The lights are on. Hip. Other hip. Sway with the left. Arch the back. Draw the right arm over their head. Pull the object of desire (a finished, thumb print pocked cup) closer with the tips of the fingers teasing the rim of the glass that sits on the table. Smile when they catch my eye.
I am as bright and bubbly as their amber colored beer.
I prance, I swish, I brush my butt on his back. Hit the right bosom across his head.
"Whoops. Sorry!" (Not really.)
Whisper secrets into their ears, a sultry: "What can I get for you?" Then, wait. Hover right by their cheek or squat right down to the floor and look up at them from their knees. Implore them with a smile and sometimes a wink: "Is that all?"
Swish back up the aisle. Butt brush again. Hip bounces off their shoulders. All of their heads are right at eye level with my chest.
I pile my tray with drinks, steaming with perspiration, dripping sweat down the sides of the glass. Each drink holding a promise I made to them: "I can get that, no problem."
Back out to the tight rope walk, this time holding 15 pounds of beverages above their heads. A small Clink! as the glasses kiss each other as I pass through the sea of chairs and human heads, looking for a place to set down the cold cups.
They watch me as I pass, eyes follow my movements, some faces eagerly checking my hands for an order they made.
The lights go down. It is dark. Candle light is the only way to see, except for the glow of the stage lights that cast shadows on their eye sockets, making it hard to follow their gaze. I keep my gaze on the slippery, wet glasses as I hand out each drink to the darkened faces.
I bite my lip, furrow my brow, my wrist aches from holding the tray, my hand shakes from the strain of being quiet. I must not disturb the show or the trance the music or poetry can hold on the crowd. I must become a ghost, a ninja, quietly passing by once the show begins, only to return in full splendor once the entertainment ends. In the dark I don't have to smile, saving my energy for the lights to come on again.
In the dark, I diminish, the show holds their attention and I can relax; rubbing my sore back and massaging my arms in preparation for the next round of orders and flirts.
Showing posts with label Alcohol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alcohol. Show all posts
Friday, May 31, 2013
Sunday, May 19, 2013
The Musician
Sitting at a bar with my sister, I survey the room.
Nope. Nope. Uhhhhh... nope.
I sip at my bourbon and twist my hair between my fingers. I fiddle with the tank top I'm wearing and try not to think about the self doubt that keeps creeping into my subconscious.
Does my hair look okay? Do I look like I have a gut? Am I easy looking?
I think about all the times I've felt forgotten, and try to ignore those thoughts. What the hell do those thoughts have to do with the eyes of the guys on the bar looking at me now? I feigned disinterest and felt the big smile on my face protect me like a blanket.
I'm here to meet people.
The jazz band strikes up again. The bar fills with swing music. My sister gets up to dance. She loves to dance. I smile. I love to smile.
The singer announces a break for the group. My sister winks at me. "Go talk to them, Natty." She says. I felt the bourbon filling my head and the self doubt begins to be muffled behind my smile. I think, as I flounce across the room toward the musicians: IDontKnowWhatI'llSayButI'mGonnaFlirtHard.
"Great Set." I begin, locking a pair of blue eyes in the face. I smile. A waiter brings over a steaming plate of food. "I'll let you eat." I say, and turn on my heel to flounce back to my spot.
"Let's get out of here." I say, once back, checking my phone. It's getting late, and I have to be up at 8am to prepare for a callback. My sister groans. She wants to dance. I smile.
We walk toward to exit. The band has started up again. The musician I made eyes with is eyeing me as I walk out. We locked eyes all the way across the bar. On the street I turned around and saw through the window that he was still looking. He waved. I blushed.
My sister and I walked a block. "I don't know what to do, Cait. Was he cute? Should I do something?"
"YES." She demands. She taps her foot, and the orange glow of the street lamp gives her a halo.
"Whuddoaydo?" I ask. I bite my lip. I don't have to smile with my sister. She knows.
"Leave your number in the tip jar!" She suggests, hands on her hips, fingers tapping.
I love her so much I could hug her forever and ever.
