I feel kind of dorky for being home on a Friday night. However, I think it's for the best. I've had kind of a shitty day and shouldn't inflict my bad mood on anyone else. It started when, this morning, I was running late (my fault entirely) and went to open one of my (approximately 5) umbrellas in a hurry on the way out the door, and the umbrella part just snapped right off the handle. So, cursing, I ran back upstairs and got one of the others. As a result of being a hint too late (about two minutes), I didn't get to see my subway crush. Which isn't really a problem, just mildly disappointing. I have to time it just right and be in the correct car in order to see him, and today it just didn't work out. (Mind you, I don't even have to go out of my way. We ride the train at the same time every morning when I'm not late, and the car I choose is the one that lets me off closest to the escalator to the downtown 6. So there.) Oh, subway guy. Our day will come, if we just wait a while. (Or if I grow a pair and actually say something to you one day, instead of just making eye contact and then looking away as if it didn't happen.) I cannot help but wonder if he wonders about me, too. Not deeply so, just like, "I see that weird girl almost every day." It's probably something along those lines. But in this city, it's perfectly acceptable not to introduce yourself to someone you see more times a week than you see your own roommate. (Which in my case is true.) I find that very odd, and I vow to one day say something clever to this guy. I mean, it's natural to be friendly to people you see constantly, right? I'll let you know if and when I talk to him. No, WHEN. It needs to happen.
So then I got to work and the very first order I took over the phone (I was working takeout today) ended up irritating me so badly I had to go into the bathroom and slam the stall door a few times to get over it. I don't even really want to get into the whole story right now, but it involved an extremely rude and frustrated guy who was getting screamed at by his boss in the background to "fucking hurry up", followed by the boss himself getting on the phone and yelling at ME. For no reason. He was the kind of guy who just steamrolls over everything you say, even if you're not arguing with him. At no point did I say we couldn't do what he was requesting ($300 worth of ribs--which equals about twelve full racks--boxed separately, delivered to Wall Street within the hour; a bit of a tall order, but we did it). But he just HAD to yell at someone, and after his subordinate, I was the easiest target. His excuse for this unspeakable rudeness was that he was getting on a plane at 1 PM and he wanted to eat before he left. I don't think I've ever been so angry with a guest. I am, as my coworker Jericka said, "blessed with patience." And you know what? Our delivery guy was back at the RESTAURANT within the hour, which means that the douchebag definitely got his order with plenty of spare time to eat and make his precious flight. The only reason I didn't cuss back at him is because I like paying my bills and eating, and in an economy like this I can't be out job-hunting. I also don't have time or energy for that. Who does, really? There are so many other useful things I could be doing.
Like rehearsing, right? My saving grace. I've been unpredictably moody over the past...oh...eleven days (if you're thinking that sounds strangely specific, you're absolutely right). I'll get back to this in a minute, but thank God I've got "Ragtime" to distract me. If I didn't, I'd be even worse--I honestly don't know what I'd have done by now. So I adore going to rehearsal, even if it is all the way in Jersey. The fact that I get to be Sarah is the most important thing in my life right now. And it makes me happier than anything else does. So after work today I made the trek out to Jersey, even though I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn't actually be used much tonight. I mean, the entire ensemble was called, and we usually are, but sometimes I have solo lines to sing and what have you. I thought about asking beforehand, just to make sure, but I didn't want to be presumptuous and snotty and assume that meant "everyone but Vanessa." Well, guess what? After eating dinner on the bus on the way over (discreetly, since that's technically not allowed on DeCamp buses) and lugging my heavy bag and umbrella to the studio, I sat there for an hour, only to be told (very apologetically) that I wasn't actually needed at all. No one really realized it until I was already there. So I went all the way back home. And it took approximately two hours to get here. And to top it all off, it was definitely raining. It has been, on and off, all day. Now, the people I'm working with in the show are really, really nice and they didn't mean for this to happen, AT ALL. It's just that we're a huge cast and sometimes these things get lost in the shuffle. It's understandable, but it still sucks. Especially when, quite frankly, I know my music like the back of my hand. I mean, I've been studying this role since 1998. I could do it in my sleep. And since I was just in "Ragtime" this past winter already, I know the ensemble stuff too. Judy (our musical director) told me she owes me a freebie. I'm inclined to agree.
Also, quickly--my roommate, who just moved in at the beginning of June and led me to believe he was going to stick around, is moving out. Already. At the end of September. And he told me via email. (Classy.) You can imagine how much I love having to go through the entire "new roommate" process again--especially after the fiasco with the closeted-tranny-alcoholic-fucking-freakshow that was my last roommate. Who still, by the way, owes me $100 and a "Sweeney Todd" DVD. The only thing I can hope for is that the third time's the charm on this one, and that maybe a girl will want to live with me instead. I'm having trouble trusting people right now, for this and other reasons.
I'm getting a little sleepy as a result of going to bed at about 11 PM last night (SO weird, but I was really tired and couldn't think of a good enough reason to stay up). I know I said I'd get back to the "being moody" thing, but I'm too tired to get into it now. Besides, this is probably not the most appropriate venue to vent all of my true sentiments about why I've been so moody. Even I know that there's a limit to how much secretive personal business you should blurt out via internet, just to get a reaction. To me, that's passive-agressive, immature, and just plain wrong--it's something teenagers, douchebags and psychos do. (And before you say, "Wait, didn't you just talk shit about your roommates in the last paragraph?": none of that is a secret. I'm happy to tell anyone who wants to know about any detail of either of those situations, in person or otherwise. And I'm happy to talk about it with either of them, too, if they'd like. So just hush.) Just know, though, if you're around me or if you talk to me on a regular basis, that I'm going through a rough time right now, emotionally, and I don't know when or if I'll get over it. I'm aware of how hopelessly melodramatic and girlish that sounds, but it affected me more than I wanted it to. Believe me, I've wished fervently, several times, that I could stop thinking about it. So anyway, if I snap at you or suddenly look like I might cry for seemingly no reason (only to appear fine ten minutes later), it most likely has nothing to do with you. I certainly don't hate anyone (except maybe those two guys I talked to on the phone today at work); I'm hoping that I just need more time and that these feelings will eventually become less raw. This too shall pass, as they say.
In the meantime...
Happy birthday, Michael. You are, and always have been, beloved and otherwordly.
xoxo
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Eye Of The Tiger
I'm hanging out in my room by the fan, all glowy after fighting (and winning) a battle against my new hat rack from Ikea. Well, I should be nice to it--it wasn't actually the hat rack that was giving me shit. It was really my walls, which are quite resistant to screws. And if you've ever attached anything from Ikea to a wall, you know that you usually have to screw the main piece to the wall first, and then screw the remaining pieces onto the first piece. Oy. Anyway, I thought I was a bad ass because I calmly and methodically put it up with no problems, put my hats on it and admired my handiwork...and approximately four seconds later, the whole thing came crashing down. It was like a sitcom. Turns out I didn't pick long enough screws. Undaunted, I backed up a few steps and tried again with longer ones, and now my eight hats are resting comfortably on their new rack. Vanessa: 1, Hat Rack: 0.
