Monthly Archives: September 2011

4. Jamesyphus Has Questions


Well. OK. Let me just give you the 411 real quick.

I’m currently trying to secure an audition for a cycle of one acts about foot fetishes. The casting notice said, “Tall, handsome man with big feet.” Um. HI. HI. IT’S ME… GOLIATH. CAST ME. (Cue Meagan Well’s broken wrist cast)

Also. I have an audition for a cabaret on Friday. I’m a little sick now so send some good juju my way.

I got my dance shoes in the mail yesterday! …and then I got them again today… Yes. I currently have 4 pairs of jazz shoes and 2 pairs of jazz shoes. I only paid for half. I shall keep them. And I shall name them WIN. Now who didn’t see that coming?

Bought my ticket to come home for Thanksgiving today. I figure I have the money, and I would like to come home. So. I shall.

Now let me get gritty.

So this morning I bought some new music and I’m VERY satisfied. I bought: the new Gavin Degraw CD, the new David Guetta CD, the new Demi Lovato CD, “You and I” by Gaga and “Get Outta My Way” by Kylie Minogue. For some reason, my iPod only decided to show some of my music and delete the rest. So, my friends, I had HALF of the new Demi album and then I had the song “Get Outta My Way”. So. Naturally, I listened to “Get Outta My Way” FIVE times. In a row. (Here it is if you are unfamiliar: ) So. I’m on the subway listening to this Kylie song for the trillionth time. And I had been feeling the boulder in my stomach swell this morning. But I didn’t know what to do about it so, naturally, I ignored it. But by the 5th time, I started tearing up to this song. And I don’t know why. Well I sort of do. I all of a sudden got so lonely. And I thought about the song “Anytime” and I thought, ‘God, I want someone to sing that to me and really mean it.’ Ya know? Cuz when you see performers sing those love songs and you think, ‘Wow, they really love whoever they’re singing about.’ And I want that. But I had that. And the thought of that person singing that song about me makes me wanna tear my eyes out. And this point you may think:

Skeptic: Still? Still, James?
Me: Yes.
Skeptic: Wow.
Me: When was the last time you had your heart broken?
Skeptic: *thinks back but can’t recall the exact time cuz it’s been a long ass time since they chose to forget how much it hurts*

So. I teared up on the subway. Cuz I want that so badly but I also don’t. Man, I sound like a broken-ass record, don’t I?

And I’m also haunted by this: I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to automatically believe what people tell me. It’s like, the second something comes out of someone’s mouth, I have to discern, “Truth or fabrication?” And it’s so exhausting. And I suppose this is where you would say:

You: James. Eventually you just had to let go and trust what people say.
Me:…you’re in love, aren’t you?

And all the while, the boulder in my stomach just sits and sits and sits and scratches its butt and sits and sits and sits.

Yes, I should work out.. in order to be more appealing to myself and others. Yes, I should sing so I maintain my abilities. Yes, I should dance for the same reasons. Yes, I should work to keep my apartment. Yes, I should audition to follow my dreams. Yes, I should sleep all the while. And yes, I should find a way to balance all these things while some how maintaining a social life.

And here’s the last thing. Today I was walking down 23rd st in Chelsea which is ALWAYS good for my self-esteem. But today. TODAY. This guy I walked past STOPPED his conversation with his friend, bore his eyes into me and turned his head as I walked by. Literally, his jaw might as well have been dragging on the pavement. And in my humble, honest opinion, I looked like F-balls. My weave was greasy-time. My forehead was coming in close second for Greaseball of the Year. I was carrying TWO bags like a Bag Lady/Man/Cat-Dog. Ok, I jest a tad, but on the real, I was NOT on my A-Game. And I just thought to myself, ‘Wow. This person is, like, FLOORED by my looks when I’m not even trying.’ And then I thought, ‘Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be: you just want to be with that person no matter how fucked up they look?’

I want that/don’t want that. Someone once told me, “I’m so fascinated by you, that you can feel two conflicting feelings at the same time.” Haven’t you ever felt that? Wanting something so badly and scared shartless of it simultaneously?

And all I’m left with is questions. And I’m still pouring it out on the internet. For…. reasons unknown to me. Just thought I’d keep people updated on my life.

