Well, these past few days have been quite busy! Between work, performing, volunteering, appointments, and fittings, I haven’t been able to blog for you all. Rather than overwhelming you with a detailed account of my hectic weekend, I thought we could do something a little more fun! Who doesn’t love a revealing post? I’m going to share 25 interesting facts about myself, so my audience can get to know me better. Also, if I mention something that we have in common, let me know! Alright, here goes…

1. I was born and raised in Freehold, NJ. Just one town over from our 2011 Miss USA, Alyssa Campanella! (She is from Manalapan, NJ). Even though I grew up in Jersey, my home is NY. They say home is where the heart is, and I <3 NY!
2. I received my BA in Fine Arts/Theatre from Rider University. I moved to NYC right after college to pursue a career in acting.
3. I have one older sister who just so happens to be my best friend. Her name is Mary and she is a phenomenal tap dancer/choreographer.
4. I live in a very tiny apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. It doesn’t even have a living room! But a view of the Empire State Building from my bedroom window is an excellent trade off.
5. Top five places I’d love to visit: Barcelona, Greece, Sicily, New Zealand, and Australia.
6. I had severe scoliosis when I was younger, and wore a back-brace for 16 hours a day from age 12-16. I was that girl with the back-brace. I didn’t like that I was different, but my mother often reminded me that everyone has their own fair share of problems, and things could always be worse.
7.  My favorite movie is “Waiting for Guffman.” Go watch it. Now. Thank me later.
8. “When things Fall Apart; Heart Advice for Difficult Times” by Pema Chodron, is a book that has truly affected my life. Last year, I was in a messy place, and a friend suggested I read it. Chodron is a buddhist nun who focuses on the ideas of impermanence and kindness. Love.
9. I’ve been in love once. And I’ve had my heart broken once. I honor my past and look forward to my future
10. My favorite color is green.
11. My biggest fear is being blind…I’m also terrified of crickets.
12. I went to Las Vegas on a family vacation when I was 21, and won $300 playing penny slots!
13. One day, I want my own a vineyard. I’m such a wino.
14. Besides the USA crown (wink wink), I would like to be triple crowned some day. With an Emmy, an Oscar, and a Tony.
15. I will name my three future children, Emmy, Oscar, and Tony.
16. My favorite holiday is Black Friday. My sister and I make an event out of it every year. The rules are simple. Wake up early. Only buy things for yourself. And at least one impulse purchase is required.
17.  My favorite actor is Daniel Day Lewis. His ability to transform into different characters is both inspiring and disturbing. If you have not seen the film, “My Left Foot,” do yourself a favor and watch it.
    
18. I love shoes. My bank account does not. I’m sure one day, we’ll all be in agreement
19. Billy Joel is one of my favorite musicians. In the future, I will walk down the aisle to an instrumental version of “She’s Always a Woman.”
20. One of the best plays I have ever seen on Broadway was Marsha Norman’s “‘night Mother.” The premise is this… a middle aged woman tells her mother that she has decided to commit suicide, and then prepares her mother for life without her. Edie Falco played the daughter. Grown men were sobbing in the audience. When the actresses were taking their bows at the end of the play, I couldn’t even stand and applaud them. I was still so affected by what I saw, that clapping seemed odd to me. It was at that moment I knew, I wanted to do great work like that.
21.  I dislike pickles. And roller coasters.
22. I hate conflict. I was a peer mediator in middle school.
23. After a difficult workout, one where I really push myself, I will actually pat myself on the back.
24. I love sour cream donuts.
25. Two summers ago, I did background for the soap “One Life to Live.” I was “bikini girl” and entered the frame getting out of a fake pool. The poor assistant who had to hose me off before each take was a real trooper!

And there you have it! Thanks for reading!

Who doesn’t love a provocative piece of theatre? Classic musicals will always have their toe-tapping charm, but there’s nothing like a play that leaves you inspired and perturbed. On Tuesday night, “Hit the Wall,” an exciting play by Chicago playwright Ike Holter, did just that.

Oh hey, remember that time I was on national television competing for the title of Miss USA? That statement still seems ridiculous to me as the whole experience feels like a dream more than my reality. Almost 3 months after the pageant, I now feel ready to reflect on that adventure.

I’m not sure how other queens from the class of 2013, or past  title holders felt after coming home from the Pageant, but I had a very difficult time adjusting. I spent a good month eating my feelings and watching Gossip Girl from start to finish on Netflix. The hardest thing was accepting the fact that it was over. For an entire year I had one main focus – Win the crown. I was working out, eating right, taking walking lessons, creating my wardrobe, and bettering myself in any way that I could. While it has never been my ultimate dream to be Miss USA, when the opportunity was dangling in front of my face, I decided to wholehearted reach for it.

