Where Art Thou, Magic 8 Ball of Life?

Today I made a realization that puts so much of the brain-catasrophe I have been experiencing into perspective: I am unhappy. HOW LIBERATING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THIS!!

Since I arrived I have not been able to understand WHY (even while being surrounded by so much beauty) my heart has been so heavy. It is because I am not being Who I Truly Am. I feel lost here; almost like a kid being forced to stay in the home of a family friend while their parents are off vacationing in some magical wonderland and I know they are out having a joyous romp while I am confused and lonely (and eating really, really good food)... except said "home" would be Italy and "parental units" in the "magical wonderland" is the world of the arts...and all the crazies I adore and admire for sticking to their goals.

Oh sweet lord how I miss the arts. I miss creating, I miss being clever, I miss participating in the cleverness of others. Here, I feel no one gets my humor. Perhaps this is because I have lost all sense of it and am now a crotchety old wench.

I find myself making off-handed comments to the sounds of silence or awkward stares while I think "wow, I am out of sorts here". No random dance breaks or renditions of West Side Story in 30 seconds. Last night at dinner with friends I sat laughing to myself realizing that the MOST important thing is doing what you love and finding your highest joy (as I sat in silence f0r 90% of the evening feeling so very out of place).

I don't give a $#*t about Louis Vuitton (or however the eff it's spelled) and I dont care that my toenails are not painted perfectly.

I AM embarrassed that it has taken me so long to realize that I am not on the path I am supposed to be. For whatever reason, I have had this fear that I am not good enough. That I will amount to nothing. If I stay on the path I am on I could see that happening. If I am not going out for what I truly, truly love, then what is the point? Why be on this planet?

For whatever reason, artists are born with a crazy passion about creating. About seeking the truth and finding a way to get in touch with that truth. For me, the greatest outlet I have to open myself up in this way is music and theatre. I wanted so badly to produce good art that (until perhaps today) I feared rejection and sucking so much that I was ready to put it behind me- to accept that I couldn't do it.

I think admitting this to myself AND discovering that it is essential that I make changes to foster this love of the arts is pretty damn fearless and truthful. A form of art in itself.

So, now I must find a way to have art in my life.

A rather funny thing was the discovery that my means of finding joy during days that were truly difficult was watching clips on YouTube of the cast of Hair, or pretty much any musical I love. MUSICALS. Also something I stopped trying to be involved in.

Oh Jenny, Jenny, Jenny.

So, I must form a different plan of action.

One that:

1. Completely resembles who I am

2. Is well-organized

3. Brings me joy

I want to be joyful always. I want to wake up and think "I AM HEARTING MY CHOICES!!"

I feel a bit better already getting out my silent sadness.

The Blues and Greys

Oh, oh oh.... One of them grey days. Both outside and inside of me.
I just wrote a friend telling her that I feel like I am missing a limb. Like something is missing and I am pretty sure its the colorful me burried beneath this stoic, false business BS. I find myself getting frustrated by the useless, shallow gossip and celeb news being flung all over the media (and in this office) and being inundated with emails with the "scoop" on classes and photographers and seminars and agents that will get me where I want to be.
I want to be under a tree right now.
I think I am going to go anti media for a week.
I think I might dance on the roof tonight.

Holy Crap, I'm Blogging

So I swore this would never happen; that I would want to write down the insanity that proves to be my life in some attempt to impress people with my overall understanding of life and/or interesting happenings (or incongruous use of punctuation and grammar that I am certain to butcher thrice over) that...happen. While by no means will I make wild claims that I know exactly what I am doing or even want- Life (at this moment) is so nutty and mostly absurd that I can't not expand on it here.
I live in New York.
Sometimes I forget just how abnormal life is here until one goes in for an "open call" in a restaurant where headshots are a "must", and should you provide the correct amount of boobage to appease the guy looking you up and down (who seems to have an education/life awareness on par with the pigeon I made eye contact with on my way to this glorious cattlecall) then you might receive "callback". REALLY?! A callback to schlep around booze? Will this include a two-minute monlogue of our opinion on the required "uniform" consisting of bandaids and a water gun?
To appease the Rent Gods, I am working for a marketing company (until something less evil and more accomodating for auditions comes along) where I find myself escaping to the bathroom to gather myself and breathe. I liken this job to having plastic wrap enveloping my entire head tightly.
So, as I search for a new job and attempt to create a more stable, positive and fulfilling life - you are welcome to hear of my woes and conquests.

...and the journey continues.