Fun Times in NYC

It doesn't get much better in New York than fall.  Especially the kick-off when the weather just has that hint of cool in the air.  When you haven't turned on your window unit in 3 days.  When the layers start re-appearing in your wardrobe.  When the sunset looks like this.

Technically this photo is from last week, but in recognition of his incredible achievement knocking out the great Roger Federer today, you should know I got to see my favorite tennis god live last week, thanks to my great friend Kevin and the threat of that silly non-hurricane.

And today I got to spend time in Madison Square Park in the late summer sun watching some of the best tennis ever with 2000 other New Yorkers.  Seriously, where else in the world can you do this?

And where else can you tramp around SoHo with your shmoomster bar-hopping from Aldo to Calvin Klein (complete with underwear models in their skivvies), boozing it up with the rest of the fashionistas, spotting celebrities, milling through the cobblestone crowds, and close-up window shopping for free?!  I mean, drinking in stores-cum-club/bars?!  Brilliance!  Brava, Bloomberg!

I'm not sure how there's no background people in this picture since everywhere we were that night was crowded, but go us!

We even had a "Who wore it better?" faceoff to complete the Fashion Week event!

I may be struggling to get a job, but with fall around the corner and the US Open winding down its short two weeks, I'm not struggling to have some fun in the city!

5771

I'm not Jewish, but if I was, this new year would not be off to a very good start...

Remember when I failed at Japan (the first time, anyway)?

Yup.  Failed at New York today.  Got on the train, and when I got off, my wallet was no longer on my person.

So instead of dancing with my roomie and friends in a great dance class, I spent the afternoon canceling cards and visiting the police station.  Hopefully Saint Anthony will pull through for me by having a nice Japanese person find and return my wallet...  but then again, it's a Jewish holiday today.  Hmmmm.

It just was one of those cruddy days that keeps getting crappier.  But I guess when hugs are around, it all gets better.  And, I'm not sure if this is possible, but is it almost worse to have to comfort someone and watch them grieve than to be the one grieving?  Because you know the kind of devasting pain she's in, and you just wish you could do something to help it go away?

I don't know, but if I could, I'd hug away the pain of a friend right now.  As hard as I possibly could.

Leave it to Blair, her amazing pumpkin cookies, and a Rosh Hashanah party to add a bright spot to my day.

I know I've been MIA for a while, and there's really no good reason for that.  Oh, there was a wedding in Colorado that was stunningly beautiful, and oh, there were some interesting auditions, and oh, I spent Labor Day in a hidden corner of Central Park, and oh, I'm basically just procrastinating big things like doing my taxes these days, but honestly, I'm just glad fall is around the corner.  It's like I've found me again.

The pumpkin spice latte is back (how long these two years have been since I've tasted you!), the air is finally cooling off every once in a while, and people are returning from summer stock gigs.  The freshmen from the Midwest have arrived at NYU looking green and young and fresh-faced and I don't wanna be the one to tell them all the journeys they'll soon be facing.  I'm so glad I'm not that age anymore.

I guess that's it, isn't it?  Fall is here, the season of change, the reminder that everything has its season, will wither and return like the green of the trees.  With each year we grow wiser and face new challenges and the old ones don't seem so bad in retrospect.  So when a day doesn't go your way, there's always the hope that tomorrow may dawn a little brighter.

A little more yellow.

Happy New Year, everyone.  Let's hope 5771 is a good one.  It can pretty much only go uphill from here, right?

Revelations

I've stumbled upon some brilliant revelations this week.

#1: No matter how hard you try to break one, a curse is still a curse.

#2: The most major setback the theatre industry is facing is not the internet, lacking attention spans, rock musicals, stunt-casting, the melding of singer-dancer choruses, or 800 producers above the title.  It is, in fact, the audition studio.

Who decided it was a good idea to make performers sing in a concrete wooden-floored box?

I had the fortune to audition this week on a stage.  In a theatre (albeit the basement of a church, but that's practically the definition of off-Broadway these days).  Facing a rise of seats with the casting director and director occupying the house seats.

And I performed my a** off!  With 110% tonis (RIP, JPT)!

We're performers.  Not monkeys in a box.  We deserve to strut our stuff on a stage.  In a theatre.  It doesn't have to be under stage lights or on a set, but I think we truly have lost something from 50 years ago when you went to the Stage Door to audition.  When people booked their debuts on Broadway.... on Broadway!

People can be great auditioners and terrible performers.  Because moving the audition (or at least final callback) from the stage to the rehearsal room denegrates our technique and the energy of a performance to merely another interview.

Not that I can't work it in a box (don't get me wrong), I just think we deserve the chance to truly strut our stuff.

But who am I to tell producers how to spend their money?

#3.  Great friends and great conversation continue to challenge and excited me.  And through these great friends I'm aware what terrible trouble our society is in.  ("with a capital T and that rhymes with....")  As hate fills our hearts further and further every day in internet comments, where people hide behind the guise of anonymity on their couch and say things they would never dare to actually confront someone with, we slowly are turning the tables on ourselves.

People are fighting words and sound bytes and each other, instead of taking a stand for the true ethics of a gracious society.  Now that morality has replaced ethics, I wonder how hate became a form of currency.

#4.  Evan's coming to visit.

GRIN!

I Heart NY

New York was intoxicating yesterday!

Seriously.  It was just so perfect.  The 5:30 AM Dunkin' Donuts run and the sunrise from the N train.  The 81 and sunny weather.  The celebrity sightings and the 10-mile walk.  The stripper pole being pulled by a bike.

Wait, what?!

That's right.  I saw THIS:

AND a white fluffy dog being walked with black sneakers on, AND a side-by-side tandem bike, AND people swimming in dumpsters.

Too bad I didn't get photos of those things.  But I promise they really did happen to me.

Though I'm pretty sure that after he passed me and I said "Hi, Zach Braff" under my breath, that Zach Braff dinged his bike bell to acknowledge me.  Either that or to tell the crazy pedestrians crossing the street, but I'm sticking to the former!

Oh and I saw Adrien Brody and Malcolm Gets too!

So after I worked on my feet for 8 hours, I'm not really sure why, but I decided I couldn't possibly do anything inside so I should finally check "walk across the Brooklyn Bridge"off my bucket list.  So I did.

But since I was fighting 800 million tourists, I decided after a slice of pizza in DUMBO, that I would then walk across the Manhattan Bridge.  And I did.

Back in Chinatown, I stumbled upon a Taiwan Tourism Event, but it was really just an info session in Mandarin for the residents at 33 Bowery with like 2 tables of food.  Kinda felt out of place there, but it felt so good to use my BGP!

Then it was still too nice to stay inside, so I thought I might find the pedestrian bridge to Ward's Island from 103rd Street and cross that.  And I did.

And finally, I figured I'd walk home across the Triborough.  So I did.

10 miles later, I saw the most beautiful views of NYC, found my favorite new secret spot, swung on an incredible swing set, and felt like I was on top of the world (on the Triboro).  So why did I leave my camera at home yesterday morning?  Right, because even Bklyn knows I'm Japanese and therefore...

Kate and I then escaped to Mojave, our Brazilian hideaway right here in Astoria, as well as Jason and Christina's for some fun and laughs followed by Beer Garden pitchers.  It seriously just doesn't get better than that.

Today was rainy and cool, and despite a cab driver who I thought might leave the engine in the middle of the 59th street bridge (the only one I didn't walk across yesterday), we managed to get a new beautiful rug for our French cafe living room and new leafy curtains for me!  So we indulged in a viewing of P.S. I Love You and cried and then obsessed over the ridiculousness of Ninja Warrior.  How do those guys do it?

Honestly, it's weekends like these that remind why I love it here.  It's good to be home.

Subway Shoes

I love random subway encounters that surprise you in the most delightful of ways.

Tonight, after returning from the "romantic Tokyo bistro" izakaya Zenkichi in Williamsburg (which was delicious, by the way), I had to transfer trains at Union Square.  So I plopped my rear down in one of the wooden benches and began reading...

Next thing I realize is that three pairs of skateboarder-ish shoes and legs have stopped around me.  I'm not quite sure if these hoodlums are about to ask me for money or attack me, but I'm pretty sure this encounter will at least be uncomfortable.

