Happenings

What Was Going to Happen

I was going to greatly enjoy school. I was going to become friends or at least acquaintances with the other people living in my house. I was going to very quickly find a job in Manhattan at a restaurant or a store, one I liked and that wasn't too snobby, but posh enough that I would feel like somebody when I worked there before going back home on the train to Brooklyn every night.

I would find people to go to the parties and clubs with. I would have a posse just like I did in Wisconsin. Just like with The UW, we would find a thread to connect us all, as we all would share our hopes and dreams.

I was going to pay my own rent, by myself and with a few extra hundred every month. My parents would be proud and confident.

I was going to do well at the open mikes, not become famous in a year or anything, but start to build myself up, so that by the time I left college I already had a foundation to start a career in the entertainment industry.

I was going to be happy.

What Happened

"So where are you living?! Do you get along with your neighbors?!"
"Yes, it's great."

My computer was delayed a month. The people living in my house didn't move in until I had been by myself for three weeks. When they did move in, they kept to themselves. Only one of them do I actually recognize and can call by name. Her name is Laura and she is very nice, and I can tell from her mail that she is from California. Nevertheless, I was very alone.

"Where are you working these days?! Do you like it?!"
"It's great."

I went on one job interview after another. Restaurants. Corporate malls. Even did a urine test for Federated, Inc. Sent one resume after another. It took three months for me to get a job, and when I did it did not pay enough to cover my rent. Although hired for a 90-day period, I was laid off two months later.

"How's school going?!"
"Fine."

I did well in school, for about a week. Then I began oversleeping. A lot. I changed my mind daily on if I would stay in school or not. Whenever I had made a decision, albeit to stay or to drop out, I would be happy with it, but also sad knowing either outcome would make me remain questioning.

I was adamant that I was going to be done, that I couldn't do it anymore. Grandma Shirley even told me, "Think of what your goal is, and do what you have to do get there." Realizing her disappointment was the one I feared most, I felt solace knowing that even she wouldn't be completely upset as long as I was still doing something. In four of my five classes, and later two of my three classes after I had to cut six credits in order to save my GPA, I felt perfectly fine about my decision to drop out after the first semester. But then I would go to my acting class, where I would feel alive, I felt like I was in the right crowd of people even though none of them were acting majors, either, and the thought of me leaving school made me sad. So in November, something hit me, and I decided that I wanted to stay. I talked to my transfer advisor and we worked out a plan. I was going to be okay.

My mother visited that weekend. "I feel like you're just playing house," she told me. "But I decided I want to stay in school now," I said. "Are you sure you're staying for the right reasons?" she asked. Then I wasn't sure anymore.

"Did you go home for Christmas?! How'd it go? How was Loretta?!"
"Good."

I went home for a week. I went to parties with my brother and put my smile on, told them all I was doing well in New York. I got the flu. Only one person came to my casino party. My mother said roughly three words to me the entire time, then bawled her eyes out when we were at the airport and it was time for me to leave.

"How's school going this semester?! Do you like your classes?!"

I came back and the lock to my apartment was jammed, so I had to kick it in like MacGyver. Things went to shit again. I got laid off. My school cancelled my registration twice, and I had to swim through red tape in order to get my loans taken care of. I was doubtful again. I did even worse attendance-wise this semester than I did in the first. I applied to try out for the acting program at the last possible minute. I realized this meant I would graduate two years behind. A little more than 72 hours from my audition, I don't have my monologues memorized. I don't even know where I'm supposed to go for it.

"How much is your rent?! How are you paying for it?!"

I had a job interview on February 1st. It was for a dream job. I could not believe how badly I wanted to work at this place, and was amazed that I even got an interview. They liked me, too, but the job was 40 hours a week and unflexible, and I could not do it because of school, SCHOOL, this necessary evil that I didn't even know if I wanted, that I didn't even know if I could do anymore.

"How are your grades?! You're doing well, right?!"