I saw Completeness the other night at Playwrights Horizon. Playwright: Itamar Moses. It just TOTALLY illuminated my feelings and the way our generation works. One of the characters is like, my age, and she’s talking about relationships. She says, “This is just a… terrible terrible generation to be part of. To know just enough to know that this stuff never works. But not enough to know what exactly we’re supposed to do about it.” The play is just about all the what-ifs.

So. I know enough to ask all the right questions. But I don’t know enough to know what the fuck to do about it. (Aunt Mel, if you read this: I’m sorry but the F word was most appropriate.)

“Get outta my way. Get.Outta my way. Got no more to say.”
~”Get Outta My Way” by Kylie Minogue




3. James’ First (Equity) Audition… Sort Of


Alright. I’ll keep this brief cuz I’m actually really busy. AH.

So. Here’s a few pictures. We all love pictures, don’t we?

 From a dear friend: a book that changed a life and a kind card to put on my wall to remind me that there’s someone who cares about me.

David’s back!
He’s been supes, dupes nice to me. He lets me use his printer all the time. He has a TV and we have cable and he invites me in to watch TV with him any time. OH. And he’s always awake early in the morning and he doesn’t mind me singing loudly in the morning to warm up. THANK.GOD.

Her bed came in today! Her name is Kaylee! She’s a friend of David’s. And she, too, is super kind. She stays up super late and I get up super early. But I’m a heavy sleeper so I don’t mind much. For example, for the past two nights, I have fallen asleep before she even had a chance to turn the lights off. And this morning, she told me I could sing, turn lights on, be super loud, etc. She said she didn’t mind. Now, let me recount to you my audition experience this morning.

So it was an equity audition for a musical called Rebecca based on the novel (which was also made into a Hitchcock movie). So sometimes they see non-equity people at equity calls. But there’s really no way of knowing. So, you can just show up and see if they’re seeing non-equity people at all. If they say, “No,”; cool. If they say, “Yes, sign up here,”; cool. If they say, “Yes, we have an opening right now; go on in,”; cool. If they say, “I’m not sure, come back later,”; cool. There are many scenarios.

So I went to bed last night at 1 AM and woke up at 7. #SUICIDE! But I turned out pretty well. I started singing lightly as to not wake up Kaylee. I printed my music out after printer problems. I wanted to get my high notes, but I really wanted to be a considerate roommate so I went to the bathroom, shoved my face in my towel and vocalized that way. I wanted to be at the audition by 10 so I woke up pretty early. Alex and I were doing this together. So. I realize I don’t have any resumes stapled to headshots. But Alex tells me he has a  stapler. So I bring some scissors over there and get it all sorted out. Tada. Ok. So I’m ready. Oh, by the way, I sang ALL the way to Alex’s. I find that Gavin Degraw is really good at waking up my upper register. So. I just belt all the way there and I make sure not to make eye contact with any of the Skeptics I walk past on the street. Ok. So Alex and I arrive at the equity building at like 10:30. They started seeing women around 10:00 so we figured we would get there around then, just to see if they would be seeing any non-equity guys at 2:00 (along with the equity men). So. Here are some hints about equity building:

1) Use the revolving door. The other one doesn’t open. You will look like a fool, and everyone will know it’s your first time.
2) You have to check in with some dude at the desk to make sure you aren’t gonna blow up the building. You tell him your name and he takes a sexy picture of you with his webcam.
3) Go up to the second floor. Take the elevator. Cuz if you walk up the stairs, you have to walk through this room of judgy non-equity people sitting in the segregated lounge. (Equity and Non-Equity people don’t mix in this building. You can’t even use the bathroom in the building if you’re non-eq. You have to go downstairs and go to the McDonalds.)
4) If you take the elevator, exit the elevator and turn right. There will be a table, beyond which you will see people sitting in comfy chairs. They’re equity. B’way. Talk to the lady at this desk. Ask if they’re seeing non-equity. I did. It went like this.

