HeadSpace

Having purpose

2010-03-17T17:10:00.004-04:00

I'll be practicing Reiki on my first real person this week. I'm really excited about this. I feel like I have a natural affinity for helping bring calm energy to a person, and I look forward to becoming more in touch with my metaphysical and intuitive self. I'd already printed out very formal-looking documents for myself in preparation for a session as well as a post-session to-do list.

The thing, however, that will be a challenge to me, is the ideal behavior a couple days before any session to cut out meat, refined sugar, coffee/tea, and alcohol from my diet. Now, it may not always be 100% doable. For instance, I have an already-scheduled tea date with friends on the day before my session. But it felt good to volunteer to bring something sweet to the soiree, and find a vegan tea cake, of all things, not made with refined sugar. I also generally eat meat at least once a day; and although I don't drink often, I like to always have the option. I kept having to remind myself today not to reach for certain things I craved. Grilled chicken salad. Scotch. And it would be interesting, my reaction.

First I'd be sulky about it. Like, why should I do this to myself? Is it really necessary to be free of all this stuff to be the best channel of good energy? Then the answer would come: yes. It is. Then a new feeling would emerge, one of purpose. Even when I lost 25 pounds a couple years ago, I did it without cutting any of this stuff out. But I like the idea of having a purpose, and of restriction as discipline and a means to an end. What will it be like to say to myself, "Okay, go out with your friends that night. You can't drink, though. You will be able to drink two days later," once a week or something? I think I'd like the structure. We'll see. In the meantime, I've been able to refrain from what I want to refrain from. Maybe it will get easier as time goes on, and then I'll have a new way of looking at food, and life, and discipline, and purpose. Maybe I'll help myself raise my own vibrational frequency. Meaning, I'll be clearer. That's a good goal to have.

Reflections 2010

2010-03-01T01:39:00.006-05:00

I was just reading a great blog and was inspired to visit my own. Except...ha!...I don't know what to say. It's the first of March and my birthday's in a week, literally. This little baby could never fathom at the time, that she would be, decades from this picture, laying down in her Manhattan apartment where she spent most of her adult life, on her laptop, contemplating getting older. All she knew was that some weirdo made her look like an old Russian lady and is making funny faces. I think. I laugh when I see this picture because I notice my nose has no bridge. This is a big deal to Filipinos. If you've got a nose bridge, then it's a good thing (centuries of colonization makes "wanting to look like westerners" habits die hard). I did not. Oh, I have one now, but you know, I grew into it.

What amuses me about this, my birthday week, is that I am so busy with other things that I will be doing most of my celebrating the week afterward. Which I guess is fine, but it feels weird. "A toast! Happy birthday! When's your birthday?" "A week ago." "...oh! Well, happy birthday!" Something's a little off about that. But you know what; I'll need it. I'll need that week after to continue celebrating because it'll help the...transition, I guess.

I have a new favorite bar. Favorite because it's big, comfortable, the clientele isn't cliquey, and they have a great selection of scotch. It's also conveniently in the middle of town. Perfect, really.

I napped right next to my cat this evening. I didn't plan to nap but was so groggy all day and I walked into the bedroom where the USA/Canada Olympic hockey game was on. Oscar was on the bed snoozing and I laid right down next to him sideways across the bed and snoozed too. I think we were in the same position, as well. He doesn't like it when I smother him with affection but I can't help myself. He's got more tolerance for it as he's gotten older.

My god, I started this blog in...2005? I was a different person then. Different, but the same. But much different. It's amazing how much there is to learn about...well, everything. But mostly how to best take care of myself. You think you know everything when you're in your 20's. And then the rest of your life is spent destroying that notion, getting humbler and humbler. Yet stronger.

I look forward to practicing Reiki in the near future. I'm new to it, and it will definitely mark this new chapter of my life. I wish to be more in touch with my metaphysical side. And I suppose I'll sign this post off by saying what I pictured saying when I started this post several paragraphs ago: I want to go on an adventure. And I want to be paid handsomely doing so. Bring it on, Year of the Tiger. :)

Fat and Sweaty, Part II

2009-12-18T00:08:00.001-05:00

Oh, my stars!
You're fatter
And sweatier
Than last I broached the subject!

And you know what?
I'm still glad!
Nay, gladder!

Happy holidays!
Eat up!

Going with the flow means...

2009-11-05T00:15:00.002-05:00

...taking it one step at a time.
...trusting your instincts.
...having faith in yourself.
...letting people know what you need right now.
...accepting help.
...saying "Yes, and..."
...having a sense of humor.
...plunging in now, intellectualizing later.
...discovering your own strength.
...honoring your feelings.
...feeling the love.

Change

2009-10-01T20:39:00.003-04:00

It's hard...
Wanting everything to change
And not wanting anything to change.

It's confusing...
Wishing others were more evolved
And knowing I have a long way to go.

It's frustrating...
Taking risks
And hiding
At the same time.

I don't know what to do next.
I don't know how to navigate my future.
I want it to look different.
And I want it to stay the same.

I want to want different things.
I want the things I did to be okay.
I want the choices I made to be the right ones.
I don't want to know otherwise.
I don't want to be devastated at the truth.
I don't want to fail.
But this fear keeps me from searching.
Deeper.

Fat and sweaty

2009-07-27T02:26:00.005-04:00

You were a hottie back then.
Now, you're just fat and sweaty.
And I'm glad.

Time takes time

2009-02-13T03:11:00.002-05:00

I'll never know why
I'll never know how much
I'll never know what if

Moving through
Pushing through
Crawling through
Crying through

I'm told there's a light
Past this tunnel
I've seen it before
So it must be true
But it's hard to believe
In the darkest chamber
This tunnel goes for miles
Or does it?

I welcome that light
And my twinkling eyes
Can't force it
Can't rush it
Beat up
Beat down

Anger
Silence
Regret
Resentment
Mourning what never was
Fantasy You = awesome
Tender
Loving

Real You = ?

Anger.

Silence.

Surrender

Detachment

Perspective

My smile again.

What's that light?

Cleft chin

2009-01-25T02:25:00.005-05:00

Don't see much of them lately
Not like yours
Almost like a cartoon
But sexy
Multi-racial face
So young
So.
Young.
I couldn't be old enough to be your mom
Could I?
Nah
I ain't that old
Am I?
What are you reading?
Where are you going?
Like the leather jacket
It suits you
Well.
Here I am
Across from you
Trying not to stare
Oh, this is your stop.
(Crap)
Enjoy your day
Tender vittle.

That's what I'm talkin' about

2008-10-19T23:36:00.001-04:00

Lets101 - Dating Free Online

Haiku corner: Growth spurt

2008-10-19T23:07:00.002-04:00

It's been quite a year
Can't quite grasp the lessons yet
But they sure are huge

I've been so busy
I don't know what's happening
Outside of my world

Reassurance is
Something I must give myself
Only from within

I understand grief
The being fine then sobbing?
I must embrace it

I feel so different
I've become the butterfly
Pretty and naive

Why do I check out?
Everybody waits for me!
Get it together!

Rose-colored glasses
You forced me to rip them off
What do I do now?

Once I bared my soul
I felt much closer to you
Could finally sleep

You are teaching me
Whatever I need to learn
School is in session

Can it really be
The things I always wanted
I don't want at all?

Has HE been at rehearsal?

2008-08-16T14:38:00.004-04:00

I'm used to getting spam e-mails telling me how I can enlarge my penis. Who doesn't want to enlarge their penis? So, I get these e-mails a lot. But not until today had I received an e-mail actually from Penis. MY penis? You know when your actual penis starts sending you an e-mail you need to pay attention. The subject line was "better performance." Maybe my penis is telling me how to be more truthful in my acting? Hm.

Where in the world...?

2008-07-24T18:31:00.009-04:00

You may have noticed my absence. You may not have. Regardless, I'm fine. I'm healthy, I'm happy. In fact, seeds I've sown from years past feel like they're finally coming to fruition. So, I guess I'm busy living my life and writing less about it. However, here are two things that have been taking up my time lately. One is a plug, and the other is just a sad fact.

Firstly, I officially start rehearsing next week for an amazing play called BEAST. It's written by the legendary Michael Weller, directed by the incomparable Jo Bonney, and boasts a cast of heavy hitters including Raul Aranas, Jeremy Bobb, Lisa Joyce, Logan Marshall-Green, Larry Pine, Corey Stoll, and yours truly. It runs at the New York Theatre Workshop from August 29th through October 12th.

Click here for detailed ticket prices and info.

Click here for the official press release describing the play.

Secondly, in the beginning of June I succumbed to the latest global block party phenomenon affectionately known as Crackbook. Yes, folks. One of the reasons you hardly see me anymore is because I'm busy commenting on photos of people I haven't seen in years, checking up on what they're saying they're doing at any given moment, "sending cupcakes" to people, and instant messaging ("stalking" would be too harsh a term) people who are online at the same time I am! I'm on there a lot. In fact, when I start rehearsing eight hours a day next week, like, what am I gonna do? Create art? Have a life? Okay, I guess those are good things. But it's nice to have the Crackbook in the meantime.

I hope you, dear reader, are having a wonderful day.

"Last year? At theater camp...?"

2008-06-29T09:03:00.006-04:00

It's early Sunday morning and I've just concluded a four-day "retreat" away from the city, where theater luminaries gather to develop new plays. I cannot wipe the silly grin off my face. I mean who, I wondered, was possibly turning the wheels in Manhattan when all the movers and shakers were here in this little town up north, where there's only one watering hole and a bunch of us strangers living together, sharing a bathroom and kitchen? I've met the friendliest, most passionate group of people I've met in awhile, and I look forward to going back home with this gift, of lending my talents to something bigger than myself and making friends along the way. When I sit and think about it in the familiarity of my daily surroundings, I'll marvel at how the events of my whole life prior led up to these four days, and how these four days will lead to the next chapters.

Sodium bicarbonate

2008-06-19T19:28:00.005-04:00

Have you ever pondered baking soda?
Let's. Shall we?

I picked some up today in the baking aisle so I can make some scones.

However, for a mere 99 cents for a 16-ounce box, I can choose to also:

* Clean my counter tops if I mix it with water.

* Keep my food fresher in the refrigerator, by just having an open box sit in it.

* Brush my teeth. I know!

* Freshen my kitty's litter box by sprinkling it on the floor of the box under the litter.

* Help stabilize the pH in my swimming pool water. I am not making this up, people.

How does one chemical compound act as a cleanser and is safe to ingest all at the same time? I would never think to brush my teeth with the same thing I sprinkle in Oscar's litter box. But baking soda? It does it all. Brilliant. Of all earth's resources, this is one of the best ones ever.

Every now and then

2008-06-12T21:19:00.002-04:00

Every now and then, things go your way.
Sometimes, your instincts are spot on.
Now and again, your wildest fantasies come true.

When that happens, hold on, enjoy the ride, and try not to let go.

Rubber cork

2008-05-23T19:57:00.003-04:00

A rubber cork just ate my corkscrew.

Bought a (cheap) bottle of wine.
Kept screwing the thingie in there, and it kept coming out, like it was just making love to it or something. Cork didn't budge.

The last time I tried to pull it out, it plain broke off.
The metal screw part just broke off.
It's in there, hidden.
Can't even see it.

The bottle remains unopened.

Mourning

2008-05-23T17:43:00.010-04:00

Ending a show experience is hard for me. Painful. I suspect I chose a life of theater because I am co-dependent on the feelings it gives me, of bonding with new people, of validation and acclaim; and with these attachments comes loss when it comes to an end. I can prepare for it all I want, I can know it's happening, but it will still end, and I will still feel disappointment and loss. Inevitably I'll have also made it more miserable for myself by mentally if not physically (worse!) attaching to someone of the male species before it ends as it comes to the end, for reasons I have yet to figure out. (Will I be that person in a plane crash who, sensing my demise, will turn to the man next to me and jump his bones before I die?)

All I can do is hibernate a little bit, do laundry, eat popcorn, watch The Dog Whisperer, and slowly come back to me, the me that enjoys being alone, the me that doesn't need attention from the opposite sex, the me that doesn't need people to tell me how great I am and other things that go right out the window with the next new "family" that's formed before my very eyes, and with that family, euphoria followed by pain and disappointment. There must be a better way, a healthier way for me to life this life I love.

I am determined to find it.

Longevity

2008-05-15T10:29:00.006-04:00

I sat in the audience, last chair on the side. No obstructed view; my leg room was luxurious and comfortable. The three-hour play was no bore, and I realized why classics are classics. Good writing just is. And I laughed, and I vocalized grunts of understanding, and I held my breath, and I strained to listen, and I watched, and I empathized, and thoroughly enjoyed being shared with by skilled actors who know what they're doing. And I didn't even realize until the man stepped on stage that this marked an anniversary for me: I had seen James Earl Jones in Fences 20 years ago in San Francisco. He was already a legend then, and although I couldn't totally appreciate the play at the time, I knew I already appreciated the theater. 20 years later, he is still a force to be reckoned with. What a nice gift to myself.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Next up, a Porsche and some hair transplants

2008-05-14T01:01:00.002-04:00

Clearly I'm having a midlife crisis.
I've been flirting lately only with guys more than a decade younger than I.
Since when did I become that dude?
The guy I used to date when I was the young'un and this whole thing was reversed?
Am I doomed to a life of seven cats and rowdy visits to Chippendale's?
Am I holding onto youth so tightly, it's become literal?
Am I such a commitment-phobe, that I'm drawn to people who were in grade school when I was already temping and paying rent in my Manhattan apartment?

I need to expand my horizons big time.

Good times

2008-05-11T12:05:00.006-04:00

It's awesome to star in a well-written play and chew up the scenery with only one other person. My theater company rocks.

Jaradoa Theater presents
The Small of Her Back
by Russell Leigh Sharman

Featuring Eileen Rivera & Jeremy O'Grady

The 411 Theater
300 West 43rd St., 4th Floor
New York City

Fridays-Mondays, May 9-12 & 16-19 - 8 PM
Tickets $18, 212-868-4444 or www.smarttix.com

Press releases:
Playbill.com
Broadway World

Fallout

2008-04-12T22:19:00.003-04:00

laughter expands
crescendo
belonging
one with the world

bang

sink low, low, low
shock
choke
pretend
wonder
but never ask
what do they think of me?
and
is it bad?

it's bad!

if they go away
when
when
when I mean

what did I do?

no matter
how good
i must be
deep down
just
bad

alone = easy
alone alone
alone with people

no difference
no escape

no clues
no discussion
no say

end of day
end of days
left alone
to control
control
control
what I can
nothing

except being alone

Tip of the year

2008-04-03T22:44:00.002-04:00

New to New York?
The subway lurches when it leaves the station.
So, please.
For the love of god.
Hold onto something after the doors close.

