Another Date Completed

Another on-line date completed.  And it's funny, because when I was about to meet him, as I was cleaning up my place just in case things went extremely well, the fears and worries running through my head were "what if he doesn't want me", or "what if he's out of my league".  It never truly occurred to me that he might not be what I was looking for.  And yet that's what's happened the last four of these kinds of dates I've been on.  And it's rarely about looks.  I can find myself physically attracted to many different types.  It's emotional.  Are they positive?  Are they seekers?  Do they still think of the world as a place of possibilities?  Are they interested in art and culture?  And by this I do not mean John Grisham novels or books about the girl who disturbed hornets.  Do they ask me questions?  Draw me in? 

He was sweet, and good looking, intellectual.  And a couple of times I looked at his lips as he was talking, and yes I could imagine myself kissing them.  But there was an air of negativity about him.  He's travelled so much in the world and the things we talked about were not positive.  I thought he would talk about the mountain vistas in Santa Fe, or the amazing shows in Vegas or his exciting experiences in Thailand.  Not so much.  And as I listened to him talk I could picture how our relationship would be.  I would be the optimist to his pessimist.  We would go on a trip, wander the beautiful beaches of Hawaii and he would bitch about the heat, or the other tourists.  And I just couldn't do it. 

So, yes we talked for a couple of hours, and yes it was pleasant.  But no.  There was no "spark of recognition".  We shook hands at the end of it and he said we should do it again, that he would call me.  Which could be fun.  It would be nice to hang out again, but only as friends.    Am I expecting too much from a first date?  Perhaps.  I guess I'm looking for magic.  And I'm willing to wait until I find it.

The First Couple of Reviews Are In...

Here they are... The first is a mixed review, focusing mostly on perceived flaws in the script (which I happen to disagree with as I love this playwright and it was the script that drew me to the project in the first place) and the second is a flat out rave.  Enjoy!

http://austinist.com/2010/09/13/review_milk_milk_lemonade_at_the_vo.php


http://www.austinonstage.com/milkmilklemonadereview

Scattered Thoughts

So the guy that I'd been writing to, the one that I'd set a date with and then not heard from, wrote back today and apologized.  I don't completely buy his excuses, but am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and meet him for coffee tomorrow.  I'll update you later.

In other on-line dating news, I got a note from a very cute (far too young for me) guy right after I finished the last post.  He seems sweet and has no problems admitting his love of showtunes and Kristin Chenoweth in his profile, which was endearing, so we'll see.

The show tonight...second shitty show in a row.  I've just felt a little off and am not sure how to get back on track.  Maybe the rest will help me.

After the show I went to a birthday party at The Highball tonight where they had a Karaoke room.  I arrived way late and everyone else was drunk, singing badly and having a blast.  I tried to jump in and sang "Total Eclipse of the Heart" with the birthday girl, and when I finished the drunken guy who'd been monopolizing the mike screamed "Let's hear it for Meatloaf!"  While I can convince myself that I was growling in the style of Meatloaf and in the key of Meatloaf, I'm forever going to think he was calling me fat and I could have kicked him in the ballsack.  Twice.

Am really missing cable right about now and am wishing my roommate would return the broken cable box already.  She's the only one who can do it since the accounts in her name and I've now missed three weeks of "Mad Men" and the season finale of "True Blood".  Hell.

Stalled

I'm shoulder deep in Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love".  Nearing the end and engrossed in the journey because she has a way of sitting you right next to her.  As she lies on the bathroom floor in New York calling out to God, you sit next to her silently commiserating.  When she sits across from a studious and attentive young Italian man and fantasizes about him kissing her, you are sitting with her fantasizing that as he kisses her, his lips will brush on over to yours.  And while she sits in the dimness of the Indian Ashram letting the waves of blue light rock through her, you sit there, too, feeling the glow, but with none of the aches and pains of having held that position for hours upon hours.  And when she lies on the beach in Bali, with an older man brushing the sand off her nose and casually pushing a hair out of her face, you are there too, watching it happen.  But when they go into the bedroom together...

