out with the old

Again - more for my benefit than yours, my soon-to-be-retired Friendster profile.

Occupation: Guardian/Exhibitionist/Shaman in Training

Interests: Catharsis, in all its iterations. Dancing until I can barely stand and I don’t know which way is up. Losing my shit on stage and briefly forgetting who I am. Karaoke-ing to Aerosmith and bringing the house down. Getting my second wind.

Favorite Music: I listen to a lot of things. If the music comes from a place that’s real and visceral and multi-dimensional, I will probably love it. Come to think of it, I feel pretty much the same way about people.

Favorite Books: Currently: My script, ALL DAY LONG. Just Finished: most of The Complete Works of T.S. Eliot.

Favorite TV Shows: I have a love/hate relationship with my TV. At the moment, we’re not on speaking terms… okay, except for Celebrity Poker. I just can’t help myself.

Favorite Movies: To make this list, movies must be either magnificent or mockworthy. It’s even better if they’re both.

About Me: I am my own antithesis. I am a preschool teacher covered in piercings. I am an actor obsessed with tattoos. I am a runner and a smoker, a dieter and a drinker. I am spiritual but agnostic, low-maintenance but high-intensity. I can’t always find that fine line - but if you show me where it is, I can walk it with my eyes closed. I dream of skydiving but am terrified of bees. Most importantly, my life is an open book. Want to know something? Ask. Just be prepared to take a turn, because Truth or Dare is my favorite game …

Who I Want to Meet: An old soul with the eyes of a child. New friends who party hard and think harder. Someone who will understand what my tattoo means both intuitively AND intellectually. Battle-scarred warriors who refuse to be passive observers in this world. People who surprise me with not only their creativity but also their kindness.

In other news, tonight is preview. Anybody want to come? Give me a call and I’ll hook you up. Starts at 8 at OCT … although you might have to come in the back through the garage door. We’re ghetto like that.