My friend knows the hottie Will from Smash, and he gave her great advice. When you go into theater, you have to be prepared for at least 80% of your life to be rejection. Then my friend talked about how the gorgeous Joely Richardson couldn't get any acting work when she started and it took Wentworth Miller ten years of auditioning to become an overnight success in Hollywood.
I don't want to be a celebrity, I don't even want to be a star, I just want to be a chorus girl.
It doesn't make it easier to hear that you just have to expect to hear the word no, but I guess it helps to know that you are not the only person who is hearing no all the time. Those people on dating websites ain't got nothing on us performing artists for backbone in the department of coping with regular rejection. Yowza.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Health Care Upheld = Happy Dancer Body!
Among other news today, I'm happy to report that the Obama administration received a surprise boon in the shape of an unusually compromising John G. Roberts Jr, who voted largely to uphold the Affordable Care Act. There has been a lot of bad press about the ACA, many misunderstandings, and an unfortunate amount of fear mongering conservative spin. The facts are this: because this act has been upheld, my health insurer cannot drop me at it's whim because I have pre-existing conditions. My insurance company can no longer decide to increase fees just because it wants to, nor can it choose not to pay for something just because its accountants are clever.
Moreover, fellow dancers and aspiring artists like myself have the added security of knowing that they can be covered under their parents' insurance until they are 26. For those of us who primarily do freelance, non union work, this provision has the potential to be life saving!
I hope that today's decision presents an opportunity for my fellow citizens to reevaluate their priorities, to reinvestigate the sources of their opinions, and to be more open minded and optimistic about the reality that a big federal government move CAN actually be good for our country.
I cannot help but laugh at all the ignorant people who are tweeting about running to Canada because America is now going to pot. Goodbye then! America is the only remaining wealthy country to have millions upon millions of uninsured citizens. We all bear the tax burden in the event that they get sick anyway, so we should be glad that the national sense of personal responsibility has just been pushed up a notch.
In other news, I'm sitting in a dance studio next to a ten year old who is on Facebook, and several other pre pre teens from the Joffrey Ballet program who are instagraming and tweeting on their Iphones. For some reason, it is absolutely terrifying to me.... god help the children of this generation!
Oh. and I went to an audition today (Dirty Rotten Scoundrels). It was silly! I LOVE the feeling of owning a combination, then getting cut (along with the best dancer in the room), while they keep the five of the sloppiest dancers who knew the choreography least, and whose acting choices while dancing were more deer in headlights than intentional. Humility now!
Hugs,
A Broadway Baby
Moreover, fellow dancers and aspiring artists like myself have the added security of knowing that they can be covered under their parents' insurance until they are 26. For those of us who primarily do freelance, non union work, this provision has the potential to be life saving!
I hope that today's decision presents an opportunity for my fellow citizens to reevaluate their priorities, to reinvestigate the sources of their opinions, and to be more open minded and optimistic about the reality that a big federal government move CAN actually be good for our country.
I cannot help but laugh at all the ignorant people who are tweeting about running to Canada because America is now going to pot. Goodbye then! America is the only remaining wealthy country to have millions upon millions of uninsured citizens. We all bear the tax burden in the event that they get sick anyway, so we should be glad that the national sense of personal responsibility has just been pushed up a notch.
 |
In other news, I'm sitting in a dance studio next to a ten year old who is on Facebook, and several other pre pre teens from the Joffrey Ballet program who are instagraming and tweeting on their Iphones. For some reason, it is absolutely terrifying to me.... god help the children of this generation!
Hugs,
A Broadway Baby
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
The Interplay of Fantasy & Life
So my three hour Russian romance blossomed and withered as quickly as the rose colored glasses of new attraction lost their gleam. I can't help but be happy, despite the irrationality of my whirlwind of affections, because at least I did learn is that I can still be attracted to males of the human species! (I was certainly beginning to be worried after a year of general blah toward the gender not occupied by yours truly).
Since Monday, I've relished the discovery that fantasy plays a critical and wonderful role in nourishing the capacity for joy that one can experience in real life. I could not have indulged fantasy and play more heartily and with more abandon than I did with Laura V at Peter and the Starcatcher this afternoon.