I pull out my business card. "Would this work? You think?" I ask. I look at my smile printed on the small piece of paper in my hand. "You gotta pen?"
I walk back into the bar. The hot air of the joint hits my face. The band's playing still. I look at my musician briefly and then toss in my business card. I leave quickly.
Outside, I exhale the bar's air from my lungs. "I did it, Cait!" I make a getaway as I squeal.
"You think he'll call me?" I ask the night sky.
"Maybe." My sister responds. "If he doesn't, you're no worse off than before."
I think of the men who have asked me out and my "No, thank you's" and not so direct "Uh, not now's" and feel guilty. I think of an idea I read in a book L Is For Lion By Annie Lanzillotto who got it from Soren Kierkegaard: The opposite of freedom isn't slavery: it's guilt. Being trapped in a jail of my own beliefs. Stunning. I listen to my sister's heel tapping the rhythm of our walk home. I try to bat away the self doubt that continues to nibble at my cuticles and make my fingers bleed in protest.
I put my number in the jar. I did that.
"Let's walk a bit." My sister suggests. I agree. It's late, but those dancing heels of my sister need a place to click, and I felt like smiling in the quiet dark, thinking about the musician playing his tunes with his eyes on me.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Sandy
The winds are whipping outside like I've never heard them before. The 80 year old trees that line our block are swaying like grass in the wind as the 6 of us: my roommates, friends, sister and I watch for the trees and the close proximity the branches have to our windows.
It was laughable when the storm first started. Now since the sun has set the night has gotten creepier as photos from flooded streets, fallen trees and deaths begin to crop up on the Facebook newsfeed. The group and I have been watching TV, playing games and dancing to music to make the time go by, but the storm provides the most amount of entertainment.
Our lights are flickering, the wind sounds like a truck engine, a tree collapsed across the street, and the empty stillness of a usually busy sidewalk is eerie. Halloween can go suck an egg, this storm trumps the scary contest this year.
Still, in the bands of wind and rain, there is a simpleness to life here in the apartment that I haven't found in a while. I did Yoga with the girls of the house, flowing through a sun salutation and working up a sweat in our living room. The boys are playing chess, we watched about 3 hours of Avatar, and we've all played a game of Monopoly. I find that the uneasiness of being cooped up all day has forced me to finally turn to projects I have otherwise put off, like editing movies I've filmed. Oh, and drinking sangria and Hot-Totties has helped as well. My sister is making cookies and we'll all rally around another game of Monopoly later, I suspect.
I worry about the flooding areas of the city. I hope those people are doing alright. Here in Queens the odds of a flood is pretty low as we're on much higher ground than a lot of the rest of the city. I also keep checking the status of the mass transit system as well: no nothing. If you need to get somewhere: don't go. Although, my sister's friend chanced that theory when he took the 20 minute walk from Astoria to get to Sunnyside this afternoon. The guy's about 100 pounds, it amazes me that he wasn't blown away! But, it's nice having 6 of us here to keep each other company. Safety in numbers, no?
It was laughable when the storm first started. Now since the sun has set the night has gotten creepier as photos from flooded streets, fallen trees and deaths begin to crop up on the Facebook newsfeed. The group and I have been watching TV, playing games and dancing to music to make the time go by, but the storm provides the most amount of entertainment.
Our lights are flickering, the wind sounds like a truck engine, a tree collapsed across the street, and the empty stillness of a usually busy sidewalk is eerie. Halloween can go suck an egg, this storm trumps the scary contest this year.
Still, in the bands of wind and rain, there is a simpleness to life here in the apartment that I haven't found in a while. I did Yoga with the girls of the house, flowing through a sun salutation and working up a sweat in our living room. The boys are playing chess, we watched about 3 hours of Avatar, and we've all played a game of Monopoly. I find that the uneasiness of being cooped up all day has forced me to finally turn to projects I have otherwise put off, like editing movies I've filmed. Oh, and drinking sangria and Hot-Totties has helped as well. My sister is making cookies and we'll all rally around another game of Monopoly later, I suspect.
