A Recent Passing

The world won't be quite the same place to me anymore. My grandfather passed away on July 7.

Everyone goes through a loss like this so there really isn't much for me to say on the subject. It's just that things feel a little off kilter to me right now. To leave New York in a heartbeat and find myself in New Hampshire at my grandfather's funeral and then to just as quickly come back to NYC. The city felt really weird when I got back. Everything was moving too fast.

I Can't Believe It!

I can't believe that it has been two months since my last post. It's amazing how quickly the days just get away from you.

Things have been crazy for me. I am currently working as a wardrobe supervisor on a new production here in New York called Trouble in Paradise. It's being produced by the Hourglass Group -- a totally bitchin' company.

The crazy kids that I work with are a blast. I honestly can't wait to go to the theater every day and it's killing me that it's going to be over soon. All the actors in the show make me laugh so hard that I can even forget, just for a moment, the horrors of working in Hell (Bloomingdales).

In some interesting Bloomies news, we have a new manager who I've dubbed Mr. Dickhead. Mr. Dickhead informed me that if he had six employees like me -- he'd kill himself. I think I've managed to find three more people just like me so only two go and then we'll see if he lives up to his promise.

You might be asking yourself, why would Mr. Dickhead (the vicious penis wrinkle that he is) even say such a horrible thing to me in the first place. The answer is quite simple, I don't participate in the cheerleading at Bloomies.

Cheerleading? You might be wondering if I get to wear a cute outfit. No. That would be fun. None of that.

You see we have these morning meetings where the managers tell us to open new Bloomingdale's charge accounts, how much the store sold, how much the departments sold and a whole bunch of other useless crap that I could care less about. They've also decided that these meetings would also be just a super duper time to really inspire us to kick some ass that day. So they've instituted the group clap that builds from the slow clap into the fast clap (those of you who have seen the movie Hoosiers or ever been to a high school pep rally are familiar with these horrors). I would rather chop my hands off and eat them than participate in such stupidity.

How will I eat my hands if I've already chopped them off? I don't know but I'm sure I'll find a way. As God as my witness -- I will find a way.

Ok that's it for now.

So it was my birthday

Yesterday I turned 25 years old. There was little mark the occasion except for another day at the SDJ. My boyfriend and I tried to go out to dinner but the restaurant was packed and we didn't feel like waiting for forty five minutes. So we went to the grocery store and bought food to cook at home. It was nice. We hung out together and then went to bed (wink. wink.).

It seems strange to me to be a quarter of a century old. I think that I'm not doing enough with my life and that I should be out their trying to achieve more. I compare myself to my friends who are doing better than me. I mostly think about careers and why I'm not more successful than I am. Then the usual acid boils up in my throat when I think about the people who are doing better than me. I just have to remind myself that it's not a race or some sort of competition it's only my entire life.

I'm reminded of the kids who took the games we played in gym class a little too seriously. Remember those kids who thought that winning the flag football game in the forty five minutes of gym class was the key to their success and the rest of their lives. How I used to pity them. The fools. I had my books and brains. I didn't need some stupid football game to make me feel important. Of course those kids are probably successful investment bankers and are my customers at my sucky day job. As my dad would say, "Way to go, smart guy."

Sigh.

A Busy Month Ahead

Good news!

I have been hired as the wardrobe supervisor on a new production for the Hourglass Group called Trouble in Paradise. This job, like most theater work, doesn't pay enough so I'll be doing the SDJ during the day and running the show at night. Happily, this production doesn't have any matinees -- yet.

The even better news is that this show is slated to go Off Broadway and I'll probably get to go with it. Not only does this mean more money (whoo-hoo!) but also a very nice credit for the old resume.

So basically I'll be working seven days a week for many many hours each day. But it'll be worth it in the end.

Ahhh the City

I woke up this morning depressed and hung over. I was depressed because I had to go to another day of my SDJ (Stupid Day Job) and was not looking forward to standing around all day with nothing to do because who shops on a Monday afternoon. I was hung over because I had gone out with my friend S. H. and her new beau and had a few too many martinis. The nice part of last night, besides spending time with friends, was I found a bar that actually makes a decent dirty martini. This makes three bars that I know of in the entire city of New York.

Speaking of New York it was definitely my saving grace today. As I crawled off the subway train I took a moment to enjoy the beautiful day and the glorious sights around Central Park before entering the darkness of my job. There's something about the city that just refreshes me and makes me feel better about everything that's going. There's something hopeful about all the energy and all the people.

