You get everyone addicted to your coffee and off you go

Last night I gave Lin-Manuel Miranda a slider.

Let me elaborate:

Just another day of catering, the ush . . . so I thought. Until I noticed who the event was honoring; none other than the love of my life, Mr. LMM. I planned to avoid him the entire night so I wouldn't act a fool. Cut to someone hailing me down from behind in order to grab one of the mini burgers from my hors d'oeuvres tray. I casually turn around to offer one and almost drop the tray in the process, as I gaze directly into . . . Lin-Manuel's doe-y eyes. Sigh. He said he was a fan of sliders. I said . . . well, I said nothing actually. I smiled and nodded. He winked. I died, a little. 

Andd that was pretty much it. Amazing, I know. My life is just so ... interesting.

Another butler and I were talking about why I am so enamored with this man. He also pointed out that LMM had only a girlfriend, not a wife . . . after all, he's only six years older than me. Thank you, fellow butler, I said. Thank you, for creepily pointing that out.

I think the reason why I am so attracted to LMM, even though I clearly don't know him at all, originally stems from his body of work and his presence on stage. Yes, I think his style of writing is unique and current, and his music hauntingly beautiful, but, as I think I've mentioned before, his acting is what drew me to him the most. The vulnerability, the honesty, the rawness, just this guy, putting it all out there . . . I admire him not only for his creativity and energy, but also for what I find difficulty in achieving in my life . . . in creating, in putting my work out there. I admire his earnest belief in the validity of his work since he was a ripe, young thing; something a lot of people struggle with, but others just naturally have confidence in that way.

I think it's a combination of I see a little of myself in him, a little of who I aspire to be, and a little of the type of 'ideal' man I could see myself with in the future . . . all that is what attracts me to him, in this odd sort of connection that I can only describe as an innate feeling, not a thought. And since I never define my life by my feelings, this is an unusual thing for me to explain. And if I try to go into detail, it just comes out all creepy and naive.

So, there you have it. Another memorandum on Lin-Manuel Miranda.

Sometimes my bed is too big.

I dislike nights like this.
Too much 30 Rock and fudge brownies . . . unable to drag myself to bed.

I feel very anxious and uncomfortable right now and I'm not sure why.
Perhaps it's because I made the mistake of looking at some old facebook albums and thinking about how life used to be much easier a year ago. In college, of course.

Don't get me wrong- supporting myself completely is very liberating. But, sometimes a tiny little baby cell inside my body misses college. And the moment I think that thought, it usually goes away as fast as it came.

I hate this Dell computer so much it makes me want to punch babies. CHRIST.
I cannot wait to buy a MacBook.

A thought-
I think more people should try going through life without consuming alcohol.
Now if only I would do that.
Perhaps I will try it this week . . . until the weekend hits. Ugh. Lame.

So, a date this week made me think about what I was truly looking for in a person if I ever decide I want to pursue something romantic again. And I took a moment to search through my gmail to find a memo I had sent to Karry a while ago about the 'perfect man'.

Thought I'd share. Here's what I wrote:

Karry,
Have you ever written your mental list out? This is a work in progress, but I guess I understand what I would tolerate, and what I actually look for in a person.

xo,Katie

Running List of Qualities for Ideal Man
Must have . . .
Positive attitude (to offset my negative/sometimes cynical outlook)
Liberal attitude with complete tolerance for gay rights
Ultimate respect for women
Non-smoker
Intelligent
Supportive of me, but still not afraid to keep me in line
Goals for his future
Playful (can be child-like with me when needed)
Sense of humor (duh); can make me laugh really hard

Would be nice if . . .
Could cook or had passion for food and wine
Into healthy habits, like eating right and exercising
Sense of maturity
Financially stable
Intriguing taste in books/music---something new to introduce to me
Enjoyed the Barenaked Ladies
Capacity to give awesomely thoughtful gifts, like taking me to dinner and the ballet
Liked to travel
Possessed qualities that would impress friends and family

I do not think I have high expectations. I mean, look at my track record. Ahahaha. No offense, boys. But at least I know now I am not satisfied with settling and am comfortable and happy on my own.

I remember in my old blog I used to note what combinations of men would be my 'perfect' man. Like Steven Page mixed with Brian d'Arcy James in Jonathan Rhys Meyers' body. ahahaha. That's funny to me. That would be trippy. I think now it would have to include one part Lin-Manuel Miranda and one part Jack Donaghy too . . . So obsessed.

Blechk.
I need to spend less time thinking about boys and more about the direction my life and career is heading. Puh-leasssse. I'm only 23, bitches.

Holy hell do I need to update my resume.
With that, I leave you.
Good nite y'all and falcon15.

Paciencia y Fe

Even though I didn't begin this entry to record my thoughts about the recent historical Inauguration, this card from my favorite e-card website caught my eye. I enjoyed it and thought I should share it with you all.

