Remember the Reason Why

     I'm a little disgruntled. In retrospect, work tonight wasn't so bad, but much to my fault, I was letting the little things bubble into a bothersome brew.


     While I was walking around work, a man named Joe C wanted me to seat him. He was very intent on getting my attention. Every time I walked by it was the same smile and compliment. I'm sorry I'm not here to try and flirt with you in front of your family, thanks. Plus, your fuzzy rudolph sweater and adidas, neon-lined jogging pants do not sweeten the deal, if there ever was a deal to sweeten. At any rate, their name was finally ready to be called. One of the other hostesses who was originally assigned to call him, resisted, complaining how creepy he was. I sighed and decided to just do it for her. I went over, and the family jumped up for joy, quite literally. The infamous Joe C practically took me in his arms and bear hugged me. It was a tad awkward to say the least. As I showed them to their table he gave me a wink, which I returned with an uncomfortable, shaky smile. Later, upon passing the table, I get a, "Ey." I looked up to Joe C nodding at me. He again states, "Ey," with, "You," to clarify, followed by, "I like you, lady. I like you." Do men really think this is polite? Never mind polite, but even affective?  


       Another example of today:  I was walking through the ever-so-crowded bar, just like every other host does two-hundred times a night. I was guiding a family to their table, stating the usual, "Pardon me." "Excuse me," as I walked by. Apparently, I brushed up behind some man in order to squeeze my party through, who then retorted, "Oh it's OK, baby. I like it." What? Really? Do you think that's going to get you a table faster, because it's not. Also, do you think I am going to respond in ANY other way besides a disgusted look as I quicken my pace away from you? Most women I know do NOT like being talked to like that. How these men have wives really puzzles me to no end. Were they just as sleezy when the whole dating process was going on, or did they go through a detox for six months before the wedding? Or were they just desperate? Or dare I say it...these women are in love...with them...somehow?


     While we're on the subject of love, I want to elucidate that I do believe in it. I can be a romantic, with strong underlying tones of realism. Love is what makes this world go round, regardless what level we're talking about here. It could be a more generalized love towards all humanity or a passionate, intensified love for a significant other, or it could be smack dab in the middle, without a real rating in sight. I really couldn't care less what kind of love you visualize when the word is used. What I do care about, is its existence, in all forms. Don't get me wrong. There is evil. There is hate, but love as trite as it sounds, has, "The power to heal," and, "To open doors." Perhaps the reason these sayings are deemed trite pertains to the conclusion that they are true, and therefore shouldn't be disregarded so hastily. 


    At any rate, I believe in love and dating and all that jazz, but the words baby, honey, sweetheart, and darlin' should not be used unless you are my boyfriend or my gay boyfriend. That is it. (Well, family can use those terms too. I like it when my grandma calls me sweetheart.) As far as the touching goes, it comes along with trust. Your friends can lay a hand on your shoulder or hug the stuffing out of ya because they've earned your trust. If I don't know you, at all, then why do you feel the need to touch me? Of course the exception is when theatre is involved: auditions, rehearsals and performances. 


     And let's get one thing clear as crystal. I moved to the city for me. I did not move here to find love, to find fame, to have sex, or to discover glory. I came here to help shape myself. I want to be open. I want different ideas, different cultures, different styles, different books, different places, different experiences, different theatre, all stemming from different people, infiltrated into my life. If money comes along with that, so be it. If, from one of those people, love is created, either through passion or through friendship, that is absolutely wonderful. Nevertheless, I did not come here to find myself. I came here to create myself, and for me, I'm just starting to discover the difference.


xoxo

A Day to be Truly Thankful For.

     My Thanksgiving was different from any Thanksgiving past. I didn't actually get to see any family...at all. Instead, I was able to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade up close and personal, work (oh joy) and then jet to Long Island to share desserts and laughs with a friend.

