Street (A Poem)

Yesterday while I was going through some old stuff that I've written I came across two poems that I wrote while I was a senior in college in 2004. Here's the first poem . . . 

STREET

The sunlight dries the damp streets in the Village

As the sound of the bus echoes

Surrounding the coldness of a winter's morning.

Gazing through the window of the seventh story

Walk up apartment, seeing the cars parked

Wondering every morning who drives them.

The smell of the coffee shop downstairs creeps

Through the open window, scoffing at me. I recall

All those childhood dreams I once possessed.

The wind slowly picks up, blowing the newspapers

Which surround the bodega on the corner.

The baby next door screeches louder than a marching band.

I ache to escape this life I'm leading, but somehow

Every time I've tried, I come back.

Am I addicted to the routine? Or am I just a masochist?

The sunlight dries the damp streets in the Village

As the sound of the bus echoes

Surrounding the coldness of a winter's morning.

A Dream

I had a dream last night . . . 

I was in a cave, glancing at my angel's face, wondering what we were doing there. 

"I have to leave you," he whispered.

And then he disappeared, leaving me alone in that dreary cave. 

I rushed after him in the darkness, not knowing where I was headed

I yelled, but it was pointless, I was alone. Alone again.

Exhaustion took over my limbs and I drifted into a long sleep.

I was awaken by a soft breeze that caressed my hair

I looked around and there were trees as tall as sky scrapers.

I wondered how long I'd been in this Forrest and how I got here. 

A voice called out to me. It was familiar, it was angelic, it was his. 

"You left me," I struggled to get out. "Alone in that cave." 

He smiled, "I would never leave you," he whispered in my ear, "For I will always be with you, in the darkest of caves, in the brightest of meadows. I will always be with you."

He kissed my forehead and glided off.

"I will always be with you," his words lingered in my head as I woke up this morning to the rain thumping against my window . . . "I will always be with you. . ."

A Crush

A crush can arise unexpectedly. It can creep at you while you're both walking down Ninth Avenue and you catch a glimpse of his smile; a smile you've never seen before, but that seems extremely familiar. 

A crush is receiving a text and wondering if it's wise to wait ten minutes to reply.

A crush is innocent . . . fresh . . . immaculate.

A crush can disappoint you without his acknowledgement.

A crush is only thinking about him when you're surrounded in a bar by attractive guys.

A crush can make you act neurotic.

A crush is someone who you dream about at night and the reason you wake up in the morning.

A crush is being able to recall a story from a previous conversation you had, proving you were listening.

A crush is someone who's eyes tell you more than what his lips say.

A crush is over analyzing a text for meaning and subtext.

A crush is something I haven't felt in awhile. 

And I'm scared . . .  scared to tell him . . . 

. . . scared that he won't feel the same way.

 

Do I risk the chance of losing him as a friend or risk the chance of gaining him as more than a friend?

A crush is hope . . . a hope I thought I'd buried deep down . . . 

"The Seagull" on Broadway

Last Wednesday, I had the opportunity to see Anton Chekhov's The Seagull with Kristin Scott Thomas and Peter Sarsgaard, directed by Ian Rickson. The Seagull has always been one of my favorite Chekhov plays and to have the opportunity to see it performed by a talented group of actors and an amazing direction was something I had to witness.

Close to the finale of the play, the character of Nina tells Treplev (also referred to as Kostya) that she finally understands what it is to be an actress. 

Nina: I know now, I understand Kostya, that in our work - and it's all the same, whether we're acting or writing - the main thing is not fame, not glory, the things I dreamed about, but the ability to endure. To endure whatever trials fate has in store for you without losing faith in yourself. I have that faith now, I don't feel as much pain, and when I remember my vocation, I'm not even afraid of life.          (Chekhov, Act IV)  

To endure . . .  that's what life is about. I'm glad that I was reminded of that while watching The Seagull. "To endure whatever trials fate has in store for you without losing faith in yourself." This is something that as artists we need to remind ourselves constantly.  

Subway Etiquette: 5 Simple Rules

All New Yorkers have to ride the subway to get to any place in the city. At times though, it feels that people forget their subway etiquette, so here are 5 Simple Rules to refresh anyone's memory on what to do when riding the subway.

Rule 1:

While listening to your iPOD keep the volume down & don't hum along to the song. That's why you're wearing headphones, so we don't have to listen to it.

Rule 2:

If a performer comes on to your car, don't tap your foot in enjoyment, unless you're willing to pay. And they'll expect money for their entertainment.

Rule 3:

Always offer your seat to an elderly person and/or a woman with a child and a stroller.

Rule 4:

When the doors open and a million people are trying to get in, if you happen to be standing by the doors, please move in! Stop crowding the door, it's rude!

Rule 5:

If you don't want to give up your seat, put on your headphones and act like your sleeping. (Unless this violates Rule 3.)

If all New Yorkers were to follow these simple rules, our subway riding experience would be more enjoyable! 

Saturday Night + Me = LAME!

This is the second weekend in a row that I spend it at home . . . and . . . all alone, mind you.

This is what I did last night . . .  I ate Chinese take-out. Watched "Ghost Whisperer" & "Lipstick Jungle" while folding laundry. Checked my E-mail. Read "Twilight" and went to bed. 

Well today I find myself doing the exact same thing. I am so boring right now. I feel so domestic and I'm not sure why. I'm going to blame the weather; it's gloomy and wet and I'm listening to Matt Nathanson, which always puts me in a good, but nostalgic mood.

My friend D just text me, he's out on the town and he has TWO dates tonight, yes he double booked, and I can't even get ONE! What's wrong with this picture? I live in New York City for crying out loud and I'm at home on a Saturday night, getting ready for bed (and it's only 9:24 PM). I'm also really curious to find out what's going to happen between Bella Sawnson and Edward Cullen. Oh my, if this isn't the definition of a homebody, I don't know what is. 

I need to get out of my apartment! 

I need to go out to a bar and meet a guy!

"I need to put on a tight skirt / And flirt with a stranger"

(Thanks for that Jonathan Larson)

I need to change this pattern fast before I look at my youth and wonder were it went.

Oh geez, I'm so not looking forward to the Winter if this is how I'm feeling in the Fall.

(Sighs)

Reprising A Role

For the past three years I've been teaching undergrads as part of my job in grad school. When I graduated in May that stopped. It's been about six months since I've taught anything and I feel hallow. There's something about being in front of a classroom; lecturing on theatre, teaching non-actors how to act, discussing gay plays and looking at how they influenced the history of theatre, that I dearly miss.

