In Madrid

I am in Madrid for another 15 hours or so. Do I want to return to the U.S.? Certainly. Do I want to go back to my working life in New York? Not really. Not at all. No. Would I want to go back if I had a different job and the apartment of my dreams? Maybe.

I had a great time Labor Day weekend. I got to see some friends from back home, had a picnic in Central Park, and played tourist on Monday. The weather was beautiful, the city wasn't as crowded, and the best part was that I didn't have to get up at the buttcrack of dawn to go to work on Monday. Yes, I've made peace with my job. But that doesn't mean that I won't breathe a sigh of relief when it's over. I really like New York now (as compared to a year ago), but only when I can play in it, and working full-time almost an hour from my apartment with a start time of 7:00 am doesn't give me a lot of time for playing in New York. Now that I like the city, I definitely feel as though I can leave.

Soooo, Madrid. I like it much better than when we came in 2006, and I think that's because it hasn't been warmer than 80 degrees the whole time, and mostly a whole lot cooler. I can actually look around because I'm not consumed with how hot I feel and when do we get to the next air conditioned building. Our friend's wedding (the reason we came in the first place) was beautiful and fun and really well done. We did some traveling, and got to see Toledo and Segovia, and I really liked Segovia. It's a town in the foothills of the mountains, and there's a palace there named Alcazar, after which one of the Disney theme park castles was modeled. It was a lovely town, muy tranquilo, very calm. And the aqueduct! The Roman aqueduct isn't intact in most places. This one is still standing, complete, and cars aren't allowed to drive under it to preserve the structure. It's a breath-taking sight, pulling up to the entrance to the old city and seeing this towering stone structure stretching as far as you can see, stone piled on stone without mortar, and the cobblestones and medieval houses behind it. Just lovely. I highly recommend that if one goes to Madrid, be sure to take the 30-minute train ride to Segovia. Just lovely.

We fly back to the States tomorrow, and I can't shake the feeling that I might be disappointed when I look at New York. It certainly won't look anything like Segovia. Oh well. Only a few more weeks and then I'm gone.

Bath Time

Bath Time 2
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I spent a weekend at home without really reading my email or any webcomics or any of my usual internet activities. It was four days. It felt like four months.

Everything moves too fast on the internet. I sort of kept up with Twitter, but I didn't read every single Tweet posted by every single person I follow. The result of missing large chunks of others' Twitter streams lead to my unfollowing a lot of them. It wasn't personal, I just realized that I wasn't that interested in what they had to say. I wouldn't be offended if one of you five people stopped reading my blog because you were no longer interested in what I had to say. My pride might be hurt, but I wouldn't be offended.

So, I guess I should spill the Big Can o' Beans: I've signed a contract to be a teaching artist in Korea next year. My contract runs from February 2010 to February 2011. I'm really excited for this adventure. I get to do something I really like doing AND get paid for it AND live in Asia AND pay off some debt and squirrel away some money for the Future. This is going to be a really cool year.

I'm nervous, though. My departure date is inching closer, and the reality of what's about to happen is hitting me, and my (very natural) fear of the unknown is creeping up on me. I shouldn't be nervous. I will know several people who are there already, and signs are in English and Korean, and it's apparently not that different that living in New York (cleaner, though!), so what am I nervous about?

I guess it's that I'll be uprooting my life once again for uncharted territory, which means that I have to pack up everything here in New York and Do Something with it, whether it's selling it, giving it away, or sending it back to Minnesota. (I'd really like to leave that last option as a last resort. The only things I want to take from here are my favorite clothes, shoes, and books.) I really loathe moving, as I've done it six times in the last two years (SIX TIMES). I'll also have to say goodbye to a lot of really awesome people and comforting routines for new people and new routines. Yes, yes, it'll be great, but it will also be uncomfortable. I don't enjoy being uncomfortable.

I know, I know. I'll get over it. And no, I shouldn't agonize over it now. I'm not really. I'm just...processing the magnitude of what I'm about to undertake. So many people never leave their state for an extended period of time, let alone the country of their birth.

This is weird.

Fierce

Fierce
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Back from Hawaii and a much-needed escape from NYC. Did some running around, did some sitting around, did some staring into the ocean, did some more sitting around, did a LOT of eating, did some weight-gaining (that will drop away, shortly, I'm sure, now that I'm paying for my own meals again). I think Kauai and Big Island are tied for my favorites. I loved Maui, but I love the solace and languid pace of Big Island and Kauai much more. A week of strolling and sitting around in either of those places would be a fantastic vacation. However, there are two more islands to be explored before that happens: Molokai and Lanai. After those two, I will have visited every island available to outsiders (Ni'ihau is owned by a single family and one must be invited in order to go there, although that may have changed).

Being back in the city isn't as awful as I thought it would be. It may be that it just hasn't hit me yet that I don't have a single vacation from work coming up in the next two or three months. I'm not a lazy person, I just need the occasional mental health break from the repetitive nature of my current temp assignment. I must admit that it was nice to come back to work on a Friday and know that I had two more days to adjust to city pace before a full five-day work week. At the beginning of this last Hawaii adventure, I kept realizing that I'd left my family in the dust whenever we walked somewhere, and I had to stop and purposefully slow down. My sister admonished, "You don't need to walk so fast here!" and I answered, "I thought I wasn't walking that fast!" By the end of the trip, I'd learned how to amble again.

The final thing I've taken from this vacation is that I need to take better care of myself. That doesn't mean pampering (at least not all the time). It means getting my butt to yoga. It means budgeting for dance class three times a week. It means finally buying a loft so my bed doesn't dominate my bedroom. It means making time for the activities (and they need to be active) that keep my brain out of the miry mush of the doldrums. I've been neglecting my body, and as a result, I've been neglecting my mind and spirit. Time to get moving, because, as they say, you've only failed if you fall down and stay there.

This is what happens at brunch in NYC.

Nikaury and I are 12 seconds in.

Red and Blue

Red
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

The show has ended, and I'm back to being a 7-3:30 working stiff. And the funny thing is that I'm STILL TIRED. Why is it that I can't get myself to bed before 11:30pm? I know that I have to get up at 5:00 am, and yet I fritter away my sleeping time with...what? A whole lot of nothing that adds up to missed sleep and ridiculous amounts of caffeine consumed just to stay somewhat functional at work.

I'm a little blue now that the show is over. I'll feel it most this weekend when we're not doing the show. I expected to be full-on depressed for at least three days after the show ended, but I'm doing ok. I miss my peeps, but I'll see some of them this weekend, so I don't have long too wait before the reunion.

Speaking of this weekend, I'm catering for the first time since December. I accepted the job because, well, I spent a leeeetle too much money during the run of the show. I ate out a lot, went out a lot, and it turns out that I broke the bank a little. I can pay all my bills (Mom, Dad, Ishy-girl), I just can't eat out again for a while. So, catering again. It'll be a nice change from sitting at desk all day, and there are some fellow waiters I'd be happy to see again. Unfortunately, the gig is at Ellis Island, and that's almost never a pleasant time. There's a time crunch to get the guests fed and onto the last guest ferry, plus there's a time crunch at the top end when all the setting up has to be done in about an hour and a half after the museum closes and before guests arrive for the cocktail portion. It's stressful, but the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut and your hands folded until someone tells you to speak or do something. It's meditative, actually.

And for the fun surprise of the evening: going to see '33 Variations' tonight, starring Jane Fonda. A friend managed to score some last minute tickets, so off we go! And off I go. I must gussy up just a touch.

Toodles, kidlings.

A Little Light, Very Little Space

A Little Light, Very Little Space
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm moved! Back to Manhattan. And now that I'm moved, I can think.