The 2 and a half weeks I spent in Las Vegas for the Miss USA Pageant were the best of my life. We had very long days, and I went through about 20 pairs of false eyelashes, but I was waking up every day and doing work that I loved. Photo shoots, sponsorship events, interviews, rehearsals, and dancing didn’t feel like work to me. My biggest disappointment was not coming home without the Miss USA crown. It was coming home and thinking, what now? Having to go back to my day job, and being unsure about what the future holds is daunting. But, being the eternal optimist that I am, I know that things happen for a reason. Let downs aren’t really let downs. They’re more like set ups for the amazing things coming my way!

“Ah yes, Friday is here. Thank God it’s Friday.” These are never words that come out of my mouth. I have been working as a server/bartender practically every weekend since I moved to NYC three years ago. I pay my rent thanks to overworked corporate America employees looking to cut loose. I help them numb the pain of their existence while they help me pay my rent. Win Win.

I have to say though, the service industry, oh excuse me, hospitality industry (see what I did there), is starting to wear me down. Talking to me as if you’re superior and me having to apologize for making a margarita that’s “missing something” is tiresome and at moments, demeaning. These exchanges often create the compelling urge to shout out, “Do you know who I am?” Alas, I need my job, and while I am very self-absorbed, I know a crown doesn’t actually make me a queen. So, I fight the temptation to do so, button up my Brooks Brother’s white oxford shirt, and look forward to my days off.

Lately, as many of you already know, my days off have been well spent as a guest panelist on Fox News Channel’s uniquely disturbing while highly relevant late night show Red Eye. I am not a journalist, nor a politician. In fact, I am an expert at nothing. So how exactly does a beauty queen bartender with a degree in theatre end up on FNC?

My first on air experience was a trip. What was supposed to be a tour of the studios as Miss NY USA, turned into a live on-air debate with Neil Cavuto over Mayor Bloomberg’s large soda ban. As an advocate for health and fitness, I sided with the mayor. While my mother argues that Cavuto wouldn’t let me speak (watch the debate online and decide for yourself), I held my own and was surprised by how much I enjoyed the experience.

Stefanie Wheeler and me before Cavuto!

A few months later, my friend, Stefanie Wheeler, who is an associate producer/writer for Cavuto’s show,  asked me to appear on an investment segment with Charles Payne. Again, I know next to nothing about finance, but was representing the novice investor. So, I shared my own personal fears about the stock market, learned a lot about the topic, and made jokes when I didn’t know what else to say. Slowly but surely, my love for being on camera and Fox network was growing.

Oh hey, Charles!

Well, all producers/bookers talk and watch tapes looking for future guests. Low and behold, my name and gorgeous face fell into the laps of the Red Eye team. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. As research, I’d watched a few clips from pervious shows, but those were tame in comparison to my first appearance. Thankfully, my college days spent in an improv troupe with mostly gross guys came in handy. And before I knew it, I was right at home.

Today is Friday, thank God! And tonight I get to trade in my wine key and martini shaker for an hour with the filthy Red Eye panel….and I couldn’t be happier.

::side note:: For those who have been asking…

• Yes, I really do believe I’m beautiful. It’s truly a shame more women don’t think as highly of themselves. I’m trying to make boastfulness cool again.
• The “faces” I make, I didn’t realize I was doing. I’ve always been an animated person. If you ever meet my mother, you’ll see that the apple fell right under the tree.
• Bill does not smell.

Ah yes, it’s that time of year again. The joy of seasonal affective disorder is upon us, with credit card debt wracking up, and herds of Facebook friends whoring around their “newly engaged” photos. The reality of the holidays can cause crippling depression, but thankfully, we have lighthearted cheeky holiday rom-coms to console us. I have my own particular favorites including Elf, A Christmas Story, and How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but none of them compare to the masterpiece that is Love, Actually.

Let me begin by saying, I am no cinematic genius. I don’t actually critique films. I’m sure someone out there with an NYU degree in film production will disagree with me whole heartedly (can’t wait for those comments!) But I have a degree in theatre, and I used to watch this film every year with my peers in the dorms. As an artist, your goal is to move audiences. Whether they laugh, cry, or think, you transport them to another world when they need a vacation the most. Perfect for the holiday blues.

Recently, on Red Eye, we discussed a Buzzfeed article that listed the outlandish moments in Love, Actually that give us false hope, as they never “Actually” happen. (read article here, 14 Times “Love, Actually” Lied To Us About Love). My argument is, as an audience we are blissfully aware of the fact that no one will race through an airport to kiss us, or come to the front door confessing their love for us on poster boards. We also know Santa isn’t real and elves need more that sugar to survive. But we watch these films when we need them most. Also, there are more truthful moments in Love, Actually than ridiculous ones, and they just about make me shed a tear every time.

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere.“

This is an excerpt from Hugh Grant’s opening monologue. Complete with a montage of happy teary-eyed travelers being embraced by their loved ones. I experienced this very moment about five years ago at the arrivals gate at Newark airport. My boyfriend (at the time) was arriving home from three weeks in Italy. I actually surprised myself when hot tears started rolling down my face. My joy was embarrassingly apparent. At that very moment, I thought of this movie and how I would have dominated the opening. Jokes aside, we’re constantly surrounded by these loving precious moments. We are either blind to them, or choose to focus on the negative. Sometimes, I need a reminder of what’s inherently valuable, and the first sixty seconds of this movie do just that.