Going to Ikea with my new credit card was so fun. I didn't go crazy--I only spent $138, which I think is more than reasonable. I could have spent much, much more because I kept seeing things I wondered if I should get, but I pretty much stuck to the list and just added a few fun extras. My favorite thing I bought is the new bathroom rug, which has bright multicolored horizontal stripes. Now there's a cute lime green shower curtain to match and decorative green mini-cattails in a small vase on the toilet lid. Very colorful, and therefore very Vanessa. In the kitchen there are new random odds and ends I needed (new measuring spoons, new whisk, new rug, etc.), and in the living room, an arrangement of blue wooden spirals in a swirly vase and a new mirror. Bedroom has some stuff too--hooks for all my necklaces and that damn hat rack. And I successfully put it all together/screwed it all in with the brand new tool set I also got at Ikea. (No, I didn't have one already. ;) Bad Ass Status: Reinstated. And I was so excited to swipe my new card. Of course, for a less responsible person it could mean trouble, because when you're using it, it's like play money. Like, "my bank account isn't immediately affected by this, so it's okay!" But I like the idea of credit, as long as you don't do anything stupid and wreck it. It's only for trustworthy people--the whole point is that you're good for the real money eventually. And it makes me feel like more of an adult because I know I won't have trouble paying it off. When I was younger I didn't understand how credit cards worked and thought you had to pay on them even if you never once bought anything. I say this all the time--why is there not a mandatory class in schools about finances and living in general? Loans, credit cards, mortgages, insurance, leases, payments, interest rates, even tiny things like balancing checkbooks and whatnot. If no one explains that shit to you, how would you know? Once you get to a certain age it's just assumed that you know all about it. Well, I don't know everything even now. I wish I did. Maybe there's some class I could take and/or create called "Don't Suck At Life: General Information That You Should Know By Now".
One thing I do NOT suck at these days is getting the roles I want. I am thrilled to have the chance to play the role of Sarah in "Ragtime". This show has been near and dear to my heart, my favorite, ever since I saw it on Broadway about eleven years ago. I remember being absolutely riveted the entire time, and that's when the idea came to me that I could do that. That was what I wanted to do with my life. It gave me direction even though I didn't even fully realize it at the time. When Coalhouse was shot, I remember being shocked to my very soul. That's how enraptured I was with this story. Since then, it's been something of an obsession of mine--getting to be a part of the ensemble this past winter (and meeting Lynn Ahrens) was already a dream come true. Something I could check off my to-do list. But being Sarah? That was also something I REALLY always wanted to do. Even though I completely had a blast being in the ensemble and would do it again in a heartbeat, I really did want to be Sarah at some point in my life. And now it's happening. I don't even think it's fully sunken in yet. Sure, I'm not on Broadway, but that doesn't make it any less special to me. It's a role that every black female singer/actress wants to play. One that, if you're at all in the theater world, you know and love. Flaherty and Ahrens are so obviously geniuses. (I know not only from "Ragtime", but from "Dessa Rose". I was lucky enough to be able to thank Lynn Ahrens for "Dessa" and tell her how much it meant to me.) Plus, as I was telling someone recently, I'll get to actually SEE more of the show instead of being in so many scenes. My last "Ragtime" wasn't taped and I always wish, when I'm in a show, that I could be two people at once and watch the show too. I have a really easy track with this one. And I'm so pleased I knocked out the competition. I try to be gracious but it's obviously the best feeling to know you're better for the role than anyone else in the room. I went in there, gave it my all and even worked up some tears. In Bob's words, I "showed him my pain". ;) I'm also excited to find out who's playing Sarah's Friend, which was the other role I was up for. If someone wanted me to, I would probably do this show once a year for the rest of my life--that's how much I love it. I listen to the music and get legitimate chills every single time. Now THAT'S love.
Non-sequitur: I love the movie "Boyz N The Hood". I catch it every once in a while on BET--it's one of my older brother's favorite movies and I used to be too young to appreciate it, but now I especially love it. But after this, how did Cuba Gooding Jr. end up in such shit movies these days? And why were there so many golden yellow button-downs being worn in the early 90's?
I'm really, really tired right now. I think I have to call it quits for tonight--I picked up an extra shift tomorrow, as usual, and am working a double. I've done that a lot lately. Had to make up for losing a few of my weekend shifts and having to pay the bills my closet-transvestite ex-roommate left behind. Oh, what a year it's been.
More soon. I feel like there's other stuff I've forgotten to mention. And this may be the fatigue talking--but above all, right now, all I need anyone to know is that I am clearly a total bad-ass who is totally "worth it". I'm entirely too intelligent, fun, caring, cute, talented and generally awesome to put up with anyone who doesn't fully value me or anything that gets in my way. So there.
Love to you.
xo
Going to Ikea with my new credit card was so fun. I didn't go crazy--I only spent $138, which I think is more than reasonable. I could have spent much, much more because I kept seeing things I wondered if I should get, but I pretty much stuck to the list and just added a few fun extras. My favorite thing I bought is the new bathroom rug, which has bright multicolored horizontal stripes. Now there's a cute lime green shower curtain to match and decorative green mini-cattails in a small vase on the toilet lid. Very colorful, and therefore very Vanessa. In the kitchen there are new random odds and ends I needed (new measuring spoons, new whisk, new rug, etc.), and in the living room, an arrangement of blue wooden spirals in a swirly vase and a new mirror. Bedroom has some stuff too--hooks for all my necklaces and that damn hat rack. And I successfully put it all together/screwed it all in with the brand new tool set I also got at Ikea. (No, I didn't have one already. ;) Bad Ass Status: Reinstated. And I was so excited to swipe my new card. Of course, for a less responsible person it could mean trouble, because when you're using it, it's like play money. Like, "my bank account isn't immediately affected by this, so it's okay!" But I like the idea of credit, as long as you don't do anything stupid and wreck it. It's only for trustworthy people--the whole point is that you're good for the real money eventually. And it makes me feel like more of an adult because I know I won't have trouble paying it off. When I was younger I didn't understand how credit cards worked and thought you had to pay on them even if you never once bought anything. I say this all the time--why is there not a mandatory class in schools about finances and living in general? Loans, credit cards, mortgages, insurance, leases, payments, interest rates, even tiny things like balancing checkbooks and whatnot. If no one explains that shit to you, how would you know? Once you get to a certain age it's just assumed that you know all about it. Well, I don't know everything even now. I wish I did. Maybe there's some class I could take and/or create called "Don't Suck At Life: General Information That You Should Know By Now".
