Moving

Moving is a strange, challenging, emotional, crazy, frustrating, invigorating, ridiculous experience, and moving in this city is the worst. There's something incredibly draining about putting everything you own into boxes and emptying out the place you've called home for the last however-long. I always end up realizing I own way more junk than I thought, cursing the heavens at the futility of belongings and houses, and contemplating relocating to a far away land where I could live on a beach underneath a tarp and nourish myself from the mango trees growing nearby.

I just moved out of my apartment. Though it is ALWAYS tough, this one was especially hard. When we moved into this place we all thought we had a found a home that would last us for years. We loved each other from the start, and our apartment reflected that. We leave it in completely different places in each of our lives, and with most of the feeling of home gone. Yay, NYC?

There is something to be said for moving out of a place though. There's something cleansing about the massive amounts of junk that inevitably get thrown out (We all have that shirt we haven't worn in 3 years). It's a pleasant reminder that things are not where our value lies, and they can be shed in an instant; most of them you won't even miss. And the exact opposite of that is my other favorite side effect of moving: rediscovering long-lost memories or treasures. My best discovery this time around: The necklace I'd lost that has my Mayan symbol on it, an Intellectual who Rejects Negativity. Let me tell you, I've been wearing that daily ever since.

There is also an undeniable sense of adventure that comes with moving, and the right moving buddy can make that a beautiful memory for the ages. I have been blessed to twice move (and both times under rather traumatic circumstances) with the incredible Kelsey Schroth. On Friday the 2 of us threw everything I own into 2 trips to a storage unit, Tetris'd for the win and fit it all in my space, and still got finished in time for me to make Shakespeare in the Park at 8 pm. That, ladies and gentlemen, is no easy task. We earned our high fives, jamming with the windows rolled down in the Uhaul truck, and joy riding the furniture dollies down the storage center hallways. All kidding aside: What am I going to do without that girl?

When we moved into that place, it instantly felt like home. It was a beautiful apartment in a neighborhood we loved, and the three of us were a family right away. We expected to stay there for years. Moving out one year later, all of our lives look completely different, and we're all, essentially, going our own ways.

I went back up by myself on Sunday to finish cleaning out the last bits. Kelsey and Saloni had finished up, so it was just me. I started carrying things down to the trash that hadn't made the storage cut: the table and chairs, bags of clothes I never wore, odds and ends. Brian had left that morning for a week away, so I was all set to have a pretty sucktacular day.

Then I met a couple who were going through the trash areas of the apartment buildings, looking through all the things people were throwing out. My clothes fit the guy perfectly. The wife was so excited to find a 'wow, so gorgeous!' new table and chairs. I kept bringing down more for them to look through, and we talked about the Heights, and how it's changing, and the price of rent, and moving, and life. It turned into the perfect way to pass along the stuff I couldn't keep, and to let go of that apartment. It was a beautiful and bittersweet reminder to cherish the home that I had there, even for a short while.

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.

I Wore Angel Wings in Times Square.

Why haven't I blogged in well over a month? Unacceptable. C'mon, Jay. Get your life together.

So I almost got in a fight on the subway today. It was the last day of working at David's Tea before heading home for Christmas. I finished at 4 and headed down to Union Square to check out the Christmas market and grab a special something for a brother of mine. I got a text from my friend I was meeting for dinner asking if we could make dinner at 7. I said that was fine, and had two hours to kill. So, I shoved my way on to the incredibly crowded 4 Uptown Express to grab another last-minute Christmas gift. The train was having one of those unbelievably, everybody-touching-everybody, breath-feeling-a-little-constricted crowded moments. A middle-aged man sat down in the fold down chair in the corner and proceeded to attempt to read his newspaper. At each stop more and more people shoved their way in. He began to feel crowded in his seat, and let me know by shaking his newspaper against my leg, asking how he was supposed to read. Caught off guard at first, I responded, 'What do you want me to do? There's literally nowhere I can go.' That quieted him, but I knew he wasn't satisfied. And now I was prepared to retort. When the next stop came and even more people shoved on, he started half-yelling again, griping about his inability to read his paper (as he sat while the rest of us were standing thigh to thigh), about my crotch in his face. I spoke much more forcefully this time, reminding him there was literally nowhere else for me to go, to which he responded that if I would stand my ground they wouldn't push me in. That was about all I could handle.

'Oh, give me a break. Okay, just get over it. There are other people trying to get on the train, it's not just you.'

He instructed me to 'stop being soft', and he edged ever-closer to being punched in the face.

'You need to chill out. Just chill out.' He believed I needed to chill out, and I was happy to inform him that I was chill, he didn't even need to worry about it. Grumble, grumble, grumble from him. He continued to attempt to intimidate me and I continued to throw it right back at him until a lovely young woman sitting across the way caught my eye and shook her head and in a single instant reminded me that everyone in the car was on my side, and I had nothing I really needed to defend. Arguing with idiots rarely gets you anywhere anyway. I proceeded to let him grumble to himself, ignore him, and not budge a single millimeter out of his way.

However. He wasn't getting off quite that easily. My stop came next and as I gathered my bag, I turned back to my friend sitting in his seat and said nice and loud, 'Have a good day!' The whole section of the subway erupted in giggles while Mr. Obnoxious began angrily grumbling even louder. I think the girl across the way may have clapped for me. I can't be too sure because I was admittedly walking away pretty fast in case he decided to jump on my back or something. A guy who'd been on the train with me came up behind me giggling as we made our way out of the subway. 'That guy was an asshole,' he said to me with a great big grin. I couldn't have agreed more.

As I walked down 86th St., I found myself incredibly thankful for that girl sitting across the way, a silent reminder of peace and reason. Thank God for people like that.

There's been so much that has happened since I last wrote that it's hard for me to know what to include, whether I should put it all in and write an essay or just simply explore my thoughts on life at the moment (aka, the usual). Perhaps a little of both.

So working at David's Tea has been a blast and a half. I really enjoy my job- I mean let's be real, there's times when I get annoyed and frustrated, but it's really ridiculously enjoyable and rewarding for the most part. We have finally moved into the Chelsea location all of us new people were actually hired for, and I got to set up and stock the new location with another girl, Ashley. It was such a surprisingly cool experience, seeing the store come together from a big, fat mess to ready to open in just a couple short days. Already, I have regulars at the store. There's a housewife that's come in several times and only drinks the teas I suggest to her, and waves and says hello to me when she passes in the street. I have a 'special drink' that has become somewhat of a legend. I can't reveal just how I make it, but I have not had a dissatisfied consumer yet, they frequently return for it again, and I've had multiple people I've never met come in, find me, and say their friend told them they had to come try 'Jay's Special Drink'. Gotta love that. I mean, I'm like a celebrity. (a celebri-tea? sorry, couldn't resist). Besides all that, I've made some pretty awesome friends. I hope the world doesn't actually end on Friday, because I'd really like to hang out with these people some more.

Still, even with all this job satisfaction flying around, I need more money. That led to one of the most bizarre and humiliating experiences I've ever had in New York City. Months ago, I applied to a company called Theatre Mama that my friend Gabrielle worked for. In a nutshell, they hand out fliers in Times Square. Their gimmick that supposedly makes them exceptional is that they send out performers, a la the tourists are attracted to the girls dancing around like they're in Chicago so they take a flier. Well, several weeks ago I got a call from them saying they'd like me to come in and interview, and told me to be prepared to move. I figured there was going to be some sort of movement/dance test, and I halfway didn't want to go because I figured I would be completely out of place with a bunch of other dancers. However, my friend and my mother talked me into it. I may never fully forgive either of them.

