Day 31 of the Whole 30: Coming out the other side

So I did it. I'm on Day 31 of my Whole 30, a quest to eat whole, nutrient-dense foods and nothing else for 30 days. I could go right back to eating and drinking the way I was before, but I don't think that's going to happen.

I learned about the Whole 30 totally by chance, from Instagram of all places. I'd been looking for some way to cleanse my body, but I was apprehensive about doing a shorter juice cleanse or something like it. The Whole 30 seemed more holistic in its approach, and I liked that just reading about it had taught me some things.

I had been feeling bloated for months, experiencing on and off abdominal cramping, and struggling with a general tiredness all the time. My sleeping patterns were erratic, and my mood was generally not great. I also sensed that I'd lost some control of what I was putting into my body. At the end of a long academic year, I realized that I was coming home every night and mixing myself a cocktail. One cocktail, but a cocktail nonetheless. Not a big deal, but I wasn't happy with the habit.

The last 30 days have taught me a lot about my food and drink choices. First off, I was and probably still am addicted to carbohydrates. As a runner, I've been using carbohydrates as my primary source of fueling for runs with just a little bit of protein and fat. That has changed over the past four weeks. It took a bit of effort to figure out the fueling, but I think I've finally got it down, at least for shorter runs. Protein and some fat are key for me, and I've been adding some complex carbs, like roasted or sautéed sweet potatoes to give me a little boost.

When I first committed to the Whole 30, the list of things I couldn't eat felt totally overwhelming:

No dairy
No alcohol
No sugar
No processed foods
No grains
No legumes

I can eat vegetables, fruits, meat, most nuts, eggs. I have to read labels carefully because there's sugar in everything. Like most beef broths at Whole Foods. What? Yes. Added sugar is everywhere. Same with grains. Filler in so many things.

I've been having regular dreams about messing up. I dream that I start eating a slice of pizza and then spit it out because I realize that I shouldn't be eating it. In one dream I was eating greens with white crumbles, realized those were feta, and promptly freaked out.

At first I thought the dreams were kind of funny, but as they've continued and I've continued with the Whole 30, I realize that the dreams reveal something very important. The carbohydrate addiction runs deep. The pizza dream is recurring. Those simple carbs represent a whole lot more than calories for me, and I am continuing to work to understand why. I've missed the social aspect of alcohol, but not really the alcohol itself. I've not missed dairy very much at all, although I have an occasional overwhelming urge for soft-serv.  But it's the grains: the bread, the pasta, the pretzels. Oy, the pretzels. I can't believe how powerful they are for me. It's going to be a continual process to maintain some semblance of order.

And I'm going to continue. The benefits of eating this way have been significant enough over 30 days for me to want to continue to the best of my ability. The recurring random puffiness around my eyes is gone. They would essentially blister on my bottom eye lids, and no doctor could explain why. Gone. My moods have leveled off significantly. I'm not skipping down the street singing "The hills are alive...," but I definitely feel less low, less erratic. My acid reflux is not entirely gone, but it's significantly better. I think it's connected to coffee. I kind of knew that already, but it's becoming more and more apparent. I'm also sleeping much better, other than the panicked pizza dreams. And finally, I think my general body temperature is down. I've barely run my AC so far this year, and usually I'm hot and bothered and can't sleep in the heat.

This next phase is about learning what all the foods on the "no" list actually do to my body and mind if I eat them. So I'm a little bit of a walking science experiment for a few weeks. I'm curious about what might happen, while also trying to control my anxiety about what might happen. All I know is that feeling lighter and knowing that my midsection is 2.5" smaller than it was when I started, along with all of the other feelings I'm experiencing offers me plenty of encouragement to keep going. I did not do this to lose weight, and I haven't weighed myself. I don't have a scale, and I won't have access to one until Tuesday. Good riddance.  It's not such an accurate measure anyway.

Food is really powerful. I knew this, but I needed a reminder. The Whole 30 has been and continues to be a great experience for me and a useful way of understanding my relationship with food.

Pride reflected; pride refracted

My watch just vibrated, and I looked down to see that the Stonewall Inn just officially became a national monument, the first LGBT one of its kind in the United States. And I find myself very moved by that.

On Saturday my partner and I ran the Front Runners New York LGBT Pride Run, a 5-mile race in Central Park. I fought back tears as the announcers asked us to think about Orlando and to run for those lost. As we waited in our starting coral together, my partner looked behind us and said, "Look at all the people." I turned around and there were hundreds of people, a sea of people. I looked later at the race statistics. Over 5000 people ran that race on Saturday.  It didn't matter that it was a so-called "gay race."  What mattered was a community of runners enjoying a beautiful Saturday morning, celebrating and remembering. I found myself very moved by that.