One thing I do NOT suck at these days is getting the roles I want. I am thrilled to have the chance to play the role of Sarah in "Ragtime". This show has been near and dear to my heart, my favorite, ever since I saw it on Broadway about eleven years ago. I remember being absolutely riveted the entire time, and that's when the idea came to me that I could do that. That was what I wanted to do with my life. It gave me direction even though I didn't even fully realize it at the time. When Coalhouse was shot, I remember being shocked to my very soul. That's how enraptured I was with this story. Since then, it's been something of an obsession of mine--getting to be a part of the ensemble this past winter (and meeting Lynn Ahrens) was already a dream come true. Something I could check off my to-do list. But being Sarah? That was also something I REALLY always wanted to do. Even though I completely had a blast being in the ensemble and would do it again in a heartbeat, I really did want to be Sarah at some point in my life. And now it's happening. I don't even think it's fully sunken in yet. Sure, I'm not on Broadway, but that doesn't make it any less special to me. It's a role that every black female singer/actress wants to play. One that, if you're at all in the theater world, you know and love. Flaherty and Ahrens are so obviously geniuses. (I know not only from "Ragtime", but from "Dessa Rose". I was lucky enough to be able to thank Lynn Ahrens for "Dessa" and tell her how much it meant to me.) Plus, as I was telling someone recently, I'll get to actually SEE more of the show instead of being in so many scenes. My last "Ragtime" wasn't taped and I always wish, when I'm in a show, that I could be two people at once and watch the show too. I have a really easy track with this one. And I'm so pleased I knocked out the competition. I try to be gracious but it's obviously the best feeling to know you're better for the role than anyone else in the room. I went in there, gave it my all and even worked up some tears. In Bob's words, I "showed him my pain". ;) I'm also excited to find out who's playing Sarah's Friend, which was the other role I was up for. If someone wanted me to, I would probably do this show once a year for the rest of my life--that's how much I love it. I listen to the music and get legitimate chills every single time. Now THAT'S love.
Non-sequitur: I love the movie "Boyz N The Hood". I catch it every once in a while on BET--it's one of my older brother's favorite movies and I used to be too young to appreciate it, but now I especially love it. But after this, how did Cuba Gooding Jr. end up in such shit movies these days? And why were there so many golden yellow button-downs being worn in the early 90's?
I'm really, really tired right now. I think I have to call it quits for tonight--I picked up an extra shift tomorrow, as usual, and am working a double. I've done that a lot lately. Had to make up for losing a few of my weekend shifts and having to pay the bills my closet-transvestite ex-roommate left behind. Oh, what a year it's been.
More soon. I feel like there's other stuff I've forgotten to mention. And this may be the fatigue talking--but above all, right now, all I need anyone to know is that I am clearly a total bad-ass who is totally "worth it". I'm entirely too intelligent, fun, caring, cute, talented and generally awesome to put up with anyone who doesn't fully value me or anything that gets in my way. So there.
Love to you.
xo
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Gravity
"Something always brings me back to you...it never takes too long..."
I have to share this. It was performed again on the "So You Think You Can Dance" season finale just a little while ago. And of course I loved it the first time I saw it, but watching it again brought me to tears. It's especially affecting me now.
This song, this choreography, this creation of art--amazing. I just adore it.
More soon.
xo
I have to share this. It was performed again on the "So You Think You Can Dance" season finale just a little while ago. And of course I loved it the first time I saw it, but watching it again brought me to tears. It's especially affecting me now.
This song, this choreography, this creation of art--amazing. I just adore it.
More soon.
xo
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Hopelessly Devoted To You: Addendum
I had to post this too, because I Googled "He's Just Not That Into You" with various opposing adjectives attached (patronizing, insulting, realistic, honest, condescending, etc.) to see what others think about it. And it turns out I'm not the only one who takes issue with it. Now, AGAIN, I don't hate the concept altogether. I just think it's not an end-all, be-all RULE for any and all relationships.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/feb/10/hes-just-not-that-into-you
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/feb/10/hes-just-not-that-into-you
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Hopelessly Devoted To You
Okay. I just finished watching the movie "He's Just Not That Into You" and I'm conflicted. I did enjoy certain aspects of this movie. But for a fluffy romantic comedy, it made me think. And I became extremely pessimistic about the future of relationships in general.
Disclaimer: I'd like to preface this by saying I don't have that much relationship experience, so what do I know? About anything? I'm only 27. However, what do the writers of this movie know? What do men know, what do women know? What gives any of us the authority to refer to everything in such black and white terms? Nothing, that's what. We might think we know, but no one KNOWS anything for sure. But if those writers are allowed to put out a book and a movie--adding a pop culture phrase to the lexicon and claiming it as truth, I'm allowed to express my thoughts about it. Also, this is my blog. ;) The point is, neither of us is completely right or completely wrong. What I'm saying AND what they're saying are pretty much matters of opinion. Because (and this is one of this movie's "lessons") there are always exceptions to the "rules". (But wait, there are no "rules" anymore, are there? Because it's 2009 and therefore, those rules are meant to be broken. Or, wait, are they? Uh...what?)
Oy.
I'm going to start by saying that I completely agree with the fact that a woman should not stay with, be with, or entertain excessive thoughts about a man who is not giving her what she wants. Fine. I don't think there is ANYTHING wrong with getting some tough love in order to be able to move on and find what makes you happy. Self-esteem, empowerment, blah blah blah, woot. The problem with this is that this movie, book, premise is hinting at the idea that most of what we want from men (consideration, consistency, and any kind of vulnerability whatsoever) is unreasonable and irrational, especially from someone who hasn't made a commitment to us yet. And if we follow this school of thought, it suspiciously seems as if NO guy, ever, is going to treat us the way we want to be treated--because they ALL act like this and we should have known that going into it. How dumb are we, women? Moreover, we won't get any kind of commitment until he decides that we're SO worth it that he can't live without us. It's all or nothing. And how often does THAT happen (unless you're in a star-studded cast and therefore only hang out with people who are freakishly attractive)? So why should we even bother trying? It might as well be called, "He's A Douchebag...Until He Isn't." I mean, there are so many girls out there, right? He has to try everyone and everything else until he realizes that, wait, she IS the one that I want after all! I can't stop thinking about her, so I guess she'll do--she beat me into submission just by being herself! Damn her! I was a fool and now I DO want her! Come back to me--please, baby baby please! (Until I get sick of her and see some hot, busty blonde in a grocery store and SHE turns out to be the one I want, even though I've only known her for ten minutes!)