The first night in my new place was a little depressing. Tiny room, nothing unpacked, missing my old place that seemed fantastic by comparison. The next morning, I walked out of the building, walked half a block, walked a north-south block, and went down into the subway and thought, "Oh yeah! This is part of the reason I moved." No more six- or seven-block walk to the subway. And yesterday, oh yesterday! I walked two blocks to Central Park to eat my bagel and drink my coffee. TWO BLOCKS. Kidlings, I am two blocks from Central Park and two blocks from Riverside Park. And all around me are one of the things I love most: beautiful buildings.

So, on the one hand, the stupid hand: mortgage-sized rent, tiny room, sharing space with another adult, not yet feeling comfortable in the kitchen and living room, side neighbors who walk like elephants. On the other hand, the pretty, sparkly, lovable hand: TWO BLOCKS FROM THE PARKS, restaurants, cafes and wine bars galore, 1 block from the subway, fire escape out which to dangle my feet in warmer weather, Starbucks, top floor apartment, and did I mention Central Park is right there? I'm in love again.

Rehearsal is going well. We definitely have a show, and it just needs some tweaking here and there. I love my cast so much. They make me laugh and they show me things in a different light and everyone is so willing to take risks and look silly and try things out and I really am going to miss them when this is over in a month. But before that's over, if you're in New York, you should come see the show!

The Less We Talk
by Alec Duffy
at the Ontological Hysteric Theatre in St. Mark's Church
April 16 - May 2, 8:00pm
www.hoipolloiworld.com

Rehearsal Has Eaten My Life

Rehearsal Has Eaten My Life
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

First full week of rehearsal is done, and, as predicted, I am WORN OUT. By Thursday, I was ready to firebomb my workplace, just so I'd have an excuse to stay in bed. (That may be a little extreme, but I'm the Queen of Hyperbole.)

I think I finally made my peace with the fact that New York is ridiculous and that's just the way it is. It no longer enrages me that I pay $850 for an apartment the size of some people's walk-in closets. I still get mad at people who throw their trash in the street and on the subway tracks, but am I really going to say anything to them? No (unless I'm having an "I feel reckless" day; I tend to throw my weight around a bit more on those days, so don't be standing in front of the subway doors when I'm trying to get off or I will hip-check you without remorse). This place is dirty, and smelly, and sagging and staggering under its own weight and bloated sense of importance, and that's just the way it is. I, alone, cannot change that.

You might be able to tell that I still don't love it here, but I'm not going to waste my breath or energy getting angry about its flaws. The flip side of the shoulder-shrug "oh well" attitude is that I feel a sharp pang of longing every time I see or read about a home that fits my dream. I see green lawns, flower gardens, white oak moulding and space space space and I moan a little under my breath. I don't yearn for real estate for prestige, profit, or financial flim-flammery: I just want a real home. A space that I walk into and sigh with relief because it's beautiful and it's mine. Doesn't need to be huge, just comfortable, clean, and quiet.

Someday.

"Do you talk, like, like nice, all the time?"

University College Dorm
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

My coworker asked me if I "talk nice all the time." I said, "What do you mean? Not 'black'?" He laughed a little, then said, "No, like, I mean, yeah, you talk nice here at work because you wanna be professional and stuff, but when you're with your friends, do you talk all hard and stuff, like 'Yeah...', you know?" I answered, "Yes, I 'talk nice' all the time. This is just the way I speak."

I'm proud of him for asking, because most (non-black) people (who haven't known me for a while) just think that question, and never ask. It's potentially embarrassing, because non-black people sometimes have a hard time acknowledging racial differences. But yes, I do "talk nice" all the time.

I don't code switch. I know what it is, but I don't do it. I suppose it's because I've never heard my parents speak anything but grammatically correct, clear English, and because I was raised in an environment that was 90% white. I'm also an avid reader, and always have been; I ended up a highly verbal person (much to the detriment of my grades in math after 6th grade). I'm proud of the way I speak, and I'm also a little snobbish about it.

It grates on my ears when I have to continually listen to bad grammar. (Maybe that's why my hair is 50% whiter than when I left: riding the subway can be a harrowing auditory experience.) These days, I have to listen to it all day, and I often bite back screams and nasty comments. Is it so difficult to properly conjugate "to be"? I am, she is, he is, you are, we are, they are. I was, she was, he was, you were, we were, they were. I know English is screwy, but these are very basic rules, and we hear them used correctly every day. So why doesn't it sink in for some people?

I know certain dialects are a source of pride for others, just as I take pride in the way I speak the English language. I'm not always right, especially when conversing with my friends, but in a business setting, please use standard English. Language evolved to help us understand one another better. If you're speaking a different language, I'm going to get frustrated because I can't understand you. If there is an agreed upon standard - and in this case, it's "business english" - then let's use it.

So, yeah. I do "talk nice all the time."

Leaving Orlando

No, no one's dying, but it feels that way. It's always hard to leave Disneyworld, and this time is no different. I couldn't stop exclaiming how nice everyone was here, and I couldn't help but notice how clean. Clean and nice: definitely not New York.

One thing that is not nice about Disneyworld is the number of people on scooters. I understand that not all disabilities that make walking difficult are visible. However, when I see crazily overweight person after crazily overweight person riding around in a motorized scooter, I start to think, "Um, they just don't want to walk because they'd get tired because they're overweight and out of shape." I don't see many obese people in New York: either you have too much money and don't eat to stay rail thin, or you have no money and don't eat because you can't afford groceries. But fully half of the people here in the parks are somewhat overweight. The U.S., indeed, has a weight problem.

Bah. I don't want to think about leaving, even with Disney enabling over-eating and laziness. It's so nice and quiet and comfortable here...

21 Questions

NYMag.com has a regular feature on their Daily Intel blog called "21 Questions." They ask various people the same set of questions, but most of the people they ask are, shall we say, not of the underclass. (Every now and then they interview someone who more recently was "normal". Whenever I read it I think, "Hey, NYMag.com. How about you ask me those 21 questions and see what someone who's not a member of the glitterati has to say?" They'll never ask, but I have a blog of my own, and can therefore take their 21 questions and ask them of myself. So here we go.

Name: Adia
Job: Actor/Cater Waiter/Wannabe novelist and photographer
Age: 195
Neighborhood: BK

Who's your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional? Kermit.

What's the best meal you've eaten in New York? "Free" tastes better than anything else.

In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job? Wait for the phone to ring or an email to pop up that says, "Here's some work."

Would you still live here on a $35,000 salary? Wow. $35,000 sounds like incredible wealth to me.

What's the last thing you saw on Broadway? Hairspray. My sister was in town.

Do you give money to panhandlers? See question 4.

What's your drink? Coffee. Always coffee.

How often do you prepare your own meals? Every day. Eating out is RARE.

What's your favorite medication? Aleve. Two of 'em, even though the box says one.

What's hanging above your sofa? I have a collage and a piece of newsprint paper with sayings from my "7 Habits of Highly Effective People" daily calendar hanging above my desk. There's no room for a sofa in here.

How much is too much to spend on a haircut? I have a pair of scissors specifically crafted for cutting hair.

When's bedtime? Whenever I fall asleep with the lights on and an unwashed face.

Which do you prefer, the old Times Square or the new Times Square? I wish Times Square would fall into a wormhole and appear elsewhere as some other dimension's urban headache.

What do you think of Donald Trump? When I meet him and he's signing a million dollar check over to me, I'll let you know.

