It's a Dangerous Business Going Out Your Door

"It's a dangerous business going out your door.  You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~J.R.R. Tolkein

I just got back from a wonderful trip to Louisiana.  You probably remember that I had some hesitations about going on this trip, and I was pretty accurate on all counts.  I didn't write as much as I wanted, I played my ukulele only one day, and I had a lot of anxiety surrounding my non-yogaing self.  But all that aside, it was a wonderful vacation, and I'm really glad that I let myself take time off from all of my work.  I spent some serious much needed time with loved ones, and I don't regret one second of it.

However, it made returning to New York and life here that much harder.  I have mentioned before that I absolutely love New Orleans and can totally see myself living there.  While sipping a malbec on the patio of Bacchanal Wine, surrounded by twinkling Christmas lights, a light Louisiana dewy humidity, and the sounds of live jazz music, I felt that I never wanted to leave.  I could see myself getting a little studio downtown, opening my own Bikram yoga studio that had a connected gluten/vegan cafe/juice shop... and partaking in the acting world in Louisiana.  I kept describing it as feeling as though I'm in love with two men.  I love them both so much and can see my life working out with either one, and I can also see it being painfully unsuccessful with both of them.  I have no grand illusions of leaving New York right now.  I have a lease through next February, and I have too much hard foundation work invested in my acting career to give up.  But it has made returning to the harshness of New York even harder than I imagined.

Not only this, but I got some truly awful news about a very dear friend when I got home from work last night (this morning).  She and I were super close last year.  We were both struggling with depression and anxiety, and we were both making poor life decisions.  We started going to church, joined a book club together, and overall just spent a lot of time helping each other cope.  Our lives began to heal, and our co-dependent relationship was no longer necessary.  We still saw each other every once in a while, but it wasn't the same.  When the new year began and she fell off my radar, I wasn't too concerned.  I'm aware that this happens in friendships, and I figured that she maybe felt she had outgrown me, and I didn't want to bother her.  So I just poked my head into her life every now and again, and tried not to be hurt when I didn't hear back from her.  But basically, I'm ashamed to say that I wrote her off.

I kept up with her via facebook and was shocked when I realized she had moved home to Indiana.  I didn't ask why but assumed that she had grown tired of New York.  (A feeling I can certainly sympathize with.)  I worried about her as I followed her facebook statuses, but I realized she was home with her family, so things couldn't be that bad.  Then last night she posted a blog she had begun, and I, of course, instantly clicked on it.  I was eager for an explanation as to why she had disappeared.

I was unprepared for what I read on her blog.   My beautiful, strong, funny, deeply spiritual, loving friend was raped in a New York City cab by, not one but, three men.  I know I'm writing a lot, but please take the time to read her story on her blog.  I can't possibly relate to you what happened as she can.

I know far too many women who have been touched by rape.  I truly feel it's important to share these experiences, because it makes us all more aware of how fragile this life can be.

Today was rough.  I was having trouble adjusting to being back in this huge, concrete jungle.  This city can be both the most wonderful, sunny, golden days of brunch and sangria wonderful loving friends... and also the harshest, grittiest, grey cold wind whipping in your eyes as strangers judge you and you feel tiny... place. So since I was already having my doubts about my life here and how much I'd rather be living in New Orleans, Louisiana where I could pop over to my parents for dinner once a week and be near some of my oldest friends and living a safe, secure life... well... her story sent me over the edge.

I haven't struggled with anxiety in quite some time.  But today it felt as if a huge weight was squashing my chest and making it difficult to breathe.  I was reminded of a Kyrgyz demon a friend once told me about.  He's this evil little guy who sits on your chest while you're sleeping and makes you have bad dreams and feel like you can't breathe.  But I wasn't sleeping and it unfortunately wasn't a dream.  I couldn't get the image of my beautiful friend being raped out of my head.

It's a dangerous world.  That same thing could happen to any one any where. New Orleans. Chicago.  St. Louis.  Timbuktu.  But it didn't happen in any of those places.  It happened to my friend.  Here.  In NYC.  20 blocks from where I live.  And it changed her life forever.

I realize I can't live in fear.  Bad things happen.  Bad people are out there.  But I can do something about it.  I'm going to try to get some of my girl friends together to take a self defense class (there is NOTHING she could have done to protect herself in her situation, unfortunately.  But I'd like to be as prepared as I can).  I'm going to take note of the driver's names that are posted in EVERY cab I get in.  I'm only going to pay for cabs with my credit card.  And I'm going to pray.  A lot.  For my friend.  For every woman out there in a dangerous situation.  For every man out there in a dangerous situation.  And I'm just going to try to spread the awareness.  Starting here.  Because I love you, whoever you are reading this.

"In the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow.  Even darkness must pass.  A new day will come.  And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer...  there's some good in the world, and it's worth fighting for." J.R.R. Tolkein

She and I four years ago in a production of
"Les Mis" at the Barn Theatre in Michigan.
Love her.

Namaste Y'all

I love Louisiana.  I do.  It's just filled with the nicest people, and it's so warm and beautiful and HAPPY!

I got in yesterday evening and the first thing I did, after my friend Brittany picked me up from the airport, was stop for a drive through daiquiri.  It's a novelty that you can't find outside of Louisiana.  Even just finding a daiquiri is hard in New York... so, it's always one of my favorite parts of getting to the city.  (I never really loved daiquiris until I could no longer have them... I guess it's a sort of "the grass is always greener" thing). Daiquiris in hand, we then stopped by her house to settle in and hang with her boyfriend (who is also lead guitar in their BAND which I will tell you more about in a bit.)  Since all I'd eaten since 9 am was some popcorn chips on the plane, my tummy started to grumble, so we headed out to the Bywater for some delicious wine and food at this adorable outdoor eatery called Bacchanal.  The menu changes weekly according to whoever their guest chef is, you purchase a bottle of wine from their huge wine shop, and then you eat outside where a live jazz band serenades you.  It was like being inside a southern fairy tale as the patio was strung with colored Christmas lights, and the tables were lit with huge anti-mosquito torches (which did very little to keep the June bugs away).

This morning, we woke up early and headed to Brittany's first ever Bikram yoga class!  It was my first time to do yoga outside of my studio, and Brittany was so brave and faced her first class with strength and determination that was truly admirable.  I was so proud of her!  She did most every posture and loved the class.  The teacher was great--she sounded just like Annie Pots--and I LOVED the change in atmosphere.  It was like a whole different class.  Now I can't wait to travel all of the world doing Bikram in different studios.  New goal!

We grabbed Greek food for lunch afterwards, which was delightful, and it was within walking distance of Britt's house.  Today has been a true re-introduction to Louisiana weather.  When we headed out for yoga, it was cloudy and threatening rain--during yoga it must have rained, and then afterwards, the sun was shining brightly.  By the time we headed out for Greek, it was raining again--a light, beautiful Spring rain--and then while we ate it was pouring and I heard some great Louisiana thunder; one of my very favorite things (Britt said it may have been a train, but I decided it was most definitely thunder.)

Humidity.  Oh, Louisiana, the only place where my stick straight hair gets all wavy and in disarray.  Where you can feel the air going in your nose and down your windpipe.  If you're thirsty, just open wide and swallow some air!  I'm so happy to be back.  Sometimes it's tempting enough to stay permanently...

But now, let me bring you this week's ukulele video--my favorite thus far, as I get to share it with my Britt Britt (here's the link to her band's facebook page I mention in the video: https://www.facebook.com/jigcity)

CONGRATULATIONS, KATHRYN!!!  Can't wait for the wedding on Saturday and all of the festivities that will surround this special day.

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.