New World, New Weather

So many worlds exist within this world, as I slightly touched on at the end of my last post. Do you ever think about the cross country skiing world, dog showing world, glassblowing world, or laser tag world? Okay, sometimes I think about the laser tag world...and wish I was in it. Still, at least once a year, I'm exposed to a whole new community of people. Lingo, inside jokes, and intra-community celebrities that I never knew existed surface as I attempt to integrate myself into whatever new society I've stumbled upon.

Kelly, me, and Rayna with Street King memorabilia

This weekend, I was introduced to the Promotions World. You know all of those really obnoxious people who bombard you with free stuff at fairs and on street corners in hopes that you start buying their product? I am now one of them. Perhaps I'm being a tad harsh in saying that all promotions are obnoxious. I personally love free stuff, so they're only bothersome when I'm in a rush. Also, having new-found experience working one, I see that they're quite effective and fun to be a part of.

During the many times I've scooted past stands in my lifetime, never once did I stop to think, Hmm...I wonder how those people got that job. I suppose my assumption was that they work for the company that owns whatever they're trying to give me. For the most part, as I discovered this weekend, that is not the case. Businesses often use promotion companies to hire outside Brand Ambassadors to, what do you know, promote their products. This explains how I ended up in a black and gold hip hop hat (not pictured, sadly) handing out samples of "Street King" energy shots this weekend. I was seriously asked if I work for G-Unit since I was promoting 50 Cent's new drink (50 Cent is a rapper, Mom). I wish I worked for G-Unit and kicked it with 50 Cent and The Game. Instead, I've started working for Attack! Marketing (The "!" is actually part of the company's name, to clear up any confusion). Basically, they send me emails with promotions in New York City and I apply for each one that fits my schedule/for which I fit the client's requirements. Most events pay really well, so why not? I'll have ample stories to tell my kids of how I made ends meet in New York when I was "young and crazy."

Standing on the corner outside of Penn Station on a Friday night with a tray full of plastic shot glasses garners a lot of attention. People decked out in their gory, slutty, funny, and lame Halloween costumes seemed rather disappointed when we explained that it was only an energy shot, not booze. Kelly, Rayna (my new friends), and I laughed when blatantly underage kids would excitedly ask, "Is it alcohol??" Yes, oh brilliant minds, we are handing out free alcohol on the corner of a street in New York City. Totally legal. Energy drinks seem to be popular, anyways, so they went pretty fast. I thought it'd be difficult to get strangers to drink an unknown substance out of a plastic cup, but apparently people are more trusting than I'd anticipated. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing, but perhaps that's why they hire tall girls in their early twenties to hand them out. We don't look like the roofying type.

Today we had the pleasure of promoting Street King in Queens (that is a lot of royalty), the borough most difficult to get to from Brooklyn. I begrudgingly rolled out of bed at 7a.m. after being wide awake until 3:30a.m. (we were asked to sample the 6 hour energy shot ourselves last night. I guess it works- and I only took half...) to begin my 1 1/2 hour journey north. A whopping total of 12 miles. I almost died when I pushed open the lobby door to find snow on the ground. REALLY? I have not been dreaming of a white Halloween. It's two holidays early. To make matters worse, the snow turned into stinging cold rain by the time I reached Starbucks. Perfect weather for outdoor promoting. Memories of last January came flooding back, reminding me of when I proclaimed "I'll never say 'I'm cold' again" after spending seven days in below zero conditions dog sledding across Ely, Minnesota. If I could handle that, I could most certainly handle a couple hours in New York's October cold front. False. We were all so miserable 2 1/2 hours into the event that we closed up shop early. First of all, no one wanted to lolly-gag around to drink Street King when they were being blasted in the face by daggers of rain and bone chilling gusts of wind. Secondly, we all lost any feeling in our appendages 15 minutes in (that's with wearing gloves), so opening small bottles and writing down information became grueling tasks. Maybe better luck tomorrow.

I trudged home in the slippery slush, grateful for my black UGG boots matching the uniform requirements, and arrived at my apartment looking something like this:

I was warned about Northeast weather, but considering it took me two hours to thaw after getting home, I don't think I was entirely prepared. Why didn't the most popular city in the world develop in, I don't know, let's say San Diego? Who's idea was it to plop all those skyscrapers in a place that is freezing, windy, and unbearable half the year? Those old developers were not wearing their thinking caps.

With all of the promotions happening, I've decided not to dress up for Halloween this year (unless you count the sopping dog costume or hip hop diva uniform). Besides, I went out to a great little bar with Jim, three of his college a cappella buddies, Jacob, and Lindsay on Thursday, so I got my fill of fun. I can only handle one late night per weekend these days. Pathetic. The night was a blast, though- definitely worth my one open slot (I'm counting Thursdays as part of the weekend, I guess). I even met a Villanova grad who works right next to my apartment! Since no one I meet ever works or lives near me, that was pretty exciting.

Well, it's 8 p.m. and I got 3 1/2 hours of sleep last night, so I think I'll hit the sack. Hopefully tomorrow isn't as brutal outside. And Happy Birthday, Dad! As he likes to say, today he turns the Virginia speed limit: 55!

Conceit

Between pageant girls and performers, I'm always surrounded by talented, beautiful, and driven young women. I love my friendships with all of them, but I've started to become weary of the self-obsession these hobbies bring about. For the most part, participants are able to handle the competition gracefully, but others become narcissistic without even realizing it. They're still moral, giving, wonderful people, except they subconsciously (or consciously without admittance) think they're a better breed for whatever reason: talent, looks, being the most well-known, etc. I'd be lying if I said that I haven't felt myself falling into the trap of conceit at times. When you have a crown on your head, people constantly tell you that you're gorgeous and special. When you sing for a crowd, applause and compliments come flooding in. Anyone with any sort of self worth would start to feel pompous if they didn't take a step back to assess the reality of their humanness. Really, is anyone that much more interesting because their vocal chords produce a pleasant sound or they have a long hair and a tan? No. But with the constant attention, pageant girls and performers are prone to believing that they are.

