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    Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
    Showing posts with label high school. Show all posts
  1. For Adults Only

    Tuesday, February 26, 2013


    For Adults Only
    (& only the kind who can handle a frank talk on sexuality with a dash of humor)

     
    I have been feeling rather flattered lately.  Received many compliments on my photos. A few were from certain individual men who can at times make me tingle.  They now live far enough away that I can tingle safely.  Little chance of actual contact.  We are all so scared of having our hearts stomped on in one way or another... especially if earlier stompings are still interfering with free breathing.

    In spite of much, I have to continue to acknowledge my attraction to men.  It may or may not be the whole story, but it is real.  I sometimes question my heterosexuality.  I have wondered at times if I were raised in a free society where neither orientation is considered the right one or the wrong one, would I be bisexual.  Life isn't over, so who knows what lies ahead.

    In my senior year of high school, I joined a filmmaking group and turned out to be the only straight girl in the group.  I went to an all-girl high school where most of the gay girls were out, at least at school.  But, like in the larger world, the majority of students identified as heterosexual.  So it felt shocking to me to discover myself as the heterosexual minority of one in the filmmaking group.  I remember feeling weird the way I would if everyone had been Chinese or anything identifiably different, and for a moment, I wanted to leave.  In my head, it went something like, "If you leave now, it would be only because everyone is gay.  Is that okay with you?  No.  That's not a good reason to walk out when minutes ago you wanted to make a film about the school just like everyone else in this room.  If you leave for no other reason than they are gay, well that is what prejudice is.  And they get to make a film, and you don't."  So I stayed.

    We became friends.  They tolerated so many straight girl questions of mine and did their best to answer.  One of those girls is a woman I am still friends with now.  We don't see each other as often as we could I suppose.  But we are in touch, and it is heartfelt.  She and her love came to see me in a production of Vagina Monologues.  A whole bunch of us went out one night to see lesbian theatre in the South Bronx.  We have mutual admiration for each other.  When I told her how patient they were back in high school with my questions, I learned that they didn't see it that way at all.  They felt so good that a straight girl wanted to know them and didn't look down on them. They found me so open-minded.  When introducing me to other people at times back then, they'd say, "She's straight, but she's cool."  I have since of course had many gay friends, but that group was my first real experience.  So my world wasn't as closed as it might have been.  It has typically had people of many kinds in it.  Plus I live in the Bronx, New York which makes it conducive to having many different kinds of people in one's life, helping shape it.  Just ethnically speaking, over 20 languages are spoken in this borough.  It's a real opportunity to meet the world.  Anyway, this was the long scenic road to saying that back in high school, I was introduced to the songs of Lavender Jane (Alix Dobkin). This always remained in my mind somewhere.

     


     

    One of the men I was referring to earlier calls me from time to time to express something good-natured.  When he lived in the same city as I do, he seemed to want to run toward and away from me at the same time.  I may have felt the same. It was too close in emotional time to all the trauma of my own hell to feel normal. Not even sure what my normal is anymore.  On one of these calls, he knew I was going through something hard and he left me a message reminding me that I have a good soul and that I should have mercy on my soul.  His sentiment sounded so sincere, not clichéd, and actually made me feel better.  It just reminded me that I have the power to let myself feel better much of the time.  And I did have an open heart to receive his words.  At times, I have rerun that message in my head just to help my shoulders go down and my breathing flow.  I wondered again why we didn't get together when we could have.  I am trusting God/the bigger picture/the universe that things went as they needed to for both of us.  He's with the woman he is supposed to be with probably.  They had years together and then were on a break (yes, like Ross and Rachel though Rachel didn't see it that way -- I was always with Ross on that one).  Starting with someone new can feel like work.  But I waver, going back and forth where I feel platonically toward him and where I don't.  In terms of dating, it didn't ever get off the ground.  I don't count a pizza after a poetry reading that we did not plan to meet at but happened to both go to as a date.  But in terms of beginning to get to know each other beyond the poetry readings, that did start.  And now though he's in another state, he seems to want to continue.  I seem to have trouble.  I think because my heart is open and tears so easily flow, and I can't stand the sad sack I can be.  Yet he seems to be the kind of man with whom I can feel safe.  He has experienced my anger and disappointment, my affection, my concern, accepted an apology from me that I needed to give, heard my prose, my poetry, and my comedy, and still says I’m awesome.  I get teary just re-reading what I wrote.