I don't possess words sufficient to describe the delight, shock, awe, and sheer respect that I felt for all aspects of the production that I saw. To be sure, I consider myself blessed to have won the ticket lottery to get $27 orchestra seats!
----> Just look at the glee on their faces! It's palpable in the entire theater, y'all! I have never before been so impressed nor so awed by the strength of an actor's convictions than I was with Christian Borle's rendition of Black Stache. I don't envy the task his replacement will have to undertake to follow him...
Anyone who is in New York and has not seen Peter & the Starcatcher MUST go ASAP before the mighty Christian Borle leaves on June 30th. It is very likely that I will aggressively pursue opportunities to see the show again before he leaves!
Wishing you delight and freedom from sadness,
A Broadway Baby
Since Monday, I've relished the discovery that fantasy plays a critical and wonderful role in nourishing the capacity for joy that one can experience in real life. I could not have indulged fantasy and play more heartily and with more abandon than I did with Laura V at Peter and the Starcatcher this afternoon.
I don't possess words sufficient to describe the delight, shock, awe, and sheer respect that I felt for all aspects of the production that I saw. To be sure, I consider myself blessed to have won the ticket lottery to get $27 orchestra seats!
----> Just look at the glee on their faces! It's palpable in the entire theater, y'all! I have never before been so impressed nor so awed by the strength of an actor's convictions than I was with Christian Borle's rendition of Black Stache. I don't envy the task his replacement will have to undertake to follow him...
Anyone who is in New York and has not seen Peter & the Starcatcher MUST go ASAP before the mighty Christian Borle leaves on June 30th. It is very likely that I will aggressively pursue opportunities to see the show again before he leaves!
Wishing you delight and freedom from sadness,
A Broadway Baby
Monday, June 25, 2012
Three Hour Love Affair
I fell hopelessly through all stages of love in the three hours I spent modeling at School of Visual Arts this evening. Who knew that male models from Russia could be so appealing? Or that yours truly could be so charming and at ease around aesthetic perfection?
Look at him! Do you blame me? (And this is one of the tame photo options) Can't believe the photographers kept making us pose together so often.... I don't remember a time when last I giggled so much!'
Anyway, I managed to get my wits about me and spent the evening with some girlfriends at Penrose, amazing new place near my apartment that just opened (good GOD the mac and cheese alone is heaven in a cast iron skillet). During that time, I met some gorgeous people, thought about the story of the young boy who meets God when he's trying to save all the starfish on the sea shore before they dry out, and then meditated about what facilitates and nourishes unconditional love.
The end to this circuitous jaunt is Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, which I realized was the anthem and mantra I always needed to be a better significant other, a better friend, a better daughter, and a better dancer...
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Look at him! Do you blame me? (And this is one of the tame photo options) Can't believe the photographers kept making us pose together so often.... I don't remember a time when last I giggled so much!'
Anyway, I managed to get my wits about me and spent the evening with some girlfriends at Penrose, amazing new place near my apartment that just opened (good GOD the mac and cheese alone is heaven in a cast iron skillet). During that time, I met some gorgeous people, thought about the story of the young boy who meets God when he's trying to save all the starfish on the sea shore before they dry out, and then meditated about what facilitates and nourishes unconditional love.
The end to this circuitous jaunt is Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, which I realized was the anthem and mantra I always needed to be a better significant other, a better friend, a better daughter, and a better dancer...
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
I want to know
The Invitation
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and
closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
- David Brown
Thursday, June 21, 2012
What to Do
What do you do when you don't feel a song in your heart or a hop in your step? Aside from roll your eyes at how corny a rhetorical question that was, it was actually the issue of my day. Do you just give in to the self pity and the overwhelming sense of UGH? Or do you actively work to pull yourself out of it?