Because of my annoyance when I see unattractive arrogance develop in an acquaintance or friend, I'm overly sensitive to my own pride. Even writing this blog post concerns me because I don't believe I'm "better" than the girls who are narcissistic by expressing my dismay for their behavior. I mean that. We all have our vices and mine are no better than having a big head. I'm writing this only in hopes that we all take a moment to honestly evaluate the way we view ourselves.

As I mentioned above, I can hardly blame entertainers for having superiority complexes. After all, the spotlight prompts excessive praise. The trick, however, is to take each compliment with a grain of salt. I'm not saying we must brush off kind words (something I'm guilty of and constantly scolded for); it's important to be grateful for the recognition. Rather, we need to be aware of taking them too seriously. For instance, someone might say "You were the most talented singer onstage tonight!" or "This is your year! You deserve that crown!", but that does not mean you are, in fact, more talented than the others or that you deserve something more than anyone else. Sadly, many of these well-intended compliments worm their way to the back of girls' brains, where they sit on a cloud of vanity and pass judgement on other people. Most women don't even realize that they've become snobbish because they think their belief in their one-of-a-kind awesomeness is vindicated by all of their faithful admirers. We have to be so careful (I know I do) to only "believe we're the best" during the performance or audition so that we exude confidence onstage, but then let that notion fade away during our day to day lives.

The second you start thinking "Wow, I bet everyone's looking at me right now because I'm so pretty" when you're in a room full of strangers or "I got this gig because I'm the best" is when you need to take a few step back and look around for that fine line between confidence and conceit. When you find it, take a sharpie and trace over it a few times to make sure you never cross it again. Again, I've been there. I start letting all of the nice things people say about me affect the way I perceive the world around me. When I reevaluate, it's almost humorous to imagine how stuck up I can be. There are pretty people everywhere. You are not the only one people see everyday and most certainly are not the most gorgeous among them. Someone will always be better at their job than you and people are almost never paying as much attention to you as you might believe. I haven't struggled with those thoughts for a long time now because I made the decision a few years ago to always have my shield ready for when they try and sneak in, but since moving to New York, I've noticed that many amazing young women do not have their own shields at the ready. I'm appalled at the amount of girls who can say out loud "I know I'm gorgeous" or "Guys always want me" without blinking an eye. I applaud that kind of confidence, but am put off by that kind of pride. Every woman should be able to look in the mirror and say "I'm beautiful and I love this skin I'm in," but let's not get crazy here, people.

We are all capable of becoming smug. Intentional or not, superciliousness can destroy friendships, careers, and deeper happiness. No matter what world we live in- the medical world, the entertainment world, the business world, or the pageant world- let's all take time to see the extraordinary work of others around us and not submerge ourselves in the depths of self-satisfaction.

Don't Tell Mama's

The life of a singer is a waiting game. Audition. Wait. Audition. Wait. Wait in line to audition. Audition. Wait. I haven't completely delved into the cycle yet, but auditioning for a job at Don't Tell Mama last night reminded me of the constant patience required. After I performed, the manager told me I did a great job and that they'd be in touch soon. Soon? What's "soon"? Tomorrow? This week? By the end of 2011? This always happens. I never know how long to stay hopeful or how soon to move on. Friends in the NYC audition circuit tell me to always move on immediately, but this is a tad different since it's a long term restaurant job- not a tour or short term gig. I can't help but hope I'll have a way of feeding myself by next week.

Even if nothing transpires, last night was great experience. I had no clue what to expect or if my song choices would fit the bar's usual atmosphere, but I listened to instruction and chose one current hit and one Broadway piece. Unfortunately, I became apprehensive after arriving to find the bartender belting oldies and flashy show tunes. I'd imagined a more understated scene, which is why I went with a softer contemporary Broadway song, "Stars and the Moon," and "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. After two seconds of worrying that my song choices didn't have enough flair, I decided it wasn't that big of a deal. People would still enjoy them. Next thought: Will the pianist know them? Of course he would. I'd played it safe. "Stars and the Moon," is relatively famous in musical theatre land, and "Need You Now" was drilled into everyone's head after a million years of being the only song played on the radio, not to mention every pianist and guitarist I know can play it. My safety net deteriorated, however, when I realized that the very talented pianist might not listen to very much modern music. Uh oh.

The place was crowded with Broadway-goers in high, talkative spirits after their evening's show. The manager told the pianist to introduce a guest performer, so I walked to the little stage when my name was announced. I took a deep breath, placed my sheet music on the piano, and looked at Jim and Brittany for support (they gave me wide-eyed smiles to assure me "you can do this!"). We started with "Stars and the Moon" since the pianist did not have any idea what "Need You Now" was. I decided to address that minor problem once I already had one song out of the way. Five seconds into the performance, I realized that I'd have to pretend I was singing a cappella because of the difficulty hearing the piano. I had faith that he was a professional and would follow my lead, even if I couldn't hear what he was doing. And he did. I guess that's why he was hired at the most prestigious piano bar in the Broadway theatre district.

Jim and me in front of "Don't Tell Mama" after I sang

The first song ended without a glitch (well, I messed up the words at one point when I was concentrating on hearing myself over the bustle- but I covered well enough that no one noticed), so I leaned over his shoulder to discuss how to handle "Need You Now." I offered to sing something else, but after a few seconds of flipping through pages and pounding out a couple notes, he insisted I sing what I prepared. Jim's words of wisdom flashed through my head: Just own it, Shannon. I sang it like nothing was out of the ordinary, and the pianist followed right along. Our rendition of the song wasn't necessarily the most polished or accurate, but the pianist (I wish I knew his name!) and I got through it. His lack of knowledge about the song and exceptional talent led to a creative interpretation on his part, which turned out to sound really cool with my traditional melody. Tricky transitions and timing aside, I was really proud that we worked together and didn't fall apart. I can definitely say that was one of my most difficult performances to date, but even so- it wasn't so bad!

This morning, I switched gears and undertook administrative work for an attorney on Wall Street. I've never seen so much paper in my life. The rest of the day has consisted of follow up calls with Stardust (still waiting for an audition...), applying for event promotions, and researching cruise ship auditions. I really think singing on a cruise ship would be ideal for this time in my life. I have no strings attached to anything or anyone- why not gallivant around the world?