Yesterday, New York City's Pride Parade drew thousands of people and went on for nine hours. I don't attend parades, as I express my pride in other ways. That said, as I read the New York Times updates about the parade throughout the day, I felt full of gratitude that I had found a place to live and work that feels safe and accepting and even, dare I say, celebratory of who I am and how I live my life. And as I write this on the subway, riding to my home, I feel very moved by that.

Yesterday, I also saw many examples of what I assume were heterosexually identified people wearing rainbows, waving flags, standing in solidarity with friends or strangers, declaring their support, their comfort, with the celebrations of same-sex relationships and myriad gender expressions. At first I wondered about their intentions, about how the majority always loves to appropriate the margin, but upon further reflection and softening, again I felt gratitude and awe at how the world has changed.

Thirty years ago all I wanted was for people to stop thinking I was gay. I wanted to be "normal" and left alone. Now, some people have a better understanding of what it all means, that being different is not catastrophic or threatening. Others still see it as damning, disruptive, life-threatening, even unpatriotic given some current legislative agendas. Which means that the pride reflected yesterday somehow gets refracted within other contexts. And that refraction, that bending of humanity that leads to distortion and then to fear, constantly reminds me of my privilege and that others haven't had the same luxuries that I've had. Haven't had the support of family and friends, haven't found the warm embrace of a partner, haven't been able to move to a place where they feel safe or comforted or accepted. Haven't been able to step outside of their fear and feel fully actualized. Seen. Heard.

And
I
find
myself
moved
to
sadness
by
that.

A short play: Aftermath or Before the Parade Passes By

Inspired by the events of June 12, 2016 in Orlando, Florida

For Sloan, Jacob, Anthony, Audrey, and Tyler

(It is the morning of Sunday, June 26, 2016, about 11:30am. In the darkness, the sound of a buzzer, the kind that rings when a person needs to get buzzed into a New York apartment building. It buzzes three times as the lights come up to reveal a modest living room with a couch, and armchair, and a coffee table. The front door of the apartment is upstage left of center. MARTHA, a woman in her early forties, wearing shorts and a t-shirt that says “We Are Fa-mi-lee”, enters from another part of the apartment and hits the button that opens the front door of the building. She holds it for a long time, and the sound of the door opening and closing comes through the speaker. She calls towards stage right.)

MARTHA
JASON! THEY’RE HERE! . . . C’MON!

(There’s no response. She looks at her watch.)

MARTHA
JASON, WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!

(Nothing. She goes to her purse and takes out her phone and keys and wallet. Then there’s a knock at the door. She goes to it.)

MARTHA
JASON, LET’S GO!

JASON (offstage)
We’re not going!

MARTHA
Shit…

(Another knock at the door.)

MARTHA
Coming!

(Martha opens the door and her brother MARK strides in wearing Gay Pride paraphernalia, suitable for a 46-year-old who imagines he’s still 33 years old. Mark is not a caricature of himself, but he likes to celebrate Gay Pride.)

MARK
What’s going on? We’re gonna miss the beginning!

MARTHA
I’m sorry, Mark. He won’t come out of his room.

MARK
Why not?

MARTHA
I don’t know. Where’s Steve?

MARK
I told him to wait downstairs.

MARTHA
Is he alright?

MARK
He’s fine. We’re fine.

MARTHA
Maybe you two should just go on ahead.

MARK
Nope, we’ve been doing this together for the last four years. 

MARTHA
But I think he’s upset.

MARK
About what?

MARTHA
I don’t know.

MARK
Martha?

MARTHA
I don’t know.

MARK
No, you do know. I know you know because you only say that you “don’t” know something when you’re lying.

MARTHA
What?

MARK
Your diction gets way better when you lie, Mart. That’s how Mom and Dad always knew when you were lying about sneaking out to meet up with Pete Newton. When you really don’t know something, you say, “I dunno.” 

MARTHA
You’re ridiculous!

MARK
Why is he upset?

MARTHA
I don’t—dunno.

MARK
See? What happened?

MARTHA
Nothing happened. I was making him eggs and we were listening to NPR like we always do on Sunday mornings. He was playing games on his iPad, and the next thing I know, he’s running from the table and his door slammed.  I don’t know what happened.

MARK
What was on NPR?

