Sing

My brother advised me over the weekend to sing... not literally, metaphorically. He insisted that in some ways I've become closed off. 

I can easily understand why he would observe this. 

After all, Frank Boccia is always searching... for love, for happiness, for gratitude, for validation (mostly from within). And Frank Boccia is at his best, it would seem to some, when he is reaching for all these intangible phenomena. Aren't we all striving to be the best versions of ourselves?

But what happens when we find love? When we become happy? When we feel gratitude and have validation? What then?

 

Two years ago I was struggling. Emotionally and physically. Struggling emotionally because  I was enduring yet another breakup and struggling physically because I had undergone shoulder surgery a year prior. BTW Neither of these afflictions were portrayed via Instagram. 

A friend of mine was raving about a book that changed his life; a book entitled The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer. After much resistance, I decided to read it. I was just tired of hearing about how happy he was, as it so starkly juxtaposed the state I was in. The book opened me up to a lot of things... mostly my own greatness and wholeness. 

 

Little by little I began to unravel in the best way. I began meditating. This was very hard at first.  Meditation is often called the classroom of silence. I began to see it as "needed quiet time with myself." I also began accepting invitations to meetings I normally would not go to. I met an incredible speaker named August Gold who inspired me and in many ways help guide me. Side note: She is also a big fan of The Untethered Soul. 

 

Things just started adding up and making so much sense. 

I felt love. I was happy. And mostly each morning I was grateful. I wasn't searching for these things. I was just feeling them. I surrounded myself with like minded people and the feelings only spread. 

I also slowed down. I literally walked slower. This allowed me to take more in. I saw more faces. Smelled more roses. Smiled more. I began to understand what "slow and steady wins the race" really means. I pictured myself as the tortoise in the race, watching all the hares around me rush to the finish line letting all of the little moments pass them by. 

 

It was around this time that my brother had noticed the change in me. I was calm, inspired, and optimistic. 

 

In January 2014, the start of a new year, I began seeing the word blue a lot. I had produced a cover of Beyonce's song Blue with my talented friend Stephan Durell. I was listening to Into the Blue by Kylie Minogue. And a good friend had reached out describing himself as blue. I remember thinking, "How poetic." Then one Saturday morning I received a text from an old friend Blue Browning. We made plans to catch up over dinner and the rest is history. 

Blue Browning is so many things. 

 

My friend Dezi put it best. "Blue is so handsome that you just don't want to believe he's as nice as he seems." That's exactly how I felt when I first met him years ago. I thought, "This is too good to be true. Something is wrong here." So there's that. Blue is strikingly handsome and kind as well. 

 

He's quick to compliment people. I find this to be a rare quality these days.

 

He's a lover and not a fighter. In two years, he has raised his voice once to me. If you know me, you're thinking two things: 

1) Frank definitely deserved it! 

2) Dealing with you he's only raised his voice once?!!! 

 

He's strong in a way unlike I've ever encountered. I've only seen him cry twice (not that tears make a person weak). We went to a funeral this past summer and as I was introducing myself to one of the grieving family members, I was overcome with emotion and couldn't get the words out of my mouth. Blue quickly stepped in to finish the sentence for me so that I would not burst into tears. I was so grateful. 

 

He is always up for an adventure, whatever it calls for. 

 

He loves music with his whole heart and soul. Blasts it in our house at every chance he gets. 

 

He has never once complained about visiting my family. 

 

 He always has a smile when he comes home from a busy day of work.

 

And he thinks I have "swagger." 

To say I "lucked out" is the ultimate understatement. 

When I look at my life I am in awe. I'm in awe of the blessings I've received. And I'm in awe of the lessons I continue to learn. My friend Bob has this great saying. He says, "We think life is like this: Then he motions his arm up and down. Up and down. But Life is like this: Then he motions his arm ALL OVER THE PLACE. Up. Down. Left. Right. Circle. Circle. Down. Up. Back. Forth." And I think Bob is so right. 

Some of our dreams come true and it's pure bliss. And some of our dreams crumble and it's pure misery. But sometimes there are dreams that we never could've imagined for ourselves. 

It wasn't until I slowed down that I began to really love life. Somewhere in the slowing down process I absorbed more out of my days and the people around me. I began to feel a connectedness. And in this space I found a reflection of that in another person. 

So I'm going to take my brothers advice and sing:

Thank you. 

Thank you. 

Thank you.

Farewell to A Decade of Bar Tending

It's hard to believe that I've been living in NYC for over ten years. It's even harder to believe I've been bar tending for that long.

