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.

Everyone says that the first year out of college is the toughest. There are still traces of cheap beer and poor choices flowing through your veins and you are caught in a post-collegiate whirlwind of life decisions and experiences and it is tough to know where to cast the proverbial net. But for me, that wasn't necessarily true. I got a fun, degree-related job right out of college, I went straight into a meaningful relationship, I was doing what I love with people I loved, I was WALKING ON AIR! But then, earlier this year, everything made a giant shift. My relationship ended, my enthusiasm for my work started to deteriorate, the world around me that once felt so small, manageable, and neat started to grow bigger and more daunting and more unorganized. It happens to everyone and it had finally happened to me; I was hit with a major case of the twentysomethings.

I'm not proud to admit it, but I spent two weeks in June paying for my meals with quarters that I had found in my room (thank Gods for dollar pizza) and literally surviving off of the food my restaurant job was giving me. It was a bleak time, sure, but I felt too proud, too determined to ask my family or friends for help. I knew that I could push through it. I felt in my heart that this was a struggle I needed to go through in order to really bring myself up. I thought, "You can't rise to the top if you don't know where the bottom is. " And I had found bottom. I may or may not have spent an entire evening by myself (under the influence of some recreational anesthesia) watching wedding proposal videos and sobbing uncontrollably. Bottom. So what I did was I picked myself up by my bootstraps and labeled this past summer the #SummerofChang. My job started paying me more money so I started eating real food again. I explored every beach within reach of NYC. I painted my living room walls and bought new pants. I booked a show in Maine and went there for a month and made some amazing friends. I was, for the first time in my adult life, figuring out who I was, by myself, for myself.

It feels weird to admit that you don't know who you are. But I did that. I admitted that I wasn't sure who I was or what I wanted. And that is what your twenties seem to be all about, right? Uncertainty. I am certainly certain that everyone has felt uncertain about their lives in their twenties.  And now, though I am in a much better place than I was earlier in the year, I still don't really know where I am going but I feel much more confident in the man that is going there. Wherever "there" is. And I can literally feel the neurons in my brain rearranging themselves to become that of an adult brain. Two days ago I poured out a bottle of champagne because I knew it was cheap and would give me a headache. Two years ago I would have drank the entire bottle no problem. I know now that a Bourgogne wine is from Bergundy, France. And I know that I like wines from that region of France. I know that my favorite Bourbon is Basil Hayden and I like to get my produce from Whole Foods. Brick by brick I am putting myself together. And for all of you twentysomethings reading this, you gotta do it. Dude, I get it, it's a tough decade. It's lonely and confusing but it is also a crucial period of self discovery and you gotta make sure that you end up liking the person that you discover. As Dr. Meg Jay, author of "The Defining Decade" says, "There are no guarantees. So claim your adulthood. Be Intentional. Get to work. Pick your family. Do the math. Make your own certainty. Don't be defined by what you didn't know or didn't do." 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.

It is fifth grade. A sweaty, overweight, pre-diabetes half-Asian youth is released onto the gravel playground of his elementary school. Beads of sweat immediately form on his upper lip as he shields his eyes from the harsh afternoon sun and gazes upon the game of kickball that the athletic boys are starting up by the jungle gym. Afraid of sweating through his shirt too soon he climbs the jungle gym, finds a comfy place to sit, and begins to commentate the kickball game. "Zach is up for the kick. He's looking anxious. Will he be able to help out his team this time?" He nods his head in satisfaction. Yeah, this is his idea of fun. But eventually he realizes no one is listening to him and he joins his two best friends: Kelly, the super-Christian and Kandace, who often kicks him in the shins for no reason. They draw a definitive circle in the gravel and begin to play their favorite game: push the other person out of the circle. It's like sumo wrestling, with less rules. The half-Asian, because of his weight advantage, usually wins. He would always win, but he loses on purpose to Kandace for fear of being kicked in the shins. Then the whistle is blown and this joyous, carefree hour of recess ends. The half-Asian sulks back into the place of learning with a sweat soaked shirt, a dozen fond memories, and a sadness that the hour of play has ended so abruptly.

You guessed it, that half-Asian was me. And I tell that slightly embarrassing story because I recently ended a month long recess period. Sometimes shows feel like a job, sometimes it's just for the money, and sometimes they feel like that time you were a kid and you were playing in the sandbox with your friends for hours (but it felt like only minutes) and you never wanted to leave and when it came time to say goodbye, you cried. That's what this show was for me. It was sandbox time. I mean, it was just an Andrew Lloyd Webber show, ya know? A lot of fluff, not much content, the gayest thing since Grindr. But every single show, I cried at the end. There was something about this group of people, the place we were in, the ensemble we had,  and my emotional state at the time that just clicked for me. I felt it. I felt it pretty hard. We weren't really changing the world with this production but this production was kind of changing my world. It restored for me that sense of freedom and joy that I got when I was playing "push the other person out of the circle" in fifth grade. And when it came time to say goodbye, it was like hearing that whistle that marks the end of recess. I was sad. But like, a happy sad. "Bittersweet" is usually the word people use. Happy that I had the experience, but sad that it was time to go back to real life.

