July arrives tomorrow – we’re finally in the midst of summer, and the rain has ceased!
July also marks the end of another year for me – and this year may be more than I can handle…25!!!
Twenty-five is an age you visualize when you are younger. Where you will be…what kind of car you will drive…what kind of career you will have; because, of course, as a child you positively know that by 25, you won’t just have a job, you’ll have a career…
If only an older version of myself could have let me know the truth…25 is NOT what you think it will be.
Money will be tight…you will still not know what you want to be when you grow up…and you will decidedly NOT feel like a mature adult.
UGH!!! Twenty-five years is OLD!
Twenty-four has certainly been a year of personal growth. I’ve got one year of my first “real” job under my belt. One year in New York City is complete. There have been countless of brilliant and not-so brilliant shows. Many celebrity sightings. And even managed a few dates along the way.
Here’s to hoping that 25 continues towards life satisfaction and all it brings.
Last marked a turning point for me. Sunday was New York City’s Gay Pride Day – so we all know how stressed about that I was.
Apparently, more of you read my blog than I was aware of, and had rather strong reactions to my recent postings. I spent the majority of last week debating and fighting with MANY others about my opinions. It was exhausting – having the same argument, seven or so times with as many individuals in the course of two days.
Finally, I reached the point where I understood that my opinions on gay culture and marriage stem from my feelings of insecurity and self-dislike. I do not know where these feelings have come from: lots of rejection perhaps, a few unsupportive friends, homophobia in main stream culture…
I allowed my insecurities to form a judgment on an entire population. In retrospect, it seems so silly. I’ve come to recognize there are friends in my life – albeit just a few – who are unconsciously homophobic. I allowed their thoughts and comments to cloud my own self-image. I need to distance myself from those comments and truly feel proud of who I am.
I did not attend the parade on Sunday, but I did walk around the West Village in the afternoon and later had drinks in the area with a truly supportive friend. I observed the boys running around – boys AND GIRLS, I should say, from all walks of life – celebrating themselves.
Yes, I felt unsurprisingly anxious, but also a bit proud – both of myself and those around me. I am no different from rest the community. I am not uglier or dumber. I am not some sort of gay leper, and do deserve all that I have felt I have been denied.
The shift in attitude was not much, but still a step in the right direction. I can only hope the confidence will continue to build and affect greater change to the rest of my life.
Till next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
UGH!!!!
I just had to delete a friend from Facebook, because he recently friended a boy I used to date and WILL NEVER, EVER, NEVER GET OVER!!!
And if they get married, I will go postal!!!
Facebook is bad...
In other news...Rock of Ages is GOOOOOOOOOD!
And if they get married, I will go postal!!!
Facebook is bad...
In other news...Rock of Ages is GOOOOOOOOOD!
"I am not what I am." -Twelfth Night
OMG! Who else is freaking out over the coming adaptation of Alice in Wonderland directed by Tim Burton with Johnny Depp, Anne Hathaway, Helena Bonham Carter, etc...
Click on the link below to see more images - it's gonna be twisted, dark and fierce.
On the subject of Anne Hathaway, I attempted to see Twelfth Night in Central Park last week - I came so close; a hair's breadth. But alas, no tickets. Weather permitting, I am trying again this week!
Many of you know that I have often referred to the aforementioned actress as "Fugly Face" Hathaway...despite a good performance in Brokeback Mountain. I thought her performance in Rachel Getting Married to be artificial and grating. However, after a few recent interviews, public appearances and her Shakespearean professional stage debut, I am beginning to revise my opinion.
I think her "Oh shucks, I am just a normal girl who got her into something big by accident" thing may actually be genuine after all. And IF she proves herself to be charming in Shakespeare in the Park, I may be able to come to adore her.
I am sort of rooting for that - I've reached a point where I do, in fact, want to like her, love her even. What do you all think of Anne Hathaway? One things for sure - the girl can sing!
Pictures of an accidental sex tape with Dustin Lance Black have found their way online...I am devastated. Granted they are from two-and-a-half years ago, but he's suppose to marry and be with ME! JUST ME! NOOO ONE ELSE!
:-(
Give me your thoughts on Anne Hathaway and help cheer my broken heart! Oh, and here's the link to more Alice in Wonderland pics!
http://www.comingsoon.net/news/movienews.php?id=56475
Till next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
There was no point and purpose in buying the flowers myself...
