The Comfy Corner

So I often wonder what Harry's life would have been like post Hogwarts if he hadn't had to defeat Voldemort and destroy the horcruxes. Like, what if Voldemort had died the day he killed his parents and that was that? What if he graduated an aimless college grad like the rest of us? I imagine he would be going through what I'm currently going through. He considered grad school for like .2 seconds and decided against it. He then wandered from job to job trying to figure out what direction he actually wanted to take his life in. He interned at the Ministry of Magic for a summer (he hated it but he learned a ton), then he moved to London for a bit to experience city life (felt lonely and ADD), then he decided to travel the world for a bit (met a bunch of awesome sorcerers but missed that sense of home), and then he decided to visit Hogwarts again and ended up spending the next summer pouring butter beers for peeps at The Three Broomsticks and complaining about poor tips. These are essentially the lifestyles I've experienced over the past year and can't decide which I prefer...

1) The intern - I started my internship the day after graduation arriving slightly hung over with emotional remnants of the previous night still visible in my slightly bloodshot eyes. Just like Harry's internship at the Ministry, I learned a ton, made some amazing friends, but I also worked my ass off and finished the summer battered, broken, and in need of about a month of missed sleep.

2) City Boy - I spent the next few months a slave to New York City. As is the case with most new, young New Yorkers I experienced 3 months of crazy ADD. So many things to do, so many places to go and not a single idea of where to start or where to focus my energies. I spent too much money, had some horrible jobs, some awesome jobs, saw a lot of amazing theatre, took a lot of classes, but somehow managed to feel like I was going nowhere and the city was flying past me as I scrambled to pick out something useful from the rush. In the end, I picked out a tour.

3) Tour - Tour, for me, was kinda like an internship on the road. I learned a lot, I made some awesome friends, saw a lot of awesome places, but I finished a battered and broken boy. What I loved about this lifestyle: I didn't have to wash my towels, make my bed, or clean my room. What I hated: having no sense of home. I learned that I am a homebody. I like to have my bed, my keyboard, a kitchen.

4) Retirement - This is my current lifestyle. There is a direct ratio between how hard I'm working and how many blogs I publish each month. And I am currently twiddling my thumbs doing a show once or twice a week (the life of being in one show at a rep company). This is a welcome change to my previous lifestyle, but I am still missing that sense of home.

So what lifestyle do I prefer most thus far? I've learned more in the last year about myself and my craft than I probably did in four years of college. But I must say that the lifestyle I prefer most is my senior year of college lifestyle. I was living with an amazing room mate. I had amazing friends that I saw regularly. I was comfortable in the city I lived in (even though I wasn't the biggest fan of that particular city). And I had a sense of momentum to my life. It was headed in a clear direction with a clear goal at the end (graduation). So I think what I need to do is recreate those circumstances as best as I can. Move back in with Vanessa, set clear goals for myself, have a weekly thing to look forward to, and focus my energies on a couple clear things instead of throwing a wide net at the entire city of New York. Stay comfy y'all.

2:30AM on a Tuesday night, I am awoken by the raucous chatter of young hooligans beatin' their gums loudly in my kitchen as if it were a regular speakeasy. Blearily, I stumble out of my bedroom door to tell the young rag-a-muffins to pipe down and I remind them of the time of day. The next evening I settle into my bed with a blanket and a cup of tea and watch "The Truman Show" with a candle burning and a chocolate brownie cheesecake in my hand. The morning after that, I go to get my mail (a linen pocket square that I've been waiting for anxiously). On my way back from the mail, however, I ran into some buddies of mine and shot the shit for an hour and a half on Main street, complaining about the pace of New York City and how you can avoid getting mugged by simply screaming the word, "WHAT?!" at your pursuer, and the practicality of those new-fangled toe shoes and how they might cure an aching back. This conversation was quite taxing so I settled in for an afternoon nap post retrieving my mail. Now I find myself sitting on the porch on Main Street, sipping coffee and blogging.

What does this say about my personality? Well, I am an old man. A regular wet blanket through and through. I avoid activities that might excite my weak heart. When I go to bars, I go to quiet bars and I drink gimlets. I am a home body. I prefer candles and Ella Fitzgerald to a night of clubbing. I prefer cooking an Ina Garten meal and listening to Michael Buble than going out to dinner. I prefer nostalgic comedies to loud thrillers. I prefer Rodgers and Hammerstein's classic melodies to the busy music of today's composers. Okay, so maybe it is also just says that I am a big homo, but in general I think it says that I just prefer my peace and quiet to the incessant noise of a juice joint.

And I've come to realize that this isn't necessarily a great quality of mine. This is a part of my personality that I have to actively work on. I know that I need to get out and explore the world and I know that I'm not going to make any connections or get anywhere in life sitting in my bedroom. So, I sigh loudly and put on my club outfit on occasion and bump and grind with the best of them. But, it's just so much ya know? The loud music, the people hitting on you, the embarrassing drunken confessions of your friends. My senses can only handle so much! If only we could go back to the days of sitting around in our drawing rooms smoking cigars and drinking port and we could call that a crazy night. But alas, we've reached a point where a "crazy night" involves hash being slipped into the hooka and then that crazy Australian girl from the Cirque trying to give you a "space cake" and you waking up inside of giant metal tube with your pants off and no recollection of how you got there. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't keep up with kids these days! I haven't the energy and if I tried, then I fear the ole ticker might give out. So I'll content myself with my Ella, my port, and my blog and occasionally, when I'm provoked  enough, I'll put on my red pants and hipster glasses, get wasted, and pose for Warhol-worthy photos in the clubs with the rest of them. Stay comfy y'all.

