#16 Christmas Eve Morning

SOBER SEASON

This time of year can be particularly hard for people depending on one's life circumstances. We watch various scenarios play out in the news, experience pressures at work and with family.  Relationships of any kind can feel taxed & overwhelming. The mask of trying to be happy for the holiday's can take a toll. It's almost as if there is a magnifying glass on your life exaggerating the good, the bad and the ugly. I'd say it's tantamount to looking at the holiday season as if you were standing in front of a funhouse mirror.  There are people, places & things, coming at you in all shapes and sizes and from all directions. Clowns. There are some clowns too...and they mock you.

Every year I have the belief that somehow the current holiday season will be better than its predecessor.

Do I have expectations?

Maybe--or maybe I just have the exuberance of spirit that remains from my childhood. That said, I'm an adult now so I just try to keep things in the present moment and not let perceived pressures or the ghosts of holidays past get to me.

From a practical standpoint, all looks fine and actually IS fine...because I am sober.

On January 2, 2015, I will celebrate 19 years of sobriety. Considering the career I'm in, and the fact that I'm surrounded by a plethora of personalities and alcohol on a regular basis, this is no small accomplishment.

 

New Year's Eve of 1995, I had already been sober for two years, when I left a failed marriage and moved back to nyc to pursue an acting career. I supplemented that career by working in a restaurant while also working as a hostess, waitress and bartender at a noted comedy club in NYC.

On that fateful night in '95 (and even with two years of sobriety under my belt), I experienced what I believed was a personal "rejection".

Heartbroken and not having the emotional wherewithal to handle situation, I instead, poured myself the most heinous drink one could imagine--an amaretto sour. The truth of the matter was that I thought it would be less harmful than a "real" drink but as the night wore on, the amaretto sour turned into straight bourbon and so on and so on and so forth and blah blah blah and mess.

The following morning, when I stared into an actual mirror (not one of the funhouse variety) I didn't recognize myself. I felt hollow.

Send in the clowns.

So, on January 2, 1996, I once again raised my hand and committed to my recovery.  In the years that followed, I was able to get back on track. Slowly, the dreams of my youth unfolded and a path became clear that led me to the career I have now. Tragedy + timing = comedy.

I've had a lot of help along the way and I certainly didn't do it alone. Call it faith or whatever you want but I also had a belief in something bigger than myself that would carry me through. Trees. Yes, I'm a tree hugger.

I've had a number of different roles in the comedy business-- Executive Assistant, General Manager (of various clubs), Talent Booker, Entertainment Director, Producer, Comic and Actress. I've also worked in television production and there was a brief stint as a paralegal at a law firm (when the industry wasn't so kind but my civilian friends were).

Through the years, I have restored and repaired damaged relationships, helped numerous others, been a source of comfort to my father, a devoted sister and a pretty decent person all around.

So now it's Christmas Eve morning of 2014. The nature of life is such that my family is scattered all around and we're all so busy. Social media & phone calls close the gap though and are a way we can keep tabs on each other.

Tonight, I'll be working in the role that allows me to put smiles on peoples’ faces (no, I will not be doing comedy or stripping). I'll be managing the funny & hopefully keep things running smoothly.  I’ll be surrounded by people I genuinely love to be around. I'm also content with the knowledge that my father is resting comfortably at home in Florida awaiting the gift that I sent him (that he will most likely want to return later to get it’s monetary value).

It's not the Christmas Eve of my dreams because in my dreams I'm whisked away to some romantic location with my partner! There’s a sleigh involved! That sort of thing! It is a whirlwind romantic great time!

In another less selfish version of my dream I am with my partner, Leonardo DiCaprio (hey, it's my dream!), and we have a festive dinner with family and friends but we also donate charitable goods, help others and save the environment.

Clearly, neither of these scenarios are unfolding this year but the year isn't quite up yet, is it?

Well, a gal can dream... and hope…but all bets are off if I have another amaretto sour.

So, from this Jew to you—Have a very Merry Christmas and wonderful New Year!