I worry about the flooding areas of the city. I hope those people are doing alright. Here in Queens the odds of a flood is pretty low as we're on much higher ground than a lot of the rest of the city. I also keep checking the status of the mass transit system as well: no nothing. If you need to get somewhere: don't go. Although, my sister's friend chanced that theory when he took the 20 minute walk from Astoria to get to Sunnyside this afternoon. The guy's about 100 pounds, it amazes me that he wasn't blown away! But, it's nice having 6 of us here to keep each other company. Safety in numbers, no?
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Girl Walks In To A Bar...
She's looking to learn something, maybe. Or, she's bored. Or, she's heard great things about this bar and figured she would try it out. She sits down at a stool and looks at the menu written in chalk on the board. That beer looks good, that scotch looks yummy, etc, etc.
A Second girl walks in to the same bar. This girl looks very similar to the first. She's a brunette, pretty, with big brown eyes, just like the first Girl. She too decided for whatever reason to come to this bar and see what the hype was all about. She walks over to the stools and stops. Wait a minute. I know that girl. The 2nd brunette says to herself as she watches the first brunette go over the menu written in chalk on the wall.
Suddenly, an evening that was supposed to be a no-brainer, became a super-brainer.
The Second Girl sits as far away from the First Girl as possible so as to avoid being seen. She picks up a food menu that is sitting on the old wooden dinged up bar top and pretends to be engrossed with the appetizers, but is actually stealing glances at the 1st girl who has just ordered a bourbon (Girl #2's favorite bourbon, as a matter of fact). Now, why should Girl #2 be so thrown off by the first brunette who came in and sat down? What is the reason to send this otherwise ordinary night into a frenzied anxiety attack?
Girl #2 knows Girl #1, but they've never met. It's just that Girl #2 has heard a lot of stories about Girl #1and the second brunette is pretty sure that the first brunette probably has heard of her as well. Tricky? But wait! There's more! These two girls know each other because they have slept with the same manipulative bastard of a guy!! Uh oh. Hold on a minute, though. There's got to be more to the story, right? Oy, yes. Girl #1 dated the guy for years. They broke up, and the guy went and told Girl #2 that he was oh so heart broken and that he could never get back with Girl #1 again, and wouldn't Girl #2 take pity on him and fall into his bed with him and they can live happily ever after? Girl #2 stupidly obliged the offer.
Once Girl #2 spent weeks on the phone with this woman-eating asshole trying to get the guy from dramatically deleting all photos of his previous relationship, and talking him down from acting like a crazy person, the guy suddenly disappeared. Only to resurface again and state that he was back together with Girl #1, but beseeched Girl #2 to please keep her mouth shut about the fact that he had slept with her a number of times because he didn't want Girl #1 to know the full extent of what had happened.
Girl #2 was angry! Actually: beyond angry! She was horribly depressed! She felt used. She felt low and dirty and unworthy. It was a rough summer. She promised herself she would never speak to that guy again and stuck to that promise even after he came crawling back on his knees and begged. Nope. Fuck off.
But, here the two were. Girl #2 didn't know what to do. To what extent did Girl #1 know of the 2nd brunette? What was the etiquette of broaching the subject? Should Girl #2 just ignore Girl #1 and pretend she didn't see her? Or, should she say something?
Girl #2 inched closer to Girl #1. They both really did have a lot in common. Girl #2 felt embarrassed by how much they had in common. Seems that guy liked a certain type, that's for sure...
"Um. Hi. Do you know me?" Girl #2 asked.
"Oh my god. Yes." Girl #1 responded, her eyes getting wide.
The 1st Girl sat holding her bourbon looking agog. The 2nd Girl stood behind the bar stool looking awkward and wishing she was holding a bourbon. Nothing more was said. The two stood and looked at each other for a while, as if what someone seeing a mythical creature they had only heard in legends would look like if that creature suddenly showed up at the bar you decided to drink at that night.
