tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70964030539931992402024-03-21T09:14:59.575-04:00Sexless in the BoroughsEat your heart out, Carrie Bradshaw.Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-21074184664159860152014-08-05T18:08:00.001-04:002014-08-05T18:15:13.756-04:00Not the Destination (Tree of Life Lessons Part 2)When I was about six I was tied to a tree on top of a hill. I was left there for at about an hour and within that hour I experienced a lot of emotions. Firstly, I was in disbelief, as I was certain that my friend who had tied me to the tree wouldn't really leave me there. And then as time ever so slowly crept by ( as it does when you are tied to trees) it became clear that I should redefine the term 'friend' and that I should start believing that my 'friend' wasn't coming back and that I was in fact being left for the birds ( you know, like every child does...) I then went into survival mode and started to scream and violently shake the tree to break free from the rope. I probably only did this for about 2 minutes before giving up and resiginging that I was stuck and was going to die a slow, lonely death...and I cried. Dear lord did I cry .<br />
<br />
<br />
I remember that moment in my life so clearly. I remember how harsh the grass felt on my legs. I remember how tight the rope felt on my arms and how the tree's bark felt rubbing against my back. I remember how sad I was and how final this moment felt for me. It was the end. But what I don't remember is how I broke free. I don't remember the victory and only remember the struggle. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I remember the first time I performed like it was yesterday. It was a played called Virtue, Victorious (not to be confused with Victor Victoria. I had just moved to a new school, had no friends and was constantly referred to as 'new girl' even though I had been at school for over a year. <br />
<br />
I remember getting to school one morning and hearing everyone talk about auditions for the fall melodrama. I had never auditioned for a play before and I really didn't know anything about theatre but for some reason I felt like I needed to audition for the play as well. Seeing as everyone was talking about who was going to play what part, the auditions seemed kinda pointless because the student body had already decided who was going to be cast. I don't know if knowing this lowered the stakes for me and gave me the courage to walk up to the sign up sheet after lunch and write my name down...but I did. <br />
<br />
I spent the next couple of days perfecting a monologue. I'm sure if I saw my younger self working on this monologue, I would have a lot of laughs. <br />
So the audition day came and I got up on the stage and I gave it my very best. <br />
I straight up surprised myself. I was auditioning for the part of Morgana Crook. The evil side kick to the classic villain in the show and I was killing it. They gave me a whip to scare people with (I went to school in Texas.) <br />
<br />
And I felt like I really gave a good showing.<br />
<br />
...I didn't get the part....initially.<br />
<br />
I was a little bummed because I had so much fun in the audition and then Mrs. White, the theatre teacher at Staly Middle School, came up to me and told me the girl who was originally cast failed Algebra and could no longer be in the show and just like that I was in the play. I wasn't the new girl anymore...I was the theatre girl. <br />
I continued to pursue theatre all through high school. I formed a close knit group of friends, friends whom I still love and see to this day and mostly, I fell in love with stories. In high school, like everyone my age I was going through my parents divorce. It was messy and it was hard...but I always had a play to work on to distract me from what was going on at home. <br />
<br />
I was in love. <br />
<br />
I wanted to pursue theatre in college but because of the messy divorce there wasn't a lot of money to send me away so I went to a junior college for two years. Luckily, the local JC was the best kept theatrical secret in all of Texas. I was challenged by beautiful scripts, new and old. I was inspired by brillant teachers and amazingly talented classmates. It was there that I grew into a theatre artist. It was there that I really realized that this is the life I want. The theatre had chosen me and there was nothing I could do about it. <br />
<br />
I wanted more though...I wanted to be in NYC. The most thrilling theatre city in the world. <br />
<br />
The plan was to go to a really fancy NYC acting school, get an agent and immediately have a successful career. <br />
<br />
...You know like ya do...<br />
<br />
But that didn't happen for me. (Whaaaat?)<br />
<br />
After alot of hard work and money saving I got here. <br />
<br />
I went to Circle in the Square, trained with more amazing teachers, met life long friends and made a home here. After graduation I joined a group of artists and together we create new work every month, something so important to my artistic soul. <br />
<br />
My artistic life was coming together in a way that I was proud of and that fulfilled me. But my personal life, my love life more specifically still remained stagnet and ignored. For some reason or other I just couldn't allow myself to take a risk with my heart. I would take my clothes off on stage, I would jump from a 30 foot balcony but I just couldn't take a risk in my actual life. I've been writing a blog, joking about how I am an old virgin and how weird and quirky that is but behind the jokes there is something very real I am scared of dealing with, scared of facing. <br />
<br />
I did a play called How I Learned to Drive when I was in college. It's a beautiful piece about a woman who is dealing with a past of sexual abuse. This play is hilarious. This play is honest.<br />
<br />
I remember delivering the final monologue of the show so clearly. I remember saying the line "That was the day I stopped living in my body and I have lived in the fire in my head ever since."<br />
<br />
I remember the moment I stopped living in my body. I remember the moment when I joined the ranks of the women who have endured rape. I was a kid. I had no idea how to deal with it. But I do remember the overwhelming desire to hide from the pain, the confusion and the fear and pretend like everything was okay. Even though I was just a kid, I knew that I didn't want my life to be defined by this one moment. This one moment that wasn't in my control. I've spent most of my life hiding from this part of who I am. I've spent most of my life convincing myself that I don't need anyone to protect me, that I don't want anyone's pity and knowing in my core, that I am not a victim. <br />
<br />
That I can write my own story. That I can laugh at my struggles. I can learn from them and that I can stop living in the fire in my head and get back into my body and set fire to my heart. <br />
<br />
We all have shit. We all have stories. And we can all tell our versions of them. And they can be light even when it's dark. <br />
<br />
I have a review of that production of How I Learned to Drive, hanging beside my bed. One morning not too long ago I woke up and decided to read it for the first time in a long time. <br />
<br />
At the end of the review it says:<br />
<br />
"O'Connor makes the character more than a mere victim. She makes her a free and independent spirit to whom terrible things have happened."<br />
<br />
I have the gift of story to help me heal. To help me realize that we are all in this together. We all have trauma's. We all have healing to do. The things that make us feel damaged and different are the things that connect us. We have the power of stories to act as little links in a chain that holds us all together.<br />
<br />
And the stories, have saved me. They have revitalized me. They have given me hope. They are healing me. They have showed me that I am worthy of love, that I can love and that I won't settle for anything I don't want and that I know what I want. And I am finally ready to take a risk with my heart...and my vagina.<br />
<br />
I wonder what Colleen now would say to that sad little 6 year old Colleen tied to that tree. <br />
<br />
I would tell her that in a few years things are going to get even harder. But you are strong and you must remember the struggle to break free. The struggle is the victory. And you're strong enough. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-65605331813976995402014-06-30T03:52:00.001-04:002014-06-30T04:09:04.234-04:00An Unexpected HandCurrently, I am sitting on my balcony, wearing a snuggie, smoking a cig, listening to music to drown out the couple across the street fighting and I have a belly full of ice cream.<br />
<br />
It's 2:30 am.<br />
<br />
<br />
...Today was a day.<br />
<br />
Today was one of those days where everything you have been struggling with, everything thats just kicking you in the ass...is just sitting heavily on top of your heart like a lump of ice.<br />
<br />
You know those days?<br />
<br />
Yeah...like I said I just ate ice cream at 2:30am.<br />
<br />
I was sitting on the train tonight and my thoughts were racing, screaming and doing their damnedest to make my already heavy heart... heavier. <br />
<br />
So I popped my headphones in and I closed my eyes and I focused on the music. I could feel my eyebrows furrow in an attempt to aid in the calming process and then one of my favorite songs came on my shuffle and I could feel escape in my near future.<br />
<br />
Good,<br />
<br />
Just as I started to relax all of the sudden there was this loud voice filling the train car. <br />
<br />
A homeless man.<br />
<br />
Great.<br />
<br />
My breathing moved into my chest and became short. I was pissed. My patience was ever so fleeting.<br />
<br />
I sat there and stewed. No matter how great the song was I was listening to, all I could do is sit there and be angry. Angry that this asshole thinks his life is hard. That he suffers more than anyone on that train and that I owe him my attention and my money. <br />
<br />
Fantastic.<br />
<br />
I turned my volume all the way up. <br />
<br />
He continued,,,,<br />
<br />
I refused to take out my earbuds and give him the time of day because I was busy listening to a sad song and taking a bath in my emotions. I was tired of always being the one who digs in my purse for cash, who gives their lunch away, who is the Good Samaritan.<br />
<br />
I wanted to be left alone.<br />
<br />
I closed my eyes and my brow furrowed again.<br />
<br />
The voice got louder. He was getting closer.<br />
<br />
I opened my eyes ready to just scream at him and just as I opened them, he looked at me directly...and he smiled.<br />
<br />
What...?<br />
<br />
No. No, that's not what was supposed to happen.<br />
<br />
What was supposed to happen was I would open my eyes and look annoyed at him and he was supposed to look at me like I was a spoiled, selfish, privileged asshole.<br />
<br />
That's how that works.<br />
<br />
But he smiled at me. A sweet smile. A nonthreatening and friendly smile.<br />
<br />
I turned down my music and decided that his smile bought him my attention.<br />
<br />
As the song faded this aggressively loud homeless voice became more clear.<br />
<br />
"Love each other. We're all the same. I am homeless. You are not. But we still love. We still can do good."<br />
<br />
What...?<br />
<br />
No. No, that's not what is supposed to happen.<br />
<br />
What was supposed to happen was that I would silence my music and I would hear a tragic story and forget about what I was dealing with and give him whatever he was asking for be it pennies, nickels or dimes...<br />
<br />
That's how that works.<br />
<br />
But that's not what happened.<br />
<br />
This smiling, homeless man with a loud aggressive voice melted the lump in my heart in a matter of seconds. <br />
<br />
I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he crept past me and through the train car and every word he yelled was all I wanted to hear. <br />
<br />
Before I knew it, I felt the tears I have been holding back for days slowly and quietly stream down my face with every kind, thoughtful reminder he shared.<br />
<br />
I opened my purse and I pulled out the $5 I was planning spend on an overpriced water on my way home and I walked up to him and I placed it in his hand.<br />
<br />
"Thank you, darling. You are loved."<br />
<br />
We shared a smile and I sat back down.<br />
<br />
Oof.<br />
<br />
As I walked home I started to laugh to myself. <br />
<br />
I mean, what the hell?<br />
<br />
I got home and told my roommate what had just happened. I told her about all of the horse shit poisoning my thoughts and weighing on my heart. I curled up in the fetal position on my kitchen floor and we laughed. Hard.<br />
<br />
Then we got ice cream.<br />
<br />
At 2:30 am.<br />
<br />
And as I sit here on my balcony, in my snuggie, out of cigarettes and still full from ice cream...I don't feel so bad. Because I can still love. I still know things are not that bad. I still know that everyone has heavy heart days. I still know that I will do good. And I still know, that I can always laugh.<br />
<br />
<br />
Those homeless men just really do it for me...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-70685479134096245932014-04-21T22:28:00.001-04:002014-04-21T22:41:10.624-04:00Quinoa, Honey and Metaphors.I went grocery shopping today.<br />
<br />
This is big news. <br />
<br />
I don't cook. I always claim that I am bad at it and while I have proved this claim correct many times, it's more that I just don't have time or care to.<br />
<br />
That and I realized in the grocery store today that this may be an area of my life where I am truly ignorant and inexperienced...said the old virgin...ha.<br />
<br />
A grocery trip for me generally consists of buying apples and cliff bars and if I am feeling wild I will throw in a pint of Ben and Jerry's Frozen Greek Yogurt. <br />
<br />
You don't have to cook those things.<br />
<br />
As I was aimlessly roaming the aisles I felt pretty overwhelmed. So I took a time out by the flowers and I googled "sensible grocery list for one."<br />
<br />
Turns out typing those five words into your google search is pretty depressing.<br />
<br />
It also turns out that when you search "a sensible grocery list for one" it doesn't pull up lists of cookies, cake, candy and cat food. I was fully expecting those results because when I hit send this feeling of loneliness coated my entire being like a base of smelly paint primer.<br />
<br />
So I sat there sifting through all of these "Single Savvy Girl's Guides to Shopping" until I eventually gave up threw my phone in my bag grabbed a basket and I ventured forth. <br />
<br />
In these months of stillness I have found myself searching for other people's ideas of what I should do with my time, what I should feel about my status in life and there I was looking for someone to tell me what I should buy at the store.<br />
<br />
WHAT IS THAT?<br />
<br />
For a moment I was willing to just shop from someone else's list. A list full of things that I wouldn't know what to do with or even want because it was easier to just have someone tell me what to do. <br />
<br />
But I don't eat peanut butter that often. I wouldn't have a clue what the hell to do with sunflower oil and I hate cantaloupe. <br />
<br />
Buying these things because some woman thinks every single gal should have her kitchen stocked with these things...well it's dumb. <br />
<br />
So what do I want?<br />
<br />
What do I need? What can I work with? <br />
<br />
WHAT DO I WANT?<br />
<br />
Do I want to learn how to make quinoa? Yeah sure. I like it and it's pretty hip. <br />
<br />
Put it in the basket.<br />
<br />
Do I need more honey for my tea? Yep. Been meaning to get it for WEEKS!<br />
<br />
Put it in the basket.<br />
<br />
Do I want trail mix? Hell yeah. I love trail mix but I never buy it. <br />
<br />
Put it in the basket.<br />
<br />
This continued for a while until I felt I had enough food to last the week. <br />
<br />
Perhaps all of this is fundamental and I just missed the memo or didn't read it but today I got my groceries and mostly, I got perspective.<br />
<br />
Like I said in my post from last week, I am taking my time with being still. And today I forced myself to comb the aisles and to simply just get what I want and not feel like I have to subscribe to anyone else's idea of what that may be.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, I was the most empowered girl walking down Steinway at 10am, stumbling with my groceries.<br />
<br />
And while I cooked a big batch of lentils and quinoa (that's right, I figured it out and the apartment is not on fire) I realized that I am pretty good at cooking. <br />
<br />
And while I sip my tea, I am thankful that I took the time to remember that I needed the honey that I so often forget about. <br />
<br />
And while I think about my busy day tomorrow, I am excited that I have trail mix to throw into my bag. <br />
<br />
I got what I wanted. Not what I think I should want.<br />
<br />
And the most exciting thing of all is that I want so many things.<br />
<br />
So many.<br />
<br />
I just have to remember that I don't want what's on someone else's list...because taking time and searching for what's on my own list...well it's just smart.<br />
<br />
<br />
....did I mention I love metaphors?<br />
<br />