It was 97 degrees of a rough go of it in NYC, especially because I brilliantly could not sleep after 4am and started my day off in the uncomfortable vulnerability of an early morning acting class (It really sucks to suck at something... it's been a while since I really truly sucked at something, like at the beginning phase of learning anything new for the first time. OUCH! I know it's good to suck at something, it means you still have stuff left to learn, blah blah blah, I've used all these lines before, but they weren't making me feel any better)
After class, I had this vague sort of empty feeling of not actually being good at anything as I walked away from the dance studio. Incomprehensibly slowly for a six-year transplant, I meandered my way to LaDuca Shoes to pick up my refurbished black character heels. Then I roamed uptown (I've never walked such an unstraight path in New York City in all my years of living here... even when I was a newb). I ended up at the music library at Lincoln Center, thinking I would find something to make my whole being wake up and want to sing.
At the Song Reference Desk there was this woman who looked like she had stepped out of a Mad Men shoot, or more accurately, out of the alternate dimension that was the 40s, and just tore her way through the lining between worlds into New York City's Performing Arts Library. She was stunning. Period perfect. UTTERLY bizarre and of unplace-able age.
I felt a little less lonely somehow, seeing her and realizing that everyone in New York, perhaps everyone in the world, is just trying to reinvent themselves, sometimes aggressively, toward a version of themselves that they'd rather be. That active effort - forced reincarnation, a novel form of etch a sketch that still leaves a grainy imprint behind - at once appeals to me, disturbs me, and makes me feel like I'm home.
40s reincarnate must have checked out a bazillion Disney song books, because they were strewn over the reference desk. One was open to "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" and I started humming the familiar tune as I thumbed through the pages of sheet music. It was the oddest thing, but I teared up in the middle of the stuffy lobby at this old Disney stuff that made me feel like I was four again,
and I felt better.
So I guess the moral of the story is that everyone has their own process for finding what to do to feel better, and the only thing you can really do for yourself is not judge your process while you're in the middle of it.
It was 97 degrees of a rough go of it in NYC, especially because I brilliantly could not sleep after 4am and started my day off in the uncomfortable vulnerability of an early morning acting class (It really sucks to suck at something... it's been a while since I really truly sucked at something, like at the beginning phase of learning anything new for the first time. OUCH! I know it's good to suck at something, it means you still have stuff left to learn, blah blah blah, I've used all these lines before, but they weren't making me feel any better)
After class, I had this vague sort of empty feeling of not actually being good at anything as I walked away from the dance studio. Incomprehensibly slowly for a six-year transplant, I meandered my way to LaDuca Shoes to pick up my refurbished black character heels. Then I roamed uptown (I've never walked such an unstraight path in New York City in all my years of living here... even when I was a newb). I ended up at the music library at Lincoln Center, thinking I would find something to make my whole being wake up and want to sing.
At the Song Reference Desk there was this woman who looked like she had stepped out of a Mad Men shoot, or more accurately, out of the alternate dimension that was the 40s, and just tore her way through the lining between worlds into New York City's Performing Arts Library. She was stunning. Period perfect. UTTERLY bizarre and of unplace-able age.
I felt a little less lonely somehow, seeing her and realizing that everyone in New York, perhaps everyone in the world, is just trying to reinvent themselves, sometimes aggressively, toward a version of themselves that they'd rather be. That active effort - forced reincarnation, a novel form of etch a sketch that still leaves a grainy imprint behind - at once appeals to me, disturbs me, and makes me feel like I'm home.
40s reincarnate must have checked out a bazillion Disney song books, because they were strewn over the reference desk. One was open to "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" and I started humming the familiar tune as I thumbed through the pages of sheet music. It was the oddest thing, but I teared up in the middle of the stuffy lobby at this old Disney stuff that made me feel like I was four again,
and I felt better.
So I guess the moral of the story is that everyone has their own process for finding what to do to feel better, and the only thing you can really do for yourself is not judge your process while you're in the middle of it.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Beautiful Things
It's 5am and I can't sleep because of how hot it is.
Don't have much shop talk to share, but I do have this lovely link of pictures inclined to restore your faith in humanity. Instead of voicing my frustrations about our country's current political sphere, I hope that by sharing these images of generosity and openness, you may be inspired to be more generous and open with the people in your lives, as I was:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/pictures-that-will-restore-your-faith-in-humanity
Don't have much shop talk to share, but I do have this lovely link of pictures inclined to restore your faith in humanity. Instead of voicing my frustrations about our country's current political sphere, I hope that by sharing these images of generosity and openness, you may be inspired to be more generous and open with the people in your lives, as I was:
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
The 9 to 5
I took a modeling gig today for 10 hours, and was pleasantly surprised to run across my friend Carolina! This industry really is so intimate; it's heartening to know that you can almost always expect to see familiar faces anywhere you go in New York, especially if you're a actor/dancer/singer/model type.
