party!

(This counts as Thursday's post, as I just got home:)

Got to hang out with some mature adults my own age! Woo hoo!

Always nice to see the old peeps. It's weird to think that there are still people who were here when I got here eight years ago. That makes me feel old.

OK. Bed. I have to be somewhat alert for tomorrow afternoon's class.

well, this is boring

Another day where I spent too much time at work - only eleven hours today. Technically, I left for an hour - but it was to have a lunch meeting. So we'll stick with eleven.

I'm hopeful that I'll be able to check out after five tomorrow. Like a normal person.

so tired

I pulled a thirteen hour day at work today...and still didn't get everything done. And I have another monster day tomorrow.

I can't wait for spring break.

hope everlasting

Back in June, I received a bracelet enscribed with the word "Hope". (The story behind it can be found at the bottom of this post, if you're too lazy to scroll down.) The original lasted until September, when it broke on the day I was leaving Pittsburgh for my five day cross-country drive to Sleepy Hamlet. Thinking that it was an ominous sign to drive across the country without hope, my mother gave me hers (she hadn't opened the package). Unlike the previous bracelet, which I would take off to shower, I never took this one off.

I woke up this morning to find it broken on the air mattress where I had spent the night.

Fitting, right?

A psychologist might find it interesting that I now equate the snapping of my charm with the end of the Steelers' championship run, rather than the loss of hope in my life. Of course, said psychologist would have a field day with my devotion to my football team.

However, I feel like I'm at a better place now that when I donned that bracelet. My brother and I were kidding around about this this morning, and we were making jokes like, "You're carrying hope in here!" while pointing to our chest. "You've had it all along!" And...there's probably some truth to that, you know?

I'm not going in search for another "Hope" bracelet. I feel like the bracelets did their job. And while I won't miss people asking me why I'm wearing a hairband on my arm, and even though I will probably rub my wrist looking for that familiar band for the next few months, I no longer need a waking reminder of the fact that my life is going to get better.

Because it has.

astute analysis of super bowl xlv

via facebook

Crap. Well, that sucked.

killing time

Typing this on my new iPad in a Starbucks somewhere far away from my furnished apartment. My brother and sister-in-law are late, so I've been forced to find cover at various and sundry places while waiting for them to arrive. This place closes at ten, so I will have one more hour to kill.

Just got the "eight minute warning". I wonder if I can just sit in my car and pilfer their internet signal? That would be awesome...

I better use the bathroom before they lock up. Good times.

off to see the wizard

So, technically, this post counts for Saturday, since it's after midnight, but it's really for Friday. And I'll throw up a text-post as well. (Yeah, it hurts me too to have to go to the text-post so early in the game...but I'm a busy guy. What can you do?)

Excited tomorrow about my weekend trip south. Going to see some friends in a play, and then I'm picking up my brother and sister-in-law at an airport and driving to her mom's house. They're so close to me, and if they've flown this far across the country, I feel like I want to do all I can to see them. As usual, I'm excited to see them.

I'm also excited about eating some In-N-Out Burger. I'm recommitting to a healthy diet and lifestyle on Tuesday, so I've got to live it up this weekend.

this is your life

Do you ever have one of those moments where you kind of look at your surroundings and think, "This is my life?"

I had one tonight.

I was enjoying "Taco Night" at a bar in the big city. I was waiting in line for tacos, and I just started noticing the clientele...and realized that the people there were pretty...um..."rural", for lack of a better word. And, hey, there's nothing wrong with that...but I would never describe myself as "rural" in a million years.

It's usually at moments like that that I am reminded of the fact that I'm the only black guy in the room. And, right on cue, a white guy wearing a baseball hat cocked to the side walked by me, noticed my blackness, and said, "Eh, what up, bro?"

I'm guessing he doesn't say that to random white guys.

Hey, I made the decision to move back to Sleepy Hamlet full time. And it's been OK, for the most part. I just wish it was a little more diverse.

on a roll

Two days in a row! Yay!

Trying to do a bit of housekeeping around here. I've been wanting to make some layout changes for a while now, so I'm going to try and phase that in bit by bit. So if you show up one day and this whole thing is pink and orange, you know why.

Pretty good day today. I taught an exercise to my students that went over like gangbusters, and for the first time in that class, I really felt like I was doing my own material. I've been teaching someone else's curriculum (for various and sundry reasons) and it hasn't been a good fit. I'll have to detail that at another time, when I don't have fourteen things to do to prepare for class tomorrow.

