Someday

I don't remember the exact moment when I fell in love with the Cubs. The same way a person doesn't remember learning to love their parents or learning to chew solid food. I know that logically, there must have been a time in my life when I didn't know what the Cubs were, but I don't remember that time at all. I only ever remember being a Cubs fan.

I remember the little white transistor radio my mom had that only got AM stations, that she would use to listen to Cubs games. I remember Harry Caray and Steve Stone calling the games, and I remember being sad when Harry died, but relieved that he would never have to try to pronounce "Grudzielanek" or "Samardzija" backwards.

I remember going to my first Cubs game with my grandmother, my mom, and my brother, and letting the magic of Wrigley Field wash over me. That magic still exists there, every day, every time I walk into the stands. That first view of the field sets everything right with the world. Time stops. We are all made equal. We are all there to enjoy our time watching baseball, eating snacks we otherwise wouldn't allow ourselves, and cheering for our boys in pinstripes.

I remember my first Cubs crush on Shawon Dunston, soon to be followed by Kerry Wood, Mark DeRosa, and after a year of not allowing myself to like him because he had been with the Marlins who beat us the year before, Derrick Lee. I remember feeling a special bond with Keith Moreland because of the similarity of our last names, even though we've never met.

I remember getting excited in 1984, in 2003, in 2008, and in 2015, when it looked like we might finally win it all. I remember thinking that we were the best, no matter how many errors we made, how few runs we scored, or how the stats stacked up against us. I remember being devastated each time when what looked so easy for everyone else turned out to be so hard for us.

But mostly, I remember the love. I've been asked many times what the big deal is about the Cubs. They don't put on the offensive show that a lot of American League teams do, with fireworks going off for every home run. Wrigley is an old stadium, falling apart in places, that is missing the state of the art food courts and LED banners that tell us when to stand up and make noise. "It's just a baseball team." Except it's not. It is hope. It is a dream. It is a light that lets us know that no matter what happens today, there will be a tomorrow. There will be another chance. From Harry Caray to Pat Hughes, the fans are always brought into the games, welcomed as if each and every moment of each and every game could be the turning point that we've all been waiting for for 108 years. We lose, and we brush ourselves off and come back and play again. It has to take a lot of love for players like Kerry Wood and Greg Maddux to want nothing more than to come back to the Cubs to finish their careers, for men like Ernie Banks to dedicate themselves to the team and the organization long after retirement. It has to take a lot of heart to still show up to the ballpark and to still play as hard as you can every game for over a century without getting the one thing millions of people are hoping, dreaming, willing into existence - a World Series title. Because if we have the title, then maybe other people will finally listen when we say the Cubs are the best team in baseball. They always have been.

For my grandmother who lived her whole life without seeing the Cubs win it all.
For my mother who filled our house with baseball even before I knew what baseball was.
For Harry Caray who assured us that this day would come, as sure as God made little green apples, even though he's not here to see it.
For Ron Santo, who I'm sure would have had a heart attack in the booth if he had tried to call this series.
For Ernie Banks, who taught us all to be kind and gracious and to keep playing no matter what.
For Wood, Prior, DeRosa, Dawson, Lazzeri, Gossage, Sandberg, Maddux, Durham, Sutcliffe, Lee, Jenkins, Dunston, Dempster, Zambrano, Johnson, Barrett, Alou, Williams, Dean, Lindstrom, Zimmer, Wilson, Sutter, Boa, Smith, Moreland, Pappas, Brock, Ramirez, Kelly, Hornsby, Grace, Davis, Cey, and Brown who gave it their everything and never quite got there.
For Tinker.
For Evers.
For Chance.

This one is for you. This is your win. This is your year.

Thank you.

I don't remember the exact moment I fell in love with this team. I know I will never love another team in the same way. I will always be grateful that I got to see them make history, even from afar. Because if the Cubs can win the World Series, what else is possible?

Everything.

Seven Thirty

Two years ago today, I drive into Brooklyn with an address and a car full of crap to start my new adventure. One year ago today, I wrote a basic recap of how things went in the first year. In my second year in New York, 

• I got a promotion at work, went from supporting seven people to seven and a half to four to seven and will soon (hopefully) be just supporting three. 

• I did shows in rep for the first time, which wasn't as odd as one might think, since I had done different shows at the same time before. 

• I did my first Shakespearean history play, and was a guest on a YouTube show about Shakespeare.

• I went through another bout of depression that nearly kicked my ass. 