<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-61683996757485997832014-04-14T10:32:00.000-04:002014-04-14T10:32:13.637-04:00Sound and Fury: Signifying NothingWhen I was in high school my friends and I would be cruising around in a car and they would play this game.<br />
<br />
The game would go like this:<br />
<br />
"Everybody be quiet until Colleen makes a noise."<br />
<br />
I imagine this was fun for them because silence was something that made me uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
When they would go silent I would cough, giggle, sigh...ANYTHING to fill the void.<br />
<br />
I always wondered why I was so uncomfortable with silence. I mean I've seen the movies and I've heard the stories of how profound sharing some silence can be between people...but I didn't get it.<br />
<br />
It wasn't until I moved to NYC that I really learned the value of sharing silence. There have been many times where I have got into a cab wrapped up in a kiss I just shared with someone. I've got into cabs when my heart was broken into a million pieces and just needed to be alone with my thoughts and not needing to worry about the social niceties of talking to someone else and to just simply sit silently there while a complete stranger drives me home. <br />
<br />
In this city there are so many people that you are kinda forced into valuing being alone...being still...with a thousand different strangers a day.<br />
<br />
Stillness in the chaos. Silence in the noise.<br />
<br />
Stillness is a word I have been thinking on a lot lately. <br />
<br />
Life goes tumbling by so quickly. I have found that my late twenties have been stressful because I feel like there are so many deadlines I have yet to meet. <br />
<br />
I worry about money.<br />
<br />
I worry about being a thoughtful artist.<br />
<br />
I worry about being alone. <br />
<br />
I worry about being proactive in life.<br />
<br />
I worry that I am not doing enough.<br />
<br />
These worries can be blinding. They are crippling even. And in my stillness and in my silence...I just simply had nothing to say.<br />
<br />
Last year was so artistically full and personally rewarding and so fast paced that when it all came to a close...I felt lost. I felt uncomfortable. I felt still.<br />
<br />
So I sat in my room. And I thought....why don't I create another piece of work. Why don't I spend 100 days rediscovering my place in the world. My place in the city that I chose to live in...and why don't I document it through social media. YES! It'll be great.<br />
<br />
And halfway into my big cathartic, discovery project...I hated everything. <br />
<br />
I stopped following the guidelines of my self imposed project and week by week, I let it slip away from me. I lost my vision. I wasn't saying anything somebody else wasn't saying...I was seeking validation from others on whether or not I was using my time well. <br />
<br />
It became a pile of horses shit. And I didn't know what to do. <br />
<br />
Do I restart the project?<br />
<br />
Do I power through even though everything felt forced to maybe learn a lesson of endurance?<br />
<br />
Neither of those options interested me so I told myself.<br />
<br />
"Colleen be still."<br />
<br />
So I became still. <br />
<br />
Still for me was...<br />
<br />
Watching a TON of Netflix.<br />
<br />
Read some plays. <br />
<br />
Took so many BuzzFeed tests....(my aura is gold if you were wondering.)<br />
<br />
And I went stir crazy. I felt low. I felt sad and alone.<br />
<br />
Friday night I was really feeling all of the feelings when I met a friend to see a show. <br />
<br />
We sat down in the theatre and when the lights went up...I was instantly jealous of the actors. I wanted to be where they were. Even though the show wasn't all that good...they were creating a story. They spent hours of rehearsal discovering their characters. They endured what was likely a very long tech rehearsal together. They shared their work with an audience for a first time. They got to do all the things that I live to do. And I was jealous.<br />
<br />
When the show was over my friend and I parted ways and I was walking through the city and I looked up while lost in my actory thoughts and I saw the Empire State Building and taxis flying by and hundreds of people filling the sidewalks and in that moment everything became...still. <br />
<br />
Standing on the corner of 13th St. and Broadway....in stillness. <br />
<br />
Standing in the city I've always dreamed of living in...stillness.<br />
<br />
Knowing in that life goes from 100mph to 0mph and 0mph to 100mph in the blink of an eye and that to truly enjoy it you just have to be...still...sometimes.<br />
<br />
I am proud of my accomplishments.<br />
<br />
I am hopeful for my future.<br />
<br />
I know what I want.<br />
<br />
I am lucky.<br />
<br />
And when I forget that...I will remember to tell myself<br />
<br />
"Colleen, be still. You got this."Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-72233116891515585432014-01-19T17:36:00.000-05:002014-01-19T17:36:08.010-05:00The Click and Clatter of My Feet On Lonely Crooked Cobbled Streets. Consciousness is defined as: the quality or state of being aware of an external object or something within oneself. <br />
<br />
This week, week one of my 100 day journey to rediscovering the city and myself, I have been the utmost conscious. <br />
<br />
I have walked through the streets of New York with my eyes wide open and the effect that just one week has had on me...well, it makes me quite grateful.<br />
<br />
When I was trying to figure out how this project would work and how I would kick it off, I had a little trouble settling on a theme for the first week. I knew I wanted to go to Grand Central Station and take a pictures because not only is that particular location incredibly iconic but there is so much life there past and present.<br />
<br />
So I took a boat load of pictures. And none of them did justice to the feeling that you get when you are standing in the middle of the main court. And like every other person bustling through the station...I was in a rush. So I decided I would make do with what I had and maybe something would come to me. So I put my phone away and headed downstairs to the 4 train and waited to go to work. <br />
<br />
While I waited for the train my mind started to race.<br />
I started to think about my bank account. I got anxious. <br />
<br />
I started to think about how I was running late to work because I was taking pictures. I got even more anxious. <br />
<br />
I started to wonder why I was even doing this project, whether or not it was even remotely going to make a difference in my life or anyone else's for that matter. Anxious. <br />
<br />
So much wondering and anxiety and as the speakers above announced that my train was approaching I glanced down and saw "Step Aside" imprinted onto the platform.<br />
<br />
So I quickly whipped out my phone and snapped a picture. <br />
<br />
Step Aside.<br />
<br />
If you travel by subway in this city chances are you see these signs almost everyday. Chances are that when you see those signs you think about how much it would suck to fall onto the tracks when a train approaches. <br />
<br />
Because it would suck. You know...getting hit by a train. <br />
<br />
But when I glanced down and saw that sign on that day, I read it with a new perspective.<br />
<br />
I read it not as a warning...but as a reminder.<br />
<br />
A reminder to not let myself get in the way of my own happiness maybe? <br />
<br />
A reminder that "Stressed Out Colleen" loves to hog the covers in the proverbial bed in my mind. And "Stressed Out Colleen" is a real bitch. She keeps me from seeing clearly. From breathing. From enjoying the fact that I am embarking on an important process for myself and hopefully those around me. <br />
<br />
And as the train approached and I stepped on...I knew what the first week's theme was. <br />
<br />
Subtle Signs.<br />
<br />
So the next day I kept my eyes open and I searched for little signs...little reminders and if you are looking...the streets of NYC are FULL of signs, markings and scribbles left by strangers. Strangers whom you've never seen and probably will never meet, but strangers who want to express an idea or thought to you. <br />
<br />
How wonderful.<br />
<br />
So the days that followed were like a little scavenger hunt. What was the city going to say to me? What will I learn from these strangers?<br />
<br />
Well I learned that there are a lot of people "IN PURSUIT OF MAGIC." Almost every single day walking through the streets you will see maybe 5 or 6 of these little spray painted signs reminding you to pursue your own personal magic. Every single time I see these signs now I smile and remember the moments of magic this city has provided me. I've experienced the magic of creating effective artistic work. I have experienced the magic of meeting people who have changed my life. I have experienced the magic of bravery. And I am grateful.<br />
<br />
The next day I found a marking that simply said "I will miss..." with a big heart drawn below it. I was leaving work when I found this one and on the train ride home I thought of all of the things and people I miss. <br />
<br />
I miss my family. I miss hearing my nieces laugh. I miss flying remote controlled helicopters with my dad. I miss watching my sister glow when she is playing with my nieces. I miss going to out to eat with my mom and dissecting life's ups and downs with her. I miss wandering through Target with my stepmom and buying supplies for the family and friend gatherings that she always so thoughtfully plans out for me and everyone else. I miss my favorites sack of fur and love ChloeBear. I miss having dance parties in the parking lots of drugstores with Laura. I miss watching Law and Order and eating ice cream with Taylor. I miss having a battle of wits with Aidan. I miss getting hugs from Gretchen. I miss the way my stomach hurts when I laugh with Melissa.<br />
<br />
And just as I started to feel overwhelmed by how much I miss...I realized that I have so many people in my life that have made me who I am and they believe in me. And oh man...do I love them. I also realized that if I were back home with all of the people I miss...I would have an equally long list of the people that I love in NYC that I would miss dearly. And some of the people that I miss most live in NYC right along with me. But life is life and if you are lucky... no matter what you do...you will always have a long list of amazing people that you miss...who are far and near because of the love you feel for them...that's beautiful.<br />
<br />
My following sign came to me by way of Houston Street. I was running about 15 minutes late to a rehearsal and trying to get to a damn train and I was cold, tired and pissed off by how slowly people were walking. And as I was waiting to cross the street I saw a sticker sitting boldly on a red fire hydrant in the distance. <br />
<br />
"LOVE ME"<br />
<br />
These streets knew I was ready to scream and burst into tears when it so simply asked me to stop and love where I am. And even though I was running late I told myself, "Colleen stop...find three things you love RIGHT NOW. You're already late. You need this." <br />
<br />
1. I loved when a seemingly wealthy and snobby business man saw an old woman drop a glove and picked it up and ran after her to return it. <br />
2. I loved the way the city glowed as the sun set.<br />
3. I loved that when I stopped and stepped to the side (call back to sign one ya'll +5 pts) I saw at least one hundred different people from a million different places in the world and country. <br />
<br />
I was super late...but who cares? I did indeed need that.<br />
<br />
<br />
The Upper East Side gave me a gift on Friday. There I was at work, walking hand in hand with the coolest 5 year old in New York City when he shouted out "BECOME YOUR DREAM!" At first I looked at the little guy perplexed at his random yet infinite wisdom and then he told me to look at the little gray box we had just passed. And there it was...<br />
<br />
"BECOME YOUR DREAM"<br />
<br />
Naturally, I snapped a picture.<br />
<br />
I've heard this phrase before. I've read this phrase on many people's status updates but after I dropped my little Buddha off to his mom I went back again to this sign and I read it again and I found that the word "become" stood out to me. <br />
<br />
To become something is a process. It takes time. It takes work. It takes persistence. And I realized that many moons ago I dreamed of being an artist in New York City. I realized that I am an artist in New York City and now I am dreaming of how to be the best artist that I can possibly be here...and slowly but surely I am becoming that dream. A kind reminder from a stranger, to be kind to oneself and one's dreams. Yes...yes indeed. <br />
<br />
So that leads us to my final picture of the first week. This sign is a sign that I walk past almost every single day. When I first saw it I thought "how urban" and I never really comprehended the sign. "TAKE THE BRICKS YOUR ENEMIES THROW AT YOU AND BUILD YOUR CASTLE" and below it says "IT'S BETTER TO LOSE A MINUTE OF YOUR LIFE THAN YOUR LIFE IN A MINUTE." It's a two for one.<br />
<br />
As with all signs, it can be interpreted in anyway depending on where you are at in life when you see it. At first I thought of it as a piece of graffiti that added to the ambiance that is Queens but today when I read it I was coming back from a concert that the kids I have the pleasure of teaching put on this morning. These kids are by and large some of the most special humans I have had the pleasure of working with. Today they all performed songs that they have written in front of a sold out house at the famous Joe's Pub. Most of their songs were about self acceptance, loving the world and those in it. It was moving. I spent our lunch break chatting with one little boy in particular who opened up to me about how he had recently been bullied at school and how writing songs helps him deal with the pain that causes him. His song...it made me cry. He hit me right in the heart when he sang the phrase...<br />
<br />
"Open your eyes, see what's around you...I bet the bad things will disappear if you think more clear."<br />
<br />
Ooof. <br />
<br />
This kid has quite literally taken the bricks that his bullies threw at him and he has created a beautiful song with a profound and ageless message. As you can imagine...he brought the house down.<br />
<br />
When I read this sign, I read it with him in mind. When I read the second part of the sign (IT'S BETTER TO LOSE A MINUTE OF YOUR LIFE THAN YOU'RE LIFE IN A MINUTE) I was thankful to be on this journey. I've slowed down and opened my eyes. I have given myself a week of much needed consciousnesss and when I put my head down on the pillow tonight I won't be thinking about how many times I was late to something this week or how stressed and rushed this city made me feel...<br />
<br />
... but instead I will be thinking about how I stepped aside, pursued a little magic of my own, thought fondly on everyone I miss, how I loved the colors and characters of this city, how I got a step closer to becoming my dream and how many castles are being built everyday by those who are making the most of their precious minutes. <br />
<br />
You did me good this week New York. <br />
<br />
Onto week 2!Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-68526178315478552432013-11-27T10:26:00.001-05:002013-11-27T10:26:41.820-05:00Surfing SantaCan you believe it's almost Thanksgiving? More so, can you believe we are about to enter the last month of this year?<br />
<br />
I find that as I get older, every single time we get to Thanksgiving, I am blown away by how quickly the year is coming to an end.<br />
<br />
Why does that happen?<br />
<br />
...Anyone?<br />
<br />
I think that it may because the older we get the more aware of time we become. Because in all actuality time is moving at the same pace it was moving 20 years ago...but 20 years ago the thing that consumed my thoughts was the harsh realization that Santa Clause didn't exist.<br />
<br />
And while I am still bummed that the North Pole is more than likely just an arctic tundra with no jolly fellows with elf friends and reindeer powered modes of transportation...it does not consume my thoughts anymore. <br />
<br />
<br />
However what is consuming my thoughts is the sheer chaos and triumph that has been 2013. This year has been so full of people, experiences and magical happenings that I am utterly thankful for. And thus I've had one of the best years of my life.<br />
<br />
I am so thankful for that.<br />
<br />
It all just happened so fast. <br />
<br />
I feel like I got swept up in the most wonderful, painful, scary, exciting and rewarding wave of my life and now I am standing on the shore looking out to sea and wondering how to jump back in and keep swimming.<br />
<br />
Jumping back in is a little daunting though.<br />
<br />
After my show...I was (and still am) filled with this new found vitality. I feel more myself than I have ever before. And that is an intoxicating feeling. <br />
<br />
Now the feeling of invincibility that I am discovering...well, it's tricky. It has lead to some dangerous (read: naive) decisions. And it would be insincere of me to tell you that I didn't make some profoundly dangerous (read: super naive) decisions while I was trying to figure out how to jump back in.<br />
<br />
You see, when my show ended I was inundated with the same two questions for a good week and a half.<br />
<br />
What's your next project?<br />
<br />
