10/12/2006
I'M gonna be a part of it . . .
New York. New York.
This weekend The Pickle is going to be making her first trip to the big apple. We have an extensive itinerary including coffee with MetroDad, and an afternoon at the Central Park Zoo.
Of course we will be doing our obligatory running from friend’s to friend’s trying to let the baby see all the people that moved out of Cleveland to chase their dreams in a major metropolis – but the biggest thing is to expose her to the sharp tinge of urine in the fall air.
Nothing like it.
As many of you know – I am a theatre person. I used to just be able to say ‘Actor’, but for the last seven years I have ended up making more of my income as a producer/director than the guy in the eyeliner.
I am professionally trained. I even have a decent resume. Why then, you may ask, didn’t I ever move to New York to try to ‘Make It?’
The answer is simple . . . I hate New York.
I have been to the city more times than I can count and every time I go – I am happiest when I leave. After two days in Manhattan I inevitably feel like a dirty bug no matter how many showers I take.
The second question then is: Why the hell do you keep going back?
The answer to that is a bit more complicated. I do hate the overwhelming nature of the city, but I cannot deny that it is the center of the civilized world.
I’ve been in Rome. I see what New York is to the world of today. I am an over-educated white guy that claims to be in touch with art and culture at the highest level, and yet I have never seen The Lion King on Broadway. It is not a matter of taste. It’s a matter of understanding. I go to New York to see what is at the center of the world I live in – and then I leave as quickly as I can.
When I left college I was told from every angle that if I wanted to make a living in theatre I had to move to Chicago or New York. What I’ve learned through the years is that you make a living where your connections are, and where you fit in.
One of the many reasons why I love Cleveland so much is the blue collar nature of the town. It even permeates the attitude and culture of our arts community. I am a professional artist, but if I had to wear a black turtle neck and kiss ass on a daily basis I would lose my mind. I am just not built that way.
I suppose every professional arts community has it’s quirks, but I have always just really fit in here, and I have always kindof known that I would have never been able to handle the whole New York thing.
This weekend I am going to see The Lion King for the first time. It is something I need to do, and maybe by taking The Pickle there at such an early age she won’t be as intimidated as I was to compete on every level or maybe she’ll just find out where she’s most comfortable.
Who Knows.
Pickle’s Papa
08:23 Posted in Non-Pickle Post | Permalink | Comments (8) | Email this
09/29/2006
I'm back
My show is now up and running. I am back to being at home on a regular basis, and will now return to my self-indulgent semi-poignant ramblings.
We made it through this stint without actually having to take The Pickle to day-care, and although it has been a significant strain on the relationship with the MIL, the wife's stability at work, and the overall cleanliness of the house - it looks like we are going to avoid and early entry into snot-fest '06.
It's not even that I didn't think that day-care would not have significant positive effects or that it wasn't a really solid place for infant care, it's just that I don’t trust anyone with my baby.
I know that no one has the same instincts or understanding of The Pickle's needs and routine. That's not a judgment on anyone. It is a fact. I just have trouble accepting that her comfort has to be sacrificed to enable other people to have time with her.
I know there's more to it than that, but it is often my first reaction when I see people making what I generally refer to as 'rookie' mistakes. I need to let other people learn about The Pickle to make it possible for them to give the proper care to her.
How to get experience without a job, and how to get a job without experience, or in this case how to get experienced childcare without working your child over.
I know that this is just the beginning. Someday I am going to be expected to stand in an aisle and hand her off like a lace wrapped football to some Joe Shmoe who wants a tax-break and regular sex from her.
It's just such an awkward process. It is my job to prepare my child to eventually care for and provide for herself. Yet at this moment it is solely my job to protect, provide, and care for her. The question is: when does that transition begin? When do we start sacrificing our child's comfort for their development?
I think the answer is birth. I just don’t like it very much.
I don’t want anything to hurt her. I don’t want her to have one moment of discomfort more than inevitable. But Inevitable is a funny word. Inevitable. Inevitable.
She just had her first real cold.
I have learned from personal experience that cold medicines don’t heal you - they just cover up the symptoms. I have twice ended up with pneumonia in my life due to my body being so filled with cold medicines it no longer knew it was sick and decided to stop fighting. My brother has a house full of kids that have been pumped full of antibiotics from the time they were hours old that they have never bothered to develop immune systems and are constantly sick.
Over the last three days I have fought through crying, snot, sleeplessness, and coughing to let my daughter's body learn how to fight a cold.
I need to learn to do the same thing with her being as I have done with her body. But it is not easy.
Pickle’s Papa
15:27 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (3) | Email this
09/26/2006
ok. I'll post.
As per Mad Momma . . . I must post.
Some random thoughts.
My daughter is standing on her own in the crib . . . and the house is still not baby proof.
To my family: something I learned in grad school. In managing relationships it is ok to set high expectations; however, when you place a hoop to jump through - don't move it after the expectations have been met. It tends to create a disgruntled work force.
To my production: set designers should be taken out into the street and slaughtered like cattle.
To my administrative position: I dont type.
To my wife: Talk to your mother.
To myself: Get over it.
In general:
I like rediscovering friendship. I recently had an unexpected solo camping trip in which I was surprisingly paired up with an old friend, the bird trainer whom I once shared a stage with, and that I spent the summer's free time rebuilding my '76 280Z. His wife was a cop, mine was finishing law school - we had our futures together as kept men, and then he moved out into the country and vanished.
As I was facing the perils of a weekend alone in the woods I looked over to my right in line at the campsite check-in, and low and behold stood an actual friend.
I will skip the dirty details of how I ended up in this perdicament for my therapist, but needless to say - it was a good thing I was rescued by someone that was interested in my story and having me tag along on the day long canoeing excursion that I was going to do by myself anyway.
Brandon now has a son, 15 months old, and we had much to commiserate on. It turned out to be a great trip for completely different reasons than those originally planned.
But needless to say I hate my family more than words can express. Every fucking one of them except my father - whom everyone else says is crazy, and I am starting to think is the only sane one of the bunch . . . yes, you too mom.
ON Cleveland:
It is really hard to be a loyal Cleveland sports fan. I hate us being the character in the story line that we inevitably become season after season. Even in the games where we are supposed to get excited about now - I cant help but see the rest of the story line play out before me. At half-time this week of the Browns game - I already knew we were going to lose. Even though no one else did, why? because we're Cleveland.
True - we have Ohio State Football, but I can already feel the Michigan upset in the air.
I hate becoming emotionally invested in this shit, but every year I still end up being shocked that we dont walk away the victor. I have only once not been let down, 2002 Buckeyes, and I never actually expected to win that one. We were'nt as good of a team as Miami.
So many Browns and Indians teams should have gone all the way over the years, and yet - here I sit in Cleveland. The Browns have more all around talent than most any team in the NFL - yet, without any semblance of an offensive line I remain a Cleveland sports fan.
I am bitter, and overworked - and looking for a win.
ON ART:
I need a drink. I forgot how hard it was to make this shit pallatable. I loathe the way we, as artists, have to kiss ass and lie to make the lights come up. I also hate how every one else working on a show seems to be an imposition on the work I'm doing rather that an aid. For god's sake - just let be do my bad british dialect, and get out of my way.
In the mean time- The Pickle comtinues to grow. I continue to become salty, and The Wife tolerates me less and less.
Good Times.
Pickle's Papa
21:15 Posted in Pickle Ponderings | Permalink | Comments (6) | Email this