• I worked really hard, and continue to work hard, to climb out of that depression and I'm proud of the progress I've made. 

• I gave great auditions and was not cast; I gave great auditions and got cast; I got lambasted for being cast; I got praised for landing certain roles. 

• I sang at an audition. 

• I spent lots of time with friends and saw more of the city. I even saw more of New Jersey and Boston and Connecticut.

What I keep coming back to, though, is that in Chicago, I had a day job, did some theatre on nights and weekends, and hung out with my friends. In New York, I have a day job, I do some theatre on nights and weekends, and I hang out with friends. I am, essentially living the same life here that I did there, just with different people cast in the roles of boss, friend, and colleague. And my apartment in Chicago was much nicer (no offense to my current roommate - I love her to death - but my last place in Chicago had a dishwasher. We barely have kitchen counter space and don't have screens on the windows).

So what does this mean?

It means I'm a capable person. It means I'm a likable person. It means I know (at least to some extent) who I am. I have gotten more comfortable in my own skin out here. There's something about starting over with people who don't know your history and still being able to form connections, break down barriers, and build relationships, that gives a person a different kind of confidence. But I think it also means I need to up my game. If I'm living the same life in either place, why not live it closer to my family and closer to Wrigley Field? 

I need something big to happen; something big to change. I said I was going to give New York three years and I intend to do that. But without some big deciding factor keeping me here...

Things need to change. And I know I'm the only one who can make them change. 

So game on. 

Seven Twenty Nine

Two years ago today, I said what was probably the hardest goodbye of my life as I packed my cat and the last of my things into my car and drove away from my heartbroken mother, sobbing my eyes out. My thought was that if I didn't give the whole "living in New York" thing a try at least once in my life, at least for a little while, I would regret it. So to leave a job that made me miserable, and to go in search of my dreams, I left my apartment that I loved, my family who I adore, and my friends who are dear to me as if they were family, and I set out for Brooklyn. 

Two years ago today, I think I stopped crying for real somewhere in Indiana, though I let the bouts of tears come as they needed to throughout the day. 

Two years ago, I stopped at a hotel in Pennsylvania to give myself and my terrified cat a bit of a rest. When I stepped out to get myself some dinner, he crept out of his cat carrier and hid behind the headboard so when I got back to the room, it looked like he was gone. I nearly lost it, and then apologized profusely for stuffing pillows behind the headboard, robbing him of his hiding spot, his safe space in his world that had completely turned upside down, so that I would know where he was. 

Two years ago today, I asked myself a millions times what the fuck I was doing. 

Today, I woke up to my cat and snuggled with him for a few minutes before getting out of bed. He followed me through my morning routine like he always does, and I kissed his head before I left the apartment, reminding him for the umpteenth time today that I love him. 

Today, I went to work at a job where the people value me and respect my opinion. I talked to colleagues about exciting things and challenges up ahead. I was tasked with another fun research project, and I helped welcome a new employee to the office. I didn't get everything done that needs to get done, but I did a lot. I was useful. I was helpful. I was kind and made others smile. 

Today, the cast for the show I am starring in this December was posted. I shared the news and pictures on Facebook to a slew of likes and loves from friends and family, both in New York and elsewhere.

Today, one of the dearest friends I have asked if she could borrow my car for a shopping trip to Long Island. Knowing it is good for my car to be driven more than I drive her these days, I said sure. 

Today, I am on the train back to Brooklyn after work to study Shakespeare and see if anyone wants to join me for dinner tomorrow night. 

Today, I have asked myself a million times what the fuck am I doing. 

My journey two years ago was split in two - one day leaving and one day arriving. For me, the anniversary of the journey should be split in two, as well. One day remembering everything it took to get me here, and one honoring what I've built. Tomorrow, I'll have more to say about where I am and where I'm going. But today, I'm missing my home and my friends and my family and the life I had in Chicago. Today, I'm thinking about what I gave up. Tomorrow, I'll be thinking about if it has been worth it. 

Semantics

I'm not sure when it became a "thing," but I'm noticing a trend where people who, I presume, are trying to be politically correct, refer to women as "females." Probably most notably in the Kimmy Schmidt open titles, "Females are strong as hell." What I'm not seeing is a corresponding switch from "men" to "males." This bothers me.

It's semantics, I know, but words have power and carry weight and bring certain connotations with them. I know there was a movement a while ago to get away from the word "woman" as it contains "man," and I get it. But by the same token, "movement" contains "men" and we didn't change that to "movemynt," because at a certain point it all gets silly. There are only 26 letters in the English language alphabet and to try to avoid any and all combinations of "m-e-n" and "m-a-n" gets ridiculous.

