A guy who REALLY should be selling-out Radio City by now...

Last night, I went down the block from my former elementary school to see Peter Cincotti perform. (While I was waiting for my friend, my cousin Vincent walked by and we talked for a bit. Vincent bears an uncanny resemblance to Tony Danza...this will play into our story later.)

I've been a fan of Peter for over ten years and have been singing his praises to anybody who will listen for just as long. A line in his song "Cinderella Beautiful" also inspired me to write a character (one who does not like Christmas time) which eventually led me to create the play which would be my off-Broadway debut. For that inspiration, I will always be very grateful to Peter.

I think it's a combination of the fact that I really do just think his music is completely brilliant and I feel a kinship with him since we're both from Italian-American New York City families and lost our dads as kids. (He also said in an interview once something along the lines of, "I wish I was around back in the day when people would go-out to dinner and wear nice hats." That pretty much sums-up how I feel about the world.)

I'm just really rooting for this guy and I want the rest of the world to take note of him.

He's awesome.

Peter did songs from his new album, Metropolis, which I am currently listening to on repeat. I actually kinda wish I was going-through a break-up right now because there are two fantastic break-up songs on it which I could be quoting and being all dramatic about. There's also a song called "Forever and Always" which makes me just want to break-out the roller-blades and head to the boardwalk and skate as I eat frozen yogurt and this song plays in the background. (If Jake Gyllenhaal is available to join me in this scenario, he is very welcome to.) And, of course, "Do or Die", which I have mentioned before and inspired me to ride elevators nonstop until I met somebody in one.

When he talked about his last album, East of Angel Town, the crowd cheered and Peter said, "...I thought that album only sold about two copies in the States..."

With that comment, Peter addressed my only problem with him.

Why isn't he hugely famous?

Why isn't he on the radio?

Why do I have to explain to people who he is? (Or, worse yet, when they think he's "that guy who's like Michael Buble/Harry Connick/Jamie Cullum." No...Peter Cincotti is like Peter Cincotti. I used to refer to him as The Next Billy Joel...because nobody does it better with lyrics and a piano...but he's the First Peter Cincotti.)

I'm not sure why I'm taking this so personally, since I don't even know this guy. I think I'm just frustrated...maybe because we live in a world where people become cultural icons for no reason at all and Snookie is a best-selling author and somebody as wildly talented as Peter seems to be playing to a crowd which mostly seems to consist of people who know him personally. (Considering he hugged and kissed so many people there last night, I took it as a safe bet...and I don't understand it at all.)

I'm not looking at it from a superficial point of view...that Peter needs to be famous because he deserves to have a $14 million townhouse in the West Village...but because if he was famous, many more people would be inspired by his lyrics and his style...and for that, the world would be a better place!

One person who was not related to Peter at the show last night was Tony Danza. (I did a double-take and wondered what Vincent was doing there.) When Peter announced he was doing a number from a musical he wrote, Tony joined him on stage, playing himself in a dream sequence.

That Tony Danza duet wins every single last point for random hilarity.

Being around somebody as talented and versatile and creative and hard-working as Peter gives me a push to be the best I can be...as a writer and a person.

I feel like I'm writing an 8th grade essay on somebody I admire right now.

You know, I can only imagine how proud Peter's mom must be of him.

I mean, I feel very proud of him and I'm not even old enough to be his mom!

Diana Rissetto

I think I give people the impression that I am way more together than I actually am.

I remember when I was a junior in college and my mom's friend wanted me to talk to her son. We were the same age and pretty much grew-up together. She said he wasn't sure what he was doing with his life, and she wanted me to talk to him since I was "so good with stuff like that."

Was I?

Was I, really?

I didn't really know exactly what I was doing.

I always told people I was going to be a writer, and I remember when I made my off-Broadway debut in 2010 telling my former high school English teacher (who is today a good friend...just the way I work) that I realized how lucky and blessed I was to be doing what I always said I'd do. It was luck. It was blessings. I recognized that. Maybe people mistake that for me having my act together.

