Day #100: Thankful

Although I passed Day #100 awhile back, it only seemed appropriate to end this blog on Thanksgiving.

I'll admit, I'm not always a pro when it comes to nailing the ending, but I think this time I got it.

What have I learned after one hundred days of being nice?

It's impossible.

That's right, you heard me, being nice is impossible.

Clearing your head of mean thoughts, refraining from gossiping, never losing your temper, and managing to smile constantly is downright impossible.

At least, for me it is.

I have days when I am a downright jerk, moments where I'm the farthest I can be from the kind of person I want others to see me as, and interactions with people where I'm nothing but cruel.

But after spending more than three months fighting all that with everything I had, I have figured something out:

Nobody changes in one hundred days.

You can blog about it, monologue about it, or make witty videos about it, but the truth is, change takes a lot longer than three months.

When I was younger, I thought "a nice person" was something you grew up to be, like a job--like an astronaut or a zookeeper.

I started this project with that same ridiculous idea. That I could immerse myself in niceness and come out a saint.

It doesn't work that way.

I'm still a work in progress...

...But I made progress.

Some really good progress, I think.

I'm a little bit more patient.
I'm a little bit less nasty.
I understand a little bit more about myself and others.

And mostly, I'm a lot more thankful.

That's why I wanted to end the blog on Thanksgiving.

Because the main thing I learned was that I have an awful lot of people who put up with me whether I'm a sweetheart or a tyrant or a whiner or an angel or just...me.

I have people in my life who are willing to let me progress and mess up and start all over again.

And for that, I'm thankful.

Nicer? Maybe.

But definitely thankful.

Day #99: Almost There

The last time I came close to finishing a blog challenge, I was...not thrilled.

I started a dating blog, and by the time I was done, I'd lost a good friend, a boyfriend, and the confidence that I'd ever be able to finish anything again.

Being a writer, I worried about the ending. I wanted a really good ending.

Unfortunately, when you blog about real life, you can't always guarantee a good ending. Instead, you have to take the ending and present it in an honest light.

If you learn something from it, that helps too.

The problem with the last blog is that I didn't really learn anything at the end of it. I got my ending too late.

I was determined not to let that happen this time.

And I think, at least as far as that's concerned--

I succeeded.

Day #98: One Nice Thing

My one nice thing?

Posting on a friend's wall that I wouldn't know what to do without them.

Remember, one stone can make a lot of ripples.

Day #97: Today

Today something gelled--or clicked--or whatever you want to call it.

Today I made a decision. A nice decision. But it was also a hard decision. And very much an adult decision.

Today I felt like I did the right thing, and it sucked.

And it sucked BECAUSE it was the right thing.

And it wasn't anyone's fault that it sucked or that I was in that position or that I had to make that choice.

It was the right thing to do, the nice thing to do, it sucked, and I did it.

And I guess I could have been proud of myself except for that whole I wanted to punch a hole in the wall feeling.

Sometimes I feel like it's not enough that you're nice. Sometimes I feel like the world makes it hard for you to be nice, because being able to know that you're a nice person is a reward in and of itself, and so of course, you should have to work for it.

Well, today, I worked for it.

I really did.

Day #96: Pay Attention

It's funny, but I think one thing I've become good at over the past ninety-six days is paying attention to people.

I used to just sort of gloss over everybody and wait for somebody more interesting to show up, but now I try to focus on the person I'm with at the moment, and I have actually noticed a change.

Funny that I never thought of it before considering my biggest annoyance is when someone starts talking to me and then lets their eyes wander off in other directions.

Everybody just wants to know that what they have to say has value.

Sometimes the nicest thing you can do for someone is just give them your time.

Day #95: Somebody Hated Audrey Hepburn

If I could have one super ability in the world, it would be to feel unaffected when people don't like me.

Instead, I dwell on it. I focus, and concentrate, and drive myself nuts thinking about the people who don't like me.

I tell myself to appreciate the people who do, but then I'll find out that someone's mad at me or finds me annoying or whatever, and I just zone in on it.

The funny thing is that most of the time when I'm not being nice, it's because I'm trying to put up this "I don't really care" attitude when in fact, I'm miserable.

Sometimes I wonder if it would make a difference.

What if I just erected a billboard that says--

"It bothers me when you don't like me. Love me. I'm a vulnerable soul."

Somebody would probably draw a mustache on it.

It would probably be my grandmother, telling me to get over it.

"Somebody hated Audrey Hepburn."
"Grandma, nobody hated Audrey Hepburn. More people hated Jesus than Audrey Hepburn."
"People hated Audrey Hepburn, and she was still Audrey Hepburn. She didn't stay up all night worrying about those assholes. She just went on being Audrey Hepburn. If she had wasted her time worrying, she wouldn't have BEEN Audrey Hepburn. That's what you need to do. Just be Kevin Broccoli. Let the assholes take it or leave it."

Let the assholes take it?

I'm going to leave that one alone.

But I will say this--

My grandma might be onto something.

Day #94: Testing, Testing 1...2...3...

This might be what you call "final exam time."

I have to see how nice I can be in situations that would normally beg for me to be a catty bitch.

So, I gathered a group of friends together so they could read me some of the most infuriating literature on Earth.

Namely, Facebook statuses.

Relationships

BRIAN: Okay, this one is from some girl named Carly.
ME: I don't know a Carly.
BRIAN: You're friends with her on Facebook.
ME: That means nothing, but continue.
BRIAN: 'So in love with my boyfriend. Happy One Month, Baby!'
ME: She thinks she's in love with him after one month?
BRIAN: Yup.
ME: Um...you know, she's probably young, and--
BRIAN: She's twenty-five.
ME: Some people fall in love quickly.
BRIAN: She was in a relationship with someone else last month.
ME: I'm glad she's happy.
BRIAN: A+, moving on.

Politics

NICK: This is from a guy named Chris.
ME: Shoot.
NICK: 'Sooo happy the Republicans have the House. Things are going to be great again!'
ME: Okay, well, everyone's entitled to their own political beliefs.
NICK: One of his friends commented by saying--'Democrats can suck my--you know.'
ME: I'm not going to indulge in online fighting with people who choose to use that sort of language.
NICK: Chris responded by saying--'Yeah, they can! All Democrats suck anyways.'
ME: Again, not going to get involved.
NICK: Apparently Chris is gay.
ME: WHAT?!?!

Religion

SCOOTER: Some girl named Elise says--'Thank you Jesus for teaching me to love others.'
ME: She sounds like a lovely girl.
SCOOTER: Not finished.
ME: No, of course you're not.
SCOOTER: 'Even gay people, who are so confused.'
ME: She sounds a bit...misguided, but those are her beliefs.
SCOOTER: Then she posted a photo of Christ healing the gays.
ME: Okay, give me the laptop.
SCOOTER: Why?
ME: I just want to...wish her a good day.
SCOOTER: Yeah, I don't think so.
ME: Scooter--
SCOOTER: Kev, you look kind of--
ME: GIVE ME THE STUPID COMPUTER SO I CAN TELL THE WACKO WHERE TO PUT HER HEALING HANDS, YOU JACKASS!

. . . . .

Okay, I still have six more days.

Don't give up yet.

Day #93: One Nice Thing

Without a doubt, the highlight of this project for me was the Ten People Revolution.

Logging onto Facebook and seeing so many people spreading thanks everywhere was awesome.

So what better way to close out my Nice Project than to do it again?

Except this time, we're going to make it even simpler.

One week from today, on Monday, November 8th, I will reach Day #100 of being (or trying to be) nice as chronicled on this blog (http://mrniceguyproject.blogspot.com/)

I want to celebrate by seeing how many people I can get to post one nice thing on somebody's wall.

This doesn't have to be a 'Thank you,' but it would be nice if it were specific.

"You always make me laugh."
"You're brilliant."
"You make really good ham."

Whatever you want, it only has to be one thing on one person's wall.

But trust me, it adds up.

Day #92: Signs I Might Be Getting Nicer

I've noticed a few things that might indicate I'm getting a little bit nicer than I was ninety-two days ago.

1) I get back to people a lot sooner than I used to, and I've finally realized that people don't necessarily mind hearing 'No' as long as you give them a 'No' sooner rather than later.

2) I found myself really appreciating everybody that came to see "The Miss Firecracker Contest" and "Smizing." For the first time, it wasn't just about me wanting to be seen, it was more about realizing that people took the time and spent the money to come see me.

3) My inner monologue more often than not switches over from "I can't believe they did that!" to "Oh, get the hell over it, Broccoli" a lot sooner.

4) I tell my Mom I love her more. I hugged my brother when he was home for the weekend. I didn't correct my Grandmother when she asked me what the "smizzing" show was about.

5) I've been laughing more. It's fantastic.

Little things, but I'm proud of them.

They're like little trophies on a mantle in my mind.

Hopefully I can rack up a few more before next week.

Day #91: Retail Nice

Now that I'm thinking about who I'm going to be after this project is over, I have one very specific idea in mind of what I don't want to be.

Retail nice.

It's what I call people when they smile and seem lovely, but there's something that just...doesn't sit right.

It's the way salespeople are nice to you, and then walk away, and you swear you can hear them mumbling about how much of a moron you are.

There are times when I feel myself doing that--smiling and just waiting until I can walk away.

Well, that's not really nice, isn't it?

If I'm going to continue to try being nice, then I have to be sincere.

Otherwise, what's the point?

Day #90: How Am I Doing?

I decided that with ten days left, I should do a little progress report by asking some of my friends and family whether or not I've actually gotten any nicer over the last ninety days.