My attendance worsened. I slept all the time until I took herbal supplements as a last resort. They work, but they also give me headaches and my time clock is completely upside down. My rock bottom moment was on February 13th, when I overslept for an interview that was at noon. Subconsciously, I did not want the job as it paid in schillings and only once a month, but it still would have been something. I had an interview today that I missed because I got lost, lost in what is now my sixth month of living in New York. Le sigh.

"I hear you're doing stand-up comedy now!! Fun!!"

My first stand-up comedy performance was on October 9th, 2007. It was at a little pub in Chelsea and I did not do wonderful but I did not bomb either. I went there for several weeks in a row, proud of myself for thinking up of new material every time. On December 3rd I went away from that club and performed at another venue, a busy bar on the Lower East Side at a $5 Open Mike. I was nervous as hell because instead of the supportive comedians that I had now familiarized myself with, the audience was composed of thirty strangers, men ranging in age from 25 to 60 and all very "man's man" and I did not know if they would laugh at the little gay boy from Brooklyn, but I went up there and did seven minutes and I shit you not, I SLAYED THEM. And yet I never went back to that bar, because I still listened to the negative voice, the one that told me I would never get a tape or DVD made, the one that told me I would always be at the bottom rung of the ladder, the one that told me I was nothing.

"Wow, I can't believe you're living in NEW YORK! That must be so exciting! You must be having a BLAST! I can't wait to come visit you! I'm sure we'd have so much fun, you could introduce to me all your friends ... Wow. That's so cool you're out there. You must be really happy."

News & Notes

*I ate Popeye's Chicken for the first and last time today.

*I audition for a BFA in Acting program in nine days and I have no fucking idea what I'm going to do for a monologue.

*Speaking of school, my sleeping disorder kicked my ass this week, so now I have to kowtow to all these professors, and be like ten minutes early for every single class for the rest of the year.

*Speaking of sleeping disorder, I have since turned to the expensive world of herbal supplements and will hope for the best. I hope this doesn't mean every time I eat McDonald's I'm going to spend a week in the bathroom.

*I am going to be responsible with the new credit card. I think.

Happy Love Day, Everyone

Happy Valentine's Day, from me and my new boyfriend, Dr. Jon Fielding.*

*Who is a fictional character created by Armistead Maupin, and yes I read all three of my Tales of the City novels this week. Leave me alone.

Today in New York

I felt unusually productive today! I've been talking a lot with my friend Diva the past few days because she is moving to San Diego, and she explained to me that it has to do with the Lunar New Year, and how you act and live during the first few days of the Lunar New Year can impact the rest of your year. Okay then.

I went to campus to apply for a job and I already have an interview lined up. That's good. The job is 4-16 hours a week and pays chump change. That's ... less good. Hopefully it'll be a good recurring thing I can do and they'll schedule me well in advance so that I can work a second job with little to no hassle.

I also found my balls and finally went to the theater department office to get a written application, which I have to get done this weekend. I'm at a crossroads, however, because I've realized that it will likely take me three more years to get the degree. That will mean I have spent seven years going for a bachelor's. Is that not ridiculous? Not to mention my hang-up about my age. I don't know ... it's something I am going to have to decide for myself, because Erin is in France and Loretta is in Vegas.

I e-mailed a sleep clinic last night and they called me back today, but now I'm debating if I should call them back. Should I see how this week goes and if I screw up again, THEN call them? What if they don't take insurance? I'm very good at second-guessing everything ...

I took the subway to Chelsea to get my hair cut. I missed the D train by .25 seconds, so I had to hop on the slow R train which stops every five feet. A nice young European man asked me how many stops to City Hall, and when I explained what college I went to, he was very impressed and said it was a very difficult school. See, why didn't I know that during my first semester? I came from Minnesota, and I didn't really have the perspective about the what's what of the CUNY system. Anyway, I was still quite cold to him and I wonder why. I am not the beacon of warm energy that I once was.

Then I got my hair cut after taking forever to find a Bank of America ATM. The barbers at the place I go to are Eastern European, and the man who did my hair is very rough -- grabs your shoulders to put you back, palms your head a lot, and I think it's probably a good thing that he works in a gay neighborhood, because then immature people like me are like "Ooooh, I think I went to first!" whereas if he was working in Brooklyn he would be gettin a lot attitude and "Watch the hair!"

