If I knew then…

It’s funny how things change in a matter of months.  Not really funny haha, but more funny hmmm.

A few months ago I was all hot and bothered about the fact that the show I was in was being closed due to budget constraints.  At the time I tried my best to find the silver lining and tell myself that everything happens for a reason blah blah blah.  Not much luck there.

Turns out everything does happen for a reason.  I’ve had a couple film shoots, got a playwrighting fellowship, and got cast in a couple shows, one of which is touring the country til the end of the year.

I was on a rollercoaster the other day and it got me to thinking:  I always hate the part where you’re slowly climbing to the inevitable drop.  This particular rollercoaster, however, had a surprise waiting on the other side of the incline.  You could sense that people were all geared up for all the screaming, arms in the air excitement that we’ve come to expect from something that we’ve just waited an hour in line to ride.  Just as it started to drop, it took you around a bend.

Wha?  No frenzied “I hope this foam padded bar across my legs will keep me from flying off this thing and slamming my face into the pavement” as I try my best to recall Mr. Wander’s high school physics class?

Ultimately, the ride was one of the best I’d been on.  Mostly because it defied expectations.  But back to the analogy.

When you’re on the upswing, it’s easy to refrain from the constant face-pummelling that is oh so fashionable when you’re down on your luck.  But isn’t that just the climb to an inevitable slide back down to I-hate-my-life’sville?  Well, this rollercoaster has proven to me that there can be a much more creative way to get down off the mountain.  And it can be a pretty fun ride.

[remind me to read this again when people start telling me that I'm over the hill]

My Sweetheart would like me to now cut and paste Miley Cyrus’ the Climb here, but I’ll leave that to your inquisitive googling fingertips.  She’d also like me to talk more about the fun that I’ve had while I’ve been here visiting her.  Did I mention that she works at Disney World now?  No?  Well, yeah she does.  So, I could continue writing now, or go and make out for a bit.

Word.

Sotomayor vs. White Men

“I would hope that a wise Latina woman with the richness of her experiences would more often than not reach a better conclusion than a White male who hasn’t lived that life.”
-Judge Sonia Sotomayor

Earlier today, amid a discussion about the President’s recent pick for The Bench, a friend of mine who happens to be white confessed his latest epiphany:

White men consider themselves the status quo.

He continued to explain that all the attention that’s been placed on Judge Sotomayor’s life experience as a Latina, and how that might have an affect on how she does her job, has done nothing more than to highlight that hers is a minority viewpoint.  And as such, shouldn’t we bring to light the underrepresented view?  Those who assert that her point of view is somehow racist are failing to recognize the history of the country they claim to love.  All things being equal, her resume should just speak for itself.  But all things are not equal.  I’m not saying that she should be given special privilege because of her ethnicity, but shouldn’t we be seeing her experience as a Latina woman as an asset rather than a liability?

The funny thing is that the fact that my friend, who’s someone I consider to be a pretty enlightened and aware dude, is just now coming to realize the attitude that many white men hold:  Their experience is the full breadth of the “American” experience and anyone with a differing experience is a deviation from the norm.  What they’re forgetting could easily be cleared up if they just took a second to empty their pants pockets:  E Pluribus Unum.  It’s our national motto.  It’s on our money.  It’s Latin, which is a dead language, I know.  So here’s the translation:  Out of Many, One.

The American Experience is based on pluralism:  Many groups, cultures, and experiences coexisting.  Each viewpoint has value.  And while some people might suggest that Judge Sotomayor’s view, being the Latina female view, can be generalized to represent the views of ALL Latinos (via affirmative action), doesn’t it say something that many of those same people actually believe that there isn’t enough of the White male view on The Bench?  Or in government in general?

I don’t presume to know what she meant by “a better conclusion” in the above quote.  But I look at it this way:  My friend, at nearly 30 years of age, is just realizing that White males believe themselves to be the cultural watermark of this society.  My experience, as a Filipino male, taught me that same lesson before I reached puberty and that has shaped how I view the world.  It has widened my perspective beyond my own privileges and taught me the value of having a seat at the table.  Having a view that considers the experience of underrepresented communities gives a voice to the millions of Americans who don’t fit into the dominant culture.  Is that “better”?  I don’t know.  But it’s a voice that’s rarely been heard.  It deserves a seat at the table.

Farewell, my twenties

Now that my 20s are officially over, here are some of the highlights:

20 (1999) This was the year I went to China.  It was definitely one of those tent-pole events in my life.

21 (2000) Got my first paying gig as an actor.