Next thing I know, hoodlum one asks me, "Where'd you get those shoes?"

I pull up the tag and tell him they're Pumas.  He says, "I see, but where'd you get them?"

And I tell him in Japan, and his look bums over as he walks away.

And as he progresses down the platform, I hear him call back, "Those shoes are (some 2010 word that means the same thing as fly, sweet, awesome, or radical)!!"

And I smiled.

For all the looks I get for my fashion choices, the best are the myriad of reactions to anything from overseas, from love to hate.  And that one just made me smile.

You never know when stereotypes will come crashing down and surprise you.

Family and Friends

Since the reunion, I went camping in Moab to avoid the rain, and marveled at the red canyon gorge, the desert heat, and the unbelievable night sky.

My family took the most amazing 4.5-mile hike to Morning Glory arch and splashed in the river crossings along the way.

My mom, sis, and I did a drive by of Arches National Park in 75 minutes, keeping us salivating for more.

(for those counting, that means we did 3 National Parks in 2 different states across about 350 miles in 6 days!)

I ate 100,000 calories in a week.  Or at least it feels like I did.

And I had a wonderful last day in Denver.

4 people eating lunch at Chick-fil-a for 8 bucks.  Seriously.  Their coupons are that awesome.

Jordan and I visited my best childhood friend Meghan at her house down in Littleton last night, so we figured we'd beat the traffic by heading to a happy hour down in Littleton, and maybe hit up some of my old stomping grounds along the way.

So we pull up to Dewey's American Grill for happy hour, which we had scoped out online through yelp! and westword, and it looked reasonable.  It even had a second Highlands Ranch location.

Turns out...

a nice young lady was waiting for us as we got out of our car to tell us that Dewey's closed that morning.

WHAT?!  A Tuesday, they just up and closed?  

But, she gave us each a free drink coupon to go next door to Big Papa's BBQ for their happy hour, and we gladly indulged.

12 bucks later, we'd split 5 beers, chips and queso, and hush puppies.  God, I love how cheap the west is.

But the creme de la creme is that when we relayed this story to Meghan, she thought it was crazy because...

Big Papa's is catering her wedding!  What a clever coincidence.

That guerilla marketing really worked out.

It was also amazing to reminisce about our childhoods as Meghan showed us the slideshow for her wedding.  Yes, we played dress-up a lot.  And yes, believe it or not, I have already been a groom.  To her bride.  For Halloween.  When we were 5.  

Let's just say it was classic and people DUMPED their candy bowls into our sacks.  We made out a lot better than when those jerks stole my pillowcase full of candy in the greenbelt behind my house a few years later.  

So we giggled and laughed and walked down memory lane and I can't wait for her wedding.  I can't wait to sing and to celebrate such a special time with one of my favorite women and her amazing family.

And did I mention that I slept in a Harry Potter closet back at the reunion?  Priceless.

Green Table

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for PC.

Not the computers (I'm a Mac convert, 3 years running), but political correctness.

But I'm absolutely appalled at the fact that we can no longer refer to the Native Americans I loved and revered in 3rd grade as their proper Navajo name...

The Anasazi.

It's just so perfect.

Ancestral Puebloans?

CRAP. I'm calling you out on your B.S. Mesa Verde. Seriously.

See, when I was in 3rd grade in Colorado, we learned all about the different tribes of Colorado, including a heavy focus on the Southwest. You East Coasters spent all your years debating Confederates vs. Yanks, but we went back 800 years to the Indians.

And they say there's nothing historical more than 400 years old in the New World.

See we went on a week-long field trip to Crow Canyon, which was pretty much the coolest place ever. One week sleepover trip? Check. Archaelogical digs? Check. Visiting the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde that you fantasized about in class? Check. Following in your brother's footsteps? Check.

It's ironic. I looked forward to two things from my older brothers before high school, going to Crow Canyon and the mine in Georgetown, and both nearly didn't happen. I remember tears. Distinctly.

But on that field trip, and a second visit to Mesa Verde with my family a few years later while camping in the San Juans, I never got to do something I had dreamed about for years. Going down inside the kiva at Spruce Tree House.

Sure we explored Cliff Palace. And yes we got to see Spruce Tree from afar. But I never got to go inside that darn kiva. And that's all I wanted.

Well, 20 years later, my inner 9-year-old finally checked off his bucket list and I got to explore the inside of a restored kiva. With roof fully intact.

And, well... it would've been better had I been 9. Which is why I'm so glad I was with my 9 year old cousin. It was awesome to see his face and remember why I wanted so badly to be there.  I actually think it was the igloo pool at the onsen that ruined it for me.  Dang it, awesome Japanese baths.

The real highlight of the day was actually visiting the lesser known Balcony House with our incredible guide. Well worth the $3 admission fee.

We actually got to climb 30 foot ladders, go into various rooms and sections of the ruins, and squeeze our way through 18-inch wide tunnels and caves. It was phenomenal. The views were spectacular, and I actually learned quite a bit from our guide.

He capped off the tour with an excellent point that we all are different and learning about each other and we have a respect for how these people lived and how they've been preserved for 800 years. Part of our search for security should be preserving and respecting that and coming together to celebrate our differences.

Thanks Mister Corsica, SD for providing me a lot of hope for the future of Middle America.

And thanks Anasazi, oops I mean ancestral Puebloans, for reminding me that we all are on our search for the Center Place now that we've reached the 4th world through the sipapu.

What a great day.

Oh. And we played kickball in a field full of horse poo.

And we kicked those Bardwell's butts back to SD as revenge for the water fights on the river. 11-4. 

Premonitions

I had a dream sometime recently. I'm not really sure when, but I'm guessing it was about a month ago. I must have been subconsciously thinking about coming home and camping, because I remember in the dream centering around travel down the I-70 corridor.

In the middle of the dream I spent quite a bit of time at these two slanted overpasses over a big left curve of the highway around the hogback.  They led off to Vail or Grand Junction or something random, but they were probably about an hour up the valley from home.

The crazy part is...

Those bridges really exist in real life as I pictured them in the dream, and I've never seen them before.

Because they're brand new. Not even open to traffic yet.  In fact, they're bridges to nowhere.

And they're not an hour from Denver, they're 8. In Durango.

They didn't really seem that significant when we passed under them on the way to the reunion two days ago, but today I found it really interesting that they were in sight distance of the hospital where my grandmother is staying. A proverbial gateway to seeing her.

I don't really know why or how or what this means, I just know that it's monstrously intriguing to me. The simple fact of having seen these images in my dreams and them coming to life.

That's remarkable. Maybe tonight I'll dream about a billion dollars.

Manic Monday

I should've known it wasn't a coincidence when both Kat and Lauren called today. Especially since we'd already been to the hospital once today.

I don't know details, but I found out before bed tonight that one of my former professor's health has taken a turn for the worse. And I'll just have to wait till morning to find out the details.

A fitting end to a day that started with a shower in the dark (short-circuit from too many appliances at once) followed by the news that my Grandma had fallen in the shower and broken her hip.

It seems whenever my family gets together, somebody ends up getting hurt, and since my cousin is 8 months pregnant and not here, unfortunately someone else ended up in the emergency room.

Don't worry, my Grandma pulled through surgery just fine, but we're all now worried about the length of the rehabilitation and the changes that will mean for her and Grandpa. Not to mention how we're gonna get her back from these great orthopedic surgeons in Durango.

That's right.

I'm at a family reunion an 8-hour drive from Denver in Durango, CO. I've been to the amazing Sand Dunes National Monument outside of Alamosa and gone sledding with my cousin in the hot sun.

I've driven over Wolf Creek Pass and nearly wiped out with all the momentum of a fully packed car.  I've played kickball, frisbee golf, and beer pong, and eaten way too much delicious food and washed it down with way too much delicious beer. I've met my gorgeous new niece, seen distant relatives for the first time in almost ten years, and laughed my way down memory lane. I've met new members of the family, and hugged my favorite old ones.

It really has been a good two days in spite of today's events.

So I'm thankful.