What do you hate most about living in New York? The list is long. I hate: how expensive it is to live here, how people who make significantly more money than I do gripe about not having any money when I'd kill for their "poverty line" $40,000/year, roaches, ignorant fools who drop garbage everywhere when they're two feet from a trash can, how self-centered everyone is, the lack of indoor spaces that are open past 5pm that don't pressure you to spend money, and how easy it is to let weeks go by without seeing your friends.

Who is your mortal enemy? Gainful employment, apparently.

When's the last time you drove a car? July. I went to a wedding in California. I got a Mustang as a rental car. That was fun.

Who should be the next president? Senator Barack Obama.

Times, Post, or Daily News? I read the NY Times when I can stand to read the news.

Where do you go to be alone? No one's ever alone. There's always some kind of critter nearby.

What makes someone a New Yorker? Tunnel vision.

Giza

Giza
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I didn't notice until we took this picture that all of us were wearing white shirts.

Our exchange student from 1995 and 1996(?), Maria, and her mother are here in New York for a few days. So little time! That means a lot of running around trying to see the major sights. I took them to Grand Central last night - where we ended up eating dinner - and they really enjoyed the architecture of the train station. It felt good to show them something they really enjoyed, because they would ask, at points on our walk, "What is that?" and I'd say, "Um...I don't know." I'm a bad guide when it comes to the tourist stuff.

This evening we're going up to the top of Rockefeller Center to look out on the city. That should be fun, as I haven't been up to an observation deck since the Empire State Building on a high school choir trip.

(May I admit, though, that I'm a little pooped from all that walking and trying to speak Spanish?)

Silk

Silk
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

My day was not like silk at all.

I woke up this morning and thought, "Wow, I'm well-rested for having gone to sleep at 1am. Oh dear. i wonder if my alarm didn't go off." I crawled out of bed, thinking it was 8 am, not 7, the target time. I looked at my phone. "9:39."

Oh crap.

I was supposed to be at Lincoln Center at 10. I live in Brooklyn. It can be an hour-long trip from my house to Lincoln Center.

I called the catering office. No one answered. I desperately wanted to shower, but there was no time. I was already going to be at least a half hour late.

I washed my face, swabbed at my pits, threw on my catering clothes and ran out the door. It was a beautiful, globally-warmed mid-October day, but I barely noticed. All I could think was, "Late. Late. Late. Never been late. Hate being late to work. Late. Late. Late."

I arrived at about 10:40. Ugh. And since I didn't get to do my morning ritual (make coffee, write three pages, drink coffee, read blogs and news, shower, get dressed, eat something, leave) I felt discombobulated all morning.

The good news is that I got my checks for "Life On Mars" today. Bad news: TAXES. Ick. I hate New York taxes. You Minnesotans think you get taxed a lot. You're wrong. At least it's a set amount, not 20%, or 22%, or 25%. (One week at my last job, I made more than normal, about $460. They took 24% out of my check. I mean, really? Obviously I'm not super wealthy if I'm only making $460 a week, and that was more than normal. MUST you take a quarter of it? And for what? Rat and cockroach upkeep? Come on.)

I got released earlier than expected (*sad face*) so I have time to come home, take a shower, and make myself presentable for my work study interview. (I'm hoping to take yoga and get my body back into dancing shape.)

Ciao, kidlings.

Mykonos

Mykonos
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Goodness. What a weekend.

So, to recap:

- 12-hour catering shift in Westchester, broken down bus, home at 4:30am
- keys lost, locked out until Monday afternoon, wandered around Manhattan from 4:30 until 9:00 am on Sunday, called a locksmith, couldn't cough up $240, checked into a hotel
- 5 am call for catering on Monday morning
- interview this morning with a really great company, torn about what to do next if offered the job

Catering again tonight. Fortunately for me, it's in Brooklyn, about three stops away on the subway.

I have some decisions to make, and many tasks to do, but all I want to do is sleep. The chaos of the weekend really messed up my routine, and I feel like I need a day to get back on track. I'm not going to get one, though.

I Thought This Only Happened In The Movies

I'm currently sitting on the floor in the entryway to my apartment building. Why am I sitting on the floor, you might ask? WELL. That's a bit of a story.

You see, I worked a catering gig this evening at the Westchester airport. The catering company busses the staff up from the city. On the bus on the way back, no more than 2 minutes from the airport, our bus breaks down. We sit, and we sit, and we sit. Finally, another hour later, a replacement part arrives and we're on our way.

I fell asleep on the ride home and woke up at the dropoff point in Brooklyn. I'm half asleep as I grab my belongings and leave the bus. I stumble down to the subway, wait for the train, ride the train, walk the 7 blocks home, try to avoid the drunk dudes hitting on me, and enter my building.

I reach into the pocket where I dropped my keys. Not there. I search my bag. Not there. I search every pocket. NOT THERE. Kidlings, I'm locked out. And I'm still locked out. I call everyone I know who's a half hour or less away. No one's up. And I have to pee. And I'm locked out. And the bus company won't find my keys (if it finds my keys) until tomorrow or Monday, and that's if the bus doesn't vanish to some location other than the garage.

I guess I'll go to the Good Stuff Diner on 14th in Manhattan and wait until last night's captain calls me back with the bus company's number, or I can get ahold of the management of my building and get them to let me into my apartment. I have a spare set of keys. They're safe in a drawer INSIDE MY APARTMENT.

This sucks, to put it mildly.

Posted with LifeCast

Whew

So, I got released at 9 pm. Not as much overtime as I'd hoped, but still an 11 and a half hour day. Not bad.

A few semi-famous folks on set, and a few famous ones.

The semi-famous:

Gretchen Mol



Michael Imperioli



Jason O'Mara, the lead (had *no* idea he was Irish)



The famous:

Harvey Keitel



There were some other people, but I didn't recognize them or know their names, so I can't look them up. And I am tired. I want to sleep. So good night.

More live-blogging on Thursday!

I'm Back

I'm Back
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Biggity biggity back.

Whew.

Vacation with my family isn't so much a vacation as a marathon. We run from morning 'til night, trying to see and do everything. Tempers get short, eyes are rolled, and much unsubtle body language is thrown. We had a good time, though, and I love my family more now than ever. If we can still laugh together after wanting to throttle one another, we're good to go.

Ay yi yi. Back in New York. Oh, New York. I've realized what my problem is with you. This is going to sound bad, but I think the problem is where I live. I live in Brooklyn, and not in the "cool" parts. I live in a working class neighborhood.

While in Cairo, I remarked that it reminded me of certain parts of New York. Sad, isn't it, that a developing nation can bear such a striking resemblance to a supposedly developed nation? I realize now that Cairo reminds me of my neighborhood. Granted, my neighborhood is cleaner and has regular trash pickup and running water, but the atmosphere is similar: lots of people hovering above or huddled below the poverty line who believe their lives will never be any different and act accordingly.

I don't like slagging Brooklyn. I often defend it. There are parts that are beautiful, and it's much more family-oriented than Manhattan. But if "You're known by the company you keep" holds true for neighborhoods as well as friendships, it means that the spirit of where you live affects how you behave. I've felt so much despair over the past few months, and I think it is, in part, because I don't see any mobility around me. I need to. I need to be surrounded by people doing what I want to do to keep me moving forward and, hopefully, upward. I'm not blaming my lack of motivation on my neighborhood alone, but I think it has played a part.

My sister and I were at Grand Central Station yesterday, and I was amazed and excited by the energy around me. I felt compelled to jump into the stream of people and swim with them, compete with them. I saw what I wanted - a full life with a purpose, with energizing challenges, and no wondering whether I'd have to choose between bills and food - and I wanted to chase it. I haven't wanted to do anything in New York in a while, probably since I lived in Harlem.