Thank you.

And welcome!

Ambivalence is war

2008-03-29T09:50:00.002-04:00

Me1: It's 7:30 AM on a Saturday. Are we really getting up and at 'em?
Me2: Yes. Swim class is at 9 AM and we feel so good when we're there and when it's over.
Me1: Well, sleep a little longer.
Me2: We have to leave the house at 8:20 at the latest.
Me1: Yeah, yeah. Done and done. We don't need much time to roll out of bed and get out.
Me2: You're right.

Me2: Oh crap, I need to make breakfast for afterward. It's 8:15.
Me1: That's okay. You can leave late and still make it. The teacher's always late anyway.
Me2: Okay.

Me2: Dang it, we missed the train.
Me1: (Yippee!) I mean, darn. We'll be late, but the class doesn't care if we're late.
Me2: You're right.

Me2: Now we're 15 minutes late. I shouldn't even step in the door of the gym.
Me1: You're already here. Just go.
Me2: No. Forget it. You made me leave late. We should've left at 8:20.
Me1: {mockingly} "We should've left at 8:20."
Me2: This is a no man's land. I should've either gotten it together or flaked on the class for real and stayed in bed! I hate you!
Me1: There's always next week.
Me2: We can't think that way!
Me1: Yeah, we can! Frickin' perfectionist!
Me2: Saboteur!

{continue ad nauseum}

No End.

Client No. 9

2008-03-12T10:44:00.003-04:00

I remember where I was when I first learned of Eliot Spitzer's, my governor's, indiscretions. I was at the office passing by the break room which had CNN on the television and something about him being linked to a prostitution ring. Something about it was very ominous. No words like "alleged" or "smear campaign" or anything like that. It seemed very straightforward. I took a double-take and said to my co-worker, "What? What does that even MEAN? I don't know what that MEANS." But I was biding time as I absorbed shock. I knew what it meant. It meant he was a hypocrite.

I bought his whole image hook, line, and sinker. When he was the attorney general, combating corruption on Wall Street, running around like Batman himself, I loved reading about it. When he ran for governor, I voted for him. My female co-worker and I giggled like two schoolgirls when he was elected. What a bright future, I thought. We'd never know what one year later would uncover: Approximately $80,000 spent over possibly a decade to something called Emperors Club VIP. Are you kidding me?

Adultery as a concept, that's not what ruffles my feathers. I mean, we're human, and marriages are fragile. But the time and energy and money spent to keep up such a deception, breaking the law, and being able to compartmentalize one's feelings enough to be able to separate the girls from Emperors Club VIP and the four women living at home...boggles my mind. It dumbfounds me. He has teenage daughters, for the love of Christ. Daughters not much younger than the "employees" of this "agency." What must the family be going through right now? Oh, the future therapy bills.

This is such big news here. New Yorkers were dumbstruck. And now it's like we're all holding our collective breath while he's holed up somewhere deciding his fate. Seriously, reporters are asking each other, "You heard anything? You heard anything?"

Well...looks like we'll soon have our very first African-American, blind Governor!

Say hello to my leetle fren'

2008-02-15T21:52:00.010-05:00

I'm just sayin'.

What'd I do without her before?

It's also my first foray into Laptop Land.

I know; desktops begone!

*sigh* She's awesome.

Post Script - in finding this image for this post, I was amused to learn that I know the person in the green striped shirt pictured on the screen. Small world.

Remember when Matthew Fox was on SNL...

2008-02-03T01:29:00.000-05:00

...and there was that skit about him being in an elevator and everyone who got in the elevator recognized him and started speculating about all things Lost? Well, I was watching my taped season premiere of Season 4 of Lost tonight (and forgot to tape Eli Stone...argh!) when I remembered that several weeks ago I was riding the elevator on the way to my bank, when I realized I was sharing it with...Michael Emerson.

And the doors closed.

And we rode.

Just the two of us.

And I stood silently and innocently by, wondering if I should say anything like, "I'm a big fan," (sigh) "Hey, we have a couple people in common," (really?) or, "I love your work." (yeesh) Instead, I stared at the numbers on the elevator change as we rode up, all the while thinking, "BEN! OH MY GOD, YOU'RE BEN! BEN FROM THE ISLAND! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN NEW YORK CITY; AREN'T YOU AT LEAST SUPPOSED TO BE IN HAWAII OR EVEN BETTER SOME FARAWAY PLACE THAT DOESN'T EXIST ON A MAP?!!!"

And then something really exciting happened next!!!!

Not really.

I filled out a deposit slip and put some money into my checking account, and he did some kind of transaction concerning probably, oh, money or something. And when that was finished, I went about my merry way, while BEN WENT BACK TO THE ISLAND TO DESTROY SOME PEOPLE.

I mean, Mr. Emerson went home or...somewhere.

Victory is a pantsuit

2008-01-30T22:37:00.000-05:00

I had a very easy gig on a soap opera today.
I didn't have to memorize anything.
As the "stenographer," I just watched people argue.
But I had my own dressing room where I could
Nap
Eat
Read
Wish I owned a laptop.
I met nice people
And got fussed over.

The best part was the wardrobe guy,
Who literally said,
"Okay. I'll pull some stuff from wardrobe for you.
What are you, a size zero?"

Stop. Zoom. Reverse.
Slow motion playback.
What...are...you...a...size...zero...?

I stammer and look away.
"Oh, no. A two or a four."
He sizes me up, this man who works
With size-zero actresses for a living.

"Hm, I think you're a zero."
He leaves the room.

I gloat.
Really? He does?
He's wrong, but he does?
Oh, happy day!

He puts me in a to-die-for forest green
Theory pantsuit, size two.
We both gush.
We agree I should own one.
"The pants are perfect," he oozes.

I go on my merry way
Feeling like a supermodel.
It doesn't matter that I'm freezing all day,
Bored, and sleepy.

All that matters is that six months ago,
I was a size eight.

I am victorious in a size-two pantsuit!!!

P.S. I've come a long way from a year ago.

Inside you the whole time, Dorothy

2008-01-27T20:33:00.000-05:00

"Instead of waiting for life to happen, I will invite life in by honoring and respecting myself."

I wrote that.
I wrote that so I could meditate on it sometimes.
Once, maybe twice a day, depending on how much reminding I need.

In July 2006 I joined my gym.
The atrium swimming pool was what sold me.
I wanted to "re-learn" how to swim.
I learned as a kid, then never kept it up.
Took an Adult Beginner class.
Loved it.
Great teacher (a kid, practically!).
Improved me immediately.
Outgrew it.
The next year, she gently kicked me out.
Said she taught an Intermediate class.
Saturdays, 9 AM.
Quickly found seven reasons not to go.
(All seven: I will be sleeping.)
Someone else taught another Intermediate class.
A more convenient weekday evening.
I went to that.
Nice guy (another kid!), but different.
A "go, go, go!" kinda guy.
A little over my head, but I'd forge on
Despite a little dread.
(And by a little, I mean a lot.)
Finally, after yet another class
Of cramping muscles and unfinished laps,
I decided to check out the other class,
Back to my former instructor
And hopefully my sanity.
(And, truth be told, enjoyment.)

Cut to:
8 AM Saturday morning.
Me, in bed.
Saying to me, "You're not really going to do this, are you?"
And me saying back to me, "Come on. Just do it.
Life is short. Look at Heath Ledger."
"Oh, playing the death card, eh?"
"Damn right," I said to me.

So I did it.
I ate a piece of toast
And went to the gym.
Which is not in my neighborhood.
At 9 AM.
On a Saturday.
And LOVED the class.
"No pressure," my favorite instructor said.
"Let me know if anything's too much."
Now, that's more like it!

I felt so empowered, so productive,
That the rest of my day was just as great.
You really can accomplish so much before noon!
What a concept.
I was so inspired, that I set the alarm today, too.
Sunday. My day off.
Just so I could get going earlier.

Not waiting for life to happen!
I think '08 is gonna be awesome. :o)

Better 'n Fleet Week

2008-01-15T00:30:00.000-05:00

I now hereby declare the just-past week, January 7th through the 14th, Rugelach Week in my household (my household consisting of me, and my cat - who doesn't eat rugelach).

It all began at my office's Christmas party all the way back on December 21st, exactly 24 days ago. My dear friend Michael was visiting from L.A. and was staying with me. I brought him to the party, which as usual was catered by a nearby Italian restaurant and the wine was a-flowin'. The dessert table had a three-layered chocolate cake, a cheesecake, various cookies, and what seemed like a VAT o' rugelach. For those of you who don't live in New York and may know what rugelach is, it's a Jewish pastry, like a cookie - a flaky, buttery dough wrapped around a filling, like a berry jam or chocolate. Mmmm, chocolate. So anyway, I enjoyed a lovely meal and caught up with my pal, and I didn't touch the dessert table save for one bite of chocolate cake.

Then my boss broke out the Tupperware, specifically so people can take food home. I love this part. I spooned helpings of meatballs and lasagna into Tupperware, as well as breaded chicken and lemon chicken. Future meals for days! Then I wandered over to the dessert table and noticed that the rugelach had nary been touched. So, I impulsively filled an entire container only of rugelach. I tried not to. I mean, I am eating much more healthily these days and these little buggers ain't low in calories. But I couldn't help it! They were so lonely!

Well, I ended up not even touching them before leaving town for the holidays on the 24th. I instructed Michael to eat them, eat them all. For god's sake, man, eat the things. I flew cross country and promptly forgot all about them.

I returned on the 2nd of January to an empty apartment and...the entire Tupperware of rugelach still sitting there, staring at me. Michael didn't eat one, not one! How dare he leave them all! Well, I'll bet they're stale now, I thought, but I didn't even bother to find out. There they sat on my kitchen table for several more days.

Until I couldn't take it anymore. A few days ago I finally just had to make sure they were not fresh anymore. I mean, all this time, just sittin' in room temperature! I took out a chocolate one and bit into it haphazardly, expecting that stale taste. And...none. No stale taste. Oh my god that was good. I finished it off before I could think about it.

Next thing I knew I quickly brewed a cup of coffee and had two more. It was then I decided that I would end each night with a cup of coffee and three pieces of rugelach until the entire Tupperware was empty. I'd have two berry for every one chocolate, and have the chocolate last (because for some reason I brought home more berry than chocolate. What? Why?). I had it down to a science. One sip of coffee, one bite of rugelach. Two sips of coffee. Savor. Repeat. One sip, one bite, two sips, savor. This is the LIFE, buddy! Tonight, my last three rugelach have seen the light of day. It feels like the equivalent of coming home from another vacation.

Rugelach Week. Best idea I've had all fricking week. And thank god it's over.

I'm so close

2008-01-12T18:36:00.001-05:00

I'm so close
To letting you go
All I have to do
Is open my hand.

I've been close
For a couple days
After seeing you
And realizing
You were all talk,
Plus a dangling carrot.

And I was okay with it,
With letting you go,
Until I didn't trust myself
Again.
And like an addict,
I gave you a call.

It was really for me.
So I could have a self-dialogue
That went like this:
"See? You don't feel better, do you?"
"Oh. No."
"You're barking up the wrong tree."
"I need to let go, then."
"Just open your hand."

So tonight, I'm going to treat myself
To something nice
(I don't know what yet)
And let myself know
That I can do things
For my own good
Instead of cause myself pain.

Then...
I will open my hand.

I'm back!

2008-01-03T20:56:00.000-05:00

I'm back.

Back and tired.
Back and nostalgic.
Back and observant.
Back and anxious.
Back and contemplative.
Back and frustrated.
Back and excited.
Back and apprehensive.
Back and in limbo.
Back and ready for an upgrade.
Back and plugged in.
Back and hiding out.

As always.
I'm just back.

Reflections

2007-12-23T18:41:00.000-05:00

Apparently I have some leisurely time to do this, to reflect.

In the middle of packing, wrapping presents, eating, making out with my cat (okay, this I do not do, but if he let me I would consider it), pacing the apartment and talking to myself, I have time before getting up at the crack of ass tomorrow to begin my long travel day to California. (Of course "long travel day" is a phrase that messes with me once I land in said state on the other side of the country and it's, like, noon. Time machines DO exist, everyone, and they are airplanes!!! But I digress.)

Christmas in Times Square.

I know. I even wrote about it last year. Yet, I am always surprised - the definition of insanity. (Something about doing the same thing expecting the same result that never transpires...) Every other holiday on the calendar year, New York City blissfully empties out. Thanksgiving? Everyone's somewhere else! Memorial Day? You may as well throw a boomerang in the middle of {pick a neighborhood} and it'll come back to you without hitting a darn soul! Labor Day? Where is everybody? Echo? Echo...echo...echo...

But Christmas. Yowza. That's the holiday everyone wants to be here. And my last-minute shopping spree becomes a competition for who gets to walk on the sidewalk while the entire group from Ohio or somewhere saunters looking up and stops to take pictures right in front of me. I met my friend and his mother in the Virgin Megastore in Times Square today and the music was so loud in there that we couldn't hear each other. Is that some sort of marketing tactic? Well, that and $10 DVDs.

Even better than out-of-towners in Times Square celebrating the Christmas holiday is carrying a leaking container of homemade mulled wine threatening to rip open the paper bag I stashed it in, as well as carting around some too-expensive cat food and an umbrella for the rain. There's nothing like shopping with literally millions of people in the rain. Being home now feels like hiding. Let them all count to 100; I ain't comin' out.

And one more thing. I absolutely detest getting my day started while it's still dark out. Argh. It's the worst! Dragging my suitcase along the city streets in what will feel like the middle of the night will not my idea of fun tomorrow. But do it I must. That's what you get when you buy a cheaper airline ticket.

Anyway, time to go. Gotta continue talking to myself, pacing, wrapping presents, and telling my cat to chill out and take a nap. Wait a minute, that's all he does.

Happy holidays!

Unrequited

2007-12-19T01:55:00.000-05:00

The year ends and here I am
An accomplished super being
With newfound strength and self-esteem
And confidence in my future.
But my Wonder Woman
Came across you,
All puppy-dog eyes
And adoring disposition.
Simply irresistable.

And now you're off
To joyously live your life
As I lay in your wake
High on my own anxiety,
Basking in your affection,
Crashing in its absence.