I took some me time on the way home at the end of the night and just marveled at the stars. It's amazing what you can see on a cool, dark, clear, moonless night at 8000 feet. I forgot how stunning the Milky Way was. I feel privileged to be the rare New Yorker who has seen it so clearly so many times.

We watched old videos that my great-uncle Art had of Delmont, SD in 1940. The fashion, the hats, the farms, the stature, and familiar faces much, much younger brought so much joy and reflection to my heart.

What a blessing to look back on people you actually know in black-and-white from 70 years ago, pre-WWII. What will my descendants think in 70 years when they find my old videos on this laptop? Or will they even care?

I hope they do, and I hope they remember their loved ones as fondly as I do. Phillip, the young handsome cousin I never really got to know. Art, in a plaid shirt and wide, short tie with a goofy grin on his face. Long hair too! Auntie Babe, with shoulders and a stature that football players strive to attain, yet with the grace of the rest of her 98 years still ahead.

What a joy to be a part of this family. With tons of prayers for one of its beloved members.

Alcohol Infusion

Pickle shots with my sister.  WHO KNEW?!

Seriously.  Pickle-infused vodka from the Retro Room in downtown Denver.  Tastes like pickle juice, goes down smooth, no burn.

I'm just saying.  Go there.  Drink it.  For 3 bucks.

Pepperoncini-infused was also delicious but very spicy.  They should probably just make some awesome bloody mary's with that.

I mean, after the downtown Tavern and the 8 million drunk d-bags post-Rockies game, a simple slice of West Village class in Denver was all I needed for a perfect night.

You should also try drinking whiskey with chopsticks.

It's amazing.

Mostly because I was drinking a whiskey slush and that has enough consistency to work, but how awesome does that status update make me sound?

Denver rocks.  I found my future property on Canyon Ranch outside of Golden yesterday and neighbors with Golden Gate state park.  I love gazing on the Rockies from the windows of CFA, and yes, it's good to be home.  Big family reunion this week so it'll be interesting to see how the week unfolds!

Till then... movies in the park.  And without rude New Yorkers and the humidity.  Sigh.

WTF, RTD?

WTF, Denver?

Okay, Denver. What happened? I thought people out West were supposed to be friendly. And helpful.

And in the end, thank goodness my super shuttle driver Jerry is...

But, seriously, WTF, DIA and RTD?

I've honestly never been treated like such an imbecile in my life.

This is public transportation we're talking about here. THAILAND does it better than you. A third-world country currently killing each other over who's in charge. Seriously.

Whatever happened to customer service? WTF? Just because I'm from New York you think you have the right to be an a**hole to me? WTF? Guess what. The fact that you cut through my thick skin with rudeness only verifies what disrespectful nincompoops you are.

How is it, that when I walk up to an information/ticket counter for $12 public buses, does the man behind the counter feel it unnecessary not only not to bother to greet me, smile, or provide useful or correct information, but he also can't be bothered to come out of the backroom and get off his frickin' smartphone?!?!

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

And how DARE you, Mr. Juan Hernandez (yes, I will call you out on the internet in public), when I have visited the counter 3 times only to receive completely incorrect information, do you allow your employee to run in the back and hide, and then completely dismiss my claims without actually listening, and call security on me to escort me out of the airport? How incapable are you of doing your management JOB?!

WTF?

I honestly don't feel like I'm asking a lot here. When I ask you if it's possible to get to Loveland, you were nice enough to inform me there was no service there, even if I had to call the 1-800 number to verify that information. However when both the lady on the phone and a previous customer tell me it IS possible to get to Longmont , how on earth do you not only disagree with the options I suggest, but also then choose not to simply stop helping me?

You cost me 15 bucks and a complete loss of composure. And for an unemployed New Yorker, that's a whole frakkin' lot.

Thank you, Mr. Mario Gutierrez for ruining my day.

If only you would have been polite. Or smiled. Or greeted me. Or shown me a modicum of respect. Or said "I DON'T KNOW" and offered to help as best you could, or to maybe, hmm, i don't know, call and find out from someone who DOES know!?!?!

I've worked in the service industry. And I know that customers are willing to forgive ineptitude and a lack of knowledge, if the employee is kind enough to just say he was wrong, he isn't sure, and he was sorry. Even just one of the above would have gone a long way.

Simple sincerity goes a long way.

I do hope you are severely reprimanded and/or lose your jobs. You should not be helping travelers when you can't handle simple questions on a slow Wednesday afternoon. While I realize that my complaints will most likely meet dead ends through RTD(as they did today), I will also be reporting you to the management of DIA, in the hopes that maybe they can cultivate a more beneficial partnership for their customers.

It's no wonder there's a lack of public transportation when it's operated like this.

Shame on you, RTD. Make sure you call up Delta to compare notes.

Isn't It a Lovely Day

Today was a day I've been waiting for for 3 months.

I ran into my friend Hallie from HSM whilst hiding from the rain in Starbucks today, and she pointed out that I was "friend hopping".

Which is one of my favorite kinds of days in New York.  A day where I have completely filled in a schedule of friend dates and fill my heart with love all day.

Something that, in theory, would be the first two weeks back in the States with everyone clamoring to see me, but somehow, in practice, that didn't happen.  In fact, it's been a LOOOOONG summer waiting for my social calendar to fill up as friends return from working and realize that I am once again on their cell phone radar.

So I friend-hopped.

From Meg and a delicious brunch (banana bread french toast and free wine!) at Almond to Inception, then SPD's birthday dinner to saying "ja ne" to Melissa and Jessi in the East Village.

And it was really a perfect day.  I'm so thankful to have so much love surround me, and how the best part of this city is the ebb and flow of friends.  They may move away or come back or be here right this moment, but they're always in my heart.

And then, when I told my niece I was going to smother her in hugs and kisses and tickle her when I got home in two days, she informed me she's a kicker and I better watch out for her legs.  So I told her I would sit on her legs and then tickle her, at which point she said:

"Oh, that doesn't sound like it would be very much fun!"

As only a 7 year old can.

I love you, friends and family.  And to MT, my radiant Montana angel, I love you, we'll miss you, come back soon!

The Shore

What better way to celebrate both my Japanese adventure and my blog's first anniversary than a new adventure into a foreign culture?

That's right, kids.  I branched out and took the plunge.

To the Jersey shore.

And yes, it really is a different world.

Despite traveling to 47 states and 9 foreign countries, I've never made the 3-hour trip to the Jersey shore, a foreign place in and of itself.  The NJ Turnpike?  Well-worn.  The Shore?  Not so much.  Not even Atlantic City.

This week, that all changed, and it was spectacular.

And in a fitting tribute to my Japanese adventure, I had the fortune of spending 3 days with wonderful newlyweds who both performed multiple contracts at TDS and fell in love whilst working there!  Stories and reminiscences abounded making my heart ache for one of the best experiences in my life.

Not that orange tank top tans, mullets, and beer bellies aren't just as delightful.   Not.

I knew it would be an amazing adventure when we pulled up to the aqua neon OEO hotey-ho (It was called the Bolero, but every other light was out!) and we were given a look into classic 60's Jersey.  Including our hotel room and the class-less neighbors.  Luckily that also meant we could by beer by the case for CHEEEEEAAAP and we were happy to indulge.

And the best part was that the guys got to relax and play all day while the ladies had to go to work!  You know, relax by throwing our bodies onto rollercoasters and the claw ride that spun you around fully upside down and made you turn purple.  No wonder Jason got a little nervous there...

We also enjoyed the amenities of the Boardwalk, including a conspicuously-placed gazebo with rocking chairs, perfect for re-creating a contemporary solo seen the day before for our judged-out ladies.  Eat these lines 17-year-old Jersey girl!

And while we probably ran into more Snooki and Situation look-a-like wannabes than I care to admit (I don't really know who those people are, but...), there actually are some charming beaches minutes from Wildwood that look like this.

Definitely worth the escape.

And so the mini-vacation consisted of laughing, pizza and ice cream, beer, amazing independent coffee shops, Stone Harbor, Cape May, happy hour in utter seclusion, playing skeeball and the Ultimate Claw to buy the girls presents and pay four for four forever friends bracelets.  Dancing on rocking chairs, Japan memories, Wawa, and rollercoasters to seal the vacation as one forever incredible memory.

