Losing Confidence, Gaining Insight

I saw young hands the other day. They weren't mine. I was on the most crowded bus I've ever been on and I saw these hands holding one of the straps. They were the hands of a man not much younger than me. At least I would say. I looked down at my own hands. Are they so much older? Has it been one to many Chicago winters spent waiting on the CTA? Can I blame them?

Christmas Eve, I sat on the el, coming home from work, tired though it was an abbreviated day. I didn't have anything to read, at least not anything that interested me, so I sat and let my mind wander, something I used to spend hours doing. I find it happens all to seldomly. And as my mind went about it's way, it found something lacking. A train of thought I can't quite map brought me to the realization that I've lost touch with the confidence that brought me to Chicago. I've gained new confidence. Perhaps deeper and stronger. But that initial confidence, I don't understand it now. At that point, I had accomplished if not nothing then very little. I had determined two years into my college schooling to focus on acting at which those last two years were catch-up. What? What on earth made me believe I might potentially make it?

I've known this to happen to others, to hear older actors talk about their younger careers and wonder how they did it. To look at their younger selves as other. I guess I didn't think I ever did enough to have that much distance. Apparently for me, I have.

As all do, I have questions about what I'm doing, what kind of success I ever hope to have/will be granted me. Days with these thoughts come around, and I beat myself up. And then I kind of look up and ask myself, "What else would you do?" When that question is no longer rhetorical....

Like a Flan in a Cupboard

Like the Cubs in October...

Like Texas Stadium...

Like Star Wars Episodes 1-3...

Like a snowman in March...

...my fantasy football team collapsed. Oh goodness did it collapse. The Cardinals decided to suck. Brian Westbrook decided to cross his arms and not play in retalitation for not playing him when he went off. And the Oakland Raiders didn't want to feel left out so they decided to show up and shut down a running back the first time all season. Yay.

The Karma Police arrested me and didn't read me my rights.

5 Things

Tracy tagged me with this a while ago.

List 5 things that certain people (who are not deserving of being your friend anyway) may consider to be "totally lame," but you are, despite the possible stigma, totally proud of. Own it. Then tag 5 people to do the same.

1) Part of the reason I don't get a lot of sleep is because I think looking tired is cool. A friend/coworker told me the other day that I looked like I had returned from an alcohol fueled binge in Sierra Leone. Compliment? Check.

2) I am proud of my Netflix queue. Recently, I had He-Man and the Masters of the Unvierse, Battlestar Galactica (2000's), and Ingmar Bergman's Fanny and Alexander at home.

3) My DVD collection is alphabetized...by director.

4) When I am in a store and things are out of order on the shelves, I am always tempted to correct this. I sometimes follow through.

5) When I was young, and we're talking elementary school here, I would daydream about being married. My daydreams changed a little bit with the onset of puberty, but that desire was still there.

I'm going to tag Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Johannes Brahms, Tom Cruise, and Mickey Mouse.

Dallas

I have the theme to Dallas stuck in my head. Don't know how. But it's there. Firmly lodged. Probably right in between the cure for cancer and the best script anyone ever wrote. Can't get to either of 'em, however, because the Dallas theme is in the way.

And supposedly, if I finish it, I could get it out of my head, but who the hell knows how it ends? Does it even have an end?

All day!

This sucks.

Big Day

I've been getting up at 5 a.m. to write for an hour. So that's when my day began yesterday. I've got a schedule I'm following. We'll see how it goes. That's not what this is about.

This is about an e-mail I looked at yesterday around 6 a.m. informing me that I had a callback that night. I haven't auditioned for anything. My friend Carol was invited as well, so I'm guessing that they saw Spacky. Anyway, the e-mail mentioned paying for the run of the show.

I have never been paid to act, and as much as I love what I do and as much as I feel that people like what they see when I'm onstage, it would be incredibly validating to get a lone dollar for treading the boards as they don't say anywhere anymore.

But nothing is simple. I was supposed to be presenting Wit last night, the show I will be directing in the spring at my church, to the church elders. Wit will run the last two weekends in April, with rehearsals beginning the end of February. The show I auditioned for runs from beginning of February to the beginning of March.

As Tracy and I discussed yesterday, when things are this close together, they happen at the same time in my mind. I don't know why, but scheduling is impossible. So the next time you try and schedule something with me and it looks like I had a mini-stroke, it's just me trying to figure out if anything happens close to it and if this proximity would cause them to aggregate.