What bothers me about replacing "woman" with "female" is that is takes the humanity out of the equation. "Female" is a very scientific term, used to define the member of the species capable of producing eggs and bearing children. "Woman" is the word used to describe a human female. The same as adult male chickens are roosters and adult female chickens are hens, adult male humans are men, and adult female humans are women. To call women "females," to me, takes away the specificity of what species we are, which is, in my opinion, even more degrading that the fact that the letters "m-a-n" exist in the word "woman."

Biologically, yes, I am female. Transgender women identify as female as well. But I think all of us would like to think of ourselves as more than a set of sex organs, which is what the term "female" implies to me, and which is why I prefer the word woman. It gets even stickier when we note that men are not being called "males," implying that men are humans with complex lives and thoughts and fears and language abilities - all of the lovely things that make humans humans. We are, again, widening the gap between men and women, allowing one gender to be human and the other to be defined exclusively by its gender.

Granted, this also doesn't allow for agendered individuals, as much of the English language was developed at a time when we thought of gender as more of a binary system as opposed to the spectrum we now understand it to be. But perhaps, instead of allowing men to be human, women to be sex organs, and agendered individuals to feel completely out of place, we need to develop three new words - or six new words, or twelve new words or whatever - that better describe the variations of human existence, as opposed to further alienating more than half of the population.

Just a thought. From a woman.

What I Learned from Tonight's Academy Awards

They mentioned at the start of the Academy Awards this year that they were going to do things in a different order, to reflect how movies are made. According to the Academy, this is how you make a movie:

1. Write an original script. 

2. If you can't find one, borrow some source material and try that instead. 

3. Cast a woman to be in the background.

4. Clothe her. Preferably in period clothing. 

5. Bring in a production designer and set designer so you can figure out what the movie should look like. 

6. Find a make-up artist and a hair stylist for your supporting actress (who is the only performer currently attached to the project, and therefore the most important).

7. Find someone to shoot the movie. Preferably someone who knows where the most beautiful places on the planet are. 

8. Have someone edit the film. Which somehow has been shot with one actor and no director, but one hell of a production team. 

9. Fix and enhance the sound generated by your kickass design team, beautiful locations, and supporting actress. 

10. Go back and manipulate the sounds that haven't been generated yet, but should be there so your locations and supporting actress sound even better. 

11. Hire Andy Serkis. No, wait, sorry. Get a visual effects artist so nobody notices you only have one supporting actress.

12. Go back and fill in any tech gaps that might have made your filming easier. 

13. Say "fuck it" and animate the whole thing instead. But keep it short because animation is hard and takes a long time. 

14. Realize that it is easier to make an animated film than something live action with only one supporting actress, so make an animated feature. 

15. Find a guy who might look good in the background of the movie you were originally making and cast him to fill in some of the scenes your supporting actress wasn't in. 

16. Splice together your footage about making a movie with a design team and one actor (actress, excuse me) into a short documentary. 

17. Try your hand at a full length documentary because you have a lot of footage of beautiful places and sound clips lying about, so why not?

18. Realize that you have enough footage of your locations and background actors to make a short film, so give that medium a go before dedicating yourself to a feature. 

19. Outsource your movie to another country to see if that helps. 

20. Find someone to write the music that will set the tone for your film. 

21. Hire a pop star to write a song to play over your end credits. 

22. Find a director. 

23. Cast a leading lady. 

24. Cast a leading man. 

25. Find producers because bam! You have a movie! Win all the awards!

Now, I've not made big budget Hollywood movies, but at the very least, I know that nine times out of ten, the leading man is cast before the leading lady. And films are usually edited after the director, producers, and actors have been hired. But maybe it is my insistence on doing things a certain way that has stunted my career thus far. Maybe I'll try doing it Hollywood's way and see what happens. 

Congrats to those who go home with little gold statues tonight! Maybe if I play along, I'll get to join you someday. 

Update

There has been a lot on my mind lately, and a lot going on in my world, so I thought it time for an update, even if it is rather vague.

As happens often in life, the place you think you're going changes suddenly as a result of things that are not under your control. Relationships change, responsibilities changes, desires change. Generally speaking, change is good. I truly believe that. But change in one area of one's life can affect the things that one doesn't want to change in other areas and that's when things get tricky.