Being the acting aficionado that I am, this film is an excellent study of human behavior with stellar performances by Andrew Lincoln, Laura Linney, and Emma Thompson. Andrew Lincoln’s character is in love with his best friend’s new wife. He’s been able to keep his feelings a secret, until she sees his video footage from the wedding, which are all shots of her. He promptly takes off,  ”It’s a… self-preservation thing, you see.” We then watch him walking off his embarrassment and frustration. He begins by pacing, almost turning around, then giving a small outburst that sets him walking around town. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he skims his fingers along a railing, reaching overhead to tap an exit sign, looking for anything to touch, to hold onto, as his secret slips from his grasp. Love it.

Laura Linney plays a homely introverted woman who has a serious crush on her sexy, (looks latino but I’m confused by his inconsistent accent) co-worker. For all my ladies reading this, we know how it feels to be head over heels for someone who doesn’t seem to know we exist. Then, the moment when he asks you to dance, or better yet, escorts you home, you are floating on a cloud while wanting to throw up. Best scene: They arrive at her front door, and he is going to join her inside. She asks him for ten seconds, then steps out of his view so she can do a silent scream/dance in utter joy. Perfection.

Emma Thompson’s character requires a bit more range especially in the moment when she discovers her husband is being unfaithful. She knows he’s purchased a necklace and assumes it’s for her. When she opens up a Joni Mitchell CD instead, she realizes the jewelry was given to someone else. The always composed super-mom persona is stripped away, leaving her completely vulnerable. Heartbreaking scene: trying to compose herself in the bedroom before the kids’ Christmas pageant. While listening to Joni Mitchell, she fights so hard not to cry. (Actors, keep this is mind. It is far more interesting to watch someone hold in tears than let it all out.) As an audience, we too feel that pit in our throat. Best line: “Tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do? Would you wait around to find out if it’s just a necklace, or if it’s sex and a necklace, or if, worst of all, it’s a necklace and love? Would you stay, knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?” For all you masochists out there, this scene is for you.

I could go on and on with more precious moments, but I’ll save you from further self-indulgence. Just go watch this movie ASAP and share your favorite scenes with me! The interweaving of characters, correct balance of cheese and melodrama, with writing that made for brilliant quotes, makes Love, Actually actually my favorite holiday film.

Ah yes. Thanksgiving. A time to gorge ourselves into physical pain, share our gratitude in long winded Facebook posts, and listen to Clay Aiken’s Christmas CD with utter abandon since the holiday season is now upon us. Many will argue that this feast is their favorite holiday, but like most savvy materialistic females, I have to disagree. There is nothing quite like the joy, the thrill that Black Friday offers. The promise of abundant savings, copious purchases, and spending my month’s rent in a matter of hours makes Black Friday my favorite national holiday.

My older sister and I have observed this day for as long as I can remember. We try to go to a different mall every year and hope that one year we will make it all the way to The Mall of America. (I have goosebumps thinking about it.) The rules are simple. Feel free to take notes and participate in the fun!

1. Wake up at an ungodly early hour. Curse everything. Bright lights, the cold, even Black Friday itself until you get at least two cups of coffee in your system.
2. Hope with every ounce of misguided optimism you can muster that there will be a parking spot right up front. When you park in the next town over, shrug it off and reason that this is all a part of the fun.
3. You can only buy for yourself. Christmas shopping is reserved for the week before Christmas. Why waste these fabulous deals on others when you are, in fact, needy?
4. Big purchases first. Early on you have the most strength and vigor. Those bags get heavy. Take a trip to the car before lunch and drop them off.
5. Lunch before noon with cocktails. Nothing says shopping spree like a sensible libation. Liquor gives you the ability to justify any and all purchases.
6. You must make at least one impulse purchase. Do I really need it? Do I really love it? Doesn’t matter. You’re getting it for a fabulous price and need to stop asking so many questions.
7. Go home and count up how much you spent and how much you saved. Savings should be the larger number. Also, take stock of how many shopping bags you have. If you find a purchase you forgot making, you have had a successful experience.

Clearly, I’m a seasoned shopper and advocate for supporting the economy. That said, I am seriously offended by the birth of Brown/Gray Thursday. There is some discrepancy over the color in this title, but I say we call it Thanksgiving, because that’s what it is and should forever be. (Besides both of those colors are gross. Black is timeless.) This whole start shopping on Thursday movement is rude and a blatant disregard of tradition. Yes, I’m speaking for the voiceless retail workers, but more importantly, I’m speaking for Black Friday’s dignity. We need to put an end to this madness and save Black Friday deals for the only appropriate day. Friday. Otherwise, it’s false advertising, and I’m writing a nasty letter to the BBB.

Here is a collection of treasured memories from Black Fridays Past.

5 Years ago

4 am, 3 years ago.

Last year, basking in the sun after dropping off bags.

