"Cutest thing evar." - Liz Money

It’s intended, of course, to be a humorous take on professions showing how any profession can be used by “the Dark Side.” But it also makes another point: these people got trained in the careers listed above, but the skillsets they learned can be used in a variety of different ways.

Just because you have a degree in a specific field or training in a specific field doesn’t mean you can’t do something else. Half of your college education was in “general ed”! People forget that. You are more than just your major in college, and you can leverage the education you do have to, well… do anything you put your mind to.

The problem is that what you WANT to do is not necessarily what you SHOULD do, especially when money comes into play. It’s very difficult to make a living as an artist, whereas it’s much less difficult to make a living as a marketer or public relations manager.

I know dozens of theatre types who are absolutely convinced that they can’t do anything but theatre and be happy. It’s just not true. A stage manager can translate her skills into project management, running a camp, or human resources. An actor can translate his skills into being a teacher (i.e. “performing” in front of students), a salesman (e.g. performing in front of customers), or any number of other careers. And you can be happy doing it.

This isn’t going to convince anyone, but I just felt like sharing Liz’s link and blabbing about this.

For those of you who don’t know anything about Talkbackr, it’s a website (talkbackr.com) that allows for free, anonymous feedback to organizations for events. Let’s say your organization is putting on a production of Romeo & Juliet. You can create a free event in Talkbackr, then give out the URL to your audience, and they can sign into Talkbackr later and give anonymous feedback. It’s 100% free.

There is a premium section that provides some completely optional features, but they are by no means required to partake fully in the Talkbackr experience.

So that sounds great, right? Free, anonymous feedback. Well, I got to thinking. Why should you have to send your audience to my site to do that? Why not just get them to leave feedback via Facebook? And that thought led to other thoughts, and those thoughts to other thoughts, and those thoughts led to me being hungry because thinking is hard work, and that hunger led to pizza, and my sated hunger led to other thoughts, and then THOSE thoughts to action, and then…

Introducing the new Talkbackr Facebook Widget.

The idea is simple. It boils down to this: you can set up a Talkbackr Now! tab on your organization’s Facebook page (because, let’s face it, every organization has one, and if you don’t have one — GET ONE), and then your audience can leave feedback via that tab instead of having to leave Facebook. It’s the ultimate in convenience.

So how do you sign up? It’s really simple and can be done in three easy steps:

1) Sign into your Talkbackr account and go to the My Account section. There is a box that says “Get your Facebook Widget API Key”, and underneath it provides an API key.
2) Follow the three steps under the API key. (Recursive steps, oh my!.)
3) Shoot me an email with photos of you and your organization flipping out about how awesome the new Talkbackr Facebook Widget is.

Okay, you don’t have to do the third step. But do let me know if you have any questions or comments or whatever. I’m excited about it, and I think you guys will be to.

Enjoy!

P.S. This is totally in BETA. That means there are bugs. If you report them to me, I will fix them as soon as I can.
P.P.S. Regular website widget to come soon. (And by “soon” I mean whenever I get around to it, which depends entirely on how successful the FB widget is, so… get crackin’, people.)

..that, having said the above, there’s no need to be hateful with your jokes.

…that auditioning is the worst process ever invented, but until someone invents a better way for a company to sift through hundreds of possibilities in a reasonable amount of time, I will have to continue to hate auditioning.

…that the old adage “If you’re not with us, you’re against us” doesn’t hold true in most situations. 99.9% of us really couldn’t give less of a shit about whatever it is you’re thinking. It’s better to give people the benefit of the doubt (e.g. they really were busy and not avoiding you, they really had a reason to decline your work) rather than assume they’re out to get you. (Hint: they’re not.)

…that when it comes to prejudice and discrimination, shit does not just flow downhill. It goes both ways. Minorities can discriminate against majorities just as well as majorities can discriminate against minorities. Get off your high horse and just be fucking nice.

…that regardless of who you are, what you’re doing, or where you are, you should take walk outside, close your eyes, take a deep breath of air, and enjoy being alive. It only happens once.

Peace.

…that the new X-men movie was okay, but more disappointing than anything else.

…that Jan Rhodes, the secretary at Jacksonville State University’s Drama Department and one of my dear friends, will be missed greatly by very many people, including myself. I lament that more people won’t be blessed with her guidance and wisdom, but I’m very thankful that I’m able to call her friend.

…that whoever invented string cheese is a genius. Period.

…that anyone who modifies Wikipedia to back up a factually incorrect statement should be whacked across the face with a baseball bat, then kicked in the nether regions with a steel toed boot.

…that there is always room to improve. “Great job” makes me feel good, but it doesn’t help me improve. If I’m doing exactly what you want me to do, then say that. Otherwise, I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing (or what I think I can do to improve) until I get further direction.

…that “curvy” is not a polite way of saying “fat”. They’re two distinctly different things. Curvy implies attractiveness. Fat does not. Sorry.

…that sometimes what I think of you and what you think of yourself are two completely different things. I detest lettuce. I don’t like assholes. If I don’t like you, it’s not because you like lettuce — it’s because you’re an asshole. Just because I dislike one doesn’t mean I’m automatically judging you based on those criteria.