A 3-hour drive to a foreign country beats that 13-hour flight on Delta any day.

Happy 1st Anniversary "A Toph out of Water"!

A Momentary Interruption

Well, I've been away for a few weeks.

First, I became a corporate restaurant slave.
Then, blogger got hacked and I couldn't complain about it in blogworld since the website was in nonsense language.
And finally, I went to the shore.  The Jersey one.

So.  In that order.

Remember when I said I liked waiting tables?
Well, that didn't exactly change.  Just everything else that went with it.
The late nights.  The poor eating habits.  The lack of sleep.  The inability to pursue my real job.
The long hours and low pay.  The scheduling bullshit.  Being told I don't smile enough.

Seriously.  That actually happened.   My boss told me I don't smile enough.

Me.  Happy Harry.

And, in the final twist of the new adventure, after debating with my friends whether to quit in time for the reunion, I got fired.
Well, at least in my eyes I did.  And frankly, I think it would hold up in a court of law.  I won't be signing any statement to the otherwise when I return my clothes.

Pre-firing situation:
I couldn't find anyone willing to cover my Wednesday lunch shift.  I was going to be out of town on actor business and needed someone, but at the last minute it didn't work out.  I had worked 5 extra shifts for the "house" in the previous 10 days, including the previous 6 days straight, so I figured I would just have to call out of work this fateful Wednesday.

Conversation went pretty much like this, approximately 1.5 hours before opening:
"Hi, Boss, this is T.  I wanted to call and let you know I can't make it to work today."
"Um, well why exactly is that?  Are you sick or something?"
"Honestly, I'm utterly exhausted after working 6 days straight and can't make it in today."
"Well this is just unacceptable.  I'm exhausted and I work all the time.  This is a place of business.  You have an hour and twenty minutes, you can make it in."

Some highlights from further on:
Boss: "Honestly, I thought you had better character than this."

Boss: "So you're saying you're not coming?  Well, it's no show, no job. You're willing to give up your job over not working today?"
Me: "I won't be bullied into coming into work today, sir."

Later:
Boss: "I run a place of business.  This is unprofessional, and I expected more out of you.  You have three choices, get a doctor's note, come to work, or no show, no job."
Me: "I feel like we're making a mountain out of a molehill here."
Boss: "What?"

Boss: "Do we have your correct address on file?
Me: "I'm sorry?"
Boss: "You're not coming in then?"
Me: "No, I won't be coming in.  Shall I come in and finish out the week?"
Boss:  "We'll send you your last check.  Please come in and drop off your uniform."

Post-firing conversation:
I received a text message from a colleague saying that the managers were saying I chose to leave, and I told him that I did not quit, I was let go because I would not come to work that day.

Maybe I'm wrong here, but threatening me with "If you don't show up to work today or get a doctor's note, you lose your job" when I have never been late or missed work before seems like he was looking for an excuse to let me go.  I was a) physically and mentally exhausted (as evidenced by my poor performance that Monday night) and otherwise committed, not feverish or symptomatic warranting a doctor's visit and b) not insured with health insurance that would pay for said doctor's visit.  I followed professional protocol to say I wouldn't be in to work, and they chose to let me go for that reason.  I don't believe I "chose to quit" simply because he said "no show, no job".  That statement says "I will fire you if you don't show up".  I politely notified I wouldn't be showing up to work that day, and he semi-politely notified me I no longer had a job.

Whatever the final resolution may be, I am thrilled to be a starving actor again who is inspired to pursue his real calling.  While this month-long detour was interesting, and one for the memoirs, I personally think I am more qualified and talented than serving burgers and fries to the bridge and tunnel.

Now somebody hire me for my real skills!

Katy Times

Well, the wedding felt more like a reunion to me, in more ways than one.

It wasn't just seeing a bevy of familiar faces, or driving down streets with towering skyscraper trees, or singing in my old choir, it was being reminded that a piece of my heart will always remember Katy as home, even if I tried to bury those sentiments away for years.

Here are some of the standout moments of the three days.

Stepping off the plane and feeling COLD because it was 85 degrees outside.  Yes, it really was 104 in NYC the day before, and yes I really did reshape a candle in my apartment with my bare hands and no additional heating.

When the woman at the rental counter actually SMILED at me, it made me realize how friendly people are in the South, and how much of a difference a welcoming grin really does make.

When the rental car people gave me a cream Cadillac to drive and I couldn't decide whether that meant I should be pimp-ridin' or 85 and blue-haired.

Further, when I decided I didn't feel safe driving a boat in monsoon rains or parallel parking it, even if it was a luxurious car, I couldn't believe I felt safer in Cobalt, nor that I ended up getting incredible flak from the original rental staff for trading them out.

Driving down 59 at 30 mph in sheets of rain, and later driving under 59 and having to stop in a lake, wondering if my car would drive again after waiting at a red light in 8 inches of water.

Sitting down for probably the one and only time ever at Baker's Street Pub in Rice Village and discovering that Paige Lewis, the girl who had the locker next to me for two years in high school before she left to be a Christian recording artist, was playing that night at the pub.

Finding out Maripat's fiancee's name was Holsten, and calling Michael that name by accident the next night at Ashleigh's rehearsal dinner.

Reminiscing about the Christmas Lizzie put WAY too much Grand Marnier in the cake.

Eating like a fat kid at all my favorite places: Jimmy John's, real Texas Dr. Pepper, H-E-B, Chick-fil-A (the new spicy chicken is D-E-licious, though it really needs lettuce, tomato and mayo too), Best Donuts (mmmmm Kolaches!), and Le Madeleine.  Sadly, I didn't make it to China Inn for the CRISPIES, first because I didn't realize they weren't out of business, but had relocated, and second because I ran out of time.

Driving down the concrete Mississippi River known as I-10.  It actually got scarier.  Because you suddenly have to cross 6 lanes without warning.  It's like Fast and the Furious in 3-D.  And you might actually die.

Being invited to sing with old choir members, and being blown away by how skilled they are.  I'm SO not a choir singer anymore.  That took some muscle memory.

Looking in Ms. Land's eyes and connecting to her as a man, realizing the last time we did that while performing I was merely a boy.

Jumping up and down that I would get to see Kenny at the rehearsal dinner.

Feeling more at home behind the wheel of a car in Katy because I spent most of my driving years there.

Hugging Lauren in disbelief that she has a 5 month old son.

Seeing Andi and Lauren and Megan for the first time in 10 years, much to my surprise!

Reminding myself that Ms. Sharon might be a bigger Broadway fan nerd than I am.  And so happy to see her.

3 words.  No zoning laws.

Noticing how some things (the theater, the dance studio, the trucks) never change, but how much other things (the trees, Katy, people) do.

Being chastised by both Ms. Land and Janet for not asking for help when I needed it.  Lesson learned.

Walking down memory lane in Ms. Land's office, amazed at her archives of some things that should never be revisited.  Hindsight can blind.

Chick-fil-A at noon in the summer.  I forgot.

Seeing housing developments miles past where I used to drive go-carts through the dirt and learned how to drive a truck.

Michael's twin brother's toast at the rehearsal dinner.  Amazing.

Laughing with Janet through H-E-B.  Most fun grocery store visit ever.

The perfect acoustics under the covered walkway at Ashleigh's gorgeous outdoor ceremony.

Sharing the real life stories behind the reunion facade over post-reception drinks.  Wanting only the best for my friends.

Dancing with my friends at the wedding to Footloose.  Erin saying: "You didn't think you'd know many people here, did you?  And now everybody you know is here and wants to see you."

Ashleigh's face as I told her about her Wicked backstage tour wedding gift.  Something so minimal to me, something so monumental to her.

Staying up far too late watching pubescent acne-laden Gleeks-in-training version of ourselves go to TMEA and ACDA.

Not wanting the fun to end, but returning to real life anyway.

It turned out to be an amazing 3 days, of which I'll always be reminded when I think about the people who impacted me most in Texas.  A place I tried so hard to remove myself from, but the roots still hold strong.

