Bros b4 Broadway

Tonight I had dinner with one of my best friends.

I don't have anything snarky or cutting to say about it (GASP). I've just realized even in my short week here how important it is to keep such genuinely caring people close. I am reminded daily how blessed and lucky I am to have such amazing people right there next to me. If anybody deserves a shout-out, it's this guy.

Friends are the people who make you feel like you've already made it, and will love you just as much even if you don't.

I should've had a salad,

TJB: Making It

That Time I Auditioned for That Show That Won That Award Because That Agent Sent Me

Some crazy things have happened in the past 36 hours.

Basically, I sent an e-mail, I got a response, then another response with an audition appointment, then I ended up in some agent's office and off to audition for probably the biggest show I could've auditioned for short of Glee.

I would tell you what the show was, but that just feels redundant...

So there I was on the Subway wishing I was eating Subway (because I had only allowed myself to eat push-ups and crunches for the past two days) off to this audition I had no business being at my first week in NYC.

I had no trouble finding the building because what actor doesn't know where the Broadway shows audition? I trekked my amateur ass up to the 16th floor, rounded the corner and BAM...an F15 alumni awaited. You should know F15 is EVERYWHERE. My panicked voice whispered in his ear to point me to the check-in table. Like a true bro, he kept me calm and I took up the pen to find:

AGENT/REPRESENTATION:

Oh...well...that's a very good question you see because I was indeed sent here by an agent but I'm not exactly sure whether or not he counts as my agent and whether or not anybody is representing me at the moment. I didn't want to douche out and write my own name next to my own name so I used parenthesis like a true newbie would.

I sat down to quench my dry throat and realized...I FORGOT MY WATER BOTTLE! Immediately I remembered leaving my Aquafina water bottle on my coffee table. I took this as a sign from God. How DARE I attempt to bring in an Aquafina water bottle to a Broadway audition (see previous posts)?! I let my desert-throat suffer.

I planned on sitting in peace until I found out the boy next to me was named Chatty Cathy and amidst his yoga stretching wanted to know everything about my day. I tried to pretend like he'd achieved at shaking me up and all I could do was sit with my head in my hands and cry. He informed me he was singing the same cut of the same song for his audition, but he wasn't scared to follow me. I pretended to be relieved I was going first.

Let's just say I stuck around to find he had decided to change his song during my audition.

I won't tell you what happened in the room because I find that sacred. All I know is that I'm stuck on some weird plateau. I'm not sure if it goes up or down from here. I'm in a strange limbo.

So I ask you to pray. Whatever religion you are (and especially those of the appropriate religion): PRAY.

Fiji next time I promise,

TJB: Making It

YOU HEARD ME

My sister sent me this as motivation for my life. She knows what's up.

6 Days Does Not a Week Make Me a Star

I found my second first audition. Luckily, I'd been to the building before to audition for the Norwegian Cruise Line. Luckily, the Norwegian Cruise Line never offered me a job.

I would tell you all about what the audition was for, but they asked us at the callback

-oh that's right I should mention I got a callback, but I'm going to try and pretend like I wasn't surprised it happened-

they asked us at the callback not to post anything about the show online, as it is already receiving a lot of press and hype and they want to make an official press release about the cast since the cast is going to be BIG...which is probably why I have yet to hear back.

Regardless of the outcome and the assumed loss of an approximated $300 stipend, on my third full day in NYC I experienced what my future would be like, and it is exactly how the movies portray it.

"OMG YOU! WHY are we always being called back for the same roles? (because you're Asian) Damn girl you are lookin GOOD! Do you even eat?!"

and they're serious. They're all about what your 32 bars are, are never happy with how the callbacks are being run, always have a more important place to be, and don't even THINK about singing in a room near them or they will critique your vibrato and pitch until you bleed.

So here I am among my fellow star wannabes who have just finished their tours of Miss Saigon and remember their glory days as a cover in the Spring Awakening tour for 3 weeks while I can only dream of such greatness, sipping my Poland Spring water amongst bottles of Fiji.

In the mean time, I start work at a beautiful little production company from across the pond (that means England) called threesixty entertainment. Maybe it's called 360 Entertainment, or maybe three-sixty...or maybe I'll just ask tomorrow.

For now...