I arrived and two other girls were interviewing with me. It seemed quite normal at first. Then the woman running the interview told us she was going to leave for a little while and instructed us to think of clever things an angel would say on Earth. We had no idea what that meant, and pretty much brushed it off. Then the woman returned, carrying in her arms none other than giant, feathery, strap-on angel's wings for each of us. I began to contemplate just walking out. But I'm not a quitter. We strapped on those wings, she paraded us out onto the street, shoved some fliers into our hands and told us to be angels (as if it were the most divine idea she'd ever had)! As we 'frolicked' up and down Times Square she would shout things like, 'SLOW MOTION!' or 'MAKE A SCENE TOGETHER!' At one point one of the other girls passed me skipping and saying to herself, 'I want to die!' The feeling was mutual. When we had satisfied her at last (She thought we were all truly fabulous), the three of us trudged back in and at one point I turned to the other two and said, 'The things actors will do in New York.' To which one of the girls responded, 'Starbucks is not sounding so bad anymore.'

I got the job. So for the past month I've been having an intense inner debate about whether or not I'm willing to subject myself to that kind of humiliation (which could quite frequently include running into people I know) on a daily basis. The thing that makes the decision exceedingly difficult- It pays $17/hr. One day I was scheduled to work my first shift with them and I chickened out and called and told them I was sick. Since then I haven't had much communication with the company. I told one of my friends from David's about it and she told me she had a couple friends who did that for about two months and then quit because they wanted to kill themselves. I suppose I'll think about it more while I'm at home.

Home... Tomorrow I fly to Estes Park to be with my family. Amy and Julie are coming in a couple days, and then the whole Addison Clan will be reunited once more. I. Can't. Wait. Anyone who knows me well, knows that home is one of the most important ideas in the world to me. Ever since Thanksgiving, which I spent not with the whole family for the first time in my life, it's been a little tougher for me to push myself, find the drive that is so necessary to life and success in this city. I've looked eagerly forward to being home and not worrying about anything, not feeling guilty for being unproductive, not getting gloomy about my lack of superstardom (or even just mild success). Then a couple weeks ago, the pastor at our church spoke about 'waiting' as a Christian. He spoke of biblical figures who waited their whole lives for events, but never lost hope or gave up, and were even satisfied. It's very late at night, and I don't feel that I can explain it nearly as eloquently as he did, but suffice it to say it rejuvenated me in just the way I needed. It reminded me of remembering to be grateful for the things I have, even if they're not the plays and movies I would have loved to have been doing by now. It put into words what I so frequently can't (or at least can't anymore): That I have the knowledge in me that God has a special plan for me, a reason that I am where I am, that He's going to use me in a big way. And with that knowledge firm within me, the 'waiting' becomes so much less unbearable. It can be almost exciting.

Now don't misunderstand me. I know that nothing is ever going to be handed to me. 'Waiting' also requires work, and determination, and drive. What was so good about that day's message was that it reminded me why, even when nothing seems to come of my effort, I still have reason to keep trying (and keep believing). Since then, things have gotten better and better. I was thinking earlier tonight that I'm probably at the happiest place I've been in my life in quite some time.

It's Christmas. Love the good things in your life. Love people. Spread joy. I have been a firm believer in the magic of Christmas my entire life. The day we bought our Christmas tree and put on the pandora Christmas station there was children's choir singing, and I said to myself, 'It's really Christmas now. Time for me to start crying a lot.' Amy said, 'You cry a lot at Christmas?' To which Liz responded, 'You don't?!' God love that girl. She gets me. My point is this: There is so much beauty in the world at this time of year. Be a part of it. Make some more of it.

Merry Christmas!

Working, Emoting, Striving (and, obviously, Writing)

I recently got asked for the link to my blog by a customer at work and realized I hadn't written anything in over a month. But I'm already getting ahead of myself.

I got the job at David's Tea! It's turned out to be just as delightful of a company as I imagined it to be. I love my manager, I love the people I work with (Most of them. Life is not perfect, you know.), and I love getting paid. My manager has told me more than once that people compliment me personally to him frequently, and I truly love that, especially because for the first several weeks I honestly had no idea what I was talking about. Natural-born salesman right here, folks! You get an incredibly wide variety of people in a tea shop in NYC, but perhaps I'll go into some specific David's Tea experiences another time.

I've had several very unique experiences lately. I went and had a 'trial run' as a personal assistant for a family in the village. They live in a truly gorgeous four-story townhouse with a friggin' backyard. I walked the dog, cleaned up the boys' bedrooms (despite their insistence it wasn't necessary as their mother insisted it was), did laundry, and shopped for and cooked dinner. Let's just say my mother got several texts that evening desperately seeking advice. She came through, as always. I haven't heard back from them yet, so I don't know if there will be a return adventure to the land of the much-richer-than-me. Ya never know, though.

On the performing front, I landed a gig in a cabaret without ever opening my mouth. I applied for something called Cranky Cabaret, where they only perform 'good and pissed off' songs. Going for broke, I sent them an 'angry' and apathetic email, with only the last line saying 'I hope this wasn't too much. I'd really like to be involved.' The next day I got a call saying it was the funniest response they'd ever gotten and they wanted me in the show whether I could sing or not. I guess Go Big or Go Home really works sometimes. Getting to the first rehearsal was an experience in and of itself. We'd gone to a pumpkin patch out on Long Island (a truly fantastic day), and I'd come home still unsure what I wanted to sing. I bought sheet music online for several options, then remembered my printer was dead. By this time I was already running late. So I rushed to Staples, and the music wouldn't print there either. The woman said their computers didn't have the right program. So I got on the train and just headed to the rehearsal (in Brooklyn) with only one song. Halfway there I realized I didn't even have a copy of the one song I had, which was half the point of this rehearsal- to give a copy to the accompanist. So I sprinted out of the subway and ran to a different Staples and copied the music. By the time I got to the apartment where they were rehearsing, I'd completely missed my slot and they'd already started the general information meeting. Praise the God, the two producers were incredibly laid back. They completely understood and I didn't even get chided. Other than that, I went on two auditions tonight (the first auditions I've gone to in weeks), both of which went well, one of which I think something might really come of. Now for the waiting.

Besides all of that... I guess you could say I'm a bit of a mess. But then again, am I ever not? I think being a mess is part of life, especially 20-something life (Yes, I am 21 years old now. Heaven help us). My emotions swing drastically from one end of the spectrum to the other at times. Not that long ago, I tried to go the Performing Arts Library at Lincoln Center all the way across town, and was in a fantastic mood, jamming to my ipod with the crisp fall air nipping at my nose. Then the library was closed. I tried to make use of being in that part of town by shopping for jeans, and I couldn't find a dang thing (I really hate shopping). I rode the bus back and was walking home thinking about how much of a mess my life was and how things just really weren't working out. Then I ran into an old friend and he asked if I'd lost weight and said it looked good on me. I walked away grinning and thinking how much I loved life. None of those emotions I just listed are exagerrated at all. That's three drastic mood swings in one afternoon. Sometimes I think there's something wrong with me. A couple days ago I went to see some friends of mine from school in their newest Company play (Company is third year at AADA, where you just do shows.). They were phenomenal. I couldn't help but sit in the audience thinking, 'That could have been me.' And then afterward when the cast and other school folk went out I tried to tag along, but I really just felt out of place. I chose differently than they did. I left there feeling strange and somewhat uneasy. Sometimes I think back and question all the decisions I've made, ponder all the 'what ifs'. It's not enjoyable.

