Another long, hard day … LET ME TELL YOU, I could use something long and hard and how about it’s NOT my day! The grind again, y’all. What’s new other than trying to keep up your A-game?
SABOTAGE. People are out there! And they are trying to cut you down like the rainforest, y’all! And the only thing you can do is be your best. That is super hard when people are throwing shit and shade in your direction.
What do you do? Readers, consider this an open discussion, please comment. When the haters are doing their usual hating … what do you do: buy a bottle of wine for dinner? Cry in the bathroom? Fight back? Talk back?
What does a girl have to do to finish watching Saving Private Ryan at an indecent hour on a week night?!
Just a few moments ago, during one of the many theatrically tense scenes (staring everyone younger and 15 pounds lighter), the cable goes. Thanks for deciding to reboot the system while Woody was in the middle of finding Will Hunting! UGH!
It’s been a while, Readers. I haven’t written in a VERY long time. Why? Well, there was nothing really to talk about but the daily grind. I mean how many ways can a girl phrase: “work sucks … relationships are complicated … I should be doing something different with my life”… you know, before it gets monotonous?
There have been many changes in these past few weeks at work, and while I’m actually starting to MAYBE get a grip, some of my my favorite people keep moving on. So maybe it’s my time. And maybe it’s high time to kick it into gear. My mother sent me a motivational email this morning about NYC auditions that I could/should be attending. Her words, “If I can navigate the internet to find 366 auditions in the month of April, you not doing anything is inexcusable!” Well, shit, mom! You get it!!! I love that she believes in me so much. As an artist (or wannabe artist, what does your Grandma call us June?) I find it difficult to find courage in my talent and myself. NEWS FLASH: I’m insecure too, James. It’s okay, people, there is no need to be on suicide watch, but here I am admitting humanity and saying I have feelings, sometimes too many all at once, and I’m scared about putting myself out there. So what do I do now? Stay in my work cave with no more friends and live out the rest of my days playing the Smash songs over and over again and humming to myself in the elevator? No!
Spring has sprung y’all and it is time for a rebirth! Easter was a few weeks ago and if any story is about rising from the ashes and starting anew, well it’s that one! I’m looking for jobs and looking at auditions and right now I’m just really scared. I’m scared to audition, about not being prepared for an audition, how to audition, how to get a new job so I CAN audition. It’s a complicated process and so far I can’t seem to put one foot in front of the other just to find footing for step one.
I escaped the city to avoid the holiday, this silly day in celebration of Ireland’s patron saint, that has been desecrated with binge drinking and an all time high of amateur hour. Last year I was headed to work at 9:30 am where a girl was already yakking her innards out in the subway. Ummmmm … No.
Now I am the first to admit that when I go out I go out hard. I’ve gotten lost many a time, made an ass of myself on a NYC stage a couple of times, fallen, cried, peed, lost my wallet, lost my phone, dropped my phone in a toilet, slapped my boyfriend, kissed a girl, kissed everyone and once I even came to at a McDonalds with a group of Latino girls who eventually found me my roommates. All not moments I’m not most proud of.
So this year I escaped to my aunt’s to instead binge on rye bread and corned beef and cabbage. Mmmmm. Delicious.
Even still on the train home now, I’m surrounded by idiots. It seems on this day (see also Cinco de Mayo) all of the world’s classiest people come out (please note the obvious sarcasm as I type) and get rowdy and rude and sloppy and loud. It’s an excuse for the bros of the tristate to infest the world with their Kelly green and their Bud Light and vom in inappropriate public areas. Go home, you sloppy folks, we all work tomorrow!
A lesson in Patience: On my return home from a restful weekend away, Sunday evening I stepped onto a C train arriving on the A track, my broken laundry bag in tow. At 42nd street we stopped and across the platform was a D.
We love the D. (Insert all D jokes here …. Including that one.) But Sunday, the D steered me wrong. It went local. And the C went express. I sat in frustrated silence as I watched the C train zoom past.
Call me Veruca Salt: I want it all and I want it all now. I want fancy pans and adult Tupperware and people to live out here that say they’re going to live out here.