Here were the responses:

MOM: You were nice before.
ME: But am I nicer?
MOM: No, not really.
ME: Well, how nice was I before?
MOM: You were...okay.
ME: Okay? So I wasn't that nice.
MOM: You're nice. You're just...you know...
ME: No, I don't. What was I?
MOM: Just...very...opinionated.
ME: That's just a nice way of saying someone is mean.
MOM: Outspoken.
ME: Mean.
MOM: Direct.
ME: Mean.
MOM: You were kind of mean.

. . . . .

BRAD: I'd say you're way nicer.
ME: Aww, thank you, Brad.
BRAD: I hate it.
ME: What? Why?
BRAD: I have nobody to gossip with anymore!
ME: We can talk about other stuff!
BRAD: Are you serious?

. . . . .

GRANDMA: You've always been sweet. You take after me. You got my sweet nature. Now, your mother can be a real bitch.

. . . . .

DAVID: You're not nice. You wouldn't put me in your monologue show.
ME: You wanted to do an impression of the Joker!
DAVID: Oh Kevin, why so serious?
ME: No.
DAVID: Wait, let me say it, then I'll laugh like him. Why sooo serious? Hahaha...
ME: No.
DAVID: And you call that nice?

. . . . .

MOM: Remember when you made that girl at the DMV cry?
ME: We waited two hours and nobody told us we needed the updated insurance! She's lucky I didn't kill her!
MOM: I can still remember her eyes. It was like watching Bambi's mother get shot by the hunter.

. . . . .

BRAD: So can we gossip once this is over?
ME: Brad, I want to become a better person.
BRAD: Do you have to be a better person all the time? Can't you be a bitch on Wednesdays or something?

. . . . .

GRANDMA: Your aunt's not that nice either. She gossips. But then again, that's probably all that medication she's on, but you didn't hear that from me.

. . . . .

DAVID: I can do Goofy.
ME: No.
DAVID: Nixon?
ME: Do you even know who Nixon is?
DAVID: I'm President Nixon. Why sooo serious?
ME: That's the Joker as Nixon.
DAVID: See? I'm putting characters together!

. . . . .

MOM: The guy at the deli, the girl at the supermarket...

. . . . .

GRANDMA: Your uncle's nice, he's just stupid.

. . . . .

BRAD: What if I talk shit and you just agree with me?

. . . . .

DAVID: When I was President, I ordered a hit on...the BATMAN! Hahaha!

. . . . .

Well, at least I know one thing:

My brother is never going to be in one of my monologue shows.

I don't think I'll ever be nice.

Day #89: Nightly Nites

Back when people still used AIM to communicate on a daily basis, I used to have a nightly routine.

I would send a goodnight to everybody on my buddy list.

At first, I took a few digs for it. People thought it was odd if not downright silly.

Then one night I passed out early, and didn't send out any "Nite"s.

The next morning I had fifteen messages from people asking if I was okay.

Apparently people had come to expect my nightly "Nite"s.

Now, Facebook chat has replaced AIM, and it's a little difficult to leave nightly messages on there. The other day I was thinking about my nightly sign-offs, and I realized I miss wishing everybody a goodnight.

It was a way to check in and let people know I was around if they needed me.

A few times people would respond to my "Nite" by asking if they could get something off their chest. Sometimes we just chatted. Sometimes it was a simple "Nite, Kevin" back.

Whatever it was, it felt nice to have that small connection.

Maybe there's an equivalent, and I just haven't found it yet.

Until then, I'll just wish you all goodnight and I hope you know I'm here if you need me.

Day #88: Channel Changing

Today I decided that I need to start taking the energy I put into being mean and channel it somewhere else.

So today instead of being mean or gossiping, I--

- Got my oil changed
- Wrote an Open Call piece for Open Salon
- Cleaned my kitchen and bathroom
- Went to Pikachu with JP and Lady Town
- Rehearsed with Phil for the Smizing Show
- Indulged in my Top Chef: Desserts Obession

And I started putting together the Holiday show at 2nd Story.

There's no better cure for being a bitch than being productive.

Day #87: Pop the Bubble

My mom forbid me to tell my brother that the Easter Bunny wasn't real.

10-YEAR-OLD ME: But he's not! You told me!
MOM: That doesn't mean you're allowed to burst your brother's bubble!

I guess that was the first time I found myself wanting to do it.

I like popping the bubble.

I see that someone likes a movie that wasn't any good, or a book that was lousy, or believes in something I find to be stupid, and I just feel the urge to pop their bubble.

Why? Where does that come from?

I tell myself I'm fighting stupidity, but most of the time, I'm just criticizing people for liking things that are a matter of opinion anyway.

Is it necessary? No.
Should I cut back? Yes.

Granted, Facebook doesn't help. It's a lot easier to avoid crusading for intelligence when stupidity isn't thrust at you in a nice, compressed newsfeed.

That being said, it's not my job to destroy everyone's hopes and dreams.

That's my friend Andrew's job.

I'm just there to like his comments.

Day #86: You're Not Going to Monologue Your Way Out of This One

The title of this post may be the scariest thing I have ever heard:

"You're not going to monologue your way out of this one, Broccoli."

In an effort to be more proactive, I decided that I should start making amends with people I've wronged in the past.

Unfortunately, that would probably take another one hundred days.

So instead, I focused on the one that bothers me the most.

After a series of bad decisions, my friend Evan and I no longer talk, and it's been that way for about a year now.

I never actually outright apologized to Evan, so I figured as soon as I did, I'd be good to go.

(Yup, I actually thought that. Sorry to those of you who considered me a step above caveman.)

Maybe it's because, for the most part, I'm fairly quick to forgive. When you've spent most of your life screwing up, the one virtue you receive is forgiveness.

When Evan didn't respond to my e-mail asking for his forgiveness, I decided to take the advice I posted on here a few days ago and just give him time.

Of course, while I was doing that, I thought I could help things along.

I wrote a post I knew Evan would like called "Every Other Sunday." It had the sort of style and subject matter he responds to.

After I posted it, I sat back and waited for him to come around, because I know he reads most of what I post.

That's when I got the message:

"You're not going to monologue your way out of this one."

It's scary because I fall into that old problem writers, artists, and other people who create anything have:

Sometimes we believe that making art excuses us from having to act like decent human beings.

If you watch the news, you see celebrities behaving badly all the time and receive forgiveness as soon as their next movie hits number one or they make one witty talk show appearance.

So you learn to believe that you can just be an ass when you feel like it as long as you paint something really pretty the next day.

And it doesn't always work that way. Maybe it shouldn't ever work that way.

I guess there's no monologue good enough to fix what you've done when you hurt somebody.

Day #85: There's Nothing Wrong with a Good Confrontation

So I've weaved back and forth on confrontations.

Here's my final decision--provided I don't come to a new final decision in fifteen days:

There's nothing wrong with a good confrontation.

Provided I stick to the subject and not get personal, a confrontation may actually be better than the alternative.

I'm saying this because I find that when I want to confront somebody about something, and I back down due to a fear of confrontation, I end up talking about them behind their back, which leads to them finding out, and us having a much more heated confrontation anyway.

When I just address the problem right away, it's usually a lot easier.

It's funny that when I started this project I was worried about being a doormat, and now I think I'm less of a doormat then when I began.

Talking behind people's backs doesn't make you a doormat, but it certainly doesn't make you all that honorable either.

At least now, when I have a problem, I speak up--while trying to remember to stay calm and keep to the point.

Aside from that one lady in Iowa, I think I'm doing all right.

Day #84: Sorry So Many Times

I gave this advice tonight.

I need to give it to myself.

You can only say sorry so many times.

You screw up, you apologize, you move on.

If people don't want to forgive you, that's their choice, but you're certainly not obligated to let them kick you in the teeth over and over again until they've decided you're worth their forgiveness.

We all make mistakes, and if somebody's decided a mistake you made was too big to forgive, then they should cut you out of their life, not keep you around to be their punching bag.

Say it, then be done with it.

That's all.

Day #83: Confidence and Arrogance

I'm always amazed that people don't know the difference between being confident and being arrogant.

Or maybe they do know the difference, and they've just decided that they'd rather be arrogant and label it "confidence."

Somehow, confidence has become walking around sneering at everybody you see, making fun of others, and patting yourself on the back.

If that's actually what confidence is, why would it be considered a good quality?

I think for a long time I've been arrogant, and only lately have I really noticed that although I have loads of arrogance, the last thing I am is confident.

I have my moments of confidence, and usually it's when I'm smiling or surrounded by people I care about or onstage acting.

It's never when I'm being a bitch. When I'm being a bitch, I'm at my LEAST confident, and I'm just protecting myself by pumping up the arrogance.

Confidence should be having the guts to smile at the people you know don't like you, laugh with the people who do, and not worry about how cool you look.

I always think confidence is somebody dancing like an idiot.

Right now I can only be that guy in my living room, but maybe in two weeks, that'll change.

Day #82: The Return of the Mean Lesbian from Iowa

Yesterday, I wrote a post that I was very proud of entitled "The Choice to be Gay."

I posted it on Salon.com, and received a lot of positive feedback from it.

The piece was about how you can choose to accept who you are or live a lie, and I talked about how my life has been much richer because I choose to do the former.

Everybody got that I wasn't actually saying being gay is a choice.

Everybody except--

--Say it with me now--

--Safe Bet's Amy, the Mean Lesbian from Iowa.

She decided to read the title of the piece, the first two lines, and pretty much nothing else.

At least, that's the only explanation I can come up with, unless she just flat out doesn't know how to read.

I guess I've become something of a punching bag for this mean lesbian from Iowa.

You know what, I'm going to stop calling her that. The fact that she's a lesbian has nothing to do with the fact that she's mean, and clearly angry.

Angry more than anything.

