Just Checking

What have I been doing recently?

Nightlife: I feel asleep at 6:15 PM on Saturday of the Gay Pride Festival, woke up at 9:30 PM, and watched a documentary about poor people living in Skid Row. I was sort of proud of that.

Television: I've watched the first two seasons of Bob's Burgers three times on Netflix (reminder: not my own account), and have once again begun to watch 30 Rock in its entirety for approximately the 9th time. Every weeknight, I watch The Nanny like a good gay. I'm very grateful that Dance Moms is back. I also recently discovered that Sabrina, the Teenage Witch is available for free on Hulu...the future is bright.

Writing: I haven't blogged since Father's Day, but I have been writing two different web series for a friend of mine in New York. One is called Boob Cam. It's a working title...

Love: HahahahahahahahahahahaOHGodIwilldiealone

Dining: I eat a PB&J every day for lunch because I'm too poor to afford anything else.

Music: I recently had my first round of auditions for a singing competition at the bar below my apartment. My best friend went with me. I left feeling like I was Top 2. She was pretty sure I was somewhere near the Top 5. She bought the drinks, so I didn't rebut.

Well, that about sums it up. Thanks for checking in, America.

Don't worry. Things won't stay boring for long. They rarely do.

Buckle up,

TJB: Making It

Runaway Pride

I was feeling a little overwhelmed today. You know those times when you look at your bank account and wonder how you can work so hard and be so exhausted and still buying generic brands to save 20 cents? Then you feel guilty when you buy a $6 beer, even though it was the highlight of your week, but you tip $2 anyway because you know the bartender feels the same as you do and at least you can pretend to see the gratitude in her eyes when she thanks you.

I decided to grab a coffee (I got a medium even though I wanted a large because I wanted to save 40 cents) and take a walk. There was a rock under a tree by the lake - very Lion King - and I sat down alone with my earbuds in, phone on silent, no fucks given.

There's a running path just below the rock ledge. At first, watching all of the runners made me feel incredibly lazy, as I was the only person not moving within sight. But I decided to just do what I do best.

Look good and judge people.

Some of them were beautiful. Some of them should never wear a tank top in public again. Some of them had clearly just started their run. Some of them were covered in sweat, but seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon. Some were slowing down to a walk as they approached their finish. A few had bikes and sped past the runners. A lot of them wore collegiate t-shirts, though many of their college days were years behind them. In fact, I worried some might keel over any second.

All of them were alone.

Solitary, focused, moving. In almost an hour, I didn't see any words exchanged between people. And though each of them was incredibly different from the others, I realized they had all made the same conscious decision before setting out on this path:

To be better. To be healthier. To live longer and be stronger.

It was then I realized how many of them were probably just as exhausted, overworked, and broke as I was. But here they were making the investment to improve the only aspect of their lives they had control over.

Themselves.

Because nobody else can make you run. They can motivate you, sure, but you're just dead weight until you
lift one leg to stride past the other. So I got up and walked.

Alone, but empowered.

I somehow felt more connected to the world and the girls with the neon laces or the old men in windbreakers. I was even OK with the bikers who sped past me, because though I was moving slow, I was moving. We were all sharing a path I knew I would make it to the end of in my own time.

I'm buying a beer tonight,

TJB: Making It

Trust the T, not the B

My blog just hit 40,000 views and I just watched an unaired episode of a cancelled TV show that stripped my soul bare and showed me the truth about my life in under 20 minutes.

That show is the enormously underrated, assuredly award-winning Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23. 

Long story short, Midwestern blonde bitch moves to NYC and has a sassy and fabulous roommate with which to have endless shenanigans that end in quirky life lessons. In the aforementioned episode, the sassy fabulous one teaches the Midwestern blonde one that she never really wanted to be with that boy she liked in 7th grade, but only thought she did because she never got it out of her system and kept asking, "What if?"

Essentially, there are a lot of awesome things going on in my life. I have my own apartment. I pay my own bills. I discovered an amazing hairstyle that over-compliments my bone structure. I have a job I thought I had no business doing but somehow ended up being really good at. Hell, I was just asked to come back to be seen by the artistic team of a Broadway show...OK, it's on a cruise ship, but still. Six months later, somebody is still interested in me.

So 24 years later, why am I not still interested in myself?

Because I let a boy get to me. Because for years, I've been treating him like the one that got away, when in reality

I let myself get away.

*clutch tissues to mouth and squint eyes*

I moved back to Chicago for a lot of strange reasons. For one, I really wanted to party here for New Year's Eve and couldn't afford a round-trip ticket. I also felt like I had to prove I wasn't wasting my brain while trying to be an actor. There's also an insane reunion of my a cappella group next weekend that I was worried I wouldn't get to be a part of because I was such a great actor and would surely be filming somewhere.

But to be bluntly honest, I sort of thought love-struck 17 year old me had some unfinished business to move back for.

OK FINE I WAS 18! I just don't like feeling old.

Turns out, America (and I think I'm big in Spain now), I was the only one who thought so. Apparently, I just needed a sassy girl on a nixed sitcom to tell me. And if I can take rejection from Broadway, I can take rejection from this.

What's next? I don't really know.

Just kidding, I have so much more bad TV to watch and a really cute outfit planned for tomorrow.

There's Pad Thai all over my pillow,

TJB: Making It

Big Fish, Bigger Emotions

The set changed every 3 minutes. For a large portion of the show, I wasn't sure if I knew exactly where the story was taking place. All I could tell is that there was a lot of money being pumped into it. The costumes, while beautiful, weren't very telling of a time period. Even the war referenced was left up for assumption. The setting had to be disregarded.

The songs were mediocre. While the voices may have been award winning, it was as if the actors were wasting their talents on something unworthy of their artistry. The story writing felt forced and weak, which I thought was strange for a musical based on a movie. Casting was predictable, as I had seen half the actors in the last show from the same writer. I suppose working with who's comfortable is expected.

In fact, I should have expected all of this. Many people had already given me their opinions on the show. By the end of the first act, I seriously considered spending the $8 for a 6oz. cocktail. But, my ticket was free, and I was extremely proud of all of the stress my friends had gone through to make this larger-than-life show a reality.

Then, the second act happened.

Suddenly, when faced with death, we find ourselves appreciative of everything we were too busy to believe in. Faith and love are no longer fairy tales, but the only reality we have. People that were simply "strangers we know very well" become the only link to ourselves, and it's when we're off searching for answers that we find there was never really a question to begin with. Still, even when we know how it will end, we're never quite sure how we get there.

I realized that I was watching my life. Only, I didn't want to keep sitting in the audience.

The set doesn't matter, that will keep changing. The costumes don't matter, as long as they look great. The year is irrelevant, since everyone (mostly me) generally looks the same regardless of time. There will be tons of money pumped into it and a lot of mediocre songs, thus, the first act will probably leave me bored and needing a drink. Yes, everyone will continue to give their opinion, but if I can keep working with who's comfortable, I'll be very lucky.

The facing of death will somehow remain an unpredictable piece of the plot. The audience will continue to not see this coming, which is sort of beautiful in a way. But it's always somewhere in that second act, where the stakes are raised and things get exciting, that we realize the banal necessity of the first.

In fact, if we could go back and start the play again, it might not seem so banal.

By the end of the show, I was a sobbing mess and re-inspired to enter the world. "A man is judged by the quality of his friends, and I am a tycoon". I figure, if I'm still in the first act and having such a blast

my second act is really going to bring the house to its feet.

Thank God my life wasn't Les Miserables,

TJB: Making It