'ME' Day

I am smack dab in the middle of my 'me' day that I was feeling was much deserved, but it’s really just an excuse to stay in my PJs, drink lots of tea, nosh every few hours and watch episodes of The West Wing (YES, I am obsessed) and The Good Wife.



In my previous blog I had mentioned my frustration and currently lacking motivation to do, well, just about anything productive. What I realized is that I'm not lacking in motivation or even passion, but the "butterfly effect". The "butterfly effect" is what I like to refer to as the feeling that everything is worth it. I've currently lost the belief that taking those classes, and going to those auditions, even hanging out at certain industry hot spots are going to have any sort of effect on my current situation. It was the belief that all these things were going to help, or push me in the right direction that used to give me butterflies.


My former roommate would say that I was living in a land of delusion. She said my 'everything happens for a reason, it will all work out in the end' mentality was unrealistic. But at the time it was my sincere belief that it as all going to be all right, and that everything was going to work out. I still feel connected to these mentalities, but I'm on the other side of it, that it's hard to practice it. I've taken the dance classes to make myself better; I've done the voice lessons and the acting coaching. I've dropped weight, colored my hair, changed jobs, splurged on professional shoes and clothes, upgraded my headshots and resume...yet, I'm still in the same boat. My boat seems to only have one oar, because I'm going in circles.


It's silly to admit, but I loved the way it felt to be giddy and 'delusional' to the stresses and challenges in attaining my goals. I guess because I never was as naive as I let on. I was aware of how hard it was going to be to start my career, to get noticed, to achieve the high standards I set for myself. But it was fun trying! It was fun to me to try new dances, new outfits, new teachers, and new jobs. Three years later though, I've tried it all! It's not so fun anymore! I miss the butterflies. I miss the feeling of potentially being left out of greatness, therefore needing to be everywhere, ALL THE TIME. So I know it's not motivation I'm missing, because if it was that, I would still be in bed (and not on the couch...see step in the right direction), and I wouldn't look up class schedules on-line, and I wouldn't have bought a reformer to actually use because I'm not feeling well enough to go to the gym.

So now that I know what it is I'm missing... how do I get it back? How do I get the butterflies back in my stomach? I can say, 'oh, it will start Monday' or 'the first of the month will be the day', but why can't it start today? Why do I need a starting day? Why do I need a marker for life to begin?


I don't want to sit back and watch life roll on. I don't want to pretend like make excuses for not doing things that I know that I want and need to do is ok. I need to be the driver, not the passenger in my life. It’s time I start acting like it!

Bad Day

For my loyal fans out there in the blogging world (all two of you) who have noticed my absence...I'm back. As I sit on my fabulously large and comfy couch watching The West Wing for the 457th time, I am trying to channel the reasons as to why I write this blog. I remember starting it as a way to share all my thoughts, opinions and advice with anyone crazy enough to listen to me.  I guess secretly I was hoping that someone would find the things I had to say funny and kitschy in the ways of Chelsea Handler or Kathy Griffin. Both of whom I know are comedians, which I am not...but I can be kind of funny!  Maybe not 'haha' funny, but 'stupid shit happens to me' funny.



The basis of everything I have to say is obviously coming from the fact that I am a dancer, living in New York City, who has to make a living bartending while waiting for her big break. "Big break", is a phrase that didn't seem like such a preposterous statement three years ago when I first moved to the city, but after a bad day (which I had yesterday), those two words are seriously silly.

I've had far worse days in my life; deaths of family members, horrible fights with friends, break-ups, injuries, failures, but yesterday was one of those days that you don't like to have as a performer, but unfortuneately attack like the plague (or H1N1...ba dum chi!). It was basically a woe is me day, but it left me questioning why I'm doing what I'm doing. I named this blog 'hopelessly passionate' because that's what I like to think that I am.  When times are tough, and seem to show little chance or light or success, I like to think that I have what it takes to keep on going and push though to the good times.  But I also like to think I'm 'hopelessly passionate' because the title is part of a quote in which you are either that or 'very stupid'.  I have moments of stupidity, but I'm not quick to admit to it! 