The morning was spent in phone calls: calling the auditioner, calling my producer for the show I'm directing, calling a friend for wisdom, recalling everyone when the information changed. This stresses me out to no end. I hate making phone calls. As you can see, I'm not a business person.

Finally, I realized I could make it work. I could take the audition, do the show if I got it, and then direct.

Since it was a callback, I only had to do a coldread. Which is awesome. I actually have fun at coldread auditions. Monologues freak me the [bleep-boop] out. But with coldreads, you just have to make a choice, go on stage, and show it to them. So I did. They laughed.

I feel good about it. Great, actually. I was reading for Billy, and they only saw each of us once. No switching around to read with different people. No, "Can you do it again but like you're a tiger?" In my mind, this means they saw what they wanted from someone. I got it, or I didn't.

Either way, I got pizza afterward. Usually I get a beer, but man was it an exhausting day.

Rehearsals start in November, so I'll know soon. Keep checking back.

Celebrating the 4th

The 4th of July has quickly become one of my favorite holidays. Growing up, the grilling holidays (4th of July, Memorial Day, Labor Day) were not big holidays for my family. We went to some barbecues. I think my great uncle's huge barbecue bash was one of these holidays. But there were many that just passed as nothing more than a day off. I didn't think much of it until I got older and realized there were certain friends I couldn't call on these days because they would be at a barbecue.

Moving to Chicago, I've met some new friends who grew up in these families have decided to carry on the tradition of their parents'. Through them, I've learned why people love celebrating these holidays. It's a great time to get together with people whom you may not have seen since the last grilling holiday and drink copious amounts of beer (but spread throughout the day so no one need get trashed unless one so desires) and play games that you wouldn't consider playing otherwise like volleyball or cornholing (the less vulgar term would be bags).

But of these holidays, Chicago doesn't celebrate any of them like the 4th. And I'm not sure any city celebrates the 4th like Chicago does.

I was only visiting Chicago with thoughts of moving here when I first experienced it. And the amazing thing about it was I wasn't even a participant. That's the thing: Independence Day in Chicago will find you. You want to escape, you leave the city.

I was staying with my friend Carol. It was about 104 degrees outside and even warmer inside. She didn't have any plans and therefore I didn't either, so we figured we'd watch a movie. Since neither of us had seen The Piano, we decided that Independence Day would be the perfect day for viewing it. So there we were, sitting on the floor (it was too hot to sit on the couch), sweating from the exertion of simple respiration, watching The Piano. We began the movie around 4. About 5, the fireworks started.

Now when I went home after my visit, I swore to a friend that the official, city-sponsored fireworks lasted from 5 - 11 p.m. She didn't believe me and was right to not. However, she had not been there. The city fireworks actually happen on the 3rd. I guess the entire city decides to pick up the slack.

Seriously, if you have PTSD, don't come to Chicago. This 4th I went to a beach in Rogers Park, the northern most neighborhood of the city. Right north of it is Evanston whose fireworks we decided we'd catch from there. But who needs fireworks from miles away when you can be in the midst of them?

I looked up Illinois's fireworks laws yesterday. You can play with sparklers and and what not. But these are illegal: Firecrackers, torpedoes, skyrockets, roman candles, and bombs. I saw some sparklers, but I think I was more distracted by the firecrackers, torpedoes, skyrockets, roman candles and bombs. Where were the police? Everywhere, but I think it's pretty hard to crack down when the entire city is exploding.

I went to look for a fountain and felt like I was in a war zone. There were explosions all around us. Far to the north and far to the south. The only reason they weren't to the east is that there's a big lake there. Even then, someone decided to fire skyrockets at a lower angle toward the water.

And we're not talking just rinky-dink skyrockets that make more noise than they do anything else. At least two groups of people had spent God knows how much money on professional grade fireworks. The kind that explode into a color and then become mini sparklers. Ones with monstrous diameters. And they were only firing them 50 yards away. It was a little scary considering that some of the color didn't die before they hit the ground.

We even had a hard time telling when the Evanston fireworks began because someone else further up the coast had decided to buy professional fireworks as well. But Evanston's are beautiful and perhaps the best fireworks I've seen.