Well, I'm off to Jim and Lindsay's to watch another episode of the new Fox show "Revenge!" Linds and I are minorly obsessed...

Singing!

The last time I sang for an audience was in June. JUNE! That was so long ago. I have not stepped foot on a stage since the Miss Virginia Pageant, and even that was opera. Pop is a completely different story. Tonight I'm singing two songs at "Don't Tell Mama," a popular piano bar in Hell's Kitchen. Yesterday, I applied there and at Stardust, two restaurants known for their singing waitstaff. The manager asked me to come back tonight to perform two songs at their open mic night- one current pop hit and one Broadway tune. Singing with a live pianist whom you've never worked with can be a tad disconcerting at times, so I've chosen two songs I know like the back of my hand: "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum and "Stars and the Moon" from Songs for a New World.

Just knowing I get to use my voice tonight put me in a great mood all day. I energetically made copies of the sheet music, organized my repertoire book, worked hard at the gym, and practiced my song choices. My terrible nerves are beginning to kick in since I leave in about 45 minutes for the venue, though. I've been singing for audiences since I was seven, but I still get sweaty palms and my heart races as a performance approaches. Nightmares about getting a bad case of the hiccups right before a song or forgetting the words haunt me even though I've never had a terrible experience. Hopefully I'll continue my 16 year streak of non-traumatic presentations tonight.

Maybe my performance will lead to a job at Don't Tell Mama, maybe it won't, but I'm still so glad I waltzed in there yesterday without knowing how well known their piano bar is. Had I realized that it was such a distinguished spot, I might have been too intimidated. But look! Now I have an opportunity to sing! I think I caught the manager at a good time because originally they were only interested in hiring a new bartender. Even though I have no experience in that position, she gave it a good, long thought and said "I'd really like to hear you sing. Why don't you come in tomorrow." Immediately, I called Jim, as he was the one who originally told me to apply. He and Lindsay love the place and introduced it to Grandma and me when she visited earlier this month. Over the phone, Jim gave me directions to the nearest store that sold sheet music, where I picked up the piano scores I needed, and promised he'd be there tonight to support me! I'm so glad I'll have him and Brittany to smile at onstage. :)

Although I don't go on at Don't Tell Mama until after 10 p.m., I'm going to attempt to go to bed early enough that I won't be tired tomorrow morning. My former boss, Lynn, recommended me to her attorney since he needs extra help around the office once a week. How nice of her! Thus, tomorrow I'll be filing papers and make copies for some extra cash. Oh, the glitz and glamor of surviving in NYC.

Busch Gardens

Living in the moment is important, but drawing on the past can be just as imperative if you need a reminder that life can be a blast. Today I reflected on my time as a singer at Busch Gardens- probably the best eight months of my life. When I auditioned in January 2009, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. A friend of mine mentioned she might audition, so I showed up on a whim without a headshot or resume. I waited for five hours in their Ireland theatre (Busch Gardens, Williamsburg has a European theme), sang one verse of "I Could Have Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady, answered a few questions, and left. A few months later, I received an offer to join the cast of "San Marco Singers" in Italy. Enthusiastically, I accepted and began at the end of May.

I had no idea what the world of theme park entertainment entailed. Half of me expected to show up and find that I'd be spending my entire summer working with old men who loved to sing opera. Boy, was I wrong. Unbeknownst to me, getting hired at Busch Gardens was an honor that takes some performers multiple years of auditioning to achieve. To this day, I have no idea why I was given such an opportunity, but I'm sure glad I was.

Backstage w/ Michael & Emily; Italy cast at Paul's

The Entertainment Department was full of college students and young adults who were more fun to be around than anyone I'd met before or have met since. My show had eight singers, four men and four women, who became like my brothers and sisters. We performed six days a week, 5-7 shows a day, and spent nearly every waking second together. As you can imagine, we became so comfortable with each other onstage (hundreds and hundreds performances of the same show will do that...) that we played subtle games to spice things up. I remember one time someone came up with the "Hit Michael Show," during which all of us found a moment to somehow slap/punch our friend Michael. He had no clue what was going on, while the rest of us could hardly hold it together as he reacted to each blow. Even when we weren't playing a secret game onstage, hilarious and memorable moments found us. One time Lori's petticoat completely fell off during "Funiculi, Funicula," a song we sang in the audience. Like a deer in headlights, she froze until Emily and I helped reattach her skirt. We were laughing so hard that I think only three of us could continue singing. I'm laughing outloud just thinking about it. Lori also had a habit of sneezing when the sun got in her eyes...again, we rarely were able to suppress our giggles as we watched her nose twitch to keep from letting one out.

Below are two performances of the same song. The first is mid-season. The second is our very last show (when our stage manager gave us pretty much free reign).  You'll see how we progressed (regressed...?). Michael is standing next to me in the first one, when the madness was just beginning. By the last performance, only five of the eight of us were left and our musical director had to step in to make an even six...you can tell she's the one in the middle trying to remember her part, while the rest of us were giving our three hundred and something performance- literally- of the same song. I'd say Jake and I had a good time on the left. I was cracking up when I saw that the second video existed...

Besides the show with the eight of us, Italy had a bigger production called "Festivale Italiano," implemented into the performance schedule about a month into the summer season. This spectacle required the talents of ten dancers, multiple boys on stilts, a lot of musicians, and random Chinese performers who juggled with their throats (no, really) and did tricks with face masks. Essentially, a rainbow threw up on the stage while we ran around singing "That's Amore" and the dancers played with ribbons...it was the perfect theme park show. Participating in such a chaotic display was humorous and an absolute blast. I'm glad I was there in 2009, because by 2010 they toned it down quite a bit, which I'm sure didn't create nearly as many laughs for that season's performers. For the grand finale my year, all of the singers donned gaudy gowns and robes while we sang "Time to Say Goodbye." Although we all looked absolutely outrageous, Michael was stuck with the most outlandish costume: The Bird. Instead of a robe, Michael was given something that resembled a peacock, feathers and wings included. At one point in the song, the singers paired off and walked quickly through the audience right before the big last note. To get on and off the stage, we had to maneuver two sets of stairs in layers upon layers of colorful fabric. Michael and Lori were walking up the stairs right in front of Paul and me when BAAM, The Bird lost flight. Since he had no hands free to catch himself while holding out his fabulous wings, Michael ate it- beak first- when he tripped on the last step. On the last note of the song, only our bass singer, Amon, sang as the rest of us had tears streaming down our faces from laughter. Somehow Amon had missed the fall, so he was granted a solo for our less than impressive final chord.

