I know I owe this journal a massive update, and it will be coming soon. Hopefully sometime this week. Possibly in multiple parts. I have a lot to write about, and it's been too long (yet again) since I've used this outlet. In the meantime, know that I am still here, dear Reader.

In the briefest of summaries:

I have moved to my new apartment, which will hopefully be home for a good time.
I have a survival job, which I have been doing for two months now (goodness it's been too long.)
I sell tickets to Comic Strip Live, NYC's oldest- and longest-running comedy club.
It's kind of a perfect job, but in many ways it's imperfect as well. Expect that update.

Also, I love New York City. I always have, but now I know why.

Hello! It is Day 3 for me in New York City, and I am getting into the hang of things. Or, that's a lie but a good way to start this entry. Who knows what 'the hang of things' will actually end up being, but I'm getting into 'a' hang of things.

I am now in Washington Heights for two months. I am also now officially signed to an agency. Things are developing nicely in that respect, but now I'm facing the gloom of job hunting with no real actual experience or expertise in any practical field. In a historically down economy. Awesome.

So I have a very excited, short news item for this journal: I will be moving to New York City! I have found a lovely sublet up in Washington Heights, for at least two months, from which I plan to then conduct a proper apartment hunt. I also will be trying the whole "acting" thing, and I'll certainly update more once I'm there. In the meantime, I'm positively made of time and wasting it in Wayland while I pack and bide my time until I move. There is very little to do and too much time to do it here.

I move by July 1st or so, and then life begins. I'm just chomping at the bit, waiting to get started.

I enjoyed the pilot of Glee, FOX's new hourlong series attempting to capitalize on American Idol but in serial fashion. Here's, essentially, what I think:

I think the show has tremendous potential. The pilot, like many pilots (as is their nature), is incompletely developed and hopefully should be a rough sketch of where the show could go. The characters are simplistically drawn but quickly evocative of types (some, including Lea Michele's portrayal of Rachel, immediately evoke what the full character has in store and I like it.) The plot is easy, unoriginal, but imbued with such spirit that I want it to succeed anyway.

As a matter of fact, that's how I feel about the series as a whole. The pilot is less than the sum of its parts, but its parts are so glorious that I need to champion them. After all, this is a show that champions musical theater, high school dorkdom, a capella, singing and dancing as cool for young people, all while wrapping it in the familiar confines of the Breakfast Club-style clique clashing. Only Glee puts it rather bluntly: "We're all losers. I'm just not afraid to admit that." And that could make Glee a winner.

So I am once again spending a lovely evening in the Roger Williams Hotel on 31st and Madison in New York City, and I feel compelled to finally write more about my experiences in New York both from today and from way back over spring break.

Back in March, BU provided the graduating Senior Class of 2009 a Performance Showcase for Talent Agents, Casting Agents, Production Companies and Theatre Professionals of all sorts, as well as BU Alumni. Out of that showcase, I got a couple of people interested in headshots and resumes, and one request for a meeting with a talent agency. I went the next afternoon and we had a good conversation, striking off well and discussing, among other things, that I am a John Goodman-type. We left it as when I know if I'll be coming to New York to schedule a follow-up appointment and so I did.

Which is why I'm back in NYC. I had that follow-up meeting this afternoon and it also went well. This time, we discussed other actors and roles of my type, this time touching on Jordan Gelber (Brian from Avenue Q) and Jeff Garlin (from "Curb Your Enthusiasm.") She also advised me that if I wanted to wait for six months to let the economy rebound more that she'd be fully supportive of that strategy. All in all, a very pleasing meeting.

The other part of this post, the best part, actually, is part of the experience I had over spring break. It was during Pope Joan, which we revived as part of the InCite Festival BU threw for all of CFA (of which the Showcase was also part.) It was the experience of waking up in the morning and Manhattan and having a calm, relaxing morning to go about my day before heading to midtown Manhattan to my theater to perform in that afternoon's matinee. Then, going out to a show afterwards. (I saw two shows over that break: Blithe Spirit, an underwhelming production but I was glad to see it for two reasons - I had never seen or read the classic Coward comedy before and Angela Lansbury live and in the unstoppable flesh - and Exit the King, a shockingly excellent production of a little-known Ionesco "comedy" with a stunning tour de force performance by Geoffrey Rush. Seriously, he needs to win the Tony this year.)