While on the beach, in between singing any patriotic songs we could think of, I got to talking with my friend Rick about Independence Day. He said it was a holiday that really made him look back over the year, much more than New Year's. I'd have to say I agree. New Year's carries with it pressure to end the year with a bang. Independence Day? You've got all summer, why not just enjoy what you've got right now.

Two things that made me happy

As I was running this morning, I passed a car that was stopped at a traffic light blaring music. I caught a bit and thought, "Did I really hear that?" So I listened closely. "Doo-doo-doo-doo, Doo-doo, Doo-doo. Can't touch this."

The other thing that made me happy was this preview:

I must be tired

I tried to put toothpaste on as deodorant this morning.

I got out of the shower, and the next thing I do every morning is put on deodorant. I opened the medicine cabinet...and reached for the toothpaste.

At this point, one might think I would realize my mistake.

I took the toothpaste in hand, took the cap off, raised my right arm exposing my armpit to apply, raised the toothpaste....

And the only reason, the only reason, that I didn't put on toothpaste this morning as deodorant is because I thought to myself, "How am I going to squeeze this onto my armpit?"

Y2K

So at my place of work, our operating system is, well, decrepit. I'm pretty sure it's DOS. But today I found out just how decrepit it really is. If you've read the title, you've probably figured it out. That's right, we've got a Y2K problem.

And you thought it didn't affect anyone. Well it affects me!

I was searching for something from 01 to 03, in my mind 2001-2003. But the computer kept beeping at me and telling me that the "End date cannot come before begin date." So, I looked at those dates hard, trying to see if I've maybe missed something. I know from experience by editing any number of documents, balancing my checkbook, and playing The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess for many hours, the slightest thing can slip right by you.

I couldn't find anything. So I called downtown to the agency guru. At which point he revealed that our system has a Y2K problem.

I laughed for a good long time.

Apparently, the changeover from 1900 to 2000 happened in the year 2003. So anything from 2000 to 2002 is read as 1900-1902. Which doesn't explain why it kept telling me that "End date cannot come before begin date" since it clearly does. By about a century. But I think it's the computer's way of throwing up it's hand and yelling, "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! You didn't fix me?!?!"

I lost today

It was beautiful in Chicago yesterday. Early taste of spring. Low 70's and sun.

For some reason, I woke up grumpy this morning. (I think Sixepence None the Richer has a lyric about that.) I didn't want to get up, I didn't want to go to work, I didn't want to shower. I didn't want!

So, I decided to be passive-aggressive with the weather. I decided not to check it and I didn't wear a coat.

It's cold now.

Creed

I got into one of those huge discussions about two weeks ago that's stuck with me. It was the kind of conversation that happens late at night, with or without alcohol. (This one with.) It was about the Bible and sexuality. (I told you it was huge.)

The conversation went all over the place, but at the end, it was me (this is ridiculous!) with a Bible in hand defending why I don't believe in having premarital sex. I should probably say that of the four people involved in this conversation, I was the only one to hold this belief.

I woke up the next morning and didn't feel good (part of it being the bottle of wine I consumed) because the discussion had essentially defined a Christianity that I don't believe in. That Chrisitianity was simply what you can and can't do. Because that's not what Christianity is to me. It's not why I believe.

I didn't become a Christian because I don't believe in premarital sex. Heck, I've had premarital sex in the past. And there it is. That's why I believe. Did you catch it? I did something I don't believe in.

I want to be a better person. But I'm not. I constantly foil myself in big and small ways. So when Jesus says, "I have come that they might have life, and have it to the full," (John 10:10) I have to stand up and say, "Yes. I want that." Because I need something outside of me. Something bigger than me, because I sure as hell can't do it on my own.

One of my favorite singers, Steve Taylor, wrote a song called, "Jesus is for Losers." I'd have to say that's about right.

Stuff I didn't know I knew

"The tickets are for row Q."

My girlfriend is looking at tickets for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? with Kathleen Turner. I'm trying to help us get good seats.

"What is that," I say, "17 rows back?"

My girlfriend counts. "Yeah. 17."

HOW DID I KNOW THAT? That's amazing, right? I'm amazing.

And we got seats. Not those. We're in the balcony, but closer to the center.

Happy Birthday!