     My first thoughts of this upcoming Turkey Day were as follows: "This is gonna be the pits." I was completely bummed, dreading my scheduled work from 12-8pm. Since my shift was smack in the middle of the celebratory day, getting to my aunt's home on Long Island before work or after work would both be ungodly; no one would be around! I was sad, but I thought I'd be able to at least spend the day with friends from work, presuming my schedule would follow the same pattern. All of us crazies from the night shift would go to my friend Jen's place in BK for a brunch of sorts, where we'd share a tastey meal and then grudgingly head to work together. However, that expectation fell through when my schedule was changed. So here I was- planless for Thanksgiving.

     It was then that I preceded to whine like an emo baby on my facebook's status, writing something along the lines of: "I just want to be with people I love on Thanksgiving." I actually received some comments of sentiment, and one invite from a New Paltz friend to come over her house in Nassau, no matter how late! I wasn't going to take her up on the offer, feeling I would be intruding on her family, but she insisted. I talked to my mom about it and she told me that my friend Angela was my Thanksgiving Angel ;) and I should go. So I did! 

   But before I get into that, I'm sure you want to hear about my parade experience. Well, I woke up early, dressed and packed for later, and then went to my work. I arrived a little before 9am. It was there that a police officer was going to escort me over to a section on 7th Avenue right outside the NYPD office. I felt so odd that I somehow had a connection of sorts in the city, but here I was, walking past barricades and onto 7th Ave. I could feel many eyes either grazing past me or sticking onto me as I followed the officer in the middle of the street. I tried to suppress a smile and compose a-nonchalant-like-appearance as hundreds of bundled faces watched me walk from behind their sidewalk limitations. I can't help but admit that I felt important, even though I was doing nothing of importance. 

     I then entered a section with several other people who must be friends or friends of friends or family of the NYPD. I felt totally out of place, but that feeling quickly subsided once the floats started coming down! I really had such a great view! I felt myself smiling sporadically throughout the entire parade. I could only describe it as the trite expression goes: I felt like a kid in a candy store.  Everything was so close and so humungo! I even took some pictures of some stars (oo la la!) Here, I guess this is the point of the blog where I show you some of those snapshots! (I tried to condense them as best as I could...)

Opening of the parade!

Tom the Turkey

Snoopy!

My favorite picture of the day.

Blocks in sync.

Miranda Cosgrove from the TV show iCarly.

The United States Pizza Team.

Who knew Macy's had their own cheerleaders?

Spongebob was quite the kiddy crowd pleaser!

Looks like "shady" dealings.

OH NO!

Big Time Rush...a band that's taken over Disney. They're all pretty enough...

Kanye West showing off how truly unfriendly he is. This man sucks.

My spidey senses are tingling.

Gladys Knight all smily.

Jessica Simpson...this coat is too tight and just NOT flattering! She has so much money...she couldn't find another coat?

Alrighty! So the Parade was a big success and one of the most thrilling, heart-warming experiences I've ever had! It really was miraculous. I wanted to leave around 11:15 or so. In no way did I want to be late for my shift. However, I found a slight dilemma....how was I going to cross the street and get back to work?! I went up to a lady officer and told her my concerns. She then escorted me over to a Traffic Controller, and once there was a lull in the parade, he escorted me across to the street I needed. Amazing! I entered work in an ecstatic mood!

      And as soon as work was over, I jetted over to Penn station, bought an Oreo cake that looked quite scrumptious and headed to Nassau County via LIRR! I was greeted by my friend Angela with many hugs and exclamations. I couldn't believe I was with her on Thanksgiving! I haven't seen her since the early summer time. We both graduated from New Paltz with our undgrad in 2010.

       I entered their humble abode to a plate of all the Thanksgiving food heated up in the microwave! I felt so blessed and happy that I was able to enjoy the food one waits all year long for, while getting to catch up with Angela and her sister. It was a ton of laughs. Look for yourself!

A nice shot of Angela and I during our Apples to Apples game.

Well, although my Thanksgiving was out of the norm, it truly was something to be thankful for.

