PBDC Day 10/31: Far Away

I love my job. I really do. There are aspects that are more challenging than others, and of those there are some that aren't directly business-related. They're challenging on a personal level. Like most folks I know, I didn't have the greatest self-esteem in high school. My self-image, at least in regards to physicality, was not very positive. In grade school I was always more comfortable around the girls. I was neither athletic nor aggressive, so those quiet ones that played off to the side by the swings with their hand games and jump ropes were definitely the ones I felt more comfortable around.

In the Navy I had the pleasure of serving aboard a submarine. That sounds more generic than I intended. I had the pleasure of serving aboard the USS Hyman G. Rickover, SSN-709 out of Norfolk, Virginia. This boat, like many submarines, had a crew without a single woman as a part of the team (or a married woman for that matter). Being in a male-dominated environment was new to me, especially being raised in a house under matriarchal rule.

The gender-role-imploding shell shock I experienced was amplified after I was discharged when I began a period of time where most of my time was spent in bars, mostly for work but also because it was a bar. I'm not proud to admit it, but in this period of time between the first time I got my heart demolished after boot camp and around when my time spent in bars was being phased out by time in the theatre, I didn't respect women as much as I could have.

I was surrounded by plenty of negative influences, but remained in contact with enough people who were grounded and just flat out nice that I finally made my way into the clear.

College helped me back onto my professional, respectful feet, and realizing how off the deep end I was as a single sailor, a traveling Army contractor, a bartender, and a karaoke DJ, it became clearer that I was finally heading in the right direction.

Once I started at Old Navy I discovered a great opportunity for improvement in my interpersonal communication: how I communicate with women in regards to their physical appearance. From a traditional background (some may call it "old-fashioned") I was raised to never ask a woman her age, weight, or anything that may require her to divulge information about her body shape, size, or general opinion about her self-image.

Today I broke through a wall.

Two woman were in the fitting room area while I was at work today, the slimmer one, "Jane" we'll call her, with a couple pairs of shoes in her hand as moral support for "Jenny," the other, as she was looking for new jeans. Approaching them to help them out, Jenny was blunt in her request, asking if she could "possibly find jeans to fit this"--at which point she turned around and lifted her sweater to show her butt (still clothed of course). She said she had lost some weight recently and had no idea as to even what size she would start with.

I admitted that I felt like guessing her size would be as awkward and possibly as offensive as guessing someone's age, but she said I couldn't offend her if I tried. Luckily, she told me that the men's jeans she was wearing were a 32 or 34, and she had no way of knowing this, but having tried on some women's pants the other day (Day 7: Fly) I knew exactly what size a 34" waist would translate to being that was my size.

I told her that I wore a 34" waist and that perhaps a 12 would be best. She cringed at the number, and without hesitation I replied, "people won't be commenting on what number they think your jeans are, they'll notice if they fit you or not." To which her friend Jane turned to me and thanked me for my encouraging words and a good point. But it's really true. Take a wedding dress for example. Say you purchase a 12, but you need it altered as the wedding gets closer, or for an extreme example, you need a new one in a size or two larger or smaller. Guests at the wedding won't be sitting out there saying, "OMG she used to be a 12, but now she's in a 16," they'll be focusing on how good you look in whatever size dress you wear. (However, if your "friends" are guessing your size and criticizing that, then maybe you need to rethink your circle of friends.)

Over the next 20 minutes or so, I brought Jenny different shirts to go with a couple of pairs of jeans I was able to strategically suggest, and without realizing it until later this evening, I got over my apprehension for constructive criticism in the fitting room and was able to help Jenny go home with some new jeans that she didn't think she would find.

My point is this--we obsess over numbers. 14, 16, 2, 0, oh, the unattainable 0, or 6, whatever you were before. Or another example, benching 150 vs 120, running a mile in 9 minutes vs 8:30, or eating four slices of pizza versus 3.

Who's holding you to a certain size? The fashion industry? Magazines? Musicians and actors who have personal trainers and spend more time working out than you do working to pay your bills? So, I ask you again, who are you trying to impress by attaining a certain size? Who's putting that pressure on you?

YOU ARE.

One of the many things I've come to realize in the last seventeen months I've been with Old Navy is something very simple and in plain sight for everyone to see...

Clothes are made in multiple sizes for a reason. And that reason is that people come in multiple sizes.

Stop obsessing about what size you wear and pay attention to how it fits you. I don't care if you could fit into an 8 in high school, you aren't in high school any more. Or maybe you had a 30 inch waist a few years back and now you're a 36.

THEY MAKE CLOTHES IN ALL SIZES SO YOU CAN FEEL COMFORTABLE IN A SIZE THAT FITS YOU PROPERLY.

I know I'm just one guy. One man. One person at an Old Navy in Indiana, but hopefully more than a few people will read this.

This scale is in my bathroom at home. I don't use it often, and whenever I do I think to myself exactly what I was saying above, "Why am I targeting a specific weight when I could be focusing on just being healthy and being comfortable with myself?"