So do you think you will have sex now?<br />
<br />
These questions don't bother me. Not really. But I didn't know how to answer them. <br />
<br />
No clue.<br />
<br />
I am very accustomed to a having no clue on how to answer what my next project will be. It's the inevitable nature of the performer's life. This question is not unknown waters...I know exactly how to tread these waters.<br />
<br />
The other question...well that was a new body of water for me...<br />
<br />
And new is exciting. <br />
<br />
However, I am not very accustomed to having to answer if I am ready to finally have sex. It's uncomfortable. It's a lot of pressure. This question is completely unknown territory for me and I know the answer for myself but there has been an overwhelming need to prove to myself that I have changed and that I'm not all talk and no action (pun only slightly intended) and I jumped in...hoping that everything I had discovered about myself was all I needed to keep my head above water.<br />
<br />
As it turns out...jumping into the unknown to prove something to oneself or others, is no reason to jump into anything. <br />
<br />
I jumped into waters that were attractive and misleading. I jumped into waters that were unkind and thoughtless. And I found myself washed up on shore, feeling confused, manipulated (by my misguided desire to prove something to myself and by those attractive, charming and manipulating waters) but also feeling glad that I knew when to get out before I let these waters take away things that were not theirs to take. <br />
<br />
Sitting on the preverbal shore of my life...looking back on this month, this month of new found life, courage and confidence...this month of jumping into things that threatened my new hope, I can't help but think how great it would be if the only thing I was questioning was whether or not Santa Clause was real and not questioning myself. <br />
<br />
Silly though it may sound...maybe where I was 20 years ago and where I am now aren't too terribly different. <br />
<br />
20 years ago I didn't want to stop believing in magic. <br />
<br />
Today I don't want to stop believing in magic. <br />
<br />
But how do you sustain that magical feeling? How do you keep believing anything is possible when life goes astray? <br />
<br />
I have no definitive answer except to say that I think it has a lot to do with trust, reflection and time. <br />
<br />
Trusting that if you feel something and truly believe in something...then there is no need to prove anything because what you feel and believe are real and they are true.<br />
<br />
Reflecting back on a a year that seems to have passed so quickly yet seeing just how far you can come within 12 short little months. <br />
<br />
And time. Time to trust yourself. Time to reflect on everything you've done because you believed in possibility and you believed in yourself.<br />
<br />
I definitely don't have all the answers. But I definitely know that life ebbs and flows in a really fascinating way. I definitely know that I believe in magic and that I am capable of creating it. I definitely know that no matter how banged up I am when I wash up on shore, I will always jump back in because I know that the next great wave is waiting for me to catch it and I won't miss it.<br />
<br />
I used to wonder if I would tell my future kids about Santa Clause. After this year, I know that I will because I want them to know that magic exists and when they feel like they've lost it...I will tell them about that one time their mom caught a wave that showed her that you can always get it back...and that it still exists.<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-69037105694039749012013-08-01T00:14:00.001-04:002013-08-01T00:14:16.748-04:00Flowers of KindnessWe all know I hate the summer in the city. I feel as though I have made that abundantly clear through this blog and through my willingness to jump down the emotional drain when the temperatures rise.<br />
<br />
The sad drain. The sad and confused drain. <br />
<br />
...the lonely drain.<br />
<br />
<br />
UGGGHHH YUCK.<br />
<br />
Jumping down drains is dumb...and draining.<br />
<br />
(Rim shot)<br />
<br />
When the summer began I was hopeful for the season and I fought against the yuck. <br />
<br />
I could feel myself losing my battle and then a series of unfortunate events blew the lid off my ability to hold my composure. <br />
<br />
And this week I lost it. <br />
<br />
Now we are talking ugly girl crying and lots of sad girl music on repeat. <br />
<br />
Guys, I am talking lots of sad girl music. <br />
<br />
....I'm listening to sad girl music right now. <br />
<br />
Shut up.<br />
<br />
The culmination of my summer break down came to a head on Monday. <br />
<br />
Everything went wrong. <br />
<br />
I found myself at work trying to power through and hanging on by a very thin thread and as my night was winding down I turned around and my friend and co-worker Francisco was standing there. <br />
<br />
Now let me tell you about this guy. <br />
<br />
To put it simply...he's the best. His heart is so big, so beautiful and he's always helped me out by covering shifts for me when I have rehearsal or a show. This last part is a big deal because getting shifts covered last minute in a restaurant is like pulling teeth and when you work in a restaurant with a lack of actors its like pulling teeth from an old man who has no teeth to pull. <br />
<br />
But he always has my back. And on Monday it was no different. <br />
<br />
He knew how upset I was on Monday. The night came to a close. He left and I continued on through the rest of my shift. <br />
<br />
And then all the sudden Francisico walks back in with flowers, hands them to me and says:<br />
<br />
"Everything happens for a reason, Colleen. I believe that."<br />
<br />
A simple and surprising kindness. <br />
<br />
I cried. (contain your shock)<br />
<br />
I was so moved by Francisico's kindness. He could never know how much I needed that. At that point, after a long weekend of sad news, heartbreak and confusion, I could have never imagined that Francisico's kindness would be just the hand I needed to help me climb out of my drain.<br />
<br />
Kindness...it sure is powerful.<br />
<br />
Kindness is simple but profound. <br />
<br />
As I look at the purple flowers sitting in my vase, I am reminded how important it is to care for each other...to love each other...and to be kind to each other.<br />
<br />
I think I don't like the summer because for some reason I get trapped in my own thoughts, my own struggles and I am not kind to myself, which inevitably results in me just focusing on all the negative aspects of life and love and kindness don't come as easily to me. I have a hard time getting out of that viscous cycle. <br />
<br />
I started the summer with strangers showing me random acts of kindness. And then I lost my way and I fell down until a caring friend reached out a hand and offered me a simple kindness. <br />
<br />
I look back on this weekend and I think about a friend back home who passed away Saturday and all I can think about is how much kindness he shared with anyone he met, how much love he gave to the world and all of us who were lucky to be his acquaintance, his friend or his fellow actor. And I feel inspired by the light that he still shines on the world. <br />
<br />
I look back on Monday and I think of Francisico who took the time to give me a kindness and a wise reminder. And I am deeply thankful.<br />
<br />
The summer isn't over yet and I am still climbing back up out of my drain. But now the climb isn't a struggle as much as it is a journey towards change. Climbing towards an existence that is less self centered and more...well, kind. <br />
<br />
Kind to others. Kind to myself. <br />
<br />
An existence of trusting that there is always someone walking right beside you. Whether it be a stranger, a coworker, or a friend. <br />
<br />
We just have to choose to take in the kindness and let it pull us through. <br />
<br />
And of course, return it whenever we can because after all...<br />
<br />
Everything happens for a reason.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-4655991439545642572013-06-12T10:19:00.000-04:002013-06-12T10:19:02.888-04:00Express YourselfA couple of months before I moved to New York I was saying goodbye to a friend of mine and he grabbed my arm and told me:<br />
<br />
"<strike></strike>Promise me you will write down everything that happens to you in New York."<br />
<br />
That comment obviously stuck with me...<br />
<br />
The other day I was in Central Park working on a project. I had some down time so I sat myself on a bench, pulled out my note book and started working on a few things I needed to get done. About fifteen minutes went by before I met Eddie.<br />
<br />
Who is Eddie? <br />
<br />
Well Eddie is a 70ish year old man who tools around the city on a motorized scooter. I, for some reason peaked Eddie's interest as he scooted up right next to me and initiated conversation.<br />
<br />
"Sorry to interrupt but is it raining?"<br />
<br />
Seeing as both Eddie, myself and the sun were out, I was caught off guard. I stared at him as my mind flashed back to the day before when my dear friend Aidan and I were sitting in a coffee shop and a homeless man came in and walked straight up to our table and asked for money and left without bothering anyone else. Aidan experienced first hand the power of my stranger magnet. <br />
<br />
Now Eddie wasn't homeless and he didn't ask me for a single penny which was nice but he was in fact incredibly weird.<br />
<br />
Once I informed him that it wasn't raining he clumsily transitioned our conversation into the ups and downs of his life as a writer.<br />
<br />
He pulled out a beat up pack of Camel Lights, struck a match and as he lit his cigarette I knew I was in for an interesting moment.<br />
<br />
You see back in the 80's he used frequent a diner on the west side and at that diner he met a young aspiring singer. He told me how the two of them would stay up until the wee hours of the morning drinking coffee and talking about their ups and downs as aspiring artists. He had just moved back to the city after a couple years of living in and performing in Las Vegas and she told him how all she wants to do is sing but she had trouble believing she had what it took to make it in show business. But Eddie assured me that he believed in her. Apparently they remained close until one day she became the superstar he always told her she could be. <br />
<br />
She no longer had time for Eddie and their late night coffee dates.<br />
<br />
This upset Eddie. Even I could still see how upset this still made him as his eyes searched my face for a response that would give him peace of mind.<br />
<br />
I had nothing. I didn't know what to say. Mostly because I was trying to decide if he was completely insane or if he was actually being sincere.<br />
<br />
As he took the final puffs of his cigarette he told me that he waits outside her apartment complex on 81st street hoping that, even after all these years she would see him and they would pick up right where they left off. But no such luck.<br />
<br />
"Maybe you should just move on." I said delicately.<br />
<br />
"Would you mind reading the letter I am going to send to her, and let me know what you think?" He said with a bit of a pleading tone.<br />
<br />
How could I say no?<br />
<br />
So he digs into his scooter basket and pulls out a yellow legal pad, hands it to me, lights another cigarette, and watches me closely as I read his 4 page letter to Madonna.<br />
<br />
When I see who it's addressed to I resolve that poor Eddie is probably more on the insane side and less of the sincere side of the spectrum. But I kept reading.<br />
<br />
The letter was full of passion. Full of hurt. Full of confusion as to why he hasn't made it as an artist and why she had and so easily left him in the dust.<br />
<br />
As he finished his second cigarette and I finished the letter I looked at his sad eyes and all I could say was...<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry, Eddie."<br />
<br />
And I was. <br />
<br />
Whether or not he was insane or being honest didn't matter. I was sorry that he felt his dreams had never and will never come true.<br />
<br />
We shared a smile. <br />
<br />
He asked me to write down his home phone number and to give him a call if I'd ever like to meet up with him in the park and help him with some short stories he was working on. <br />
<br />
I took his number down when my phone rang. I let it ring because I felt like Eddie needed me to be there with him for a little bit longer. So we sat there, he on his scooter, me on the bench and we shared some silence. <br />
<br />
My phone rang again and I decided to pick up and give myself a way out of the conversation because I did need to go but I didn't have the heart to just walk away. <br />
<br />
As we went our separate ways my first response was to laugh at the absurdity of what had just happened. I didn't know what to do except laugh at it. <br />
<br />
But tonight, while I was ending a long and exhausting shift at work Eddie crept back into my thoughts. <br />
<br />
Being an aspiring artist is terrifying. It requires great risk. But the passion to create and to dedicate your life to doing so is unexplainable but it's a necessity for survival if you are bitten by the artistic bug. <br />
<br />
What if I never make anything of myself? What if I am always just a cocktail server with big dreams for the future and all of the sacrifices I've made to be in New York and follow my dreams were all for not? What if I go crazy and become Madonna's oldest stalker?<br />
<br />
As I sat in my cab on my way home tonight I not only thought of Eddie but I thought of what my friend told me before I moved to New York.<br />
<br />
"Write everything down."<br />
<br />
And while I was writing down the story of Eddie, I realized that I am grateful that I was able to keep Eddie company that afternoon. Grateful to be someone for Eddie to connect with for a brief moment. <br />
<br />
We were two aspiring artists, one young, one old. He shared a story and now I am sharing a story. <br />
<br />
It didn't work out for Eddie. Maybe it won't work out for me...but by god I am going to do everything in my power to make sure it does. For me and for Eddie. Because I can't imagine doing and being anywhere else.<br />
<br />
With great risk comes great reward...<br />
<br />
<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-54169893642948547382013-06-01T09:57:00.004-04:002013-06-01T09:57:59.868-04:00Summer Clowning.Summer in New York is a tricky thing.<br />
<br />
Tricky meaning, I don't like it.<br />
<br />
I feel like most people think the summer in the city is cool and perhaps they even look forward to it. Not having to wear a million layers just to keep warm. Not trudging through snow. Being able to sit on patios. And just being able to enjoy this place in a different way. <br />
<br />
And yeah...I totally love those things too. And while I am about to list all the reasons those things aren't good enough to win me over on my "summer in the city" feelings...I do look forward to those things as well.<br />
<br />
...but<br />
<br />
<br />
I haven't had a good summer in this city yet...<br />
<br />
My first summer here I was out of work and living on (blowing through) my savings account. And then I got mugged...and lost $700...and all my i.d.'s...on my way to the airport.<br />
<br />
-10 points for summer.<br />
<br />
My second summer I was again out of work because I had just quit my job because of a busy final two months of school. So I found myself spending my days working a string of really shitty low paying jobs with really thrilling responsibilities that include but are not limited to: sweeping up peanuts and cleaning poop out of dressing rooms.<br />
<br />
-12 points for summer.<br />
-53 points for poop in dressing rooms.<br />
<br />
My third summer was a little more stable in the work department but it was generally a summer of personal and emotional struggles. My own personal Chekhovian hell. And while my own hoopla didn't really have anything to do the fact it was summer time...I'm gonna go ahead and blame summer time anyway because blaming things that have nothing to do with weather on weather is just so much easier.<br />
<br />
-9.05 for summer<br />
-72 pooping in dressing rooms (I mean COME ON)<br />
<br />
My fourth summer...well it's just beginning. <br />
<br />
Today I really felt like summer was here for good. Maybe it was the unbearable heat. Maybe it was saying goodbye to my best friend who leaves NYC for gigs every summer, maybe it was the unquestionable choice to opt for iced coffee and not hot coffee at the bodega this morning. I don't know.<br />
<br />
As the day continued and I walked to the train to go to work,. anxiety crept into my stomach. I thought about how much I love New York but when I don't like her (like I typically don't in summer time) she wears me out and fills my thoughts with doubts about the choices that led me here. <br />
<br />
And then a clown car pulled up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
...No, I'm completely serious.<br />
<br />
I was standing at the cross walk waiting to you know...cross...when I look up and this black jeep with big red clown lips and and clown eyes on the front of the car, pulls up to me. The window rolls down as a man dressed as the happiest clown I've ever seen simply said:<br />
<br />
"Smile, beautiful."<br />
<br />