I decided to send her a message rather than engage in a comment war with her.

Oh, please don't misunderstand me. I wanted nothing more than a comment war.

Because I WIN comment wars. I slay in comment wars.

The problem with comment wars on Salon--actually, the overall problem with Salon--is that nobody's forced to stand behind their statements.

Say what you want about Facebook, but on Facebook, your name is next to everything you say. Oh sure, you can delete it, but that's practically an admission that you were wrong.

On Salon, you can post obnoxious things anonymously and then disappear into cyberspace.

Well, although I have over two weeks of nice time left in me, I wasn't letting SBA walk away from this one without hearing what I had to say.

I sent her a message telling her that I had no idea why I was her personal punching bag on Salon, nor did I care. I told her that I find her to be angry, and perhaps she feels that taking it out on me is all right, but when I post something that comes from my heart, I plan on defending it.

I didn't take offense to her attack as a gay man, but as a writer, who put time into something only to have it dressed down for being exactly what it wasn't.

I told her that I'd be happy to discuss anything I've written with her, but that at the end of this little project, though I hope to carry some kindness from it with me into the next phase of my life, if she decides to go after me again, she will find out why I had to learn to be nice in the first place.

I didn't get personal, curse her out, or make assumptions about her despite the fact that she didn't grant me the same respect.

As my Mom would say, I walked away the better man.

I signed it with--

Bless your heart,
Kevin

Mark the calendar.

On Day #82, I learned that I can be nice and still not be a doormat.

It is possible.

Day #81: The Monologues

When I was an actor, I was always worried about myself.

What's my next role?
Why don't people think I can play this role or that role?
Don't I deserve a lead?

When I started writing and giving away monologues, I found that my acting became better, the opportunities multiplied, and I became a much happier person.

Moral: Give.

Easy, right?

Day #80: Act As If They're Listening

There was once somebody I didn't like.

(I know, shocker, right?)

I only knew them through outs and what I perceived to be their personality, but I never actually tried to get to know them.

I was always had a lot to say about them behind their back, but I was very careful that they never found out what I was saying.

After awhile, we ended up talking and I realized that my initial impressions about this person were wrong, yet she admitted that she noticed there was an uneasiness between the two of us even though we had never spoken.

It occurred to me that it was foolish to think that just because this girl had never heard what I was saying about her, that didn't mean she couldn't sense the nastiness I was putting out there.

Sometimes it doesn't take someone hearing what you have to say for them to be hurt by it. Let's face it, when you're being a bitch, you're putting bitchiness out into the world, and nobody benefits from it.

Wouldn't it be better if we all just acted as if the people we talk about are listening?

If we spent as much time and effort being friendly as we do worrying about people finding out that we talk about them, I'm thinking we'd all have a lot more friends.

Day #79: The Ugly Kid

When I was in junior high school, I determined that I was the "Smart Friend."

In any group, I would be the "smart friend" and I was...sort of okay with that.

Then I got to high school, where there were many people smarter than I was, which meant being the "smart kid" was off the table, and the thing about being the "smart kid" is that, even though nobody explicitly points it out, you're also "the ugly kid."

The other side of being the "smart kid" is that you're also the "ugly kid."

But now, I wasn't even the "smart kid." Now I was just "the ugly kid."

So I was determined, instead, to be the "funny kid."

The problem was, I wasn't very funny. I couldn't tell a joke to save my life. I didn't have any good stories. Wacky things didn't happen to me.

That left me with one option:

I could be mean.

I could make fun of other people and people would laugh and I would be beloved because that's how high school works.

You can either be pretty and loved, or bitchy and loved.

I had to live with the latter.

Then I came out my senior year, and suddenly I didn't have to be the "mean/ugly kid" anymore, because now I was just going to have to be "the gay kid."

And believe it or not, I didn't actually mind being the "gay kid," but as it turns out, being the "gay kid" meant I was still expected to be "the mean kid."

Once I got out of high school and started dating, I found that I was no longer "the gay kid," obviously, but I was still the "ugly kid" and occasionally the "funny kid" but only if I was being a bitch.

To this day, I laugh off jokes about my appearance, or what I wear, or a bad haircut, but if you want to know what feels like a knife to the heart, it's when somebody makes me feel ugly, and it doesn't take much.

Sometimes people don't even mean to do it. They say something like "It's so nice to have friends you're not attracted to" or "You're so smart."

Okay, obviously, that last one shouldn't signal to me that I'm ugly, but you have to remember, ugly kid equals smart kid.

Hey, what am I telling you this for? You all went to school. You know ugly kid = smart kid. That's just how the Universe works when you're twelve.

Sadly, twelve sometimes stretches all the way to twenty-six.

This is going to sound ridiculous, but there were times when I would have given up everything else I had inside of me to make the outside look undeniably great for just a day.

It seemed like the people who were attractive didn't need to do anything else, whereas I was always pickling my soul to drag a few laughs out of the pretty people just so I could hang out at their lunch table for another few minutes.

I think I'm starting to understand a little bit more about who I was when I started this project seventy-nine days ago.

I was mad at myself.

Oh sure, people think you can write. Some people think you can act. Maybe a few people find you charming or sweet or, at best interesting, but face it, Kevin Broccoli, nobody on this planet thinks you're attractive.

I think up until now everything I did was in an effort to change that.

I pimped out my writing, and my acting, and anything else I could to try and make myself seem more appealing, because Billy Joel is not exactly a gorgeous guy and somehow he wound up with Kristy Brinkley.

Well, not "somehow." When you write "Piano Man," you wind up with Kristy Brinkley.

Making great art is the only loophole in life. The only thing that makes non-attractive people attractive.

And I've been killing myself for two years trying to make great art, and I still feel like the ugly kid.

So maybe that's why I'm so damn angry all the time.

I'm good at being the angry kid. I'm good at being the ugly kid. I'm good at being the guy who can make eight nasty comments about one person in under a minute.

I'm good at it, because I'm scared to embrace other possibilities.

I'm scared that I can learn to be the nice guy who can write and act, but who sits in a corner and watches while all the pretty people dance.

I'm scared that I might end up accepting that.

And I'm not sure I'm ready to yet.

I'm not sure there isn't a balance between the two.

And I've still got three weeks left to figure it all out.

Day #78: Right Track/Wrong Track

Setbacks.

Sort of.

I might be on the right track because people seem I haven't ever conversed with regularly before have started attempting to actually create friendships with me.

And then yesterday someone I would say I have a good rapport with defriended me on Facebook.

I guess it could be something like a technical glitch (not likely), or maybe a misunderstanding (not likely), or the fact that I inadvertently screwed up (super likely).

My problem is that I've always been an all-or-nothing type of person.

If I have a plan or a project, and something goes wrong, I just want to throw the whole thing out and start again.

So when I realized that despite my efforts to be Mr. Nice Guy, I had apparently still ticked someone off, I just wanted to say 'Screw it.'

There are people who act like jerks all the time and everyone still loves them, and then there are nice people who mean well and people can't stand them.

Maybe I'm destined to be in the latter category.

It's frustrating, but me being me, I'll probably still throw myself up against a wall trying to fix the situation.

Bad idea, you say?

Maybe.

But it'll sure make for some good blogging.

Day #77: Opening Night

Tonight was the opening of "The Miss Firecracker Contest" at the Barker Playhouse.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm incredibly lucky to be a theater person, if for no other reason than that I get to have about twenty extra birthdays a year.

That's basically what opening night is--you get to do what you love, have fun, and then get applauded for it.

Most people just get their birthdays and maybe a retirement party.

I have to say if there's anything in my life that keeps me nice--it's theater.

Day #76: Getting Away With It

My Mom gave me some good advice.

"Some people can get away with being mean. You're not one of those people."

For a long time, I figured it was okay to be mean as long as I was witty while doing it.

After all, wasn't Dorothy Parker mean? Wasn't Cole Porter mean? Wasn't my dead Uncle Robert who always smoked long cigarettes and wore a monocle mean?

(Okay, maybe I imagined that last guy.)

It seems like some people can say nasty things and somehow manage to illicit laughs rather than punches in the face.

Before I started this project, it used to bother me that some people could say anything and get away unscathed, but I would make even slightly catty remark and get raked over the coals for it.

Now I sort of see it as a blessing. Being aware of the fact that I can't say whatever I want forces me to think about what I say.

Oh sure, it would be easier to get away with saying anything, but it would also let me get away with being a jerk, and let's face it, if you can get away with it, you're going to immerse yourself in it.

So no, I can't get away with being bitchy, but maybe that's just the Universe's way of making sure I turn out all right.

Day #75: Just Walk Away

I made a comment on my Facebook wall regarding the Joy Behar-Bill O'Reilly-Whoopi Goldberg brouhaha on The View.

The short side is that Joy and Whoopi walked out on Bill O'Reilly after he made some rather inflammatory comments.

The funny thing is that I agreed with them walking out.

I feel like seventy-five days ago, I would have criticized them for not staying and fighting the good fight. I would have wanted them to do everything short of punch him in the jaw (and perhaps, just go ahead and do it).

Yet here I am, three quarters of a way through my little project, and I liked the fact that they removed themselves from the situation.

I still believe in fighting the good fight, but an argument where nobody is listening is not an argument; it's just a lot of people yelling.

If there's anything I've learned from this project it's removal. Remove things and people from your life that aren't good for you. You're allowed.

Just walk away.

Day #74: Dedication

I'm going to dedicate today's blog to my friend, Jeffrey Thomas, who is sincerely one of the nicest people I know.

That's all.

Day #73: How You Say It

Something I've learned:

If you come at someone with anger, you're just going to get anger back.

Or you'll get excuses, rationalizing, wit, comebacks, arguments, and/or personal attacks.

