The Comfy Corner

When I think about all of the incredibly talented artists that we have lost to drugs and alcohol, I get super emotional. I mean, let's be honest here, I can get emotional over a sad-looking telephone pole. I'm an emotional person. Deal with it, y'all! But I'm talking about Philip Seymour Hoffman, Heath Ledger, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Chris Farley to name but a few. All were incredible artists that had incredibly successful careers and left us too soon because they had very troubled personal lives. There is life and there is career. When we see someone up on the big screen that has had an incredible career, we imagine that their personal lives must be so glamorous and easy. But the truth is, they have to do their dishes and clean out their cabinets and drawers just like the rest of us. They aren't super humans! In fact, I'd like to theorize regular people are much more adept at living than famous people are. I have a theory that most famous people don't know how to live their regular lives off camera because they have devoted all of their time to their career and very little time to figuring out who they are. Regular people spend all of their time working on themselves. Regular people work on their relationships and spend time with their families and go to therapy and take care of themselves. Many famous people have cut out their families and their friends and have laser focused all of their attention on their careers and in that process have forgotten that they also need to have a life! And for what? For the spotlight? What good is the spotlight if you don't have a life to go home to when the spotlight is off?

It is a delicate balance between life and career. Julianne Moore, I believe, has figured out that balance. (I've ran into her several times in the city with her family and I've seen her on Ellen, so that means I know everything about her) Ellen asked her about what her biggest struggle is and she said, "It's trying to get my kids to hang up their wet towels. I'm sicking of cleaning towels!" She's focused on her life, but she also has an incredible career, because she has put in a ton of effort into herself. She has a family that she cares about, she has a home that she takes care of, she has earned her life and a career has followed her steadily through it all. Same goes for Meryl Streep and Daniel Day Lewis to name a couple more. They've worked diligently at their careers and their lives. They know how to set a balance. They know when they have to take a break. And that is the point I'd like to make. You are valuable not only because you're beautiful or you're talented or you're constantly working, you are most valuable because you are here. You are alive. You are on this planet. And it isn't about "making it" in whatever business you are a part of, it is about becoming yourself. Earning yourself and constantly striving for happiness. And that means taking care of yourself. Going to therapy. Dealing with the things that are preventing you from becoming 100% you. It is a full time job really, but you must do that first. And then your career will be so much easier and so much more fulfilling and enjoyable. And you'll live long enough to make a real impression. If Lady Gaga doesn't release an album for a couple years because she has to take care of herself, excellent! I much prefer her healthy and alive because I love everything she does. A career is meaningless if you have no one and no reason to live for it. Many folks throw themselves into their careers because it fills some hole in their lives. It is makes them feel better to be doing what they love. But what happens when you aren't doing what you love. When you are just at home being you. That time is just as valuable if not more valuable. You are never going to be able to fill the hole with your career.

You need two things in this life. You need a self and you need to be excellent at what you do. You have to be lucky to get old. It isn't given to you, it is worked at. So work at it. Live a life. Nurture your relationships organically. This business isn't about being pretty or talented (although it may seem that way). It's about working diligently at something you love and taking care of yourself along the way. So I urge you all to do this. And most importantly, stay comfy y'all.

I'm a Southern boy through and through (with a touch of Sriracha, of course) and thus I have done my darndest to avoid the New England traditions for as long as possible. Ne'er have I stood 'pon yonder Hampshire white peak proclaiming myself a Yankee doodle dandy, but I did, as of last week, partake in the one fall tradition that all New York parents drag their children out of the concrete jungle to enjoy: apple picking. But, in true Chang fashion, I performed this tradition of traditions in the most non-traditional way possible.

I recently befriended a middle aged man from Bangladesh. And for our purposes, let us say his name is Sumon. Sumon and I became friends at work and one day some co-workers left to go apple picking for the day. I sighed with jealousy and casually mentioned that this was an activity that I have sadly never partaken in. He turned to me and admitted that he too had never been apple picking and, with a fervor that only Bangladeshi people possess, asked if I would take him. I was taken aback by this request. So few people ask me on such romantic dates, I was not prepared. As I usually do when I'm caught off guard or afraid, I said yes (It's a dangerous habit, I realize). I learned over the next few days that Bangladeshi people do not share the American people's reputation for broken promises. They are a people of persistence. Thus he kept reminding me of our impending apple picking excursion and insisted that I set a date, so I eventually gave in and said, "YES, Sumon, Wednesday morning, we will go." Feeling the need for a buffer of some sort I invited some other coworkers and friends so that I could have a full car for the journey. But when I mentioned to Sumon that I was bringing some friends he looked at me perplexed and said, "But there is no room in the car!" I said, "Yes, Sumon, I have plenty of room in my car, what do you mean?" To which he casually responded, "Well, there's me, my wife, my daughter, my mom, my dad... no room, full car!"