I know what I need. I need to feel like I'm moving, even if I am, in truth, standing still. And the pace of life in Brooklyn just doesn't do it for me. Too bad my lease goes until May.

Enjoy the Silence

For once, you don't have to read about me talking about myself! And you won't have to for another three weeks!

Yeah, I'm gone a while.

But I FINALLY got tickets to see Hair tonight in Central Park. The bummer is that the friend who was supposed to go with me has to work. Boooooo to work. I mean, more money's good, but boooooooo to work. Booooooooooooooooooo.

I'm really tired. I had to work for those freakin' tickets, man. Went down and sat in Central Park three days in a row. Got up yesterday at 6am. Got up today at 4:30am. I am wiped. I hope I stay awake for the show. Guess I'll just have to make some more coffee.

And now I must be off. Whew. Yep. Definitely having that coffee.

It called to me

It called to me
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Heading out to wait in line for HAIR tix. I wish the line wound down the lawn instead of down the sidewalk. Whose bright idea was that, huh?

I go to Europe in two and a half days. CRAZY.

"Stop playing with your hair." - My mother

"Stop playing with your hair." - My mother
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I was supposed to rise with the sun this morning, and trip on up to Central Park to stand in line for tickets to HAIR. I expected myself to be chipper, alert, and out the door by at least 7am.

Yeah.

As you can see from the timestamp on this entry, that didn't happen. I'm still at home, still chillin'. I realized that without a line buddy, I'd have to ask someone to hold my place to go to the bathroom, to get food or water if I needed it, and I'd be sitting on concrete for SIX HOURS. Yeah, no, thanks.

If I were 18 and in love with the musical I'd probably camp out the night before and think it was fun. I'm not 18, and I don't like waiting for web pages to load on a cable internet connection. So, I'll mosey on down to the train in the next 15 minutes, go to the book store, then see what the line situation looks like. If we get tix, we get tix. If we don't, we can try the standby line. Once again, if we get tix, we get tix. If we don't, we don't. I'd love to see it, as I, once upon a time, did a show with one of the cast members, but I'm not going to stress about it.

In other news, getting yesterday's entry out of my system improved my mood. A lot. Some things just need to be said, I suppose.

Coney Island

Coney Island
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

The corn dog was the best part of the day. I only had three dollars, but I had to get something from the original Nathan's. And that something had to be a corn dog. I haven't had a corn dog (corndog?) in years; probably not since the last Minnesota State Fair I attended. It was gooooood, too.

More photos from the day are on my Flickr page. Go there.

A head's up: this blog will be changing. I'm not sure how just yet, but there will be a bookmark change - that is, if you've bookmarked me. So, yeah. Keep an eye out for that. No worries: I'll still be blogging and posting photos. I just need to make some changes.

Pick-Me-Up

Pick-Me-Up
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Went to Coney Island today. Didn't stay long. Neither of us was prepared for the strength of the sun. We walked through Astroland, then wandered down the boardwalk, away from the lights and noise. I took photos. You'll see them tomorrow.

Kisses.

Every Morning

Every Morning
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I'm a coffee addict. Admitted, confessed, totally come clean. I LOVE to drink coffee. I love the smell, the heat, and the action of it. I suppose it's the same for cigarette addicts: the chemicals are only a small part of the experience of smoking a cigarette. The rest of the activity is just as addictive.

I have a day off today. That means I run around doing all the things I don't do when I have to work later. For instance, today I'll be attending a workshop for actors looking for side work. Maybe they'll give me some ideas.

I also have to attend a diversity training class at my part-time job. *gag* I know it's important, but corporate diversity training classes tend to be...lame. (See: "Diversity Day" episode of The Office.) I believe this one is simply a matter of compliance with federal blah dee blahs. We sign in, watch a video, and leave. "Hooray. I am now extremely knowledgeable about workplace diversity and will never offend anyone ever again. This 30-minute video has given me the tools I need to succeed in my diversification endeavors." 

Went to a free concert in Central Park yesterday. It was good to get out of the house, even if it drizzled on us most of the time. I'm just glad we didn't get the brunt of the storm, because there sure were some yellows and reds on the radar passing just south of the city. We simply enjoyed the benefits: an afternoon high of 77 degrees. Haven't experienced that since June, or maybe even May. And it seems to be lingering today. Rockin.

Plugged In

Plugged In
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Feeling silly this morning, I clipped my Shuffle to my ear. I proceeded to photograph said Shuffle until I had suffered too much pain from squeezing the clip even tighter on my cartilage when I changed the song for the third time. This is the resulting photograph. Is it not nifty?

I'm feeling a little loopy today.

It poured this afternoon! I was standing on the express platform of the 34th St A/C/E station - after leaving the church I'd visited - when thunder cracked in the sky above. The sound and smell of rain filled the station. I was moseying down the platform to get closer to the staircase I'd need at 14th St when I noticed a cascade of water falling from the ceiling. The rain left a curtain between the local tracks and platform. On the tracks below was another wonder: a fountain in the subway. I tried to take pictures with my phone but they don't do it justice.

As I boarded the train I was able to see that the force of water gushing out of a pipe on the tracks was the cause of the fountain. It was unexpected and beautiful because it was unexpected.

New Yorker

New Yorker
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I got my New York license. W00t! It came quickly. I just applied last week and it arrived two days ago. Overall, I have to commend the NY DMV. Yeah, I had to stand in line, and fill out forms, and shuffle around like cattle in a pen, and the whole experience took an hour and a half, but overall? They moved as quickly as they could, they kept their senses of humor, they are efficient, and I thought it was pretty painless. Congrats, New York DMV: you beat the stereotype.

It's going to be a hot one today, which is why I'm staying in my skivvies as long as possible before I have to suit up to leave the house. The weekend looks stormy but Monday should be fair and pleasant.

---------

I am in the midst of reading a John Guare play titled Marco Polo Sings a Solo. I can't recall having ever experienced Mr. Guare's writing before this, and it's odd. As an actor, all I can think about is, "How would I, if I were cast, make sense of these words?" I'll admit that it's daunting. I imagine, though, if I had the time and opportunity to play with them, they - the words - would eventually make themselves make sense, and I wouldn't have to force anything on them. I can't say I'd jump at the chance to perform in this particular play, though. It's good, but not my cup of tea.

Speaking of performing, Ishy-girl, I have finished my spreadsheet for my headshot mailing. Celebrate with me, just for a moment, with a little chair dance. What does this "finishing my spreadsheet" mean, you ask? It means that I am now organized to start firing off letters and headshots to casting agencies. I am taking my baby steps. W00t, again!

Hotties

Hotties
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Back in New York.

There was a dead cockroach on the floor near my front door and the foot of my bed.

Bah.

At least we look like a million bajillion bucks in this picture.

I have to leave for work in five minutes.

It's warm and sunny.

Booo to going back to New York.

Going back to New York today. Can't say I'm excited. I love my parents' house. I love my parents, of course, and they're expert homemakers, so their house is comfortable and spacious and lovely and no one ever wants to leave. Seriously: when they have parties, people hang out until late at night. They're reluctant to leave, and I know exactly how they feel. This home is better than any hotel I've ever stayed in, even the amazing Westin in Madrid. [whine] I don't wanna leave! [/whine]

Ok. Putting on my Big Girl Pants.

Oh! And I can add another celebrity (although if you don't know who she is maybe she doesn't qualify) to my list: Rachel Dratch came into the restaurant for dinner on Thursday. She looks pretty much like she does on Saturday Night Live, but prettier because she's not pulling faces.