Most of the time, you're not really angry. You're just disappointed, hurt, or frustrated.

So just say that.

You don't change the way anybody thinks or acts by getting angry at them.

You can do a lot better when you let them know that they're important to you and what they did hurt you.

See?

I'm learning.

Day #72: Nice and Sick

I'm sick.

Not sick of being nice, although I've certainly felt that a few times as well.

I'm physically sick.

Of course, this usually happens during Tech for a show, because being sick is no fun unless it happens at an inopportune moment, right?

Luckily, it's easier for me to be nice when I'm sick.

Mostly because being cranky takes too much energy.

Instead, I just lie down whenever I can and pump chicken soup and tea into my body as if my entire body is a barren field in need of hydration.

I also try to remember that there are many people sicker than I am now, and I'm lucky to just have a cold.

It also helps remind me that I'm human and that my hectic pacing isn't always sustainable.

Plus, let's face it, everybody loves soup.

Day #71: A Ten Second Confession

Sometimes I worry
That giving up my guilt
Means I'm accepting things I've done
That were wrong

I know I should just try to do better
And that guilt really doesn't do anybody any good
But does being a good person
Entail realizing when you've been a bad one
And remembering that
So you don't screw up again?

Are the two mutually exclusive?

Less than thirty days left
And the unending reflection continues

Day #70: Theater and Funerals

I once posted a "This I Believe" essay on my Facebook wall about going to funerals.

In it, a woman talks about how if you're a person of good character, you go to funerals. You go to them because you never want to go to them, and it's almost always a selfless act because of the fact that you don't want to go and you do because it makes someone else feel better to have you there.

In some ways, theater is like this.

People always comment that I see a lot of theater. The truth is, I barely ever want to see theater.

Oh don't get me wrong, I love theater. I get excited about shows. I talk about it constantly.

Yet, the night I have tickets to see something, I'm usually tired, hungry, moody, had a bad day, forgot there was something I wanted to watch on tv, or I just don't feel like getting off the couch.

In those instances, I make myself go anyway.

Because usually there's someone I know in the show. Oh sure, it's also enriching for me personally, but more than that, I'm there because whoever happens to be onstage needs me there. They need the support, and the energy, and in some cases, the laughter.

And, similar to funerals (or the gym), I always feel better after I go.

Don't get me wrong--I've skipped my share of shows. I've pulled out the same excuses that everybody else has: Money, work, overslept, etc.

The truth is, I find we're always able to somehow do the things we want to do for ourselves, yet rarely ever do we find time to do things for others.

Theater is an opportunity to do both.

How can you go wrong?

Day #69: It's All in How You End the Day

I'm a big believer in good endings.

Most of the time, if the ending of something is good, you can forgive almost everything else.

This goes for movies, books, and most recently--days.

The past few days haven't exactly been banner ones. I've been feeling sluggish. I'm not writing as much as I normally do. This isn't really something that's tearing me up because I've been organizing a few different things that had to take priority over the writing.

Still, I can't but feel...out of shape.

And because my routine's been disrupted, I become disrupted. Meaning, I become cranky, irritable, and antagonistic.

It's resulted in more than a few days that have left me feeling like I should have stayed in bed.

Tonight I learned that there's a solution to that:

The ending.

A bad day is only bad in retrospect, so the solution is to turn the day around before you go to bed.

Sometimes it's difficult. Maybe something goes wrong right before bed.

If that's not the case, then I have to remember I have options.

I have time to change.

I can go to a movie, I can call up a friend, I can do something productive.

I can write.

In other words, I control the ending.

And if you end on a high note, the rest of the day doesn't seem so bad.

Day #68: Kindness on an Awful Day

After finding out that my dog was put to sleep late last night, I went to get a haircut.

As I was sitting in the chair, the woman--who had never cut my hair before--said to me:

"Are you okay, honey?"

You know when people ask you that at exactly the appropriate (or inappropriate, depending on how you look at it) time and you just lose it.

Yeah, I lost it.

I got all teary-eyed, and somehow managed to sputter out that my dog had passed away.

The woman put her hands on my shoulders, took a deep breath, prompting me to take one, and said--

"Well, if you're that upset about it, that means your dog had a wonderful life."

It's true, isn't it?

Sometimes the measure of our grief is actually the amount of joy the person or pet we're grieving for enjoyed on this Earth.

It made me feel better, not just that someone pointed that out, but that someone took the time to be kind to a guy who probably just seemed crazy.

I'll think of that the next time I find it hard to be nice.

"Every human being is an opportunity for kindness."

The mantra works.

Day #67: Don't Answer E-Mail Before Noon

Rule: Do not answer e-mail before noon when you are a notoriously cranky person in the morning.

I got an e-mail simply requesting that I do someone a small favor I had offered to do but didn't think I would actually end up doing.

As a result of actually being asked to do what I had offered to do, I became irritated and considered firing off an angry e-mail back.

Then I remembered the Nice Project, and instead, I left the e-mail in the my inbox, had some tea, and came back to it at noon at which time it didn't seem nearly as antagonizing.

Still, if you can help yourself from e-mailing me before noon, it wouldn't be a bad idea.

Day #66: The Evil Twin

Sometimes I wish I had an evil twin.

Allow me to explain.

Throughout this process there have been times where I've seen something absolutely ridiculous (admittedly, on my Facebook feed) and I feel compelled to respond.

If there's one good thing about Facebook, it's that it alerts us to how much stupidity there is in the world and allows us to respond to it by putting up passive aggressive statuses.

Unfortunately, I no longer have that option.

As a writer, I imagine the solution--an evil twin.

A mean version of me who can walk around saying whatever he wants and it won't matter that everybody hates him, because there will still be Good Me, which I suppose would be me.

I don't actually need to be the one standing up in the face of stupidity all the time, I just need SOMEBODY to, and it always seems like there never is anyone.

Luckily, my friend Andrew takes up that torch most of the time, and so I've started a new Twitter account (Name: ALLMYGAYFRIENDS) chronicling everything he says as a way of putting it out into the Universe and out of my head, since eerily enough, most of the time Andrew and I are thinking the same thing.

For now, he'll have to be Evil Kevin, until that sheep I cloned learns to talk.

Day #65: The Kid on the Playground

I only have one singular terrifying memory from childhood.

It involves being a kid on the playground, and hearing a group of kids near the swings make fun of me.

I turned around and saw them--laughing, pointing, exploding with glee at the expense of myself in that way only children seem to know how to do.

Say what you want, but children can tap into pure cruelty the same way they can tap into pure innocence.

It's pretty horrifying.

I remember turning to those kids, walking up to them, opening my mouth, and not being able to speak.

I stood there, silenced by my own fear, knowing they were ridiculing me. And I couldn't come up with anything. Believe it or not, I'm not very fast on my feet when it comes to quips. I learned to be from people like--

VOICE: Hey!

My friend Sarah at the time. The second grade bitch.

SARAH: Were you all making fun of him?

Sarah loved me because I had black hair. (This was second grade, people.)

Nobody said anything. Suddenly the kids were silenced.

SARAH: Well, you know what I would make fun of?

Sarah then proceeded to go down the line of the four kids that were laughing at me. One had a weird birthmark on her arm. One had a stutter. One cut her hair short and looked like a boy. One she just labeled--

SARAH: Chunky.

And that was that.

It was that day that I thought I figured it out.

I had to be like Sarah.

Life--and especially schools--are prisons. You want to survive? You have to be tough.

And being nice is not being tough.

Thinking back on when I became so bitchy, I think of that moment.

I'm still appreciative to Sarah for standing up for me, but that was the point where my cattiness solidified. That was when I thought it was the only way a scrawny, dorky kid like me could make it out alive.

So I learned to tear people apart.

And to be honest, most of the time it's a lot easier than smiling and showing them they're not getting to you when they are.

The problem is you start forgetting how to discern between the people who need tearing up and the people who are laughing at something other than you.

Part of doing this project was addressing that kid on the playground that never really went away, and letting him know that there was an option that day when he went up to that group of laughing kids.

Looking back, I shouldn't have said anything. I should have just smiled at them and walked away, but when you're a kid, you don't have that kind of assurance in yourself.

Okay, so what's my excuse now?

Day #64: Just Do Better

Every once in awhile, you screw up.

Yesterday, I got into a combative conversation with a woman on Salon, and though I managed to stay civil, it definitely set me back energy-wise for the rest of the day.

The problem with me is that when someone is mad at me, even a lesbian from Iowa I've never met, I start getting paranoid. It starts to feel like everyone is mad at me.

Sometimes when you write and post what you write online (or just when you put yourself out there in general) you risk getting what you put out there thrown back at you--with complaints.

My response to ticking someone off used to be simple--eviscerate them.

I would tear the person apart, then try to get everyone else to turn on them. It's a little bit like lighting someone on fire and then throwing them in quicksand.

In reality, I was throwing myself in the quicksand too.

I didn't know how to respond to the fact that I screwed up, so instead, I just dug the hole deeper. I took the "F**k them" approach. I got caught up in the fact that I messed up, instead of trying to just move on.

That's the knowledge I lacked--people aren't as concerned with forgiving you as they are with seeing you redeem yourself through your actions.

You see it all the time in the entertainment industry.

Nobody wants to hear an actor apologize for making a bad movie, they just want the next movie they make to be worth the price of the ticket.

So today, rather than continue on with a pointless argument with some woman I haven't met nor will ever meet, I decided to just keep on writing.

I've got mouth-sized feet, and I can't avoid committing an error every now and again, but the bigger error would be to stay in one place and try to undo it.

Instead, I just have to do better.