And he drove off. <br />
<br />
Woah.<br />
<br />
Wait, what?<br />
<br />
That's not real life.<br />
<br />
All the sudden this damn city lured me back in with a classic "Only in New York" moment. I mean really though, only in New York can a clown drive up and intercept your negative thoughts with such a kind reminder to smile. <br />
<br />
Hope for the summer began to fill my head. Could this could be a great one with so lots of smiles?<br />
<br />
And then I got to work and I suffered a few blows to my recharged hope. A common hazard of the hospitality industry.<br />
<br />
One of my first tables of the night was this older couple. The man of this duo pretty much asked me every question there is to ask about the menu, he sent me to the kitchen to ask the chef a myriad of weird questions, he made lots of uncomfortable references to he and his wife's sex life and tons of bad jokes at my expense.<br />
<br />
They made things difficult and I was annoyed. My smiles were all forced as I powered through.<br />
<br />
When the time came to drop the check (a long awaited moment), I thanked them, we shared one last bad joke and they left.<br />
<br />
Relief.<br />
<br />
<br />
I went to pick up the signed check and inside the bill holder was a generous tip and the gentleman's business card.<br />
<br />
On the back of the card read:<br />
<br />
"Keep that smile, Colleen."<br />
<br />
Woah.<br />
<br />
Wait, WHAT?<br />
<br />
WHAT'S GOING ON?<br />
<br />
My heart felt full. My smile felt the most genuine it had all week because Mr. Questions McBadjokes made my night. <br />
<br />
Today I was full of doubts and worries for the impending change of seasons. Today a clown randomly pulled up to me and told me to smile. Today a bothersome but kind old man reminded me again, to smile. Tonight I am sitting on my porch, on this beautiful night, doing what I love, with a smile. <br />
<br />
My fourth summer here...well, it began with an overwhelming desire to just...smile.<br />
<br />
+100 for summer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
-94 for pooping in dressing rooms. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-32511569075990608552013-04-22T14:50:00.001-04:002013-04-22T14:50:34.668-04:00The Care Bear Countdown.When I was younger, I had no doubts that magic was real. I believed that bears with shamrocks and sunshine etched on their bellies were just as capable of saving the world as a group of teens with elemental rings that summoned Captain Planet. <br />
<br />
<br />
Unfortunately as time passed my belief in things like these faded. With every tragedy, with every struggle that life dealt me it became all too easy to just resolve that life is hard and the only magic left in the world was the power of endurance. <br />
<br />
Lately, all I have wanted to feel was the belief in magic again. <br />
<br />
Now, as you know I am a bit of an enigma in our day and age. I had a conversation with a friend a couple of nights ago about the subject of my blog. He was generally perplexed as to how I could have possibly never had sex before. He went through a list of conclusions to be drawn as to why this could be so.<br />
<br />
-I am bat shit crazy.<br />
-I am super religous.<br />
-I am waiting to fall in love.<br />
-I am A-sexual.<br />
<br />
Huh.<br />
<br />
We then discussed each thing he listed in detail. <br />
<br />
Bat shit crazy. No, no I don't think I am. I think I am pretty grounded in reality and although I definitely have my eccentricities, I don't see myself ever slashing some dudes tires because he told me I was pretty and then didn't call the next day. I'm pretty easy going and a law abiding citizen...so...<br />
<br />
He agreed. And since he's known me for a while now, I was comforted in his validation on this point.<br />
<br />
Super religious. No. I grew up in the Bible Belt yes, but I have always had an inquistive and open minded nature and I didn't strap on any kind of Jesus Chastity belt...and unless some higher power is preparing me to give birth to the next Messiah without my consent or knowledge we can go ahead and rule this conclusion out right now.<br />
<br />
He and I laughed.<br />
<br />
Waiting to fall in love. I don't sit around and wait for things. It's not who I am. It's not what I do. I don't think falling in love and sex go hand in hand either. I think sometimes they of course do, but sitting around and waiting for an idea of what I maybe think love is or could be seems counterproductive. Too much pressure. <br />
<br />
He and I agreed.<br />
<br />
I'm A-Sexual. Haha, noooo. I am not. Not at all. I have a soft spot for watching documentaries and I recently watched a piece on the subject and I can safely assure you that I am not an A-Sexual. I go on dates guys...I swear. Not often but I do, do that kind of stuff. <br />
<br />
He and I discussed my last dating disaster and laughed, again.<br />
<br />
So after we sorted through all his theories I brought up my favorite theory of all. <br />
<br />
When my friend Allison learned about my chaste ways she without missing a beat, blurted out with gusto...<br />
<br />
"YOU'RE A UNICORN!"<br />
<br />
This will ultimately go down as my favorite response ever.<br />
<br />
It made me feel kinda cool. And guys, as an old virgin it can sometimes be hard to feel cool unless Tina Fey is on TV talking about how she was an old virgin too...am I right, ladies?<br />
<br />
But why not embrace being a damn mythical beast? Because now that I have, I feel some pretty strong magic welling up inside of me. I've got an interesting story to tell. I've got friends with infinite magic oozing out of them willing to help me tell my story. And maybe once I do share my full story I can make people feel a little less alone with the things that make them feel different and judged. Because we are all in this together. And just because magic isn't what I once thought it may be, it's still very real. We all have it within us, we just have to not be afraid of it and let it shine through us with confidence.<br />
<br />
<br />
Basically what I am trying to say is that if I were a Care Bear, my belly would have a unicorn on it.<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-9615759102019663662013-04-02T02:24:00.001-04:002013-04-02T02:24:30.745-04:00After the Sneeze.I was sitting on the train tonight and a lady sneezed. <br />
<br />
Not breaking news or anything. Of course not even remotely unusual. But tonight it bothered me. <br />
<br />
...not the sneezing. <br />
<br />
But what happened afterwards...<br />
<br />
It is a rare occasion that I won't say 'bless you' to someone if I witness a sneeze. <br />
<br />
When I was a kid it felt like everyone always said 'bless you' after a sneeze and the sneezer always said 'thank you.' It was just what happened. It felt rude not to.<br />
<br />
And as time went on and the older I got it seemed like no one ever said it anymore. <br />
<br />
I was sitting on the train tonight and a lady sneezed and I said 'bless you.'<br />
<br />
She then gave me the dirtiest look. <br />
<br />
She looked at me as if I had just said something terrible about her mother. But I didn't. I said 'bless you.'<br />
<br />
I almost instantly looked away in shame or shock (I can't tell) and I sat there and I wondered what had just happened. <br />
<br />
Now, I am entirely used to people completely ignoring me when I salute their sneeze and I am always very surprised and delighted when people look up at me after releasing their nasal passages, with a smile and we share a little moment of wishing each other well. <br />
<br />
But I've never experienced so dirty of a look before.<br />
<br />
I sat there and I wondered why I even said it. Why do I keep saying it when no one else cares or not if you acknowledge the fact that they are sneezing? Do I just instinctively do it because I was raised to? <br />
<br />
Maybe...I've honestly never thought about why I keep saying it before tonight. <br />
<br />
Now, I'm the type of person who always gets stopped in the street and asked for directions or asked to take group pictures. I'm the type of person who if you are standing in a long line chances are if I am behind you or in front of you, we will end up talking. People who notice this quality about me generally say something along the lines of "it's because you seem nice." <br />
<br />
I seem nice.<br />
<br />
That's not a bad word. That's not a bad thing. But it's also not a specific word or a specific thing. <br />
<br />
But I don't think it's the thing that makes these things happen. <br />
<br />
We have so many opportunities to exclude ourselves from everyone around us. We put our headphones in and we rush off to our next destination lost in our own thoughts, worries and cares. We clutch our phones and surf the web, catch up with what's going on with people on Facebook and we rarely live in the 'now.' The very literal sense of the 'now.' <br />
<br />
I use the term 'we' because I am very much including myself in those generalizations. <br />
<br />
Tonight as I stood on the train platform waiting to go home I had a thousand things on my mind. <br />
<br />
The train raced up to the platform as fast as the thoughts in my head. The doors opened. I sat down. I thought about how I miss my family. I thought about all the emails I have to send out. I thought about how I am going to need to buy new shampoo pretty soon. I thought about traveling. I thought about buying a dog. I thought about how I need a haircut. I thought about...<br />
<br />
And then a lady sneezed and I said 'bless you.' <br />
<br />
So tonight after a lot of thought, I've decided I will keep saying 'bless you' no matter if I am given a dirty look, if I am ignored or appreciated because it's an opportunity to check back in with the 'now' and wish another person, who may be sick, who may be feeling alone, who may be lost in thought, well. It's an opportunity to share a kindness. <br />
<br />
And yeah...it's nice. I really like nice.Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-15048659864377188582013-02-11T00:38:00.002-05:002013-02-15T11:28:24.211-05:00Doc in the BoxA couple of weeks ago I fell quite ill. <br />
<br />
My stomach was in knots, I couldn't eat, I could barely sleep and I knew what I had to do...<br />
<br />
I had to go to the doctor.<br />
<br />
Now let it be known that I truly hate going to the doctor, for many reasons. Namely, I don't like being weighed by a stranger and then have to watch them record the number with the knowledge that they will be passing it on to another stranger. It feels too much like middle school when someone gets ahold of a piece of paper that you've written Colleen Timberlake all over and then passes it around to the whole class. It's just too much personal information being unnessascarily exposed. <br />
<br />
Another reason I hate going to the doctor is that I recently lost my health insurance when I turned twenty six and I am not a rich person. Believe it or not, I wait tables to pay bills, not just for fun. Weird, I know.<br />
<br />
But the main reason I hate the going to the doctor is well...<br />
<br />
They. Always. Think. You're. Pregnant.<br />
<br />
I mean really. <br />
<br />
If I went in there and told them I got hit by a bus or that my toe hurt, they would make me pee in a cup to "rule out pregnancy."<br />
<br />
If you are a follower of my blog then I'm sure you know why this part of the doctor experience is a lot for me to deal with. <br />
<br />
If you are new to my blog, well then allow me to be more specific...<br />
<br />
The morning I decided to go to the doctor and make sure I wasn't dying, my best friend Taylor came and walked with me to my appointment. This Taylor Walsh guy is a real gem and he sat patiently in the waiting room while I filled out my paperwork. <br />
<br />
"Do you want me to go in the room with you?"<br />
<br />
I stopped and thought for a second and I decided that I did want him there with me to hold me responsible for my less than healthy life choices. It's easier to lie about how much coffee you drink when there isn't a person in the room who can call your bluff.<br />
<br />
So he graciously stayed by my side and vowed to hold me accountable...because I'm clearly a child. <br />
<br />
Now when I asked him to stay with me I had forgot about all the embarrassing questions the nurse asks you before the doctor actually examines you.<br />
<br />
"Please step on the scale."<br />
<br />
Ugh.<br />
<br />
"When was your last period?"<br />
<br />
Oh. Dear. God.<br />
<br />
Not only is that just a personal question that I don't freely and openly talk about, it's also a question that leads to that infamous plastic cup that demands to be peed in.<br />
<br />
My already upset stomach sank as the nurse shuffled me off to the bathroom to "rule out pregnancy."<br />
<br />
She closed the door. <br />
<br />
I stood there.<br />
<br />
I stood there some more.<br />
<br />
I stood there and knew that if I didn't just pull my pants down and pee in that damn cup things were gonna get awkward fast in this doctor's office.<br />
<br />
Now, as I had told you previously, my stomach was a disaster and I couldn't eat or drink anything without wanting to be sick, thus the doctor visit. So trying to pee was a task to say the least. <br />
<br />
I was in that bathroom for upwards of a half an hour trying to make myself pee. I was imagining waterfalls, fountains, rain showers, all while letting the sink pour water into the drain.<br />
<br />
Nothing worked. My bladder was closed for business. <br />
<br />
I started to panic because I knew that if I didn't walk out there with a full cup of non pregnant pee, I would have to tell them that there was no way I am pregnant and to be honest, I didn't want to have to deal with their doubt and judgement that morning. <br />
<br />
So naturally I text Taylor from the bathroom with a frantic:<br />
<br />
"I. Can't. Pee."<br />
<br />
He then suggests drinking water.<br />
<br />
Oh...right. There's that whole logic thing again.<br />
<br />
So I sneak out of the bathroom and successfully make it to the lobby to grab water. The Pregnancy Police didn't spot me. So far so good...<br />
<br />
As I try to slink back into the bathroom, the doctor spots me. <br />
<br />
NononononononononononononononononononononononNO!<br />
<br />
He guides me into the examining room where Taylor is waiting for me. <br />
<br />
Taylor spots the empty pee cup in my hand and the full water cup in the other hand and we share a knowing look. <br />
<br />
This will not end well. <br />
<br />
The doctor asks why I didn't pee. I coyly say:<br />
<br />
"Just need some water, heh."<br />
<br />
He then proceeds to have me lay down, unbuttons my jeans and begins to push all over my stomach. As I stifle my urge to throw up as he presses down hard on my abdomen, I begin to explain to him that I recently went vegan and that I think the diet change on top of a bout of anxiety may be why I don't feel well. He agrees and lectures me on how I need to be more careful with my diet change. He then prescribes some acid reflux medicine. And just when I thought I dodged the pregnancy bullet, he asks me to step into the bathroom and fill up the cup just to...what's that? Yeah you guessed it "to rule out pregnancy."<br />
<br />
I look at Taylor for courage. He smiles and I almost instantly blurt out:<br />
<br />
"If the pee is to just rule out pregnancy, then we can go ahead and rule that out right now."<br />
<br />
He looks at me blankly.<br />
<br />
I continue...<br />
<br />
"I've never had sex."<br />
<br />
He looks at me like a deer in head lights.<br />
<br />
"REALLY?"<br />
<br />
He couldn't even hide his shock and dismay.<br />
<br />
"Yeah..."<br />
<br />
He then looks at me sternly and holds up his right hand crosses his fingers in a "scout's honor" fashion and says:<br />
<br />
"Promise?"<br />
<br />
I reluctantly and embarrassingly hold up my right hand and cross my fingers:<br />
<br />
"Promise."<br />
<br />
"Who's this?" he says pointing at Taylor.<br />
<br />
"My best friend."<br />
<br />
"Oh...How old are you?"<br />
<br />
Suddenly I am nauseous again and I pathetically utter a:<br />
<br />
"Please don't ask me that, sir."<br />
<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
"I'm 26."<br />
<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
I sit there waiting for some kind of crack about how I wouldn't die if I were in a horror film or if he can have my phone number in case he finds himself up against some incurable disease and a drop of virgin blood is the only hope or something...<br />
<br />
But he then says...<br />
<br />
"Good for you girl. I'm proud of you!"<br />
<br />
Great. The doc in the box is proud of me. Scratch that off the bucket list.<br />
<br />
As he exits the room, Taylor grabs my leg as I sit there with my pants still wide open. He looks at me like a baby who just fell down and he desperately tries to fill the room with smiles and laughter and before we both know it I am sitting there exposed and crying like a damn baby.<br />
<br />
Low point.<br />
<br />
But as I cried I quickly replayed what just happened in my head and I start laughing really hard.<br />
<br />
"HE MADE ME CROSS MY FINGERS AND PROMISE! WHO DOES THAT?!?!?! WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THAT?!?"<br />
<br />
We laugh. Hard. Taylor then points out that, the doctor probably sees a lot of girls my age come in with their boyfriends complaining of stomach issues that are actually pre-baby issues. <br />
<br />
We laugh. Harder this time.<br />
<br />