Men and women are constantly, CONSTANTLY given conflicting advice on how to "behave" around each other. Girls, you shouldn't call him. Let him call you. If he wants to talk, he'll call you--because after all, he's the man and he should be totally in control of where this "relationship" is going (and by the way, don't you dare ask "where it's going", ever, because only crazy girls do that). What he wants out of it is the main factor of how it's all going to go, and he also doesn't have to share his thoughts about that with you. Ever. Until you ask, which you're not "supposed" to do and which also means you're forcing him. What he thinks about it is what matters the most--guys want what they want, but only for right now, and that's how they are. Deal with it until he decides that, hey, maybe he IS "into you"--so much that he wants to marry you. And then you should drop everything and forget about how unavailable he was and how he felt it was completely acceptable to treat you however he wanted. Because he was right all along--he just needed time. And now you win! What a lucky lady you are; take him back immediately!
But wait! Wait! Men like a confident woman who knows what she wants and can take charge, right? And he wants to know that you care enough to call, too, right? RIGHT? If you don't call at all, you're clearly a prissy, spoiled bitch who expects him to do all the work. (I bet you'll never pay for anything when you go out on dates, too.) So yeah, maybe you should call. It's 2009, for God's sake--but, speaking of God, God forbid you call too much or too soon, because then you're a psycho. How dare you express any kind of fondness toward someone who indicated that he liked you, you psycho? What a stalker you are for thinking about him so often! Control your thoughts, and yourself! Why can't you be more like him--instead of having feelings for one person, imagine how awesome and entirely plausible it would be to fuck every single reasonably attractive person of the opposite sex? He is SO smart for thinking that way, and you're just a flowery, overemotional, weak woman who's staying at home, writing about him in your diary on a Friday night. So change your ways--oh, but while you're imagining (and possibly following through on) having sex with all those people (by the way, you're a whore for doing that, but he isn't), you should keep him in mind, though. Because he might come back. And then you should get married.
"But for seven years, he said he didn't believe in marriage!"
Well, he does now. He changed his mind.
"But you can't change people--"
Yes, yes you can. Wait long enough and he'll come around.
"But--"
SHHHH! Shhhhh--here's a pretty diamond.
"Oooooooh! Yay!"
Disclaimer: I'd like to preface this by saying I don't have that much relationship experience, so what do I know? About anything? I'm only 27. However, what do the writers of this movie know? What do men know, what do women know? What gives any of us the authority to refer to everything in such black and white terms? Nothing, that's what. We might think we know, but no one KNOWS anything for sure. But if those writers are allowed to put out a book and a movie--adding a pop culture phrase to the lexicon and claiming it as truth, I'm allowed to express my thoughts about it. Also, this is my blog. ;) The point is, neither of us is completely right or completely wrong. What I'm saying AND what they're saying are pretty much matters of opinion. Because (and this is one of this movie's "lessons") there are always exceptions to the "rules". (But wait, there are no "rules" anymore, are there? Because it's 2009 and therefore, those rules are meant to be broken. Or, wait, are they? Uh...what?)
Oy.
I'm going to start by saying that I completely agree with the fact that a woman should not stay with, be with, or entertain excessive thoughts about a man who is not giving her what she wants. Fine. I don't think there is ANYTHING wrong with getting some tough love in order to be able to move on and find what makes you happy. Self-esteem, empowerment, blah blah blah, woot. The problem with this is that this movie, book, premise is hinting at the idea that most of what we want from men (consideration, consistency, and any kind of vulnerability whatsoever) is unreasonable and irrational, especially from someone who hasn't made a commitment to us yet. And if we follow this school of thought, it suspiciously seems as if NO guy, ever, is going to treat us the way we want to be treated--because they ALL act like this and we should have known that going into it. How dumb are we, women? Moreover, we won't get any kind of commitment until he decides that we're SO worth it that he can't live without us. It's all or nothing. And how often does THAT happen (unless you're in a star-studded cast and therefore only hang out with people who are freakishly attractive)? So why should we even bother trying? It might as well be called, "He's A Douchebag...Until He Isn't." I mean, there are so many girls out there, right? He has to try everyone and everything else until he realizes that, wait, she IS the one that I want after all! I can't stop thinking about her, so I guess she'll do--she beat me into submission just by being herself! Damn her! I was a fool and now I DO want her! Come back to me--please, baby baby please! (Until I get sick of her and see some hot, busty blonde in a grocery store and SHE turns out to be the one I want, even though I've only known her for ten minutes!)
Men and women are constantly, CONSTANTLY given conflicting advice on how to "behave" around each other. Girls, you shouldn't call him. Let him call you. If he wants to talk, he'll call you--because after all, he's the man and he should be totally in control of where this "relationship" is going (and by the way, don't you dare ask "where it's going", ever, because only crazy girls do that). What he wants out of it is the main factor of how it's all going to go, and he also doesn't have to share his thoughts about that with you. Ever. Until you ask, which you're not "supposed" to do and which also means you're forcing him. What he thinks about it is what matters the most--guys want what they want, but only for right now, and that's how they are. Deal with it until he decides that, hey, maybe he IS "into you"--so much that he wants to marry you. And then you should drop everything and forget about how unavailable he was and how he felt it was completely acceptable to treat you however he wanted. Because he was right all along--he just needed time. And now you win! What a lucky lady you are; take him back immediately!
But wait! Wait! Men like a confident woman who knows what she wants and can take charge, right? And he wants to know that you care enough to call, too, right? RIGHT? If you don't call at all, you're clearly a prissy, spoiled bitch who expects him to do all the work. (I bet you'll never pay for anything when you go out on dates, too.) So yeah, maybe you should call. It's 2009, for God's sake--but, speaking of God, God forbid you call too much or too soon, because then you're a psycho. How dare you express any kind of fondness toward someone who indicated that he liked you, you psycho? What a stalker you are for thinking about him so often! Control your thoughts, and yourself! Why can't you be more like him--instead of having feelings for one person, imagine how awesome and entirely plausible it would be to fuck every single reasonably attractive person of the opposite sex? He is SO smart for thinking that way, and you're just a flowery, overemotional, weak woman who's staying at home, writing about him in your diary on a Friday night. So change your ways--oh, but while you're imagining (and possibly following through on) having sex with all those people (by the way, you're a whore for doing that, but he isn't), you should keep him in mind, though. Because he might come back. And then you should get married.
"But for seven years, he said he didn't believe in marriage!"
Well, he does now. He changed his mind.
"But you can't change people--"
Yes, yes you can. Wait long enough and he'll come around.
"But--"
SHHHH! Shhhhh--here's a pretty diamond.
"Oooooooh! Yay!"
Contradictory, much? And while we're on the subject, I'd just like to quickly say that I'm just not that into diamonds. They're pretty, I agree. I like the idea of having a symbol of your commitment, and I'm not opposed to wearing a diamond ring. But they all look more or less the same to me. I've never gushed about anyone's ring before because quite simply, they're just "nice" to me.