So many goodies!

Yesterday, I was watching The Five on FNC, and the panel briefly touched on a poll that revealed 1/3 of Americans do not trust each other. Read article here. The reality is, (and we don’t need a poll to tell us this) we are a fear driven society. Fear of failure, rejection, being duped, feeling regret. That’s why the “Self-Help” section of the bookstore is expanding by leaps and bindings. This fear can be paralyzing, and our over-exposure to media, broadcasting tragedy and crime, does not cultivate a trusting audience. I’ve always felt that I’m overly trusting, so I make myself watch breaking news and Law and Order SVU, just for good measure. The fact that I even trust the results of this poll is frightening.

I think it’s important, however, to make the distinction between distrust and cynicism, because I believe the latter is what we really suffer from. Fear is a feeling. Cynicism is a belief. Our thoughts becomes feelings, which become actions, so really, cynicism is at the root of our country’s trust issues. We’re trained to be cynics. It’s engrained in us. From internet scams to cheating ex-boyfriends, we’ve all fallen victim to moments that left us feeling foolish. Like we should have known better. Many of us live by the saying “If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

But isn’t that sad. We begin questioning every good deed and kind gesture. When a man smiles at me on the subway, I immediately think he’s a creep who’s going to follow me home. Or I have some fabulous first dates with a new fling, and wonder when his secret fiancé will reveal herself.  Our beliefs are formed from a collection of past experiences. Things we have seen, heard, and participated in ourselves. With the growth of social media we feel more connected to other people’s realities as much as our own. So now, their beliefs fuel ours.

And I whole-heartedly believe that what we set ourselves up for success as much as failure, and the more distrust we hold, the less trustworthy people in our life will be. So how do we break this cycle? Is it possible to rewire our thinking? Can we rid ourselves of cynicism while holding onto reasonable caution? I bring up excellent points that not even I know the answers to. However, the first step is looking at yourself, and becoming someone others can trust. ‘Be the change you want to see in the world’ is what they say. But I really think George Michael said it best… “I gotta have faith.”

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

Ah yes, New Year’s Eve is back with a vengeance. Thanksgiving wooed us, Christmas whispered sweet nothings in our ear, and then New Year’s Eve slaps us across the face with the stinging reality that another year has gone by and you’re not nearly as successful as you’d hoped to be. In 2013, you wished to be married, planned on acquiring wealth, and resolved to get washboard abs. But alas, verbal contracts have always failed you, just as every new holiday resolution does. And yet, like an ignorant child, we find ourselves looking back fondly on the year that crushed us, excited for more in the coming one. We choose to dull this painful truth, though, with a “cup of kindness” that more closely resembles a vat of cheap bubbly.

Please pardon my cynicism. I write this knowing I will be tending bar as the clock strikes twelve with no one to kiss. (No one worthy that is.) 2014 is also the year I will give up by Miss NY USA crown, with my social relevance hanging by a string bikini. I am grateful for everything this past year has been. 2013 will forever be titled “The year I was Miss New York USA”, and I have to say, that’s pretty amazing. As amazing, is the pressure to top the year I just had. Can a resolution help in this formidable quest? That is why we make resolutions isn’t it? To help us move on from the past and into a more fruitful future? My resolution last year, as completely ridiculous as it sounds, was to be kind to myself. I knew I was entering an important venture in my life, and I needed to be my biggest cheerleader. By forgiving my faults and praising my achievements, I was able to really love the woman in the sash. I suggest that if you’re stuck on ideas for a resolution, pick this one. It’s something you have to work at every day, but by the end of the year, you’ll be better for it.

So what should my resolution be this year? I was on a diet all last year, so getting lean and mean is out. Can I resolve to stop bartending? While I ache to do work I love, love doesn’t pay the bills. Maybe I’ll give that self-kindness mission another go. After all, how can you pay it forward if you have nothing to give? Oh, and better posture. I really need to work on that.

Love this scene, mostly for the gorgeous rendition of Auld Lang Syne. Enjoy.

Cheers to a great year ahead and only a small hangover in the morning!

Another school shooting. Damn. Everytime the “Breaking News” banner comes across my television screen I cringe, hoping it’s not as bad as the picture my colorful mind has painted up. This one in New Mexico. They say sun provides people with vitamin D, essential in creating happy people, but even warm weather climates are subject to tragedies. Shootings amongst civilians have been popping up all over the country, so gun culture, background, and wealth doesn’t make anyone more or less privy to these incidences.

Whenever these horrific acts happen, we always want to know why. What was the gunman’s motive? Was it mental illness? Were they provoked? I believe finding a reason gives us a sense of peace. It’s always a shame when we don’t get an answer to these questions, like the recent Sandy Hook shooting. With no notes or clues, and no gunman to be questioned, we are left feeling helpless.

No one incident is like another, and I would never want to simplify a complicated and horrific event, but the human will, human desire, is pretty simple and straightforward. We all have this aching need to feel significant.

