Impractical Interests

Let's begin with another episode of "what Angela dreamt last night":

I got a phone call from someone saying that the person playing "Kate Monster/Lucy the Slut" in the Broadway musical Avenue Q AND one of her understudies had gotten sick, and the other understudy was like 8 months pregnant. They needed someone to be her backup in case anything happened, and for some reason, they wanted me to do it. Even though I didn't remember auditioning for it. And I'm not Equity. And I don't know the script aside from what's on the cast recording. And I've never worked with a puppet. The producers seemed convinced that they could teach me.

The next thing that happened in the dream (presumably after some fiery rehearsal time) was me finding out that the pregnant understudy had to be rushed to the hospital for some reason (labor?), and I had to take over the role. Somehow, the audience was all people I knew. My family was in the front row (as, in real life, my family is almost always in the front row... my mother is very particular about that). The first act flew by. I was terrified that I was going to sing the lyrics to "There's a Fine, Fine Line" in the wrong order for some reason, but I didn't. I did, however, go up at one point (going up = forgetting lines... or just mentally misplacing them), but my scene partner (I think it was Trekkie Monster... no clue what scene it was) fed the line to me rather nicely, so it worked out. And I apologized profusely backstage. The second act seemed more difficult than the first. I wasn't doing anything wrong, but I couldn't remember what I was supposed to be doing until I was actually doing it. Sadly, my alarm clock went off before the curtain call, so I'm not sure how the show ended.

(Feel free to analyze in the comments section.)

And now, we return to our semi-regularly scheduled programming.

I was offered an acting gig this week. It was going to pay $50 per performance (with the possibility of additional profit sharing). And I turned it down. I had to pass it up because the performances are the same week as auditions for graduate school (I'm not even sure that I want to go to graduate school right now, but I'd like to keep my options open), and I felt like I wouldn't be able to give either event all of my attention if I were trying to do both. So it's a little sad. And I would've liked the money. And something to do theatrically. But it's probably for the best. Everything happens for a reason.

It was flattering to be asked, though. Seriously, it's a great feeling when someone really wants you to be in a show. This one is a cabaret sort of thing, and they wanted me to do a 10-minute monologue for it, and it sounds like they wanted me to sing as well. That gave me sort of a boost. Someone in this city thinks I have talent. How lovely that is!

Anyway. I shouldn't be typing this right now. I should be packing. But I never pack when I should be packing. I'll probably goof off on the internet until around 1am, and then start cleaning my apartment. And once I can figure out where most of the things are that I would want to pack (around 2am or so... or maybe I'll take a nap and start at 4am), I'll start packing. And I will inevitably forget something of questionable importance. Last time I went home, it was socks (I borrowed them from my mother the whole time I was there). I'm just going to pray it isn't Christmas presents (which I'm bringing not wrapped. Why waste money on wrapping supplies when I'm sure my mother has them stocked in abundance?)

I have to be fully packed and out the door with suitcase in tow at 7:30am. I'm leaving for Connecticut tomorrow directly after work. I'm headed to see my family for nine days. As much as I love them, that's going to be rough, as we have very little in common with each other. Last time I was home we sat around drinking and watching movies. One of my brothers is in Nicaragua right now, so at least he'll have some interesting stories to regale us with. And I'm sure I'll go into Story-Mode for awhile, entertaining them for as long as they'll allow me to do so. I haven't told my brothers about my car accident yet, so that'll be some interesting new material.

But yes, nine days is a frustrating length of time (I had originally anticipated seven days, which I thought was more than enough... but my parents are graciously funding my air fare, so there was little I could do about it). Particularly since my flight schedule for that trip ruined my ability to go to Michigan for New Year's Eve, as I had been planning. And I'm not the only person who's disgruntled about the fact that I won't be there. In fact, I think I'm more upset by the guilt from disappointing others than I am by my own disappointment. But such is life.

By not going to Michigan, I'm missing out on seeing a few of the people I hold dearest, so that's horribly depressing.

And now I'll leapfrog over the paragraphs that would connect my thoughts, and hop directly into what I really want to discuss...

I have this new problem in my life when it comes to males. Usually the problem is either "too many" or "too few". Right now, the problem is a world of unlikely, impractical, and impossible. The males in my life have pretty much all been forced into the unfortunate category of "as good as gay" for one reason or another (you might want to refer to my post Flipping the Switch for background). Why? They're taken. They're in other states. I don't actually know them in real life. I made them up for my novel. You know, normal complications like that.