But what is passion? Can you still be passionate while feeling defeated and unmotivated? Can you call yourself an artist when you are uninspired and frustrated with not only the circumstances of the job, but yourself as well?

I had the pleasure of teaching a class at Broadway Dance Center yesterday. One, in which only six people attended. No, I was not surprised, I was a substitute teacher, and even I don't take classes from subs...but of course I was still hoping for more. Of these six people, one left during the combo, and the other five rolled their eyes the entire time. Not to mention, the fact that I had a class to teach didn't matter to the French Hip-Hop instructor who was in the room before me who thought nothing of going ten minutes over. After the packed room was cleared for my sad excuse for a class size I immediately felt that I was no good. It's one thing to get this feeling at an audition after being critiqued, judged then cut, but to feel like this when you are going to be leading and teaching a class is catastrophic. And the disappointing part of all this to me is that I was so excited an hour earlier to be teaching.  I'm a good teacher, and I'd like to think even a good choreographer. I'm incredibly knowledgeable to the many techniques of dance, I have a strong work ethic, plus I get a huge thrill from it all! Yet yesterday, instead of feeling the joy, I felt the force of pain and struggle. This is the struggle one feels not only as a performer, but the struggle one goes though to get any sort of recognition in this city, not just talent recognition, but the kind of recognition it requires to just cross the street without a cab speeding 50 MPH towards you and not hitting you.


I've thought about giving it all up and switching professions. But the things I'm good at and the things that I like to do require the same schmoozing and networking, the same ass kissing and ladder climbing that this industry demands. Oh, and all the while costing time and money. Another option is to leaveNew York City and teach at some Dolly Dinkle studio, or to do dinner theatre and community choreography in East Bumblefuck...but let’s be serious, I don't want that! I’m better than that! Plus, I have a life in New York (granted it's not one that I really want), but I have friends that are my family, not to mention you can't get the energy and culture of New York anywhere else.

So that is where I was left yesterday. I felt upset and defeated. I want inspiration and motivation. I want to take class to further improve my style and technique. I want to get out of the restaurant business. I want to be able to provide for myself without feeling like every dime I make is potentially being wasted on a silly dream. But at the same time, I know that I am talented. I know that when the opportunity is in front of me, and it's hard and challenging and scary, that I buck up and plow full steam ahead. I know that when I am surrounded by greatness I can't stop thinking and dreaming and striving for more. I know that this isn't some silly dream. I know that there are going to be more bad days, so to prepare for them I am officially taking a 'ME' day. Because there is only one person out there that has faith in my greatness and the power to make things happen, and that person is me!


(For furute reference: Wine + Grey's Anatomy + Good Friends = The Cure to a Bad Day)

Tears....the ones that come from ridiculous laughter!

Have you ever spent a night lying in bed with your best friends sharing stories? Well, I'm sure you have. Last night was one of those nights for me! I was baking mini muffins for my work meeting and in between switching the bans in and out of our one shelf oven, I would run to my roommate’s room, squeeze under the covers and commence in stories with the girls.

Most of the stories were about stupid moments that have happened to and around us in the days before we all met, i.e. High School! I love High School stories. They are all very similar no matter when or where you went to school. It doesn't mater if you had 60 kids in your class or 352 like mine, stupid shit is bound to happen, people are going to be picked on, and someone will get arrested (hopefully not you!).



My roommate took the cake though when it came to funny/stupid/mean pranks from the good old days. Her high school boyfriend lived in a little subdivision where his next door neighbor was also a student at their school. The boy next door was slightly mentally impaired and as is typical in an American High School, he was often picked on. Instead of doing the typical house egging, and ketchup/mustard splattering on the lawn, these individuals decided to fill his pool...with gold fish!



That day when Peter came home from school, it just so happened to be raining. He went into his backyard, saw the pool filled with fishies and jumped into the water to try and save them! He though that it was raining fish, and that he needed to save all the little fish! But the concerned kid that he was ran next door to Bradley’s house, with a fish in hand, to inform him that he too needed to save the fish that the rain brought into his pool too!



It was a combination of the silly/endearing story and the fact that my roommate could not get the story out without laughing that made my abs sore and my eyes pour tears! So the moral of the story is, be nice to your neighbors, and always save the 'fishies'!