Finale Costumes for "Festivale Italiano"

Getting ready for bed with "Festivale Italiano" friends

At Paul's with Italy singers

As you can tell from these stories, which don't even begin to cover the amount of hilarious happenings, rarely did we get through a show without wanting to laugh our faces off. Since we had so much fun together at work, we spent almost every evening together, too. After a day in the park, we'd head to Paul's Deli, the favorite hang out in Williamsburg, for drinks and socializing. The bartenders knew each of us by name and granted us special privileges over the William & Mary students in the fall since we practically kept them in business during the slow summer. Paul's became my second home, where I spent an insane amount of time even after I stopped working at Busch. I ended up dating a guy from William & Mary, so we'd go into Paul's and the bouncer and bartenders always looked after me and made sure those college boys were treating me well. I loved it. :)

Above: Cami, me, & Lauren; Below: "Frankenrock"

When my summer in Italy came to a close, I was hired to stay in the park as a singer in the Germany Howl-O-Scream show called "Frankenrock." More like "FrankenPOP," as we liked say. Fun Halloween tunes like "Thriller," "Monster Mash," and "Time Warp" were meshed with random songs like "Livin' La Vida Loca" and, my personal favorite, "Barbie Girl." Yes, that was my big solo and I loved every second of it (see my very first blog post for video). Not only was the show itself incredibly energetic, my character really amusing (I was a "sexy barbie witch" in a lime green pleather mini-dress and matching witch hat), and the dances great workouts, but I was cast with my best friend in the park, Cami. She was in the "Country" show during summer, but we'd become inseparable since I spent almost every night at her house during July and August. I never liked to commute all the way from Virginia Beach, so I crashed on her couch instead. We were thrilled to be in the same show and became very close friends with another one of our castmates, Lauren- who's room I'm now subleasing in New York! Camping trips, sleepovers, and nights at Paul's with my Busch friends made for a perfect start to my senior year of college. Even though I was still a full time student in Newport News, I worked full time and spent most of my time 30 minutes away in Williamsburg. I loved my school, but I don't regret not being there often that semester in light of the amount of fun I had with fellow performers.

Cami and me on Halloween

One of my best guy friends in the world (a drummer at Busch), Smithers, and me on the camping trip

The year came to a close right back where I started: in the Ireland theatre for the Christmas Town show, "Rejoice." During the last show, every one of us was in tears as we took our bow. I remember the sadness I felt in that moment, knowing that I could never relive all of the wonderful time I spent in those eight months at Busch Gardens. I'd never been more excited to wake up every day to go sing in front of thousands of people, spend time with the greatest friends I'd ever known, and laugh my way through it all. Words can't express how happy I was during that time in my life. My Busch friends are now scattered throughout the world on cruise ships, in Disney theme parks (even in Korea!), bands, and regional theatres. I don't know if they'll ever understand how much they mean to me, but I know for certain that we became a family that still loves each other and can pick up exactly where we left off. I learned so much about myself and changed accordingly that summer, and they loved me through it all. I can only hope that I'll someday find as much excitement and joy in each and every day as I did during my time at Busch Gardens.

Above: "Rejoice"; Below: Christmas Eve with cast members

 

Adam, from the summer cast, visiting during Christmas

My friends from Busch Gardens and I continued to hang out long after the 2009 season ended, as you can see from the photos below. I stay in touch with most of them and make an effort to visit the ones who still work at Busch Gardens!

Teach for America Benefit

At times, a new dress is all it takes to lift your spirits. Maybe not if you're male, but you get the gist. Last week, my friend Mike bought me a ticket to the Teach for America Fall Fling in lower Manhattan. The event was Thursday, and I had nothing to wear. Most of my cocktail dresses are too fancy (from pageant world) or too casual (from Virginia Beach world). Anything possible to makeshift into the appropriate attire was a little too tight now...darn it New York stress eating! Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not overweight, but a tight black miniskirt just won't cut it these days. I spent the first half of the week telling myself that it would be okay to show up in something I didn't feel great in, but as the evening approached, I knew I'd have far more fun if I felt confident...especially since I wouldn't really know anyone there. Mike was helping to host the event so he would have no time to entertain me, and it's not like I'm tied into the young professionals world where I'd bump into someone familiar. Knowing I'd be fending for myself was intimidating in its own right; no need to add fuel to the fire by feeling insecure about my outfit.

The issue with buying a new dress is that you have to, well, buy it. With money. I don't have much of that stuff. This is where my new favorite person of New York came into play: my runner at work, Thomas. Thomas is the one who made these few weeks at the Sicilian restaurant more enjoyable. He always encouraged me and pointed me in the right direction, all the while cracking me up with his strong Spanish accent (he moved here from Mexico ten years ago) and only halfway understandable jokes. I've never met such a hard worker- he works two jobs and puts in 80-90 hours a week! I told him about the Teach for America benefit and my dilemma with having nothing to wear, so he whipped out two discount cards to Express and said, "Go buy yourself a dress and be beautiful!" I wish I could somehow type with a Spanish accent. Those words sounded even more adorable. He pointed me to the nearest store after work, where I bought a brand new dress for 60% off! He's my little New York angel. I'll have to email my grandma about him so she can include him in her book "Angels of New York," a compilation of stories involving all of the people who helped her during her visit. She joked that the trick to finding them was to look like a helpless little old lady...hilarious. Too bad she's not actually writing it. I think it'd be an awesome book. There are so many unassuming gems amidst the bustling crowds.

Heading out! Brit had her iPhone ready for a photo op...