Sometimes I still can't believe that I'm teaching.

and so it begins

"Don't call it a comeback; I've been here for years..."

- LL Cool J


How is everyone?

As promised, I've shown up on February 1, and I will attempt to blog every day this month. This will be difficult, as:

1. I am out of the habit of blogging
2. I have extremely busy at work
3. I have a couple of trips planned

Nonetheless, I plan on giving this the good ol' college try. We'll see how it goes.

Life in Sleepy Hamlet is...all right. I'm getting used to the fact that I'm here on a permanent basis, slowly but surely. I'm nesting a little bit - bought an HDTV and PS3 last weekend, and I got new tires (in anticipation of all of my trips). I've had a couple of fun adventures recently...but I have to save SOMETHING to write about...

next month...

I will blog every day. Since, you know, I've obviously failed for this month.

Promise.

February 1st through the 28th...it's on, baby.

I'll take requests for topics. Things I will be blogging about:

- the lack of eligible age-appropriate ladies in Sleepy Hamlet
- hilarity from the impressionable youngsters I see daily
- the joys of having your own office
- the Steelers' deep playoff run
- kale

Anything else?

another new year

I rang this one in with a whimper: my flight from back home was delayed, so I was actually in a cab when the clock struck midnight. Anticlimactic, no?

I'm currently debating whether to (a) go through one of those blogging months, or (b) close up shop entirely. I suppose you'll have to tune in tomorrow to see what I do.

In the meantime, best wishes for a happy and healthy 2011!

concrete jungle where dreams are made of

Note: I wrote this on my last night in NYC with the intention of putting it up here - the face that it's taken me a month to post this should give you an idea of how busy I've been. A full explanation will be coming shortly; all sorts of new fun stories, people!

I moved to New York just over eleven years ago. I vividly remember my first night unpacking all of my things, hooking up my computer to a phone jack by stringing a telephone cord across a hallway, being afraid to open my windows, and not believing that I was finally living here.

Tonight is my last night in New York. I don't know how much my feelings about this place have changed; I just know that I'm changed. And all that enthusiasm I had for subways and traffic and crowds is now focused on sky and trees and grills and dogs and space.

Much like that night, I know that I am on the precipice of an extraordinary adventure; an undiscovered country lies ahead of me. But I am so much of a better person for the life that I've lived here, the experiences I've had, the things I've seen, the people I've met...oh, the people. So many that have touched my life in so many different ways. I am grateful for them all.

Sometimes I feel as if I should be sad, mostly when I say goodbye to someone I care deeply about, like my sister-in-law, or the Flying Squirrel, or my brother - the only one who has been here every step of the way with me. But the goodbyes come, and my eyes stay dry, because in my heart of hearts I know that this is right, that I have to leave, to have new adventures and experiences. It's my time. I have to seize it.

I am excited to be going forth, but I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the imprint this city had on me. Has. For better or worse, New York City has made me who I am, and I am proud to carry that forth. I always will be.

so you want an update, huh?

I'm permanently leaving New York and moving to...

Sleepy Hamlet.

How's that for a shocker, huh?

I'd write more, but I'm too busy packing up my life.

ten things i learned on vacation

1. I'm good at traveling

I went on a ten day excursion to Sleepy Hamlet and Las Vegas - two very different climates and two very different atmospheres. And yet I managed to fit everything into a carry-on-sized bag. Winner.

I also left my laptop at home, relying on my Palm Pre and iPod Touch, and had no internet access in Vegas other than my phone. If you've ever met me, you know that's a minor miracle.

2. I can't treat my body the way that I used to

One of the few positives of my crappy temp job is that since I don't take lunch breaks (because I don't get paid) I bring healthy food to work. I've kind of shifted into a grazing mode: a handful of almonds and cranberries here, an apple there, a turkey sandwich at lunch. Occasionally I'll have a bag of chips or some chocolate, but that's the exception to the rule. Dinners have been pretty light - mostly chicken or fish with some vegetables. I've also been working out pretty consistently these days, and I've cut back on the drinking.

On vacation?

Multiple drinks most nights. I got completely hammered at least three times, and had one of the worst hangovers of my life. On a different morning, I woke up still drunk from the night before. I ate loads of red meat and greasy food. Salt. Fat. Sugar. Very little exercise (unless you count "twelve ounce curls" as working out).

