Les Mis, No Internet, and a Kitty or Two

Hello again! Welcome to my two days late blog post! How devastated I was to wake up last Saturday morning to learn that the internet at our house was out and would not return until the coming Thursday. First of all, that meant I would miss my next blog post, and second, it really sucked. Because of this, I didn't really put much thought into what I would write about this week. After last week's post I was also kind of banking on the world actually ending. Now the day is here, my internet is back, and I haven't any real idea what to blog about.

                                                      Perhaps this can suffice?

Let's see, Christmas was earlier this week, and it once again passed by insignificantly, although I own slightly more DVDs than I did before. Seeing Les Miserables in theaters was about as excited as I got this week. By the way, fuck all you naysayers, that movie fucking rocked. Let's talk about that for a bit, shall we? I mean, it didn't leave out anything I really missed. Some song verses were cut but the only difference those cuts really made was that I noticed them, being a fan of the stage musical. As for the changes to the storyline, go look in the original Victor Hugo novel; those changes are straight from the source material. Eponine taking a musketball for Marius? From the novel. Enjolras and Grantaire being executed together in a final act of defiance? Exactly how it happens in the book. So theatre people, please, don't claim they changed the storyline when they actually portrayed those scenes as they were originally written. The movie managed to combine the novel and the musical into one coherent package. I rarely see adaptations get better than that. Although, I agree with everyone's criticisms of Russell Crowe as Javert; his version of "Stars" left much to be desired. However, Crowe absolutely nailed the songs "The Confrontation" and "Javert's Suicide," so I'd say that he made up for his low points. I got to see some of my West End favorites Killian Donnelly and Kerry Ellis in bit parts, and seeing Samantha Barks on screen after seeing her play Eponine in person was quite surreal for me. And nobody else should ever play Eponine. Seriously. She's the best. Honestly though, the only character I cared about being great was Enjolras, brought wonderfully to life by Aaron Tveit. Also, I never liked Marius as a character until Eddie Redmayne played him. He's the best Marius I've ever seen or heard, and I've seen the show twice and own three different cast recordings. Plus, he just looks badass. Sometimes I wish the story was just about Enjolras and Marius.

                  One of these men is definitely a new man crush, but I can't decide which one.

In other news, I watched Katy Perry: Part of Me and am even more in love with that girl than before. Count me in for her next tour. I also received news of auditions for a production of the musical RENT right here in Syracuse, so I will definitely be trying out for that. Seriously, if I could get cast as Mark or Roger that would literally be a dream come true. So yeah, that's what's been up with me lately.

You see, this is what being without internet does to someone. I don't care what our parents say, we literally cannot make it in this world without internet. It's not just Facebook either, which I love and never want to be without ever again, it's everything. I couldn't check my email, and there were emails I was expecting. I couldn't apply for any jobs for almost a week 'cause they're all online. I didn't know the address of the place I was going for an interview until my internet came back just in time for it. I couldn't do research for the books I'm trying to write. I felt so helpless and bored. Not just 'cause I spend a lot of time online, I couldn't download Kindle books without internet, so I couldn't even read to pass the time. Sure I could've gone out and bought an actual book, but I didn't have gift cards for books, I had them for Kindle. It didn't help that we got snowed in and my car tired fail in the snow, so I could hardly even leave my house. I was stuck at home with movies I'd seen hundreds of times and no internet access and no books. This lack of doing anything even prevented me from being productive in my writing. Creativity is fueled by being active and I just didn't have the resources to be so. So people, please, do not take the internet for granted. You need it more than you will ever know.

                                                            More than this.

                                                      But not as much as this.

So what have we learned this week? Theatre people are the worst critics, Katy Perry seems like a fun lady, the world sucks without internet, and cats are adorable. Since I will now have internet again at my beck and call I will strive to write a more resonating post next week, on time too. So stay tuned readers!

Surviving,
Tyler

P.S. Theatre friends, I love you, but Les Miserables was an awesome movie and I will not hear anything otherwise.

P.P.S. It's okay to just pick mold off of bread and still eat it, right?

Fond Memory from College:

When I got a 100 on a presentation for simply not giving a fuck. You really had to be there.