As many of you know, I recently finished the novel Mrs. Dalloway – the story follows the middle-aged title character through the course of one day a she plans a party. Mrs. Dalloway throws parties; she entertains. It is her art, her passion, and her purpose as it were. If the party is not a resounding success, her world and mortality will come crushing in around her.
Virginia Woolf originally intended for her heroine to commit suicide at the end of the novel. Those who are familiar with the book know that the ending is decidedly not quite so morbid. Dalloway believes that her parties directly connect to the deeper fiber of her being. Being a successful hostess is what makes her tick.
It may seem trivial to think that the assembling of acquaintances in one beautifully decorated and well-orchestrated evening should be so important to an individual’s sanity and mortality. But entertaining others is her means of creatively expressing her feelings and celebrating the joy of life. If her party is a failure, her existence then loses its sense of meaning and purpose.
I understand Mrs. Dalloway.
This weekend I too decided to go out, buy the flowers myself and throw together a party of my own. It was not a success. Of the 65 people invited, three managed to attend.
An hour-and-a-half into the party, with no guests to distract myself, I certainly struggled to answer many of the questions I imagined likely circled in Mrs. Dalloway’s head.
It is almost inconceivable to imagine that I have left no impression upon the world around me – I suppose such a statement could be considered narcissistic, but don’t we all want to be liked and have friends?
Three darling friends of mine came, and I do hold those three quite dear to my heart (plus, of course, my fabulous co-host, that made five of us). We five had interesting conversations, and I value their friendships deeeeeeply but…
1. I was embarrassed by the obvious and apparent failure of the night.
2. I find still hurt to think that I mean nothing to many of the others invited.
Okay, I know there were a few sincere friends, who in advance let know that they couldn’t make it. But the night got me wondering. Do we ever manage to move beyond the person we were in high school? I was a bit of loner, a dork really back then, and it seems as if I haven’t moved beyond that. We all have our excuses and busy lives, but how can one not help but hurt to discover that he is just a small blip on the radar. It seems as if my year in New York has not affected the lives of others as much as I would have hoped. That certainly is one strike against staying in the Big Apple.
I hate fake people – don’t apologize if you don’t mean it or tell me you’re sorry you missed out when you never intended to come. I am trying to reevaluate and accept that many I considered to be friends were merely bumps on the road and re-consider who it is I really am. I guess bottom line, I was sad and humiliated Saturday. I’m certainly revising my plans for my birthday – ha ha!
To you four who were there Saturday - thanks for coming! You're all fab - until next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste
Virginia Woolf originally intended for her heroine to commit suicide at the end of the novel. Those who are familiar with the book know that the ending is decidedly not quite so morbid. Dalloway believes that her parties directly connect to the deeper fiber of her being. Being a successful hostess is what makes her tick.
It may seem trivial to think that the assembling of acquaintances in one beautifully decorated and well-orchestrated evening should be so important to an individual’s sanity and mortality. But entertaining others is her means of creatively expressing her feelings and celebrating the joy of life. If her party is a failure, her existence then loses its sense of meaning and purpose.
I understand Mrs. Dalloway.
This weekend I too decided to go out, buy the flowers myself and throw together a party of my own. It was not a success. Of the 65 people invited, three managed to attend.
An hour-and-a-half into the party, with no guests to distract myself, I certainly struggled to answer many of the questions I imagined likely circled in Mrs. Dalloway’s head.
It is almost inconceivable to imagine that I have left no impression upon the world around me – I suppose such a statement could be considered narcissistic, but don’t we all want to be liked and have friends?
Three darling friends of mine came, and I do hold those three quite dear to my heart (plus, of course, my fabulous co-host, that made five of us). We five had interesting conversations, and I value their friendships deeeeeeply but…
1. I was embarrassed by the obvious and apparent failure of the night.
2. I find still hurt to think that I mean nothing to many of the others invited.
Okay, I know there were a few sincere friends, who in advance let know that they couldn’t make it. But the night got me wondering. Do we ever manage to move beyond the person we were in high school? I was a bit of loner, a dork really back then, and it seems as if I haven’t moved beyond that. We all have our excuses and busy lives, but how can one not help but hurt to discover that he is just a small blip on the radar. It seems as if my year in New York has not affected the lives of others as much as I would have hoped. That certainly is one strike against staying in the Big Apple.