(This woman has a thick New York accent, maybe Brooklyn)
Me: Hi, are you seeing non-equity today?
Lady: What are you talking about?
Me: Rebecca, the musical.
Lady: No, not at all.
Me: Ok, thank you.
Lady: And no drop-offs either!
Me: …Ok, thank you! um. It’s really a crapshoot if they’re gonna see non-equity. BUT. Later in the day, while Alex and I waited in line outside the Eugene O’Neill for standing room tickets to Book of Mormon, we talked to a girl who taught me something. There’s this audition called People post stuff about auditions. For example, if I had checked this website before I left my apartment, I might have seen a non-equity actor post that they weren’t seeing non-eqs today at Rebecca. Also, if you do two auditions in one day, you can go to this website and ask, “What number are they on for Legally Blonde, the Musical?” And someone could answer that post, and you could see how close they are to your number, just in case you’re at another audition. (Cuz you can sign up for an audition, leave, go to another, sign up, and then manage them that way.) So. Next time, I’ll know better.

But I saw Book of Mormon tonight. And I REALLY want to get my shit together. It’s time to start dancing, singing, acting. So I’m getting my chores done tomorrow, and then I’m gonna scour Backstage and Playbill and start planning an audition schedule. I want to move forward in my craft, not backwards. So. AUDITION.AUDITION,AUDITION.

I know this title is misleading since I didn’t actually get to audition this morning. But I was EXTREMELY prepared.

Also, tonight I realized something.

So, I was standing outside the Eugene O’Neill for like 6 hours today. So at one point, this super foxy 40ish year-old man walked by and I stared him down. Cuz he was cute and life’s too short to be coy.  So he smiled back, and he winked at me. Then I fell over dead on the sidewalk and waited for him to revive me a la Sandlot. But then I realized, lying dead on the sidewalk, that I had come to New York for two reasons: 1) the most obvious reason: to audition. But there is a #2. And oh, is there a #2. 2) I came to New York to fall in love. And I’ve just been waiting for that magical moment. I’ve been waiting for that perfect guy to be charmed by my shoveling vegetable chips into my mouth on the subway; or by my way of smiling at people’s subway faces; or by my singing as I walk down the street; or by my fashion; or by my hair; or by my anything.

But this waiting is so unattractive. It’s odorous and foul. Drive: that’s attractive. Direction. Sexy.

But it’s not even about that. It’s not about being appealing. It’s about this: not waiting for someone to come take care of me. IIIIII’ma take care of me. Now. And what’s best for me is pursuing my craft. Applying myself. I want to be better. So I’m gonna go take voice lessons. I’m gonna harass NY Dance Store until they successfully send my shoes to the correct address. I’m gonna audition for so much more. I’m gonna look into some sort of acting workshop; I wanna do scenes with people. I’m gonna do what I (should have) came here to do.

Dear Love,
F you. I’m not gonna search for you anymore on the subway or on the street or out my window or under my bed. I can’t find you, and I won’t let my life be dictated by you. There is still shrapnel of my Project Happiness 365 lodged into my body/heart/soul. But I’ll heal. I know that for certain. It just takes more time. But until then, Love: suck a fatty. I’m moving on.

Here’s a passage from the book I’m currently reading. It’s this fictional tale of this woman’s life from birth to death:

“Now, at the age of fifty-nine, sadness flows through every cell of her body, yet leaves her curiously untouched. she knows how memory gets smoothed down with time, everything flattened by the iron of acceptance and rejection – it comes to the same thing, she thinks. This sorrowing of hers has limits, just as there’s a limit to how tangled she’ll let her hair get or how much dust she’ll allow to pile up on her dressing table. That’s Daisy for you. Daisy’s resignation belongs to the phylum of exhaustion, the problem of how to get through a thousand ordinary days. Or, to be more accurate, ten thousand such days…

But she’s tired of being sad, and tired of not even minding being sad, of not even in a sense of knowing. And in the thin bony box of her head she understands, and accepts, the fact that her immense unhappiness is doomed to irrelevance anyway. Already, right this minute, I feel a part of her wanting to go back to the things she used to like, the feel of a new toothbrush against her gums, for instance. Such a little thing. She’d like to tie a crisp clean apron around her waist once again, peel a pound of potatoes in three minutes flat and put them soaking in cold water. Polish a jelly jar and set it on the top shelf with its mates. Lick an envelope, stick a stamp in its corner, drop it in the mail box. She’d like to clean her body out with a hoot of laughter and give way to the pull of gravity. It’s going to happen. All this suffering will be washed away. Any day now.”