The two girls were still looking at each other at the bar as the scene fades out. There were no more words exchanged... yet. But, somewhere the Guy just woke up in a cold sweat as the nightmare he just dreamt unfolded into a reality.
Oh, Shit. They've met each other...
A Second girl walks in to the same bar. This girl looks very similar to the first. She's a brunette, pretty, with big brown eyes, just like the first Girl. She too decided for whatever reason to come to this bar and see what the hype was all about. She walks over to the stools and stops. Wait a minute. I know that girl. The 2nd brunette says to herself as she watches the first brunette go over the menu written in chalk on the wall.
Suddenly, an evening that was supposed to be a no-brainer, became a super-brainer.
The Second Girl sits as far away from the First Girl as possible so as to avoid being seen. She picks up a food menu that is sitting on the old wooden dinged up bar top and pretends to be engrossed with the appetizers, but is actually stealing glances at the 1st girl who has just ordered a bourbon (Girl #2's favorite bourbon, as a matter of fact). Now, why should Girl #2 be so thrown off by the first brunette who came in and sat down? What is the reason to send this otherwise ordinary night into a frenzied anxiety attack?
Girl #2 knows Girl #1, but they've never met. It's just that Girl #2 has heard a lot of stories about Girl #1and the second brunette is pretty sure that the first brunette probably has heard of her as well. Tricky? But wait! There's more! These two girls know each other because they have slept with the same manipulative bastard of a guy!! Uh oh. Hold on a minute, though. There's got to be more to the story, right? Oy, yes. Girl #1 dated the guy for years. They broke up, and the guy went and told Girl #2 that he was oh so heart broken and that he could never get back with Girl #1 again, and wouldn't Girl #2 take pity on him and fall into his bed with him and they can live happily ever after? Girl #2 stupidly obliged the offer.
Once Girl #2 spent weeks on the phone with this woman-eating asshole trying to get the guy from dramatically deleting all photos of his previous relationship, and talking him down from acting like a crazy person, the guy suddenly disappeared. Only to resurface again and state that he was back together with Girl #1, but beseeched Girl #2 to please keep her mouth shut about the fact that he had slept with her a number of times because he didn't want Girl #1 to know the full extent of what had happened.
Girl #2 was angry! Actually: beyond angry! She was horribly depressed! She felt used. She felt low and dirty and unworthy. It was a rough summer. She promised herself she would never speak to that guy again and stuck to that promise even after he came crawling back on his knees and begged. Nope. Fuck off.
But, here the two were. Girl #2 didn't know what to do. To what extent did Girl #1 know of the 2nd brunette? What was the etiquette of broaching the subject? Should Girl #2 just ignore Girl #1 and pretend she didn't see her? Or, should she say something?
Girl #2 inched closer to Girl #1. They both really did have a lot in common. Girl #2 felt embarrassed by how much they had in common. Seems that guy liked a certain type, that's for sure...
"Um. Hi. Do you know me?" Girl #2 asked.
"Oh my god. Yes." Girl #1 responded, her eyes getting wide.
The 1st Girl sat holding her bourbon looking agog. The 2nd Girl stood behind the bar stool looking awkward and wishing she was holding a bourbon. Nothing more was said. The two stood and looked at each other for a while, as if what someone seeing a mythical creature they had only heard in legends would look like if that creature suddenly showed up at the bar you decided to drink at that night.
The two girls were still looking at each other at the bar as the scene fades out. There were no more words exchanged... yet. But, somewhere the Guy just woke up in a cold sweat as the nightmare he just dreamt unfolded into a reality.
Oh, Shit. They've met each other...
Sunday, September 30, 2012
The Double Shift
Cutie texted me last night, and like conjuring a genie with the rubbing of a lamp, so did he conjure me with the tap of an LED iPhone screen.
As much as I don't like to think of myself as someone who would change plans for the sake of a boy, travel out to the middle of Brooklyn at 2am, (knowing that I have to wake up early the next morning for a double at work) and have nothing on me but a small clutch with a few essential items, like, my keys to keep me company: I am that girl.