Last Night On Earth

So here we are, the maybe end of it all. In two days we'll find out whether the Mayans were correct or that we humans are just too awesome to be wiped out. I'm not a doomsaying zealot, but I'm not ruling out the small possibility that the rug could be pulled out from under us on December 21st (which, technically, going by the original Mayan calendar, already happened, but come on, have some fun with it). I know a lot of people that live by the "better safe than sorry" motive, so why shouldn't we adopt that for this 2012 apocalypse? What if it does all end on Friday morning at 6:11 A.M.? Would you want some things to be left unsaid? Places left unseen?

                         Would you let DVDs you borrowed go unreturned, Amanda Funiciello?

Now, I'm not saying I'm going to get on the first flight to Belgium and spend my remaining days in Bruges. Hell, I'm probably going to spend my potentially last night on Earth doing what I normally do: wake up at noon, go online for two hours, apply for jobs, eat, maybe change out of comfy clothes, maybe not, try to write, give up on writing, eat more, and wait until 1:00 A.M. when 30 Rock is on WGN. I will be hanging out with friends Thursday night though, so if nothing else I'll have that, and that will be good enough. Sure, I could cram a few bucket list items into my schedule and tell people things that have gone unsaid, but that just wouldn't be me. If I'm going out, I'm going out as myself. Also, I'm kinda lazy, so whiskey and a fire with my friends will be perfectly fine.

                                              Wouldn't we all like to go out like this?

Now, as this may very well be my last blog post ever, thinking of what to write about was more difficult than ever. I decided on the 2012 thing 'cause if this is my last post, I didn't want it to be about my favorite TV shows or shit like that. This has got me thinking, though, about what kind of mark I'll leave in the unwritten history of the world once it all ends. I mean, I know it won't matter since everyone else will be gone too, but let's say our souls survive and are just floating around in the debris of the exploded planet, like when the Millennium Falcon came out of hyperdrive into what was left of Alderaan. Let's say there's a heaven and we go there with nothing but all the time in the universe to reflect on our lives. What will stand out about our lives? Will we be satisfied with what we've accomplished?

                                          Depends on your definition of "satisfied."

I have unfinished novels that were never published, a measly two dream roles I've performed, relationships never pursued, and never got to see how Breaking Bad ends. But I don't focus on those things. I think about all of the friends I've had, the things I have done, and those rare moments where I feel like I've selflessly made a difference in someone else's life. Honestly, despite not yet leaving my mark on the world, I have a pretty decent life I can look back on, and five blog posts I can be proud of.

Some people can get hooked on having the perfect "last time." In my experience it never mattered whether something was done perfectly for the final time, because however it happened it was still the end. My final show at Canisius College was far from perfect; I missed a blocking move in the swordfight and offset the entire remainder of the choreography. My last day and night in London were entirely uneventful, and more sad than anything else. My time in my last cross-country race was much slower than my average pace. And so many of my final farewells to friends have ranged from being awkward to far too casual. Things rarely go perfectly when you really want them to, and you may be surprised to find that perfection comes when you're not planning it. You want to know how I spent the last hours before my college graduation? I was hungover as shit and my roommate and I cooked some tater tots and ate them off of the tray for breakfast, then hit the road blasting '90's alternative music out the open windows of his car. The people stuck in traffic with us hated us so much. And you know what? That was a more perfect morning than I ever could have planned. I could've done without still being slightly drunk throughout most of the ceremony, but whatever, nothing's totally perfect. Except of course the HBO show The Wire.

                                                                  And this.

So in essence, no matter what you try to do to make your last day perfect, no matter how many things you cross off your bucket list, no matter how perfectly scheduled your itinerary is, those are not what your last memories should be. If you can look back on your life happily, whether you've fulfilled your dreams or not, then that's all you need. Like I said, if the world ends as I'm sitting up in bed watching late night episodes of 30 Rock, or reading the nearest Stephen King book, or even brainstorming what I'll do the next day to really iron out that book I'm trying to write, then I'll be dying as I lived.

Whether we all wake up Friday morning or not, I hope you can all live your "last day" like any other, as long as you're happy doing it.

Signing off,
Tyler

P.S. RIP Donnie Andrews, the REAL Omar Little.

Last Request:

Can there please be a reunion photoshoot for The Wire? That Freaks and Geeks one in Vanity Fair really got me nostalgic.