The proud doctor re-entered, handed me my prescription for heartburn and saluted me with a:<br />
<br />
"Keep doing you, girl."<br />
<br />
I buttoned my pants. Put on my jacket and we left. <br />
<br />
But I left with a little more than a prescription. I left with a little more courage.<br />
<br />
You see the thing is, I am who I am and I can't and won't apologize for it. And yes, that means I am a weirdly old virgin. I'm not gonna be ashamed of that anymore. Because honestly, it's not a big deal. It's not some big moral choice I am making. It's more of a result of the life that I've lived, the things that have happened to me or not happened for me. I can't change that and as much as I hated that doctor that day, I am gonna take his advice and I am gonna "keep doing me." (Pun intended).<br />
<br />
With that said I would like to take this opportunity to let you guys know that I am currently working on turning my story into a show of sorts. Why not? Right? Right!<br />
Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-84492412806102476402013-01-28T13:59:00.003-05:002013-01-28T14:00:38.639-05:00The Naked TruthOh man guys...<br />
<br />
I know, it's been a coon's age! <br />
<br />
But I am still here. If my intentions where more active I would have posted at least 25 more blogs since the last time I updated but you know...My intentions are most of the time just intentions, as I am sure you are now realizing.<br />
<br />
Anyway...<br />
<br />
Life has been weird lately. Weird is vague but I feel like the illusive nature of the word is ever so appropriate to describe how my life has been. <br />
<br />
I don't know how to properly describe it. But let me try...<br />
<br />
I've lost sight <strike></strike>of my purpose and passions. I've gotten comfortable in settling for what is and I've stopped striving for what could be. It's seemingly too difficult to imagine achieving the life I've set out for and way too easy to get stuck in settling for what I have. But there needs to balance. <br />
<br />
Being happy now, while never losing the will to keep following the road of possibility and dreams.<br />
<br />
Right now, I'm standing on the road of possibility and dreams and I am looking back too much. Trying to figure out how I got here and constantly forgetting to look forward at the road that is ahead of me. <br />
<br />
It's kinda like walking backwards down the road that lies ahead and <strike></strike>I'm missing out on the potential and excitement of the road that lies ahead. <br />
<br />
<br />
I had an interesting moment that really made me realize this a couple of weeks ago.<br />
<br />
I was at the gym, pumping iron. And by pumping iron, I do mean running on the treadmill while watching GIRLS on my IPad. After I finished my workout and my episode, I went back to the locker room and stripped down to a towel to prepare for my ever so coveted time in the sauna.<br />
<br />
Now time for real talk. The women who frequent the gym and more specifically, use the suana, get butt ass naked. We're talking about women just walking around naked, drying their hair with their tits to the wind, having deep conversations with only towels wrapped around their wet showered hair. It's pretty much a National Geographic episode in there. <br />
<br />
But they are so free and comfortable.<br />
<br />
I am not.<br />
<br />
I am that girl who wraps her towel around her fully clothed body so that I can undress without any kind of display of any part of my lady business. <br />
<br />
But I have envied these brave naked women and wondered how they just dont care. How they know that no one cares at all that they are naked. Like, at all. <br />
<br />
I wanted that.<br />
<br />
So, on this particular day, I do my towel changing routine and decide to weigh myself. And as a naked woman stepped off the scale this toweled woman (me, incase your visual isn't clear) stepped on. And as I looked at the number I wondered about my towels. I wanted to stand on that scale and not have a towel on. Because these two small towels MUST weigh 10 lbs...each...right?<br />
<br />
But I kept the towels on and headed to the sauna.<br />
<br />
As I opened the door to the sauna I saw this girl. She was trying to exit the heat as I was on my way in and the look in her eyes was alarming. <br />
<br />
Was she dying? Why wasn't she walking out? She's just standing there. <br />
<br />
And before I knew it me and this girl got super close, as she promptly collapsed as I immediately dove in and caught her before she hit her head. <br />
<br />
Oh man...I hope she's not dead.<br />
<br />
"Ummm, okay okay...I am just gonna carry you over here. We gotta get you out of the sauna okay?"<br />
<br />
No response. Obviously.<br />
<br />
"Hey, hey can you hear me? Here's some water. Drink this water!"<br />
<br />
No response. Panic.<br />
<br />
At this moment I am holding her on the ground outside of the sauna trying to put a water bottle to her lifeless lips, when other women ran to help.<br />
<br />
And then she woke up. She was confused. Very confused.<br />
<br />
One would assume she was confused because she didn't know what happened or why she passed out. Which of course, is totally legitimate.<br />
<br />
But I have a different theory. <br />
<br />
I think she was confused because of all the naked women standing over her and why I was naked and holding her while she too was naked. <br />
<br />
So. Much. Naked.<br />
<br />
You see when she fell into my arms her towel also fell. But while I really wished that didnt happen, it would maybe seem insensitive to let her fall, cover her back up and then drag her out of the sauna...you know?<br />
<br />
And while I was manuevering her out of the sauna, you bet your bare ass my towels didn't stay put either. But while I really wished that didn't happen, it would maybe seem insestive to push her off of me and cover back up...you know?<br />
<br />
Like I said, she had all the reason in the world to be the most confused person in the building.<br />
<br />
But she was gracious. She thanked me profusely and walked off a little embarassed. And I stood there. <br />
<br />
Naked.<br />
<br />
And I didn't care. The others didn't so why should I? <br />
<br />
I went back to the scale. I weighed myself with no towels. I got off the scale. Picked up my towels. Went back to the sauna. Layed my towels down on the bench and sat my naked ass down and I felt accomplished. <br />
<br />
I did it. I became the naked locker room woman that I always wanted to be. <br />
<br />
I was forced into something I strangely wanted but never had the courage to do on my own.<br />
<br />
While there was a definite victory in this, there was also a definite realization.<br />
<br />
That being, I find myself always passionate about who I want to be and what I want to do but I am in constant need to be forced into it. <br />
<br />
I often times lack the courage to really commit. And I get stuck in the middle of the road, looking back and not moving forward. But for the first time in a long time, I think I am ready. <br />
<br />
I am ready to risk it all for all of the things and people I love. I am ready to risk failure. I am ready to take a risk for positive change. I am ready to risk not being liked. I am ready to risk opening up about who I am and what makes me...well me.<br />
<br />
It's time and BY GOD, I am ready.<br />
<br />
(Editors Note: My towels didn't weigh 10lbs. That was just my thighs, unfortunately.)Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-70226735906675088042012-11-08T03:03:00.000-05:002012-11-08T03:03:04.036-05:00Ghosts of Jackets Past...If you know me you are probably aware that I have an affinity for jackets. For some reason I just love a great jacket or coat. In the summer months I find myself looking forward to jacket weather.<br />
<br />
I typically find a new jacket every fall. But not just any kind of jacket but a jacket worthy of joining my sacred collection. My birthday is in the fall so as a sort of 'Happy Birthday' to myself I get a new jacket.<br />
<br />
This morning I got dressed and ready to go to the West Village for a rehearsal. I dressed myself for a typical day in November in New York. <br />
<br />
Bitchin' tights. Cute dress. Great boots.<br />
<br />
But what jacket to wear?<br />
<br />
I have a purple down coat that I have been wearing a lot lately and while it is a very practical and a warm option, I was feeling bloated and as any girl in the North East knows, down coats are just about the worst option ever when you're already feeling like the Michelin Man sans puffy coat. <br />
<br />
So I opened my closet and there it was...<br />
<br />
A little more than eight years ago I lost my grandpa. <br />
My Granddaddy. <br />
<br />
He was a very important figure in my life. For as long as I could remember he spent 3 months of the year and every Christmas with us and we ate truck loads of ice cream together and rarely missed a nightly episode of Wheel of Fortune. And maybe most importantly he was by and large the funniest man I've had the pleasure of knowing. <br />
<br />
The funeral was on a bone chilling January day in Simsbury, Connecticut where my family is from. I, however, spent most of my formative years in Texas...meaning I was and still am pretty terrible at dressing for freezing temperatures and heavy snow. <br />
<br />
When my dad, sister and I arrived in Connecticut it was very clear that my light Texas jacket would not keep me warm in the -10 degree weather. But my wardrobe took a seat on the back burner when we arrived. Saying goodbye to a man that touched our lives so profoundly became much more important. <br />
<br />
My dad knew I was interested in writing a eulogy. In the Catholic Church eulogy's are not part of a traditional funeral. But my grandpa was loved by so many people and so many of us wanted to share our fondest memories of him. So our family approached the priest and asked if he would make allowances for my grandpa's funeral the the next day. He did. But he would only allow one person to deliver it. <br />
<br />
Me.<br />
<br />
I was terrified. <br />
<br />
My dad, sister and I got into the rental car and I think my dad could see me trembling in the back seat with fear. So he took me to JCPenney and said "let's get you a warm jacket."<br />
<br />
I couldn't think straight sorting through the coat department and then my dad came up to me with a light suede jacket with beautiful red and purple embroidery and a thick, fluffy and warm lining. <br />
<br />
It was perfect.<br />
<br />
We bought it. I put it on and we headed back to our hotel where I sat at a desk for hours trying to find the perfect way to say goodbye for all of us.<br />
<br />
Nothing.<br />
<br />
And then more nothing.<br />
<br />
After many failed drafts I looked at my dad, who was silently watching TV on his bed and told him I couldn't do it. It was too much. And then my dad said.<br />
<br />
"Colleen, relax. You can do this. If you don't I know you will look back and wish that you had." <br />
<br />
And just like that, the words came to me. <br />
<br />
The next day I put on my new jacket and folded the piece of hotel scrap paper full of my words of love and goodbye and placed it in my pocket. <br />
<br />
This moment in my life will forever remain as one of my most vivid and difficult times I have ever experienced. But because of my dad I can look back and remember the time he gave me the warmth and courage I needed to express my heart, gratitude and remembrance for my beautiful grandpa. <br />
<br />
As I opened my closet today there my jacket was. Without hesitation I grabbed it, buttoned up and ventured into my day. <br />
<br />
I've been having a tough time lately. A time when warmth and courage are something I need very much and as I walked through this city as a Nor'Easter coated the streets with snow my core felt warm and very much not alone because I was wearing a memory of love and support and after all these years the memories and the jacket still keep me warm.<br />
<br />
...if only I had worn gloves and waterproof boots.<br />
<br />
But I am learning. Learning so much about survival and how to thrive...even if it is one layer at a time...Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-30317537444821386322012-07-29T14:34:00.001-04:002012-07-29T14:34:35.735-04:00Mountain Air ManifestoGreetings and salutations! <br />
<br />
Long time no talk. I apologize but you're probably used to me taking my sweet time in between entries...I like to build anticipation to manipulate your interest in my writing. <br />
<br />
And here we are.<br />
<br />
I am happy to report to you that I am in fact not writing to you from the majestic and scenic borough of Queens but I am writing to you from this dump of a town with views that don't even come close to rivaling the Triborough Bridge and Queensborough Bridge. (side note: sarcasm is my strongest suit.)<br />
<br />
I am still sexless though. (another side note: consistency is overrated.) <br />
<br />
In all seriousness though, Aspen, Colorado may be the most beautiful place I have ever been to. I find myself surrounded by the most beautiful mountains and breathing the freshest air that has reached my lungs in years. <br />
<br />
I am not used to magical lands such as these. So much so that my first night here my head hurt so badly and my body swelled up like the Michelin Man. I was told that it was the altitude but I think my body was in overdrive trying to figure out where the smell of urine and sweaty homeless people went. But I woke up the next day feeling just fine, so I think I will survive just fine...fear not.<br />
<br />
I could get used to big mountains, fresh air and quaint towns. There is something strangely humanizing about places like these. Places where nature is the star of the show and towns are built to allow us to look up and marvel at the unexplainable beauty that was created for us and not created by us. <br />
<br />
I fancy myself a creator and I spend so much of my time figuring out how to be an effective and successful creator that I don't really stop to smell the roses...ever. Living in New York as a struggling artist doesn't really afford you much time or opportunity to stop and take a moment to just appreciate what is and forget about the worry of what will or could be. <br />
<br />
But this morning as I write to you, I am discovering how important it is to come up for air every now and again. Even if the air is reallllly thin.<br />
<br />
I have been really beat down by the hustle and bustle of life lately...feeling over worked, underpaid and finding myself forgetting all the reasons as to why I am in New York. Lately living in New York means waiting tables and hoping I can afford rent, student loans and 3 cups of coffee a day. And this may be a surprise...but that's actually not why I moved here three years ago. But as I sit here amongst mountains, good coffee and a stranger's dog who is resting his sweet head on my foot I can't help but feel glad that I have worked hard and been beat down a bit and that I can take a moment to go to a place like this, spend time with someone I love truly and sit in a coffee shop and just be glad to be alive and realize just how lucky of a girl I really am. <br />
<br />
I have heard many people say that one of the best parts of living in New York is leaving New York and today I know that to be true in my life. <br />
<br />
I love being a New Yorker. I love that the city holds some of my hardest and darkest times and I love that it also holds some of my most beautiful and brightest moments. I love the sense of pride I feel when I tell people where I live and that I am there ultimately pursuing my dreams and my art and that I don't just survive in New York but I thrive there. <br />
<br />
But to thrive sometimes you need to take a step back and breath so when you jump back in you return with focus and purpose but more importantly you return knowing that life isn't about the future, it's about the now and the now can be simple and beautiful no matter where you are, no matter how confused by life you may be, no matter how tired you may find yourself.<br />
<br />
Right now I am happy and in the mountains spending time with one of my best friends. Right now I am content. <br />
<br />
We should always find the fresh air and mountains. And if there aren't any mountains and there is a short supply of fresh air, then we may need to get creative. But I bet there will always be smiles, laughter, sunshine and puppies just waiting to brighten our day if we take time to notice. <br />
<br />
Maybe...more than likely.Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-40785192717376740622012-06-24T20:34:00.000-04:002012-06-24T20:37:15.237-04:00A Fancy Flush<br />
<br />
My life is nothing short of glamorous lately. I find myself drinking too much, wanting to eat skittles, cheeseburgers and cake every hour on the hour. Glamour.<br />
<br />
Like if I become a diabetic alcoholic explosion, I will only have to worry about that and not whether or not I am doing something substantial with my life...<br />
<br />
Logic has never been my strong suit.<br />
<br />
About a month ago I really found myself questioning my life and my choices.<br />
<br />
I work at a fancy restaurant, with fancy customers and fancy prices and sometimes extra fancy people buy the restaurant for a great big fancy party celebrating their fancy lives. <br />
<br />
I can assure you that when I am scheduled to work these fancy parties...my life is less than fancy.<br />
<br />
How many times did I just say fancy?<br />
