On Being Here

I feel compelled to start this post the way I seem start all of my posts - with a disclaimer that I haven't blogged in awhile. Sometimes my hiatuses are caused by apathy or lack of inspiration or simple laziness, but this hiatus is the result of so much change, so many new experiences, and so many shifts if my perspective that writing it down has seemed incredibly daunting. As a result, the only way that I could even convince myself to begin was to let go of the need to catch everyone up - the final Seattle days, the cross-country road trip, beginning a new life in a new place that always seemed so out of reach and then, without even realizing it, having routines and knowing people and truly living here - and be okay with just telling you how it is now. 

A view from the road.

It's really, really great.

I will readily admit that as an adult I have struggled with the faith I was raised with and what it means to me. I have gone from questioning, to anger, to flat out atheism, to maybe not quite atheism, to being very convinced in the possibility of reincarnation. It has been quite the work in progress. But we are figuring it out, me and whoever-is-up-there. However, being in this place, at this time in my life, with Ricky, has almost been enough to persuade me forever that someone somewhere has been planning this for me all along. 

With the exception of not being around my family and friends, everything in New York is better than it was in Seattle. Ricky is a bartender at Pegu Club, a world famous Soho bar, and I am a cocktail waitress there, putting the skills I learned cocktailing at Snoqualmie Casino to good use. After years of having opposite schedules and only seeing each other once or twice a week, even while living together, this set up has been perfection. I know the ins and outs of his professional life better than I ever could as just a bar patron, I only have to work three or four days a week to be able financially secure, I have my days free to attend dance classes and auditions, and I get to see Ricky every day. 

Other things that are better - our Washington Heights apartment. It is huge. It has hardwood floors and a dishwasher and huge windows that overlook a small park. I'm pretty sure the deli on the corner in a drug front, but we're two seconds from the entrance to the C train so if you just scamper from between our front door and the subway and not look around or go anywhere else within a mile radius, it's basically like we live in midtown. 

View from our kitchen window, our fire-escape balcony. Perfect for sipping morning coffee. 

And the dancing. Oh, the dancing. I haven't had the chance to see any big shows yet, but just taking class here has been, surprisingly, almost relieving. I had built up New York in my head so much that I just assumed that everyone here is amazing. And that's not true. People here dance like they do everywhere. There have been classes I've taken where I have been the most skilled dancer. And that feels so good. To know that I'm not foolish for being here, or out of my depth, is priceless. My goals feel within my grasp. And that is the best feeling. 

I can't even wrap my head around the fact that less than five months ago I was working 40 yours a week at a job that I hated, running myself ragged trying to do theater on top of it, not making nearly enough money, and never seeing Ricky. And with very little preparation, we picked up and left everything we knew and came here. And now we're here, meeting important and fascinating people, financially secure, living in a beautiful place, and working successfully towards dream careers. The funny thing is, had we moved here earlier, we wouldn't have been able to handle it, and if we had waited longer it very well could've been too late.  

I honestly think someone up there is looking out for me. And their timing is perfect. 

So here's to living life. Here's to pursuing dreams. Here's to being afraid and being fearless. Here's to being here. 

The Top Ten People I Hate Most in the World

1. Jo Jeffery – I’ve known Jo since high school, and she’s been friends with Ricky since, like, first grade so she’s one of those people who is obviously never going to be out of my life. She’s half Puerto Rican and I’m half Spanish-mutt, so somehow we look vaguely enough alike that people occasionally think we’re related. Except that she’s smaller, and her face is prettier, and she tans way better than me. She has lupus, so she never has to work out and is naturally a size zero. Also, because of the Puerto Rican thing she still manages to have a butt and boobs bigger than mine, so it’s not like a sickly lupus size zero, it’s a sexy size zero. It’s the worst (I guess having lupus probably sucks, but still). Additionally, she’s charming and does nice things that I would never even think of, like texting Ricky to remind him of my half birthday (I never in my life celebrated my half birthday). Also, she’s good at a lot of things I’m not good at, for example, using tools for their intended purposes and hanging out with straight men.

2. Ricky –  Having a boyfriend like Ricky makes it really hard for me to relate to other girls and I think it’s starting to negatively impact my female friendships. He cooks for me on a regular basis. He almost always puts the toilet seat down. He’s never cheated on me. He takes me out to dinner all the time and I never have to pay. He’s a stand-up guy who loves his mom and is nice to his sister. He will cuddle for as long as I want to. I have literally nothing to gossip about. Thanks for nothing Ricky.

