Day 311-Show Tonight

I'm not in the show tonight, but I DID survive yesterday's audition without totally crashing and burning though unfortunately, didn't make it out of the kitchen without one pancake being a little dark. Did you know you have to re-grease the pan before pouring the next cup of batter?

Anyway...

I'm stepping away from myself for the day to share a little post from Southern on the Inside. Written by a friend of mine and fellow Southerner, she bridges the gap between life in the big city and you got it-the South! Even better, her blog this week features a show by a Southern singer that's definitely worth checking out.

Oh yeah, show is tonight. Nothing like being in the moment!

I love, love, love Lissy Rosemont’s old-tymey, soulful voice and cannot wait to see her and the Junior League Band play at Mercury Lounge tomorrow night. Lissy’s from Atlanta and her family runs the annual Fiddler’s Grove fiddler’s festival in Union Grove, North Carolina. Plus, she roomed with a good friend of mine in college so in my world, she’s about as famous as they get. Now, it seems like the rest of the country’s taking note of her talent, as well. The show starts around 6:30/7pm so come after work for happy hour and be home in time to watch whatever leftover shows you’ve got in the queue.

For more great inside information on Southerners in the city, don't forget to check out Southern on the Inside and subscribe.

I'm Off the Market & In the Moment!

Day 312-If At First You Don't Succeed

Don't you love the feeling of checking things off your "to do" list? What a relief to know I’ve made a difference in my day, no matter how big or small the task. Of course, it's even better when the list doesn't include things like:

-Drop off drycleaning
-Pick up drycleaning
-Call exterminator (yes, WE HAVE MICE AGAIN!)

And instead, is full of fun to do's like auditioning and cooking. Yep, today’s a double whammy as I’m working on two of the items on my In the Moment list of things to accomplish this year. First off, I will actually be cooking dinner. That’s right, no PBJ or Lean Cuisine or takeout. I’m making pancakes!

While this may seem like an easy feat for some, I’m the girl that had to ask her most patient roommate E how to boil an egg this weekend. And I’ve stayed away from the kitchen for awhile for good reason. Friends and family still haven’t let me live down my other attempts such as the fire I started while baking cookies in middle school. Do not make the mistake of talking to your crush and cooking at the same time. You will turn on broil instead of bake while setting your oven temperature and if you have a gas oven, you will indeed get some hot action, but it’ll likely be coming from subsequent flames rather than from your beau. I will also forever be haunted by the quesadilla dinner I made for friends in college. Instead of the gourmet version I intended to create, they were gourmet-gone-indigestible. They were so saturated in oil that I couldn’t even eat them, and the poor boyfriend of my friend who did keep it down, suffered from a stomach ache the rest of the night. To redeem myself, the next girls’ dinner I made lasagna. Which I forgot to thaw. So after two hours of cooking to no avail, we were forced to eat around the edges.

Since I have lots of practice at not cooking so well, cooking is one of those few tasks where I’m not scared to fail. So tonight, I tackle pancake dinner #2. I practiced on Sunday and got one PERFECT. Then, I got cocky and burnt my second one to a crisp (at least I didn’t set off the fire alarm like I did when frying bacon last week). But I’m now going for the gold aka, two unburnt, digestable, and yummy pancakes. Baby steps, right?

Regardless of my lack of culinary expertise, I can shake off a little smoke in the kitchen and accept the fact I probably won’t be on Top Chef one day, but it’s scary having to sing without knowing I can redeem myself with dance, which is the plan for tonight’s audition. Normally I get casted in a show because they need a dancer in the background and I can sing with the chorus well enough. This audition, however, is for just a choral group so my voice will flying solo when…well, I sing my solo. Then, I have to SIGHT-SING. Here’s a middle C and Go!

Shoot me now……and they might after they hear my rendition of whatever two lines they surprise me with.

Even though it’s a bit like being in front of the firing squad, I’m thinking positive thoughts and not stressing about it surprisingly. I have to say I rarely tell friends when these opportunities arise for fear I’ll fail and won’t make the cut. So this is a big step for me to announce it to the blog without knowing the outcome.

