I was sitting on the train tonight and a lady sneezed.
Not breaking news or anything. Of course not even remotely unusual. But tonight it bothered me.
...not the sneezing.
But what happened afterwards...
It is a rare occasion that I won't say 'bless you' to someone if I witness a sneeze.
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.
And as time went on and the older I got it seemed like no one ever said it anymore.
I was sitting on the train tonight and a lady sneezed and I said 'bless you.'
She then gave me the dirtiest look.
She looked at me as if I had just said something terrible about her mother. But I didn't. I said 'bless you.'
I almost instantly looked away in shame or shock (I can't tell) and I sat there and I wondered what had just happened.
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.
But I've never experienced so dirty of a look before.
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?
Maybe...I've honestly never thought about why I keep saying it before tonight.
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."
I seem nice.
That's not a bad word. That's not a bad thing. But it's also not a specific word or a specific thing.
But I don't think it's the thing that makes these things happen.
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.'
I use the term 'we' because I am very much including myself in those generalizations.
Tonight as I stood on the train platform waiting to go home I had a thousand things on my mind.
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...
And then a lady sneezed and I said 'bless you.'
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.
And yeah...it's nice. I really like nice.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Doc in the Box
A couple of weeks ago I fell quite ill.
My stomach was in knots, I couldn't eat, I could barely sleep and I knew what I had to do...
I had to go to the doctor.
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.
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.
But the main reason I hate the going to the doctor is well...
They. Always. Think. You're. Pregnant.
I mean really.
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."
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.
If you are new to my blog, well then allow me to be more specific...
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.
"Do you want me to go in the room with you?"
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.
So he graciously stayed by my side and vowed to hold me accountable...because I'm clearly a child.
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.
"Please step on the scale."
Ugh.
"When was your last period?"
Oh. Dear. God.
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.
My already upset stomach sank as the nurse shuffled me off to the bathroom to "rule out pregnancy."
She closed the door.
I stood there.
I stood there some more.
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.
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.
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.
Nothing worked. My bladder was closed for business.
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.
So naturally I text Taylor from the bathroom with a frantic:
"I. Can't. Pee."
He then suggests drinking water.
Oh...right. There's that whole logic thing again.
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...
As I try to slink back into the bathroom, the doctor spots me.
NononononononononononononononononononononononNO!
He guides me into the examining room where Taylor is waiting for me.
Taylor spots the empty pee cup in my hand and the full water cup in the other hand and we share a knowing look.
This will not end well.
The doctor asks why I didn't pee. I coyly say:
"Just need some water, heh."
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."
I look at Taylor for courage. He smiles and I almost instantly blurt out:
"If the pee is to just rule out pregnancy, then we can go ahead and rule that out right now."
He looks at me blankly.
I continue...
"I've never had sex."
He looks at me like a deer in head lights.
"REALLY?"
He couldn't even hide his shock and dismay.
"Yeah..."
He then looks at me sternly and holds up his right hand crosses his fingers in a "scout's honor" fashion and says:
"Promise?"
I reluctantly and embarrassingly hold up my right hand and cross my fingers:
"Promise."
"Who's this?" he says pointing at Taylor.
"My best friend."
"Oh...How old are you?"
Suddenly I am nauseous again and I pathetically utter a:
"Please don't ask me that, sir."
Silence.
"I'm 26."
Silence.
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...
But he then says...
"Good for you girl. I'm proud of you!"
Great. The doc in the box is proud of me. Scratch that off the bucket list.
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.
Low point.
But as I cried I quickly replayed what just happened in my head and I start laughing really hard.
"HE MADE ME CROSS MY FINGERS AND PROMISE! WHO DOES THAT?!?!?! WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THAT?!?"
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.
We laugh. Harder this time.
The proud doctor re-entered, handed me my prescription for heartburn and saluted me with a:
"Keep doing you, girl."
I buttoned my pants. Put on my jacket and we left.
But I left with a little more than a prescription. I left with a little more courage.
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).
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!
My stomach was in knots, I couldn't eat, I could barely sleep and I knew what I had to do...
I had to go to the doctor.
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.
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.
But the main reason I hate the going to the doctor is well...
They. Always. Think. You're. Pregnant.
I mean really.
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."
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.
If you are new to my blog, well then allow me to be more specific...
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.
"Do you want me to go in the room with you?"
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.
So he graciously stayed by my side and vowed to hold me accountable...because I'm clearly a child.
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.
"Please step on the scale."
Ugh.
"When was your last period?"
Oh. Dear. God.
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.
My already upset stomach sank as the nurse shuffled me off to the bathroom to "rule out pregnancy."
She closed the door.
I stood there.
I stood there some more.
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.
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.
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.
Nothing worked. My bladder was closed for business.
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.
So naturally I text Taylor from the bathroom with a frantic:
"I. Can't. Pee."
He then suggests drinking water.
Oh...right. There's that whole logic thing again.
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...
As I try to slink back into the bathroom, the doctor spots me.
NononononononononononononononononononononononNO!
He guides me into the examining room where Taylor is waiting for me.
