Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans

I don’t think I understand people.  I mean, I know I don’t understand people, but I really don’t understand some people.  Those people are women.  Well, I understand women, to a point.  I get along with women.  I prefer the company of women.  Most of my friend’s are women, and they tend to open up to me and tell me all their issues and stuff, although I’m starting to learn men do that too.  So I guess I understand women more or less.  What I don’t understand is women when it comes to relationships, i.e., their lack of interest in one with me.

Now let me be more clear.  I understand if a woman doesn’t find me attractive.  That’s understandable.  I’m not the most attractive guy, although I wouldn’t call myself ugly, and I got more rolls than…well, then on my plate at a fancy dinner (I’m a picky eater, that’s usually all I’ll eat in that situation, so I have a lot of rolls).  I can understand that.  I’ve never been told that’s the reason for me being rejected, so I’m guessing it’s not as much of an issue.

I can understand how a woman might not want to date me due to my belief structure.  In a relationship, it can be important that people have similar beliefs, and I could be labeled as…ultra liberal, and religiously, I tend to waiver between atheism and a lax form of Judaism.  However, I tend to find that similar beliefs to be an important aspect of relationships, and so I don’t tend to ask someone out unless I think we can be cohesive in that area, so it’s not really so much of an issue.

I can understand someone rejecting me because we don’t have a connection, or a repoire.  Two people need to get along in order to move beyond friendship.  But I usually wait until there’s already an established connection.  I tend to wait until I can already consider someone a friend before I ask them out, so that’s not really an issue.

Alternatively, I can understand someone not wanting to ruin a friendship and take a gamble on a relationship, when I’m such a good friend (and let’s face it, I’m a great friend, who’s always there when you need him).  It’s hard to get good friends, and it would be very hard to lose one due to a messy break up.  But people who know me know that I’m still friends with the majority of my exes, and I like to stay away from the messy break ups.  In fact, I’d say my most recent ex, and my most long term ex, I’m much better friends with them now than I was before we dated.  If anything, this is something that should be discussed, not just a reason for dismissal, and shouldn’t be an issue.

I can understand my lack of employment being a big reason.  I’m more than willing to admit that at age 25, my occupational future is something that factors deeply into this issue.  I don’t know where my life is going, I don’t know how I’ll financially survive in this world, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to move forward in this issue again.  We all have baggage, and I’ll admit I have plenty.  But still, no ones ever brought this up as a reason for not dating me.  No one’s said “I need someone more stable” which I’d totally understand and be ok with.

I can think of plenty of reasons to not date me.  And I only ever get one real response when I get rejected.  “I just don’t see you that way.”  Now, to be honest, that could attribute to anything I’ve listed here.  But it’s always “I only see you as a friend.”  Do you know what that sounds like to a guy around his 10^th time hearing it?  “There’s nothing attractive about you.”  Want to know how it sounds the 20^th time? “I don’t even see you as someone with a penis.  You’re not a real man.”  The 30^th time?  “Just give up.”

It has come to the point that what I’m sure they see as the most simple, easy going, laid back, non painful rejection in the world is my most hated phrase.  “I only see you as a friend.”  That’s such a painful phrase.  I’m just a big cuddly teddy bear with no genitalia.  It is impossible to think of me in a romantic fashion.  It’s better for everyone involved if we stay slightly detached and never get too close.

Maybe it is better.  Maybe it’s a good idea for every woman to give me the same rejection line.  That way I wouldn’t be making a list of all the different rejections I have and be worried about numerous things.  But with this line, I just see everything wrong with me.  I dissect every little negative thing about me.  I get so scared of rejection that I never try anymore.  And I’ve created mega high standards just so that I have a reason to not try.  I pretend to create and observe when I really detach from feeling alive.

And all I’m left with in the end is the question of why.  Why am I so undateable?  Why am I so easy to cast aside?  Why am I so undesirable?  Why can’t I be loved?  Why is it that I feel so alone?  Why am I the witness, and when I capture it on the page, will it mean that it’s the end, and I’m alone?

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Lately, I've come to notice a strange occurrence in my life.  I've begun to call it the Koby Phenomenon.  Thinking back, it's been going on at least since my sophomore year of high school.  It seems that any time that I'm crying, or on the verge of tears, or what have you, that if I'm talking to someone, they tend to say something that makes me feel much much worse.  And I can't blame it on the people.  Almost all the time, they aren't trying.  Slightly less of the time, what they're saying isn't even a bad thing to say.  And the only constant in all of these occurrences is me.  If I'm the only constant, that makes me the cause (not saying I ask for it, or that it's my fault, I just must be the cause).