Back to High School

One year ago I was overflowing with school spirit, playing for a basketball team, and watching my teammate win the lead role in the school musical.  I was 26, and back in high school.

Onstage, of course.

This week, I'm almost literally going back to high school, without the cheesy Disney score, and without the walk down the school hallways since they'll probably be closed up for the summer.  Yet I might as well be heading to a reunion in an over-populated ghost town.  How is it that last year's high school felt so much more familiar?

I have NO IDEA what it's going to feel like seeing the people and places I've hardly kept up with for the past 9 years.  Where did 9 years go?  When you add them all up, sure, it makes sense: 4 years of college, 2 years on the road/ship, 1 year in Japan, and another 2 years of working regionally and living in New York, but still...

9 YEARS?!

Most of my high school friends are married (or joining in the club) and starting families, and I'm still single, relatively unemployed, and chasing my dreams in the big city.

Funny thing.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm excited to be that person who left.  Who got out.  Who is blazing his own very unique path in the world that most of my former classmates can hardly understand.

I don't get on planes to go to meetings and stay in hotels in wonderful cities and never explore them.  My career transplants me to foreign places and pays me to go on adventures there.  

I don't wear a suit and tie every day or sit behind a desk or commute to the same office.  Every day is a new adventure for me with a unique flow, unique dress, and unique situations.

I'm light-years away from the teenager I was...

So why am I so nervous to go back and visit high school?

Where I've been...

Where did July come from?

Oh, right, I've had my nose to the grindstone for about 2 weeks now.

In related news, I've finally become a token New York actor.

aka I'm waiting tables.

The weird part?  I'm kind of enjoying it.  Not so much in the hard work sense, but in the "teamwork" sense my restaurant employs, and the human interaction I'm experiencing.  I'm not even really making good money or working yet since I'm still in training, but I'm just fascinated by embarking on a new adventure.  With interesting personalities and things to learn...

That's really it.  I'm having to study, and memorize, and learn an environment, a menu, a freaking textbook of stuff to know.  It's kinda like being in school again.

And I know I won't like it forever, and most of the time, I'm not sure I'm not just convincing myself I do, but for now, the Gemini in me is loving learning about a new facet of life and frankly, having something to do.  It's hot up in here, peeps, and I'm poor and bored!

And, well, since I'm not "lazy, crazy, or dumb", I'm doing just fine.  At least for the summer till the weather cools.  Or I decide I don't like it anymore.

Can't be any less interesting than temping at a bank, or handing out flyers on the street, or nearly getting arrested over cupcakes.

One for the memoirs, right?

The Little Things

I'm so grateful.

It's the little things, isn't it?

The best friend who never forgets to call once a year and ask me how I'm doing.

Forgiving me for foolishly dumping my anger and pain on her when I returned to college that fall.

Actually, that's not that little.

A Mexican restaurant in Queens that has a maple leaf duck confit quesadilla and a garden that tranports you to Brazil.
A little international haven in my backyard.

I'm grateful for the World Cup.  The one in 2002.

The one that had my uncle awake at 4 AM so that he actually answered when I called from a pay phone 8 years ago in a grief-stricken panic because they wouldn't let me on the airplane in Newark.

I never thought a soccer game could save my sanity.

The way he used to scratch Sadie's ears while eating cornflakes, like it was their little secret how much he loved her.

No matter how mean we thought he was for making her sleep outside or stay off the carpet, she really loved him the most.

"Watch where you're GOIN'!"  If you ever visited my house in my childhood, you understand.

That when I walked by all the people waiting hours in 95 degree heat in the middle of the afternoon waiting to get into the Apple store, I could hear him right with me saying, "it's just a phone, people.  just a phone."

I'll never forget that sainthood IS achievable, no matter where life may take me.

The way he'd mutter and curse under his breath when he had a really bad day, even though he knew we could hear him breaking his own rules.

That the most romantic words I can think of are, "You wanna split a beer?"

That he told me I could always come visit but never move back home.  He knew just how to hold the parent-child leash, close enough so I was safe, but just far enough that my fear helped me succeed.

That a man loved his 8-year old son so much, believed in his dreams so much, different as they were, that, for two months, he pulled a rope to hoist him in the air and make him fly.
I flewed, Daddy.  I flewed.

It's the little things.

Did You Just SEE That?!

Seriously.

No, for real.  I'm serious.

Did you SEE that today?!

Oh wait.  I forgot.

There were THREE of those things today.  THREE!!!

In no particular order:

#1.  Victor Garber (aka Sidney Bristow's dad) getting on the subway at 42nd Street in a coat and tie.

I'm 100% obsessed with him for keeping it real.  This seriously made my day.

#2.  Landon Donovan's goal 1 minute into stoppage time.

Seriously.  You should probably go back in time and look at every American's (including mine) face of desperation and despair as they watch the time whittle away our chances at staying alive in the World Cup right up until Landon Donovan KICKed those goal-disallowing referees in the NUTS.

NO WAY they were taking away this one.

GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!

That ball hit the back of the net and I was running around my apartment like a crazy person.

From out of the running to WINNING Group C in the last 2 minutes.

That's the stuff movies are made out of.

Obsessed.

#3.  The longest tennis match in HISTORY.

The longest SET in HISTORY.

AND IT'S NOT EVEN OVER YET.

Can you imagine playing 7 hours of tennis non-stop and neither you nor your partner dropping serve for 118 games?   And having to get up tomorrow and go at it some more?  Just like you did yesterday?

Wackadoodle.  This might be the most fascinating thing I've ever seen.

Sonya, one of the SYTYCD choreographers, said she has a fascination with pushing people beyond their limits, when they are so tired she starts screaming at them to do it once more and kick higher because the resultant movement and strength that comes out is beyond anyone's wildest perception.

I'm pretty sure she's peeing in her pants right now if she watches tennis.   Above and beyond.  Above and beyond.

I seriously can't wait to see how this ends tomorrow.  A champion's gladiator battle.   Bravo!


Okay, so they were kinda in a particular order.

Did I mention I don't really like sports?  I say that all the time, but...
Lies.  Not true at all.  Unless they're baseball, basketball, or golf.  The latter which I watched with my uncle this weekend... and (shocker!) kinda enjoyed.  WHOA.

History in the making.  AWESOME.

Birthday Musings

It's funny...

I thought today would instantly feel weirder, be harder, hold more grief.

Instead, I'm falling asleep to the sound of rain on my air conditioner and thunder echoing through the concrete valleys of New York City with my window wide open, blowing in the fresh air of another year on this Earth.

It feels so serene.  A celebration of life.  Not just my mother's gift of childbirth, but that of my birthday buddy with whom I shared 23 of these celebrations.  A celebration of my grandmother whose voice sings in me.  A celebration of my cousin, whose untimely passing challenged my deepest convictions about this business last year.

I didn't think I'd be able to be at peace today.

I know that's why I've been so calm about celebrating, because I didn't want to feel guilty.  And instead of that childlike party-sense, I'm enjoying reminiscing about the last year of my life and the joy it has brought.

So here we go.

Year 27.  I have a lot to learn, a lot to accomplish, and I'm starting over clean slate with no idea of what the future holds.

Gonna be one heck of a ride.

Tony Disappointment

You honestly didn't think I'd forget about the Tony awards, did you?

Too bad the Tony awards forgot about honoring great work and only looked at your star billing.
Thankfully, with a few exceptions.

Honestly, if it weren't for Katie Finneran's win and exceptional speech and Levi Kreis's piano skills, I might be convinced it's time to quit the business, since there wouldn't be much future left for someone like me.

When the dazzling effervescene of Sherie Rene Scott's hilariously heartbreaking journey, Kate Baldwin's sublime soprano meltings of the Harburg/Lane score, Christiane Noll's riveting interpretation of a changing woman, and Montego Glover's powerhouse physicality and vocals are sidelined by a sub-par, whiplash-inducing, needs-to-go-back-to-the-fermata-of-focus-in-Body-Movement performance because it was delivered by a movie star, things are rotten in the state of Antoinette Perry.

I'm not denying CZJ her Oscar, but any of the other 4 ladies truly deserved that Tony.