#15

The Artist's Way has been collecting dust (I know you're already bored but read on) under the night table next to my bed for years. Those "Morning Pages" that everyone suggests you write were derived from that book. Repeatedly, people have suggested I do "Morning Pages". Truth is, I rarely want to read  or do something everyone has told me I should read or do, despite however good it might be.  I also like to do things my way...by making mistakes. That said, the name of this blog is "Mornings" and mine were busy over the last few months.

From a practical sense, there's no time to hand write or type. In a prior blog, I mentioned this. For stream of consciousness, I "talk to text". Such is the case now.  In the months since I last spoke into this device (my cellphone), there were situations in my life that were emotionally weighty.  Notably, with my former roommate and my father's health issues.

I went through a considerable amount money trying to keep my head above water during this time and it was my work that kept me from losing everything and going crazy...even though that work is in a comedy club. I find my balance in this kind of insanity.  I love my job so when times get particularly tough, there's usually some comic around to tell me how much I suck as a human being and that usually puts a smile on my face. Get it? I like the opposite of stuff!

Over the summer, I didn't want to add more conflict to an already uncomfortable situation at home, so I spent a good deal of time away from my apartment.  Here and there, I sprinkled in a few days at the Jersey Shore & Fire Island and there was also a trip to see my father.

In no particular order, Palestinians & Jews, Isis, Ebola, Ferguson, Bill Cosby and Kim Kardashian's ass loomed in the news... but mostly it was Kim Kardashian's ass.

Consequently, The Red Light Podcast disbanded. Yes! It was because of all THESE things we disbanded or maybe it was that some of the girls got boyfriends but, in all honesty, we discussed that we really needed to revamp and retool the thing if we were ever to resume it.  So, I'm not not sure what will come of it but if you haven't yet heard us, our episodes are available at: newyorkcomedyworld.com or www.theredlight.podomatic.com

 

With that, I wish you all a pleasant start to the month of December and the holiday season! I'm going to redecorate my soul (kidding) and my apartment (not kidding).

As for you all, be nice...it's less boring than you think.

#14 THANK YOU

Clearly, there are some mornings we wake up and we are just in a foul mood but that has not been the case for me the past two weeks or three weeks since I last wrote. 

Moreover, I have been humbled by the fact that there are just things that are outside of my control. Rather than fight those things, I've tried to accept them and work constructively to appease whatever the situations are that are most distressing in my life on any given day.

Dealing with family matters, financial matters, relationship matters, business matters can all seem so overwhelming and not everyone likes the answers you'll give them (especially if they're not the ones they want to hear).

In the end, you answer to one authority-your own, God or whatever your concept of a higher power may be.

That said, this is the first time in weeks I've had a moment alone to collect my thoughts (as much as I can) and I'm overlooking the East River on a very warm yet breezy day.

For the moment I seem to have satisfied everyone's requests of me.  Contrary to what it may seem (to some), I few demands (of others). Just being fair and decent human being is typically my only request (expectation).  That, in itself, can often be met with difficulty.

(Oh, and once in a while I just need some quiet. Shush it.)

Recently, I came back from visiting my father. He is 88 years old and he is doing as well as can be for a man his age but his needs are many and they consume my thoughts a good deal of the time. Underlying most things I do, are thoughts of my father-- alone--and how I can comfort him from a distance.

I speak to him twice sometimes three times a day and go down to see him as often as I can. It's all I can do for now.

My outlet is comedy. Comedy in all it's forms helps me handle most anything. I am blessed to be working in a profession that brings me great joy.

Many of us try to achieve success and go at it with a shark like appetite and that is fine (and to some degree I respect that) but often times we fail to realize that those in a position to help us have lives as well--families and responsibilities and more than a handful of people that they have to answer to on any given day (not to mention the general public).

Perhaps if we thought about this a little bit more, we would be less inclined to bug the crap out of people for the things we think we need. 

So, for today I am grateful. I have a roof (that I work extremely hard to maintain) and a job and friends and love from the people I know that love me (and who I love in return). 

If you have any one of these you're luckier than you may realize. 

Maybe say thank you.

#13 This morning I remember.

When the weather gets warm, I wake and walk to work through Central Park. Whenever I pass the Heckscher softball field, I always think of Jimmy; a stocky, gruff, cigar smoking character that used to pitch for the team that my ex-husband played for. My ex used to say "don't bug Jimmy too much, he can get us tickets to Broadway shows and great seats to ballgames".  I guess I was prone to bugging people back then but I certainly wasn't aware of it.