The simple experience of walking the streets of Manhattan with a purpose was magical. Not the 'purpose' ordained by being on vacation but actually living in Manhattan on my own, with work at a theater and a community of friends to meet and then separate from at the end of the night, that was magical. Being invited to a pub in the Village and finding BU alums from all three classes above me and reviving (if only for a night) old friendships and acquaintances, that was magical. And tonight, having my meeting, scheduling times with friends for tomorrow, walking from reasons to be pretty (which, if you can, see! It's a tremendous production of a tremendous LaBute play) all of it was magical in a way I haven't felt much the last four years. That's not to say there wasn't magic at BU; there certainly was. But I've spent roughly a week in Manhattan so farin the last few months, and there hasn't been a bad part yet to my recollection. And I'll be coming back in a few more weeks, and hopefully there won't be any bad parts in the future. And that may be the biggest reason of all if I decide to move here soon.

I have to write in here about the story I'm building, and one day try to synopsize it here, but for the moment just one I love from today's walking/brainstorming:

"No, I'm not crying... I know when I cry for emotional reasons. You know, there's that heat and pressure behind your eyes when they water with emotion? No, sometimes my eyes water because I leave them open too long. I guess I'd rather cry than blink and miss you for just a second."

So I haven't written about this much but it's been a big part of my life the last few months. In fact, you could argue it's also the reason why I haven't written about it here (there's a meta-sentence for you.)

At the end of January, I fractured my pinky during the rather innocuous act of taking off my shoe during a What the Butler Saw rehearsal. It was such an innocuous moment that the cast and crew had no qualms making light of the situation, as did my Pope Joan cohorts as well when we went to Fitchburg and I had a pinky wrapped in ace bandages to the point of Elephant Man hilarity (that whole Fitchburg experience was bizarre for many reasons, none to be mentioned here.) As it turned out, the simple x-ray to confirm the fracture also revealed the titular diagnosis of the entry: I had a enchondroma.

I didn't have any idea what and enchondroma was before this (and my Firefox spellchecker is convinced I am spelling it wrong, which tells you that this not a common experience), but here's the rundown: When my hand finished growing, the growth platelets in my left pinky didn't stop. They kept going and filled the otherwise hollow bone with cartilage, making it structurally weaker and more susceptible to fracture. That's an enchondroma, that's why my finger fractured taking off my stupid shoe, and that's why I had surgery last Tuesday to fix it.

The operation was at the Boston Medical Center (I went there because it was on the BU BUS and because the second opinion surgeon my physician set me up with was much sleeker and sketchier.) Dr. Andrew Stein operated on me, essentially scooping out the cartilage (it's fun to use a word like 'scooping' to describe surgery) and giving me an allograft of bone in it's place. I've been nursing the finger in a cast all last week (and a handy dose of percocet) and some gnarly stitches this week. It's still sore, still can't extend all the way and seems like it may be permanently curled, but it's healing. I'll have my follow-up on Monday and hopefully all will be well.

One last thing, about the surgery experience itself. I know that surgery in and of itself is a big deal, going through the general anesthesia, being cut open and sewed up (no matter how small the incision or the body part); the reason I've felt fairly aloof about the whole experience is that, all surgeries considered, this was about as low risk as they come. I consider myself to be in fairly good health (dietary and fitness issues aside) and I took it upon myself, I suppose in a carpe diem spirit, to enjoy the experience as best as I could as a unique experience not everyone has (or gets to enjoy). So I made the best of my hospital bed, watching Obama speak on CNN in my thin strip of a hospital gown and with the lights off (both to save energy, of course, and because I generally like darkness anyways.) I made the effort to engage cordially with the nurses (and even got their e-mail addresses so I can invite them to my thesis!) I made the choice to not shy away from any part of the experience and remain as open and interested in every part, from getting the IV to the anesthetic itself (until, to my dismay, it actually worked flawlessly and my great chance to monitor myself falling asleep was foiled by myself falling asleep.)

Not everyone gets to be so cavalier and flippant about their surgeries. I should consider myself lucky, and I do. I can cross another item off my less-idealistic and more-experiential bucket list: I have undergone surgery.

(And, hopefully, chicks dig scars.)

I have been trying to get back to writing lately. I am an atrocious writer without assignment (as evidenced by lackluster performance these last months on LJ) for multiple reasons. I am a perfectionist, and that presents itself with editing-as-I-go and a crippling frustration with writing without knowing where I'm going. It's a What About Bob? baby steps-style process to let go of that as I go, since I know the advice everyone gives me is, "Just write!" But I shall hammer it out.

