I’ve been broken into and reprogrammed. The craziness of the past few weeks have utterly transformed me from a former night owl into a … (insert groan)… morning person. Today, without reason or alarm, I awoke at 7:38 in the morning. I’ve always considered morning people to possess a genetic character flaw. My mother didn’t pass this trait on to me and I prided myself in creating a life of late morning slumber. I miss my weekly opportunity to brag to my night owl father, who told me throughout my adolescence, “Get used to getting up because you’re going to spend the rest of your life waking up to go to work.” No, sir. Not me… or not the former me.
Yet I somehow justify my early mornings are still an anomaly in some regard because I’ve been forced to rise early throughout the entire weekend. It may not make life better but with my typical disposition as a fish swimming upstream against the downstream floaters, I have a reverse schedule of those people who actually sleep in on the weekends. And I seem to thrive on being different.
Two weeks ago I found myself on the set of an Olay commercial (again), standing in for the Olay Regenerist model. I’ve come to enjoy standing in; it’s an almost on-hands commercial class that I get paid to participate in. Beauty commercials teach me the art of trust that one must hand over to a room of male crew members sitting in a pitch black studio while my eyes are blasted with blinding white lights that fill physical body flaws with illumination. I often find myself propped up with the product in hand, which must be held in place for twenty or thirty minutes while the technical aspects are perfected. It becomes my replacement for yoga and Zen meditation. The ultimate act of trust (for me) is when the crane comes out, holding hundreds of pounds of equipment and a camera speeds towards my face while I look up to find a steel pole overhead, supporting a monitor and series of hanging lights. I thought my fear of heights was my greatest terror, but it was almost trumped by the crane situation. How many times a year do we hear about musicians or actors on set being rushed to the hospital because of some light crashing down from overhead? Okay, maybe not that often. But the few times it happens are enough to send me into a neurotic fit until I realize, sometimes you just have to put your trust in others.
Last weekend I was in Boston, working one of the most boring conventions of my life. It was medical related and though many friends from New York were brought in to supplement the “talent” force, I had moments contemplating overdosing on one of the many advertised drugs to bring myself to a blissful stupor. Not that anything stronger than Prevacid was available. However, I did manage to meet with friends and enjoy the best cannolis of my life from Modern Pastry in the North End. After six years of loathing Beantown from a mishap on tour years ago, the city has found it’s way to my heart. My friends from Hawaii have recently relocated and they’re one of those families that exemplify successful unions. They’re a solid team of fun, easygoing people, and their daughter, now over a year old, is such a gem. They give me hope for my own future, in spite of the pangs and shards of sadness that crept into my heart when I recalled the time spent in Boston last year with a former. Since memories come in layers, I need to create more layers because crossing the Boston Common with my friends was merely a second layer to gloss over the first. Missing people is hard, but especially hard when we’re left to wonder why the other person had to be such a royal fuck up and not follow through with initial intentions? I wonder if being the main cause of an ended relationship feels any better.
I’ve set my eye on the prize. I want a dog. Though I dream of a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel or long-haired miniature dachshund, I may have to settle on something much smaller. It may just be a chihuahua. If I was particularly well-off, I’d find myself on a flight to Russia to purchase my dream toy pup. Leave it to me to find the rarest breed in the United States as my dream dog. Although, my cat is the most demanding being in my life, who has resorted to howling and screaming at me if I don’t devote hours to cuddling and affection. That’s what I get for working long hours to put Purina’s best in her food dish. I thought cats were supposed to be independent.
On a final note, I have broken down. In spite of my distaste for Apple and the years of headaches I endured with my first iPod, I have become an iPhone owner. And… I… love it. I haven’t suffered the screen freezes, battery failures, or bad phone quality that other people have complained about. So for now, I’m going to enjoy my honeymoon phase with the iPhone.
I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving. I’m dreading the trip and flurry of insults from family members regarding my thinness and penchant for cocktails to drown out the quips. Fortunately, this trip will cost me five bucks and I encourage all of you east coasters to check out Megabus.com. I booked my trip to Boston for $1.50! Type in “hotdeal” for a promo code and you’ll save even more than the published prices. Bus travel is my preferred method of transportation and they make it really easy and affordable.
Okay, I’m off, for coffee (something I need as a pseudo-morning person and never needed as a night owl) and to cater to my feline who is both “needing” and “kneading” me at the moment and before heading out of town for the weekend, deserves every last bit of attention. Or so she thinks.