• Haroun and the Sea of Stories

22 (2001) Graduated from college and got my first job.

• Song for a Nisei Fisherman

23 (2002) Moved into Uptown.  Worked at the Ordway with Sandy Duncan.

• Cowbird
• Anything Goes

24 (2003) The Non-Profit I worked for lost its funding.  Told myself that if I couldn’t find another job I’d become an actor.  Moved in with a girlfriend for the first time.  Worked at the Guthrie while closing home mortgages for Wells Fargo as a temp.

• Pride & Prejudice
• Cradle Will Rock

25 (2004) I was naked in 2 shows this year.  This was the Year of Nudity and Shows about Vietnam.

• Bill of (W)Rights
• HAiR
• Miss Saigon
• Monkey King

26 (2005) Joined Actors Equity Association.  Shot a Subway Commercial.  Tried to move to NYC.  Racked up some debt and moved back when West Side Story called.

• Awesome 80s Prom
• West Side Story

27 (2006) Closed West Side Story.  Tried working at Monte Carlo, but gave that up to become a manager at Hollister.  That only lasted about a month before I went back to “full time actor.”

28 (2007) Broke up with what’s-her-name and went to California.  I had to relearn that I’m a good guy and that I actually have a life.  This was the beginning of the Year of the Mexican.

• Pajama Game
• Cowboy Versus Samurai
• Salsalandia
• The Seven

29 (2008)  Reacclimated myself to Minneapolis and moved in with Johnny Z.  There was a lot of Man-Love this year.  Shot a Rasmussen College Commercial.

• Altar Boyz

2:30 AM Recap

Bless me, father, for I have sinned.  It has been 2 months since my last post.  So a recap is in order:

1) I’ve been teaching some knucklehead kids in 2 middle schools since the middle of January.  It’s an up and down process, especially this is a theater residency and not the kind where they sign up for the class and really wanna be there.  High Point: when I realized that, after weeks of trying to play improv games with them, all I had to say was “this is just like on Wild’n Out.”

2) Altar Boyz closed.  With much drama.  First we were extending.  Then I saw a posting for Always, Patsy Cline auditions.  Then I heard we were closing.  No extension.  Personally, I think the theater has to get it’s act together.

3) My poverty forced me to go back to the BGSC.  Ugh.  Bad tippers, mullets, Paris Hilton mini-me’s.  Realized I can’t make a living working there and have been applying for other restaurant jobs ever since.

4) I auditioned for a project that might put me in Chicago for a month or so.  Went to Chicago for the final callback.  TGID met me there.  Got to hang out for a few hours before heading back to the airport.  I think I gotta spend more time in Chicago.

5) Booked some on camera work.  That’ll help thicken the wallet.

6) Applied for a writing fellowship.  Wish me luck!

And that brings you to today.  So now that we’re all on the same page, let’s get this blog cookin’.

These “Tough Economic Times”

You just can’t turn on a football game these days without hearing about “tough economic times.”  Oh, wait.  Yes you can.  And I think most of us did.  For only $2.6 million, you, too, can buy your very own 30-second spot during the Superbowl.  How much were tickets to the game?  I’d assume that most of the fans in the stands weren’t necessarily from Tampa, so that’s lodging and food, too.  I guess, in the end, it’s a question of priorities.

Andrew Wade (formerly of the Royal Shakespeare Company) came by my acting class for a few hours and we got on the topic of live theater vs. screen (big or small).  For someone who routinely begins sentences with the phrase, “In Shakespeare’s time…” I find him to be a pretty down to earth kind of cat.  He’s cool and approachable with a you-feelin’-the-knowledge-I-just-dropped-on-you-homie? demeanor, so while he’s telling us about the relative illiteracy of Shakespeare’s audience, I’m inclined to believe him.  The conversation turned to the role that the audience plays in theater (versus, say, in a movie), so he ventured into this neck of the woods [and I paraphrase]:

People think they have to be quiet.  “I paid good money to hear and see this play, not to have you gasping/weeping/otherwise reacting to it.”

“Don’t we do that in sports? And at concerts?”  I chimed in.

I don’t remember how he responded exactly, but the long and short of it was this:  People don’t get excited like that about theater anymore.

I’ve been there when there’s a few seconds left on the clock, the Vikes have marched down the field and the only thing separating them from victory or defeat is a kickers leg.  I’m on the edge of my seat.  My palms get hot.  And there’s that moment where the commentators are inevitably saying, “the crowd is on it’s feet!”  That’s drama.  In fact, a friend of mine broke his remote control during a Jets game simply by squeezing it at just such a moment.