Believe it or not, Mondays are my favorite day. Yes, we go back to work. Yes, we no longer have the weekend. Yes, we're all tired and cranky.

But we're also allowed to start at Day One again, and do better.

And I'm grateful for the opportunity.

Day #63: The Mean Lesbian From Iowa

In some ways, deciding to be nice is a little bit like giving something up.

I've heard that the hardest part of giving up smoking or drinking for some people is having to be around people who haven't given up smoking or drinking.

At some point during this process, I realize--Ohhh, I'm the only one obligated to be nice. Everybody else can be a jerk.

...That sucks.

And it does, folks, it does.

Because sometimes being nice is a little bit like someone poking you in the chest and knowing you can't haul off and clock them.

It's difficult.

For example, when I posted my piece on the Rutgers suicide on Open Salon.com, I got a lot of flack--mostly from middle-aged straight women, disagreeing with me on my opinion.

Of course, it's fine that they disagree with me, and most were civil about it, but when they started posting comments beginning with the phrase--

"As a young gay man in the closet, this young man must have felt..."

That's when I had to say something.

I would never presume, as a man, to understand what it is like to be a woman. I have never commented on a post about abortion by writing "As a young pregnant girl, this young woman must have felt..." because that is a very specific experience I have never had, nor will I ever.

Being a gay man, in or out of the closet, is a specific experience. When I commented back by saying, "I am not okay with a bunch of straight women telling me what it's like to be a closet case, or what that sort of torment is" all I was saying was, comment if you like on what it's like to be bullied, to be discriminated against, to be the victim of sexism, to be anything you want--just don't comment on a specific experience you have not had.

To be fair, I pulled the gay card. I absolutely pulled it. I wasn't trying to speak for every gay man or woman, I was just saying that I personally wasn't interested in what these women had to say about being gay since, you know, they're not. Fair enough, I thought.

That's when the mean lesbian from Iowa showed up.

She goes by the name of Safe Bet's Amy, and to be honest, I've always had a distaste for people who use what sound like AIM names as their Open Salon name. If you're going to state an opinion, put your name behind it or don't bother stating it.

SBA was pretty damn mad about my comment to the straight gals, and she let me know it.

Now, she could have called me out on using the gay card, or what I said, or my opinion, but instead she just chose to call names.

Her profile lists her as being a mother, so imagine my horror when she called me "prissy" and "queer." Are those terms a mother and a fellow gay person should be throwing around? I didn't think so.

She also called me misogynist--another term I don't think you should label someone with unless you actually have something to back it up. I didn't think my comment was anti-women, it was anti-anybody talking about something they haven't experienced.

I didn't know what to do.

Engage her in conversation? Try to make her see my point of view? Or at least chastise her for being so rude?

Where was that going to get me? Clearly, this was a woman with her armor on 24/7, and I wasn't going to be getting her to take down that shield.

And did I even want to justify what she had said with a response?

Then of course there was the part of me that just wanted to say "Go build a treehouse in your cornfield, you dumb bitch."

Then I thought, Yes Kevin, that's a great idea. Let's insult lesbians, people from the Midwest, AND toss out the word 'bitch' when she just called you a misogynist. That'll really show how wrong she is about you.

Instead, I deleted her comment.

Maybe it wasn't proactive. Maybe it was the chicken way out. Maybe it was even bordering on rude, but it effectively eliminated the situation and allowed me to stick up for myself without getting into an online brawl with someone.

Yes, I have chosen to be nice, and the world has not. I've given up a bad habit, and I didn't say--"But only when everyone else is being nice to me!" What's the challenge there?

For the next thirty-seven days, I have to learn to exist in a not-always-nice world.

But just so we're clear, just because other people are still drinking, smoking, and being a**holes--

It doesn't mean they're allowed to do it in my house.

Day #62: How LiveBait Makes You a Better Person

There are occasions that help me to remember that the human race is, in fact, worth whatever aggravation may come from being nice.

After a rather lousy Friday, I went LiveBait at Perishable, and as always, I felt myself become inspired by the fact that every time someone goes up, they share something personal, funny, touching, or just plain interesting.

Lately, I've been constantly reminding myself that everyone has a story, and the easiest way to be nice to people is to realize that their story is as good, as difficult, and as complicated as mine is.

It's one thing to say that in your own head, but it's another to actually hear those stories out loud.

If I had to pick a misconception people have about me, it would be that everyone knows everything about me. People think because I talk and blog and write that there's nothing personal about me that everybody doesn't already know. What most people don't realize is that I talk and blog and write to distract from the fact that I keep a lot more in than I put out there.

I don't intentionally keep things from people, and there isn't much that I wouldn't share, but there's a lot I don't offer up either.

Going to LiveBait reminds me that a lot of people do the same thing. So when you see someone in a bad mood, or hear someone say something they shouldn't, or watch someone make a mistake, it's best to remember that you're only seeing a tenth or a tenth of a tenth of what's really going on inside of them.

I think keeping that in mind is the best way to keep kindness in mind as well.

Day #61: Raising Your Voice

When I was a kid, there was only one way to be heard in my family.

You had to yell.

Until the age of thirteen, I barely said a word, because the thought of yelling over my parents was...well, unthinkable actually.

Then the teen years rolled around and the unthinkable became VERY thinkable.

I learned to hold my own in the yelling arena, and ever since then, I've been a proud destroyer of silence and listening.

Obviously, with this project, I had to change that.

It's no big psychological mystery where yelling and cutting people off and talking over people comes from.

A feeling like you're not being heard or you're not going to be heard.

The trick is to realize--you are being heard, but most of the time, you're not hearing.

I am, without a doubt, one of the worst listeners I know.

I concentrate more on what I'm going to say than what people are saying to me, and it's a habit that has to go.

So is there a trick?

I've found one that works for me.

I repeat back the last thing that was said to me before I add something else.

That way I don't do that annoying thing people do--people being me--where someone says:

"My Mom has cancer."

And I say--

"Oh my God, did I tell you about what happened to me last night?"

I force myself to segue, and if I can't, it just means that what the person is telling me is more important than my night at karaoke.

And when I argue, I try not to raise my voice.

I find that when you raise your voice, you've lost the argument. You're allowing yourself to get angry and you signal to the other person--

"This is where I stop caring about your opinion on this."

So instead, I try to get quieter. Again, I repeat back--

"You're saying that what happened bothered you. Okay, I get that."

It's amazing how civil things can say when you let someone know they're actually being heard.

Staying calm keeps you from yelling which allows you to have a conversation rather than a shouting match.

We didn't have many conversations in my house growing up, but recently I managed to have one with my mom.

And you know what?

I think she actually enjoyed it.

Day #60: What Reality TV Teaches Us About Being Nice

It happens on a lot of shows.

Two or more teams face off, then appear in front of a judging panel to find out if they've won or lost whatever challenge they were given that week.

Inevitably, the judges ask--"How did it go?"

Now, at this point, the teams don't know whether or not they won the challenge, yet most of the time, they will take this opportunity to eviscerate one or more team members.

Why?

Why not wait until AFTER you've found out whether or not you won?

If you won, then whatever issues you had during the challenge don't matter, and you're fighting with people for no reason at all.

Sometimes life is like reality television.

(I know, theoretically, it should ALWAYS be like reality television, but let's keep things honest here.)

Sometimes in life, you're working on something with people and things get a little crazy. Maybe there's fighting. Maybe there's arguing. Maybe at some point you cried over your red hot candy pastry (if you want to get specific).

The point is, wait until you find out the result before you start arguing and finger-pointing. Everyone understands that in any process there can be turmoil, but you're supposed to wait until AFTER you find out the result before you start throwing punches.

See?

Television can be very educational.

Day #59: Stay In Touch

There was a particular goal I wanted to achieve as part of this project.

Staying in touch.

I find that if there's one big problem I have, it's that I focus on tasks more than people.

Once a project is in my line of sight, I zero in on it and tend to concentrate only on other people involved with it.

At times, this has made me look like a career-driven user, but then again, I suppose everybody who puts a career first comes across this way.

Still, it doesn't thrill me that there are friends I have who I rarely check in with, so that when I do, I'm constantly being caught up like a delinquent parent.

"Oh really? You got pregnant? And she's graduating high school next week? Wow...So what else is new?"

A lot of the time I find that I don't respond to people right away because I simply don't know what to say.

Sometimes people write personal messages or things they need to get off their chest, and I always feel like I'm at a loss to say anything other than "I'm sorry" or "That sucks" which sounds incredibly lame.

Only recently when I decided I was finally going to become the sort of person who is known for getting back to people right away did I realize that sometimes all that's needed is a "I'm sorry, and I'm here if you need me" or in cases where I'm being asked to do something I don't want to--"No."

"No" is something I'm always afraid to say, but strangely enough, learning to be nice has also meant learning to say "No."

But I smile while saying it, of course.

In the meantime, I answer messages as quickly as I can and try to save the personal ones until I have enough time to really respond with a thoughtful answer.

And yes, there are messages I don't answer, because frankly, sometimes they don't merit one.

Part of learning to stay in touch has been learning who I need to stay in touch with, and who takes up too much of my mental inbox.

Day #58: That's Not My Problem

Even before I began the "nice" project, one particular phrase always drove me nuts.

"That's not my problem."

Do you ever notice that people only say this when they want to be freed from having any moral responsibility to do something they should do yet don't just want to come out and say "I'm a douchebag?"

Yeah, that's been my experience.

If there's one phrase we could eradicate to make the world a little bit nicer, I think it would be "That's not my problem."

After all, it's become an escape hatch.

Every time I say I'm for healthcare because I believe that we shouldn't live in a country where anybody dies because they can't afford treatment, I have someone counter with--

"What about the people who smoke and drink and eat too much?"

