Upedy Datey.

Well, where to begin? I left for NYC the 25th and auditioned for three schools. I was only slated to audition for two but it turned out the man who got me into theatre was auditioning for his program at UH. It made the trip to see the look on his face when he saw me (after 7 years) standing outside of the audition room. My auditions with him and NTC went very, very well. My audition with UW, not so much. This was my third attempt at UW's MFA program and I let it get to me. I thought it was the school I wanted to go to the most but after realizing just how pompous and, well, asshole-y the auditors were I lost my ambition to get into that program. I just wrote them the coldest thank you note I've ever written with my life.

Aside from the auditions, I had an absolute, much needed ball with old friends. I saw people I haven't seen in years and reconnected with old college friends. I also went on a date. The first real, honest-to-God date I've ever been on. I've been on "dates" but they're usually for a drink or coffee with someone whom I've known for some time. I've never been on a date with someone I've just met. I've been asked but I've declined. I met him in a bar, figures. He is a friend of my wife's (long story). He is articulate, funny, kind, intelligent and he looks like Barack Obama at 25. Ha! He took me out to a fancy lunch right after I sobbed my eyes out in my audition for UH (side-bar, the audition didn't make me cry, it was the piece I was doing). Poor kid.

I was so close to quitting my job and moving to Brooklyn to be with my friends again. I hate Manhattan but I could be happy as a clam in Brooklyn. I had a life for a week and it was wonderful.

Turns Out...

He's dating someone else.

Problem solved.

Don't Hate the Player, Hate the Game

They're both equally shitty in my personal opinion. I play the game. I play the game very well. I hate the game and logically, I guess, I hate myself...? There is one thing that I hate more than the game; People who don't realize you are playing the game with them. I suppose this comes down to a lack of confidence or sheer panic shortly followed by denial.

Perhaps I'm too stealthy. Granted, I've been known to give my targets far more credit than deserved, but when I am being blatant I would hope they'd be aware enough to at least have an inkling.

There are moments in the game that are euphoric. My friend Kiera refers to this as the "Christmas Eve" of the pending or doomed relationship. Referring to that unbelievable feeling you had as a kid of agonizing anticipation for the arrival of Christmas morning and the ensuing slaughter of wrapping paper. I feel like I'm in the sequel to "Ground Hog's Day" aptly titled, "Christmas Eve."

This is the most frustrating process of all time. More so because every time I'm ready to throw in the towel (sports pun intended) there are those cinematic moments in a cozy coffee shop. Camera pans to a wide angle and we see crowded coffee tables highlighted in warm yellow lights. Close up of male lead staring in the distance with a look of longing. Cut to female lead sipping coffee with a friend. She turns her head and shyly catches his gaze a la Hepburn. Cut to male lead who quickly drops his gaze and continues typing on his laptop. Scene.

Yeah, I caught him through the crowd staring at me with that oh so familiar look on his face. And it plunged me back into the chess match. I bought him a coffee to go and wrote a very simple line across the top of the lid. He accepted it warmly. I said goodnight and went home.

I'm half debating writing him a note on wide-rule notebook paper with the classic "Check the Box. Yes___ No___ Maybe___" at the bottom. It may be more simple if we could all go back to the sixth grade in terms of relationships. I suppose in those terms, he and I are "talking" but then again that may be an over statement. I think right now, he's merely discovering his existence in this scenario, if even that. I'm waiting for the opportunity to present it's self so I can make a bold move. I have a feeling I'll be waiting for quite some time.

Mindless Chatter

I wish I could blame my current mood swings on "that time of the month" but that would be a huge lie and complete insult to my sex. I had my first audition for graduate school last Sunday, which went amazingly well. However, my focus is decidedly elsewhere. I'm leaving for NYC on Friday and I'm in total denial. I need the break but it's stressing me out more than it's worth.

Every time I feel like I'm finally grasping my job, I get a swift kick to the ego. I wasn't qualified for this. Period. This entire job is accounting. I am horrible, repeat, horrible with numbers. My brain just can't wrap around them. If something doesn't add up, I get frustrated. Also, these vouchers are a mess. I've never been trained (really) on how to properly do them. With all due respect, even the training is highly lacking. They don't go over how detailed they need to be or how to compensate for a limited amount of writing space. I hate this. It makes me feel inadequate and stupid. Two things that I know I am not. If I can grasp 19th century philosophy, I should be able to grasp peoplesoft. Arg.

I skipped Pilates last night for no real reason other than laziness. Perhaps that is why I'm feeling out of sync today. I need a really fun, relaxed weekend with my friends. I think that would be the cure for the common life. Maybe we should go to Disney World in April or something. Any takers?

Oh but to resemble her...

What Goes Up, Must Come Down...Shit.

It has just been a shitty couple of days. I feel inadequate at my current job (and I just got myself on wefeelfine.org), there's rumor that the ex is moving back, and the musician...well...fuck. I have grad school auditions starting this Sunday and I am losing faith in myself. I don't want to show my pieces to coaches because I'm almost ashamed of them. Maybe all I'm good for is teaching, not acting. This is just so hard. I had this great confidence somewhere recently and now I can't seem to find it. I love theatre but I don't love bad theatre. It just seems impossible to actually be a part of good theatre. I have the heart but I'm not sure I have the talent. Have I been deluding myself for so long? Am I one of those actors who really can't act but has no idea? Frankly, I don't know.

I have tears constantly threatening to sneak past my hard swallowing and I'm at work. I just want to hide in the bathroom and sob my eyes out but I can't. I'm at work. This day is going to be a long one.

Nonfiction.

Recently, I've become a fan of non-fiction essays. Usually, these essays are of a witty nature and are often written with a sardonic flavor. Why is this important, you ask. Well, over the past few months I've begun adopting habits I once associated with adulthood. I keep getting metaphysically slapped in the face with the realization I now do those stuffy, boring, lame things I said I'd never do. I'm in bed by 9:30, 11:00 on a wild night. I prefer listening to NPR over the local top forty stations (well, that's not really new, but you get my point). I dream about my "wasted youth" and yearn for a "simpler time."

"Shit," I say, "horseshit!"

I'm not ready for adulthood. I keep messing up little things and my type A perfectionism is not coping too well. Plus, I was always the most productive and ingenious at around 2 a.m.. I sleep through that time now so I feel my creativity slipping away into the REM cycle. This "grown-up" lifestyle is draining the life from me. Is this really what life is? Sitting behind a desk to earn money to pay off all of the shit that is required for the "American Dream"? I don't need it. I need the ability to be creative.

I'm half tempted to put my tent and my sleeping bag in the back of my car and wonder through this country taking a photo-journalistic approach to my travels. I need to do something that requires me to think about something much less concrete than accounting. I need wiggle room to formulate my own ideas about whatever subject may arise in conversation. I miss the wiggle room of my collegiate youth.

I am an old hag.

Bah.