I Need a Mary Poppins Suitcase

Today's been my major prep day for my trip tomorrow!  The past few days have been a whirlwind of work, shopping, work, and Skyrim (I have become obsessed with this video game... I'm going to have to devote an entire blog to it at some point).

Yesterday, before I headed into work, I decided to do some shopping on the Upper East Side.  I had some things to buy pre-trip, and wanted to treat myself to some new Spring clothes since I haven't bought myself any new clothes in a real long time.  I tried shopping on Saturday, but every store I went into was just AWFUL.  I hate most of the clothes this season.  It's like... the worst of the 70's and 80's vomited all over the designers and they were like, "OH PERFECT YES!"  I walked into Forever 21 and H&M, and walked right back out.  I think I'm done with those stores.  I just can't find anything there.  Maybe because I'm not 21... it's an age long gone.  THEN my old standby, Anthropologie, was CLOSED.  I mean, not ALL the Anthropologies are closed, but the one on 5th Ave that was my favorite is all boarded up.  I couldn't believe it!

So anyway, Saturday was a big ole flop (though I did find one really cute dress for the rehearsal dinner), so I had to squeeze some shopping time in yesterday.  Y'all--I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman on the Upper East Side.  Not like anyone was judging me, and I felt fine in all the stores--but I felt like I was pretending.  I ended up in Free People and spent my entire Spring budget on 3 items.  Woops.  But they were 3 items I really loved, and that's better than 10 items from Forever 21 that I will hate in a year.

So anyway, I was walking around the Upper East Side with all kinds of shopping bags that made me feel like a rich 20-something with tons of money to blow.  I had bags from Zara, Free People, Giggle, Pottery Barn, Bebe, and the Organic Cafe (I'm obsessed with this place I discovered--I will definitely be blogging about it on my other blog at some point).  Not that any of those places are super fancy... they're just stores that I normally don't shop at... because I'm poor.  So that was really fun.  To feel rich.  Too bad it's not real... (note:  to be clear, I was gift shopping--not all of that stuff was for me... I don't want you to be rollin' your eyes and sayin' "if you're poor, don't be spendin' all that money, girl".  ;) I was playin Santa.  In April.)

So, I got home and pulled out my big suitcase.  It was all the way at the back of underneath my bed, and the way my apartment is laid out, the only way to get to it was to literally crawl under my bed.  It was awesome!  All my yoga is certainly paying off as I flattened myself and crawled belly style to the furthest, dusty depths of my under bed storage.  That suitcase has been  under my bed since I last used it a year ago for my family trip to Disney World.  All the other trips I've been on, I've had to pack in my carry-on as the airlines charge you to check one bag.  But not Jet Blue!  I get to check my bag for free.  But you know what?  It doesn't really help to have the bigger suitcase.  It's that whole "eyes bigger than your stomach" concept.  Or something like it...

I swear.  I packed enough clothes to last me 2 weeks instead of 8 days.  But I don't really know what I'll be doing on a day to day basis, and I surely don't know what I'll be in the mood to wear.  And I guarantee that when I get there, I'll wish I had something I didn't pack.  I know it.  Already, I know.

But then again, all I want to wear is my new outfit from Free People.  But I don't think it would be appropriate for all occasions... and it might start to smell.

Just another reason why Mary Poppins was practically perfect in every way.  She could over pack to her heart's content.

Eye Twitches

Exactly one week from yesterday, I will be in LOUISIANA--for EIGHT DAYS!! I'm so pumped.  I am going down for my very bestest-since-we-were-12-years-old friend's wedding, and, since it's in Louisiana, the extra perk is I get to see a lot of other friends that go way back to my younger years!  I'll get to see her family, whom I LOVE, our mutual besty who's planning on leaving Louisiana once he has himself a law job (why did ALL my friends go to law school?),  our other mutual besty from our younger years who now has a beautiful family (so I get to meet her new little bundle of baby goodness).  Not to mention I'm staying with one of my first ever THEATRE BESTIES from our community theatre days who moved away to Austin but is now BACK in LA--so I get to see her... and then my other BESTY who's getting married in August... oh my goodness... it's just too much for little old me to handle!!

Of course, with every vacation comes the pre-vacation stress.  Yesterday I made a list of all the things I need to get done, and, as if on cue, my right eye began twitching.  My eye twitches for one of two reasons:  I'm super tired OR I'm stressed.  I just have a... lot to get done in these next few days.  But it's worth it for an 8 day vacation!  To the land of WARM!  Goodbye fickle New York "Spring."  When I come back, though, it had better be WARM FOR REAL.  No more relapses into the 40's.  No bueno.