    In some ways, I have returned to some degree to where I was in my emotional growth before I got swallowed into a relationship that expired long before it actually ended.  I remember in my twenties wondering about me and the possible bisexual inside.  Back then, homosexuality was just getting off the mental illness list.  I was born into a very problematic (yet special) set of circumstances, and anything else that wasn't considered "normal" was going to tip the scale of what I could bear.  When I was 17½, my family (excluding my mother) disowned me for dating a black man and not lying or feeling ashamed about that.  It was awful and yet maybe necessary for me to have had a shot at life.  A former therapist and I once called it a disguised blessing.  Anyway, I cannot imagine that dating a woman would have gone over well.  But none of that was conscious at the time.  I was a product of the mindset that straight was normal and gay was abnormal.  So even when a girlfriend in eighth grade wanted me to teach her how to tongue-kiss, the best I was able to do was explain and draw diagrams.  

    My grandmother had gotten upset that I wasn't upset over attending an all-girl high school.  It was one of the better schools of my choices, and she knew that.  She wasn't sorry I was going there, but she was uncomfortable with my comfort.  I assured her I liked guys but not 9th through 12th-grade boys.  I had little tolerance for the immaturity.  I dated older males.  That wasn't thrilling to her either, understandably. Everything was layered with complication.

    Anyway, getting into what turned out to be a very long involvement (that turned into a marriage of sorts) and staying together beyond the point of it being healthy, stunted my inner growth.  So many things I used to wonder about have now returned to my consciousness.  Many things I used to want to do are in process.  Months after the separation, I got cast as the title role in "I Am Tricky Nicky" -- a very off Broadway play by Adam Samtur.  We were reviewed twice, and my performance was highlighted in both reviews.  So while I was enduring a terrible time in some ways, my teenage child getting used to go against me in a divorce and all sorts of emotional horror, blessings were present in other ways.  A long ago person found me, Blake, and that is another tender-hearted story, but the part that is relevant here is that he told me that the universe would not abandon me.  I held onto that tightly.  The mix of things taking place definitely felt like loved ones who had passed over were pitching in to help me along with people right here on Earth.

    Recently, a man who only knows me on line told me I was "ridiculously appealing."  I assumed that, based on other things he said with his male friends, that was his cleaned up choice of words.  It did feel good, I admit.  He's in another state too. First, I wished he was closer.  Then I was glad he was farther.  Oy.  In many ways he is ALL WRONG for me.  Red flags are flying.  I told God, "I get it.  I'm being given an opportunity to see what I've really learned about myself from past decisions and if I can apply it.  I get it, God."

    So how am I doing on my midterms you might wonder.  The miles help.  Yes, I need the help.  There is something very appealing about a high testosterone man.  It lasts for a short time.  If it goes on longer than it should, I feel zapped.  But when it's good, it's sexy.  He sent me this which probably expresses what I'm trying to better than I can.

                                       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISFmWpexS5g

    That, to me, is one of the hottest, sexiest, most intense and beautiful 5 minutes on video.  But does she look happy!?  Yet that emotional turmoil and intensity is home to me.  It’s real and somewhat tortured and beautiful and passionate; nothing fake.  Exhausting though.

    Back to off-video real life.  He said he might be able to visit family in Brooklyn for a week this spring.  I said, "Hey! Get back!"  We laughed.  Days later, he spoke of that falling through and how he’d have no place to stay.  Hmmm.  I said nothing.

    I do like a man with balls, as I've said to friends in the past, but getting the size right on those balls -- that's the challenge.