Sing the Song, I Pray You

I was watching the Hurricane Sandy Relief Concert tonight on HBO, biding my time until Roger Waters eventually came on, and as soon as I heard the first booming notes to "In the Flesh," I was instantly taken back to when I saw Waters perform The Wall in Buffalo this past summer -- coincidentally my "conflict day" during Grease rehearsals, funny how that worked out. I remember that HSBC Arena was doing its shittiest to get everybody into the building on time, and my friend and I kept hearing music over the speakers and fearing the show had already started while we were still in line. So after sprinting up escalators and likely endangering the lives of those we shoved out of the way, we enter the darkened stadium. No sooner do we get inside when flames explode from the front of the stage and the magnificent "BOM BOM!" that starts off the first song of the album deafened my senses. From the moment I found my seat I sat back in awe and wonder at the show going on down on the stage below us, not only hearing but seeing my favorite songs being performed in front of me. That opening bass line in "The Happiest Days of Our Lives" chilled me to the bone, the saddening chords of "Mother" broke the dam holding back my tears, and the colorful projections during "Comfortably Numb" ensured I would never see anything more beautiful again.

                                                             Your move, God.

It's funny how music works, isn't it? I mean, when you think about it, it's people plucking strings and beating objects with sticks, and most times screaming words at you. Or whispering them softly, you know, if they're pussies. When did music first come about? Was it just a couple of cavemen fucking around with rocks and sticks and grunting?

                                                                     Yes.

Whatever the manner in which it was created, look at what it's become. From the olden days we have those catchy mandolin tunes and Irish folk songs. We have Beethoven and Mozart and Bach, and further down the road we have the birth of rock 'n' roll and pop. Then the beautiful era of '90s alternative, post-grunge, and not-punk, and nowadays we have Katy Perry, who no other '00s era musician can compete with. No, you can't argue against that. She's perfect. But of course, since its inception music has only been building its way up to its final form, and that form is Nightwish.

                                                           Music stops here.

Who is Nightwish? I'm not at all surprised you don't know. They are my favorite band; I've seen them in concert three times, twice in the same year actually. If I hadn't discovered their music on Youtube that one day in 10th grade, I'm pretty confident my life would not be the same today. I taught myself to sing by singing along with the male vocals. Their 2007 album Dark Passion Play helped get me through a rough senior year of high school, and their 2011 release Imaginaerum got me through another rough final year, this time in college. Can I explain just what exactly it is about their music that I love, or what about it instantly fills me with joy? No, I can't. I believe that if I could, I wouldn't be able to have that feeling anymore.

Stage musicals are another mysterious thing. Watching a so-so story unfold while singers and dancers perform in front of you somehow makes said story so much more enjoyable, you know assuming you're not watching A Chorus Line or The Music Man.

                                                               Or fucking this.

I remember first catching the musical bug watching my older sister act in her middle school show, an original musical written by the chorus teacher. I didn't always know what was going on, but I was having a hell of a fun time watching the dancing and hearing the songs. Next I watched the school do Guys and Dolls and then Annie and...dammit, I NEEDED to be in one of those things! So I get cast in my first show, Into the Woods, as an old man, at age 11. I don't get to sing but the whole experience was still really fun for me. Besides, I couldn't sing back then. But now I can so YAY! I've been acting in musicals ever since. And maybe one day, if I'm extremely lucky and work really hard, this will be me.

                                         Maybe I'll get a great part in a musical, too.

In musicals like some of my favorites, Les Miserables and American Idiot, certain scenes just explode when the music kicks in. "One Day More" at the end of the first act of Les Mis features every main character singing about their individual fates in the coming days and what choices they'll have to make. When a character runs out with a musket in hand and raises it above his head singing "One more day before the storm," it is just too much for my non-epic little mind to take. When that same character, in "The Final Battle," sings "Let others rise to take our place until the earth is free" right before he is shot to death, just the fact that he's singing it with such passion makes more of an impact than any mere spoken words ever could. The 9-minute rage fest that is "Jesus of Suburbia" in American Idiot creates an onstage scene of frustrated youth and dead-end lifestyles that no straight play or film could ever accomplish. Hell, even watching people shoot up heroin is more fun if it's in a musical. And finally, let's face it, would South Park: Bigger, Longer, & Uncut be even half as good without all of the musical scenes?