Here is where I like to draw a line of distinction though: this is not me traveling out to Williamsburg and then subsequently Crown Heights for a "Dominos Pizza" chow-down-a-thon. I have definitely found a new person whose traits are nothing like the other people I have dated, and I like that. I chalked Cutie up for a one-night only event and therefore felt the stakes of what could or couldn't happen between us drop. So, I was pretty thrown off by the fact that he wanted to see me again, but I felt I had the upper hand in that I didn't really give a rats ass as to what this could or could not mean in the "ohmigawd grand course of my life ohmigawd."
And my day leading up to the "I'm at the bar we met at right now" text from him was a very fulfilling and exciting day, Guy Free! I'd worked out for the first time in a week (no more cold, yay!), I did laundry (feeling fresh :) ) and then I had my first improv class show for UCB's Level 401. I followed the class by getting drunk and bonding with the cast, and then I thought I would round out the evening by keeping the buzz going with my best friend as we walked all over mid-town talking about guys and girls and stupid people. It was a great day! And then: Cutie decided to make it even better.
I'll be honest: as I am writing this blog, I feel exhausted right to my bones. I got about 3 hours of sleep, worked 12 hours straight and am now finally home to realize I still haven't folded my clean clothes that are now winking at me from the other end of my bed. OK, fair enough, I deserve this, seeing as I made the conscious decision to partake in some delicious desert to my full course meal of a day, rather than do any of the dishes that are very visibly piling up. But, meh, worth it!
I don't really know where Cutie and I are going, if there needs to be any direction to this, if I want any direction to this, but I do know that as much as I bitched and moaned about my feet hurting and feeling really wiped at work, I smile with the not-so-sectret knowledge that it was all for the sake of throwing late night evening plans to the wind and taking an opportunity I am not sorry I took. Plus, the work outfit I had to buy at American Apparel this morning looks really good on me (I only had the same clothes from the night before to wear to my shift!)
I like to think this whole experience is more of a symbolic step of upgrading to a way of feeling more confident about myself and the people I allow into my life. I like this better than scared, lonely and worried 24 year old I was when I met Dominos and Serendipity, that was putting too much stake in those two! Screw that! (no pun intended)
As much as I don't like to think of myself as someone who would change plans for the sake of a boy, travel out to the middle of Brooklyn at 2am, (knowing that I have to wake up early the next morning for a double at work) and have nothing on me but a small clutch with a few essential items, like, my keys to keep me company: I am that girl.
Here is where I like to draw a line of distinction though: this is not me traveling out to Williamsburg and then subsequently Crown Heights for a "Dominos Pizza" chow-down-a-thon. I have definitely found a new person whose traits are nothing like the other people I have dated, and I like that. I chalked Cutie up for a one-night only event and therefore felt the stakes of what could or couldn't happen between us drop. So, I was pretty thrown off by the fact that he wanted to see me again, but I felt I had the upper hand in that I didn't really give a rats ass as to what this could or could not mean in the "ohmigawd grand course of my life ohmigawd."
And my day leading up to the "I'm at the bar we met at right now" text from him was a very fulfilling and exciting day, Guy Free! I'd worked out for the first time in a week (no more cold, yay!), I did laundry (feeling fresh :) ) and then I had my first improv class show for UCB's Level 401. I followed the class by getting drunk and bonding with the cast, and then I thought I would round out the evening by keeping the buzz going with my best friend as we walked all over mid-town talking about guys and girls and stupid people. It was a great day! And then: Cutie decided to make it even better.
I'll be honest: as I am writing this blog, I feel exhausted right to my bones. I got about 3 hours of sleep, worked 12 hours straight and am now finally home to realize I still haven't folded my clean clothes that are now winking at me from the other end of my bed. OK, fair enough, I deserve this, seeing as I made the conscious decision to partake in some delicious desert to my full course meal of a day, rather than do any of the dishes that are very visibly piling up. But, meh, worth it!