One day, suddenly, it hit me.
I couldn't not think of you.
I couldn't not want you
To love me.
Whatever that means.
I can't even look at you,
Because my heart's desire
Is to see myself reflected
In your happy face.
Am I the only one
Who pines thusly?
I suspect not.
Which makes it worse.

I try to be patient with myself.
(No luck there.)
In the meantime...
(Yes!)
I'm crazy about you.
You brought it about
And now I suffer.
Hopefully one day
I'll get it together
And separate fantasy
From what really is.
Will you be there when I do?
No.
Probably not.

Maybe I'll tell you this one day.
Maybe never.

Just did it

2007-12-07T13:07:00.000-05:00

To my own amazement and pride, I've lost over 20 pounds in 16 weeks.
I'm 5'1", so I look and feel very different.
My friend Susan says I even walk differently.
I don't compare myself to the 20-something dancers in the dressing room.
I have to buy new pants and take things in.
I feel sexy.

Here's to change.

Things I'm thankful for

2007-11-21T00:24:00.000-05:00

* My family.
Sure, that sounds like an easy one. But my brother and his girlfriend are flying 3,000 miles for ONE NIGHT to see me in a show next week, and then my mother is doing the same (except she's staying two whole nights) the week after that. That makes them REALLY cool and awesome, and only one example of why I am very thankful for them. We should all be lucky to be so loved.

* Weight Watchers.
I haven't written much about this journey, but I lost 17.8 pounds in 14 weeks. I feel like a million bucks. I feel like Kae from The Biggest Loser. And we're both petite and Asian, so I can really say that and mean it. (Go, Kae!!!) I don't have much more to go, but I've learned valuable lessons not just about the world of health and fitness, but about fully engaging in bringing about change in my life, and what giving and receiving constant support and encouragement really means.

* Friends.
Like my friend Cindy who told me that I was invited to Thanksgiving for the rest of my life (her words). Like Elaina, who said she'd be happy to be my "emergency contact" whenever I needed one. Like my next-door neighbors Rachel and Ben who feed my cat whenever I am gone for more than a couple days. My friends are my quality of life.

* Chilled-out holidays.
I love traveling to see loved ones for the holidays. But I absolutely adore staying in the big city as it empties out, sleeping in, and doing absolutely nothing as well. Ah, sweet, sweet, nothing, with nobody 'cept me and my cat.

* My cat.
I talk about Oscar all the time, and it's well deserved. He's laid back, sweet, low maintenance, and patient. For instance, he lets me sleep in no matter how antsy he is, ready to run around and scratch. He'll wait. Once I stir, he feels free to make noise. So considerate! I also love when he talks to me. So much to say! Too bad Mama doesn't understand most of the time. Even when he looks me dead in the eyes and repeats himself. We still get along.

* My dance shoes.
I am far from being a dancer-dancer (and, working with about eight real dancers right now, I know the difference, believe me). But whenever I have to wear, handle, or even look at my jazz shoes, tap shoes, or even plain old character shoes, it's like I'm six again watching Gene Kelly or Shirley Temple movies in awe, singing along, and having a whole, untapped life ahead. I feel frivolous and playful and in touch with the me that is pure joy.

* The people I pay to help me.
Thank you my therapist, career coach, audition coach, swim instructor, and every other instructor and teacher I have the privilege of learning from. Without you I would not be challenged, and therefore would stagnate. You help me grow.

* Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches.
I'm lookin' at you, Mint and Strawberry Shortcake! Without you, the end of every evening would be much less sweet and satisfying.

Thanksgiving 2007!
Have a lovely one!

A post I could've written, but didn't

2007-11-18T14:45:00.000-05:00

My friend Ed inadvertantly sat next to the actor Mark Ruffalo in a theater; what ensued was not quite hilarity, but entertainingly recounted. It's the sort of story I like to blog about, so I thought it fit in nicely with the tone of my blog. Enjoy.

Ed Lin Vs Mark Ruffalo

Ten years in three hours

2007-11-17T18:43:00.000-05:00

I just checked out my IMDb page.
Apparently one day next week,
An episode of Law & Order
That I did in 1997
Is showing at 3 PM
On a cable channel.

At 6 PM,
An episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Will play on another cable channel.
I'm in that too,
Filmed in 2007.

Nurse then.
Nurse now.

Trippy.

Candle, both ends

2007-11-09T19:02:00.000-05:00

Wow, it's November. Two years ago this month I started this blog. Can't believe it! Today, Friday, is almost the end of the first week of rehearsals for the musical I'm doing with my theater company. (This picture is of our actual flyer.) It's our debut production and it's a monster of an undertaking. It's extremely ambitious. The book and lyrics are written by a recent Tony-winner; this is her next musical and we're just a teeny-tiny baby company producing it off-off Broadway. But she's happy to let us do it, and we're thrilled to have it. But now we actually have to get it on its feet and OH MY GOD I'm dead tonight. I'd been basically working two jobs because I've been working the office job at the same time. Tonight I decided to ditch the office and crawl to bed instead. Everyone seemed to hit a wall tonight. The first week is a lot of learning. Music, complicated harmonies, not-at-all-easy choreography. Our choreographer is off the HOOK. He is a rock star. We are lucky to have him before he starts playing with the really big boys. The dancer-dancers we have are incredible. Everyone involved with this is top-notch. It's very impressive, intimidating, challenging and inspiring at the same time. But it got to the point tonight where I was told I'd have to learn eight more notes of song (not eight songs, not eight measures, but notes), and I was like, "Oh, please no. No more. No more music, no more dance. I'm done. It's bad enough I have to retain what you've already given me." Five nights of midnight-to-2 AM reviewing music has caught up with me and I am exhausted.

Of course the beauty of all this complaining and worrying is that everything will naturally fall into place over the month. You surprise yourself at what you've absorbed, and when elements come together it gets very exciting and then you feel empowered until it builds to the point where you're begging for an audience to share it with.

But until that time comes, I'll be in the fetal position reading Vanity Fair with a tea by my side dreaming of dance moves and humming.

Courtesy = enjoyment.

2007-10-31T17:03:00.000-04:00

So I saw a Broadway play last night and stood outside the stage door to say hello to an acquaintance of mine who was in the show, who I'll call Henry. I was on my cell phone making tentative plans with someone when Henry strode out of the door with a huge bouquet of flowers and was also on the phone. We caught each other's eyes and stood there with each other but talked on the phone for a good two more minutes, and then ended our conversations right at the same time. We hung up our phones, I said, "Who are we?" and we laughed and I hugged and congratulated him. We ducked away under the marquee of the theater next door to discuss what I thought about the show. He was about to meet a friend and we began walking away from the theater to meet said friend, who we did bump into on the street. Henry introduced me to, I'll call him Ben, who just got out of work himself, the blockbuster Broadway musical a few blocks away. Henry explained to Ben that we met a few weeks ago when we played husband and wife in a reading of a very good and intriguing play that is still early in development. After a few minutes on the street corner, Ben and Henry were clearly about to go have a drink. Now, not knowing Henry well in the least, it would have been easy to separate right then and let these friends have some alone time. But when Henry solidly asked, "Won't you join us?" it was most easy to say yes.

That simple invitation really stood out to me. Keep in mind that Henry is married and there was no flirting, or even mixed signals regarding anything resembling flirting, going on. This is part of the wider point that I'm eventually coming to. So, I really liked that Henry's question, "Won't you join us?" really made me feel invited, not as a tag-along, but as a third party member. It wasn't, "Would you like to come," or "You're welcome to join us," or anything that would give me any room to wonder if they'd hope I'd decline. Then at the bar, when I chose a chair on the end of the bar, Henry said, "Oh, why don't you sit between us?" which I also appreciated. The conversation was lively and enjoyable. Henry insisted on paying for my beer. Then another friend of his, um, Ewan, who looked homeless but was, of course, just coming from his own Broadway play (and who rolled his eyes at the looming opening-night festivities he'd be having to seemingly endure in a couple days), arrived in time for himself, Henry, and I to split a cab uptown.

In the cab Ewan told a dramatically lively story about how he unwittingly saved his neighbor's dog from an elevator incident gone wrong. More laughter and feeling comfortable ensued. After paying them for my cab ride and ending my evening, I couldn't help but wonder (oh my god, I'm channeling Carrie Bradshaw): do men finally understand how to treat women better as they get older? Again, I wasn't on a date, there was no uncomfortable "who's your little girl friend" vibe from anyone, and yet I felt taken care of, which is rare. I hope this gives me something to look forward to, generally. Hanging out with Broadway stars, oh, sure. But more importantly, being treated with courtesy and respect by heterosexual members of the opposite sex with no ulterior motives. Or at least no blatant ulterior motives, which to me, is the same thing: courteous.

Only in New York

2007-10-11T13:25:00.000-04:00

So busy lately! A girl's gotta make rent, so I've been spending a lot of time at the office across the street from the church whose bells play "There's No Business Like Show Business" every day a half-hour before curtain. Now, that's just unnecessary. Do the tourists even notice?!

A couple weeks ago I was in the West Village when I noticed a popular '80s actor sitting in front of a cafe on a beautiful morning reading a paper. We'll call him James Spader. Except he's not James Spader. "Hm," I thought. "He must live around here." That same day hours later, I spotted the same guy with a stroller walking in a whole other neighborhood and I thought, "Hm, he must live...here?" It was so coincidental that I told friends about having a Not James Spader sighting twice in one day in two different neighborhoods.

Well, imagine my surprise when at the last-minute before my spinning class a few days later, NJS himself entered the room and got on a bike practically next to me. That's when I knew he was stalking me. Okay, not really. Anyway, for the next 45 minutes I had to smile to myself thinking about 1985 when I dared to go out with some girlfriends from high school I didn't know very well, and we were hanging out with a boy who, in my estimation, looked like Not James Spader, and I swooned all night. It was worth the "danger" of not really knowing these people and riding in strange cars, because Mr. Older Driver so looked like Not James Spader. Maybe one day I'll actually strike up a conversation with NJS. Maybe we'll exchange recipes or talk about things NYC locals do. Or not.

I've been watching a lot of theater lately and last night had the pleasure of seeing a show by the Manhattan Theater Club playing on Broadway called Mauritius. I knew nothing about it going in except that the five-person cast had the potential of being quite powerhouse: F. Murray Abraham, Bobby Cannavale, Dylan Baker, Alison Pill, and Katie Finnernan. It was a delicious theatrical evening. Well paced, well acted, and crazy suspenseful, with a great set that wasn't unnecessarily showy, yet was impressively functional. Theater CAN be like this!!!! I remember loving Shining City a while back in the same theater by the same company. This probably means that I should pay attention and try to see their whole season, because maybe our tastes are compatible.

On my way to work today, some firemen and policemen were trying to talk down an extremely agitated naked dude out in the open on Seventh Ave. in the heart of Times Square. He was sitting on a chair on the street and would sometimes yell and get up, the cop would talk him down, and he'd sit again. Buck naked. Onlookers were really amused by this.

Visit New York! Never a dull moment.

***Update! Naked Dude made the news, and this picture is what I saw live and in person! Ah, Times Square...***

Not so jaded that I can't swoon

2007-09-29T00:44:00.000-04:00

My friend Cindy and I decided to have a girls' night out and see the off-Broadway smash Altar Boyz. The show has been around in various incarnations since 2004 but I'd never seen it. All I knew about it is that it parodies the late '90s-early '00s boy-band craze. So, when discount tickets were recently made available, Cindy and I thought that we'd enjoy a laugh and maybe partake in some innocent swooning (okay, that was my hope, anyway). It would be purely for kicks, as fans of theater and comedy. It wouldn't be for the usual reasons we go to shows: to support someone we know involved in the production, or to see a work-in-progress or something new, or for research.

However, our being in the business did make me skeptical at how swept away I'd get. We got to the theater and the house was only a little more than half full. We were in a row right next to two other ladies but it was clear that there was room for all four of us to scooch over to better aisle seats once the show began (kinda like that excitement you get on an airplane when you think you'll score with an empty seat next to you).

Sure enough, an announcer promised us that the Altar Boyz were about to get all up in our "bizness," a staffer proceeded to fog up the stage with a fog machine, and we were already giggling before the first song started. Cindy and I moved to the row in front of us on the aisle and the women next to us moved in behind us.

So okay, the show was a laugh riot. The characters were very earnest and Cindy and I had our favorite performer who we kept pointing to with every breath and tic the guy made. He also had the best song of the evening. The most fun part for me, however, was when the designated hunkola of the group began to sing his ballad about abstaining from sex while at summer camp or some such scenario; and without my seeing it coming, he smoothed his way into the audience and pulled me onto the stage. Oh, no, I was about to be serenaded very publicly, oh, yes! I looked back at Cindy only because I felt that that was what I "should" do; a faux cry for help. It was actually very easy for me to walk onto the stage, even though I had nothing to do with this show and had no idea what possible humiliations were up their sleeves. Cindy told me later that the ladies behind us were losing their minds. "Too bad you don't have a camera! Oh my god, you must be so excited for her! Wow, she seems so comfortable up there!" Cindy thought to say something about me having been on stage before but decided against it.

Meanwhile, I was sitting on a stool on stage happily staring into hunkola's eyes two inches from his face while he continued to sing right to me. I appreciated that he smelled very nice, because he was a big ol' sweat machine. I tried to sneak peeks to other parts of the stage to take the whole thing in ("I'm an Altar Boy!"), but Hunky would turn my head back to his crooning eyes, while he sang about the sad fate of our relationship. It was funny. I was having a great time. The only bummer was that I was wearing a frumpy sweater over a nice shirt, because I was cold. I was like, "I wish I had taken my sweater off first. Can't you warn a sistah before you pull her up on stage?"

The song ended, we applauded, and one of the cast members took a picture of me and Hunky (with the other guys in the background) before shooing me back to my seat as he handed me a little ticket that said that I could pick up the picture in the lobby after the show. In a grand moment of lucidity, I held up the peace sign in the picture.

Afterward, by the bathroom, audience members recognized me as the girl they brought up on stage. Even a band member said hello to me. It was hilarious. I picked up the picture thinking it would be just okay to not good, but it was great! Suddenly I was ecstatic to have this souvenir of having been sung to by Hunky himself. It happily sits where I can see it every single day, near my computer.

I got to laugh.
I got to swoon!

Mission accomplished.
A tourist in my own city.