Well . . . starting tomorrow . . . I will reprise that role. I'm walking into the same situation that I stepped in over three years ago; I'm going to be a one-on-one tutor for kids K-12. I don't know if I'm going to be a good tutor and that petrifies me. I'm not going to lie, but I will rise to the occasion. These kids and their parents are depending on me and I will not let them down. I didn't let my undergrads down and I will not let these young kids down either.

I may not have all the answers and that's all right. Saying, "I don't know, but I'll find out for you," isn't a flaw, it's a actually a strength that took me time to polish. 

I recently got hired by Young Playwrights Inc., an organization founded by Stephen Sondheim in the early 80s. Through Young Playwrights Inc., I'll be attending high schools and middle schools, teaching Playwriting to young playwrights. I'm really looking forward to this experience; I'll be teaching something that I love and a craft that I'm still narrowing down. I really believe in the organization's mission and what they're all about.

My ultimate teaching goal is to give classes at Columbia and/or NYU. I know that it will happen in the not so near future. I work hard for what I want . . . it will take time, that I know . . . but it will happen. If being a teacher has taught me anything is to persevere and have patience.

Glitz & Glamour

A week ago today, I went on a date with a guy that I had met at a bar while my parents were in town. We had flirted the whole evening, to the point that my mother asked me for a napkin so she could give this guy my number. The thought of my mother giving this cute guy my number gave me chills, so I introduced myself and avoided the embarrassment. Our first exchange was great; we had drinks after my parents left, and we exchanged numbers, and a couple of kisses all over Hell's Kitchen.

On our first date, Rodney and I had planned to do dinner somewhere in midtown. That day I text him to confirm and he replied letting me know that his friend had invited him to an opening of a new restaurant on Madison and 5th and that we would be drinking and eating for free. He said my favorite word in the English dictionary; FREE. So I agreed. We met at 8:00 P.M. and upon arrival there was a list to get in, tons of flashy people, booze flowing like the Nile River, and appetizers that could have feed a whole Nigerian tribe. 

As Rodney came down the staircase, he was like I had remembered him; his glance endearing, his smile mesmerizing, and his style off the hook. He took me to the VIP booth that his friend was in and got me a drink. 

I can get use to this, I thought. 

For a brief moment, I believed that this is how my life in New York should be. I had a Sex and the City moment; I had a great-gorgeous guy sitting next to me, I was at an opening of a hot restaurant, and having an amazing conversation. 

Could it get any better? I wondered. 

Well, the night went from amazing to sour . . . as we were leaving the restaurant, he told me that the guy that liked him or had a fling with was going to be at this bar in Hell's Kitchen, where we were heading to. Rodney asked me not to go because it would make that guy really uncomfortable if I showed up with him. 

This happened so fast that I didn't have time to process anything, when I realized what had happened he was getting in a cab with his friend heading Uptown and I was left in the cold feeling like a cheap whore.

The thing is . . .  looking back on that night, yes Rodney is a douche bag for what he did, but at the same time he was just being honest and letting me know that he wasn't interested. I mean I can't hate the guy, but I can resent his approach. I haven't had any communication with him and I doubt that I will. 

The smell of his cologne still haunts me.

A Faith Resorted

I went to church yesterday, on my own accord. Not because it was my cousin's daughter's baptism, or because my mother was forcing to me to go. I went to support my friend Adam conduct the church choir and also because it's a gay friendly church; the pastor is gay. So I figured it might be something exciting to experience. I also had a small agenda, I figured that there might be cute boys at Church (and I was right). 

Sitting there, listening to his sermon I realized that the reason I had distanced myself from God and the church has been a stupid one. I always believed that God didn't love me because I was gay...I know...I know...I said the reason was stupid. But when Pastor Phillip said that 'God loves all his children..." I believed him...for the first time in my life I believed him. Not sure if it was because Pastor Phillip is gay and coming from another gay man's lips it's actually real.  

Maybe my faith is resorted a little bit...one thing I know is that I'm going to return on Sunday. I liked being there, it's not like your typical church that I'm use to. This is good for me right now. I need to hold on to something...I need to believe that there is something more than this...

Secrets

We all have secrets lingering in our lives; they make us who we are, without them, we're nothing, and yet we're everything.

We hide them because we're afraid of what they might represent. If we tell a single soul of our secret we run the fear of having that party glare at us with disapproving eyes.

Sometimes we hide those secrets deep within ourselves in the hopes that they will never surface. Eventually, those secrets hidden in our past, find a way of surfacing putting our current life in danger.

Secrets mean ownership. They mold us, shape us, break us. They signify something that we can't share with the rest of the world, and if we do, the ownership dissolves. 

Secrets are putrid . . . heartwarming . . . seductive . . . lustful . . . taunting . . . but they are ours; mine and yours.

Some secrets have been known to shatter the most perfect of lives.

And other secrets can wake us up at 3:00 A.M. short of breath because they're haunting our dreams.

We all have secrets; some more painful than others, and some that should never be spoken.

National Coming Out Day - 2008

To all the individuals who’ve had the courage to come out.

And to my generous friends who’ve shared their stories with me.

We all come from different backgrounds, religions, and cultures. We are lawyers, bankers, students, nurses, architects, writers, brothers, mothers, cousins, and so forth...

Some of us have been out since the age of fourteen and for some others it’s taken a bit longer. But our common thread is that we’ve all had to come out at one point or another.

“Coming out isn’t about being gay. That’s just who you are. Coming out is about being comfortable with being gay.” Adam a good-friend of mine summarized it best. “Straight men aren’t forced to face their sexuality head on like we have to. We have to be sure that we are ready to face the world. We never stop coming out.”

Once we’ve accepted and have come out to ourselves, then the hardest part follows; telling those around.

I came out nine years ago, but even before coming out I knew. My body never lied to me. I remember being in the locker room in the seventh grade and checking out all the sweaty boys after P.E. class. I knew it wasn’t “normal” to check out boys, because my Mexican-Catholic upbringing. I ended up lying to myself and pretend to like girls, but deep down I always knew that the feelings that I was having for boys was normal. Nine years later, I’ve fully accepted and have embraced who I am.