One decade ago, I followed my college roommates to the Big Apple upon graduating from college in Savannah GA. Even the mention of my beloved Savannah draws me into a reflective tangent: It remains ingrained on my heart and soul as the backdrop of four magical and intense years of self discovery. I'm sure any collegiate experience is such, but if you've ever had the pleasure of visiting the historical city, you know how enchanting it truly is. Anyway back to New York.

At 22 years old I lacked focus. I half heartedly wanted to become an actor. So I followed my friend Cristin to bar tending school. It seemed like the logical step. "I'm an actor. " "What restaurant do you work for?"

Bar tending school was very easy for me. It was basically just a lot of memorization. So after my week of classes, I "graduated" and with my fake resume in hand I was ready to pound the NYC pavement looking for the coveted role as a New York City bar tender. My bar tending instructor recommended that I check out Xes Lounge.

I made my way over to 24th Street on a hot summer day with my fraudulent paperwork that described multiple Hudson Valley restaurant experiences. I was both nervous and confident. I remember meeting my boss Tony on the stairwell beside the newborn bar. The first thing he asked me was, "Are you fast?" With every ounce of my being I wanted to confess, " Listen, I have zero experience... but I'll learn fast and I'll bust my ass for you." Instead I looked him dead in the eyes and replied, " Yes sir."

The rest is history. Colorful, sometimes jubilant and hilarious history. And other times dismal, aggravating, lesson learning history. But history none the less.

Somewhere in the middle of my decade long safari through New York I found a passion for producing videos. I often say I stumbled upon this desire but that is not so. After being in and out of love and two relationships, I found myself twice broken hearted and utterly lost. I had no idea what I wanted in life. The only thing I did know was that I wanted to find something... anything to make me feel whole again.

I called my mom. And I'll never forget the advice she gave me. She said, "Opportunity doesn't always magically appear in front of us. Sometimes we have to take steps into the unknown to find a path worth following." I got off the phone with her that afternoon and thought about that. I really had no clue what I wanted. But I had faith that stepping into the unknown might just be what I needed. Thus, I reached out to a photographer whom I admired and asked if I could intern with him two days a week. His name is Rick Day and he gladly welcomed me on board.

At the same time I was interning with Rick, I also helped another friend Paul backstage of an off broadway show. Six months of still photography and off broadway crew work would not turn out to be my cup of tea. But one day, I picked up my little digital camera and began filming promotions for Xes Lounge. I remember finishing my first video. It was a two minute promo which featured a bunch of the staff. I must have watched it a hundred times. Each time I watched was like the first and that feeling... that high that I experienced while watching was indescribable.

Purpose. I had found and felt purpose.

Certainly we all have purpose. But to FEEL it and to FIND it in the act of doing something you love is the name of this game called life. You can quote me. I think that happiness is paramount, but in my opinion, finding purpose is so important on our individual paths towards bliss.

There was a "problem" here though. The more I delved into this process of video production the harder it became to bar tend. The bar seemed louder. My brain functioned slower and my patience, which I "brilliantly" slapped on my arm as a reminder, dwindled.

If life was black and white, I'd label my first five years bar tending White and the past five Black. Battling my own apathy, unfortunately became a regular function for me. And with that I turned into the stereotype I promised myself a decade ago that I'd never become: THE JADED BAR TENDER. Sure there were moments of fun left, but I'm sorry to say, they were few and far between. While bar tending, my body may have been present, but the hamster running the wheel in my head had certainly left the building... and with him my heart was carried.

Balance has never been easy for me and in a very natural way these shifts in my perception of the bar tending experience nudged me along.

While the battle of "Smile while serving drinks" was going on, there was another war being waged in my mind. The war of "You don't know what you're doing."

The first time I asked for a monetary compensation for my work, I was terrified. I had the great fortune of collaborating with the singer/songwriter Mike Acerbo. He was referred to me by a customer of Xes who had seen some of my promotional videos at the bar. Mike trusted my vision and my talent. He had faith in me despite my own masked insecurities. I'm so grateful.

Thereafter, each video project I took on was very unique. However, they shared one common denominator: FEAR. I don't know if it has to do with my hyper sensitivity but with each project I acquired, the responsibility of "success" grew heavier.

The person I was most afraid to disappoint was me.

Slowly becoming aware of this has helped, but it has yet to cure me of the great expectations I place upon myself.

Failure is a perception.

Giving something everything you have is among the noblest things a human being can do. Choosing to view the outcome as secondary is even nobler. This begs me to ask the question: Was I afraid to fail or succeed?

