Blerg! La Realite`

The other day I was riding the subway to work. It was kind of crowded, typical NYC day, my headphones in. A man came on with a janky speaker and a cordless mic. When they’ve got their whole sound system going on there’s really no point in trying to resist, so I took my headphones off and listened. He talked for a little bit, saying that the only payment he really required was smiles, blah, blah, blah. Then he started singing, various styles, ‘transporting us to different faraway destinations’. And he got the entire subway car smiling and laughing. And it was beautiful. And one of those moments that I feel you could hardly experience anywhere else. I love those.

It’s been a long time since I've written anything on here. I sort of got to a point last summer where I grew tired of just writing about myself, so I quit. The last few days something’s been telling me to share again, so here I go.

My theater company, The Survivalists, produced our first full-length show to sold-out crowds and made a lot of money. Much more importantly I can honestly say we put on a thoroughly entertaining show. It was one of the most stressful and most satisfying experiences of my life. For those interested, we’re currently developing a new play-reading series called Origins, which should be debuting by the end of the month.

There have been a lot of changes. Both of my sisters moved away from the city, leaving me without family in the city for the first time in two years. I moved out of my Spanish Harlem apartment, and after a brief stint in Bushwick (let’s just not talk about it), I’ve settled into Washington Heights, in a stunningly beautiful, uncrowded, somehow rather unknown corner of upper Manhattan that inspired my friend Liz Joblin to proclaim upon first viewing it: ‘What is this undiscovered paradise?!’ Speaking of my best friend Liz Joblin… She moved away, too. It’s been a time of real change for me.

I also very unexpectedly lost my job at David’s Tea. I will say, with pride, that I managed to procure another job within 4 hours, thankyouverymuchandsuckitDT, though I didn’t stick with it. I’m currently settling into two new gigs, working for Mary Helen Bowers and her company Ballet Beautiful in the mornings, and taking care of two boys in the afternoons.

But don’t get me wrong. August was not an easy month. For those of you who don’t know, I was dating someone for the first time in years, and it was wonderful and painful and confusing and new and exciting, and now it’s over

But you know, today I got recognized on the street by a stranger for the last show I did with The Survivalists. I worked two unique, interesting, well-paying jobs. I came home and got off the train and went to the grocery store, and then strolled home through my neighborhood that I love to my apartment that I adore. I have two wonderful, kind, giving roommates. I have a loving family that was kept safe through this crazy flooding (Seriously, what was up with that?). I’m a pretty blessed boy. That’s what I realized tonight.


If there is one thing that I would say I've learned from my life thus far, it's that the goal of each day should be to spread love in some way. (And I didn't even mean for that to rhyme, but suck it, it did.) It never fails to amaze and move me how you can literally watch a change come over people, both strangers and friends, when you share simple kindness with them. It's like a light begins to burn up inside them. I know I've been grateful many a time for people who have shared that with me. I make it my goal to share that with others every single day. In many ways, it's become the goal of my life.

That is a broad goal, though. More specifically, I really have no idea what I'm doing. In the past month, it has frequently felt like my entire life has fallen apart, that nothing is certain anymore, that I don't know where I'm going, blah blah blah blah blah. In a nutshell, I've been acting like a 21-year-old. 

Life is about ups and downs, good and bad, high and low, happy and sad. All of it, every little bit, is what makes life worth living. Without the hard times, the good times wouldn't seem nearly so good. I look back at some of the most stressful or anxious times in my life and I can see how they formed me, and feel no resentment. And those moments of clarity when I can look at it all, see my existence for what it is, see the beauty of it, and love it for what it is; those are the best moments.

Guatemala- 4/8/13

As my plane to Guatemala ascended today, we rose through thick, opaque clouds, bumping and bouncing around, and emerged on the other side, soaring above white, rolling hills. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

I almost didn't make it on this trip. My family has been planning to go on a week-long mission trip to Guatemala with my parent's church for months, and at about midnight last night I realized that I did not have my passport. I tore my apartment apart searching, but I was fairly certain I knew where it had been left- Four days ago I had made copies of my IDs as I was supposed to at a Staples in midtown, and had only just now realized that I had left my passport there. My flight was leaving at 6:30 am the next morning, before Staples would even be open to ask if they had possibly found it. Frantic and desperate phone calls were made to Mom, and after much considering every possible solution, we realized that pretty much the only thing we could do was change my flight to 2:30, go to Staples first thing in the morning, and hope. 