Think about it. Our every action is in an effort to feel validation, importance, or needed in this world. Tony Robbins even identifies “significance” as one the 6 human needs.We tweet hoping for retweets and new followers, constantly refreshing our news feed. We volunteer, donating our money and time to charity, because knowing that we’ve made a difference makes us feel good about ourselves. We search for relationships. Love is like a drug. Knowing someone can’t live without you invokes feelings of strength and achievement. Hell, even penning this blog post offers me the opportunity to share my views with a large audience, possibly inspiring or challenging a reader. Either way… I. Am. Heard.

That’s really what we want. Hear me. Notice me. Love me. Need me. Recognize me.

That’s why I could never hate my critics. I can’t genuinely be mad at a cruel tweet. I’ve been given wonderful opportunities to be heard and to feel significant. That less than favorable comment is their opportunity, and I have to respect that.

And so, I have a crazy hypothesis. Today’s day and age, full of fascinating technological advancements and bombastic media coverage, creates so much noise, we are stifling individual significance. And for some, it is too much. They do not know how else to be heard above all the noise.Our value is now determined by Facebook friend counts, “winks” received through online dating, and who texts us as the clock strikes twelve on our birthdays. We’ve allowed impersonal technology to define our personal significance.

So how can we change this? Is there anything we can do to reverse this modern day, ill-fated domino effect? There is no easy solution, but I think it starts with looking someone in the eye. Saying “thank you” and really meaning it. Shifting our focus from what will make me feel good, to what will make someone else smile. I know this all sounds very crunchy granola, but granola is full of fiber, and who doesn’t feel amazing after a good BM? Think about it.

Poor Barbie. Girl just can’t catch a break. On again, off again with Ken, hopping around from job to job, and now, public scrutiny over whether she’s a good role model to young girls. She should just get in that sassy pink convertible and leave all the haters behind, except there’s one thing holding her back…she’s an inanimate object!

Another day, another meaningless battle against America’s sweetheart. The latest, an argument that Barbie is detrimental to a young girl’s body image. Some women, (and maybe men, but I doubt they’re on this crusade) fear that Barbie’s 3 inch waist, dainty appendages, and perky chest will set the standard for beauty. Barbie = beautiful, so Thin = beautiful. Therefore, I need to look like her in order to have any real inherent value.

I was a girl once, (hard to believe) so I can tell you first hand, I NEVER thought these things. I was thinking, ‘I wanna cut Barbie’s hair!’ ‘Wow, I’m so good at cutting hair!’ ‘Cool, I can bend her arm back really far!’ I didn’t look up to Barbie or try to emulate her. I played with her, because she was a plastic toy. Children don’t associate the meaning of things or relevance of objects to life until adults clue them in. Body image is gathered from personal experience and perception. Because “normal” is subjective not objective, children don’t put a label on what is good or bad, normal or abnormal until someone (usually an adult) plants the seed.

So Barbie is being criticized for being herself. (Or rather Mattel is being bashed for the scale to which they size their dolls.) But the pillage against Barbie has been similarly geared at models like the ones that grace the covers of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Editions. Are these models setting an unrealistic standard for beauty?  ”They aren’t REAL women” are the fighting words that spew up the most. So long as they are living, breathing, and feel like a woman, that’s real in my book.

Which brings me to the issue of body shaming. Why on God’s good earth, as a woman, would you ever shame another woman about her looks? Fat shaming has been an issue for years, but now thin shaming is the new trend. If you can tell me to “eat a sandwich” why can’t I tell you to “switch to skim”? Because both are wrong and disgusting. If you want to make an argument for health, great! I applaud you for that! But unless you are their doctor, you should really keep their dietary concerns out of the equation.

I love when people defend their Barbie hate with the, If Barbie were scaled to human size, argument. If brought to life, Barbie’s thin neck would not be able to hold up her head, her tiny torso could not contain all vital organs, and she would be wheel-chair bound since she’s too top heavy to walk. So, if Barbie were a “real” woman she would be disabled. And anyone heading the charge on shaming a handicapped woman should be lynched. I know this is a ludicrous idea, but a ridiculous defense gets a ridiculous response.

Barbie is “#unapologetic because a woman should never have to apologize for the way she looks or the lifestyle choices she makes. They only thing there is to apologize for is how you treat another woman, and I must say, Barbie’s been quite a doll.

(This post was inspired by my recent appearance on Fox and Friends discussing the latest campaign between Mattel’s Barbie and S.I.’s 50th Anniversary Swim Cover. Read more about the #unapologetic campaign here).

I always find it somewhat humorous when Baby-Boomers think they understand Millennials. They know as much about being young in today’s world, as I know about France after drinking a $12 bottle of Bordeaux. And yet, wisdom must be delivered, even though, frankly, we’re not receiving it.

The latest hot air comes from Susan Patton, or “Princeton Mom”, known for her very traditional values and marriage advice found in The Princeton University Paper and her new book “Marry Smart.” (read about her, here) When I first read Ms. Patton’s work, I thought it was satire. Her advice reads like the lines June Cleaver would deliver, but with less finesse. She writes a great deal about the ticking of a woman’s biological clock, and men preferring young pretty women over intellectual and mature equals- so, it’s best to find a mate during college. However, the thing that gets me most are these two statements.