Apparently the only way to win a Tony is if you're British or famous.  Though that's not to say I'm not supremely delighted that SPD's British-import show received so much attention and he'll have a job for quite some time!

Don't get me started on the fact that Finian's Rainbow didn't even get represented in performance despite being deservedly nominated for Best Revival as well as Leading Actress and Featured Actor.  While much of that is probably due to Kate's cross-Atlantic scheduling nightmare, it's a snub nonetheless.  That sublime revival deserved more than a screen capture.

Especially when Green Day got 5 songs, Promises x2 got several features, and even Addams Family got special attention because (not even despite!) it was snubbed from nominations (deservedly so).

ScarJo stealing Jan Maxwell's award in Supporting started the evening off all wrong for me.  Even the presence of fave Ryan Reynolds on her arm could not sway the tide of discontent.

And sound issues?  AGAIN?

I'm glad Memphis won Best Musical over Fela.  At least they supported the original material concept, if only because that show is more bankable on the road.  And they shouted out to great regional theatres (HOLLA NORTH SHORE!).  I'll still never understand that awkward "re-perform" ending, though.  And I wish since it was gonna win that anyway, they'd have given Book to the super-deserving team for Everyday Rapture.  That show seriously blew me out of the water.

I am supremely happy that Barbara Cook and Angela Lansbury did not overshadow Ms. Finneran's brilliance, in part because I did not care much at all for Barbara's performance, and Angela got her older-age Tony for a much better appearance in Blithe Spirit.  For once, true scene-stealing was rewarded.

And finally, I have to fight back against all the Glee hatred.  While yes, there seemed to be a lot of Glee faces, and yes, there were two extra performances from Glee cast members, let's truly dissect this.

The five Glee faces have bankable appeal, but unlike many of the presenters tonight (Paula Abdul, weird Jets guy), they also actually have Bway street cred.  The 3 guest stars have all won Tony's, and would have been there had they not appeared on Glee.  Kristin is also starring on the Bway next to the nominated host of the evening.  Matthew Morrison has been nominated before, and Lea Michele has been performing since we were 8.  And was in a Best Musical original cast.  They have legitimate NY theatre credits.

Better yet, the numbers they performed were classics and better than much of the poorly-produced out-of-context sampler we saw this evening.  Oh, that and the fact that Lea was clearly auditioning for the 2012 revival of Funny Girl.

At least she got a full song.  Which apparently is too much to ask for Christiane Noll.

Forcing her to reaudition her exceptional talents with a 32-bar from-the-bridge cut of "Back to Before" from her already shuttered revival?  Shameless.  What's next, making her go to an ECC and wait in line on the street at 6 AM?  Guessing Catherine never had to do that.
Not allowing the Cagelles to perform their numbers since previous telecasts (from 25 years ago) have shown them?  Also shameless.
But those Cagelles still got a box office boost.

Cuz it's all about money and numbers and a glorified 3-hour commercial.

They should think next time before putting Daniel Radcliffe, in all his amazing humility, next to Katie Holmes's ridiculously clothed bust.
Green Day should just let the OBC sing their album, cuz I kinda hope a set piece Bret Michaels-es them.
Making actors read from moving teleprompters is evil.

I just have to remember: "our work is the greatest passport".  Congrats, Miss Finneran.  You deserve it!

(untitled)

i can't quite put into words how i felt today.

i ached to run free in the rain
   and gene kelly my way through nyu streets
           humming isn't it a lovely day like that afternoon in arundel

sadly i chose the safety of my umbrella
because subway air conditioning would have been too
      frigid
post-rain-dance


i set foot in chad's new apartment and the
      agony
      ecstasy
of change engulfed me
i miss him next door, but
     sae la's face on the top of the rock exploded my heart into
                                                                    a million crystals of joy.

i lied in my final interview

it was too quick
                   too shocking           awkward        painful       uncomfortable
to answer my future boss's question

conversational, and off-the-cuff                    innocent
not the time for pity

instead...

my father retired.
he doesn't have stock options.
the oil problem will go away.

a lie.

white.      maybe grey.      in that instant, a piece of my soul broke.

                                 a roommate to pick up the crystals.
                             one more fragile than the rest.

sushi
american style
different, intoxicating, delicious

homesick for the far east


milkshakes and sytycd
a young boy too much like me
              too different
not yet able to trace past blessings


the gluttonous melancholy of contentment.

A Cool Weather Week

Have you ever seen "The Goonies"?

I did, for the first time yesterday, courtesy of a post-poned interview and a cool, rainy day.  I'm glad I didn't see this classic when I was a kid, because it would have freaked me out, but now I just want to ride that awesome water slide.

"Hey, you guuuuuuuyyys!"

Monday was an overwhelmingly exhausting and bi-polar day.  My roommate's psychology book said that all performers are a little bit bi-polar, which I'm still on the fence about, but if you mix in the fact that I'm a Gemini and had 3 auditions that took about 12 hours...  I guess it kind of makes sense.

Luckily, the overall vibe of the day was a good, albeit exhausted, one.  However, after the first dance audition in which I got cut despite feeling I'm rather perfect for the show, I was feeling a bit down on myself.  There isn't a lot to look forward to this summer, and I felt like I choked when the right audition was in front of me.  Doesn't help that my roommate is now in final callbacks for the show, though I am happy for her!

The afternoon, however, went much better.  Much like Radio City, I finally broke through the glass ceiling of a certain long-running holiday show that I never make it past the second cut.  No matter what dance we do, I never get to sing!  Unlike Radio City, though, I not only broke the second-cut barrier, I made it through the 5th and final cut, and had the opportunity to keep dancing one-on-five with the choreographer in a little work/add-on session at the end of the day.

Of course, I was freaking TIRED by this point, mentally and physically, but I just struggled on through the 5 PM slump and did my best.  I don't suspect I'll book this show, but I think I have a good shot at it after Monday's madness.

And boy, did it feel good.

Helped wipe away that crappy Young Frankenstein audition too!

Tuesday I got to hang out with my cousin Evan who's been staying in the city for a couple weeks, and we found this crazy awesome rooftop Irish pub in Midtown East.  The Perfect Pint.  What was really perfect about it though was the apparently required-to-work-there Irish accent.  I love a good brogue!  Even better, our waitress for dinner at 515 had one too!  Apparently I know where they all work:  Murray Hill!

Today I have my third and final interview for a waiting job at Hillstone's, formerly Houston's.  A friend kind of hooked me up with the gig, and though I'm not necessarily sold on selling my time (and probably soul) to a waiting gig, it does seem like a nice way to spend the summer and make some money, rather than sweat to death and be poor in my apartment.  HA!

And on that note.... I better get moving.

A Blog A Day...

...keeps procrastination at bay.

Tonight it finally cooled off courtesy of blasting winds and a sensible thunderstorm.  Unfortunately, Kate and I slept in very late and languished in the afternoon humidity so we failed at attending Japan Day in Central Park.  No Nihongo Practice for me!  :(

But I did some amazing things today.

I made a LOT of progress in cleaning and storing stuff in my room, hanging pictures on our walls, and nesting in our place even more.

Unfortunately I also cracked the glass in one of our frames and discovered I spilled water on my artwork that was waiting to be hung and ruined it (hopefully not beyond repair).  BOO.

I'm so pleased with our new landlords and the efficient and quick way in which they solve problems.  It's so nice not to be scared to walk downstairs and tell them our tub won't drain.  Even though he's feeling sick, 10 minutes later our landlord was here taking apart the drain, getting out the clog not only in the tub, but also fixing our bathroom sink and checking our toilet and kitchen sink.

Sayonara, old landlord.  I seriously hope I never see you again.

I also got to play with 3-D chalk with Kate's nephew.  That pretty much solves all adult problems.  For 5 minutes at least.

And I'm off to bed early before tomorrow's very eventful audition day.  Full report to follow, I hope.

Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Blog Gone?

"Oh where, oh where can it be?"


I'm baa-aaaaaaaaaack!  You missed me, didn't ya?

No?!

I'm not surprised.  But I missed me, and thanks to my favorite dedicated reader who keeps me on top of this thing, I know some of you out there did too.  And I dropped the ball.

