4/30/2011

Getting in too Deep

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Have you ever been struck by a moment of spontaneity? Has that moment ever gotten you into trouble or took you somewhere you weren't planning to go? I can think of two very specific moments where this has happened to me. The first one is a time way back in middle school when I was at the North Carolina state fair with my friend, Rawley. We were a spontaneous duo. In fact, I was at the fair to dress up as Clifford for the little kids (a spontaneous volunteering gig). On my break, however, we walked around the fair and saw a sign that said "The Greatest Storytelling Ever Told!" In a moment of spontaneity we were like, "WE LOVE STORIES!" and rushed inside the tent. Of course, it was a bunch of sneaky Christians waiting for someone to trap. And they got us. For an hour we sat in that tent being force fed bible stories. Not that Bible stories are uninteresting, just not how we planned on spending our break.


Yesterday, my spontaneity got me in trouble again. I was making brownies with my roommate (Betty Crocker's Family Fudge Brownies) and she said, "Wow! It is SO great that they put all of these ingredients in one bag for you. It just makes life so easy." And I said, "That so true! We should call them and let them know how we feel." So I found the 800 number on the box and I called Betty Crocker. The conversation was as follows.

Betty: "How can we help you today?" She had a slight Southern accent and a warm, soothing voice as if she just picked up the phone in the middle of baking cookies or something.

Me: "Yeah, my roommate and I are just making some of your brownies and we just wanted to call and thank you for putting all of these in one bag for us. I mean, how great is that? It's just so easy, and we've had these brownies before and we know how delicious they are. Such a treat. Thank you so much."

Betty: "Wow! You're very welcome. That's so nice to hear. What kind are you making?"

Me: "The family fudge"

Betty: "Oooooh, those ARE delicious!"

Me: "Oh...I know. We can hardly WAIT to enjoy them."

And this is where I started getting in too deep.

Betty: "Can I have your name?" I gave it to her.

Betty: "Can I have your address?" I gave it to her in spite of my roommates protestations.

Betty: "And would you like to become part of Betty Crocker's advisory board? This is a two year commitment. All I'd need is your email address!"

*Long Pause* "Oh...um...I don't think so. Not for me. But...Thanks!"

In retrospect, I probably should have joined the advisory board. That might have meant free samples or coupons or something amazing from Betty Crocker for two years! But I definitely felt a tinge of regret midway through this conversation with Betty (was it even her?!). In the end, though, I think spontaneity is always worth it. Because then you end up with some great stories to blog about on the comfy corner.

Stay Comfy Ya'll.

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4/23/2011

The Waiting Game

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I just watched this movie "He's Just Not That Into You" with my best Asian-American friend, Jess, and I came to the conclusion that we are all crazy. Literally, certifiably insane. We all work ourselves up into frenzies about the littlest things and our brains have the power to convince us of the stupidest conclusions.


I've noticed this to be especially true in the pursuit of summer work. I auditioned for a theatre and got several callbacks for a particular role. The callbacks went really well and somewhere deep down inside the bottom of my soul I felt like I booked the job. But, of course, I wasn't going to let my brain know that. So I convinced myself otherwise. One day went by, no email. I threw myself to the gutter assuring myself that there is no way in hell I could of possibly booked the job. How stupid was I too think that I was actually talented enough or castable enough to get it?! And even though I came to this "conclusion" I still checked my email like a crazy person every single day. Like an anxious lover waiting for text messages. I lost sleep. I had nightmares about casting meetings where they threw my headshot away. And then a week later, they called me and offered me the job.

So am I crazy? After watching this movie, I've decided the answer is no. I'm just like everyone else. Neurotic to the bone. I've also come to the conclusion that our smart phones don't help our neuroticism at all. Before having email on my phone I would anxiously wait all day to check my email and then I'd suffer one huge blow at the end of the night when I realized I didn't get anything. Now I suffer lots of little blows throughout the day every time I check my phone.

