I'm eating a mini-bagel with egg whites, tomato, and cheese and my cat is spending 100% of his energy trying to get a bite of it. I'm smarter than him, whether he thinks so or not, so I'm simply identifying whatever new tactic he's implementing (the sneak-up, or the act-casual-so-she-won't-notice, or the often effective "what? i'm just looking!") and moving the plate with the bagel on it to the other side of my body JUST as he thinks he's about to succeed. It's genius, really. Because it makes me feel like a big, strong, industrious human and it makes him feel like an insignificant, easily out-smarted feline.

Of course, I'm the one of the two of us stopping everything I'm doing to blog about how I'm proud of myself for stopping my cat from eating my breakfast. He's the one calmly sitting in the window acting like he has no idea what's going on.

Everything's changing. My whole life feels like it's in major transition. It takes some basic breathing to get used to the idea of letting things go and making room for new things and generally adapting to change. Because change can be a very hard thing. Change can also be a very good thing.

It's pretty intense.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow morning though. I've felt that way for a few days now -- that I look forward to waking up to find what the next day will be. Cool.

I bought some lite cheddar cheese. And i'll tell ya what. Not bad. Not bad at all. Totally worth it.

It's rainy today. I could eat anything you put in front of me. Let's see if I can't get that in check before I go out for the evening.

I'm going out to do something expensive tonight. It's $18 to get in and a 2 drink minimum! But it's a show that friends are in. So to it I go. Look at me, acting like I have an income.

Goals for this evening: do not overeat. do not overdrink. Fridays can be tempting.

Big weekend ahead. Gonna see two shows tonight (one play, one improv-karaoke show), gonna rehearse and perform in a show tomorrow night, gonna rehearse on Sunday as well. I can also see some vigorous exercise taking place. I've been running outside like it's my job.

A friend just got a new apartment in Brooklyn. It makes me want a new apartment. That seems like a long way off.

Getting another job thoughts: okay I'm seriously, for a few days now, considering getting a job at Trader Joe's for a little while. Is this insane? I've never worked somewhere like that. Might be good for me. I'm waiting to talk myself out of it, but that hasn't happened yet. Then, after I get sick of that, do I go corporate again, for the money? That makes me a little sick. So i'll just live day by day. Right now: it's friday!

I've been sleeping. A lot. I slept waaay in today. I think I've needed this. I've been on a gotfired-imposed vacation for exactly one week now. This is not half bad. I'm gonna have to find a source of income soon enough. But sitting around doesn't blow.

For now.

I can see how it might get boring though. Or can I?

Improv! I just wanna get better and better at it! Sketch comedy is awesome too. Things are movin and shakin and it's fun.

Bye.

I haven't posted in a few days because being jobless has a nice relaxing hum to it. No need to interupt that with unnecessary blogging.

I'm watching Martha Stewart's show right now and Rod Stewart was just on singing some awful bullshit song that made me want to poke out an eye. Phew, we're at commercial now. Phew.

Alright, so what HAVE I been doing. Well, I'll tell you. And I'll tell you first that it's not half bad. I've been hangin out. I've been tying up loose ends. I've been dealing with the details of being fired like putting together a loose budget for myself so I don't overspend the money I have, telling my mom and dad I got fired, updating my resume, and generally getting organized. Perhaps I'll start applying for some jobs later today. Perhaps not. This has been a week of vacation and I needed it.

I've also been reading and doing crosswords and seeing comedy shows and having drinks and having nice chats with good friends and having dinner and watching tv and listening to music. It's been excellent.

I'm gonna keep takin it real easy for a few days. I'm really enjoying where I am right now, mentally, which is in a pretty zen place. And it doesn't hurt that I just bought my very first copy of the Tao.

Fired: Day One.

This has been one of the most interesting days, intellectually speaking, I've had in a while. My entire reality was turned upside down yesterday at 12:30pm. Needless to say, I spent most of the rest of yesterday simply absorbing what happened. I spent time with a friend, I went to an improv practice, I went to see a show, I went out for drinks at our bar, I did some more late-night hanging out. I needed to totally zone out, decompress, and distance myself from Reality. Luckily, a friend of mine, also had some bad luck job-wise yesterday and he was out with us last night, so I wasn't the only one receiving empathy from everyone for having a pretty interesting day.

