My life as a single parent

There’s a scene from How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days that I’ve been thinking about lately.  It’s the Love Fern scene.  Kate Hudson’s character gives Matthew McConaughey a fern, in an effort to freak him out via the Too Much Too Fast method, and compares it to the relationship they’re starting.  She charges him with taking care of the Love Fern in the same way he would take care of the relationship.  When she discovers the dried up, dying Love Fern a few days later, she asks, “are you gonna let us die?”

I saw the movie two years or so ago with my X and then a little while later she and I went out and bought a huge Lucky Bamboo stalk and put it in a vase.  We joked that it was our version of the Love Fern.  As time went on, I realized that I was the only one that ever watered our lonely bamboo stalk, dusted off his vase, and made sure the rocks in his vase were clean.  Needless to say, the Love Bamboo eventually turned yellow and dried up, she went off and started fooling around with another guy and turned out to be my X.

This thought came to me today as I was gathering woodchips for a tree that was given to me for my birthday from the woman I was dating at the time.  At the time, I thought that this was a symbolic gesture telling me that this woman saw a future with me, but it turns out that the symbolism didn’t quite hold up when (wait for it…) another interested guy entered the scene.  But I’ve decided not to let another innocent plant die for the sake of making a point.

See, the thing that happened here is that it did end up the way the Kate Hudson described.  These plants became analogous of the relationships I was in when they came into my life.  Both times, I assumed the burden of being the one that cared for them.

For all my bitching and moaning about being cheated on and such, a friend of mine told me that, “the grass isn’t greener on the other side, it’s green where you water it.”  I guess I can’t sum it up better than that.  I just need to date better gardeners.

Fun with Psychoanalysis

I’m having trouble sleeping flat on my back.  I dunno… it feels somehow… vulnerable, I guess.  I laid down the last two nights to go to sleep, and it’s the weird panicky feeling.  It’s not like I’m hyperventilating or anything, but it’s like an extreme discomfort.  It’s kind of an heightened restlessness.  It’s what I think being in a small elevator feels like to a claustrophobic, but I can only speculate.  I tried pulling the covers all the way up to my chin, even if my room feels warm-ish, but it didn’t seem to help.

The only thing that makes the feeling go away is curling up in the fetal position.  I guess it feels a bit more protective, safer.  The problem is I’m a wimp and my shoulder and arm start to hurt if I sleep like this too long, but when I roll over onto my back, the feeling I get wakes me up.  Maybe it’s a weird paranoia or something.

There’s been plenty going on in my personal life and my work life to make me a bit guarded and stressed, but this is kinda ridiculous.  I suppose the only thing I can do at this point is try to get a good night’s sleep.

Discuss.

Facebook is a bitch; or, Being Defriended

I’ve been defriended on facebook.

This isn’t something that’s totally foreign to me, I mean, I’ve defriended some people.  The people who you knew from back in the day who don’t respond when you write on their wall… the “friends” you added because you thought you knew who they were then found out that you’ve been wrong this whole time… the friends who are really friends of friends and when you lose touch with that one person a whole chain of friends goes with them…

I’m guilty of defriending.  But this was someone I actually cared about.

OK… lemme come clean.  This was the girl I was dating.  Remember TGID?  Yeah, her.  Recently things have lingered in that grey space between the euphoria of having a new girlfriend and the depression that comes with breaking up.  I won’t go into the details why, but, needless to say, it’s been complicated.

There’s been bloodshed on both sides… and maybe my constant checking of her facebook page over the last few days is just my refusal to admit that there are certain unavoidable roadblocks in our way.  Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.  She’s given up on me, or at least doesn’t want anything to do with me and I should just move on.  Maybe it’s neither of those things.

I don’t know why it feels this way.  Kinda final.  The final blow.  The last arrow piercing my heart.  It’s supremely deflating.

We last talked (the other day) about how she thought we’d be together in the end.  Something I would have said only a few months ago.  Maybe she realized that she was wrong… maybe some other guy came along just in the nick of time to sweep her off her feet.  It wouldn’t be unreasonable to think so, given my track record.  But if she isn’t “her,” then who is?  I find myself asking that question on a pretty regular basis–in times like these.  There was still a bit of hope on my part that she was right.  We would be together in the end.

