Poems

Somewhere along the way, I stopped writing poems. It didn't seem to serve any purpose anymore. There was no time and, frankly, no interest. My step dad wasn't around to read my poetry after a few shots of tequila and tell me I was a genius, which left only myself and one very nice professor from undergrad to glance over them once in a while. Gone were my jobless teenage summers, sprawling sun decks, and endless thoughts. After grad school, I hit a plateau where I didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to string words together on paper in journals or submit to publications or care. If poem could be a verb, I didn't want to poem. Poetize? Poemify? Yeah. Not gonna.

There was this one time like 8 years ago that I struck up a conversation with a lady on a bench in central park. She was wearing a long hippy dress, hadn't brushed her hair, and had a journal with a big moon on it on her lap. She was sitting there to write poems about her dreams, never to share with anyone. She told me it was for her own eyes only. She must have been in her forties, frizzy and alone, and something about it struck me as too much. I mean, good for her, but it suddenly hit me that this was a possible future me and I very urgently I realized I didn't want to be wearing hemp and writing in a moon diary when I was forty just the same as when I was fourteen. And I didn't want to be the girl giving everyone poems for Christmas and birthdays anymore. I thought, "How embarrassing is that at 19? Gross!" (I was gross. I was young. I'm less gross now. At least I think so. At least, I don't think poems are a gross present anymore. I think it's awesome.)

My dreams and poems used to mean a lot to me, but after a few years in New York City I just didn't want to care. I didn't want to be a poet with feelings sitting alone on a bench with a journal - it was very occupying being an actor with feelings, thank you very much. Very occupying being an actor with feelings doing things and trying to do more things and not being allowed to do certain things I wanted to do like get famous and reserve a table at schmancy expensive clubs in TriBeCa and jet off to Cannes. Writing things sounded just impossible. Or ridiculous. Between eight weekly shifts at a restaurant, rehearsals, auditions, and the mounting August crankiness, I lost my poetry. I just lost it.

But just this week, I think I found it again, and I think I know why.

See, I was the only child at home after my brother moved out, and with our 12 year age gap, it was more like I was an only child. And like most only children, my imagination was my constant companion - my BFF. There was a lot of wearing funny hats and sitting in trees talking to myself and my invisible unicorn friend Bow, and I wrote a lot. Don't get me wrong I totally had friends - non-invisible ones - but I was always equally happy to sit down all day with a word processor. Literally, all day. Once I clocked 12 hours. And my imagination was prolific - there were bushels of short stories, books of poems, two unfinished novels and even one finished (not my best, I think, but a good start). Alone time was always my friend, and honestly, I wrote for myself.

The thing with story telling is that it can't exist in a vacuum. Something I am really digging about my acting classes at The Barrow Group is the way that they remind us, over and over in various ways, that we're actually not there to have a personal experience. We're there to tell a story. And we're not telling it to ourselves, we're telling it to our audience. I mean, duh, right? But somehow I super need the reminder. Actually, I never really thought about an audience while writing...which means I kind of missed the point.

I don't really write for myself anymore because I don't want to just sit with myself. Part of the reason I stopped writing poetry was because it felt a bit...self-involved. TOTALLY unlike blogging right??? Sheesh.

Well, anyway, I just needed to stop the poems for a bit. I didn't have the spare energy for sitting with myself because I had blocked that off and was so busy with other people, but now the thought of writing again is exciting to me because of other people. I want to write for them, tell them stories, give them poems. I want people to read my stuff. And I am really happy, actually, that I had some time away to think about the difference between living privately in my imagination and sharing parts of it with others. Communicating. After all, what use is a light if you hide it under a bushel?

Momentum and Memorials

April showers bring May flowers, and the downpour can be my only excuse for neglecting this blog so long. April saw a boom of work for me both in and out of the entertainment industry, and on this rainy start of the Memorial Day Weekend Festivities, I am relishing the chance to slow down, hole up, catch my breath and gain some perspective for a minute.

me and my stunning prom date Larissa

April and early May saw one of my year-long goals accomplished, as I got to appear in a fantastic production of "12 Angry Jurors" with the AlphaNYC off-off broadway. My first episodic TV gig came through in the form of Mysteries at the Museum on the Travel Channel, and I had my first pilot reading with Brown Dog Productions. Whew! What an awesome month. I also got to attend the Private Theater's Prom, an epic fundraiser that knocked the socks off of all my previous prom experiences, even the year that I went with the Prom King. It's great to be busy in New York City.