National Coming Out Day is on Saturday, October 11th, this is an international event which gives the LGBT community the opportunity to “come out” to others about their sexuality. The first National Coming Out Day was held on the same day in 1988. It was chosen for the annual event in commemoration of the 1987 March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights, in which 500,000 people marched on Washington D.C. for gay and lesbian equality. It also marks the anniversary of the first visit of the AIDS Memorial Quilt to Washington D.C.

My wonderful friends were generous to share their coming out stories with me. They also offer inspirational words for anyone who’s considering in coming out.

Travis a twenty-three year-old Computer Specialist was raised Mormon, but now he’s agnostic, this is his story…

It first happened when I went to my Stake President and had the Missionary interview. This was to be the last interview before turning in my papers to the head offices. He asked me the same question that I had heard my Bishop ask me, "Have you ever been involved in a gay relationship or supported a gay cause or felt that you were gay in anyway?" For some peculiar reason this came out of my mouth, "I thought I might have been." Naturally he didn't sign my papers. I got very upset and stormed out of his office. I had to tell my mom why my papers weren’t getting sent off. This was the first time she heard anything about me being gay. At that point, I told her that I knew I wasn't and wasn't sure why I had said that. I still wanted very, very badly to go on a Mission.

After a few more months of working with the Stake President and a psychologist, I had another interview and the papers went off, but they came back from the head office telling me that I couldn't go. A few months passed and one day over the phone, after wrestling with it, I told my mom that I was gay and was sure of it. I don't think that stuck with her until I moved back home and we went on a walk together and she brought it up. She told me that I was making a wrong choice and that I should really think about what I was doing. I have thought about this for three years and had nearly killed myself in the process, I told her. The way her beliefs work and because my father wasn't around, she felt the need to tell me that if I choose this I was going to hell. She said that she would never accept me for who I was, but would still love me. And she did just that. I wasn't kicked out of the home or given any less help and support when I was trying to recover my life. She stood by me the whole way.

J.D. a twenty-year-old sophomore in Communication Studies had a different experience, this is his story…

Coming out was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I was so afraid of rejection that I was willing to compromise my happiness to make others comfortable. After I came out, I felt like a gigantic weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Some people will accept you; they’re your true friends. Those who don’t don’t deserve to be part of your life.

The first person that I told was gay was my best friend Taylor. Her and I became very close friends in middle school. And I learned from spending time with her that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She loved everyone, and was my inspiration to come out. She always stayed true to herself, being the odd one in our group, but was never afraid to show her emotions, and didn’t apologize for doing so. We were fourteen when I told her that I was gay. She said, “…so? I thought it was something important.” I’ve always felt that she’s one of the greatest people in my life.

When I asked Miles and Charlie when they realized it was okay for them to be who they are this is what they had to say…

Miles: I don’t remember an exact moment of being okay with being gay, but I remember day after day wondering why God would make me this way if he didn’t want me to be this way, then thinking, “If God doesn’t like this, then fuck him. If being myself is wrong, then go ahead and send me to hell.” Those hard feeling eventually smoothed out into a healthier self-acceptance over the next few months.

Charlie: I think I’m fairly okay with it, but to this day I still have minute issues at times. Nothing TOO crazy, but I guess it just comes from the high school stereotype of “will I fit in if they know I’m gay.” I’m constantly proven that I WILL be accepted if I’m out; it’s just a force of habit I guess.

If you’re considering coming out, here’s advice from people who’ve been there…

* It takes a lot of strength. But it gets easier each time. Take things at your own speed and that the only thing that matters is how you feel about yourself. What other people think is completely irrelevant.

* Take your time; think about it, but most importantly TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT IT! Honey, we’re in 2008 and things have changed just from even five years ago. It’s okay to be gay. People WILL be okay with it. Besides, we’re a lot more fun.

* Worry about the family first. There are loads of people out there today who are excepting of who you are. You can get new friends, but you only have one family.

* Make sure you have some place safe to support you both physically and emotionally—and make sure that the support is not coming from some who wants to use you.

* Always be honest. Don’t try to lead a double life. It isn’t worth it and you’ll go insane. Honesty maybe hard at times and it make your situation look hopeless, but it is worth it in the end and you will have no guilty feelings for being honest and straightforward from the beginning. 

*No matter what you believe, you only get to live THIS life once. There comes a point in your life when you have to say, “Am I going to spend my life living it for other people, or am I going to spend my life living it for me?”

Just be you. The best version of yourself. That’s all you can do. No matter what…

Here's a link to the Human Rights Campaign - National Coming Out Day Video 2008 

A Season of Change

The humidity that lingered in my hair, revealing its natural curly texture has now vanished. The sweat that once laid on my forehead like an annoying neighbor is now being cooled off by the icy chill of the wind that flies around the streets of Manhattan, like a dog barking when an intruder has invaded its territory. This can only mean one thing; fall is slowly creeping in, like a thief in the night.

Experiencing my first fall in New York is something that I have dreamed about since I purchased my first scarf eight years ago at the Gap in the Galleria Mall, in Riverside. Now I have a reason to wear them and no one looks at me with bewildered glances and confused stares, when I walk around in  a cashmere scarf, like they did when I lived in Vegas or California.

As the weather changes, I find myself gravitating into the person that I'm going to become. Several months ago, I thought I knew who I was, I thought I had all the answers, but spending the last four months in New York has truly opened my eyes to a reality I only saw on the big screen. New York has kicked my ass, which is molding me into a strong individual. I've learned that if you're not always on your toes this city will eat you up, like a hungry pit bull devouring its dinner.

I'm currently in-between jobs; the theatre job that I had started and finished in the blink of an eye. I'll be starting two new jobs in several weeks, giving me plenty of free time to write at different Starbucks all over Manhattan, and this thrills me. This is what I always wanted to do and I'm living my dream. (Although my dream didn't consist of living pay-check-to-pay-check, but struggling is part of life. Or at least I tell myself that every day).

I'm surprising myself constantly; I read now. Who knew! The fact that I actually love it is something that perplexes me. I yearn for those moments when I can ride the subway and continue reading my Christopher Rice novel. He's got to be one of the most talented writers out there; I totally have a crush on Christopher. (I know that my former roommate would be really happy to know that I have become a bookworm).

