Nearly Done

After more than nine years working at Magic Time Machine, my time there is nearly done. I can't say I'm too sad about the prospect. I have some measure of pride for being there so long, and having affected so many people's lives. I've had a few regulars come in over the last few weeks, writing me lovely messages of farewell and thank you for the good times they had over the years. It's nice to be recognized for a job well done (nicer still to be paid for said job).

Magic Time Machine is a place that no matter what you thought of it, you'll always remember. Every customer I talk to remembers exactly how old they were and what the occasion was every time they've walked through our door. They remember the waiter, what they ate, what jokes they heard. Some people love us and some people are thoroughly unimpressed, yet we still make an impression on people's minds that lasts, literally, a lifetime. I'm honored to have been a part of it for as long as I was.

Nonetheless, I'm over it. It's past time to move on, and move on I shall. Heather and I found an apartment in Wrigley Park in Chicago, and we move in less than two weeks. I have a few preparations to make before I go, but there's a week in-between my last day at MTM and the actual start of the move. I regret to say that I'll immediately be looking for a job at another bar/restaurant, but it's not a permanent thing. Most of my time in Chicago is going to be spent making an actor out of myself and preparing for grad school auditions in February.

Life as I know it is about to change more drastically than ever before, and I'd be lying if I said I haven't been losing sleep over the prospect. I'm excited, I'm scared . . . . but I'm no longer docile. No longer complacent with my lot in life. No longer depressed. By the time I turn thirty next summer, I expect my life to look very dissimilar compared with the one I have now. Or, at least, it goddamn jolly well BETTER.

My last day at Magic Time Machine is this Monday night. The move begins eight days later. Parties and such will happen in-between. Call me, my number hasn't changed. Write me, and we'll make plans. Otherwise—perhaps I'll see you this Christmas.

Fall Down Seven Times, Stand Up Eight

Well.

Now that I've had a few days to reflect, I've come to a few conclusions. I've been dealing with the possibility of not getting to Moscow ever since October, when they first started to take this opportunity away from me. I remember thinking how horrible it would be, to have planned and prepared for so long, only to have it turn out--well, exactly as it did. I worked hard and sacrificed much just for the possibility. Often people asked me if I was certain it was a sure thing, and I suppose I never really was. But I had faith, and that faith was what kept me going no matter how many bullshit hurdles they threw in my path.

And I can say with pride that I gave Moscow my best shot--I didn't ever give up, as often as it crossed my mind. Even though I didn't make it, I gave all my effort and took the chance they offered to prove my ability. I'm proud of myself for seeing this thing through to the end. I never decided not to go. They told me I couldn't in spite of how hard I tried (and in spite of how well I performed, so I'm told), and that distinction gives me a good measure of self-respect.

Sure I feel screwed over--the response I got from the school spelled out the fact that this really was just a pipe dream from the beginning--but I wasn't blindsided by the outcome. For months, I was forced to consider what would happen if I didn't go for some reason. Finally hearing the news last week was like hearing that a sick friend finally died. Now I can move on with my life.

I spent the last few months toying with ideas of what I would do if I didn't get to go: sell my stuff, which I was going to do anyway; move to Chicago with Heather and try to make a living as an actor in a real theatre town; sell my truck and get a motorcycle; live in a Blue Man town; audition for an American grad school again, and ask which language they want to hear my monologue in; see how much credit card debt I could clear out; get a new, cool cell phone this December when I get eligible for my rebate; keep rock climbing; see how high the TKD belt ladder I could climb. As the time to leave approached, all I could think about was how many of these things I wouldn't be able to do for three years while in another country. It made me more than a little sad, to be honest, but now I get to do them.

So now Heather and I just need to find an apartment in Chi-Town big enough for the two of us and our cats, and close enough to the train for convenience; then I find a job that allows for a flexible schedule. My last day at MTM is Monday, August 13th (I think), and we head to points North a week later.

Suitable farewell parties shall be held in the interim.

Stay posted.

News About Moscow

Okay, Chicago it is.

I guess I can kinda speak Russian now.

----- Forwarded Message ----
From: Anatoly S
To: Mark Lancaster
Sent: Wednesday, July 18, 2007 4:02:54 PM
Subject: Re: Audition

Dear Mark,

I just got Igor (he is on vocation). Despite the good audition he is not
ready to take you aboard of the School. The reason - his team is shaped he
is afraid of taking you now. He is talking about ART program that would be
probably better for you under given circumstances. The tuition now is 6000
euro a year (this is more then $8000) and on the top of it Dorm...

So I am sorry to bring that kind of news to you but I have to do it.

If you have any questions call me!


All my best,

Tolya

Say, Friend, Can You Spare a Dime?

Dollars, actually, lots of 'em. Or euros. I'll take rubles, pesetas, pesos, yen, lire, rupees or francs. I'm taking whatever you're givin', 'cause I got no other choice.

The trip to Bahston was wonderful. My audition was the second day in town, which meant I got it out of the way fairly early. I re-connected with a friend from college, saw Blue Man Group yet again, and spent time in the place that began to change my life two years ago.

The audition went as well as I'd hoped; I performed, if not to the best of my ability, at least as well as I wanted too. I got a "positive reaction", so now the dean calls up my teacher and asks for final permission for me to go, which looks pretty likely—in the meantime, I try to scrape up the cash.