Slippahs

Slippahs
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ISHY-GIRL! I always think of you when I make the mental switch from "flip flops" to "slippers." I hope you have a fun day. Do something nice for yourself!!

I'm going to get my new drivers license today. My last one expired, oh, six months ago.

Well, actually, I applied for a new one but never received it because they won't forward driver's licenses. Darn. It's fine, though. New York lets you trade your out-of-state license for a New York one, provided it expired within the last twelve months, and you have "proof of birth" (I think that wording is hilarious: isn't your physical presence "proof of birth"?), and your social security card.

Yeah, yesterday, I was all made up and dressed and ready for my photo. Got to the DMV. Didn't have my social security card. I tried to run back home to get it, but all I got was sweaty and a long wait for an A train that didn't come for 20 minutes. 20 minutes! In the middle of a weekday! That's RIDICULOUS. (Yeah, yeah, laugh if you want. I want my train when I want it!)

And now, I really must go. I'm trying to give myself two hours to wait at the DMV before I have to go to work. I figure that's enough time. I'm probably wrong, but let's keep our fingers crossed.

Summertime

Summertime
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I was never that excited about cherries as a child. Probably because of the work involved: pulling off the stem, chewing around the pit, spitting out the pits and collecting them somewhere. I can't recall the last time I had a cherry before I became addicted to them last August.

Last August I started the Maker's Diet. The plan to get you started on a new way of eating is 40 days long, and the first two weeks take away pretty much everything remotely sugary. No bread, no potatoes, not even most beans; only lentils are allowed. As far as fruit goes, you're pretty much restricted to berries and cherries only. How fortunate that I lived through those two weeks at prime cherry time!

My snack foods were cherries and almonds, and the busy work involved in eating both of those things helped me keep my mouth occupied and free of cookies and candy.

Last Saturday as I left work late and ambled down 14th Street, a man with a produce cart was still hanging out on the corner, hoping for some late night sales. Happy circumstance: he had cherries for sale! (Now, I'm sure this man just bought some fruit and vegetables from a grocery store and was re-selling them on the street, but I don't care. New York is all about convenience, and there they were, on my way home.) Delighted with my find, I bought a pound of sweet cherries and headed home.

I sometimes wish cherries were in season all year, but that would be ludicrous. I tried some Chilean cherries in the middle of the winter. They were terrible. Cherries are meant to be enjoyed when the temperature is up. Cherries herald the beginning of summer, real summer. After a short stint in the fridge, they're cool and refreshing when the rest of the world is sticky and hot. They are busy work. They are beautiful.

Container from The Container Store

Container from The Container Store
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Oh, I had such high hopes for today's blog. I'm pooped, though. Probably going to take out my contacts and go to bed within the next ten minutes.

It was a gorgeous day. I discovered a new park by the water, reunited with a high school friend I haven't seen in 11 years, and had delicious meals for lunch and dinner.

And I'm sun-drained and pooped.

'Night.

Memorial Day in Central Park

Memorial Day in Central Park
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I took a day off yesterday from any and all responsibilities and just played. I sat in Central Park with everyone else who doesn't have a house in the Hamptons, I saw a really bad play, and - after leaving at intermission, something I never do - had sushi and good times with new and old friends.

Long live summer!

Puppies and Incense

Improvisation
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Free incense rules. Because I am cheap.

Now that spring is here the city's dogs are out in force. Doggies, puppies, everywhere! I want one so much you don't even know. I smile at dogs the way some women smile at babies. And if the dog and owner are amenable, I'll bend down and give the pooch a pat and a scratch.

Walking through the Village on Thursday I passed a tiny storefront with old-school puppy display window boxes filled with shredded paper. And what do you think was in those puppy display window boxes filled with shredded paper? PUPPIES. SLEEEEEPING. It took every once of willpower not to march in there, plunk down my credit card, and walk out with a puppy in my arms.

I need a pet. I think I'm going to have to settle for a plant.

Hired Help

Hired Help
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Catering job last night. I'm wiped. I think that's less from the actual work and more from the large amounts of refined sugars I ingested yesterday. *guiltguiltguilt* (Yes, I ate three cupcakes. Three. They were free. And they were near my office, and I ate them. Don't judge me!)

Cater waitering has its benefit. Singular. The pay is great. Ok, I'll add that most of the people, 99%, who work are really fun, nice people. (I ran into some coworkers that I wanted to strangle last night, but I think they'll be the exception rather than the rule.)

As I stood behind my ice cream cart, wearing a benign smile, waiting for people to come up and ask me for ice cream, I looked around the room. Big Real Estate Firm with Male Cow Logo had an afterparty for the people who participated in a charity race. A thought drifted across my mind and then hung like a fog: "What if I went to school with one of these people?" I wanted to withdraw my head inside of the collar of my over-starched shirt. What would I do if I ran into a college classmate? They're working for Big Real Estate Firm with Male Cow Logo and I'm...a cater waiter. *dreaddreaddread*

I didn't see anyone I knew, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I'm better than that job. I know that makes me sound like a snob of the highest order. I know that honest work is good work. But I have a degree from a school that would be an Ivy if it were older. I'm intelligent, capable, a quick study and a great leader. What am I doing wearing an ill-fitting penguin suit (in which I get mistaken for a man; good times!) and serving other people food?

"Ah," you say, wisely tilting your head, "but you're an artist, and artists must sacrifice." Yeah, I suppose so. I would argue that art is a necessity and not a luxury item to be paid for only when every other duck is in its properly assigned row, but that's neither here nor there in this argument. I know this is what I've chosen to do. I know that this is my life. That doesn't make it an easier pill to swallow.

But I swallow nonetheless, trying not to choke on my pride, plaster on my vacant, non-threatening smile, and serve ice cream. Because a girl's gotta eat.

What We Put Up With

Sacrilege
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

Living in New York is a series of compromises. Movies, television (Sex & the City in particular) make us believe that we can move to New York and Have It All: fabulous job, fabulous boyfriend, fabulous apartment.

Concerning that last one: no apartment in New York is truly fabulous. It may look like a million bucks (or two million, or ten), but there will be something about it that will drive you nuts every day you live there. It might be roaches in a brand new building, a neighbor who loves to play Chinese opera at high volumes on Saturday mornings, or another neighbor who cooks fish every day and smokes like a chimney.

I happen to have a pretty lovely little studio in Brooklyn. It's amazingly inexpensive, the perfect size for one person, new appliances and cabinets in the kitchen, enough space for a queen-size bed and a full-sized desk, and some charming architectural details. Even the radiator is beautiful. Too bad it's old and because it's old air movement between apartments is free and easy. Which means that I get to smoke like a chimney, too, just like my downstairs neighbor, even though I'm not holding a cigarette. I also get to inhale cooking ham and peas every Saturday night as she prepares her Sunday dinner. My apartment is perfect, except it's not. There's always SOMETHING.

Cheerful

Paul Frank iPhone case
Originally uploaded by AdiaMichelle

I think I might use this color scheme as inspiration for home decoration. I almost always go for neutral tones in clothing and decorations. It's time to shake things up a little.

I'm not going to paint my walls bright red (at least not all of them), but bright red and blue might be just the thing to break me of old, boring habits.

Early this afternoon I was re-lighting one of the pilot lights on my stove, a process that always makes me slightly nervous. I made sure that the window was open and that any accumulating gas had time to vent before I struck a match and held it to the gas port. I was just lowering the lid of the stove when I heard tires squealing. There had been sirens before, but in New York, that's nothing special. Sticking my head out the window I saw a beat-up red Honda hatchback reversing down my one-way street. It first struck a large blue conversion van, than swerved backward and hit a silver Honda. The woman who had just gotten out of the Honda - the driver's door was still open - was about a foot away, her hands to her face in shock. The red Honda cranked backward around the corner and then sped off down the avenue.