This means war

2007-09-16T18:09:00.000-04:00

I'd had flies in my apartment for the last few weeks, but it never really bothered me because it was summer. I wondered, since I have screens on my windows, where they came from, but I thought it was normal. Yesterday, however, I came home to find way too many of them in my bathroom and kitchen. Baby flies, not fruit flies, but smaller-than-normal house flies, and it was more disconcerting when they just hung out on a wall or on my shower curtain like they were sleeping. Infestation. Gross.

The first thing I did was wash all my dishes. I tend to let them pile up, which can't help the situation. Then I went online to see what I could do. The internet was full of homemade and creative ideas. Cut to this evening. Two citronella candles, a sticky fly-strip, two clear sandwich bags filled halfway with water with a penny in them hanging over doorways and a bottle of Windex later, I've become a crazy person standing in the middle of my kitchen spraying random flies with Windex and reveling in their demise. All this Windex in the air and floor can't be good for my cat, I think, but am I in my right mind? Pray tell, no. I am not.

There is less of them because I am killing them. But they better be all gone soon. I have seen the enemy and I will not rest until I have hunted them all down.

I am from...

2007-09-10T22:11:00.001-04:00

I am from the city: cinder blocks and cement and a tree here and there, with supermarkets that have dark corners, and old people in a hospital that Clara's mother works at. When my dad died, I was walking by that old-folks hospital when Clara told me that someone told her that I was very young to have a parent die. I felt defensive, mature, as we tend to do as kids. I am from a tropical land in Asia that doesn't ever seem to get out of a life of corruption. Actors and presidents and little barefoot girls holding one-year-old boys on their nonexistent hips as they beg foreigners for money. I am one of those foreigners. I am of the Motherland but not from there. "New York," I sigh when cab drivers ask me where I'm from. They're all of somewhere else and from somewhere else. I am from an Irish-American great-great grandfather who has the same name as an actor, I just realized today. Am I related to this random Caucasion Hollywood actor who used to be married to Teri Hatcher? I am from the Golden Gate Bridge. And like the Golden Gate Brige, sometimes I am out there: red and fiery and vast and expansive. Other days, you can be right on top of me and I'm hidden in the dense fog. It is also cold on the Golden Gate, any time of year. I am from neighborhoods that always play salsa music. Whether in New Jersey or New York, my neighbors speak Spanish and listen to Spanish radio. They think I'm Spanish more often than not. My Korean friend was jealous that for an Asian person I don't really get random "ching-chongs" from ignorant people out to amuse themselves. I am from the womb of a woman so unlike me and like me it can only be a mother/daughter phenomenon. I wonder if she is upset that I don't call her as often as I used to. I'm just getting to know me, which is affecting how I interact with her. I hope I will come around. Besides, I turned out pretty well, and my brother did, too. Single parenthood can't be easy - understatement of the year. I am from energy, particles of matter joined together to form this brain.

{the picture is of a train track under the Bowne St. overpass in my hometown in Queens, NY}

Back again

2007-09-09T23:36:00.000-04:00

The TV gig I did months ago
Called my agent
"Is she around?
Would she play another nurse?"
I guess I'm a go-to nurse.
I'll take it.

Donned in colorful, cheery scrubs
Much like the ones modeled here
(And no, that's not me,
Although it could be back in '95)
Someone put my hair in
A loose French braid
And I went to work
Walking around the halls
Of a real hospital.
I'll bet some people thought
I was the real McCoy.

My objective that day,
More than making sure
I didn't mess up my few lines,
Was to not stuff my face
With every food offered me
On the craft services table
And the awesomely catered meals.
I succeeded.
I am shrinking!
Even my scrubs pants were loose.
(The costume department has
My old measurements.)

I became buddies
With my scene partner
A 19-year-old showbiz veteran
Who was polite and friendly.
We were "honey wagon" neighbors.

One of the actors
Was a blustery crumudgeon
Who played at being a blowhard
As if the "playing at" would disguise
The fact that he really is a blowhard.
It didn't.
He also "played at" flirting with me.
"Nurse, what are you doing later?"
"Nurse, let me give you my number."
Ha ha, ha ha. We're being jovial.
But really, why are you so impatient?
We'd probably do better work
If you stopped making it all about you.
I know you do this every day.
But still.

I wasn't freaked out this time
That, unlike theater,
Scenes between people on film
Are so...quiet!
Even when I'm in the fricking scene
I can't hear the other person!
But we're mic'd
And it reads fine on screen.
I knew that this time
And fit right in.
No "You're doing too much" this time.
I've learned.
Different skill, different medium.

Exhausting day.
Much energy spent in making sure
You don't fuck up.
Everyone else can joke around
And relax.
But you can't.
You're a guest.
And you want to be a good guest.
So that maybe they'll invite you back.

My role was smaller
And my day was shorter
But the pay was better.
Nice work if you can get it.

:)

The Da Vinci Code

2007-09-02T18:12:00.000-04:00

Three-fourths into the movie I hoped to god the two main characters were not going to hook up romantically, as they ended up doing in the book, because the actors/characters on screen had zero romantic chemistry. Lo and behold, they did not! Hollywood didn't go all happily-ever-after on me this time. Yay.

I always romanticize San Francisco

2007-08-31T12:28:00.001-04:00

I began fantasizing about visiting San Francisco when I got an appointment for an audition that would take me to California. My family is there and I began my usual daydreams. Oh, the things that I would do there! I would:

- stroll along the hills near Mount Davidson and sit and journal and think and be nostalgic.
- listen to jazz somewhere in Little Italy, ingesting a cappuccino and cannoli.
- tag along with my family to do suburban errands, like drive to Target, or eat at Red Lobster or Fresh Choice.
- say hello to every stranger in the city who says hello to me, which is everyone.
- take the MUNI to visit my brother at his office downtown
- breakfast at my fave crepe place that to me is so San Fran I just want to bring a laptop and write a book about being San Franciscan as I sit there
- eat Mexican food until I pass out.

The best part is, then I get to San Francisco, and here's always what happens:

- hills? Why would I want to walk the hills when someone can drive me? Eh, it's not worth going up that mountain just to sit. What's the point?
- uh, is there even jazz in Little Italy? Well, there IS one thing, nowhere to park. Forget it.
- why are we going to suburban restaurants when we have the whole city at our fingertips? Let's just get takeout.
- Hello? Who are you? Do I know you? *sigh* At least in New York we're authentically snarky.
- how much is the train again? Is there no way you can drive me downtown? Argh, what a pain in the ass.
- oh, yeah. What makes something "typically" San Franciscan in my experience means it reminds me of high school. And this huge latte in a beer glass reminds me of high school. Let me eat my eggs and go.
- I'll just have a very small burrito, please. No cheese, no guac, no sour cream. I'm trying to lose weight.

Fantasy vs. Reality.

Always a disappointment!!! :)

"My story"

2007-08-25T21:02:00.000-04:00

Hi, my name is: Eileen

But you can call me: Eileen, although I have many nicknames.

Never in my life have I: died

The one person who can drive me nuts is: I plead the Fif

My high school is/was: I went to two - St. Agnes Academic and School of the Arts

When I’m nervous: I yawn or cough, it's a gag-reflex thing. Don't know why.

The last song I listened to was: Since losing my iPod I haven't been listening to anything on purpose. On my way to the subway tonight, two or more girls were singing part of the musical Rent in unison, and not just an excerpt. It was all I could do not to turn around and glare at them.

If I were to get married right now it would be to: someone considerate, encouraging, supportive, and great in the sack. :)

My hair is: getting longer.

When I was 4: my mom took a picture of me with a cardboard hat on, sitting on the table next to an ice cream cake with a "4" candle on it, in our one-bedroom apartment.

Last Christmas: I went to my friend's in-laws' house near Philly.

I should be: doin' absolutely nothin'! It's the weekend, baby!

When I look down I see: my shrinking waistline!

The happiest recent event was: booking a TV gig without an audition.

If I were a character on ‘Friends’ I'd be: rich from the residuals. Okay...Ross.

By this time next year: I'll be exclaiming, "Really? A year went by already?" just like I'm doing this year about last year.

My current gripe is: I ditched the gym today for no reason.

I have a hard time understanding: why mankind isn't more spiritually advanced than it is.

If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be: my brother Nick. Or my friend Michael. They'd be the first two, in any order.

I want to buy: world peace. Oh, okay...a plane or train ticket to a weekend beach getaway!

I plan to visit next: the gym tomorrow to make up for tonight's slacking.

If you spent the night at my house: you'd leave with a few hairs on your pants - my cat's and my own.

The world could do without: war

Most recent thing I’ve bought myself: groceries

Most recent thing someone else bought me: my friends treated me to dinner the other night. Then we got into a car accident. Good times.

My middle name is: Lavinia

In the morning I: build in snooze time of 30 to 45 minutes.

Last night I was: laughing with Rodney, eating healthily, and finishing Anderson Cooper's book.

There’s this guy I know who: is interested in a friend of mine. But he's feeling too vulnerable to contact him.

If I was an animal I’d be a: a house cat, no doubt about it.

A better name for me would be: I love the name Jacqueline. But I'm fine with mine.

Tomorrow I am: going to finally finish my Extras DVD (which is not as good as The Office).

Tonight I am: looking forward to reading more of The Lovely Bones.

My birthday is: March 7th

Garrett's

2007-08-24T01:24:00.000-04:00

Walking in Manhattan
I pass a new store
And I slow down in shock and awe
And I pull out my cell phone
And frantically look at where I am
What street is this?
What street is this?!
As I call my friend Anika.

Anika and I worked together last year
Traveling the country.
Little overnight trips here and there.
One night, Chicago.
On the mundane trip to the Navy Pier
Where we were to hang out and rehearse,
Anika said casually, "We should get some
Garrett's Popcorn."

"What's Garrett's Popcorn?"
I asked innocently.
And her eyes widened,
And she couldn't speak,
And from then on she was on a mission.

"You've never had Garrett's?
How much time do we have?
An hour?
Let's grab a cab and tell him to
Take us to the nearest one.
Now."

Uh, okay.

We tell our colleagues we'll
Be right back.
We find a cab
And tell him our plan.
He doesn't know one off hand
But drives around.
We spot one.
There!
There!

He drops us off
But we ask him to hang out
To take us back.
He's happy to.

There's a long line at Garrett's,
As usual.
Drama ensues as the cabby
Gets a ticket for standing.
Anika apologizes profusely,
Paying him extra for the ticket.
He leaves.

We finally get our popcorn.
The caramel and cheese mix.
This is KEY, people.
I stick my hand into the greasy bag.
"Make sure to have both at once,"
I'm instructed.
We walk the streets of Chicago
Moaning and licking our fingers,
Trying not to finish the whole thing
Late for our rehearsal,
Planning to tell them
We surprised them with popcorn.
That is, if we don't eat it all first.
I never forgot it.

Cut to today, more than a year later.
Fifth Ave. and Forty-sixth Street,
The familiar blue logo,
The Garrett's tin.
Oh, my goodness.
Here in Manhattan!
I call Anika in awe and wonder.

She says this news is both
Exhilerating and horrifying.
We're both glad it's far
From where we live and work
Or we'd be going every day.

Then I look up their website
And learn a horrible fact:
There's a more convenient,
Second location
Close to where we live and work.
*sigh*

Yes. I'm getting some this weekend.

Lessons

2007-08-23T23:22:00.000-04:00

My friends bought me dinner
Which was generous enough.
They then offered me a ride home.
Having a car in the city is rare,
Yet here they were, parked down the street.
My home is out of the way for them,
But they insisted.
So off we went, laughing,
Discussing this or that,
When at the intersection
As we continued going straight,
The car to our left decided to make a right
And did so, right onto our car.
(no, they weren't allowed to.)

Scary.
No one was hurt.
The damage was minimal.
The driver said, "My bad."
Info was about to be exchanged
But my other friend said
That she'd feel better reporting the accident.

The driver and his friend
(recent high school graduates)
Really just wanted to leave,
Nay, even give my friends
Wads of cash
And pretend it never happened.
Which made my friend more insistent.

Of course, it took awhile.
We were somewhat jovial with each other
But under our breaths my friend and I
Whispered our blatant judgements:
These are spoiled rich kids.
Like, arrogant, rich, and young.
The kind that would assume they could turn right
When they couldn't.

It never got heated
But when the cops came
And the kid driver
(whose fault it was!)
Gave my friends one last
Bitter spoonful of attitude,
They had had enough.
My friend gave him a piece of her mind.
"You need to learn a lesson!"

And when the kids drove off,
My friends seethed.

Safe at home
(without a drink...?!)
I wonder what my own
Lesson is here, having been a witness
And not a principal player.

Then it dawned on me.
Argh! That knot behind my shoulder!
The one that told me I'd been angry!
In these kids I saw you,
Someone who seems to want to
Weasel your way out of
The uncomfortable reality
Of facing your bad behavior.

And I see you in a different light.

Haiku corner: Making lemonade

2007-08-21T14:19:00.000-04:00

Raining cats and dogs
Wear my jacket with lining
Canceled photo shoot.

Weight Watchers meeting
Doing really well thus far!
One day at a time.

Shivering at home
Want to just curl up in bed
Do nothing at all.

Time to go and swim
Nervous to try a new class
My teacher's so proud!

Didn't work a lot
Not much income from today
Oh well, c'est la vie.

Made another fish
I have a new favorite
Will make it again.

Because of the swim
I can eat an ice cream bar
I'm doing so well.

Anderson Cooper,
The book is quite compelling.
More than I'd have thought.

Take it day by day
It's the best way to live life
Discipline, hindsight.

Barreled through today,
Proud of my accomplishments.
Start tomorrow fresh.

Perfect Sunday

2007-08-19T20:55:00.000-04:00

This is not the first time I've expressed just how much I value my day off.
Nor will it be my last.
But oh, how today has been perfect - a perfect Sunday.
First, lolling around in bed, awake and not awake from 9 AM to 11:40 AM,
My trusted kitty next to me, sleeping hard.
He's sleeping much more deeply than I am.
Upon finally arising, I notice the day is gray.
It is overcast - another reason to do nothing.
Not that I need a reason.
I waddle around the apartment, sore.
I make sure to strength-train on Saturdays
So that I wake up sore the next day,
A day of rest.