Hope your Thanksgiving holiday was a special one too.

x0x0

Kristen and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

     Everyone has bad days- even terrible, horrible, no good ones. They creep up on us while we are caught off guard in our "happy-place." Here we are enjoying life like a giant bowl of candy, full of Snickers and Three Musketeers, and somehow we let a piece of black licorice enter our mouths and that just ruins the whole palate! And then, to our dismay, we realize we ate all the yummy chocolate bars and are left with the said detested licorise and un-chewable Milk Duds. So yesterday was my black-licorice-kind-of-day.
     It started off ok enough. I didn't do aaaanything I needed to get done before work at noon, so that left me somewhat frazzled and distraught. However, the trains were working out in my favor and despite my late start I had five minutes to spare once getting to work! A plus. As the day went on, nothing of importance happened. I answered phones and let down the usual number of costumers looking for  a reservation on Saturday,  telling them the earliest we had available was truthfully 11:30PM.  I even had a nice fifteen minute break that allowed me to have a zesty mouthful of chicken! Say yes to the protein! But alas, the day was about to make a rapid change for the worst.
    It was about a half an hour before I was about to leave for work, when a server approached me, asking to call downstairs and find out if his table could have a different one; they didn't like being in the back. I made the call, and my friend in charge answered, telling me  something to the affect of, "They're a freakin' walk in. They can go down to the bar and wait for another 10 -15 minutes if they don't like that table." So I turned to the server, thinking he would get a real kick out of it, especially since he is such a comical and sassy man. That was when I directly quoted her, word for word, "freakin'" and all. Of course, as soon as I said this, the server turned to three gentlemen that somehow crowded near unobserved by MOI and he rapidly apologized to them. He then basically rephrased what I said, but in kinder, more rhetorical terms. It wasn't until the server left with the gentlemen that the horror crept into my face and I realized, that yes, I practically said that to a customer, since they most definitely overheard me. Not only was I rude, but I quoted someone else whom I respect and admire, and the possibility of getting her in trouble made my heart beat like a rat's- like a fat, dirty, rat's. I felt like the biggest, stupidest loser on the planet! Stupidest, idiotic-ist, dumbest dumb...person.
     The server apparently sat them right away at a different table to cease an upset and appease the gentleman whom I indirectly told off. Afterwards, he reprimanded me with intervals of laughter,  saying things like: "You should have seen your face," and "Don't worry. I've done worse. Much worse." Maybe he had, but that still didn't make me feel any better. I didn't realize it was THAT table approximately two feet from my mouth until AFTER the server turned 60 degrees and spoke to their faces. Oh my GOSH this put me in a real distorted funk! I wanted to crawl in a hole and rot there.
    Ok, so after that fiasco, I jet out of there at 8pm. As I'm walking, I realized I made a Dr's appointment for myself on Long Island, thinking I would be free today. But of course, I had work, so I missed and forgot about that appointment entirely! I had to call and apologize for, again, being a dumbass. Now I'm waiting for the subway, writing down all my obsessive thoughts of the last forty-five minutes. I feel like I have to. I'm consumed by them and will be ruled by them until I flesh them out on paper. By the time the subway came, I saw an available non-crowded row of orange seats and sat down to finish my writing. "It's wet," I hear a girl state next to me. I sit up, and the entire butt-area of my coat is covered in a sticky and sweet frappachino of sorts. I wanted to cry right then and there. Some woman in bizzaro large, black glasses hands me a crumpled kleenex that I accepted like it was The Body of Christ. I thank her, blinking back water from my mascara-ed lashes, as I wipe ferociously at my jacket.
    As I finally arrive to my stop, I'm walking up the stairs and hear my text-message alarm ring. I look and see a friend of mine, whom I haven't seen in a long time, sent me a text. She's waiting for me near the movie theatre. I want to pound my head against the brick wall. You don't understand: take my head, and physically break the adjacent brick layers solely with the hardness of my cranium. How could I forget that we agreed on meeting each other in the village tonight? HOW!? I had to respond saying a plethora of sorries and "I somehow forgot's." All of these are true, but it doesn't make the situation less lame. I could tell through her one response that she wasn't happy with me.  And what killed me even more was that I wasn't in the least bit happy with me either. I just felt incompetent and like a complete screw up.
    By the time I arrived alone in my apartment, various upsetting events were swimming through my bloodstream. My shoulders felt permanently plastered by my ear lobes. My heart, lungs, biceps and gut were all being crowded into small boxes, making me feel uneasily tight and unable to escape. I was trapped in my own sorrow of unfortunate events. Of course it was then that I remembered I offered to cover someone on Christmas Eve, forcing me to do a double. I figured I might as well help someone else out for the holiday,  since I wouldn't be able to see my family until late Christmas night, regardless. Now I was really in a state of ultimate HUM-BUG. It wasn't until I looked online at a bus schedule that I realized this evening could indeed get worse. I was planning on attending my brothers 2nd to last a cappella show since he's a senior in college. Even though I miraculously swapped my shift with the earliest one possible specifically to see my brother, I realized I still wouldn't make it in time. There was no way I could get to Albany by 6pm when I'd be let out at 4pm. That was the final straw that broke the camel's back. I let all the negative thoughts and actions of the day pile on my chest and crack my ribs one at a time with their weight.