My jaw dropped. I admit that in the heat of the moment, I was not happy that Sumon had invited his entire Bangladeshi family without asking. So I put my foot down, "No, Sumon. It is my car, I decide who goes. Only you, not your whole family." But then one by one each of my friends canceled so I thought, "YOLO!" and I told him he could bring his whole family. What the heck, at least Bangladeshi people are reliable. So Wednesday morning I overestimated the drive to the Bronx and arrived at Sumon's residence - half an hour early. I sat in his living room and ate oranges and mangos that Sumon had peeled for me while his amazing old, amazingly tiny father stared at me smiling his very-few-teeth smile. Then, when the whole family was ready, we all piled into my tiny Honda Civic (2 door). Sumon and I in the front. His wife, his one year old daughter, his mother, and his father in the back seat. How did they fit you ask? Well, his ancient, tiny father essentially sat on his mother's lap for the entire hour and a half journey. It was a sitcom episode y'all. You can't write a scene like this. None of them spoke a word of English except Sumon. So I listened to them talk and talk in a language I did not understand as I drove them through the beautiful land of New Jersey. As I drove, I thought to myself, as I often think to myself, "What events in my life led me to this moment?" And then we arrived at the apple orchard.

We all exited the tiny car like clowns in a circus. The waspy, manhattanite families stared at me (the clear outlier in the group) in confused judgement as we made our way to the counter to get our apple bags. But when we got to the orchard everything clicked for me. I saw the incredible smiles on Sumon's parent's faces. I saw his daughter running through the orchard. I saw his wife eating the apples with pure joy. I saw myself running through the orchard and tasting, for the first time, the beauty of a fresh picked apple. I later learned that this was the first time Sumon and his family had ever seen an apple tree. And, for his parents, it was the first time since they moved to America that they had ever left New York City. I watched Sumon lift his daughter up to pick apples from the trees and an incredible feeling of pure joy flooded through me.

I've been living in Manhattan with blinders on. Just laser focus on myself and complete ignorance to the reality that surrounds me. Bangladesh, I learned, is just east of India. If New York were India, Bangladesh would be like Long Island. And Sumon won some sort of immigration lottery that allowed him to move to America on a working visa. For him, it was the opportunity of a lifetime. And he has worked so hard to bring his family here. One person at a time. And what have I done? I write blogs, make silly videos, sing songs and complain about my family. But this tiny gesture of taking Sumon's family to an apple orchard meant the world to them. His wife cooked me an incredible picnic lunch of tandoori chicken, hard boiled eggs, and basmati rice. She made it "not too spicy" just for me and even brought me a fork to use (they ate with their hands, a tradition that didn't necessarily warm my heart). She even apologized for not making me a salad (which you better believe I was furious about). The kindest and gratitude they expressed toward me for doing this for them was not a kindest that I've ever experienced. And I can't help but thank him for taking away my blinders and helping me to see that I'm not the only person in this world. It was an experience I will not soon forget. And now I always have a Bangladeshi family that I can have dinner with. And you better believe, I'm bringing a set of utensils. Stay comfy y'all.

Boojie: "Fancy. Derived from the French word, bourgeoisie, which means middle class. They were never content on being the middle class and strived for the best...the upper FANCY class." (urbandictionary.com). Anyone with eyes and a heartbeat that has spent more than fifteen seconds with me knows that I am a boojie person. My ideal afternoon would be spent on a white couch in the Hamptons in the Barefoot Contessa's garden sipping rosé by the fire, eating hors d'oeuvres and chatting with Oprah and Ina about how dumb Sandra Lee's tablescapes are. Jeffrey would probably show up late with sorbet and flowers. I mean, I'm so boojie, I sleep in all white like I'm Jesus or something - my roommate can attest to that. It's a cleanliness, purity thing I suppose. I love white clothes, get into it. So recently, I was enjoying a lovely Sancerre rosé at the Front Porch (a local piano bar) and I thought to myself, "Self, where is this boojieness coming from? You were raised in the opposite of boojie - the boonie - so where did it come from?" So I took a quick trip through history.

When I was in elementary school, my dad would take me to the fanciest restaurants. He is a doctor and back in the day, pre-Obamacare, doctors were wined and dined with fanciful meals, late night trysts, dancing girls - and they could bring their families. So I went. So I grew up having meals at resorts in Hilton Head and enjoying seafood at the Grove Park Inn in Asheville and the Chateau Elan in Atlanta. I mean, I had a preference for foie gras and escargot by the time I turned twelve. I was a boojie baby. But I had no idea! I mean, you grow up knowing what you know, ya know? So I continued into my teenage years in blissful ignorance and I became obsessed with "The Sims" but I was not content on any of my Sims living in anything less than luxury. I built mansions for them with all the finest things. I was no stranger to "rosebud." Glamorous. We're talking elegant foyers, oak paneled smoking rooms, spa quality backyard oases. And still, I didn't know I was boojie. 

It wasn't until I was seventeen and I watched the James Bond film,"Casino Royale" that I realized I was a boojie person. I wasn't obsessed with the plot or the women or Daniel Craig's body (although, I wasn't complaining, okay? Excuse me, Daniel, walking out of the ocean with that body, shameful). No, it was his tuxedos. It was the money he was spending. It was the cocktails. The cars. It was the hotel rooms. The walk-in shower in his hotel room. The train rides. The yachts. The private dinners. I was obsessed with the boojiness of his lifestyle. I walked out of that theatre feeling like my life was severely sub par. I felt lost, confused, living a pathetic middle class life of Applebee's and Six Flags. And it was in that moment of devastation that I truly discovered who I was: a boojie person. 

