#17- FROM THE HEART

We all have moments of uncertainty. I haven't written in awhile for a reason. I met a publisher and started thinking about publishing my blog as a book. As soon as I started thinking about that I started censoring what I wanted to write here. I sat down to write twice and stopped almost immediately because I thought about who would be reading this.I dropped outside of myself and started thinking about outside stuff. Maybe what I was writing wasn't very good? What would a publisher think? Am I exposing myself too much? Am I "marketable"? Good grief.

This happened to me once before. I was writing a book on wine from a comedians perspective. It was funny. Damn funny. Also informative. I'll go back to this book so I won't go too far into the details. But after I'd written maybe 8 chapters I showed some to a "winey". Someone who owned wine shops, sold wine, drank wine, etc. Well he HATED it! He hated it because I was demystifying wine. I know that now. At the time I thought it was my sense of humor he was attacking. Now I know differently. People who sell wine don't want you to make fun of the wine business. Go figure.

I'm now moving into a new phase of my career. Gratfully I've booked an awesome gig. This is moving me into a new brand of artistic responsibility. I talk about this a lot in my work. Being responsible. Just because you are on a stage doesn't give you the right to accost an audience. It also doesn't mean you can be unprepared. It's not charming. Not that you can't be edgy or experimental, but as long as you are aware that an audience is virtually captive AND have very likely paid to watch a show AND that you have this gift FOR other people..well, you'll be responsible. All it takes is touching base with your heart and askiing yourself why you want to perform in front of people? Why do you want to sell your paintings? Why do you want to write books and sell them to people? If it's FOR the people...you win. If it's therapy or has a hint of meanness to it...you lose.

Ok so what adjustments do you make when your audience widens? What do you do when a group of people hand you an opportunity to be yourself for a living? One thing I did is look into myself. I checked in. Did it feel like some outside crazy prize I won? Did I feel overwhelmed. Thankfully the answer is no. This feels like a bigger version of what I already do. In fact its exactly what I do but now more people will experience it. That's all. Phew.

The other thing I am doing as looking at my life and what I'm doing. Making sure everything I'm doing feeds this path. Does it all fit? I teach, I sell, I create. I produce. I perform with several different groups of people. Not that any of these don't fit, but I actually have to reel them all in and look at them. That's all. How do I ive my daily life? What's missing? Lining up my ducks. That's all. Chop chop.

I don't want to generalize or be vague here. I want to write freely and connect with those who read this. That's my goal. Writing professionally is something I have always wanted to do but never had it in the front of my mind. Much of that has to do with programming. From a very young age I was the actress. The comedian. School itself wasn't a priority to me. There were a small handful of teachers who blew me away. Truly. They were a character study for me and engaged me in a way that I held onto their every word. It didn't matter what they were teaching. Math, English, or French. If they were passionate about what they did they had me. The others...well...yawn.

So writing was not something I ever seriously thought about, but now I realize that writing is another stage I can stand on. I have a talent for the people. Plus it's fun. When I'm engaged in writing I love it. It just takes practice. I am so picky about the books I read it's ridiculous. I know after a sentence if it's going to grab me. It's all in the writing style. It's like with a comedian. If you don't have them laughing in the first 5 seconds.. well forget it.

Ok so I'll keep writing. Promise. Let the engagement begin.

Wish me luck.

#16- A SQUARE

Square. It's a term I suddenly brought back into my life like a vengeance from a GIDGET episode. It really says it all, doesn't it. "What a square!" It's like the lowest. I love it. It makes me laugh. Right now I feel like a square. I'm sitting on my bed wrapped in a pink robe with a plastic sheath wrapped around my head like a swami. I'm soaking my head in henna and drinking a light beer. That's right babies. I am officially rocking out!

Here's another term...FA SHIZ. Now I'm pretty sure that's from the film JUNO...which I've seen about a zillion times. If anyone gave me that film as a gift I would make out with them immediately. FA SHIZ in my world means FER SURE. Or FER SERIOUS...another term I picked up from my sister and from this comedian I dated briefly. FA SHIZ.