I immediately ran to get my phone and called 911. I guess I was still in a bit of shock because the operator had to yell at me a little bit to get me to say whether it was a car accident or not. I said yes, because even though two moving cars hadn't crashed together, it was still a car accident. It was then that I noticed the woman with the silver Honda was now standing on the sidewalk holding a baby. The baby's car seat was on the sidewalk. There hadn't been a car seat on the sidewalk before.

I let the operator know that I thought that there was a baby in the car when it was struck. She said to make sure. I ran down the stairs of my building, out onto the street to talk with the woman. The baby had been in the car when the red Honda struck it; she was just about to take her out when they hit the car. At the operator's prompting, I asked the woman if she wanted an EMT to check the baby out. The mother was in a bit too much shock to give a definitive 'yes' or 'no', so I said "Yes, please send one."

After thanking the operator and hanging up, I waited on the corner for the EMTs to show. A small crowd had gathered and were discussing the scene. A few minutes later an FDNY ambulance showed up and the driver looked a little surly to have been called to a scene without bodies on the ground. You're upset that no one's seriously hurt?I thought to myself. Too bad. If I were that child's mother I'd do everything I could to make sure she wasn't hurt, even if it was a waste of your time.

After they started speaking with the woman and other witnesses, I headed back upstairs to my apartment, chatting with my upstairs neighbor about the weirdness of it all. By the time I was back in my apartment, I could see that the police had arrived on the scene. Hopefully they were reassuring the mother that they'd caught the men who could have seriously harmed her six month-old baby.

Moving Day Part 2

I surveyed my new home and took stock of what I absolutely needed that evening, then packed myself up again to hit Target.  (Major bonus of living in Brooklyn: the Target is three stops away!  It's kind of a bootleg Target, but it's still Target.)  I had budgeted way more cash than what I ended up paying the movers, including a nice tip, so I justified spending scads of money on new household goods as a necessary moving expense, and even so I held myself back.  

I got an over-the-door shoe organizer, a hanging sweater organizer (my closet doesn't have a shelf, a situation that will be remedied in the future), an ecru bath rug, a clear vinyl shower curtain and chrome rings (one of which broke immediately upon trying to open it and put it over the shower pole), a set of knives with stainless steel handles, an over-the-sink cutting board with a collapsible colander (I'm all about maximizing my small space), Method dish soap (love it because you don't need a whole lot to do a sink's worth of dishes), a kitchen utensils set specifically designed to go with my Calphalon pans, a broom, a cookie sheet...I think that's most of it.

 At this point in the day, I was exhausted.  It was almost 10pm, I'd been up since 6:30 and moving the whole time.  I hadn't eaten much so I picked up some of those Starkist tuna lunch packs and a DiGiorno pizza (yeah, yeah).  I checked out and chatted with the checkout girl about my grey hair, then I got a taxi and went home.

Once home I continued unpacking and turned the oven on to heat up my pizza.  About seven minutes later the smoke alarm went off.  

Now, this is not ordinary smoke alarm.  This is an alarm designed to wake up everyone in the building in the event of a fire.  This thing was LOUD.  And PIERCING.  I thought my eardrums were going to burst.

Immediately doors opened in the hallway and some ran downstairs.  A woman said, "Who's on fire?"  I opened my door and said, "It's me!  I'm sorry!  I turned on my oven!"  Another woman, I'm assuming through her cracked door, said, "Just let me know if I need to get my underwear and run."  I shouted, "How do I turn it off?"  Someone yelled, "Open a window!"  The young man on the stairs said, "Just wave a piece of paper in front of it."  I tried both of these things.  I opened all the windows, I dragged my desk under the alarm and waved a book at it until I was sweating and my arms were sore.  No good.  

You might ask, "Adia, why didn't you just take it down and take out the batteries?"  Well, thank goodness for safety.  This is the kind that doesn't work that way, though there is another one on the wall that is battery operated and chimed in with the ceiling alarm every minute or so, compounding the noise.  This is the kind that's wired in.  There's no turning it off until it decides to turn itself off.

The noise went on for at least another 20 minutes.  Those 20 minutes felt like hours.  I'd been in my apartment for less than a day, and I was already causing trouble.  And at 11:00 at night, no less.

I guess smoke alarms just have it out for me.

In the silence that followed, I munched my tuna and crackers and then turned in. I'd had enough for one day.

(Oh, and I realized after the alarm stopped that I'd left my broom somewhere between the checkout counter and my apartment.  Could have been at Target, could have been in the taxi.  This was especially troubling when, as I was moving two pieces of large glass to the trash, I fumbled them and they shattered all over the kitchen floor.  I pretty much put on my coat and went back to Target in hopes they still had my broom.  And they did!  They have a nifty little "Paid and Left" book that tracks things customers forget at checkout.  Yay Target!)

Moving Day

I've almost been in my new apartment for one full week.  It's a lovely place, although its imperfections are beginning to show.  I can hear when someone comes in the front door, I think my upstairs neighbor is a fitness buff who does sort of loud exercises on the floor at 6am, and my downstairs neighbor is a smoker and the lovely scent (that's sarcasm) of cigarettes wafts up through my radiator and drifts right across the place where I sit at my desk to head level when I'm lying in bed.  Awesome.  But really?  For what I get, the neighborhood I get to live in, and the fact that I get to live alone, what I'm paying is an amazing deal.

So I moved on the 28th.  I woke up at 6:30 to wash my sheets and towels and deflate my bed.  (Yup.  Still sleeping on an Aerobed.) After everything came out of the dryer I hit the subway to ride to Brooklyn and sign my lease. It's about an hour from Harlem to Brooklyn, what with waiting for trains, and transferring between lines. I signed the lease, paid my first month's rent, got the keys, made sure they worked, and ran back to the subway again to meet the movers.  I had scheduled the appointment at 1pm, but the confirmation email said that they might arrive an hour prior or an hour after that time.  It was 11:00 when I got on the train back to Harlem.

I made it back to my apartment by noon and continued packing the last little bits of stuff scattered around my room.  For those who have ever moved, have you noticed that when you feel like you're done packing, there are still little bits of bric-a-brac laying around and you have no idea where they came from but you must use them so you have to find a place to put them?  Yeah, I usually just throw them in an available bag and keep moving.  I should just throw them away or give them a proper home, but that never happens.  You'd think I'd learned after five moves in five months.  Nope.

1:00 rolled around, no movers.  2:00, still no movers.  I called the company to ask if they were on their way, and the receptionist assured me that they were, it's just that the rain had slowed everything way down.  (Oh, yeah, I didn't mention that the day was blustery and rainy.  It's absolutely beautiful outside for two weeks, and the day I move, it decides to pour.)  I assured her that I wasn't mad, just wanted to make sure that they were still on their way.

At 4:30, the movers finally came.  They were sweaty, and their English wasn't great, but they were polite and fast.  I was amazed at how quickly they were able to get all of my things out with just two men and a dolly.  In fact, the younger guy (he looked like he was still in high school) stayed with the truck and the older man moved everything out into the hall and down the elevator.  I felt a little guilty just standing there, but I was paying for them to move me.

Once my pile of belongings was gone, I double-checked the bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room for anything left behind (other than things I had intentionally left), and I headed downstairs.  I made sure they knew where they were going and hit the subway again.  This ride was a little tougher on me as it was rush hour and kids were getting out of school and being obnoxious (that's a whole other blog).  