I didn't have much hope. Last night was one of the most stressful, awful nights in recent memory. I felt stupid. I was furious with myself, and had no idea what I was going to do if I didn't get to go on the trip. I couldn't imagine even wanting to leave my bedroom. How could God let me do something so stupid as I was preparing to go serve him.

Around 3 in the morning, after hours of freak out, I was laying in my bed staring into the abyss when I got a text from an old friend I haven't heard from probably in over a year. She said I'd been on her mind. She happened to be going through a pretty bad night of her own. I talked her through what was going on, and, in the process, reminded myself of a few things: My life was not a complete disaster, not in any way. There are other people going through things just as bad or worse than me, always. And the power to adapt, survive, and thrive in any situation lies entirely with me; the only thing I am in control of is myself. I confided in my friend what was going on, and she prayed with me through the phone, and told me what, deep down, I knew was true- I had no idea what God was doing. There could be something totally different and better planned for me this week. The point was, of course, that my trust has to fall on Him. If I say I believe in His sovereignty, His omnipotence, then I have to actually believe in it. 

I fell into sleep. I said goodbye to Amy as she left for the trip. I woke up at 6:15, and headed for Staples. I walked in as the man unlocked the door, and the passport was there waiting for me. I would make the 2:30 flight easily. I was going.

I can't be sure why God put me through that. Perhaps He did have something else in mind for me this week, and realized I couldn't handle it. There could be effects that I will never see. But I think it was because He needed to break me down so that I could fall back on Him, just in time to leave all the usual things of life behind and devote myself to service. What better way to prepare me to completely fall on Him?

And what an interesting lesson. Perhaps I need to rethink my definition of God's blessing. And what a good reminder to keep my eyes open. 

I couldn't be happier to be going on this trip. I hope I can be of use. I hope I can be challenged, and grow. I thank God for reminding me already that even if I have to rise through the turbulence, I will eventually break through and soar above the clouds. 

I'm in the Most Successful Period of My Life

It's been a long time since I've written on here.

It's not been for lack of interesting things happening. I don't want to overexcite my legion of faithful fans (You guys exist, right?), but I seem to be in the most successful phase of my life thus far.

I recently participated in a second Cranky Cabaret, an always-fun, tune-filled, open bar evening. It was both successful and a bit of a train wreck. The first night I went up to sing my first song, the not-funny-at-all Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt, and the accompanist and I were not in the same key. It was really neither of our fault- We weren't given enough time to practice beforehand, we hadn't communicated well on how she was going to do the intro. It was one of those mortifying, nothing-you-can-do-but-keep-going moments, and I kinda wanted to kill myself. I pulled myself together and did my much-funnier duet with the fabulous Lauren Green famously, and then when my second solo at the end of Act 2 came, I went up with a plan. My song, the modern classic Bust Your Windows, needed an introduction: I was a white guy singing a black girl's revenge anthem. So I explained that when bad things happen to me, my inner strong black woman emerges. I began to list examples: 'Your boss is an asshole. A bitch on the subway. You start singing your song in the wrong key at Cranky Cabaret and have to redeem yourself with your second song. You know, hypothetical situations.' And with that, I had the audience back on my side. They laughed and applauded. Afterward several people complimented me on handling the situation absolutely perfectly. The simple fact was that I couldn't just ignore it. The next night the Cabaret as a whole went pretty much perfectly, but while it still mortifies me, I'm able to look back and see the good of completely botching a song: It showed me that 1) Even when I totally bomb, I can keep going and do a good job, and 2) People always respond best to honesty. The acknowledgement of my failure and my intentions to recover from it was the perfect first step in winning the crowd back. It sounds much less significant when written here, but I think it was actually one of the best things I've learned since moving to the city.

I also just participated in a short play that was part of the Take Ten festival, executive produced by my friend Graydon Gund. Grady is always reliable for a unique, whirlwind rehearsal process. We didn't win, but it was so good to get back in front of an audience again.