Sitting on the bench, I would just grab my beer and cheer on the guys as they played. Familiar calls of "wait for it" and "take your pitch" would fill the air.  The days seemed slower then. Maybe it was the pot. I'm smiling.

Jimmy kind of scared me a little bit. Lord knows, based on what my ex said, I didn't want to get on Jimmy's bad side. I mean, who doesn't like going to Broadway shows or great games and having good seats? I feared all of their wraths! Jimmy was clearly the leader of the group though as he ordered the guys to do this or that or grab this or that and everybody just followed his direction.

It wasn't until my marriage ended and I moved back to New York from Florida that Jimmy became my friend. I think the year was '96 and I was working for a high-profile comedy club. Jimmy would come by and look in on me and take me to dinner every now and then.  I remember we went to see the Lion King. Through the years, we would see each other and the visits were always memorable with great food and great conversation. Sometimes we would go on long drives throughout the city and Jimmy would point out historical facts. Whenever I was heartbroken (which was often enough) or financially unstable, he would always palm me a little money and he was always there. For one of my birthdays, he surprised me taking a group of my friends and I to see Rock of Ages on Broadway and then we all went to dinner. Jimmy did things big. He was big!

The day before Father's Day last year, Jimmy sent me a text and asked me where I was and I said I was with my father in Florida.  He knew that meant I couldn’t talk as my father is getting older and commands all of my attention. The following day I received a call from Jimmy's friend (who's number I had stored in my phone from having spent time with him, his wife and Jimmy) who wanted to let me know that Jimmy had passed away that very night. I never got the chance to really say goodbye to him but these are the things about Jimmy that I came to know and love and that will be missed and remembered--

Although Jimmy was an intimidating presence, he was a poet, a musician and an artist. He was a dreamer who never fully realized his dreams. He was also a man that was committed to people and causes in the extreme; to the point where he would give you the shirt off his back (cliché, I know) if he could.  He was as hard as he was sensitive.

Our relationship was one of pure friendship. I knew that I reminded him of a very innocent time and place in his life--when it was all about softball, sunshine, friends and (for some) beer.

(As an aside, I have not had a drink over 18 years and Jimmy had stopped as well)

I've known people that have loved Bob Dylan but not to the extent that Jimmy did and I've known people who could quote from innumerable poets & authors. When Jimmy quoted Bob Dylan or anyone, it was the most apropos quote for the situation.

Jimmy carried the weight of the world, your world and his world on his back and it was precisely that heaviness that was probably his undoing. His heart was laden.

As Father's Day approaches and I think of my own father who has not been well and who I will soon be visiting, I also think of Jimmy and the times we spent together. I think of my ex-husband and I think of innocence and hope.

"The only thing that is constant is change" is a quote from Heraclitus
 and that is certainly true. Heraclitus also said, “Time is a game played beautifully by children.”

So it is.

Love and remember.

#12

It was dull outside. I heard the distant sounds of morning traffic. No birds that I recall. Is it ever going to be summer? I fumble for my phone. Morning tweets of atrocities going on in the world and then...what?!...when did Sam Champion leave GMA? What the? How did I miss that? My priorities are beyond screwed.

Anyway, it looks like it might rain but I don't take an umbrella because I'm a rebel (but really it's because I just don't want to carry one more thing).

I'm relaxed today--wearing jeans and a black shirt and my Converse All-star basketball sneakers. I've said it just like that since I was 10. "I'm wearing my Converse All-star basketball sneakers" and that's that! I also say things like "Stereophonic unit" but that's another story.

I heard that Irish Mike died. We were probably around the same age. Actually, he might have been younger but years of alcohol abuse made that impossible to determine. I didn't know him well but in his more lucid moments he was a seemingly nice guy, a helpful one and genuinely liked by most who came in contact with him. He just couldn't get it (sober) and maybe he never wanted to get it having lost his wife and children in a bad accident years ago. It was more than sad but I can't tell you in all honesty that I didn't expect it and it is a sad thing to expect.