Five years ago, I could eat that without skipping a beat. Now? I feel sluggish, bloated, slow. I went grocery shopping tonight and I've never been so excited to buy fruits and vegetables. This must be a sign of me getting old.

3. I'm ready to go back to Sleepy Hamlet

The first leg of the trip was spent in my old stomping grounds, and I had a great time. My man Leprechauna Jones and his lady came up from LA. I stayed with an extremely cool chick who we'll call The Prodigy (another story for another time). I saw all my old peeps. Everyone had such nice things to say to me, and more than one person said, "They need to bring you back here." Normally I just laugh stuff like that off...but this time was different.

I hate admitting that I want acting jobs, because that opens up a whole can of worms, but I really want to live there again, to work there as an actor. Never thought I'd say that.

We'll see if it happens.

4. I miss having a community

One of the reasons that I love Sleepy Hamlet is because of the network of friends I have there. Not only do they know me, but they know and like each other. I feel like I have a real clump of people who have my back. I love them like family. It was really hard to leave them this time...but then I went to Vegas and met up with my actual clan...

5. My family is remarkable

I had a great time in Sleepy Hamlet, but it was exhausting. I really wasn't looking forward to spending four days in Vegas for a birthday party/family reunion. I've got some crazy family members who get on my nerves, and I was afraid that it was going to be a disaster.

Instead, it was delightful.

I spent some quality time with several cousins that I hadn't seen in years. We ate, we drank, we gambled, we sang, we prayed, we laughed. And I was really reminded of my legacy. I am related to some remarkable, talented, intelligent people.

One experience stands out. We had a Father's Day brunch on Sunday, and my brother had already agreed to sing one of his songs. As always, my cousin who generally plays the MC tried to get me to perform something. My attitude is generally, "Why? Who wants to see a monologue out of context?" But she kept badgering and badgering, and finally I relented. I got up in the little room we had reserved and busted out forty lines of my best Shakespeare.

I have never received such an ovation in my life.

If you've never had the change to have several generations of your family applaud you and give you hugs and pounds and kisses, you really have to do something to make that happen. It's an amazing feeling. To be able to share your art with your own flesh and blood - and to have them get it, really get it...wow.

The coolest part was that my brother played after me, and then my father got up and said that he was proud of us, and proud of the whole family for working to make it possible for us to get to the place where we're able to share our gifts. He talked about talents of previous generations who didn't get the chance to shine due to various circumstances, and said that my brother and I are reminders that you can really do anything you want to, if you're willing to work hard. It was really great to hear him verbalize that. I don't know that I've ever been prouder of my dad.

So yesterday was a great day. Then I hopped on a redeye back to New York, got home at six, crawled into bed at eight, and couldn't stop my brain from racing. Because, over the past few hours, the following realization had crept over me:

6. I'm not in a good place

While the validation from my family was great, in some strange way it magnified the misery I've been feeling lately. I hate this temp job with a passion, and I feel like it's keeping me away from doing what I want to do. I had just spent ten days with two great communities that I belong to...only to come back to New York and realize that I don't have one here. Sure, I have great friends here, but they're all individual friendships; there's no greater connection to a whole.

On the female front, I've been rejected by girls I liked twice in the past two weeks, and I kept having this visceral reaction in the pit of my stomach whenever I would see couples holding hands, or kissing. At first, I thought I was just turned off by PDA a little more than normal, but as I thought about it more and more, I kept returning to the horrible conclusion that I first blurted out to my therapist a couple of months ago, which is:

7. I want to be in a relationship

It really hurts me to admit that. I feel like I'm supposed to be independent right now - after all, I was with Maxine on and off for almost eight years, and during most of those "off" times I usually had someone around. I feel like I'm supposed to be ok with being alone. But I have to face facts, and confront the truth: I would really love to have a partner.

You know what the worst part of this is?

8. It's logistically impossible for me to be in a relationship right now

I realized that truth last night, after reading an e-mail from The Prodigy telling me that she wasn't interested in having a relationship with me. Now, there's a bit more to the story than that, but nevertheless my feelings were really hurt. After thinking it through, however, I realized that my travel schedule over the next few months and my economic condition isn't so conducive to a healthy relationship. Sure, I could make something work long-distance, but I've already done that, and I don't know if that's the kind of relationship I want right now.

9. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be in New York

Something else I realized in my talks with The Prodigy (it was an intense few days) is that I'm not sure how much longer I want to be here. I'm not living the kind of life I want to lead. My competitive nature is the one thing keeping me here; I feel a need to prove that I can compete with the best actors in the world, and land parts in high profile projects. But I'm broke, working a lousy job for lousy pay, and I'm not auditioning right now, and my apartment (while a great deal for the city) is tiny and expensive. I just keep thinking, "Why am I doing this? For what?"

Why shouldn't I move to a smaller regional city, like San Francisco or Seattle or Washington or Denver or Minneapolis and work a lot and teach on the side? I could have an apartment, get a teaching job, meet a nice girl and settle down and get married and start a family. Why not?

Because, if I never gave New York a fair shot, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I don't want to be 55 looking back and saying, "Oh, I could've done this and that, blah blah blah." I want no regrets. So, every though I deny myself pleasure after pleasure, I have to keep pushing. It's immensely frustrating.

So, in summation, what did this week teach me?

10. I have no clue where I'm going

For most of the past decade, I've been able to tell you what I'm going to be doing five years from now. Not with any freakish degree of accuracy, mind you, but I could say, "I'm going to be an actor based out of New York, and I'm going to be with Maxine." Breaking up with her last fall changed all that. Suddenly my life had no anchor. I was free to move in any direction I wanted. Sometimes that has been pleasant, but most of the time I've felt paralyzed. I suppose, however, that recognizing this is some small victory. You have to know where you are before you know where you're going, right?

Two things to close with. Yesterday, I was sitting with my mother in the hotel room. She was trying to give me money, as usual. As usual, I was trying not to take it. But my poverty trumped my pride, and I relented. My mother bent down, cradled my face in her hands, and said, "I just hope that you find whatever it is that you're looking for."

I almost bawled. I have no idea how I held it together. I think I muttered thanks and looked away quickly, but I was just in amazement that she could see right through me like that. I guess that I shouldn't be that amazed. She is my mother, after all. She just wants the best for me.

Which brings me to the other thing.

We got goodie bags for the whole weekend, and much of our swag was cancer-related. (Several of my family members have battled cancer, so many of us are involved in cancer fighting charities.) This was the night of my massive hangover, so I was feeling particularly crappy. I took the bag from my cousin, who pointed out something in their that she didn't want me to lose. Perched on top of the purple tissue paper was an elastic bracelet wrapped in plastic. In the center of the bracelet was a grey bead with a single word printed on it.

It spoke to me. It was just what I needed. I ripped open the plastic, and put it on my wrist straightaway. I'm wearing it now.

It's a reminder. Things may be tough now...but tomorrow brings endless possibility, of brightness just around the corner.

Hope.

That may be all I have, but it's a pretty powerful something.

changing the paradigm (i need a nice girl)

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you know that I tend to experience...ahem..."girl drama".

If you know me in real life, you would probably agree that I tend to date CRAZY women.

It's true. I don't deny this. I tend to have a weakness for icy, bitchy, beautiful women, who are mean and/or selfish. Or flaky, flighty women who have random mood swings and do irrational things that freak me out. Like print t-shirts with my name on them. Or plan spontaneous trips to visit me when they know I'm dating someone else.

Yeesh. It looks worse when I type it.

Anyway, I'm trying to actively change the type of woman I date. Some of the qualities that I'm looking for can't be changed; for example, it is impossible for me to date someone who hates theater. Or who isn't honest. Or has a flat butt. But I'm trying to put more of an emplasis on women who value some of the things I do: family, courtesy, tact.

Sports.

Above all, I'm looking for someone who is nice. I used the phrase "big-hearted" recently - not sure that I've dated someone like that since high school.

I had an encounter a few weeks ago that showed me I'm making some progress.

I'm in Brooklyn on a Friday night, and I passed a beautiful woman with an Afro on her cell phone. I am intrigued. I get to my destination, and as I wait outside I see her again. Still on her phone. She smiles. I smile. She approaches me.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Excuse me, can I ask you a question?

ME: Of course.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Would you mind doing me a favor?

Uh-oh. Alarms bells going off.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: I'm trying not to run into my ex-boyfriend, and I think he may be inside this bar. Would you mind going inside and checking to see if he's there?