To which I counter with--"What about kids who die from cancer?"

Now, perhaps I shouldn't pull the cancer card, but it's not really a "card" when it's, you know, actually true.

The response I get back is usually "That's sad, but it's not my problem."

In America, we talk all the time about needing a cultural shift.

Maybe what we really need is a morality shift. Maybe we need to start saying that our problems are the only ones we can handle, and realize that when you help others with their problems your own will either seem less dire or take care of themselves as a result of good karma.

Maybe so many people in this country have trouble being nice because they're left alone with their problems for too long.

"That's not my problem."

The truth is I like the communal way of looking at things. One person's problem is everyone's problem.

And at the moment, my problem is I'm fifty-eight days into being nice and I still don't feel any "nicer."

Here's looking at you, Day #59.

Day #57: That Could Be You

I found a new trick to help keep me nice.

I call it "That Could Be You."

It's a little bit like Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon, except you play it with random strangers who are ticking you off.

Someone is rude to you at the supermarket.

You look at them and think--

"You fat white trash, bitch. Somebody should run you over while you're wearing that hideous purple sweater."

--Or instead, you play "That Could Be You."

"This woman probably had a lousy day because her husband left her for some skinny tramp that he met at a car convention and now he wants alimony. She's probably overweight because she has no self-esteem because her sister was the classically pretty one and her parents treated her poorly. She's probably wearing the ugly sweater because it's all that she could afford. But for being born when you were to who you were, that could be you."

Sometimes it's a hard game, but usually by the time you're done, you've calmed down.

So either way, it serves its purpose.

It's so easy for us to judge each other, but we forget that but for a simple change in location, education, or relation, we could be pretty much anyone.

Look at anyone and realized "That Could Be You."

And you'll find it's a lot easier to be nice.

Day #56: When You Swim with Sharks

I went to school with a shark.

In junior high, there was a girl who made it a point to eviscerate everybody she didn't like, and the list of people she didn't like changed from hour-to-hour.

Like true pre-teens being terrorized by a single person who just happened to be sort of pretty, everybody at my school did the reasonable thing, and tried desperately to be friends with her in the hopes of avoiding her tyranny.

The problem is, when you swim with sharks, there's a very good chance the shark will eat you just by virtue of you being in their vicinity.

Yet even today, I see people who do it.

My last post was about being a bitch on a wall who stands by and makes comments about the people who are actually enjoying themselves.

It seems like the wall bitches always have a crowd around them. People think if they make friends with the shark, they won't get eaten.

Of course, it doesn't work that way.

It's funny how we associate being cruel or nasty with being strong. Somewhere along the way, "nice" became a weak word. A word to mean "vulnerable."

That's one of the parts of this process that I have so much trouble with--I hate feeling vulnerable.

But then I remind myself that there's no more vulnerable position than being next to a predator hoping they don't turn on you.

And I swim off in the other direction.

Day #55: The Bitch Against the Wall

More times than I'd like to admit, I've been the bitch against the wall.

You all know exactly the type of person I mean.

I don't mean a wallflower, more like a wall weed.

Someone who shows up to the club, bar, or party late, then gets a drink, and stands off to the side commenting on how lame everyone is--except for them of course.

This used to be my favorite past-time.

In Rhode Island, it can be tricky to be a bitch against a wall, because in some cases, everyone wants to be the bitch against the wall.

Sometimes the walls are more crowded than the dance floors, which is incredibly sad.

As Cher said in her Behind the Music, "nobody likes to be uncool." So I understand the urge to remain on the sidelines, avoiding any actual activity, that way nobody can comment on what you're doing.

The flip side of that is--one day, when I look back on my life, I doubt I'll ever go--"Remember when I used to stand against the wall and be a bitch to everyone? God, I miss those days."

So part of this project was to get myself off the wall.

(Somebody cue Kool and the Gang's "Get Down On It.")

All of my favorite memories start with me complaining "Nooo, I'll look stupid!" so maybe I need to shut up and dance more often?

FRIEND: Honey, I've seen you dance. I'd tape myself to the wall if I were you.
ME: I've seen you on the dance floor a few times.
FRIEND: Well, you have to get in the pool if you want to play polo.
ME: Is that a sexual euphemism?
FRIEND: I can't even tell anymore.
ME: Either way, I'm dancing more often. No more bitching from the sidelines.
FRIEND: That's wonderful.
ME: You mean you support it?
FRIEND: No, I just love that you gave me a new title for my autobiography: "Bitching from the Sidelines: A Life."

If you'll excuse me, it's time to rhumba.

Day #54: George Bailey

I was thinking about pop culture today.

How many "nice" people do we actually see on television, in the movies, or in books?

It's a little disconcerting to think that my entire generation has grown up believing that "mean girl" is a term of affection.

Just when I was about to give up, I remembered the perfect example of a "nice" character.

And it just so happens he's from my favorite movie:

George Bailey from "It's a Wonderful Life."

Think about it.

Here's a man who continually sacrifices so that the people he loves and the place he calls home can be better for it.

He's never rewarded with money or fame, and at the end of the movie, even when everybody comes to help him out, he's only breaking even.

Still, the movie teaches us that he's a wealthy man because if you're good to people, it'll come back to you someday.

To this day, I can't watch that movie without getting choked up as soon as Harry Bailey appears to toast his big brother.

Then again, I also get choked up in the beginning when everybody in town is praying for George.

I also get--

FRIEND: You're a mess.
ME: Don't you love that movie?
FRIEND: I was more of an 'Ernest Saves Christmas' fan.
ME: It's just nice to see a movie where the good guy comes out on top.
FRIEND: Honey, every good guy comes out on top.
ME: I was speaking metaphorically.
FRIEND: Call it whatever you want, sweetie. It's all the same to me.

One last part!

When Violet says--"George Bailey, I'm glad I know you."

C'mon, is there any better compliment than that?

Day #53: Give Someone Permission to Change

I think it happens in any group of friends.

Somebody becomes the screw-up.

I remember when one of my friends started distancing himself from the group the two of us were in, and it looking back, I can see why.

Nobody was giving him permission to change.

When he tried to stop being a screw-up, it upset the dynamic of the group. Suddenly we didn't have our black sheep anymore, and we didn't react well.

There were times when I felt like we almost willed him to fail.

And when he did fail, you could tell we were all relieved.

None of us ever did anything to help him elevate himself. We would say--

"Well, we're his friends"

--Even though being his friends meant we were only keeping him exactly where he was.

Obviously, I don't think we did any of this consciously, but nevertheless, there were more than a few opportunities for us to break past the roles we'd established for each other.

Today I was thinking about that, and I also thought about all the times I felt like I was down and couldn't get up, and how lucky I was to have people say--

"What do you need? How can I help?"

Most of the time all I needed was to hear that I wasn't a failure--that I had done the wrong thing or said the wrong thing, but that I could make it right, and move on.

I needed permission to change who I was in that moment.

Maybe that's something we can all do--figure out who in our lives needs that permission and give it to them.

You never know what can give someone to boost they need to change.

Day #52: You Don't Need to Say It

The title of this entry has become one of my newer mottos.

"You don't need to say it."

For some reason, I usually believe that whenever something is said that I disagree with, I need to be the one to provide an argument.

Now, I love being expressive and standing up for what I believe, but lately it's become clear to me that I don't always need to be the one leading the charge, especially when the war's over whether or not Nip/Tuck jumped the shark in season four or season five.

(Season five--clearly.)

See what I mean?

I always have to say my peace.

Ironic, considering my peace usually only incites total discord.

So tonight, when I was presented with an opportunity to join in on an argument that didn't involve me at all, I managed to resist the urge to put in my unasked for two cents.

You don't need to say it.

My new motto.

Maybe somebody needs to say it, but chances are if I don't, someone will.

It's great to fight the good fight, but the keyword there is "good."

There are definitely a few more fights I should sit on the sidelines for.

Day #51: Where Do You See Kindness?

One of the more interesting parts about this project revealed itself today.

I tried to find kindness.

I've been trying to project kindness up until now, but today I actually looked for it.

And did I find it?

Yup.

I found it in the text message exchange my Mom and I had--'Are you okay?' 'Yes, Mom.' 'Just checking.'

I found it every time I tried to call a friend and they answered and let me ramble on about whatever random topic I felt like discussing.

I found it at rehearsal where I'm blessed enough to get to do what I love.

I actually found more of it than I would have thought.

Yes, when I started this, I was experiencing lots of negativity. Everyone seemed to be in a bad mood.

But maybe I was just seeing more of it because there was so much negativity in me.

Maybe I was just looking through a half-full glass seeing only the sand that wasn't there.

Either way, I like what I'm seeing now a lot better.

Day #50: The Halfway Mark

What have I learned at the halfway mark?

- I've learned that screaming in my car really didn't make me feel better. I feel just as frustrated when I don't scream, and I look a lot less crazy to whomever is in the car next to me.

- I've learned that you have to shoot negative thoughts like asteroids in an 80's video game. They keep coming, you keep shooting, it seems futile, because you know at the end all you get are purple letters saying "You Won!!!" and you get to enter your high score and...where was I going with this?

- I'm rarely ever really mad. More often than not, I'm disappointed, hurt, or offended. I just feel dumb acknowledging those feelings. They make me feel weak. So instead I get angry, because with anger I feel powerful.

- Talking with a British accent makes you sound way more intimidating. That way you can be nice and still scare the s**t out of people at the same time.

- Tearing down is easy, building up is hard. Only one actually makes you feel good about yourself.

- It's okay to yell "F***************************k!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at the top of your lungs as long as you're not yelling it AT someone.

- The best way to figure out if you're really upset about something is to give it twenty-four hours. Then, if you actually ARE upset, you'll be able to express yourself much better.