But now I'm back.  Floppy ears and wet nose and all.  (That was a reference to the song quote above.  I, in fact, do not have floppy ears or a wet nose, just floppy hair and some stray nose hairs (thanks, Dad, for those genes!))

So.  I missed about a month.

I'm really sorry about that.  For a couple weeks, I wasn't that great.  A little seasonal depression (I know, wrong time according to the psychologists, but I freak out when I realize that it's gonna get HOT and HUMID and gross and the days are gonna be long and brutal and boring, and I hide.  Deal with it.), a little career depression, a little "my life is really boring now that every day isn't a new adventure in a foreign country" depression, a little I-wish-I-didn't-have-wait-till-august-to-see-my-family blues, and yeah.

I dropped the ball.  And then when I wanted to get back on the horse and get moving again, my life suddenly got exciting and busy and late.

I'm writing this at 2:30 AM for goodness' sake, because if I don't, it'll be July before the habit recurs.

Which also may be why I'm mixing similes, metaphors, analogies, and other hyperboles like a dork.  Which I am.

Quick rundown (in case you really did wonder what I've done that wasn't hiding in my room (but not cleaning it!), for the past 4 weeks):

• I went to P.C. Richards and Sons and probably got ripped off, but I spent $200 on the best thing money can buy...  AIR CONDITIONING FOR MY ROOM.  Ahh.  The sweet hum of NYC humidity being sucked out of my sleeping quarters.
• I took Kate's advice and actually got the heck-out-of-Dodge (did you know that's a reference to Dodge, Kansas?) and tubed down the Delaware in my old neck-of-the-woods the other day.  Along the way, I sadly had to be reminded of something I already knew and would never do, but others in the group did not:  Never.  EVER.  Trust a GPS.  All my family on my father's side can easily say DUH! because we were taught how to read a map and think with our navigational skills, but I was reminded that not everyone knows that.  Seriously.  Do your homework before you drive to Milford, NJ instead of Milford, PA.
• I saw SATC2 with my amazing roommate and of course we walked (both ways!) the 45 minutes to the movie theatre on a whim to a midnight showing.  Best 4 AM walk home ever.
• I also saw MacGruber and Prince of Persia.  Bad idea.  Even Jake couldn't save the latter.
• I've suddenly seen 7 shows unexpectedly.  The amazing Leslie Jordan's one-man show.  Our heritage!  The stand-out surprise of the season... Sherie Renee Scott in Everyday Rapture.  SUPERB.  The great, but not as good as Spring Awakening, American Idiot with my choir VP from high school, Angie!  Guy even gave me his guitar pick at the end of the show.  WOOT.  The superb ensemble work of the casts of Next Fall and Sondheim on Sondheim and the Temperamentals.  And my college roommate's Broadway debut as Chantal in the INCREDIBLE La Cage aux Folles Revival.  SOGOI!!!
• I've had my best friends from high school AND college AND Sweden drop in for visits, making me feel very blessed and very grown-up.
• I screamed like a kid at Christmas when I ran into friends from Tokyo for a mini-reunion, including my Aussie friend who got her visa approved for the summer and suddenly appeared in NYC!
• I've been to a waiting job interview, a few auditions, even more picnics, and still haven't found the time to hang pictures on our walls in the living room.
• I finally started to feel like a human being again.

And so in the midst of all that, my life in New York has rocketed back into existence.  Every day is a new adventure (or rapture, Ms. Scott), and tomorrow's brings Japan Day in Central Park!

Today was a delightful day, though I am ridiculously sore from the Swede's dance class two days ago, and now am nursing banged-up shins because I tumbled over our big cart as we walked to the park today as well as a swollen arch because I stepped on a bee while playing soccer barefoot with Kate's nephew.  I've seriously got to get unstung, unsore, and deallergized before Monday's double tap audition madness or my body is gonna HURT!

Thursday

The weekly rundown:

First, I finally broke the Radio City audition glass ceiling this year and didn't get a "Thank you!" after I sang...  I think I finally had some idea of what to sing when I walked in the room.

Too bad I got let go at the final cut today after working my tail off in the callback.

Guess that glass ceiling just got a little higher.  At least I don't have to wait 2 months to find out I didn't get the job though, right?

Oh, and on that note, Wednesday was frightfully cold and rainy, and after keeping us out in the cold for 2 hours, the nice folks at Radio City didn't bother to tell us we wouldn't be able to leave once we got inside and would be held hostage until our number was called... 4 hours later.   With no chance to eat.

WTF, Radio City, WTF?

Secondly, I am looking forward to this weekend to finally sleep in past 7 AM.  Seriously, when did I turn into my father?

Third, it was my father's birthday today.  This year was the year I kinda forgot about him for part of the day (because I was busy pulling up for Radio City) and it just felt weird.  Thank goodness I had the afternoon to spend some time at home, and pizza and beer to eat my feelings for Thursday Night Pizza Party.

Sadly, that tradition has fallen by the wayside now that the old apartment is gone, but Kate and I resurrected it partially this evening.  We just need to get some of our good friends back in the game of Grey's and Papa John's.  At least in time for the dramatic season finale next week.

Fourth, well, that's really all.  My life isn't that interesting now that I'm not living in Japan anymore.  I really miss it, so much so that I found an amazing Japanese restaurant on 49th and stopped in to have a bowl of ramen after the cold imprisonment yesterday.  Sapporo was 99% authentic, though I wish it hadn't been two Hispanic guys cooking my food.  And the ramen noodles were a little thin... And not quite white-yellow enough.  But the broth and pork were spot on.

Seeing the Japanese people's faces when I shouted "gochi so sama deshita!" as I left the restaurant was PRICELESS.  They so didn't see that one coming, nor the fact that I understood half of what was happening in the restaurant.  It made me feel oddly at home.  Sigh.

I'm heading to see Leslie Jordan's show tomorrow night (since he was so great at the Easter Bonnet), and I was devastated to hear that Doris Eaton Travis passed yesterday.  I met her years ago doing Will Rogers and have seen her at the Easter Bonnet twice since then (the last time still kicking away only 2 weeks ago), and sadly our last-living-at-106 Follies girl has joined my dad on the other side.  What an honor to experience her joy and memories 3 different times.

My father was a man who understood the importance of words and the power of listening.  Something I'm still learning every day.  A man who believed "sainthood is achievable", that "something worth doing is worth doing right", and who taught me the true power of music with his guitar strums.

Happy Birthday, Dad, I love you.

Back in the Game

I'm sure you are wondering why a guy who spent so much time blogging his adventures in Japan has paused his blogging while readjusting and adventuring back into a New York way of life, and the truth is I've been adjusting.

And for all my brain has been able to accomplish in the last two weeks (which wasn't much), I haven't felt much like writing at the end of these long, early-morning days.

Take last week for example.

I auditioned every single day (except Tuesday because I left my cell alarm on vibrate) and therefore left the house by 7:30 AM, if not earlier.  I often was out all day with a side trip home for a break, and Monday and Tuesday I had late night affairs that didn't get me home until 1 or 2.  And jet lag has left my bedtime at a respectable 10 PM the past two weeks.  I'm not sure I'm auditioning particularly well, but at least I'm there.

I did have a good audition for a couple of agents on Monday night, but I haven't heard anything yet.  At least it felt good, right?

I then worked 30 hours for a special event over the course of Friday morning through Sunday at noon, and each morning progressively got earlier until Sunday's wake up call of 4 AM.

So I'm brain dead.

And when audition calls are run like LA/reality TV/open call auditions (I'm talking to you, Debbie Allen) with a lack of understanding and complete disrespect for union rules, including telling union members they should leave their union so the producers can operate the calls the way they want to, I don't have much energy to be witty at the end of the day.

TV on the couch time sounds much better.

Especially now that DVR is back in my life!

But I'm present now.  And after a week of jet lag and spring hibernation, and a super-productive audition/working/unpacking week, I'm ready for a week with a little less crazy.

Which is why I'm so thankful I have two afternoon singing appointments in a little bit and already had a most excellent tapper call that was short, simple, concise, yet with the perfect amount of challenge and technique required courtesy of Christopher Gatelli.  It was so pleasant to be in a room with 20 men who could all actually tap well, and then, rather than watching each person to see if he could tap, I was enjoying watching each person to see how he could tap.  His style.  His sounds.  His sense of rhythm.