Strangely though, I'm having another kind of anxiety.  It used to be I would count down the days to a vacation. Literally, starting in the hundreds, I would start counting down.  I couldn't WAIT to get out of this city.  But... there's been a flip.  Now, don't get me wrong, like I said, I'm super pumped for this trip... but I'm also experiencing a LOT of anxiety.  I'm nervous about my food situation while in the South.  I'm nervous about being away from New York and missing out on opportunities and being away from my work (not bar work, my career furthering work).  And I'm SUPER nervous about being away from Bikram Yoga.  I recognize that it might be an issue, but I'm super obsessed with my yoga practice.  Not for vain reasons (though of COURSE it is my workout and I do enjoy that benefit immensely), but also for my life.  Yoga keeps my mood, allergies, and bathroom visits in check... I'm so nervous that without it I'm going to get all stressed out, develop a sinus infection, and not be able to use the bathroom (TMI?).   I found a studio in New Orleans that I'm going to try to go to at least once while I'm there... but maybe I can look at this as a challenge for myself.  Yes, yoga is good for me.  But I tend to be an obsessive person, and maybe I should look at this as a chance to 100% be on vacation.  Minimal work (though I'm bringing my ukulele and plan on writing).  Minimal yoga (I really want to go at least once).  And maximum enjoyment.  Because your beautiful best friend only gets married once!  And I am so blessed that I have the resources and time off to go.  Speaking of blessed, can I get a "Hallelujah"?

That was a terrible segue... you'll see why:

Tune Up

Wow!  It's been since NOVEMBER that I did a balance check-in.  A LOT has changed since then.  I know pride cometh before the fall, but I'm pretty darn proud of where I find myself these days.  Let's check in with my list!

1)  Create a schedule for myself.

• BAM.  Did it.  I know what each day is going to bring for me, and yes, it may vary according to whatever things life springs upon me, but I know what days are my grocery days, when I go to yoga, when I'm going to write... etc etc.  I use google calendar to plan out my upcoming week each Sunday, and that definitely keeps me on task.  I find myself with so much to do these days that I can't even enjoy watching Hulu or television without working on a project at the same time, unless I happen to be taking an eating break. 

2)  30 Day Yoga Challenge.

• I've decided I'm going to attempt one of these every 6 months.  Not only does it help my pocket book since I get a free month after completing the challenge, but it reminds me that going 5 or 6 times a week is way easier than going EVERY SINGLE DAY.  I completed my most recent challenge on March 15, and since have gone to yoga at LEAST 5 times a week, sometimes 7. I've never felt the freedom in my body that I feel now, and I honestly feel like it's my tool that I can manipulate in whatever way I choose.  Completely necessary for an actor.

3)  Project Get an Agent

• Well... I have yet to land representation, but it hasn't disheartened me... much.  The path that I've taken to gain representation has opened doors I hadn't even considered before.  As a result, I am now writing my own one woman show, working on developing 2 web series, and booking relevant, paying, acting work.  I just think I haven't met the right agent yet... and I do really want it to be a good fit.

4)  Resume classes at UCB

• I didn't even remember that this was something I had actually set as a goal for myself, but my subconscious must have remembered, because last week I started Improv 201 at UCB.  So far I super duper love it and am so excited to continue on with the classes all the way through to 401 AND BEYOND!!!!!

5)  Begin Production on my Web Series

• This has been stewing for a while... but it is STILL happening, people.  In fact, I'm meeting with my partner in crime on Monday to continue working on it.  It's morphed and taken new shapes... but we have a website!  With absolutely nothing on it yet... but you can take a look at what we're forming at  http://www.wix.com/brittanylynnkriger/toonicegirls.  Yeah, there's literally nothing on it. We're working away, though, I promise!
• Also, I've started collaborating on another web series with someone else.  I had the idea, told him about it, and pretty much handed it over to him.  I have too much on my plate at the moment, and he was passionate about writing it.  So, we're working on it together loosely, as in if I have any more brilliant ideas, I tell him and he takes into into consideration--also, I'm going to have a part written in for me... but... so yeah!

6)  Travel somewhere cool

• Well, I had a trip planned to Maine for June, but then realized I have a show for when I planned it... so nix on that.  But, I'm heading to Louisiana in a couple weeks for a wedding, and then of course planning to visit my sister in GERMANY this Christmas, so I'm kinda saving up my funds for that.

So now, what are my plans moving forward?

Well, I want to have a concrete story arc for my one woman show by the end of May, get my other blog, www.delicateprincesstummy.com, looking more professional  (I have a date set with a photographer to get some photos to do a redesign), continue to pursue agents, but also just plain continue booking work, and OF COURSE, become an awesome ukulele player.  You hoped I'd forgotten, didn't you?! But I didn't!  Here's my weekly uke video!  

