Sorry, I'm Texting . . .

A boy and his dog just walked by me. There's a man big coat sitting on a bench across from me. A kid is standing near that pole listening to his headphones and sipping a smoothie. There's a suit just talking to himself, strike that, to the person on the other end of his bluetooth headset. A girl sitting against a concrete wall is scratching her neck while an old geezer stares.

Of course! You guessed it. I'm in the JetBlue terminal at New York's JFK. (Why am I here? Well, it's a surprise, and Mom, if you read this in the next couple of hours ... well, there goes the surprise.)

What a shock! Remember the days when a person in a strange surrounding (like this, an airport terminal full of strangers) would have to actually read a book to keep busy. Or, better yet, speak to the guy sitting next to him. Say hello and make friends with that person who just might be a friend of a friend or something. But, no, not in today's "advanced" day-and-age.

Today, we sit here (probably 60% of the waiting passengers) with our laptops on. The other 40% are divided between their cell phones or mp3 players. The ones who aren't involved there are watching Grey's Anatomy or Family Guy on one of the flat panel televisions hanging from the ceiling. (I, of course, already checked and found out that Grey's was a rerun, otherwise, yes, I would be there too.) It's distressing.

It is distressing, well, and exciting I guess. Sort of exciting because from that first paragraph you thought I could have been talking about Bryant Park. But, from the rest of this, it's clear that it isn't a park. And, even if it was, do you think it would really be any different? We're not in tune with each other anymore as people. We would rather all turn on our electronics and "talk" to someone who isn't even here or play tetris again than actually try to become involved with someone else in the room.

"Of course, Beedow, you're such a hypocrite! You complain about the inhumanity and non-connectedness of this world, and here you are, sitting in the middle of it all."

I agree, o sage master. To combat this, I think fate dealt me a little jab. The woman next to me sneezed. I said, "bless you." She said, "thank you." Just a little humanity, folks, that's all I'm asking.

Tomorrow, how I stoped thinking and wound up not at the airport ninety minutes before my flight. Whoops!

Spring Fling

So sue me, it's getting longer and longer between posts. Alas, the tasks and toils of this thing we call LIFE have gotten to me and keep me otherwise occupied, which is not always a bad thing, nor, however, is it always a good thing. In either case, I'm here now for you, and what a day (!) we had, am I right?

The weather was gorgeous ... what I like to call coat-less, pant-less weather. That's right. I wore short pants and short-sleeved shirts today. It was lovely. I opened the windows in the apartment and a breeze flowed through. I was scheduled only one day at work this week, and the majority of auditions are finishing up for the summer season these weeks, so things are winding down. I was finally able to sleep in today, and I did -- until noon. I had lunch, cleaned my room, went to an audition, came back, cleaned some more, went to rehearsal, came back, cleaned some more and now I'm writing about it for you.

It's what they call spring cleaning. I wish I could call it a spring fling rather than clean, but you know how things go. I put on my iPod playlist called "Public," which is the one I use when I'm somewhere someone says, "hey Beedow, play your iPod for us." It contains generally acceptable music in the public lexicon of musicology, and actually is perfect for a warm breezy day. It reminds me of our drives in the van last year on the road -- a little Mayasiahu or however the heck one spells that.

Horns are blaring outside, people yelling, and it's a fantastic soundscape.

I'm excited this week -- at the possibilities unfolding in the future. I've got a couple great things in the works and others are just waiting to bust at the seams, all of which would make me happy and could keep me employed theatrically through a year from now, so cross your fingers. Surprises, seals, stories and songs are swell, so some say.

Depressed? I'd rather lather.

I don't know what it was. I'm still at a loss, I guess, but either way, it doesn't matter much. Depression, that is. Or, more specifically, the cause of my depression. No, not like clinically. But... what's the opposite of clinical? Home-ical? Nothing went right yesterday. It was blah. I sat at the machinery at work, unhappy. Not even my iPod could cheer me up. I mean, I've listened to a lot of the music on there, no not all of it (gimme a break, you try listening to 11,451 songs--that's right.), but I didn't want it anymore. I'd had it with musicals, and my non-musicals weren't hitting the spot.