I hate fake people – don’t apologize if you don’t mean it or tell me you’re sorry you missed out when you never intended to come. I am trying to reevaluate and accept that many I considered to be friends were merely bumps on the road and re-consider who it is I really am. I guess bottom line, I was sad and humiliated Saturday. I’m certainly revising my plans for my birthday – ha ha!
To you four who were there Saturday - thanks for coming! You're all fab - until next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Another week, another entry!
Hey Readers!
Sorry, I have been so uninspired of late! I have just been content and living it, so there has not been much to write about.
The exciting news of the week! I am officially going to the opening and after party of After Miss Julie starring Sienna! And you all know by now how I feel about her!!! Yup – I am freaking out about that, and am already planning an outfit; despite the fact the opening is not until October.
Also, Shakespeare in the Park starts this week. This year is Twelfth Night with Anne Hathaway, Audra McDonald and Raul Esparza…yup, that’s gonna be goooood. I have never been to Shakespeare in the Park before, but I love the idea of it and, let’s face it, Shakespeare knew his shit.
AND! I am seeing Angela Lansbury in Blithe Spirit for the third time on Thursday! YESSS!
Good week, see.
Oh, but Guys and Dolls is closing this weekend, and I do find that terribly sad.
I’m also reading The Hours now – beyond brilliant, so I am leaving you with this fantastic quote:
“It seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later, to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and walk, the anticipation and a book…There is still that singular perfection, and it’s perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows: That was the moment, right then.”
Leave comments and till next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste!
Sorry, I have been so uninspired of late! I have just been content and living it, so there has not been much to write about.
The exciting news of the week! I am officially going to the opening and after party of After Miss Julie starring Sienna! And you all know by now how I feel about her!!! Yup – I am freaking out about that, and am already planning an outfit; despite the fact the opening is not until October.
Also, Shakespeare in the Park starts this week. This year is Twelfth Night with Anne Hathaway, Audra McDonald and Raul Esparza…yup, that’s gonna be goooood. I have never been to Shakespeare in the Park before, but I love the idea of it and, let’s face it, Shakespeare knew his shit.
AND! I am seeing Angela Lansbury in Blithe Spirit for the third time on Thursday! YESSS!
Good week, see.
Oh, but Guys and Dolls is closing this weekend, and I do find that terribly sad.
I’m also reading The Hours now – beyond brilliant, so I am leaving you with this fantastic quote:
“It seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later, to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and walk, the anticipation and a book…There is still that singular perfection, and it’s perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows: That was the moment, right then.”
Leave comments and till next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Greyhound Bus #71784 - A One Way Ticket to an Existential Crisis
It’s been over a week – this is the longest I have gone without writing and I am so apologetic. This week has been craaaaazy!
Many of you have been asking about the Greyhound existential crisis, so we’ll delve into that today – I think my crisis was something that we all face, and I am curious for your thoughts.
My sister is performing as Marvel Ann in a production of Psycho Beach Party in Boston right now (thanks for the shout-out in the program, Kristina!), and this Sunday is the birthday of my dearest, most darlingest friend of all, Kerry, so I have been spending some quality time up in the Boston/Maine area.
Whenever I go home, I face the same fundamental dilemma – what do I want? What is important to me? And where will I find the greatest sense of fulfillment and satisfaction?
New York City is expensive – it’s tough to live in. There is a reason why Frank says “if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.” I have found in the small amount of time that I have been in New York City that we all come to the Big Apple for a reason.
Within each of us transplants is a specific kind of dream we aspire to accomplish – a kind of success that is not really possible anywhere else in the world. Why else it would we put up with the high rents, crowded subways, and heat and smell of this God forsaken island?
We dream of Tonys, Pulitzers, our name in lights… Nowhere else in the world can one really find that sense of promise and opportunity than in New York. That’s certainly why I am here and “live the so-called dream” on a limited budget every month.
But when I head up to Boston or the coast of New England, I am reminded of an easier time in my life when I had more money in the bank, drove a nice car and bought expensive designer clothing as if it were no bigger deal than buying a packet of Orbitz gum.