So now, I must learn to relax. It's a lesson that I hope will come with time, right? I sure hope so.

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4/13/2011

Say My Name, Say My Name

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At Emerson College, we have the benefit of a little local coffee shop right next to our classes called Boston Common Coffee Company (which we have all cleverly shortened to "bocococo"). It is our "Central Perk" if you will. With plenty of big sofas, comfy corners abound and it's a great place to caffeine up before a rehearsal. On many occasions I have jogged to bocococo in weird costume pieces or all sweaty from dance class in dire need of a caffeine fix.


So it is tradition at this coffee shop for the baristas to get to know the first names of their regulars so that they can be all cute like, "Would you like that sweetened Sarah?" And since I'm a regular, they all know my name. But there is only one barista that I have personally deemed worthy of learning her name. Her name is Marilyn. Every time I go and Marilyn is working, I'll have a conversation with her about the customers or coffee or some other highly invigorating conversation bit. This has been going on for about four or five months now.

Last week, I walked in and for the first time in forever I paid with a credit card (I normally have cash because of waiting the tables, but I haven't worked in a while, so my cash supply was depleted). Marilyn grabbed the credit card out of my hands and furiously looked at it, looked up at me and said, "NATHAN!" Confused, I was like, "Yes, Marilyn?" and she was like, "I've been so stressed out for so long cause I didn't know what your name was! I thought it was like Chris or something, but I didn't want to ask." This was one of those awkward moments for me when I laughed nervously and tried to act like I didn't care, because... I didn't care... but maybe a part of me sort of cared so I fumbled around saying things like, "Oh no...don't worry about it. Hate it when that happens." But then I started feeling bad because I never paid with a credit card. It's amazing how something can get so awkward so quickly. Why didn't she just discreetly look at the credit card and go about her life knowing my name, but not telling me she didn't know it. Way to go, Marilyn.

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4/12/2011

The Transportation Hierarchy

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I often blog about public transportation because, well... because most of my life seems to be spent waiting at bus stops, waiting for the T, waiting to cross the street, walking to the T, standing in line waiting to pay for the T, waiting in traffic etc. So today, I was walking with Vanessa (to the T) and I was crossing the street in the most perfectly legal way; the white man was clearly lit and the harsh beep-boop sound that it makes was sounding, signaling that it was okay to cross. But as soon as I started to cross the street a biker zoomed past me at breakneck speed almost nicking the hair off my chin. It was in this moment that I realized that there exists a hierarchy of things that use the streets of Boston.


1) Buses - When I am on the bus, I feel that the bus should always have the right of way. It is the biggest, it is carrying the most amount of people, and it is supplied by the city. So it should be able to cut in wherever it wants and ignore traffic signs because everyone on the bus just wants to get where they want to go. Buses should have a giant carpool lane.

2) Cars - When I'm driving my car around Boston, I get serious road rage toward pedestrians and bikes. I yell aloud to my windshield, "I could kill you! Are you stupid?!" when they cut me off. But I never make a peep when a bus cuts me off, because I know that it could destroy my little Honda.

3) Bikes - When I ride my bike, I get angry at everyone. I get angry when I almost hit people because they only watch for cars and disregard bikes as something that could be dangerous. I get angry at cars when they don't leave room on the side of the street for me to pass by them in traffic. I even get mad at buses when I run into them (true story, biked right into the side of a silver line bus). Biking is just dangerous and packed with anger.

4) Walking - I'm the least cautious pedestrian in the world. Pedestrians are at the bottom of the hierarchy but I falsely assume that we always have the right of way and due to that fact, I have come very close to getting hit by bikes and cars. Fun fact, most pedestrians get hit at crosswalks because they think they are safe. Not true, folks. Especially not in Boston (see bike anecdote above).

