WHAT I SAID WAS

i am so technologically illiterate it’s embarassing. i’m still stuck in a time when just owning a blog and a beeper was cool. now 13 year old kids (and younger) know how to operate smart phones and iPads and are probably required to learn how to program with HTML, JAVA, and Flash in school. new programs, websites, platforms, computers, and gadgets that are supposed to make our lives easier roll out everyday and if you’re not up with the trends, then they can actually hinder you. think about that older co-worker in your office who still has no idea how to use word or excel — or even EMAIL — because s/he never had to until the last two decades or so. well, that’s how i’m beginning to feel.

i’m at a crossroads where i’m like do i invest more time into learning about all these new technologies or do i just say fuck it? give me back prodigy and my rotary phone!

this is an age where all the guess work has been taken out of life. all your sartorial, musical, and who-knows-what-else tastes can be determined by “algorithms” based on a scant sample of likes and dislikes. we’re made to feel like we’re amputees if we’re not carrying a cellphone in one hand a my laptop in the other. why is it that i prefer to look at flickr photos of leaves instead of walking out to the backyard to look at real ones?!

i want to feel like i possess some techKnowledge,G and not feel like tech-NAH!-oh gee! most of all, i want to beat my nephews and nieces at every xbox, wii, and computer game and not feel like the old fart who can’t play 3D video games (which is the case).

so: to play catch up or to just let it be?

in what may be a rite of passage into adulthood, i’m dipping my toes into the consulting world. a colleague asked me to conduct a training so i stayed up last night researching what a reasonable consulting fee would be.

i have a good idea about what consultants usually charge based on what i’ve paid them in the past. i came up with a fee that i thought was very appropriate for the circumstances. as i was drafting an email to my colleague, an inner-voice kept saying, that’s a bit high for YOU, isn’t it?

with every clickety-clack of the keyboard, the voice grew louder.

are you sure you’re even worth that much? there are a lot more ‘experienced’ people who charge that rate, but are you anywhere near their expertise?

by the time i finished the email, i was so insecure about my decision that i had to send it to mgs for his opinion – though really, it was probably more for affirmation. he’s always been the opposing voice who says, “you are worth it” and i needed to hear it. but it was already 1am EST so the chances of him responding right away was slim.

it was ridiculous: i hadn’t even sent the email and i was already compromising my own worth. if i were an outsider looking in, i’d see that there really is no one else with the knowledge or experience that i possess to help the organization with what they needed. fuck it, i thought and sent the email off to my colleague.

this morning, i heard responses from both my colleague and mgs. the colleague, unsurprisingly, said she’d have to double check with the higher-ups since the fee seemed high. mgs, on the other hand, said that i shouldn’t feel weird to ask for what i think i’m worth. my first reaction was to write my colleague back right away to apologize and to lower my fee immediately. then i wanted to write mgs back to apologize to him for doubting myself. i started to feel an anxiety attack coming on until suddenly…

why was i apologizing? what am i apologizing for? why am i ALWAYS apologizing?

mgs tells me that jgc has banned his students from saying, “i’m sorry.” instead, they are to replace it with, “i’m sexy.” mgs tried making me say this once and i couldn’t. my belief in myself was just that low. but this morning, after reading those emails and perhaps finally recognizing this ridiculous pattern of self-doubt, i’m going to apologize for the last time:

dear world: i’m sorry for ever doubting myself.

perhaps i’m still feeling the afterglow from the beautiful ceremony yesterday. seeing da achieve her dreams despite all the forces pushing against her, i’m determined to do the same. fear and insecurity has kept me from taking risks, but i’m ready now!!!

i’m sexy. i’m sexy. i’m sexy.

ding ah huey.

translation: microwave it. “ding” being the sound the microwave makes. ha!

i’ve been in new york this week for my bff’s ordination which was held tonight at judson memorial church. it was a beautiful ceremony and one which i was invited to be a part of as both an audience member and a reader. what a journey it has been for her and i could not be more overjoyed to see how relieved and ready she is to be a reverend — FINALLY.

many of the sermons (i’m not really sure if that’s the right terminology, but …) tonight revolved around transcending and transforming. this is especially relevant for d.a. who has always been the odd one out growing up in the bronx and the private school system black, womanist, poor, educated, nerdy, shy, reserved, outspoken, etc… she embodies a bevy of contradictions, but it all works to her advantage. her mother spoke about how if you’ve ever had a conversation or interaction with d.a. that you have been changed by her and i know this to be true! she is truly one who challenges and does not back down from her convictions (for better or worse!). even the reverend calvin butts praised her radicalism and openly acknowledged that she never once submitted to abyssinian’s belief system and instead stood unswayed from her own truths. when abyssinian couldn’t provide her with what she needed, she went elsewhere and ended up ordained through the ucc. she never gave up.

the ordination was a reunion of sorts with a few college friends whom i have not seen in years. one was s.j. who is now in nyc trying her hand at performing. she did the most amazing rendition of “defying gravity” and brought the house down. we talked about how difficult the performing world is and how it’s a never ending process of pounding the pavement for gigs. it reminded me of another conversation i had with my c.t. earlier this week in a hole-in-the-wall diner where she passed on some advice her commercial acting teacher gave her.

make a list of all your rejections, she said, and until you hit 50, you have no right to complain.

surprisingly, it’s not very often that anyone hits 50… success in this industry – perhaps any industry, really – is to keep trying even when you think there’s no hope left in sight.

so along this train of though, i’m sharing my first playwriting rejection letter ever. hopefully it’s #1 of nowhere-near-#50. it’ll be a good reminder of where i’m starting and how much further i’ve left to go.

Dear William,

Thank you for submitting to [the theater company’s] 10 minute play contest. We were overjoyed and overwhelmed by the volume of submissions received, and the opportunity it represents for getting to know your voice. Regrettably, we can’t offer you a production at this time. However, we do want you to know that your play was greatly adored, so much so that it was selected as a finalist.

We’re excited by the vibrancy of the Asian-American theatre as reflected in the submission pool, and if we have but one regret it’s that we can’t just buy a warehouse and give every last play its due.

The selection committee carefully reviewed all the plays (which, as you know, were submitted anonymously) and attempted to put together an ensemble of pieces that reflected a diversity of viewpoints and stories, and that fit within the range of support we could provide. This was a delicate process involving many factors of consideration – both aesthetic and practical – and while we very much enjoyed your play (and held on to it right until the very last moment), the work of creating an ensemble ultimately took precedence over our ability to champion individual plays.

Whether this is your first encounter with [the theater company] or if you are a seasoned veteran, we hope you will view this submission process as but one point of contact in an ongoing relationship. In that regard, we hope you’ll consider stopping by the show to say hi, and that you’ll keep sending us your work (short, full-length, or otherwise… but no screenplays; we don’t have the budget).

Thanks so much for sharing your work with us again, William.

All best,
[name]
Artistic Director, [the theater company]