Thursday, February 9, 2012

Everyone is terrible.


I wanted to enter this as a "worst date" story contest, but my story is almost double the 500 word entry limit. So I'm blogging it, yo...

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I'm not sure if you can call this a worst date story, because it involves being stood up for dates. Three weeks in a row. By three different men.

Maybe it's being in New York or maybe it's being a performer, but I tend to meet a lot of people on a daily basis. I also take advantage of being single and will give my information to men that I find attractive and that I would like to get to know better. But from the time that we exchange information, set the date to get together, and the day the date rolls around, something is going terribly wrong. Let me tell you about this month alone and why I am swearing off dating for a while.

It started with this cute guy that I would make eyes at and have cute small talk with at one of my favorite local eateries. I think he told me within 2 minutes of me first walking into their establishment that he just "had to" tell me that I was beautiful. A little hokey, but I'll take it. A couple weeks later he finally musters up the courage to talk to me and says that he just wanted to take me out to dinner. Finally! No more coffee dates for this gal! I give him my number and we set a lunch date.  I'm super psyched about going on a real date with a guy that I am genuinely interested in that seems genuinely interested in me. Thursday rolls around and I send a friendly text to make sure we are still meeting up. He replies that his grandmother died and that he can't make it, but maybe a few days later would be better... A few days? After your grandmother died? It seemed a bit odd to me, but I told him that I was sorry for his loss and that we could move it to Thursday...

Thursday rolls around -- nothing. Not even a fake "I'm sick" text.

So, another bites the dust. No matter. It's New York. I'll meet someone new soon.

And as a matter of fact, within a couple of days I do! This time I'm at my place of work and this sweet guy asks to see me after I get off of work for a drink.  I take him up on the offer and go with him and his friend and have a nice time chatting and just hanging out in the city with someone that also seems genuinely interested in me. Numbers are exchanged and the day of Thursday is decided upon as when we will meet.

Thursday rolls around, again.  I receive a text message describing how sorry he is but that he has just come down with a horrible case of bronchitis and can't see me that night. No free dinner for this lady. Again.

I brush it off. Don't take it personally, my friends tell me. Those guys have their own issues to work out. But what about me? What about the promised dinner and sibling count-downs and hometown discussions I was looking forward to? I like going on dates. I'm pretty cute and damn charming if I'm given an proper chance.

But it's just another guy, and it's New York City. I'm bound to meet someone new soon.

And as luck would have it, I do. Again.  This time it's after work and I did something out of the ordinary for me - went out by myself for a drink.  I didn't need someone to ask me out for a frothy alcoholic beverage. I'm a 21st century woman. I can pay for my own drink.  But, of course, there is an extremely handsome man that strikes up a conversation with me. He's cute, funny, employed.  All the basic essentials for a seemingly good man.  We exchange numbers. He tells me that he must see me again soon and that he wants to take me out to dinner.

Thursday is decided upon...

Realizing the pattern developing from the two previous weeks, I decided to take my friend up on a ticket to the opera... Just in case. Thursday rolls around... I hear nothing and I'm starting to worry. This guy was really cute and I really want to go on a date with him. I send him a text "just checking in to see if we are still on for tonight :)" Happy face and all.  I get back a long text message,

"I'm so sorry but my grandfather is in the hospital in the bronx and I have to go up and visit him. Sorry. Maybe we can push back our thing for a few days?"

Really. Three times in a row. On a Thursday. And did he and first guy get together and talk about ways to blow girls off on the day of their dates? Do they have the same grandparents that are always dying or is there just a rotating position of dying or dead grandparent that they hire people out for?

Again, I brush it off. I am glad I made back up plans seeing as the opera was truly amazing, but it still makes me sad that I had to. Why can't today's man get it together and just stick to simple plan of dinner on Thursday with a nice girl?

If nothing else, I will remind myself again that I am in New York City and I am bound to meet someone new. But a new rule to myself, no more Thursday dates and no more losers.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The Curse of the Skort.

Is it bad that when I'm asked about unfortunate events the first thing that comes to mind is dating?

Perhaps this is a worn out topic, but those over-produced and over-hyped romantic comedies are not kidding when they joke about New York City being the hardest city to find love. The show Portlandia even made a parody rom-com where the lead character is looking for "Mr. Write" in New York City. Catch is, she is married a great guy already.