The most honest part of this movie was when Gigi , the main character (played by Ginnifer Goodwin) tearfully tells Alex (Justin Long) that even though she obsesses over everything and has embarrassed herself many times, she is closer to finding love than he is. Which is absolutely true. I just don't see the problem with expressing how you feel about someone. If you want to call/email/text/visit often, DO IT! I hate the "wait a few days in between" rule. Everyone's always talking about "living life to the fullest, no day but today, tell people how you feel when you love them, you never know when something bad will happen, eat dessert first" blah blah blah. But when we tell people that we like them ("like" like) and that person's not ready, it's suddenly wrong. It's more like: you should always tell people how you feel, except in almost every single romantic situation that could possibly arise (if you're unmarried). Don't want to freak anyone out, after all. We're all so scared of losing each other that no one wants to express anything anymore. It hits close to home for me too--I'm not saying I'm right in this respect. I do it too. I've been described as "guarded"--well, it's no fucking wonder when you experience people's reactions to complete honesty. We think one thing and do the opposite--we want to be closer to someone, so we withdraw in order to appear "normal" and not frighten them. And we say we're going to call people back and hang out again in order to be polite--but in actuality, lying to them is much more impolite than just gently-but-firmly saying, "It's not going to happen." Sure, it smarts to hear that, but it smarts even more in the long run when you think you're doing and saying all the right things and the other person just disappears as a way to say they're not interested. And this is not male-exclusive. Girls do it too, maybe even more so, because we don't want to hurt feelings.
This whole blog/rant/essay could be considered hypocritical, so I just want to be clear here--I do, and think, many of the stupid things that were portrayed in this movie. When I first started watching it, I thought, "Wow! I've been there many times and so have all of my friends, male and female." I'm actually very much "into" someone right now, so it's just as much a learning process for me as it is for everyone else. And it's ongoing for all of us, I suppose. We're all constantly "walking the plank." I do think that some of the movie was true to life. And women do need to be smarter about their decisions and affections (also, men could stand to be a bit more open and honest) but that doesn't make any of it right. It doesn't solve anything. So what do we do, as a people? It's an age-old thing, playing "the game". Call her/don't call her too soon. Play hard to get/be available. Tell him how you feel/be cool and distant. Love should be easy/relationships are hard work. What are we to believe? It is all so exhausting. There shouldn't have to BE a "game" but there so obviously is. And it's heartbreaking to think that even if we find that someone and everything works out, it could still fall apart in a day, an hour, ten minutes. Even if you're married, that's not a guarantee for monogamy, forever, commitment, or happiness. In any way. So what do we do?
I guess we just find someone who can put up with all of our bullshit. Because we've all got it. I do, you do. No one is uncomplicated. We've all got stupid, unnecessary bullshit, moodiness, suspicions and past experiences that we bring to the table. Each of us is just a mosaic of our past experiences, upbringing, environment. A glass mosaic, even, that could shatter at any moment. And a relationship is like trying to fuse those two mosaics together to create something beautiful. And it does happen, right? We'd like to believe so. But the fragility is the scary part.
The bottom line is, love feels good. Platonically or otherwise, we all just want to be loved, and be AWARE that we're loved. If love is kept inside, as a secret, it's useless. So instead of giving up on each other completely, we should probably just be as honest and as real as we can be. Then it's all on the table. Oh, and let's try to keep hope alive. If we don't have each other, we have nothing.
xoxo
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?
Hey kids!
It’s been a while (for me) so I thought I’d write about today’s fun experience—my audition for the national tour of “Dreamgirls”. I had sent in a headshot and resume via email a few weeks ago, and they responded with what seemed to be a form letter that said something like, “Thank you for submitting. If we need anything further from you,we will be sure to contact you.” So I figured, fine, but what are the chances of hearing from them about this? I'd basically forgotten about it until...
At the same time I was successfully escaping jury duty, I received the aforementioned voicemail. I went into the restroom in central jury to check, because it was an unfamiliar number. And the first thing I think when I get a voicemail from an unfamiliar number is, “What if it’s a casting person?" And it was. They set me up for today at 2:50. They sent me some material to have prepared, and instructed me to wear something sexy. (In the casting agent’s words: “…like a sexy dress, show some leg, and wear a high heel.” It was nice of them to tell me that, because although I would have looked appropriate no matter what, I wouldn’t have thought to go quite so sexy with it.
There’s all this crazy prep that goes into an audition—at least, for me there is. I think it’s this way for any performer, but ESPECIALLY the ladies. First, I knew I would have the material memorized. If there’s adequate time to have something memorized, that’s what I’m going to do. Even if it’s overnight, I will have spent most of the night and well into the next morning committing that shit to memory. And this was over a week, so I thought, “Hell yes. I can do this.” You can always tell what really matters to a person by how much they’re willing to go through and how much prep they’ll gladly do, in order to do it right.
*Straight men, feel free to skip to the next paragraph. I promise you will not care about this part.* I’d like to point out that the dress I wore (which I’m still wearing as I write this) for the audition cost $15. I bought it on Sunday, and it has been my greatest victory today. I’ve gotten at least six compliments on it. Who says you can’t look great and be extremely thrifty? It’s all about your attitude, kids. That, and having a good eye for things that look more expensive than they are. My hair was in a bouffant-flip. For effect, I was also wearing faux-eyelashes. They’re fun, and very 60’s when you do cat’s-eye liquid eyeliner. In the elevator on the way up to the 6th floor, I put on my highest heels—a brutal, black vinyl pair that make my feet hurt like nobody’s business, but make my legs look great. They would more commonly be known as “FMP’s.”
So not only is there all that visual prep, there's also the prep that every good performer has to do every time he or she goes on an audition. Stretching, breathing excercises, vocal warmup--and for me, at least ten minutes inhaling from my personal steamer and warm tea with honey. We each have our own ritual. And in my case, it probably also involves stapling headshots and resumes together (sometimes at the very last minute possible) and taping my music, and arranging it JUST SO in order for the accompanist to be comfortable playing it. Some of them are brilliant and can pick up whatever music you give them right away (like today's, and another particular one I can think of off the top of my head), but not all of them. I've had a few not-so-great experiences. But I don't want to be a pain in the ass and have difficult, incomprehensible music. That's not fun for anyone involved, and you want to make a good impression on everyone. You just never know what they're going to say/think about you when you leave.
Bottom line, being a performer (not to mention balancing all this with your regular day job) is exhausting, challenging and takes a lot of dedication to very detailed processes. But if you love it enough and want it enough, you can find a way. It's like that with everything (and everyone), isn't it? I can't help but think that when I'm being lazy and not auditioning for things, I deserve everything I get (or don't get, rather). God helps those who help themselves, right? Lately, working my ass off at my "day" job and still auditioning meant that I was trying my hardest, and as a result I had two good auditions for really big, great shows. It must mean something.
