Yes...I guess I haven't been giving my personal mode of communication much attention lately, my "show" if you will.
My friend Howie said that whenever life is going well for me, I blog less. I suppose some of that's true. But really I kind of feel like I'm done with this blog as I've originally intended it. It has been a great run, much like my relationship, which I have blogged about 167 other times. And it has been 7 months almost since I broke up.
Like my mentor in my mind, Oprah...I'm ready to launch a network. And it's with great humility that I have to let my loyal 14 followers that I am ending my "show" after the next few posts...don't worry, I'll give you plenty of warning. I'm thinking of trying out a few different formats on this blog so I can figure out what the next blog adventure will be. I might even be doing a bunch of different blogs in different areas. A network if you will. One of my OWN. :)
Here's what I'm thinking of...just off the top of my head:
Well, my friend Steve and I talked about creating a blog months ago where we would discuss fashion from two distinct points of view. As someone who LOVES fashion and knows a lot about it and for someone who LIVES it because it's what he does for a living. It would be called LIVE AND LOVE (yes, clever). We were talking about doing this back in the day when I had just broken up with the ex.
I'm working out like a maniac and trying a bunch of different things. So I'm thinking of some sort of fitness and health blog...but from the POV of someone who gets bored all of the time and constantly wants to try out new things.
Dirty sex stories...not sure if they'd be real or made up. Maybe both. Maybe a blog that has sex stories and you have to decide if they're real or not. That could be fun.
Some sort of funny video blog...not sure what THAT would be like either.
Just some thoughts. But in the mean time, I'm going to keep blogging through the month of June...leading up to the grand finale!!!!
Whatever that is.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
I'm a Dancer...the house down.
The house down is my favorite new catchphrase...I learned it on RuPaul's Drag Race. It's like adding extra exclaimation points to the end of a sentence.
I'm thrilled to be writing my blog on a hot ass day...the house down.
Yes, I am a dancer. I have always been a dancer and I will always be a dancer. There is a gypsy in my soul.
So, if I haven't mentioned it on here yet, I am dancing with members of my hip hop dance class at a charity event for City of Hope next weekend. I started taking hip hop dance classes seriously soon after my break up.
Background: I had studied dance in college, after a lifetime (up to that point) of wanting to dance. I had taken my first dance class at the age of six...maybe even before that. I think I had taken ballet at Montessori when I was four. And I really wanted to be a dancer. We had weekly classes in my Catholic grade school until I was twelve. Then I did musical theatre and all that jazz so I could keep dancing. But my parents would never pay for classes for me because they didn't believe that a boy should dance. So when I got to college, I really took dancing on with a vengeance. Then I gave it up after college because I wasn't going to go professional in my mind. So there's another example of me giving up something I loved because I felt like I already had something I loved but might not get paid for...writing. I couldn't possibly be an artist in all areas of life! That would have been too much happiness. And fast forward to now...I'm reclaiming my life because I had given it away at several important moments. Hence...the blog.
Okay, so I've been taking class and one day a couple of months ago, our instructor asked us if we would participate in this City of Hope charity event. And of course I said yes. And now I'm dancing. It's awesome and I love it. I'm claiming my love of dance all over again. And I'm pretty good. Well, at least I love it.
The interesting thing is that the ex told me several times in the course of our relationship that I wasn't a dancer. He felt he had to tell me point blank that I wasn't a dancer. Like if we were out clubbing. Or if I talked about how I was a dancer in college. He would say to me, "You danced in college. You were never a dancer."
Why didn't I get it then?
And for me, that was stomping out my soul, like a cigarette. I always believed I was a frustrated dancer in the body of a writer. And now I'm in the body of a dancer...the house down.
I just realized something...that small gesture of having to take hip hop classes every week is a direct reaction to that statement. To the fact that several people in my life over the course of my life have said to me in one way shape or form:
YOU ARE NOT A DANCER
I am a dancer. I'm a dancer and a faggot and a beaner and a chink chink and a lefty and a lisper and a duck walker and a sissy and a lady and an ethnic and a loca. I am all of those things. I claim all of those things. I love all of those things. I'm a nerd and a weirdo. I'm a showgirl and a Liza lover. I'm a dancer. Maybe not the greatest dancer...but I went wow anyway.