If only my life were that simple!  I seem to meet people every single day that seem like they have potential to not be completely horrible life partners. But the catch with me is that I am too eager to jump to this conclusion and maybe give too many men the shadow of the doubt of not being completely horrible people. This leads me to my next rant that stems from my job.

Newsflash to all male diners at my place of work, just because we are being paid to serve you does not mean that we, the waitressing staff, is a low-end prostitute. I've had the most awkward yet entertaining advances while working.  Maybe it's the sexy skort - yes, skort. As in, this lovely item of clothing.


Maybe it the overwhelming sense of sadness and fatigue that is emanating from our eyes? Either way, various men of the Upper West Side have found themselves fancying me in my fancy skort.  

It always happens when I am not sending any signals and would NEVER be interested in the gentleman in question. I've had a man who give me his business card and inform that if I ever wanted to grab lunch to call him. His line of work? "International Bridge Player"... What are you really doing with your life, sir, and why do you have a business card that states this as your lame-ass job?

 I also had a table of two men that were very demanding trip me up at the last moment. They had been finished with their food and asked for their check. I total it up, bring it over to them, and as I drop it off, the older of the two asks me,

"Can you get me an extra napkin?"

"Sure thing."

(I walk over and grab a napkin and bring it back)

"Here you are."

"And you have an extra pen?"

"Uh, sure. Hold on."

(I walk over and grab a pen and bring it back)

"Here you are."

(Man scribbles furiously as I turn to walk away)

"And here is my number. If you ever want to go out sometime, give me a call."

Say WHAT?! No no no no. No. 

Both of these men in question were much too old for me. I have the rule of trying, emphasis on "trying," to stay within a decade of my age when I'm dating men that are older than me. These guys? Way too old for me. Late-late forties to fifties. And Father Time had definitely not taken to them well where their hair was concerned. What makes it worse is after they give me their phone numbers, they ask if I am just starting college in New York and THEN look disappointed after I tell them I have graduated already. If they only knew that I took an extra long time in school when I added my dual-degree... I'm sure their mildly pedophilic fantasies would be completely deflated. Maybe I should start telling them that.

In spite of attempting to find love in the toughest city to do anything in, I still don't see myself as trying to find love at all. I prefer to think as being open to it if the time is right. And the person is overwhelmingly attractive. That definitely helps. Until then, I will continue in my attempts to ward off advances from old men buying overpriced pastries.






Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Youtuuuuube

So I did it. I decided to post a video of me singing on Youtube.

I'm not sure how I feel about it.

1. I sort of gave myself a crash course in how to use iMovie HD because I had never, EVER, used it before.
2. The recording isn't that high of quality. My dearest friend did it for me, but even she told me that she sort of messed up the settings and there is a freaking TRUCK THAT DRIVES BY in the middle of the song... Oh jesus maybe this was a bad idea.
3. I don't like having my voice open to the the endless peanut gallery that is Youtube commenters.

Reason #3 is really the biggest one I am afraid of. Like OMG afraid. I don't want to hear people tell me my Italian is lazy and that they can hear my placement change on the second phrase, or that my interpretation is wrong, or that I'm too young to be singing that aria, but meh.

The only thing that is true about opinions is that everyone has one.

And I've heard and seen so many Youtube singers that I know that I am just added to the oversaturatedness of it all, so no one is really going to hear it anyway.

It was sort of funny to Youtube myself and have other stuff come up too. A few videos from my Prelude to Performance "La Rondine" role are posted by the Prelude staff. I watched one and since my role is minor, I just kept thinking, "Stop moving your stupid head! That feather is so distracting while Magda is singing!" Evidence here -> http://youtu.be/5ScaCJPqk7M

But there are a few others posted too, and I'm not completely angry with myself at the quality of the sound or how I look onstage. At least during the performance.  During the scenes concert when I am wearing heals onstage, I make this huge cross and I look like an football player with a midget in a tuxedo.
Evidence here at around 1:04 http://youtu.be/1Yj5A4MEIL8
My singing wasn't very good that night either. But again, meh.