3. Ryan Bohannon – Ryan Bohannon is an enabler and I want everyone to know it. In his presence I have engaged in a number of disgusting activities that I would never have done on my own and I’m pretty sure it’s all his fault. We have used Taco Time burritos to sign our names on important documents. We have used our own sweat to draw pictures on the floor, reaching into our clothes to gain access to the best under arm and/or under boob sweat pockets. We have seriously discussed sitting my bathtub with water in our mouths trying to see who can make the other person laugh first and therefore spray mouth water everywhere as a legitimate and appropriate way to spend a Friday night. If someone doesn’t intervene, pretty soon we’re just going to be naked and homeless, laughing maniacally to ourselves as we make poop cupcakes. Ryan Bohannon, I hope you die.*

4. The Pope – As many of you know, one of my favorite pastimes is being indignant about political and social issues. If I can be indignant and self-righteous at the same time, so much the better. That is why I freaking loved Pope Benedict XVI. I apologize if I’m offending any Catholics, but that guy was actually the worst.  He went to South Africa in 2005 and announced that condoms “aggravate the problem of AIDS”, he really hates gay people, and he directly facilitated the biggest pedophile cover-up ever in the history of ever. I mean, if those things don’t make your blood boil, then you’re a soulless monster. With Pope Benny, I could basically be outraged 24/7 if I wanted to. You know what Pope Francis has done so far? Refused to live in the Apostolic Palace in favor of more modest accommodations, decided that atheists can get into heaven after all (thanks!), and joined Twitter. C’mon Francis. You know I can’t work with that.

5. My Dad – For my entire life my dad has made a ridiculous effort to be into all of my interests and hobbies. When I was little he coached my indoor soccer team. When it became clear that sports were not my forte, he attended every ballet recital and band concert. He has even auditioned for and participated in a number of musical theater productions so that we could do activities together despite not being able to carry a tune in a bucket. My dad has PhD in aerospace engineering and was so excited that I was taking physics in college that he immediately went to the library and got a bunch of physics texts books and made me my very own study guide. It was adorable. And thanks to him I have grown up into a very well-adjusted adult woman with no Daddy-issues. Everyone knows the most successful actresses are loaded with Daddy-issues. Congrats on ruining my career, Dad.

6.  My (ex)Boss – Today is my last day at work, so Judy isn’t going to be my boss anymore and that is just the worst. Judy wears bedazzled jeans and very fancy flip flops to work. She always has the best nails. In February she took a week off to go to Cabo, got drunk in the airport and spent the entire week texting my team pictures of a stuffed monkey. When my company decided that I was a super duper temp and wanted to hire me on permanently, Judy forgot about the five different conference rooms our building has and pulled me into a supply closet to offer me the job. She is chill and relaxed, but also knows how to get the job done. She spends her days kicking ass and taking names while simultaneously rocking some wicked hair and listening to AC/DC. Judy has raised the bar so high on my expectations for bosses that I’m sure to only be disappointed in the future. Thanks a lot, Judy.

7. Krista Gibbons – Krista Gibbons is literally the most adorable person in the whole world and there is nothing anyone can do about it. She’s super nice and sweet and funny and a little bit ditzy, but ditzy because she chooses to forget everything bad about the world and only focuses on sunshine and rainbows instead of being ditzy from any true form of stupidity. Once she admitted that she didn’t know what the KKK was, and when reminded about it she confessed that she thought it was an imaginary thing and could never remember if white people were in the KKK or black people. Had anyone else in the world announced this I would’ve been horrified, but with Krista we just laughed and laughed and patted her on the head. That’s how sweet she is. Oh, and also she’s a model. I KNOW.

8. My Sister, Maggie Mosbarger – Maggie is seven years younger and is completely disrespecting our birth order. As the oldest child, it is assumed that I will take on the role of “cool, older, big sister” but Maggie has been dominating me in the cool-department since she was in 6^th grade. In middle school she was her school’s mascot. She plays the guitar, piano, ukulele, and tuba. She raps. She is really good at popping and locking. Her real-life run looks like a chicken on meth and she totally owns it. I can’t compete with that.

9. Chris Brown – I legitimately hate Chris Brown.

10.   My mom – My mom is probably the worst out of everyone. When I was three she plopped me down in front of “Singing in the Rain” and I never looked back. Together we watched everything that Gene Kelly ever made before moving on to geniuses like Michael Kidd and Jerome Robbins. That same year she put me in ballet lessons without my consent. I mean, technically she claims she asked me if I wanted to take ballet, but c’mon. I was three. I didn’t even know what ballet really was. Through her encouragement I was groomed to be obsessed with musical theater and have never wanted to do anything else with my time – thus dooming me to a life of disappointment and poverty. I’m pretty smart. I could’ve probably been a mildly successful lawyer or doctor or something. I could’ve made money, had my own insurance plan and saved for retirement. But no, I’m a grown woman who spends her days perfecting her Jazz Hands. I hope you’re happy Mom.

*Please don’t actually die.