I feel like I've fallen off course. In some respects, it has been a gradual shift over, say, the past year, and I'm just now trying to right myself. I came to New York to pursue my artistic dreams. Some things that looked like great opportunities turned out to be the wrong opportunities for me. Some relationships that looked like they could have been beneficial turned out to be somewhat toxic. And one fantastic opportunity in my non-artistic life has started to pull me away from what I love most.

I'm taking steps to get back on track. I've been looking at what is most important to me and where I want my life to go. In a lot of ways, I feel like I started all of this way too late - what would have happened if I had come to New York in my early twenties? Where would my career be now? And that pressure has me thinking that I don't have time to fall off my path again. So I'm weeding out the relationships that are getting in the way of my goals, be they personal or professional, and I am setting out to reclaim me. Which sounds harsh, but I don't know how else to get my mojo back.

These are the things I know to be true, and the things I need to remember and remind myself on a daily basis:

I am a talented performer.
I am ridiculously smart and have valuable things to say.
I don't know everything, and that's okay.
I am loved and valued.
I am a complete human being despite my lack of a romantic partner.
In order to stay balanced, I need theatre, I need tea, and I need intellectual stimulation.

And just for fun, one thing I wish other people knew to be true:

Not all vegans are gluten-free. Gluten-free does not automatically mean vegan.

Here's hoping 2016 is righted soon.

Goals 2016

Last year, I posted a list of my artistic goals for 2015 in the hopes that writing them down would help me achieve them. I did about half of them. I played my guitar out in public (at a gig, not an open mic), I performed in more than three shows that were not projects of my own making, and I landed a couple of roles that got me noticed by critics. I did not make my acting or voice over demo reels, and I haven't finished a play's worth of Stop Hating Shakespeare episodes yet, but you know what? That's okay. My priorities changed a bit as the year went along and that is fine. 

I liked having some defined artistic goals for the year, though, so I'm going to post a few more that I'd like to focus on in 2016.

1. Finish two plays worth of Stop Hating Shakespeare episodes. I've started one play and am having fun with it, so I'd like to finish this play's worth by February or March. Which should leave me plenty of time to tackle a second play next year, too. 

2. Perform in at least three shows that are not my own projects. I like this goal and want to recycle it from last year to remind myself to keep trying. If we're getting fancy, I'd like at least one to be contemporary and one to be Shakespeare.

3. Sing at an audition. I don't know that I'm ready to audition for musicals just yet, but it wouldn't hurt to prepare for it and then give it a shot. 

4. Learn to play the accordion. Perhaps even take some lessons in order to do so. 

5. Learn to play "To Take You Home" on the guitar. It is one of my favorite Frank Turner songs, the tabs are online, it's just a bit more complicated than I'm used to. I would like to instill in me the discipline to tackle something challenging like that and master it. 

6. Get cast in an off-Broadway show. I'm ready for this. Just have to figure out how to make it happen. 

Those are good for now. A couple of simpler ones that are totally in my control, a couple more challenging ones that will make me get out there in front of others. And if I can do all of them, a pretty artistically fulfilling year.

Happy (almost) 2016, everybody. Here's to crossing all of our goals off of our lists!

Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving!

I have a lot to be thankful for at this time in my life, so it felt only natural to come out of blogging hibernation to talk about some of it. For the past few months, I have been feeling particularly blessed, and I want to honor that for a minute. Apologies if this gets really sappy.

I am thankful for my cat. I told him this morning all of the things about him that I am thankful for - that he didn't die that first night he stayed with me when he was so sick, that he eats his food every day, that he moved to New York with me and put up with an apartment that had no windows, that he trusts me. He melts my heart every day, even when he's driving me nuts, and for his existence and companionship, I am forever grateful.

I am thankful for my family. Yes, they are 1,000 miles away, but the love and generosity and support they provide even from that far away is mind-blowing. I am including in this group family through marriage/committed relationship as well. My family is truly a quality group of people and I am so lucky to be part of that.

I am thankful for my Chicago friends, who still love me even though I moved 1,000 miles away and still include me in the little inside jokes and funny email chains. They are some of the best people I have ever known, and I treasure them, even though I don't get to see them as often as I would like.

I am thankful that my best friend has found his person and that they are going to spend the rest of their lives together.

I am thankful for my roommate and my New York friends who live upstairs. They have become so dear to me in the short time that I have known them because of their honesty and generosity and love. Had I not met them, New York would not feel like the home it is. And I'm grateful that I get to spend Thanksgiving with them, celebrating both vegan and non-vegan food.

