The Spectrum

A Bit Blocked

2008-11-20T08:38:00.002-05:00

Every day I'm all, "I NEED TO BLOG." And then I'm all, "BUT I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY."

So, uh, does anyone have any ideas?

Anything pressing we need to discuss?

My urethra? Perhaps a debate on Obama's tax plan? A story about an ex-boyfriend? My upcoming trip to Los Angeles next week? Audition stories? Stories about how I fell down in public and embarrassed myself? Eco-friendly living? Vegetarianism? Questions? Comments?

I was thinking you guys could unblock me. You know, the four people who read this? Surely you have an opinion. Or an interest. Or a reason to keep refreshing this website. But...what on earth is it?

Suggest a topic and I will write an essay, in MLA format, with a Works Cited. Or maybe just a blog post.

Any takers? Any at all?

Molting

2008-11-15T20:02:00.004-05:00

There are many ways that acting, as a profession, messes with your psyche. Because the business is overcrowded with competition and chock full of rejection, in order to survive, you need to develop a thick skin. Despite my wanting to and probably born out of necessity than anything else, I have developed a thin protective veil that allows me to keep moving forward without wanting to curl up in bed and die. And while this veil is necessary for survival in such a harsh climate, I find it hinders other aspects of my life, other aspects where I don't really need to wear it.

Becoming a hard, bitter person doesn't happen over night in the same way that self-esteem can't grow in a day. For someone like me, who is naturally confidence-less and who was raised in an environment that didn't boost what little I had, there seems to be a fine line between building self-worth and building an inflated, narcissistic ego. I have been actively concentrating over the past few years to build up some confidence, to take risks, to be more self-assured and I wonder if I have been overzealous in this endeavor not because I suddenly find myself with an astounding amount of self-confidence (I don't, at all) but rather because I am noticing a pattern of negativity in my thoughts, a critical voice that no longer just criticizes myself but everyone else around me.

Perhaps this is just an extension of the go-to defense mechanism that I learned while growing up: I will beat myself up before anyone else can. This is best manifested in my fantastic ability to self-deprecate. Allow me to make a joke about myself so you can't hurt me first. Let's put aside how messed up and unfortunate that way of thinking is and look at how dangerous it can be when it proliferates into I will beat YOU up before you can beat ME up.

I realize this is the nature of the business but I am disheartened to realize that I have bought into it, bought into a career centered around Me Me Me and What You Have That I Don't. I am constantly ingesting the underlying mephitic whispers of my chosen profession: that I am only of value at my thinnest, that I am already too old to get anywhere, that I have nothing to offer anyone and sadder still, that when You are successful, it immediately means that I Am Not. None of these things are true, of course, and I used to know that. I find I am more forgetful now.

There are many layers to this. Wanting to protect myself from rejection is natural and building up a wall of some kind seems obvious as any actor will tell you that to some extent, it is absolutely without-a-doubt necessary for survival. But I have been paying close attention to my innermost thoughts lately and I do not like them. There is very little gratitude, very little humility, lots of criticism, lots of jealousy and anger, a kind of insatiable cupidity that disgusts me. Perhaps acting is only a piece of that, perhaps the path I have taken, a path of over self-analysis, of psychotherapy, of living in New York City, of keeping a blog, that this path has helped create a young woman who is incredibly self-absorbed. This is ironic because I don't feel more confident, I just feel like an asshole.

I'm thinking that my recent discovery of commitmentphobia is directly tied to my negative attitude. I am less loving and therefore, less open to being loved. While I still manage to find hope and joy in so many things, when it comes to relationships, I am startled to find out that I seem to start off any adventure waiting to be let down. Disappoint me now, come on, I know you will. That strikes me as overwhelmingly sad.

I realize that I am a 25 year old living in a notoriously hard, fast-paced, jaded city. I am therefore completely unable to return to my spoony adolescent attitude of consistent hope and firm belief in my talents and ability to love. But surely there is a way to balance protecting yourself and your heart while still allowing yourself to be vulnerable. Is that in and of itself naive? Is there a way to let down my guard more while still maintaining my sanity and good nature? Or do I have to pick sides?

There must be a way to build myself up emotionally without mentally putting others down. There has to be a way to experience rejection and disappointment without internalizing it and allowing it to consume you. Perhaps there is a way to put up my wall in an audition setting and take it back down again when dealing with people and relationships. It is so difficult to find a happy medium and I am honestly so turned off by myself lately.

I am independent to a fault. You can't take care of me because I already know how. I can't bend my schedule to accommodate yours because mine is too important. I can't slow down because my business never slows down and can't you see that since I started so late, I am constantly playing catch up? I have such a hard time letting someone in because MY PRIORITIES! MY ROUTINE! It is all SO IMPORTANT.

Newsflash: in the grand scheme of things, it actually isn't.

I am posting this for the reason I post a lot of other things: accountability. Now that I've owned up to it, I can change it. I can also perhaps treat myself gently. The acting thing is a huge part of this but I can count three major events that have transpired in the past six months that have aggrandized the subtle negativity into a level that no longer feels comfortable. I am partly to blame for one but the other two were out of my hands, 100% and maybe it's natural for us to get a little bitter when life kicks us in the ass repeatedly.

I have already taken some steps to shed the negativity which I'm excited about and hey, we can all agree I'm on the right path if I'm still able to get excited, right? Maybe I'll share some of my pointers for Drawing Yourself Up Out of the Muck in case anyone else out there tends to get into these negative Hate the World funks. No? It's just me? Okay then, um, just forget it.

As always, thanks for listening and I hope that if you know me personally, I have been deft at shielding you from my nastiness. If I haven't, please forgive me. If you don't know me personally, BE VERY GRATEFUL. That is all.

Your Friendly Reminder

2008-11-14T08:08:00.004-05:00

TO COME ON DOWN!!!!

I don't know why that picture of me is uploading in blue. Apparently, I am a smurf. So, come see the Freak Show!! It's going to be fun. Plus, there's booze. And my dad. And my dad drinking booze and TRUST ME YOU DO NOT WANT TO MISS SUCH AN EXPERIENCE.

I Cried When I Saw This

2008-11-12T22:33:00.001-05:00

I spotted this on E's livejournal. Thanks, E!

Double Whammy: A Post About My Uterus AND Uretha. You're Welcome.

2008-11-11T12:16:00.004-05:00

At 7:30 this morning, I pushed the silver faucet to the left and a gush of water began flowing into the bathtub. I waited for it to warm up, holding my fingers in the stream of it and when I was convinced it was at its hottest, I pulled up the drain and the tub began to fill. My head felt light and my stomach felt queasy but neither were a match for the sharp stabbing pains in my lower back and the deep wrenching contractions of my abdomen. I glanced at my face in the mirror and it was so pale it seemed nearly translucent.

As soon as the water rose a few inches, I climbed in, still wearing the navy blue USNA '05 t-shirt that I had slept in. It hadn't occurred to me to take it off and I couldn't find the energy to do so anyway. The heat intensified the cramping and my body screamed in protest.

"Roommate?" I croaked, unsure if he heard me over the whirring of the bathroom fan.

A few moments later he replied, "Are you dying?"

"Yes."

His face popped up as a reflection in the mirror and he looked down to find my head and arms draped over the side of the tub, staring at him in agony.

"I need a pot."

"A pot?"

"Yes."

"DONE."