So, once home, I figured I should go the gym. I wasn't in the mood at all, but I went. Whatever. I eliptical-ized for, oh, say eight minutes, stopped, put on my long pants and coat and drove back home. I wasn't having it. At all. Don't know why, just bummed.

So I had a beer. The day before I stopped at the grocery store on the way home from work (also depressed...) and bought beer, chips, candy... anything to make me feel better. I'm like a pregnant woman when it comes to food. Give it to me or you're gonna die. I bought Carlsberg. I thought I'd had it before and enjoyed it. WRONG. It sucked. I dunno, smells bad and tastes like a mediocre Bud. I know! How terrible.

Then I went to the mall. I decided to see a movie and had an extra hour to kill. I bought the soundtrack for DREAMGIRLS (details to follow), avoided the cell-phone-kiosk-a@#hole, yada yada yada... it was time for the movie, BABEL (details to follow).

Anyhow, what got me all day, all that depressing day, was how much we deny ourselves. I mean, I didn't deny myself anything yesterday. I wanted it and I took it -- whatever it was. Because I was in a crappy mood. But on regular days, why do I force myself to go to the gym, work a job where I have to get up at the God-forsaken hour of 8:45am? WHY DO I SCRIMP AND SAVE THE SOAP IN THE SHOWER? You know, this new liquid soap everyone's been using with those loofah things? I don't use those, but I use the soap, sparingly of course. But yesterday, standing there with my washcloth, hot water scalding my shoulders, I decided, actually said it outloud, "I want more soap." So I poured on some extra soap. And I lathered all up. Mmm. I did the same thing today. YES! Now I know what that girl in the Herbal Essence commercial is so excited about. LATHER!

passing time @ work

I'm working now on days when I am not performing at night, and it's actually okay because the job is mindless and allows me to listen to my iPod. There are some things to discuss here.

One: THANK GOD for my iPod. I can't imagine living in a society sans personal music devices again. On an unrelated note, I remember when I first broke down a got a cell. Sheesh! Now with my laptop, cell and iPod, what else do I need? (bluetooth devices, a blueray DVD player, a DVD recorder, a TiVo for goodness sake... I guess I've got a Christmas list in the works)

Two: I can't stand my iPod. Wait. Stop. Did I just contradict myself? Well, sorta. See, all day long I do mindless, finger strengthening jobs and I listen to my headphones. Well, luckily I work less than an eight hour day, but still, six hours with those little earbuds in my ears makes me sore! My left ear lobe is especially prone to pain after about two- or two-and-a-half hours. Sometimes I am moved to a job that's quite loud, so I wear ear protection, right? Well, my earbuds fit inside the protection, but that causes a whole other set of pain issues--different parts of the ear, different pressure, etc.

Three: Books on Tape. I'm using the mornings to listen to Myla Goldberg's BEE SEASON (I blogged about the movie here) on CD. It's my first audiobook, and I think I might come around to them. They're quick and easy to get through, evidently, as I can "read" at work. But, I can't imagine listening to them at home while I'm sitting around the living room. I would rather pull out an actual old-fashioned, bounded grouping of pages, that, in previous centuries was commonly known as a BOOK. Also, Goldberg does the reading herself, and I've found her voice to be difficult and challenging to listen to continuously. Each morning as I turn her on, it's fine. But thank goodness I stop after two-and-a-half hours and switch to music.

Four: Music. It's a good opportunity for me to finally listen to many of those showtunes I've purchased or downloaded (always legally, always) and never actually heard. There are some gems out there that I've found recently, including APPLAUSE and, I know, but I'm just now learning it, DREAMGIRLS.

I was definitely going to blog about another issue entirely, but now I'll just be able to save it for tomorrow. Then, coming soon: solitude at the movies, self-lauding dreaming.