And, as promised, Nancy's epic white girl dancing video (around the 1:30 mark is my favorite):

Flavor of the Week

I think after my last post, a little sunshine is in order!  Last night when I got off work (or this morning, however you choose to look at it), I stopped by the little international market next door to my bar.  Most every Tuesday, on my walk to the crosstown bus, I stop for bananas--I always seem to run out of bananas on Tuesdays... and I eat a banana EVERY day, so I must replenish my stock. I had a very fruitful (pun intended) shift, and I've taken to buying fresh flowers for my apartment each week.  The only requirement is that they be yellow and under $10.  Not too hard to fulfill!  The first fresh flowers I bought were the tulips I blogged about a couple weeks ago, and then last week I bought some kind of tiny lilies that wilted rather quickly.  Since they had an early demise, and I had a prosperous shift at work, I decided to treat myself to the cheery sunflowers that greeted me upon my entry to the market.

The little man who speaks broken English as he works the market counter and I have formed what I like to think is a special relationship as a result of my Tuesday banana runs.  From what I can tell, most of the people he interacts with at that time of night are also on their way out of my bar--but they are barely coherent and quite unpleasant.  So, I think we have a little bond of post-midnight soberness.  He gave me the sunflowers for $6, instead of their marked price of $7, and I went on my way.

I don't know what it is about carrying flowers around the city, but I've noticed it makes me feel happier... and maybe more confident?  Like, maybe people think these flowers are from my dashingly handsome and perfect boyfriend.  Or maybe they think I'm bringing them to someone else as a surprise.  But, little do they know... my secret is that I bought them for ME!  I think that's the key... that's my little secret confidence weapon. They also make me feel prettier.  Everyone looks prettier when they're carrying flowers.

I noticed a few months ago that any time I see a messenger on the street with a bouquet of flowers, I secretly hope that the flowers are for me.  Now, why I would be delivered flowers by a messenger on Fifth avenue at two in the afternoon when I clearly live half way across Manhattan is irrelevant.  I see the flowers and still a small part of me hopes.  I took note of that, and then I tucked it away into the further recesses of my mind.

Then, I was writing a couple of weeks ago about what I want from a relationship.  What I want from a man. I compared the way I want to feel about him to be the way I feel about this certain chocolate dessert that a customer brings into my bar on select Wednesdays.  Hard and mature on the outside, but when you bite into it, you experience an amazing explosion of buttery, salty, chocolately decadence.  And that I want to feel about him the way I feel about my ukulele (I may have an unhealthy relationship with said ukulele).  He (the prospective significant other, not the ukulele) takes me out on dates and buys me wonderful gifts for special occasions.  And flowers just because.  It's kind of sad that I'm 27 years old and haven't had that yet.  And then I stopped myself.  Flowers just because?  Why can't I buy myself flowers just because?  Why not?  I deserve it.  I love myself, and I work hard.  I deserve some pretty flowers to make me smile and brighten my apartment.

So now, I buy myself flowers just because.

Survival Job

I try to keep this blog relatively free of complaining... but I feel that it's unrealistic to ignore the one glaring bane of my existence.

I am very, very lucky to have a job where I only have to work 3 days a week and make enough to live off of.  I have time to pursue my other dreams and actual career goals.  It is relatively low stress, and I never have to bring it home with me. This is something I repeat in my head over and over and over and over again.

However, my survival job is slowly but surely driving me NUTS.  I work as a cocktail waitress.  I'm willing to assume that the term "cocktail waitress" evokes this image in your head:

Swanky bar.  Fancy drinks.  Business men slipping you 50's for no reason.

The reality of my job:

(actual photo taken during one of my shifts)

I have to pick my way through a thick crowd of belligerent drunk people while carrying a tray full of drinks and pitchers of beer.  Drunk people are really exactly like mules.  They don't move, even with lots of prodding, and once they do it's slow and clumsy.  I can't even count the number of times a drunk person has knocked an entire tray of drinks all over me and then gotten mad at ME.  I had one guy call me a not very nice four letter word last night after I asked him to move out of the way by poking him with a pitcher of beer. (You also have to imagine that top 40 music is blaring so loudly you can barely hear yourself think.  Saying "excuse me" is about as effective as using fabric softener on steel wool.)  Then there are the countless tables that treat you like you are less than human, are offended when it takes you more than 5 minutes to get through the crowd to get them their drinks, and then tip you $4 on a $96 tab (that actually happened last night).  Some of the drunk people in the crowd retain a shred of their humanity as they down shots of tequila and pitchers of beer, but they are few and far between.