<br />
8.<br />
<br />
So I get to work that night and I am told that I will be standing outside our bathrooms with a tray to hold our fancy party goers drinks, while they pee, snort coke, have sex, vomit, or just simply go #2. <br />
<br />
Fancy.<br />
<br />
10. <br />
<br />
I begrudgingly take my tray, head to the bathrooms and prepare for battle. <br />
<br />
As the party started I contemplated life, as I stood in what felt like solitary confinement.<br />
<br />
And then it was about time for the drunks to break the seal...and we all know that once the seal is broken there is no turning back.<br />
<br />
At first people seemed bewildered that I was willing to hold their drinks while they were in dispose ( I use the term willing as loosely as possible). And then I started to keep a tally of all the d-bag men who said "feel free to slip a roofy in there, if you want." Everyone's a goddamned comedian.<br />
<br />
Then I began to notice that there was this young kid, who was maybe 17 or so standing not too far from me. He was clearly at the party as he was dressed to the nines but he was also very clearly out of place. Once the wave of seal breakers subsided for a moment I decided to ask him how his night was.<br />
<br />
"You enjoying the party?" I inquired.<br />
"Yeah, it's great! I've never been to anything like this or seen so many celebrities."<br />
"Yeah..." I replied with feigned excitement.<br />
<br />
(awkward silence)<br />
<br />
"Anjelica Houston is wasted..." I said desperate to keep this rare moment of human interaction on nights like these going. <br />
"Oh really? I haven't seen her yet."<br />
"I've started to time how long it takes her to need to go the bathroom, again...she should be back in about ten minutes if my timing is accurate."<br />
He laughs.<br />
"It's weird seeing her so sloppy...but she always thanks me for holding her drink...which is a change of pace tonight."<br />
"How did you get stuck with this job." ( a question I had been thinking all night)<br />
" I think my managers know I am the only one who wouldn't outwardly complain about doing it." <br />
<br />
(cue silence as I imagine how fitting it would be to dress as a welcome mat for Halloween this year.)<br />
<br />
"So do you do something else other than hold drinks?" he said cheekily breaking the silence.<br />
"Ha! Yeah...I'm an actor...go figure, right?"<br />
<br />
He then took a general interest in my life as an actor. I told him all about the shows I've been working on and my future goals and artistic dreams and he then shared with me his plans to attend Boston University in the fall for film production and we sweetly shared a moment of hope for the future. It was nice. It made me feel less jaded and when you've been standing outside a bathroom for hours, that's hard to do. <br />
<br />
He then headed back into the party.<br />
<br />
"I'll see you later." he said.<br />
"You know where to find me." <br />
<br />
<br />
And off he went. I wish my night ended there. With a lovely interaction with a kid who was generally enthused by life. Contagious enthusiasm. And for that i was grateful. <br />
<br />
But alas, the beat down goes on...<br />
<br />
Now throughout the night there was this...guy...this guy who was clearly trying to make connections with the fancy people all night...trying so hard that he was definitely following people to the bathroom...waiting for them to come out and magically give notice how AMAZING he was and demand that he be the next Robert Deniro...<br />
<br />
He felt it was his job to try to make me feel small, uninformed and unimportant. Did he not realize I was bathroom duty girl that night?<br />
<br />
"You know who that is?"<br />
"An old MTV VJ?" I replied aging myself...<br />
"Yeah she's a big deal."<br />
"Cool..."<br />
<br />
I then sat back and watched this guy make a complete and total ass of himself as this middle aged couple approaches our general direction. <br />
<br />
I have to give you the complete visual of this couple so you can fully appreciate the following interaction...<br />
<br />
The woman was dressed up lavishly as if to distract from the obscene amount of plastic surgery she has undergone, which I can only assume she endured to preserve her youth when in truth it just made her look 30 years older and left her with a face that conjured images of taking a lighter to a Barbie Doll's face and watching it melt. <br />
<br />
The man was wearing khakis a respectable sweater and dark rimmed glasses that framed his happy little older man face.<br />
<br />
Ok got it? Good.<br />
<br />
Now the woman retreats to the bathroom and her husband strikes up a conversation with me by telling me I have a great haircut and asks me who my stylist was...<br />
<br />
I don't know if it was my delayed response to his question because I was wondering if this man really thought the girl holding the tray outside the shitter of this party actually had a "stylist" or if was the obscene eagerness for my painfully annoying social climbing acquaintance that lead to the conversation to completely exclude me but it very much did as Ass Kissing Adam here asked the gentleman what had brought him to the party tonight...I mean what could I possibly contribute to that conversation? It was ever so clear as to why I was there...<br />
<br />
The gentleman then revealed that his wife was a major celebrity talent agent...which quite possibly could have been the worst thing to mention to this ass hat...<br />
<br />
He then began to give this poor man his life story about how he works in finance but his ultimate dream is to become an actor, and eventually melting Barbie came out of the bathroom and slowly began to realize that her husband had outed her profession to Ass Kiss Adam and she graciously told him a bit about the business and even more graciously accepted his Meryl Lynch business card, you know...so she can make him the next Robert DeNiro...and then they left.<br />
<br />
Realizing I was there to witness the entire interaction Ass Kiss Adam felt the need to tell me how big of a deal that conversation was and even went so far as to say "this is how stars are made." and then obligatorily asked me if I was an actor and without hesitation I immediately said "no." And then he left me but not before saying "that was a BIG deal."<br />
<br />
Great...<br />
<br />
He left me there, tray in hand wondering why....<br />
<br />
Why did I say I wasn't an actor?<br />
Why didn't I try to schmooze the big wig?<br />
<br />
The plain truth was...I didn't care or want to. I mean my self-degrading credit card had already been maxed out the moment I planted myself outside the bathroom that night...why should I make myself feel worse by grappling like he did? <br />
<br />
It's so easy to look back on crazy New York moments like that and see a missed opportunity but hindsight actually fills me with perspective and not regret. <br />
<br />
While it was easy to feel subhuman that night, I ironically learned more about myself as a normal human and as an artistic human.<br />
<br />
I refuse to take the path of Ass Kiss Adam because I have seen greatness and success in unconventional ways. I've been deeply inspired by my friends, who are true artists...who are hungry to create more than they are hungry for fame and fortune. I have seen them shine on stage after a year of relentless and often no pay work. I have been inspired by their growth and passion. I have been a part of total selfless devotion and collaboration to produce a home made show and I know what it feels like to know that together we've created magic. I have seen us all struggle deeply as the bitter life of a young actor in New York or simply just a young human in New York beat us down to tears and frustration...but we have overcome and we keep going because we are passionate creators. <br />
<br />
Perhaps that's not ideal...perhaps thats crazy but the people and things I love most in life and wildly unideal and crazy but to me, that makes them more beautiful. <br />
<br />
As I look back on that night I think of my young friend from the beginning of the night and I truly hope he finds a community of artists that inspire him as I have...because if he is ever on bathroom duty because he needs to make money somehow so he can live the artistic life he wants, at the end of the night he won't think that his life has gone terribly wrong but instead he will know that he's done something right because he is forging his own path...and that path is not simply fancy...it is passionate, it's grueling but it's real and it's human and unique. It's endurance and beauty. It's something to fight for and something to stand proudly next to. <br />
<br />
Like I said....I truly do live a glamourous life. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-56182964774688449782012-06-02T14:42:00.000-04:002012-06-02T14:42:28.367-04:00Silver Lined Barking Spiders.My back hurts. That's something older people say right? Like, if you were to make a pie chart of people with bad backs, the majority of the pie would be the color gray, representing people in their 60's or 70's. <br />
<br />
I'm 25.<br />
<br />
I want pie.<br />
<br />
A couple of weeks ago, I decided I wanted to get a massage. I needed someone to get rid of all the bad feelings I hold on ever so tightly in my shoulders, and maybe I just wanted to be touched? (What?) <br />
<br />
So I went. <br />
<br />
It was my first time (ha). <br />
<br />
I was nervous when I walked in. I checked in and the woman at the desk asked me if I was comfortable with a male masseuse and without hesitation I replied with an nervous and seemingly desperate, "I prefer it." I am not quite sure why I said I preferred it as that would imply that I had experience in the field of massages, which I don't. Perhaps I was referencing my boyfriend who sees the tension build in my shoulders and gives me a massage without me ever needing to ask....<br />
<br />
<br />
No that wasn't it...<br />
<br />
Annnnyywayy...they took me back to the room, told me disrobe and Mr. Massage would be in shortly. <br />
<br />
Naturally I got undressed as quickly as possible to avoid any accidental naked surprises and I jumped under the blanket and waited...<br />
<br />
And waited...<br />
<br />
Where was he??<br />
<br />
About 10 minutes pass and finally he storms in the room and the show begins. <br />
<br />
He started on my legs and then spent an uncomfortably long time on my butt (not that I'm complaining.) Mr. Massage finally moved up to my shoulders. He then warned me that he is going to increase pressure to get rid of all the knots in my back. <br />
<br />
Now when he warned me about increasing pressure I didn't know how much pressure to expect and let me tell you guys...there was a lot of pressure...and by that I mean...<br />
<br />
Mr. Massage FARTED the most epic fart known to man. I mean, if my hair were down I am certain it would have blown back. <br />
<br />
WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN THAT HAPPENS?!<br />
<br />
I'll tell you what you do.<br />
<br />
For the first few moments you get super uncomfortable and pretend that nothing happened. And then if the masseuse apologizes; as mine did...you lose all self control and laugh so hard that you cry. And you will continue to laugh throughout the rest of your massage because you will of course replay the moment when your masseuse ripped ass and you will make the poor and already embarrassed man, feel terrible but you know what? He farted and that's funny so...<br />
<br />
Sometimes life gives you exactly what you need when you least expect it. <br />
<br />
Am I saying that what I needed in life was for a man to rub my back and fart with gusto? <br />
<br />
Yep I sure am. <br />
<br />
I needed to laugh with complete and total abandon. I completely and full heartedly NEEDED it. I needed that moment of ghastly (pun intended) surprise to remind me that life is funny. It's hard as hell, but it's mostly just ridiculous. Right?<br />
<br />
Today my heart feels a bit banged up and it lays heavy in my chest but the memory of the way I felt when I laughed at my farting massage friend strangely gives me hope. Because I know I will laugh again and that this feeling I have today will pass....like gas...<br />
<br />
Ridiculous.<br />Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-68830799127263124502012-04-26T00:31:00.000-04:002012-04-26T00:34:53.478-04:00One Rain Drop at a TimeI hate the rain. If you are a follower of my blog you are probably more than aware of this fact. But it sucks y'all. What I hate more than the rain itself is being caught without an umbrella. <br />
<br />
With that said, I am going to completely contradict myself.<br />
<br />
The other day it rained HARD in New York. I woke up and the rain was beating against my window and I grumbled rolled over and wished for some sunshine. April showers blah blah blah. But as I got ready for the day it was very apparent that the rain would only get worse. So I did what any smart New Yorker would do and I grabbed my umbrella and I endured. I am so valiant, I know. But as I was walking home that night and the rain and the wind were at their all time peak, I wished I didn't have an umbrella. I wanted to be a victim of circumstance, ill prepared, but still trudging along with a sense of humor. But I had an umbrella and I was a step ahead of circumstance. <br />
<br />
Today I had a day off from work and headed into Manhattan to run some long overdue errands. As I was nearing Times Square the flood gates opened and down the rain fell. <br />
<br />
I didn't have an umbrella.<br />
<br />
I was livid. <br />
<br />
I ran to an awning to wait it out. <br />
<br />
(Enter Cracked Out Toothless Homeless Man STAGE RIGHT)<br />
<br />
If you keep up with my blog then you are also more than aware of the fact that I am a target of most homeless men's interest.<br />
<br />
I am generally very courteous to my haram of derelict and I give them change and dollar bills to appease them and maybe make them smile but today, I assure you, was not that day. <br />
<br />
Something in me snapped.<br />
<br />
This cracked out man immediately approached me and our interaction went along these lines:<br />
<br />
"Gurl, you look good wet."<br />
<br />
(ignore)<br />
<br />
"What you don't speak English? Where you from ma?" he says as he naws at his apple. Naw being the opporative as he was missing almost all of his teeth. <br />
<br />
"I am from here, I am just trying to ignore you." I said more politely than was nessascary. <br />
<br />
"Oh I see you too good to talk to me." he responded as pieces of his lightly chewed apple fly at my face.<br />
<br />
(cue shit hitting the fan)<br />
<br />
"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" I said as I stormed off furiously into the rain. <br />
<br />
As I walked with no destination in mind, the drops washed away the gross apple chunks that I was too afraid to touch with my hands and I cried a little. (Shut up)<br />
<br />
I didn't fully understand why this interaction brought me to tears because I stood up for myself (in a way). I have recently realized that I don't often stand up for myself...and by often I mean ever. I am a people pleaser to a fault. It is maybe my greatest strength and my deepest weakness. <br />
<br />
And while I was walking in the rain and crying (to ensure complete removal of homeless apple sauce) I realized that I was probably crying because I felt really badly about yelling at that poor man. His life is undoubtedly much worse than I could ever imagine life to be.<br />
<br />
I get angry because I am caught without an umbrella.<br />
<br />
He probably gets angry because he sleeps in the rain.<br />
<br />
Who was I to not be kind and understanding of him?<br />
<br />
And as this cycle of "Why I am a Bad Human" thoughts flooded my head...the rain stopped almost suddenly. I kept walking to my unknown destination and suddenly I felt a smile creep across my face. The smile turned into an almost laugh because when I stopped at a crosswalk I realized "I am upset because a homeless man told me I looked good wet and then spit apple in my face." <br />
<br />
Perspective is a bitch.<br />
<br />
Okay so what? I yelled at a homeless man who was bothering me. He probably gets yelled at a lot, especially if he can't keep his nasty comments and produce to himself. But I don't stick up for myself a lot and I did today. I was ill prepared but still trudging along with a sense of humor. AND the sun still came out. <br />
<br />
Perspective + rain + crazy homeless men = progress.<br />
<br />
I'll take it. <br />
<br />
