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.