But I had no idea what to tell this other kid about what he was supposed to be doing with his life. I felt as completely lost as he did!

The other night, I got a text message from a very old good friend from high school (and junior high, for that matter). We catch-up every so often in person. Her text said that she was freaking-out about nothing working-out, about ending-up all alone, what if she was too picky and would be alone forever, what if she already REJECTED the right guy and would never have another chance...etc.etc.etc.

I called her right away (it's hard to have heart-to-hearts over text message). After telling her that I have MANY of the save fears and I wasn't sure if that made her feel better, but she wasn't alone in her fears, I ended-up saying something which is probably the wisest thing I have ever said.

"NONE of us look at ANY our friends and think, 'She's going to be alone forever!'...So....WHY do we look at OURSELVES and think that?"

There was silence...

And then my friend told me that that made her feel a lot better.

Hours later, another friend (also another fabulous girl, as all my friends are) called me and we ended-up on the same topic.

I told her the words of wisdom I had shared with my other friend a little while ago.

Once again, the friend told me how right I was and how she never really thought about it that way...but that it made her feel a lot better.

Maybe I AM a good person to go to for advice, after all...

I wish we wouldn't all worry so much! I wish we weren't so hard on ourselves. I wish we treated ourselves with all the love and respect and admiration we treat our friends with.

How much easier would life be if we did???

Diana Rissetto 

"Hold on for one more day...it's gonna go your way..."

You know what, sometimes life just calls for quoting Wilson Phillips.

On Wednesday morning, after a particularly rough couple of days of job-hunting (I was extremely close to seriously look into becoming a nun), I decided I had to make some changes...for my own sake...for my friends' and family's sake. I was worried I was driving everybody that loved me crazy because I was driving myself crazy enough.

I decided to send an email to a handful of my close friends that I talk to (and complain to) the most.

I would post the email itself here, but it's a tad personal for the internet, but I told my friends I was no longer allowed to talk about my job-hunt, and that if I did, they were to ignore me and talk about other things, mainly THEMSELVES, because the world does not revolve around my joblessness. Over the past couple of months, my sister's father-in-law died suddenly, my friend's daughter was diagnosed with leukemia and another lost her home in a fire.

My problems?

Not so bad.

I ended the email with:

I don't want to be that character at the end of Wendy Wasserstein's Isn't it Romantic (played by the voice of Meryl Street) who drones on and on and on about how miserable her life is in answering machine messages.

And I really, really don't.

For the next 24 hours, I forced myself to talk and think about everything besides my jobhunt.

On Thursday morning, I was offered a really great-sounding job.

The Universe works in very mysterious ways.

I guess this all goes to show you that we just shouldn't worry about anything...ever. 

Diana Rissetto 

Yesterday, I grumbled grumbled grumbled...

...that chivalry was dead.

I held the door open for a middle-aged man who was behind me, expecting him to take the door from me, like a normal person would.

He didn't.

He walked right through it, not even LOOKING at me or making ANY attempt to take the door from me.

I was too annoyed to even give a sarcastic, "You're WELCOME!" I spent the next few hours rolling my eyes. What kind of a man expects a young woman to hold a door open for him and treats her like a common doorstop?

However, the Universe must have recognized how annoyed I was, because as I was leaving for my lunch break, I was in an elevator with a group of people who obviously all knew each other. When we got to the ground level, some people got-out...and then a young man with floppy brown hair gallantly (yes! GALLANTLY!) held-out his arm to show myself and another woman out of the elevator.

I smiled to myself and heard the other girl say, "What a SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN! Where are you from, again?"

The young man responded with, "N'Awlins!"

They raise nice young men in N'Awlins.

This guy is from N'Awlins, after all.

I couldn't resist turning around and saying, "And this morning, some guy let me hold a door open for him and didn't acknowledge me!"

The girl said, "You see? A true Southern gentleman."