Taylor spots the empty pee cup in my hand and the full water cup in the other hand and we share a knowing look.
This will not end well.
The doctor asks why I didn't pee. I coyly say:
"Just need some water, heh."
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."
I look at Taylor for courage. He smiles and I almost instantly blurt out:
"If the pee is to just rule out pregnancy, then we can go ahead and rule that out right now."
He looks at me blankly.
I continue...
"I've never had sex."
He looks at me like a deer in head lights.
"REALLY?"
He couldn't even hide his shock and dismay.
"Yeah..."
He then looks at me sternly and holds up his right hand crosses his fingers in a "scout's honor" fashion and says:
"Promise?"
I reluctantly and embarrassingly hold up my right hand and cross my fingers:
"Promise."
"Who's this?" he says pointing at Taylor.
"My best friend."
"Oh...How old are you?"
Suddenly I am nauseous again and I pathetically utter a:
"Please don't ask me that, sir."
Silence.
"I'm 26."
Silence.
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...
But he then says...
"Good for you girl. I'm proud of you!"
Great. The doc in the box is proud of me. Scratch that off the bucket list.
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.
Low point.
But as I cried I quickly replayed what just happened in my head and I start laughing really hard.
"HE MADE ME CROSS MY FINGERS AND PROMISE! WHO DOES THAT?!?!?! WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THAT?!?"
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.
We laugh. Harder this time.
The proud doctor re-entered, handed me my prescription for heartburn and saluted me with a:
"Keep doing you, girl."
I buttoned my pants. Put on my jacket and we left.
But I left with a little more than a prescription. I left with a little more courage.
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).
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!
Monday, January 28, 2013
The Naked Truth
Oh man guys...
I know, it's been a coon's age!
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.
Anyway...
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.
I don't know how to properly describe it. But let me try...
I've lost sight
Being happy now, while never losing the will to keep following the road of possibility and dreams.
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.
It's kinda like walking backwards down the road that lies ahead and
I had an interesting moment that really made me realize this a couple of weeks ago.
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.
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.
But they are so free and comfortable.
I am not.
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.
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.
I wanted that.
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?
But I kept the towels on and headed to the sauna.
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.
Was she dying? Why wasn't she walking out? She's just standing there.
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.
Oh man...I hope she's not dead.
"Ummm, okay okay...I am just gonna carry you over here. We gotta get you out of the sauna okay?"
No response. Obviously.
"Hey, hey can you hear me? Here's some water. Drink this water!"
No response. Panic.
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.
And then she woke up. She was confused. Very confused.
One would assume she was confused because she didn't know what happened or why she passed out. Which of course, is totally legitimate.
But I have a different theory.
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.
So. Much. Naked.
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?
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?
Like I said, she had all the reason in the world to be the most confused person in the building.
But she was gracious. She thanked me profusely and walked off a little embarassed. And I stood there.
Naked.
And I didn't care. The others didn't so why should I?
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.
I did it. I became the naked locker room woman that I always wanted to be.
I was forced into something I strangely wanted but never had the courage to do on my own.
While there was a definite victory in this, there was also a definite realization.
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.
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.
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.
It's time and BY GOD, I am ready.
(Editors Note: My towels didn't weigh 10lbs. That was just my thighs, unfortunately.)
I know, it's been a coon's age!
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.
Anyway...
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.
I don't know how to properly describe it. But let me try...
I've lost sight
Being happy now, while never losing the will to keep following the road of possibility and dreams.
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.
It's kinda like walking backwards down the road that lies ahead and
I had an interesting moment that really made me realize this a couple of weeks ago.
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.
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.
But they are so free and comfortable.
I am not.
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.
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.
I wanted that.
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?
But I kept the towels on and headed to the sauna.
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.
Was she dying? Why wasn't she walking out? She's just standing there.
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.
Oh man...I hope she's not dead.
"Ummm, okay okay...I am just gonna carry you over here. We gotta get you out of the sauna okay?"
No response. Obviously.
"Hey, hey can you hear me? Here's some water. Drink this water!"
No response. Panic.
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.
And then she woke up. She was confused. Very confused.
One would assume she was confused because she didn't know what happened or why she passed out. Which of course, is totally legitimate.
But I have a different theory.
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.
So. Much. Naked.
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?
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?
Like I said, she had all the reason in the world to be the most confused person in the building.
But she was gracious. She thanked me profusely and walked off a little embarassed. And I stood there.
Naked.
And I didn't care. The others didn't so why should I?
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.
I did it. I became the naked locker room woman that I always wanted to be.
I was forced into something I strangely wanted but never had the courage to do on my own.
While there was a definite victory in this, there was also a definite realization.
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.
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.
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.
It's time and BY GOD, I am ready.
(Editors Note: My towels didn't weigh 10lbs. That was just my thighs, unfortunately.)
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Ghosts 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.
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.
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.
Bitchin' tights. Cute dress. Great boots.
But what jacket to wear?
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.
So I opened my closet and there it was...
A little more than eight years ago I lost my grandpa.
My Granddaddy.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Me.
I was terrified.
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."
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.
It was perfect.