As girls often do when we get together, all the model girls got to talking about the ways we cope with lulls in our performance work. Carolina said something I really liked and agreed with, so I thought I'd share it with all my fellow performing artists out there.
I feel like most little kids grew up thinking that they would have full time career tracks that resembled their parents' work. So much has changed since we were young! Even more traditional jobs have begun to take on new parameters and shift more towards free lancers. Unlike a more structured work day, dancers, actors, singers, and models have to actively create their own schedules and aggressively pursue work almost constantly.
We spend so much time worrying about our next contract that we forget what a performing artist's true 9 to 5 job is. The distinction may seem like semantics, but hey, changing the way you think about things can change your life!
Basically, Carolina was talking about how if you want to be successful as a performing artist, it's so valuable to recognize that pounding the pavement for your next job and putting the effort into developing technique is the actual 9 to 5 job you have. Whenever we actually book work and sign a contract, that is our job bonus.
Here's to a greater sense of agency in the world of performing arts + more job bonuses for everyone!
As girls often do when we get together, all the model girls got to talking about the ways we cope with lulls in our performance work. Carolina said something I really liked and agreed with, so I thought I'd share it with all my fellow performing artists out there.
I feel like most little kids grew up thinking that they would have full time career tracks that resembled their parents' work. So much has changed since we were young! Even more traditional jobs have begun to take on new parameters and shift more towards free lancers. Unlike a more structured work day, dancers, actors, singers, and models have to actively create their own schedules and aggressively pursue work almost constantly.
We spend so much time worrying about our next contract that we forget what a performing artist's true 9 to 5 job is. The distinction may seem like semantics, but hey, changing the way you think about things can change your life!
Basically, Carolina was talking about how if you want to be successful as a performing artist, it's so valuable to recognize that pounding the pavement for your next job and putting the effort into developing technique is the actual 9 to 5 job you have. Whenever we actually book work and sign a contract, that is our job bonus.
Here's to a greater sense of agency in the world of performing arts + more job bonuses for everyone!
Sunday, June 17, 2012
The Relative Power of Wealth
Last night, I went to a party in a new acquaintance's apartment.
I should have been clued into the extraordinary socioeconomic experience awaiting me by the modern art museum-esque lobby and guided walk to the elevator, but I really wasn't prepared for the door to open out into the entryway of what turned out to be the entire floor of the building (not to mention a gorgeous terrace with at least 10 square feet of lawn and view of actual stars)
Complete, btw, with an air hockey table that was flanked by ORIGINAL AND SIGNED Warhols and Lichtensteins (that reference is particularly for the roomie and the subletter)
Plus this Warhol:
And this Lichtenstein:
Which was conveniently located next to it's appropriately colored art companion:
As to be expected, the young man who owned the apartment had not one but three refrigerators. Of course keeping beer separate from food makes sense, but color me fascinated by the separate and specifically calibrated wine cooler disguised as a kitchen cabinet.
This young man, by the way, he's 26. In defense of my absence of Warhols, he's also a Bermuda trust fund baby, but good lord the night of direct interaction with opulence was not lost on me.
Every now and again its healthy for me to experiencer what life is like for those non starving artist types out there in New York City. Some people just don't realize how much they have, and how little others have.
It was even more valuable to realize via direct immersion in money, (DAD STOP READING NOW) champagne, free table service at clubs, and (OK DAD YOU CAN START READING AGAIN) all the associated accoutrement that money CAN buy a lot of things... but the Beatles were right: "money can't buy me love."