Of course, what makes my job worth it is the volume of humans that come through the door, and the UESers with lots of money who DO tip well.  I wouldn't still be doing it after over a year if the pros didn't outweigh the cons... but last night, at approximately 2 am, I hit a wall.  I couldn't imagine taking one more table.  Talking to one more drunk person.  Dealing with one more sour puss, gossip girl-esque, drama queen.  I forgot my mantra, and this was what I was repeating in my head:

"I have two college degrees.  Why am I doing this?!"

I got home from work at 5 am, after working until 5 am the night before and getting 5 hours of sleep in between.  I accidentally slept through my alarm today and woke up at 1 pm feeling like a lazy bum.  But... from 9 am Friday until 5 am this morning, I had only gotten 5 hours of sleep... so I suppose I earned that 8 hours of sleep. Right?  But I tell you, my survival job is killing me slowly.  

No one ever said survival jobs were fun, and I am counting my blessings... but... I just found myself Googling yoga teacher training.  I qualify.  I could do it.  I could become a Bikram instructor to survive... but it costs, I KID YOU NOT, $10,700 to do.  And then once you're certified, you don't get paid all that well.  So... it looks like I'm stuck being a bar wench for the time being.  But, according to my one year goals, by this time next year I'll only have to work 2 nights a week at my survival job, because I'll be raking in money in other ways.  And neither of those two nights will be a Friday or a Saturday--aka my own personal hell where drunk girls are doing coke off the toilet seats.

Because that happens.  

New Weekly Torture

So, in this quest for balance, one of the most important things I've discovered is that I have to figure out which things in life make me happy and then make sure I DO those things to stay happy. (I mean... watching Hulu for hours is entertaining... but it does very little to develop my life and perpetuate self satisfaction.) Obviously my ukulele has brought me great joy since I first purchased it a couple weeks ago.  It has yet to bring anyone else joy--I'm sure my neighbors are so sick of hearing "Rainbow Connection" and "Obladi-Oblada" that they want to punch me in the face by now... but I'm hoping eventually, and with a lot of practice, it will bring joy to others, as well.  I'm off to my first ukulele lesson now--up until this point I've learned everything from Youtube.  Which... is great.  But I feel like a real human will be able to give me some pointers and help me out in a way that the adorable old man on my computer screen can't.  I apologize in advance for this, but I've decided that once a week I'm going to post a video of me wailing away on my ukulele.  It will keep me accountable for learning new songs and practicing, and you will be so lucky as to watch me progress.  Hopefully.  Or you will watch the video below and decide you NEVER want to hear me play the ukulele again.  Your choice.  I won't be mad.  Except for you, Momma and Daddy--you have to watch.  You created and birthed me and made this happen.

Naked People Have Little or No Influence on Society

"Clothes make the man.  Naked people have little or no influence on society."  ~Mark Twain

Oh, Mark Twain. You were one sassy, clever, little mustached man.

I spend a lot of time thinking about what I'm going to wear on any given day.  Because I work in a bar, I have my bar "uniform":  Some black leggings that feel mostly like pajama pants (since my shortest shift is typically 8 hours--optimizing comfort is ideal.  Also, they make my butt look great... and well, that doesn't hurt tips), a tank top/shirt with MY BAR'S NAME written in large print across the chest, and ked's.  This is what I wear most of the time, or so it feels like.  Then, on other days, I have my yoga clothes and sweat pants and bang around clothes.  I don't know at what point it was that I became comfortable wearing bang around clothes around New York... I used to ALWAYS get dressed at least SEMI nicely for venturing out into the city...  I think I secretly feared Stacy or Clinton from TLC's "What Not to Wear" would see me and judge me... but now, unless I have something to do, I'm usually wearing something with a hole or a bleach stain somewhere on it.  However, on days when I get to wear REAL clothes... I agonize about it.

There are two things I tend to think about while in yoga (though don't tell my yoga teachers, because we're supposed to be clearing our minds and focusing on the postures.  Yeah.  I suck at that):  1) What I'm going to eat when I get home. 2) What I'm going to wear later that day.

I HATE picking out what I'm going to wear.  I usually stare at my closet, which is STUFFED with clothes I hardly wear, and decide that I'd just rather be naked.  Hence why I usually end up in something with bleach stains or holes--because THAT choice says "no,  I didn't plan this outfit, I just threw it on... so don't JUDGE ME."