It's after noon when I make breakfast and think about what to do.
In the meantime, Dog the Bounty Hunter beckons.
It's a marathon.
Ah, jeez.
Guess I'm not goin' anywhere anytime soon.
Love that frickin' show.
Online, I get my weekly PostSecret fix.
Finally, around 4 PM, I run errands.
I need a few toiletries, and I get groceries to make dinner.
Which brings me to something new:
This is Day Six of Weight Watchers for me.
Yup, I joined.
So far, so good.
So today, I've decided I want to bake a fillet of fish for dinner.
I'm just gonna wing it,
Which makes me nervous.
I almost don't buy the fish.
But I do.
Courage.
I go home, grill some string beans.
Sprinkle some spices on a fish.
(Don't underestimate cumin.)
Three-fifty for twenty minutes, bada bing.
Lemon juice, bada boom.
Fucking brilliant.
I'm awesome.
Low-fat, delicious, and cheap.
What could be better?
I am ready for my weekly 60 Minutes fix.
Goddamn repeat!
That's okay, because now I can watch the latest episode
Of my new favorite TV show on YouTube.
I won't say the name of the show
Because it probably shouldn't be on YouTube.
But I'm glad it is.
So I sit and laugh at my computer, and re-watch favorite scenes.

Then, I have to start thinking about tomorrow, and the week.
Unfortunately.
So, I get a few things done.
Tomorrow starts six more days of "the grind," as well as hanging out with friends.
Not to mention figuring out what and what not to eat.
(Planning my snacks are key.)
My days are twelve hours long, minimum.
Once the week starts, I don't mind it.
But right now, I wish Sunday would last forever.

Where the hell am I?

2007-08-09T01:55:00.000-04:00

First we get hit by a tornado today.
Now, it's late, hot, humid, and outside my window I hear...

crickets.

Crickets! In Manhattan!
Quick! Fire up a jackhammer.
How is a gal supposed to sleep around here?!

Heave ho

2007-08-09T01:40:00.000-04:00

Being a relatively new cat mommy, I didn't realize I bought into some myths, like the fantasy conjured upon thinking of the word "hairball;" that when a cat coughed one up it would look like tumbleweed, all dry and linty. I didn't realize that "hairball" was really a nice way of saying gross cat vomit that looks like diarrhea. And, I mean, why wouldn't it, come to think of it? It's hair. In his intestinal tract. Coming out of his throat. Being rejected by its own body. Now I know. Hairballs aren't pretty. And I'm brushing him every day and giving him hairball treats and hopefully this too, shall pass. But not through his mouth.

I don't like to be naked around loud people...

2007-08-09T01:26:00.000-04:00

...I thought to myself today as I stripped down to take a shower after dance class in close proximity to two elderly ballerinas who were having a high-volume conversation about an injury or something, and one of them kept looking at me. I was so self-conscious I almost drenched my towel by walking into the shower stall with it still around me. Damn ballerinas.

New York tornado

2007-08-08T16:14:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Gawker.com for this picture.

I set my alarm for earlier than usual.

At 7:30 AM sharp the talk radio came on and said something about "flooding" and subways not working. My cat Oscar was reliably laying about right next to me, and I said, "What flooding?" But he just licked himself (ah, the life).

I glanced over to my window, and couldn't detect any untoward precipitation, or even a particularly dark sky. Besides, I'm a light sleeper, AND I went to bed late last night (or technically early this morning), so I think I would've noticed something.

But no. Apparently only about an hour earlier came a storm...a storm so strong, so Wizard of Oz, so treacherous, that it downed trees in Brooklyn, flooded parts of Queens, killed a woman in her car (I know!!!), and messed up each and every subway line.

Now, I've been a resident of New York for almost 12 years, and when Mother Nature decides to have a laugh at our expense, it would usually affect some subway lines, but not all. Alas, not today. Literally every single line in all five boroughs had some sort of delay or rerouting or were just plain not running, due to flooding. The subway spokesperson on TV suggested not to leave the house if possible. My normally half-hour commute took an hour. It was so weird.

*sigh* I hope this isn't a sign of things to come.
The truth is so inconvenient.

Letter from the trenches of the NYC elite - Broadway chapter

2007-08-03T16:27:00.000-04:00

On a muggy, hot Sunday evening
Indulging in amazing Mexican food and margaritas:

"I'm on Broadway again starting tomorrow.
Want free tickets?"

Do I want free tickets?
Does the Pope shit in the woods?

The next day, Monday, I rang him up.
"Good morning," he answered sleepily.
"Good morning to you. Can I go Thursday?"
"Yes."
"I invited a friend who's a fan.
Can we meet up with you afterward?"
"Of course."

The next night, Tuesday,
Over an extraordinarily caramel-y pecan pie,
Broadway Guy's boyfriend said,
"Hey, I'm heading over to the theater now
To hang out after the show.
Wanna come?"

We hung out in the lobby
Waiting for the show to end.
I called another friend
Who's also in the cast.
"I'm here!"
"I thought you were coming Thursday!"
"I am, but I just came to hang. Wanna join?"

Cut to about five of us in the lobby of the theater,
Some cast members, some not,
Watching in awe and more than a little concern
At the frenzy of people young and old
Gathered outside the theater
For autographs, pictures, and overall elation.

See, Broadway Guy is returning
To the show that put him on the map
A decade ago.
He and his Hunky Co-star
Have swelled young hearts everywhere
By reuniting onstage
For a limited time.

The two of them, plus a former
American Idol contestant
Caused the mob scene we were witnessing.

A door would open.
Screams.
Oh, the screams
Like you wouldn't believe.
The Beatles in '64.
Elvis in the '50s.
Fans across the street
Standing on steps to get a better look.
Cars not able to get through.

Across the street is the stage door
Of another theater.
My co-cast member friend got off the phone:
"That was my friend who works across the way.
She's like, 'What the hell is going on out there?'"

Pandemonium.

We couldn't even see if Broadway Guy
Was out there signing autographs,
There were too many people.
Boyfriend got on the phone:
"Where are you? We can't even see you. Okay."
He'd gotten in his getaway car
And will meet us three blocks away
At a restaurant.
Wow.

Two days later, Thursday,
I met my friend outside the theater.
The line to get in snaked around the block.
Inside, we had amazing seats.

It was a time warp watching a show
I saw ten years ago
From the last row of the balcony
Before I knew anyone involved.
Thrilling, too.

The show ends.
Boyfriend is waiting for us.
"I'm glad but surprised
You're coming out tonight again," I said,
"After being out all week."
"Are you kidding," Boyfriend said,
"He made sure to remind me that
You were seeing it tonight."

While we wait inside for Broadway Guy,
Hunky Co-star comes out.
"Hunky, this is one of our
Best friends, Eileen," Boyfriend says.

I shake Hunky's hand.
I look into his eyes.
I could exchange pleasantries
Forever.
Broadway Guy emerges.
"Ah, my decoy," Hunky says.
Broadway Guy is going to greet the public
While Hunky and American Idol
Duck out another door.
Poor fans.
They have no idea they won't meet them.

Broadway Guy takes his time.
Hunky yells from across the way,
"Hurry up, your fans are waiting!"
He just wants to go home.

So, Broadway Guy will go out the door
And we'll meet him at the restaurant, right?
Like last time?

No, Boyfriend says.
We're following him out there
And getting in the getaway car.

What?

We're getting in the getaway car?
I looked at Friend.
This night gets better and better!

The door opens,
This time from the inside.
Screams.
We let the door close behind him.

Then Boyfriend says,
"Okay, let's go."
We open the door and
Scurry past the barricades
Into the waiting car.

Door shuts.

People (mostly girls),
Are crushed up against the car on all sides,
Sometimes rocking it.
Taking pictures, squealing,
Shaking Playbills in the air.
The driver is nonplussed;
Just another day.
Inside, it's quiet.
We're giggling.
We gossip.
We talk about the show,
The experience.

Broadway Guy is generous
And takes a long time signing things
For everyone he can;
He knows some have come a long way.

Eventually, the car door opens.
Screams as Broadway Guy waves goodbye.
We squish over, four of us in the back seat.

We drive for three measley blocks
And have a nice meal.
Friend and I go home
Sure to not soon forget the evening.

Like a vast, peaceful, empty ocean

2007-08-01T16:40:00.000-04:00

I've been at my office job for nine years.

But only this week have I had to listen to two separate interviews with people who used the word "pacific" in place of "specific."

"Could you be more pacific about what you mean?"
"It was hard to find pacifically what I wanted on the website."

Grown adults.

Forget "No Child..." What about No Adult Left Behind? Who's spearheading that?

Cultural phenomenon

2007-07-27T16:19:00.001-04:00

I truly love the event that is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
I've been having similar conversations with many different people in the office and in my show:
"Are you reading it yet?"
"Did you buy it at midnight?"
"I'm re-reading Six first."
"I thought about that, but I couldn't wait."
"Well, my boyfriend's reading it now so I'll borrow it when he's done."
"My mom called to ask me if I've finished yet. She said now the she's read it she'll wait three weeks for it to settle and then read it again."
"Maybe after Seven I'll re-read Six and then Seven again."
"Me too."
"I'm re-reading Five after seeing the movie and then going through Six and Seven."
"Nice."
"I had a Potter party where we all read it aloud to each other."
"Do you want to see the movie a second time? Have you read Seven yet?"

And on and on and on.
How did Jo Rowling, as those who know her seem to call her, do it?
How did she bring together generations of people together with one book series?
My mom got me reading the books.
Obviously children are into them.
Men, women, old, young, everyone's got their hands on the orange hardcover.
Me and a colleague are both dressed in matching nurse's outfits before our show begins.
Hair conservatively back from our face, white shoes on, we also both have our nose in the familiar orange book backstage before we start. The sight of two fake nurses reading Harry Potter at the same time tickles me.
The whole event is amazing.

Slave to Apple

2007-07-22T20:00:00.000-04:00

So I think I lost my iPod Nano.
Sucks.
Coulda left it at the gym.
They don't have it.
Can't find it in my apartment.
Maybe it's hiding.
But I think it's gone.

Then to make matters worse,
I was looking for it and cursing myself out
When I spilled beer on my eMac keyboard

And ruined it.

So now I had no iPod
And couldn't even use my computer.

BOLLOCKS!
As they say in the U.K.
CRAPOLA!
As I like to exclaim.

So I ventured to the Fifth Ave. Apple Store.
("If you're calling about store hours,
That's easy! We're always open!")

I got a new keyboard.
I thought about getting a new iPod,
But I thought it too impulsive.
Maybe I'll find mine.
Or maybe someone has an old one
They don't mind parting with.

Either way I felt like Steve Jobs' bitch.
The struggle, the conflict.
Keyboard AND iPod?
Or keyboard now and new iPod later?
Does Steve Jobs need a kidney?
'Cause I have two.

Keyboard in hand, I marveled once again
At the ability of someone roaming around the store
To check me out with a hand-held device.
My email was already in the database
To which to send my receipt.
The whole trip took five minutes.

Too easy.

Anyway, I'm happy to be able to post this
And I'm drinking another beer
But now it's nowhere near my new, white, pristine keyboard.
Now if only iPods were only 29 dollars too.

***7/25 UPDATE: So I broke down and bought a refurbished Nano from the Apple website.***

I Don't Do Much in the Show but Got Around to Readin' the Other Plays During Rehearsal

2007-07-20T23:32:00.000-04:00

Characters:
Pulitzer-prize winning playwright Suzan Lori-Parks
Me

SLP and Me sit on a stoop in an urban town.

Me: Hey.
SLP: Hey yrself.

Me
Me
SLP
Me

SLP: You thinkin bout me?
Me: Yep.
SLP: I could tell.
Me: Yeah.

{Rest}

Me: We're doin' some of your plays.
SLP: Lotsa people are.
Me: Yeah.

SLP

SLP: How you findin it?
Me: How am I...uh...
SLP: Some of 'em a bit strange?
Me: I'm glad you said that.
SLP: Really.
Me: They're fun to do, though.
SLP: Sure.
Me: Would it play in Peoria, though?
SLP: Doesn't matter; you aint in Peoria.
Me: Good point.
SLP: Let Peoria worry about its own damn self.
Me: Okay.

Me
Me
Me

Me: I like to write too sometimes.
SLP: I knew you were gonna say that.
Me: Maybe I should write one play a day too.
SLP: Do it, girl.
Me: But that's a lot.
SLP: So.
Me: It looked like you were so gung ho at the beginning of the year, with lots of lines and scenes and simultaneous monologues, then they kinda got shorter and shorter. Our plays for Week 37 is all, like, a minute long on paper.

SLP

Me: Must be hard to find inspiration to write about something every single day for 365 days.

A red convertible with no driver appears before them.
SLP stands.

SLP: I gotta go.
Me: Cool.
SLP: I gotcha thinkin' though, didn't I?
Me: ___.
SLP: Yeah, gotcha thinkin'. Every now and then, that's all it takes.

SLP gets in the passenger seat of the car and it drives off.
Mark Twain approaches.
He sits next to Me.

End of play

365 Days/365 Plays - NYC
Week 37 with Temporary Theatre Company

Mmm, bloody

2007-07-18T10:12:00.000-04:00

I was in the middle of a dream in the middle of the night.
In this dream, a colleague of mine was telling me a story
And I was trying to pay attention, but my back kept itching.
Soon, my own scratching woke me up.
Usually once my back is scratched all is well and I can return to slumber
But I kept scratching and scratching
And my heart sank with the familiar knowledge
That I'd probably been eaten alive
By some pesky mosquito.
When I heard a distant-but-close buzzing by my ear-plugged ear,
I knew.

I got out of bed.
It was 5:55 AM.
I walked to the bathroom.
I turned on the light to see
Not one,
Not two,
Not three,
But SEVEN mosquito bites.

One on my left hand by a knuckle.
Two on my back by my right shoulder blade.
One near my right armpit.
One on my right elbow.
One behind my right knee.
And one on my left...

...eyelid.

*sigh*

Now, unfortunately for me,
I'm no stranger to the bitten eyelid.
Really, you ask?
Really, I answer.
I have pictures of me at five years old
Visiting the Philippines
With a big ol' swollen eye.

In grammar school, I had a cluster of bites
Behind my knee
That looked so ominous
A classmate shrieked,
"What is that? Were you bitten by a dog?"
Embarrassing.

I don't only get bit.
The bites get big.
I'm kind of allergic.

I bathed in Off! and Calamine,
Iced and cold-compressed my eye,
And have dared to leave the house
One eye smaller than the other
Trying to hide in plain sight

Angry as hell
At a satiated and happy
Little bug from hell
Waiting for me to return home.

**UPDATE: The clarity of 24 hours has borne out the fact that one of the bites on my back is actually two bites right next to each other. So, the tally has gone up to eight. EIGHT bites in one fell swoop.**

**UPDATE #2: I found another one on my left upper arm. It may be newer than from the suck-fest described above, but now I'm walking around with NINE bites, people. Nine at once!**

Technology ROCKS!!!