It really was a beautiful thing.

And to have a cold, windy weekend that has turned into a cool, sunny and gorgeous spring day, well... I couldn't be more content.

This makes being home feel easy.  And right.

Not those crazy SoyJoy-grabbing nut cases yesterday.

I'm unpacked, but I still have a lot of decorating and planning of our living space to do.  For now, I'm here.

And You Thought Jet Lag Was Bad...

I have seen the dark side of the human soul.

The animalistic scavenger within us all.

It makes me so ready to jump on a plane back to Japan.

____________________

I was doing pretty well with culture shock.  It took a week, at least, but I was adjusting well.  I'm on an early schedule because of my busy week, but I'm getting plenty of rest.  My back hurts 'cause my mattress sucks, but that's my own fault.

And I've adjusted to the food, sort of.  My stomach doesn't hurt, but I can still taste all the chemicals in our food and water.

But two weeks could not prepare me for what I witnessed today.

Sometimes I work special events for a marketing firm, doing whatever staff position they seem to think best for the day or weekend.  In this case, I was working a 3-day weekend event that welcomed women from all over the world for a special celebration of O! Magazine.

Now you would assume that since people go gaga over Oprah and most of this convention was about "living your best life" with some help from her usual friends, that people would be generally positive and kind and generous.  And they were.

For the most part.

They were ecstatic on Friday as we checked them in.  And they were soaking up the information at the Javits and enjoying the gifts and give-aways on Saturday, even if they weren't always so patient or courteous when waiting in line.

But standing in Times Square today giving people free snack bars, of which we had plenty (somewhere near 20,000, not to mention 2 or 3 times that many in the production tent), literally turned into a manic free-for-all.  And I get it.  *SOME* of those people just walked two miles.  Very few, in fact, but maybe they were hungry.

It's not like the walk was a marathon.

When people are not even patient enough to share free samples with their neighbor without resorting to jaws-of-life grips on an energy bar, it's just disgusting.

But nothing was worse than the woman who felt she had every right to not only come behind the table, inside the tent to where I was working, but then take a cardboard box (that turned out to be empty), take my personal samples from other tents that were stored next to my own personal belongings, and stuff the empty box with my baked goods and try to claim them as her own.

Worse yet, when I told her she wasn't allowed back there nor was she allowed to take a box, I discovered my property in her box and kindly told her she wasn't allowed to take from our stock or our personal belongings hidden under the tablecloth.

(May I remind you that there were about 100 people vying for snack bars and literally tearing them out of my partner's arms at this point -- in short, we were swamped).

I may have made a slight mistake by taking the boxes back from her, but as soon as she lost her temper, I "gave her back" the cupcakes she had stolen so deliberately and ruthlessly from me and told her to have a nice day and not worry about it.

But this poor, sad woman, who seems to have dealt with much pain in her life, felt she should accuse me of stealing her cupcakes (that were mine, I remind you, but I had given up claim long ago) and ruining Mother's Day for her.

At this point, nothing had really gotten out of control, but her guilty conscience wasn't done yet.

She then insisted to speak to my manager, who attempted to calm the woman and clearly had my back, and she continually threatened to involve the police.  Which, in the event they had come over, wouldn't have really mattered since I had been visited by all the Times Square police earlier that morning and had generously given them many free samples to stave off the cold.  They mostly likely would have been on my side.

She continued to claim that I had been rude to her and wouldn't apologize and had stolen her belongings, when, in fact, she had stolen mine and had come very close to stealing some of my important personal belongings.  In short, she finally gave up her claims, because I ignored her and continued to work at staving off the herd of starving elephantine vultures waiting impatiently, but only after 10 minutes of loudly claiming I had stolen her cupcakes.

Seriously.  This was over cupcakes.  That weren't that good.

Had this semi-crazy (she did pay to attend the event, so I won't call her full-tilt-Times-Square-homeless crazy) woman succeeded in calling over the police in the middle of this event, she would have taken up some vital service worker's time over cupcakes when they should be watching out for Oprah and J-Hud.

Oh.  And those car bombs we seem to be on alert for.

What a sorry state we've come to as a culture.

In Japan, where the mentality is that everyone waits and everyone gets a turn, people would have kindly taken one snack bar and been on their way.  And we would have been able to donate 10,000 bars to a shelter, instead of watching the souvenir store behind us make off with 30 boxes or so to resell at considerable mark-up.

And I just became disgusted.  By the end of the day, when we were literally giving away 12 count boxes to each passerby, I couldn't even speak.  I was a cardboard-cutting machine, wearing my backpack because I couldn't trust anyone not to ransack anything and everything.

I was shocked when nice women from the Midwest would ask to sample just one.  It was refreshing and honest and amazing.

And the cupcake guys even replaced my stolen cupcake, without me having to say a word.

So today I honor those mothers who taught their children patience and kindness.  I'm sure my own mother put up with much more than 2 hours of manic-madness to feed, clothe, and raise me, and I'm very thankful for her love.

And I hope that woman today can find a mother figure soon, one who will teach her when a cupcake is just a cupcake.

Freezer in the Garage

So I've a lagged a little bit this past week in keeping this blog up-to-date on my life.

So you're guessing I'm gonna tell you about it, right?

Hold your horses, kiddos!  This one's a spur-of-the-moment food-inspired (what else do I blog about?) obsession!



SAMOAS!!!!!!!

No.  Not the people of the island nation where "Survivor: Heroes vs. Villains" takes place.  I'm talking about GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!

Do you know how long it's been since I've had a delicious caramel coconut chocolate-covered chewy nougat?

I don't even know how long it's been.  It's been that long.

See, Kate just went to switch her laundry at the laundromat, and, attempting to win the race for best roommate ever, bought 2 boxes of Samoas, and a box of Thin Mints (in case those were my favorite) since they just happened to be sitting on the counter for 3 bucks a box at the counter.

SERIOUSLY, NYC?  You can't track down cookies in New York using your web skills or phone books or even stopping by the Girl Scout Association office on 23rd Street, but they just happen to show up at our laundromat the first week of May?!  I'm not complaining, but WHOA!  Seriously, if you go to the website to buy cookies it sends you the contact information for the little girl closest to you selling them.

You'd think GSA would have figured out by now they could just sell them in the grocery store, or make them available through Girl Scouts year-round.  And don't they know that putting little girls' contact info on the internet is a BAD idea?  Hmmmm...

But back to my food obsession.

My mother, being the best mother ever, brought me a box of Thin Mints while I was in Japan.  Seriously, who thinks of that?

Only the kind of mother that would buy something like 50 boxes of Girl Scout cookies each year when we were growing up, and putting them in our freezer in the garage, to make sure our cookie cravings were satisfied all year round.

That's Mother Day award-winning kind of stuff, right there.

Of course, she went above and beyond and would keep like 15 12-packs of pop on a shelf out there (for camping trips and variety, etc.), a dozen loaves of the best raisin bread EVER from South Dakota, and all the pheasants my family would shoot each November in South Dakota.  And when you consider that we were of family of 6 with 3 very hungry growing boys... well, she's a food rock star.

Even better was the half of a cow we kept in the freezer one year.

Seriously.  Kate doesn't believe me, but one year we split a cow with the Boersma's from a butcher in Greeley, and I remember loading up our suburban and going out to cow-town and filling up the backseat with white-butcher-paper-wrapped steaks and ground beef that we had purchased.  We must've eaten that stuff for a whole year.  And it was REALLY good.

I'm not sure where all this nostalgia is coming from, but let's just say the GSA are taking me back to some great memories of my mother and her food-providing skills.

I even remember in high school how liberating and adult-like it felt to purchase my own box of Samoas from one of the girls in English class and then keeping them in my locker.  I would pull one or two out during passing periods and savor the delicacy of my very own Samoa that I never had to share with a brother or sister.

That was heaven.

And now, we have two whole boxes in our freezer to savor at our leisure.

And thank you, Mom, for making sure our sweet-teeth were always satisfied.