The Koby Phenomenon doesn't end there.  Because I'm made to feel worse, I almost always respond negatively.  I remember in the first case of the Koby Phenomenon, I yelled at the person, leading them to yell at me, and then (equivalently, since it wasn't possible to do this in the situation) stomped off, leaving me paranoid, sad, angry, and a myriad of other feelings.  More recently I tried more neutral responses, in order to quell all of this.  I tried to change the subject somewhat recently, which it seemed upset the other person, enough to stop talking to me, and I have yet to talk to them since, which has left me feeling paranoid, sad, angry, and a myriad of other feelings.  Obviously, this didn't work.  So last time, I simply tried not responding.  I just ignored what the person said.  I didn't say anything back.  Which then made  her assume I was mad at her, so she left, and said she'd be back online later, but didn't come back on, and has left me feeling paranoid, sad, angry, and a myriad of other feelings.

I just don't know how to respond when someone makes me upset.  I think the main reason is that I'm rarely upset with other people.  Most of the times when I'm sad, or upset, it's at myself.  And since being sad is a very VERY regular thing to me, I usually try to hide it.  But it seems whenever I feel comfortable enough to open up and talk about it, it only leads to more negative feelings, and alienating people I care about.  I don't know how to talk about my feelings well.  It seems people like me more when I hide my feelings behind the mask I feel I almost always wear.  The smiley, jolly, easy-go-lucky, carefree guy many people see me as.  I'd love to stop pretending to be that guy, because he is in me, deep down, and there are times I really am that guy, but it seems more and more often, I'm just pretending that's how I feel.  Because the other me won't be accepted.  I don't even like that version of me, it actually scares me at times.

I'm left with very few options.  I can keep faking it till I make it.  Put on a happy face.  Act happy, and hope that it makes me feel happy.  Or I can just stop pretending.  Be gloomy, and sad, and depressing whenever I feel it, and almost certainly make the few people who enjoy talking to me stop wanting to.  Be myself, be true to how I feel, and in the process lose the things that make me feel the way I want to feel.  I can keep trying to find the balance.  Let the Koby Phenomenon take its course as need be, and hope that the people I upset along the way eventually come back to me.

I don't like any of those options.  And I'm not asking for you to give me new ones.  I'm not asking for you to try to make me feel better.  I'm just asking that you listen, and maybe by listening, someday, I'll feel like someone actually understands me.  Because that's what I'm really looking for when I'm cryign and I come venting to you.  I want to show you how I feel so you can understand it.  Because a lot of times, the comment that gets me feeling worse when I'm sad is one that shows how much people don't seem understand me.  All I'm asking is that you listen.

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For those of you that have seen the PLAY version of Rent, you know the character of Mark.  If you’ve seen the movie, you don’t really know anything about Mark, because they cut out anything that made him a real person.  Strangely enough, this confirms the character’s biggest self doubt.  In the song Halloween, which was cut from the movie, Mark sings “Why am I the witness?  And when I capture it on film, will it mean that it’s the end and I’m alone?”  Mark’s constantly struggling with the idea that in his own life, he’s not even the main character.  Which begs the question of if he’s even a full person.  Throughout the play, he documents, he watches.  He’s there, but is he really a part of anything that’s happening around him, or would things be the same if he wasn’t even there.  And ironically enough, in the movie he’s so unimportant, he doesn’t even have a chance to ask the question.  He’s there to further the story, but isn’t really a part of it.

The reason I bring this up is because I feel exactly like Mark about 99.9% of the time.  My life is pretty much uneventful, but I tell a good story, which makes my past constantly more important than my present.  It seems like no matter what is happening around me, I’m constantly the status quo.  Some would say I’m a rock.  In reality, it’s just that nothing seems to happen.  I help others with their problems, constantly, and I’m there for other people’s problems, but when I have a problem, it seems to just be inconsequential.  Or my problem just seems to be a way to lead in to someone else’s bigger, sexier problem.  Most of the time, I don’t even mind.  I love helping others, I love having a relatively drama-free life.  But it’s also lonely.  Just look at Rent.  Mark is the only person who doesn’t date anyone in the show…except in the past.  His present and future are wrapped around the idea of watching others, and not really being a part of things.

Let’s take a look at my home life.  I sometimes feel like a guest in my own apartment.  My brother and his fiancé live here fine, and are always doing things here.  And they have every right to, and I’m glad they do.  But I sometimes feel like a backdrop.  When they aren’t here, I sometimes don’t know what I should be doing.  When other people aren’t around, I don’t know what I should be doing.  I used to be happy not knowing what I was doing.  I liked the idea of doing nothing, not being around people, barely existing.  Now, it’s scary, and lonely.  And I don’t know how to have my own, dependant life.  How can I be the main character?  Why are so many of my stories all about other people?