I hate it. All my life, money didn't really matter. Of course it was important, but failing to have money never kept me from anything really I really needed, or wanted as badly as I want this. Now that it looks like it's within reach I don't have the funds necessary to go, nor do I know how to find them.

Student loans are not currently possible, because no financial institution I've looked into will give a student loan for my school. There's a paperwork process they (the school) have been working on from their end for a while now, but the red-tape business is a booming one. I certainly don't have the money saved—in fact, I have quite a substantial debt. All I can think to do is get a loan that will not only consolidate my current credit card debt, but will pay for the first year of school AND not have to pay that loan back for the three years I'll be spending getting my degree.

Frankly, I just don't think that's likely.

So what does this mean? Am I going to Russia? I don't see how. And it kills me. I've wanted this so badly for so long, and it kills me to know that all that's keeping me from it is money. So if anyone out there has any suggestions—or knows a sugar momma—or sees some spare change lying on the ground—tell me. I'll take it. Every little bit helps.

Coming Together

First—my tattoo isn't finished yet, but I got some black shading done. It's really coming together, and I love it. Pictures to be posted soon.

Second, I love the rain. Even the excessive amount of rain we've been getting for the last month or so is wonderful. The drought is over, the reservoirs are bursting, and no one is literally dying from the heat. I'd honestly rather be wet than hot—it's easier to dry off than to cool off. And I'm going to hate when the rain finally DOES stop, because Texas heat plus a month's worth of saturated ground equals a humidity that will probably make me want to crawl into a hole and die.

I had my last Russian lesson before I leave for Boston today. I leave Monday morning, audition either Tuesday or Wednesday, and come home Thursday. Again, I feel just fine with the monologues I picked; my biggest concern is how to get the money together, which I don't have long to figure out.

One way or another, a week from today, I'll know whether or not I'm accepted. A week after that, and I expect to know whether or not I'll be able to pay for it, and therefore able to go.

My hands are starting to shake.

The Virtue of Ink

Oh, the pain of a tattoo is great--but in the long run, it's COMPLETELY worth it. My first ink was six years ago, and I was the tinest little baby about it. It was a traumatic amount of pain, and I couldn't conduct myself like a functional human being. The only reason I kept going after I started is that a tattoo isn't a job you can half finish. And after a few weeks, the pain is gone, but the artwork remains.

What I heard was right--you can't get just one. Once the memory of the pain faded, I got a feeling of survival. Rough as it was, I made it through intact and complete. Complete, and yet more than I was before. I lost nothing of who I was, and gained something powerful and permanent that would be who I would be for the rest of my life. I needed another.

Three years ago, I got my second one. Nothing as important as the first, but it was time. The second wasn't as hard to endure as the first. I suppose I was just prepared, knowing what had happened before and knowing I could make it through a second time. And I did.

I still felt I was incomplete. I needed a balance, another picture as an equal and opposite to what I already had. Now that process has begun, and I couldn't be happier. It'll still be a month or so before I have my back filled out to my saticfaction, but filled out shall it be.

Pictures are up now--more to be posted as I get them.

Who I Am

I like being able to help others. I like it more when I can repay a favor.

I'm living in a new place now, and I really like it. It's just Heather and I, in a place we're sub-letting from a friend until she comes back into town in August. After that, Heather's off to Chi-town and I'm going either there or to Moscow—I won't know which for certain for another three weeks.

My God, but that seems close. Of course, compared to the last year and a half I spent preparing for it, it IS close. I'm getting more and more ready for my audition, and it scares me a little. I performed it in front of an audience today for the first time, and I didn't like what I did. I know I'm capable of better work than that, but to my credit, it's the first time I actually performed the piece instead of merely reciting it while driving. Big difference.

I get my new tattoo on Monday, thanks to the love of my little sister. I'm such a wimp when it comes to taking the pain of getting it done, but all told, it's a pain that doesn't last forever, and the artwork will.

Back to my original statement—Eric helped me move into this place, and I know it wasn't any easier for him than it was for me. He's moving this weekend, and though he got to borrow my truck, I didn't feel like I lent him as much of a hand as he gave me. I spent a few hours after work tonight helping him make another trip, and I feel uber-refreshed for having done so. I hate taking without giving back, and with this done, I can sleep a little easier tonight. I wish I could do a little more, though.

Some time ago, last November I think it was, I changed the "about me" section of my profile, and included a paragraph describing a few of my beliefs. It's a list of things I hadn't ever thought about before. But to name it and to publicize it as I did made me evaluate who I am and what I want in this world, including how I want to affect it and how I want to be affected by it. As a result, I very much like the person I'm becoming. I have pride and respect for myself, and I'm beginning to see some of that reflected back through those who surround me.

There's always something I wish I could change, but mostly it's superficial stuff like the length of my hair or the size of my gut. The biggest thing I lack now is discipline. I wish for the discipline to fulfill my responsibilities, to meet my goals and reach for my dreams, and to shape myself and my environment to meet the standards of what I want for my life. Perhaps that's a little esoteric, but it's all I feel like describing in a blog at this hour J
And now, bedtime.

Thank you for reading. Again J