I have a lot on my mind tonight, as usual.  But before I get too carried away and start rambling, I am going to go ahead and post that damn video that I wrote this entire entry about.
Yes, they call me Mimi - http://youtu.be/IxMfCoYGiVg

I feel that I am at the crossroads that almost everyone gets to.  I am looking for better jobs because the one I have right now is enough to pay the rent, but that's about it. I came across a job that was full-time as a receptionist for this great Broadway website in New York, and I love me some theater.  I was going to apply for it until I read the detail "If you have an active auditioning scheduling, do not bother applying."

Do not bother applying? I can even pretend that I would be able to work this job and pursue my career as a singer?

Then it hits me that this is essentially how all full-time jobs are going to be.  What job, other than a restaurant, will let you take off with less than a day's notice for an audition? ... Nothing other than possibly slightly illegal professional dungeons, and even then I'm sure they have some sort of policy against calling out last minute. But I do want health insurance and I want to be able to start saving for retirement and start investing in something other than the Starbucks tip jar.  What is a young singer to do?

I feel like I'm talented enough, but I don't have the time or the money right now to really invest in myself to completely focus on just my music. I really just can't. I want to. But can't. Which is extremely frustrating. I am trying to do better with the time I do have. I can make time to practice more and study on my own, I just wish I could find a young artist program or apprenticeship somewhere - I don't even care where - so I could just work on roles and arias and just perform all the time. That would be awesome.

Ok. I need to sleep and do more soul searching on the 'morrow. Night loves.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Don't be that person, person.

Have you ever had those moments where you wish you could say to someone, "Please, please... don't be that person."

I had very many moments tonight at work where I wish I could have said that to various tables.  What made it worse is that people were up my ass from the moment I stepped on the floor to start working.

I'm not sure what it is about people in New York, but they are very VERY needy when it comes to drinking their fucking coffee. It's ridiculous. It started with this female french couple that came in and from the start, they made me want to punch them in the face. I bring them over water, and they ask for tea and say that they don't want the water, at all. Oh, of course! 22,000 children are dying all over the world today because they lack clean drinking water, but sure. I'll dump yours in this bucket over here because you just don't want it. No bigs. I'll be right back with your tea!

Then, I bring them coffee, and they don't like the size of the fucking cup. Seriously? Are you going to be the that person? She asked me if it was even real coffee.  Again... Seriously? What the fuck do you think it is? Because they were foreign, I said to her the phrase that I am sure she would understand.

"I don't understand what you're saying."

She insisted that the brown hot liquid goodness I had given her in her not-appropriately sized cup was not real coffee and instant coffee.

"This is American coffee, not real coffee."

What? You crazy fucking bitch. Don't be that person. Shut your dumb face and drink your coffee like an adult. It's coffee. That's what it is. It isn't instant coffee, it isn't water with brown food coloring warmed up in a microwave --- just stop. Please.

Ok. My rant is over. This other blog post made me laugh, and it where I got this image... :)

http://blogs.sfweekly.com/foodie/2011/09/nine_reasons_your_barista_hate.php

Saturday, January 21, 2012

2012?

I haven't written in such a long time it feels almost comical to update my blog, but that's why I have one. To update it.

Quick Update:
I graduated school. Finally.
I moved to New York.
I'm crazy poor and insanely single. But in a hot way.

I moved to New York City to pursue my idealistic dream of becoming a successful opera singer. I quickly found myself in an AMAZING summer program after being too poor to stay in the initial one that I was in. Let's just say that was probably in the top ten most uncomfortable situations I've ever been in so far. Either way, it worked out for the best. But after the amazing summer program, I needed a job. So I started working at a theater, and when that job ended I became *drumroll* a waitress!

...

I was SO MAD at myself when I initially started this job. I had moved to this city so I could be a singer, not a waitress. But times is hard and I have the show 2 Broke Girls to cheer me up with similar poor life decision making skills. But it's not even poor life decision making skills, it's just life. I needed a job and I got a job and I support myself. Bam. Everyone else can suck it because at least I can rely on my own income to get what I need... most of the time.

I thought about maybe online dating just so I could get free dinner, but that just seemed a little cruel. Even though there is a blog out there where I think that is what this girl does and she is really successful at it. I would just wonder, after the free meal, do you have to give them a free blow job?

I digress. Anyway, it's nice to be back writing, cyberworld! Maybe you are reading me, maybe not. Either way, I will sing my songs and write my words to you.