    Some things may just have to remain fantasy for now or for forever or until the right level of alcohol changes that.                                                                                                                                                                              

                                     (Not me in the photo – just in my head do I look that fit.)

  2. Krystyna Circa 2005 EXPOSED

    Friday, November 9, 2012

    Back in 2005, I embarked on my senior year of high school. I was overly excited and a loser but I was too happy of a person to realize it. Not much has changed. I'm not exactly sure why I liked high school so much, but it was probably because of da bOiZ. All my boyfriends in high school were in college and inappropriately older than me.

    QUIZ TIME!

    In HS, I only dated guys who were in college because I was either:
    a) A ho
    b) Had daddy issues
    c) Needed them to drive me to my orthodonstist appointments
    d) Wanted their riches

    The answer would be e) I could not relate to the mind of a high school male. Never have and never will. They were too busy getting boners or playing video games or some other thing that I had no interest in.

    ANYWHO. I stumbled accross a little old thing called Xanga. If you never had one, it's basically one of the first social networking sites where tweens every where could reveal too many feelings than they should and make fun of people and post horrible pictures that didn't seem horrible at the time. These are some of the things that I found. Things that I actually typed.. and meant. I honestly can't believe myself.

    Thursday, September 01, 2005


    I applied to Hollister (how ironic of me) and saw the most good looking guy of my entire life. he literally made me weak at the knees.. so new mission for the school year.. get hired and get to know this dude!
    today i learned that all guys think about is sex sex sex. my manager told me everything somehow reminds him of sex and two other guys who worked there said they rate every girl they see as 1) i'd totally do her 2) maybe if i was drunk 3)not if hell froze over. hahah i have to say i had no idea they thought about it that much but its kind of funny.. hey you learn something new every day

    bye summer, you kicked ass.

     
    Wow so wait--- does this mean that I was part of the Williamsburg hipster movement long before it started? Should I get credit for that? I'm I tooting my own horn a little too much? I'm such an asshole.
     
    ALright so THIS entry is fucking amazing. My first ever boyfriend, Greg Fisher, who was a college student.. dated me for 1 year. Cheated on me most of that time (duh). My first insane crazy draining hearbreak. And this is what I had to say about it:
     
    Tuesday, August 16, 2005

    being resentfull and having regrets gets a person nowhere in life, you only move forward by trying to forget and move on... however! getting things off your chest does help..
    you, my friend, are the scum of the earth. you are the perfect example of what a horrible pathetic gutless boyfriend should be. you arn't man enough to be truthful, and you're proving yourself to be more and more of an ass hole each girl that you go through. just keep on adding to the list of people who agree with me, you're doing an awesome job so far, really you are !! you have accumulated a record breaking list of people who hold similar opinions. more than feeling betrayed, hurt, and shocked, i feel bad for you.. and i hope that some day in the future you get professional help before you hurt anyone else.

     
     
    ^Aw, my feelings were cute. If someone did that to me now, I'd probs still write him an adorable paragraph on my social networking site.
     
    Here are some embarrassing photos. Well this first one isn't embarrassing, it serves as a means of telling me that I need to take my older self to the gym because WHAT A BOD DAT IS (wuz)
     
     
    PROM!
     
    Ryan Caberara - was and is still in love with him. (shut up)
     
    This is what I look like when I went to a NASCAR race:
     
    When I didn't care about food and couldn't smile right:
     
     
     
     

  3. by Helene "the Spleen" Gresser



    I hate auditioning. Hate it. Always have. Standing in front of one or two people (sometimes more) for an acting audition, or a tiny, early-evening crowd at a club with the owner/booker looking on makes me all jumpy and out-of-sorts and ridiculous.  I talk too fast or stutter or forget my place. I look at the wrong person or zone out in the middle of a sentence. Nerves take over and I falter, or race, or, very rarely, just nail the sucker. Usually I can nail it when I see I have made the director/owner/booker laugh. Then I relax and breathe. That's why stand-up has made me a far better auditionee in every arena: I am more myself when standing up in front of people making fun of myself and silly situations.