He fetched a silver pot from the kitchen and placed it in front of me. I was only inches away from the toilet but I knew that heaving myself out of the tub every few minutes required strength I did not possess.

And that is how I spent two and a half hours this morning alternately laying in the tub with my head against the rim and leaning over the side of it, wretching stomach bile into a big silver pot.

...

Friday morning I awoke at 5:30 AM and decided I had a urinary tract infection. I have a fantastic history with these which I have posted about before. This particular infection, like the previous infection in June, came about for seemingly no reason at all and I seem to be contracting them by simply thinking the word "bacteria".

I got myself to work and called the Actor's Clinic where I was firmly told by the secretary that the doctor could NOT AT ALL see me today, NOT AT ALL. I begged her, insisting that I had seen him before for this very reason, I just need a prescription for an antibiotic, for the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY. She snapped at me that that was NOT POSSIBLE and how DARE I think I could get a prescription without seeing a doctor first.

I hung up on her which I felt guilty about later but when your urethra is on fire and you don't have insurance, it's hard to be polite.

I called three other clinics, all of them full because it was Friday! Of course! Only one clinic takes walk-in appointments but they charge a flat rate of $125 which, surprise I do not have. I mean, okay, I HAVE IT. But did I want to spend it on getting antibiotics for my 500th UTI of the year? Answer: NO.

JK finally recommended I walk over to my company's health clinic which is located in another building. I had attempted this once before at a different location and was turned away due to my rockstar temp status. Since options were limited and I was peeing rusty nails, I decided to give it a shot.

The clinic was quiet and friendly and a plastic jack-o-lantern sat on the table, grinning at me, full of mini Twix bars.

"I NEED HELP," I blurted to the secretary.

"Yes?"

"I think I have a UTI and if you don't help me, I'm going to throw myself into the East River."

"No problem."

She handed me a clipboard, I filled out the information, nobody asked me any questions, no one wanted to know if I was a temp, no one seemed to care at all.

I gave the nurse a urine sample (wasn't she lucky!) and she took my temperature (normal) and my blood pressure (100/60.) She asked me a few general medication questions about allergies (none) and past surgeries (zero) and then, in thick Long Island, she said, "And now, I am going to ask you some personal questions."

"AWESOME," I said.

There are always fantastically embarrassing questions that are asked about a UTI, most of them involving peeing and sexual activity.

"Isn't that lame?" I asked the nurse as she scribbled on a chart.

"What's that?"

"That I don't even get these from sex? That I get UTI's from sitting around and blinking at the wall?"

At this point she laughed and then asked me how many I get in a year.

"1 2 3 4 come on baby say you love me?"

Because, who doesn't throw in some Gloria Estefan when they can help it?

She furrowed her brow and went to fetch the doctor. While she was gone, I glanced around the examining room, taking note of the scale and the white crinkly paper on the table and the counters full of q-tip containers. I am one of those freaks who LIKES doctors' offices because oh my goodness, the CLEANLINESS. THE ORGANIZATION.

She returned with a prescription for an antibiotic and two tiny pills in an envelope which would get ride of my symptoms immediately.

"Also, I would get to a urologist when you can."

"Wha???"

"It's okay to get a UTI once a year or so but two or three? With very little reason? It's a bit odd."

"You think it has something to do with the fact that I generally have to pee every 20 minutes or so?"

"Um. UROLOGIST. SEE ONE."

"KTHXBYE!" I squealed and walked out the door, taking care to grab some Twix bars for the walk back to work.

...

It seems that my body is falling apart. I have the continence of an elderly woman and the uterus of someone who is perpetually in childbirth. How is this even fair?!

The UTI's concern me but not nearly as much as my traumatic menstrual cycle. Now, not every month is this bad; the last time it was like this was back in February, at work. I spent approximately two and a half hours in an office toilet stall, begging for mercy. It's a lot easier to handle at home because 1) I can get naked and B) I can get in a bathtub. I've thought about finding a suitable place to soak in a tub at work but I can't seem to make that happen.

These episodes have been hitting me since high school with little warning and in a variety of settings:

1 - Collapsing in chorus class, the nurse wheels me in a wheelchair to her office which is the coolest thing that ever happened to me as a high school junior. And by coolest, I mean most embarrassing. To make it more awesome, she cannot get ahold of my mother so my father leaves work to take me home. He puts a blanket over me while I lay on the couch and nervously wonders what on earth is going on.

2 - In Amish country in Pennsylvania. My father took my other siblings out of the hotel for the day while I sit in the bathtub and cry. My mom holds my hand and asks what she can do.

3 - In the middle of rehearsals for a college production of "Children of Eden". My friend Rosie who was assistant directing, scooped me up off the bathroom floor, took me to her dorm room and put me in a hot shower. I vomited three times. It was the first time I didn't care that anyone was seeing me naked.

4 - Temping at my first job out of college. Mid-morning, I lose all color in my face and double over in pain. My creepy coworker who spent his down time shooting squirrels in his backyard helps me into my car and drives me home since I am unable to do it myself.

5 - Wintertime in Astoria. A Saturday morning at 8 am. My roommate holds my hair back while I kneel on the bathroom mat and vomit into the bathtub. Later, he makes me a cup of chamomile tea and we sit on the couch and watch the Food network.

6 - Last February, at work. A coworker eventually finds me hugging a toilet, gets me a heating pad and puts me in a taxi. My boss suggests birth control or a hysterectomy. I tell her they both sound like amazing options.

7 - Today. Called in sick to work around 10 AM when I finally made my way out of the bathroom and into my bed. The nausea persisted for a total of five hours. JK stops by with Gatorade and sits across from me while I sip it and eat dry Cheerios one by one.

The episodes are getting longer and more intense as I get older. I personally believe my body is revolting my decision not to have a baby at this point in my life. I have no scientific evidence that supports this; it's just my own little theory. Good, right?

There would normally be a lot of pain, a bit of nausea but it used to be over in about a half hour. I was able to take some pain medication and be fine for the rest of the day. Over the past year, the episodes persist, longer and longer. Today, I was in the bathtub for over two and a half hours, without an ounce of relief. The pain comes in waves, like contractions, a few seconds of peace before my abdomen clenches up again and I attempt a feeble protest.

I stood up in the middle of it this morning in a pathetic attempt to wash my hair but was greeted with one big I DON'T THINK SO as my knees trembled and I was forced to lay back down in the water. Thanks to my stomach finally calming down and the ingestion of the Cheerios, I was able to swallow some Motrin which has helped enormously.

It should also be noted that once I found solace in my bed, the doorbell rang. And rang again. Hoping it was someone coming to take care of me, I slowly made my way downstairs, clinging tightly to the banister. When I opened the door, an Asian man handed me a pamphlet about Jesus, which I took, to be polite. I then offered a meek "thank you" and shut the door in his face before he had the chance to proselytize.

I realize that people suffer with ailments all the time, most of them so much worse than this but I mean, this is my blog so am I allowed to just say, WHAT THE HELL!?????

Thank you.

I hope this is the last post I ever make about my uterus on this blog but long time readers will tell you not to believe that for a SECOND.

And now, I am going to continue dying a slow death over here on my couch.

Funny because my period came a week early--this was supposed to happen on the day of my cabaret next week.

So, I suppose, I should be grateful for that?

Or something?