But you know, that's the life of the artist. I feel my emotions in such enormous ways, and I believe that is what allows me to perform. At least that's what I like to tell myself. If I hadn't experienced that I wouldn't have been moved to write about it on here. It also reminded me again of how badly I want to succeed, and how much more I need to push myself.

And I have been doing better lately about seeing the good. Yesterday I stomped thru a blizzard to the subway with my umbrella blowing away and my feet drenched and slipping and sliding all over the place, and I loved every second of it. Tonight I went back to the Performing Arts Library, and Lincoln Center was all lit up at night with the fountain going and people arriving for the opera in their tuxes and gowns and the winter wind gusting through the square, and Don't Rain On My Parade playing on my ipod. I mean, can you get any more New York than that? It was beautiful.

I recently read the blog of a friend of mine, Jason Spina (http://theresalotonmymind.wordpress.com/), and he decided from the start that he didn't want to write a blog just about himself. He didn't pride himself that the inner workings of his mind were of that much interest or importance. I find that very admirable. Obviously, it's not a principle I hold myself to.

I think that's because, in the end, it's really all I have; that's really all I've ever had. My feelings, my thoughts, and my heart. It's all I have to give, and I want to give it all. I always have, I guess in hope that someone finds it dynamic, that it can affect someone, move them, entertain them. So I will continue to pour my heart out, in writing, acting, singing, speaking, dance, anything. Because it's all I know and all I have, and I want to share it. I have to give it.

Opening nights, job hunts, life questions, etc.

Last week I performed on a real (aka non-school) NYC stage for the first time. It was a charming little play called Gastroenteritis on the F Train. I can't remember if I've told this story yet, so I'll tell it now- I first got cast in this play in a tiny one-line role as a homeless man. I went after it full-throttle, doing all my actor homework and asking all those oh-so-important questions like why he was homeless and what caused him to perform on the subway and did he have a mental illness, etc, etc, etc. Then after the first two rehearsals I got an email from the director saying that the leading man had dropped out and they would like me to step up and take his place. I did so.

We rehearsed in public for this show because none of us had the money to pay for a rehearsal space; since the show takes place on the subway, rehearsing in public actually proved appropo. There's nothing like staging a conversation between a male makeup artist, an Indian woman in a Sari, and an East Village hipster in the Winter Gardens downtown to make you forget your shame, which is what acting is all about. Still. This character didn't come easily, for some reason. I don't know if it had to do with mindset, unresolved feelings about replacing the original actor, or what. But Opening Night came and went without me feeling any of the satisfaction that comes from a performance well done.

So I began to pray. I asked God to help me be the best I could be, to cleanse me of the self-doubt that would hold me back, and to help me deliver the good message I believe is in the character I was playing. I believe He has guided and will continue to guide me to the parts I'm supposed to play aka He puts me in projects for a reason. I told Him I trusted that. Then I did my homework, and applied the training I learned at AADA. I determined conclusively my moment before. I figured out exactly what my character's deepest underlying want was. I swallowed my pride and massaged my face and stretched out my body in the dressing room before the show. And I went on the next night and the audience loved it and I felt that rush of perfect performance that I live for. The night after was much the same.

And it made it all worth it. Everything. Every moment of disbelief, of doubt, of rejection, disappointment, stress EVER. I have always said (at least to myself) that true actors are built differently than normal people. There is something in us that feeds directly off of delivering great entertainment to people. It wasn't some kind of grand run of a play, and we didn't even advance to the next level of our competition. But being what that audience, no matter how small, wanted to see, guiding them through emotions and a journey and laughter... That's what I'm here for. That's what it's all about.

It's been a tough time. I'm still unemployed, and every resume and cover letter I send out that gets no response feels like another blow to my ego. I don't understand how I let myself get to such a bad place with money, and I can't understand why I can't find a freaking job. Naturally, this brings out all of the other emotions I usually push down: stress, frustration at my lack of social life, worry about my career, and just about every other negative thought you can imagine- I've probably felt it over the past year. I send a text and it gets ignored. I go to an audition and the person behind the table never even looks up. All these things have built up in me a sort of defense mechanism that is always there to remind me: No one is going to give anything to me. I'm going to have to fight for myself.

But something kinda miraculous happened tonight. For the last several months I've been talking with a few friends about starting our own theater company, and all it would imply, and what we would want it to be, so forth and so on. Recently, we did it. We registered with the IRS and started it up; they all had the money to contribute to make that happen. I didn't. I was tasked with researching our first play. At the time, it pretty much felt like just another burden. It was certainly another reminder that I don't even have a source of income while everyone I know does. And because it's been hard for me lately to focus on anything acting-related, I really didn't do anything about it for the past few weeks. A few days ago I had to send the guys an email explaining that I hadn't done the work they'd asked me to do, and I still couldn't contribute monetarily and I'm doing my best which, as seems to be the case lately, is not good enough, blah, blah, blah. And I pretty much expected a response of disappointment and dwindled friendship.

Tonight they responded. This is what it said (I hope they don't mind me sharing):

James,

 

    I spoke with Emily and Betsy and we totally understand your position. We've all been there before and we certainly don't want to burden you with an extra obligation. If you think taking a back seat for a while would give you time to get on your feet then by all means do it. None of us want to completely kick you out of the company, as we love collaborating with you. That being said, the last thing we want is for you to feel obligated to us; we know this is a big investment, both mentally and financially. Let us know what you would like to do, and not matter what, we will support you. If you'd like to just be a company member and have less background work, we can do that. If you'd like to take time to focus on jobs and come back on in full once you've found a job, that's great. If your heart's not in starting a company right now, we get that too and we'd call you when we start auditioning because we'd still love to work with you. Just let us know what feels right, and we will support you.

 

Just Get done what you need to and we'll take care of everything for now. Let us know when/if you'd like to rejoin in full capacity and There's always a spot for you!

 

That may not seem all that miraculous to you, but to me it was like a reminder of good in the world (at least a reminder of good in the entertainment world). It was a reminder that feeling sorry for yourself never helped anybody, and expecting the worst is the worst thing to expect. I will try and thank those guys for being so understanding, but I doubt words can express how much that email meant to me. 

 

Right now I'm with my parents and sisters in the Poconos Mountains. It's so beautiful, and so relaxing, and they're helping me get back on track with good feeling. I recently went to a group interview for a company called David's Tea that I apparently didn't get hired by but will continue apply to because it sounds awesome. As part of the interview we were supposed to bring in an object that had personal meaning to us and talk about it for the group. At first I had no idea what to bring, but then I realized I was wearing it: My old T-Shirt from Wind in the Willows at the HCPAC in Athens, Tx.- the very first leading role I ever played, and the first show at that theater that shaped me so much. I told them about how I like to wear it at the apartment as a little piece of home. I talked about how I realized how much it meant to me when it recently got stained and I thought it was ruined (luckily, I was able to fix it). I told them about how it was a daily reminder of why I am where I am: Because I love performing. I love entertaining people. I really think it was what I was made to do. It's my way of helping the world, and I believe in the power of entertainment to do that. 