The thing is--no matter how bad it gets, I just don't want to let the bad win. There are too many things in life that make it worth living.

Last night, as I walked home at dusk through Central Park, I was surprised that there were not more people about to witness its splendor and at the same time I felt it was a treat for me...having the park almost all to myself. Still, serene and magical. I had no home. I had no age. I just was.

Did I lose you? Fine. Back to comedy.

What I'm trying to say is that many times we think we know what's ahead but we don't. Plans are ideas we try to set in motion and the "best laid plans of mice and men" (there I go again).

Man, all I'm saying is that I want to be around to see it all...all the possibilities. To take part in the conversation and mostly to laugh...

even and if mostly at myself.

#11

Panic! I wake as if someone or something shocked the bejesus out of me! I'm disoriented. Where do I need to be? What time is it? What day is it? "Hold on!" "Pull yourself together" are the things I tell myself. It's 9:30 am. and I never really have to be anywhere at 9:30am. My breath slows and softens and I look at my phone (because I no longer have a clock or a watch) and note that it's Friday. 

Friday, is going to be busy and I better get up NOW. I want to tackle the day! I don't want to wallow in whatever this headspace is.

I need to be at the club for a cornucopia of reasons. So, I shower and pull together an outfit and get a move on. As I walk down the five flights, I'm met by my super. He is a slight man in his 60s who I've known for over 15 years and who I recently learned had suffered a mini stroke only a few days earlier. He's a good guy. Not only handy but has been an ear for my shenanigans over the years. He also knows this city's politics which has made for some colorful conversations between us. I'm glad to see that he's up and about. We chat briefly but I have to hustle to get to the club.

I'm expecting some guys to come and pick up items that we've stored for an inordinate amount of time and that we no longer use, need or want. Additionally, we have festival shows going on tonight so the phones are ringing consistently and the place is abuzz.

Once in the office, I brace myself. I check emails, have a few conversations with my boss and assimilate all the goings-on. Throughout the day, there are mini interruptions ranging from tourists, passers by that have inquiries, aspiring comics wanting to know how to get stage time and performers coming in for rehearsals of one kind or another.

At some point I will take 10 minutes to reconnect with my breathing, to assess my body, to just calm down. To meditate. Whatever is going on, I want to maintain focus. I want to get things done efficiently and I don't want NO FREAKIN' PROBLEMS!

Happy customers and smooth running shows are the aim.

However, there is another side of me that runs concurrently with the person that shows up for work 6 days a week.

This person wants to lose control of everything. She wants to abandon trying to manage every detail of her life---every person, every outcome.

She spontaneously flies to Paris, speaks french with ease and is a painter and poet (both skills come effortlessly for her) and she is impossibly thin and, of course, beloved and admired.

But I'm sitting in Agata & Valentina on East 79th Street as I write this eating a mix of pancakes, bacon & eggs from the breakfast buffet so I don't think She is going to materialize today.

As it turns out, it rains (no control over that) pretty heavily on Friday night but that doesn't stop a sold-out show from happening. We're busy and all the shows turn out solid. So, it's a successful night overall with "manageable" issues in between.

Having worked and 11 hour day,  I decide to take a walk. It's 63° and it's the perfect night for a stroll which I love to do to unwind after the shows.

I pass Columbus Circle and make my way to Lincoln Center where I'm drawn to 3 bronze "Spirit Totem" sculptures that were created by jazz musician Herb Alpert, called "Gratitude", "Grace" and "Freedom". Precisely the mood I'm in.

I place my hand on one of the sculptures which is still wet from the rain. I'm dwarfed by it. Life.

I am one small creature but I am grateful, alive and free in this moment.

Mercí. 

I even speak french.

#10

I'm sitting in  a little side street park--breeze blowing with a warm hint of the summer to come. Just finished my volunteer shift at the  yoga studio. It is nearly noon. My day began at 8:20. For the two hours I spend at the yoga studio (each hour translates to a free class) I think of nothing but towels --loading them in and out of washers and dryers. I get to wear blue rubber gloves because the towels are saturated with the sweat of the yoga practitioners.  I put the gloves on with the speed in which I believe surgeons do before they operate. I do this because it's necessary and in case I get a movie role where I get to play a surgeon. The "laundry shift" as it is called, is a little monotonous but it keeps my mind off anything negative. Being around the energy and the people at the studio is uplifting and I get to observe the classes (which is good) and taking my free class later makes me very very happy!