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4/11/2011

Urine and the Pressures of Comedy

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I just finished doing a run of a musical called Urinetown. It's a comedy and, as the title suggests, it is a show about pee. More specifically, a show about what happens when your rights to pee for free are taken away. It's also one of the few shows that breaks the fourth wall and makes fun of the structure of musical theater. The show is actually hilarious. While it was and still is one of my favorite shows, and while I have to say that this it is probably the most fun I've ever had doing a show, I also have to say that it was also very difficult and very much a learning experience.


I've always known somewhere in the back of my brain that comedy was difficult. People always say that comedy is harder than drama and I nod in agreement, but secretly I'm thinking, "Is it, though? I find that making people laugh is pretty easy." But through doing this show I've learned that comedy is a lot more than just making people laugh. Comedy comes with pressure and expectations. In dramas, it is about the story; the plot and the relationships take the front seat. In comedy, especially musical comedies, it is all about the performance. People don't leave the theatre stripped of their souls or questioning the meaning of life. They leave thinking about how good your comic timing was, how good your singing was or who played Ms. Pennywise.

On top of all that is the pressure of doing a comedy that everyone is familiar with. I put a lot of pressure on myself through this performance to find my own take on Bobby Strong, not Hunter Foster's take (although he did have a very good one). Not an easy task for someone who knows the cast recording backwards and forwards. And apparently, I wasn't the only one because every night when I started singing the first line of "Run, Freedom Run" someone in the audience would go, "YES!" They had no idea if I was going to be good at it or not, but they knew they loved the song so I better not fuck it up. That's the kind of pressure that I find can be debilitating. Now I know how Elphie feels every night when she starts singing "Defying Gravity." How does one deal with it?!? Well, folks, here's what I learned - Just drop in the breath, and focus on the given circumstances. In the end, theatre isn't about pleasing an audience, it's about storytelling. So I learned that the only way to combat the pressures of comedy is to just focus on living in the story. Thanks BFA. And, while I'm at it, thanks to everyone involved with Urinetown and anyone who came to see it. Couldn't have capped off senior year more magnificently.

I love you all, Comfy Cornerers!

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4/03/2011

The Server's Nightmare

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Every person who has been a server in a high volume restaurant will be able to relate to this. And if you've never been a server, then this is what you are missing out on. This job, for some reason invades people's sleep. My friend Zach, apparently talks about work in his sleep. His girlfriend tells me that he will legit ask her questions while he is sleeping like, "Will you help me run this food?" And she'll respond, "Sure what is it?" and he'll say, "desserts..." Over the past week I've had several dreams about working in the restaurant. All of these dreams result in me waking with a jolt realizing that I've been tossing and turning and clinging to my pillow.


One dream involved me waiting on a party of fourteen people. No one at the table could decide what they wanted to drink, they were all trying to carry on legit conversations with me, they refused to order, and while I was talking to them, five more tables were impatiently staring at me, waiting to be waited on. In another dream I was waiting on my family, while a whole party of my friends were waiting and the restaurant had legit closed, but they were all still ordering more and more food. I was tired and just wanted to go home. Mysteriously, in this dream there was a large bowl of Jaegermeister I was taking shots from. The connecting theme? In all of these dreams, the restaurant is HUGE (much bigger than it is in real life) and I have way more work to do than can possibly be done by one human.

It's a the server's curse. We spend full days from open to close stressing about details, refills, napkins, modifications, timing, desserts, allergies, comps, checks, discounts, checking ID's upsells, managers, dinner rushes, lunch rushes, extra this, extra that, dropping shit etc etc. It's no wonder that it carries over into the night. I just hope that with more experience these dreams will stop.

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4/01/2011

Love/Hate Relationship

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I love/hate Hipstamatic for iPhones...or everyone with an iPhone in general. I don't know what it is about the filtered, old timey nature of the hipstamatic for iPhone photos, but they makes me angry. Slash I love them because they make me look really cool. Maybe it's jealousy. Maybe it's a loathing for anything that could be considered a fad. Maybe it's the fact that it's called "Hipstamatic" and I just loathe everything that is hipsta. But when I browse Facebook and find entire albums of Hipstamatic photos, I get upset.

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