    Weirdos: my hilarious brother John, my goofy cousin Kristen,  and gawping me.
    When I was a kid in grade school, I loved to get up in front of the class to read. In middle school, I ran for Student Council president and won, because I gave good speech. That's what I did: gave good speech. I did it again for Freshman class prez, Sophomore class prez, Drama Clurb prez, Forensics team. In the Academic Decathlon I got a perfect score of 800 for my ability to interview with several business leaders. I extemporaneously spoke and got another high score (and gold medal! I love the medals!) and felt powerful and fearless. Mr. Zwick taught me how to do this in middle school because he was a Toastmaster and showed our class how to not look like a complete moron when speaking in front of people. Don't hem and haw and ummm. Don't fidget with your hands. Don't close your eyes too often or blink too much (Cory Booker, quit closing your eyes so much. It's weird.) Be funny and forthright and look people in the eyes. Have a point, a good starter line or two, and a solid finish, and the audience will love you for not making them cringe for you. My mother coached me patiently on my Forensics pieces and helped me tell a story truthfully and with emotion. I sang solos at State contests and won more medals for German and French and Italian songs sung in perfect dialect, each note and key change and half-step fairly precise, if not beautiful. (I have always dreamed of being a wonderful singer, but the gods did not bless me with a powerhouse sound. Just an adequate voice with a good ear for the lyrics and meaning. Sad sigh.) I was my Senior class speaker at my high school graduation, one of my proudest moments. It was validation to be voted to the honor by my peers. I was ready for anything, I thought.

    Oh, prithee,  I am a funny Nurse in high school Romeo and Juliet
    But --- someone sitting in an empty room behind a desk watching me perform a "scene" was a whole new game. Just as when I learned to play the violin or piano, or a vocal solo, practiced a piece comfortably well, and faltered only when the teacher stood over me to hear how I sounded, I cannot take the instant criticism or rejection. I feel the eyes and see the change of expression on a person's face and I stumble because I think I see disappointment or boredom or worse: apathy.  I am a people-pleaser, a puppy needing a pat on the head, an empath picking up on people's emotions hidden behind their frozen smiles and nodding heads. I auditioned for high school plays and musicals and never won the leading role. But I just KNEW I had it in me. I KNEW it. I wanted to be an actress. I loved being in a show, rehearsing and working alongside my fellow drama nerds. We are a weird family of Charlie-in-the-Boxes, us performers. I was determined to be part of that world. I would be on Broadway, damnit. I was sure my high school drama teacher was wrong about my lack of discipline learning lines (oh, that attention-deficit issue again) and lack of song-belting skills. I was sure she just didn't see me as anything but a funny lady, a clown.
    My brilliant and demanding high school drama teacher, Barb Gensler.


    Clowning around at summer stock, per usual. 

    Undergrad auditions saw some successes for me, because I still felt strong and fearless and funny. I got cast as leads now, and KNEW it meant I was headed for greater things in the THEATRE. I got singing leads in musicals, many roles that I surely mangled with my limited voice and marginal dancing abilities.  But I had MOXIE, and I was ready to take on the world. I even took a year off in the middle of college and lived in New York - seeing shows, meeting with famous acting coaches ("Go back to college," acting guru Sanford Meisner told me at 20 years old,) and making connections with people I thought could get me work in the future. Then I decided to go to graduate school. And break up with my absolutely loving fiance. And live with a new poetic and sensitive boyfriend, who then proceeded to fall for someone else in his department the minute we moved in together. Not poetic or sensitive. It devastated me.