Outside on the bench now, I realize days have gone by since I wrote anything. The pace of life has made it difficult but that's no excuse. Some mornings, I simply don't want to. Other times, I can't collect my thoughts long enough to get to writing them down. I can't assess them and wonder if my they're even worth assessing-- they come in and go out like waves--flooding my mind and then disappearing.

Whatever. I watch an old man walk away and the breeze picks up some.

I went to the theater last night as I mentioned I would in a prior blog. I saw Of Mice And Men on Broadway with James Franco and Etc Cast.  I say Etc. Cast because I highly suspect the play would not get the recognition that it's getting if he were not in it. Which isn't to say that the other actors including the Tony nominated Chris O'Dowd, lovely Leighton Meester and ensemble aren't extremely talented--it's just obvious what is driving people to this play (including myself). I'm no hypocrite. I've seen the play 1 million times (okay, three) and watched countless (okay, six) actors in scene study classes perform it, why else would I go?

I had arrived at the theatre having spent the day earlier with my boss and my comic sisters of The Red Light podcast. Interested parties may listen to the podcast at: theredlight.podomatic.com. It's sassy, explicit, scattered and informative. That's as much of a description as I'm going to give you. We definitely try to have fun.

So, I get to my balcony seat. I'm wearing a black dress and pearls but I am cloaked (I get dramatic when I'm in the theater) in my jean duster--which I particularly like and which I thought would lend to the authenticity, tone & mood of the play--because in my mind I'm in it. What can I say? I'm all about immersing. I like to immerse.

Seated behind me is a middle school class from Seattle. There are probably 35 to 50 kids--most of them teenage girls and all of them proclaiming that they will have James Franco's baby.  I want to tell them that they don't stand a chance because I will pulverize them (and he and I will adopt) but mostly I just want them to shut up.

The play is as compelling as I remember it to be and all of the actors do their jobs. Because I'm aware that this is live theater, I know that some nights may be better than others and I had a slight suspicion that this night was not one of the more engaged nights (which isn't to say it wasn't a good night it just felt slightly off for some reason).

As I exited, throngs of young girls gathered to take selfie's and Instagram photos with James Franco. I disappeared into the streets where I was promptly met by promoters trying to sell me comedy club tickets!  

Geesh, guys! Don't you know who I am? I must be having an off night. ;)

#9

I'm laying in bed with no rush to get out of it. Being busy and being productive are two different things and there are times I feel like I take 2 steps forward and 3 back with a lot of side-stepping in between. 

Although its 10am, my bedroom Is still dark and right now the only light there is, comes through from a gated window. I look up at Botticelli's Venus; a poster in an elaborate frame that I purchased in Titusville Florida many years back. It's an image that has been over-saturated in its uses through the years and what I once loved, I've  now outgrown. So, Venus languishes lonely on cracked wall in my bedroom. A metaphor? Perhaps. I don't know. 

My thoughts turn to James Franco. I mean, why wouldn't they?

I'll just say this, there was an occurrence, a  "blip" of sorts as to why this happened but I'm not going to explain it because I'm not even sure I  believe it myself.
Nevertheless, James Franco has been in my consciousness ever since.

As you may know, I am a comic and an actress that also manages several comedy clubs. Because of my background, I am naturally drawn to creative types--actors, other comics, writers, artists, musicians, poets, dancers etc. and probably more so now than ever because of just how terrifying the state of the world seems to be.

For me, anything that can take my mind off the harsh realities of what we're doing to this planet, to each other, to ourselves (even temporarily) can be a moment of meditation. I've had a lot on my mind lately regarding my father's health, finances, etc. So, a James Franco detour came at a good time. After all, he is talented, creative and good-looking. I could get lost in that for a minute.

But that minute turned into a full week of consumption of all things James Franco. What's odd is that I never thought about this person prior to the aforementioned "blip" and now I couldn't stop. 