But I'm too busy sitting on the couch, figuring out ways for my gay roommate to knock me up so we can be done with this once and for all.

Carry on, you guys. Don't worry about me. Happy Tuesday.

Done and Done

2008-11-10T21:17:00.002-05:00

TO DO

#47. ~~Get commercial agent.~~

Ah, that's better.

Conversations with Four Year Olds I've Had In the Past Week

2008-11-10T07:28:00.002-05:00

Owen: I need Akon on my iPod.

Me: You do?

Owen: Yes.

Me: Okay, what song?

Owen: Akon.

Me: Akon is a singer. He sings lots of songs. Which one do you like?

Owen: AKON.

Me: Akon is the SINGER'S NAME. NOT THE SONG NAME.

Owen: NO! THE SONG IS AKON.

Me: THE SONG IS NOT AKON, OWEN! LOOK AT YOUTUBE! THOSE ARE ALL AKON VIDEOS!

Owen: I WANT AKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON.

Me: *shoots self in the face*

Owen: I want THAT one.

Me: "Right Now Na Na Na"?

Owen: YES! AKON NA NA NA!!!!!

Me: Okay. We'll download it and then I'll put it on your iPod.

*five minutes later, Akon successfully loaded on the iPod*

Owen: (singing along to his new song) I WANNA MAKE LOVE NA NA NA NA!!!

Me: Oh...my...God.

...

River: THIS IS MY BELLY!

Me: Very good! Where is your arm?

River: HEEERE!

Me: GREAT JOB! What about your foot?

River: HEEEERE!

Me: Awesome, Riv! What about your chest?

River: HEEEEERE!

*Riv stops, looks confused*

River: (pulling at his shirt) What are THESE?

Me: Your chest?

River: NO! THESE?

Me: Uh, you mean, my boobs?

River: RIGHT! MY BOOBS.

Me: No no! You don't have boobs! Just girls!

Owen: MY MOM HAS BOOBS.

Me: Yes, she does.

River: (lifting up his shirt) NO! THEEEEEEESE!

Me: Ohhhh, your nipples?

River: RIGHT! MY NIPPLES.

Me: Yes, those are nipples. Boys and girls all have nipples.

Owen: (pointing to his stomach) I HAVE A NIPPLE HERE!

Me: Oh! Um, that's a freckle. That's different.

Owen: A nipple?

Me: A FRECKLE. See? I have them all over my arms.

River: YES! YOU DO!

Me: I know! And my face too!

River: YES! LAURA! YOU HAVE A NIPPLE RIGHT ON YOUR FOREHEAD!!!!!!!

...

Me: Okay! So, we talked about our day and we read five books and we sang lullabies and you're all tucked in so I'm going to shut off the light! Have a good night, boys!

Owen: Laura?

Me: Yes?

Owen: I'm hungry.

River: Me too.

Laura: SIGHHHHHHH. Okay, let's go into the kitchen. What do you feel like eating?

Owen: Swiss cheese.

River: Sunflower seeds.

Owen: Also, an oreo.

Me: Not a problem.

*five minutes later*

Owen: I'm done.

River: ME TOO.

Laura: Okay! Back to bed! Both of you! Goodnight!

River runs back into the bedroom. Owen just stands and stares at me.

Owen: I can't.

Me: You can't what?

Owen: Go to bed.

Me: Why not?

Owen: I need to do a Google search.

Me: I...what?

Owen: A GOOGLE SEARCH. I NEED TO DO A GOOGLE SEARCH.

Me: NO WAY, OWEN. Computer time is over. Goodnight.

Owen: Tomorrow I can do a Google search?

Me: Absolutely, tomorrow you can Google whatever you want. Try "Laura Loses Her Mind".

Election Reflection - (It's A Long One)

2008-11-05T22:55:00.009-05:00

I left an acting seminar last night around 8 pm and wandered up a few blocks to meet Alayna and her friend Emily at a bar/restaurant in Hell's Kitchen. There were four huge television screens, all broadcasting CNN, Wolf Blitzer and John King and maps and statistics and red versus blue. The bar was buzzing, as if we were all collectively tapping our feet in anticipation or wriggling side to side, unable to sit still like grade school kids.

When I walked in, Kentucky had been called along with a few other states, none of which struck me as particularly surprising. I hugged Alayna and Emily hello and promptly ordered some delicious drink containing Rum and Cointreau. The three of us sat on the same side of the table, snug in a booth, backs against the wall, alternately scanning the television screen, texting friends and throwing out stories and comments and explanations.

CNN had a fantastic countdown right before polls were closing in certain states. As soon as it hit zero, the screen would flash with the news - OBAMA WINS PENNSYLVANIA - and the bar would ignite with whoops and hollers and electric energy. There was a camaraderie that was palpable, a mutual understanding that we were about to be part of something historic and momentous, a fervent hope that America would finally stand up and say WE NEED CHANGE AND WE NEED IT NOW.

As the evening went on, the chatter grew more animated as beer was sipped and waffle fries were nibbled and we all eagerly awaited the confirmation of results of uncertain states. Pennsylvania was huge, Ohio even bigger and I believe when they called it, I knew that it was over yet I didn't want to jinx it. The Senate race steadily occupied the bottom of the screen, the blue line gradually overtaking the red. The analysis of voter demographics, the popular vote numbers, astounding me, impressing me, causing my heart to swell with pride. This is happening, in my lifetime, I am witnessing something that is so much bigger than me.

Tipsy with rum, belly full of gnocchi, at 11:59:30, I grabbed Alayna's arms and energetically shouted, "LET'S COUNT DOWN LIKE IT'S NEW YEAR'S!!!!!!!" and the crowd took the cue and there we were, screaming with all our might 10 - 9 - 8 - 7, eyes wide, glued to the screens above the bar, fingers tingling, temples pulsing, 6 - 5 - 4, everyone present and focused and getting ready to stand, 3 - 2 - 1 and as OBAMA ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES illuminated the television screen, we all joyously lost our minds.

The bar erupted, cheering from their guts, crying, hugging strangers, pumping a fist in the air, louder and BETTER than New Year's because, uh, it wasn't. It was a Presidential election and thankfully, so thankfully, I live in a city that is unabashedly Democratic and proud because my God we have been through a lot. There was instant optimistic connection in that bar, in midtown, in my great city. Various ages, truly diverse and different, all supporting the same man, all willing to stand up and wish they could touch him through the hard glass of the television screen.

No one spoke during McCain's speech. I couldn't take my eyes off him and found his words touching, honorable and gracious. We all clapped for him and I suppose I can only speak for myself but I think he commands and deserves respect regardless of how I find his policies.

I stepped into the oddly warm November air somewhere after midnight, smiling taxis gliding by. I had seen images of Times Square on the television and knew I had to cross through to board the train home. I envisioned a horrendous New York situation--police barricades and stern "No Ma'am, you can't pass" apologies. As I grew closer to Broadway, the rumbles became roars and little American flags fluttered above a sea of heads.

I remember thinking that the pathway to the train was miraculously clear before my emotions caught me off-guard and I randomly burst into tears. It was the third time that night but it was the most intense. The sheer number of people standing transfixed in one spot, the tears on their faces, their beautiful eyes upturned to the monstrous television in Times Square, it was just overwhelming for me. I felt like for the first time in a long time, I was breathing in cool, clean fresh air.

...