Now, I couldn't help remembering that just a few weeks ago, after listening to Peter Cincotti's new single "Do or Die", I announced to the world (Facebook status readers) that this song about a guy trying to come-up with something to say to a girl in the elevator was inspiring me to spend all my free time riding elevators until I met a nice guy.

And what happens after I say that?

A true Southern Gentleman walks into my elevator.

(Of all the elevators in New York City...)

Today, as I was entering the building after my lunchbreak, I was behind a group of people with pizza.

And one young man with floppy brown hair.

He held the door open for me and I said, "You waved me out of the elevator yesterday, too!" (I couldn't help it! It slipped right out of my mouth! At least I didn't say, "You GALLANTLY waved me out of the elevator yesterday.")

He said, "Why, yes, I did" and I mentally "filed that one under 'oh my gosh, he talks just like Harry Connick.'"

The dorky hopeless romantic in me had very fleeting, "Maybe the entire reason I ended-up at this temp job was because I was supposed to meet this Southern Gentleman" and "the next time he holds the door open for you, SCAN HIS LEFT HAND FOR A RING!"

But the realistic part of me (which isn't too much of a percentage) gets that I'm probably not going to end-up with this guy, and I'll most likely never see him again (even though my friend Nick's parents DID randomly meet in an elevator.)

I do think, however, that there are no accidents in life and that gallant wave of a hand came at the perfect moment...there's some really good guys out there left in our age bracket...you just have to hope they walk into your elevator.

Diana Rissetto

Did that guy just John Slattery me?

When I was in the 4th-5th grade, I completely loved this TV show Homefront that really wasn't meant for me, but for my grandmothers (if I had them. I didn't.) I've always loved the 1940's and this series...about a small Ohio town adjusting to life after World War II...was everything I liked to imagine the era was like.

John Slattery, who has since been in EVERYTHING and is currently on Mad Men, was on Homefront.  Everybody knows John Slattery's face, even if they don't know his name. He's "that guy". That guy who has been in everything.

But he's still Al Kahn to me.


He will always be Al Kahn to me.

A few years ago, I was at a party and John and his wife walked-in. (His wife also played Bela Karoli's wife in the Nadia Comaneci TV movie my sister and I watched a thousand times as kids).

All I could think of was, "That guy played Al Kahn!"

I did something I so rarely do and approached him when he was done talking to his hoards of fans and friends and said, "I just have to tell you...I really loved Homefront." 

If I could film myself impersonating the reaction John Slattery gave me to that statement, I would. He kinda squinted, rolled his head back and then when he finally made eye contact with me, his face clearly said, "What the EFF?"

He was shocked!

Am I really the only person who remembers Al Kahn and Homefront?

(I hope not!)

He asked me how old I was when the show was on and I told him 9.

John Slattery kept repeating, "Nine. Nine. Nine. You were NINE."

He shook my hand and we went our separate ways.

I wondered if I freaked him out, but, seriously? I think I would love it if somebody came-up to me and reminded me of a project I did ages ago and what the impression it had on them!

Last week, I was in the supermarket and a man came-up to me and said, "I KNOW you. You ride the NJ Transit. I used to see you. But I haven't ridden it in six years. I ride the bus now. So it was a while ago."

I nodded. "Okay."

Completely freaked me out.

That guy just John Slattery-d me.

To John Slattery somebody...to go up to somebody you do not know and tell them you remember them from somewhere, something, many years ago.

Diana Rissetto

Things that happen when you go see high school musicals by yourself...

I often go back to my old high school to check-out the current drama club production...partly to support the director, who has been kind enough to support MY post-high school and college theatre career, and to remind myself of the pure love and passion these young kids feel for the stage...the dreams, the bonds developing backstage, the hard work they have put into the show. I've known Broadway snobs and I will NEVER become a Broadway snob.