And finally, The Survivalists. My theatre company is legit, you guys. Our grassroots fundraising campaign is coming to fruition in ways we only hoped for. We're producing an absolutely fantastic new show called 3x3, or 9 after 9 by Shane Breaux, Kevin Brewer, and Michael Christopher, and we just finished initial auditions with over 600 submissions with callbacks set for Tuesday. We're in the process of signing a contract with a publicist who reached out to us personally. And last Thursday we threw an unbelievably successful launch party/fundraiser where we raised over $1000 and took over an UES bar and had one of the most fun nights of my life. For those who haven't been following this as it unfolds (What are you doing with your life??), our show bows the first two weeks of June at the Access Theatre downtown. Follow us on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/theatreofthefittest), Twitter (I'm in charge of it! @survivalistsnyc), and our website (http://thesurvivalists.org/). We're the real deal, y'all.

It's been a busy, stressful, exciting time. I hope it stays that way. I have so much more I want to do. I'm desperate to make a webseries or movie or SOMETHING (seriously, anyone interested, let me know). I plan to start a youtube channel soon for music. I'm so ready to start taking classes again. Anything, just to keep moving.

Because sitting still lends itself to self-examination and over-thinking, and those things rarely lead to good things. Despite all the good that's going on, in the quiet times I still find myself wondering when I'll ever get my life together. There's so much about myself I still don't understand, or am uncomfortable with. I'm frequently tempted to make a list of all the things I'd like to change about myself. I still may,  but only under the strict agreement with myself that I will balance it with a list of things about myself that I love.

I'm sure some people would say that staying busy for the sake of avoiding deeper problems is not really healthy, but I would counter that with an opposite theory: If your work and activity become your whole life, don't the other problems start becoming much smaller issues than they previously were? Still. I will always continue to try and transform myself into a better, more complete person. Lately I've been wondering: When will I stop imagining the fabulous life I'm going to live and start actually living it? I'm tired of wishing I'd gone to things, of making up excuses to stay in, or passing up opportunities. I'm tired of wishing I could lose that weight. I'm tired of wishing I would do more worthwhile things with my time.

Which brings me to this blog. I'm undecided as to what it should become. Simply talking about my life has started to seem a little dull to me, and perhaps a bit self-serving (though always remarkably therapeutic). I will continue to update my faithful friends and family on exciting things in my life, but I'd like to write about something a little bit more than that. I'm not sure what that means just yet.

I'm so grateful for the opportunities that have been given to me lately. I'm so thankful for the people in my life who have supported me and mean so much to me (I hope you know who you are). I feel confident that I'm where I'm supposed to be for the first time in a long time, and that's possibly the greatest gift God could give me.

Sharing Myself

When I was flying back to New York City after two wonderful, fun weeks at home for Christmas, I sat next to a man who really enjoyed talking. It turned out he used to live in my neighborhood, and soon he was telling me all about the best restaurants, and who I need to talk to when I'm looking to rent a new apartment, on and on. The other guy on our row was somewhat in the conversation, but he and I were the real New Yorkers. When the plane landed, I was ready to be back, and feeling good.

The airline lost my bag. As I waited at the baggage carousel, one of my bags showed up. The other did not. I went to the desk and waited forever and the worker wouldn't let my file a report because I had checked in late so technically the bag wasn't lost. I left, and grabbed a taxi. Naturally, he took me the long route home, resulting in an overcharge. The happiness to be back had quickly dissipated.

The next morning I decided to start fresh and go to the movies with my AMC gift card I'd gotten for Christmas. I got to the subway and my debit card was declined so I couldn't buy a metrocard. I jumped the turnstile. I made it to the movie and it was amazing, the kind of movie that reminds me why I want to be an actor. I walked back to the subway and jumped again without thinking, and there were cops waiting on the other side. In hindsight, I should have just turned around and left- I'm sure they wouldn't have chased me- but I didn't, and they gave me a ticket. I rode the subway home in tears. In less than 24 hours, the city had shown me once again that I will not be having an easy time in it, ever. At least the movie was good.

The past two weeks I've had four shifts at work, due to our low sales following Christmas. Thank God, I was asked to be a keyholder, which is a guaranteed thirty hours. It hasn't taken effect yet, though, so I'm poor.

Major things have been happening with The Survivalists, the theater company I've been working on cofounding. We signed a rental agreement with a theater for the first two weeks of June. Tonight we had our very first public event, a reading of a play we've been looking into producing. When we got everybody in there and got the real work going, all the doubts that have plagued me just faded away. I'm sure they'll be back, but for tonight it was all as it should be.