There are moments when I'm filming or editing when I just can't believe I've created what I've created. It's overwhelming and I'm grateful for each and every person who believed in me along the way.

I'm grateful most of all for taking my mom's advice and searching in the dark. Because once you do find a path and are diligently pursuing passion, those moments when opportunity does actually knock are easier to recognize. One of those moments recently came in the form of a Facebook message from my friend Ben. It read, "I love your work. Are you interested in interviewing with the company I work for?"

Starting Wednesday November 5, I will be the newest addition to the CPXI family. My last day bar tending at Xes Lounge will be Tuesday November 4.

As I close one chapter of my life, I reflect on all the possibility surrounding us living in this country. There are certainly people much less fortunate without the luxuries I've chronicled in this post.
Thus I am grateful for every step along this journey that is my life.

Thank you to my second family:

the Staff of Xes Lounge (past and present) for your constant support and guidance

and

the Customers of Xes Lounge for above all else...

championing me.

Finishing the hat...

I believe it was during my first year of college when I saw "Sunday in the Park With George." My college had produced it the previous year and was resurrecting it for some theatre festival that I can't recall the name of. I sat, a wide eyed freshman, a new member of the theatre program (quite a detour from the initial comic book artist trajectory) watching the first dress rehearsal.
I hated it.
Stephen Sondheim's music was so juxtaposed to my limited knowledge of what musical theatre was. I found the music awkward... much like the first time you listen to a cd by your favorite artist and you have great expectations that aren't met.However, I was intrigued. And much like a cd you've only listened to once, it only got better the second time I watched/ listened. By the third run through of the show, I was smitten. The music certainly grew on me but more than that the storyline is what captured my heart. The story of a woman in love with an artist on the verge of greatness and her inability to reach him.

My entire childhood up through college, I was known as "the artist". It was common to hear praise of my talent... With out really understanding how lucky I was. Ironically college was such a blossoming of other aspects of who I am that some how my passions all seemed to shift. By the time I had graduated, I was more hell bent on falling in love than anything.
I moved to NYC in 2004... With a half assed notion that I was going to be an actor. The only problem was that my excitement and passion ONCE AGAIN outgrew my talent. And with out drive... Well any one knows how that goes.
I did however finally fall in love.
And out.
And in again.
And out again.
And then, as I've said before, I took time to reintroduce myself TO MYSELF and my passions. And I rediscovered that title that had been bestowed to me since... Birth.

 "Artist." 

 I had stumbled upon a love of filmography and editing and story telling and conceptualizing and styling and writing and making music. And these things all went together for me.It was invigorating and fresh and exciting. It was fulfilling in ways I had long forgotten. I was happy and beyond that, I was the source of my own happiness.

And much like the Byrds sang, " To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn."

So as the inspiration began to fade... I promised myself to remain focused and hold tight to being THE ARTIST. More specifically I promised myself "no dating" for a while. Surely dating any one would through me off course once again. And I didn't want that to happen.

And that's the funny thing about life.

It was April. They say April Showers bring May flowers. And the events in my life at the time were certainly bringing a fair share of "showers". So I was feeling particularly vulnerable on one Thursday night while getting ready to close the bar. And in walked opportunity.
He was beautiful. He seemed shy. I instantly adored him.

The major problem was this: I had convinced myself that I was not only not ready to be in a relationship again, but being in a relationship would set me back... Weaken the resurrected artist inside of me.
I battled my feelings and over thought everything.
For months.

It wasn't even until the summer that I felt sure of the healthiness of the relationship I was forming. On July 2, 2012 I asked Michael to be my boyfriend. 

Michael seemed to make my life so much happier. With him in it, I was better off. At the time my arm was in a sling and Michael was a huge help in many ways. One seemingly small way was that he was able to wash places I couldn't reach. Looking back, that's a perfect metaphor for the work he was doing on my heart. It was as if he was washing away all the soot and tire marks that existed supperficially. 

And that's the thing about relationships. You scrub away at each other's barriers... that exist whether you are aware of not.

AND SUDDENLY YOU STRIKE THE BOTTOM. And there it is. The heart. Exposed. And at first it's beautiful. But when you expose your heart you leave it susceptible to any and everything.
The first time we argued... Really argued... Was awful. It reminded me of everything I didn't want to become. I remember holding onto anger for much longer than I needed to.
Any one who has been in a relationship knows what it's like to hit a patch of bumps where neither person seems to be winning. It's awful. It's daunting. It's frustrating. And more than anything... it's tiring.
Opportunity is all around us. Rarely do we seize the full potential of it. I'll speak for me alone. Rarely do I seize the full potential... take the high road... gaze optimistically.