Now, obviously, I'm thinking BULLSHIT. Obviously, this woman is just looking for an excuse to talk to me. It's a lame one, but I'm kind of impressed that she came up with something so...so...dumb. And, you know, having a pretty girl make dumb excuses to talk to me is kind of awesome. It makes my ego feel good. So I decide to play along.

ME: Uh...sure.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: He's got dreadlocks. He's really corny-looking.

"Corny-looking"? Really? What the hell does that mean?

ME: Uh...ok.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Oh, thank you. You are so nice!

I go into the bar. It is Buppie central. (Black Urban Professionals, for the uninitiated.) I walk the length of the bar. There is exactly one guy in the place with dreadlocks - and he's the DJ. And, if a girl's ex-boyfriend is a DJ, she's going to say, "Look for the DJ."

Armed with this information, I return to the front, where she is still standing (and still on her cell phone).

ME: The only guy in there with 'locks is the DJ.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Was he real corny-looking?

ME: Uh, I don't know...sure.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Yeah, that's him. You are so nice! Thank you!

We exchange names and chit-chat for a bit, and then she moves off to finish her phone call. My friends arrive (The Flying Squirrel and her friend). We walk through the club, decide that it's not our scene, and head across the street. I see my new friend walking away down the street. Too bad, I think. I had been planning on asking her to join us.

We go to the bar across the street. As we enter, I'm thinking, "She was cute, and she was obviously interested in you. And it's New York, so if you see someone you like, you need to go for it!" I excuse myself and head back out into the street.

No sign of her.

I walk in the direction where I last saw her.

Nope.

I walk around the entire block.

Nothing.

Oh well, I think. I cross the street and prepare to head back to my friends...when I see her coming towards me on the street. Still on her phone. I approach her:

ME: Excuse me, Pretty Woman W/Afro?

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: (to person on phone) Hold on a minute, Darnell. (to me) Yes?

ME: I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to get a drink or coffee sometime.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Hmmm. Well, I don't know. You were acting kind of stuck up back there.

Um, what?

ME: I don't know what you mean. I was waiting for my friends to arrive, and when I turned around you were walking down the street. I was going to ask you to join us.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Hmmm, I don't know. Well...how old are you?

I tell her my age.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Okay, okay, I'm thirty, okay, that works. Well...what do you do?

It is at this point that I seriously consider walking away. These are pointed questions. I feel like I'm being interrogated. But, hey, I am a guy who follows through. In karate, as a kid, the tenth rule was ALWAYS FINISH WHAT YOU START. I must finish this. This is how I roll. So, against my better judgement, I answer:

ME: I'm an actor.

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Okay, okay, so that means you must be creative. You look like someone who can sing.

Um, what?

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: Okay, okay, I could go out with you. Yeah.

ME: Well, how should we do this? Should I take your number, or do you want to give me yours, or can I give you my card...?

PRETTY WOMAN W/AFRO: A card? That's just so impersonal. (to person on phone) Darnell, I'm going to have to call you back.

Yes, that entire conversation took place WHILE SHE WAS ON THE FUCKING PHONE.

We exchange info, I go inside and hang with my friends.

I tell this story twice over the next two days: first, to a group of female friends, who are vehemently opposed to me going out with her. "If she's going to make you jump through all those hoops now and play these games," one friend says, "she's going to do that the whole time, You don't want to mess with that."

The second time was at our annual Mother's Day brunch: my brother, sister-in-law and I drove up to New England to have brunch with Voice & Sandwich, Grandma, my aunt, and my cousins. After the story, my mother looks distressed. "I just don't like this," she says.

ME: So you're saying you don't trust my taste in women?

VOICE: YES!

We all laughed. It was kind of shocking, hearing that from my mother. And eye-opening.

So, of course, I call this woman on Thursday night, as I'm headed out for the evening.

At this point you're probably thinking, where are these changes? This seems like another pursuit of crazy.

Well, yes.

But as the phone was ringing, I found myself hoping that she wouldn't pick up. When she called me back the next evening, I didn't pick up. And a couple of days later, I deleted her number from my phone, without calling her back.

If she treats a stranger like that, is she really the nice girl I'm looking for?

It took me a while to get there, but I consider this progress.

working boy

Hey y'all.

I've been wanting to write this post for several days, but...I've been working.

(Yaaaay!)

Unfortunately, I'm working at a temp job.

(Booooo!)

It's at a "financial services" company, and it's not great. Why?

