway, but I decided not to disturb them because I know I am disembarking soon and "the flow" would be off. In those situations, you just let it go. Am I right, fellow New Yorkers?

We watched her walk away as our train pulled out of the station.

Finally, after a pregnant pause, Nat was all,

"WHAT. JUST. HAPPENED."

 

Whew. We got Busy-Bodied!