I dream of Fiji,

TJB: Making It

My First New York Audition

Forget about the gays, I had my first New York audition this morning!

Well...sort of.

I decided last night I would forgo my celebratory Friday of Pride and marriage equality to get up early for an open call. I normally wouldn't show my face so early in Manhattan as one may question my socialite status for not being hungover, but I was feeling very optimistic as of late.

I wanted to show up early, so I trekked down to my favorite, the 1 train, took it to Penn Station, climbed the urine and bile covered stairs, and jaunted to 36th Street. I found the building with no problem, breezed past the doorman who gives me that "OMG you're so confident I should know you but forgot your name and I'm embarrassed so I'll let you pass" look

and arrived at the 5th floor.

the empty 5th floor.

I checked every door to see only signs for textile or graphic design businesses. I frantically checked my schedule book and saw that I indeed had written down "5th floor". There I stood in a lonely corridor of cold, dark tile. With my tail between my legs, I exited the building and crawled back to Penn Station...adding my own urine to the stairs this time in self-pity.

As I arrived back on 83rd I thought "Who cares? I probably would have been typed out anyway."

OH EXCEPT THE CHARACTER DESCRIPTION WAS PRACTICALLY A PICTURE OF ME WITH MY BIO ATTACHED!

As I sit down at my computer to tell you this tragic story of career beginnings, I now see that the audition was on the 3rd floor.

Take the stairs kids.

I'm off to get gay married,

TJB: Making It

I Made It...to New York...

Just when I thought I'd escaped the torture of rural Michigan, God (the alleged/proverbial God although I'll capitalize it out of fear that he actually exists) placed me in Atlanta, GA. What a beautiful airport. Wendy's. Seattle's Best. A digestive-track-tormenter called Moe's. I was in heaven for an hour...and then 2...and then suddenly it became hell 5 hours later. I kept my sunglasses on the entire 5 hours with my Ralph Lauren hood up and looked as disgruntled as possible...a celebrity in distress.

But now as I sit here in the Starbucks on 43rd and 9th next to...an unspecified gender of a being...I know I've arrived in the Big Apple. Fame is just on the other side of the street. No, really, I think I see a Kardashian.

On my first day here, I've already been to a fitting for my first of many (or probably 3) fashion shows. I showed up 5 minutes early to Macy's Herald Square...to find they wouldn't let me in until 10 anyway. I strutted up to the 3rd floor with all my swagger -

OMG YOU F-ING BROOKLYN BARISTA SHUT YOUR MOUTH

...excuse me.

- I strutted up to the 3rd floor with all my swagger over to the fitting rooms, knowing I was going to get to take home with me a beautiful designer outfit after the show. I approached two stunning stylists to praise such as "oh you would be in our show". And then they said it...

"Tyler, you're going to be the 'easy' boy". I thought they were referring to the simplicity of clothing an adonis such as myself. She said "No...you're look is called 'easy'". Then she held up my designer Ralph Lauren outfit...

I was swimwear.

OH SURE I get to wear a cute lime green hoodie unzipped 3/4 of the way down my white pasty chest, but my ghostly legs and feet are out in the open underneath those sensible navy trunks! And let's not forget that I'll be the boy announced as EASY.

I had SO better get Johnny Weir's number out of this.

Starving and bronzing,

TJB: Making It

Regretfully they tell us, but firmly they compel us

Well, I graduated. As I am a true thespian, you can imagine the wide range of feelings that were emoted this weekend. Screaming in the middle of bars, sobbing into the sleeve of a purple robe...you name it, I felt it. And the paparazzi were going wild to document my downfall.

I have a degree. I'm still not exactly sure what that means. I also have a "Musical Theatre Certificate" which was superbly created on Microsoft Word and signed with what I guess to be a blue fine-tip washable crayola marker...perhaps cerulean if it was from a 24-pack.

Let me tell you, my ass could not pack up and get out of NU any faster. I could feel the increased competition and panic as we were no longer classmates but colleagues sprinting towards Broadway and tripping each other at dance calls. We convinced each other "That was a GREAT picture" when we knew your eyes were closed and you looked completely smashed and we will probably e-mail it to every casting director in New York. So I placed my two pieces of HP high-quality printer paper into my purple pleather folder and sped away.