~The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields


Just looking for the part of me that seems to be fading away recently. And trying to live with what I know whilst not letting it hinder my decisions.

Love makes everybody a stupid bitch.



(any day now)

Week 2: James Learns A Lot


It’s been a long week.

I’ll start with a brief photo tour:

I bought rice. It was only natural that it should say this ^—–

In case you can’t read it… it’s a giant picture– 2 GIANT pictures of Glen Beck. (Forgive me, sir, if I have misspelled your name.) Here’s what they say: “If I had a dollar for every person who bad-mouthed me… I’d have enough money to launch a network.” And then it announces the start of it all and I guess his slogan is “The truth lives here”. Yeah. Your slogan couldn’t be FARTHER from the truth.

I GOT MY FIRST LETTER. (I hung the letter on my wall next to pictures of my friends. Oooo I should take a picture of that! Maybe next week, when it’s more extensive..)

So Boardwalk Empire, the TV show, was doing some promotion stuff the other day. And they had like VINTAGE subway cars running. I got to ride one. I took pictures. People got in the way. I don’t mind. It doesn’t look like they mind either.

So here’s been my week:

Trying to find a job…
It’s really hard. For many reasons. To be an actor, it would be ideal to work at night, because auditions happen during the day. So I got a job for the daytime. I work for a cleaning/organizing company. It’s awesome, and the people are super nice. But I need another job like once a week to supplement my income just so I can break even. I made a budget plan the other day. And I didn’t include money for alcohol, gym membership or extensive eating into that budget. But I DID include voice lessons, dance class and emergency money. So. If I got another job (hopefully catering, keep your buttcheeks crossed!!!) I would be able to eat like a normal person. AND I’d be able to get a gym membership so that would be REALLY nice. BUT. Today Angela told me about FREE YOGA in St. Mark’s in some church. SO. All I need is a mat, and that would be a good investment. Otherwise, I can rent one. AND I LOVE YOGA. It’s good for my body and good for my mind. So I think I shall do that!

Let me tell you what’s really hard about getting a job as a waiter here in the city. There’s this terrible double standard in place: you need NYC experience to wait tables here. But you can’t get NYC experience until you get hired.  So…. OH. And there are INFINITE more fine dining establishments here. And those are the worst! Cuz you need fine dining experience in order to get hired. But you can make BANK.TOWN. But it’s all about who you know, even in the world of survival jobs.

I searched Craigslist for hours for two days. I submitted applications all over the place. I walked all over Chelsea, turning in my resume anywhere that looked cute (I ended up dropping off like 10 resumes). I heard back from a couple but none of them turned out. So I put up a facebook status saying I needed help finding a job. And I got a job through my friends. It’s ALL about who you know. I’m trying to secure a catering job, and if I get it, it will be thanks to Eric, Adam and Dana because they worked there before me. It’s all about who you know.

(Also, Eric suggested to me that I try to get into some modeling. So I’m totes defs gonna try that… yeah, I might need a gym membership. Good thing there’s a gym 15 minute walking distance from here for 10 DOLLARS A MONTH. That’s right, biotch. So it would kind of be silly for me not to get one…. but then I need to buy protein so I build muscle…. ugh, we’ll see.)

Making Friends:
This isn’t too hard. I just talk to people everywhere. This girl joined in our conversation the other night on the subway, and we both got off at the same stop. So on our walk, I talked to her and now we’re FB friends. And who knows, maybe we’ll hang out! I went to slam poetry the other night (SO AWESOME. SO.AWESOME. Here’s a link to one of the guys there, if you’re interested/intrigued: ) I talked to a girl sitting at the next table. My roomie, Brandon, took me out to some bars the other night and I met all his friends. I’m meeting my co-workers. It’s painfully easy to meet people. One of my co-workers, when she found out I was a newbie to the City, gave me the run-down of all the discounts here. She made a LIST of all the free things. She told me that the farmer’s market in Union Square is a good place to come by some bargains, especially at around 2 or 3 when they’re trying to get rid of everything. Movies at AMC are $6 before noon (thanks, Drew). Angela says Trader Joe’s here is relatively cheap. is a website where you can find a bunch of free stuff to do here in the City. TimeOut Magazine is good to subscribe to cuz it tells you all the stuff that’s going on every week. THERE’S SO MUCH TO DO HERE. SO.MUCH.