As I write this blog, on the Starbucks on 49th street between 8th and 9th avenues, there is this gay mature couple sitting to my right. I believe they're on their first date because of their body language and the questions I can hear being asked through my iPOD. I can't help to wonder how they met, what it's like to date at their age, and what they're going to do after they leave Starbucks. The first stages of a relationship are always the most exciting part of dating. Whoever this couple is, I wish them the best.

I'm such a romantic, which is a double edge sword in my community. But I'm still looking, which might not be the best idea for me right now, since I'm still figuring myself out. I guess, what I really want is to go on a date with a guy who has the same interest in me as I do in him and who isn't going to play games. My roommate asked me what I want out of a relationship and I went blank, which is a clear sign that I need to figure things out. But what I do know is that I don't want to spend my time in New York alone. I read somewhere that life is too much fun to spend alone, and I agree.

The other night while talking to my friend Emmett, he said something that left me breathless, as if I was getting tackled after catching a football pass, that I wasn't suppose to intercept, "How am I suppose to to date my ideal dream man," he noted, "if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be? I'm not in a place in my life right now that I thought I'd be."

His words still haunt me. They haunt me as I write this, "How am I suppose to date my ideal man, if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be?" And he's right. For me, I know that I'm not the ideal man that I wan to be be. At least not yet, I am far from it.

As I begin to work on the ideal man that I will become, I will eventually attract that ideal man that will occupy a place next to my bed and will be on the Christmas cards we send out, every year. "He's out there, you probably already exchanged glances on the subway and you just don't know he's the one," this is something that I constantly tell myself every time I go to bed. (Isn't it interesting how I always seem to bring it back to dating and love in these blogs? It might mean something. I will ask my therapist what it means, when I can afford a therapist).

The season is changing in New York, and so am I. I have a feeling I will constantly be changing, molding myself into the person that I'm destined to be.

Stay tuned loyal readers . . . 

(Times Square, October 08)

The Life of a New York Artist

Every year tons of actors, writers, dancers, singers, musicians, painters, and those in-between move to New York City in the hopes of making their dreams come true.

What I’ve re-confirmed through conversations with fellow New York theatre artists is that this profession is unstable, it will betray you at any chance it gets, and it will stab you in the back when you least expect it. It also takes patience, a willingness to market yourself (without looking desperate), and knowing the right people hasn't hurt anyone. “This profession is life on the edge,” described to me by one of my co-workers who’s been in the profession for over thirty years.

I’ve noticed a pattern among most aspiring artists that move to New York; they are forced to work in crummy jobs (which they swore they would never do) just to pay for their uber expensive apartment in the city. If you’re an actor you begin to audition and get rejection after rejection, because out of the 50 auditions you go, a couple of them will turn into a callback and maybe one or two will become a job. Then when the 6-month contract ends, you have to do it all over again.

The same goes for playwrights, although we deal with rejection much different than actors do; our plays are the ones who get rejected, not so much us. In the past three years, I’ve submitted to over twenty festivals/developmental workshops and out of those twenty, three of them have selected my plays and in one festival I was an alternate. The ones that really mattered, the festivals/developmental workshops that I’ve wanted to get into rejected my plays. It’s tough to deal with that rejection, but I've slowly gotten use to it.

Why do I keep at this unstable profession that one day will give me a steady income, you may ask? Because there are moments of absolute blissfulness. Like when a stranger, two years ago approached me at the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival, after witnessing the reading of my one-act Chloe’s Autumn and praised me for, “capturing the essence of what it’s like to be in an unstable and miserable marriage.” It was a huge compliment, considering that I’ve never been married.

Moments like that are a constant reminder as to why I love what I do. And why I could never do anything else; I create art. That’s my job. I'm a story teller. I take you on a journey for an hour an a half and make you reflect on situations, people, places that normally wouldn't cross your mind on a regular basis.

I didn’t get into theatre to make money; I’ve always know that. And I have to remind myself of that every day when I answer the phone at work, or send a fax, or design a flier for my overly demanding boss, that this is only temporary. And that soon rather than later I’m going to have my agent (when I get one) call me to inform me that Playwright’s Horizon wants to commission me to write a play for their next season.

But until that day comes and it will come, I have to work the crummy job to pay for my apartment in Astoria and my upcoming student loans. I made a promise to myself right when I got to the city which was to never lose sight of why I moved here. As one of my mentors told me in grad school, “Oscar, you’re a writer, so write…” and that’s what I’m going to do…

Out Magazine: Has Manhunt Destroyed Gay Culture?

Out Magazine's September 2008 issue is in newstands right now with hottie Neil Patrick Harris on the cover. Michael Joseph Gross, a contributing writer for the magazine, wrote a clever yet insightful article about how Manhunt has literally distroyed gay culture's dating habits. I have included the beginning of the article as well as a link to finish reading the article.

Has Manhunt Destroyed Gay Culture?
A cost-benefit analysis of our quest to get laid.
By Michael Joseph Gross

If you are a single gay man in search of a mate, and if you are at times prone to discouragement, you probably have friends who reassure you that someday you will find a man who’ll cherish every part of you -- even your weaknesses, even your flaws.

If you have been wondering whether to believe this, wonder no more. There are in fact at least a few dozen guys out there who cherish your flaws. They work in Cambridge, Mass., in a historic building topped by a golden statue of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, in an oak-paneled office suite where a grandfather clock marks the passing of the hours. Here the guys who delight in your weaknesses oversee Manhunt.net, the world’s fastest-growing gay website, which is quietly abetting a revolution in social and sexual mores, under the slogan “get on, get off.”

The phrase evokes the product Manhunt sells: a fix of quick sex -- easy in, easy out. To partake, men market themselves in a style shaped by the site’s profile template. Profile names, which tend to be histrionically masculine or graphically sexual, appear next to pictures, usually of a beefcake or X-rated variety, often with heads cropped out, accompanied by brief, blunt descriptions of sexual tastes (“I need oral and anal sex all the time”). Beneath these entries lie a series of boxes that can be checked to signal “What I’m Into” (27 options, including “JO”, “Exhibition,” “Pig Play,” “LTR” -- long-term relationship -- “Feet/Socks”), “When I Want It” (the box most frequently checked is “Right Now!”), “How I Like It” (top, bottom, etc.), “Where It Happens” (“Your Place,” “My Place,” and the popular “Anywhere”), and “What I Got” (age, build, ethnicity, eye color, hair color, HIV status, and height). To that last category will soon be added penis length and girth -- “a controversial issue within the company,” says Manhunt’s recently resigned director of marketing Phil Henricks, “because men lie.”