You’d think that this would accompany some explanation why.  I thought I’m worth at least that much effort.  But as all my Self Help reading from my last big breakup has told me, “You already have your answer.”  So that’s that.  I’ll wonder for a bit.  If she really meant what she said.  If her passion for me these last couple months was just a bit of reverse psychology.  If she ever really knew how to love another person, rather than just say that she did.

The thing is, I bought her a birthday present.  She mentioned that she has this Birthday Curse where guys break up with her before her birthday.  As much as I didn’t want to be another one of those guys, I had to give voice to my doubts, which led to more talking, which led to more pressure to decide either yes or no, and since I don’t like to commit to something if I’m not sure I can give 100%, here we are.  But that didn’t mean it was over for me.  Maybe it should be.

I wanted to work through my insecurities.  The Fears that I mentioned in my last post.  I suppose I’ll still do that, but for me instead of for “us.”  I guess the moral of the story is that you can’t always give.  Sometimes you have to take the time to be selfish.  Lesson learned.

A friend of mine at work told me the other day, “Nice guys really do finish last.  Look at me and [her boyfriend of several years], he was a total asshole when I met him.”

Ladies, tell me that’s not true.  And give supporting evidence.  Please.

Thoughts from inside a giant pink shrimp head

Putting on the big shrimp suit was a little trying today.  I didn’t get much sleep and wasn’t too excited about the mall being slow.  But as I lumbered down the hallowed halls of the MOA dressed as an oversized, pink, cartoon shrimp, one of the guys working at Brookstone hollered at me.

“Hey, how long have you guys been doing that?”

“Oh, I don’t know a few years.  We’ve been doing this since I’ve been working there.” Says my Escort.  I’m not supposed to talk in costume.

“Do you ever make kids cry?”

I nod my head yes.  It was an exaggerated nod.

An acting teacher of mine taught that human beings are ultimately motivated by only two things: Fear and Love.  It’s like Yin and Yang, the opposing forces of the world.  The ratio of criers to excited huggers is about 50/50.  What’s more is that at first glance you can’t pick the criers out of the crowd.

Babies are like sponges.  They’re easily conditioned, they copy what they see.   Some of the kids lead with their curiosity and wonderment, others are fearful of the unknown.  During the very early stages of life, we’ve already been taught to choose one or the other.  Maybe some of us are predisposed toward one of the two, but that predisposition is either reinforced or negated by the people around us at that age.  I’ve always been impressed by the excited ones.  They radiate love with reckless abandon.

I, for one, have realized over the past few years that most often I’m motivated by fear.  Fear of what people might think, fear of ridicule or not being accepted, fear of repeating a vicious cycle, fear of failure, fear of wasting precious time, fear of loneliness, fear of being found out to be a fraud.

People say that fear lets us know we’re alive.  It excites us.  It can be a great motivator and a great gauge of our “limitations.”  Why else would we skydive, bungee jump, ride rollercoasters, or watch a scary movie?  But the important thing for me to keep in mind is that we should lead our fears, not let our fears lead us.  I’ve realized that there is a lot of fear in my life.  How do I embrace them?  How do I conquer them?

Bruce Lee said that “If you always put limits on everything you do, physical or anything else, it will spread into your work and into your life. There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.”  And beyond my fears is a little kid ready to radiate the love.

The Doctor is IN.

A while ago, a friend of mine suggested that I could be the real life version of the Date Doctor from the movie Hitch.  Since the restaurant has been really slow lately, I’ve been exploring other avenues of income.  I looked into ballroom dance instruction, which had a 2 year contract that would make it nearly impossible to do any theater, I’m teaching sporadic acting classes to kids, and I put in an application at a couple of temp agencies.

Right now, the whole Date Doctor thing sounds pretty appealing.

Here’s the rub:  Who am I to give dating advice to others when I haven’t been able to make it work in my own life?

Another friend reminded me that “those who can’t, teach.”