Preparing for Auditions:
So I started organizing my book. And I put up a facebook status asking how it should be organized. This seemed to be the general response: full songs (just in case) with 32 bar and 16 bar cuts of each. GREAT. And my roommate has a printer so I’m EXTREMELY blessed in that sense. But I just got a library card today so I could use those printers, too. There are copy machines EVERYWHERE. I bought new dance shoes…. a week ago. I have not yet received them. So I called the dance company from which I ordered them. They said they were delivered at 10:00 am on Saturday, September 10th…. it’s Tuesday the 13th. The dude gives me the FedEx tracking number. My address is 23-05 30 Ave Apt D5… it was delivered to 2101 30 Dr Apt A5…. WHA?!?! So. I’m humored by the mistake. I decide to walk the two blocks over there to get my package… cuz it’s there. I get there. I look to buzz A5 and it says “J. Hansen”. Ah, of course. FedEx, when they’re lost, just scours the area for someone with a name similar to mine. So I buzz but she’s not there. I talk to the super, he tells me to come back. I go back at 5… still not there. J. Hansen, listen. This is a senior citizen apartment building. The phone number for the dancewear company is ON THE BOX. What is this old woman doing with my 2 pairs of size 20 jazz shoes and my pair of size 20 ballet shoes?? She’s had them for… days now, and she’s done nothing. I can only imagine… *cut to a granny doing flawless pirouettes in my oversized jazz shoes* damn you granny…. But I called Rochelle today, hoping she still wanted to represent me. SO. We’ll see how that goes. But I’ve been vocalizing pretty regularly. I find it’s most appropriate during the day on weekdays… cuz everyone is probably at their 9-5 job. So, vocalizing between 1 and 4 seems most appropriate (any day of the week). And one of my neighbors watched movies with surround sound and one of them fights loudly and one of them plays saxophone. I figure we’re all even. ALSO. I have been practicing my pirouettes in my room (BOTH sides, even though the left side can choke on a fatty). I’ve been stretching; my ladder for my loft is the PERFECT location. Cuz if I want a deeper stretch, no problem, I just use the next rung up. IT’S AWESOME. And I can work out in my room: push-ups and abs. My legs get a CRAZY workout from walking up 4 FLIGHTS every day and taking the subway all over Kingdom Come. (If you’re not aware, I’m baffled by proper nouns.)

The Money Situation:
Listen, money is hard. BUT. It’s doable. When I first moved out here, Drew told me that you need to make about $15 an hour, minimum, to survive out here. I would agree with that so far. Because if I work two shifts a week with my cleaning job and then one job a month catering (FINGERS CROSSED), I’ll break even. So. It’s doable. BUT. Keep in mind that in my budget, I’m sharing a room. But it’s RIDICULOUSLY cost-savvy: $457.50 per month. Yeah, how bout THEM tatties?? It’s so doable. It all depends on what you’re willing to sacrifice. I’m willing to sacrifice a bit of luxury and privacy in exchange for more time to audition and hone my craft. You just gotta be clever about it. I can get in some cardio with dance classes and I can do weight training in my room. And if I don’t drink my tits off, I don’t need to do a lot of fat-burning activity. (Eventually, yes, I would like to make a bit more money so I can have a bigger food budget [obvi] and get a gym membership.) But even when I make more money, I think I’ll still share my room because food and gym time is more important to me than having a room all to myself. But that’s just me.

(On a side note, a prostitute yelled at me the other day for looking at her… justlookdownjustlookdownjustlookdown)

I cried today. Yep. Broke down and had a little cry. I was talking to my mom on the phone and I believe I ended the conversation with, “Well, I’m gonna go eat and cry.” And I did. I cried, and I made tuna salad. Sometimes, money just gets you down. And sometimes, living in New York can be incredibly lonely, even though you’re living on top of/underneath so many people. But then I had money in my budget for froyo (frozen yogurt) and so I.DID. And my friend sent me this really nice article about crying in NYC:

But I survived. And it wasn’t even my first PUBLIC cry. Oh boy.