So I gave myself plenty of time to get all this ready, left the apartment early, and went to Binder. The office I went to was much smaller than I'd expected, and in the hallway was a girl who clearly was also auditioning for Effie's understudy. Around the corner, in the tiny lobby, was another. Now, this is something I also noticed/thought about at the audition for "The Color Purple" but it was more pronounced in this situation: I was the lightest-skinned girl there. Black people (women especially, I've found) are sometimes guilty of prejudice against members of our own race. This obviously goes back to the days before any of us were born (paper-bag test, anyone?), but there's still a misconception sometimes that light-skinned girls think they're superior to and prettier than darker girls, that we get all the men because that's what they "prefer", etc. etc. I always feel just a momentary flash of insecurity when I'm the lightest black person in a group full of darker people--because I automatically think everyone's judging me, like, "Oh, she thinks she's cute because she's light" or, in the case of casting directors, "she's not dark enough for this role". Simply put, I worry just for a few seconds that I'm not black enough. I'm always able to get over that pretty quickly, but still, that's my first instinct. I remember, when I got the part of Dessa Rose, specifically talking about this with Gwen, who played my mama. We agreed that it was entirely plausible (perhaps even MORE plausible and way more interesting, psychologically) for Dessa to be the child of her slave mother and a slaveowner, and therefore it didn't much matter HOW dark the actress was who would be playing her.
As usual, I pushed that out of my mind, told myself I was just as capable as those girls, and started doing my thing--making sure my music was ready and that I looked good. While we were waiting, I found out that the first girl I'd seen in the hallway had A) come all the way from Virginia for this audition (and "Color Purple"--I know because I asked), B) never sung the "Dreamgirls" songs before (I had a leg-up--I'd done two of them for performance demos at AMDA) and C) not actually learned the songs. She didn't really even fully know them. WHHHAAAAAT?! She was hoping she wouldn't have to sing the stuff from the show--and if she did, she was going to go in there and hold her music in her hands. Oh. My. God. If that's not a clear message to the casting people that you don't care enough, I don't know what is. I acted like I sympathized but secretly I was like, "Yessssssss! You don't know them, and I know them so well I don't even have to think about it!" S'alright--more credibility for me, sis.
After the first girl finished, they called me in. I sang from the bridge to the end of "Vanishing" by Mariah Carey. It's from her very first album--it's just her and a piano, and it's one of my favorite songs of all time to sing (and perfectly appropriate as an audition song for this show). If you can sing it well, you can really "take 'em to church" with it. The casting director seemed to like that a lot; he was nodding his head to the rhythm. The accompanist, as I mentioned, was really great. I'd done all this copying and pasting to make it easy on him, and he handled the slight jumpy ghetto-ness of the sheet music beautifully. He played it really boldly and fluidly, without a hitch. Next, by request of the casting director, I sang "And I Am Telling You (I'm Not Going)" which, if you don't know the show, is that big showstopper that Jennifer Holliday originated and that bad singers like to ruin at American Idol auditions. It is the definition of a torch song. And you have to be able to not just sing, but "SANG" to do it. (As in, "You bettah SANG!") Luckily--even though it sounds super snotty to say so--I indeed can "sang". So I did. And I felt great doing it. Then I read some lines with a woman who was in the room, and those went well too. The casting director was one of those benign, emotionless ones who is completely pleasant, but on whom you can't really get a read. He said "Good job" a couple of times while I was in there. Then, when I'd finished all this, he asked, "So you're 5'5", wearing flats?" I said yes, he thanked me for coming, and I walked out. Happy. I know I did my best in there--I did everything passionately, and my voice was strong today. Those high notes came right out.
I couldn't resist telling the girl from VA that yes, we had to do the song. THAT song. She started panicking a little more--and with good reason. I mean, if someone tells you to prepare something, do it. Or you probably won't get the job. It's not rocket science, it's performing. Know your shit so you can focus on emoting, not your lines or your notes.
I'll know if I got a callback by Monday, I guess, because that's when they're being held. Of course, there's always a chance that they'll still call after that, if things fall through with someone (it happens), but I'd think after Monday the chances will be slim. So keep thinking good thoughts, kiddos, and I'll let you know the instant I hear anything. If.
xoxo
It’s been a while (for me) so I thought I’d write about today’s fun experience—my audition for the national tour of “Dreamgirls”. I had sent in a headshot and resume via email a few weeks ago, and they responded with what seemed to be a form letter that said something like, “Thank you for submitting. If we need anything further from you,we will be sure to contact you.” So I figured, fine, but what are the chances of hearing from them about this? I'd basically forgotten about it until...
At the same time I was successfully escaping jury duty, I received the aforementioned voicemail. I went into the restroom in central jury to check, because it was an unfamiliar number. And the first thing I think when I get a voicemail from an unfamiliar number is, “What if it’s a casting person?" And it was. They set me up for today at 2:50. They sent me some material to have prepared, and instructed me to wear something sexy. (In the casting agent’s words: “…like a sexy dress, show some leg, and wear a high heel.” It was nice of them to tell me that, because although I would have looked appropriate no matter what, I wouldn’t have thought to go quite so sexy with it.
There’s all this crazy prep that goes into an audition—at least, for me there is. I think it’s this way for any performer, but ESPECIALLY the ladies. First, I knew I would have the material memorized. If there’s adequate time to have something memorized, that’s what I’m going to do. Even if it’s overnight, I will have spent most of the night and well into the next morning committing that shit to memory. And this was over a week, so I thought, “Hell yes. I can do this.” You can always tell what really matters to a person by how much they’re willing to go through and how much prep they’ll gladly do, in order to do it right.
*Straight men, feel free to skip to the next paragraph. I promise you will not care about this part.* I’d like to point out that the dress I wore (which I’m still wearing as I write this) for the audition cost $15. I bought it on Sunday, and it has been my greatest victory today. I’ve gotten at least six compliments on it. Who says you can’t look great and be extremely thrifty? It’s all about your attitude, kids. That, and having a good eye for things that look more expensive than they are. My hair was in a bouffant-flip. For effect, I was also wearing faux-eyelashes. They’re fun, and very 60’s when you do cat’s-eye liquid eyeliner. In the elevator on the way up to the 6th floor, I put on my highest heels—a brutal, black vinyl pair that make my feet hurt like nobody’s business, but make my legs look great. They would more commonly be known as “FMP’s.”
So not only is there all that visual prep, there's also the prep that every good performer has to do every time he or she goes on an audition. Stretching, breathing excercises, vocal warmup--and for me, at least ten minutes inhaling from my personal steamer and warm tea with honey. We each have our own ritual. And in my case, it probably also involves stapling headshots and resumes together (sometimes at the very last minute possible) and taping my music, and arranging it JUST SO in order for the accompanist to be comfortable playing it. Some of them are brilliant and can pick up whatever music you give them right away (like today's, and another particular one I can think of off the top of my head), but not all of them. I've had a few not-so-great experiences. But I don't want to be a pain in the ass and have difficult, incomprehensible music. That's not fun for anyone involved, and you want to make a good impression on everyone. You just never know what they're going to say/think about you when you leave.