Looking back at all the opportunities I've taken and missed out on.... the greatest remains the opportunity to fall in love. 

To love is to risk. To risk is to expose to loss or damage. 

It can get ugly when you get to the bottom of a heart. And when fear and exhaustion creep in... it can get even uglier. Being in love with some one is like holding a mirror up to yourself. And sometimes you don't much like what you see. 

This week, I didn't much care for my reflection. 

I was an asshole. 

"Sunday in the Park With George" is the tale of an artist who goes unreached. 

My story is one in which the artist realizes that love is the only thing that made any of the opportunities... large and small... captured or otherwise... worthwhile. 

Michael: Thank you for reaching the places I missed. 

#

I started a video blog months ago which was intended to chronicle my shoulder surgery. Unfortunately recovery wasn't everything I hoped it would be. As my surgeon recently explained to me, my expectations were completely unrealistic.

In the past six months, I have made several attempts at explaining my rehabilitation. Anger and frustration surfaced with each reflection. The simple truth is that I just wanted to be back to normal. I wanted to be back in shape, feeling healthy, happy, strong, and fulfilled. More often than not, I felt tired, cranky, bored, and utterly weak. And since I placed myself esteem in the hands of my reflection my self worth diminished.

I think that miracles happen every second of every day. You have to keep your eyes and heart open to them though because if they go unacknowledged life quickly becomes dull.

Today I rode to the end of Long Beach Island with my boyfriend. It was so peaceful and quiet. We talked about what amenities a vacation house would need if we ever had the money.

As I rode, I became aware of the peace that existed along the ride. And I became aware of the     pleasure that Michael's presence brought to me.

I'm stating the obvious here but the kid with the "patience" tattoo has NO PATIENCE. And over the last six months I selfishly wanted to be anywhere other than where I was.

Today there is no place on earth that I want to be other than where I am. I just wanted to take a moment to be grateful and acknowledge all the events that brought me here because I feel very lucky.

The Position of Success

A few weeks ago I dreamed that I was chatting with a group of intellectuals from the past. I remember the colors of the dream were so vibrant: hues of gold and blue. I also remember liking these gentlemen very much. One of them shared with me a few words of wisdom. In the dream, it took me a few moments to process what he said. When I awoke, it took me about ten minutes to remember his words. After pacing up and down my hallway at 3 am the words finally appeared to me:

"The position of success is not always defined by the success of your position."

What an interesting way the universe has of reminding us the things we need to be reminded about.

I had shoulder surgery over a month ago. I had, what felt like, too much time on my hands. My body felt weak and my mind felt utterly unfocused. Thoughts of "What if" inundated my mind. More often than not... the thoughts were of failure. Fear seemed to permeate much of what I thought about. And overall I just felt sorry for myself... WHICH I HATE.

It's very easy to get lost down a path where you forget who you are.

And then one day you're reminded again.

I sat yesterday in Los Angeles waiting for a bus to Santa Monica. I waited for over an hour. For some reason the time passed quickly... maybe in part because it was such a beautiful day outside. I sat thinking about my life: about my current position. I thought about my dream and the wise words of the intellectuals.

A year ago if you had told me I would be staying in a luxury hotel in Santa Monica because I was filming a charity event on the Santa Monica Pier I would have... I guess I would have been surprised. Perhaps not that surprised, as I was devoting most of my time to exploring the world of video.

None the less, it's funny the positions we wind up in.

Days before coming to The West Coast for the first time in my life (aside from a pit stop at the airport on my way to Australia) I found myself walking on the Highline in NYC. As I descended the stairs, my friend looked into the window of this giant gallery space. He asked if I wanted to check it out. I was hesitant but something inside of me said, "You have nothing to lose."

Inside the gallery, there were massive dramatic paintings with animal sculls and children yelling. There was poetry ingrained in each painting. The poems were in brail and displayed to the left of each work for those of us who could not read them.

Towards the far corner of the gallery there existed a room with only the brail poems displayed on canvases. They were spattered with fingerprints from all of the people reading them. My favorite was entitled "The Edge". Here's what it said:


On the edge of happiness I discovered freedom first. Encouraged to Flourish.


As I walked out I caught the artist's name. Roy Nachum. The Exhibit was entitled "Open your eyes."

Open your eyes.

TMI Episode 3

TMI Episode 2