Gov. Tim Pawlenty of Minnesota wants to phase out all government funding for the arts in the next 2 years.  This after the people of Minnesota voted overwhelmingly for a constitutional amendment raising our taxes in order to properly fund clean water, protecting the environment, and–wait for it–the arts.  So we can drop him into the “not excited” column as well, right next to “not listening to his constituency.”  I guess, in the end, it’s a question of priorities.

So while the poor are trying desperately to get the ends to, at least, vaguely recognize each other, and the rich are buying Superbowl ads, is it too much to ask for people to forget about their problems for 2 hours?  Spend the $20 bucks you set aside to numb the pain at the bar and take your girl or guy out to a show.  I can’t promise any game-winning field goals, but if you are in the right frame of mind, it’ll feel that way.

President Barack Obama vs. President Josiah Bartlet

My poverty of late has kept me in my apartment with my West Wing DVD set.  And with all this history spreading like a bad cold, I couldn’t help but think that there’s a distinct possibility that President Barack Obama is, in fact, the real life version of the fictional President on The West Wing, Jed Barlet.

Both are liberal Democrats.

Both are known to be dynamic public speakers.

Both were seen as underdogs at the beginning of their campaigns.

Neither served in the Armed Forces and they both have been criticized because of it.

Both have really cool wives.

Both are closet smokers.

Both have multiple daughters and no sons.

They are both uncompromisingly intelligent to the point that people call them elitist.

I’m sure there’s more, but I’m only half way thru the 3rd season so we’ll just have to see how this thing unfolds.

Which “Sweet Land of Liberty” is that, exactly?

There are many things that a woman like Aretha Franklin can get away with.  I mean, come on, she sang Respect.  RESPECT people! Respect.

I respect you, Ms. Franklin.  You are an innovator.  A game changer.  The music world was different before you came along and I think I speak for everyone when I say that we are all made better by the impact you’ve had on our lives through your music.

However, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out a–shall we say–lack of judgment on the part of Ms. Franklin.  During the inauguration of President Obama on Tuesday, Ms. Franklin approached the podium to sing “My Country Tis of Thee.”  She sings the first few words in a way that suggests a different “Sweet Land of Liberty” than, I believe, was intended.  I mean, is it just me?   Or rather, my roommate and me (he picked up on it too), who, mere seconds into the song, were left saying “your what?  Your WHAT?”  Well, you decide:

Practicing Catholicism

Sorry I’ve been MIA lately, kids.  I got hit with a pretty considerable Holiday Hangover, both mentally and economically.  You’d think that would mean I’m spending more time at home in front of my computer, but I’ve also discovered online video games (thanks to my roommate) and have been wasting many hours killing zombies and blowing up spaceships.

I got interviewed for The Catholic Spirit (the official newspaper for the Archdiocese of St. Paul/Mpls) a while back, to get a perspective on the show I’m currently performing, Altar Boyz.  It was pretty straight forward, nothing different from what I would expect from a Catholic newspaper.  But now that all the Holiday-related shenanigans are over, I’ve had some time to step back and think about it, well, one question in particular.

“I would like to know if you are still a practicing Catholic?”

Before we go any further, Alex Trebek would like to remind you to phrase your question in the form of a question, but I digress.  While I was looking at online responses to the reviews of our show, I came across a blog written by a woman who apparently is a very traditional Catholic.  She decided that based on the reviews, she wanted to publicly denounce the show, and the theater for producing it.  She insinuated that there are disgruntled “former Catholics” in the theater world who are hell-bent on taking down the Church brick by brick.

So am I still a practicing Catholic?

Well, if you’re asking, do I still go to church? The quick answer is no.  But does that mean that after attending a parochial grade school, Catholic high school, and a Catholic college, that I don’t practice Catholicism?  This is one of those things that, in my opinion, is one of the reasons people of my generation (and the generations to follow) are growing more and more disillusioned with the idea of organized religion.  Could I be a promiscuous, drug-dealing, serial killer that drop-kicks baby harp seals just for the fun of it, and still make it to weekly mass–just so I could go around saying that I’m a practicing Catholic?  When I was a little kid, some non-Catholic friends told me that Catholics can do whatever they want as long as they go to confession.  I don’t believe that’s true.

Nor do I believe that going to church is what makes someone a person of faith.