One nice thing, and I'm discovering there are actually many (because why not make the best of it), about getting fired is that everyone you know is empathetic about it, everyone you know has a When I Got Fired story, and a lot of people also confess to things they're doing this very moment at their own jobs that could get them fired. Makes one feel like less of a horrible screw up.

Something my friend Jess posted in a recent comment rings very true: I wanted out of that job. But it was too "good" of a job, from a benefits and general ease-of-work perspective, for me to willingly leave it. As an almost 26 year old, it would have been a big decision to leave a great job like that. Evidently I decided to take the hard (or easy, perhaps) way out. I'm outta the job now. Mission: accomplished. One way or another.

Today was a new leaf. Responsibilities that have weighed on me for over a year are suddenly gone, new burdens and stressors have taken their place. But it's nothing more than I can't handle. And I don't mind the whole new set of circumstances. I'm always one for a surprising change of pace.

I'll start focusing on new ways to earn money on Monday. This weekend is about remembering how NOT defined I am by my workplace. I went running today. I'm gonna get my sleep schedule and general health schedule into a nice, relaxing routine. I'm gonna be frugal with my money and enjoy my friends and hobbies and love my New York City Life.

Freedom, Keith. I won't forget it!

I got fired today.

:)

Whew.

It's been a strange couple of days.

As I get older, I continue to surprise myself at how much I'm capable of learning about myself.

Sometimes sad stuff happens, but I can definitely handle it. And I realize I haven't lost myself anywhere along the way.

It's about looking forward; it's about being exactly where I am. It's about trusting the path I'm on, living the life I'm actually living, and being willing to say YES fearlessly. It is exactly what it is. And that's okay.

Harvard Sailing Team doesn't have a show tonight and I think we're all grateful for the Saturday night off. It's been a while. Industry show on Tuesday and then back into a Saturday night run for two months! Whoof!

I have been very tired all day today. And very hungry. And I had improv class practice. And I'm going to go to sleep early tonight and I'm eating a grilled chicken salad right now, thank god.

I have a few things to accomplish tomorrow and I'm loving the new fall weather.

Also, I'm watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High and I'll tell you what, it's a classic.

This is turning out to be a pretty excellent weekend.

Today is my adorable mom's adorable birthday. She's a young 45 years old today. I love you, Mom! Even though you don't read this or know it exists.

Anyway, I sent her a package including a cat mask, which is a long story, but I know she'll love it. Sometimes she drives me up the FUCKING WALL, but my mom happens to be a really awesome, amazing, beautiful woman. And she smells really good like a mom, like MY mom, and that's all that could ever matter. Happy Birthday, Mama!

In other less pleasant news, I had a bizarre evening, last. I have been a lot happier in the last calendar year, consistently, than I've been since I was a kid. And it's a strange sensation to realize that you rarely feel a depressiveness that you used to feel all the time. When I was working my way through and out of that depression, I spent a lot of time alone. I loved it. I needed it and I preferred to avoid intimacy of any sort with any sort of person. I've quit doing that; I'm now intimate with the best of em. But last night, for some weird reason, I wanted nothing more than to be in that depressed, alone, hiding-away place. Except I couldn't muster the ..what..willpower? to actually act on it. Like, I felt these feelings but couldn't quite bring myself to "medicate" them with the isolating actions I used to rely on.

So instead I went for a run and lifted some weights and then had some Chinese food. And I felt better.

I know what I wrote above might not make complete sense, it doesn't make sense to me either. I've grown out of the kind of depression I used to know, and I have, without even really knowing it, developed a whole new way to cope with the world around me. I spent years in emotional and psychological strife. Then I spent years climbing out of that hole of strife. And now I'm not doing either of those things. I'm not making a mess and I'm not cleaning up a mess. I'm just being Me.

And I love comedy.