It's also pulling at me, I think, because I'm graduating soon. Very soon. In a month or so. (I should say, I have been so pre-occupied with what's going on in the present that I actually have not sat down and looked at any of the information I have been given about graduation. I should do that at some point.)

Part of that pull is the inevitable wanderings of my mind into the undetermined future. I've been in contact with an agency about signing me in New York City after our Showcase in the city after Spring Break, but haven't made any definitive decisions there. I auditioned last week for Commonwealth Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors which would be great, but haven't heard from them nor do I have an expectation of when I would or would have. One other piece advice about writing I've heard repeatedly is how good an idea it is to generate your own material. Couple that with my voracious appetite for pop culture and my nagging arrogance telling me I could do that better, I am overwhelmed by half-baked and scarcely-started ideas I develop on-and-off for weeks, nay months. Who knows if I'll ever work up the combination of determination, carelessness and boredom I feel I'll need to finish one of these things...

I promise more substantive updates later, but I saw Watchmen last night and had to reflect on what made it only partially successful.

I think, not having read the graphic novel but having heard much acclaim for it, that the story came off pretty well summarized. I could tell the originals are much deeper and more complex because the adaptation for the film felt rushed even for a 2.5-plus-hour long movie. The characters came off as fairly well developed (I can see why Roger Ebert has been fascinated by the metaphysical implications of Dr. Manhattan - he is certainly a marvelous character and that came across very well - and Jackie Earle Haley's Rorshach is an awesome performance.) The problem, to me, is that Zack Snyder (who also directed 300 to much the same response from me) is a pretty good director but shitty when it comes to storytelling. His special effects are often flawlessly integrated into the real shots (the fight sequences have some shots where the bodies fall so seamlessly and realistically into their environment the effect is startling) that it takes us out when he goes overboard (why the hell use shitty makeup for the actor playing an older Richard Nixon? Or Carla Gugino's aging make-up, which was also distracting? The aging effort was even further muddied by Jeffrey Dean Morgan's character, who had either no or flawless prosthetic make-up to subtly age him while Gugino's character had pounds of prosthetic for the same age span. Why?)

The problem with Snyder's direction as storytelling is that the film never settles. It takes two-thirds of the film to finish exposition, it seems, bouncing from character to character (which in itself is not problematic, I thoroughly enjoyed each character's own backstory sequences) but Snyder's overhanded direction in terms of editing never lets a good moment rest (the song cues were often too obvious and too quick; only "The Times They Are A-Changin'" was fully appropriately executed.) Then, once the exposition feels completed, we're already at the climax. The film appears to have excised whatever second act Watchmen has, jumping from the first to the third, which is unfortunate because we never settle in to the conflict in the world of these unwanted superheroes.

One thing I admire that the film does is that it doesn't choose sides. The Watchmen all represent different philosophical viewpoints on humanity and none of them are lionized and none are demonized. Or, as Dr. Manhattan astutely puts it towards the end: "Without condoning... or condemning... I understand." That seems to be the appropriate standpoint to the story of the Watchmen; look at this story of extremes in reality and find yourself in it, or not.

The problem is that Snyder doesn't serve the story, only the style. The story survives because it's damn good. Snyder takes a great movie and makes it just OK.

I am currently in New York City, at the Hotel Roger Williams on 31st and Madison. I am participating in the 2009 Boston University InCite Arts Festival ("Art Never Backs Down!" - what a grandiose subtitle) and yesterday performed in Pope Joan Off-Broadway. Since we're renting the space, it's not really off-Broadway, but it's still next door to the Altar Boyz and that counts enough for me.

I promise I will write more later, about Butler, about my thesis, and the search for Life after Graduation. That's all coming. Right now, though, I must catch the 6 Local Downtown train and get the hell outta dodge.

I just like that saying.

So I will have to write an entry about the present and the future in terms of academics and then, gulp, professional life.

However, for tonight a quick recap in the goings-on of my health. Specifically, last Tuesday night I fractured my pinky during What the Butler Saw rehearsal. I wish I had a better war story than what actually happened, but I don't: I was taking off my shoe. The pinky bent back at my heel, popped, I felt a sharp pain and that was that. I am in a splint, I had x-rays taken the following morning which later revealed the fracture (at first I was told it probably wasn't; my nurse has had a hell of a bedside manner during this process -- at one point during the 'you may have fractured it' convo she mentioned 'amorphous density', possibly a cyst or - and here's the kicker - "it could be cancer but that's unlikely." Exactly how you want to relieve your patient.)