And therein lies the problem. I don't have the money I need to support the lifestyle I so desire. So what do I do? I live by the idea that money is meant to be spent. It isn't supposed to just sit there and collect dust (what others might call "interest" - tomato tomato)! So when I acquire money, you better believe I'm on the town buying Tempurpedic pillows and crystal tumblers. I own three tuxedos, I own the softest sheets, and, on occasion, I have fancy dinners. One day, I will come home to a place that is lit with white candles with a fragrance of lavender bath bombs floating in the air. And all the furniture will be shades of vanilla. And all the floors will be heated. My counter tops will be heated, because ain't nobody got time for cold hands. And all the lighting will be on dimmer switches to create the perfect atmosphere for any occasion. Because I believe that even people without money deserve to live in a little bit of luxury. And when that fateful day comes, I will pour myself a white wine spritzer, sit on my white couch and say, "This, my friends, is a comfy corner." Stay comfy y'all.

What makes your life beautiful? It is a question that comes back to me in my toughest moments. And I think it is an important question for everyone to ask themselves every now and again. Because even though we are surrounded by beauty, it is one of those things that we get used to and take for granted. And we can't take beauty for granted, cause beauty will be PISSED! So here's a list of my personal favorite beautiful things:

1) Family and Friends - Top of the list, duh. Even though I often forget to return their calls and only call my dad when I'm really sick or need money and on Father's Day (don't forget!!!), I love my family!  And I have the best friends in the world, no arguments please.

2) Morning Coffee and Morning Talk Shows - I am a firm believer in starting your day off relaxed and stress free. It's why I always try to get to work early and have coffee. Because whatever you start your day with, you are gonna carry with you throughout your whole day. And I love Rachel Ray, I don't care what y'all think, haters gonna hate.

3) So You Think You Can Dance - The best reality show on TV, surpassing The Biggest Loser by just a tiny bit.

4) Underwear - Happiness should be built from the inside out and I am happier in really fun underwear. I just am. I know they are fun, nobody else needs to know, it's my little secret. Nathan's Secret. OOH! Trademark.

5) The Beach - For the second week in a row, my beach plans have been ruined by the rain. I'm FURIOUS! Because I LOVE the beach. I grew up in the mountains and the beach is such a foreign, exotic thing to me. I could stare at the ocean for literally hours and I have. The beach at night? Excuse me. Magical.

6) New York City - NYC and I have grand plans for this summer. It's the #summerofchang and I am gonna milk this city for everything it has. Free movies, rooftop excursions, every park, every exhibit, restaurants, bars, clubs, I'm there.

7) Trader Joe's - Not the process of shopping there because that makes my life anything but beautiful. In fact, it is probably one of my greatest sources of stress. But once those groceries are in my apartment, all is at peace in the world.

8) Babies and Marriage - I lump these two things together because they give me similar warm feelings in my uterus-stomach. I love everything about them, babies in the subway, babies at the restaurant, babies in the park, marriage anywhere, Say Yes to the Dress, David Tuterra's My Fair Wedding. It gives me life.

9) My Roomate - She gives me tough love. She tells me what I need to hear even when I don't wanna hear it. And it helps a lot. And she is also just an incredible, incredible friend. And FUNNY! Cast her! www.vanessmoyen.com

10) My Sodastream - I LOVE soda water. I drink like fifteen glasses a day. Once Sodastream entered my life, everything changed for the better and for good.

So take a moment, think about the beautiful things in your life and your comfy corner will be just a little comfier. Guaranteed. Stay comfy y'all!

In life, we can expect only the unexpected. It's depressing. It's exciting. And it's why I am so fond of the theatre. Theatre embraces the unexpected. You never know when a prop will be forgotten, a mic won't work, or an audience member will fall through a window and land on the marquis of the theatre. Every time that first word is spoken or that first downbeat of the overture is given, the dice has been rolled. And I find that as soon as that first applause moment or burst of laughter hits, actors like to get all Judge Judy on the audience. "Ugh, what a terrible crowd." "They don't know what funny is." "If they'd stop texting, maybe they could enjoy a little ART!" "This is a SOCIETY, there are RULES!" I'll be honest, these words are no stranger to my vocal folds. I love a good audience hate-fest just like any other thespian, sure - BUT, I have recently decided that from now on, when I walk onto a stage or into an audition room, it isn't gonna be about them - it's gonna be about me.

If someone says, "Wow they LOVED you tonight!" I'll respond with a casual agressiveness, "Yeah? Well, I wasn't doin' it for them, was I? I was doin' it for me!" Because life is too short to constantly and obsessively stress over whether or not other people like you. It is hard enough in this life to convince yourself to like yourself. Am I right? Can I get an amen? And I have found in the past that I will bend over backwards to make myself into exactly what other people want or need me to be. And I'm done with all that, ya see?! It's exhausting. So from now on, I'm doin' it for me. Selfish? Perhaps. But is not our primary goal in life to seek some form of happiness? And I find absolutely no joy in trying to decipher what other people think of me. Despite a few striking personality similarities, I am no Long Island medium. Hey nah-nah, what's my name? I'm Nathan Chang. And I'm bein' me. And I hope and pray that myself will be enough. That's all I can do.