- If you see someone who doesn't like you at a party or something, walk up to them and say "Hi, how are you?" Sometimes it turns out they actually do like you, or they just thought you didn't like them. Either way, it never hurts to be the bigger person.

- Simply choosing not to respond to insanity? Priceless.

Finally, I'd like to report that "Bless Your Heart" really is the best way to let someone know you'd like to see them get hit in the face with a paint can.

I guess I'm 50% nice as of now.

(All right, maybe a little less...but I'm getting there.)

Day #49: The Friend of My Enemy

So here's a conundrum:

You're participating in a project where you're being nice for 100 days.

You're friends with two people.

One of them screws over the other.

Should you still be nice to the person who screwed over your friend? If you are nice, does that mean you're, in turn, not being nice to the person who was screwed over?

Difficult, right?

Well, I don't just throw around the word "conundrum" for nothing.

I decided the best route to take was just to stay out of it.

(Isn't that usually the best route? See? I'm learning.)

So I didn't say anything to the screwer, and of course, I got in trouble with the screw-ee.

SCREWEE: You went out to dinner with him?!?!
ME: No, a group of us went out to dinner. He was there.
SCREWEE: Funny that I wasn't invited.
ME: I did invite you!
SCREWEE: Well, obviously I wasn't going to go if he was there!
ME: It's not like I fed him cupcakes and stroked his cheek lovingly. He was just sitting at the same table as me!
SCREWEE: Were you mean to him?
ME: No, I can't be mean. Remember?
SCREWEE: Wow, you're such a great friend.

Click.

49 days ago, I should have moved into a bubble with a koala bear colony. This whole interacting-with-people-while-being-nice thing is getting hard.

FRIEND: I worked on a production of 'Mr. Koala's Magical Journey' once.
ME: I never heard of it.
FRIEND: I smelled like eucalyptus for months.
ME: Have you ever had to stay out of a fight between two friends?
FRIEND: I usually just encourage them to sleep with each other. Then they get over it.
ME: I'm not sure that'll work here. Actually, I'm not sure that should ever work.
FRIEND: Why don't you just let the person who was wrong know you feel they did the wrong thing.
ME: Because it just sounds like I'm King Solomon handing down a judgment.
FRIEND: You? Judgmental? You can't see it but I'm holding my hands over my mouth in a shocked manner.
ME: I'm hanging up now.
FRIEND: Let me get my fainting couch. I'm flummoxed here.
ME: Good-bye!

Boy, with friends like these...

I should stick to koala bears.

Day #48: The Non-Response

In one of the earlier posts on this blog, I asked what I should do when dealing with crazy people.

"Do you still have to be nice to crazy people?"

I was asking because I found that there were a few people in my life who were just completely incapable of handling the fact that I'm trying to exorcise negativity from my life.

Many people offered suggestions, but I ended up just taking the simplest approach.

I ignore the insanity.

Now, I take the approach that if someone brings gossip, foolishness, or any sort of junior high bulls**t to my door, I just don't open it.

At first, I thought maybe this was passive aggressive of me, but then I realized that by engaging in any sort of exchange with these people, all I was going to be doing was creating more theatrics and allowing them to disrespect what I'm trying to do.

I understand to some extent. Up until a few months ago, whenever I would get into a fight with someone, or there was awkwardness between us, I would hunt them down and nag them until the issue was resolved.

I refused to just let anything rest, and see if time could handle it.

It's fine to want to communicate and work things out, but some people just need distance at certain points, and I'm discovering I'm one of those people.

To give you an example of how bad I was:

A friend of mine had done a few shows together, and during the last show, a ton of petty little things happened between a large group of us, and we all just needed to take a break from each other.

I was the only one who didn't get that.

I mean, I knew that's what was needed, but I just didn't care.

I wouldn't have said that at the time, but looking back, I didn't care. It was about me wanting everything to be fine right away.

So I kept messaging people, e-mailing, calling, and pretty much driving everyone nuts until finally the friend I had messaged me letting me know he just needed a little time away from me and then everything would be fine.

An exchange occurred similar to the following--

ME: Just wanted to let you know I got your message. I'll back off for now.
FRIEND: Thanks. I appreciate it.
ME: Just wanted to make sure you know I'm here for you when you're ready for us to be friends again.
FRIEND: Thank you.
ME: Because you know I didn't start most of the problems that happened.
FRIEND: I'm aware. Thank you.
ME: Well good, I'm glad.
FRIEND: Me too.
ME: Also me lol but seriously, I'm glad.

After that, I sent six more messages letting him know I got the message.

Why?

Because I was determined to have the last word. To be the good guy. To be the "not crazy" one.

Why, instead, wasn't I determined to be the person who respects his friend's wishes?

Selfishness, and a bit of insanity.

Looking back, I understand that sometimes as much as you want to be nice, you can't give certain people an inch or they run a mile towards Crazy Town.

So now I just don't respond.

And I hope they get the message.

Day #47: Own the Word

Are you defined by who you like or who you don't like?

Think about that for a second.

What do your dislikes say about you?

I, for one, despise hypocrites.

That's not unusual--I don't really know anyone who likes hypocrites, but I REALLY don't like them.

But when I think about it, it's probably because I would say I'm hypocritical a lot of the time.

When you're involved with the arts, there's this subliminal message conveyed to you that it's okay to say one thing and do another, because you're an artist. You're allowed to be held to different standards.

In reality, I'm just a hypocrite.

I criticize someone for doing one thing in a show, then applaud it when someone else does it.

Hypocrisy.

I'm aware.

Part of this project has been dragging words out of my head and owning up to them.

Hypocrisy.
Pettiness.
Nastiness.

It's a little bit like standing naked in front of a crowd.

FRIEND: Been there, done that.
ME: I don't mean actually--you know what, never mind.
FRIEND: So what else do you not like?
ME: I dislike tomatoes.
FRIEND: So you're a tomato?
ME: No, I'm Broccoli.
FRIEND: I won't even justify that with a response.

I wonder what other words are still floating around in my head.

Fifty-three more days to find out...

Day #46: Just Don't Let It Stick

I have a problem with compliments.

A major problem with compliments.

Some of the people close to me already know this, but I was raised to believe that whenever anybody says anything to you stronger than "you did a good job" they're kissing your ass and you should back away from them slowly.

Now, I realize that isn't always true, but one thing I DO know to be true is that it's a short distance from humility to arrogance.

When I was in school, I saw people leap from one to the other after just one lead role.

So I do tend to take compliments poorly. Most of the time I just say 'thank you' and then disappear.

I'm sure it looks rude, and I've wanted to do something about it as part of this project.

One of the tactics I've tried is conversing rather than just being complimented.

I'll say--"Oh, you liked the show? Thank you. What did you think of--? I was a little unsure about that." or "Was there anything I could have done better?"

That tends to turn the compliments into constructive thought, and THAT I can take.

FRIEND: Just so we're clear, I never say nice things about you.
ME: And I appreciate it.
FRIEND: It's weird to shower your friends with compliments. They're your friends.
ME: But you don't think it's weird to shower with friends?
FRIEND: Honey, that's an egg for another basket.

The best trick I have is to remember not to let the compliments stick. I process them, appreciate them, then let them go.

After all, if you hang onto all your old compliments, how are you ever going to get new ones?

Day #45: Another Person's Story

I've been working on a new solo show for awhile now entitled "The College Years."

(Yes, it's a throwback to Saved by the Bell's short-lived spin-off.)

The show was meant to be about my experience in college, and it included some...

Okay, I'll just come out and say it.

It included some trash-talking.

FRIEND: Well, that's not very nice, is it?
ME: You're just worried that you're in it, aren't you?
FRIEND: I've already texted my lawyers.

When I started this project, I went back and removed all the gossip-y stuff, but I found that although most of the stories end up making me look pretty bad, some other people don't exactly escape unscathed.

FRIEND: Then you can't do the show.
ME: But these are my experiences. And I'm being honest! I can't help it if my foolishness coincided with other people's foolishness.
FRIEND: That doesn't mean you have to turn it into a f**ked-up puppet show.
ME: Okay, first of all, how did you know about the puppets? Second of all, if I cut out everything that includes other people, I won't have a show, I'll just have a bunch of stories about me sitting in my room staring at a wall!
FRIEND: Now THAT sounds like your life story.

So what's the responsibility of a nice person when it comes to relaying events that happened in their life that might not make other people look all that great?

Is it enough to just tell the truth and say--

"Well, what happened happened?

Or, at the end of the day, is it still just dressed up gossip?

FRIEND: By the way, I want a producer credit on this.

Hmm, the show might not go on...

Day #44: Get Out of Your Head

There's a really interesting article in CNN about a woman with Cognitive Distortions. Without minimizing the issue, it deals with the voices in your head. The ones that take things too personally or make you feel terrible about yourself.

The title of the article really caught my eye--"I'm changing the voices in my head."

When I saw that, I realized that I haven't checked in with the voices in my own head for awhile.

At the beginning of this project, the majority of what I heard inside my head was negative. For the first few days, I found myself constantly catching negative thoughts and throwing them back at myself.

It became like wrestling with my own consciousness.

"See this?" I'd say "This is an awful thing to think!"
"Well, what the hell do you want me to do about it?" I'd fire back.
"Nothing, it just means you're a lousy person."
"Go f**k yourself!"

I wasn't getting anywhere.

So instead, I tried a new approach.

I twisted the thoughts around. I played the Pollyanna game.

For those of you unfamiliar with the fantastic Hayley Mills film, it's about a sunny little girl who transforms a Southern town by thinking positively.

(If it sounds hokey, it was a Disney movie. And back then, they knew how to make hokey work.)