This wealth of information makes Manhunt seem the most efficient place for its target customers to find sex, because the site’s comprehensive search function can produce in seconds a list of, say, brown-eyed bottoms within one mile of your zip code wanting to get it on “Right Now!”

Manhunt’s apparent efficiency owes even more to its staggering number of members. The site’s other advertising tag line, “If he’s out there, he is on here,” is only a slight exaggeration. In the United States, Manhunt now has nearly 1 million members, and the site receives more than 400,000 unique visitors per month. If you are among its target customers -- younger, hotter, and richer than average gay men in big cities -- Manhunt is the club that the proverbial everyone (meaning, the guys you’ve always fantasized about) belongs to.

Who knows? You might even find a boyfriend there. If it’s true -- and everybody says it’s true -- that sex is the gay handshake, then one of these days maybe you’ll hit the jackpot. Thus, even many of the most overbearingly erotic profiles also haltingly express a dream of emotional connection. The headline of one man’s ad, next to a big close-up of his butt, asks, “Are you The One?”

To finish reading the rest of the article please visit: "Has Manhunt Destroyed Gay Culture?"

My Single-Self

If going to the bar meant to meet other single-eligible-attractive-men then why is that guys who are in relationships go? I understand that they have to co-exist in bars with me and that they have the same needs as single guys do; which is to consume voluminous amounts of alcohol and mingle with other attractive guys. But when they check me out when their partner is not in their presence is something that I'm not okay with.

Several weeks ago, I went to my neighborhood bar Albatross with my roommate to get a couple of drinks to celebrate my new found employment (which I currently have a hate-love relationship with). After six frustrating weeks of being unemployed in the city, I had finally found someone who hired me, so it was time to drink away the money that I'd soon be earning.

As we walked into the bar, there was this statuesque guy (and I take note on taller guys because I want to date someone who's taller than me - 6 feet or taller is my requirement) he was playing pool (brownie points) and then the statuesque guy looked and smiled at me several times (my heart belonged to him). I pictured us having Thai dinner at some trendy restaurant on 9th Avenue, then dancing the night away at Star Lounge underneath the Chelsea Hotel, and then sharing a cab ride back to Astoria as we figured who's place we'd spend the night at. But I was brought back to reality when his extremely good looking boyfriend (who mind you was shorter than him by six inches) came in after having smoked a cigarette and kissed him. I hated them both; the statuesque guy for checking me out and his extremely good looking boyfriend for being boyfriends with the statuesque guy. As the night progressed and I continued drinking my gin and tonic, I realized what a cute couple they made and my hatred for both of them grew stronger.

Last night while riding the subway home, I pulled my black leather bound notebook from my purse and made a list of all my close/best-friends that are coupled. And the numbers stunned me. Out of that list 11 out of 15 close/best-friends are either married, engaged, or have been together for a long time. And 4 out of the 15 are SINGLE! All my close/best-friends are COUPLED! What does that say about me? Do I secretly long to be in a relationship that I surround myself with other people who are in relationships in the hopes that one day I too will be in a relationship? Am I unconsciously putting this into the universe?

Last week I hung out with my favorite newly form couple, Eric and Milo. I met Eric through a mutual friend from California. She got us in contact when she found out that I was moving to New York and said we'd hit it off, and boy was she right. When I first met Eric he had just started dating Milo, now almost three months later they're practically living together in Astoria.

"We're like lesbians," joked Eric. "You know lesbians go rent a UHAL on their second date." He told me over happy hour drinks at ATE Ave, several weeks ago. Then last week Milo invited me over to have dinner with them. By the way, Milo is an amazing chef. (I told him if he had a gay twin, to which he laughed and ignored my question, which annoyed me because I was totally being serious). Eric and Milo are one of those couples that still give me hope that everyone does in fact have someone out there.

Then on the other side of the relationship spectrum is Adam and Christov who will be celebrating their fourth anniversary on September 2nd (if I'm correct). And four years translates to eight years in gay years (everything gets doubled). Their relationship keeps growing stronger and stronger each day, and I admire them for it. Hopefully one day I too can have what Adam and Christov or what Eric and Milo have. Someone who'll be there through thick and thin. And isn't that what we all want - to be with someone and not end up alone?

Both of these couples are a perfect example of what I surround myself with every day. Even when I lived in Vegas it was the same thing; I lived with a married couple, my favorite collaborator and close friend is married, three of my close gay guy friends are or were in long-distance relationships.

For the most part I have never felt like a third wheel with any of my coupled friends, but when I witness them stealing a glance from each other, or finishing each other's thoughts, or eating from each other's plates; I glance at the empty seat next to me and wonder when is it going to be my turn? When am I going to do all those things with someone? When am I going to be a couple? The answer that I always give myself is, "soon...real soon...he's out there...be patient...keep on dating...you'll find him...you'll find him..."

...whether I believe all of that or not, is a different story...

Gay Online Dating: The Good, the Bad, & the Horribly Misspelled Profiles

In my journey to find my significant other I have opted out to search for him online. I've heard plenty of successful stories of people who have met online, so I figured why not give it a shot and see what happens. In this new found journey I joined connexion.org. This site was recommended by a friend, who had some tantalizing experiences, so after his convincing testimonials, I rushed home and joined like it was going out of style.

It's been a month since I became a member and I've yet to go on any dates. My online dating is worse than my real life dating. (Although my real life dating is going pretty good so far). I've come to the realization that the more skin one shows on these sites the more one will get a response. (Wait a minute, isn't that the definition of shallow?) I mean, I am showing off skin; I'm wearing a tank top on my profile picture, and that's the only skin you're going to get from me. I want to be mysterious.

Last night, I received an e-mail notice from connexion.org, I got uber excited thinking someone had messaged me and my dateless online streak would be over, but when I logged on, to my surprise it was not a message from some hunky guy saying how much he wanted to ravish my body, but a notice to one of the features on the site. (Que rude!) So I began perusing some of the profiles and that's when the rest of this blog entry was born. My roommate suggested that I compose a blog compiling all the ridiculous quotes that guys put on that dating site.