Miley was just bein' Miley. Outkast was just bein' honest. And I'm just bein' me. And I'm starting today. Because why wait for the perfect moment to start something amazing, huh? I'd rather live moment to moment instead of sitting around waiting for the perfect moment. Especially since the unexpected is all we can hope to expect. Stay comfy y'all!

I've recently discovered something very odd about myself. I always start my journeys before I realize that I don't know where I'm going. For instance, I get into the car and start driving before I realize that I have no idea how to get where I'm going. Which proves to be a dangerous endeavor because I'm always fighting with Google Maps instead of paying attention to the road.  Or when I'm not in a car, I often start walking down the street in a random direction before I realize that I don't know where I'm going (so I'm fighting with Google Maps and walking into traffic - I seriously have a death wish). Now, one could analyze this a couple different ways.

One could say that I'm being a terrible Boy Scout, and one would be right, because I'm living my life in every way except prepared. I'm making decisions heedless of the consequences. Jumping into things without the proper tools needed to do them well. I often do this while I'm cooking. I'll just turn on the stove before I know what I'm cooking or before I've even taken a pan out of the cabinet or an ingredient out of the fridge (a waste of gas, don't tell my room mate). One might say I'm getting ahead of myself, putting the cart before the horse. Jumping to results instead of enjoying the journey.

Or one might say the opposite. That I'm only focused on the journey with little interest in where it will take me. I'm just jumping headfirst into things with full commitment and an open heart. Yeah, it's dangerous. Yeah, I run the risk of wrecking my car because I'm never exactly sure how I'm gonna get where I'm going. But isn't it an exciting way of going through life? Just getting in the car and driving? Just picking a random direction and walking? Just turning on the stove and figuring out a meal? Exciting? Yes. Dangerous? Yes. But I like to think that I'm at a point in my life where I'm not so much concerned with the how as I am with the what. I know what I wanna do and where I wanna go. And I think I've subconsciously decided that I'm just gonna do it and the how will figure itself out along the journey. So jump in y'all. And, as always, curl up with something or someone soft and stay comfy. Cause life is short.

I have recently started reading "Eat, Pray, Love" - a book that my male, lesbian, and masculine female friends told me was awful and I shouldn't read it - so I knew I'd love it. I'm learning so much about how to deal with men! And I am reading it during my offstage time in the current show I'm doing (...Millie). Just picture me dressed in stereotypical Asian rice-picker garb, with watery eyes and a sympathetic frown on my face reading "Eat, Pray, Love" offstage. I'm only about eight chapters in, which, for those of you who know the book, is like 8 pages. But it has immediately got me thinking about change. Change is something that I think our world is starting to accept. Well, I can't decide if it is something we have decided to accept or if we've just grown weary of fighting it. Either way, I have thought of some examples for you to chew on so that you don't have to think of any on your own.

Example one: I remember back in the earlier days of Facebook, every time something changed on my profile, it was like the world shifted off orbit a little bit. I had to blog about it, talk about it at lunch with friends, make a sassy status about it, etc. But now, it is changing with such frequency that every one seems too exhausted to care. We have become unfazed. Change on Facebook is about as big a deal as that new reality show "Splash" (Nobody cares! You guys aren't even good at diving!). Or here's another one: what about the new G-mail compose layout? I switched right on over to the new feature and didn't bat a single eyelash, not a one. And I figured there was no use "taking a tour of the new features" because it's just gonna change again (And honestly, I use Gmail to write and receive emails. That's the only feature I need from you Gmail). Ain't nobody got time to take tours of Gmail!

And to use a bigger example, gay marriage is at the forefront of political debate right now and public opinion has drastically shifted in a very short amount of time. And I wonder to myself, "Self, what made everyone change their mind so quickly?" And then I talked to a friend who said, "Yeah, my mom called me and was like, 'Hey, should I vote yes or no to this gay marriage thing?' And my friend said, 'Yes mom, obviously yes.'" And that was that. Opinion changed. So maybe most of the people in this country have just called their kids and asked them what they thought! Because they are all just tired of caring or thinking about things. Just a thought.  

All in all, I'm happy that we are growing accustomed to change. As they say in that space wars movie thing with the robots, "Resistance is futile." And I've decided to take sides with a friend of mine you may know who's named Obama. Change has become something that I believe in. And as a return-the-favor to Obama, I am consequently going to become a Chang that others can believe in. I have goals y'all! And I'm gonna make ya proud. Embrace change, embrace Chang, and stay comfy y'all!

I find it interesting to think about the various things we do and accomplish in our lives and how they relate and inform each other. For example, how does my obsession with Harry Potter relate and connect to my acting abilities (infinite connections, believe me. WWDRD - What would Daniel Radcliffe do?). I've been introducing myself into the cabaret world of New York while simultaneously doing the same thing in the improv world. And there is one concept that bridges these two artforms in a most beautiful way: you are enough.