Well, today I've broken through a wall that will help me provide better customer service to Jennies in the future. And maybe I'll mention to a few more when I notice a cringe or hear a groan whenever a size comes up. I know it isn't in my job description to help someone feel better about themselves, but it is in my job description to provide excellent customer service. If I can do that by ensuring they leave with a new outfit that they love and that she feels great in, then yes, I'll keep providing great customer service.

The numbers of sizes and measurements are there to help us find what we can use. They aren't there to trap us or make us feel bad about ourselves. I took a big step today with this, and it may only be one step, but it's a step. Maybe I can help alter the perspective of a few people here and there. Or maybe just one. I wish I could see a time when there people stop obsessing over their sizes, but that day seems so far away.

Snowmance

“How can you not get romantic about baseball?”

–Brad Pitt as Billy Beane in Moneyball.

That’s the voice I heard in my head as I drove home from work today. In a light snow, well after the sun has set, I thought, “How can you not be romantic about winter?”

Don’t get me wrong, I miss my California family, and I’m excited as all hell to see them for Christmas, but the more I think about it, the more I’m not really looking forward to the warmer weather.

Call me crazy, and many of you already do when it comes to this, but the lack of four seasons where I’ve lived on the west coast isn’t my preferred weather cycle.

Yes, I love 70 degree weather and the days like April 25^th where all you need is a light jacket (don’t judge, it was on tv yesterday and my wife was watching it), but this past year, seeing the seasons actually change here in one of Jason’s “flyover states,” I miss having four seasons even more than I thought I would when I left Virginia to come back to California years ago.

Tonight, as I drove home, and also when I admired the fresh powder on the grass walking up to the door, I realized why I love snow in the winter so much—it has been a part of a few winters along the path of growing up.

In the winter after boot camp, I was still in Illinois for a couple months before transferring to South Carolina. For this California kid’s first winter in the Navy, the snow from the Great Lakes piled higher than waist level around base.

On a North Atlantic deployment with The Mighty Rickover, this time twelve years ago I was in Norway. Yeah, it was cold. Definitely the coldest place I’ve ever been in my life, but damn was it gorgeous. Taking the tram up the mountain and seeing the fjords as snow drifted down from the heavens is something I’ll never forget. Walking through the plazas past decorated buildings, snow filling the cracks of cobblestone walkways. Truly breathtaking. Standing outside the club eating pizza from a place nearby because we felt like a food break between shots and dancing.

A couple of weeks in Maryland, working at Aberdeen Proving Ground and getting a taste of Baltimore.

My last winter in Virginia Beach, playing in the park during the day and driving around in my truck at night to see the Christmas lights.

And now this winter, living with my wife, driving home from my one, full-time job to spend time with my wife in our toasty, little apartment with our mild-mannered Christmas tree and a couple of dorm-lifestyle chairs.

Eventually the winters will be spent in California again, and when they are, I’m sure we’ll enjoy our time with our family and friends who are much closer geographically than they are now. But at some point, I’ll think back to the snow. The places where jackets are actually needed for warmth and snowball fights and snow angels aren’t just pipe dreams.

Because, how can you not be romantic about a white Christmas?

Don't suc. succeed

"What is success?" was a question that came up in my Theatre Today class last week. The same question was posed to me before I moved down here. A good friend suggested I find my own definition for it, and that's been rolling around in my head ever since. In class, the responses were very American, driven by consumerism: money, power, materialistic trophies and financial benchmarks. Meanwhile I'm sitting in my seat with my answer in my head, waiting, hoping that someone will be on the same wavelength and say that we should define "success" for ourselves. I felt that if I had offered my answer, I would want to continue the conversation in that direction, at which point we would be completely sidetracked; so for my own cowardly justification, I sat quietly and listened to my classmates' discussion contributions. 

I've heard many times that Theatre is a selfish industry, and that can be taken in many ways. It can be in the manner that you are "competing" against actors, designers, techs, and directors for the same position, and even though you're friends with them, you want that job and/or that paycheck as much as they do. In a more personal light, the theatre can steal your life away from your family, from your ability to even have a family, and even from your friends and social life in general. Those of us that are wholly dedicated are usually split in multiple directions: classes, rehearsals, multiple part-time jobs, relationships, children, the list goes on; but how selfish should you become to progress in the direction that you wish to? I've asked myself that question multiple times in the last few years, and my answer has developed in my work ethic-I belong in the theatre. There have been numerous relationships that have suffered because of my theatrical obligations, no, not obligations, determinations. "Obligations" sounds negative, and being in the theatre is far from negative, it's my choice, and I've been determined to move forward everyday. I digress. Relationships are sacrificed for my dedication to the theatre. If I try to put more time into the relationship, something else has to suffer…the non-theatre classes. Well, that wasn't a good idea either. Over the last couple years the relationships have fallen by the wayside and the Theatre has become my main squeeze. This has come to power through choices I have made, and I don't regret what I have done, nor have I ever, but I have learned from all of them. The more I have become involved in Theatre, the more I withdrew from my social life. There should be a balance, and I'm working at it every day. 