I should have been clued into the extraordinary socioeconomic experience awaiting me by the modern art museum-esque lobby and guided walk to the elevator, but I really wasn't prepared for the door to open out into the entryway of what turned out to be the entire floor of the building (not to mention a gorgeous terrace with at least 10 square feet of lawn and view of actual stars)
Complete, btw, with an air hockey table that was flanked by ORIGINAL AND SIGNED Warhols and Lichtensteins (that reference is particularly for the roomie and the subletter)
Plus this Warhol:
Which was conveniently located next to it's appropriately colored art companion:
As to be expected, the young man who owned the apartment had not one but three refrigerators. Of course keeping beer separate from food makes sense, but color me fascinated by the separate and specifically calibrated wine cooler disguised as a kitchen cabinet.
This young man, by the way, he's 26. In defense of my absence of Warhols, he's also a Bermuda trust fund baby, but good lord the night of direct interaction with opulence was not lost on me.
Every now and again its healthy for me to experiencer what life is like for those non starving artist types out there in New York City. Some people just don't realize how much they have, and how little others have.
It was even more valuable to realize via direct immersion in money, (DAD STOP READING NOW) champagne, free table service at clubs, and (OK DAD YOU CAN START READING AGAIN) all the associated accoutrement that money CAN buy a lot of things... but the Beatles were right: "money can't buy me love."
Friday, June 15, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Roguery!!
I cannot believe the night I just had. I started with a pleasant enough date in the West Village at this obnoxiously scene-y place called Little Branch. You won't know it to see it because the bar is hidden by a wall of brick, but there is a friendly, well dressed bouncer outside.
My date was late, but I ran into this girl I've done many musical theater workshops with, and she, her designer roommate, and I waxed poetic on the subject of summer hats for several minutes until said (unfortunately questionable) date arrived.
After unnecessarily long date, I find myself stranded in Union Square with a NON FUNCTIONAL 456 line and a NON FUNCTIONAL NQR line, both of which were unacceptable. I love Obama, but I do not love that his presence is keeping my city from its fully functioning state.
Never fear, because a nice man named Luis picked me up in his Escalade and drove me to Grand Central, where he was meeting his friend. You know, it's probably questionable to hitch hike in New York, but it is not something I do aggressively so maybe it's okay.
After that I was like, woe is me, there are no cabs. I make sad eyes at some young man near Grand Central and asked him if he was going uptown, and low and behold, he was headed to his destination on the UES that was but a few blocks from my apartment! He was kind enough to take me to my destination and I got a nice conversation and a number out of the bargain.
Potentially problematic choices, but all in all, a job well done.
Cheers,
A Broadway Baby
P.s. Here is your gratuitous hot Joe M photo:
My date was late, but I ran into this girl I've done many musical theater workshops with, and she, her designer roommate, and I waxed poetic on the subject of summer hats for several minutes until said (unfortunately questionable) date arrived.
After unnecessarily long date, I find myself stranded in Union Square with a NON FUNCTIONAL 456 line and a NON FUNCTIONAL NQR line, both of which were unacceptable. I love Obama, but I do not love that his presence is keeping my city from its fully functioning state.
Never fear, because a nice man named Luis picked me up in his Escalade and drove me to Grand Central, where he was meeting his friend. You know, it's probably questionable to hitch hike in New York, but it is not something I do aggressively so maybe it's okay.
After that I was like, woe is me, there are no cabs. I make sad eyes at some young man near Grand Central and asked him if he was going uptown, and low and behold, he was headed to his destination on the UES that was but a few blocks from my apartment! He was kind enough to take me to my destination and I got a nice conversation and a number out of the bargain.
Potentially problematic choices, but all in all, a job well done.
Cheers,
A Broadway Baby
P.s. Here is your gratuitous hot Joe M photo:
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Luck be a Lady
especially if she's the one in charge of casting!! I just got through three rounds of a different audition today. I am feeling like for once in my year, I have some healthy luck in my corner. Even got to read sides in a saucy French accent! Now I'm just crossing my fingers and toes and hoping that I hear good news from somebody soon.
My voice/acting coaches and the casting directors I've encountered keep telling me that it's only a matter of time before I work again, so we shall see.
Started the morning with a rogue addition to the pattern of intense dreams I've been having of late. Something about roaming around abandoned buildings on a treasure hunt with my exes ... that may or may not have been on this planet. And there was a pool and I had a pretty dress. Verdict? I am WAY too relaxed and happy, so my subconscious is kicking up the roller coaster a notch!