You are enough.Three words that can at any moment make me laugh with utter joy or cry uncontrollable tears of sorrow. In improv, they teach you that you are inherently funny. People are inherently interesting. You don't need to layer on any silly character or crazy idea. You can be yourself and yourself will be enough. And I'm starting to realize that you are enough because you are so very similar to everyone else on this earth. We are all a jumble of the same materials and ideas. We all eat, we all sleep, we all breathe the same air, so it is silly to think that you need to do a scene about lesbian vampires on Mars in a room made of jello in order to be funny or interesting. A funnier scene would develop from two best friends that just had an incredible dinner. It's relatable. It's you. It's me. It's enough.

And in cabaret it's even more so. I've seen so many incredible performers freeze up in cabaret type settings because they aren't playing a character or acting. In cabaret, you are playing yourself. And being yourself is really difficult. I feel like I'm fighting this treacherous battle and I'm on this long and dangerous journey only to arrive at my destination which is - myself. We feel this constant need to layer on more things to make ourselves better versions of ourselves but it all ends up having the opposite effect. We seem desperate or like we're trying too hard. Too much icing on the cake. You are the cake and your cake is perfect. So my little piece of wisdom of the day: you are enough. I've never met a person in my LIFE that I've thought "you are a completely uninteresting person." Even people that I've initially thought as "boring" turn out to have many layers and are just as weird as every other weirdo in this world. So stay comfy y'all, because you're enough.

Tonight is the final night of a show that has been steering my life for the past year. It started as an idea that this stage manager of one of my shows pushed me to turn into an actual thing. And then I started doing a lot of brain storming. And then I mentioned it to someone in passing and they set a date for the show and scheduled a space. And having a deadline forced me to actually start creating things and fast forward a few months, I'm performing the show in New York City in one of New York's oldest, most amazing cabaret theaters. It's been a whirlwind experience to say the least. But I've realized something rather important through this process: doing shows in New York is FUCKING EXPENSIVE but you can't put a price on art. You can't put a price on my boyfriend's tears after the show or my own tears after reading a congratulatory email from my dad. Those things are priceless. Thanks American Express for stealing that idea.

I've actually had to completely restructure my view of money through this process. When I did this show in Colorado last summer, everyone handed everything to me on a silver platter. They gave me a space, my music director volunteered his time for free, the musicians were HAPPY to play for me for free. It was a dream come true! Or maybe it was just because the town I was in was so small there was nothing better to do. In any event, who cares!? I created something pretty awesome for free. And then I came to New York with an idea to do the same thing, but I realized very quickly that if I wanted it to be good, it wasn't going to be handed to me in the same way.

Needless to say, there are plenty of things to do in New York and people don't work for free very often. And rightfully so! New York is ridiculously expensive and getting more so every day. MTA fare hikes, I quit you. I'm surprised they don't charge you to breathe in this city. But I have come to the understanding that I have to view money as a liquid thing. A thing that will come into my life and go out of my life in regular intervals. I've always looked at money as a thing that I should be squirreling away and protecting with my life. And when I have that view of money, it pains me every time I swipe my card or put a pen to my checkbook. But now I see money as opportunity. I see money as classes, contacts, connections, friendships, shows etc. And when I look at money like that, I get a lot less stressed out. Some people work for free because they can, they want to, or they like you a lot and some people charge money for this reason or that and some people charge very little money because of several other reasons. In the end, it doesn't matter. More money doesn't equate to more talent, I mean, I could name several TV actors... Money is simply money and people have their prices. End of story. I didn't go into this business for money or because of money, so I'm learning to let it go. I write those thousands of dollars worth of checks away and I can still breathe. It's a learning experience, but I think it's an important one for every artist to go through. You can't put a price on art.

Stay comfy y'all!

The other night, my friend Melonie and I decided that it was high time that we had a night of debauchery. This night has become a bit of a tradition and it usually involves us stuffing our faces with delicious vegan strawberry shortcake from Peacefoods Cafe and then going to Dive 75 and getting blackout drunk while we play Scattergories and eat Reese's cups by the fish tank. A sensible night for anyone involved, right? But this particular night did not go quite as planned.

Everything was perfect. I was at a perfect level of drunk, we were playing Scattergories, we were alternating buying each other drinks, and we had finally scored an actual table instead of a spot at the bar. Bliss. But then, Melonie realized that her bag and her coat were gone. This is when the chaos ensued. As we stumbled around the small, crowded bar looking for her bag and her coat we suddenly realized how drunk we actually were. I was stumbling and running into people. The bouncer even yelled at us for looking through other people's things. That's when Melonie turned on the drunk girl tears.

Tears like pearls poured down her face as she started blatantly making up all the things that were in her missing bag, "ALL MY CASH I OWN! MY PHONE! MY METRO CARD! MY SOCIAL SECURITY CARD! MY PASSPORT! MY PAYCHECKS! I WAS GOING TO THE BANK BUT I FORGOT!!!" We were legit starting to cause a scene at this point. So that is when the owner of the bar came over and gave us 30 bucks to take a cab home. I gave Melonie my jacket and we ventured out into the freezing New York air minus one coat and one bag. This is when my memory gets patchy. I remember having a Con-Edison traffic cone in my arms, hugging it like a Teddy bear, I remember Melonie jumping over the turnstile to ride the subway (guess we forgot about the cab money), I remember her crying while she sat on the edge of the platform with her legs dangling towards the tracks, I remember screaming at her about the danger of that,  and then I remember being on the train.