Yeah, I'm wishing it upon myself. My girlfriend asked me last night if I was one of those people who loves their birthday. I had never thought about this question, but I had to concede...yes, I am one of those people. Now, I have known people that basically force you to celebrate their birthday. That's not my way. You don't even have to remember. I make it easy. I'll probably just let you know. Like this.

I don't usually do anything too special. I just like the day. It's the freedom to do what I want. People allow you that. Like right now, it's 7 a.m. and I'm going to go over to my coffee table and grab the M&M's I just descried.

Nummers!

Tonight, I will probably have pizza and milk and I will sit at home and watch what I want. Mainly, the episode of Friday Night Lights I missed and the new episode of Lost. Not much, but it's my birthday and it's what I want, so I get it.

A Lesson from Kingdom of Heaven

Saladin: May peace be with you.
Balian of Ibelin: Alakum-al-salam.

This is dialogue from the movie Kingdom of Heaven. I think it is beautiful. Not the semantics. But what is behind the words.

See, Saladin is Muslim and Balian of Ibelin is Christian. They're exchanging their religious salutations and I just remember thinking how beautiful that was. There was no attempt at proselytizing because it's not going to happen in that encounter. There was no hatred. There was an understanding: "This is what is important to me. This brings me joy. I live my life by this. Let me greet you with this." And they did.

I remember thinking how wonderful it would be if we could live like that. I work at a Jewish agency. It would be wonderful if I could say Merry Christmas and in return I would hear Happy Hanukkah. If we could just get past this fear. Because what is "Happy Holidays"? It doesn't promote understanding. It is a fear-mongering statement. It hides what we believe in a murk of ambiguity. We fear what we cannot see. If we could live out in the open. If we didn't have to hide what we believe but if we could share that in small ways. Bestow it on people. At the very least, there would be much less hate.

Running, etc.

I'm running outside again without any pain. Only 20 minutes for the time being. For those who don't know, I had been suffering from really bad shin splints for over a year. I would start to run, my shin would seize up 5 minutes into it, and then when I stopped running, I wouldn't be able to flex my foot. I tell people it felt like somebody has cut your leg off at the knee and replaced it with a peg leg.

What changed? I think when the shin splints started, I went back into running too quickly after having not in quite some time. So my muscles weren't prepared to take on the weight I had gained. I've worked myself back in slowly, and it's going well.

I love running. Maybe that's not quite accurate. There are days I love running. And there are days where my legs each weigh 100 pounds. I love knowing that at any moment, I could stand up and run for an hour. I was at that point in college. I'd like to be there again. There's such a sense of power. Isaiah 40:31 takes on a whole new meaning: "They will run and not grow weary." You have a tangible idea of what that can feel like. You get to the end of your run and you can keep going.

There will be some who read this who will say, "I wish I could exercise, but..." To those, I offer encouragement by taking a page from the Apostle Paul and saying to you that I am the laziest of the lazy. Many have been the days that I pass up the opportunity to exercise because the TV or the internet or my bed distracts me. It's simply easier not to. And then I run a couple of days later, a week or two maybe, and suddenly I wonder why I didn't start earlier.

Because it's habit. To get in is hard, to get out is hard, and to get back in is hard. Those first two weeks, you've got to be absolute in your commitment. There must be no, "I'm too tired" or anything of the like. Those first two weeks, those thoughts are deadly. But after those two weeks, you realize that being tired is not an excuse. You can still exercise if you're tired. And that it's far more hazardous to stop. You begin to exercise for your mental health. At least I do. I know how I'll feel if I don't. Talk to anyone who exercises regularly and then can't. There are almost no words to describe.

You've been flying and somebody takes a baseball bat and knocks you out of the sky. It happened to me recently. I had a minor injury beginning of April, got out of the habit, and I just got back in. I think. Talk to me in a week or two.

Start today. If you're interested. I'm as guilty as the next person for the "I'll start next week" goal. 9 times out of 10, next week comes and goes. Don't go great guns. See my personal battle with shin splints about that. Do what you can. My girlfriend started running with me. When she went to get her shoes, the guy told her to start with 4 minutes running, 1 minute walking. Another person I've heard from started with 1 min run, 1 min walk. Do what you can. And don't run in Airwalks or anything like it. That's how I started and that's dumb.