While my apartment is obviously not very big, I just cannot believe that I heard my roommate Jordon belch from the complete opposite side of the apartment. No offense girlfriend, but I cannot wait to be able to afford to live on my own.

In recent news, I won the lottery for In the Heights yesterday. Allison and I went to the evening show. My prior knowledge about the show was pretty standard and I was slightly familiar with the music and the book - and I had watched a scene from it on Broadway on Broadway this year. However, not much could prepare me for all that was Lin-Manuel Miranda; also known as the man of my mother fucking dreams. One thing I didn't know was that he had started working on the musical in his sophomore year of college. Dios mio! Really? What the HELL did I do in college? ahahaha. Recently, it seems like nothing worth noting. But I digress into negativity.

What I am trying to explain is my feelings about this man as a performer, writer, person, artist, etc. while watching 'his' show. Yes I enjoyed the musical and I think I have now a tad bit more insight about the neighborhood I live in, but it was mostly Lin I payed attention to: his connection with the music, with the overall feeling of the show, with the rhythm of the beats and the raps and the dance/movements and specifically, his monologue about his abuelita. I watched in awe his earnestness and his complete connection with every minute detail in the show.

I understand I'm no musical theatre connoisseur (although god knows we theatre grads love to pretend to be big, fat snobs), and I guess I'm sheltered, but I feel like I often don't get to see male actors reveal that much of 'themselves' in a performance. I mean, like, really expose. I've seen people fake it; I've watched men almost get to the raw vulnerable state, but not always am I drawn to a man's vulnerability like I am with a female actress. I seem to focus on women's performances perhaps because I am a woman, but also because I am drawn to their emotions and am usually intrigued about the various choices they make and why and how they came to them. However. Last night, I couldn't take my eyes or my mind off the rare, honest form of this guy. This little guy from Washington Heights. Something stirred in me for some reason and it settled in me. I truly was inspired by what he created and I loved watching every minute of him living in real time in 'his' show and loving it. And just being. You know. There. Whole-heartedly. No pretentiousness or artificiality or god-forsaken pushed emoting.

Needless to say, Lin-Manuel Miranda struck a chord with me.

And I needed it to happen. For me, he represents what I could be and what I've always thought I would be, even as a child. I want to write sooo bad. I'm itching to create SOMETHING, do SOMETHING other than this 9-5 day job (that is oh-so-unfortunately well-paying) and put myself out there, my real self, whether it's acting or any other kind of risk where I have to be in my truest vulnerable state. I want to be naked (metaphorically) and take this stupid wall down that barricades me from enjoying so many things in my life or just living in the moment. Just seeing a glimpse of someone like him in his raw form, for some reason, I saw a bit of myself. And I saw hope. I don't know how or what it was, I just did. And it gave me this odd, connected feeling that I never feel, or at least haven't felt in a long time. And then I cried.

So, basically, I'm glad. So glad. Glad I got to see him in his element before he leaves his show. And usually I'm not all gungho on the stagedooring (although it seemed necessary for Title of Show), I was oddly drawn to wait and meet him. Ah, what I wouldn't give to sit and pick that man's brain. Well, him and about 20 other people in this city.

Naturally, I never know what to say to people in those situations.

I was also extremely concerned about the creepster, out-of-town, awkwardly too old (and too drunk) fans that kept saying the most embarrassing things out loud and making some of the cast members outwardly look verrrry uncomfortable. Excuse me, but I'm going to need to disgress for one second on this subject: Can I just say, that that is the only thing that can scare me about the theatre, man, is the whole groupie thing, like the teeny-boppers that follow Wicked around. Or that girl in line for student rush who saw this Gypsy revival 47 times . . . oo oo or like these two hauntingly obsessed fans who met and greeted Laura Bell Bundy after she did a concert at the Wharton Center . . . even I was cringing. I understand respect for another's art and admiring another human being or excitement about theater, but Jesus, nothing frightens me more than the groupies of the scary variety.

ANYWAY. The point is, what the hell do you say to a person who inspires you and moves you for the first time in a long while? I admire you? ahahaha. Usually I just keep the thoughts to myself. Or privately write them down later. Even in this blog entry I don't think I adequately expressed my feelings on how or why I was drawn to LMM. So, I just said to him, "Thank you." That was about it, folks. Then I walked to the 1 train with Allison and we wondered how close we actually live to him anyways. Creeps.

So, that was my little (what?!) Lin-Manuel Miranda story. I wish I could have expressed my thoughts about the experience more eloquently. I feel like it kind of came out as ordinary/boring. Ah well. Hard to explain what goes on in my head while I watch or am apart of theatrical productions. Duh.

On a side note, I can't believe I'm still up. It's 1:15. I'm a Grandma during the weekdays, yo; just too legit to quit. Tomorrow (or today rather) will bring adventures of me chasing Jose the super around to get him to fix the damned dead bolt, reluctantly dragging my ass to work on the Upper East Side and hopefully getting around to update my resume . . .

I cannot wait until Valentine's day, believe it or not. More on that later.

sweet dreams, queens.