I realize that Barack Obama is inheriting a country in disarray. Everything is wrong. EVERYTHING. And trust me, I am aware that change is not going to come overnight but that also, many people expect it to and will be visibly disappointed when it doesn't. I was prepared to be faced with reality a few days after Election Day, I knew that I would go back to work and find a mess of an economy, an increasingly dangerous situation overseas, my usual lack of health care. But...but...I thought I would at least have a full night or a full few days to really just bask in the glow of Obama and his remarkable groundbreaking achievement.

Ha.

I called my mother shortly after 11 pm last night, not to gloat but to share in a truly awesome moment of American History.

"Ha," she said bitterly into the phone. "There's no way he's going to change the country in four years, everyone will be disillusioned and another Republican will go back into office in 2012. This is temporary."

Well, hi! Hello! I think the voter turnout WAS astounding and WOW a black man won over the state of Virginia and HEY I AM REALLY HUMBLED BY THE FIRST AFRICAN AMERICAN TO BE VOTED INTO OFFICE TOO!!!!!!!! Nice chatting!

Today was no better, if not worse. I called home to at least slap a verbal high five with my 18 year old little brother, his first time voting EVER and he got to vote in THIS election, I mean, is that just amazing or what?!?!

Or what.

"I VOTED OBAMA AND REGRET IT."

"What? Jem? Wha?? How could you SAY that?! What on earth!?"

Apparently, my brother got into a heavy discussion with a few of his friends' fathers yesterday. They are Long Island blue collar small business owners and fervent McCain supporters because while they are blue collar and own things like landscaping companies (a Long Island staple!), they make an upper-middle class income.

They explained to my brother that Obama is going to double Capital Gains Taxes to 40% and that they will suffer, all small businesses will suffer, you the public will suffer because they will raise prices and this is SOCIALISM SERIOUSLY and basically, the country is going to the crapper.

I just want to say that in case they didn't notice? The country is already in the crapper. KTHX.

I listened to my impressionable little Long Island brother begin to rant and rave about how Obama's taxes are going to kill us all because, right, he's 18 and apparently very concerned with his small business? (HE IS IN COLLEGE. OH MY GOD.) I gently explained that 1) Taxes are just ONE issue and 2) Please do your research! Via BarackObama.com, I easily noted that Barack's plan includes ZERO CAPITAL GAINS TAXES for, and I quote, "Small business and start ups" so uh:

Propaganda: 1

My Little Brother: 0

I pointed out something that was bothering me even more than the wrong information. Many people we know on Long Island who own these contracting businesses, landscaping companies, etc. HIDE THE MAJORITY OF THEIR INCOME. They also (fact, not assumption) hire illegal immigrant workers to work for their company. It was evident by my brother's language that he was just repeating the words of his friend's fathers, namely that the government under Obama is going to "TAKE AWAY MY MONEY" and use it for "WHATEVER THEY WANT".

You call it taking away your money? That's funny. I call it PAYING INCOME TAX. Weird.

To say the conversation was disheartening is an understatement but I was not expecting it to get WORSE from then on. After Jem was able to listen to my points (which he did! with great tact! Jem the Gentleman: 10 Points!) he agreed that Obama was overall the better choice for other reasons that might be important to him. He apologized for saying he regretted his vote and handed the phone over to my father.

You get that I love my dad, right? You get that he is the most lovable person on the planet? And that he is a fantastic listener and ridiculously well-read and able to talk about anything and he will make you a cup of tea if you ask him and I LOVE HIM A LOT, RIGHT?

My parents are both Independent voters and my father voted for Bush in 2000 and Kerry in 2004. All summer, he was fiercely anti-Obama due to the fact that "the guy can't seem to make up his mind". However, as the September days flew by and the economy got worse and worse, my dad flipped. He became disillusioned with the McCain campaign and realized, as he says, that McCain had less of a plan than Obama in terms of the economy and that was enough to vote Democrat this time around. GO DAD.

"HEY DAD! OBAMA ROCKED IT OUT LAST NIGHT!"

"Eh. I'm not impressed."

"WHAT!? ARE YOU KIDDING!? BLACK GUY IN THE WHITE HOUSE? TOTALLY AWESOME! CHANGE FOR EVERYONE? GONNA TURN THIS BABY AROUND?"

"Well. No. I mean, I guess. I hope he's not all talk."

"Well...yeah...?"

"I just get real sick of hearing people talking about how they'll get free handouts once he takes office."

"What? Who is saying that?"

"Someone asked a lady on NPR yesterday why she voted Obama and she said 'Because he'll lower my gas prices and pay my mortgage.' What kind of crap is that?"

"Well, dad, Obama never said he personally was going to pay someone's mortgage. Maybe she just meant it generally, like, he's going to improve the economy and fix the housing crisis."

"No. I don't know. That pissed me off."

"Why?"

"Because people think he's giving handouts. Come on, all those taxcuts? It's essentially welfare."

"A tax cut is welfare?"

"Yeah. It's getting something for free."

And here is the inherent problem I believe members of my family still grapple with: a selfish Republican-esque view that people ought to help themselves and do not deserve ANYTHING for "free" served with a side of occasional racism.

Are there people who voted for Obama solely because he is black? Yes, I am sure of it.

Are there people who voted for McCain because Sarah Palin is a woman and that was good enough for them? Yes, I am sure of that too.

But, I mean, those were THEIR reasons for voting and while I think it's a bit misguided, perhaps those factors were enough for people. My mother votes solely on the Pro-Life platform, that's it, just that one issue. Many Catholics do and I believe the same about them: it is misguided but well-intentioned and their reasoning is not really my business anyway.

But this "Woman Wanting Obama To Give Her Free Stuff" BOTHERED HIM. I could tell in the tone of his voice, in his caustic skepticism, his sudden nervousness. He was instantly unsure--shit, maybe Obama WAS the kind of guy who was going to turn this into a socialist empire and give handouts to people, ESPECIALLY minorities. My father never said that and I am exaggerating, I know, but that doubt was there, for an INSTANT and I heard it and it saddened me tremendously. It's like the way people in my family constantly have to qualify the race of someone in a story. "Well, it was a black woman, NOT THAT IT MATTERS..."

Well. If it doesn't matter, why did you mention it?

My grandmother and my father both come from a generation with deep-rooted ideas about other races. (I exclude my mother from this because my father is significantly older than she is and also, she doesn't seem to share this particular attitude that both my father and grandmother do.) My father's parents were offensively, horrendously racist and considering the way they raised him, my father is amazingly tolerant and accepting. But...I suppose it's just the way he thinks: when it comes to social justice issues, my father and many other family members hold a very Republican "Help Yourself, You Are Not My Problem" attitude. THIS is what bothered my dad about that woman's comments about Obama as President, race aside: he is going to help people who don't deserve it and that isn't fair.

It's weird to hear that from Christians, right? The judgment and the caution that is displayed? I suppose you can just throw up your hands and say "Well, you can't help everyone!" or "They got themselves into that mess!" But...really...as a Christian, can you say that? Shouldn't you be saying YES, I am okay with helping those in need? YES, I am okay with LOVING MY NEIGHBOR AS MYSELF? No? Anyone? No one?

So, we had incorrect information about taxes and incorrect information about social reform and it resulted in me, full of JOY and ELATION, calling home (stupidly) expecting to share my happiness and was met with I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS. IT IS KIND OF ALL WRONG ACTUALLY. WHY IS EVERYONE SO EXCITED ANYWAY?