 

So I have a task ahead of me. To return to the city on Monday and stay diligent about the job hunt and GET HIRED. To begin to rid myself of the cynicism that has become such a part of my thinking and trade it in for a renewed belief in the good of people and life. To rediscover zeal and confidence and happy-go-lucky-ness. To acknowledge and deal with the deeper-rooted issues that lead me into these negative feelings. And to trust. To remember why I'm here. To commit myself. To become a better person (That's not to much to ask, right?) 

 

((No. I don't think it is.))

 

 (((Wish me luck.))) 

Desperately Seeking Employment

Good news: New York has FINALLY cooled down, and is beginning to settle into Heavenly Fall Weather (HFW, for short). My nights are no longer spent tossing and turning due to heat (not to worry, there's still my overactive mind to keep me awake), I'm wearing jeans every day, and I don't feel like a big, red sweat monster.

Since my last posting, the leading actor in the show I was cast in, Gastroenteritis on the F Train, dropped out, and I was asked to step up and replace him. I am thrilled to announce that I will at last be making my New York stage debut in a little less than a week, playing the lead! When it happened, it was like a little mini-miracle. I'd just gotten back from doing laundry (an always stressful experience) and was hot and stressed and worrying about money and cursing New York and myself for living here. Then I opened my email and had a message saying they wanted me to play the lead. I guess it was a reminder to count my blessings.

This play is part of a contest of new One-Acts, so depending on audience votes, we may get to perform again. Because it's such a start up thing, we've been rehearsing in public. Since the show is set on a subway train, this is probably actually good practice (Maybe the director is actually a secret genius??!?!), but it has presented some interesting scenarios. With one girl pretending to vomit into a bag, me loudly sharing with her my life story of moving from California to New York to become a makeup artist, and another girl pushing me into a shouting match that ends in my being beatn with a book, there's been some stares from passersby. Still. Just to be in a show, to be working on acting in New York City... I hope I never stop appreciating that.

Of course, every cloud has a silver lining; you haven't heard about the cloud yet. I'm broke. I put off looking for a job for far too long, and now am living with a constant churning in my gut about how little money I have in my bank account. I apply for jobs every day, but thus far have had no response whatsoever. It's especially frustrating because so many restaurants in this city (I would most like to be a server) won't even consider you unless you have years of New York experience. Someone recently told me people lie about that- the thought had never occurred to me. I just don't think I'm comfortable with that. I went to an open call for servers at a new steakhouse opening, Tao Lavo, and they had an impromptu questionnaire about alcohol, what goes with what, name these types, blah, blah, blah. When I couldn't answer them the guy (admittedly, very politely) said I needed to get more experience. The infuriating thing was that I could have learned everything on that sheet in one night. Then I went and looked at the places he told me I should apply to, and every single one said they didn't accept people without 2 years New York experience.

Of course, there's also the obnoxious, non-personal, all-online method of hiring that almost everyone subscribes to these days. One of the first days I was back, I walked down to 86th St. to go door-to-door at restaurants, asking if they were hiring. The first one I went to, Uno's, said yes they were, please apply online. I did so. A few days later I called to follow up. They said in a hurried manner to please not call them, they would call me. This country has become so technology-reliant. Anyway, enough ranting.

I believe God has a plan. I believe I am here for a reason. It's unfortunate because I can't really enjoy the blessings I have because I'm so constantly worried about money. I suppose the lesson is to appreciate the things I have, despite the struggles. Well... I've learned the lesson. Can someone please give me a job now?

I spent a lovely afternoon/evening with some friends I hadn't seen in a long time yesterday, and I'm thankful for that. I'm rehearsing a show with a great part and lovely cast, and I'm thankful for that. I have a family that loves me, two of which are with me here, and I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for all of these things, I truly am. I will also be very thankful when I find a job.

Called to something different...

I'm back in NYC for the long haul. After my previous post, I returned to Estes Park for a couple weeks to take care of little brother Sam while Mom and Dad took Ben to college at A&M- another Aggie! Whoop! (I am the biggest Aggie fan that never attended Texas A&M)

It was another fantastic break from the heat of NYC in summer, and the stress of living right in the middle of everything I need to be doing. I hiked, I read, I cooked, I sat in a chair and watched movies. I strengthened friendships. And I prepared myself to return to the city and work at what I believe I was made to do.

During the week and a half I was here, I auditioned for a new play called Gastroenteritis on the F Train, part of Manhattan Theatre Rep's One Act Play competition. I had received the sides ahead of time, worked at them, got a real feel for them, prepared, and was looking forward to the audition. I walked in the room the day of and everything felt dead. An audition that I had been looking forward to for days was falling completely flat right in front of my eyes. Needless to say, I left the building more than a little upset, and completely ready to go home.

That night I got an email saying I had been given a part.

Who can say why it happened. Was I a second choice? Did I completely misinterpret the audition? I'd like to think it was because they saw something in me, something special that even my bad auditioning couldn't hide. Something that I've always felt was in me.

It's a small part in a small play, but I couldn't be more thankful for it. I couldn't be more thankful for any opportunity to not only do what I love, but share part of myself.

Over the course of being away I came to a realization, one that I think I've known, but had gotten pushed aside and forgotten somewhere along the way: I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing this because to serve others, and because God has given me a dream and a drive. When Judith Light visited my school last year, she talked about how she believes entertainment is a service industry, and rarely has anything made more sense to me. I truly believe I am meant to serve in that way. Sometmes I lay in my bed late at night and I think that I just can't do enough, I just can't give enough. I want to give it all, everything, because that's why I do what I do. To share. To move. To change. To help. To entertain. And I can always give more of myself in pursuit of that ideal.

I look at the people I most admire, and how tirelessly they have worked over the years to be the best they can be. And I want that. I want to share and give all of myself so that maybe I can one day be that to someone else. I could kick myself (and have done so) sometimes because of my laziness. If I can't work toward this every day, then what am I doing?

I don't really know what the point of this post is. I felt the need to write, so I did. Sometimes I look at myself and I think how foolish I am, how ridiculously seriously I take all this, and how much I overestimate myself. But there's always another little something even deeper down inside that tells me to not give up. So I'm not going to quit giving myself. No matter how charming a normal life sounds, I can't do that right now. It's not how I was programmed. There's something in me that draws me to this lifestyle. I will follow that call.

Back to NYC after a month away

I spent the last month having a decidedly NON-New York Experience. I made the decision to run away from the sweltering heat and steadily building discontent of NYC and fly home for a couple weeks. A couple weeks turned into three with a mission trip tacked on the end; I loved every minute of it. Partially because I didn't have to worry about becoming a sweat-dripping, red-faced monster when I stepped out the door, but mostly because I didn't have to worry, period. That's such a fantastic, indescribable, wonderful feeling. It's also, unfortunately, not reality. Not past the age of 18.

