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."