MARTHA
Just the news.

MARK
What time was it? 

MARTHA
Like 9:30 or so?

MARK (realizing something)
We had it on too.

MARTHA
What are you saying?  What?

(Mark looks towards the direction of Jason’s room, which is stage right.)

MARK
JASON? IT’S UNCLE MARK. UNCLE STEVE’S DOWNSTAIRS WAITING. ARE YOU READY?

JASON (offstage)
We’re not going!

MARK
WHY NOT?

(There’s no response.)

MARK
JASON? . . . WHY NOT?

JASON (offstage)
Because…

MARK
JASON, THAT MAY WORK WITH YOUR MOM, BUT IT’S NOT GOING TO WORK WITH ME. GET OUT HERE NOW, SO WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS.

MARTHA
I’m telling you, you guys should just go on. He’s been in a bad mood all week. It’s not going to be like it usually is.

MARK
I’m not going anywhere until he tells me what’s wrong.

MARTHA
Well, at least stop yelling at him. That’s what his father does all the time. He hates it.

MARK
JASON, THIS IS NOT YOUR FATHER.  IT’S UNCLE MARK.

JASON (offstage)
I know!

MARK
THEN GET OUT HERE AND TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG.

(There’s no response. Then after a moment, JASON enters from stage left. He’s wearing a rainbow t-shirt that says, “My Uncles ROCK”, baggy shorts, and Converse sneakers. He’s a typical 12-year-old boy.)

MARK
Nice t-shirt. 

JASON
Thanks. It still fits from last year.

MARK
Yeah, it’s a little tight, but you’ll blend right in at the parade. What’s the hold up, kiddo?

JASON
We’re not going.

MARK
Who’s “we”? 

JASON
Us. None of us should go.

MARK
Why not?

JASON
Because I don’t think we should go this year.

MARK
But we go every year. Why wouldn’t we go?

JASON
I just don’t think we should. Especially you and Uncle Steve.

MARK
Well, kiddo, Uncle Steve hasn’t missed a New York City Gay Pride Parade in 22 years, since his first summer after NYU, so that’s not gonna happen.

(Jason is silent. Mark looks at Martha.)

MARTHA
Honey, what’s wrong? Why don’t you want to go?

JASON
It’s not that I don’t wanna go. I just don’t think we should go.

MARTHA
Why?

(Jason looks at his mother and at his uncle. He’s not sure how to say it.)

MARK
Jason?

JASON
I’m . . .  I’m a- . . . (He trails off, not able to finish the thought.)

MARTHA
What, Jason?  You’re what?

JASON
I’M AFRAID, OK?  I’M AFRAID!

(Jason starts to run back to his room, but Mark heads him off.)

MARK
Jason?  Hold it! What are you afraid of?

(Jason tries to avoid his uncle’s question and his gaze. Mark won’t let him.)

MARK
Jason?

JASON
I’m afraid something bad is going to happen, OK? I’m afraid something’s going to happen while we’re there. 

MARTHA
Jason, sweetheart, nothing bad’s going to happen.

JASON
How do you know?

MARK
Because it’s Gay Pride in New York City, kiddo! Nothing bad’s going to happen at Gay Pride.

JASON
That’s not what they’re saying on NPR. They said that there’re police all over the place and people with guns on buildings just in case and then I looked on the internet and the Mayor is saying that everybody needs to be careful and that it’s dangerous right now and we need to—

MARK
Kiddo, politicians have to say those things to cover their asses. But that doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.

MARTHA
Jason, Uncle Mark is right. We talked about this last week. People are being extra careful, and that’s just what happens when—

JASON
Nobody thought anything bad was going to happen in that bar and look what happened. (There’s no response.) Right? (Nothing.) See! That’s why we shouldn’t go.

(Martha and Mark don’t have a response for any of this. A long silence. Mark finally breaks it.)

MARK
Look, kiddo, that was just—

JASON
And Uncle Steve’s friend got shot.

MARK (to Martha)
Jesus, Mart, why did you tell him that? I told you not—

MARTHA
He heard me on the phone with Steve, and he thought something happened to you. I had to tell him to calm him down.

(Mark looks at Jason for a moment.)

MARK
Jason, Uncle Steve’s friend is recovering at home. He’s going to be OK.

JASON
But what if it happens again?

MARTHA
Honey, c’mon—

JASON
What if it happens here?

MARK
Kiddo, I can’t promise—

JASON
What if something happens to you? What am I gonna do?