“Here’s the most important thing … you will come to define yourself by your spouse,”

and

“the cornerstone of your future and happiness will be inextricably linked to the man you marry”

We all know the statistics. Divorce is at an all time high with roughly half of all marriages ending in divorce. And my belief, (I have no actual evidence to back this up, just an empathetic view of the world) is that these two statements are at the root of most marital problems.

I would not describe myself as a feminist, by any means, but a little girl power can go a long way (as can a killer pair of heels.) I couldn’t imagine defining my self-worth and identity through a man. In college, everyone has periods of self-discovery; pursuing new goals and finding true passions. Sometimes we get a little lost and cling to what we know, what’s comfortable. For many women, it’s her college boyfriend. And there’s nothing wrong with that, so long as the couple pushes each other to their own personal bests. But if that doesn’t happen, then the dream of a happy marriage becomes a reality of deep seeded resentments.

On the other hand, many people allow their careers to define them, and this can be just as unhealthy. Think about it. When you first meet someone new, you ask “and what do you do?” Sometimes we work so hard professionally that we suffer personally. So how do we define ourselves? It’s a balancing act, but so long as you keep sight of your talents, dreams, and compassion toward others, you’ll be the perfect someone for your perfect someone. 

I may never get married. I may never have kids. While the idea is nice, that’s all it is to me right now, a very romantic idea. I think I can have a very happy future being, as Ms. Patton so nicely described, a “spinster.” The thing is, I am the only person responsible for my happiness. As soon as I place that responsibility on someone else, they will fail to make me happy, because it’s not their job.

I’ll never forget a conversation I had with my mom back when I was in college. My boyfriend had just broken up with me, and the world as I knew it changed. She didn’t say, “His loss!” or “You’ll find someone better!” She simply said, “Joanne, you do not need a man to be happy.” “There are plenty of unhappy married people.” Perspective is a beautiful thing. My parents met and married in their thirties and are still married almost thirty years later. My mother is also one of the most independent people I know, which is where I get my joy of “quality Me time” from. A spouse should only add to your existing level of happiness.

Most of my old college friends are already married or engaged to be married. And I harbor no jealous nor superior feelings towards them. Committed relationships are a wonderful thing, and right now, I’m loving the one I have with myself.

(I think it’s important that I point out Ms. Patton has sons, not daughters, and is divorced. So really, her effort to advise us, probably isn’t even about us. Which is why I can’t be really offended by her out-dated advice. She’s working out some stuff. Trying to find her own happiness again. And I applaud that.)

In order to be really happy, I’ll need a ring like this…jk

Who doesn’t love a provocative piece of theatre? Classic musicals will always have their toe-tapping charm, but there’s nothing like a play that leaves you inspired and perturbed. On Tuesday night, “Hit the Wall,” an exciting play by Chicago playwright Ike Holter, did just that.

Whew. Another summer done. I don’t know about you (I’m not asking), but it’s my least favorite season. Between the mosquito bites and humidity, I’m not sure which is more uncomfortable. And that’s not even factoring in the slew of Facebook wedding photos that serve as a constant reminder of the life I’m not living.

Fall has always been my favorite. September is magical. It also happens to be the month I was born. (You’re welcome world) So while I won’t be posting engagement photos or baby portraits, I’m turning 26 on the 26th — so 26 selfies are probably in order. (Again, you’re welcome world) It’s a time to celebrate not just my birth, but all the choices I’ve made in the last 25 years. To reflect on what I have and what I still want — and what I hope for in the next year of my life.

As an early birthday present, I went to Madison Square Garden for a Billy Joel concert. (Still doing the paperwork that offers my first born in return) My love for this man and his talent runs deep. His career reach baffles and inspires me. The concert was over way too fast, and I left the Garden with a smile on my face and a beer buzz in my blood. Billy was great, I expected that. What I did not expect was Gavin Degraw as an opening act and to feel so affected by him.

Gavin Degraw is a huge part of my high school experience. My sister and I would listen to his “Chariot-Stripped” album every morning on the way to school, (WaWa coffee in hand.) Those easy melodies and poignant lyrics were all a 16 year old girl needed besides a crush and a callback for the Spring Musical. So when Gavin took the stage Wednesday night, all those amazing memories flooded back.

And he was Working It. The energy and passion he was giving the audience was huge. Even though most of the stadium was 30 years my senior, he was singing to every single one of us. Maybe an artist is always humbled while playing in the Garden, but his excitement was obvious and infectious. It immediately made me crave the stage.

There is no better feeling than sharing what you love with an audience. It’s why I’m a performer. While I don’t get to perform for a live audience at the moment, I know that my contribution to Red Eye reaches thousands. And if for just one moment I can help a viewer forget about their stressful day, encourage them to think differently, or simply make them laugh, then I have done my job.