I am thankful for my job. So beyond thankful, I don't have the words to tell you. I have found a place in New York where I can be helpful and giving, where the people around me are also helpful and ridiculously generous, and where together, we get to do things that change the conversation. Maybe not in huge, earth-shattering ways, but in smaller ways that are absolutely intended to improve quality of life. I have never had a day job make me feel so welcome, so cared for, so appreciated in my life. I had no idea such a place existed and I am thankful every day that I found it, and that they all embraced me with open arms.

I am thankful that I have found other theatre artists in New York who let me practice my craft with them. I am thankful for the conversations about Shakespeare, the bonding over geeky things, and the freedom to play and be completely vulnerable. I am thankful for all of the audience members who have come to the shows I've done, and humbled by those who, without knowing who I am, make a point of letting me know after a performance that they appreciated my work.

I am thankful for my apartment that is warm enough, my legs that always get me where I need to be, and all of the little things around me that help me remember to enjoy exactly where I am. The last minutes and lost evenings. The art and music and life that surrounds me. The tiny, fleeting moments of connection and truth.

I am thankful for my life.

I am thankful for you.

Wherever you are, whatever you are doing today, please have a safe and happy Thanksgiving.

September 1 - One Year

One year ago yesterday, I said the most difficult goodbye I have ever said as I drove away from my mom and my home. I cried all the way to Indiana.

One year ago today, I drove into Brooklyn with my cat, and was greeted by a policeman who asked me why the hell I would ever move to Brooklyn. 

It has been quite a year, and honestly, I am much more emotional about it today than I thought I would be and it's not even 8:00am. I've done a lot, been through a lot, learned a lot. This is not an all-inclusive list, but in the past year:

• I went from living on own to living with other people and managed to not completely implode despite some of the people being truly awful.

• I found a job where they pay me to be nice and make other people smile, though I had to spend a very long piece of time working with a truly awful woman first before I found the good job. 

• I appeared in five full-length theatrical productions, playing a total of fourteen characters; one monologue festival; and two short play festivals. 

• I became a member of a theatre company.

• I sang in not only three of my five shows, but in Central Park and on my front stoop for total strangers. 

• I got a mention in a New York theatre review. A good mention. 

• I lost my backpack when some asshat stole it out of my moving van. 

• I saw shows on Broadway and off. And off-off. 

• I found a decent apartment with light and windows where my cat and I can be comfortable and I can cook in the kitchen. 

• I befriended some wonderful people, including my upstairs neighbors who are two of the most lovely, caring, giving, thoughtful people.

• I walked probably a thousand miles all over Manhattan. 

• I went out places by myself and found people to talk to. 

• I recorded a song in a studio. 

• I learned that I am much stronger, more capable, smarter, and more resilient than I thought I was. 

• I missed my Chicago friends and family and life more than I can say. 

I wonder a bit of the life I'm building here is just like the life I had in Chicago, just elsewhere, and I'm wondering if I'm okay with that. Should I have taken the steady day job that keeps me funded instead of staying a temp so I would have more time to audition? Should I have gone to more EPAs? Should I be working harder to build a foundation to become a full time artist? 

I think the reality of it is a financial question. I have to live somewhere and I have to eat so I have to do something that pays me regularly. And as far as steady jobs go, the one I have is not bad. The people are lovely and the work itself is fine. But I think in the next year, I need to make sure I don't lose sight of my theatrical goals as I grow within this non-theatrical company. 

To that end, I am thrilled to announce that I will be appearing in King Richard 2 and Romeo & Juliet this October/November with Hamlet Isn't Dead. And I still have my own projects churning in the back of my head. 

I said when I moved out here that I would give it three years before I seriously consider the question of whether I want to spend the rest of my life in New York or if I want to go back to Chicago, or elsewhere. I'm one-third of the way through my experiment and having a lot of fun, finding a lot of value in the adventure. 

But for today, I am going to feel all of the feels as I remember driving away from my mom last year on one of the hardest days of my life. Happy anniversary to me. 