Due respect to my fellow teachers out there, maybe that’s a good philosophy to follow in this case.  Just because my efforts have fallen on the nonreciprocal doesn’t necessarily mean that they won’t work with the right girl.  And maybe there are guys out there who have found the right girl but don’t know how to express themselves in that way.

Or maybe I’ve just been acting that way because I think that any somewhat punctual woman who returns my call is “The One.”

Well, either way, perhaps my failures can be benefitted from.  Takers?

Down Time at Area Restaurant Leads to Prolonged Study into Windmills

Bloomington, MN

A server and a host from the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company spent “entirely too much time” watching a boy windmill his arms as fast as he could, sources say.  The boy, whose mother was searching for a store on the Mall of America directory near the third floor entrance to Bloomingdales, began windmilling his right arm before moving on to his left.

“Oh, you missed it.  He was really going for a while.” BGSC host, “Ken-Ken Light-Skin” Dawson, reportedly commented as server Wile E. Filipino approached.

Since Labor Day the mall has been experiencing less foot traffic than in previous months, a common occurrance when many teens and young adults return to school.  This year, however, has been the slowest of the previous 4 years, according to mall regulars.

“I’m sure this isn’t an isolated incident.” Chap Poach of mall security alleges, “We’ve been on the alert for several weeks now.  It’s not uncommon for the employees of the stores within the mall to have a hard time adjusting to the sudden shifts in attendence.  We’ve grown accustomed to the high levels of zoning out and slack-jawed staring that is likely to be taking place even…NOW.”

The boy, allegedly, continued windmilling his arms as fast as he could for an unknown length of time.  What is known is that he eventually became bored with that and moved on to pushing the buttons on the customer service telephone adjacent to the mall directory.

Several reports state that Filipino then said, “Remember when you were a kid and doing [expletive] like that was fun?”

Mall security has shifted their alert status to Burnt Sienna.

Tick…

I found out recently that an X of mine got married this year.  What is this I’m feeling?  Jealousy?  No.  The feeling that she’ll never come running back to me?  Nope.  OH!  I know… it’s the feeling that accompanies the fact that I’ve seen this woman a number of times in the last year or so and she’s never mentioned it.  Yeah… that’s it.

We run into each other every couple months.  We’re not the best of friends, but she works in the backstage world of the theater biz and we run into each other and chat about what’s going on… life, work, etc.  Engagement and subsequent marriage would be something that might fall into the “etc.” portion of our Under 5 minute discussions.  “Oh, hey… how’ve you been? … Cool.  What have you been up to lately? … Me? Yeah… by the way I’m getting MARRIED.”

Maybe she felt weird about telling me because we dated for 2 years in college and until last year, she still had my high school class ring and my senior pin (do people even “pin” each other anymore? geez, I’m really cool for a guy in the 1950s).  Maybe she thought I already knew somehow.  I mean, he’s an actor around town and we’ve hung out after shows before.  He’s a good guy and after the first time I hung out with him, I already knew that he was perfect for her.

I know that women are the ones who are supposed to have the biological clocks that tick so loud that they’re like the alligator from Peter Pan, but when is my love life gonna uncomplicate itself and point in the right direction?  I know, intellectually, that I don’t want to rush into anything just for the sake of walking down the aisle, but I can’t help feeling like this is my own special dating purgatory where I’m headlining with Cheaty the Time-Waster! (Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!)

Enough of that.  Wow.

I’m happy for them.  It’s always good to know that someone has found their true love and made it honest.  But I still feel like some of the credit belongs to me.  After all, if I hadn’t gotten out of the way when I did, they might not have even met each other.  Maybe it’s like that movie Good Luck Chuck* and there’s a curse on me so if you date me, you end up meeting your soulmate after we break up..?

I guess we all have our roles to play.

*yes, I saw it.  It had Jessica Alba in it and she’s hot.  I didn’t see it in theaters or anything like that, but it was totally worth getting on netflix.

What about the Christian extremists?

My friend, Kate, posted this video to her Facebook account:

On a day like today, September 11th, 2008, we have come to anticipate politicians using the buzzwords “Islamic Extremists” when talking about the people who caught the nation’s attention 7 years ago.  But what is our government doing about the Christian Extremists?