It seems to me that if they made those little deli napkins much larger and more absorbent, they wouldn't have to give you so many at once. You end up using like 85 napkins to wipe egg off your chin when in all actuality, one big paper towel would also do the trick. It's common sense. And also, frugal.

Ohhhh, they want me to actually do WORK to at work. Ohhh, I'm EARNING money. Okay, cool. I get it now. I'll get right on that. Glad we cleared this up.

Meanwhile, this woman is why I wanted to become an actor:

I got some kleenex and some medicine. And friends try to cheer me up over the instant messenger. All nice things.

But the best thing is in an email I got from someone-sugary. And after checking her blog to make sure I wasn't stealing anything, I decided everyone needed to see this picture that My Favorite Sarah sent me "for balance," which, whether she knows it or not, made my afternoon.

How swank is THIS:



Sorry, Sarah, for stealing your kittens-as-a-heart-photo. I dare you to tell me you mind.

Headache. Fuzzy brain. Stuffed up nasen. Coughing. Sore chest. Sneezing like it's my 9-5. I'll live. But man, it sure makes ya sleepy. I went to sleep really early last night. The theme of this week = sleep.

I'm sitting at the front desk at work right now, covering for the receptionist while she attends a meeting. Attends. I just used that genuinely. While she attends a meeting. Whilst she participates in an arranged gathering of other employees who will discuss certain workplace goals and ideals.

She's really neat and tidy, is the thing I learn about her from her desk. She's got all these little systems and files and I just found her "Tuesday, October 3: To Do List" which is written on formal stationary. Her business cards are in a fancy little business card holder. Everything is just-so, a cup of Starbucks coffee to the left of her monitor, a random pen laying lazily askew, perhaps just for affect. This makes me feel a little like an idiot. Because my To Do List is chicken scratched in a notebook and on post-its all around my desk. My business cards are buried deep in a drawer somewhere and I can assure you I've never handed one out. She's also like 5 years younger than I am and just started this job a few months ago.

Well, FINE. AT LEAST I'M FUNNY. HAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahaaaa...ahem.....>cough< >sigh<.

It's Monday! It's October. Aww, October. I'm a fan. I'm a fan of September as well, but October, ooo, crisp yummy October. I'll take 'er.

I enjoy the fall. This is a truth.

I think I'm coming down with a wee ailment. A sickness. A coldette. It's alright. It's fall.

Last week was inSANE. I was so busy, got very little sleep overall, had to get up way too early way too many days in a row, and I was just consistently running from activity to activity. Then, of course, in a desperate attempt to recover a normal sleep schedule over the weekend, I failed tremendously. The weekend was just as busy as the week and it all came to a crashing halt when I ended up sleeping until 3:45pm on Sunday afternoon. No joke. SICK. I needed it though. I was sure that falling asleep the next night would be impossible because I slept so late. Wrong. I was out like a light. I think I am finally back on track, getting a solid 8 hours last night. It's a miracle. I feel pretty good today.

I'm looking forward to having a low-key, sleepful, healthy, gym-going week this week where I don't spend a stupid amount of money and I don't stay up past 2am every night. Revolutionary. I feel all responsible and centered like it's fall and I can take on the world.

Plus, my 26th birthday is in a month. Cool.

At the bar on Saturday after our show a fight broke out! It was awful. But a little exciting. But mostly awful. And we got the hell outta there.

Thanks. Bye.

I'm watching Scrubs, eating dill cheese and triscuits, and I must now go to sleep. I am more tired than nighttime and it feels bad. I'm like a tired bug. I have been operating at full speed on incredibly little sleep for too many days and I'm fucking wiped out.

Why am I still writing this. Good night. See you on Friday. (Friday!!!!)

This is my mom's cat:

Today, September 27, is the exact day, four years ago, when I started losing weight. Over the last four years, I've lost 113.8 pounds.

This is not a particularly easy post for me to write. There are certainly a great number of people in my life who know about my weight loss, as I'm still quite close to many of the people who were in my life four years ago, but there are also a great number of people who know nothing about it whatsoever. I've met a lot of new people in the last four years and I don't really walk around wearing a tshirt that says "Former Lardass." (Although that would be an awesome tshirt.) (Hmmmm....)