I don't really know where Cutie and I are going, if there needs to be any direction to this, if I want any direction to this, but I do know that as much as I bitched and moaned about my feet hurting and feeling really wiped at work, I smile with the not-so-sectret knowledge that it was all for the sake of throwing late night evening plans to the wind and taking an opportunity I am not sorry I took. Plus, the work outfit I had to buy at American Apparel this morning looks really good on me (I only had the same clothes from the night before to wear to my shift!)
I like to think this whole experience is more of a symbolic step of upgrading to a way of feeling more confident about myself and the people I allow into my life. I like this better than scared, lonely and worried 24 year old I was when I met Dominos and Serendipity, that was putting too much stake in those two! Screw that! (no pun intended)
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Guilt Hangovers
I woke up this morning with what I call the "Guilt Hangover" I get it every time I have a couple drinks the night before, but didn't get drunk. What happens is: I lie in bed staring at the beautiful crisp sunlight filtering in from my window and wonder why the hell I am not still asleep, then think about all the calories I ingested the night before and wish I was being pestered to hurry up and get on a movie set so I can blow all my energy performing and not feeling sorry for myself. On Saturday mornings, I generally have a whole lot of nothing I need to do. I mean, I have stuff to do, but nothing pressing enough to get me out of bed before 10:30am.
I feel as though the fantastic week I just had has somehow faded into memory and I am right back to where I was before all the events of the week unfolded, just: sitting in my room wishing I had my own apartment and wondering what I'm going to do to make my life worth waking up for today. Guilt Hangovers are really no fun, and are generally the reason I don't drink a whole lot.
As for my amazing week: a week filled with sleep-overs in Brooklyn (mwahahaha!!), a conversationally charged first date with an incredibly gorgeous, world-travlling, 6-language-speaking, European male Adonis (omigawd omigawd omigawd!! By the way...), great notes in class, several nights filled with improv shows and a poetry reading (where I actually got up and read for the first time!!) Is it truly over? Do I need to start a new week over again and begin a new set of really cool things I did the past 7 days? Ugh. Makes me want to lie in bed and stare at the sunlight until my eyes hurt and I close them and sleep for another few hours.
Oh, but Guilt Hangovers don't let one sleep. Wake the hell up, Nat, get out to the world and maybe get your nails done, or something. Maybe you'll meet a Mr. Awesome on the way to the salon, right?
I feel as though the fantastic week I just had has somehow faded into memory and I am right back to where I was before all the events of the week unfolded, just: sitting in my room wishing I had my own apartment and wondering what I'm going to do to make my life worth waking up for today. Guilt Hangovers are really no fun, and are generally the reason I don't drink a whole lot.
As for my amazing week: a week filled with sleep-overs in Brooklyn (mwahahaha!!), a conversationally charged first date with an incredibly gorgeous, world-travlling, 6-language-speaking, European male Adonis (omigawd omigawd omigawd!! By the way...), great notes in class, several nights filled with improv shows and a poetry reading (where I actually got up and read for the first time!!) Is it truly over? Do I need to start a new week over again and begin a new set of really cool things I did the past 7 days? Ugh. Makes me want to lie in bed and stare at the sunlight until my eyes hurt and I close them and sleep for another few hours.
Oh, but Guilt Hangovers don't let one sleep. Wake the hell up, Nat, get out to the world and maybe get your nails done, or something. Maybe you'll meet a Mr. Awesome on the way to the salon, right?
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Worshipping the Porcelain God.
As I retched the wine into the toilet of the bar I had been drinking at, I felt surpisingly calm. That felt good. A really good purge. I wiped my mouth and looked at my watery eyes in the mirror and drunkenly reflected on my life choices. Then, deciding that the whole reason I was at the bar in the first place was to not reflect on my life choices, I quickly dismissed my dizzy thoughts and tied my now smelly hair back into a pony tail and left the room.
I had been drinking for a few hours now.