Now it's true that God tells us not to worry, and I understand what He means; My eventual destination is secured, and I have a really big helper on my side. So, from the big perspective, life is pretty carefree. But life while we're living it is full of, if not worry, then thinking. Choosing. Taking action. Making mistakes. Struggle is what life is made of. Perhaps we'll get back to that in a bit.

I spent last week in El Salvador at an orphanage called Casa Hogar Jehovah Jireh. My family and I stayed there before when we were on our six-month Central American extravaganza. It's supported by a wonderful company called SHIP and is filled with the sweetest, kindest, most loving kids I've ever known. It's hard for me to even think back on them right now without being overcome; these kids are amazing. We planted gardens and built showers and delivered quail coops and took kids to waterparks and it was a truly fantastic week. It was also a week of much self-examination. I can't speak highly enough of the people that were on the trip with me, both my family and the others there. Such fearlessness, such a complete lack of inhibition or conceitedness; it's hard for me to explicate clearly so I guess I'll put it this way: If I learned one thing from last week it's how much I'm stuck in my head and how often that makes me selfish. How often do I think of myself before others? How can I serve like that? All "spirituality" aside, how much do I limit myself in that way, by overanalyzing instead of just jumping in and DOING?

How many people would meet me and get an impression even close to what I think of those kids? If they can afford to live with such love surely I can too.

I think somewhere in there there's an answer to the musings up at the top; at the very least there's some wisdom. When all I think of is myself, I'm bound to get a little sick of the same thing over and over. If I overanalyze every situation I'll never be surprised. And if I can learn to see struggle, obstacle, work as the stuff life is made of, the stuff that makes living being alive, then I might just start greeting life a little bit more like those kids. Did I just make sense? I'm not sure, but I think I needed to write it.

So all of my problems are solved, yes? No, certainly not. I'm still an unemployed actor who feels more alone than ever in the most crowded city in America, and once I figure me out I can move on to life's other great unsolved mysteries such as how to stay fit while eating what I want, is bigfoot real, and why can't I keep track of a set of fingernail clippers ever. But I may be able to get some sleep tonight now.

On my last night at the orphanage one of the kids slid a bracelet they made onto my wrist. I intend to wear it FOREVER... or at least until it falls apart. Just as a little reminder of how I want to live my life: With love. 

An Update

Well. It's been awhile. I debated for a long time how much I wanted to reveal to the world wide web and anybody I personally know who might read this (and was actually kinda discouraged from it by my dad at first), but I've decided honesty is the best policy in life; I did not end up participating in the show I had been rehearsing for, The Wedding Plan. Various factors that I have no interest in going into anymore contributed to me being unfairly ousted, along with a couple other cast members mere days before the performances. It was one of the most confusing, infuriating, awful experiences of my life. It was both a blessing and a curse that it happened the day before I went home for my brother, Ben's graduation; a blessing because I was going home and away from the city and industry I felt pretty betrayed by, a curse because I had to explain what had happened what felt like 5 million times to my extended family and people (many of whom I don't actually know) who asked how my play was going. (In retrospect, it's really quite remarkable and flattering that people actually care enough to inquire, and I'm grateful for that.)

Of course, once I was home I didn't want to return. But return I did, to several lined up auditions, all of which, as it goes with life, went fantastically. Still. It was a tough time. I was back in a place I didn't really currently want to be. We were in the midst of rushing around trying to decide whether to renew our lease or move. I was (and am) quickly running out of money, and was having a harder time than expected finding a job. And as much as I knew I needed to move on, I still felt ashamed and angry about what happened. And I didn't write on here or talk too much to people because I didn't want to until I had good news to report.

Then one night I had to run out around midnight and go to the office of our landlord to slip our rent under her door- It was the last day it could be turned in, and, being Addisons, we'd waited 'til then to do so. Then I began to walk back to the subway, but when I got to it I wanted to keep walking. So I did. I spent some time contemplating life by a lit-up fountain. I kept walking past more and more subway stops, my mind moving at the same time as my feet. What I came to realize as I was walking the streets of New York City at 2 in the morning was that I didn't need to wait for good news to come: I had more than enough to be thankful for already. I'm living in the city I've always wanted to, pursuing the dream of my life. I have a family that I never could have deserved. And I have an unshakeable faith. I had good news all around me all the time, and I needed to remember it.

And then good news came. I walked all the way home from 59th St to 104th, came in, got online, and had an email waiting to tell me that I had been cast in the first reading of a new musical.

The reading went nicely. It's a lovely new show called My Illustrious Wasteland, and I love the music. They're hoping to put it up in a workshop next (just like Smash, for any of you who've seen it), with the hope of getting some producers to take it to Off-Broadway after that. Now mind you, it's just an inital reading; no casting is confirmed yet. I felt like a real actor sitting in that room. Working on new material, doing whatever is asked of me with no promises and no guarantees. Haha.

Tonight I went and watched an outdoor free screening of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid in Bryant Park. Watching a movie out under the stars (that I couldn't see, this is NYC after all), with the skyscrapers towering around me... It was a pretty awesome experience (even if that movie is one of the weirdest I've ever seen). Last weekend, I drove out of the city with Amy, Julie, and Julie's boyfriend Luis to a state park. They had designated swimming areas, but, naturally, those would not suffice for the Addisons. We wandered up the road a bit, and swam out into the open water, out to a little island sticking up in the middle of the lake. It was fantastic. I'm incredibly grateful that, even in troubling or difficult times, I'm still able to overwhelmed every now and then by the beauty of life. Sometimes I feel it even in just the smallest things, like having the perfect meal right when you want it or seeing the sun set in a beautiful, unique way.

Something occurred to me recently. While I was in the midst of my despair over what had happened with the show, I, as always, began to drudge through all of the painful or traumatic experiences of my life- and I've had my fair share, no matter how well I've hidden them or grinned through them. And it struck me that maybe I go through genuinely dramatic events because I live my life to the extreme emotionally. And, if so, I don't think that's something I ever want to change about myself.

Or, who knows, maybe I'm just truly the King of the Drama.

Anyway, this post has been long and rambling. In a couple weeks I'll be flying home to spend some time with my brothers, my Mom and Dad, and myself. There's nothing like being away from all opportunity to really give me the drive to come back here and prove myself. Naturally, as soon as I officially made the decision to go away for a bit, my social life began to fill up, but isn't that the way life always goes? And who cares! Who knows when the next time I'll be free to go home and just chill will be?

I'll end with this: I recently was asked: If I had 500 million dollars (or some huge amount like that), and never had to worry about money, what would I do? I would do exactly what I'm doing right now, living in NYC, going after my dream. I have to say, I'm pretty proud of that.

Actor (and general Jay) Insecurities

It's been a fast-paced couple of weeks. Rehearsals for The Wedding Plan are underway, and run-thrus of the show have begun! We'll get to more on that later. But first, an anecdote! The other day, I was leaving my apartment building, running late (as always) for class. As I was going out the front door, these two guys in suits stopped and stared at me, and I knew right away they were going to talk to me. I was proven right as soon as I walked outside.

'Excuse me, do you live here?'

'Yes.'

'Has anyone come to talk to you about the green energy yet?'

'No.'

'No! Oh man!' (Man begins fiddling with a notebook of some kind.)

'Listen, guys, I'm running really late and I can't talk right now.'