- I got one day of training, from the nice woman who had the job before me. This consisted of going through a two page list with her, filled with things like, "Order water when it gets low," and "Make sure we have enough paper." This in-depth tutorial was occasionally punctuated by my teacher exclaiming things like, "It's my last day!" alternating with, "I'm moving to Hawaii!" Good for her. Really. Abso-fucking-lutely GREAT for her.

- The office is SILENT. Like a monastery. The people are nice, but biting into an apple feels like you've just farted in church. My brother called me at my desk today, and I could barely have a conversation with him because I felt like the whole office was listening in and judging me.

- I'm working with a lot of concepts that I'm not quite comfortable with. There's always a learning curve with a new job, and it always feels like Mount Everest when you start. Right now I'm just starting the climb, sans Sherpa. Because my Sherpa is moving to Hawaii, you see.

(Side note. I have a feeling that one of the reasons that this job is "not great" is because, whenever I'm asked how I'm liking it, I say It's "not great", you know what I mean? Perhaps we have a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy on our hands, youknowhatimsayin?)

Anyway, the one bright spot is that I do have unsupervised computer access, so I can read the occasional e-mail and check out the odd web page now and again. Despite my deep reservations, I'm committing to staying at this place through mid-July; we'll reevaluate the situation then. Let's hope that I land a fabulous acting job...

For now, I'm headed to bed. Why? Because I had to get up at six to get a workout in before heading to the office, that's why. See how hard my life is?

(Less whiny in the next post. Promise.)

the welcome home whirlwind

It's amazing how quickly things can change. One minute, you're on top of the world. The next, you feel like life is kicking you in the face. Repeatedly.

With that said, here's the basic timeline of my first 48 hours back in New York.

SUNDAY
appx 3:45pm: Plane touches down at LaGuardia. I briefly consider kissing the tarmac, but remember that I'm back in the city, and decide to pass.

3:50pm: My bag is heavy. My bookbag broke last weekend, so I'm stuck carting around my computer and my other essentials in my gym bag, which was not built to carry heavy stuff. My shoulder hurts.

3:55pm: Luggage arrives.

4:00pm: Get into a cab to take me home. The cab driver is a cheery African who smokes a cigarette and blares loud reggae music. I am so excited to be home that I don't mind.

4:30pm: Home! I open the door to my apartment and am greeted by the sound of my smoke detector. This means I need to buy a battery. My apartment is very dusty, and my bathroom smells funny. I chalk this up to my month-long absence.

4:45pm: Talk to the Brooklyn Squirrel on the phone in front of a drug store. It is a perfect day. There are beautiful people everywhere. I am so happy to be back in my neighborhood.

5:00pm: Equipped with batteries (on sale!) and some frozen yogurt (also on sale!), I return home. I feel like I am floating. There is no tension in my body. I am only slightly anxious about running into my ex-girlfriend. I think to myself, Perhaps this represents a turning point in your life. Perhaps things are going to totally go your way over the next few weeks. Perhaps your life will transform for the better, right now!

In retrospect, I totally jinxed myself.

5:15pm: I investigate the smell in my bathroom. It smells faintly of vanilla. I notice that I have left my vanilla-scented candle jar unscented all month. Maybe the caged-up vanilla smell goes bad when it is trapped in a small space, I think. I open the lid to my toilet. I realize that the candle has nothing to do with the smell: sewage has backed up into my toilet. It is truly disgusting. It will not flush. The only description I will give you: a layer of mold is on the top.

5:20pm: I call the front desk. They tell me that no one is around to fix it, but they will submit a work order. I will have to use the public restrooms in the building. I decide to not worry about it, and turn on the TV to watch some playoff hoops as I dust.

5:22pm: The cable goes out.

5:45pm: After two phone calls to the cable company and several attempts to reboot, I am informed that there is a problem with my cable box, and that technicians will have to come out to fix things. "How is Thursday afternoon?" the cheery cable lady asks. I wish that I could punch her in the face.

6:00pm: I dust. I call my parents. They tell me that things will get better. We talk sports.

8:40pm: I arrive at The Hot Wing's house for dinner - she has agreed to cook for me. Her cat is happy to see me.

8:50pm: I play with the cat. I don't like cats, but I'm a nice guy. We play gentle, then a little rough, then gentle.

9:30pm: We eat. We catch up. The Hot Wing is awesome.

11:30pm: I go home to work on sides for my audition. I only found about it on Friday. I am worried that, even though it is only two pages, I am not prepared enough.