Feeling great in my new dress and Brit's velvet blazer, I headed to the benefit. As I was registering and receiving my open bar bracelet (score!), I heard a familiar voice- Justin! My brother's close friend who used to live with Jim and Jacob (still lives with Jacob, actually) had walked in right before me. Mike and him grew up together in San Diego, so I guess it made sense that he was there. He was remarkably sweet, introducing me to all of his friends and colleagues and even lending me his arm (which came in handy when I slipped while walking into the main room...totally normal). I've spent a lot of time with Justin before, but he was more outgoing and gentlemanly than I've ever seen him. His friends were also great to hang out with and most of them knew or had heard of my brother, which made for easy conversation. The venue was gorgeous and the environment was just what I needed: a lot of hot, successful guys in suits- my favorite- and girls who were really intelligent and welcoming. I wish I was the kind of girl who could approach a guy, because I wanted to chat with so many of them...but oh well, I didn't meet the love of my life. Someday I'll be that smooth, nonchalant woman who can seamlessly start conversation with a mysterious tall, dark and handsome bachelor. But for now, I'm still awkward Shannon.

Thursday's big night out was perfectly succeeded by a movie night in with Meg (from dog sledding) last night. I heard about exciting news in her love life, she listened to the exact opposite regarding my love life, and we watched "Jane Eyre." Red wine, girl talk, and chick flicks? We all know that's my favorite! I had such a relaxing time that we're having a repeat tonight. The best way to avoid spending money is to make plans for lots of movie nights. Or go on lots of first dates....but I prefer the former.

In other news, I quit my waitressing job. I understand that work won't always be pleasant, but I needed a younger, peppier environment. Back to the grind of finding a job. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

Dori, from finding Nemo, is my favorite cartoon character ever...a lot of my friends have even pointed out our similarities. I'm not sure what to make of that, but I subsequently named my fish from PSYC 401 Lab senior year "Dorian" in her honor (my fish was a dude). Dori's famous tune of "just keep swimming" somehow never leaves my head as I deal with the constant struggles in NYC. Go figure- a cartoon fish with short term memory is my source of inspiration...

Frustration

Why can't anything in NYC go well? So far, I feel liked I've accomplished little more than watching my savings slowly decline as I attempt to find a job that supports me. I've worked at two places in two months, neither of which has brought any satisfaction to my life (or adequate dough). I am continuing to look for alternative employment opportunities while staying at my new restaurant, but my current day-to-day life is down right depressing. I've been trying to keep a positive attitude, but two weeks into the new job and I'm still a nervous wreck half the time. I leave close to tears after almost every shift. That is not how I plan on spending many more of my days. Life is too short.

Frustration is such an awful feeling. Frustration with my job, frustration with not knowing what I'm going to do the rest of my life, frustration with my social life, frustration with my love life, frustration with myself, etc. It's a growing epidemic. On top of it, I feel guilty for being so frustrated with life because I feel like everything's in my control. Get a new job, find more energy to go out and meet people, go to the gym, become more exciting, and take ownership for your own happiness, Shannon! The thing is, I honestly feel like I'm trying to no avail. There's always more I can do, but I'm tired. I'm tired of not having a steady job. I'm tired of going out and not meeting anyone, or meeting people that live far away from Brooklyn. I'm tired of not feeling worthy of a real relationship. I'm just tired. I understand that "all good things take time," as Jacob (Jim's best friend) reminded me yesterday, but can't just one aspect of my life fall into place? Just one?

Complaining about my life seems selfish and out-of-touch, I know, since I have a loving family, supportive old friends (albeit not close by), a healthy body, an education, and no debt. And I have some really great moments here and there. Life could be much, much worse. Still, that doesn't mean that everything's always easy. As a matter of fact, nothing's easy at the moment. I'm beginning to realize that wishing I wasn't going through such a rough period in my life doesn't mean I'm ungrateful for the good things I have. A rough period is a rough period, no matter who you are. Life isn't always breezy and there's no need to feel guilty when it's not. Wallowing in self-pity is one thing, but actively trying to get out of a rut and continually running into obstacles is another.

Tonight, I'm going to my one place of refuge in New York: Jim and Lindsay's. They know that their apartment has become my favorite spot and welcome me as often as I wish. Whether we're eating around the dinner table with a group of friends, like last Saturday (sooooo much fun!), or Lindsay and I are just watching a T.V. show together, like tonight, I'm in a much happier mood. Thank goodness I have family nearby, or else I'm not sure how much longer I'd last!

With Jim and Lindsay the night after their engagement

Grandma Comes to Town!

Crazy people are everywhere. New York City may be home to the best and brightest, but it's also home to the meanest and craziest. Brittany just called me to fill me in on a somewhat disturbing, completely insane experience she had on her way to Alphabet City. She saw a woman begging on the side of the road (they're everywhere) and walked past like normal. After all, you'd run out of money if you gave a dollar to all of the homeless people you saw here. For some reason, Brittany felt compelled to turn around and give the woman a $5 bill, as well as talk about life, God, and how she (the beggar) ended up where she is now. While they were chatting, another lady approached them and started yelling at Brittany for helping the beggar, claiming that all the money went towards was drugs and illegal activity. That would be the moment I walk away quickly. Instead, Brit started explaining that she didn't care if the money didn't go to good use; that the good deed was given in faith that the beggar would make the right choice and/or learn from Brittany's charitable heart. The other lady wouldn't listen and caused a giant scene that ended up with the police involved. Poor little Brittany just stood there with the beggar as the other lady was hauled away, wondering why she'd felt so compelled to turn around in her tracks. Perhaps she'll never know if there was some greater reason for the whole incident, but what I took from it was WOW there are a lot of crazies up here.

Last Friday, my grandma's friend had to deal with an NYC madman, as well. Johna, who is in her eighties, sat outside the New York Public Library while my grandmother went inside to look around. In broad daylight with hundreds of onlookers, a large man walked up to her and started screaming at her in a different language. Johna had no idea what he was saying or why he was yelling at her, so she just sat there until he walked off. I believe some of the onlookers came to her rescue, but I didn't catch that part of the story. I'm just reminded to keep a watchful eye for people who are out of their minds!