Someone asked me today, "Why were you hurt by that? Those are your family's views, they aren't ever going to change."

Yes.

But.

No.

It was just like I was a young girl and all I wanted was for someone to share in my joy. Except it wasn't joy for a picture I painted all by myself or a song that I made up, it was the fact that I helped elect the FIRST AFRICAN AMERICAN PRESIDENT, a man who stands for hope and change and reform and three of my family members simultaneously just kind of rolled their eyes like "Whatever" as if it's not a big DEAL, as if it doesn't matter.

My family is my family and I know I'm not alone with these struggles. I'm not hurt as much as I am sad. Sad that not one person I talked to (liberal older brother and liberal little sister aside) could say ANYTHING POSITIVE less than 24 hours after such a momentous election. That my parents could not rise above their uncertainty or sore loserness enough to say THIS IS AN AMAZING MOMENT FOR US AS AMERICANS, I AM SO GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO PARTICIPATE IN IT.

I was met instead with bitterness and skepticism and a rant about a tax issue that isn't even true and concerns that maybe Obama was going to help some people. OH NO.

Cue: Happiness Balloon deflating in a matter of minutes. But, lesson learned: I am not going to have that kind of relationship with certain family members. There is simply too much standing in the way and I would do well to be tolerant and compassionate and realize that they just are not the type of people who are ever going to willingly support a candidate that I support. That is okay. We bond in other ways. For politics, I can turn to my two other siblings and we can rock it out alone.

There are other things that sadden me about this election besides my family, the passing of Prop 8 in California for one. The absurdity and frustration that strikes me when I think of so many people trying so hard to "protect marriage" as if marriage and love are things that only certain people can have, as if they have a limit, as if by giving someone else that privilege, someone might take yours away.

I was disturbed by some message boards and websites I read today, mainly Catholics "crying themselves to sleep last night" and accusing the Catholic voters who voted for Obama of "never going to church" and supporting a "man who stands for genocide". The abortion issue is one I particularly "love", as if the day after Obama is sworn in, every girl in the country will decide that a partial-birth abortion is a FANTASTIC IDEA and will run out to get one.

And here is the crux of what I want to say: Election Night was beyond memorable for me and a night I will never forget. And today? I was totally bummed by my family's reaction to it. I am saddened that I can never find common ground with one or both of my parents, saddened that we suffer from a generational gap of misunderstanding and biases and a lack of wanting to listen to each other. Add on to that an extreme attachment to religious ideals that sometimes gets in the way of reason and actually, Christ-like behavior and thought.

I voted for Obama because he represents all that is good to me--hope, change, love and equality. He makes me want to be a better American, a better person. He makes me want to get informed and makes me want to speak up and makes me feel like I matter. He does not seem like a person who would govern on the basis of fear but on the basis of faith and of perseverance and of STRENGTH. He inspires me.

When I have a daughter, I can't wait to tell her that I was present for this and a part of it, that Aunt Alayna and I LOST OUR SHIT at a bar and wept tears of joy. That I voted for change and I supported the best candidate for the job--a charismatic, generous and intelligent man who deserves that high honor. I want to tell her that I cast my ballot with her in mind--that I want the earth to be in good shape when she is living on it and I am long gone, that I believe she has rights as a woman that need to be protected and that I hope one day we can watch future election results together and celebrate a hard won victory.

Election Day in Queens

2008-11-04T07:05:00.002-05:00

So, I just voted for our next President of the United States, Barack "Rockstar" Obama.

I was going to talk about the giddiness I felt, standing in line with my roommate at 6:30 in the morning, the joy and the excitement as I waited, the honor and the humility I felt as an American, as a woman, as a young person with an opinion who was able to express it.

But I think the better story here is the elderly woman in charge of signing us in at our district's table. As my roommate said, she probably voted Lincoln into office and she got in a HUGE fight with the other volunteer. Something about counting, something about something, something about a HUGE LINE of people in QUEENS, I don't really know but I DO KNOW that New Yorkers are not the most patient people.

I was doing fine, thank you. But other people were not.

Let's also add a little bit here about a girl wearing a HIDEOUS sweater and how she asked my roommate and I where the line was for the 15th district.

"We're in it!" we chirped and she stood in line a few people behind us, rolling her eyes and tapping her foot.

Cut to Typical Queens Guy wearing a football jersey who suddenly yelled out, "ARE YOU TELLING ME I HAVE BEEN STANDING IN THE 15th DISTRICT LINE WHEN I HAVE TO VOTE IN THE 13th!?"

He then started directing us, as if we were traffic. Turns out, we were all globbed into one line and there was supposed to be two and damnit if that wasn't the BIGGEST CRISIS THAT COULD HAVE EVER HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD. I bet he's voting for McCain.

So we dutifully shuffled into proper lines but I guess the roommate and I were moving a bit too leisurely for some people because Hideous Sweater Girl CUT US!!!! She jumped the line by about FIVE PEOPLE. Now, because I am working on my criticism and my anger and because it was ELECTION DAY and because I was about to vote in the most historic election of my life so far, I didn't really think much of it except to make a mental note to cut her later if I ever saw her again.

After my roommate explained to me how to use the voting booth (THESE THINGS INTIMIDATE ME PEOPLE and last time I voted, it was by absentee!) about ten thousands times, it was my turn! Behind the mysterious black curtain! I refrained from making Wizard of Oz jokes. BARELY.

And so it's supposed to be a secret but it's not because I have a blog and when I moved the lever and the Obama/Biden box showed a little "X", I squealed with glee. HISTORY IN THE MAKING PEOPLE.

On the walk back home, my roommate and I were pointing out the beautiful leaves and the oddly warm weather and talked about how we are kind of awesome human beings. As we turned onto our street, we spotted Hideous Sweater girl taking out the trash.

"Is it her?"

"What?"

"No...way..."

Hideous Sweater girl not only lives on our block, she is our NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR.

She took one look at us and carefully avoided eye contact.

THAT IS RIGHT, GIRL. You better think twice before you cut people in the voting line. NOW I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE.

I Lied About the Last Post Hitting A New Low

2008-11-02T22:40:00.004-05:00

I forget things.

It might be genetic, it might be a bit of early dementia, it might be genetic early dementia. Who even knows. I've been suffering my entire life.

I will forget my keys, my wallet, my cell phone, my jacket, etc. My cousin Tom once suggested inserting a magnetic plate into my forearm so I can hang a bunch of essentials on me at all times. It would save me a lot of trouble.

On tour, I left my wallet in a Wendy's bathroom and had to drive two hours there and two hours back in wintry Michigan all by myself to retrieve it.

This past winter, I left my favorite cream-colored cardigan behind at the Actor's Equity building. It did not make it to the Lost & Found.

Last spring, I left a very important-to-me ring on the bench in the women's locker room at the gym. I also left behind a bracelet and a watch on two separate subsequent occasions. I no longer take off my jewelry at the gym.

Last weekend, I left my brand new yellow scarf in a dressing room at the mall. I do not remember which store. I went back to the Gap to buy a new one and they were all gone.

Tonight, I rehearsed with my accompanist at a studio in midtown and boarded the train home around 8:30. On the subway, I realized that I didn't have my glasses in hand. I assured myself I had put them in the case at the bottom of my bag but I was carrying a cup of tea and a magazine so I couldn't check. Once I had my hands free, I opened up the glasses case and it was empty.