It's not a pleasant memory, it was not a pleasant time, and for as little as I invest in a belief in a higher power, I feel nothing short of blessed for having gotten to the other side of it. So it's not necessarily enjoyable to broadcast, especially to people outside of my safe little bubble of close friends and weight loss supporters. More frightening for me, though, than discussing it, is showing people the before photo. No matter how thin a formerly fat person gets, she still feels ashamed of what once was. So this is not an easy post for me to write. Yes, and. Follow the fear, right?

I sat at a diner late last night with a group of improvisor friends and classmates, none of whom knew me when I was heavy, none of whom know I've lost a lot of weight, which is definitely not something you can tell just by looking at me. We were playing a game at the diner called "two truths and a lie" where you share two true things about yourself, you tell one lie, and everyone guesses which are which. Once the game really got going, some people were sharing some really vulnerable stuff...stuff about death or surgery or other painful experiences in their lives. So I jumped in feet first and chose as one of my "truths" to share that I've lost over 100 pounds. It wasn't a terrible thing to share; people don't run away or cower in fear or turn their heads in disgust when you share something like this. But it still isn't a comfortable discussion for me, so watching myself make an active choice to share this information was interesting to me. For some reason, I felt compelled to share with this table full of new friends this piece of my history. (Does anyone want me to use the word "share" again? I'd be happy to.) Perhaps some of the shame of that which "once was" is dissipating. I'm so far away from that fat person now, and today, four years later, I'm going to honor that.

I will never forget the sensation of being heavy. It's a terrible, painful, lonely, constant struggle. It is one of the most crippling diseases a person can live through, especially a young woman, because it impacts literally every aspect of her entire life. Being fat is a filter through which she experiences the world, the same way being blind might be, except that being fat is not a condition that society has much patience or compassion for. Being fat alters her sense of her friends, her job, her family, her education, the men in her life. It impacts her understanding of communication and need and want and desire and love. It's like some kind of drug that skews her perception of the whole world around her until she can no longer see where normal problems end and fat problems begin and, like substance addiction, the longer she tolerates this condition, the more mired she finds herself in a spiral of confusing, murky, cuttingly difficult feelings and experiences that never seem to improve.

I would never go back to that time for anything in the world, but I suppose I do feel a little lucky to have a very intimate relationship with such a different world view from the one most healthy, thin people experience. It's a unique perspective on life to have seen it from two completely different windows, almost like I've lived two separate lives. It has, if anything, provided me with a wisdom and depth of which I'm not afraid to be quite proud. (Who's gay? Me.)

It's incredibly strange to be so far away from being fat that it's only a vague memory. In this case, though, incredibly strange = really fuckin cool.

Here's to Four Years.

(I love how I'm making the same face in these two photos. It's the "Fine. How's this smile?" face.)

Okay. Enough with the serious topics. Back to hilarity and guffawing....

There's a girl at my work who's my age and married. Lovely girl. She's not a New Yorker, having just moved up here from Virginia earlier this year. There are a lot of things that are very different about our personalities, but we seem to get along quite well. Probably mostly because I'm a delight. Alright, fine, she's a delight too.

The point is, she's married. And it's fascinating to me. I'm not entirely sure why her being married is that much more interesting to me than anyone else in the office being married. I'm sure it's partially because she's my age and very few people I know who're my age are married, so I'm captivated by her commitment level. It's also probably because I work pretty closely with her, so I'm privvy to more of the mundane little details of her marriage...like how often he calls...and what cutsie names she calls him...and little anecdotes about married life, all of which add up to give me a (likely quite warped) outsider's perspective on the whole deal.

Please note that the following is most certainly not a judgment on this lovely young woman at all: I can safely say that hearing her talk about being married, and "her husband," and "we" sometimes makes me want to become a "we" even less than I already do.

It's not that I don't want to get married. I do. (No pun.) It's that, at this point in my constantly developing sense of conscious, adult reality, getting married makes me want to barf on your face. And not in a good way.