So my life is about to "UN-SQUARE" itself. I won't go into much detail as to how I got to this point. But let's say things are suddenly getting interesting. I think I have unsurfaced a new part of my self, and I like it. Its a grounded grooviness. A risky cool thing...oh I know what it is! It's that thing I admired in cool boys when I was in the throws of puberty. This sexy confidence I couldn't believe ANYONE could have at the age of 14. But these were the rare boys who had all this AND were nice. To everyone. And funny. I really admired those qualities and wanted to be like them. Finally at 37 I think I am. Cool. Funny...ANd maybe even a tad edgy. Ooh yeah. That's right. EDGE! Cut it.

Ok so talk about square..I'm Maid of Honor this weekend. Now that's something to wear taffeta about. But here's the deal. No one has EVER asked me to be one before. Ever. I sorta started to feel bummed about it. Like I'm too weird for anyone to want to have stand for them at their stupid wedding. Why?I'm funny! I'm chatty. I can hold a train. But my friend Marca wanted me. I feel honored. For my speech I wrote a song about the bride and the groom. It's funny. They'll like it. That's not square. It's wat cool nice boys do.

I was a girl scout. But my leader was a pagan witch. That's square-then not square.

I played with barbies...and erector sets..and slept with my very first tool..a hammer. That's square...not square...and weird.

I wear jeans in an office that doesn't allow jeans...not square.

Joe Yoga did this great mini play at the open mic. He ends up yelling at this cab driver who almost runs him over. He yells and says he's mad cuz he has to go to his job and talk to a bunch of SQUARES!!! Man when he yelled squares with such passionate anger I howled with laughter. It's so true. Like when you're in the elevator with some guy in a suit who looks a little sweaty and desperate. Oh man. What a square!!!! When like 3 guys get on that are on their way to some liquid lunch and laugh really loud at things that don't matter and then get silent and check their blackberries...SQUARES!!! When anyone talks to me about anything from their corporate lives...SQUARE!! I believe strongly if you are going to give your life away to some corporate for a good part of the day then as soon as you leave that place you never speak of it again until you go back the next morning. They buy your soul for only the hours they pay. That's it.

So let's all UN-SQUARE ourselves somehow. Let's not jabber about other people's dreams. Let's not roll around in hum drum. Let's not think we're important because we have a Starbucks in one hand and a $1000 aerodynamic baby stroller in the other. Let's be edgy. On the edge. Not quite safe and fall into someone else's arms. FA SHIZ!

#15- PARIS BROUGHT ME HERE

I want to go live is Paris for awhile. I had my first kiss in Paris. I was 16. He was from Sicily. I was sitting is a youth hostel with two of my equally inexperienced friends from back home in NYC. Each one of us had one Sicilian boy to ourselves, but all six of us sat together in a tiny room with two skinny beds. The conversation was limited to us teaching each other swear words in either English or Italian. When that got boring the boys made Samantha Fox references in my general direction. Suddenly it got quiet. The boy I was with looked at me.In fact they all looked at me..while he leaned in and gave me my first kiss. With tongue. While I let him swirl his tongue in my clueless mouth the green light turned on for the other two clowns and my friends had their first intercontinental make out sessions.

Somehow I found myself on top of the "Tongue Master". It was fun..sort of. Clearly I had no idea what I was doing as he kept trying to reach down my jeans unsuccessfully, and once I started kissing him became instantly bored. My eyes wondered over to the bed only an inch away from me and my friends boob popped out from under her shirt. This seemed oddly clinical to me under the hot fluorescent over head lights that kept clicking on and off as my other friend played switch commando with her make out buddy. Salvo. For gods sakes, Salvo? You can't make this shit up.