A professor of mine in college, a monk, once said that there is more diversity within the Catholic church than there is between Catholics and other denominations.  I don’t know why that stuck with me, but I do know that when I think about what Catholics are said to believe, I disagree with a lot of things.  When a friend of mine was getting confirmed, she told me that she was having second thoughts about her confirmation because there is so much she disagrees with.  I told her that the only way to change something is to engage it.  Walking away from the Church doesn’t help it change.  It needs to change from within.

According to the Dictionary program on my computer, catholic is an adjective that means “including a wide variety of things, all-embracing.”  The Thesaurus lists Universal, Diverse, Broad, Comprehensive, Liberal, All-encompassing and All-inclusive as it’s synonyms.

So am I still a practicing catholic?  Of course.  I practice open-mindedness,  I honor pluralism and diversity.  I just wish that other Catholics realized that that’s the foundation of our faith.

F.O.B. vs E.O.P.

This year was the first Christmas in America for one of my cousins.  She’s a nurse (go figure) and moved from the PI to Minneapolis in November.  Tough break, kid.  I don’t think she’s taken her winter coat off since she got here.

We’ve been around each other for the usual family holiday get-togethers and our conversations usually go like this:

“Hi Manang Noemi!  How are you?”

“Good.”

“What have you been up to lately?”

[shrugs shoulders]

“It’s, um, pretty cold here… how are you adjusting?”

“yeah, it’s cold.”

It didn’t hit me until Christmas eve, when my parents told me that she is really intimidated by my sister and me because she feels insecure about her English.  She could speak to us in Tagalog and we’d understand, but more likely than not we’d respond in English.  Ya see, we’re E.O.P.  [English Only Pilipinos].  That would be the technical term since we’re not fluent.  We grew up here and our parents didn’t want us to have accents or a language barrier so they didn’t instill in us a strong sense of speaking Tagalog.  We’re around it enough to understand it conversationally, but I never really developed a facility for speaking it.  Most of the time, I can’t tell the difference between when my family is speaking English or Tagalog, but I always respond in English either way.

Apparently, Manang Noemi has been avoiding me.

Filipinos like to tease each other.  That can make it hard to learn anything new.  But it’s a sign of endearment.  We tease because we love.  So yesterday at a restaurant, this happened:

Server: And what can I get for you?

Manang Noemi: I’ll have the chicken sandwich.

Server: Fries?

Manang Noemi: Oo*

*And now for the Wily Filipino Tagalog lesson for the day: “Oo” means yes (it’s pronounced like “oh-oh”).

The whole table erupted in laughter and when she realized what she did she laughed, too.  She’s getting the hang of it.  Her English is much better than my Tagalog (As it turns out, people tell me I sound like a drunk white guy when I speak Tagalog so she’s in good company).  But sooner or later, she’s gonna be thrust into situations where she’ll be forced to bust out the English skills and I’m sure she’ll do great.  A couple of my other cousins had the whole Minestrone fiasco when they first moved here, not to mention needing to ask me the correct pronunciation of “Bowl” (Bow-el means something entirely different, especially when you’re a nurse talking to a patient).  So it’s the little things.

It’s easier, language-wise, to be a FOB in the States versus an EOP in the Philippines.  The last time I was there, I had told some people that I really wanted to get comfortable speaking Tagalog, and they said, “Why?  you won’t use it unless you’re speaking to another Filipino.  It’s better that you speak English.”  Yeah, they didn’t quite get what I was going for, but that’s culture for ya.

On the other hand, several of my cousins have married white folks.  My cousin Pop married Debbie a couple years ago.  When they showed up at Thanksgiving, my mom noticed that she would just stand off by herself.  I guess I just took it for granted, but when my cousins get together everybody is speaking either Tagalog or one of their hometown dialects.  My mom took it upon herself to give Debbie a little nudge, saying, “Just sit down with them.  They’ll switch to English.”  My mom explained that when you’ve been here for a while you get used to switching back and forth, especially in the presence of an “American,” it becomes second nature.

So I guess Manang Noemi just needs to find where that line is.  And maybe I’ll get one of those Rosetta Stone language tapes and really freak my family out in a few months.  Either way, I bet Manang Noemi will still be wearing her winter coat.

All I Want for Christmas is You

I am being followed.   NO!  Don’t turn around.  They’ll see you.  Just keep walking.

It’s like that movie, Eagle Eye.  I don’t know how it knows where I am going, or where I’ll be.  But there it is.

I get in the car.  It’s on the radio.  I change the station.  IT’S ON THAT STATION TOO!  I went in to Herbergers after taking a picture with Santa for my mom, and it even found me in there.

I give.  Do with me what you will, Mariah.  You and your high notes that make the neighborhood dogs bark.  DO YOUR WORST.