One of my favorite bible passages is from the book of Matthew:

“Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye”

“Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ and behold, the log is in your own eye?

“You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

For the last 7 years we’ve been beaten on or about the head with all this talk about Islamic Extremists.  They’re the ones who are a threat.  They are the enemy.  They want to hurt us and our precious American Way of Life.  What gets me is that while these politicians want to protect our American Way of Life from the Islamic Extremists, they’re also the first to tell us when they don’t approve of how we choose to live.

I’d venture to guess that when people hear the phrase “Islamic Extremist,” the word that carries more weight is the first one.  Extremism of any sort is, at very least, questionable in my mind.  But that’s not what we’re talking about here, is it?  We’re talking about Islam.  Something that sounds foreign to the Middle of the road, average, everyday, Christian American.  What we’re not seeing is that Christian Extremism is likely to be a bigger threat to our American Way of Life than Islamic Extremism.  Not necessarily in an explosive-wrapped-in-nails-and-shards-of-glass kind of way, but in the way that sneaks up on you.

For instance, forcing our schools to teach that we are all descended from a guy named Adam and a Woman named Eve and that she was created from one of his ribs.  And that they lived in a land that was called The Garden of Eden, but is very likely to have existed in a place we call Iraq now.  Taking the Bible literally, while picking and choosing what they want to quote word for word to suit their agendas.  That’s the danger that Christian Extremism brings.  Sure, the book of Leviticus says that for a man to “lie with another man as one lies with a woman” is an abomination.  But Exodus also says that I should be put to death for working my Sunday lunch shift.  After all, it is the Sabbath.  Unless you’re Jewish, then technically Saturday is the Sabbath, right?  Well, either way, somebody’s getting stoned.  And not in a good way.

It also says in the bible, TWICE I might add, that you’re not supposed to plant two types of crops next to one another.  And I’m headed straight for a smiting cuz the shirt I am wearing today is 50% Cotton and 50% Polyester and the bible clearly states that “you shall not…wear a garment upon you of two kinds of material mixed together.”

Let’s turn our bibles to the book of Deuteronomy, where it outlaws the sport of Football.  Not only will Brett Favre be burning in hell, but the new guy, Rodgers, is well on his way.  As is Tarvaris Jackson, Adrian Peterson and any other QB, Center, Runningback and Receiver because Deuteronomy CLEARLY states that touching the skin of a dead pig is considered unclean.

Have we come a long way from the days of slavery and gender inequality?  Or should we follow Exodus 21:7?  Now that’s a dilemma.  Let’s put all this lipstick on pigs talk to the side and deal with that.

So I say: leave the Islamics alone, extremist or not.  Let’s take a look at things closer to home and how many people who actually believe that creationism should be taught in our schools, or that gay marriage should be outlawed in all 50 states.  When I think about who’s really threatening my American Way of Life, I’m thankful that bombs aren’t going off here the way they are in other countries.  But that doesn’t mean that Islamic Extremists are the only people we need to worry about.

Mana Sa Tatay

My latest escape from reality is America’s Best Dance Crew.  I caught on to this show while I was in Cali and I gotta say it’s up there, especially in the guilty pleasure department.  One of the things I like about this show is that it highlights a lot of talented Filipino Americans out there doing what we do best–performing.

A couple of the stories hit me on a personal level because they have to do with the dichotomy that is the Filipino parent.  On one hand my parents have been very supportive of my career as an actor, while I’m doing shows or on TV.

“Mana Sa Tatay” is my dad’s catch phrase when we’re around other Filipinos.  Basically it means, “He takes after his dad.”  Both he and my mom are proud to brag that I’ve worked at the Guthrie, The Ordway, Chanhassen Dinner Theater, and any of the other major theaters in Minneapolis.  They wouldn’t necessarily put the smaller theaters on top of that list, even if I’m proud of my work in those productions…

On the other hand, my parents are the first to criticize me for not choosing a career where I could be making more money on a regular basis.  I’ve endured the arguments, the not-so-subtle nudges, the Five Year Plan (that my dad put me on without telling me), and the myriad moments of disapproval and worry about my future.  They used to tell me that they came here so I could have more opportunities and be happy, i.e. make money, and that I could always do community theater or act “on the side.”  But, recently, I’ve argued that if I had grown up in the Philippines I wouldn’t necessarily have the opportunity to live my dream and that I’m much happier doing that than making six-figures sitting in some cubicle.