Maybe this is me.  Maybe I'm just in a mildly frustrated place where love is concerned.  Because part of me is saying "Go Liz!  You get that shit!  Make it happen, let loose and be free!"  And the other part of me is frankly pissed.  And it is all to do with me, and nothing to do with her.  Lately I've not had much luck in love.  Well, say for the past few years, love has been eluding me.  And single is fine, single is nice.  Single helps you to become strong, independent, to grow spiritually, to learn how to be by yourself.  But couple hood...that's nice, too.  And if I found the right person I would dive back in.  And there's the rub.

It's said so many times by so many people that I cringe as I type it, but "how does one meet that right person?  And recognize him when he strolls in the door of your life?"  I've tried clubs, I've had the occasional backstage romance (which has dangers akin to "shitting where you eat") and tried on-line dating.  All have worked to a degree.  But the ratio of failure to success is daunting and even the successes have not lasted more than a month or two. 

On-line dating is feeling particularly frustrating of late.  I met someone who seemed sweet, thoughtful, intelligent, spiritual, had an open faced smile...we wrote each other and he was very articulate, smart, a good debater, flirty...we made a date for coffee and then, nothing.  This is the third time something similar to this has happened to me and it leaves me wondering why.  What did I do wrong, or what about me was unacceptable enough for them to reconsider?  It also makes me question the thought of ever getting my hopes up again because the comedown is so...unpleasant.

And then there's grindr.  If you're unfamiliar with it, this is an Iphone app that shows pictures of gay men in your area.  It let's you know exactly how close they are and allows you to text them for hook-ups or chatting.  Mostly hook-ups.  And not only am I one of those who does not do random hook-ups, but it's awfully hard to get interested enough in a picture to make the effort to say "hi".  Or to keep up a conversation with someone once it's been initiated with me.  Plus, after about five minutes on the site I feel like I need to take a metaphysical shower. 

What I want is to meet someone as friends.  To hang out with them, laugh with them, have casual lunches, movies, mini-golf, and then when I'm comfortable, if it's right, make that transition with someone that I have a bond with, someone who makes me feel safe and that makes me want to wrap them in my arms.  But that kind of connection takes time and an unexpectant heart.  It can happen, so I'm keeping the faith, and practicing the cultivation of happiness.  But in the meantime, at this moment, I am sitting in the living room of Felipe the Brazilian, nervously looking for a magazine as my good friend Liz closes the bedroom door and lies down with Felipe, getting tangled in all that mosquito net.  Get it Liz.

Austin Chronicle Interview for "MilkMilkLemonade"

Was in on an interview a week ago about "MilkMilkLemonade" and what it was like putting the show together.  Also in the interview are the producer Shannon Grounds, the director Jason Hays, and Xaq Webb who plays Emory.  Check it out here...

http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase/Issue/story?oid=oid%3A1079738

It's the day of the show, y'all!

Well it's here.  Opening night.  And as always seems to happen, everything has come together in the last few days, and I declare with zeal, "I'm Ready!".  It's definitely been a lot to get used to what with the addition of the set, final props being added, the full costume (which has evolved quite a bit from the jerry rigged costume in earlier photos posted) which is very lovely and completes the picture of Linda as the glammed out chicken/best friend of Emory's dreams.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/creative13/sets/72157624917078732/

Let's take a moment to discuss.  I've done drag a few times before, and this is probably the most complex of the costumes I've worn.  First I put on the tights and fishnets, then take off my shirt and put on the feather covered corset.  Next  comes a pair of yellow harem pants.  Next I step into the yards of tulle that makeup the train/bustle.  Over that goes a marabou trimmed skirt.  Add gold gloves trimmed in yellow feathers, heels and headdress.  Finally I sit down and the amazing Amelia works on me for about an hour, painting feathers on my face and neck, adding the lashes and dusting my chest, arms and back with gold glitter.  It's a real fun look, but there is a lot of it, which leaves me feeling a bit like a float in the gay pride parade.  And navigating the stairs, ladder, climbing on "hay bales"...it takes some getting used to.

But last night's performance just felt wonderful.  Were there a couple technical glitches, yes, but I felt connected to the other actors, to the character, confident in my blocking and scenic bits, good with the choreography, and was able to take my time, make some new choices and add the layers which will help Big Ole Linda breathe.