[my brain just stopped, and my thought train was AMTRAKed. if you were watching television you would currently be seeing static, perhaps a pixelated screen if you have a new plasmafantasticLCDmonitor, if you're used to regular tube TVs you would see the black strip across the bottom and the vertical color stripes across the screen.] 

I am not defining "success" as a destination, I am treating it as a journey. I have succeeded already, I am going to succeed in the future, and I am currently succeeding-right now, at this very moment. "Success" seems to be as complicated as love, and it also feels as if it has been as commercialized just that same. Lil' Kim had a song a few years ago entitled "Money, Power, Respect" and that, for some, is as good a definition of "success" as they need. According to <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/success> 

• Main Entry: suc·cess 
• Pronunciation: \sək-ˈses\ 
• Function: noun 
• Etymology: Latin successus, from succedere 
• Date: 1537 
1 obsolete : outcome, result 
2 a : degree or measure of succeeding b : favorable or desired outcome; also : the attainment of wealth, favor, or eminence 
3 : one that succeeds 

and it seems that Merriam-Webster agrees with my idea of success as a journey at not a destination, as you'll notice that the first definition is obsolete, and the working definitions refer to the degree or "the attainment of" 

My definition of success has two parts, a concrete aspect that can be portrayed in examples and benchmarks, and an abstract side that will be just that, abstract and conceptual. Success has never been about money, having the newest gadgets, nicest car, or having a trophy wife. When I was 19 I transferred to the USS Hyman G Rickover, SSN-709 (Hoorah!) and, only two years in the Navy at that point, senior enlisted members were already plugging reenlistment packages and bonuses. My division chief, the late EMC(SS) Sean Bednarz had educated me on all the wonderful opportunities that would be available to me if I stayed in for "only" ten years-supervisory positions at power plants, paychecks upwards of $60,000 a year, moneymoneymoneymoneymoney. After he was done with his commercial I looked at him and told I'm rather make enough money to "just" get by and support my family teaching high school drama than to make an exorbitant amount in an industry that I have no desire to stay in for the rest of my life. Quality of life is more important to me than money. And he looked at me in amazement and after asking how old I was said, "kids like you don't talk like that anymore," and he's completely right. 

America is a consumer-driven populace, and there's no one party solely to blame, but younger people just become more focused on money as the years go by. Don't get me wrong, I like to have money available as much as the next person does, but, as I've stated in earlier FB Notes, being here in Long Beach with very little money (for now) has helped me recalibrate myself in many ways. There are too many luxuries that I took for granted, and living here has shown me that I don't need them. They're still nice every once in a while, but there really is no need to eat out for every meal, go to a bar every night, and aimlessly drive around when I can eat at home, not drink all the time, and take the bus or even walk somewhere. Just like I told my Chief, if I can provide for my family, or depending on how our family situation is coordinated with working parent or parents, I simply want my family to be provided for. I don't want to scrape by, and I don't really need six cars and a house in every state (although a private jet would be welcomed). If we're healthy, with food on the table, clothes on our backs, and comfortable living conditions, things are good. 

On the abstract side of success, if I can do what I love, and I mean truly enjoy what I'm doing for a living, then I am a success. Whether I'm teaching, working on Broadway, London, Oslo, or Kansas City, if I can head to work in the morning and know I'm going to enjoy what I'm doing, I'll call myself a success. This is where the selfishness comes in. I dedicate myself to the theatre, my passion, my craft, my art, and I need to achieve a balance with my family. That second part is what's been eluding me. This past week marked what would have been the fourth anniversary of matrimony had we stayed together. Stay with me, I'm not getting emo and regretting my "practice engagement." So, obviously I'm not married, and do not live in Virginia, and because of this separation and move back to California, I was able to get back into theatre, train at DVC, work with Shotgun and DTC (then DLOC) and arrive where I am now, CSULB, getting ready to start the third week of my junior year on track to achieve a major milestone with a BA in Theatre Arts. So yes, everything happens for a reason, I get it, and those reasons weren't apparent to me four years ago when I was leaving Virginia Beach, but they are now, and I can definitely say I've succeeded since then. 

I don't know what the future will bring, and I'm not going to plan too far out. There are things I want to do, but I know life happens, and sometimes it doesn't go the way you planned. As long as keep doing what I love, and am making progress towards what I want, I'm succeeding. It's not about the money, the fame, or the prestige. It's about doing what I want and enjoying every bit of it. A college dropout who went back to school later in life said that if he ever hears you say you're bored, he'll crush you (it may have been "pummel," but I'm not sure, that's why I paraphrased, but there will be life threatening danger). He's absolutely right, there's too much cool stuff to be bored, learn something, look back, reflect, regroup, create and recreate. There are plenty of ways to succeed at something, and if you don't, or say you can't, you just "suc."