'Okay, that's okay. (Jay begins to leave.) Can you tell us your apartment number so that we won't go there?'

'4A'

'Okay, thanks!' (Man immediately begins buzzing apartments to be let in.)

It was only after I had walked hurriedly to the bus that I realized I had just told two men who were clearly not real salesmen my apartment number and made it obvious that I was not currently inside it. And in actuality, no one was. So I spent the bus ride to the west side stressing out, convinced that we were going to be robbed, and it would be ENTIRELY my fault. It didn't help that I was sitting next to the most neurotic girl ever. She was talking on the phone, and, when she wasn't looking nervously around, she kept her chin literally down to her chest, and she would say things like, 'I'm going to hang up soon, I really don't like talking on the bus.' or 'I don't really go out in New York, I get really nervous someone might see me.' or 'I'm going to quite my job because I'm so bored. I literally lay there all night awake because I'm so bored.' She was quite serious about all of these statements. Anyway, we weren't robbed, though Julie's initial text was: 'Nothing is missing EXCEPT AMY.' Thankfully, Amy returned later that night, having not been stolen away by the fake salesmen after all.

Of course that's a normal day compared to the evening I was riding the train and this man came on begging for money; he began in the usual manner, albeit very loudly, asking people to donate out of goodness. Then he progressed to getting in people's faces, telling them to have a heart, and being unbelieving at their unwillingness to share their money. Then he proceeded to telling us we were lucky he didn't have a gun pointed in our faces; he bet we would give up some money then. Luckily, he got off at the next stop. If he hadn't, I would have made a run for it.

But don't let me convince you NYC's all danger and no fun. I've been having a marvelous time lately. I love the cast of my show, and feel like I've made some real friends. The other night I went and saw my friend Steve's band Live Nudes (A pun. Everyone relax.) play at this bar in Brooklyn, and they ROCKED! That guitarist can shred! Everybody should check 'em out on Fbook. It was a fantastic way to spend a Friday night, let me tell you. And even just hanging out in people's apartments; I am probably the most appreciative apartment-hanger-outer there ever was. I love getting to know people. I love getting to realize I've made a new friend.

Of course, making new friends comes with some other stuff attached; at least for me. When I open myself up, I open myself up pretty completely. It's been a realization about myself that's become clear again with this new batch of friendships. I'm not that normal of a person. Opening myself up to friendships scares me a little. I'm allowing myself the possibility of not being in total control. But I think I'm getting better. Just another thing I have to be thankful to The Wedding Plan for.

Oh, The Wedding Plan. I'm so grateful for this opportunity, and I want so much to be perfect in it. That has not been coming so naturally lately. Our first run-through felt really rough to me. So I put in the time this weekend to really get back in the script, front to back. And I went to second run-through, and I put my heart into it, and people laughed, and I enjoyed it, and felt so good.... And then in notes, the director had much less than positive things to say about it. Not about the show in general... about me. I don't really know what a proper analogy is; when an actor feels really good about what they've been doing on stage (or film), and then is told by the person in charge that it's not good... It really throws you for a loop. Suddenly, nothing is certain. Does everybody think I'm bad? Have I been deluding myself that I was doing well? Have I been deluding myself that I can act at all? Does anybody even like me? I think I'm worse about this than most, but who knows? All I know is that being told so unexpectedly that what I was doing wasn't satisfactory was pretty much gut-wrenching. I walked to the subway by myself, and my eyes were slightly less than dry.

But it means I have to work harder. I have to be better. This kind of thing only reassures me that I'm doing what I'm meant to do. Because the entire ride home and the rest of the day, the deep-rooted desire to share my soul, and entertain, and move people just burned and burned inside of me. And perhaps these thoughts that race through my head when things like this happen have been part of what's shaped me into the determined person I am today. Now I'm going to stop talking about this because I'm making myself, and no doubt you, uncomfortable.

Back to rehearsal again tomorrow. I'm nervous and scared. But I will not stop working at it. I will not stop opening myself up. I don't think I could. Anyway. That's what's been going on.

Shooting Movies on the Streets of NYC, No Big Deal

Today I agreed to film a scene for a short film by recommendation (I totally don't audition anymore). We were filming in Riverside Park (a lovely place, btw), and the last shot consisted of me walking up while talking on the phone, and then noticing two men fighting, getting scared, and turning and walking quickly the opposite direction. Obviously, there wasn't actually anyone fighting. I was, ya know, acting. Well I did it like a pro, but one passerby woman with her dog became quite concerned about what I was seeing that she wasn't- I was clearly quite disturbed by the vacant meadow in front of me. Eventually she noticed the guy filming and figured it out... and then shuffled sheepishly away. It was rather hilarious.

My AADA classmates all graduated last week. Gotta say, I feel a bit like a proud uncle or something; that is a talented bunch of people. They're all embarking on the tumultuous journey of being an actor in NYC. Good luck, my friends. Somehow I think you'll all be fabulous. It's funny the way life works, though, isn't it? The irony is not lost on me that pretty close to the same time my parents would have been coming to New York to watch me graduate had I stayed in school, they'll instead be coming to watch me perform in my first NYC production.

I've gotta say, it is still so great just to be working on a show. I have such a good feeling about this one. I love my cast, the director is so smart, and it all just feels like the place I'm supposed to be. That is such a great feeling to have. Meanwhile, I'm still filming the short film with Boy Wonder Ben Konigsberg; there's beginning to be a joke that those of us who signed on for this movie will have work every Saturday for the next two years. I think we'll be finishing it all up this Friday. But who knows? I will keep acting for that kid as along as he will let me.

For some reason, despite my ever-dwindling bank account, I can't seem to make myself start working part-time. Chalk it up to a delightful mix of wanting to avoid stress, wishing I could just be an actor and that's all, and, of course, that old reliable laziness. I think I will probably get on the whole unemployment thing tomorrow (like I haven't told myself that a hundred times before).

Life is good. I'm doing what I love, I'm having more of a life than I've had in like a year (a true miracle for me), and I'm greeting everything with an attitude based on love; life is lovable. There is a beauty to life if you will let yourself see it, even in the hardest of times, even when you've been 'done wrong'. I'm speaking from personal (even recent) experience. Move on. Keep going. Learn from it, and love it. I'll end with this quote, which I've liked for a very long time from Virginia Woolf: "To look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is... at last, to love it for what it is. And then to put it away."

Staten Island Adventures

I had an adventure last week. The weekend prior, we hadn't finished filming the short film I've been working on and I was supposed to come in on Easter Sunday to finish it up. Amy and Julie had decided to go to Washington DC for the weekend, and I was going to have to stay behind. They drove Amy's car (which has been the source of unbelieveable amounts of aggravation for her) to DC, and parked it in a garage close to our house when they got back around midnight Sunday night. It was requested that little unemployed me drive the car out to Staten Island where Amy's friend lives and park it. After much cajoling, I was talked into it and I convinced Liz to go with me.