And shortly, I will be a dancer for money. But a very, very, very public one. There's nothing private about this dancer no mo'.
I'm thrilled to be writing my blog on a hot ass day...the house down.
Yes, I am a dancer. I have always been a dancer and I will always be a dancer. There is a gypsy in my soul.
So, if I haven't mentioned it on here yet, I am dancing with members of my hip hop dance class at a charity event for City of Hope next weekend. I started taking hip hop dance classes seriously soon after my break up.
Background: I had studied dance in college, after a lifetime (up to that point) of wanting to dance. I had taken my first dance class at the age of six...maybe even before that. I think I had taken ballet at Montessori when I was four. And I really wanted to be a dancer. We had weekly classes in my Catholic grade school until I was twelve. Then I did musical theatre and all that jazz so I could keep dancing. But my parents would never pay for classes for me because they didn't believe that a boy should dance. So when I got to college, I really took dancing on with a vengeance. Then I gave it up after college because I wasn't going to go professional in my mind. So there's another example of me giving up something I loved because I felt like I already had something I loved but might not get paid for...writing. I couldn't possibly be an artist in all areas of life! That would have been too much happiness. And fast forward to now...I'm reclaiming my life because I had given it away at several important moments. Hence...the blog.
Okay, so I've been taking class and one day a couple of months ago, our instructor asked us if we would participate in this City of Hope charity event. And of course I said yes. And now I'm dancing. It's awesome and I love it. I'm claiming my love of dance all over again. And I'm pretty good. Well, at least I love it.
The interesting thing is that the ex told me several times in the course of our relationship that I wasn't a dancer. He felt he had to tell me point blank that I wasn't a dancer. Like if we were out clubbing. Or if I talked about how I was a dancer in college. He would say to me, "You danced in college. You were never a dancer."
Why didn't I get it then?
And for me, that was stomping out my soul, like a cigarette. I always believed I was a frustrated dancer in the body of a writer. And now I'm in the body of a dancer...the house down.
I just realized something...that small gesture of having to take hip hop classes every week is a direct reaction to that statement. To the fact that several people in my life over the course of my life have said to me in one way shape or form:
YOU ARE NOT A DANCER
I am a dancer. I'm a dancer and a faggot and a beaner and a chink chink and a lefty and a lisper and a duck walker and a sissy and a lady and an ethnic and a loca. I am all of those things. I claim all of those things. I love all of those things. I'm a nerd and a weirdo. I'm a showgirl and a Liza lover. I'm a dancer. Maybe not the greatest dancer...but I went wow anyway.
And shortly, I will be a dancer for money. But a very, very, very public one. There's nothing private about this dancer no mo'.
In the OC: Playwrights and Me
This weekend was the 14th Annual Pacific Playwrights Festival held at South Coast Rep. I have been going every year for the past five or six years. I went with my old boss. It was usually this weekend where I let go. I was able to speak my mind and be the smart theatre professional I have always been, but had suppressed. This was also one of the weekends where I could be the me I always suppressed. That usually meant making out with strange boys.
This year I had nothing to hide behind. Nothing I was escaping. I was out of both of those relationships. What could possibly be exciting now? :)
It started when I had arranged for my tickets a couple of weeks ago and my friend Kimberly, who's the festival coordinator, asked if I wanted my badge to say "Playwright." A small thing, but a big thing. Yes, I wanted people to see my name and the word PLAYWRIGHT next to it. It was symbolic that I had taken that part of myself back in the past six months.
So whenever anyone walked up to me, they just treated me like a normal playwright and asked what I was working on. Or my friends and colleagues who knew me in my other capacity expressed their great joy that I was just a playwright again. I wasn't serving anyone else's agenda, there on anyone else's dollar, or representing anyone else but myself. That simple gesture felt remarkable for me as well.
And something amazing happened. I didn't evaporate because I wasn't representing someone else. I could stand in front and nakedly myself without any repercussions. Holy shit! What had I been waiting for?