We haven't had any previews, so this is one of the first shows I've done in a while where the first night with an audience actually happens on Opening night, and I have to say I am very excited!

Opening Night in One Week

I found my blog on google search today which felt a bit like a minor miracle.  We are now finable on the internet.  Hallelujah.  Those people who write about blogs say if you want to be successful you have to be both prolific and patient.  This I will work on.  In the meantime, Yay for one step closer to success!

Rehearsal again tonight for "MilkMilkLemonade" by Joshua Conkel.  Pretty much every night now until we open on the 9th.  Equal parts worry and excitement here, which is the norm for me around this time.  This last seven days will be about adjusting to the set, the new make-up and costume pieces (which can really help in finding the character) and cementing some bits and intentions.  If I can be ready in a week, have the show in my muscle memory so much so that it's second nature, then I'll be free enough to do some good work.  Unfortunately, no matter how hard you work to get ready, there's nothing like a few nights of the pressures and adrenaline that an audience brings to get the show lodged in there.  That's why the actors always encourage people to wait until the second weekend for it to solidify.  Because it really does matter. 

We're supposed to have a feature piece in the Austin Chronicle next week and I did a grief interview for it, so hopefully they'll use a quote or two of mine.  I tried to be honest and give it a little import, but not sound too pretensious and take myself too seriously.  I mean, I'm playing a talking chicken who aspires to being a stand-up comedian, but first has to avoid the chicken processing machine.  It's outrageous, and wholly absurd.  But it does cover some important topics, like the struggle to remain true to yourself, the tension between bullies and those they oppress, gender non-conformity.  It's all done in a campy, brutal, honest and thoughtful tone.

When I read the script I just fell in love with its uniqueness and the fact that it was getting this voice out there.  Sure there are plenty of shows with gay themes out there, but so many of them seem to take themselves so seriously when they deal with "issues", and this one doesn't.  Much.  At the time I read it I wasn't too familiar with The Shrewds work (that's the company producing the show) but I knew I wanted to be a part of it.  I didn't know what part I had a shot at either, but there were a couple I related to, and I knew that the playwright encouraged gender "flexibility" when it came to casting, so I thought I might have a shot. 

When I got there the first night they did not read me for Linda.  No, they read me for the cancerous grandmother.  I think I read her well, but it just wasn't a fit.  I was either too sweet and loving or too "fabulous" and intense, like a Mommie Dearest.  Nana is a Home Depot shopping, rough talking woman and I just couldn't get my head around her.  No problem, though, as at the callback they gave me a shot at Linda the Chicken which is essentially the part of a woman in peril, and that's something I can get my teeth into.  That I can do.  After my reading the director told me he liked what I was doing and while he hadn't thought of casting Linda as a man, he thought it worked. 

photo by Kimberley Mead http://www.flickr.com/photos/creative13

Since getting cast I've been working on getting the moves down, making the part the perfect combo of real chicken and children's theatre type presentation that the show calls for.  I think I've almost got it, but it ain't always easy to know.  At first I thought I should be a lot more literal with her.  Make her as much like a chicken as possible, but at some point I made the conscious choice not worry so much about reality as much.  To trust myself and my instincts.  As a result the part is a little more like Betty White in the episode of "The Golden Girls" in which they perform Henney Penny for the grade schoolers than it is like a flesh and blood chicken,  but I think it works.  Time will tell.

Don't Fight Life

Don't fight life.  Easy to say, difficult to do.  I mean when you're riding high, money in the bank, you've just had lunch with a dear friend, window shopped on South Congress, worked out, basked in the sun, the words "Don't fight life" trip off the tongue easily and the belief that you can do this is full in your heart.  But when you've spent your last dime on something ridiculous and now don't have any cash until Tuesday and the only thing you want to do is get out of the house and toss away a buck or seventy, when you feel like you lost out on the possibility of a good friend that you have a lot in common with because you did something  like tell him you've developed feelings for him and things have seemed a little awkward ever since, when you don't feel inspired by your work nor do you feel motivated by the rehearsal process of the play you are currently working on, it's difficult.  Don't fight life.  I mean, I know I've got it good.  Relative to a lot of folks my life is amazing.  It's important to remind myself of that.