So here's the good, the bad, and the horribly misspelled of what guys are putting on their dating profiles.

from CONNEXION.ORG:

(1.) This was a comment left from D. to G.:
"STAY AWAY FROM HIM, BITCHES! He's MINE -- ALL MINE. AND I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN & KILL YOU IF YOU EVEN SO MUCH AS I.M. HIM.
G: LOG OFF THIS EVIL SITE RIGHT NOW.
-jealous Taurus"

(2.) This was found in the ABOUT ME Section:
"I am gay, but pretty straight acting. I like dudes...I don't mind flamers, but you better be wicked cute. I like to drink Stoli and I hate beer because there are too many carbs...I love CK underwear because that* make my package look phenomenal...I love men in jock straps..."

(3.) This was in the WANT TO MEET Section:
"Someone with a great ass, tons of money, a non-feline domesticated animal, and a library. Must possess the ability to make me laugh uproariously. Hee hee. Or- be nice, and we can work on the other stuff later."

(4.) This was in the WANT TO MEET Section:
"I want a man who's kind and understanding. Is that too much to ask of a millionaire?

(5.) This was found in the ABOUT ME Section:
"190 lbs of gym time..."

(6.) This was found in the ABOUT ME Section:
"Flirting is hot--Rudeness is not... Conversation is an art form...are you still using crayons??"

(7.) This was in the WANT TO MEET Section: (This one is not bad at all, in fact it's the opposite, I wanted to add it because I fell in love with him, and he was on a popular reality show last season).
"Someone with some flavor. Someone honest who says what they think and does what they say. Someone who actually wants to meet someone rather than just receive validation. Someone who doesn't text message incessantly. If you like some of the stuff I like and are not afraid to embrace the gayness then that's a start. Honestly if you're not funny or at least a good audience then I will get bored pretty quickly. I also appreciate a dirty mind a potty mind. A top would be nice. I don't know what I'm looking for. Just that guy. You know him. That guy."

(*Note the misspelled words and bad grammar that these guys use.)

A City of Strangers

Stephen Sondheim wrote the following lyrics in his musical comedy Company, referring to how people in New York City could seem like complete strangers. "It's a city of strangers / Some come to work, some to play. / A city of strangers / Some come to stare, some to stay / And every day / The ones who stay / Can find each other in the crowded streets and the guarded parks..." Those lyrics have been lingering in my head for the past several days, which is making me realize that everyone in New York is a stranger, although it may not seem that way because we ride the subway or walk down the same avenues, but in fact we are strangers.

In a city where we're all on time schedule, heading towards a certain destination, how does one connect with another person? The connection that I'm talking about isn't a romantic one, but more on the friendship level. How does someone befriend an adult? I've been trying to figure that out every since I arrived.

It's not like it was when we where in the third grade when all it took to become friends with someone was as simple as just asking, "do you want to be friends?" And the reply was always the same, "Sure." When we were kids we weren't guarded or jaded. We said what was on our minds and we didn't apologize for it. I long for those days. The simpler days. The days when text messages weren't the only way to communicate with friends. The days when hanging out meant exactly that, hanging out; there wasn't a double meaning behind the phrase. 

I was on the subway a few weeks ago, I didn't have my iPOD with me and so I just sat there. In one of the stops two gay guys strolled in laughing. They sat across from me and I was instantly intrigued by them, so I did what any normal person would do in my iPOD-less situation, I ease-dropped. I believe they noticed and I don't think they cared. One had a killer laugh and the other a cute body; at one point they began talking about New York real estate, the one with the cute body was cracking jokes about the market and the one with the killer laugh was filling the subway car with his laugh. I too was chuckling. I felt like I had known both them for years. And that's when it dawned on me; I wanted to be friends with these two guys. But I nipped that crazy idea in the bud when the insecure voice in my heard started saying, "they're going to laugh in your face," or "their friend card is already filled." So I didn't say anything and watched them get off the train two stops before I was. 

This happened several weeks ago and I wished I had said something, because they both seem like great guys who I could've been friends with. If I ever see them on the subway again, I will make sure that we're not strangers because I will ask them if they want to be my friend and hope their reply is, "sure." 

A Better Place

One of the best things about living in New York is that on any single day you can go to any bar for happy hour. 

Last Thursday, happy hour took my friends Eli, Andre, and myself to Gym Sports Bar, located on Eighth Avenue between 18th and 19th Street in Chelsea. (Pictured above is an empty Gym Sports Bar). Next Magazine describes Gym Sports Bar as, "New York's first all-gay sports bar with two floors of jock action." Sounds tantalizing doesn't it? The bar reflects any typical straight sports bar that I've ever been to; the only difference is that this particular bar is geared towards the gays. And why not, we all like drink cheap beer and watch the basketball game after a long day at the office. 

When the three of us arrived we were greeted by unfriendly glances.  You can say we looked really "faggy" (I hate using that word), but we did compared to all the "macho" (again hate using that word) men that were drinking their four-dollar Heineken. Andre was carrying his belongings in a huge Gucci tote which was hitting the guys in the overly crowded bar. 

After ordering our drinks, we went outside because my friends are chimneys and some big buff guy rolls his eyes and says, "look at these fags coming in here with their designer bags." I didn't hear him say this; it was my friend Eli who brought the rude remark to my attention. "Isn't he also a fag?" I thought.  He is at a gay bar after all. What did he expect, for some straight dudes to bounce in after lacrosse practice? And doesn't this buff dude do the same things we Gucci tote carrying gays do in the bedroom? Yes he does. 

I can't comprehend why gay men have to discriminate within our community. If we don't treat each other as equals, will we ever really achieve equality? It has to start with us because if it doesn't then how can we expect the world to accept us. We're all fighting for the same thing, equality. The equality to be recognized as a human being. If we only realized that the strength is in numbers the world would be a better place.  

A Crossroad

Robert Frost once wrote, "Two roads diverged in a wood / And I took the one less traveled by / And that has made the difference." Sometimes in life we chose to go down roads that we think are the right ones. We see down that path and everything looks clear and bright, but then as time goes on, we come to the realization that we should've taken the other road, the road that was traveled by the rest. I've come to the conclusion that the road less traveled, the one I've been on, isn't as wonderful as Frost has painted it.