Watching a school musical full of children you don't know CAN be end-up being boring, but Ocean Township High School's production of Miss Saigon was absolutely spellbinding. and I couldn't believe I was watching a gang of 15-18 year old kids. Just all kinds of "wow". Wow! (It was very easy to overlook the fact that the young girl playing Miss Saigon was, in reality, a pale redheaded girl.) "Bui Doi" is one of my favorite songs to sing when I'm alone, and I wanted to give the kid who played John and sang that song a mid-show standing ovation. That is a HARD song for ANYONE to sing...let alone a 16-year-old child! Good going. Good going.

I had just come from a funeral and was wearing my traditional black dress and heels (I had been wearing pearls, but realized I looked way overdressed for a high school auditorium in them...). There was a man sitting next to me who was with a woman, but from listening in on their conversations, it seemed like they were members of the same family supporting a common niece or cousin.

He said to me, "I hope he doesn't keep you waiting much longer."

In typical clueless fashion, I asked, "Who?"

"Your date. You look so great and everything."

"I actually just came from a funeral..."

Crickets.  So many crickets.

He also alerted me about the Knicks' score at intermission.

"It's not looking good", he told me.

I sighed and shook my head. "Keep watching the show. Things aren't looking too good for Miss Saigon, either..." 

Half-full...

It's a Wonderful Life is my all-time favorite movie and, lately, I have been able to connect so many of the themes to my own life.

I am yet to rescue any kid from drowning, which would let him grow-up to become a war hero...the manager at my after-school job at Barnes and Noble never almost accidentally poisoned a child, so I never got to interfere and stop it...and I never gave my Italian immigrant friend a new house.

However, after going-through what I have this past year, I get it.

Mr. Potter is a very fancy man. He has his own driver. When Clarence first sees him, he thinks he's a king! People are willing to work for him because he's rich and powerful and they need jobs...(not because they like him or because he's a good boss.)

The movie ends with Mr. Potter having millions and George Bailey needing $8,000 in order to save the Building and Loan.

George Bailey wins.

Mr. Potter might have a ton of money, and people STILL might still work for him because they need to eat, but George Bailey is the one who wins because he has a community of friends who want to help him.

I've had my own community of friends helping me this year...my Bedford Falls spans pretty far...several different states, a couple of different countries and includes people from all different stages of my life...and not just my friends...but friends of friends of friends...a train conductor who was worried about me when he hadn't seen me on the train after I lost my job, and told me I had always been one of the most pleasant passengers...this lady I sat next to at a show in Washington DC who told me everything was going to be okay...I've had people I hardly know send me links to jobs (including somebody I met three years ago at a work function and have not said a word to since, but, thank you Facebook, has known about my trials) and the wife of a young man I volunteer with (I've only met her twice!) I started going to a weekly class which has helped me so much...it's just the most open and supportive environment. You tell a story about your week...and people cheer. (Does it get any better than that?)

And, since I have interviewed at, roughly, 80% of the offices in New York City, I have met a lot of people...and...most of them? Completely lovely people who were nothing but kind and gracious and encouraging. I have gotten some of the kindest rejection letters ever written. I actually would like to put them into a scrapbook. It's wonderful of them to have taken the few minutes to tell me, "We couldn't hire you, Diana, but it's NOT you! YOU are fantastic (and I did get that word several times.) We just could only hire one person out of a sea of qualified ones."  Meeting them has made me realize how many terrific offices and bosses and coworkers there are out there, and that I completely deserve to find it for myself.

If everything happens for a reason, I think I know the reason all of this happened (and I wish I had realized it on some of my worse days.) A lot of people care about me...they wouldn't have bothered if they didn't...and just like Clarence wrote in his copy of Tom Sawyer, "No man is a failure who has friends."

I've known real-life Mr. Potters...and it's felt like they had it all...power and wealth and fame and the loyalty of otherwise good people...and I've struggled with, "Why are people who aren't nice have so much?" But they really don't have anything at all...they don't have their Bedford falls community.

Manny the Train Conductor NEVER would have cared about Mr. Potter. 

As lonely and isolating and sad as a period of unemployment can be, I have never, for a second, been alone.

I get that now. And I am grateful.

Diana Rissetto