     It couldn't be delayed any longer. I had to call my momma. It was at that stage where everything seemed to be going wrong and all positives had dissipated.
     Nevertheless all was actually resolved and my mood lightened after some time. I talked to zee mom, got a good hard cry out of the deal and felt like tomorrow would be a better day. It could only go up...right?
And today was better...
 I did find out that my family would wait to celebrate Christmas with me until the 26th of December. I have off the 26th and the 27th in a row, so that way, my mom told me, "You won't miss Christmas. Besides, it wouldn't be Christmas without you." So at least I'll be "Home for Christmas," after all. I'm usually a big stickler for celebrating any holiday on the actual day, but I am extremely touched and relieved that my immediate family is allowing this to happen. It just wouldn't be Christmas without THEM.
     So as they say, it can always be worse. And luckily, it hasn't gotten worse...(knock on wood.)

ONWARDS AND UPWARDS!
X0X0

How much is that doggie in the window?

      I have soo much I would like to share with the world on this blog! I have Thanksgiving to talk about, as well as some wise words from a good friend....all of these WILL make it in here. I will add pictures and details galore! However, right now I am wiped, and if I went into the detail these events deserved I would be up way too late for my 7am alarm clock!

     Well, I've been traveling back and forth from Long Island! I have off Sunday and Monday from work. Instead of sitting in my bed catching up on sleep I've gone to Lawwng Guy-Land and back to see my parents. Ya see, I missed them this Turkey Day. Alas, work prevented me from celebrating with them. I know, I know, before you get too weepy, I can honestly assure you it wasn't as dreadful as I expected the holiday to turn out! Although, I did miss the crazed fam.

Anyway, I just want to say that although it was nuts and only semi-relaxed, I was able to do something I've wanted to do EVERY TIME I come home via Ronkonkoma train station: play with puppies. There is a Puppy store right across the street from the parking lot. My train wasn't getting there for another 2 hours, so I jumped at my chance. I cautiously walked into the store, hoping they weren't about to close. At once I was greeted by shrieking barks of all breeds! There were so many colored, fluffy minuscule canines! I was in doggie heaven! 

My own dog died my senior year in high school, unexpectedly. Since then, we've been without a Fido of our very own. I've become dog deprived. 

So I spent at least an hour with this little gal!

She was the most subdued little pup I've ever seen. A little rag doll! I could pick her up and then place her back down on the couch (in the playpen) and she wouldn't use her legs to support her...at all! She would just flop in place. She loved to curl on my lap, or spread her paws up to my shoulder where she would just snuggle her nose into my coat and fall asleep. I found out she's an American Bulldog and Old English Bull Dog mix. She looked just like Chance from the movie Homeward Bound, except she was calm.I tell ya, it was magical. 