All in all, it’s not so bad.  I have a pretty good life, I’m getting more and more independent.  Things are good in general.  There are just times I wish that my life was the exciting one.  Times I wish I had romance, whether it was problematic or not.  Times I wish I was part of the action, not just a supporting player.  Times I wish I was the leading man.

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Just under 7 years ago, preparing for my senior year of high school, I got a brilliant idea.  I decided to look in the classifieds of the paper, to look for acting gigs.  I had no idea what I'd find, what was out there, how I should be going about this, but seeing as I had one year left of high school, and the theatre director there hated me, I needed some way to do something in the realm of theatre.  I got myself two auditions.  One was at Children's Theatre Company, a play called the Toad and the Monkey, or something stupid like that, and it was completely a dance play.  Didn't even have to prepare a monologue or a song or anything.  I walked out of that audition thinking "thank God I don't have to go back to a callback for this."  They said they'd call me about whether or not I got in.  The next news I got was a post card about it opening a week later.  The other audition ended being a tree that bore endless fruit.  The play was Tom Sawyer.  It was at a place I'd never heard of called Youth Performance Company.  I went in, saw all these people hugging, friendly, knowing each other, and had an instant fear I wasn't going anywhere.  I sang my song (still can't remember what), read scenes.  That night,t he director, Brian Cole, called me and told me I was called back.  I was hoping for the role of Mean Old Joe (PCed from Injun Joe).  After the callbacks, I was offered two roles, as Doc Burton and the Sheriff.  I jumped at them, but was very curious who beat me out for Mean Old Joe, as well as Muff Potter.  I get there, and meet some new people.  Tyrus Thompson, the stage manager, who was like 13, but to everyone, he was 9.  He would always say he was 9.  He obviously wasn't 9.  This amazingly talented guy playing Tom, named Seth Numrich.  Joanna Freudenheim played Becky, and she seemed really cool, although quiet and reserved, the type most don't like, cause it's hard to read them.  Playing Muff Potter was Charlie Anderson, who was a really nice guy who treated me like family from day one.  Mean Old Joe was played by Patrick Kozicky.  He was hilarious, and loveable, and great at playing a character who wasn't.  There were a lot of others, but 7 years later, I'm a little surprised I remember all these names.

I enjoyed the show.  It was good.  And I felt a little odd, but good.  Like it was the start of something.  I tried out for the next show, about the Holocaust, which helped lure me there.  I met more people, got to see Tyrus again, got through 9/11 with this new group of people, celebrated my 18th birthday.  I was feeling like a member of a family.  And in the next 6 and a half years, that feeling just kept growing.  Hundreds of people later, 12 mainstage shows, a YAC show, all the different versions of the Talk, including the movie, filming Goddess Menses, and writing the Boyshow.  As great as this is, it's lead to something more.

My third audition at YPC was for Midas and the Golden Touch and Other Greek Myths.  I stood up to sing my audition song, Stars, from Les Miserables.  My voice shook.  I forgot words.  I couldn't hit notes.  I got in, cause it was obvious I was nervous, and struggled.  Ironically, a year ago, I auditioned for the Chanhassen's production of Les Miserables (singing Colors of the Wind from Pocahontas), and had similar problems.  6 years after that audition, and I was having the same struggle of confidence.  I didn't feel right standing there, singing by myself for these people.

In the last year, my life has changed...probably more than it has the 23 and a half prior.  After that failed, horrific, painful audition, that led me to drink more in the next day than I have before and since, I felt, understandably, ashamed.  My tail between my legs, my head hung low (just to break up the depressing nature of this moment, please take the next few moments to imagine those two things reversed...and now back to our story).  About a month later, I get a call from Jay Scoggin.  Jay Scoggin, at the time, was working for YPC.  At this point, I hadn't done a YPC in a year and a half, do to rumors getting to me that everyone thought I was too old to be around, and it was weird I was still around.  He called because he was in charge of something being called the Boyshow.  YPC was putting on a male version of Goddess Menses, and Jay wanted me to help out.  In the meetings, I felt like I was semi in charge.  I wasn't, but I felt like I was.  I wrote a high percentage of the show (I think it ended up being about 75% but could have been as high as 90%, depending on what was being used).  This got the creative juices back flowing.  I was psyched.  This was something I did.  Then, we made the switch from writing the show to rehearsing.  And everything went to hell.  The script was changed, in ways none of us who wrote it understood.  We weren't proud of this script.  This led to a confrontation, a blow out, and the destruction of the Boyshow for the foreseeable future.