…that there are few things more comforting than curling up on a couch and reading a good book on a rainy afternoon.

…that my coworkers are really smart. I try to assume that I’m the dumbest person in the room, but (not to brag or anything) it’s not very often that that’s actually the case. I imagine in a 2AMT meetup, I’d be in a similar situation.

…that I’ve got a great job and great friends in an amazing city. I’ve got nothing in my life that sucks. And that’s a good place to be

…that I should take advantage of my good fortune to find ways to pay it forward. And I will.

…that I really, really, really wanna go to the moon. It sounds like fun!

And the one thing that I’ve learned over and over is that you can never, ever understand 100% why other people react the way they do, and unless you’ve spent years and years studying a particular person (spouses are good at this), you really don’t know how anyone is going to react when you bring up a particular topic.

Let me quote something real quick:

The Book: It is important to note that suddenly, and against all probability, a Sperm Whale had been called into existence, several miles above the surface of an alien planet and since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity. This is what it thought, as it fell:
The Whale: Ahhh! Woooh! What’s happening? Who am I? Why am I here? What’s my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I? Okay okay, calm down calm down get a grip now. Ooh, this is an interesting sensation. What is it? Its a sort of tingling in my… well I suppose I better start finding names for things. Lets call it a… tail! Yeah! Tail! And hey, what’s this roaring sound, whooshing past what I’m suddenly gonna call my head? Wind! Is that a good name? It’ll do. Yeah, this is really exciting. I’m dizzy with anticipation! Or is it the wind? There’s an awful lot of that now isn’t it? And what’s this thing coming toward me very fast? So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like ‘Ow’, ‘Ownge’, ‘Round’, ‘Ground’! That’s it! Ground! Ha! I wonder if it’ll be friends with me? Hello Ground!
[dies]
The Book: Curiously the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias, as it fell, was, ‘Oh no, not again.’ Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly *why* the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now.

This is a scene from “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”, in which the Improbability Drive very improbably turns two missiles into a sperm whale and pot of petunias, respectively. It’s a very funny sequence, but what’s really fascinating about this is the Whale’s first thoughts.

“Who am I? Why am I here? What’s my purpose in life? What do I mean by ‘Who am I?’” Who am I, indeed. This is the basic question that we face throughout our lives, and we’re constantly defining ourselves by.. well.. everything. We define ourselves by race, by gender, by sexual orientation, by religion, by occupation. We define ourselves by class, social circles, interests, hobbies, passions, food preferences, height, weight, disabilities and skills.

In the 21st century and particularly with my generation, we’ve been raised and taught that all people are people, regardless of these things. Blacks and whites, men and women, Christians and Muslims are all supposed to be equal — we’re all just people. And we’re taught to treat each other the way we would like to be treated, regardless of those differences.

I, for instance, don’t care if you’re black, white, gay, straight, transgender, disabled or normal. I’m going to do my best to treat you the same way I would treat someone else. If I like you, I like you regardless of those things. If I dislike you, I dislike you regardless of those things. Your race shouldn’t come into the picture at all, nor should your gender or any of those other factors.

I strive every day to keep true to the above statement.

But when it comes to who I am, it’s much harder for me to let go of the differences. I look at my friend D, and I don’t even think about the fact that he’s black. I look at my friend M and I don’t even notice her glasses. I just see D and M as what they are: my friends. However, when I look at pictures of myself, I don’t see Brian. I see this big, glaring hearing aid sticking out of my ear. I see that my nose is gigantic. I see that I have an overbite and my teeth aren’t straight and pearly white. I hear that my voice is a bit nasal (a bit? maybe a lot).

I know logically that my friends don’t see those things. When they see me, they see their friend Brian. Not my hearing aid. Not my nose. Not my teeth or overbite. But I have a hard time convincing myself of that.

When I get a first date that I think went well, but not a second one, I wonder: “Was it because of my hearing aid? My voice?” And I know that I can’t change those things and that if those are the reasons, then I don’t want to date her anyway. In all likelihood, it’s none of those things. But I wonder nonetheless.

I don’t think of this as an insecurity, per se. I’m confident in myself, and I’m really secure in the fact that I do hear as well as I do and speak as well as I do, considering the degree of my hearing loss. It’s astounding, actually.

Instead, I think of it as an identity. It’s part of who I am — separate from my personality and overall view of myself, but part of who I am nonetheless.

What makes people tick, in a sense, is their view of who they are. All of these little things coming together to determine their outlook and responses to external stimuli (e.g. me).

It fascinates me, this ability we have to look at ourselves through a lens that few others see. And it fascinates me (and frustrates me to no end) our ability to forget that others have a different lens, especially when it comes to themselves.

And so when someone is unable to differentiate between the way they view themselves or the way they think others view them (e.g. I’m a guy with a hearing aid) versus the way others actually see them (e.g. their friend Brian), I have a little sympathy. I understand how difficult it is to separate what you can’t change from what you can. I understand how difficult it is to separate your race, gender, sexual orientation, or disability from your personality.