While some people are happy enough going to concerts, others need to headline them.

While some people want a house in the burbs, others need the buzzing city.

While some people marry their partners at 26, others commit to their dream careers.

So while my Fall, and my 26th year may not be spent like most of my peers, I’m ok with that. Because I have time, an audience, and 26 candles to wish on.

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

As a child, Sundays meant three things: annoying my sister, Mom’s pasta with meat sauce, and going to Church. Church was a non-negotiable. We all had to go, every Sunday — one of the joys of having a Roman Catholic Italian family. I often say attending mass is some of the best discipline a child can receive. I think a part of me even enjoyed it, since as I sang in the children’s choir and attended youth group meetings every week.

It’s interesting how there’s a moment where it all changes. I think college is the culprit. Those early Sunday prayers are not quite as attractive as a few extra hours of sleep to nurse last night’s hangover. Besides, none of the other kids are going, because, well, church, formality and discipline just aren’t cool. (As “Not Cool” by Greg Gutfeld explains.) And you don’t want to be that kid who goes voluntarily.

And so, I must confess… I am a closeted Catholic. That’s right. I often go to to Church on Sundays. I recite the prayers from memory, always put some money in the collection plate, and yes, I even sing along with the cantor (it’s my favorite part.) But I don’t dare tell anyone how I spend my mornings, because I don’t want to be judged for it. You see, practicing Catholics seem to get a bad rap. Most have this idea of sheltered or extreme God fearing folks who do little else but judge those who are unlike them.

I, however, choose to show people that I am a Catholic rather than tell them. Actions speak louder than words, and stick for much longer. Besides, attending mass is something I do for me, not anyone else. I’ve never had a poor experience with church, and attending reminds me of my family and happy times. Plus, it’s free therapy – a time to reflect, feel grateful, and focus on those who need help the most.

In today’s sermon, the priest brought up a particularly interesting idea about church attendance and humanity. The United States claims a higher rate of weekly mass attendance than the Philippines, but our abortion rate among teens is much higher. (He used actual percentages, but my mental notes escaped me.) One would think that people of faith would see less terminations. Of course, there can be numerous socio-economic reasons for the statistics being as such, but the priest made an excellent point – one that speaks to today’s culture. If we fail to respect the human life that surrounds us, how can we expect respect for life before it is born?  It is one thing to say you attend mass, to quote bible passages or preach the good word, but to practice it, to live in holiness, graciousness, and kindness is much more difficult — and much more effective. My Sundays serve as a reminder to value and effect humanity in a positive way.

It’s easy to get overwhelmed with the state of the world (especially when you work in the news) but hope is not lost. Even for those who don’t pray or believe in God, there is still goodness in the world. We just have to choose to look for it and live in it.

Now go eat a bowl of pasta and complain about Monday.

(speaking of my childhood. so good.)

Lately, I find myself wanting for simpler times, for the days of soap operas dominating daytime tv, and the drama being interrupted by commercials selling things, not theories. See, just as evil twins and medically confusing comas have gone out of fashion, so has the acceptance of soap being soap. No, we need it to be so much more. What does the soap say about us? What do we say about ourselves?

I must applaud today’s execs for transforming the world of advertising as we know it. It’s really brilliant when you think about it. Companies discovered how to touch their audiences in a way that leaves the consumer feeling personally invested in a product. And how do they do it? By preying on vulnerable victims — oops I mean women. Beauty revolutions, body acceptance programs, and gender equality platforms means soap advances from a bar of fatty acids into the self-hug you didn’t know you needed. These new ads are magnifying the consumer’s insecurities in an attempt to win hearts while emptying pockets.

Dove’s “Real Beauty” short-films, Special K’s “Fight Fat Talk” experiments, and Pantene’s punchy “#ShineStrong” message are essentially saying, “You can’t feel positive on your own. You are your own worst enemy. You need us to feel better and have the life you really deserve.”

The saddest part about this new trend is not that we choose to believe it, it’s that we now expect all advertisements to follow the same guidelines. And the ones that don’t are demonized. The latest victim being Victoria’s Secret “The Perfect ‘Body'” campaign. It’s important to note that Victoria’s Secret was not trying to sell bodies. (They couldn’t get the permit required) They were selling bras named “Body” and displayed their product on their models.

These slender, professional models are the same ones who appear in the catalogue so many of us order from, and walk the runway in a fashion show millions of women watch. But because the company was selling bras and not a social movement, people got angry. The public was expecting to receive a “Buy one bra, get an inspirational quote free” offer. So, after hearing the public’s complaints regarding body image, Victoria’s Secret changed their slogan to “A Body for Everybody.” They caved. Lame.

For those who are still really angry at a bra, I suggest spending your hard earned money on a different product. However, most women will continue to shop at Victoria’s Secret because of its quality of undergarments, not it’s universal message. Their ads don’t need to push up self-esteem, their push-up bras can do that. They don’t need to reveal what beauty is, their lacy bottoms reveal your beautiful side.