The strange thing is, that while the Boyshow was going on, my confidence was high.  I was in driver's ed, looking into work, and school.  When the Boyshow ended, those things didn't go away.  I got my license, about a week after the Boyshow died.  I got a job a month later, but that was wrong.  That led to me quitting school, due to the fact that I was going to school FOR this specific job, but I no longer wanted it.  Two months went by with me in a bit of a haze.  The job thing took me down a lot of pegs.  I needed recuperation time.  When I got an e-mail from YPC, about auditions for Tuck Everlasting.  I figured, they needed a 20-something guy, it was time to get out of my house.

Tuck Everlasting was hard, and phenomenal.  I'd never really played that type of role before.  I'm almost always either someone who's simply part of the background, or the comedy relief.  This role was the maniacal villain.  When the show opened, I was alright.  I was doing a pretty good job.  Respectable, good, maybe a little above average.  Something happened halfway through the run.  Jacie asked me to amp it up.  Now, when I first thought up this character, I thought of him as a level-headed capitalist.  Someone who isn't evil, per say, but looks out for himself, and maybe has a lower level of scruples.  I was told to amp it up.  I turned it from a 3 to an 11.  I scared my future sister in law.  I was scary.  And I liked it.  I liked branching out, and doing something I hadn't done before, something new and exciting, and even more so, doing it well.

Just over a month ago, I got a call.  A man named Jerry Seifert heard about me, and wanted me in his play for the Spirit in the House festival.  I had never met Jerry Seifert.  I was recommended by Steve Barberio.  I had never met Steve Barberio.  Steve Barberio heard about me from my grandma.  So I was offered a role in a paying play by someone who had never met me, because I was recommended by someone who had never met me.  Brilliance.  So I've been working on this play for a month, and this is certainly something different too.  Very depressing play, and I have to be as amped down as possible.  Not quite an android, but I'm down to 1, and if I ever move it up to 2, the director tells me to tone it down.  Not to mention, this rehearsal period is completely different than what I'm used to.  We have a tech rehearsal and a read thru left, and then we open, and we haven't run through the whole show without stopping yet.  Here's a look into the future...our first run thru without stopping will be the first show.  After today though, I'm pretty psyched.  It's a great show, and it's good to do something else new.

I'm driving on the highway now.  I'm as comfortable on 169 as I am on Minnetonka Blvd. now.  The Boyshow was performed for MOAPP, and they lapped it up.  YAC is closing in on getting Reefer Madness, and have a slot in the Fringe for it.  The Boyshow is in the Fringe.  I'm feeling creative juices flowing.  People call me and invite me over.

What does all this have to do with anything?  On Monday, there are auditions for the Boyshow.  I'm picking songs, and just singing them in my house, I'm singing better than I ever have.  I'm belting, hitting notes I never could, just rocking em.  And I realized that some cliches are true.  Sometimes the things that are pounded at you so often that you don't care or listen to em.  When people keep saying the same thing to you over and over again, it's probably for a reason.  And for me, I've been told one thing over and over again.  "You need confidence."  "You need to believe in yourself."  "No one will believe in you until you believe in yourself."  I finally feel confident, and I can already say I'm a better singer, and a better actor, and a better driver.  Monday, I'm gonna try to prove it in this audition.  I'm so confident in myself, I don't care about being single.  You can read my last real blog about that.  It's a constant high.  Who knew?

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Me: has anyone checked to see if right said fred is still alive?

Me: i just realized, what if the song "I'm Too Sexy" was really a cry for help, him saying life sucks, he's too sexy, like its a problem, he might have been suicidal, someone should check on him

Mand: rofl

Mand: look sto me like the band is actually still together

Me: i know, but someone should still ask him about his problems with depression, you have to be pretty depressed to write a song about being too sexy

Me: id call that a minor problem, and he wrote a song about it

Mand: Or just conceited maybe?

Me: no, thats the misinterpretation of the song, its a sad song, he has no shirt, because hes so sexy, he is in physical pain, thats how sexy he is, hes sad

Me: he is forced, due to his sexiness, to go out and do a little dance on the catwalk, even when he doesnt feel like it, he must dance!

Mand: uh... huh

Me: poor guy

Me: i mean, im the perfect amount of sexy, could imagine being SO sexy, it turned into a negative

Mand: I think you're just really good at pulling stories out of your ass.