Today I have the pleasure of spending time with one of my best friends and her little sister who recently moved to the city who I am now ALSO recruiting to be my friend.  And it's her birthday! Or... it was yesterday... but I had to work.  So I'm celebrating with her today.  We'll call her Skyrim.  Because she has introduced me to Skyrim.  Different story, though.  Anyway, the world is my oyster today.  I can wear any gosh darned thing that I want to celebrate the day of Skyrim's birth .  Casual?  Dressy?  Semi-Casual?  Bleach and holes?  Why yes, I can do any of those things.

But when I opened my closet, one dress stared me down.  It looked me in the face and said "Hey, hooker, you've only worn me once.  Remember that awful date you went on?  The one where that drunken, alcoholic, (that's redundant) 37 year old man said you were 'decent looking, going to lose your looks in 5 years, and a skinny fat girl'?  Remember that date?  Yeah.  Well, I was a really cute dress that now you can't stand because when you see me THAT'S ALL YOU THINK OF.  Ha!  I make you feel bad about yourself!  I'm an evil dress!  Muwahahahahahah."

I took a deep breath. ripped it off the hanger, and put it over my head.  I didn't feel any different... I didn't feel like a skinny fat girl... maybe a little decent looking... but certainly not terribly bad about myself.  So, I went and looked in the mirror.  And hey, the dress is a little big now!  SCREW YOU DRESS!  All my yoga and good eatin' are paying off!  (Disregard the entire box of Samoas I ate last night at work, and the entire platter of nachos, as well...)  And guess what?  I don't need to wear a bra with you!  THAT'S A WIN WIN!  Comfort and style?  Yes please.  I added my gray lace tights, favorite cow boy boots, and lesbian power blazer, and suddenly it feels like a new dress.

So, no, Mark.  I beg to differ.  The clothes don't make the man.  The WOMAN makes the clothes.  Brittany: 1.  Wardrobe:  ...probably still winning.  Self esteem:  on the rise.

Happy birthday to Skyrim!  Oh, to be 23 again...

One is the Loneliest Number

"That's what loneliness is about.  If we felt connected to people, even other lonely people, we wouldn't feel alone anymore." ~Natalie Goldberg (if you haven't noticed, I'm obsessed with her)

New York City.  Population: 8,391,881 (July 2009 U.S. Census Bureau)  That was 3 years ago, so I think it's safe to assume that number has increased.  


Number of people you pass on the street/interact with/share air space with:  Hundreds.  


It's crazy how much human interaction you have in an average day in New York City.  It's overwhelming.  And yet... it's so lonely.  I'm not saying I'm sad and mopey and lonely... but today on the train I was thinking how closed off I am to the humans around me.  And not just me.  Almost all New Yorkers tend to pretend they're in a bubble.  As if acknowledging another human's presence may make you seem weak; vulnerable to attack.  And, you know what?  For good reason!  There are predators out there--verbal predators who disrespect and degrade you with a look or a rude comment.  Just the other night when I was walking home from work, this is the lovely conversation I had with a man sitting on his stoop (I don't usually speak up, but some strange force overcame me that evening):


Man:  Mmmmm... baby.  So sexy.  Have a good night baby.
Me: ignore ignore ignore
Man:  See.  That's why I hate white girls.  They're so snobby.  Hey, I'm talking to you.
Me:  Excuse me, but I'm NOT snobby.  You are being rude and disrespectful. (AND RACIST, I might add)
Man:  (as he sees me turning into my apartment building) You'd better be nice to your neighbors.

I'm sorry, sir, that I offended you with my refusal to acknowledge your blatant disrespect.  What did he expect me to say?  "Why thank you sir, for oogling me, calling me baby, and degrading me?"  I would genuinely like nothing more than to be able to exchange pleasantries with my neighbors and have a relationship with the people I live around.  Now, this is a very specific case, and there are, in fact, lovely people I encounter in my neighborhood, but I bring this example up to make a very specific point:  I have become a closed off New Yorker.  I typically ignore most people around me, and most people around me typically ignore me.  It's self protection.

But what a lonely way to live!  Back to what I was pondering on the train earlier: Life is nothing without the people we share it with.  You can do a million and one amazing things in a day, but unless you have someone to share it with... it's almost like it didn't even happen.  People need people.  And I don't mean a boy friend or a girl friend or a wife or a husband... though that's nice as well--I just mean plain old relationships with other people.  So... I'm going to make an effort to open my heart to the world.  Because otherwise, this city can be a very  lonely place.  Especially when you live alone... sometimes I feel like I have days where it's possible that the apocalypse has happened, and I'm the only person left on Earth.  So... you know... Maybe once a day make an effort to smile at a stranger.  Or give someone a compliment.  Or heck, even say "bless you" when someone sneezes.  The world doesn't HAVE to be a lonely place.