For those of you unaware, Staten Island is technically a part of New York City, but it's about as far away you can get without leaving. It's across the river, on a different landmass. We mapped out our course, spent half an hour finding the garage they had parked in, went sprinting back to the apartment to grab the keys (wouldn't have gotten far without those), and set off. The drive took FOREVER. We were supposed to be back by 2 (Liz had work at five); 2 o'clock rolled around and we were sitting in traffic on a bridge. But jamming to CDs, surviving on a canteen of Dr. Pepper and box of Cheez Its had a wonderful feeling of home to it; we weren't too distressed. Then we reached our destination. We could not find this guy's address anywhere. We saw the numbers before and after, but not his. Eventually we assumed he must be one of a cluster of apartments and we parked the car in the according parking lot. The bus came that we were to take back to Manhattan, and we were not allowed to enter, told that our Metro cards were not sufficient for this oh-so-grand 'express bus'. Liz was beginning to get concerned. The only other bus option was a local that would drop us at the ferry- no way we would make it back in time! So after some kind help from a man waiting for the NEXT express bus (which wouldn't come for half an hour), I was informed that the closest place to buy a ticket was down the Avenue at a laundromat. I went sprinting off, theme music running through my brain. I got the ticket! We made the bus! We got back less than an hour before Liz had to start work, but all in all it was okay!

That night I was informed the car had been parked in the wrong place. The next day the guy told us a note had been put on it saying it would be towed. And the next morning I found myself catching the confounded express bus, all alone, back to Staten Island.

But I succeeded. I moved that car to its proper place (the side of the road, apparently), and without the dramatic confrontation I was imagining with the tow truck man as he loaded it onto his truck at the exact moment I jumped off the bus shouting 'WAIT!! THAT'S MY CAR!!!' (Though perhaps that might have been a better ending to the story.) Still. Success felt sweet, especially since I've been riding on a bit of a wave of success lately and Amy's car being towed would have really broken that up.

Well for the most part it's been a wave of success. The night before my second outing to Staten was not a good one. Without going too much into details, it was brought glaringly back to my attention that I'm not always the nicest person, frequently to the people who mean the most to me. I know why I do it: It's a laziness thing. I spend all my time in public trying as hard as I can to please, so when I come home, or am around people I'm truly comfortable with, I stop trying as hard. But that's no excuse.

Succeeding with Amy's car was a nice bounce back, and a good start to a renewed attempt at being the man God wants me to be. That was the lesson, I suppose: When I'm working to please God, my relationship with others will fall into place.

I've begun to feel grown up for the first time. I paid taxes this year, and if that is not the bane of my existence then I don't know what is. I'm doing well on the acting front, but I'm also facing reality for just about the first time: I'm running out of money. I'm having to come to terms with the fact that I may not be able to support myself right now by doing what I love. That's not been the best feeling.

I'm blessed, though. It's pretty hard for me to forget that these days. As long as I remember that, the stumbling and stress and other stuff will be okay. Hope this finds everyone who reads it blessed too.

Feeling like a real actor

Well. It's been quite awhile since I wrote anything on here. I doubt anyone is still reading, but I'm feeling a need to share (and, I'll admit, brag). So here it goes.

Quite a bit has changed. I returned to NYC from Christmas refreshed and determined. And gone were the days of sitting around in pajamas, watching all the wonders Hulu could offer, pretending to think about doing something productive. If I've learned one thing this past year it's that idleness is the root of discontent; get up, get dressed, and do something. I took classes- on-camera acting, some dance (though I gotta admit I slacked off on that front pathetically quick), and continued voice. Was I spending money out the wazoo? Perhaps. But I was happier than I'd been in months. And somehow that translated into more audition appointments than I'd ever gotten.

Was I landing those auditions? Nope. But I kept chugging.

Still. It ain't easy getting told no (or better yet, getting told nothing) over and over again. It begins to weigh on you, no matter how active you force yourself to be. And after three appointments in a row for which you especially prepared and were excited, and then get told 'That's all we need' before you even finish your material... Well, let's just say the depressed actor texts were beginning to be sent to Mom again.

And then I walked into the Richmond Shepherd theater to audition for The Wedding Play. From the first moment it seemed special. I started to read the sides they'd sent me, and then was cut off halfway through, 'Well crap, he hates me.' racing through my brain. But instead I heard: "I really love what you're doing, but I honestly think you're more right for the lead."

"You know," I said, "I actually thought the same thing." Big laughs from that one.

So I went back out and looked over the sides for the lead. I went back in, read, and walked out feeling better about an audition than I had since my very first. Three callbacks later, I had the part.

Not long after I jetsetted off to Puerto Rico with my family and spent a blissful week on the beach. It is remarkable how refreshing a week out of NYC can be. I returned back in time to do a short film by a young kid named Ben Konigsberg- He's fifteen. He's also amazing. Really. He understands how to make movies, how to talk to actors, and his script was retardedly ambitious- and he lived up to that ambition! Was a bit intimidating for newbie like me; I learned alot this past weekend. And I have no doubt that I worked with someone who WILL be a professional director one day.

And then I went to the first rehearsal of my play, rejoiced over my awesome cast and director. I think it's gonna be really funny. I can't wait to keep working on it. I've really felt like a real actor for the first time this weekend.

Life is good. God is good. I'm humbled, and determined to give it my all. I guess I did learn another thing this past year: Keep on believing.

Recharged

Home is an idea that holds... very strong emotion for me. It's something many people search for their whole lives, or something they feel they don't have. For me it's the place I can go to lose my cares, to restrengthen and recharge; it's where my family is. It's where there's love. I guess I should count it among my blessings that I've always had a home worth returning to.

Anyway. Being home for Christmas and New Years was a much-needed and indescribably rejuvenating blessing. I've been back in the city now for two (three?) weeks, and I'll be you-know-what-ed if I'm not working my butt off (at least much more than I did the last several months). Classes and auditions and errands and whatever else all built up to me eventually deciding to do nothing but sleep and become a vegetable one day. Of course, once that old familiar laziness started setting in, something in my brain told me I had to get off my butt and get back out there. I don't know what has reinvigorated me so, but I'm sure glad it did.

I can definitely say I'm feeling much better now than I was when I left; of course, there's plenty of time left to become redepressed. Productivity breeds contentment, though. I have been living by that creedo since returning to le grande apple.

Still. There's always more I could do. At the end of the day, I still have my mind racing, trying to analyze the steps I should take. Part of this more productive lifestyle comes from a constantly self-critiquing attitude- I'm not cutting myself any slack anymore. If I want this, I'm going to have to fight for it. It's not gonna be handed to me.

Self-critiquing comes easy when you're stepping out into unfamiliar territory. My first On-Camera acting class is a wonderful example: I cannot even articulate the mortification of watching myself up there these first few weeks. Literally all I can see are flaws. But, dadgummit, I am going to get to where I'm satisfied with myself! Enrolling in dance classes is another great scenario: My first class I went to with my friend. She failed to inform me that it was an Intermediate Level class, and they're leaping and bounding across the room like it's nothing. I had never done a dance leap in my life. But I kept going, and have now been much more properly enrolled in a beginner level (which just so you all know does not really mean beginner. We were still leaping by the end of that class. I just wasn't the only one less-than-spectacular at it.)

I sit here tonight, far past when I should have been asleep, just a bit overwhelmed. I am a blessed boy. I look around at my life, the people I know, and I feel love. And that means so much to me. Love is the foundation of a life lived well. It goes back to the home thing; to feel love is to feel a place of home. So to feel love around me is powerful. It's being at home in the world. I don't know if that makes sense. I guess the point is this: Spread the love, y'all.