Loving a message is futile if the product doesn’t live up to your newly enlightened standards. Some women just don’t feel good in their skin, and for those who don’t, there are self-help books I can recommend that are much more helpful than an advertisement.

Side note: I love Dove soap and Pantene shampoo. Been using both since I was a kid. Before the movement.

Here’s a classic Dove ad to get all nostalgic over.

There’s nothing I love more than a good story that leaves me emotionally wrecked and questioning my life choices. It could be that I’m a masochist, but more likely, that I’m an artist – always seeking a cathartic experience that somehow makes me feel five pounds lighter. And truly nothing gets the mind’s gears turning and waterworks flowing like a masterfully crafted score articulated by actors who just “get it.”

I fell in love with Jason Robert Brown’s musical “The Last 5 Years” about 12 years ago. It was back in the day before album downloads and Amazon orders were the norm, so my friend and I made the journey into New York City to find the scarce soundtrack that I (of course) became obsessed with. We spent the journey back to Jersey listening to the story of Jamie and Kathy. A writer and actress who fall in love and get divorced, all in the span of five years.

What makes the story so compelling (and at first confusing) is that the musical begins at the end of their marriage. In “Still Hurting” Kathy has just found Jamie’s letter that says it’s over. It’s a song that’s so emotionally raw and easy to relate to. Who hasn’t felt the sting of a failed relationship? All understand those moments of anger mixed with numbness and self-pity.

The next song is sung by Jamie at the beginning of their relationship five years earlier, when the two just met and were falling head over heels for each other. In “Shiksa Goddess” Jamie reveals how he’s been waiting for someone like Kathy. The musical then proceeds to bounce back and forth between the two character’s perspectives and places in time – Kathy, traveling backwards, and Jamie moving forwards. The couple’s perspectives meet at the middle when they wed and then continue to move in their respective directions.

What’s amazing about the concept is that it offers the viewer the ability to see what went right and then so wrong. We all replay conversations, events, and relationships in our minds and wonder when did things change? Or what was the catalyst that affected it all? While watching Jamie and Kathy’s relationship unfold and build all at the same time the viewer can’t help but think about their own lives and relate to those universally human moments that shape our journey and leave us vulnerable.

So after memorizing every word from the original cast CD and then seeing the Off-Broadway revival, (Betsy Wolfe was phenomenal) I was counting down the days until I could see the film version of this masterpiece. And thankfully, it did not disappoint.

Anna Kendrick and Jeremy Jordan were a delightful match. Both were able to deliver the difficult score with ease and sincerity. However, I have to say, Jeremy Jordan stole the show. His flawless vocals, acting choices, and humor were so spot on I found him to be the more likable character, despite his infidelity. The long camera shots, Broadway star cameos, and use of New York City streets made the film a real treat.

Did I enjoy the film better than the stage musical? No. I don’t think anyone ever does really.The energy and live-ness of a stage performance is just unmatched in any other medium. But it was cool to see the couple interact in every scene. (In the stage performance they only appear together in the middle, when their stories coincide). And major props to wardrobe for tweaking each character’s look to reflect the passage of time.

Well, that does it for my self-indulgent musing over a musical most of you have never heard of but should really hear often. I do hope this post inspires readers to not only check it out, but spend a few moments experiencing and appreciating new forms of art — while curling up in a puddle of your own warm tears.

Celebrities are as sensitive as children when it comes to losing, except maybe worse, because kids only cry, while adults cry foul.

I love watching the Academy Awards. The fashion, celebs, speeches, and tweets make for a truly enjoyable evening. Until the next morning, when my hangover is exacerbated by the deafening opinions of those who can’t lose gracefully.

And so, I offer these words of wisdom to those who leave the event full of Veuve and sadness. Theatrical talent is not quantifiable. A great performance is perceived by the audience member based on their own experiences, feelings, and judgement. No trophy is given to the actor who sunk the most tears, or passed the most laughs. Do we give athletes awards just for playing a particularly difficult game or sweating the most through the process? Of course not. But by the standards of those critical of the Oscars, we should, because it’s the right thing to do.

The fact that professionals are placing such value on an award that has no measurable value is not only lame, it’s disturbing. We all want to be recognized for our hard work, and one would think a paycheck with numerous zeros would be enough. A nomination from the Academy is truly the icing on the cake that no one eats — because carbs. But when the possibility of taking home the cake doesn’t come to fruition, sore losers and social crusaders alike, tear that cake apart and fling it all over the room.

Now, might the academy be biased, political, and uneducated in their choices? Of course. The suspicion is correct because such is the trend of it’s larger counterpart, Hollywood. It is a business. The goal is to make money and expand it’s empire. Typically if one does not agree with standards and practices of the business, it’s time to resign. But no one quits Hollywood. No one swears off award shows or movies. Instead, everyone just gathers around the Perrier filled water-cooler and complains about their boss, because it feels so much better than hurt feelings.

I for one, look forward to a future full of acceptance speeches that I never get to deliver. What can I say? I love rejection. I find it easier to carry than a trophy.