And come to think of it, the fear of failure in auditioning is pretty similar to that in dating. While it’s not personal to them, because you’re just not a right fit for the role, it’s pretty difficult to not take it personally when you put yourself out there.

So you keep moving forward, learning, and marking things off your list. And no matter what, you just have to keep going out when you get a call to audition (or for dinner). Because despite how many times you don't get casted, you never know when you may find the perfect part(ner).

I’m Off the Market (feeling super cheesy) & In the Moment!

Day 313-It's Not Just Me

If you haven’t noticed from the past two months’ posts, I'm can be a little hard on myself. For instance, I often go down a path of thinking that I’m the sole party at fault when a relationship doesn’t work; I’m the only one who doesn’t have her life figured out yet; and I have to be the last person I know that hasn’t figured out in-the-momentness.

As a result, I just relish in a good reminder from an outside source instructing me to get over myself already! For instance, one of my best (married) guy friends recently sent me a quote from his corporate newsletter that had Off the Market & In the Moment posting potential. I was intrigued:

"Happiness is not a brilliant climax to years of grim struggle and anxiety. It is a long succession of little decisions simply to be happy in the moment."

--Swami Kriyananda, formerly J. Donald Walters,
American spiritual leader, author and composer

Great quote and definitely on point with my year. But even more interesting is that it was sent from a company with almost 50,000 employees, a huge percentage of which are male and even better, many of which make up a large part of the dating pool in NYC.

So in the spirit of Swami Kriyananda, I'm making a decision to be happy this moment. Happy that it’s not just me (or my gender) who needs weekly reminders to live in the present.

I’m Off the Market & In the Moment!

Day 314-Only in New York

So I had one of those "Only in New York" moments yesterday. It started like a relatively normal Saturday morning: picking up laundry, taking a leisurely stroll with my favorite puppy Bella, working out to Yoga, Booty, Ballet because I was too lazy to take the train to an actual class, writing, having a 5-minute phone breakdown to my wonderful friend (which may not seem normal, but believe it or not, this gal has to do some of her venting off the World Wide Web).

Then somehow, I ended up on the corner of 28th and Broadway with 30 minutes to kill before my call time. Always looking to beef up the resume, I was doing background work for a forthcoming documentary which shall rename nameless until I see the final version as I have a more than sneaking suspicion this job may come back to haunt me in twenty years on "Before They Were Stars."

Despite the fact that being on Broadway is a dream of mine and the street itself is a long-standing symbol of the city, the corner of the avenue at 28th street is a no-man's land of random fabric shops and stores that are stocked with even more random items such as ipod covers, which I'm sure is a front for something more lucrative. Not the best spot to hang out, and I'm such a huge budget I couldn't even dole out $2 to buy a coffee and secure a seat inside a deli. So I headed East to the window-shopping pleasures of Fifth Avenue, and lo and behold, there were pleasures indeed. As I rounded the corner toward 27th street, the doors to the Museum of Sex were wide open, beckoning me inside.

I may be Off the Market, but now was as good a time as any to satisfy my curiosity.

The museum's mission is simple enough: to preserve and present the history, evolution, and cultural significance of human sexuality. Now I don't know how awkward I looked wondering through the gift shop by myself, but it was definitely less so than my visit to our neighborhood friendly porn store. It is a museum after all, which perhaps accounts for the bit of dignity all the visitors worked to produce between some uncomfortable giggles. I certainly turned on my "museum mode," which calls for a critical expression, discerning eye and the ability to give off an air that you know what you're looking at, as I circled the perimeters of the gift shop. I encountered the likes of usual museum gift items: books, postcards, posters, tea towels (though don't mistake, they were adorned with images such as Kama Sutra poses or vintage burlesque pin-ups). But there were also the real take-home souvenirs: gadgets, gizmos, and toys to scratch whatever itch may be bothering you.