I knew that that night would be a bender. I got back from Thailand a few days ago and as my Gym Buddy described it: The coil (that is metaphorically my life) had been pulled tighter and tighter and was now released and life was flopping in all different directions with a huge amount of force that could only be calmed down with time and gravity and alcohol. A few months ago, I wound myself up and sprang from New York like a caged canary and flew across the world and lived like a traveling explorer in the Jungles of South East Asia and I thought and I thought and I reflected and the home I left changed and grew, like New York as a tendency to do, and I came back on a different wave length that the bouncing around had given me, and the tight coil of my life in New York was released and I felt as if I got the full force of that all in a few days. Make sense? Mmmm, maybe I need a drink to figure that out... or not figure it out and forget about it for a while.
I'm not a drinker. So, drinking at full throttle with a full bottle and an empty stomach and a semi-broken heart and an overwhelmed brain and jet-lag led to me yakking into the porcelain bowl within a couple hours.
Thank God. I thought. OK. I'm OK. I've been better. But, I'm OK.
But, what's really the matter? What is the coil that's swinging around? A lot of things. Standing as a principle role and as a bystander to one's life is trippy. I get back and family, my living situation, my career, my future in New York, my sister, my job, and my boyfriend all sprang at once for attention. I was simultaneously impressed (as the bystander) with all I have created and call my identity, and as the lead role I'm experiencing: Ahhhh! I can't handle you all at once, but I have to because I am playing the role of "Natalie" in Natalie: A Life Story. I can't not be the star!
I feel as if I've gone from "I'm moving to Chicago in 6 months" to "I'm going to give up acting and just be a writer" to "I hate you and you and you" to "I love you and you and you" to "I know what I'll do now" to "Oh my god, I feel so overwhelmed by all the choices I have that I can't make one and I want to bury my head in the sand" All in the course of 4 days.
Welcome back from vacation, and welcome to the role of "Natalie," the toilet's on stage right, pillow to cry into is stage left, the self-assured grown-up you're learning to become is staring at you in the mirror as you wipe your watery eyes and calmly wash the vomit from your mouth. Curtain Up.
I had been drinking for a few hours now.
I knew that that night would be a bender. I got back from Thailand a few days ago and as my Gym Buddy described it: The coil (that is metaphorically my life) had been pulled tighter and tighter and was now released and life was flopping in all different directions with a huge amount of force that could only be calmed down with time and gravity and alcohol. A few months ago, I wound myself up and sprang from New York like a caged canary and flew across the world and lived like a traveling explorer in the Jungles of South East Asia and I thought and I thought and I reflected and the home I left changed and grew, like New York as a tendency to do, and I came back on a different wave length that the bouncing around had given me, and the tight coil of my life in New York was released and I felt as if I got the full force of that all in a few days. Make sense? Mmmm, maybe I need a drink to figure that out... or not figure it out and forget about it for a while.
I'm not a drinker. So, drinking at full throttle with a full bottle and an empty stomach and a semi-broken heart and an overwhelmed brain and jet-lag led to me yakking into the porcelain bowl within a couple hours.
Thank God. I thought. OK. I'm OK. I've been better. But, I'm OK.
But, what's really the matter? What is the coil that's swinging around? A lot of things. Standing as a principle role and as a bystander to one's life is trippy. I get back and family, my living situation, my career, my future in New York, my sister, my job, and my boyfriend all sprang at once for attention. I was simultaneously impressed (as the bystander) with all I have created and call my identity, and as the lead role I'm experiencing: Ahhhh! I can't handle you all at once, but I have to because I am playing the role of "Natalie" in Natalie: A Life Story. I can't not be the star!
I feel as if I've gone from "I'm moving to Chicago in 6 months" to "I'm going to give up acting and just be a writer" to "I hate you and you and you" to "I love you and you and you" to "I know what I'll do now" to "Oh my god, I feel so overwhelmed by all the choices I have that I can't make one and I want to bury my head in the sand" All in the course of 4 days.
Welcome back from vacation, and welcome to the role of "Natalie," the toilet's on stage right, pillow to cry into is stage left, the self-assured grown-up you're learning to become is staring at you in the mirror as you wipe your watery eyes and calmly wash the vomit from your mouth. Curtain Up.
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