Pointless post, I suppose. But there you have it. I'll just share this (not sure if I have before or not). But it's one of my favorite songs:

I never know what to 'Title' these posts- My Thoughts on Life at the Moment

Well. The end of my first 'semester' (Am I allowed to say that if I'm not in school anymore?) of being the struggling NYC actor. I'm not entirely sure I would call it a success. It's been a lot of blank-faced 'thank yous', rejections, wastes of time, disappointments, and even the rare complimentary auditioner... who still doesn't even give me a callback. I even had one guy say, literally, 'GREAT job, James! Very good. Go wait in the room, buddy.' So I waited. They never called me back in. That was one of the most frustrating days.

For those who don't know how the entertainment industry works, it's still very much based on unions. There's the Screen Actors Guild, and Equity, the stage actor's union. There is another, smaller union as well. Point being: I am not a member of any of these unions because I have never been cast in a union show or film. I am what is known as a 'Non-Eq'; there's quite a horde of us. We wait from morning til evening at Equity Union calls, our names on a list that may or may not be seen. Any Equity member that walks in gets preference over us, BUT when they happen to have space, they fit us in. Now, the auditioners (people behind the table) are pre-told that we are non-union, so we are automatically a step down in their minds. But hey. We give it our all in those Equity calls anyway. Sometimes you don't get in, though. I seemed to be cursed with not getting in my first month; twice they called the Non-Eq person right in front of me on the list and then ran out of time. Those were tough days too.

I wouldn't say that this 'term' has been without its charms. I have fond memories of cheering on the runners in the NYC Marathon from our fire escape as they schlepped past us on 1st Ave; I think Julie & I were the LAST people cheering that day. And I did make a short student film that was quite an experience within itself. If I understand the script (which I'm still not sure I do), this lazy slob recieves a plant on his doorstep that has magical powers and tries to make him be more active and healthy... until it gets destroyed by a crazed lumberjack. I've gotta say, the two days of filming were two of the most fun days I've had since returning to this city. And there's been other experiences, other times.

Still. I would be lying if I said this has been an easy four months. I really thought I would have gotten an acting job by now, and I haven't. Having dropped out of school, I don't see hardly anyone anymore, and pretty frequently I feel very lonely. Weekends where no one sends or answers a text or asks me to do anything can make a guy feel pretty low.  I constantly question the decision I've made, whether I'm on the right path career-wise, what I'm even doing here. I haven't been being healthy, which doesn't help the situation at all. And being told no over and over again, things not happening, and lack of activity all lead to a struggle to keep faith. We don't like what we don't understand; I don't like the way my life is right now. Sometimes holding on to 'faith' that there is a 'plan' seems foolish.

But faith is what brought me to the decision to leave school. Faith is what brought me to New York City last year. Every step of the way I have told God that I was giving it to Him. So I must believe that there is reason. I've got to keep believing that.

And, as hard as it is sometimes, I have to fight against despondency. I am alive. I am (relatively) healthy. I have a wonderful family, particularly a wonderful sister who has been with me the whole time. And I have passions and dreams that sometimes still overwhelm me. Walking down the street today, not too cold, just cool and crisp, the sun shining, the sound of light traffic and children and people living their lives; Sometimes you have to find happiness in just being alive. I mean after all, that's more than some people can say.

I am alive. I am unique and important. I am not giving up because I am pursuing my oldest dream and greatest passion. And (most days) that is enough.

Things That Annoy Me in NYC

So for some time I've been planning to let you all in on the list of things that drive me up a wall on an almost daily basis about this city. Let's dive right in, shall we?

• Trash. I've been to Boston. It is possible to keep a big city clean, but it has not been achieved in New York City yet. Here's hoping they figure it out one day.
• Saunterers. These are the people that apparently have nowhere to get to and nothing to do- they're just out to wander the streets of the biggest city in America and take it all in the most lackadaisical way you can imagine. They can attack anywhere. On the street. Entering and exiting the subway (so that you must literally herd them out the door in order to not miss your stop). In restaurants, on running tracks. They're movement generally involves walking in anything but a straight line as well. Which makes it all the worse.
• The people who stop IN THE MIDDLE OF A CROWDED STREET AT THE MOST INOPPORTUNE TIME because apparently they've suddenly been overcome with a revelation of some sort that literally stopped them in their tracks. They seem to enjoy doing this right in front of me.
• Escalator-Blockers. For those of you unaware, there's an unspoken rule on escalators: if possible, stand on the right side if you're going to ride, leaving the left side free for those of us in a bit more of a hurry to walk up. Some people (not gonna lie. mostly women.) appear to find some deep-rooted satisfaction in being the person who chooses to stand on the left, blocking everyone behind them even if there's an open space to their left where they could stand instead. Is anarchy taking over? Is this real life??
• The MTA, aka the Subway System. It is beyond my understanding how there is incessant work to be done on the Subway lines, and what is even more confounding is how it always needs to be done on the days when I'm in a hurry. Delays, changes in service, inexplicable huge crowds on the platform; you name it, it's made me late. And let's not start on the smell.
• It's expensive.
• It's expansive.
• It's crowded.
• It's expensive (worth mentioning again. All though life seems to be generally expensive these days no matter where you are.)
• People don't know how to do their jobs. If Julie were writing this post, it would be about the Post Office employees. Since it's my blog, we're gonna talk about Staples. Staples and I are not on good terms at the moment. The first time I went to Staples to print off my headshot and resume, the guy was so helpful, he figured out how to print my picture at perfect lightness/darkness, and it was cheap. I've been needing a refill. Throughout this past week I have been told by various Staples that they can't give me my prints until the next day (while I'm standing right in front of them in their open store with my flash drive), that they didn't know how to do that for me, that I could go do it myself (they'd give me the photo paper), and now today I finally went back to the original store and the guy couldn't match my picture at all, none of them looked as good as my first set did no matter how many ways he tried, and it cost me almost $40. I feel like it cost me less than $10 last time. Feeling an explosion coming on, I paid the sum and exited the store. Into the rain. (Again, this lack of intelligence in the workplace may not be limited to the city)

While I'm on a roll here (and since I've started listing kinda general life complaints), I might as well get something else off my chest that I've wanted to say a long time. Cords drive me crazy. Extension cords, vacuum cords, headphones, phone chargers, ropes, christmas lights; cords are the devil. They manage to tangle themselves, no matter what you do, into the most incomprehensible knots- They tie a better knot by themselves than any human I've ever met.

Today was a rainy day, and Staples ticked me off so I decided to finally write my whiny, complaining post about how my life is so hard this afternoon. Then I got on the subway ride home and there was a woman in the car with me that couldn't sit up straight, was totally unbalanced (I tend to think mentally as well as physically), and just clearly was messed up. I didn't know what to do. Some people laughed. I was scared to death she was going to tumble headfirst into the aisle. I wanted to help her (I wasn't the only one), but what could I do? So I just got off at my stop, and felt ridiculous that I didn't ask her if she needed help or knew where her stop was... or if she could stand up when she got there. And immediately I realized that I've got it good, and no matter how much of a pushy, impatient New Yorker I become, I better never forget where how big I'm blessed. And all these miniscule little annoyances should never keep me from taking a breath, putting it in perspective, putting on a smile, and being damn grateful for what I've got.

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