So now I write to you from my childhood home (that's what they'll call it on my E! THS so I should too).

and I miss it. I admit it...I miss Northwestern University and misleadingly ghetto Evanston, IL. But most of all, I miss the people. I miss those talented two-faced tramps with their uncontrolled vibrato and dropped gestures. I miss watching them sing songs completely inappropriate for their age range and character type and lacking solid focal points during their monologues...

because you were great. You were all truly superb and I am honored to be your peer...and you really did look great in the photo.

but I'm not posting it on Facebook because I didn't.

So cheers to you future stars of New York, and LA...and whatever kind of fame you can achieve in Chicago too...

I'll see you on the red carpet,

TJB: Making It

The Graduation That Wasn't

For centuries, young, tall, attractive, and slightly larger-headed graduates have all been put through the same torture:

the mortarboard

that stupid little shit of a hat that NOBODY and I mean NOBODY looks good in...except that gorgeous brunette who somehow even makes her gown look like it has a flattering waistline. #hateher #skinnybitch


So I'm warning the paparazzi and future tabloids now: THERE WILL BE NO PICTURES OF ME WEARING THAT STUPID HAT

I will gladly toss it into the air upon the command of Stephen Colbert, but I will NOT allow myself to be photographed in it.

So People Magazine, Entertainment Tonight and TMZ, send out your paps and just try to get a picture of me.

.............no really please somebody take my picture.

My left is my good side,

TJB: Making It

This Tony guy HAD to be gay

I didn't make it all the way through the Tony Awards. Not because they weren't ostentatious enough, but because they were a little emotionally overwhelming. I think of the packed audience as the world I'm entering into...and the only room saved for even Jesus is in a musical. No way was I getting let in.

I thought of myself next year, watching the Tonys from a humble apartment I can't afford in Astoria or Washington Heights (omg I could be Nina)...and it felt like high school. I was watching the cool kids who were better than I was at honors night smiling and clapping while I sobbed into my bathrobe because my community production of The Sound of Music in Brooklyn was unfortunately not eligible for even a nomination. I hated those botoxed bitches. Hell the only awards I'll get for the next five years will probably be on a credit card...

...and then the camera went to Brooke Shields and I got to watch the Prom Queen embarrass herself on national television...twice. Poor, stunning Brooke Shields heading back to Broadway with her tail between her legs. It was like she did it for me to say, "Hey kid! I'm pretty and semi-talented and I can't even read but I get invited. There's hope for you yet!"

So maybe I won't be at the Tonys next year, but at least I know this:

I am way funnier and cuter and younger than Neil Patrick Harris and he has to die eventually and then they'll have to come to me.

Here's to hosting,

TJB: Making It

Snow White was dull and didn't say much

I'm becoming a little resentful of my higher education.

I just spent the weekend with one of my nearest and dearest friends Miss Green. Part of me invited her to town just to prove she was still alive. For a while, I was convinced they line us up in our purple robes on graduation day and just shoot us in the back. However, Miss Green proved that life (un)fortunately continues and Stephen Colbert is not really here to deliver a mass eulogy.

But what did I just spend four years doing? Sure I went to the #12 school in the USA (#14? #10? What are we today? I dunno, donate.) But what new knowledge am I entering this alleged "real world" with? If a job posting is going to require a 4-year degree, is it not yet fair for them to assume one would be proficient in Microsoft Word and Excel or at least have the brain power to figure it out? What does the world expect us to have learned in 4 years?

Well, I did take History of the Holocaust so I guess I can tell you Hitler was a douche and Poland got the shit beat out of it...but I'd already seen Schindler's List. I also took Human Sexuality and learned that every decision we make is based on gettin our rocks off...but I've been a dude for 22 years so I knew that too. I never took Econ but I know people who did and through them I learned that there's a new problem set every day...but I don't think I needed college for that either.

So here we are $200,000 later and entering the world pretty much as freshman back on the same level with all of our peers trying to prove to the world we just spent 4 years bettering ourselves for whatever jobs they're willing to give us...

...and I just thank God for making me pretty.

Oh please God let me be an actor,

TJB: Making It

Bros B4 Hoes....(or Joes in my case)...