I'm currently at a crossroad in my life. Recently moved to New York. Recently graduated from graduate school. Currently looking for a job. When people ask me what I do, I like to sat that I'm a freelance writer; it makes me sound less pathetic and more independent. The crossroad that I'm currently on is leading me to reevaluate my life and the choices that I have made up to this point. I no longer have the safety net that school provided and that's frightening. It's something we all face when we graduate school, that uncertainty if things are going to be all right. While being in school I missed out on life experiences that everyone else was getting. And just today it dawned on me that having life experience is better than having two degrees. Who knew? No one told me; apparently my e-mail was lost somewhere in cyber land. I've been applying for numerous jobs and when I get to the skill section of the application, I have to pause, take a deep breath, and I ponder what skills do I really have? There's no box provided to check that I know how to write a well-structured play. Even the theatre jobs that I've been applying for don't want me, I'm not an ideal candidate because I'm lacking the LIFE EXPERIENCE!

My friend Adam gave me the best advice the other day, "anything you want in this city you have to find for yourself." That's exactly what I'm going to do now. I'm going to have to just put myself out there one-hundred-percent. I think people in New York forget what it's like to struggle when one first arrives to the city. When someone is clearly asking for help they don't want to extend a hand, they figure they should also struggle like they once did.

On a chipper note, I really do love living in New York. Last Friday night, I was walking by Columbus Circle and I looked up at the Time-Warner building and I got chills. I live here. I really do live here. And it's incredible! One of my dreams has come true - I always yearned to live in New York and now it's finally happened.

I'm not going to lie and say that it's been an easy transition because it's been rough. But there has been some amazing days though; like sitting in Central Park with Adam collaborating on a new project, to drinking sangria with Lauren and Elizabeth at Odessa Cafe in the Lower East Side, to witnessing an amazing play like August: Osage County, or my favorite passing out KY lube to all the gays for gay pride (yeah that was actually my first job - and yeah I got paid for it). Some days have been lonelier than others, but I know that I'm not alone because I have a strong group of friends who are there when I need them.

Overall, this road that I'm currently striding along is something that I'm never going to regret. This is home. This is where I belong. And this is where I'm going to make it. Hope is the last thing that dies, according to my grandma. I've always been a hopeful person; even when things get dark, there always seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel and that's where the hope lies.

20 New York Life Lessons

Here Are Several Things I've Learned While Living In New York:

1) Always be friendly to the host or hostess. They're you're meal ticket, literally.

2) If you carry a purse with you - there better be an umbrella and a costume change in there. "That's why we carry such big bags." - Brian (a gay New Yorker as to why the bags are so huge).

3) The R train will not take me directly home (so stop riding it), but it will take me to 34th Street or Times Square and I can transfer to the N/W.

4) The guys are hotter! And they're everywhere; waiting for the subway, running shirtless at eight pm on Ditmars Boulevard, sitting in Union Square reading The New Yorker, sipping a martini at Therapy on a Wednesday night, bartending at G-bar...ay me...the possibilities are endless...where are my business cards, seriously?

5) I can only buy what I can carry. Which is probably good for my wallet right now.

6) "Thursdays are the new Fridays. Fridays are the new Saturdays and Saturday is still...well...Saturday." - Adam (describing how New Yorkers party).

7) You can't get lost in the city; it's an island you'd fall off when you get to the end.

8) Always carry CASH with you; especially if you're in a Chelsea bar, they don't take ATM.

9) You can meet people really easily here. All you have to do is talk and smile. Who knew?

10) West of Manhattan the avenues go higher. East of Manhattan the avenues go lower.

11) North of Manhattan the streets go higher. South of Manhattan the streets go lower. (That took me about a month to get and a million times asking Adam and Christov, but they were patient).

12) There is always something to do on any single night of the week.

13) Oscar asks Matthew, "How does someone stay looking fresh and cute in this humidity?" Matthew replies, "You don't. We all do that dirty, grungy, sweaty look in the summer." (Oscar nods his head in disapproval).

14) There are NO FREE REFILLS!

15) I noticed that everything is about one to two dollars more expensive than on the West Coast.

16) "Williamsburg boys wear tapered jeans and have complicated haircuts." - Eli (referring to the gay boys in Williamsburg, Brooklyn as we were waiting for the G train).

17) This city is extremely romantic, I can't wait to start dating.

18) It always seems to rain between one and four p.m.

19) I need to keep my student ID; it will get me cheaper tickets to Broadway shows. Which means I will be a student at the age of thirty-five and that's fine with me.

20) "You're never alone in the city." - Carrie Bradshaw (And boy was she right).

(Times Square, June 2008)

Graduation Is Upon Me

On Saturday, I will be graduating UNLV with a Master of Fine Arts in Playwriting; it's a big accomplishment, not to be taken lightly. I'm actually really proud of myself. There were days that I thought I would never get through it and nights were I would write myself to sleep. 

Anyone who's gone through grad school can tell you it's no walk in the park. It's hard ass hell; it's been some of the toughest three years of my life. I remember in my first year one of the third year playwrights telling me that my first year would be the hardest and it actually wasn't. The hardest year has been this past one, but it's also been really rewarding.

When I receive my 'fake' diploma this Saturday (because most of us know that I won't receive the real diploma until June or July) I will look back on these last three years with found memory knowing that it was worth every tear, laughter, and sacrifice. I remember thinking the night before I moved to Vegas, "Am I doing the right thing?" Now I know that it was, I did do the right thing and I would do it all over again. 

I was having lunch with my friend Sarah last Thursday and we were talking about how being in grad school has been like living in a sheltered bubble for the past three years. We knew exactly how each year was going to be laid out for us. We taught, for the most part, the same classes, and the classes that we took as students were always at the same time, nothing ever changed. I knew that on Tuesdays and Thursdays I would teach Gay Plays from 11:45 am to 12:30 pm, that has been my schedule for the past two years. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, I love to have a set routine, I actually live for a set routine. But now that security blanket will be gone and it's a little frightening.

 

One of the main reasons that I went to grad school was because I didn't like the real world. I was unhappy with the job that I had when I graduated undergrad. I applied to grad school so I could go back to that sheltered life I call school. Am I ready for the real world now? Who knows? But every day millions of people go out there and they seem to be fine; I think I'll be all right. I have to grow up sometime; I can't hide in Neverland forever.

Mike and Oscar at UNLV Graduation (May 2008)

Family Walk-Out

From my previous post some of you know that the Ten-Minute Play Festival just opened at the Paul Harris Theatre at UNLV. Well, we had a pretty good house today. I was helping with taking the tickets and passing out the programs and there was this family with three small kids, I would say they were all around 6 or 7 years old. They asked if the shows were kid appropriate and the House Manager (who happens to be my roommate and the director of my ten-minute) informed them that most of the shows are intended for a mature audience. Well, they still decided to walk in and see the shows. I thought, 'let's see which show they walk out on.'