On the train Melonie turned on the tears EXTRA hard. The crowd began to gather around us to listen to our sob story. I rubbed her back and nodded my head a lot and said useless things like, "It's okay, we'll find it. Don't worry. We'll figure it out." As a result, this really nice teacher woman gave us a 45 dollar Metro card. And then, as we were stumbling off the train another older woman gave us her 8 dollar Metro card. She looked SO sorry for us!

So, if we are all doing the math here, WE SCORED 83 DOLLARS JUST BY BEING DRUNK AND SAD!!! I'm thinking that this is a business we should really look into! In then end, we woke up with the worst hangovers, the bar called me (apparently I left my information) and they found her bag and coat, and I now have a huge Con Edison traffic cone sitting in the corner of my room. It'll come in handy for something I suppose. Stay comfy y'all!

"So what do you do for a living?" I'll ask someone that I'm meeting for the first time. They look to the floor sheepishly and respond dejectedly, "Ugh, I'm an actor." In the same tone of someone admitting they are addicted to meth or something. I HATE THIS! No one should feel ashamed to admit that they are an actor. Being an actor is such a brave, incredible profession. You are doing what most people in this world regret not doing; chasing your dreams. So say it with confidence, y'all! I'm an actor. Don't apologize for your profession. I know that it can be annoying living in New York and LA and telling people that you are an actor because everyone's an actor. But who cares?! You aren't the same actor as the person you are talking to. You have something unique to offer the world that they can't offer. So own it! And if they roll their eyes, you slap those eyes right outta there face and then they'll be sorry. Because they won't have eyes!

This past summer I was working at a theatre in this tiny town in Colorado. The theatre was pretty much the only reason the town still existed. So working as an actor in that town was something to be proud of. When people asked me where I worked, I proudly said that I worked for the theatre, and it would spark some sort of admiration in them. They were excited and wanted to come see the show. Unfortunately, it's not always that way in New York. Admitting you are an actor seems to spark projectile vomiting and heavy sighs. But, it shouldn't! When people visit New York, they are most impressed by the artistic presence throughout the city. And you are part of that, so you should be proud.

And lastly, this is a personal rant, but Backstage Espresso needs to stop writing depressing articles like "When Should You Give Up on Your Dreams?" or "Ten Things You Sacrificed When You Decided to Be an Actor." WE GET IT, BACKSTAGE!! We know exactly what we gave up! I could write a ten page article on why I should quit acting! So I don't need to hear it, okay?! So, be proud of who you are, be proud of the amazing career you chose, and don't let the man get you down. Your life will go the direction that it needs to go. Stay comfy y'all.

"White, a blank page or canvas." These are the first words spoken by George in "Sunday in the Park With George." I've never really understood the depth of that first sentence until recently. There is nothing more magical than that silent moment before a band starts playing, the blinking cursor before the first word is typed, the empty staff before the first note is written, the moment before an idea becomes a physical reality. The blank canvas. It is my favorite part about art and I didn't really understand that until very recently.

I am not much of a composer/lyricist but I have written a few things and that moment when the idea in my brain becomes a song that someone else is singing or playing - that moment is more powerful than anything else in the world. I remember in college, when my class sang this group number I had written, I sat there in awe. I could have cried. I didn't write anything down or record anything because I was so mesmerized. It was the first time I've ever heard a made up song from my brain exist in real time with real people. Where there was nothing, now there was something. I also remember my very first day of marching band in the eighth grade and hearing that first downbeat of the first song of our show for the first time. I got chills. I. Always. Get. Chills.

The show I'm in currently in, "The Drowsy Chaperone" has an incredible moment when the overture is being played on a record player and midway through the song it seamlessly shifts from the record player to the live orchestra. That moment always gives me chills. Always. And this is my third time doing this show. I'm currently working on a solo show and I've turned a bunch of my blogs into songs. And that moment when I just sing a melody to my music director and he lays down an accompaniment out of nowhere. That moment is so magical. I hate to use the world "magical," but that's what it is! Harry Potter magic doesn't exist to my knowledge, but that "group mind" where two artists can be on the same page about something without even describing it in words - that be nothing else but magic, right?

So when you are hesitant to start something. If you're hesitant to write that first word, sing that first note, drop that first downbeat, take that first stroke - don't be. Because you are about to create something out of absolutely nothing. And that is magic. And that in itself is a miracle. And that feeling is incomparable to anything else in the world. Stay comfy y'all.