Tonight I left some of the closest friends I'll ever have in my life: my bros. It takes me months, maybe even years to trust a person (I mean C'MON how many times a day do people send you messages saying "you're pretty. wanna model?")

I can't ever imagine making bros like the ones I have in F15. I don't think anybody will ever have my back like that again, and I don't think I'll ever want to stand guard at someone's back like I have with them.

So to my bros...the ones who kept me alive...Cheers. I pour out all the love in my heart to you. Everything I do from here on out I can afford because of what you've given me. You shall be at the top of my thank-you speech...and HELL NO I will NOT pull note cards out of my pocket. EMBARRASSING!

Eternal love.
ILU,

TJB: Making It
for the honor of my bros

high on life

While walking down the street today, I realized the sidewalk was covered in red, yellow, and blue chalk scribbles. As soon as I saw three children crouched on their knees scribbling away, I politely stepped into the grass as to not smudge their work (or trample their squealing faces). They were overcome by what they had created, but all I could think of was whether or not they could get high off chalk dust.

As I approached, I noticed one young boy had a squirt bottle in his hand. He began to spray the chalk drawing and the group was enthralled by what resulted: their artwork instantly dissolving away.

"LET'S CLEAN THE SIDEWALK!"
"THE ENTIRE SIDEWALK!"
"LET'S CLEAN ALL THE SIDEWALKS IN THE WORLD!"

I was baffled. Not only were these children so pleased with their arguably-abstract-possibly-expressionist chalk drawings, they were excited to clean the chalk drawings off of all of the sidewalks in the world.

and they set out to do so.

Now I'm not sure their attention deficit minds even made it to the third square of chalk drawings, but what inspired me was their blind faith to set out on an unreachable goal with the excitement of Christmas morning. I thought, "When did I become so jaded and bitter?"

So that's where I am folks. I am heading out with little more than a squirt bottle to clean the sidewalks of the world. I have no other goal but to start the journey. And even if I don't make it to the third square of chalk drawings, I'll know I tried with all the fervor one man could possibly muster.

all because three four-year old children inspired me.

Don't hit your kids,

TJB: Making It

Lyrics That (potentially) Last

Tonight I went to see the Junior MT Showcase "Lyrics That Last". I have to say, pretty underwhelming. I happen to have had a pretty memorable quartet showing just one year ago...with over 4,000 views on YouTube if you care to view it again.

ME AT LYRICS THAT LAST! 2010 Style

And yet, as I sat judging 30 something musical theater hopefuls, I was deeply inspired. Here were these not yet jaded or bitter young adults singing songs they loved. Sure, I wish they'd remembered a few more of the "lasting lyrics"...but during a drunken finals week, who can blame them?

If anything, I saw 20 something actors I'll never have to worry about competing with...and a few I pray can never make it through a dance call. Thanks for reviving my spirit for theater slightly younger ones. OH SORRY: theatre (the pretentious way).

Thanks for reading mom,

TJB: Making It

Packing my Baggage

The time has come. I somehow managed to survive 4 years of college at the prestigious (though often overlooked, but they won't tell you that) Northwestern University. And though I was never arrested, and though I never painted the rock, and though I never even once shouted out my window for the primal scream, I somehow managed to cause enough trouble to know it's my time to go. The final weeks of "I have to see you" and "Please don't go!" and "But we were never even friends" have begun.

For the past few days I have felt an increasing sensation overcome my more-often-than-not drunken soul. The sensation: PANIC. Though I'm an educated and relatively sane individual, every conversation I have seems to lead to "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME?!"

What I do know: NYC in a shared studio apartment on the Upper West Side

What I don't know: Employment, survival, much of anything

and then it hits me...I'm going to be a star. I'm going to be HUGE. By throwing my body into the wind and trekking out on this destination-less journey I am in fact going to become the biggest sensation known to man...

at least that's what I'm telling myself while I check my empty inbox after sending almost a hundred e-mails begging somebody to hire me.

So why not document it all? Every other shoddy wanna-be-writer-actor-socialite is putting their shameless lives on the internet with the blind faith that some bored soul will come across it. Why not my shameless life?

Here goes nothing. Boy is there trouble ahead...and one day I'll be famous enough for people to read this and say "......." oh who are we kidding....

Thanks for reading Mom,

TJB: Making It