"So I Think" They are Children...

The new season of So You Think You Can Dance (SYTYCD) is in full swing. If you have been reading my blog from the beginning you may remember that my sister, Allison, was showcased on the first episode of this season. The beautiful deaf dancer from Texas didn't make it past the first round of Vegas, but she should have based on what I saw from Monday night's performances.

I thought it was a great way to start the season. Showcase the dancers in their forte before throwing them in a different element and right into the hands of the voters. Sadly though, the show left me irritated and annoyed in what the American public is being showed as good dance, and the top talent of the country. All I saw was small children kicking and turning. I didn't see any dancing.

What I love about the basis of SYTYCD is that it allows for talented individuals to work with the best and brightest in the industry, and hopefully jump start what could be long and promising careers. At the same time the show brings dance into the living rooms of people who could either be huge dance supporters or people that know nothing of the art form. Graduates from the top conservatories in the country can watch along side of individuals who have never been to a dance concert or musical in their life. These are the things that make this show amazing. But why then are the viewers being told that 'competition thrash and dash' is all that is good and entertaining to dance?

The opening number by Wade and Amanda Robson showcased not only technique but style and a story. Too bad the twelve year olds that have been placed in the Top 20 don't understand the concept of 'emoting'. Congrats to these individuals who are on the show, I know that it is not an easy feet to do, I have tried. And I'm not taking away from the fact that these kids have potential, but there is no depth to their performances. All I saw from the remainder of the performances were poorly executed turns (I don't care if you do ten when your heel is down) and tilt after tilt (that doesn't require technique; it requires loose hip sockets that will need surgery in ten years).

The one winning number of the night was the Latin trio performed by Karen Hauer and married couple Ashleigh and Ryan Di Lello. I could do without Ashleigh's constant broadcasting that her husband is "her’s", but aside from that personal preference, the performance not only showcased strong technique, but depth. The dancers actually...performed. There was a fire and charisma coming from the stage that left you saying "that's HOT", and rightfully so. The fact that I find funny/interesting was that these performers were the oldest of the bunch. These twenty six-twenty eight years olds made the teenagers look amateur. Plastering a smile on your face, or in most cases, a blank stare is not performing or emoting by any means. I would rather watch someone that can't whack their face with their leg, or throw themselves to the ground if they can pull me into their performance.

I'm not trying to be a Negative Nancy. And by no means am I jealous of these performers. But if I'm not left speechless and dying to run out of my apartment into a dance class because of what I have just watched on television, than these dancers aren't doing their job. Because yes, it is a job. They are on a reality television program, people are watching their every move, and not to see them fall on their face, and not to see them fail. Failing does nothing for me, because I want to do what these people have been given the opportunity to do. And that is not just the chance to dance and start their career; it's the chance to make someone watching you feel something other than the stresses of work or the anxiety of paying bills. Anyone can dance; people do it all the time at weddings and high school dances and clubs across the country. But not everyone is a dancer, a dancer is someone that has the power to move mountains and stop time with movement and emotion. If the emotion is missing, it's just like watching someone 'cut a rug' at a club. I'm not interested in watching that.

So to the current cast of SYTYCD: BRING IT! You have been given an incredible opportunity. Use it as a learning experience, because trust me, there is always something to learn, and if for one second you stop and think that you are done, that you have reached the top...well then yes, you are done. Because no one wants to work with someone or watch someone that thinks they have learned and achieved it all...there's no depth in that, just ignorance and immaturity.

I get it! I don't like it! But I get it!

So I have been ranting about foreigners and the pain I experience waiting on them, but I had a very enlightening conversation with some 'London-ers' yesterday. Though they alone do not make up for the rest of the foreign population that comes through my bar, it did shed some light on the 'tip-no tip' debacle.



The older gentleman that was in the group asked me, very politely, if it was customary to tip the 'bar mate' every time they serviced you. I explained yes, if you are paying as you go. The party was currently running a tab, so I explained that he would just wait till the end.