My friend Elaine said that she felt like she was seeing the real me for the first time. It almost brought her to tears. I have to admit, that I was almost brought to tears as well.
This was the year that I reminded myself and the world that I am a playwright. I was a finalist this year for the O'Neill Playwrights Conference with a play that I had written years ago but never submitted. And this year, I caught up with my friend Casey, who has been chatting with me about the new play I'm currently writing. And she's been making it a part of her agenda to get a workshop for this new play together - at one of two theatres in LA. I didn't have to beg, borrow and steal. She was moved by my words and by me as a person enough to make time to make this workshop happen.
It's a play I'm so excited about. A triptych - as my friend Krista reminded me of at brunch today. That sounds so smart and artsy. But guess what? I am smart and artsy.
I had a great day today. Just being myself. The artist. And not wincing or falling away from that or shying away. Just being the artist. In the middle of beautiful sunny California.
This year I had nothing to hide behind. Nothing I was escaping. I was out of both of those relationships. What could possibly be exciting now? :)
It started when I had arranged for my tickets a couple of weeks ago and my friend Kimberly, who's the festival coordinator, asked if I wanted my badge to say "Playwright." A small thing, but a big thing. Yes, I wanted people to see my name and the word PLAYWRIGHT next to it. It was symbolic that I had taken that part of myself back in the past six months.
So whenever anyone walked up to me, they just treated me like a normal playwright and asked what I was working on. Or my friends and colleagues who knew me in my other capacity expressed their great joy that I was just a playwright again. I wasn't serving anyone else's agenda, there on anyone else's dollar, or representing anyone else but myself. That simple gesture felt remarkable for me as well.
And something amazing happened. I didn't evaporate because I wasn't representing someone else. I could stand in front and nakedly myself without any repercussions. Holy shit! What had I been waiting for?
My friend Elaine said that she felt like she was seeing the real me for the first time. It almost brought her to tears. I have to admit, that I was almost brought to tears as well.
This was the year that I reminded myself and the world that I am a playwright. I was a finalist this year for the O'Neill Playwrights Conference with a play that I had written years ago but never submitted. And this year, I caught up with my friend Casey, who has been chatting with me about the new play I'm currently writing. And she's been making it a part of her agenda to get a workshop for this new play together - at one of two theatres in LA. I didn't have to beg, borrow and steal. She was moved by my words and by me as a person enough to make time to make this workshop happen.
It's a play I'm so excited about. A triptych - as my friend Krista reminded me of at brunch today. That sounds so smart and artsy. But guess what? I am smart and artsy.
I had a great day today. Just being myself. The artist. And not wincing or falling away from that or shying away. Just being the artist. In the middle of beautiful sunny California.
Today
Today is the six month anniversary of the day that I walked out of my relationship. But it's just another day. I woke up to get on the internet to figure out a place to meet for brunch with my friend, Krista, who's an amazingly talented playwright and in town from San Diego, where she's been in grad school for the past three years. She's getting ready to move back to NYC soon.
We had brunch together with her friend Kira. It was hot out and I wore a tank top. We had a great time, then I came home and napped for two hours. Then I woke up and made some potstickers and now I'm eating Strawberry Ice Cream made with coconut milk. Trying to keep cool.
Today's just another day. Of me making decisions for myself and choosing what I want for myself. And I've been doing that, day after day, six months running.
I have more to share about recent events and will do so in subsequent blogs, but I just wanted to acknowledge the ordinariness of my life. MY life.
Now back to regularly scheduled programming.
We had brunch together with her friend Kira. It was hot out and I wore a tank top. We had a great time, then I came home and napped for two hours. Then I woke up and made some potstickers and now I'm eating Strawberry Ice Cream made with coconut milk. Trying to keep cool.
Today's just another day. Of me making decisions for myself and choosing what I want for myself. And I've been doing that, day after day, six months running.
I have more to share about recent events and will do so in subsequent blogs, but I just wanted to acknowledge the ordinariness of my life. MY life.
Now back to regularly scheduled programming.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)