<strike><strike><strike><strike></strike></strike></strike></strike>Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-17932097999802231022012-03-22T12:00:00.000-04:002012-03-23T02:47:45.396-04:00The Tree of Life (Lessons)When I was about six I was tied to a tree on top of a hill in my old neighborhood. I was left there for at least an hour and within that hour I experienced a lot of emotions (who me?) Firstly, I was in disbelief, as I was certain that my friend who had tied me to the tree wouldn't really leave me there. And then as time ever so slowly crept by ( as it does when you are tied to trees) it became clear that I should redefine the term 'friend' and that I should start believing that my 'friend' wasn't coming back and that I was in fact experiencing what it felt like to be tied to a tree and left for the birds ( you know, like every child does...) I then went into survival mode and started to scream and violently shake the tree to break free from the rope. I probably only did this for about 2 minutes before giving up and residing that I was stuck and was going to die a slow, lonely death...and I cried. Dear lord did I cry (yeah, me.)<br /><br />I remember that moment in my life so clearly. I remember how harsh the grass felt on my legs. I remember how tight the rope felt on my arms and how the tree's bark felt rubbing against my back. I remember how sad I was and how final this moment felt for me. It was the end. But what I don't remember is how I broke free. I don't remember if I finally stopped crying and realized that breaking free wasn't that hard and that I could have broken free the whole time (seeing how to this day I am known for jumping to irrational and dramatic conclusions, I almost certain this was the case for my younger self as well.) But the point is, I don't remember the victory and only remember the struggle. <br /><br />Tonight I wish I remembered how I broke free. <br /><br />...was that a dramatic statement?<br /><br />I mean it though.<br /><br />Lately I have been feeling trapped and tied tightly to something immovable and I've been struggling to break free.<br /><br />Tonight as I sit on my porch and remember back on that infamous day of my youth, I am trying to think of what I would say to that sad little girl tied to a tree. <br /><br />Maybe I would tell her that I know it would be easy if I untied her but I bet she could do it herself if she took a breath and realized that the rope isn't actually all that tight but the panic and the fear of never escaping is what is making it feel like she is stuck. I would tell her to find the humor in the struggle because sometimes if you think of what is causing you distress in the most simple of ways, it actually is pretty funny. It's especially funny when you are 6 years old in a worn out red polka dotted dress with matching bows and headgear to boot. I would tell her to not sit in pain just waiting for someone to come solve her problem because no matter how bad it may seem, when it comes down to it all she needs is herself to break free. I would tell her to not take her frustrations out on the tree because if you shake the one thing that is supporting you too hard one of the branches that is so kindly giving you shade may fall, hit you and leave you exposed in the sun and that will only make the struggle more difficult. Instead use the strength it's giving you to help you break free. Finally I would tell her to be patient because sometimes overcoming takes time, it takes courage, it takes strength and most importantly it takes trust in the fact that breaking free is always possible. <br /><br />Yeah...I think that's what I would say to myself then, and what I will try to remember tonight. <br /><br />But if you guys see any little girls tied to trees, you should probably just untie them....Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-49132773387009837342012-02-23T00:40:00.007-05:002012-02-27T03:34:16.437-05:00Jumbled Thoughts and Cold PantiesWell I've removed all the feathers and I am now writing to you close to a month after I promised. I think you can maybe forgive me?...'you' being the all five of you that have patiently kept up with my inconsistent thoughts and empty promises.<br /><br />Any poop... I won't spend paragraphs and time trying to catch you up on the happenings of my life...or maybe I will as I am not sure what direction I will be taking this entry. That, and I know how all of you are deeply wondering about my life's current status and happenings...<br /><br />No?<br /><br />Maybe?<br /><br />No.<br /><br />I was at a bar the other night and there was a girl who was the embodiment of wasted and she started to gush about how she has a blog that documents all of her sexual exploits and mishaps and that we should all read it...and then she said she had to go home and put her panties in her freezer...<br /><br />It was much like looking into a fun house mirror at a carnival...when you are feeling fat and insecure...<br /><br />And yet, here we are.<br /><br />I've been resisting the urge to buy a plane, bus or train ticket all weekend. A plane ticket to Thailand, a bus ticket to Maine and a train ticket to Boston. I don't really know the rhyme or reason as to why the urge to travel is so strong or why these three places are on my radar but it is and they are. Perhaps I'm craving a less exciting and more self deprecating version of Eat, Pray, Love entitled...Escape, Hibernate, Drink. But I think it's mostly because I am starting to really realize that I am in charge of my life and my choices and I am craving the chance to make more choices and take as many unexpected turns as I possibly can, just to test the waters of life a bit more. I am also craving adventure.<br /><br />I've recently come to realize that I let too many of my choices be influenced by other people's opinions. Case in point, when I joined OKCupid. You know...the free online dating website. My instincts told me that I wouldn't like it but I joined anyway. After countless messages from creepy men about my boobs and an exhausting amount of messages consisting of just 'hey' I found my instincts to be right on the money. But I did meet one person who captured my attention by asking me which Greek God I would want to cook me meatloaf and which muppet I would want to run a real estate firm with and while I am sure these are questions he asks all the ladies, I thought I would give him a chance and get some coffee with him since he asked.<br /><br />Now, I hadn't been on a proper date in a while and I have absolutely never been on a blind Internet date before so I was quite nervous and uncomfortable. We decided to meet up at a small coffee shop in the Lower East Side. So I got there and no sign of my Greek Muppet Man. At first I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt since A) it was early and B) he picked the most inconvenient spot for a person who lives in Queens and a person who lives in Washington Heights to meet up at. But the Lower East Side makes everyone look so much cooler in the way that dimly lit rooms make everyone look more attractive...so I understood, but once the 45 minutes late bell rang I was sent into the classic blind date panic. You know, the one where you are certain he stepped in, saw me, threw up a little in his mouth and quietly escaped unnoticed...maybe you don't know that panic...good for you. <br /><br />Needless to say I left the Lower East Side that morning highly caffeinated and deeply rejected. Not a winning combination, if you were wondering.<br /><br />The Greek Muppet Man texted me 2 hours later apologizing profusely because apparently he slept through his alarm while I was waiting for him in the coffee shop imagining how my life will be when I have 46 cats and have a wardrobe consisting solely of snuggies and adult diapers. I was pretty annoyed but mostly relieved, as you can imagine. He left me 3 voice messages apologizing and asking for another chance. My instincts told me to tell him to go jump off the nearest bridge but I was going against my instincts with this whole online dating experience already why should I start listening to them now? <br /><br />So we met up later in the week for breakfast. The safest date meal if ever I heard...<br /><br />And it turned out he was lovely. He held a conversation well...kept up with my sarcasm and even made me laugh...So I was happy that I took a risk and gave someone a chance...until he started to 'crazy girl' text me an hour after we parted ways and with each text he slowly chipped any interest I had in him away and slowly but surely that was the end of The Muppet Man and me. <br /><br />And after another month of obscene and bleak messages from strangers I deleted my OKCupid account. Whether or not I gave Muppet Man or the site a fair chance doesn't matter because I wanted out. <br /><br />So I don't like online dating and I have intimacy and commitment issues...slap my ass and call me an American.<br /><br />I realize that I don't go about things in a typical fashion. I am aware that I need to take more risks in the romantic field but I want spontaneity, I want surprise. I don't want to be matched with someone on a computer's terms but on my own terms. And of course that's not to say I don't believe online dating is great for those whom it works for but I am not among those folks.<br /><br />I don't want to do things because I feel like its what I should do. I lack certain experiences (read: old virgin) but instead of being so utterly confused and ashamed of it and worried that my images of life with cats, snuggies and adult diapers are rapidly becoming a reality, I need to embrace it as simply a part of who I am, and that yes, it makes me a little weird and it makes people view me a little differently and it may make them judge me but that's not my problem because you are who you are, you make the choices you make and you are in control of your own adventure.<br /><br />My adventure.<br /><br />It may be strange but it's mine. <br /><br />So here is to making your own way through life. Here's to just not giving a flying fuck whether or not people think your way through life isn't right or that you're doing something wrong because you're doing something different than them. <br /><br />I'm an old virgin. I have intimacy issues. I wear too many patterns at once. I am afraid of milk. I am a weird girl with lots of feelings and I love who I am and I am learning to be okay with other people not loving who I am....because it doesn't matter..at all.<br /><br />Anyways I have to go plan a some trips and put my panties in the freezer. Catch ya later.Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-61996626353189614922012-01-08T14:13:00.002-05:002012-01-08T15:37:25.366-05:00Promises and Moons.Okkkkaaayyy guys.<br /><br />I am feeling alot of things right now and my main New Years Resolution was to keep up with my blog much more and I have some epic online dating stories in the works...so hang tight.<br /><br />But I lost my cell phone last night which was the straw that broke this old camel's emotional back so I went back to my journal before bed and I found this piece about the moon that I want to share again. I promise a new post in 2 days. If I don't post you can tar and feather me. <br /><br /><br /><br />to keep from waning<br /><br />In NYC, the moon is a hard thing to find. I see a skyline that is infamously beautiful, bridges sparkling, and a few stars glimmering in the black sky.<br /><br />In Texas, the moon is huge. It sits in the sky with confidence, aplomb and a regal distinction and sometimes it looks like it is so big that you can stick your hand out and have it rest in the palm of your hand.<br /><br />The moon is not something I've given much thought to at all, before recently. It's always just been...well you know...there.<br /><br />I've thought it pretty. I've thought it grand but I've never really thought ABOUT it.But now I can't stop thinking about it.<br /><br />The moon is powerful, distant but not untouchable. It's mysterious. Sometimes it's dark and sometimes it's bright. The moon holds a lot of romance. The thought that at any given moment during the long night that someone is looking at the moon and wondering who else is looking at it too is kind of special to me. Whether or not someone is looking at it to find answers or simply just looking at it and feeling a little less alone at night.<br /><br />She changes the tides, she lights the sky, she marks time and she is one of a kind.<br /><br />Tonight...I want to be the moon.I want to be in as many places as I can be at the same time. I want to be beautiful. I want to be alone but to always be in orbit with the things that keep me alive. I want to be discovered.<br /><br />I want to be the moon. ...if only for tonight.Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-89300964370842951242011-09-09T01:34:00.004-04:002011-09-15T00:35:41.971-04:00Back on the Chain Gang.I don't think there is any question that New York is a strange place, full of strange people and strange happenings. I also don't think there is any question that this city is full of surprises and magic. Sometimes the surprises will come swooping in when you least expect it and often times you endure the daily grind just patiently waiting, hoping and knowing that there is magic in this place waiting for you to discover it and be open to it.<br /><br />Magic. Surprise. Patience.<br /><br />I like all of those words very much.<br /><br />I was sitting on the 'A' train a couple of nights ago, listening to my music and getting lost in my own thought bubbles, completely unaware of those around me. Then this man sat down next to me. He ripped me right out of my own thoughts and brought me back to Earth...and by Earth I mean the 'A' train (if that counts.) The first thing I noticed was his cologne and while it was rather strong and a bit overwhelming I really liked it (maybe because I really like men's cologne or I am simply used to people sitting next to me on public transit and smelling like dirty diapers and goat cheese... it's a coin toss, really.) After I got over how good he smelled the strangest thing happened...I suddenly felt so connected to this stranger. Like somehow he and I were friends. There was this level of comfort that you so rarely feel sitting by strangers on public transit in New York. <br /><br />He and I were very different though. He was quite a large man, covered in tattoos of Buddah and flowers, wearing a news cap and a t-shirt and jeans. I was an average size girl, with a small tattoo of a mouse hole and a Shakespearean quote, wearing green tights, a multicolored dress and cowboy boots but I felt like I knew him and we were the same. <br /><br />We were both headed downtown. We were both in the same train car. We shared the same bench. We were both traveling alone. And we were both living our lives in that 15 minutes...together. <br /><br />I didn't want to know his name. I didn't want for us to be anything but passing strangers on the 'A' train, going to where we were going but anonymously together.<br /><br />I was intoxicated by this encounter for a good while after. <br /><br />The next day I was overcome by technological woes and the overwhelming angst that comes with being unemployed and confused in New York. I scheduled an appointment at the Mac Store to solve the tech woes, popped my computer in my bag and sat on the train into the city feeling so disconnected to everything around me. I felt so outside myself. A feeling of loneliness welled up inside of me until it let itself out in the most embarrassing way. <br /><br />I full on ugly girl cried at the Genius Bar at the Mac Store. It was uncomfortable for the genius, for the other customers and myself. The guy helping me was rather confused as he had just informed me that my computer was fine and that all I needed was a new battery. And I insisted it wasn't the battery that was making me cry, it was this empty feeling inside of me that I just didn't know what to do with. (Note: I didn't tell him I felt empty inside. Full on crying at the store maxed out my crazy card for the day, so I just told him I was really tired...stop judging me.) After I emotionally assaulted him I put my computer back in my bag, went outside and composed myself. I took a deep breath, saw the movie theater across the street, went inside and did what any emotional unstable female would do; I bought a ticket to the sappiest, saddest movie in the building. I sat down by myself, prepared my tear ducts for another flood (but this time they'd be flooding for some fictional character's problems and not my own, whew) when a quiet woman came and sat next to me. She smiled at me and I at her. And then all the sudden there was that feeling again. Like we were friends who both had a rough day and needed to see Anne Hathaway be the sad girl for once. Towards the end of the movie I found myself weeping quietly (hard to believe, right?) and I heard my stranger friend sniffling as well. <br /><br />There we were, two strangers who don't know anything about each other, sharing a movie and some tears together. We were connected in that moment. <br /><br /><br />We are all individuals. The world is seen as a different place by each and every set of eyes. We all make our journey through life as separate entities. But we all have these special little moments that act as little communal links in a chain to connect ourselves to one another. And we knowingly and often times unknowingly help each other reconnect and bridge a gap of separation. Sometimes the chain disconnects and we have to find different links to make it connect again and sometimes the only way to reconnect is through the unexpected...and in the unexpected encounters there lies magic and there lies surprise, if you are patient.<br /><br />I know this to be true. <br /><br /><br />...I should change my blog name to 'sexless and LOVES metaphors.' Am I right or am I RIGHT?Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-6600111672143509492011-08-31T22:54:00.006-04:002011-09-01T18:15:21.884-04:00Coo Coo CachooThere is a hint coldness in the air. I like it. It means change, and generally I am a little apprehensive of change but after such a turbulent summer, I welcome change with arms wide open.
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<br />I feel like this blog is going to be about words that begin with 'ch.' Don't you hate when people announce what their blog is going to be about? But I just did...so here we are.
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<br />changechoicechangeychoiceschoosingtochange.