                                                                    No.

Not to mention those montages they have at the end of TV show finales would be AWKWARD without music playing behind them. Although, if there was no music they probably wouldn't make montages, and therefore Rocky and Top Gun would be unwatchable. I would certainly be down one of my very few hobbies without music, so let's all take a moment to thank our ancestors for the invention of music. Imagine your life today without it, especially those who love to play instruments or sing, particularly those getting their tonsils out soon (*cough* Katie Weber *cough*).

Now to wrap things up nicely, the world would suck without music. Fortunately, it's here to to stay, so by all means take it for granted. But while I stand by everything I have just said, fuck Glee. Just fuck it.

See you readers next week, possibly for the last time!

Singing as I finish this,
Tyler

P.S. No disrespect Katie Weber, I sincerely wish you a speedy and semi-painless recovery from your tonsillectomy. You do have such a beautiful voice.

Favorite Song of All Time:

"Don't Dream It's Over" by Crowded House. What's yours?

I Dreamed a...Something

Let's talk about dreams for a bit. Everybody claims to have dreams unlike everyone else they know, as if having weirder dreams is the new dick measuring. However, I am willing to bet that my dreams are the weirdest -- and possibly most masochistic -- dreams you will ever have heard of. And this isn't just me who thinks so. People I've described my dreams to have had similar opinions, usually after a brief period of stunned horror.

For one, everybody I talk dreams with has described that point when you realize you're in a dream. I have rarely to never experienced that, and when I do I use it to wake up immediately. Otherwise, just like Leo says in Inception, everything seems ordinary and uneventful in my dreams.

                                 Just an average Tuesday according to my subconscious.

Now bizarre imagery and impossible physics are a staple of your average dream, even if you don't realize it seems off at first. What separates me from my fellow dreamers? Well, dreams are supposed to be a place where you can achieve something you maybe never could in real life. In your dream you can land that job you've always wanted, or beat that guy you hate into a bloody submission. Maybe you get that girl or guy you've always wanted, whether he/she is a celebrity or just someone you know. You see, even in my dreams I am horribly and unfairly cockblocked by fate, that motherfucker. I don't even get to have sex in my dreams, how fucked up is that? In almost every case the girl is either killed, I'm killed, I have to fight a bad guy, she's tired, or I can't get to her in time 'cause I have to climb down some giant obstacle course that's floating in the sky. You know, typical stuff. I was in the same bed as Zooey Deschanel once and still nothing!

                                                    Literally not even in my dreams.

There was that one time I was approached by a prostitute wearing a bearskin cloak and we proceeded to levitate and have air sex, but halfway through she tells me she's been numbed by so much sex (WTF and EW!) that there was really no point in continuing. Yes, I got the boot from a bearskin-wearing flying hooker.

                                                    Like this, but surprisingly cooler.

But aside from lack of sexual satisfaction in dreams, there instances where even my subconscious tells me, "Yeah right!" I'm often faced with terrifying situations where I'm being shot at or chased by giant yetis holding spears. In a dream, you might find it within yourself to fight back and kill whatever's trying to kill you, right? Yeah, not me. My subconscious knows I'm a wuss and doesn't often try to bullshit me. I turn tail and run almost every time, like that time my friends and I were hunting Bigfoot and they all run on ahead of me to kill him. I stay behind and listen to their screams and death cries from afar. There have been times when I'm more adventurous in my dreams, but they usually end with me being killed or horribly murdered. The fucked up thing is, when I die in a dream I don't wake up. I stay dead, in the dream, just lying there on the ground. This can go on until I eventually wake up but for a while it's just me unable to move and looking up at whatever just killed me. Imagine waking up in the middle of the night after that.

                                     I would neither win this fight or be that well-dressed.

Another bizarre trait of my dreams is that when I'm paired with someone or in a group, I'll actually know maybe half of them in real life, and the rest are completely made up. And the people I do know are usually ones I'm not actually friends with or haven't spoken to in years. It's that or my friends resemble Neil Patrick Harris or Geoffrey Rush. Then there was that time I was hunting Osama bin Laden with West End sensation Kerry Ellis, the obvious candidates for the job.