Back home in NYC I had an agreement with my mother. If I was going to be later than 1am, I call. I never really was later than 1am because of this. I think that the whole calling bit seemed like a hastle and I was usually tired at 1am anyway. So I had this 1am clock in my system. After pulling "what's his face's" hand out of my pants AGAIN, I looked at my Swatch watch. The same Swatch watch my mother gave me for getting my period. Again, you can't make this up. I looked at the little hand on the 1 and said., "It's 1AM. Time to go!"

Now, in any teenie-bopper film the other two friends would say,"What? You are such a dork, Sam! You can leave but we're staying here and getting laid!" Well in real life, Zoe and Julie were out that door and safe in their own beds faster than Salvo could click the light switch back on. That was Julie's job.

So this comes to mind because I ran into one of my Parisian adventure gal pals only a few nights ago. She was our class president and has made a name for herself for hosting this amazing monthly event for people who grew up in NYC. It's called THE MAGIC GARDEN because of a show named that which only aired in NY and NJ I think. It was one of those shows we were all addicted to growing up and it bonds us. Today all of these square hyper parents would say it promotes marijuana usage. It probably does. Who cares???

Anyway it was really a touching evening because of a variety of things, but mostly what she said to me. She pulled me aside and told me she'd been reading her journal from our exchange in France and she was stunned by it. I suddenly felt like she was unlocking a mystery before my eyes as she retold the events from this 3 week program we were so privileged to be selected for. She revealed her utter inexperience with boys at that time and how she'd fallen in love with a boy from Denmark..which I remember. She brought up a prank we played on some girls which we both regret terribly. She mentioned a drag Queen I had no recollection of. But most of all she remembered our deep friendship. It disturbed her that our friendship seemed to last only a few short months after that. I felt a pang in my heart. I can remember that time too. Life pulled us different ways. College. Growing up. Who knows.

This woman. This leader. This now wife and mother. Looking at me and feeling such a loss for not knowing me all these years. It moved me. It made me remember how deeply I've wanted to be liked in life. We all feel that way. I have been, too. Really genuinely liked. But I've never had anyone miss liking me..and tell me. That was nice.
For this I am very grateful.

Next year is our 20 year reunion. I told her I'd help. Maybe we can make up for those lost years. Maybe we can call Salvo.

#14- TO ALWAYS BE TERRIFIED

So when I started stand up in the early 90's I did it not because I liked it. I did it because it scared me to death. Eventually I moved into doing solo shows because I LOVED It ...and it scared me to death. After several years of doing both and teaching others to scare themselves to death I realized I had forgotten to jump off a cliff lately. To take a risk. To force myself to dig deeper into the unknown of my creative self. To become better. That's not ok in my book. As artists it's easy to just plod along and do what you do and forget to challenge yourself. What's weird is I thought I'd been challenging myself all along...until all of the sudden I got scared.

About 6 weeks ago I woke up with this nervousness. Like I'd done something wrong and didn't know what. Like I was a fraud living in someone elses pants. I kept it to myself because I didn't know why I felt this way. Was it because my family was out of town and all the sudden I had some weird fear of being alone? Was it because I watched the Shining one night by myself? I had no idea which just made things worse. I hadn't felt this shaky in a long time.

Whenever I need to clear my head I head to Central Park. in particular, the spot right near Sheep's Meadow where all the people roller boogie. To me this spot is where the real New Yorers congregate and it reminds me of a New York long gone. The New York of my childhood that many people refer too as dangerous. To me it was a "neighborhood". My neighborhood. I got a call from one of my new "open mic pals", Marsha. Marsha and I are the same age which gives us an immediate connection. She's very down to earth and she know everything about everyone in "the scene" so she's a good source for answers. Anyway, we walked about 5 miles all through the park and got to know each other. Then suddenly she asked me why I did stand up for 15 years. It was amazing to her...and insane I said it was because it scared me...and then it dawned in me. Right in that moment. I knew why I'd been so jittery lately. The "scene" I'm in scares me to death. I'm surrounded by people I know absolutely nothing about. Considering I've been performing around town for my whole life it' s really disconcerting to meet performers who've been around as long as I have. Not at least crossing paths is odd for New York. For a native New Yorker, I feel like I just moved here! This makes me nervous. Hell it would probably make anyone nervous. How delicious!