Since I couldn't afford a cup of coffee earlier, I was definitely not in the market for a Cynthia Rowley mug from her "Dirty Dishes" collection, despite my love for fun coffee cups. But I was seriously mistaken when I didn't account that this museum was AGAIN a real museum and thus, required $16.75 to enter exhibits like Sex Lives of Animals or ACTION: Sex and the Moving Image. No pay what you wish like the Met??? Disappointing, though for anyone in the neighborhood wishing to actually see exhibits, you can download a $3 coupon online:
http://www.museumofsex.com/info/discount

I spent my free fifteen minutes and left with enough of a fix, despite having not visited the Oralfix Aphrodisiac Cafe on the lower level.

Overlooking the expense of living here or visiting exhibits, this is ther perfect example of why I am in love with this city. You may think you've been here for three years and know what you need to know, and you're a resident, after all. But then you turn the corner and are presented with a new experience: a new museum that is culturally enriching, an opportunity to build a film career by giving you a green screen credit, or even something as simple and fulfilling as a free hug (which were being given away across the street from my apartment).

I thought I was in for a relatively normal Saturday, but I should know by now that in New York, the days are anything but.

I'm off the market & in the moment!

Day 315-A Book Review: Eat, Pray, Love

Woke myself up at 4am after a bout of bad dreams and finally finished Eat, Pray, Love-round two. So bare with me. I'm going to try my hand at a review. And yes, I'm disregarding the fact that most people have probably already read the book and/or seen the movie not to mention, I'm also probably the last person to review the bestseller. But because books speak to me gently asking me to listen when I don't choose to listen to much else, I thought this title deserved a few parting words. Drumroll...my review of Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert:

Cleverly divided into three sections for the three countries visited, resulting in 36 chapters symbolizing Gilbert's 36th year, Eat, Pray, Love is a heartwrenching and provoking account of one woman's quest to find life's balance following a painful divorce, broken love affair, and lost sense of self. In its most simple form, following Gilbert's journey prompts a yearning for exploration. Literally, one yearns to set out on a trip, to explore the world and experience the unknown after catching the scent of the author's powerful trail through the three I's- Italy, India, and Indonesia. But travel is just the amuse-bouche, a taste of the meal to come, though the author's descriptions are naturally pleasing and still, pack a creative punch.

Yet, Gilbert's more poignant exploration calls for a journey into her deepest self: an examination of her failings, an acknowledgement of her achievements, and the subsequent effort to tame the pain, anger, loss, and love that can both constrict and uplift the soul. And while Gilbert's struggles are not born of a worldly disaster or injustice, it's the truth that her struggles are born of the most basic of human conditions, love, which gathers our sympathy.

Here is a story that in all its honest and obvious self-focus, is still easy to forget that it is indeed a memoir. When Gilbert asks age-old questions about the soul, love, the power of prayer, and the universe at work, it resonates with such force that one starts her own exploration. Fortunately, Gilbert openly shares the answers she found along the way, and when she finally crosses over to the other side, we give her a quick cheer and then beg to follow.


I'm Off the Market & In the Moment!

Day 318-Chilling Out or Freaking Out?

After flying solo at lunch yesterday, I have two takeaways. 1-It’s not that difficult to eat alone as long as you have sufficient people watching, which Madison Avenue Deli indeed has and 2-There are a lot of midday drinkers in this city. No judgment, just an honest observation. Though yesterday I was more than tempted to follow the crowd and grab a Bud Light. Or two or three…

Because this week has been weirdly rough. No idea why, especially because the weekend was so much fun, but I have been exhausted, unable to do more than curl up under the covers and read after stumbling through the work day. You see, I’m in a bit of a rut. Not that everything isn’t running along smoothly (ok, so maybe it’s not technically a rut), but I’m someone who thrives on the next exciting thing around the corner. Now I said so myself in yesterday’s post on Hot Guy Upstairs that you never know when/what/who that will be, so obviously I get the point of letting some things unfold. But I’m still the little girl who used to wake up EVERY morning asking, “What are we going to do today?” except now I’m the twenty-something who poses the same question to patient friends and the not-so-patient and therefore, occasional boyfriend. So when an over-planner, somewhat control freak decides to take a chill pill and not fill the week with classes, clubs and dates she was about to fish for on Match.com, aftermath is inevitable.