                                          Saving the world with our awkward smiles.

But you know, while I often die or get don't get any, I have to say my dreams are pretty awesome. Most times I wake up wishing I could go back into the dream. Strangely enough, I sometimes succeed at this. If you would like to experience some of my dreams yourself, I highly suggest you check out the Notes section on my Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/tyler.ianuzi/notes

In short, I love dreams, especially my dreams, 'cause they're better than yours. Also, seriously, read my dream logs. They're good reads.

Yes, this post was rushed and I couldn't think of anything to write. Expect more like this one, and possibly one drunk post in the near future.

See you all again next week!

Later,
Tyler

P.S. Are pants chains out of style?

Dream Stage Role:

St. Jimmy in American Idiot. I would literally murder you if it would get me that part.


                                             

I Don't Do Sadness

As promised, here is my first official post in my new blog. You all thought I wouldn't commit, didn't you? Well, neither did I.

Now, let's get serious. In my first post I want to address something that the more observant (caring) people I know in my life will have known for a while. Since, I don't know, let's say January of this year through about sometime last week, I had been suffering from unofficial clinical depression. I say "unofficial" because I never actually saw anyone for it, 'cause that costs moneys. Okay it probably can't be called "clinical," but regardless, I was depressed. I was not "bummed out" or "hitting a low," I was having extreme breakdowns and listening to a lot of Pink Floyd and Green Day. You know who listens to The Wall every day in their car? Depressed people. In September I discovered the Spring Awakening soundtrack and things just escalated from there, 'cause SHIT is that a depressing musical. Guess who my favorite character was? That's right, the kid who blows his brains out.

                                                      Also, I liked his haircut.

Being depressed for that long a period is awful, absolutely dreadful. I was still able to go out and have fun once in a while, but it was only ever a temporary escape. I couldn't even enjoy having a great role in my last college play. Although, having to grow a mustache for it probably added to that too. You heard me, I couldn't even enjoy acting, possibly my favorite thing to do ever. Being depressed truly makes you lose sight of who you are as a person.

There are three things in life that I am qualified for: writing, acting, and singing. Possibly yardstick combat as well, but that's not technically a profession...yet. It was like I hit a wall trying to do any one of those things. I stopped writing stories practically altogether, hitting high notes in songs felt more difficult than usual, and...well, actually, my acting improved, but it was no longer fun to do. My drinking rate skyrocketed. I had a $50 bar tab one night. Fifty dollars on alcohol! You can never think clearly while depressed, you fumble through things you used to handle like a pro. You make rash decisions that turn into a pain in your ass later on. You can never really be quite sure what suddenly brought you down; sometimes a current issue brings forth problems from your past, it could be as simple (it's not "simple") as liking someone who doesn't like you back. In my case, sometimes questioning yourself too much results in you hating yourself. I sure had a lot of questions for myself, such as "What the hell's wrong with you?!" Also, SPOILER ALERT, post-grad life sucks nuts.

                                                            Above: a black lie.

In situations like that, you look for any possible way out. I left town for a while to Buffalo, and while I felt better there, I was still suffering. I applied to and auditioned for a musical theatre program in New York. I got in with flying colors, but I realized I didn't want to go to school. I just wanted to perform. At my worst moments, I thought about "opting out" completely, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. No one ever should be, either. I'm sure everyone has thought about it at some point or other. That is the one comforting thing about depression: you know you're never alone. For anyone else out there who feels this way, suicide is definitely not the way. It's not a fast-forward button to get through the sadness, it's a STOP button. Actually, it's more like ejecting the DVD and breaking it in half, and then stomping the DVD player into pieces. No more movies. Ever. And no, you can't just buy another one.

So how am I doing now? I feel great, actually. I read a book called John Dies at the End that I just couldn't put down, like literally. Days passed as I read and I realized that these were days where I wasn't sad. Reading something again also reminded me how much I love writing, and immediately after I finished I went onto my computer and pulled up a 300-page story I had written about five years ago. I did a quick readthrough and thought, "I got some good shit here," and decided to go through and revise it. I found I couldn't concentrate well in my room so I've moved my "workstation" to the kitchen, effectively spending more than five minutes out of my room, something I haven't done in weeks. And you know what? I'm having a lot of fun revising this piece of shit I called a book. I mean, I'm not completely satisfied with myself yet. I'm still unemployed and live in the middle of nowhere, but I'm beginning to think more clearly about things now. And I never had to pay a shrink or take Prozac. That's gotta be some kind of "achievement unlocked," right?