I have completely thrown myself into unfamiliar creative ground to tackle my next phase of excavation into my artistic soul! How's that for scary? I can do anything I want when I perform for these people because they don't know anything about me. There's something incredibly liberating about that. For the very first time in years I was listening to a song on my Ipod and though, "I could choreograph the most hilarious hip hop dance to this!' That's awesome.

So as a result of my overwhelming discovery I went to another open mic that night. Sabelli's Underground. I was told much of the same crown from Pennie's goes there, so I figured I'd feel pretty ok. Steph Sabelli is very cool. To me she's VERY East Village. She had a cut off tee, leotard, jeans, and a very groovy belt on. She was rockin' some cowboy boots as she efficiently clomped around the stage to set up. Again, the technical aspects of these shows astound me. Under St. Marks theatre has the shit together. "luckydave" is there focusing lights and running the board beautifully. I'm unclear if he works there. Regardless, when I see him I relax. There's someone selling the beer. The place is clean. It's professional and good.

That night was a very unusual evening for a multitude of reasons, none of which helped calm my nerves. But I'm ok with that. First of all it was packed with mostly men. Not that that's a bad thing, but it rang a bit of the open mics from years gone past where it was all comedian men sitting there with there arms crossed and half asleep waiting for their turn. I was thrilled to quickly learn these men were over excited, animated, and extremely interactive with the show. So much so that the opening act referred to one audience member who, I swear, laughed at ever single word this man said. Not only that, but he'd laugh hard and loud and a little too long. Like a blast...a loud horn on a boat coming into the marina. It was bizarre and crazy. What was crazier was the materiel I was hearing from the stage. i won't delve too deeply but some of the topics were: fat blobs on his back and his itchy anus skin. That's all I'll say about that.

So the girls from Pennies were in the back quietly talking. The back yard at this theatre is sort of a little, dark haven. When you don't know anyone it's weird walking out there because it takes you a minute to adjust to the total absence of light. The door closes behind you and you generally stand there for a minute and listen to the quiet talk hoping maybe you recognize a voice. Penny, Natalie, and Marsha were sitting there closly chatting. Penny told me to bring up a chair and our little coffee clutch began. We talked about art. We talked about boys. We talked about a multitude of things which were oh so yummy and why it's fun to be a girl. Suddenly things got loud and we realized about half of the men in the audience came out back to chat as well. Our quiet little slumber party suddenly shifted and we sighed with a little disappointment.

So the show continued on and Marsha and I made our way back into the theatre. She and I were up one right after the other but had no idea how far along the show was. Suddenly as we were making our way down the steps someone was barreling their way towards carrying a completely collapsed performer. There was nowhere to go except the dressing room and we all smooshed back there to tend to the situation. Talk about terrifying! Suddenly our heads changed as we stared at this person turning blue. I grabbed my phone to dial 911. No reception. i ran out back and found Natalie. Greatfully she had reception and she called an ambulance. She passed me her phone and I explained what I knew. It always seems to me like 911 asks too many questions. It should be "where are you? We're on our way!" What else is there to talk about? I'm not a doctor!

So the fire department showed up. I love fire men. Everyone loves fire men. Five tall strapping heros walked down the stairs and crossed the stage to the dressing room. What's totally crazy is nobody in the stage noticed. They just kept playing away. It was like an alternate reality. There I was surrounded by pretty much all strangers in the basement of this theatre with a collapsed person lying on the floor.

Long story short, he came to and went to the hospital. Of course the show went on. I performed. Marsha and Penny performed too. I guess the show must go on...right?

This world I am in is amazing. I'm great full. There;s a story here and I intend to write i, and hopefully it will be terryfyingly delicious!