People say that improv can be a kind of therapy for some people. Heck, people say that about theatre too. And it's simply because in improv you get to just be as weird as you want to be. As weird as you probably are. So all of the misfits and weirdos that have never been able to find creative satisfaction in other fields find improv to be a rather comfy corner. I know this to be true because I am that misfit weirdo that recently found his comfy corner in improv. I used to hate improv. Sorry to all my friends that were in improv troupes in college, but I just did not enjoy seeing improv shows. I didn't like watching actors struggle on stage. I didn't like the discomfort of knowing that things could fall to pieces at any moment. I am the type of person that practices too much, demands perfection when perfection isn't reachable, and generally just tries too hard. I like theatre to be in a nice, squeaky clean little box that is polished till it shines. That's probably why I like musical theatre so much. But then I forced myself to join an improv troupe and the walls came tumbling down.

All of the freedom, the relaxation that I worked SO HARD to achieve in college has finally started to sink in. It's like I took some miracle antidote that made the metaphorical stick up my butt just disappear! The problem in college was clear. I was "working so hard" to "relax." Not really very effective, right? But in improv, I can't really work too hard because I don't know what's gonna happen next. So voila! I stopped working so hard and finally I was able to relax and just do it. And the fear of failure in improv is silly because the odds are totally in my favor. Just by the nature of it, it's all totally made up, so you are going to be funny 95% of the time if you are being honest.

So, therapy indeed. It seems like a contradiction to put yourself in a high-stress situation in order to unwind all the things that are tightly wound inside of you. But it totally has worked for me. All of my favorite actors started out as improvisers so of course this is the path I want to be on. So to all of my fellow therapy group members here in Boomtown, thank you for welcoming me into your world. Whether I'm actually good at it or not, it doesn't matter. It's become like a weird drug for me and I'm gonna keep taking this drug until I need something else. For now, this is the best high I've ever had. Stay comfy y'all!

I'm blogging to you live from the "huge" town of Creede, Colorado which boasts an impressive population of around 400. Oh don't worry, that's the year-round population. It bumps up to 20,000 in the summer! And I must say that this is the most magical place I've ever been to. I grew up in the mountains, so I thought coming here would be like coming home. Wrong-o! Here it is 9,000 feet elevation. Here there are towering cliffs looking down on you. Here I get drunk off of one beer. Here I am winded from walking up a flight of stairs. Here there are hundreds of pretty puppies walking down the street begging to be loved on. Here there are three angry cats that fight outside my front door. Here there are SEVEN DEER THAT GRAZE IN MY BACK YARD! Yes, folks, it's a new world over here. It's like the wild wild west, but I prefer to think of it as... District 12. The mining district. And I've left the capitol to live in District 12.

And you'd think that if Katniss grew up in the Capitol and moved to District 12 she'd be super sad. But, it's quite the opposite (except I do miss my Peeta)! Small town life is wonderful. The food here is superb. Every waiter is perfectly happy to split the check 10 ways. I can walk anywhere I want to. I don't need a car or a metro pass. The grocery store is next store to my home. It's quiet at night. I can see the stars!! And I begin to think to myself, "Self, how have you become victim to the spell of New York City?! You struggle day in and day out and the only place to find solace is in a clean bodega!" Every struggling young person in New York City should strike and move to the small towns of America and live it up. It's absurd really how much better life is in this town. In New York, it is a day long event to do something as simple as pick up a package or fax something. Here, coffee is only a dollar anywhere I go. And if I don't have the money, they'll say, "Don't worry about it! I'll get ya later." NOBODY LOCKS THEIR DOORS! And I actually feel guilty if I don't wave to people that I pass by on the street.

Most importantly, it's not that guy that gives me coffee, it's Kevin. It's not that woman who made me a biscuit, it's Jenny. It's not that cute couple that opened a new restaurant, it's Jess and Erin. I wish I could scoop you all  up into my kangaroo pouch and bounce you all over to this amazing place because despite the crazy cats and grazing deer, it is one of the comfiest corners I've ever experienced. Stay comfy y'all!

...have lego boogers or linkin' log poops? Personally, I would like to have lego boogers. I mean, every time I got sick I could just snot rocket onto the table and presto a whole set of legos to build a new space ship with! But, I can also see the benefits to having linkin' log poops. Who needs a toilet?!?

I just came off of an incredible tour with a superbly fun group of people and we spent the majority of our travel time asking each other (usually the most disgusting) "would you rathers." And then my boyfriend bought me a whole "would you rather" book that gave us all sorts of fun material to draw from. But, the more I played this game the more I realized that this was more than just a fun little way to take my imagination on a weird journey. No, this was something bigger than that. Life is essentially one giant game of would you rather. I mean, it can be anything from would you rather have  a burger or a salad? To would you rather adopt or artificially inseminate? That's when shit got real. We are constantly faced with making decisions. Some are obvious, some are really, incredibly difficult. But what I've learned is that once you make a decision you can't look back. Because ya know what game is not fun? The "what would have happened if I had..." game. Once you make a choice you gotta stick to your guns and trust that you made the right choice. The reason why it was the right choice my not be clear right away. It may take years to become clear, but eventually it all makes sense. That's what I call fate. And you gotta look for the signs. The little coincidences that tell you that you are in the right place. It's like trying to decide if you want to make banana bread or pumpkin bread and then you slip on a banana peel. Not only is that the stuff cartoons are made of, that is also fate pushing you in the right direction.