Were I to move to Boston, it would be a cheaper lifestyle…rent would be a little bit cheaper…my monthly yoga pass would be a little bit cheaper…travel costs to visit my parents would be muuuuch cheaper…laundry would be cheaper…all of these little things would add up – allowing for a much cheaper and, subsequently, nicer lifestyle.
I could get a job with the Huntington Theatre Company or WGBH to fulfill my creative needs. I could have what my friend Richard calls a “better quality of life,” outside of New York.
Sounds like a no-brainer, right?
I lived in Boston, I lived in Maine and was happy, BUT…there was an itch, a desire to go somewhere big and be someone BIG. That itch, those lofty dreams won’t disappear if I make a return to New England. And an expensive new sweater or joy ride in my parents’ new Volvo can only soften the disappointment so much.
These are the thoughts that consistently run through my head on the four-hour bus ride between New York and Boston. What is it about a Greyhound bus coasting along route 84 in Connecticut that awakens this existential crisis in me?
Bottom line: I am too young, too idealistic and too hopeful to abandon the New York dream yet. I still have stars in my eyes, and need to keep heading down the path with the hopes of finding awards, fame, and glory along the way.
But! God life sure as hell is difficult doing the struggling New York thing, especially when you think about that cheaper apartment in Boston with stainless steel appliances.
Okay, I really want everyone’s thoughts on this; so let me know what you think about the ever-important existential crisis! Until next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste.
P.S. I am leaving you with a youtube clip of singularly the funniest thing I have ever seen in, maybe, my entire history on this planet! Enjoy!
Many of you have been asking about the Greyhound existential crisis, so we’ll delve into that today – I think my crisis was something that we all face, and I am curious for your thoughts.
My sister is performing as Marvel Ann in a production of Psycho Beach Party in Boston right now (thanks for the shout-out in the program, Kristina!), and this Sunday is the birthday of my dearest, most darlingest friend of all, Kerry, so I have been spending some quality time up in the Boston/Maine area.
Whenever I go home, I face the same fundamental dilemma – what do I want? What is important to me? And where will I find the greatest sense of fulfillment and satisfaction?
New York City is expensive – it’s tough to live in. There is a reason why Frank says “if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.” I have found in the small amount of time that I have been in New York City that we all come to the Big Apple for a reason.
Within each of us transplants is a specific kind of dream we aspire to accomplish – a kind of success that is not really possible anywhere else in the world. Why else it would we put up with the high rents, crowded subways, and heat and smell of this God forsaken island?
We dream of Tonys, Pulitzers, our name in lights… Nowhere else in the world can one really find that sense of promise and opportunity than in New York. That’s certainly why I am here and “live the so-called dream” on a limited budget every month.
But when I head up to Boston or the coast of New England, I am reminded of an easier time in my life when I had more money in the bank, drove a nice car and bought expensive designer clothing as if it were no bigger deal than buying a packet of Orbitz gum.
Were I to move to Boston, it would be a cheaper lifestyle…rent would be a little bit cheaper…my monthly yoga pass would be a little bit cheaper…travel costs to visit my parents would be muuuuch cheaper…laundry would be cheaper…all of these little things would add up – allowing for a much cheaper and, subsequently, nicer lifestyle.
I could get a job with the Huntington Theatre Company or WGBH to fulfill my creative needs. I could have what my friend Richard calls a “better quality of life,” outside of New York.
Sounds like a no-brainer, right?
I lived in Boston, I lived in Maine and was happy, BUT…there was an itch, a desire to go somewhere big and be someone BIG. That itch, those lofty dreams won’t disappear if I make a return to New England. And an expensive new sweater or joy ride in my parents’ new Volvo can only soften the disappointment so much.
These are the thoughts that consistently run through my head on the four-hour bus ride between New York and Boston. What is it about a Greyhound bus coasting along route 84 in Connecticut that awakens this existential crisis in me?
Bottom line: I am too young, too idealistic and too hopeful to abandon the New York dream yet. I still have stars in my eyes, and need to keep heading down the path with the hopes of finding awards, fame, and glory along the way.
But! God life sure as hell is difficult doing the struggling New York thing, especially when you think about that cheaper apartment in Boston with stainless steel appliances.
Okay, I really want everyone’s thoughts on this; so let me know what you think about the ever-important existential crisis! Until next time, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste.
P.S. I am leaving you with a youtube clip of singularly the funniest thing I have ever seen in, maybe, my entire history on this planet! Enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