2007-07-10T14:00:00.000-04:00

In both the distant and recent past as an actress/singer who would have to procure sheet music for the purposes of auditions and who also doesn't play the piano or read music, getting a song in the key that best suits my individual voice would be a bit of a hassle. First, I either bought the music somewhere or borrowed it from someone and then photocopied them for myself. Then, my audition coach or someone would pencil onto the music the transposed chords right by the guitar chords, so that any accompanist would know to play those chords instead. Or, if I wanted to transpose the entire song altogether notes and all, I would have to find and pay someone to take my music, put it into their computer, change the key, and print me out the new sheet music. Even as recently as last month, I asked a friend of mine to go over some songs with me so I could pick one for some volunteer work I was doing. There was one torch song I really wanted to learn, but the key was too high for me, and my friend wasn't skilled at transposing on the spot. So, the song was taken out of rotation, which broke my heart.

Today I went to a new audition coach. We sang a few songs that I knew and moved onto an Elton John song that I didn't know. We sang it in different keys and different ways before deciding that a half-step down from the original key was best for me. I remember thinking, "Okay, how will this work? Do I borrow her huge Elton John book, make photocopies, give them back to her, and then figure out a way to transpose?"

Then she told me about online services such as MusicNotes.com. For an extremely nominal fee, I got on my computer, installed the online sheet-music viewer (which took, like, one minute), searched for my song by title, merely clicked onto the KEY I WANTED IT TRANSPOSED IN, paid, and printed out the transposed music.

IT TOOK TEN MINUTES.

Oh my GOD!!!!!!! My life is forever changed! There is no more middleman between you, the customer, and the sheet music you need in your key!!!!

I love the internet, and my printer.
I want to marry them.

Those who came before

2007-07-05T13:20:00.000-04:00

I've blogged before about how common it is for me to channel surf and spot someone I know on television. I've been meeting and working with more than a few people this summer who are much newer to the business than I, and for better or worse, I have been feeling very elder statesman-like lately. However, it was a different feeling for me when I was watching TV last night and happened upon a rerun of M*A*S*H. Alan Alda's scene partner was an Asian man and their characters were trying to communicate with each other despite their language barriers. The actor was the ubiquitous presence known by one name: Mako.

I didn't know much about Mako in the late '90s when I had the good fortune of working with and getting to know both his daughters, who are also actresses. For a while, Mako was known to me as just their dad. I learned that he helped found the very first Asian American theater company in the country, East West Players, in 1965. He popped up in every modern movie that needed someone like him: Pearl Harbor, Memoirs of a Geisha. I remember going to see Seven Years in Tibet starring Brad Pitt, with Mako's daughter Mimosa after the film had been out for a long while because she felt guilty that she hadn't seen it yet, and we giggled a little whenever her dad was on screen (the more serious the speeches given to Brad Pitt, the "funnier"). Not until his death last summer of cancer, however, have I come to really appreciate his contributions to the expansion of Asians in Hollywood. He was a Broadway star, an Academy Award nominee, a television veteran, and for cryin' out loud, even a guest voice on Dexter's Laboratory and a "Rugrats" movie. You can't get any more varied and plugged-in than that. He even has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, something I just learned today in researching him for this post.

Watching him on M*A*S*H, I couldn't help but think about how Mako was only playing at not understanding Alan Alda, and how Asian American actors today still have to struggle with being hired more for putting on an accent than being an American character. But his 40-plus-year career and consistent visibility had certainly helped pave the way for today's B.D. Wongs and Sandra Ohs, and although I never met Mako, I bow down to his hard work and longevity.

Maybe I'll sleep better

2007-07-01T15:52:00.000-04:00

Oh my goodness, I'm so happy about this. From New York One:

July 01, 2007

The first changes to the city's noise code in thirty years take effect today.

Under the new rules, noise jackets will be required on jackhammers, Mister Softee trucks will have to turn off their music when they're stopped to serve ice cream and dog owners could face $175 fines if their pets bark ten minutes straight or five minutes consecutively at night.

Bars and restaurants could also be fined if their music can be heard more than 15 feet away.

Me and kitty, we tight

2007-06-30T18:30:00.000-04:00

I love that my cat Oscar and I are actually attuned to each other and communicate. (Yes, that's him in the picture; how can you not love that furball?!) A typical interaction is when I come home at night. Ideally I'll come through the door, settle in, turn on my computer, replenish his food, and then go about my business, usually either on the computer or in front of the TV. Sometimes I forget the "replenish food" part, but Oscar very patiently waits to see if I'm just taking my time or really forgetting. If he sees me staring at my computer screen for too long, just one very direct "meow" as he looks at me intently is all it takes to get my attention. I say, "Oh yes, I forgot, sorry." And I'll feed him and we'll leave each other alone.

We chat in the morning, too. Usually when I'm asleep he purposely does not make loud noises to wake me up. I know this because I am a light sleeper and any noise would interrupt my slumber. I wake up at different times every day so I know he's being respectful of my sleep if I sleep in later than usual. That's not to say that sometimes he doesn't want to move it along - my waking up, that is. Maybe he's hungry, but usually I think he just wants to start his day of scratching and running and what am I doing still sleeping, anyway?

Anyway, he knows my snooze routine. I usually set my alarm for NPR a good half hour before I intend on getting out of bed. If Oscar senses that I'm conscious, either because the alarm has been sounding or just 'cause he can sense I'm waking up, he feels free to begin his day by scratching the door jam or my window sill which makes a loud nails-on-chalkboard noise when he does it. If he sees I'm still not actually getting out of bed, he will jump on the bed and hang out next to me until I do. I think he knows that merely jumping on the bed gets my attention.

The other day I set my alarm early in order to do the laundry. After a good half hour or 45 minutes of snoozing, I decided to ditch the laundry and sleep another hour without interruption. So, I reset the alarm and settled back in. As sleep overcame me, I heard a few confused "meows" in the distance. I thought I could ignore them, but he continued. So, I literally called out to him in the other room, "Oscar, I've decided to sleep some more, so I'll be getting up later, okay?"

And he left me alone.

He gets me. I get him. We talk. It's awesome.

Sure, you did

2007-06-29T18:25:00.000-04:00

I usually don't like to disparage celebrities based on what is reported in print and on television. I give everybody the benefit of the doubt and assume that many things are out of context. However, I just can't help unleashing my utter schadenfreude towards Miss Paris Hilton herself after seeing a clip on the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson from her interview with Larry King. Now, I didn't see the Larry King interview. Spending an hour with Paris, even though it would be really only about 40 cumulative minutes because of the commercials and I would be watching her on television, was something I had no desire doing. Again, this may be out of context. But this is what I saw:

Larry: Did you read the bible in prison?
Paris: Yes.
Larry: What is your favorite bible passage?

{pause as Paris thinks, smiles, looks down as if to look for her bible, more pauses, more thinking and smiling}

Paris: I don't have a favorite.

*sigh* You didn't READ the stupid thing, Paris.
For crying out LOUD!!!!!

My kingdom for a time machine

2007-06-24T00:54:00.000-04:00

In the summer of 2000, I had done a play with a lovely actor named Miguel. Miguel would talk about his days as a dancer and I enjoyed working with him. Months later, I went to California to visit my family for the holidays, dusted off Mom's old photo albums which she always painstakingly decorated, and took a trip down Memory Lane. I'd practically memorized every page of the old ones, from when I was a child and teenager. As I had done numerous times, I happened upon a page on which were pictures from a rare outing we took to Manhattan from Queens to see a dance concert. Some guy that my mom knew took us as a family to see a Filipino dance troupe. It was a whole dinner-and-a-show type thing. I so enjoyed being in "the city." I told the waiter with confidence that I was a dancer. When he asked, "Oh? Who do you study with?" I backpedaled. In truth was only 15 and danced as a hobby, but that interaction was a taste of what I wanted to become. After the performance, my family and I spoke briefly with one of the dancers in the troupe and took a picture with him. For 15 years I'd seen this picture in passing whenever I flipped through the photo album.

So here it is in 2000 or 2001, and I came across that picture yet again. This time, my past and future collided with my present as I looked closer at the dancer who took the picture with us, and it was...Miguel, 15 years before I met him! Young, so young! I eventually told Miguel about this coincidence and we had a good gasp over it.

Tonight I celebrated with yet another cast of another show, the closing night of our run (okay, the run was only four days, but still; any excuse to party). Not surprisingly, I had grown extremely fond of these people who I had gotten to know over three weeks. So, over beer and food, we were of course waxing poetic about one thing or another. Then my colleague Bill piped up to contribute to whatever topic of the moment was and said, "Yeah, my first union gig was this show called Bugs Bunny and the Superfriends." And as he continued to talk, it was as if everything went into slow motion. I watched him speak but barely comprehended anything. I know he'd been a professional actor for decades so I pretty much knew the answer when I asked, "Was this in the '70s?" He thought for a second and said, "Yes, I think so. Anyway, in this show I was both Foghorn Leghorn and Batman." As everyone laughed at the ridiculousness of this and empathized with a young actor in a hot costume entertaining children ("We all knew that if Tweety Bird fell over, we'd have to pick her up, because she couldn't get up on her own"), I couldn't help but pursue my agenda further. "Did you perform this, like, in Long Island? Like at the Nassau Coliseum?" He said, "Yes, we did!" I squealed, "Oh my god, I SAW THAT SHOW! As a KID! I had PICTURES! Can you IMAGINE, if I was sitting in the arena eating my cotton candy and YOU were up on stage as Batman in your first professional show?!"

I need to see if those 30-year-old pictures still exist.
My past and future colliding into my present.
It boggles the mind.
I love it.

Utopia

2007-06-21T23:59:00.000-04:00

Sitting on stage behind the action for all to see
I watch the scenes unfold before me
And I am full of ambivalence.
Does the audience get it?
Are they cringing?
Do they care?
Do I care?
Or am I just pretending?
What am I doing here
Working so hard?
For what?
For the bonding with the cast?
For the practice of my craft?
'Cause it ain't for the applause
And it ain't for the stipend.
(Mama gotta pay rent.)

I got my answer after the bow.
I walked into the dressing room,
Laughed with my castmates,
Undressed,
Dressed,
Wondered if it was raining out there
(should I change into my Wellies?)
And decided to have a little dinner
Before heading home.
"See you tomorrow,"
We told each other genially.
And it hit me.

It doesn't matter if this piece
Is particularly significant
Or moving
Or even good.
I do it 'cause I love being on stage
And going home afterward
Like the job that it is.
Lingering audience members
Talk to me as I leave.
I thank them for coming.
It's the same dance:
"Great job."
"Thanks for coming."
They may mean it,
They may not.
I do.
And I'm doing my work,
And I'm getting a pizza,
And I'm going home,
And I'm doing it again tomorrow.
Mundane,
And exactly what I want to be doing.

I love that,
Like I love nothing else.

That's my time...

2007-06-16T00:38:00.000-04:00

Apparently back in the day when Johnny Carson ruled the airwaves, the stand-up comics who were extremely fortunate enough to do a few minutes of their set on The Tonight Show were doubly blessed if Johnny motioned for them to come over to his desk to sit and blab for a second afterward. It was the ultimate validation.

Today, comedians are on late-night shows all the time but I especially enjoy the excruciating six-second delay on Late Show with David Letterman between the end of someone's set and the handshake Letterman ultimately bestows on the comic. Every single comedian, after thanking the audience and saying goodbye during applause and Paul Schaeffer's music, looks extremely uncomfortable waiting for Letterman to take his sweet, grand old time to join the comic and shake his hand, all the while making sure not to look in the direction of his desk where he's coming from. "I'm pretending with every fiber of my being not to anticipate Dave's coming over to me...I can't seem as though I'm just waiting here...oh...what? Oh hey, Dave! Letterman! What, you host this show? Had no idea, just did a killer set...oh, thank you. Thank you very much." *sweat*

It's hilarious to watch. A show within the show.

Light bulb

2007-06-13T23:17:00.000-04:00

I just now realized
That I've been snarky and resentful
(and annoyingly self-important)
In my interactions with you.
I'd been wanting some sort of
Approval, validation.
I have expectations
You don't even know about.
I've made you the Marcia to my Jan.

I'm sorry!

It's time for me to lovingly
Let this fantasy go,
And tell myself it's okay
To make mistakes.

Thank you for helping me see this.
Au revoir, Marcia!

Haiku corner: June meets my psychology

2007-06-09T23:59:00.000-04:00

Great sleeping weather
Slight breeze on my sleeping face
Keep humid at bay

Can't zip up my dress
Don't have anything to wear
Why oh why is this?!

Can't wait to rehearse
I'm secretly overjoyed
That I get to sing

I hate Murphy's Law
Nothing happens all year long
Conflicts all at once

I haven't lost weight
I'm not losing any weight
I haven't lost weight!

Post-Tony party
With the winners, I predict
Time to booze and schmooze

I lost my cat's brush
It's like he hid it from me
"You can't brush me now!"

"Why aren't you married?"
'Cause I don't want to divorce
Don't trust myself yet

Unbounded enthusiasm!

2007-06-06T00:01:00.000-04:00

Playbill.com, the go-to website for theater news, posted an article yesterday about the new theater company I am a member of, Unbounded. We are officially introducing ourselves to the theater community on June 18th by performing seven songs from an upcoming new musical and talking about our mission, and sharing anecdotes from the community outreach we've already done. If you're in New York, come on down! We'd love to see you there. We'd so love to see you there, we're doing it twice that day. Please check out the article here. I'm real proud of it!

**Update: On 6/6, BroadwayWorld.com also published an article.
Read it here!**

No comment

2007-06-03T20:18:00.000-04:00

Jennster brought up something that I'd been thinking about already: are blog comments passe? My handy-dandy hit counter tells me that I have more readers on a daily basis than I ever had, but the number of my comments have dwindled considerably since 2006. Has blog-land's novelty has worn off? Social networking and comments are alive and well on MySpace, so people are still giving shout-outs in cyberspace. Maybe everyone's moved on? I find it odd that I have more readers but less comments than ever. I wonder why. Anybody have any thoughts on the subject? I love sociological phenomenon and wonder if it's a broader-picture kinda thing.