Casual Intimacy

A couple of weeks ago, I was lucky enough to see one of my favorite musicians play a free show in a little bar in Brooklyn. It was exactly what I needed just then to reinforce my faith in my badassery. I saw on Twitter that he was going to be out and about, so I emailed him to find out where. He responded within an hour and I made a plan to get to the show come hell or high water. It was a great show. He played so many of the songs I needed to hear, and it was just him with a guitar, which was lovely. Not that I don't like his band - I do, very much - but the intimacy of a solo acoustic show in a little divey hipster bar in Williamsburg...it was perfect. After the show, he was outside smoking a cigarette and talking to fans and I managed to grab him for my daily selfie. He put his arm around me, leaned into the picture, and when we went to let go, he very casually kissed the top of my head before walking away to talk to someone else. To be clear, I'm not insinuating that this meant anything. If you asked him, he wouldn't even know he had done it, in part because he was very drunk, and in part because it was as natural a motion to him as blinking. You've got your arm around a friend who is shorter than you, and when you let go, you first give a little squeeze and kiss them on the top of the head. It's an easy target and a common motion. For me, it was kind of a surreal moment. To meet this man and be treated like, I don't know what, an equal? A person? It was lovely. I know it meant nothing to him, but from my end, it was lovely. And lately, when I have been feeling stressed and sad, I just remember that one time when Frank Turner kissed the top of my head and it makes me smile. 

See, the last man who I tried to date also had this habit of kissing the top of my head, or my forehead, or my cheek, when we were out and about. With him, it was a different kind of intimacy, an acknowledgment that right then, in that moment, I was his and he was happy to have me there. Yes, it had a smattering of Jeff Winger patting Annie on the head, but it was sweet. It was different from other men I've tried dating. It was, to me, an almost more intimate gesture than a "larger" display of affection would have been. And if we're being completely honest here, it might be what I miss most now that I don't see him anymore. We did not part on bad terms - it just fizzled because of insane schedules - so when I remember the nice things, they do make me ache a little bit. And what I miss most is the little stuff. The beautiful, tiny, casual intimacy that a kiss on the top of the head can be. 

I will find the little intimacies again; it just takes time to find the right people in a new city. But if Frank Turner can kiss me on the top of the head, there has to be someone else in this city of eight million people who will, too. Right?

Diversity

Diversity!

It's a catch word now that stands for empowerment and growth and strength and tolerance and acceptance and all of that stuff. We need diversity in the workplace! We need diversity on television! We need diversity in film!

Yes, yes we do. And we need diversity in our everyday lives, too.

Now, please don't take this the wrong way because I am a feminist and I am all about equal rights for everyone. But I do sometimes wonder if our cries for diversity actually end up segregating us more than they bring us together. For example, if I'm going to be a crusader for women's rights, I'm probably going to surround myself with other women so we can encourage and empower each other, right? And if I then decide that it is really women of color who need my support, I'm going to find a group of women of color that I can belong to and help out. And then if it turns out that I find that the rights of lesbian women of color, or transgender women of color is really what I'm passionate about, I'll seek out those groups that I can help and support. So now I'm surrounded by lesbian and/or transgender women of color who are different to me (because I'm not lesbian, transgender, or of color), which would seem to be a good thing because diversity, yay! But what about all of the non-lesbian, non-transgender, non-females in the world who also might have something to offer? Or who I might also be able to help? Or who might just be really kick-ass friends to go have a beer with sometime?

I bring this up because of a reading of a play that I went to last week on my one night off. A man who I met at a monologue festival had an actress drop out on him last minute, so he asked if I could fill in at this reading he was doing in his back yard. I agreed and went over to read a play. When I walked in, I suddenly felt very odd and it took me a minute to figure out why. It wasn't that I was in a new apartment for the first time, or that I'd not been to this guy's house before. It was that I was the only woman in the room. This is not a new experience for me - I have spent a lot of my life being outnumbered by men - but it was strange in that it has been a long time since that happened. The office I work in is mostly women. The play I'm in right now is mostly women. The theatre company I am a member of is all women. And while all of this is great because it means opportunities for women, it made the reading last week odd because I had almost forgotten what male energy felt like.

The thing is, I like men. I know a lot of men, a lot of quality men. My best friend in Chicago, my brother, my uncles, my friend's husbands...I know a lot of really great men with positive energy who are supportive and funny and generous. And I realized that by spending so much time with groups of almost exclusively women, I'm missing out on all of this great potential energy. I'm missing out on the different viewpoints offered by the male perspective. I'm missing out on diversity in my own life. I'm missing out on it to the point where it almost made me want to start dating just to introduce some more men into my life who I could see on a regular basis. Almost. I'm not that desperate. Yet.

So I guess the takeaway from this is that yes, we should be promoting diversity to make sure that everyone gets a fair shot in the grand scheme of things. But I also think that we shouldn't dive so far into our little diversity buckets that we forget how many other buckets there are. There is a lot of value to be found in exploring new buckets.