It has been a mere six months since I walked away from my last restaurant job, the dark sleet of New York's skies washing over my tired skin, as I let the sweet burden of horrible-job-syndrome lift off my aching back, celebrating the freedom of just having quit a survival job that was sucking away the soul of my being. Now, I celebrate a return to the restaurant business in an environment that does the opposite of suck soul. It injects soul. Feeds my soul. It is called, "The Far Dog."

This tiny restaurant is situated on the main street of Creede, CO and is celebrating its 17 day anniversary. And I am fortunate enough to have been there from the first cup of fresh brewed Lavazza coffee set in front of a customer. You may be thinking, "Far Dog? What kind of a name is that for a restaurant?" Well, the restaurant is named after the owners' dog, Farley. That's right folks, it is named after a puppy. It's a tiny, comfy restaurant, in a tiny, comfy town, named after the cutest puppy that lazes at the front door greeting customers and happily accepting food donations. In other words, it is my comfy corner in Creede. It's the first time I've worked at a restaurant that I actually want to eat at and spend time at outside of work. When I'm not working there, I'm drinking there, or meeting friends there. It is an amazing place filled with amazing food and amazing people.

And the clientele is incredible. The people of Creede are a patient people. A kind, generous people. A people that tips people in fair quantities. A people that is not of the foreign/European/non-tipping variety of people. And it has been wonderful! However, just the other day as I floated about the Far Dog lost in my dream of a waiting job, one customer quickly yanked me out of my cloud and slammed me back to the harsh reality that there are assholes everywhere you go. He was apparently an extra in one of the "Twilight" films which gave him some sort of higher rank among the other piddly little human beings of the world. He is the type of person that would see me in one of them-there theatre shows and say something demeaning like, "You should maybe consider pursuing this as a profession..." As if that isn't what I'm already doing. As if I was just dabbling in the field for a short time. Well, this gentleman was eating breakfast at the restaurant and asked for a piece of toast. And, for some reason, toast is not the quickest thing in the world to make at our restaurant because it has to be made on the grill. So after about three minutes of toast waiting (it was being plated and sent out after three minutes) he stops me and says, "Forget the toast! It's too late now! What am I supposed to do with toast now?!" I smiled at him and said, "Okay!" and then proceeded to feel that sinking feeling in my heart. That familiar feeling of inadequacy and failure. And I started my internal monologue, "I could tell you a thing or two you could do with the toast... SO sorry sir that toast in Creede takes a minute longer that LA toast. I bow at your feet in toast serfdom."

And that is why I've decided that I'm not a good waiter. Yeah, I do the job well, I'm personable and good with customers, but I'm also too emotionally involved. My heart hurts because a piece of toast didn't make it to the table. In order to be a good waiter you have to have a heart of steel. You have to be able to stand up for yourself and not let people demean you or put you down. That's the only way to get respect in the restaurant business. And I don't think I quite have that yet. But, in any event, the one asshole toast experience aside, I am thrilled to be working in a restaurant that is letting me keep my soul. It's a great feeling. 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.

"Okay, when we hang up I'm gonna text you to let you know when I'm on Skype. And if Skype is being finicky, I'll call you and we can talk on the phone while we're Skyping. And I'll send you an email later tonight about that thing we were talking about. And I sent you a card. It is in the mail. Love you!" Ever had a conversion like this with your long distance significant other? I have. Keeping a long distance relationship breathing is not an easy task and one would think that with so many ways of communicating nowadays long distance would be über easy, right? Wrong. I think it actually makes it harder. So I give myself some simple guidelines.

1) Skype - Skype is a wonderful, amazing thing. And it is keeping long distance relationships alive all over the country! But if it is used every single day (or multiple times a day) it can start to feel obligatory and can lose its power. And it is such a cocktease because you can see the person, but when you reach out to touch them you touch a plastic screen. It's depressing!!! Virtual love, yuck. So I think Skype should be used only when you really need to see your boo's face. So save it for those über-lonely nights. It's also so finicky that it can get annoying always being like, "What did you say? You froze." 

2) Texts - Texting is best used for those little, sweet nothings. There is nothing better than getting a "<3" in the middle of the day for no reason. This is true for family and friends too. I love getting a "miss you" or a "just had coffee ice cream and thought of you" text. What it shouldn't be used for is lengthy descriptions of how your day is going. I hate texting paragraphs.

3) Phone - The phone is probably my go-to. I like hearing my boo's voice, ya know? It comforts me. Especially, before I go to bed so that I get a "good night." Best way to end a day. But, like Skype, it should never become an obligatory thing. I hate those awkward phone convos when nothing really exciting happened since the last time you talked (yesterday) but you have to stay on the phone because you agreed to talk on the phone on a regularly scheduled basis. It ends up being, "So... how is the weather there?" And I cringe when I hear people say things like, "Sarah's boyfriend has called her like four times today and my boyfriend has only texted me once." So limit it to when you actually have something to talk about.

4) Email - I kinda love emails. But, that isn't really news to those who know me. I obviously like writing. And I like being able to edit things and make them say exactly what I want them to say. I think emails are good when you have a conflict to resolve. Because you can take time and think about how you really feel and put it into words. That is difficult to do on the phone.

5) Missive - There is nothing better nowadays than getting mail that isn't a bill or junk mail. Getting a funny/loving card from a significant other is probably one of my favorite things. Letters and cards take time and effort and when your boo is putting in effort for you, that feels good.

So, whether your boo is right beside you, miles away, or if you're still searching for a boo, stay comfy y'all.