And the unfortunate aftermath is that without external stimulation, I am stuck in my own head. This isn’t unusual as a lot of people get more reflective when they’re on vacation, in nature, or anytime life calms down. But this is New York City, and I’m an ambitious gal in a million in one ways, and I want it all right now, says my Ego. So when MY life calms down, it ain’t pretty. I’ve been in over-analyzing mode for four days. Coming to grips with yourself is hard. No wonder I’m tired. The bulk of what I’ve realized consists of the following:

I am indeed a control freak. So much so that my freakiness is probably the biggest reason I have trouble letting go of old relationships and the past, in general. I’ve been incredibly privileged that I’ve had a lot of good things go my way so don’t accept it well when they just don’t.

There, I said it. It’s not a great feeling realizing you’re a control freak with all the bad connotations that go with it, not to mention my natural inclination is to force my habits to change overnight. Which is what I've been fighting with for days. And people wonder why I need a blog about living in the moment….

So before the need to hide under the covers for another night takes over, I’m going to let myself off the hook for a bit. Being a control freak may make things difficult at times, but it also makes me an incredibly loving, passionate and loyal individual who is quick to trust as well as forgive. And that’s pretty great.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it.

I’m off the market & in the moment!

Day 319-Pep in My Step

I had a little surprise this morning. Though I know I shouldn’t let moments, good or bad, set the tone for the rest of the day, sometimes it just can’t be helped. Step in dog poop? Miss the bus just as it begins to drive away? Forget your umbrella? Major downers.

But today, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I had on a cute green sundress (green is a power color for me-brings out my inner Scarlett O’Hara). I was even feeling so good that I decided to tackle the extremely difficult and tedious task of dropping off my dry cleaning which has been making daily trips on and off my bed for two weeks.….this was big.

But heading down the stairs I was stopped in my tracks. No, it wasn’t the prostitute (again, I live in the East Village) or our super. It was a fellow tenant who from now on will be referred to as the Hot Guy Upstairs.

Even though we’re New Yorkers who supposedly never see our neighbors, I’ve always managed to spot a fair share of lookers in the building, a lot of them with great accents to boot. But this guy had real potential. He was well-dressed (what is it about a guy in a suit???) and HOT.

“Hey there, Cutie!”

Don’t worry. I’m not so far along yet that I’m shouting random, though well-deserved, compliments to strangers. (Though maybe there SHOULD be more of that in the world?) I said this to the lovable dog that beat his master to my feet. But still, it counts right? Surely he got the message I was throwing his way?

Ok, so that probably shouldn’t count as a challenge today, especially since I may have bowled over Hot Guy Upstairs not with my charm but rather a sufficient amount of gag factor from the voice I used that is only reserved for babies and small animals.

But hey, the dog loved me. And as any pet owner knows, that’s half the battle. I know I’m not supposed to be talkin’ relationships, but I can’t help imagining how convenient it would be to run up the stairs whenever I needed a little petting myself…

Thankfully, I’m off the market. Otherwise, I could make a fool’s mistake of doing you know what where I eat.

I don't like a guy dictating my emotions any more than I like dog poop to do so. But after a day of being too tired, blue, whiney, and down on myself for having so much trouble being in the moment, she has to have a blog to re-focus her daily (aren't you glad my Internet failed before I got to write that post!), I needed this little moment between me and Hot Guy Upstairs. The girl with no patience needed a reminder that you have no idea what or who is around the corner. And that has enough pep in my step to try the real challenge for the day. I'm taking myself, by myself, to lunch. No reading material for backup either!

I’m off the market & in the moment!