I Don't Know

One might think that as intelligent as I am that I know a lot of things about a lot of things. To some degree, one would be right. What never fails to amaze me, though, is how much I still don't know.

There are some things I don't mind not knowing. Like when I go into a rehearsal with some ideas, and the director presents other ideas that turn out to work better. I love not knowing those better ideas first, because it means I get to collaborate and learn and grow and expand my horizons.

But I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not talk to you anymore. I don't know how to make myself not want to send you a message asking how you're doing and how your projects are coming along. I don't know how to make myself want to share my exciting news with someone other than you, or, once I have shared the news with everyone but you, to make it feel like I've told everyone I need to tell.

I also didn't know how to be in a friendship/relationship/whatever it was with someone who didn't have the time. I know how to not have time - I'm very good at not having time, which makes me very empathetic towards others who don't have time. But I don't know how to be friends with someone who doesn't have time for me or our friendship. And my need to get out of that situation is what has left me in this current one where I don't know how to deal with the fallout.

I think things were different when I lived in Chicago, too. When I was in Chicago and I had to stop having someone in my life, I was still surrounded by friends who loved me, who would commiserate and get a beer with me, who would reinforce the fact that there are those out there who deem me worthy of spending time with and on. They, whether they knew it or not, would keep me from losing sight of the fact that I know I am worth the time and energy. And while I am still friends with those people, and I am still in touch with them, it's different now that I'm a thousand miles away. Getting a beer and a hug has been replaced with a few text messages. It's lovely and appreciated, but it's not the same. So I find myself a bit lost and confused, and pissed off that I'm lost and confused because I really didn't even know you all that long, and stuck a thousand miles away from my touchstones who usually help me get a grip when I need to talk through all of this crap.

So I'm admitting here that I don't know how to do this. I'm admitting here that I probably screwed it all up because I don't know how to do this right, and that I'm probably still screwing things up by bothering to still be bothered. I'll get past it eventually. I know I will. I always do. Because I am smart and capable and funny and creative and passionate and strong as hell. And, despite the loss and confusion now, I can look back on the whole thing and say I learned some very important lessons about myself. Like maybe I could actually do this, and that there could be someone out there for whom I would want to make the time.

But in the meantime, how are you?

The Little Things

I know it's not considered cool to show emotion these days. When you start dating someone or when you're applying for a job, or hell, when you're walking down the street by yourself, you're supposed to keep your cool. Not show your hand. Maintain a poker face.

I say, screw that.

One of my favorite things about myself (that I'm pretty sure is a result of my acting training) is that I feel things and that I allow myself to feel things. Feeling things is fun. It's great to be happy, it's useful to be sad, it can be cathartic to get really angry for a short while. And I love that I'm the sort of person who lets herself be affected by things. Even the little things. Especially the little things.

There have been some seemingly minor things in my life lately that have been bringing me immense joy and I want to take a moment to acknowledge them. Mostly, they have to do with the people around me choosing to invest their time and energy in me and then letting me know that not only do they not regret the investment, but feel that they have received a significant return on investment by doing so. I know, I know, it sounds so clinical when I say it that way, but I think we're all used to the level of anonymity I like to maintain in these posts. What I mean is that I feel appreciated in my personal and professional lives at the moment, and that the simple kindness of these people letting me know I am appreciated in actions and in words moves me to tears sometimes. Usually when it would be really inappropriate to start crying. But I love that the impulse is there.

So my advice to you would be this. Find one small thing in your life that makes you happy. Put your music-listening device on shuffle and let your smile take over your face when your favorite song comes on when you weren't expecting it. Let yourself take thirty seconds in the middle of your work day to think about how you can make best friend or lover smile that day. Treat yourself to your favorite sandwich. Forget about everything else you have to do and just enjoy playing catch or tug of war with your dog for a few minutes. Find one small thing that makes you happy. And revel in that joy. Treat that small thing as if it were the most important thing in all the world. Because it is. For you, in that moment, all you have to do is feel joy.

Once you master that, you'll be amazed at how easy it is to find joy when you need it. And how easy it is to give to others, too.

December 31 - Resolutions

This time last year, I was in Cardiff, Wales, being an uber geek with my best friend. Today, I am drinking tea and watching Doctor Who at my mom's house, and I'll see my best friend later in the day. Some things don't change and I sometimes thank goodness that they don't. 