Me: at least im good at something

Me: sexiness, like intelligence, is cyclical, at some point, something becomes so stupid, its smart, like anchorman, this man is so sexy, its turned into a bad thing

Me: like how jonah hill is so unattractiv,e hes cute

Mand: lol

Mand: uh huh

Mand: You're so full of it

Mand: I feel like I need to buy you a life

Me: im plenty full, but not of just one thing

Me: for example, right now, garlic bread and doritos

Mand: I wasn't talking about your stomach :P

Me: im just saying im full of THAT

Me: it has yet to become IT

Me: poor guy, he couldnt even say left, he had to say right

Me: i should start a foundation for fred, to get him plastic surgery to make him less sexy

Me: although he is like, 20 years older, so im guessing hes already less sexy

Me: unless hes like julianne moore or harrison ford, who just keep their sexiness no matter their age

Mand: I think he just THOUGHT that he was too sexy in his mesh shirt when in reality, he was just kind of late 80's/early 90's lame.

Me: well, isnt sexiness really an internal thing?  based partially on confidence?  confidence exudes sexiness

Me: so perhaps he just needed someone to make fun of him

Mand: I'm just saying... it is possible to think that you are sexier than you really are.  And that's usually the case.  So in all probability... the man just had a giant ego.

Me: thats possible, but his sexiness was a problem, and i doubt he would create the idea of his sexiness being that high in his head if it ended up creating a problem

Me: im looking out for this sexy guy, cause if i ever lose 100 pounds, ill be even sexier, and i dont wan tto be treated as shabbily as him

Mand: Are you going to try to lose 100 pounds?

Me: ...no...but it could happen

Mand: If you're not going to try, I wouldn't be too concerned about it.

Me: well, im much more busy lately, and i have a craving for fruits

Mand: lol

Mand: you sound pregnant

Me: well, if my baby weighs 100 pounds, im set

Me: ok, lets simply say, he is too sexy, but he is also too lame, cant we feel bad for him being too sexy, and also dislike him for being too lame?

Mand: rofl

Mand: You're a nerd

Me: yeah, but still

Me: personal opinion aside, this is a man to be pitied

Me: TSS, or too sexy syndrome, is an important issue

Mand: rofl

Mand: I can't believe you've been yapping about this for HOURS

Me: hehe, oh, trust me, i can go days, weeks, months, years, if i have food and sleep breaks...i should be a politician

Me: the king of the filibuster

Me: last time i got on an issue like this, i spent a couple hours talking about the nonsensical cyclisism of putting a lime in a coconut

Me: the girl puts a lime in a coconut, drinks it, it makes her sick, the doctor tells her to put a lime in a coconut and drink it, what the hell?

Me: i understand a having a little hair of the dog that bit you, but what the hell?

Me: this man is a doctor, shouldnt he say "why would you put a lime in a coconut?  just wait it out, and dont do it again"

Me: and if limes and coconuts are symbolical of alcoholic drinks, by the end of the song, the girl would be an alcoholic

Me: and if the girl has a serious condition, like alcoholism, and the doctor is telling her to drink, someone should arrest this doctor

Me: hmm, the vatican says its ok to believe in aliens

Mand: Why wouldn't it be?

Me: im saying, theyre saying it doesnt interfere with catholic beliefs

Mand: There's nothing anywhere that says God didn't create other planets and creatures to live on them...

Mand: For all we know, there's a bunch of humans REALLY far away that have the same Bible and just advanced way faster than we did.

Me: i know, i just find it fascinating, first of all, because it was announced by vatican's head astronomer, i didnt know they had any

Me: who says they advanced much faster?

Mand: maybe they didn't

Mand: I dunno

Me: and if they did, wouldnt they be a different species?  which would than make the whole humans dominion over all other animals be sketchy?

Mand: I just figured if we're assuming that there's aliens, we may as well jump off the deep and and assume that they know about us and are just much smarter by now :)

Me: maybe theyre dumber, and we can conquer them

Mand: could be

Me: i just find it fascinating, also for the fact that they felt the need to make any announcement, when theyre saying, "eh, who knows?"

Me: not to mention the fact that the people who speak for the infallible pope are saying, "who knows?"

Me: how is this not a big deal?

Mand: lol

Mand: He's-a da freakin pope.

Mand: They can say whatever they want.

Me: i knwo they can, but they dont, why dont people listen to the "most religious man on earth," in 2000, the pope said there is no hell, now they say there may be aliens, no one cares

Me: this is, joking aside, da freaking pope

Me: poor fred, its a blessing...and a curse

Me: i should write a book about this

Me: "Right Said Fred...but Fred Was Wrong"

Mand: lol

Me: i just want to pet that poor, bald head of his

Mand: rofl

Mand: Sad

Me: finally, you agree his situation is sad

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