Off to Into the Heights tomorrow. There will have to be a lot of bronzing involved, and my ability to flex Latina at this point in my sad Casper-state of skin might be a little diminished. But hey, cautious optimism is the way to be!
Just for the happy: here's your daily dose of Joe.....
(Thinks to self... I have other things you can lift...)
My voice/acting coaches and the casting directors I've encountered keep telling me that it's only a matter of time before I work again, so we shall see.
Started the morning with a rogue addition to the pattern of intense dreams I've been having of late. Something about roaming around abandoned buildings on a treasure hunt with my exes ... that may or may not have been on this planet. And there was a pool and I had a pretty dress. Verdict? I am WAY too relaxed and happy, so my subconscious is kicking up the roller coaster a notch!
Off to Into the Heights tomorrow. There will have to be a lot of bronzing involved, and my ability to flex Latina at this point in my sad Casper-state of skin might be a little diminished. But hey, cautious optimism is the way to be!
Just for the happy: here's your daily dose of Joe.....
(Thinks to self... I have other things you can lift...)
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Final Call Backs & Opportunity
Made it through to the end of the audition for Guys and Dolls and Hello Dolly in Cohoes, NY. I've definitely been auditioning for these musicals since May! Now just have to wait for a call...
In other news, my day followed a theme of finding opportunity within every difficulty. The ultimate manifestation of this was my train ride home from a date to see the Avengers (which, btw, was a wonderfully silly action-gasm. I love me some Tony Stark).
(that SASS!)
Anyway, most New Yorkers have come across the late night music blasters on public transportation at least once during their stay in the city that never sleeps.
I'm no exception. Tonight I was taking the 2 train uptown (the 6 train that actually takes me close to my apartment was predictably NOT running). There I was, chilling real hard, planning to dive back into my new book (Buddha Walks into a Bar), when some ignorant fools start BLASTING horrendous music out of their HEADPHONES at 1am.
The average New Yorker would probably consider the situation hopeless and do everything in his or her power to ignore the noise.
Me? At first, I'm zen about it. Then, the adorable but super drunk gay boy on my left starts moaning out loud (the volume really was ridiculous) at the music blasters. Of course, I'm like "oh no, I feel compelled to mediate!" Kindly, politely, I indicate to the sleeping woman and baby being disturbed by the obnoxiousness that is said heinously loud music, and appeal to the better nature of these young men.
When common sense does not deter le noise makers, I find myself inspired to make the best of the situation. I start a little shoulder bump, then get a groove going. I throw my hand up and get my white girl shrug on. Before I know it, my new gay boyfriend and the lovely tattooed couple on my right get into the movement. New gay boyfriend pulls out some crazy harmony to whatever caterwauling is coming from the earphones, and you best believe I start beat boxing just for the giggles. The poor awakened mother and I share a moment of solidarity with a little raise the roof a la the 80s.
I kid you not, suddenly t'was a DANCE PARTY right in the middle of the subway car.
Teaching peace through dance, y'all... it's a daily struggle. Keep the love alive!
OH and Beware the Monster Beats:
In other news, my day followed a theme of finding opportunity within every difficulty. The ultimate manifestation of this was my train ride home from a date to see the Avengers (which, btw, was a wonderfully silly action-gasm. I love me some Tony Stark).
Anyway, most New Yorkers have come across the late night music blasters on public transportation at least once during their stay in the city that never sleeps.
I'm no exception. Tonight I was taking the 2 train uptown (the 6 train that actually takes me close to my apartment was predictably NOT running). There I was, chilling real hard, planning to dive back into my new book (Buddha Walks into a Bar), when some ignorant fools start BLASTING horrendous music out of their HEADPHONES at 1am.
The average New Yorker would probably consider the situation hopeless and do everything in his or her power to ignore the noise.
Me? At first, I'm zen about it. Then, the adorable but super drunk gay boy on my left starts moaning out loud (the volume really was ridiculous) at the music blasters. Of course, I'm like "oh no, I feel compelled to mediate!" Kindly, politely, I indicate to the sleeping woman and baby being disturbed by the obnoxiousness that is said heinously loud music, and appeal to the better nature of these young men.