(Jason’s words land hard for Mark. It’s not an easy question to answer. Mark collects himself and faces Jason head on.)

MARK
Jason, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Nothing bad is going to happen at the parade today and noth—

JASON
How do you know that?

MARK
Let me finish. Nothing bad is going to happen at the parade today, and nothing bad is going to happen to me.

JASON
But what if—

MARK
And even if something bad did happen, there’s absolutely nothing we can do to stop it. Do you understand me? If somebody wants to do something bad to people today, us not going to the parade isn’t going to stop that.

JASON
But then we wouldn’t get hurt. You and Uncle Steve won’t get hurt.

MARK
Sure, OK. We won’t get physically hurt, but we’ll suffer the consequences of your Uncle Steve breaking his 22-year parade attendance streak. Trust me, that won’t be pretty.

JASON
So he’ll risk his life to go to some dumb parade?

MARK
“Dumb parade?” Whoahoho! OK, when did it suddenly become “some dumb parade?”

JASON
You know what I mean.

MARK
No, I don’t know what you mean. It’s not some dumb parade, kiddo. Lots of people fought long and hard for that parade to happen, and just because it’s been going on since before you were born and that you have two cool uncles and a kinda cool mom who bring you each year doesn’t mean you should take it for granted.

MARTHA
Mark, don’t lecture him.

MARK
I’m not lecturing. I’m making a point.

JASON
You’re kinda lecturing.

MARK
OK. Sorry. But do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?

JASON
Sorta…?

MARTHA
Honey, we can’t avoid the things we’re afraid of by hiding from them.

MARK
Smart girl, your mom. Shitty liar, but a smart girl.

MARTHA
Mark?!?

MARK (ignoring his sister)
The point is, you can’t let what happened in Orlando scare you, Jason. It happened and we can’t change it. (Jason turns away from his uncle. Mark tries again.) Look, I understand. I cried all morning that Sunday because I was really sad and really scared. Every time we checked the news, it just got worse. More people dead and more people injured . . . . Your Uncle Steve got the call about Manny at 9:30 that morning, and we were a mess until his husband called and told us that he was out of surgery and alive. As I watched the news that week after and learned about all of those people who died, how much they were loved by their family and friends, I realized that being scared of something happening again and letting that change how I was living my life would be wrong. We need to live as big as we can right now. If we change, then we’re giving in and doing exactly what the violent people want us to do.

JASON
But that’s really easy to say.

MARK
None of that’s easy to say, kiddo. Every morning when I get on the subway or walk through Times Square or catch a train at Penn Station and see those cops with the weapons and the dogs and the body armor, I have to remind myself that it’s all going to be OK. But I refuse to let my fear stop me. (Jason is still not convinced. Mark has another idea.) It’s kinda like when you wanted to ride that roller coaster a couple of summers ago.

JASON
How so?

MARK
Well, if I remember correctly, you were pretty scared about—

JASON
I was not scared!

MARTHA
Jason, you were so!

JASON
I was nervous, Mom! There’s a difference.

MARK
Either way, once you were on the ride, what happened?

JASON
I really liked it?

MARK
Right. And thinking back now, was there really anything to be scared of? Or I mean, “nervous” about? 

JASON
Not really.

MARK
So, can you think about the parade in the same way? Maybe we’re a little nervous, but we’ll fasten our seatbelts and lock down our shoulder harnesses and see what happens?

(Mark and Martha look to Jason for an answer. Jason is still not so sure. Suddenly, Mark’s cell phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket and looks at the screen.)

MARK
It’s Uncle Steve. We gotta go. You know he likes to be right up against the barricades.

(Jason doesn’t move. The phone continues to ring.)

MARTHA
Sweetie?

(Still nothing from Jason.)

MARK
So, whaddya say?

(Jason looks at his mom and then at his uncle and then runs to him, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. Mark is overwhelmed by the show of affection from his nephew, and he returns the hug just as hard, as the phone continues to ring and the lights fade. End of play.)

Thoughts on Orlando

The tragic massacre in Orlando, Florida, on Sunday, June 12, has left me feeling broken, helpless, and hopeless. I don't have very much to say that's original beyond what's been said over the past three days, but here's where I stand in this moment:

1. Why are people acting surprised and shocked by this event? It will happen again and again and again. Stop living in some Fantasyland. The United States is an open society with a 2nd Amendment that protects purchasing, owning, and using high-powered, semi-automatic assault weapons. I'm told that there are policies and laws that are supposed to prevent people from gaining access to those weapons, but those policies and laws aren't always followed "to the letter." The NYPD finds all sorts of reasons to enforce laws about public urination or selling marijuana, and then we throw repeat offenders who break those laws into jail.  Where are the law enforcement officials throughout the country who are supposed to uphold these gun licensing policies and laws that I'm told will accurately and effectively screen people before purchasing a high-powered, semi-automatic weapon?