Bottom line, being a performer (not to mention balancing all this with your regular day job) is exhausting, challenging and takes a lot of dedication to very detailed processes. But if you love it enough and want it enough, you can find a way. It's like that with everything (and everyone), isn't it? I can't help but think that when I'm being lazy and not auditioning for things, I deserve everything I get (or don't get, rather). God helps those who help themselves, right? Lately, working my ass off at my "day" job and still auditioning meant that I was trying my hardest, and as a result I had two good auditions for really big, great shows. It must mean something.
So I gave myself plenty of time to get all this ready, left the apartment early, and went to Binder. The office I went to was much smaller than I'd expected, and in the hallway was a girl who clearly was also auditioning for Effie's understudy. Around the corner, in the tiny lobby, was another. Now, this is something I also noticed/thought about at the audition for "The Color Purple" but it was more pronounced in this situation: I was the lightest-skinned girl there. Black people (women especially, I've found) are sometimes guilty of prejudice against members of our own race. This obviously goes back to the days before any of us were born (paper-bag test, anyone?), but there's still a misconception sometimes that light-skinned girls think they're superior to and prettier than darker girls, that we get all the men because that's what they "prefer", etc. etc. I always feel just a momentary flash of insecurity when I'm the lightest black person in a group full of darker people--because I automatically think everyone's judging me, like, "Oh, she thinks she's cute because she's light" or, in the case of casting directors, "she's not dark enough for this role". Simply put, I worry just for a few seconds that I'm not black enough. I'm always able to get over that pretty quickly, but still, that's my first instinct. I remember, when I got the part of Dessa Rose, specifically talking about this with Gwen, who played my mama. We agreed that it was entirely plausible (perhaps even MORE plausible and way more interesting, psychologically) for Dessa to be the child of her slave mother and a slaveowner, and therefore it didn't much matter HOW dark the actress was who would be playing her.
As usual, I pushed that out of my mind, told myself I was just as capable as those girls, and started doing my thing--making sure my music was ready and that I looked good. While we were waiting, I found out that the first girl I'd seen in the hallway had A) come all the way from Virginia for this audition (and "Color Purple"--I know because I asked), B) never sung the "Dreamgirls" songs before (I had a leg-up--I'd done two of them for performance demos at AMDA) and C) not actually learned the songs. She didn't really even fully know them. WHHHAAAAAT?! She was hoping she wouldn't have to sing the stuff from the show--and if she did, she was going to go in there and hold her music in her hands. Oh. My. God. If that's not a clear message to the casting people that you don't care enough, I don't know what is. I acted like I sympathized but secretly I was like, "Yessssssss! You don't know them, and I know them so well I don't even have to think about it!" S'alright--more credibility for me, sis.
After the first girl finished, they called me in. I sang from the bridge to the end of "Vanishing" by Mariah Carey. It's from her very first album--it's just her and a piano, and it's one of my favorite songs of all time to sing (and perfectly appropriate as an audition song for this show). If you can sing it well, you can really "take 'em to church" with it. The casting director seemed to like that a lot; he was nodding his head to the rhythm. The accompanist, as I mentioned, was really great. I'd done all this copying and pasting to make it easy on him, and he handled the slight jumpy ghetto-ness of the sheet music beautifully. He played it really boldly and fluidly, without a hitch. Next, by request of the casting director, I sang "And I Am Telling You (I'm Not Going)" which, if you don't know the show, is that big showstopper that Jennifer Holliday originated and that bad singers like to ruin at American Idol auditions. It is the definition of a torch song. And you have to be able to not just sing, but "SANG" to do it. (As in, "You bettah SANG!") Luckily--even though it sounds super snotty to say so--I indeed can "sang". So I did. And I felt great doing it. Then I read some lines with a woman who was in the room, and those went well too. The casting director was one of those benign, emotionless ones who is completely pleasant, but on whom you can't really get a read. He said "Good job" a couple of times while I was in there. Then, when I'd finished all this, he asked, "So you're 5'5", wearing flats?" I said yes, he thanked me for coming, and I walked out. Happy. I know I did my best in there--I did everything passionately, and my voice was strong today. Those high notes came right out.
I couldn't resist telling the girl from VA that yes, we had to do the song. THAT song. She started panicking a little more--and with good reason. I mean, if someone tells you to prepare something, do it. Or you probably won't get the job. It's not rocket science, it's performing. Know your shit so you can focus on emoting, not your lines or your notes.
I'll know if I got a callback by Monday, I guess, because that's when they're being held. Of course, there's always a chance that they'll still call after that, if things fall through with someone (it happens), but I'd think after Monday the chances will be slim. So keep thinking good thoughts, kiddos, and I'll let you know the instant I hear anything. If.
xoxo
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Rebel Rebel: Jury Duty, Part Two
I got up today in a better mood, ready to get this whole thing over with. I dressed slightly more conventionally, but still in typical V style. (God forbid I show up looking like anyone else there: in this and every other situation.) I had my laptop with me, but thankfully, there wasn't much downtime today. After about 20 minutes or so, I was called to be part of the next panel for jury selection. Something else I forgot to mention yesterday, in conjunction with the whole "lack of following directions" observation: we were always instructed to say "here" in a loud, clear voice when called to go stand/sit in a group. Still, though, some people insisted on not bothering to say "here"--they'd just stand up and walk to the group, prompting the clerk to repeat their name. Really? Is it really that difficult to say "HERE" when you hear your name? Is it really that difficult to LISTEN for your name? Sometimes people would have to hear it twice to realize what was happening. God, people. Get with it.
Anyway, we had to write the room number of the courtroom on our ID cards, and were given Juror Handbooks. Led by a clerk, we went across the street to the actual courthouse (why "central jury" and the courtrooms are not in the same building, I'll never know), and went up to the 6th floor. We waited there for a few minutes, and then were told to go back down to the 5th floor. (Do you see how pointless all of this moving around tends to be?) We entered the room and were told that 16 of us were going to be chosen to be in the actual jury box. Guess whose name was called last?
There was a LOT of questioning by the judge, during which it was revealed that at least two people in the room didn't fully understand English. Now, there were many opportunities before that moment to mention that little tidbit to...anyone who could have gotten these people out of serving, but I guess if you don't understand what's going on, there's no way to tell anyone. Also, if you don't understand, it's embarassing to try to explain that so late in the game. Probably you feel like you should have said something before, and rightly so. I guess they all just thought they'd try to squeak by. But no dice--the judge dismissed two women before we had a full prospective English-speaking jury. Many more questions followed--who has served on a jury before, have any of you been a victim of a crime, do you have children, married, single, etc. In front of everyone, too. And some of this stuff was bordering on personal.