When common sense does not deter le noise makers, I find myself inspired to make the best of the situation. I start a little shoulder bump, then get a groove going. I throw my hand up and get my white girl shrug on. Before I know it, my new gay boyfriend and the lovely tattooed couple on my right get into the movement. New gay boyfriend pulls out some crazy harmony to whatever caterwauling is coming from the earphones, and you best believe I start beat boxing just for the giggles. The poor awakened mother and I share a moment of solidarity with a little raise the roof a la the 80s.
I kid you not, suddenly t'was a DANCE PARTY right in the middle of the subway car.
Teaching peace through dance, y'all... it's a daily struggle. Keep the love alive!
OH and Beware the Monster Beats:
Monday, June 11, 2012
More Callbacks... any day now!
Got called back through a Hairspray audition today... though I didn't have local housing in the rogue city of Media, PA, and I was taller than most boys in the room (don't even get me started on the adorable but tiny girls).
Siiigh. Tomorrow off to another callback! No more details unless I have good news. Eep!
Until then, enjoy this man lifting this tire:
Siiigh. Tomorrow off to another callback! No more details unless I have good news. Eep!
Until then, enjoy this man lifting this tire:
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Compelling
http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/most-powerful-photographs-ever-taken
One of my favorites, Christians protecting Muslims as they pray in Cairo:
One of my favorites, Christians protecting Muslims as they pray in Cairo:
Sometimes yours truly needs a good cry and to remember what's important in life. Glad to say that this link helped me with both.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Practice
My yoga teacher on Mondays at the gym is like a ditzy blonde who never quite grew up or out... but she's approaching her sixties. So rogue.
Today was a day of independent singing practice, working out, and tutoring. Not to mention a little organization and bill paying and prep for auditions & Africa.
Someone who will remain nameless is getting a transatlantic evil eye for neglecting to inform me about the necessary visa one must have to travel in Tanzania. Grr. Argh.
Ah well. Today's calming bit of wisdom is courtesy of my dear old dad vis a vis his Lakota elder teacher friend:
Today was a day of independent singing practice, working out, and tutoring. Not to mention a little organization and bill paying and prep for auditions & Africa.
Someone who will remain nameless is getting a transatlantic evil eye for neglecting to inform me about the necessary visa one must have to travel in Tanzania. Grr. Argh.
Ah well. Today's calming bit of wisdom is courtesy of my dear old dad vis a vis his Lakota elder teacher friend:
" Man's natural inclination is to be driven by predatory self interest. To distance oneself from all those tendencies, one must accept that we are already connected, alike, related, and as such, perfect."
Drama Desk Awards
SO tired, but can't sleep. Stalked Bernadette Peters and inadvertently plowed through Tom Edden of One Man, Two Guvnors. Am convinced he won his Drama Desk award for his portrayal of that mess of an old man Alfy because of the positive karmic vibes bestowed on him by myself and the lovely Christine.
Discovered that my ample rear is simply too insurmountable for certain garments. Mad Men tailors, please head my way!
Discovered that my ample rear is simply too insurmountable for certain garments. Mad Men tailors, please head my way!
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Summah Time
Audition season's getting light, so I'll probably be sporadic here for a little bit.
In fun performer news, I'm heading to the Drama Desk awards with a girlfriend tomorrow! Maybe I'll come back with some new superstah buddies :-)
In the meantime, I stole this from a friend because I love the genuine hope in this:
"The choice to be happy isn't some long term goal that's way off in the future; it's a daily occurrence. Every morning I wake up, I can choose to be happy. Every moment of every day, I can decide how I feel. Your mood may be the only thing you have total and complete control of."
Who says college students can't be life muses?!
Until later,
Your Broadway Baby
In fun performer news, I'm heading to the Drama Desk awards with a girlfriend tomorrow! Maybe I'll come back with some new superstah buddies :-)
In the meantime, I stole this from a friend because I love the genuine hope in this:
"The choice to be happy isn't some long term goal that's way off in the future; it's a daily occurrence. Every morning I wake up, I can choose to be happy. Every moment of every day, I can decide how I feel. Your mood may be the only thing you have total and complete control of."
Who says college students can't be life muses?!
Until later,
Your Broadway Baby
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)