It's good that happened, because otherwise the last 24 hours have been rough. I booked an audition I was really excited about, for an out-of-town production of Les Miserables as Enjolras. They sent me the sides, and they were high, but didn't seem impossible. I scheduled a voice lesson/coaching with a new friend of mine to work on it last night and it... didn't go well. I couldn't sing it. It didn't help that I'd spent the hour before frantically running around trying to print sheet music, which included a completely unsuccessful and infuriating twenty minutes spent in Staples, the bane of my existence. I feel somewhat bad for the voice teacher- I was stressed when I arrived at the lesson, and the more we sang and I realized I couldn't hit the notes, the more psychotic I became. When the lesson was over he  tried to give me a pep talk, shocked at how 'defeated' I looked. I was defeated. I HATE not being able to sing anything, but this was an audition that I'd been looking forward to, one of the first ones I'd had in almost a month, and I now had to decide whether I was going or not. I confided this in him, and he had to concede that not going wouldn't be a ridiculous response to how the lesson went. Another train ride home in tears.

After the lesson last night I was supposed to go to a friend's house to watch the Golden Globes, something I've done every year for close to a decade now. The friend cancelled, and we don't have TV capabilities, so no red carpet and awkward celebrity acceptance speeches for me this year. I debated all night whether I would go or not in the morning. A phone call from my mother only increased the uncertainty; she was absolutely in favor of going. She had a good feeling about this one. Furthermore, it was what I was here for: to get up, prepare, and give it my best shot. That's all anybody (including God) could ask for.

I could hardly not go after that. I did all those things. I sang through it at home before I left and hit all the notes. I went, praying to God that I was walking by faith, not fear.

I went in the audition room and cracked on the high notes of both sides. Exactly as I'd feared. Hoo-freaking-ray for going for it.

I know that I can sound pretentious or condescending, but I truly think it is hard for non-performers to understand how frustrating it is to go to an audition and leave knowing you won't even be considered, watching all the others before and after you nail it. All the while knowing in my heart that if just given the chance, I would give them everything I have, I would go above and beyond their expectations. It's almost like losing a bit of your soul every time.

It wasn't the overwhelming emotion that came flooding over me as it had the night before. It was more a sense of coldness, a hardness settling over me as all of the thoughts I try to push away came flooding back. Worst of all, it was a feeling of resignation, that this is what happens to me. I watch as friends book gigs and love their lives, and I sit at home on facebook jealously, trying not to think about anything. More and more I've stopped letting bad auditions and rejections and disappointments in my social life get to me, but it's like a little bit more of my faith dies every time. Late at night, when I let all the bad thoughts in, I lie in bed not knowing who I am, not wanting my life to go on as it does, and not knowing what else to do. These are all of the things that I usually refuse to let myself think about, but sometimes I get tired of not thinking about it. It's real, isn't it? So shouldn't I think about it? Have you ever just wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, not really for any specific reason, but just general protest? Then you understand what I'm feeling a little bit.

The truth is, I don't know what else I would do; I never even considered another career, or really considered that this might not work out. I've spent my entire life building up to being a performer. How can it not happen? They say that you'll book the gigs that you're right for, that ones that you're just what they're looking  for. What if I'm never what anyone's looking for? What if no one ever wants me?

I know that happiness is a choice, that I ought to brush it off, move on, find the good things. And frequently I can. I don't concern myself with any of it, and I just keep going, and keep trying. But sometimes it feels like all the effort and optimism in the world isn't enough; I'm just being optimistic to avoid facing reality, you know what I mean. Perhaps tomorrow I will be able to fool myself again.

It's late, and I don't want to think about these things anymore. I want to push them away, go to sleep, and get up tomorrow, numb myself to it all again. That's what I'm going to do. Breathe in, breathe out, and hope that the next breath brings something better (and even more hope that it doesn't bring the flu). I never know whether to write about the more unhappy times like these, however it is the my truth. I have sought my whole life to share myself, and so I am, perhaps hoping, as always, that someone, somewhere will see something worthwhile and notable in it.

And it's got to get better. It's got to. And when it does, I will share that as well.