But still, as my mother said, I’m living exactly where I want to be living and I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. And there are SO MANY amazing things about living here. Like, there are A MILLION places to just sit and read a book. THEY’RE EVERYWHERE. I read an ENTIRE play on the subway the other day…. well, it was a quick read (for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf by Ntozake Shange). It’s really beautiful by the way. And now I’m reading a book called Waiter Rant by Steve Dublanica. It’s all about waiting tables in NYC and how people can suck and how people are vulnerable in restaurants. (Damn, I miss waiting tables…) But anyway. Then I fell asleep while reading it and I woke up before my stop. It was awesome. Everything here is awesome. Life here is awesome.

And I can only anticipate it getting better.

Tomorrow, I work!! For the next three days I have solid work. Hm… maybe I will get that gym membership… (not working out tends to make me cranky for more than one reason [lack of cardio and seeing the decay of my physical fitness in the mirror]). We shall see.

We shall see….

Let me just say something about slam poetry. I love slam poetry for the same reason I love art: people are so vulnerable. No matter how fleeting, they rip themselves open and expose their beating hearts. And that rawness is SO beautiful to me. So beautiful.

The slam poetry event I went to was in remembrance of 9/11. And one of the guys went up and before he started his poem, he said, “If you love someone, tell them.”

Here’s my favorite excerpt from for colored girls…

“one thing i dont need
is any more apologies
i got sorry greetin me at my front door
you can keep yrs
i dont know what to do wit em
they dont open doors
or bring the sun back
they dont make me happy
or get a mornin paper
didnt nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars
cuz a sorry

i am simply tired
of collectin
i didnt know
i was so important toyou’
i’m gonna haveta throw some away
i cant get to the clothes in my closet
for all the sorries
i’m gonna tack a sign to my door
leave a message by the phone
‘if you called
to say yr sorry
call somebody
i dont use em anymore’
i let sorry/ didnt meanta/ & how cd i know abt that
take a walk down a dark & musty street in brooklyn
i’m gonna do exactly what i want to
& i wont be sorry for none of it
letta sorry soothe yr soul/ i’m gonna soothe mine

you were always inconsistent
doin something & then bein sorry
beatin my heart to death
talkin bout you sorry
i will not call
i’m not goin to be nice
i will raise my voice
& scream & holler
& break things & race the engine
& tell all yr secrets bout yrself to yr face
& i will list in detail everyone of my wonderul lovers
& their ways
i will play oliver lake
& i wont be sorry for none of it

i loved you purpose
i was open on purpose
i still crave vulnerability & close talk
& i’m not even sorry bout you bein sorry
you can carry all the guilt & grime ya wanna
just dont give it to me
i cant use another sorry
next time
you should admit
you’re mean/ low-down/ triflin/ & no count straight out
steada bein sorry all the time
enjoy bein yrself”

~for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf by Ntozake Shange[sic]

I don’t start my prayers with, “Dear God.” I say, “To whoever’s listening.”
I don’t end my prayers with, “Amen”. I say, “Thanks for listening.”



Week 1: Life Change


WELCOME TO MY NEW BLOG! I’ll tell you what’s going on in a nutshell. And I’ll include some pictures. (This might take a while.)

First: my blog.

So I just can’t just NOT blog. I want to keep in touch with people and let them know what’s going on in my life! Plus, I want to document my pursuit of a career that I love so much. I plan on blogging weekly. I haven’t really decided on a day yet. Most likely it will be every weekend. But I’ll be writing about everything: my first audition, my first dance class, my first voice lesson, my first job, my first callback (fingers crossed), my follies and my lessons learned… (I’ll get to that). So, if you’re planning on moving to New York and you want to know all the “What Shouldn’t I Do”s… stay tuned.

Second: my apartment!

Here are some picturessssssssss:

MY ROOM! From both corners! EEK! I loves it! I’ll put up pictures of the rest of it soon. Right now I just have a lot of other things to do.

Third: getting a survival job…


I tried craigslist. I applied to 25 places. Haven’t heard back. One of them was like, “Needed: hot nude male models. Pose naked, ends with j/o. $750.”

….listen, I’ve done some nude modeling… and this just sounds like porn. So. Choose your words wisely.

I saw an ad yesterday for an “open call” for jobs. That’s like, a thing here. Jobs post “open calls” where you just show up at the building between these certain hours, bring a resume and wait in line for an interview. So I ran to one of them yesterday. I dressed really nice.. but then I realized I was NOT qualified at all for the job. By far. Not. At. All.

