Can't Sleep Makes Me Mad

Why is it that when I'm exhausted and need sleep, my mind won't let me rest, and I'm up at 5am, wide awake? Is it that important that I have to write now? It just makes me angry at myself.

All I want to do is sleep, and I know that I'm taking two hours out of my life by acknowledging this early morning call to no peace and no sleep. Normally, I'm pondering something, turning it over and over in my head, but when I woke up, I was just pissed. Like, why, dude? Why now? Why you gotta deprive yourself of nature's healing medicine, and throw off my sleep pattern for the rest of the work week, especially when you've got FOUR more days 'til the weekend?

Sheesh to my subconscious! I'm mad at you. And my wife sleeps comfortably and immediately after waking up for a quick trip to the bathroom, while I stare at the dark ceiling and yell silently to myself. Why can't you be like that? Asleep right away.

Do I have anything important to say? Perhaps a subconscious reaction to Iran's president visiting NYC? Heroes began it's first season last night, and I missed it? I'm sick of selling to customers? That's probably more on track, and the stress of waking up and possibly losing two hours, while facing streams of anonymous shoppers, while lacking energy, stresses me out even more and keeps me up at night.

The ironic twist is killing me. As I stare at "killing me" and consider the alternative metaphors, I delay and deprive the sweetness of rest, in the comforts of my beloved's arms. I hear the murmur of voices through the walls or windows and wonder if they were up all night drinking, or if they're getting ready for work. What kind of place do I live in?

After over a year in one place, the longest stretch either one of us has spent in New York in one stretch, I can't help but long for a change, but the counterpoint of moving again seems less appealing.

I want to break free, fly away for at least a month, or drive away like my brother to the wild west, on a cross-country adventure. The world is calling me and I'm not listening. Well, obviously I am listening, at five in the frickin' morning.

Coffee helped me tune out the voices during the day, but kept me up at nights. Without the drug, my subconscious is running free, and the emotions I've repressed are flowing outward. Go west, young man.

I'm jealous of the voices through the wall. Free enough to have a fun time at this hour. Although, really, they're being free in the middle of a strange neighborhood in Brooklyn. They're probably cuckoo, and I'm being jealous of the crazies.

Ok, I think I've hit some peace. A little night time spewing, and the sleep is returning... 42 minutes later. Better claim it while it's pulling me back to bed.

The Genesis of a Host

As any might realize, I have recently attempted stand-up comedy, getting up in front of an audience with a mic and entertaining. This isn't new to me. The writing my own jokes part is, but I've been hosting/MC-ing since 2001.

I got my start by accident, attending a birthday party of someone I just met, with a new friend, who happened to be close with the celebrant. It was at a high-end club, complete with Kobe beef on the menu, aptly named The Dish, located at The Power Plant in Rockwell Center, an upscale shopping mall in Makati, Manila, Philippines. When you enter Rockwell, the outdoor entrance iss lined with culinary hot spots, one after another, allowing the upper class to mingle outdoors in tables and chairs, sharing in the tropical revelry of the night heat. As the evening progresses, it tends to resemble any block party on the street, except its imbibing patrons are decked in Prada and Manolo Blahnik, thanks to Sex in the City.

When one enters the mall, first you are hit with arctic breeze of air conditioning or "aircon," then by the international chic of Calvin Klein, DKNY, Guess, Polo, and other famous, fashion labels, just like any suburban shopping mall in America. The difference here is, the ease at which an American in Manila can afford it, thanks to the 50 to 1 exchange rate of peso to dollar. Then we climbed three levels of escalators to the top, where you must be on the guest list to enter The Dish. I must inform, malls are not just places of commerce in the P.I. (Philippine Islands), they are cultural havens, playgrounds, oases from the brutal heat, so the indoors is where the people gather.

I was attempting to meet new people and going out clubbing with them was my means of choice. The birthday girl was a semi-famous, travel show host, a filipina-Canadian, who had relocated here and succeeded somewhat in the business or "showbees." Why not bond with celebrity, and perhaps some of that might rub off on me. At the time, I wanted other things to rub off, OH!

During dinner, a contest, complete with host and game began, and I was singled out to participate, being the foreign-looking, mixed-race young man that I am. As a mestizo, one really does stand out in the homogeneous Philippines. So, the natural ham to get onstage took over, and I joined the other contestants. It was almost like a strip poker, removing one article of clothing for each progression towards the prize, which I forget. Filipinos are shy and most of the contestants were completely covered near the end of the contest. The host then challenged us to see how far we were willing to go to win.

Come on! For real? I had recently completed my acting training in New York, freed of any inhibitions, nude twice in class by my own volition. How far was I willing to go? Well, I didn't want to get arrested for indecency, so I stripped down to my boxer-briefs, with jeans around my ankles, dancing around like any fool in front of an inebriated mass, and got a laugh from the normally restrained party-goers.

Needless to say, I won, thank you, and won the attention of the club's party planners, because through a friend of a friend, my number was given to them, and I got a call to co-host one of the next events with MTV Philippines VJ, KC Montero. It seems, I had the spirit and energy that they were looking for in a host. Shit, show some skin, and you can get a job.

That's how the host was born.

Free from the Bean

Today I'm beating the sickness... caffeine addiction.  Every other year or so, I decide to drink it or not.  When the taste of coffee or soda touches my lips, it's not the oh-my-god-that-sweet-nectar-of-life feeling, but the that's-a-nice-flavor-I-once-knew-fondly taste, which I do miss every once in a while when eating some pizza.

So I decided to pay a little more attention to my day job, and it seems to have included adding the external substance that many inject from Dr. Starbuck's. I couldn't handle Starbuck's acidity, well, my stomach couldn't handle it, leading to other places, so I went milder.

But today is day three of no caffeine, and the headache is starting to kick in with a vengeance.  Actually, a slight bitterness that might be cured with a nap or a good night's sleep.

Oh, how easy I conquered thee, mighty bean.  Your fragrant clutches, I pry from my shoulders.  

Wow, it's been a while

Ok, so much has happened since April, and I will only update the abridged version. Summer went by in a flash. Finally spent a much needed vacation with the lovely wife in Florida, Miami and Key West, thank you very much.

Upon immediately returning, I performed actual stand-up comedy at Caroline's on Broadway, the Caroline's Comedy Club in Times Square. I shouldn't inflate it too much; it was the completion of my six-week class, that culminated on stage, fueled by adrenalin and my wonderfully supportive family and friends that were there.

They rock!

Probably the most nervous I had been in a long time. From rehearsal at 1pm, to just prior to stage time at 5:30pm, I was on a roller coaster of heart-bursts and recovery, butterflies and netted calm, holy shite, do I know my stuff, and I got it down.

But I survived the rush and am invited back for Caroline's New Talent night on October 9th @ 7pm... Here's the event on Facebook.

The main thing is that I'm back on the blog, playing with video sketch comedy ideas to post on YouTube, of course. So, for my own sake and sanity, I'm writing publicly again.