Jim, me, and Grandma at "Don't Tell Mama"

Last week, my grandma and Johna visited from San Diego for a few days to see Broadway shows and enjoy autumn in New York. One perk about living in New York is that people always visit. Sometimes I like to think it's really for me, but let's be honest- no one ever came to visit when I lived in Virginia Beach. Whatever the reason, I was thrilled to spend time with Grams. She's the healthiest, most vibrant, hilarious grandmother in the world. Her friend Johna is equally spectacular. The two of them met in their sorority- Pi Phi- during college and remain close friends. I love that! Jim and I met them at an awesome piano bar called "Don't Tell Mama" on Restaurant Row for dinner and drinks before their show on Thursday. Grandma kept us cracking up with stories about her uncooperative "phone for the elderly" and how she's just going to get iPhone instead. After all, she's a big Steve Jobs fan and can sign up for classes on how to use it! She already takes Mac classes. I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but Grandma knows more about technology than I do.

The next morning, I met them again at the New York Public Library (hence the crazy man approaching Johna at that location) for an early lunch. I hadn't been there yet, so I was super excited to see the building where Carrie and Big were supposed to get married in Sex and the City the Movie. I really want to get a library card, too, but haven't had any success. I tried to sign up last week, but got overwhelmed....that's a whole different story. Anyways, the three of us walked around to the back where a gorgeous restaurant is attached that opens up into a small courtyard park. I ate the most delicious walnut encrusted turkey salad and chocolate sorbet. Oh, the splendor of going out to eat! Such a rare and joyous occasion, only to be topped by spending time with my grandmother who lives on the other side of the country. I was so sad to say goodbye, but at least I have Jim and Lindsay's wedding to look forward to with the whole family next April! Grandma, Johna, and I also jokingly toyed with planning a little girls vaca in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico early next year. Fingers crossed we can actually make that happen! Probably only in my dreams...

Smile :-)

A smile is the same in every language.

We've all heard that quote before, but how often do Americans actually encounter language barriers that make us ponder it? Virginia isn't exactly the diversity mecca of the world, so rarely did I hear an accent, much less come across someone who couldn't speak English. In New York, the ultimate melting pot, "a smile is the same in every language" holds far more value as I try to tell the dishwasher that I need "quatro leche cups rapido." All I can do is point and smile to somehow convey "I'm in a hurry, but I'm not mad and I appreciate your help!" Gracias, gracias. Good thing I had those four years of Spanish...

I did not study Israeli, however. At all. So communicating with one of my bosses proves difficult as he has a very thick Israeli accent. I feel a little sheepish typing "Israeli" because that is not what Israeli people speak. I made it up. I guess it's technically either Hebrew or Arabic, but the point is that it's not an accent I am used to hearing, nor could I ever hope to know even one word of the language. Half the time, my boss's instructions sink in about five seconds after he gives them, leaving me smacking my own forehead for responding completely inappropriately. Luckily, if I nod and smile, I buy myself a few more seconds of comprehension- and a nod generally depicts whatever answer he's looking for. "Can you take this to a table?" Smile and nod. "Did you tell them what the special is?" Smile and nod. "Bread for table 34?" Smile and nod. "What drink did that woman want?" Smile and nod. Oh wait. See, that's when the smile becomes important. Because even if it's obvious that I did not understand the question, at least I seem pleasant.

For the record, if I legitimately don't know what he asks of me, I double check like a good waitress. But I've learned that most of the time I'll figure it out within 10 seconds of the initial inquiry. Unfortunately, my smile and nod routine doesn't work for every situation and breeds awkward silences during which we both realize that all productive communication was intercepted by the language barrier.

All of that being said, I smile my way through work because I am acutely aware of how much a smile lifts my own spirits. When I burst into the kitchen in a whirlwind trying to find doilies and a cook smiles and says "You doing okay?" (which sounds like "jew doonkay"), I'm infinitely grateful for the gesture of support. No words could take the place of Tarek's (my Israeli boss) smile after I ask a question to let me know I'm not a giant idiot. By the way, Tarek speaks perfectly proficient English. I just usually have 40 different things on my mind as I scurry around the restaurant, so an accent only adds to the jumble in my head when it'd be perfectly understandable otherwise. Either way, smiling has come to mean even more to me than usual.

Taking care of a leper (I'm in red)

Before church with other girls on the trip (I'm in blue)

The first time I was exposed to "a smile is the same in every language" was when I visited Chennai, India in 2004 and again in 2006. Both years, I stayed for around three weeks, working in an AIDS home, leper colony, primary school, and various other medical and computer clinics/facilities. I was only 16 during my first visit...talk about a culture shock. By the time I returned in 2006, the tsunami had devastated much of the area I'd visited before, leaving thousands of families torn apart and unbelievable wreckage. The school for children orphaned in the tsunami and the AIDS home changed me more than anything else. Cutting and dressing wounds in the leper colony was beyond intense, attending church with hundreds of Christians in Chennai gave me more faith than I've ever felt, and teaching English in the HOPE worldwide primary school in the slums opened my eyes and warmed my heart. But showing the little kids with AIDS and without parents that they were special and loved changed the way I interact with strangers forever. I couldn't tell them with words that I cared, so smiling was the only way to make them feel comfortable.

Found no photos of Lakshmi; these are at tsunami relief

One 5-year-old little girl from the AIDS home, Lakshmi, holds the title of most memorable smile. She seemed nervous and shy when we first met. Her caretakers informed us that most of the children rarely interact with people outside the AIDS home because they would be persecuted for their disease. However, by building a relationship with nothing but smiling, singing, and dancing, Lakshmi would not let go of my hand by the final visit at the end of the trip. I will never, ever forget her tiny little body twisting around in my lap during the last day just to look up at me and smile. We had no communication other than that, but it created a deeply inexplicable bond. I know that she felt safe and accepted when I smiled at her, but she had no idea how much her smile ingrained in me the importance of cultural togetherness and acknowledging individuality. She wasn't just another child with AIDS; she was Lakshmi, a unique little girl with interests and experiences all her own. To this day, the reason I don't see the cooks as just "the guys in the kitchen" or all football players as "dumb jocks" is because she taught me that everyone deserves the chance to be known as an individual.