2. I am not afraid of "radical Jihadists." I am afraid of "radicalized Christians," like the man who preached on Sunday morning in California, telling his parishioners that the world was a safer place because 50 pedophiles were now dead. That is America, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry to burst the Disney-fied bubble that people like to live in, but that's the reality. And I challenge you to stand in my shoes as a gay man and try and get excited about living in a country and waving a red, white, and blue flag where that kind of rhetoric exists. I hope as you proudly hung your American flags out yesterday for Flag Day that you also took a moment to ponder how we collectively protect and even embrace an American mindset that seems to have partially led to the events on Sunday morning. Don't blame it on "Radical Islam." That's an easy out to cover over anti-gay hatred in this country that's been present far before any Muslim set foot on American soil. Religious zealotry is in the American DNA, all the way back to the Puritans, so if we really want to be Americans, we need to own all of our history, not just the parts that make us feel good on Memorial Day or Flag Day or Independence Day.

3. The Oxford English Dictionary defines "terrorism" as follows:

"The unofficial or unauthorized use of violence and intimidation in the pursuit of political aims; (originally) such practices used by a government or ruling group (freq. through paramilitary or informal armed groups) in order to maintain its control over a population; (now usually) such practices used by a clandestine or expatriate organization as a means of furthering its aims."

And a second definition:

"In extended or weakened use: the instilling of fear or terror; intimidation, coercion, bullying."

The verbal intimidation, coercion, and bullying tactics of Donald Trump and many of the other Republican leaders in this country amount to verbal terrorism based on the definition outlined above. Domestic terrorism used to control people who are afraid of others who are different from them. In the same way that ISIS is rallying people using social media, Donald Trump is doing the same thing in his public rallies and on his Twitter account. IT IS THE SAME THING AND WILL LEAD TO ANOTHER ACT OF DOMESTIC TERRORISM. It already has. Many, many times. Oklahoma City and Charleston are just two examples. "Oh, but those don't count because those guys were White." It makes me sick to even think that someone would say that, but I know that's the excuse that many Americans use and believe.

Words encourage and empower people to do things. We are beyond "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." That little adage died an ugly death in the halls of Columbine High School a long time ago. What people say matters. And what our leaders say matters even more. The United States of America is an embarrassment right now.

Thinking about the fringe...

So today I had the opportunity to be interviewed for a documentary film about the New York International Fringe Festival, also known as FringeNYC. The project is being spearheaded by filmmaker Frank Kuzler, who has been gathering footage and interviews from FringeNYC since 2006. As the festival is in its 20th year, the plan is to continue documenting this year's festival happening in August, and then the hope is for a release at some point in 2017. It's also exciting to note that I will have my fourth show at FringeNYC this year, when Jenny Macdonald premieres her solo show ENTHRONED, which I was lucky enough to develop with her and direct over the past year. Stay tuned for more about that in coming weeks!

Frank asked some great questions about what it means to be at "the fringe" or margins of society and how "the fringe" can influence mainstream culture. Not always easy to answer, but I gave it a shot. It's interesting to consider how frequently the mainstream can be affected by the margins, how the center can be pushed one way or the other by the so called "fringe." We're seeing it play out in our national political arena right now, where perceived "fringe" movements have attracted a whole lot of support. I often think of "fringe" in only quantitative ways, like as in smaller numbers, but that's not necessarily the case at all.

The conversation about the meaning of "fringe" came at a great moment. It helped me to clarify many of the thoughts that have been running through my head over the past few days. It also reminded me to reflect on the importance of community when making working in the theatre. I make performances because I like working with other people. In fact, I need to work with other people. An applied psychologist colleague once told me that I'm "such a relational guy." She's right. I don't know how else to be.

PS: I'm through 7 days of the Whole30, and I feel remarkably well. A little hungry at times, but I'm starting to understand where that hunger actually lives--in my head, most of the time. I feel less bloated, I'm eating lots of great food, and I feel way more in control of what, when, and how I'm eating. And that translates into feeling control in other areas as well. If nothing else, the Whole30 is teaching me about my relationship to food in a very powerful and noticeable way.