12:30am: I go downstairs to use the bathroom. I feel like an idiot. There is no soap in the bathroom. Or paper towels. I feel gross.

1:30am: Sleep. I am happy to be in my comfortable bed.

MONDAY
9:15am: Rise and shine. I notice that I have bug bites on my right hand and left arm.

11:00am: I arrive for my audition. I endured train trauma, but this is already a long post.

11:10am: I perform my audition. The response is enthusiastic. I am elated.

11:15am: I speak to my temp agent, who has a job for me on Tuesday. I am elated.

12:00pm: I hang out in my building's new workout facility, where my sister-in-law is showing people how to use the equipment. We catch up. My sister-in-law is awesome. I check in with the maintenance guys, and they tell me they will be by at four to fix the toilet.

2:30pm: I buy lunch and go grocery shopping. The bug bites still itch. I put anti-itch cream on them. I check around my bed for spiders and around my ceiling for mosquitoes. I find nothing.

4:00pm: Maintenance doesn't show up.

6:00pm: I meet The Flying Squirrel for coffee. We catch up. The Flying Squirrel is awesome.

7:30pm: We eat dinner at a cool new restaurant. I keep scratching my hand. This bug bite is really bothering me.

9:30pm: Home. I resort to watching games on the internet. My bites are itching like crazy. The cream is not helping.

11:30pm: I try to get myself ready for bed, because I want to work out in the morning before my temp job. I set my alarm for six. I have to go downstairs to use the bathroom. There's still no soap or towels. Fortunately I have brought hand sanitizer. I feel slightly less gross. I search the bed and sheets again for bugs or spiders. I wonder if I was bit at my Heartland apartment.

1:15am: I finally get in bed. My hand and arm itch to the point of pain. I reset the alarm for six fifteen.

3:50am: I wake to my hand throbbing. I look at it and notice that it is swollen to a ridiculous state. I start to panic. I debate going to the hospital, but decide that I am being a wuss.

4:00am: I research spider bites online. I gross myself out.

4:30am: I remember that The Hot Wing's cat, while playing with me, nipped my hand. I wonder if that is the cause of the pain. I put ice on my hand and arm and that helps somewhat.

5:15am: I finally go back to sleep. I scrap my plan to work out at 6:15.

TUESDAY
8:15am: Rise and shine. I am exhausted.

8:30am: My hand is so swollen that I cannot bend my wrist. Under my skin I see a red streak that extends from my wrist to my elbow. The lump on my left arm is now the size of a mini candy bar. This makes getting dressed in my fancy temp clothes difficult.

8:50am: I leave for my temp job. I decide to tell them upon arrival that I will have to go see my doctor. I call my mother, who confirms my decision.

9:30am: I arrive at my temp job. I am told to wait. I sit down on the couch.

9:35am: The other employee from my temp agency arrives. She has been informed that the job has been cancelled.

9:37am: I check my phone. There is a voice mail. It is from my temp agency, telling me to go home because the temp job has been cancelled.

9:45am: I call my doctor's office. They initially tell me that there's no way to see the doctor today, but after I explain my problem they tell me they will call back.

10:00am: I eat breakfast at McDonald's (I didn't want to go all the way home, ok?). I talk to The Hot Wing, who is on a break from jury duty. She is mortified and apologetic. I tell her that it is not her fault. Or her cat's.

10:10am: The phone rings again. It is the doctor's office. My doctor can see me at one.

11:00am: I arrive home. I change out of my fancy temp clothes into my regular Rover clothes. My toilet is still not fixed. I call the maintenance guys. They say they will come up.

11:30am: My temp agent calls to apologize. During her call, the maintenance guys arrive. The toilet is fixed. The maintenance guys are awesome.

12:50pm: I arrive at the doctor's office. My doctor sees me quickly.

1:00pm: I am examined on the table. The red streak now extends from my wrist almost to my armpit. The doctor excuses herself.

1:10pm: The doctor returns. You have an infection from the cat bite, she says. We're going to start you on antibiotics, and I'm going to give you a tetanus shot.

Great, I say. I can still work out while I'm taking this right?

My doctor gives me a withering look.

Um, NO, she says. You have a VERY bad infection. You need to rest for a few days before you start exerting yourself.

My doctor is awesome.