Then the lawyers made their opening statements. Now, all along, while everyone was asking (in thirteen different ways) if each of us was capable of providing a fair judgement, I kept thinking, "Maybe I should say something. Maybe I should say something." You see, the case had to do with a man who was accused of violating a restraining order by hitting a woman he used to be in a relationship with. He was right there in the room with us. And while I didn't feel particularly emotional about it, per se, I have had experience with a restraining order as a result of domestic violence. At the last minute, I decided to tell the defense lawyer about this. She asked if anyone had seen or been a part of a messy divorce that ended with the courts being involved, and I raised my hand. I just felt like it would have been dishonest if I DIDN'T say anything. So I told her that it had happened to me, but that I still believed I could be unbiased in my decision. When she asked why I felt that way, I replied that this was a different situation with different people. She said, "So you still feel that you would be able to look at this case...without..." I finished for her: "Objectively?" She smiled and said, "Good word. Yes." The bottom line is, the lawyers and the judge need to know whether or not you can, as a juror, provide an impartial judgement on the case. And if you've had a similar experience, know anyone involved in the case, or even have a law enforcement background or history of crimes being committed against you, you probably can't serve.
Ding ding ding!
After the judge and lawyers from each side had a deliberation, we were told that the people whose names were called should stay in the room. And mine wasn't. So the rest of us went back to central jury, and after about fifteen more minutes, we were told that we were dismissed! We were done! For at least six years! YESSSSSS! And I didn't even have to lie!
The moral of the story: fucked-up family history can really come in handy. Be patient, and one day you can use it. Onstage, if you're a performer, AND to get out of jury duty.
Also, while I was waiting in central jury to be told what to do, I got a voicemail from Binder Casting. I submitted my headshot and resume a few weeks ago for the Dreamgirls tour, and guess what? I get to audition to be Effie's understudy/pit singer/swing. It's next Wednesday. I have to prepare three songs from the show ("Move", "And I Am Telling You" and "I Am Changing") and some lines from the script. I'm very familiar with the latter two songs, and the first one I know fairly well. So this should be fun. I'll be listening to nothing but those three songs until Wednesday. I also have to wear a sexy dress and do full hair and makeup. That, I can do.
I willingly had too much ice cream a little while ago--B&J's DMB (abbreviations, ahoy!) Magic Brownies, which is black raspberry and sweet cream flavors with gooey, mushy brownie pieces mixed in. SO yum. Try it if you haven't. And my lovely, supportive mama sent me $50 today, just because she loves me and wants me to, you know, eat. And I talked to her, my sister, Christopher, and Markus today on the phone--all of whom I enjoy immensely. ♥
Back to work tomorrow, and you know what? I'm thankful for that. And even though everything these days isn't necessarily going exactly the way I want, someone was obviously smiling down on me today.
xoxo
Anyway, we had to write the room number of the courtroom on our ID cards, and were given Juror Handbooks. Led by a clerk, we went across the street to the actual courthouse (why "central jury" and the courtrooms are not in the same building, I'll never know), and went up to the 6th floor. We waited there for a few minutes, and then were told to go back down to the 5th floor. (Do you see how pointless all of this moving around tends to be?) We entered the room and were told that 16 of us were going to be chosen to be in the actual jury box. Guess whose name was called last?
There was a LOT of questioning by the judge, during which it was revealed that at least two people in the room didn't fully understand English. Now, there were many opportunities before that moment to mention that little tidbit to...anyone who could have gotten these people out of serving, but I guess if you don't understand what's going on, there's no way to tell anyone. Also, if you don't understand, it's embarassing to try to explain that so late in the game. Probably you feel like you should have said something before, and rightly so. I guess they all just thought they'd try to squeak by. But no dice--the judge dismissed two women before we had a full prospective English-speaking jury. Many more questions followed--who has served on a jury before, have any of you been a victim of a crime, do you have children, married, single, etc. In front of everyone, too. And some of this stuff was bordering on personal.
Then the lawyers made their opening statements. Now, all along, while everyone was asking (in thirteen different ways) if each of us was capable of providing a fair judgement, I kept thinking, "Maybe I should say something. Maybe I should say something." You see, the case had to do with a man who was accused of violating a restraining order by hitting a woman he used to be in a relationship with. He was right there in the room with us. And while I didn't feel particularly emotional about it, per se, I have had experience with a restraining order as a result of domestic violence. At the last minute, I decided to tell the defense lawyer about this. She asked if anyone had seen or been a part of a messy divorce that ended with the courts being involved, and I raised my hand. I just felt like it would have been dishonest if I DIDN'T say anything. So I told her that it had happened to me, but that I still believed I could be unbiased in my decision. When she asked why I felt that way, I replied that this was a different situation with different people. She said, "So you still feel that you would be able to look at this case...without..." I finished for her: "Objectively?" She smiled and said, "Good word. Yes." The bottom line is, the lawyers and the judge need to know whether or not you can, as a juror, provide an impartial judgement on the case. And if you've had a similar experience, know anyone involved in the case, or even have a law enforcement background or history of crimes being committed against you, you probably can't serve.
Ding ding ding!
After the judge and lawyers from each side had a deliberation, we were told that the people whose names were called should stay in the room. And mine wasn't. So the rest of us went back to central jury, and after about fifteen more minutes, we were told that we were dismissed! We were done! For at least six years! YESSSSSS! And I didn't even have to lie!
The moral of the story: fucked-up family history can really come in handy. Be patient, and one day you can use it. Onstage, if you're a performer, AND to get out of jury duty.
Also, while I was waiting in central jury to be told what to do, I got a voicemail from Binder Casting. I submitted my headshot and resume a few weeks ago for the Dreamgirls tour, and guess what? I get to audition to be Effie's understudy/pit singer/swing. It's next Wednesday. I have to prepare three songs from the show ("Move", "And I Am Telling You" and "I Am Changing") and some lines from the script. I'm very familiar with the latter two songs, and the first one I know fairly well. So this should be fun. I'll be listening to nothing but those three songs until Wednesday. I also have to wear a sexy dress and do full hair and makeup. That, I can do.
I willingly had too much ice cream a little while ago--B&J's DMB (abbreviations, ahoy!) Magic Brownies, which is black raspberry and sweet cream flavors with gooey, mushy brownie pieces mixed in. SO yum. Try it if you haven't. And my lovely, supportive mama sent me $50 today, just because she loves me and wants me to, you know, eat. And I talked to her, my sister, Christopher, and Markus today on the phone--all of whom I enjoy immensely. ♥
Back to work tomorrow, and you know what? I'm thankful for that. And even though everything these days isn't necessarily going exactly the way I want, someone was obviously smiling down on me today.
xoxo
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