Cursing under my breath at the supermarket, I called up the studio and after reaching three separate voicemail systems, I left a message asking them to PLEASE PLEASE call me in the morning, I was in studio D, I left my eyeglasses there on the piano, pinkish purple, thanks, here is my number, PLEASE I hope you have my glasses!!!

I walked in the door to my apartment and set my huge bag of groceries on the kitchen floor.

I grasped my coat to begin to pull it off when something caught my eye.

"Please," I sputtered to my roommate through peals of laughter. "Please take a look at what I have on right now."

"Oooookay," he said slowly.

"My glasses," I said. "My glasses are hanging on my shirt."

"Yes?"

"Guess who just left a message begging the people at the rehearsal studio to find her glasses and call her in the morning if they have them?"

"OH. MY. GOD."

"Ohhhhh yes indeed."

I am getting old before my time, kids and that is a fact.

SIGH.

Where This Blog Reaches A New Low

2008-10-31T08:40:00.005-04:00

I've been totally slacking when it comes to blog posting.

I find this funny since I often refresh other blogs over and over again throughout the day, often frustrated because "WHY AREN'T YOU POSTING? DON'T YOU KNOW IT IS YOUR DUTY TO ENTERTAIN ME SO I CAN ESCAPE MY CO-WORKERS' DEMANDS!? DON'T YOU?"

And then on my own blog, I write, like, a line or two and call it a week.

I wish I could say I've been MIA due to some exciting new developments.

Uhm. Let's see.

It's Halloween! Right.

I have no costume ideas but am headed down to the Village with Alayna and James later to check out the scene.

Uhhhhm.

I slept last night?

That was fun.

OH! I GOT A NEW PHONE!!!!!!

That's my interesting tidbit for the day.

Now, my co-workers and others around me have been making fun of my phone for a loonnnnggg time. I remember one specific instance where I thought I had lost it and I was frantically searching my bag when Ivan, the mailman, came by my cube.

"What are you doing?"

"IVAN. I THINK SOMEONE STOLE MY PHONE."

Ivan burst out laughing at this and exclaimed, "LAURA! WHO WOULD STEAL THAT?!"

Um. Good point. My phone was the free phone, you know? When you sign up for a contract and Sprint is all, you can buy this phone for $200 or this phone for $150 or HERE HAVE THIS THING FOR FREE. IT KIND OF SUCKS.

The internet on this phone was never enabled and despite my many attempts to rectify that, it is STILL not enabled because I kept telling myself I would upgrade it to something better. And lo! Two years went by and I still could not receive a damn PICTURE or check my e-mail or anything like that. The text message inbox also stalls out at 50 messages, forcing me to MANUALLY DELETE THEM. And the camera is the worst thing ever and I only used it to take pictures of interesting bank teller's names while waiting in line at the bank.

(I'm sad to say that when I upgraded, I lost all those pictures and it's a DAMN SHAME because I had some fantastic photos of bank name plates! FDIC Insured!)

When it comes down to it, my phone is just ghetto as all get out.

So, last week, I ventured over to the Sprint store and was all, PLEASE FIX MY LIFE.

And the salesman, Cheo, was all, "Dude. I will hook you up."

And I was all, "What kind of hook up are we talking about here 'cuz your eyelashes are BEAUTIFUL!!!!! I mean, what? My phone! Yeah! Of course!"

I will not get into why I did not venture downthe iPhone route, as in love as I am with Mac. Just...no. I couldn't. First, I am not cool enough to own something like that and second, the touch screen could be the worst possible invention ever. DO NOT GET ME STARTED. I understand I am alone in this belief so, please do not judge me. Call me quirky and let's move on.

Soooo after a little while at the store, I made a decision, purchased an upgrade, renewed my contract and behold: my poor little old Sprint phone has been replaced.

Now, I realize that my life is really not important enough to warrant a Blackberry. I tend to be anti-cell phone to begin with because I hate that people can reach me all the time and this one time? I dated a guy who probably should've dated his Blackberry instead of me because he seemed to like talking to it a lot more and would often whip it out mid-conversation with me. I think he probably tongue-kissed it when I was not around.

Point is, poor little Sprint phone did not take kindly to being replaced.

Heyyyy buddy! Whaddya say I get to stick around? Laura still has a special place in her heart for me!

Whadda say ol' buddy, ol' pal? Can't we be chums? I know I'm old! But I have sentimental value!

NOT ON YOUR LIFE! YOU BETTER RUN YOU OLD FART BEFORE I KICK YOUR ASS VIA WIRELESS INTERNET!

OOMPH! AHHHH! @%!#$!!! NOOOOO!! OWWWW!!! GULP! SIGH KAPOW!

VICTORY.

So, that is the story of how my Blackberry came to power. It's intense, yeah, but I mean, have you SEEN a Blackberry? You don't want to mess with it. Trust me. I still feel it's unbridled power AKA I have no idea how to use it.

I must run to work now since I am late. (SURPRISE.) I plan on donating my deceased phone since my office is having a Donate Your Old Useless Got-Their-Ass-Kicked-By-A-Blackberry phone drive. I will miss it, that is for sure but I'm not losing any sleep over it. Wednesday night, JK taught me how to download ringers to my Blackberry and now, every time it rings, everyone around me is subjected to Foreigner and their classic rendition of "Waiting For A Girl Like You".

THIS GADGET COULD BE THE BEST THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

Happy Halloween. Give me some candy, I will be dressing up as a super lame blogger, no costume required.

Bad Combination...

2008-10-28T21:08:00.003-04:00

Having the hiccups and applying mascara at the same time...

AGHHHHHHHHHH.

A Day in the Life

2008-10-22T22:25:00.003-04:00

Hello! In my previous post, I mentioned that I had attempted a sort of "A Day in Laura's Life" photo essay. To be honest, I found it kind of boring. I tried to take some more photos today in the hopes that I could piece together two days and show off something interesting.

Uh. Well. I'll leave that for you to decide. I couldn't get the pictures on here without them taking up the ENTIRE BLOG and then some, so I put together a set on flickr.

If you want to know what it's like to be me on a typical Tuesday or Wednesday, please click here. Since I took a few photos today as well as yesterday, you can see TWO days, that's right folks, TWO! Think of it as a CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE story. Does the heroine end up watching a play? Or baking pumpkin muffins? It's completely up to you!

In other news, a group I belong to entitled "Twentysomething Bloggers" declared that today is VIDEO DAY. Now, I had no plans to participate but unbeknownst to me, JK AKA the Wito took a video of me attempting to open a can of pumpkin puree this evening. I caught on that he was videotaping about 10 seconds into the video but not before making some fantastic faces. I am quirky. Here is the proof.

Issues With A Can Opener from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

I Will Let Go If You Will Let Go

2008-10-21T23:10:00.002-04:00

Today I took a picture of my entire day, a photo every hour or so, thinking it would morph into some really philosophical blog entry about my every day life.

Uh. It's just lots of pictures of New York City and maybe the door to the women's bathroom at work and maybe me in an elevator a few times.

So, um, not as good an idea as I previously thought? Let's move on.

I've been giving this commitment-phobe thing a lot of thought. And I am not going to lie here: it totally sucks.