I dislike the feeling of a crush, as it's all-consuming and often puts me in a downtrodden sort of state, as the fellow I aim my attentions toward always seems to be the one who doesn't realize I exist. Instead, I'm a big fan of the concept of being "interested". You can be "interested" in a thousand people at once, and you never have to get hung up on any of them. It's really just a matter of recognizing the potential for something more.

And being interested as opposed to crushed has saved me from many emotional train-wrecks since I implemented it, but it comes with its own problems. The biggest of these is that there are more chances for heartbreak. It's not just one guy that isn't reciprocating your interest. It's three. Or five. Or twenty. And the worst problem is when you're interested in someone (or several someones) with whom the potential should be ignored (or where it doesn't actually exist at all).

It used to seem that the greatest pain in being crushed/interested in someone would come if they weren't reciprocating the crush/interest, but from my experiences as of late, that isn't the case. It's far less pleasant if the other person seems potentially interested, and you think it might work out quite well if it weren't for the major obstacle in your way. Some unavoidable, unconquerable obstruction preventing you from getting to know each other better or seeing where the other person might lead you.

But the identifying tag of "as good as gay" (AGAG) is here to help, not hurt. It's in practice to prevent me from entering into any glaringly bad situations. It's a wall. A guard. A layer of protection.

It's meant to sew up my heart before I bleed to death.

Admittedly, there are some problems with the AGAG label. The first of which is that it occasionally gets applied where it shouldn't. I recently read something comparing it to a job interview... I can't remember where, so I'll paraphrase.

Let's say that a woman has a close male friend who is interested in her but whom she sees in a strictly platonic light. She says, "You're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way."

This is basically the equivalent of a man interviewing for a job and the company saying, "You're well qualified, and you have a great résumé, but we're not going to hire you. But we will be using you as a standard to measure all the other applicants against." And then they go on to hire someone who is obviously less qualified, whom they attempt to train to be the right sort of applicant, but it won't work out. And even after he's been fired, the original applicant won't get the job. Some other loser will. But the company will call him on occasion to complain about the person they hired instead.

It seems rather foolish when you look at it from that angle, doesn't it? But platonic friendship isn't the only reason that a guy becomes AGAG, so this comparison isn't enough to make me eliminate the tag from my vocabulary.

The other problem with the "AGAG" label occurs when it gets applied too late. For example, a girl becomes crushed on a guy, only to find out later that he's gay. It's hard to erase all those feelings she had with that revelation. Yes, it's helpless, hopeless, and pointless, but she'll pine away for him a little while longer. She probably won't even admit to it, but she'll do it.

It's the same way if she suddenly finds out that her best friend was interested first. Or if the guy is interested in her best friend. Or if he has a girlfriend. Or any other of the myriad of reasons that being interested in him would be a horrible idea. Doesn't matter. The fantasy is already there, and it's hard to stamp that out. As the movie When Harry Met Sally claimed, once the possibility of a romantic/sexual relationship is on the table, it pretty much ruins the potential for a normal platonic friendship. (Although I disagree with the movie's idea that men and women can't be friends... I've mastered the platonic thing with a few male friends of mine, and it's working out quite well.) And as good as I am at talking myself out of things (and trust me, I am rather adroit in that area), this is one concept that I struggle with: how to forget that you fancied someone.

So without going into any more detail than I already have, I'll just say that my love life is just as screwed up as everyone else's. I will be leaving certain males on the AGAG list as opposed to going gaga over them and becoming agog (yay wordplay). The end.


May your intuition lead you away from romantic roads that will turn out to be dead ends.

~A~


P.S. I was walking through a department store doing Christmas shopping, and the overhead speaker paged a "Tyler Durden". No, I didn't mishear it. So all you Fight Club fans, if you want to get in on some underground action, you might want to head to Chicago.

P.P.S. I'm starting to get tired of my own Decemberized playlist... I'll keep it up for a little while longer. By the way, I recommend "Together We'll Ring in the New Year" by Motion City Soundtrack. Might as well take advantage of the list as long as it's up.

P.P.P.S. I didn't proofread this, as I'm completely hyper-active right now and couldn't be bothered to sit still long enough to read it before posting. So please forgive the errors. Maybe I'll go back and read it tomorrow... but no guarantees.