The first show starts and right at the beginning two characters have guns pointing at each other, they shoot and collapse to the floor. The whole play is about trying to figure out how they killed each other. The main point is that there's violence on stage and the parents (who were sitting in front of me) were okay with letting their kids see the violence.

The second show, is a fun play about two unconventional people finding romance at the Hoover Damn. The only adult content in this show is when the two characters have a passionate kiss on stage, which is not really adult content, but let's go with that. But the parents didn't seem to mind the passionate kiss.

So now the third show begins, which just happens to be mine, everything is going fine until one of the characters says, "That's right you just like to have sex with men and not call yourself a-" The character gets cut off before he can say the word fag or queer. This is when the dad turns to the mom and within a minute, they gather their three children and leave. 

I wasn't surprised by this, I was just waiting to see how long they were going to last. But what I don't understand is how they can let their kids sit and watch two guys shoot at each other, not once, not twice, but three times and be okay with it. And when one male actor says to another male actor, have sex with men, they go running to the door. I just don't understand in what kind of society we live in that this is okay. I mean granted everyone is allowed to raise their children how they please, but if I was them and the House Manager tells me there is adult content in the shows, you better believe that my kids will not be entering that theatre, especially when they're only 6 or 7 years old. It's not "Charlie Brown" for crying out loud.

I don't really know why this bothers me, I just thought that we're getting passed all of this, but clearly people's actions are showing that we're not passed this. And who knows when we will. I just have to remind myself that the rest of the audience did stay and they seemed to enjoy the show. And I shouldn't let some ignorant people rain on my parade, but it's still annoying.

10 to 15-Minute Play Festival at UNLV

The UNLV Department of Theatre opens the 10 to 15-Minute Play Festival April 23rd in the Paul Harris Theatre. This evening of six original short plays continues to be popular with Las Vegas audiences and features new plays from MFA Playwrights in the program.

What happens when six playwrights take Las Vegas as a backdrop and write plays around that location? Six completely different and exciting plays.

My ten-minute, Remains of December, is a play about what happens when the past comes back for closure and let's out the horrible truth. The cast features Spenser Dewess, Rob Bartusch, and Chelsea Brim. Direction by Stephen Crandall.

Performances are April 23, 24, 25, 26 at 8 p.m. with matinees at 2 p.m. on April 26 and 27. Tickets are FREE for UNLV Students. Tickets are $7.50 and on sale at the UNLV Performing Arts Center Box Office. Box Office hours are Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Saturday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The Box Office may be reached by calling 702-895-2787

I recommend that if you live in Las Vegas and want to see some original theatre, come check out these six plays. You won't regret it!

Remains of December Cast and Production Team. (from L-R) Oscar Limon (playwright), Spenser Dewess, Chelsea Brim, Rob Bartusch, and Stephen Crandall (director).

I Could Have Danced All Night

I've had a love hate relationship with the gay scene ever since I came out almost ten years ago. It's always the same scenario; the same boys with the same trendy clothes, the same music playing, the same expensive drinks, nothing's new-but yet I still go. I'm like a moth to a flame attracted to the scene. Why do I go back, week after week? Why do we all go back, week after week?  What's the force that attracts all of us to the club? It's not the expensive drinks, it's not the loud music, could it be the go-go boys or the cute shirtless bartender?  Maybe. But it has to be more than that. I wonder how long will this last? Can I continue doing this when I'm thirty-five, or let's say forty. Hopefully by then I'll be in a long-term relationship and I won't have to worry about going to the club, but what if I'm not that long-term relationship. I do have friends who are in their late thirties, early forties, who are single and they go to the club week after week. I just don't see myself doing that. I just can't.  

For me the reason that I go to the club has always been the hope that I could potentially meet that great guy. I know it sounds ludicrous to think that I could meet someone at a club, but I have friends who that's happen to.  

Anyone who's ever been to the club, knows how things work. Around two in the morning,  like clockwork, most of us begin scoping out all the guys. To figure out who were going to go to bed with. I'm not saying it's a good or bad thing, because sex with a stranger can be really hot, once in awhile, but it gets old when you're looking for something more substantial than that. It also comes with the territory, Las Vegas is a very transient city, just last night I was out with my friends and we met a guy who's name escapes me right now, but he was from Amsterdam, so we called him "Amsterdam" the rest of the night, and I could tell that he really wanted to get laid. I'm pretty sure he did get lucky; he was good-looking guy with a cute body and had a thick accent, which was hard to understand through the loud pounding music.

I wonder can you really find something that will surpass a one-night only at the club? At this point in my life, the cynical me, says no. But I could be completely wrong.

Getting back to last night, I had the best time with my friends. It was amazing because we were all there enjoying each other's companies, dancing the night away, getting a little drunk, not really looking to hook-up. At least for me, that's when I have the best time; when I'm there to enjoy myself. If I start paroling then it turns out to be a horrible night. But not last night, last night was one of those nights when you look back you remember how great it was. Two of my close friends were not present because they were working, but they were there in spirit.

I'm really thankful that I have these boys in my life. This is what I've always wanted, and it really saddens me that I'm going to have to leave them when I partake on my next adventure. When I finally get what I've always wanted I'm going to lose it. I know I'm being a little melo-dramatic right now, but my hope is that we'll always be in each other's life. But only time will tell.

Vegas Boys: (from L-R) Richard, Oscar, Mike, Jason, Robert, Rob, & Ace.

An Introduction...

Welcome to my Blog site. I'm really excited to be branching out in this new endeavour. Let me begin by introducing myself, my name is Oscar F. Limon - I'm a playwright, which means that I write plays; I'm currently finishing my final year as an MFA Candidate in Playwriting at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. I look forward to one day having my plays performed on Broadway and all over Regional Theatres. One day I also hope to write a column in "The Advocate" or in "Out" Magazine. I'm currently writing a blog on myspace entitled "Queer in Sin City", but it's time to start a new chapter in my blogging life. I'm planning on moving to New York City in May and I know that there'll be new adventures around every corner. I'm looking forward to see where life takes me, because right now it's been a turmoil of emotions. Grad School by far has kicked my ass; emotionally, mentally and physically. But it's made me a strong playwright as well as person. Things are changing in my life, but I'm ready to embrace that change.