Bossman: Have you ever worked in fine dining?
Me: …I worked at a wings place.
Bossman: Would you call that “fine dining”?
Me: ….no.
Bossman: How’s your wine knowledge.
Me:… not good, but I do know liquor.
Bossman: Do you know how to open a bottle of wine?
Me:…. yes?
Bossman: How?
Me: …with a bottle opener?
Bossman:…no. How many plates can you carry?
Me:…without a tray?
Bossman: Yes.
Me: I don’t know.
Bossman: You’re not really what we’re looking for. But would you be interested in catering?
Me: Sure!

So. CRASHBOOMBANG. Terrible job interview. BUT! He has my number, and he’ll call me for “on-call” catering. So. That’s something! But while I was there, I talked to this girl while I was waiting and she was talking about how her gay friend bartends in Chelsea and makes $600 a night.

I’m going to Chelsea today.

Fourth: Friends.

A LOT of my friends live really near! Drew and Brian live like a 5 minute walk away. Emily/Dana/Adam/Sadie live like a 10 minute walk away. Alex is like a 20 minute walk. So that blows but whatever, it’s doable. I guess Andrea lives near Drew so she’s close, too. Meggan lives nearby as well. YAY! It’s awesome.

Fifth: Life.

I got a new bag. IT’S PUMA. It’s awesome:

It’s blue. And it’s leather. And it is SO.WINNING.

Here’s my street at night:

And this is one block from me:

MOUNT SINAI, CAITY!! And there’s an emergency room across the street. So. If I ever poke my eye out, I’ll just have to stumble over there.

There are laundromats everywhere. And for a little extra, THEY will wash your clothes for you and then they fold them and shit. AWESOME. I live like 5 blocks from the subway. Takes me like 30 minutes to get to Times Square. There’s a gym like an 8 minute walk away… $10 A MONTH. $20 a month if I want free tanning and a free guest whenever I want. UM. BYE. There’s this awesome bakery like 2 blocks away. THERE’S FROYO LIKE 6 BLOCKS AWAY. Ugh. There are cute little cafes all along my street. There’s an elementary school  two blocks away so there are a bunch of kids in my neighborhood. It’s all just, so awesome.

Now. To be real.

I am giving up drinking. For so many reasons. So many:

1) I feel like shit the next day. Emotionally, physically, mentally.
2) I hate who I am when I drink. Deirdre comes out, and while I LOVE Deirdre, she just needs to take the back seat for a while.
3) I usually only drink when I’m bored. And I never want to stop after just one.
4) I can have a good time without it.
5) I do it for the wrong reasons.

I just start drinking cuz I feel like I’m not enough. Listen, I’m not an alcoholic. Not at all. But I just hate alcohol so much. I start drinking cuz I feel like I’m boring. Or I feel like I have to. But I am enough, I’m not boring and I don’t have to.

I uprooted my life from the Midwest to the East Coast. I did exactly what I wanted to do, I live exactly where I want and I’m doing exactly what I want to do. And now, it’s time to be exactly who I want to be. I love me a dreamer but fuck, sometimes they is lazy. I’m not lazy. I want a killer bod: let’s do this. No more drinking and eating crap. Get that cheap ass gym membership. I want to be a better dancer? Great. Miss Sara gave me $100 to take dance class. Yep. Let’s do this. I ordered new jazz shoes and ballet shoes so once they come, I’m gonna be ON.IT. I’m gonna vocalize every day and stretch every day.

I can be better.

And I know my decision will upset some friends. That’s ok. But please respect me the same way you would respect a vegetarian’s choice not to eat meat. And I’m not judging. It’s just not for me. This is my fresh start so I’m wiping the slate clean and starting over.

It’s just. Ugh. In my heart’s quest for love, I just do stupid, stupid things.  And I forgive myself.

It’s not gonna be easy, but this is what I want to do. I’ll still go out, but I won’t drink. So. Deal with it.

I’m just breakable. “We are so fragile. And our cracking bones my noise. And we are just breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys.”

Deidre can take the back seat.

“Cuz it’s my turn to decide.”
~”King of Anything” by Sara Bareilles