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<br />A couple of weeks ago I was in dire need of a change. A change of scenery. A change of mentality. A change of pace. So I went to Chicago to visit my best friend. If you don't know already, Chicago is a pretty rad city full of rocking people and nice summer weather. I spent a week there. I recharged my batteries and I came back to New York with a skip in my step and a pocket full of new found motivation. Something changed. New York was no longer a place where I was confronted with ample amounts of 'no' but the place I chose to make my life, so by God I was ready to make it work.
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<br />Then after some maybes followed by even more no's...I found myself choosing to be dejected and beat down again.
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<br />It's only been two weeks since I returned. Quick turn around eh?
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<br />For some reason I keep finding myself choosing to give into no and letting myself become the a victim. Why do we do that? Why do we let the doors slam in our faces and then come up with a thousand reasons as to why it's our fault the doors keep slamming on us? Or is that just me?
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<br />I am not talented enough.
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<br />I am not pretty enough.
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<br />I am not what they are looking for.
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<br />I am a walking poster child for bad luck.
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<br />I am not a person, whom things work out for.
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<br />Recently I have made a choice to think those series of thoughts and I've allowed them to pollute my head and discourage me from living the life I have set out to lead.
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<br />The only explanation I can seem to find for these <span style="font-style:italic;">choice</span> thoughts of mine (see what I did there?) is fear. Fear of failing. Fear of letting my dreams slip from my grasp. Fear of disappointing my family. Fear of the unknown.
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<br />Choosing fear is exhausting...not to mention depressing.
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<br />There was a hurricane this past weekend. The weather people said it was going to tear NYC to pieces, leaving us without power, without water for weeks. So out of fear of not being able to bathe, not being able to flush my toilet or brush my teeth or eat, I went to the store and stocked up, then stayed in the apartment for hours when finally me and two of my best friends decided to go outside and enjoy the hurricane, instead of letting it suck the life out of our weekend we ran right into the storm. We played in the empty streets with the rain falling hard. We had epic puddle wars (none of us contracted the plague, calm down) and we ran to a bridge and looked at this epic city glisten in the rain. That moment has secured a spot on one of my all time favorite New York moments. It was liberating and I laughed so hard my sides hurt and I was happy.
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<br />With that said, I need to keep reminding myself to choose to brave the storm. I need to remember that although the rain will fall hard and and the wind may be cold, that I will get used to it and although the puddles I step in may be deep, I can choose to splash around in them and laugh instead of struggle in them and drown. And most importantly I need to remember that I have amazing people all around me, braving the same storm and together, we can make the best of it.
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<br />Choosing to see the fearful as an opportunity to fill my life with unforgettable moments instead of reasons to fall down seems like a much better option, don't you think?
<br />Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-82090730021316103712011-08-04T23:39:00.003-04:002011-08-05T01:49:10.944-04:00The Battle of the BulgeOkay so it's been a week and I am already updating. Also, it has only been a week and I completely forgot my password again. So when I was trying to decide if my memory lapse last week was because it had been a while since I logged in or if it was old age memory problems...well I assume you see where I am going with this...<br /><br />Don't worry I didn't write it down this time and you can expect a similar opening to the next blog I'm sure. <br /><br />Writers always say finding a start into your piece is the hardest part...not for me said the flea. <br /><br />Cop out.<br /><br /><br />I was walking to the grocery store today and the weather was really pretty descent. Barely 80 degrees, sunny and just lovely. I was taking a moment on my walk to relish in the beauty of the day when I saw something that was a little off putting. <br /><br />A girl jogging.<br /><br />Now that's not to say that I find females who run off putting or that I am judging this girl's cardiovascular habits. I'm not. But well I have to be blunt...she was a hot mess. <br /><br />Blood red. Hair stuck to her sweaty face. Armpit stains for days. Boobs poorly controlled. A heavy stride. And a look on her face that can only be described as utter and complete misery. <br /><br />Okay, maybe I was judging her. But only because I saw myself within her, and it made me uncomfortable. (I bet she would use the same adjective for how I made her feel...semantics.)<br /><br />Before you completely write me off as a judgemental bitch I have a perfectly sound explanation.<br /><br />I used to weigh about 200lbs. I wore a size 16 and I ate my feelings. (I have alot of feelings) My weight was a HUGE issue for me growing up and it left me pretty distraught and depressed but I didn't do anything about it. I wasn't one of those people who were comfortable with who they were at any size. I wanted to change. I wanted to be healthy but no diet I went on or exercise regimen I went on could muster the kind of commitment I needed to change. So I just sat around and sulked and ate cookies, Swedish fish and watched The Biggest Loser. Nothing says weight loss more than sugary treats and watching other people run on treadmills.<br /><br />Then I tried to convince myself I was happy with how I looked. That muffin tops were the new black. That when it comes to chins, less is not more. And that if you are funny, people are more forgiving of your love handles. <br /><br />Fat Funny Girl, party of Colleen? Your table is now ready.<br /><br />The well constructed mask I made for myself was bullet proof and insulated with biting wit and a charming smile. It even had rays of sunshine blasting off of that shit. <br /><br />Little Miss Butterball of Light and Joy party of Fat Funny Girl Colleen? Your table is also ready.<br /><br />I was pretty untouchable for a good long while. That mask was so damn good that it even convinced me that I was happy.<br /><br />(Enter the little old lady that could: Terri Hayden)<br /><br />Who is Terri Hayden? Well she is a 90 year old legend of a woman who teaches acting technique at my school, known for her brutal honesty and her inane psychic powers. Well loved and respected and dare I say feared. <br /><br />The first time I worked for her went a little something like this:<br /><br />(Colleen completes the acting exercise. Sits in a chair in front of Terri and her class and waits to begin the dialogue of what Terri just observed. A long pause about 30 seconds in length, or for some 15 years in length.)<br /><br />Terri: Are you sad?<br />Colleen: No. Not at all.<br />(Terri stares at Colleen as if Colleen just said she was Mother Teresa)<br />Terri: Is anyone else in your family overweight like you?<br />(Colleen shit her pants and loses her breath)<br />Colleen: (mumbling) No, they are all in good shape.<br />Terri: Hello? <br />Colleen: (speaking more clearly and loudly) NO THEY ARE ALL THIN.<br />Terry: Do you have any brothers or sisters?<br />(Colleen stares blankly)<br />Colleen: Yes, one older sister.<br />Terri: She doesn't have weight problems like you?<br />(Colleen shits her pants again and holds back tears)<br />Colleen: No, she has a really fast metabolism. Wish I inherited that too.<br />Terri: I wish that too.<br /><br />(End scene)<br /><br />Needless to say, I went home and cried after convincing everyone in my class that I was fine and that what she said didn't bother me and then I called a friend and did what every other insecure mess would do in this situation, I talked shit about her and my gracious friend told me that she is crazy and that I don't have a weight problem. Ahhhh sweet comfort and delusions of grandoir.<br /><br />And then for the next year of my training...every single time I got up to work she would only comment on my weight. <br /><br />"You remind me of Judy Holiday. She had a weight problem too...and it eventually killed her."<br /><br />"What do you eat?"<br /><br />"You used to be a runner?!?!"<br /><br />I eventually refused to get up in her class. There was only so much I could take and I am pretty sure for every comment she made I gained 5 lbs of shame. <br /><br />Then finally the last time I worked for her in my first year of training she started into me again when a classmate raised his hand and stuck up for me (said classmate is now holds title of best friend. true story). He asked her why I have to change the way I look for her to think that I was an effective actor. She gazed at me in a very calming and loving way and a sweet smile crept over her face and then she so simply said:<br /><br />"She's good. But she's not good to herself."<br /><br /><br />(Cue tears followed by a quintessential self discovery moment)<br /><br />Terri had been working on me all year. Chipping away at my mask the only way she knew would work, which was tough love. She presented me with my biggest fear...to be called out on my crippling insecurity in front of my colleagues. She beat me down, so I could build myself back up (why yes, I just used that cliche.) <br /><br />She changed my life. I lost lots of pounds since then and I am down 5 dress sizes. Jenny Craig has NOTHING on the 'tricky' and highly appreciated ways of Terri Hayden. <br /><br />(In elementary school I had to go to the counselor to deal with my fear of people throwing up on me and everyday she had me draw pictures of people in different situations throwing up on me and then rip them up and throw them in the the trash. She CLEARLY should have just thrown up on me instead. Would have saved a lot of time...and paper.)<br /><br />So tomorrow morning...I am getting up early. I am putting my running shoes on and I am going to be that girl I saw today. Red faced. Sweaty. Heavy stride. A look of misery...but boobs MUCH more controlled. I've feared running for too long now. Face them fears ya'll.<br /><br />Hotmess O'Connor...running to a borough near you.Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7096403053993199240.post-806481872188381372011-07-29T23:19:00.005-04:002011-07-30T00:55:03.672-04:00Floating Floaters.I just spent 15 minutes trying to remember the password to this blog. I suppose that means that it's been awhile since last I logged in. That or my old age is taking it's toll on my memory. Perhaps both? Needless to say I remembered it and here we are. I meant to blog exactly one month ago because exactly one month ago was the one year anniversary Sexless in the Boroughs. But I forgot. So let me raise a glass to one year of being out of the old virgin closet and my half assed upkeep of the blog! Here's to you! Or me? Us? It doesn't matter, I'm not actually raising a glass, I'm just drinking Diet Dr. Pepper, in solitude, on a Friday night. Did I mention I am an old virgin? <br /><br />Well I am...<br /><br />Contain your shock.<br /><br />Time flies though. Does it not? A year ago things were pretty different. I'm no longer a student and I no longer feel in control of my life. People have been calling this period of life my 'transition' phase, and I am here to tell you, I don't transition gracefully...at all. <br /><br />This transition from student to 'real' person is kind of terrifying. Instead of easing myself into it, I've jumped right into the pool of the non-student world...except I forgot how to swim. And now that it's not everything I dreamed it would be I am desperately trying to swim to the ladder to pull myself back to safety...except I can't find the ladder. But the good news is, is that the people I love are throwing me floatation devices and kind thoughts and words, that are making it easier for me to tread water.<br /><br />All that said, it's hard treading water when all you want to do is go back to the kiddy pool. Because you have to be a complete idiot to drown in a kiddy pool.<br /><br />Are you tired of the pool metaphor yet?<br /><br />But speaking of complete idiot...I accidentally dyed my hair black. I look jaded and angrier. It's really pleasant. Want to date me?<br /><br />Before you say no let me explain...<br /><br />If you know me, or if you've kept up with my past blog entries you will remember that I've chosen to be an actor, which qualifies me to be moderately to mildly and some days severely insane. For example, I've been out of school for two months and within those two months I've spent an ungodly amount of my time looking for a waitress job (a job that I would rather have my eyeballs spooned out of my head than do) and a multitude of auditions. I've auditioned to be an animated donut and some days I sit in line from 5am-3pm to not even be seen for an audition and I've been so poor that some days all I will eat is a can of soup, if that. And despite all of this, I'm still 100% sure it's all worth it and that it will all work out in a storybook kind of way.<br /><br />Like I said...insane.<br /><br />But I really do believe it will work out. <br /><br />Why you say?<br /><br />Well because if I needed a reason to give up, to throw in the proverbial towel, to wave my white flag and surrender the other day would have completely provided every reason to do so.<br /><br />I was going out for an EPA audition. The way EPAs work is like this.<br /><br />-If you are a member of the union you get a set time to audition. You show up. You audition.<br /><br />-If you are a candidate for the union you show up early and get put on the candidate list and if they have room for you they see you. (which I am but when I got mugged my card was in the wallet that was stolen and the process of getting validated again has been stupid hard)<br /><br />-If you are none of the above you show up and pray to god that there will be room for you after all the union members and all the candidates have been seen. (I fall into this category without my EMC card, DAMN YOU MUGGER!)<br /><br />Got it? Yeah you're right it's the crappiest of crap shoots. <br /><br /><br />ANNNNYWAY...<br /><br />To ensure that I get high on the list I seat myself outside of the building where the auditions take place at 5am. Certain I would be the first in line you can imagine my surprise when I see an old man already camped outside of the building. Due to him being completely passed out asleep and pretty disheveled. I debated whether or not he was homeless but his 'Les Mis' tote settled the debate. So I sat next to him. He growled good morning to me. Pleasant. So there I am, sitting on the street with this strange old man and marveling at my life. The line starts to get longer as 8 am (when the actual building opens) approaches. Around 7 am Mr. Old McLesMislover starts making some pretty disturbing grunting noises. Just when I was about to ask him if he was having a heart attack, my nostrils became infected with a smell that could be deemed as... well I mean...how do I? He um...I'll just come out and say it. The man had to of pooped his pants. That or something unnatural happened within him. I just don't know. The point is I sat for an hour tolerating the smell this old man unleashed. <br /><br />...if I am ever that old and in line on the streets of NYC and pooping my pants before my auditions, please shoot me. Please.<br /><br />So the building opens and we are let in. Mr. Old McPooper then flashes his Equity card and is the first one seen that day (of course he is) and since he is Equity he can use the bathrooms in the building (maybe he forgot that?) but us non-equity folk must go to the McDonalds if we want to take the chance of leaving the auditions and missing our opportunity. So I wait...and wait...and wait until 3pm only to be sent home after being told all morning that I will more than likely be seen. <br /><br />Hungry. Tired. Defeat.<br /><br />Now, I've been on EPAs before but they didn't hurt as badly as this one. And I really think the fact that my old fecal friend got seen and I didn't is what hurt the most. <br /><br />So naturally, after I went to McDonalds to pee, I went to Duane Reade and I bought a box of hair dye. Nothing gives you the sense of control over your life quite like a box of hair dye. I immediately went home coated my hair with the dye, washed it out and BAM! Black as the night. It was supposed to be dark brown. Black and brown...the theme of my day perhaps.<br /><br />I straight up looked like a black widow with my black hair and red scalp. But I lack the conviction of a black widow and I did not go out and lure men into my web, have my way with them and then kill them...if only that cute British guy at the audition who asked for my phone number had called...has anyone seen my 'regret' list?? <br /><br /><br />So right now is a time of paying my dues to the acting gods and learning how to transition into what is my ever so interesting life. <br /><br />With that said, I will be modifying this blog a bit to chronicle my struggles and triumphs in all aspects of life and while being sexless is one aspect I need an outlet for my non-virgin related fiascoes. I promise I will try to keep the bodily functions of my fellow human stories to a minimum...mostly because I hope that it won't be a common theme in my day to day life. God willing.<br /><br />I was thinking about changing the name of the blog to 'Eat, Cry, Mope' but I am going to think on it a little while longer, after all patience is a virtue...right? Totally.Sexless in the Boroughshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02990711071801945953noreply@blogger.com0