Whenever she says "we" it makes me shiver a little. Perhaps I'm about to alienate all potential suitors with this statement, but the idea of being a "we" forever and always from age twenty-something onward is possibly one of the more depressing ideas I can imagine. I'm not even sure why that is. I guess it's because I'm pretty sure that that stuff doesn't last nowadays, so why jump into the inevitable end of my own happiness?

All of you reading this who're married, about to get married, or currently dating the person you imagine you'll marry are shaking your head at my naive, unfortunate, loveless perspective on the world, aren't you?

Well that's just FINE. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go take an improv class.

I had about eight seconds to get from 14th Street to West 4th Street this morning, but the R/W train was nowhere to be seen. So I went upstairs and got a cab.

The cabbie had a giant Santa beard, he was wearing an army hat with pins and medals on it and some kind of army style jacket, he was wearing one glove on his left hand, the other hand was bare, and in his gloved left hand, while driving, he held a giant silver cross.....

"Where are you going?"
"Just West 4th Street and Broadway."
"HUH?"
"Just West 4th Street and Broadway."
"I had to ask you to repeat it cuz I'm deaf."
"Okay."
"You don't have to say 'just.' You can just tell me the address, you don't have to say 'just West 4th Street and Broadway.' You don't have to feel guilty about where you're going. I don't care where you're going."
"I'll remember that for next time."
(To someone invisible:) "She knows."

Stories:

The yogurt plus cereal I'm eating right now is not cuttin it. And it makes my jaw hurt to eat it. So, coffee. Mmmmm....

HST went to Chris' parents' house on Long Island yesterday to shoot sketches all day long. There were many, many highlights to this day, including the wonderful nap I took on the leather couch in the den AND his gratious mother and father feeding us the most delicious foods all day long. They're always so hospitable, despite our taking over their home like a band of giggling apes. She made lasagna. Do you understand? Lasagna. Plus, lots of other FOOOOD.

It seems that the people I spend the majority of my time with can still make me fall to my knees in hysterical laughter and evidently that's not gonna change. Also, etched into my brain is the image of Chris falling off the back of the couch and subsequently knocking the lamp out about eight times in a row.

On Saturday night, we had a show in the city, which was awesome. I received a few special surprise treats that night, including, but not limited to, Clayton randomly singing the lyrics, "Raphael is cool but rude!" (from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cartoon theme song) during the Go Go Go sketch. Since I'm sure that sounds incredibly out of context, especially to those of you who've never seen the Harvard Sailing Team, let me assure you that nothing has been lost in this translation. It was completely out of context and I spit-laughed on Rebecca when he sang it. Lesson 1: The audience loves when the players laugh when they aren't supposed to. Lesson 2: Your friends will screw you over onstage. Lesson 3: Clayton's a punk.

My cat has been without his mother all weekend long. I was home, not. I feel a little guilty. But he made up for it by scratching up my arms and legs and chewing on my hair while I was asleep this morning. Thanks, Floyd. You're tops.

I got a manicure on Saturday that's already chipping a little.

I wanna buy an S.U.V.

So get a load of this!

I went to sleep last night at a really nice time. Midnight. I got nice and tired while hanging out with my roomie, Daniel, watching Law & Order (Uncle Mark didn't do it, it was the captain of the lacrosse team!) and eating egg whites, and I decided to excuse myself to my precious little bedness. I laid down, I closed my eyes, I was asleep within moments. Bliss. Plus, I have this adorable black cat, whom I've mentioned, who's happy to sleep with his mommy. Bliss.

I was resting so nicely, so enjoying my nutritious sleep, that when I opened my eyes at 7am, I literally thought that the universe had accidentally inserted another hour of time into the day. Of course, this was a half-awake/half-asleep theory, but I fully believed it in every respect. I thought, Daniel's gonna be so surprised! I wonder what everyone thinks of this! I thought, how can they do this! Just give us another hour? Did I miss the end of daylight savings time or something? Did we set the clocks forward and I just forgot? No, that's in October. We just got another hour! Oh, universe, THANK you. So thoughtful.

I woke up this morning fully believing that god or love or humanity or infinity had added another hour into Time. And it was pretty frickin cool. Oh, Time, you rascal.