I guess you can see why my platform for Miss Virginia was Diversity Awareness and why I founded S.A.I.L. at CNU (see earlier blog post). When you smile at someone and your eyes meet, he/she's no longer part of a pack. That's what I mean by cultural togetherness- grasping that each culture is made up of distinct individuals, which in turn should bring us all together. And it can all start with a smile. :-)

Always Making a Change

I ran into the guy from the elevator again. On the elevator, of course (see blog called "Quotes" for your reminder). I find the coincidental elevator rides quite intriguing since I don't think I've seen anyone else who lives in this building more than once. When the doors opened on his floor and he was standing there, I just laughed and said, "Chase, right?" Sadly, he didn't remember my name. I guess he doesn't think our meetings are as strange as I do...but at least he remembered who I was! This time he had his dog with him, which provided us with a conversation topic for the three second ride to the lobby. Too bad he didn't look like he was going out last night or else I would've invited him to join me in the Meatpacking District (what an awful name for a district). He probably has a baby to take care of or something, knowing my luck.

As I patted myself on the back for bumping into Chase while wearing makeup and presentable clothing rather than my usual yoga pants and a ponytail, I hustled to the train since I was running late, per usual. Once I finally got through the turnstile after swiping my uncooperative card three times, I made sure to get on the correct train to Jim and Lindsay's so I wouldn't end up in Manhattan like last time. They had friends in town, like they do every weekend, so we hung out and drank cheap wine until the time came to go to Tommy's birthday party. Tommy is the hilarious friend of theirs that I met last weekend...fantastically flamboyant and very mindful of his "skinny pop" status (skinny popular). I love him. Brittany met all of us out, but true to our style, we left around midnight in order to get a good night's sleep. Grandma's of New York, watch out. Speaking of grandmas and New York, my grandmother from San Diego visited this week. But I'll save our reunion for my next blog...she hasn't emailed me the pictures to accompany the stories yet!

Today was another day at the restaurant. I enjoy serving tables, but this place is so slow and small that I'm not even able to interact with coworkers when I get bored because there are none. Most of the time, it's just the owner and me. For that reason- plus a few others, I don't think this will be a permanent gig. Being overly picky about where I work is not usually in my character, but I'm really determined to find a job where I can meet new people. Much of my discontentment in New York revolves around the lack of a friend circle. I have so many- too many, I sometimes feel- individual friends, but none who are also friends with each other. I love all of them, but the energy it takes to spend time with just one person kind of puts a damper on the idea, for me. Sometimes I'd prefer to just chill in a group where none of the attention is on me rather than talk about life, you know? Anyways, at least I am making a little bit of money for the time being...though not much. And Thursday a customer asked me if I'm an aspiring actress, which made me smile. :) People are so personable supportive when you talk to them like human beings rather than in robot-waitress mode.

Adam and me at Geraldine's wedding

Tonight I'm heading to Hell's Kitchen for my friend Adam's birthday dinner. I'll order water since it's free, but at least I'll get to say hello! I met him two months ago at my friend Geraldine's wedding in Boston. He lives in the city and I haven't seen him since, so I figured I should stop by and give him a birthday hug. While I'm out that way, I'm going to drop my resume off at a few places I might like better than my current situation. Change doesn't happen unless you make it!

The Restaurant Business

Vodka on the rocks. That's one way to start a Tuesday. I was greeted at work this morning by three men in suits who were all drunk at 11 a.m. My fellow server told me they started with vodka on the rocks around 9 o'clock, followed by shots and champagne. I don't know how business works here in the City, but something tells me those guys weren't legitimate businessmen. That or they had one heck of a meeting to sit through.

My third day in the restaurant went well. I feel comfortable since I served for a year in Virginia Beach, so I'm simply adjusting to a new menu and computer system. The traditional Sicilian ambiance is far more upscale than Cheeseburger in Paradise (CIP), but surprisingly more relaxed. I was thrilled to find that I don't have to sweep floors or have side work checked off at the end of a shift. Instead, expectations are established to keep everything in order, so everyone rises to the occasion. Even the tips are split between the two servers on the floor rather than each server getting tips directly from the specific tables they served that day/night. This format creates an atmosphere of teamwork because every single table's experience is important to you, whether they're technically "yours" or not. A large chain like CIP could not use this system because five to twelve servers work at one time, but I'm definitely discovering the perks of working at a smaller restaurant. And one that has a pricier menu. One bill here equals two or more at a burger joint in Virginia, which equals twice the tips. Hurray for money!

Something I love about the restaurant business is the diverse staff. People from all different backgrounds work in the industry. Some have no education; some have their masters. Some have no money; some come from wealth. The drastic range of employees has to do with the fact that many restaurant jobs are flexible. You can work through school, work around auditions (heyyy!), work day and night to pay rent, or work once in a while for play money. You can be a host, server, bartender, chef, line cook, manager, or owner. Every single one of these positions depend on one another to create a successful dining experience for guests. To have a functional restaurant, ego can't get in the way of working together. The owners and managers are the bosses, of course, but aside from that, everyone is equal. The server doesn't get tables unless the host does her job. The chef has no food to cook unless the server takes the order, and the server gets no food for their tables unless the cook prepares it. Sounds simple enough, but when you're actually in the heat of a lunch rush, the constant reliance on other people teaches a lot of patience and understanding. You also don't care in that moment if they're black, white, Latino, poor, rich, uneducated, intelligent, fat, or skinny. You just want them to do what's necessary in helping your duties run smoothly and recognize the importance of doing the same for them. Because of that interdependence, friendships form quite rapidly. I still talk to some of my girlfriends from Cheeseburger in Paradise! They became my go-to social circle during my transition year at home.

With some CIP ladies and the Channel 13 News anchor

After work today, Julie- the girl I've been shadowing- and I walked to a doughnut place next to the subway station. She knows I'm on a diet of sorts, but insisted that I try one of these gourmet doughnuts (the "D" word, as my grandma calls them). I hadn't eaten anything all day and it was almost 5 p.m., so I accepted her invitation. A 19-year-old fashion student, she's working because her parents insisted she get a job. I totally respect that, as I was in her exact position when I worked as a Front Desk Assistant and R.A. my sophomore year of college. She's noticeably mature for her age, probably accentuated by her 5'10'' model frame with a pile of tight blonde curls adding another two or three inches on top of her head, and easy to get to know. Since she's attending the Fashion Institute of Technology, I was surprised to find that she is more interested in becoming a CFO than a personal shopper.