New York City ... so many lights you can actually pretend one of them is shining on you.



This is one my favorite photos that I've taken in New York. To me it's just one of those truly remarkable moments that happen everywhere but are framed so well by NYC.

Peace.

Thoughts on the Stupid Day Job

So I am working at my stupid day job (aka Bloomingdales) and having spent most of the day listening to customers carrying shoping bags from Armani, Gucci, Hermes, Prada etc. tell me I'm stupid because the register froze or they lost their coupon so I can't give them a 20% discount (a discount they so richly deserve) that I am ready to scream. One woman was going on and on to me about linen handkerchiefs today and before I could even show them to her she screamed that she meant handkerchiefs not pockets squares then she corrected herself by saying, "I'm sure you don't know what a pocket square is." Right. I've only been working with theatrical costumes for the last five years. Perhaps I should have asked her if she knows what a codpiece is. Then I could told her to go suck one. It's moments like these where I go into my head and imagine myself stabbing these old, rich bitches right in the heart straight through their Chanel suits. Then it occurs to me that to stab them would be such a waste of a beautiful suit. Really what I should do is gently remind them that Chanel is not spelt with two Ns. What I truly love is when they buy a ton of stuff only to come back the next day and return two thirds of it. There's just nothing like working for comission and watching it all just disappear because some bitch's husband won't wear gray. They've been married for five thousand years how is it possible that she doesn't know he doesn't wear gray!?

There are some good things about my job. There's an adorable boy who as a crush on me. I'm not really sure what to do about him since I have been with my boyfriend for about three years and nothing is changing on that front. So I've decided to do what I always do which is to convince myself that I'm not leading him on -- I'm just trying to be his friend. Then when he realizes I have a boyfriend and he decides that he hates me I can at least pretend to myself that I was completely honest from the beginning. I do suffer from being an incurable flirt.

In other work news, there's a new guy who I will call Loud Mouth Bully. Loud Mouth Bully likes to hear himself talk and thinks he knows something about the world. Today he told me that public transportation is for losers and he drives everywhere. I didn't really know where to go from there. I guess I could have argued the merits of public transportation or the rising cost in gas prices not to mention the cost of parking. But then it occurred to me it would have been similar to arguing with a post or some sort of alien who has no concept of trains.

Sigh. All right. G'night.

Be gentle ... this is my first time

So this is my very first post on my very first blog ever. I suppose most people begin their blogs like I am right now -- not sure what to say, maybe even a little nervous. Millions upon millions of people with access to the internet and, therefore, access to judge your work. It's the kind of pressure that creates paralysis.

On that note, I had a day off last week and decided to take in a show. I brushed the dust off my college ID and went over to the box office of the Palace Theater on Broadway and bought myself a student rush ticket to see Lestat the new musical by Elton John.

Lestat was not unlike being shot in the face with a giant musical cannon. It was full of words and music signifying nothing. I spent all three years of the first act (really 1 1/2 hours) wondering just what was going on and who was singing about who and why. I actually fell asleep, woke up and thought I was in some sort of dream or state of absolute delerium so I wandered on the stage. Normally, my appearance on the stage would have cause an interruption but in this case I'm not sure anyone noticed. Just kidding! I didn't wander on the stage although I did find myself checking my watch an awful lot and taking a keen interest of the location of the exits. In the end it was just plain boring. I made it through the second act with some help from the bar at intermission and left the theater wondering just why Broadway producers think that a musical about vampires is a good idea especially given the pedigree of Dracula: The Musical and the abomination unto all things good and holy Dance of the Vampires (you remember the Michael Crawford vehicle that was supposed to be his dramatic return to Broadway? You don't? Well so much the better for you).

I don't have a problem with people producing a Broadway show (or any show for that matter) to simply entertain people and make money. The money from those shows goes to pay for the more mature, artistic show that pretentious people like me can feel important watching. But when did even the money making formula become so completely pedesterian and boring? I feel like every time I turn around it's time for another musical based on a movie or a some band from the 70s is having story crammed into the middle of their greatest hits. Is anyone else tired of this?

I try to look at it this way -- you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince and with that in mind I'll keep going.

I've had a lot of great moments in the theater and I knew what I was getting into with Lestat. I just think it's sad when