It's also important to remind myself that all this is temporary.  As in everyone's life, everything in my life is temporary, especially my feelings.  Ask me how I feel about the play tomorrow and you'll probably get a completely different response, because overall I am really enjoying it: Enjoying the challenge, enjoying the people, enjoying the script.  Same with work.  Same with money.  As far as the friend, all it would take is one good connection or two and my opinions on that would change, too. 

I know what I need to do to get out of this slump.  I've done it before and it works wonders.  Make a list.  Schedule my day into increments.  Do those things, make tiny changes in my life to prepare for tomorrow and make the best out of today.  So...that's enough rumination for now.  On to doing something about it.

Being Alive!

It's Saturday night.  Saturday has a lot of expectations on it, and I'm not really living up to those expectations. I'll admit it's making me feel a little blue.  I had opportunities for socialization and chose solitude, so it's kind of like when I purposefully don't make plans for the weekend so I'll have time to organize, clean and lay back.  Then the weekend comes and there I am "laying back", but feeling like a loser because I'm not doing anything, completely forgetting that I took my own ass out of the game.

Before I decided to head home I was singing at a benefit for Zilker Hillside Theater.  They do a free summer musical every year.  It's free, family oriented fare, and the production values are usually pretty stellar.  People ( a lot of whom won't see any other theatre throughout the year) sit out on the hill on warm summer nights, picnic, and watch a really nice show.  I've been in five of the shows over the past years, and it's a cause close to my heart.  I was also really excited by the opportunity to sing Sondheim's "Being Alive" which is one of my those songs my heart has really connected to from the first listen.  It perfectly captures that desire to have someone to love you, adore you, boost you up when you're down, to look over your shoulder when you're reading, to get in your way, to drive you crazy with their filthy habits, to make you feel like you are really participating in life.  

Of course, I worked on the song quite a bit by myself, got it ready, felt pretty secure...and then standing up on that stage with your voice faintly echoing in your ear, the people in front of you (some of them not paying ANY attention) the uncertainty of whether or not your voice is carrying causing you to push your  voice- it's like someone pulled the rug out from under you in front of an audience.    It's like you're at home singing joyfully in the shower and then someone comes in unbeknownst to you and yanks the shower curtain open to expose your tender bits to strangers and friends alike.  And it comes out of nowhere.  Two seconds before you go on you have plenty of power and then it's go time and your struggling to keep your head above water and not let anyone in the audience know you are not completely comfortable.  Uggh.  Anyway, people were perfectly complimentary, some of them very effusive.  So I'm going to trust them a little bit, and next time make sure I get to hear myself in the monitor during rehearsal so I can trust that what is there, is there.

Some of us hung out afterwards, drinking and eating, and I stayed for awhile, but then the urge to come home and write overcame me, and hear I am.  I guess after awhile I began to feel like I was alone in a crowd, and being social and participating in the conversation was a battle.  Of course it wasn't because of the company, but it is something I deal with from time to time.  I think I'm sixty percent social, forty percent loner.  But the part that's social is really vocal and when he needs social interaction he makes it happen.I guess it's all about knowing yourself, trusting it.

A very wise and funny friend of mine gave me some good advice over lunch recently.  Of course she wasn't really dispensing advice, just discussing how she faced a recent situation, but I took it to heart, because it seemed like a really good approach.  The approach is simple.  Don't fight life.  When things come your way unexpectedly and fate throws obstacles in your path, you can become fearful and rattle the bars of your cage, or you can go with them.  Choose the latter choice.  Just accept them as reality and work with your circumstances.  Don't judge them.  The judgement and nervousness usually creates a problem where there might not have been one.  Certainly, look for resolutions to the conflict, but don't over excite yourself with worry and don't burn bridges, because things will be ok if you let them be.   I'm going to work with this philosophy for awhile, see how I fare.  Because in the past I've been a worrier, filling in the gaps of my knowledge with the worst possible answers, all fueled by my negativity and fear.  And it never does me any good.

I'll report back on this experiment as evidence comes in.

Wedding Bells

I ate my feelings today.  Let's just be honest.  We all know when we're doing it, and I did it in spades.  And didn't spend a cent.  The office was loaded up with treats today flowing in from all directions.  It was also loaded with the stress of ringing phones and employees needing assistance, asking for special requests, etc. 