I have an MRI scheduled for Wednesday, and my physician scheduled me for a second opinion at Newton Wellesley next Tuesday. He said looking at it it will probably need surgery, but I should be fine. The trick will be scheduling it; how long do I go with a splint while rehearsing and performing in Orton's very physical farce and how long would a recovery process hinder either that production or the one I'm directing after Spring Break (you know, my thesis and all.) And how long, if I don't go for surgery immediately, do I stay with the painful finger (not actual pain, but that "hi, I'm still here" ever-present soreness) and downing multiple 800mg ibuprofen tablets daily. Scheduling and endurance will be the bitches of this.

Anyways, the good news is it looks like I'll be fine. The question is when and how long will it take before then.

Public Service Announcement: My Facebook profile has been updated with my four finalists for my first professional Headshot. Please comment and help me choose!

Seems like I've made it this far.

I am very excited for what parts of 22 I know will be happening (What the Butler Saw, 100, Graduation and, more abstractly, that laughingly-termed "real life" thing) and I'm very excited to start pulling the rest of my life up by the bootstraps.

I think it's going to be a very good year. Here's hoping. :)

Lisa's coming home from Florence tonight (if her flight isn't further delayed.) I don't really have much to write here about her trip (as I just realized that I haven't really mentioned my family much here... :-/) but I have to share this photo she posted to her blog (florencegirls.blogspot.com/) about the trip - this is Lisa skydiving over the Alps in Switzerland.

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3jK8DTnApFI/SUBIF_GovhI/AAAAAAAAADI/xrr-sbx80eM/s1600-h/n601732378_1259055_7140.jpg

I can't believe she did that. I want to now.

I'm so close to finishing this semester! To help celebrate, let's play a game. Take a stab at this list and tell me what you think:

1. The love of my life:
2. Where you and I met:
3. Take a stab at my middle name:
4. How long you've known me:
5. The last time that we saw each other:
6. Would I ever go sky diving?
7. Your first impression of me upon meeting me/seeing me:
8. Am I funny?
9. My favorite type of music:
10. Can I sing?
11. The best feature about me:
12. What do I want to do more than anything?
13. What is one thing that you think I should do?
14. Do I have any special talents? If so, what are they?
15. Would you call me preppy, average, sporty, punk, hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby, or something else?
16. Have you ever hugged me?
17. My favorite food:
18. Have you ever had a crush on me?
19. If there was one good nickname for me, it would be:
20. Your favorite memory of me:
21. If you and I were stranded on a desert island, I would bring:
22. Do I believe in God?
23. Who is my best friend?
24. Will you repost this so I can fill this out for you?

There is more music than you've ever heard.

There will always be more music than you've ever heard.

Just because you've never heard anything like it, doesn't mean you shouldn't hear it or want to hear it.

When you stop hearing new music, what else is there to do?

What music will you hear? What will you hear when you run out of music?

---

There is always more life to live. There will always be more life to live. When you stop living your life, whose life will you live?

What will you do when you stop living your life?

One thing, before I write some sort of all-encompassing political wrap-up later. This thought occurred to me watching Obama's speech tonight and I had to share.

I have never before, at any point in my life, felt such a tangible connection to our American history. I have understood, intellectually, John F. Kennedy... Bobby Kennedy... Martin Luther King... the political and social heroes of the '60s who we learned about in schools. I know who they were and what they stood for, and I knew their place in the line of American history. I have never, ever, however, felt a connection to that line. John Lewis, a Democratic Congressman from Atlanta who marched in Selma and spoke at the March on Washington, got me when he said that MLK and the Kennedys were watching us wherever they are. And it hit me. I have felt disconnected from the days of those American heroes. I feel like the '70s and '80s shifted away from their world and they fell into the pages of history. Today, we reached back in time and I felt, for the first time in my life, a personal connection to JFK, RFK and MLK. I understand so much more about who they were, what they fought for and how they fit into the American story intrinsically than I ever have. Because today, the American people and myself have reached back in time and extended a hand to their heroism. We have re-connected to a chapter in American history that I feel was lost and dormant.

Change has come to America. May we be steadfast, vigilant, and hopeful. May we honor our pledge tonight. May we earn the world we deserve. May we change the world we live in.

Yes We Have.