I am up to the part in the book where I take a notebook and answer approximately 700 questions about my previous relationships. I am supposed to start at the beginning and work my way to the present. Allegedly, I will see a pattern. And it will be enlightening and stuff.

I got through two.

Two relationships.

And then I began to bawl and shut the book.

This is...progress?

Basically, what I'm saying is, it hurts. I know evaluation of the past is necessary to move forward. I don't want to linger there, I don't want to beat myself up over it because it's in the past but oh my God, it hurts more than I thought it would. The realization is that I have not been afraid of commitment over the past year or so but for the past six years.

I repeat. SIX. YEARS.

I have not finished the book and I do not have another therapy session until Monday so I can give you my theory right now, as it stands.

One day, a long time ago, at the tender age of 17 I fell flat on my face in love. It was all-consuming and powerful and I know, I was young but it was real to me. I firmly believed I had met the man I was going to marry, that I could find no one who connected with me like him, who challenged me intellectually, who made me laugh until my sides hurt, who showered me with affection often and with ease.

Two years later, the relationship was over. My heart didn't just break, it shattered into a pile of pieces that I could not put back together. I fell into a deep depression and the months that followed are now hazy. I do not remember walking to class or what I learned or anything at all except stretching on my back in jazz class and tears streaming down my cheeks and onto the dance floor.

My theory is that I emotionally shut off a switch. The pain was too great and I made up my mind that I would NEVER be that hurt again. I would NEVER open myself up to that amount of grief because then surely, I would be dead. So, sure. I would date again, I would have fun but NO WAY was anyone else getting close to me like THAT.

And so I established a lovely pattern of keeping men in my life at arm's length. Do not ask me to meet your parents or I will tell you that you are MOVING TOO FAST, even after a year of dating. Do not ask me to plan a vacation with you or to come to your friend's wedding or ask me what my plans are for the summer because then I will assume you want to stay with me for the long haul and I will promptly pack my bags and leave. It's been great but it really is getting so late! Phew!

This realization is so incredibly sad and painful to me as the young woman who thought that she was always giving all of herself, to everyone. I have not. My love has been conditional and full of escape clauses. The exercise in the book showed me that. When I compare the two lists of answers, the first list with my Very In Love Boyfriend and the second for the boyfriend who followed...oh, my. They are two different lists.

That is what made me cry, the overwhelming tidal wave of guilt and general YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE criticisms. To think that I have had long-term relationships with people who loved me, who wanted all of me and I...I ran away. I was running away from the beginning, the entire time and I was blind to that fact. The problem was always with them.

Now, there is something to be said for some men just not being the right ones. And I believe that, I do. But my Lord, have I dated some super awesome men and even THOSE guys? Maybe even some of those guys were not long-term dating material but I wish I had been more present in those relationships. I wish I had dared to fall in love with the wrong person, to open myself up to them, even if we were only meant to be for a short while. Instead, I dated in fear and over-analyzed every single one of them. I wish I had been able to shut that part of me off and been more open to the possibility.

I had an emotional meltdown this summer that many of you may recall. I am too tired to link to the posts and I think I have linked to them enough, quite frankly. They are a bit embarrassing. Summation: I discovered an ex of mine was getting married and I FREAKED OUT like a crazy person.

Everyone told me it was normal to feel that way. It was normal because I just wanted that for myself! And it sucked that someone else was having it! And blah blah. But I recall saying in a post or in the comments that that wasn't quite it. I truly didn't feel jealous that someone was getting married. I didn't take stock of my life or question where I was or compare myself to that.

Instead, I reacted as if I just got dumped. It was an absurd reaction and I literally cried for DAYS. The relationship ended years ago and I felt as if just the day before he had turned around and walked out. It was confusing and hard for me to explain to anyone. People didn't really know what to say to me because I couldn't accurately articulate what I was feeling.

Now, I get it.

I am learning that a commitment-phobe loves to have an out. They keep their partners at a distance. They tend to run from one relationship to another. They emotionally or physically cheat to create distance. Me personally? I like to keep all my ex-boyfriends around JUST IN CASE I suddenly change my mind and want to jump back into a relationship with them.

When I found out that my ex was getting married, I honestly felt dumped because the option was still there. Sure, we didn't talk! Sure, I had no idea what was going on with his life! But I was certain that in my head, should I want to get back with him, he would be there! And it would be great! The fantasy future I mapped out in my head made PERFECT SENSE TO ME. It included a farm! And babies!

Until it vanished. Until he politely closed the door and said, "I have moved on. Take care." And I crumpled. I sank. I couldn't breathe. I honestly felt rejected because in my head, WE WERE MEANT TO BE! HE WAS MY TICKET TO TRUE HAPPINESS. Forget that I hadn't reached out to him for months, maybe a year, HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! GAH!

So, phew.

I am learning.

I have not made an ACTION PLAN though one is sorely needed. I am just too overwhelmed right now to make up my mind about what I want. One day at a time is all I can do. There are lots of roads to take right now but mainly, I would like to overcome my fear. I have faith in myself that this is possible.

This is heavy stuff and I'm not sure it really makes sense so I apologize for the rambling and incoherence. I think these revelatory posts are going to have to make an appearance on here until I can get it all out and then years later, read about all my drama and make fun of myself.

Deal?

Awesome. Thanks for listening.

You Should Come.

2008-10-20T23:10:00.007-04:00

In case the text is unreadable on your computer, it reads:

"On Monday November 17th, Laura Pavell returns in all her quirky oddball glory when New York City is subjected to 'Lessons Learned'...

A heartfelt journey into a Catholic girl's dating history, complete with stories, songs and more than a little self-deprecation."

"Laura Pavell is hilariously talented and way more attractive in person than I originally thought." ~Everyone who came to her last cabaret

"I wish Laura would date me..." ~Starbucks barista, 47th and 9th Ave.

Where I Over-Analyze Myself Into Oblivion

2008-10-16T22:23:00.005-04:00

For the longest time, I have refused to accept responsibility for my relationship patterns. I was always the victim. Things always happened TO ME. Sure, I felt like crap hurting people. Actually, crap doesn't even begin to describe it--guilt, agony, searing pain. I knew how deeply I hurt others by leaving meaningful relationships. I felt that, of course I did. But, don't you see, I left because they were WRONG for me. I left because I was being PRESSURED into something that didn't feel right. IT WAS NOT ME AT ALL. IT WAS ALL THEM.

OMG GUESS WHAT YOU GUYZ?

It is totally me.

Now, I don't want to discount my gut completely because I think it knows what's up most of the time. I don't regret not pursuing a relationship with that guy who showed up drunk to our first date. I don't regret walking away from a longterm relationship that my heart was just not in. But I do regret jumping to the conclusion that the problems in other relationships were NOT mine and could NOT BE FIXED and hey, you go cry yourself to sleep while I get out of this commitment as FAST AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

I made some big steps in therapy this week. I realized for the first time that I am very afraid. I realized that this fear prevents me from doing certain things in my life that I say I want to do. I'm all, PLEASE SOMEONE LOVE ME AND LET'S HAVE BABIES while simultaneously running away from every potential relationship that has the power to make that wish come true. Why this is so, well, I'm not entirely sure though I do have some ideas. However, the important thing is realizing that it IS true and y'all, I feel like I have been smacked in the face with a good harsh dose of reality.