To explain, I am the operations/communications admin for a corporate office of about 170 employees.  I work at the front desk, greet visitors, answer the phone, handle incoming deliveries, make announcements, order supplies, process employee paperwork, handle office equipment, the security system, blah-blah-blah.  Most of the time enjoy it because I get to use my personality, cheer people up throughout the day, provide a zany but professional spirit and give good customer service.  But on the occasional day like today???  There were several times I wanted to grab my rhinestone handled letter opener (which makes me feel like Joan Crawford every time I use it) and gouge my eyes out like Oedipus.  Instead, I ate.  The ironic thing is that I've been worried about gaining weight lately, and those concerns coupled with seeing myself in a couple of unflattering photos and being unhappy with my mid-section only made it more difficult to refrain from eating.  I piled my plate high and somewhere in the back of my head I thought "who knows when this will come again?  Grab it while you may!!!!"

Of course, it's not the end of the world.  I skipped dinner tonight and will just go back to eating like normal again tomorrow, waiting until I'm hungry.  I can do it.  I can.  And the few pounds I've gained in the past week will melt off. No worries.  In fact they could just be the daily fluctuation of 3 lbs that they say occurs.  I can't pay any attention to the feeling that my thighs have grown two inches, it will only compel me to give in and say "Awww, what the fuck.  If I'm gonna have tree trunks for legs, let's live it the shit up!"  No.  Instead, remember how you lost the 30 pounds you've lost, how hard it was to get here, enjoy the results and keep up the good work. 

One of the events that helped to pack on a pound or two was a wedding I went to on Saturday at the Saint Mary's cathedral.  It's unarguably the most impressive church in town, nestled in the heart of downtown Austin.  Stepping in it immediately made me feel like a kid again, being with my Irish Catholic Grandmother, standing by her side as she lit a candle in remembrance.  There's something about the majesty and grandeur about Catholicism that makes the whole world seem just a little more sacred.  And when you step out into the world again, you take just a piece of that majesty with you.  So in spite of not being a practicing Catholic anymore, having found a church most folks would call New Age, I still love feeling like a Catholic again and will never pass up the opportunity to go to Midnight Mass.

Anyway, the service, and the bride were lovely.  She looked like a Princess out of a Disney film. 

Really.  I'm not just saying that, because she's not likely to see this.  And anyone who's first dance starts with "You're the One That I want" from Grease?  Come on.  I have to say, everything about this wedding was pretty extravagant.  The reception was held at the Driskoll, a very chi-chi hotel in Austin, it was stunningly decorated, everything was impeccable.  Her little girl dream come true.  And of course, being at a wedding, you can't help thinking about your own, even a little...even if it's not legal in most states...

                                                         

Me, I'd want something pretty informal, with a reception at a Barbecue Joint, seventy-five close friends and family, and a swing band.  I know barbecue and swing don't necessarily go together, but we'd make em fit.  Oh yeah, and the grooms cake...would have to be an armadillo cake, grey frosting on the outside and red velvet on the inside.  Tacky, maybe, but to my mind, delightful.  Of course, you've gotta get a man first...

Goldfinger?

I've never been one of those people who tans.  I think this comes from having been a very fat child starting around age twelve and feeling that my body was something to suffer through, not something to show off in even the most casual of manners.  In fact, when I started doing shows and discovered that most dressing rooms were big communal areas where men dressed and undressed in front of each other, quickly and efficiently, I was terrified.

I've never really minded being pale, though.  It's part of who I am and it's assertive in it's hold on me, meaning that I do not tan easily, being from Irish and Welsh stock.  Plus, avoiding the sun mixed with moisturization has kept me looking relatively young, which is one of the benefits.  And whenever I felt a little pasty I could always tell myself, "After all, Marilyn never tanned, would openly shun the sun,  and she was one of the most beautiful women in the world!" It was as if, by not tanning, I was one step closer to acheiving immortality.  At least that's what I old myself. 