Joesar Alva, a member of the Boogie Bots from Season 2 of ABDC, has a pretty unique story in that his father, who taught him to dance when he was little, went into a coma a few months before the show aired.  Below is a clip that hit me pretty hard when I saw it:

The other story that really nailed a familiar Filipino experience is the story that Ailyn Isidro of SoRealCru brought to the table.  In the first episode, she describes that her parents don’t approve of her wanting to be a dancer, and it becomes a theme for their crew throughout the season.  In the 6th episode, her parents decide to fly in from Houston to see her dance for the first time… EVER.  They smiled and appeared really proud of their daughter, but coming from that experience I’m skeptical that they’ve turned over a new leaf 100%.  I know this isn’t a story that’s strictly a Filipino experience, but I also know what can happen when the cameras and the spotlights turn off.  She’s still their daughter and if she doesn’t land something huge after this show, it could degrade back into the same disapproving discussions.

I love my parents.  They took time off work to come to watch me ride the pine at my basketball games in junior high; they’d come to high school plays, and even some of the really obscure things I’ve done in my career.  They’re my biggest fans and my worst critics.  I know that I could have it much, much worse, but it’s always good to see other Filipinos out there doing what they do and knowing that we, as artists, have similar struggles.

It just makes you look stupid

Dear RNC Welcoming Committee:

If I didn’t feel like you guys are making complete asses of yourselves, I’d probably join you in whatever you’re protesting.  But do you really think that you’re being heard?  I’m a self-described liberal.  I understand the spirit behind what you’re doing and I believe that it’s the responsibility of every citizen in a democracy to speak out against their government when they feel they’re being misrepresented.  As much as I’d love for you to take my hand and walk me through what I consider a rather hyperbolic mission statement, there is something else I’d like to focus on today.

On your website, under the “Who We Are” section, it says:

The RNC Welcoming Committee is an anarchist / anti-authoritarian organizing body preparing for the 2008 Republican National Convention in St. Paul, Minnesota.

And further on, you describe how you came into being:

Labor Day weekend of 2007, anarchists and anti-authoritarians from across the country gathered in the Twin Cities to develop goals and plans for the RNC 2008.

So… let me get this straight… you are an ANARCHIST/ANTI-AUTHORITARIAN ORGANIZING BODY?  Somehow that sounds just a tad… how do you say?… oxymoronic.  I mean, more power to ya for joining together to fight for the common good, but then don’t call yourselves anarchists.  And who, pray tell, is the…ahem…”leader” of this anti-authoritarian organizing body?  Somebody’s updating the website, and maybe I’m assuming too much to think that that person is being told by someone else what to put on there.

You guys have a Press Release!  So… did someone approve it or are there multiple press releases floating around out there, and this is the one that made the cut to be posted on your website?  If so, who made that decision?  Possibly the head of your anarchist/anti-authoritarian organizing body?  Or maybe the Press Secretary?  I’m sure that your anarchist organization has a very strong hierarchical infrastructure.

But you have opened my eyes, RNCWC.  Until know, I was unaware of the, apparently, many growing organizations of anarchists out there that have shown their support on your website.  So not only are you an organized group of anarchists, but your group is a member of some sort of coalition of anarchist groups.

Now, I know that it’s easy for me to be shouting an apathy soaked “NAY” across cyberspace from the comfort of my apartment, but seriously, It sounds like at least some of you are relatively intelligent people with good intentions.  I’m just saying that your message is getting drowned out by the messenger.  It’s the difference between a Paris Hilton-style tantrum because daddy won’t let her get another roll of Dolce & Gabbana toilet paper, and a thoughtful discourse about real issues that matter by those who show up to actually do something about it.

And you’re just making us liberals look stupid.