The dreaded moment came when the owner of the store asked, "So what's your story?" I fumbled with my words saying, "She's beautiful. So cute. Really sweet." In my head I was thinking, yes I'm just playing with her, and have no intention of buying her. You know this. I know this. Just let me play with her in peace.

I asked out of curiosity how much she was selling for. $1,125.

First of all, a dog as cute and sweet as this doesn't deserve to live in the city with an owner who is hardly ever around. She deserves a big yard, fresh air, and people to play with her all the time!

Second of all, I can't buy a living, breathing animal that will cost more than my month's rent and continue to cost a bunch of money.

I named her Penny and put her back in her cage after a worker named Alex came to retrieve her. 

Goodbye Penny. I hope you have a great home where the people love you.

I have discovered something about myself. In the end I don't need a man or a family. All I need is a dog to call my very own and I will be content. I hope my parents weren't expecting me to provide the grandchildren. That torch will have to be passed to the bro.

Ah HA! I have located Homeward Bound in sections on youtube. So if you'll excuse me, I have some reminiscing to attend to.

What's a girl got to do to get some shut-eye around here?

Hello 2am. We meet again. I just have one question for you and then I'll be back to fluffing my pillow and cursing my fully attentive state: Why won't you let me sleep past you? WHY do I have to awake to you showing off your rounded curves on my digital clock? Whhhy do I have to acknowledge your existence? I know you're around, just like I know 5am is around, but you don't see 5am bugging me to give it some attention! Although, thanks to you and your rude wake-up call, I am saying hello to 5:30am as we speak.

There are a lot of things I've tried. I've done the sleepytime tea. I've gone to bed in a warm room. I've slept on a full stomach to get the full effects of a "food-coma."I've taken super-c sleep formula with melatonin in it. And last night I tried taking an Unisom (which is an over-the-counter sleeping aid.) Not to mention, every time I come home and pull the covers to my face I am "dog-tired." Yet, you still shake me from my sleep and blare my retinas with your horrific blue glow! Tomorrow, I will defeat you. I will sleep past you and into the later morning. Perhaps I may even get into the double digits. Who knows? It's a new day, where I WON'T be celebrating your arrival. 

Good day, 2am. Good day.

Don't let Them See You Smile.