The one thing I do regret, is that my skintone is not as even as everyone elses, my neck, face and arms are relatively tan, and that cuts off right around chest level, fading to pale.  I did a publicity photos for a show I'm working on currently, in which I play a chicken terrorized by the possibility of the processing machine, and it required showing a lot of leg.  Upon reviewing the picture, someone said "He has great legs.  Is he wearing white tights???"  Ummmm, no.

Solutions to this problem?  Well, there's always prolonged exposure to the sun, but I've always been a burner, and witnessing the searing sunburn my cousin experienced when we were around twelve, I knew I would never want to go through that.  Tanning bed?  Hells, no.  I've heard enough about them to keep me away.  Plus, I recently had a body scan and some abnormal cells were found under a mole.  They were removed and everything's fine, but I want to avoid the procedure again in the future.  I did try the lotions you by from the drugstore, but application is difficult, and they streak and leave you looking "drippy".  Mystic Tan?  Well, I'd tried it before and it seemed to work and was worth another try.  Besides, I had a free one left over from a two session pass I had purchased a few months ago.  Mystic Tan it would be!

I went in yesterday after work to the place across the street from my office.  I had exfoliated that morning which I'd been told would help keep the solution on for a little longer than a week.  The guy behind the counter should be the poster child for sunless tanning.  Lean, mid twenties, thick-black and tossled hair, almond shaped blue eyes, an over all tan, and a bewildered expression.  The expression was largely do to the line of four people that had formed in front of him as a small and "voluptuous" woman with bleach blonde hair talked assertively in his general direction and chatted with a man who seemed to be the manager.  She seemed friendly enough, but she was exactly what you do not want to be:  the seasoned, over blonde, over tanned, "coconut and lime" scented.  When she turned around I could see that sunless tanning was not the only thing she liked to do to enhance her physical appearance. 

After she made up her mind about all the "Power boosts", primers, scents and accelerators she wanted added to her potion, the line went pretty quickly and I stood before the poster child.  He was friendly enough, and I knew that if I wasn't careful I could easily lay down extra money on all the upgrades he was reccommending, so I steeled myself and kept the extras down to one lotion that was supposed to make the color look a little more natural.  I selected "Level 1", the lightest level and went into Room 11.  I had chosen to do the Versa Spa rather than the Mystic Tan, which is again supposed to make you look a little less orange.  I love Barry Manilow, but I do not want my skin to be his shade of citrus. 

I realize as I'm standing in the room by myself, naked as a shelled clam, that I don't really remember what I'm supposed to do from this point.  Lotion the fingers, nails, palms of your feet and palms of your hands.  Done.  Put on this blue cloth cap.  This part was a little more difficult.  The cap was oval shaped, a little tight, and I couldn't tell why it had a mate next to it until I turned and saw the much larger, white shower cap.  I was apparently wearing a blue booty on my head.  Whoops.  I peeled the booty off and put it on my foot, it's mate joined it momentarily.  Next I put on the lotion I'd bought, getting it everywhere except for the small of my back, which I couldn't reach no matter how I contorted myself.  Then I stood in the machine and pressed the green button.  The moment of truth.

A mechanical female voice said "Get into position 1".  Position 1???????  What was that?  I craned my head to view the chart on the wall, but couldn't find position 1 in time.  I leapt into what I hoped I remembered correctly from 4 months ago being position 1.  Then Position 2, 3, and 4, moving into positions that resembled "walk like an Egyptian", and before I knew it, I was sprayed, finished, and left feeling a little like those women in "Gold Finger" who are all painted up and dead from lack of skin ventilation.  When I stepped out and checked the mirror, I couldn't see anything yet because I'd chosen the "clear" option as opposed to the Extra Bronzer, but I could smell it all right.  So home I went. 

My roommates and I hung out and snacked and watched television, and about four hours later, I could see the results.  Mild, but definitely there.  The toning is even, not at all orange, and while no one would mistake me for George Hamilton, I'm not pasty.  Which makes the procedure a success in my mind.  Will I make it a weekly habit?  Time will tell. 

In the meantime, I have a busy weekend ahead including a wedding and a party/benefit called the Rubber Duck Party which benefits Aids Services of Austin, followed by a rehearsal for a Cabaret to benefit the Zilker Summer Musical, and a birthday party for my little cousin.   Will report back later.