So I'm rewriting my book to someday try and get published, but that still leaves the acting and singing parts of my life unfulfilled. The best time to do it is while I'm young, so I'll see if a big move is possible in the near future. I think LA would be cool. Lots of theatre and film opportunities. And after Googling and Youtubing the sage advice of Broadway and Newsroom actor John Gallagher Jr. (who, I discovered, wears the same kind of Chucks I do), I honestly think acting or music school would be a waste of my time and money, especially considering I still have student loans to pay off from going to real school. I'm not ruling out voice or dance lessons, I just don't want to spend thousands of dollars on something that may or may not pay off. So I guess you can say I'm taking the first step to undepressing myself. You just gotta do stuff, you know?

So yeah, that was a fun time. I know this post wasn't quite as lighthearted as the first one - it was probably like reading the fourth Harry Potter book and expecting another magical adventure where everyone gets out okay.

                                           "This is the world, kids!" -- J.K. Rowling.

So in short: depression sucks, kill it with fire, and don't try suicide 'cause living is awesome.

I hope y'all've learned a little something from my splurge of wisdom and, just maybe, thought that it unexpectedly made sense actually. I'm sure enjoying blogging so far. I'd like to make a shout-out to my former castmate Jesse Pardee, who indirectly inspired me to do this, and encourage everyone to read her extremely entertaining and thought-provoking blog:

http://jesseisdisgruntled.blogspot.com/

Honorable mention to Katie Weber's new blog - http://tonsilsaregross.blogspot.com/ - and any other Grease cast alumni who will inevitably start a blog. Love and miss you all!

If you liked what you saw here today, please tell your friends! Spread the joy! And don't let this post deceive you, I'm actually a very fun guy.

Until next time,
Tyler

P.S. Never mix apple cider and liquor. Bad things happen. Only bad things.

Realization of the Week:

Gary Oldman is the best actor ever, and this is indisputable.

This Tyler Kid, He's Pretty Cool

I believe Green Day said it best:

Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About nothing and everything all at once.

Yes, of course I had to look those lyrics up. I can't understand a thing Billie Joe sings either.

Anyways. Hi, some of you may know me as Tyler, and maybe some of you don't know me at all. But I promise that by the time I say "fuck this blog!" and quit, you'll know way more about me than you and I may be comfortable with. Also, I will swear a lot, 'cause swearing's cool.
I graduated from college this past May, and the amount that being a post-grad sucks will take up many of the posts in this blog. Oh, I'm starting a blog, by the way. Just thought it was about time I pour my feelings (or lack thereof) into the written word, you know, since I want to be a writer and all. Makes sense for now, I guess.

This is not the blog, not officially, yet. This is just a little introduction to give me time to actually think of things to blog about. I'm thinking one post a week, except in the case of emergencies. Probably every Wednesday night, 'cause none of my TV shows air on Wednesdays. As the title of this blog suggests, I do not quite fit into the world of "the norm," and yet, I seem to have been accepted by it, giving me a nice view of both sides. For any of you who feel they may have been meant for different worlds and/or time periods, I hope to speak to you. Some of it may be ramblings or oversized rants, but some might be deep and thoughtful, and you just might learn something out of the whole mess. I can't promise a consistently entertaining blog, it'll probably be a lot like How I Met Your Mother with some golden episodes and some that just downright suck. But hey, the days of our lives are kind of like that too, aren't they? Oooooooh, deep.

Well, I'll leave this little intro at that. I hope you tune in to my little world occasionally and please comment and let me know your thoughts, or perhaps a topic you'd like me to address. As for the page design, I picked it because it was called "Awesome Inc." How fucking cool does that sound?

                                                         About this cool, right?

With tolerance,
Tyler

P.S. Keep on rockin' in heaven, Freddie Mercury (September 5, 1946 - November 24, 1991)

Song Playing As I Finish Writing:

"Faithfully" covered by Tony Vincent