I know I've spent too much time in the subway when I start to get irritated when someone's bag brushes me.  And this time I had my rolling cart with two bags on it, my messenger bag over my shoulder, and a plastic bag in my hand.  People don't seem to understand that when you have a lot of stuff, you need more space.  I had to push my way out of the subway car and I'm sure I smacked a few people with my bags, but when they won't move, that's their issue, not mine.

Once in Brooklyn I trucked to my apartment to wait for the movers.  In the meantime I took a few pictures and inspected the place to make sure there wasn't anything egregiously wrong.  There's a hole in the ceiling in the kitchen, and there's a strange open pipe in the bathroom that I believe connects to the tub's piping somehow, but other than that, it's fine.  

It grew darker, and finally the movers showed up.  I ran to the bank to get cash to pay them while they worked and discovered that I live on a really pleasant street, even in the rain and cold.  I was gone for about 15 minutes, and by the time I got back everything but the desk was in my apartment.  They were finished by 7:00pm; not bad.  So other than being rather late, I would recommend Olga Movers to anyone who wanted an inexpensive move across town with some non-surly dudes.  Look 'em up on Craigslist.

The rest of the Moving Day tale continues tomorrow...

Status

I should write something, shouldn't I. I've been silent lately, just posting photos. That's because this blog is supposed to be about my life as an actor, and there hasn't been too much of that going on lately.

I usually scan the Equity casting call web page for auditions about two or three weeks out, and I put the ones I'd like to attend on my calendar. There hasn't been much of anything I want to attend lately. There are some Equity Chorus Calls (ECCs) and some Equity Principal Auditions (EPAs), both of which require one to sing. (I don't sing at auditions unless forced. Yes, yes, I can sing. Beautifully, even, sometimes. However, I do not sing well in auditions, and musical theatre is not my goal here, so I just don't put in the time and energy to prepare songs for auditions.) Other postings ask for women 40 - 50 years old, others ask for those who can believably play 18. Or the work simply doesn't interest me. So I haven't been auditioning much.

People have been asking me lately how I like New York. I have a two part answer that seems to keep popping up. One part is that I'm forcing myself to stay here for a year before I decide whether or not I like it. It's expensive and exhausting and frustrating, but I've only been here for four months and life (housing, jobs) hasn't settled down yet, so I can't make a judgment call. I don't hate it, but I can't say I like it.

The other part is that I've learned an incredible amount about who I am as an artist and as an actor, what kind of actor I am and the work I'm interested in doing, what I'll put up with, what I won't tolerate, and what kind of life I want. New York has clarified all of that, and for that I'm thankful. I don't think it would have happened in Minnesota, or it would have happened much more slowly. I was forced to make quick decisions here, and in the process the chaff has been threshed away and only the wheat remains. It was kind of painful, but it worked.

So that's the four-month New York status report. Huge changes, but not a whole lot of activity. I'll keep you posted, faithful reader.

PS - I shook Suzan-Lori Parks' hand at the MSP airport.

Two in three months? That's lame.

Famous People Sightings can now be brought to two. Heather Matarazzo at a show in January, and John McEnroe at the restaurant this afternoon. He wore leather pants.

Updated: David Hyde Pierce signing autographs outside of the theater for Curtains. I love Niles!

It's freezing in here.

The temperature dropped last night, drastically, and now my room is FREEZING. The radiators ran all morning, but now they're off, and I don't understand why. They ran them all day when people are out at work, but they turn them off when people are actually going to be home? How does this make sense? I slept fully-clothed (tights and socks) and with all four of my blankets last night and I was still cold. *sigh* I hope I don't have to repeat that tonight.

My week, stream-of-consciousness style

"So that's Bryant Park. What's up, Fashion Week? Why do so many people spit here? That's nasty, dude. I really don't want to hear you horking up the contents of your throat and sinuses. This looks like an expensive part of town. Oh, hey, I've called that hotel and they've called us, too. Nifty. I should go in and say hi. NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY OMG. Who cares about Jack Kerouac: look at the design on that ceiling! No, I do not want to give money to the homeless. Yes, I'm a cold, cold woman who doesn't have any money, either. I like this song. Man, I do NOT want to go back to work. Hey, it's not so bad here at work. I think they missed me. Heh. Was that Bob Costas? That was Bob Costas. Man, he is tiny! Like, REALLY tiny. So Ebony will be here, eh? Which one, I wonder? Please be kind to me, temp agency. I need a job. AUDITIONING EVERY DAY THIS WEEK OMG. I feel like a real actor! This new apartment is sweet. Hopefully I'll get to stay. Man, he's cute. I doubt he'll ask me out, though. I despise working on the floor. Singing audition = HATE. Those Equity monitors are great folks. I should bring them cookies. Strict diet rules have definitely flown out the window at a rapid velocity: mmmmmm...fish and chips! Oh, hello there white bread! You are crusty and soft and tasty! What's that, cranberry oatmeal scone with melted sugar on top? You'd like me to eat you like it's my job? I believe I am qualified for that task. Midtown = HATE. Free Broadway tix? Is that where my $454 worth of dues went? Sweet! I'll take it. Hey! Hire me! I am sooooo smart and talented and you won't regret it I promise! How is it that you can, in good conscience, pay an adult person a wage that does not allow them to actually live? Winter must die. Thank you for lunch and presents, Father-of-mine! I love my red tights. These dancer chicks are seriously skinny. She's wearing those hotpants-style dance shorts and NOTHING is jiggling. She sucks. And she's 12. Aisha's coming! All I want to do is eat. What's that, 100% cacao Ghirardelli chocolate bar dipped in honey? You were made for my consumption and mine alone? Why, thank you! That building is GORGEOUS. I wish I could live there. No more 1 trains? UGH. FINE. I'll walk to 72nd. But I'm just letting you know now that you SUCK, MTA. Just kidding. You're really awesome, actually. You keep this city from falling apart at the seams. These shoes were a mistake. Saturday already? Rockin'. Today I do nothing productive. Zzzzzzz..."

Lemonade

I've been in my current apartment for a week and a half. It feels like years.

Life in New York moves fast. That's not an exaggeration. One day can feel like a week in any other city. I'm not sure why that is, but I believe it has something to do with the constant stimulation. Lights, noise, other people: one is always on alert, and that's exhausting. I've gotten used to it, but when I first got here I was always so very tired. I'm still tired, a month and a few days later, but I'm used to it now.

I've had to take a break from pursuing acting work because I've needed to adjust to the new pace. The funny thing is that while everything in New York moves quickly, the business of performing seems to move slower than any other business. It takes incredible patience and diligent, daily forward motion to get an acting career off the ground here. There are many, many little steps that need to be taken in order to even have the possibility of a meeting with an agent, let alone booking a commercial, or even a role in a feature film. For example, let me walk you through just one piece of the jigsaw puzzle that is building an acting career:

The over-arching goal is to secure representation, i.e. an agent. Agencies need to see me, so my first, and at the moment, only available option is to do a mass mailing.

1. Revise my resume so that it sells my "brand"
2. Paste re-vamped resumes to the back of headshots.
3. Subscribe to an internet service that will provide me with agency contact information.
4. Research agents to see what others say about them.
5. Either handwrite mailing labels or input those addresses into my computer and create typed labels; either option is labor-intensive.
6. Put labels on envelopes.
7. Get stamps for the envelopes, and we're not talking 20 envelopes, we're talking 200 or more.
8. Create cover letters for each and every agency that are creative, professional, show my personality, and are specific to that agency.
9. Print those letters.
10. Stuff the envelopes.
11. Take all 200 (or more) to the post office and mail them.
12. Put it all out of mind or risk going crazy thinking about it.