I blame Laurie for this naturally because she was the first one who suggested I might have a tendency toward commitment phobia. I immediately thought, WHAT? THAT IS SO CRAZY LAURIE. AM SO TOTALLY INTO COMMITTING. WATCH ME DO IT. It was only after some self-analysis, 10,000 more e-mails to Laurie and the longest therapy session of my life that some things were brought into the light. Things that SCARED ME, people. Things that made me think, DAMNIT! YOU HAVE WORK TO DO, WOMAN.

My therapist lent me a fantastic self-help book with the cheesiest title ever. I replaced it with a cover from a Harry Potter novel so when I ride the subway, people aren't clucking their tongues and thinking, "Ohhhhhhh. SELF-HELP FREAK!" Instead, I am cheerfully reading about Azkaban and Hermione and Quidditch.

I wanted to post excerpts from the book that particularly struck me until I realized that would involve copy and pasting EVERY LINE in the book. EVERY SINGLE ONE. But okay. Let's start with this list of things that might alert you to the fact that you have some "unresolved commitment conflicts":

* You have a history of relationships in which one partner wants more while the other wants less.

To expand on this first point, if you want less (AKA me! Always me!) this is common behavior:

- Your partners have typically complained that you are pulling back, withholding or constructing obstacles and boundaries to avoid closeness or commitment.
- You may be conscious of wanting less and may methodically limit how much you give as a means of avoiding the expectation of commitment.
- You resent realistic expectations, such as intimacy, shared time, or fidelity.
- You are very skillful at avoiding commitment and have a complex repertoire of built-in behavior patterns that help you maintain distance
- You are conscious of having disappointed and hurt your partners.

Other fun alerts include:

* Within a relationship your responses tend to be highly unrealistic and extreme--overly romantic, overly critical, overly involved, overly detached.
* You look at friends who have solid commitments and think that they have compromised in a way that you wouldn't.
* You believe that any difficulties you have with commitment will be resolved once you meet the "right" person.
* You become acutely uncomfortable when you feel someone is closing in on you and invading your space.
* You gravitate toward professions or employment conditions that allow you flexibility in terms of time and space.

Damnit, you guys. I am a textbook commitment-phobe and this is fascinating to me because I wasn't always this way. AT ALL. My therapist and I discussed possible reasons why I might now be more afraid:

1. I dated a mentally unwell person who had the opposite problems I did--boundary issues/co-dependency. Couple that with my need for space and you have the most volatile, hurtful relationship I have ever been in. Scars, anyone?

2. I'm getting older. A serious relationship at 25 means more than it did at 23 and more than it did at 19. I am afraid to try to work at a relationship because it might not work out and OH THAT HURTS. But also, I am afraid to try to work at a relationship because it MIGHT work and OHHHH WHAT THE HELL DO I DO THEN!!?!?

I'm sure there are more but those are the two immediate suggestions.

Is it a coincidence that for a very long time (YEARS), I kept in touch with EVERY SINGLE EX-BOYFRIEND I EVER HAD? I mean it. Every single one. What on earth was I doing? At the time, I told myself we were just being friendly. Now I see that I was really attempting to keep my options open, keep an escape plan handy, JUST IN CASE things didn't work out with my current beau.

I have said before on this blog that I don't talk about the person I'm dating for privacy reasons. Do you know what a load of bullshit that is? I don't talk about the people I'm dating because I don't want to be held ACCOUNTABLE. Because then you'll think we're serious! Or you'll think I've moved on for good! And oh shit, if YOU think that, IT MUST BE TRUE! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

So, I'm faced with some options right now. Naturally, the only way to work through commitment issues is to, uh, commit. WHO KNEW? This involves dating. It means getting out there and meeting people and giving it 100%. Or perhaps resuscitating an old relationship in the hopes of getting it right the second time around. Naturally, all of this terrifies me but is also kind of exciting because, hm, maybe one day I won't be such a freak.

Obviously, working on commitment issues only works if I truly want to commit. And honestly? I'm still not sure that I do. Part of me feels like I never got the chance to date casually and meet men and have fun. I always seem to gravitate towards the Marrying Type of guy. I'm not saying I want to run around town with a rich business guy but I feel like that is my right as a young New Yorker and I might want to take someone up on it before I settle down.

Then again, there is the part of me that knows that I don't particularly enjoy dating. I kind of hate Rich Business Guy and all that he stands for. (Quirky Farm Boy? SIGN ME UP!) I prefer to be a serial monogamist; I like the security and comfort of someone who knows me really well. So, I'm not exactly sure where to go with this now. I could go date and have fun until I am ready to be COMMITTTED. Or, I could seek out someone right now and learn how to commit or at least, learn how to work through my fears of opening up to someone that way.

I want to be well. I want to sift through all the bullshit that has built up over the years. I want to take it one day at a time, to understand that self-awareness is the first step, to know that I am lucky to be so young and so willing to do the work. I'm not here to know everything, I'm just here to learn. I want to be patient with myself and loving and forgiving. And really, at the end of the day, I know that no matter what, I'm going to be just fine.

Anybody wanna get married?

The Dork Factor

2008-10-13T23:03:00.000-04:00

In case some of you haven't been paying close enough attention to just how much of a dork I can be, I have more evidence. You're welcome.

You may have heard, we have a new subletter.

The first time I met him, I realized that he looked instantly familiar to me.

The second time I met him, I told him that.

"You look familiar to me," I said. Because, uh, I have a way with words.

"Everyone says that to me. I'm just That Guy," he said.

"Recognizable Guy?"

"Yeah."

"No, like, I KNOW YOU KNOW YOU," I said, not at all scaring him.

"Uh..."

"Have you done any shows I might have seen?"

He kept insisting that there was NO WAY I could've seen the shows he'd done and NO WAY I'd remember him if I did because he didn't have a large role, etc. etc. He listed one and then another and I abruptly cut him off.

"OH MY GOD!!!!" I screamed in the kitchen. "YOU ARE [INSERT NAME HERE]!!!"

"Yes??" he offered meekly.

"I SAW YOU IN LES MISERABLES, 10th ANNIVERSARY CAST, BROADWAY, 1998!!!!!!"

*sputter, strange look*

"How...do you know that?"

"BECAUSE I SAW YOU IN IT!!!!"

"I know but...like...I was in the ensemble."

"Dude, you have no idea what a music theatre geek I was. I probably had your name and bio memorized by the time I walked back to Penn Station."

"Holy."

"OMGGGGGGGG I BET I HAVE A PLAYBILL AT MY PARENTS' HOUSE WITH YOU IN IT!"

"Somehow I don't doubt that."

"I SAW YOU IN A BROADWAY SHOW!!!!! HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Not only that," he said. "You remembered me ten years later."

"Welcome to the apartment," I said.

"Good to be here."

He then went into his room and locked the door.

I do not blame him.

Major News

2008-10-12T01:11:00.003-04:00

This weekend, I joined the Hollywood elite and cut eight inches off my hair resulting in what I feel is a super fabulous bob. I'd like to give a shout out to my amazing stylist Alice Ann for making me look fierce. I doubt this haircut will ever look this good again considering I am inept at copying salon blowdrying technique. So, word. This is why I have a blog: to document important life changing moments like this. You're welcome.

Typical Saturday Night

2008-10-08T07:17:00.000-04:00

Typical Saturday Night from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

Why

2008-10-07T23:01:00.000-04:00

does John McCain keep referring to me as his friend when I am CLEARLY NOT?