But I only have a little sympathy. Only a little bit, because part of growing up is realizing that we’re all people, that we’re all the hero of our own story, that we all have our own view of ourselves and that others have their own views of us, and that sometimes those views don’t mesh up. Part of being an adult is understanding that who I think I am is not necessarily who others think I am, and that it’s my responsibility to ensure that I am broadcasting the “me” that I want others to see.

The human psyche fascinates me. It’s incredible how convincingly we can share a version of ourselves with the world that is completely at odds with the way we view ourselves inside. And it’s equally amazing to me how frustrated we get with the world when they don’t “get” us the way we think we should be understood. Though I strive to be as true to myself and to others as I can be, I am guilty of the same quirks as the rest of us.

People are fascinating.

…that you can never really know all the facts, so unless there is just overwhelming evidence to the contrary, why don’t we just give the benefit of the doubt to people? Quick example: someone recently told me that one of my projects was fine, but his version was better. I was pretty pissed off for a long time, but then I realized, you know, he has never said anything else mean to me, and I thought to myself, “Self, I bet he didn’t even realize how insulting that was. I bet it never crossed his mind.” We get a long just fine now and have a relatively good working relationship now.

…that people have a very, very hard time putting themselves in another person’s shoes, and it’s very hard for us to think about the ramifications of our actions.

…that we’re all the hero of our own story.

…that we’re all the sidekicks in our friends’ stories.

…that in some stories, we’re the villain.

…that one of my goals in life is to be a better sidekick to my friends, surround myself with the best sidekicks I can find, and be the villain in as few stories as possible.

…that based on my experience thus far, this is so true.

…that it sucks when people you care about are sick. There’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t touch them and make them well. You can’t give them a hug to relieve the pain. You can’t do anything. It sucks.

…that the level of talent I’ve surrounded myself with is humbling, both from theatrical and computer-related standpoints. The guys I work with are some of the best programmers I’ve ever met, and they’ve built an incredibly efficient system. It’s flattering to know that they count me as one of them. Likewise on the theatrical side, my friends write the best plays, perform the best shows, and direct the best productions I’ve ever seen.

…that the art that moves it the most is the art that makes me look at something I thought I knew with a brand new perspective.

…that it’s really nice to work with people who know what they’re talking about, which challenges me to work harder and learn more.

…that it would be better if I wasn’t couch-surfing.

…that you can’t reason someone out of something they didn’t reason themselves into.

…that sometimes you gotta try anyway.

Had I been born when our country was founded, I would have been virtually useless in society, though not left for dead. I might have survived on a farm or in a rural area with a family that cared for me, but the rest of society probably would have marginalized me. I wouldn’t have been able to go to school, to perform in theatre, or anything else, for that matter.

Had I been born just one century ago, I wouldn’t have survived to this age. Medical technology was iffy at best, and the basics of the immune system were just being discovered and analyzed and figured out. Antibiotics didn’t even exist in pill form, and doctors would have taken to drastic measures in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on — if they even tried. I would have died by the age of 21.

And so you see, I’m not supposed to be here. From a rather young age I always believed that I would die young, and certainly seven years ago it looked like that would be true. But it wasn’t.

Today I turn 29 years old, an age I never thought I would reach. I’m incredibly, incredibly fortunate to be here, to be alive at this time and place, to live in a country where my physical shortcomings can be overcome. I’m lucky to have family and friends who support me and carry me through my worst periods of life. I’m able to write this post because of the man who saved my life, and although he passed on at a young age, he continues to live on through me.

Six and a half years ago, when Ray and his family’s sacrifice saved my life, I vowed to make the most of whatever days I had left. I should have died, but I didn’t. With the help of my family and friends, I kept on going, and every time I walk outside and see that it’s a beautiful day, I’m reminded of the gifts that I have. I still can’t believe I’m here.

And what a ride it has been! Over the last six and a half years, I have earned my Bachelor’s degree, earned a Master’s degree, performed in dozens of plays and musicals (!!!), taught high school, moved to Atlanta, moved to Chicago, assistant directed a play with The Mammals, wrote a novel, met two of my heroes (Jennifer and Kristian Bush of Sugarland), met dozens and dozens of new friends, got a job with an internet start-up and moved to San Francisco, attended many conventions in pursuit of geekdom, played guitar in front of over a hundred people at my cousin’s Bat Mitzvah, tried calamari (and liked it), had some fun (and sometimes crazy) relationships… and those are just the things I can think of off the top of my head.

Every day is a gift, but for me my birthdays are especially powerful reminders of where I’ve been and how fragile the status quo is. I cherish every day, for better or for worse. Even the worst days are better than no days at all, right? Right.

I’m ecstatic to be alive, and I love my family and friends more than anything in the world. I dedicate this 29th birthday to you all.

Here’s to reaching 30 (next year, holy crap!), 40, and even 50 with you all in my life. With such love and support from my family and friends (not to mention the innovations of modern technology), I don’t see any reason why I won’t be around for a long, long time. That’s right: you’re stuck with me.

To all that have wished (or will wish) me a happy birthday, I thank you and love you from the bottom of my heart. It’s not even lunch time here, and I already know it’s going to be a great day, and the next 29 years will be full of love, laughter, and really bad guitar playing by yours truly!

Love,

Brian