    I was a wreck emotionally, and I made the move to audition for grad school while breaking up with my roommate/boyfriend. I barely got into the school, after auditioning unsuccessfully for other grad programs (one famous program director yelled "DON'T LOOK AT ME!!" while I was trying to do a monologue from Shakespeare in his tiny room with only he and I occupying it. It threw me completely. I was rattled.) My acting teacher in grad school made it clear I was lucky I got in the three-year MFA program at all -- I had been an alternate choice. He said I had terrible habits from my undergrad training. Our little "studio" of eight actors were a motley crew eventually nicknamed the "Biker Studio." We were tough and old and grizzled and cynical and crazy, at least most of us were, and the school wanted to beat that all out of us and mold us into something else. We were stripped of our old "bag of tricks" and told to start anew. I lost my moxie. It was completely gone.

    The "Biker  Studio." Eric, Mike, Thom, me, Tim, Ellen's butt. 
    No longer was my humor looked upon as an asset: rather, it was criticized as a hurdle to my being viewed as a "leading lady." I was to be graceful and elegant and ladylike and thinner and not silly in the least. And I trembled every time my name was called to stand in front of the class to do a monologue or attempt farce physicalizations (a "double-take", a "triple-take", a trip, a "slow burn,." etc.) I could not be funny even if I tried to be at that point in my training. And I always waited until last to go up and try. I hated myself. I was miserable. I did not get cast in any mainstage show. I was, I thought, the least-talented of my studio. I deliberately sabotaged myself - by skipping a rehearsal of a small show I was in - to drive to Cleveland and say goodbye to a new love interest as he left for NYC. I was given an F and put on probation in my program. I would never succeed at the THEATRE, I was sure of it.

    I decided to try a stand-up competition at that time, on a whim. It would only be the second time I had ever attempted stand-up, and here I was trying to win a nationwide commercial competition. I was ill-prepared, but I KNEW I could stand in front of a crowd and make things up if I had to. A crowd is safe, if the numbers are large enough to mildly amuse, I just knew. Crowds laugh a little and they become contagious with the laughter - it travels and moves and people laugh at others' laughter. I did not win, but managed my way through two minutes of  semi-funny material and only one falter -- my poetic ex-boyfriend was in the audience and I locked eyes with him as I was making fun of our relationship. It threw me, and I stopped short. I ended my set, deflated by the sight of his face. Apathy, then embarrassment for me was written on his face, or so I imagined.

    Yet that one moment of bravery led to others: I auditioned for the Artistic Director of  the Cleveland Play House wearing comfortable clothes and an I-don't-have-anything-to-lose-now approach. I was told I had an exceptionally good audition, despite the fact that this same lovely lady took all the studio's headshots and resumes and made fun of them one-by-one, in front of us, to show us how we would be viewed by casting directors. Granted, my acceptance was merely as an acting intern, as was the rest of my studio, but I now look at that comedy competition as my moment of clarity. An epiphany. I am what I am. And that is all that I am.

    It took several more years of living in NYC-- being rejected, being cast in eight tours of theater for young audiences, being a camp Drama Director, working in casting, and then, finally, being a stand-up comic-- to regrow my moxie. The comedy gigs helped me to overcome my shaking, all-consuming dread that I was a fraud, a flop, a nothing. I liken standing on that stage with microphone in hand to jumping out of an airplane -- it can be absolutely terrifying the first time, and then, if you let it happen, it can be thrilling. And it's all you. It's all me. No script, no one's words but mine, the audience just wanting to laugh. Hell, I can do THAT, I thought, and still think. And if it doesn't always work, so the fuck what?? There's always another chance, another show. I won't let anyone scare me away with grim looks or crossed arms or apathy. I will make it my mission to muscle through, improvise, make fun of myself, find the humor in the dread. Talk about it openly. Flay myself so the audience sees my innards and can identify and recognize the similarity of our shared inner works.

    De La Vega, the street artist, spurs me on. 
    Now I cannot wait to be tested. Try me. I have that moxie and I'm not letting it go again. Give me your best apathy, I will not shy away in fear. I know you want to laugh. I KNOW it. It will save you from the darkest depths of self-loathing and criticism and ugliness thrown at you every day. It has saved me. I am what I am. And that is all that I am.

    - Spleen