With the help of the internet and Instagram, I was overwhelmed with the popularity of James Franco. I discovered his achievements and the diversity of those achievements and I was truly struck by them.

Several months ago, I listened to Nick Cave for the first time and I've become hooked on his music ever since.  I've listened to everything of his I could get access to including interviews. I went to a screening of a documentary about him and have plans to see him in July with The Bad Seeds in Prospect Park. I started this blog as a practice because I found Cave's own inexhaustible drive to write so inspiring.

This James Franco "blip" triggered a similar reaction--a further need to delve into lyrics, words, thoughts, feelings, art. It gave me even more incentive to explore and push the boundaries and limitations of who I am, who I think I am and what I do.. I believe that is the mission of all true artists (and if we can make you laugh that's an added bonus).

But I haven't gotten out of bed yet.

When I finally do rouse myself from the James Franco coma I put myself in, I consider the day ahead. 

I notice that the pain in my knee (from over locking it in bikram yoga class) has diminished. I assess myself and soon realize that it's my day off and I have to get ready for a lunch date I've arranged with someone from an internet dating site. I have a real personal life I'm trying to attend to. A need to find a companion. I leave to meet my date. He arrives wearing a white T-shirt, gym pants and sneakers and he is immediately disgruntled because I've accidentally sat down a restaurant that we agreed to meet at but I wasn't supposed go into. He deems that the weather is nice enough, so he relents and says we can stay seated outside. After some awkward exchanges and efforts (on his part) to control, he tells me he's Italian from the waste down. It's a sales pitch. I see where this is leading and ask for my share of the check and leave.

Turns out, this date was more of a lesson in what I don't want versus what I do. Gone are the days where I try to tough things out. He has one thing on his mind and it's not about getting to know me because he thinks he already does.

(I want you to feed my soul. Can you do that?)

So, I stroll and turn my head to the sun and decide that I could use an ice coffee. I wasn't awake for that date but I was definitely awake enough to know there wouldn't be another one.

I end up at Le Pain Quotidien. Classical music is playing. In front of me is a New York Times with the Weekend Arts section splayed out. On the main page is an article about the upcoming  Spider-Man movie. Here we go. James Franco was in a Spider-Man movie. Coincidence? I start to drift.

Whatever the reason or whether the "blip" led me, I'm going to see James Franco in Of Mice And Men on Broadway. Grateful that I can lose myself in the theatre. 

I'll get the chance to suspend my disbelief and maybe even my belief a little longer. ;)

#8

Last week, I told my therapist I was going to wake up at the same time every morning. I made this promise of sorts to her (and to myself) because for my entire life, I've been saying I'm going to wake up at a certain time every day and I never do. In my vision of what a successful person looks like, that person always wakes up at the same time every morning. Whether that's true or not (and I suspect it really isn't)  it didn't happen for me. I woke up whenever I felt like waking up. Whenever I was ready to face the day. Self sabotage?

I am a native New Yorker and I love New York more than anything but the city has a way of  kicking the shit out of you at times. Whatever issues you have concerning home life, family, job, finances, relationships, the MT (fucking) A, long lines at Duane Reade (why is there only one person at the counter?), long lines at Starbucks, long lines at the bank-- and you can bank on being a grump (at the very least) and bumping into more grumps throughout the day. So, despite my willingness to try (yet again) to wake up a certain time, it just wasn't happening this week knowing I was facing THAT...AGAIN! God forbid, I lived in a war torn country or faced life threatening obstacles everyday (some would say New York is like that but it's not). Bottom line, I should be grateful this is all I face! I should be grateful for electricity, hot and cold running water, my eyesight, my limbs, my health in general, your health and everyone's health!

Where are my priorities? 

No one's life is perfect. No one's. Mine is significantly better than most but my realities are my realities and my challenges are mine and this is what I got...

So, I worked late and stayed out late a good portion of this week which led my nights into my mornings, which led my mornings into my afternoons and because of that there was an underlying pressure to catch up with stuff . I never felt fully prepared and yet somehow managed to be wholly alert and present for all situations. From my father to my friends to the shows, I was accountable. Nothing suffered. So it was.