     As I sit here, eating my Honey Bunches of Oats with my Silk soy product, I look out my window at all the bundled patrons crossing the street. Last night I actually had to shut one of my windows. So maybe it is getting to be fall, and even winter, after all.
     I called my Gramps just now to wish him a Happy 80th birthday! He wasn't home, so I tried to leave as loving a message as I could. I was even contemplating singing that infamous birthday ditty, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I always feel so strange singing for family, even though they are the ones who appreciate my voice the most.  What makes it even more awkward is singing through the phone, so I hoped my sincere best wishes left a strong enough impact minus the song.
     Well, as much as I love my grandpa and breakfast, that's not the real reason for this blog. I've been wanting to talk about the city life and this unspoken law that consumes the people who live here. Now, I find myself to be a rather open, fun-loving person. With that being said, it seems I have to mask that person at times, which can make me feel uncomfortable. Now, everyone is multi-faceted. We wouldn't be human if we were solely labeled as always being "happy," or "sad." Our toolbox of emotions is forever open as we drive through our journey of life, trying our darnd-est to avoid the pot-holes.
     So I'm not always open and giggly and trusting, but that's the person I strive to be. However, that person has to take a back seat when I ride the subway. On the subway, it is a way of life one soon adapts. On the platform, there may be some discussion about what stops this upcoming train will make, but that's pretty much where the discussion ceases. You stand and wait either with your headphones in, your book in hand, or your eyes solely focused on the direction those two high beams will come rattling towards you. You don't sit next to someone at one of the limited brown benches and smile at them. No. You don't look at them. Or if you do, it's very subtle, using your peripherals. And on the subway, it's even more intense. If you are riding with a friend, then there is conversation. Otherwise, if you are taking the subway solo, you under no means can talk to someone.
    I once told my fellow-city friend, Michele McNally, who has quite a comical disposition, how I was talking with this man on the subway late at night. He was from Columbia and he was lost. I helped him find the right train and our discussion continued after he saw me reading a play. He was an actor in his country and so we had a lot of things to talk about. Once my friend heard this, she immediately told me to NEVER talk to anyone on the subway ever again. I laughed it off, thinking she was kidding, but then she repeated her statement, with a more serious tone and eyes slightly bulging. I tried to explain, but it didn't matter. "Even if you don't have an i-phone put your headphones in and pretend you are listening to something." Then I felt stupid. I was obviously seen as a naive young girl, unable to adapt to the strict survival city laws. (This probably isn't the best time for a friendly plug, but here is her website! She's off to great things! http://www.actorwithabusinesscard.com/ )
    My dad finds me to be a sucker too. And maybe I am. Perhaps that's a compliment, stating that I am a kind soul who can find love in my heart and give respect to others. However, I think it's leaned more toward an insult, in that I cannot handle the harsh dealings the city can dish out; that I am not equipped enough to manage my own in this rough and tough neighborhood of mine. That I am too sensitive; a wimp. My dad admitted to me that he feared I would easily be taken advantage of here. He was afraid I would be too trusting. He was and still is concerned that it will be my downfall.
    So now on the subway I ignore the people who ask for help. I don't fish into my pocket as I hear another sob-story of how embarrassed they are to beg for money. I continue to keep my eyes on my page as I hear two Mexican men sing in perfect harmony from their accordion and guitar. I stare at the poster across from me as I hear a Vietnam Veteran physically sob as he screams to all of us, "What did I do?"  I feel like I have to prove to my dad, my friends, and myself that I am not too soft-hearted. I can be just like everyone else on the subway. I can stare at inanimate objects, close my eyes and listen to my music or be engrossed in my book. God-forbid I should be pursuing acting and want to interact with people.
    But I understand. I really do. I get it that you cannot trust anyone here because so many people are off their rocker, or homeless, or poor, or angry. You just can't extend a helping hand as easily as you would before, back home, because you have to look after yourself first. I really do understand the city way of life, but just because I understand it doesn't mean I like it. It doesn't mean it makes me feel comfortable. The smiling Kristen inside of me only comes out at work, or with my friends. I save those smiles for them. On the street or riding the train, however, I'm on a mission, my face in a straight line and my eyes focusing ahead. I keep wary of my surroundings, but I'm in no way inviting. I'm trying to survive here, and in order to do that, I have to choose when my true self can emerge and when it has to burrow back within and wait.

Warning: Distortion May Occur in Heat

                                          
                    I dreamed last night that I had found new, stylish, black shoes in my closet that I could wear to work. I also dreamed I threw the remaining pop-tarts I  purchased out the window and pelted both a gray speckled seagull and a waddling, pink pigeon. The brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tart flew like a ninja star to the seagull first, pelting him in the jugular, and ricocheted off, checking into the pink pigeon's under-belly.
     Now.... I don't normally remember my dreams, and if I do, I remember fragments. However, I think because I felt like I was being cooked alive last night, these dreams stayed with me more intensely than usual. Why I'm dreaming of pop-tarts and birds and shoes I don't know, but I do know that the heat in my building is unnecessarily high! Not to mention, I have this radiator by my bed that spews out steam ten inches from my face, where it sounds like bacon is cooking on the stove. To try and beat it, I literally have both my large windows open as much as I can, but it has no affect! This side of the building must not get any wind whatsoever! I actually had to put my fan on, with the windows open. So I have to pay for electricity to go on while the heat is suffocating me so much it's twisting my dreams into oddities that I can actually remember! My brain probably thinks it's dying, so it might as well latch on to these few simple thoughts before I croak.
     I feel like I'm in a college dorm room all over again, except this time the windows aren't helpful. Thank goodness I'm not paying for the heat in this building. If I were, I would have the windows closed and probably sleep atop my sheets, naked, with ice-cubes over every orifice of my body. I'm glad it hasn't come to that.