I've had discussions about whether or not you should weigh yourself of not. I used to not weigh myself. My thought was, "I want to do this for myself. I don't want to judge my success by how much weight I've lost." You know what that's like? Trying to train a dog without a treat. If you exercise regularly, you will lose weight. You will be more conscious about what and how you eat. If that doesn't appeal to you, maybe use a tape measure.

Point being, don't use the mirror. If you don't use something else, you will use the mirror, and the mirror lies. You know when someone you don't see very often has a baby or gets a pet, and the next time you see them, you comment on how much child/pet has grown and they say, "I suppose they have"? That's what the mirror is. It's you living with yourself everyday. Don't do that.

Time. If you want to do this, you have time. Nothing more must need be said.

Um, I've come to the end. These are just things I've learned. Or things I know and haven't quite learned. Whatever. Maybe I'll see you running on the lake.

80's TV and Personal Revelations

My roommates, Ziggy and Marisa, and I were reminiscing the other night about TV shows we had watched as kids. Some memories we shared. The PBS show Today's Special was loved by all. Some we didn't. Ziggy didn't remember GoBots at all. Marisa a vague recollection. Ziggy had a foggy recollection of that early computer animated show Reboot. Marisa and I were both all about it. Marisa and I also big fans of The Great American Hero. Ziggy had no clue. Of course, since I didn't have cable, they went off on a tangent about Nick shows.

But through it, there began to emerge a theme for me. It became evident when Ziggy mentioned Scooby Doo.

"I never liked Scooby Doo," I said.

"Why not?"

"It was never a ghost. It was always a person." And then I realized something: I have never been satisfied in knowing the outcome of a show.

People will often ask me why I like the movies I like. "Can't you just like a movie?" Apparently I can't. Apparently I have never been able to. Apparently I have always wanted something that surprises and challenges me. I didn't like Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote because it was predestined what was going to happen. Same with the Tom and Jerry . Variations on a theme. Perfect Strangers. I gave up on the Hardy Boys. Everybody Loves Raymond. Law & Order. I've watched one episode of CSI. It holds no interest.

Why do I like the movies I like? The shows I like? They challenge my expectations. They go exactly where I want them to by going exactly where I don't expect them to. And if I know where we're going to end up, it better be a darn good ride.

So I guess that's the answer to the question. People, I've always been this way.

Gretchen S., don't read this!

Seriously Gretchen, don't read this.

Here we go.

Creed: I believe in projectile vomiting.

I had my doubts. I have never had any first or secondhand experience. The closest I came was sitting in the back of the car when my cousin Curtis was, as I was told, projectile vomiting in the front seat. He was an infant. This might sound like I was right there, but I was in the back seat of a station wagon. Essentailly, I was looking for Europe standing on the shores of New Jersey. And looking West. Oh, but I heard it all. And then my brother, some friends, and I were trying to drown out the sounds by laughing. Then my grandfather got mad and said, "You kids shut up!"

Memories.

Anyway, projectile vomiting. Fascinated. I wondered where the strength to propel vomit from your body came from. I began to think it might be an urban legend. I thought of going to Snopes.com. And then I ate Chipotle Monday afternoon. I learned all about projectile vomiting. You don't need to go to Snopes. I'll tell you right now.

Now, those who have been with me thus far, you may want to turn away now. This is going to get a little graphic.

I was home a little early from rehearsal Monday. I had started to have some diarrhea and apparently looked terrible. So I was lying on the couch, relatively close to the bathroom, getting up occasionally to use it. Still no sickness to my stomach. Then I felt like I should probably get up. It was going to happen. I moved.

Well, that did it. A little came up. "I can hold it," I thought. I broke for the bathroom. That's when it happened.

It was a surreal experience. Yes, I was sick. Perhaps the most sick I've ever felt. But as it happened, all I could think was, "I'm projectile vomiting! It happens!"

Yes, it certainly did happen. And I am not lying when I write it flew 6 feet. I heard it land. That was gross.

I promptly forgot all of this as I was in the midst of experiencing the most intense 5 minutes of vomiting I hope ever to experience. It was like my stomach developed a personality of its own. And it was pissed off. And done after 5 minutes.

That was Monday night. Today is Friday afternoon. My chest muscles still hurt. I'm not lying. It hurts to laugh and breathe deeply.

But I went through this so that you may know projectile vomiting is no urban legend. It's true. And it can happen to you.