I attribute whatever stability I have to bikram yoga, therapy and other  "outlets".  As I mentioned in an earlier blog, getting out of self and helping others (which a lot of what do is) is tantamount to my overall well being.

So, I make this recommendation to anyone who could be struggling with their mornings or their days in general.  Get up and give of yourself, you will be rewarded. Maybe not immediately but in the long run. (In my mind, I hear comedians joking about "giving of themselves")

Speaking of jokes, I got sucked into a Tinder vortex this week too. Swipe him to your left, swipe him to your right! Holy hell, that was addicting and mind numbing! It's truly bizarre to see that you have friends in common with a virtual stranger that lives 49 miles away from you and who you will never actually go on a date with.

In related news, a man from another dating app called himself  "moves like Jagger" but he looked like he moved more like Burt Young (only a handful of you will get that reference and even Jagger doesn't move quite like Jagger anymore).

Diversions, diversions, diversions... but I have things to do! I always have things to do and that is a good thing! I think of Morgan Freeman in Shawshank redemption. I say to myself, "I just want to be with my friend Andy."  It reminds me of the "hope is a good thing" part of Morgan's monologue. Yes! Hope! That is what we get up for!

So, I hope I'll be able to set my alarm in the future and I hope to turn myself into the vision of success that I aspire to be and I hope that you all get what you may want or need.

I hope.

#7

I don't rely on an alarm. I usually get up before I'm "supposed" to . In the last few days , I haven't really wanted to get out of bed though. I mean, I do but I just haven't...wanted to. Whether it's perceived scenarios in my head of conversations and situations that havent taken place, mounting bills, concern about my father or just general pressures--whatever it may be, I just want to hide.

Did I do that? No.

Grown ups don't have the luxury of wallowing. Certainly, my friends with kids don't. 

I get up later. I'm more harried but I suit up, show up, go to work, go to yoga class and deal with all matters in the best way I can--feeling the way I feel-- some kind of general malaise. 

Sometimes that is my condition and I have to trust that it will pass and I have to take necessary steps to help it pass-- meditate, take walks in the park  and spend time with friends--things like that. It's a kind of a low level anxiety that really only lifts after I start helping someone else and, of course, when I'm doing something creative or watching comedy.

Writing this helps.

The good news is that for the time being my father is fine. He's seeing doctors today and taking steps to ensure that there's nothing overly serious going on. We'll speak later...as always.

Tonight, I'll take yoga class and maybe go to a movie with a friend (who needs a friend right now) and...

There is always comedy.

Right now, I'm sitting in a diner listening to two men speak very animatedly in French while Minnie Riperton's "Loving You"plays (the fact that I know this makes me feel old) in the background and watching NY1.

Well, It's time to pay the check, get going and save the world.

#6

The last two nights, I worked and went out with comedians after the shows. Along with the usual "what's the next move?" or “how can we improve our game?” types of questions, I can count on witnessing some playful ribbing & quick witted banter that sparks between the guys when they talk about each other’s attire. This is customary among comics. Years ago, I was fortunate to see it done well and often between Rich Vos, Patrice O'Neal and Keith Robinson.

This juvenile behavior has carried over from high school and still holds up as the guys hit their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s and beyond. Tonight’s topic is “sneakers” and it starts with "look at those shoes!” “you can wear those inside out!" and it escalates from there. I'm silent and I smile into my soup because I know I'm not fast enough to take part.  I’m the kid that thought of the funny thing to say after the fact. It's really okay. I'm wearing boots anyway. I'm also reeling from being told only moments earlier, that I look like Roz from Frasier. I understand the comparison but I'm hoping I'm the sexier version of Roz...no offense to Roz.

So, waking up this morning wasn’t the easiest. I probably look more like Roz then, let’s say, Demi Moore (who I prefer to resemble). I’m definitely groggy and rushing. I scan my tiny bedroom for a clean dress and settle on a blue, black and brown polka dot-style Anne Klein print and I pair that with my blue converse sneakers and dash. Sneakers. I definitely look like someone’s misfit mom.

I’m on time for work and within seconds the first delivery of the day arrives.  Shortly, the place will be abuzz with rehearsals, improv shows, open mics and our headliner showcases.

It’s never dull. That’s for sure.