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.
Nothing.
And then more nothing.
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.
"Colleen, relax. You can do this. If you don't I know you will look back and wish that you had."
And just like that, the words came to me.
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.
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.
As I opened my closet today there my jacket was. Without hesitation I grabbed it, buttoned up and ventured into my day.
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.
...if only I had worn gloves and waterproof boots.
But I am learning. Learning so much about survival and how to thrive...even if it is one layer at a time...
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.
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.
Bitchin' tights. Cute dress. Great boots.
But what jacket to wear?
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.
So I opened my closet and there it was...
A little more than eight years ago I lost my grandpa.
My Granddaddy.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Me.
I was terrified.
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."
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.
It was perfect.
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.
Nothing.
And then more nothing.
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.
"Colleen, relax. You can do this. If you don't I know you will look back and wish that you had."
And just like that, the words came to me.
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.
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.
As I opened my closet today there my jacket was. Without hesitation I grabbed it, buttoned up and ventured into my day.
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.
...if only I had worn gloves and waterproof boots.
But I am learning. Learning so much about survival and how to thrive...even if it is one layer at a time...
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Mountain Air Manifesto
Greetings and salutations!
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.
And here we are.
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.)
I am still sexless though. (another side note: consistency is overrated.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Right now I am happy and in the mountains spending time with one of my best friends. Right now I am content.
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.
Maybe...more than likely.
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.
And here we are.
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.)
I am still sexless though. (another side note: consistency is overrated.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Right now I am happy and in the mountains spending time with one of my best friends. Right now I am content.
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.
Maybe...more than likely.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
A Fancy Flush
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.
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...
Logic has never been my strong suit.
About a month ago I really found myself questioning my life and my choices.
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.
I can assure you that when I am scheduled to work these fancy parties...my life is less than fancy.
How many times did I just say fancy?
8.
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.
Fancy.
10.
I begrudgingly take my tray, head to the bathrooms and prepare for battle.
As the party started I contemplated life, as I stood in what felt like solitary confinement.
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.
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.
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.
"You enjoying the party?" I inquired.
"Yeah, it's great! I've never been to anything like this or seen so many celebrities."
"Yeah..." I replied with feigned excitement.
(awkward silence)
"Anjelica Houston is wasted..." I said desperate to keep this rare moment of human interaction on nights like these going.
"Oh really? I haven't seen her yet."
"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."
He laughs.
"It's weird seeing her so sloppy...but she always thanks me for holding her drink...which is a change of pace tonight."
"How did you get stuck with this job." ( a question I had been thinking all night)
" I think my managers know I am the only one who wouldn't outwardly complain about doing it."
(cue silence as I imagine how fitting it would be to dress as a welcome mat for Halloween this year.)
"So do you do something else other than hold drinks?" he said cheekily breaking the silence.
"Ha! Yeah...I'm an actor...go figure, right?"
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.
He then headed back into the party.
"I'll see you later." he said.
"You know where to find me."
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.
But alas, the beat down goes on...
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...
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?
"You know who that is?"
"An old MTV VJ?" I replied aging myself...
"Yeah she's a big deal."
"Cool..."
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.
I have to give you the complete visual of this couple so you can fully appreciate the following interaction...
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.
The man was wearing khakis a respectable sweater and dark rimmed glasses that framed his happy little older man face.
Ok got it? Good.
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...
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...
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...
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.
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."
Great...
He left me there, tray in hand wondering why....
Why did I say I wasn't an actor?
Why didn't I try to schmooze the big wig?
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?
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.
While it was easy to feel subhuman that night, I ironically learned more about myself as a normal human and as an artistic human.
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.
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.
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.
Like I said....I truly do live a glamourous life.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Silver 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.
I'm 25.
I want pie.
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?)
So I went.
It was my first time (ha).
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....
No that wasn't it...
Annnnyywayy...they took me back to the room, told me disrobe and Mr. Massage would be in shortly.
Naturally I got undressed as quickly as possible to avoid any accidental naked surprises and I jumped under the blanket and waited...
And waited...
Where was he??
About 10 minutes pass and finally he storms in the room and the show begins.
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.
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...
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.
WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN THAT HAPPENS?!
I'll tell you what you do.
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...
Sometimes life gives you exactly what you need when you least expect it.
Am I saying that what I needed in life was for a man to rub my back and fart with gusto?
Yep I sure am.
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?
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...
Ridiculous.
I'm 25.
I want pie.
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?)
So I went.
It was my first time (ha).
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....
No that wasn't it...
Annnnyywayy...they took me back to the room, told me disrobe and Mr. Massage would be in shortly.
Naturally I got undressed as quickly as possible to avoid any accidental naked surprises and I jumped under the blanket and waited...
And waited...
Where was he??
About 10 minutes pass and finally he storms in the room and the show begins.
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.
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...
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.
WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN THAT HAPPENS?!
I'll tell you what you do.
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...
Sometimes life gives you exactly what you need when you least expect it.
Am I saying that what I needed in life was for a man to rub my back and fart with gusto?
Yep I sure am.
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?
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...
Ridiculous.
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