I took the C train for a bit, and an old man hobbled in with a cane and damn near got squished in the door. Then he sat down and kept having outbursts like "OH!" and "OUCH!" and I couldn'nt help but be callous and wonder who lets these people on the train by themselves. Then I got on my 2 train and an OLD MAN PISSED HIS PANTS. I hate the subway, I thought to myself, and then I was in front of a 4-year-old child who didn't know how to chew with his mouth closed. No wonder rich people feel so above mass transit.

Go Back to the Brady Bunch

I got told to "Go back to the Brady Bunch!" today. It was by a ten-year-old boy, in a group of children making fun of me for my broken umbrella.

"Excuse me, mister," a little girl said. "Your umbrella is upside down."
"It's not upside down," I explained. "It's broken."

Then I got told to go back to the Brady Bunch, and then I threw my umbrella in the trash when I got up to the corner.

Was I more upset about this than the day before, when the twentysomething on his stoop said "That's a fag right there"? I don't know. Children are different.

***

I did not go into the theater department today, but I e-mailed the lady. That counts for something. I think.

Loretta is going to Las Vegas today. We talked and finally smoothed some things over. It will never be perfect, but it doesn't always have to be craptastic, either.

Labels are for soup cans

The world would be so much better if everyone just listened to me.

News & Notes

*I am skipping class already. ALREADY. It hasn't been a week yet. What is wrong with me? Why can't I ever get out of bed? Why have I been like this since I was 14? I am going to have to start sleeping with a No-Doz and an energy drink on the nightstand, and while I realize that's the definition of chemical dependency, you gotta do what you do.

*I CAN'T TAKE THE FUCKING DRAMA ANYMORE. That was cryptic and I know that all caps are obnoxious, but I still had to say it.

*Do I go into the theater department tomorrow? Is that when I find the balls that I figuratively left in Minneapolis?

*I am torn about the Super Bowl result. I know, ME CARING ABOUT FOOTBALL! Who knew?

*I am wearing white pants today. Suck it.

*The picture above was taken at the Jezebel.com meet and greet on Friday, and if you forget about my foolish decision to go uptown to the boy bar and spend all the money I don't have, it was a wonderful night. I even met someone from Northeast Minneapolis, proof that the world is much smaller than we realize.

Lexington Avenue Blues

I really wanted that job.

Perhaps I wouldn't have been so devastated about my schedule not being compatible with it if I had an iota of passion for college -- but I don't. I have to admit that I came here for the wrong reasons, and school was a smoke screen. I left Minneapolis because I was trapped. Then I got to New York, and felt trapped again, and I couldn't help but feel that way as I stood on Lexington Avenue in the rain, staring at this building and down at my blazer making its Manhattan debut.

I went back to the school to try to buy books, or at least see how much they cost. Again dejected, I went to the Theater Department, to sign up for an audition, but chickened out, telling myself I would send an e-mail or try again on Monday. I don't know what my deal is. I figuratively left my balls in Minnesota.

Still, Friday wasn't all bad, as I did some social networking and met up with some commenters from Jezebel.Com at a bar over on the Lower East Side! It was a lot of fun and I now have a business card of a book publicist, to go along with one I have of a literary agent, and when I get drunk I can look at them and pretend that they are my agent and publicist.

However, I drank too much there and then went to the boy bar, where I spent way too much money. At least when you overspend at the casino there's a chance you might get some of it back.

The job hunt will continue next week. Maybe I will try the acting thing. I should do open mikes again. I don't know what my deal is. I think we all have different voices in our heads, not ones that are audible but ones that we know are not real, but they affect us just the same. I have to listen to my positive voice, the one that tells me I can do it, the one that tells me to believe in myself, the one that tells me that I live in New York City, dammit, the one that tells me that I can look back at these years with pride and not shame. I do not know where that voice went, but it was overshadowed by the negative one, the one that shuns hope and positivity.

I really want to delete that last paragraph because it makes me sound like a Starting Over reject, but whatever.