But there is always a silver lining to returning to real life, right? I mean, as Alfred Pennyworth says to Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins, "Why do we fall master Bruce? So we can learn to get back up." Without real life, we would have nothing to compare sandbox time to, am I right? Thus sandbox time wouldn't be special. So for now, I'm looking fondly back on my month of recess. And I'm looking forward to the next time that bell rings and I get to go back outside and play again. And until that time comes, 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.

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!

Here's the biggest problem that I've ever encountered in my young adulthood: I can't afford the lifestyle that I think I deserve. I'm a lush and I absolutely can't help it. I like taking cabs and surrounding myself with nice things. But, I'm poor. And yet, I keep trying to pretend like I'm not poor. Thus, I keep wasting my money on things that I don't really need like HD DVR packages and memory foam pillows. It's a recurring theme in my life right now. When I was younger (not much younger, let's be honest, like 18) I would watch the James Bond movies and drool over how luxurious 007's lifestyle was (I'd drool over Daniel Craig's body too, but that's for a different blog). He was always in a tailored tuxedo or beautiful slim fit suit, he was always drinking the best scotch, he was always in the nicest hotel rooms and he always had the fanciest cars. That's what I want! That's partially why I always drink gimlets and wear ties. Sometimes small things can make you feel really big. But recently the issue has escalated...

I essentially ordered the most expensive cable package available to a homeowner in NYC without really consulting with my room mate. I sort of told her how much it would cost but not really. I just really wanted DVR! And what's a DVR if it's not HD? And what's HD if you don't have On Demand and Showtime? This, to me, was a legitimate list of concerns. So after the cable was installed and my room mate found out how much our monthly bill was going to be, she called me and told me the most devastating news. We would have to downgrade cable plans. Yuck, I don't ever wanna hear that word, downgrade. Severely downtrodden, my room mate ripped the HD DVR box from my poor, wanting hands and took it back to the cable store. But then, a miracle happened! The woman at the cable store convinced her to keep the HD DVR box by cutting our monthly bill IN HALF! She even upgraded our box to a new one with more memory! Thanks Jessica, you saved my HD life!

And today, I was buying pillows at Bed, Bath and Beyond (the best place for a homebody to spend their time). I dejectedly picked up the ten dollar pillows telling myself to not even look at my other options. But then I saw the memory foam pillows at the end of the aisle and like Ginny Weasley in The Chamber of Secrets, I lost all control of my body and committed such evils. I ended up purchasing the most expensive pillows available. I reasoned that I spend a huge portion of my life sleeping, so I should obviously have the nicest pillows! Plus, sleeping is literally my favorite activity. When I wake up, I actually think to myself, "I can't wait until tonight when I get to go back to bed." But then, I was carrying these memory foam pillows through Washington Heights and I was getting the dirtiest looks from my neighbors. The looks that clearly said, "You rich douchebag living off of daddy's money." WHICH ISN'T TRUE! I WORK HARD FOR MY MEMORY FOAM PILLOWS AND MY DVR! So yeah, I need to cool it with the spending. But I have a kick ass cable plan now and I am going to sleep so well with zero neck problems. And those things make me happy. And isn't that our goal in life? Happiness? So stay lush y'all and stay comfy.

After being swept away to the depths of the rocky mountains for three and a half months and then hastily plopped back into the thriving metropolis of New York City without any sort of intermediary, I have quickly noted one key difference between small towns and big towns. In big towns, you can be as crazy as you want and nobody will care! I realized this on the subway upon my arrival. Usually I am very to-myself and subdued when I'm in public. I always get out of people's way and essentially try to make myself as small as possible so as to not end up with a gun in my face or on the hit-list for the mafia or something (It's probably also repressed fear of this girl I knew in middle school named Marquetta who would knock books out of my hands and shove me into the wall if I got in her way - but that's beside the point. I'm over that... sort of). I even go so far as to only do vocal warm-ups in the subway station if a loud train is passing by (nothing like a vocal sigh as the trains go by). But I realize now that I can do as much vocalizing as I want and nobody will say anything about it or even think it's that strange. I mean, my friend Elise has only been here a short time but has managed to see like three penises on the subway! Three!!! And people don't care! Someone could literally take a shit on a subway car and people would just sigh and change cars. I know this because that happened to me once. So if I do a few lip trillz or practice my riffing skillz on the subway, everyone will still keep their eyes to the floor and pretend that nothing is happening. I have officially granted myself full permission to be as crazy as I want.

In fact, being crazy can even have it's advantages. I would like to take a moment to reference an episode of "30 Rock" where Liz Lemon pretended to be a crazy woman on the subway so that she could get a seat. You don't mess with the crazies. You never know what they will do to you. So my advice to anyone visiting New York for the first time is this: If someone tries to mug you, just whip around and start making monkey noises, jump up and down, flail wildly and start shouting something like, "BANANAS WILL ONE DAY RULE THE WORLD!!!" maybe toss some flour in their face for dramatic effect. You must out-crazy the crazy and you will always win. It's not like small towns where people will actually remember or care. You'll probably never see them again and if you do, they probably won't remember you because you were just one more dose of crazy in a cray cray filled day day. And if you crazy, they will run. Stay comfy y'all.