Sometimes I find it difficult to step back and clear my mind of all thoughts … even in restorative yoga today I thought of rent prices and pay check budgeting in lou of meditation and intentions. But that was the first step on the path to patience, my first yoga class in a long while! I am trying.
— Any suggestions, Readers, on how one can practice patience?
No it’s not what you think … I can’t have chilen’s for at least another 9 years (thank you modern medicine/black magic), but I have realized today that my interns at work are my kids and talking to them is just like how a mother speaks to her toddler.
If I have to explain something ONE MORE TIME or repeat myself or directions for the umpteenth time … I might yell, but unfortunately I now have laryngitis. :(
I came to this conclusion while I ran into the bathroom for my one quiet moment of peace, very mom-ish. No matter what you say children won’t listen … I just hope my interns become grown ups soon.
“How come the trains are so crowded today?” An old man asked me as he handed me a couple of folded napkins. “I always keep a few extra for emergency.” And with a small, polite smile he sat back in his seat and let me cry to myself.
The subway wasn’t fast enough as I raced home early Monday afternoon … and the week was not long enough, but I don’t think it ever stood the chance of being long enough, there would have never been enough time. Even with everything we saw, did and ate … I want more and I want lifetimes of it.
Last week he flew in like the free spirit of the west. And when he arrived at LGA I ran into his arms: It was an eternity since I had found myself there. It was refreshing to feel complete again. And we traveled home, staring longingly into each other’s eyes and giving small kisses to each other politely in public. The first moment he stepped into the Harlem abode I found myself grinning ear to ear: this is what I had been waiting for for almost an entire year. He unpacked his things and we opened the 2009 bottle of Louis Martini, a bottle that sat up on different shelves in different apartments for this special moment.
Monday afternoon turned into a haze.
And the week became dinners and dancing and singing and breakfasts and shows and sex and shopping and no more sleep, or should I say Sleep No More.
I had the greatest time. One night I came home to a fancy dinner, the floor scattered with red rose petals and tea light candles and a rye and ginger beer waiting for me. Another night we went shopping till we’d cleared out someone’s bank account and had the funnest time doing it. A Broadway show and then home to Chinese food and cuddles. Ferris days and crispy fish and mayo corn and China Town doughnuts!!!!
I remember when I used to tell everyone that once yoü got out here we’d move in together and everyone’s response was, “Do you think that’s a good idea? How do you know living together will work out?”
My response was always, “I think we’d make great roommates!”
“How do you know?” People would inquire, “Have you lived together before?”
“No, I just feel like we will.” We understand each other in the weirdest of ways (oven cleaning, shit in the street shout outs kind of well). Knowing each other is important to me.
Readers, I can’t even describe to you all how much fun I had last week. It was a vacation of expenditures sure, but it was also a glimpse of what could be … what hopefully will be. I never planned on someone like yoü. But I’m so glad life is about not sticking to the plan. Here I am adapting to the changes and loving every minute with yoü!
Fashion Week: maybe these two words can apologize for the lack of postings. . Here are some fun highlights:
It really has been a difficult past few weeks.
“Why does everything have to be so hard?” Princeton asks at he beginning of “For Now.” And some may say “the hard is what makes it great,” but in this instance I will agree to the extent that the “it” is you. Going through trials and tribulations, breakups and bosses with insane tasks, illness and exhaustion and fashion weeks … these feats of the impossible and the mountains, that they seem to be in the present, make you great! I will be the first to validate any and everyone’s feelings of being overwhelmed and anxious and stressed and perhaps feelings of despondence and despair: because in the moments (I’m still in them) everything is so grand. Everything is the world; it’s the biggest deal.
And what is most challenging of it all is being objective and seeing the outcome. How is it possible it will ever be okay again? How will I recover/get well/get enough rest/find my self-respect again/make it through the week alive? And people will say, “Everything is going to work out/be okay,” “Take a breath,” and believe me … all this helps, even suggestions and solutions at the right and opportune moment can help in these moments.
And then suddenly it’s February 18th/you’re home from work/the bags under your eyes have faded/you’re recruited somewhere new/you’re single and loving it/you have come out the other side stronger for it all.