'Tis the Season

December has found me struck with new inspiration, new ideas, and seemingly, lots and lots to do. After a couple slow months, I feel I am back on the ball, getting things done, trying to move ahead, reminding myself why I came here. There are to-do lists aplenty. Perhaps a mixture of the approaching New Year, the promise of heading home, my recent Broadway viewings, or Stefano's continued tyranny have pushed me into gear, jolting me from an autumn slumber and re-igniting my ambition. Next week, I am scheduled to get my new NYC-quality headshots taken. I am both excited and nervous, this step an even further plunge into the starving New York actor lifestyle. I have been taking deep breaths, thinking skinny and acne-free thoughts, and pinching my pennies like never before (this new level of frugality, or cheap-ass-dom, has helped to severely limit my drinking and trips to McDonalds). Yesterday, I got my first haircut in NYC, luckily at a little Colombian gem of a place here in Astoria, rather than some overpriced, opulent salon in Manhattan. So what if no one else is speaking English, less pressure on me (though I did try a little of my increasingly rusty Spanish with them). $17 plus tip for a haircut and eyebrows is a-ok with me. I think that beats any cut I had in Bloomington and perhaps even equals New Castle prices. Note: follow the Latino crowd for the most affordable curly hair cuts, best dancing, and good eats. The show is a-rolling, with less than a month before opening and lots and lots to do, this "dream of passion" may, in fact, come together. At this week's rehearsal, I was rewarded yet another shining bit part, that of the finale's New Year's Baby. Those Depends already have me thinking even skinnier thoughts and seriously considering my hairdresser's suggestion of shaving my back ("trends are little bit different here," he said, looking at my furry espalda with shame). If any agents come, I can at least be sure they are going to get a real good look at me, whether they want to or not. I have been ditching yoga class for the past few weeks for free and train-less trips to my gym. That crappy little place is starting to feel like home, and I am definitely getting my money's worth ($200 for 15 months is murder). Should I move to another part of the city, looks like I will be returning to Astoria for the good deals. Christmas is fast approaching, and try as I may to get into the holiday spirit, I'm just not quite there yet. It's cold, then it's sunny, then it rains and rains and rains, and I never know whether to wear my winter coat or fall jacket. I have even broken out the long underwear some nights. What I need is a good snow and some consistency to feel like December (though I will give the weather a break; it's not officially winter until December 21, the day I fly home). I've sent out my cards, but have yet to do any shopping, merely browsing then running from the huge lines and incredible crowds. Perhaps the lack of academic pressures, holiday parties, and finals' week have me all confused. Christmas seems far away, an extended weekend at the end of the month, surrounded on both sides by work. What happened to 3 weeks of gluttony and sloth? New York seems very abuzz right now, a combination of holiday planning and holiday worries. December's arrival has seen business at Locale come to a slow grind, bitten by people's busy schedules and unwillingness to part with their oh, so precious dollars. Perhaps a corporate angel will shine down upon us and host a knock-out Christmas party at our place, though reports of these lavish affairs seem far and wide nowadays. Instead of people laughing and caroling, they are holding their breaths until Santa Claus arrives. In ways, even I am more stoic towards the holiday, but also much more thankful, the bittersweet joy of time-off and visiting with family mixed with money woes and weariness. I am excited to see friends and family and celebrate all that we have, as well as anxious to see loved ones after several-months' absence, all of us getting older and older all the time. This year, I am the brief visitor from afar, there and gone before you know it, but making the time count double. For now, I am praying the next 11 days fly by, then time will slow way down again once I smell that Indiana air. Though, somehow I suspect the opposite may be true.