Baby thoughts

2007-06-03T11:38:00.000-04:00

Love babies. Love holding 'em, smelling 'em, kissing 'em, hanging out with 'em. My respect for little ones run in the family: Mom is a caretaker at a place that cares for drug-exposed infants. She's an expert swaddler and baby whisperer. I think I'd make a great mom someday. But I don't have the luxury of egg shelf-life to keep saying, "Oh yeah, someday that'd be nice." Such is the dilemma of a single woman in her 30s. If I never have one, I'd want it to be a conscious choice rather than something I woke up one day realizing never happened. Adoption is always an option and one that comforts me when I have this dialogue with myself. That, and the fact that anything can happen in one, two, three years.

I went to a one-year birthday celebration of a little pal of mine in Central Park yesterday and hung out with a handful of non-speaking, barely-walking, cute tykes on the grass, only to come home to a "we're pregnant" announcement from a friend, as I already eagerly anticipate another dear friend's offspring to pop out some time in the fall. It's difficult to ruminate on what all this means to me. I don't feel like I'm missing out, at the same time wondering if I am. Which, by its very nature, seems like a very time-wasting worry. "Should I be feeling something I don't feel?" It reminds me of the couple years I wasted living in New York worrying that I was missing out by not living in L.A. I mean, come on. Talk about hanging out in limbo.

Anyway, I will leave you all with this thought: the babies in this picture are apparently made of marzipan. What does that say about me, that a post about my ambivalence about having a baby is accompanied by a picture of babies that aren't real? Discuss, while I go feed my cat.

As only books can

2007-06-02T11:52:00.000-04:00

Whenever I read a book, it's usually non-fiction. I've always liked sociology and such, so biographies and true crime and Malcolm Gladwell are right up my alley. But having written a fiction novel last year in which the time/space continuum is fucked with, so to speak, I have no frame of reference for how this sort of thing may be handled in nimble and confident hands. I was telling my friend Ramon about this when he highly recommended I read The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Nuffenegger. I remember vividly him saying, "I knew it was gonna be good, but it was better."

I'm only in the first third of the book but I already don't want it to end. This is Ms. Nuffenegger's first novel, according to her bio, and every page makes me more excited than ever to tackle my own fantasy world with an eagerness to learn how to get through inevitable clumsiness of a first book.

Sk8er boi

2007-05-24T22:51:00.000-04:00

To the dude on the sidewalk in front of me who was on a skateboard in flip-flops while on a cell phone while smoking a cigarette...

dude, it's okay. Slow down. Ain't no reason you have to do five things at once. You weren't even doing it well.

In other news, Fleet Week! And you know what that means, a group of crisp white uniforms walking around Times Square with purses hanging off their arm...what? Yup, I saw my first Fleet Week females walking around NYC today. It was strange to observe that the group of four or five all looked like they were a little overweight, when I have never really noticed the male overweight equivalent. Weird.

Broken hearts around me

2007-05-21T20:53:00.000-04:00

Yeah. So, as much as I've been on the dating treadmill seemingly all my life, looking at the cool, green grass that is Other People in a Relationship, sure that their lives are full of home-baked cookies, baby-feet smells, and tip-toeing through tulips, I find myself getting a dose of perspective nowadays, during these wonderful days of spring, because people are getting DUMPED left and right. Like, long-term, "we were so in love and I didn't know anything was wrong" kinda shit. Like, "I gotta get outta here, I'm so depressed" kinda stuff. And as I listen sympathetically and tell them it'll be fine in the future, I am relieved that I'm not going through it myself. And I realize no one's immune. Togetherness doesn't necessarily equal happiness.

In other news, although I'd been singing on and off all my life, sometimes professionally, mostly just for fun, my inner singer is freeing up. I am less afraid to sound a certain way, and therefore free to sing the way my voice naturally wants to. After singing today in front of people I don't know very well, I was told by a Broadway singer-slash-choir director, "I didn't know you sang! You should be singing all the time!" I blushed, I smiled. I look forward to doing it again. Because it's fun. I don't have to try to get a job with it. That's too much pressure. Just doing it for fun, coming back to it this way, is better. And I have a feeling it's going to lead to the next big chapter of my life.

In yet other news, my beloved family visited me for a mere 3 1/2 days from California. We saw shows, ate in ambient restaurants, had colorful drinks, shared (fought over) delicious desserts, and slept in. It was awesome, and too short. Thanks family, for being so cool.

My brother Nick broods in the subway station.
(It's all an act.)

Big Apple occurrences

2007-05-10T22:57:00.000-04:00

"I need money to drink so two women can take me home and molest me."

- paraphrased sign held by a homeless guy walking around Times Square

Tangible growth

2007-05-07T16:33:00.000-04:00

In February 2004, my three fellow-actor friends Keo, Cindy and Rodney and I, got together on a gorgeously snowy evening at Keo's apartment, ordered some pizza, and talked about about how:

- we were interested in writing our own material
- we didn't know how to start
- we didn't necessarily feel like writers
- we wanted a support system for inspiration and motivation.

Our writing group was then born. Because we were starting from scratch, we just gave ourselves writing assignments. Write a ghost story! Write haikus on a given topic! Write stream-of-consciousness for five minutes straight! We went on field trips and self-imposed retreats. Coney Island! A hotel room overnight! A rented rehearsal space in which to improvise! At first we brainstormed that maybe we'd all work on separate one-person shows that culminated in one evening, like four short pieces as one theatrical experience.

As time went on, we scrapped that idea for tinkering with screenplays instead. Eventually, we wrote a full-length screenplay in which lived characters that we all created and invested a lot of time and laughter in (this picture is of us with our first printed draft, which also fell on Rodney's birthday, hence the cake). After the screenplay was written, life beckoned and although we all remained close, the writing group took an indefinite break. Keo moved to Los Angeles and the onus was on each of us to keep up our writing ourselves. This is why I was so happy to discover blogging; it gave me the outlet I was missing when the group stopped meeting.

Cut to today, roughly a year and a half after our last meeting as a writing group. It was extremely inspiring to contemplate that since that first, tentative meeting in 2004, we had grown leaps and bounds as writers of our own material. For instance:

- Rodney developed a one-person show for HBO executives which he had subsequently performed at the Upright Citizens' Brigade a handful of times.
- Cindy is knee-deep in a very challenging sketch-writing class.
- I have written a novel, and plan to write another.
- Keo's one-man show is currently playing off-Broadway, after several workshops and an L.A. run.

We each came to today's meeting with personal projects to either start or fix. I have a one-person performance piece I want to write, and also want feedback on my short screenplay. Cindy wants to fix a sketch; we all read it and brainstormed. Rodney wants to continue the piece he started for HBO (which they're no longer co-developing) and needs to approach his voluminous material in a way that isn't overwhelming to him. And Keo wants to turn his one-man show into a screenplay. I thought aloud, wouldn't it be interesting if we developed our separate pieces and made them into one theatrical evening? And with that, our original idea came full circle all by itself.

To see the growth was truly amazing! It reminds me that the journey itself really is the accomplishment, and outcomes take care of themselves.

I didn't get the memo

2007-05-05T23:07:00.000-04:00

Since when is the word "hot" spelled with two T's?
When did this suddenly become true?

*sigh*

And turn that noise down, kids.

DS Awesome

2007-05-05T00:39:00.000-04:00

I joined the 20th century today and installed DSL.
Oh my god. My life has changed.
Hey, you guys hear of something called YouTube?!
You should really check it out!
For hours!
And hours!

*yawn*

I love normal bowel movements!

2007-05-03T13:43:00.000-04:00

As you may know, since I've been quite open about it, I've been dealing with a brand new thing for me called lactose intolerance. I finally began a food diary (the Diary-uh), keeping track of what I'm both ingesting and eliminating. It's amazing how unconscious one is about things we do like eat and go to the bathroom until one writes it all down. Anyway, I'm so happy to report that I've had quite normal bowel movements in the last few days! You know you're getting older when this is something to fucking celebrate! Whee! This calls for some ice cream. *

* just kidding. Just the thought gives me phantom cramps.

Busy!

2007-05-02T01:55:00.000-04:00

Hello, dear readers. I've been so occupied lately. I'm busy working, socializing, working out, making calls, reading scripts, going to meetings, getting haircuts, shopping for clothes, having brunch, buying theater tickets, trying to keep track of my finances, planning for the family's visit, ordering books from Amazon, drinking lots of water, overeating, staring at my MySpace page, starting another, watching Conan O'Brien funny it up in my beloved San Francisco, bumping into friends in the street who are getting married and having children any day now, and most of all, wishing I could sleep more. Ah, yes, that old chestnut. I am, however, thinking of you. Goodnight.

Assumptions

2007-04-27T17:28:00.000-04:00

It's the second time in a year (okay, I guess that's not often, but still) that someone wondered out loud whether I was in the medical profession. "So, what do you do? Are you a nurse?" someone just asked me today. In wondering what would be the clue, I can only conclude that it is because I'm Filipino. I'm certainly not walking around in scrubs. Okay, so it could be worse: "So, are you a lady of the night...?"

But next time I'll ask the person how they came to this conclusion.

Start a dialogue.

Make assumptions about them in return.

Pay it forward.

The world is not your trash can

2007-04-26T20:32:00.000-04:00

Reading my book on the subway platform today, a train arrived which wasn't the one I was waiting for, so I continued reading. When the doors opened and riders exited and entered, a third thing happened as well from a door nearby: someone threw their garbage, a not-empty bottle of soda and a pager bag within a plastic bag, out the door onto the platform, and sat back down on the train. It was the first time I had witnessed this as a platform-stander, rather than a fellow car-rider. Anytime I witness it it's enraging. But from this point of view, it was worse, because we we were left with some man's garbage by our feet. On the platform. And it's like, why? Why do you have such a high disregard for civil behavior that you must do this? I contemplated picking it up and putting it in the trash myself, but I didn't wanna touch that man's stuff. Maybe that was an excuse to just ignore it, but I was mad, and I didn't wanna be inadvertently be poisoned by dude's stuff, either.

Then, when the next train came barreling into the station, the paper/plastic bag combo flew over a few feet in reaction to the gushing air, and out flew two used coffee cups and some half-eaten something-or-other. Fucking disgusting. I am already learning that other people don't think exactly the way I do, and I'm working on being okay with this. But I really, honestly, don't understand the logic of this guy having to unload his trash in such a manner. Was he making some kind of statement? Or did he just have to unload his trash so urgently that waiting until he arrived at his station was not an option? It disappoints me that he neither thought about nor cared about the consequences of throwing his garbage around at whim. And this was mere seconds after a young lady was talking very loudly to her friend about global warming and cynically asking, "I mean, how? How are you gonna save the polar bears? You can't! You can't do it! How?" Seriously, folks. The world does not revolve around your puny little selves.

You did me a favor

2007-04-23T11:00:00.000-04:00

I had a dream last night that you came over out of the blue, bearing a huge cupcake. You yammered and stammered and tried to tell me how much happier you are now, that things are different. You weren't clear what this had to do with me but you seemed to want to connect. I asked you specific questions as if to say, "This part of your life too? And this one and this one?" "Yes, yes, yes," you said sheepishly, as if you finally realized it was not difficult to let things go. But as you went on and on, I wondered if you were sorry not for how you affected me, just that I was no longer around to vent to.

Truth is, your constant unsolicited advice got old. Your negative attitudes, expertly hidden from the public, wore me out. You had self-awareness, but less empathy. I was there for you, a hundred percent. You were there for me maybe twenty. I gave you the benefit of the doubt until the very end. "Tell me if I'm wrong," I explained to you, "or it's time for me to move on." You stepped up and said you saw no future, and for once I wasn't devastated. Two days later I in fact felt a relief so strong, it surprised me. I sincerely hope that you are less depressed and feel more empowered. But I thank you with all my heart for not keeping me around to deal with you.

Alphabetical survey

2007-04-23T00:07:00.000-04:00

I've been tagged by Shari. I'd like to know who writes these things, and are they rich? Or just bored? Anyway, get your learn on:

A - Available or single?
Um...yes or yes.

B - Best friend.
I have more than one friend with whom I let myself be intimate and vulnerable.
Having said that, my cat Oscar!!!!
(who doesn't love a big fur ball greeting you after a long day?!)

C - Chocolate cake or chocolate pie?
Hm...I'll say pie.
I do like flourless chocolate cakes though, too.
Actually, my absolute favorite thing is a cannoli with a chocolate-covered shell.
I'm an absolute sucker for that shit.
Can't stay away from Italian bakeries.

D - Dress up or casual? (typical attire)
I cannot imagine anyone saying "dressed up" as their typical attire.
Maybe it's who I surround myself with.
Casual. Almost to a fault.

E - Essential item.
Lactaid pills. :(

F - Favorite color.
Purple!
The two older Muff 'n Jeff guys in my spinning class have started calling me "Purple Rain," for my very predictable gym attire.

G - Gummi bears or worms?
Neither, but I was recently surprised to learn my mom likes Gummi Cokes.

H - Hobbies
Blogging, other creative writing, scrapbooking.

I - Indulgence
My recent retreat upstate, visits to the spa, theater tickets, Miss Mamie's Spoonbread Too.

J - January or February?
January. Year has barely begun, and my birthday is still "months" away, or so I like to tell myself.

K - Kids
We have more to learn from them than vice-versa.

L - Life is incomplete without...
...the tools to cope with what it throws at you.

M - Money or love (unlimited)? Choose only one.
Love, of course.

N - Night owl or morning person?
The hours between 11 PM and 2 AM (sometimes later) are when I am at my most creative.

O - Oranges or apples?
I don't eat enough of either.

P - Phobias/fears
I spend too much time worrying that I am being misunderstood by everyone, even those close to me.

Q - Quote personally from you.
Live in gratitude, especially when it's most difficult to do so.
(I need to take this advice right this second. Right now. Immediately.)

R - Rock star or actor (which would you be)?
I would be an actor.
Oh. I am one.
Cool.

S - Share something you've learned recently.
I shouldn't waste time fearing getting old.
Not older.
Old.
It's gonna happen anyway, and I'm determined to keep my marbles and retain satisfactory relationships.

T - Tag three people.
Jen, Nick, and Jawamily.

U - Unknown or little-known fact about you.
My left ring finger is double-jointed.

V - Vegetarian or oppressor of animals?
Oppressor. :(

X - XXXX's or OOOO's?
OOOO's that lead to XXXX's that lead to the Big OOOO's.

Y - Your "first love" - what was their name?
His initials are J.R.
And I shoulda shot him. :)

Z - Zodiac sign.
Pisces.
Chinese - dog.

ARGH!

2007-04-20T22:23:00.000-04:00

You don't even want to KNOW how many Yodels and Ring Dings I've partaken of today.
Seriously.
You. Don't. Want. To. Know.
Okay, you may want to know.
But I'm thoroughly embarrassed to tell you.
So I really craved Drake's today; is that SO WRONG??!!

