more like MEsus

While everybody else was thinking of the three days Jesus spent in the tomb before he rose, I was thinking about the 3 months I've spent in Chicago trying to do the same.

Hi. Happy Easter.

It has now been a quarter of a year since I began my second chance in the second city. I've learned a lot and done a lot, but I've realized one important thing will always be true:

The grass is always greener on the other side.

I'll admit it. I miss New York more and more. I miss the people, I miss their elitism, the pretension, the attitude. Chicago is relaxing and fun, but there is a certain edge missing. The hipsters here are friendly, and nobody wants that. I don't want to have to talk to hipsters. I also don't want to smile at the other gays who pass by when I thought it was nationally established by the HRC that we simply stare at each other judgmentally, and internally agree we are better than the other. I want the same rights as straight couples, sure, but that doesn't mean all gays are equal among ourselves. Sweetie, not until you fix that hair.

Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm happy here. I can afford things. I went shopping for the first time in a year without wondering if my purchase would be approved. I no longer walk ten blocks just to save a dollar on wine. I order shots...at BARS. Life is pretty sweet.

I know what you're thinking. I've written this same whiny bullshit before and you're looking for something original.

SO AM I.

Hell, I almost got a tattoo. Instead, I entered a singing competition at the bar below my apartment. Winner gets $15,000. Don't get too excited, it's doesn't start until June, but if I don't make it to the end of those 11 weeks...

then I understand why this is the SECOND city.

One day those shots will be top shelf,

TJB: Making It

Ex-istential Crisis

There I was, sitting next to the new boyfriend who had no idea I was the old boyfriend. All he knew was that I was the "friend" his current boyfriend had been catching up with, and let me just say:

nobody wants their boyfriend catching up with friends that look like me.

Had I been a littler quicker, I would have thought to ask the box office attendant to switch me to a seat in the back, not next to 185 pounds of baggage. But I was stuck, a towering 6'1", shaking hands with New Boyfriend and welcoming him to Chicago. I was flippin' cherry cordial.

Until three people who knew very well that I was Old Boyfriend came up to hug New Boyfriend without so much as a warning glare in my direction. Let's just say, I practically memorized that program by the time the lights dimmed.

I admit, I had never felt younger, prettier, or smarter than I did sitting there, listening to the-other-friend-who-belonged-there talk to New Boyfriend. But as I read the list of money donors for a third time to avoid having to participate in the conversation, I couldn't  shake that bitter taste from my mouth.

Because I had been drinking A LOT that morning.

I sat and said nothing between dance numbers as I choked back tears from the combination of beautiful choreography and my sad, sad situation. I waited outside during intermission, and when the show ended, booked it to a hidden corner of the hallway to wait for my goodbye.

I walked home singing "On My Own" as if Cameron Mackintosh were on the street casting. My life felt the fast approaching of "A Little Fall of Rain", and knowing they cut that song in HALF for the movie, I needed a pick-me-up before I dove into Adele.

So, I took a shower and washed that man right out of my hair. Full voice. Sorry neighbor.

I believe that one day, there will be somebody awesome to sit next to my old boyfriend at my shows. Until then, I'll try to figure out why anybody would want so may tattoos.

I ate lunch twice today,

TJB: Making It

something about this

I remember sitting in my AP English class senior year of high school. It was "college prep week" and we were in the computer lab researching our major requirements so we'd know what to expect the coming fall. I was a Political Science major at Northwestern University. I sat staring at the screen questioning my entire existence (as any emotional 18 year old does). My hand shot up.

Me: What if I don't want to do this?

As a valedictorian (I had to get that in there), I could tell my teacher was confused by my resistance.

Teacher: The assignment?
Me: No. This. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be a lawyer.
Teacher: So don't. But you have to do something.

That's the day I became an actor.

Six years later, I'm drinking out of a Harvard coffee mug from 2004 in the middle of Chicago thinking, "What the hell is this?"

The truth is, America, I don't really care. I've been having a pretty baller time since I grew a pair of nuts in 2007. When you realize it takes less than 5 seconds to change life, you kind of just start chilling. And as long as you keep doing something, everything else just sort of takes care of itself. Yeah, I'm sure there will come a day when I'm 55 thinking, "Well, shit, maybe I should have..." but probably not. I'll probably get pushed in front of a train first, and then I'll just be thinking, "Well, shit."

So relax, people. Whenever you feel like your life is a mess, just be grateful you didn't document it in a blog. And whenever you think I'm upset or stressed or care, just remember one thing: I'm an actor. None of this really matters. Something does, but not this.

I'm gonna be something,

TJB: Making It