As he explained to me, things are done very differently in the UK. They never tip the bartender. Their idea of a ‘tip’ is saying ‘and have one for yourself'. I thought this was something someone said as a come-on, but this is the polite/generous thing to do when drinking in London. (To me, it's cheap considering your bartender is probably already 'having one'!). I also found out that when having dinner in London, you may leave up to 10% for a tip. But you would leave nothing is you didn't like the food. Crazy! In the U.S. a 10% tip is like spitting in the waiter's face, and not tipping because the food is bad is just NOT acceptable. The server is not the chef, therefore shitty food is not their fault!  Just send it back, if they respect their job they will fix it without a problem.


After explaining what is customary and appropriate, they seemed very receptive. The couples said the last thing they wanted was to faux pas in a foreign country. Which I definitely understand, but why aren’t all foreigners responding this way? Though, badly on my part I caught myself falling into old mental routines where I would say 'O fuck 'em, they won't tip me anyways.' But I was wrong. Not only did we have pleasant conversation, but they left me 22%! (I did give them two free drinks).


So as of now I am slightly optimistic in the foreigners that will be gracing me with their presence. And if they don't tip I think I’ll be able to say they aren’t mean, just ignorant!

Attention to Any and All of the following:

Attention to any and all of the following:

- Slightly unattractive Caucasian females
- African American couples drinking: Bay Breeze, Hennessey, Amaretto on the rocks or Malibu-anything
- 'People' ordering apple martinis
- Older southern couples
- Older ladies from California
- A family with 2+ underage children
- People from any country other than the US (or possibly Uruguay)
- & stupid boys


The following things are NOT acceptable:
- Verbal tipping

- No tipping

- Shitty tipping for NO valid reason

I am here for the sole purpose of pouring you drinks, and attempting to make stupid small talk. I am not the U.N. ambassador. I am not a sports caster. I am not doing this for my health. I am doing this to make money and pay my bills and buy nice things. So to all of you listed above, doing any of the things listed above are RUDE and OFFENSIVE. Doing these things will NOT make me like you, in fact it might very well lead me to fuck up your drinks/food and possibly even lead me to pour it on you.


So SHAPE UP!  And take a lesson from my SATC girls!

And so it begins (2)

Remember those joys of waiting tables that I was going to tell you about? Well, I stepped on the 'floor' (lingo for serving tables in the dining room) for the first time in 2 months. Let me tell you...don't miss it. I was very shaky due to the pitcher of sangria that I consumed (by myself) the night before. Not to mention, I was un-showered, and un-interested. I figured it was a rainy Saturday and that I'd make a good $100, not have to work too hard and be out by 4pm. You know what happens when you assume!


Apparently tourist season is in full swing. I thought I had a couple of weeks until chaos, insanity and mass pandemonium began- but I was wrong. Here are some of the things that come along with waiting on foreigners:

* Blank stares when you great the tables (this is if you are lucky, because the other option is they yell at you because they are 'NOT READY'. My response is 'I was just saying hello, but feel free to yell at me!"

* Then there are the half-ass translations that come from both ends. I work at a brewery. We make beer. We have many different kinds. But when they look at me and go 'beer-a' I don't even bother with types. I bring a lager. If you are waiting on Italians though, they like options: 'blonde, red or black beer-a'!

* Now we move on to food. When in doubt- just say burger. Everything else comes with unneeded stress and confusion in terms of sauces, temperatures and vegetables. Sometimes you can get something out of your non speaking English friends, but depending on the accent 'medium rare' can sound the same as 'medium well'...that’s when medium is a great option!

* Of course there are also some of my favorite inconveniences with waiting on foreign people:

-Water, coke (anything) is served with NO ICE.
- They always ask for 'ehspreessooo', and then will snub their nose when I serve then with a red stir because we don't have demitasse spoons. Heaven forbid they want a latte, because we Americans 'just don't do it right'. Sorry, but this is not Starbucks- but have no fear there are eight right around the corner.
- And don't forget that all the running around and aggravation comes with little to no tip. I'd rather get nothing than get 33 cents in pennies. YES, this has happened to me. I did not find it funny then, nor do I find it funny now.


I used to feel that it was my job to inform and educate the visitors that came into The Pub. But now, I just don't care enough. It's not worth the aggravation, or the loss of brain cells. So Happy waiting, and bring on the Holidays!