(*sigh* No surprise that losing weight currently eludes me)

Trauma

2007-04-19T01:50:00.001-04:00

Hide and Seek
by Imogen Heap

Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling

Spin me round again and rub my eyes,
This can't be happening,
When busy streets a mess with people
Would stop to hold their heads heavy.

Hide and seek
Trains and sewing machines
All those years they were here first

Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,
The sweeping insensitivity of this still life

Hide and seek
Trains and sewing machines (you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first

Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Of course it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm, what you say?
Mmm, what did she say?

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
Mid-sweet talk, newpaper word cutouts.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
Mid-sweet talk, newpaper word cutouts.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.

Grief

2007-04-18T17:21:00.000-04:00

I've been wanting to post something about the Virginia Tech tragedy since it happened, and I actually did, but not having been satisfied with it, deleted it. I'm not sure exactly what I want to express. I know what I want to say has something to do with how we should love each other, like really, truly, deeply, so that we don't let each other fall through the cracks. The fact that there are still prejudices based on racial or cultural or sexual differences is ridiculously trivial and stupid. One thing that has soothed me watching footage of the school is that it is truly multicultural. There are many Middle Eastern kids there and kids from other countries and of various races, who all had one thing in common - their love for each other, for being in school, and parents who were very worried about them. Not all mass murderers are lonely white guys. This guy has proven us wrong, unfortunately.

Therapy needs to be de-stigmatized once and for all. People need help more than they do not need help. "Not needing help" is purely a myth. Maybe this could have been prevented, or maybe there was nothing anyone could do. But every single human being on this earth, no matter the status of their health or even emotional capacity, needs the love of others to thrive and grow. I am disturbed by people's feelings of extreme isolation. No one is alone. Even if you think you are a freak, there are other freaks just like you. We have to find each other and hold on, and hold on tight. Because then there is literally no reason to live. And this guy seemed to want to take some down with him before he went, just to make this very point.

My journey with lactose intolerance (cue violins)

2007-04-16T16:45:00.000-04:00

I've learned the hard way that like allergies, lactose intolerance can begin at any time. I can't quite put my finger on when mine began, but I do recall when it finally hit me that this may be what I might be suffering from. I was on an airplane several months ago for one of my many 2006 business trips. My digestive tract was not cooperating with the plane ride which had never happened before, and I finally thought about my dairy-heavy diet that day and thought to myself, "Hey, this has been happening a lot...ooohhhh..."

Now granted, I'm self-diagnosing here. But let's just assume I'm right. It's not as easy as figuring out which foods trigger it ('cause not all of them do) or popping a Lactaid pill while eating stuff. I'm finding I'll need two pills sometimes, or not at all, or that things kick in later than I would think, and also that I should just cut back on the coffee, since I've been known to get "coffee cramps" for years now and it would be less milk to deal with. I finally began keeping a food diary. I call it my Diary-uh. I write down everything I ingest and keep track of what's going on down there. And it's helping. Avoiding dairy and coffee is really useful, and as a side effect, I find myself eating less because the sheer act of writing down what you eat forces you to not want to embarrass yourself by having to write down, "17 doughnuts." So, it's also helping me with my portion control. Now that I think about it, this may have been a long time coming, because for a good while before this I was wondering why I was fricking gassy all the time. Anyway, all I know is I look forward to seeing Mr. Hankey again (South Park reference which I will not explain here). Wish me luck.

Young singers and cool e-mails

2007-04-14T22:51:00.001-04:00

Reuben Butchart is a haunting, hip, talented singer/songwriter with whom I attended high school. Reuben would be horrified to know that just the other day I had receieved from my mother VHS tapes of old home movies from my adolescent years to get 'em out of her garage (understandably), and I dusted off the one where Reuben and I, and about 20 others, traveled all the way from Northern California to Southern California to represent the state in a national show-choir competition sponsored by The Young Americans, a professional show choir based in Los Angeles. Nia Peeples of Fame fame was their most famous alum at the time. Anyhow, with a click of a remote, suddenly here we were, 17 and 18, singing jazz standards at Disneyland. Cut to the thought-provoking, uplifting (that was the idea anyway) songs about the Challenger disaster and reaching for your dreams, while wearing blue sequins and employing a lot of arm choreography, on the same soundstage that Solid Gold was taped, before the big show at the Pasadena Civic Center, home to the Emmy awards.

Poor us. We didn't stand a chance. We weren't a show choir. I didn't even know what a show choir was. We were known as the Vocal Jazz Ensemble at school. We weren't peppy singer/dancers. We were just singers. The kids from the middle of the country were wearing top hats, doing acrobatic stunts and throwing confetti. We were brooding city kids with loud hair who would rather emulate Take 6 than The Manhattan Transfer. In a funny postscript however, while we were down there, a handful of us auditioned for and was accepted into the actual Young Americans, including yours truly. Yes, folks; there was a time when I was actually pondering whether to go to Boston University, or move to L.A. to become a Young American. I chose the former.

Anyway, what prompted me to write this post was an e-mail I received today after ordering Reuben's new CD through his website from an organization I'd never heard of called CD Baby. I first received an e-mail with the subject line, "CD Baby Loves Eileen." Which was cute. It was just an order confirmation. Today I received the shipping confirmation e-mail, which said this:

Your CD has been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with
sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.

A team of 50 employees inspected your CD and polished it to make sure
it was in the best possible condition before mailing.

Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CD into the finest gold-lined box that money can buy.

We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of Portland waved "Bon Voyage!" to your package, on its way to you, in our private CD Baby jet on this day, Saturday, April 14th.

I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did. Your picture is on our wall as "Customer of the Year." We're all exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Sigh...

Derek Sivers, president, CD Baby
the little store with the best new independent music

If that doesn't sound like a fun place to work, I don't know what does. The Pacific Northwest seems to have the market cornered in cool business practices. Thanks, CD Baby, for making a boring online transaction fun.

Letting myself not understand

2007-04-14T13:07:00.000-04:00

I've had quite a busy week. I've had quite a busy couple months. Very actively reflective, very cautiously stressful. After many days in a row of having to put on makeup and have decent hair and outfits, I love walking out the door barely unbrushed with not a stitch of lip gloss. I feel in control when I do that. I'm trying to evolve as a person, attract people to myself who better me, learn how I may be sabotaging myself from having deeper interactions with others. There are two distinct sides. One part of me really wants to evolve and grow. The other part has no interest whatsoever in doing anything different with her life. "Fuck you, my way is my way," it feels right to think, "thanks but no thanks." There's a line people cross with me without realizing it, and I get angry. How do I reconcile this with the part of me that is eager to learn new things, grow, and evolve? The answer is, I don't know. And I have to be okay with not knowing right now. I am made up of many puzzle pieces that don't fit together. If I force them together, I may feel comfort in, "Ah-hah! I know what this means," but leave no room for something totally, mind-bogglingly new, for true growth. So for now, I am walking around in a hole. I am trying to let this hole teach me about myself. I'll just put one foot in front of the other, not understanding one gosh darn thing about me, and maybe answers will emerge. Or if not answers, new questions I'd never even thought of. It's frustrating, but I imagine worth it. I need to get unstuck in some ways, and so questions are going unanswered. Trying to answer them hasn't helped me thus far. Gotta stop trying in my head and just live in my heart. Time to go now, out the door and in the hole. Have a nice day.

Pining is so overrated

2007-04-08T12:24:00.001-04:00

A day after my ego blow
Came you, an ego massage.
Over our meal we caught each other up
On the last nine months.
You told me your breakup sob story.
I had one too, from as recently as
Last night.
Oh, sorry to hear that.
Thanks.
You listened.
You supported.
Then...
You began to plot your journey
Into my pants.
Mind you, you already
Have a highly active black book,
Mr. Casanova.
I demurred,
But you would not let up.
You are relentless! I laughed.
Oh, you haven't seen relentless! you teased.
The night was young,
You kept reminding me.
How about a movie?
You gonna just go home and mope?
Yes. You were right.
I was just gonna go home and mope.
The movie was great,
A wonderful distraction.
Distraction, you emphasized.
I highly recommend it.
On the subway ride home
You tried to get yourself invited over
One last time.
But it wasn't gonna happen.
Funny.
Last year I was pining for you
As I'm now pining for him,
Which will also recede over time.
Rejection is god's protection.
I have to mope,
You have to rack up belt notches.
Our pants stay on,
And my quest for something deeper
Continues.

Thank you...

2007-04-07T01:09:00.001-04:00

...for helping me see myself
...for being so honest
...for appreciating me
...for changing some of my habits
...for breaking my cycle
...for being a friend
...for stepping up
...for being kind
...for facilitating my growth.

It's the first day of the rest of my life.

Mama, can we stay here?

2007-04-04T13:52:00.000-04:00

I love the feeling I'm riding on right now.
The one where I'm just on the verge of doing so much.
I feel useful; people want me to help them, meet them, contribute.
Volunteer work is starting.
Performances are on the horizon.
I was on TV again,
And am enjoying a whole new slew of compliments.
Projects are being written.
Lessons are being learned.
Connections are being made.
The family is coming out to see me.
I feel busy, but in a good way
(Because I know how "busy" feels when I'm spread thin).
In fact, I should go home tonight and write out a "to do" list
Before I forget to take care of stuff
In all my excitement to be useful and productive.
The dance card is filling up!
Yay for springtime!

Showing up

2007-03-31T22:41:00.000-04:00

What does it mean to just keep showing up?
At your job,
For your kids,
To your class,
At the gym,
For your significant other?

I'm learning that it means
That you build credibility.
For others, yes,
But more importantly for yourself.

It means that just because something's hard
It's not to be given up on.
Just keep showing up.
Maybe your effort level will ebb and flow.
But get out of bed.
Walk out the door.
And keep showing up.
That, by itself,
Is discipline.
And courage.
You are establishing consistency
And trusting that no matter what happens,
Good or bad,
Especially bad,
You are going to show up
For yourself
And you'll still be there
Showing up again
Tomorrow.

Rage

2007-03-30T17:44:00.000-04:00

Like a childhood friend who mysteriously disappeared
Never to be heard from again
(Did she move? Was she killed?)
I took you, o Anger,
And in no uncertain terms
Told you that you had no right
To be one of my emotions.
I disowned you.
You were dead to me.
Well.
You never left, did you?
And my wishful magic trick
Made things worse.
Now that I see you (sometimes),
I don't manage you very well.
Things that could be laughed off
Infuriate me.
Behaviors that don't need to affect me
Debilitate me.
I am afraid of sabotaging myself
Of enriching experiences
Because I never incorporated you
Into my life.
For this, I am sorry.
Won't you please come back
And show me how to blow off steam?
With grace and humor and self-esteem intact?
I'd really like to learn.
I hope you will be patient with me.
I've locked you in a closet for decades
And you are malnourished.
It's time to own you, to make you mine,
So I can learn to truly love myself.
Thanks.

Retreat

2007-03-26T09:54:00.000-04:00

As promised, I took myself on a retreat last weekend. I ventured upstate by train to a town I'd never seen, got a hotel room, checked out the 'hood, and tried to hatch a plan: write for an hour, look for a place to eat dinner (ate an entire bag of real kettle corn), come back, write some more, have dinner and dessert (in the pouring, miserable rain), write some more, watch Saturday Night Live, go to sleep, and hatch another plan for Sunday. It was an easy-enough plan except once I arrived what I actually wanted to do was sleep for the entire afternoon. I thwarted about three naps, including one buck-naked with wet hair, fresh from the shower. I was falling asleep before I could even dry my damn hair. I kept myself from sleeping because I knew it would affect my sleep that night, but I observed how tired I was.

On Sunday I had a spa appointment, where I took a long bath and had a (too-short) massage. I totally felt like Rachael Ray as I ventured to a brunch spot I'd read of and asked the ladies at the spa about, walked in to find the whole neighborhood there, and enjoyed a nice meal. Then I killed some time in a Borders bookstore (not exactly something I couldn't do at home, I know), bought some girl scout cookies, then searched for the perfect coffee shop to really get down and dirty and finish going through my novel with a pencil once over til the last page. I was determined today. This town, chock-full of motels and pub/restaurants, also had its share of coffee shops. I tried to avoid Starbucks at all costs. I mean, you know. I almost settled for the Seattle Coffee Roaster's at the Borders, but there wasn't an empty table when I needed one. I walked further and stumbled upon a purely local place with not wooden, but plush chairs, almost completely empty, with friendly staff and good coffee. I hung out for about two hours. It was perfect. I remembered as I worked that writing a novel IS NOT FUCKING EASY; even editing a novel isn't fucking easy. There are so many holes, the ending sucks and leaves me flat; but at least I reached my objective and went through every blessed page with a pencil. I also expanded my five-minute play into a ten-minute screenplay. That was easier. Anyway, the trip back home proved to be frustrating. The train was late, then just sat between stops somewhere for too long. Then at Penn Station I waited for a cab for too long before finally grabbing one and finally getting home 45 minutes later, which should have taken 15 minutes.

This morning, I'm still tired, and need to catch up on sleep and maybe, possibly, figure out how to give myself two days off per weekend and still be able to pay rent. It'll be tricky, but one's body does not lie. Anyway, it was a very reflective, adventurous, productive weekend indeed. Now back to life.

Pardon the mass e-mail

2007-03-23T22:24:00.000-04:00

Here's something I never, ever understood.
Why do people apologize for sending out mass e-mails?
I've never once been insulted that I got a notice sent to "everybody."
E-mails are set up to be sent to more than one pair of eyes.
It's called convenient.
Anyone who would be miffed that you're sending out a mass e-mail
Already knows you're not in touch.
No need to remind them.
I send out mass e-mails.
I just write, "Dear friends.
Yeah, you. All y'all. Every single one of you.
I am so happy that I get to send this out once,
And reach the vast corners of the globe.
Send it to your friends if you like,
And it'll be a phenomenon.
All because I wrote something once
And clicked 'Send.'
Interconnected planet, indeed.
Now, listen up.
Give me money," or whatever the hell I sent it for.
I never apologize for sending my e-mail to 100 people
At one time.
Isn't it AWESOME that you can do that?

Now...
Maybe the underlying reason for your apology is
Because you are truly NOT nurturing your
Important relationships
One-on-one
And are ONLY sending out mass e-mails,
And that's the only time anyone ever hears from you.

If that's the case...

You should feel guilty.

Now run along and pick up that phone. ;)