My favorite moment of the movie is when everyone talks about how much they dislike Sundays. Someone challenges Pollyanna to find something good about Sundays, and she says--

"The good thing about Sundays is that they only come once a week."

Once I started playing the Pollyanna game, I found that I still had those negative thoughts every once in awhile, but at least now they don't linger for as long or have as much of an impact.

ME: Have you ever played that game?
FRIEND: Strip Candyland?
ME: No, the--Wait, what?
FRIEND: Personally, I wasn't into Pollyanna. Unless you're counting the fierce 80's remake with Mrs. Huxtable.
ME: You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to include a little more positive thinking in your own life.
FRIEND: I think nice things all the time! Cute boys are nice. Ponies are nice. This drink in my hand is nice.
ME: Which drink in which hand?
FRIEND: You bitch! ...Get out of my head.

Bingo.

Day #43: My Great-Grandmother and the Shopgirl

My grandmother shared this story with me when I told her about my nice project.

It involves her mother, my great-grandmother, who died when I was three.

First, you have to understand that my great-grandmother has become a mythic figure in my family. She was the woman who made my mom go out and get a job while she offered t watch me because she didn't want my mother to be dependent on any man's income. She worked at a factory as soon as she was old enough to, and when she retired, they had to drag her out of the place like Norma Rae.

She was known to speak her mind and speak it loudly.

On top of all that, everyone says I was her favorite.

"I'm surprised she didn't build you a shrine,' my mother likes to say, 'Mothers love their kids. Grandmothers adore their grandkids. But your great-grandmother acted like you came down from a golden beam of light. It was something to see."

Every story involving my great-grandmother and her mixture of toughness and kindness is usually heavily exaggerated, but this is the one story where everyone seems to agree on the details.

One day my great-grandmother went into the food store where she normally shopped and noticed the shopgirl at the register on the verge of tears.

There was a line out the door. Everyone had some sort of problem. People were yelling and carrying on, and nobody seemed to care that this girl was about to suffer a nervous breakdown.

My grandmother was with my great-grandmother that day, and according to her--

"Your great-grandmother screamed 'EVERYBODY SHUT UP!' at the top of her lungs. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her, so you better believe they did. Then they all got out of her way so she could walk up to the register and talk to the shopgirl. She took her aside, they talked, and then the shopgirl walked right out of the store."

One of the men asked--"Where's she going?"

And my great-grandmother responded--"None of your business. Now what's your problem."

My great-grandmother, who had never worked in a store in her life, proceeded to spend the next hour working the register and dealing with the customers.

"When Mr. Williams, the owner, came out and saw your great-grandmother there, I thought he was going to explode. Before he could say anything, she said--'You work that girl too hard. She's got a lot going on at home and she gets no help here.'--Then she went right on checking people out. This was before credit cards and things like that so it wasn't exactly brain surgery. Mr. Williams went right back into his office and shut the door. That was that."

It turned out the shopgirl was a new mother and her husband had taken off. When she told my great-grandmother this, she told her to go home, eat, and get some rest. Then she went home and relayed the story to my great-grandfather when he asked where she had been when she was just supposed to be running to the store. My grandmother eavesdropped from her room and heard the whole thing.

"Your great-grandfather was used to her doing that sort of thing, and if he had a problem with it, she usually just slapped him upside the head and started cooking dinner."

My grandmother told me this story for a reason.

"Your great-grandmother believed that when someone's hungry, you feed them. When someone's in trouble, you help them. When someone's overwhelmed, you send them home and you work the cash register. She never once said 'It's not my problem.' She believed you help others and it'll come back around to you. When she died, she was eighty-seven, and the funeral was so packed people thought a celebrity had passed away. Being nice wasn't something she did once in awhile, it was her life. It was who she was."

Hopefully some of that trickled down to me.

Either way, it's a pretty damn good story.

Day #42: What We Should Remember

On September 11th, there are often a lot of messages regarding patriotism, the people who have passed away then and since, and the war on terror.

Unfortunately, one message never seems to come across--kindness.

The week after 9/11, the one thing I remember most is how kind everyone was.

We had all suffered this massive tragedy, and many people responded to it by opening themselves up to those around them. Stories came out of New York about strangers stopping each other on the street and asking "are you okay?"

I think it's a shame we don't remember that on 9/11 and make it a day of kindness in remembrance of those who were lost.

Instead, we've all grown a tough outer layer. I think as a result of knowing that we live in an unsafe world, we all hardened ourselves. That way, if there was another tragedy, we wouldn't feel as hurt and shocked.

There was an event going around on Facebook asking people to participate in a minute of silence in honor of those who died. I said I wasn't attending, because for me, silence isn't a way to honor those who've past.

For me, it's another example of doing nothing to living. I like to honor living by living.

Now people are trying to make September 11th a major holiday. I suppose this is so we can all sit at home one extra day a year and reflect.

I don't feel like that's the right message we should be sending.

What I remember about that day and the days that followed are moments like Mayor Giuliani appearing on SNL to say that New York was open for business. To me, that was incredibly moving--to say, we suffered through this and we're still going.

I wish we had kept that spirit of kindness and unity intact.

Instead, we did what we normally do--

Waited a year and then went back to tearing each other apart.

I'm posting this on my "nice" blog because it illustrates something I post about often--

Being nice is difficult. It truly is. It's a life adjustment, and it's even harder to do when you're often surrounded by cynicism and downright cruelty.

Still, we take a day every year to remember the past.

Why don't we try to take something from that awful day? Why didn't we all try to change for the better?

Wouldn't that be the ultimate tribute?

Day #41: Mother's Love

Somehow I knew the biggest obstacle in my "nice" project was going to be not losing my temper with a certain person.

MOM: You're not eating enough.

Guess who?

MOM: Ryan, put on a new shirt.

My mother has a bad habit.

MOM: David, this is your mother. You were going too fast when you drove away from the house the other day. Slow down. And get a haircut.

She nags.

I decided that as part of my "nice" journey, perhaps I could get her to find a nicer way to try and improve our lives with her...unsolicited advice.

Her response?

MOM: This is your project. I'm a bitch. Now eat some more.

Of course I couldn't leave it at that.

RYAN: If you take this on, you're going to lose your temper.
ME: I'm almost halfway through the project. I think I know how to keep myself in check by now.
MOM: That shirt doesn't fit you.
ME: Actually Mom, it fits me fine.
MOM: It's too tight.
ME: Nooo, it fits. If it were bigger, it wouldn't fit.
MOM: It's tight.
ME: Tight means it fits.
MOM: Nooo, it means it's tight.
ME: Nooo, it means I refuse to look like M.C. Hammer.
RYAN: I can see the blood vessels starting to burst.

I had to remember to breathe.

ME: Mom, the nagging isn't helping.
MOM: Excuse me?
ME: The nagging. You nag. You have three boys--two of whom are legal adults--and you still talk to us as if we're going to do everything you say as soon as you say it and just because you say it.
RYAN: That's right. Remind her I'm the only one she has the right to control. Thanks.

My Mom smiled.

That means she's about to feed.

MOM: I nag because I'm your mother and I love you.
ME: You could say things nicely and still be our mother and love us.
MOM: But then you wouldn't listen.
ME: We don't listen now, so what's the difference?
MOM: The difference is I'm your mother. Not your friend.
ME: My friends aren't nice to me either!

Kidding, kidding!

MOM: I've been this way forever. This is just how I am.
ME: So you've decided that since you're in your late--
MOM: Mid!
ME: --Forties--you have decided that you're just set for life?
MOM: Pretty much.
ME: Wow, what a wonderful life lesson to teach your children. Make it to forty, then stop right where you are.

That was when my mother stormed off to her bedroom to look at photos of us as children back when we were all shorter than her.

So much for inspiring kindness.

RYAN: You could have solved that with one sentence.
ME: Oh yeah? What's the sentence?
RYAN: You're turning into Grandma.

Now why didn't I think of that?

Day #40: I'm Really Just Jealous

I have a saying--

Yup, that's right. My very own saying.

"Anger makes you dumb. Envy makes you smart."

What I mean by that is most of the time when we think we're angry, we're really just jealous.

When somebody hurts my feelings, I usually respond with "What the f**k were you thinking?"

I'm hurt.
I'm disappointed.
I'm offended.

Usually my response to these feelings isn't very intelligent, because I'm so hurt I can't formulate my thoughts.

When I'm envious on the other hand, my remarks are usually cutting and incredibly mean-spirited.

That's because when you're jealous, you're not really hurt. So you have plenty of time and emotional distance to come up with nasty comments.

I would say of everyone I know, my dad is the most jealous person I've ever met.

Considering I do theater and my dad doesn't, that's really saying something.

For the longest time, I just thought my dad was angry all the time. Then I realized it was envy.

And I realized that I probably inherited that sense of entitlement from him.

Why shouldn't I get whatever I want?
Why should other people be rewarded over me?
What about my acclaim?

Not exactly the questions you want swimming around in your head.

I remember seeing Tom Hanks on a talk show right when "American Beauty" came out. He was talking about how envious he was that he wasn't in the movie.

It was the first time I had ever heard anybody come right out and say--I'm pissed because I really wanted to be a part of that, but good for them anyway.

I've been thinking a lot about Mr. Hanks lately, because I think most of the time when I'm not being nice, it's because I'm being envious.

And what's the best way to cure envy?

'Fess up to it.

I find that when I come right out and say "I'm so jealous of you" it's a lot easier to then follow it up with "Congratulations."

I feel like envy relies on you not speaking of it, that's how it grows stronger.

Now when I cop to it, I can actually feel it deflate inside myself.

And I'm a lot nicer because of it.