Chances are good that I won't directly get any contact from this mailing. I will need to keep submitting and submitting until I get called in for a meeting. The meeting won't guarantee my getting signed with that agent. But it will be cause for small celebration, because it means that someone saw something in my photos and letter that grabbed their attention. And that's a great step, albeit a small one.

If I want to make myself more attractive to agents, I need to get on stage. And that's a whole new set of tiny tasks.

1. Start seeing theatre.
2. Try to talk to the theatre-makers whose work I liked.
3. Build a relationship with the theatre-makers, even if it means stuffing envelopes for three hours.
4. Once I've built rapport, pitch the idea of getting on stage, even if it's a small part; or, pitch the idea of my doing something small on my own, i.e. a reading of my writing or even just a storytelling hour.
5. Continue to get myself put on stage in whatever capacity possible.
6. Invite agents to come see my work (by addressing post cards and sending them out - more small tasks).
7. Hope someone takes a liking to what I do and calls me in for a meeting.

That's a lot of work when one is already working full-time. You know, it can seem as though the people who are making big bucks in Hollywood just all of a sudden "made it". There is no such thing as instant success. Somewhere along the line, those people had to hustle, had to be in the right place at the right time and forging relationships with the right people, maintaining their physical appearance, and spending obscene amounts of money on a career that is not a sane person's gamble.

This business is crazy, but in all my reading this afternoon and evening, I've come to realize that I keep doing this because I have to. I could choose to do something else, but why?

Happy New Year.

I am (mostly) settled in my new place, and for the first time since I got here, I feel like I can exhale. I'd been living out of my suitcases for the past month, and never feeling like I could settle in. I think I can here. I get along really well with the lease-holder of the apartment: she's pretty cool. The apartment itself is huge, as is my room. I vacuumed today and had visions of the apartment, remodeled. I could see the floors torn up and then leveled - especially the linoleum in the kitchen. Sanding the molding around the doors and windows to get the gobs of paint off, slate tile in the bathroom and kitchen, and sanded, painted walls. It'd be a real showplace at the end. But because the building is rent stabilized, the owner's never going to put that much work into it.

So. It's a new year, and I'm not ready to give up on New York yet. I'm giving myself a year.


(I still feel - every day - so homesick it hurts, but that just means that I'll have to visit home often.

Steve Perry tells me to be good to myself. I shall listen.

This entry is brought to you by the band Journey, who gave me the strength to actually approach my blog and type something.

I've been avoiding you. Yes, I have. I'm sure you can tell. I haven't written since a week into my New York sojourn. I've been avoiding you because I've felt like there isn't much to say. Or rather, what there is to say is negative, so I didn't want to say it.

New York is hard. It's really hard, and at the same time it doesn't feel any different than Minnesota. New York is hard because I work all the time. Like, seriously. All the time. Some days that makes me really angry, some days I think, "Well, it's money." New York is hard because you're constantly confronted with people who have money to burn, bury, or bathe in (especially in the area of town in which I work), and you're barely scraping by. New York is just like Minnesota in that I go to work, I come home, and I watch television and snack for four hours before I go to sleep - that is, if I actually have four hours before I go to sleep as opposed to falling into bed at 2 in the morning after work. New York is just like Minnesota in that I'm not really auditioning at all.

Which brings me to the next bit of information that I'm not sure what to do with. It's sitting there, like a lump of unknown foodstuffs. I keep poking it experimentally, but I don't want to pick it up because then I'd actually have to do something with it. Or drop it again. I'm not sure I want to leave it alone, but I definitely don't want to pick it up. And what I mean by that incredibly long metaphor is that I'm tired of the hustle that is being an actor. I know, I know, I've said I've contemplated quitting it all before. But please don't discount this time or those as mere threats: my feelings are real, whatever they are at the moment I'm expressing them.

So, yeah. Acting. Not sure how I feel about it. See, there are these Actor's Equity audition calls called "Equity Prinicpal Auditions," or EPAs. Producers who have contracts with Equity must hold EPAs. For the most part, the casting directors and director know who they want for the roles, or have a fairly good idea of the pool they wish to pull from. So EPAs are like bobbing for apples. Maybe you'll get lucky and make contact with the right apple at the right time and your teeth will be sharp enough and quick enough to grab it, but most of the time you'll just come up sopping wet, unhappy, and empty-handed.

EPAs are exciting to some people: they love sitting in a crowded room for hours (if they're not union and can't get an audition slot) waiting for the possibility of a chance to audition. This scenario is not for me. I honestly think I'm too old. For example, I went to a non-singing EPA on Tuesday. I woke up late and knew that I wouldn't get my first choice as far as audition slots, but I was ok with that. I figured, "Oh well. So I'll have to sit there for a while. Or come back between shifts at work. No big deal." I walked down the hallway lined with young hopefuls, and around another corner lined with young hopefuls and into the holding room to hear the girl in front of me being told by the audition monitor that they're already on alternates. All the slots are full all day. My turn came. I considered placing myself on the alternates list, but then I thought, "You know, I'm not going to come back up here just to see if maybe I'll get to be seen. So not worth it." So I said, "Thanks, but no, thanks," and I left.

As I walked out of the building, I laughed to myself. I had the thought, "I don't think this is for me." Which could mean that hustling for acting jobs, period, is not for me. Or it could mean that I need to find another way to be around the performance world. And I think it's the latter. EPAs are well and good, but I'm beyond expending that much effort for such slim odds (and pickings). The funny thing is that I had to come to New York to realize that.

New York is hard, but I'm not ready to give up yet. I have an apartment share starting in January and a new direction (even though I'm not sure what that direction is).

In other news, how much do I love Journey? Go watch the "Separate Ways" video. It'll make you laugh, and yet you will be intrigued by the ease and grace with which Steve Perry hits those high notes. Then go watch the concert version of "Don't Stop Believing". Journey rocks.

One Week

I got here last Tuesday afternoon.  Here being New York.  It's my one-week anniversary!  I'm watching the Today show.  They showed Rockefeller Plaza.  I could go there now if I wanted to.  I have lots of moments like that, in which I say, "Hey, that's where I live now!  I could totally go there if I wanted to!"  I don't usually go.  In fact,  I haven't done a single touristy thing yet.  I got on a train and went downtown last Saturday and that was a gigantic mistake.  So. Many. People.  So many people walking really slowly and staring at things.  I overheard one woman giggling to her friend as they were squeezed between the mobs crossing the street, "Welcome to New York!"  I almost said, "Uh, this isn't New York.  This is Touristville.  Head uptown.  You don't even have to go that far.  There are no herds uptown."  I'm a New York snob already!

I'm still looking for permanent lodgings.  Problem is, I also need another job.  So I'm looking for both, and it's tiring.  *sigh*  Need to get in the shower.  I really don't want a shower.  I just want to go back to sleep.  Mmmm...banana chips.

In three days in New York I have...

...applied for about 30 restaurant jobs.

...received one tentative offer.

...contacted about 15 people on Craigslist about apartments.

...received two responses to the above.

...seen two of my New York friends.

...spent about half of my time riding the subway.

...started some tasty blisters on my feet.

...seen the diner "Tom's Restaurant" that served as the outside of the Seinfeld restaurant.  (It's right up the street.)

...auditioned for one show.  Cat On A Hot Tin Roof directed by Ms. Debbie Allen.  I did fine.  Debbie Allen wasn't there.  I expect the best and am prepared for the worst (which would be not hearing anything, which is normal and not all that bad).

...told myself I'd nap for 30 minutes in the afternoon and ended up sleeping for two hours.

...missed a job fair because of said nap.

..felt, several times, that this is the right place to be right now.