So I'm sticking to my guns. Lego snot all the way. And I'm not even gonna think about the linkin' log poop, cause I've got a space ship to build out of the legos I snot rocketed out. Stay comfy y'all.

Lately I've been having a Henry Higgins-esque cultural confusion with regards to the Amish. I've been spending an exorbitant amount of time in Amish country recently, and every time I see a horse and buggy riding down the street I think, "Look at them! Hrmph! Prisoners of the 1690's. Why can't the Amish be more like us?" I want to take one in and show them the beauty of modern luxuries ("This is called a foot massager!"). My fascination has gone so far as to writing a musical about them (which can be viewed here). But the deeper I travel into the unexplored parts of Pennsylvania and the longer I spend contemplating and absorbing their culture, the more I am starting to understand it. I feel like Jane in Tarzan, confused at first but slowly falling in love with the man in a loin cloth. The man in a loin cloth being the Amish culture.

As I gaze out the window of my Super 8 and look unto the rolling hills and lush greenery that is Amish Country, USA I start to think, "I kinda see the appeal." It truly is beautiful land. And so fresh! It's like a central park that is actually fertile and doesn't stop at fifth avenue! And it must be nice to always have a farm fresh meal on the table. A meal that you worked your ass off for which means (from my experience in the kitchen) that it automatically tastes better. And the uniform they have to wear (black and white) would certainly make dressing much less dramatic (cut to me crying in a pile of clothes).

The part that intrigues me the most, however, is this idea of "rumspringa" which is essentially a point in the adolescent Amish's youth when they are allowed to go all out, no holds barred, crazy. I'm talking INSANE! Like taking off their bonnets, driving a car, or even, dare I say it, engage in premarital sex. Why would I see this "rumspringa" as a fascinating topic? Because not having something for so long and then suddenly having everything must be so overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, that I've considered producing another musical entitled, "Rumspringa Wakening" with the hit song, "Totally Shunned!" It's gonna be big!

The best thing about it all is that Amish people will never read this because they can't have MacBooks...HOW DO THEY DO IT!? Stay comfy y'all.

A wise man once told me to "never half-ass two things; whole-ass one thing." That man was Ron Swanson from NBC's Parks and Recreation, the best show on television, everyone should be watching it. I don't typically take Ron Swanson's advice, because if I did I would have heart disease from all of the meat I'd be consuming, but this particular quote just makes a whole lot of sense to me. I have recently started to come to terms with the fact that in many ways, I am a lazy person.

I am always searching for the easy way out of things, always choosing the less energetic route, always just leaving my clothes on the floor. This might be residual laziness from years of doing nothing but playing the Sims and eating Little Debbie's or I might just be a reflection of my generation, resting in the comfort of my parent's achievements and in no hurry to figure out my own life. But I am starting to realize that I can't get through life like that anymore. College is over, I'm in it now.

It's so easy to start a bunch of different projects, go to a bunch of different dance classes on occasion or sort-of take voice lessons on occasion. But if I wanna actually get something from my time, I need to jump into it whole-ass. I can't have just one cheek chillin' out ya know? I think this philosophy extends into my personal life as well as my career life. If I want a relationship to succeed, then I have to commit whole-ass to it. Love isn't a local brew that can be sampled before you order a full glass. You've gotta just order the full glass and trust that it'll be good. And that's what it comes down to, right? Jumping in whole-ass is scary but you have to trust that it'll all be worth it and it'll all be the right decision. In my limited experience, the danger, while admittedly terrifying, is always worth it.

Stay comfy ya'll!

I have taken care and effort into developing an effective method of meeting new people and building new relationships. There is a level of social obedience and propriety we all must maintain if we want to attract and invite new friends into our lives (and keep them) and there are, I believe, some basic rules. My primary rule of thumb for first time interactions? Try to keep spontaneous conversation clicking as long as possible before resorting to hackneyed starters like, "So, do you have any siblings?" Since moving to the city, however, I've discovered that I'm meeting and interacting with so many different people in so many different situations that it is becoming difficult to maintain my rules. So many people, so little time! It's a conundrum! So, I've discovered the beauty of "single-serving friends" and they come with an entirely different set of rules.

Single-serving friends are the people that you meet once and then never come across ever again in your lifetime. They are the people you end up in conversations with at Starbucks. The tourists you wait on at your restaurant job. The people you sit next to on planes. The great thing about them is that there are really no rules! When I used to wait tables, (God, it feels good to have that in the past tense!) I would tell my tables that I was born in Hong Kong and went to an English speaking school till I was five. What do they know? I sometimes tell inquisitive tourists that I'm on Broadway starring in Wicked. And airplanes? Oh, please. The BEST place for single-serving friends. Where else can you unload your problems on total strangers and not feel guilty about falling asleep mid-conversation??

So yes, we should should always be kind to our single-serving friends. I suppose you never really know if that person in Starbucks will some day be "the one." Or if that man on the plane is randomly a Broadway producer. Or if that guy on the elevator is a serial killer. So stay comfy ya'll because we can all rest easy knowing that for at least one moment in our day, the pressure to "turn it on" is off. You can feel free to drop off mid-sentence and they wo