When I was walking down the steps into the subway, doughnut- her treat- in hand, I realized that this is why I switched jobs. Interacting with new people is a breath of fresh air and reminds me day after day that most people in this world are nice, warm, and relatable. I know for a fact that I will hate work sometimes- that's life, but at least I get to interact with coworkers and guests on a regular basis. Sitting in my old boss's home office on the upper east side left me with no social satisfaction other than my occasional visit to the STAPLES boy. Who has a girlfriend, FYI. I'm just not cut out for being secluded from the rest of the world for 6-8 hours of my day.

Appropriately, Brittany just landed a hosting job today at a Thai restaurant in Brooklyn. We have to keep this roof over our heads somehow. :)

Greek Life

Thank goodness I start work tomorrow because these past two days have been torturous. Boredom engulfed me into a swirling vortex of Hulu shows and Youtube videos. I think I've started to become delirious- I even got on the wrong train to Jim and Lindsay's tonight. Two stops after I sat down, I looked up and realized I'd gone in the completely wrong direction. I also realized that the guy sitting next to me was picking his nose. Awesome.

I know that there are probably 8,000 things I could've done these past few days: set up meetings with teachers about S.A.I.L., signed up for dance classes, looked into event gigs my mom sent me, etc. But I didn't. I'm telling you, when I have a lot to do, I can't do anything. You'd think my productivity would improve as I mature and accept that there will never be an end to the task list, but I still can't focus on more than one thing at a time. I want to become settled in my new job before I start dance classes. I want to get in the routine of working and dance classes before I add in facilitating S.A.I.L. programs in schools. I want to get into the groove of working, dance, and S.A.I.L. before I audition for shows/prepare to do a Miss New York local pageant. And once I'm balancing all of that, then I think I'll apply for some grad programs in Journalism. Call it procrastination, but I call it maintaining sanity. I did go to the gym today for the first time in....awhile. Disheartening as it is to see how far I am from being able to do my Miss Virginia work out, a step is a step.

Phi Mu 2010 graduating class

During one of my many attempts to momentarily cure boredom on Facebook yesterday, I noticed that college homecomings are quickly approaching. I can't attend mine, unfortunately, but my Facebook is swamped with Homecoming King and Queen campaigns. Of course, my sorority- Phi Mu- has a fabulous representative who was a few years younger than me. This got me thinking about my days in Greek Life.

Bid Day

Fraternities and sororities get a bad reputation because of hazing and movie portrayals of Greek parties. Sadly, many of the stereotypes have merit, as seen in story after story of injuries and death involving alcohol and dangerous stunts forced upon pledges. This is why, despite being Greek myself, I strongly encourage younger girls I know to evaluate the Greek systems at their universities before joining. Had I ever been forced to guzzle crazy amounts of alcohol or been demoralized by the older girls in any way, I would have walked right out the door. Not out of haughtiness, but because I don't understand the concept of wanting to befriend people who torture you. And why would I want to be associated with an organization that oozes lack of class and recklessness? Lucky for me, Phi Mu at CNU has extraordinary members who stay true to the the strict "no hazing" policy that is supposed to be followed by every sorority.

Spring Break cruise in the Bahamas with eight other sisters

One of the most misguided notions about Greek organizations is the idea that "you're buying your friends." Hate to break it to you, but there are dues for a cappella groups, sports teams, and and almost any other club. Also, when you go to college, isn't it the point to meet new people? Sure, education is the primary focus, but when you don't know anyone around you, opportunities to get involved are crucial. Greek Life simply offers another option for forming a new circle of friends. You can't accuse me of "buying" them when I was friends with plenty of them before ever rushing (I went through recruitment as a sophomore) and am friends with plenty of people outside of Greek Life. I don't need to buy my friends. I'm not THAT socially inept.

2010 formal

Coinciding with the frustration I feel towards those who view sororities as purchased cliques is the fact that each girl in a sorority is defined by the actions of 60 other girls (that was in my case...most of the time many, many more). I'm sorry, but I can't babysit 60 college-aged females to make sure they don't do anything I wouldn't do. If one Phi Mu made a poor decision or went on a date with some girl's ex-boyfriend, all of a sudden that girl and her friends hated me since I was a Phi Mu, too. Don't you see how ridiculous that is? If a girl on the soccer team makes someone mad, the whole soccer team isn't to blame. Yet any choice made by a sorority girl automatically reflects the entire group. Of course that all for one and one for all climate had its perks when sisters had positive reputations. Still, I urge everyone to not pass judgement on individuals of a group based on one, two, or even ten other members. Sorority girls are not all brainwashed carbon copies of each other. We're individuals who joined deeply historical organizations that aim at bettering members through required lectures, forums, and traditions. And we become really close friends. Is that so wrong? Well, yes, if you're talking about a chapter that lives up to the stereotypes mentioned earlier. But no, not if you knew mine.

My big and me congratulating my little after her initiation

I mentioned the history of Greek organizations because that is a component which is often overshadowed by the social aspect. Initiation and formal meetings hold secrets that only members are to know because of the indescribable bond formed when realizing that women have kept these procedures to themselves for over one hundred years. Additionally, when Phi Mu was founded in 1852, these procedures were necessary for a group of women to meet without being oppressed. Love, honor, and truth are the three values of Phi Mu, as stated in the public creed. Founding members were upstanding, ethical women who deeply believed in these ideals. To be a part of something with such respectable roots is an exciting privilege.

After the pageant

When it all boils down, my experience with Greek Life was phenomenal. So many of my sisters are still my closest friends and confidants. I remember once when 14 of them caravanned an hour to watch me in a local pageant to qualify for Miss Virginia. Naturally, that was one of the locals I didn't win, but I felt like a million bucks with all of the love they showered on me afterwards. They provide a support system that has proven to be unconditional time after time. I can't speak for everyone, but I am so proud to forever be a part of such a glorious group of young women.