I'm not much of one for resolutions. I've already laid out my career goals for 2015, and I'm looking forward to getting started on them. But in addition to my career goals, I think I want to make sure to put in the effort required to maintain my existing relationships and to build new ones. I want to put in the effort required to stay physically and mentally healthy, because without my health, I won't be able to achieve my other goals. And I want to be able to keep doing the things I'm doing. I want to keep being authentic. Most of all, I want to keep creating and being a positive influence on the world around me. Not just in the coming year, but just sort of in general. So nothing big. 

I hope that wherever you are, you have a safe and happy new year, and that at least some of your dreams come true in the coming year. And when they do, enjoy them. And then keep on dreaming. 

Happy New Year! And thank you for coming with me on this two-year-long blogging every day adventure. I'll be back sometime. Just not tomorrow. 

December 30 - Review

I feel like I should do a sort of Year In Review post, though it also feels a little silly to do so since I've posted every day this year so really, it's all here already. But here we go anyway. 

I was in about seven plays and one film. 

I completed season 1 of Just a Fling. 

I read probably ten-fifteen books. 

I moved 800 miles away from home. 

I got a new job. 

I made twenty or thirty new friends. 

I learned that I am stronger than even I thought I was. 

I learned that I am more capable than I thought I was. 

I learned that the people who are most important to you stay in your life, regardless of geography. 

I purged a lot of my stuff and learned that I really don't miss it. 

I learned how to play the ukulele. 

I got a second tattoo. 

I saw one of my favorite musicians play two shows in one day. 

I spent time in three countries on two continents. 

I learned how to live with other people. Kind of. 

I learned how to be more giving. 

I learned to not place so much importance on stuff and ownership. 

I identified some societal "norms" to which I no longer want to subscribe. 

I walked I don't even know how many miles and lost about eight pounds. 

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good year. Big changes. Lots of growth. Yes, I was stressed out and cried a lot for a couple of months leading up to my move, but the net result has been very positive so far, and tears can be good for you every now and again. 

So I won't be documenting 2015 quite as thoroughly, but I'm excited to see what it has in store. I'm excited to get working on my goals, and I'm excited to see what unexpected challenges and opportunities might come my way. 

Now if only it was a smidge warmer outside so I wasn't so afraid to leave the comfort of a nice, warm bed. 

December 29 - Transitive Property

So, if Person A is in my karass, and Person B is in my karass, does that mean that Person A is also in Person B's karass? 

December 28 - 2015

I feel a little bit bad that my posts the past few days have been crappy. There is a lot going on in my head; I've just not really been motivated to write about it. I'm thinking about what's next for me and what I've accomplished and the things I haven't done and goals and challenges that I could lay out for myself. And I'm thinking about all of this while I'm in my hometown, 800 miles away from the life I'm trying to build. I'm anxious to get back to building my life, but I am so treasuring my time in Chicago with my family and friends and points familiar. Chicago feels small and slow and spread out, but warm and welcoming and home-y. New York feels big and fast and strange, but exciting and full of potential. And all of this swirling around in my brain when I'm far away from being able to do much about it just has me feeling weird. 

One thing that I was thinking about today, though, was this blog. I've proven that I can blog every day. Challenge met, achievement unlocked. And I now find myself in a place where I wonder if these daily posts are sapping creative energy from other outlets. Would I be writing more songs or plays or whatever if I wasn't focusing my writing energy on blogging every day? Because I have ideas for things I want to write, but having this daily brain dump, I just haven't taken the time to write the other stuff. Maybe I need to put a cork in this creative outlet so that the other ones can open up. 

I'm not going to abandon this blog completely. I've had it too long to give it up. But I think I am going to take the pressure off of myself to write on a specific schedule. If I have something to say, I'll post. If I don't, I won't. My blog every day experiment is going to end on December 31. So let's see what other things I can create in 2015 when I'm not worried about blogging every day. 

December 27 - New York

As I spent the day with my nieces (seeing them for the third time in four days which was heavenly), and I am now waiting for my friends to come meet me at out designated meeting spot, New York feels a million miles away in my distant past. It is going to be weird to go back there in a week and start again to look for projects and things with which to fill my time. 

December 26 - Haiku

Day after Christmas

New friends, good food, Doctor Who

Happy Boxing Day

December 25 - Christmas

I hope that whatever your belief system, you had a lovely day today, full of laughter and family and things that bring you joy. 

Of course, I hope that for most days, so on top of that, for today, I'm going to say Merry Christmas. Mine was lovely; how was yours?