1:50pm: My prescription is filled. This is the fourth time I am on antibiotics in the past seven months. Ironically, I still have four pills left in my pack of probiotics, which, you know, you take after a course of antibiotics. I find this hilarious.

2:15pm: I eat lunch with my brother and his drummer. We make fun of various and sundry things, including: the drummer, for her slow lunch order; the burger joint's soundtrack; internet videos and websites; the sheer size of my antibiotics. We take a picture to document the growth of my stunning man beard. It is a beautiful day. My hand and arm have stopped itching so much. I am drinking an Arnold Palmer. Things are better. My parents were right. They usually are.

food

We had a brush-up rehearsal for our show tonight, which meant that we ran through the thing at about half the emotional intensity. I'm usually starving after work, and I don't have a bunch of stuff at the apartment, so after the run I went to IHOP. I kept thinking about eggs as I drove over, and I was determined to order something (a) healthy and (b) inexpensive.

So what did I order?

Chicken-friend steak with three eggs and three pancakes. And a carafe of coffee (decaf). Seventeen bucks with tip.

And...I feel like crap.

I always do this. I always try to eat with the idea of eating healthy foods that will fuel my body and keep me slim. My taste buds, however, somehow seem to circumvent the process and take control just as I'm ordering. That's why I've been on a fast-food jag the last week or so.

It's a constant battle. I love food. I love eating out, and I love cooking, and I love watching cooking shows, and I love reading restaurant reviews...I just think all of it is great. I wish I could just eat what I want all of the time.

Then, I snap back to reality.

First of all, I'm single. I think that my chances of finding an attractive mate rise as my stomach flattens. So there's that. There's also a history of high blood pressure in my family. Most importantly, right now, is that men in my family, when they reach their early-to-mid-thirties, tend to put on weight. And I can't play the kinds of roles that I'm playing now if I'm carrying around thirty extra pounds.

So I try to watch what I eat.

And I try to go to the gym.

And I beat myself up when I fail at those two tasks.

This week? I've been to the gym once (yesterday) and I've had fast food multiple times. You can guess how my psyche feels.

Time to drink water and cleanse myself...

life in the heartland

I've been trying to get this post up for the better part of a week, but free time has been in short supply. I'm playing a pretty big role in the show I'm doing here, so I have to kind of line up my day to make sure that I get enough rest, food, sneak a workout in, etc. This leaves precious little blogging time. But here I am, staying up late for you, dear reader. See? I care about this blog!

Anyway...

I'm currently working at a small Midwestern college, located in an even smaller town in the middle of nowhere. Until my parents came last week, I thought that this town didn't even have chain restaurants. Fortunately, they were staying at the other end of town, where all of the "stuff" is located. So my experience has improved in the last week quite a bit - I'm ashamed to say this, but it's amazing what Starbucks can do for one's psyche.

It's been really lonely here, as I alluded to in the post below. And the work, at times, has been frustrating. Two of the students that I rely the most on in the show have been disasters. One can't learn his lines to save his life; the other has a very laissez-faire attitude. As we've moved closer to opening, they've been better - if you consider "paraphrasing whole swaths of text" and "missing an entrance during dress rehearsal "better. They're very nice, though, so it's really hard to kill them for anything. I keep reminding myself that this is supposed to be a learning experience. To be fair, most of the students have really good work ethics, and the young woman who plays my love interest has been a delight. That helps immensely.

Another strange phenomenon here is the publicity for the show. Basically the top half of the posters they've designed is a big color photo of my now-bearded face, staring intently into the viewer's soul. (Which is kind of hilarious, because when they took the picture I was looking directly into the sun, and my thoughts alternated between, "Can I shut my eyes now?" and "I wonder how much damage this is doing to my retinas?") These posters are EVERYWHERE on campus - the cafeteria, glaring at me as I eat; the gym, watching me on the elliptical; and standing guard at seemingly every building entrance on campus. It's really really freaky. It becomes hilarious when I walk past the poster when someone is nearby - invariably they'll glance back and forth between the photo and me. I really wish I could record people's reactions - they're that entertaining.

Anyway, these posters have kind of made me infamous on campus; everyone seems to know me. Now, very rarely is anyone actually talking to me, but more often than not I'm getting that flicker of recognition when I walk past someone. I guess I know what it's like to be famous. I don't like it.

I know that there have been several inquiries (or assumptions) concerning my current status with the ladies. I'll save that one for the next post...coming this weekend...