In honor of our three-day weekend, our busy-ness, our heroes, our barbecues and our collective sigh of relief this weekend, I'd like to seize this moment to cherish the momentum that has picked up in my life and thank everything that came before that made it possible. Like our soldiers whose sacrifices have enabled us to live in freedom, our past experiences have created this moment for us to make the most of. Freedom isn't free, and opportunity is a responsibility. I certainly mean to make the most of my opportunities now, at this moment in my life, and not squander my freedom and youth. It is a great thing to be American, to be the recipient of all that came before - and it is also a job. I can't drop the ball now. The momentum has to keep flowing. I have to keep paying it forward. To remember and to honor and to move forward, creating - that is my Memorial Day Weekend plan and, if I can stick with it, my year plan.

Now off to movie nights, rooftop parties (if the rain stops), auditions, and frolicking in the Big Apple. And let's all remember to honor our men and women who didn't make it back to the land of opportunity.

All Things New

New apartment. New life and singleness. New budget. New scene partners and conversations and plays and props in class, lines to learn, crosses to justify. New plumb line in headstand pose. New interviews and auditions and email addresses and appointments to keep track of. New goals. New vest - for free! New box of wine. Yeah. A box of wine for my birthday. How cool and new is that.

New neighborhood grocery store, laundromat, subway stop, routine, neighbors who let us use their toilet when ours breaks, street rhythms and lights and strange, long absences of sirens. New bedroom to myself equipped with closets (!!!!!) and hallway. New doors with broken knobs, glass panels, and original wood finish. New March, new year in my existence and wrinkles around my eyes. New address. New wall colors and new old dogs who like to lay on a new old floor in what to me is a new old floorplan in a new old brownstone. New sky. 

New confidence, lighting in the mirror, knowledge of myself, and clarity. New action plan for seeing friends, new fire lit under me to get things done. New sense of attainability. New boss at the dayjob and new relationship to build. New orders of business. 

New seconds and minutes whizzing by, filling eternity as they etch stories in our souls, drawing closer to a new future. New need to trust God. New desire. New earrings and dress. New recipes. New books. Happy Resurrection Day!

"Behold, I am making all things new." - Jesus

"Ang Lee and the Uncertainty of Success"

I don't often use my blog to refer to other articles, but this one was so poignant, timely, and needful to my heart today that I thought I would share it here as well. Thanks to my friend and colleague, actress Chelese Belmont, for sharing this on facebook and giving me some much needed comfort and sense of community from the true-life story of a great artist!

"Much is made of genius and talent, but the foundation of any life where you get to realize your ambitions is simply being able to out-last everyone through the tough, crappy times — whether through sheer determination, a strong support network, or simply a lack of options."

Read the full article "Ang Lee and the Uncertainty of Success" here from jeffjlin.com

Note To Self

I am having one of those weeks where I am tired and busy and beginning to succumb to those kinds of thoughts whose spidery tendrils whisper and grab at you from within most dark and twisty of nebulas, Desperation. Fellow actors, I know that you know the galaxy I mean. It is a tiny vortex, always accessible through a sigh, where sight is distorted and deep draughts of the drink Compromise are cooked up by a broken bartender.

Dali's Rabbit Hole from Alice in Wonderland

We none of us like to admit that we frequent the place (it is rather the unfashionable end of the universe). Going there is a nasty habit we pretend not to have, a source of shame, and we try to hide our furtive trips to its shadowy doorstep. But we go there, hypnotized, pathologically comparing ourselves to each other and beating ourselves up for things we didn't do instead of acknowledging the hard work we've done and the successes we've accomplished.

And what's nuts is that we're usually convinced it's the only way - a required pit stop on our trip through life's lessons, an unavoidable toll bridge from point A to point B. As if we can't just steer our starship around it. As if Desperation is everywhere no matter what, like dark matter or god particles or whatever the heck the universe is actually made of. We float into this gross galaxy each time we worry about jobs, auditions, appearance, or the future, and do not remember to breathe deep and take care.

Tonight, thanks to a mentor who has saved my life multiple times (my Dad), I had a bit of a reality-check and intervention within my own mind. I woke myself up on the threshold of that smokey hole and shook off it's weak gravitational pull. I thought I'd share some of the basic things I was reminded of tonight that lifted my gaze from the netherworld of doubt and worry. A simple note to self reminded me that making choices should always be guided by the simple truths that any 6-year-old worth their salt knows implicitly.

Here's what I came up with:

• Money is never a good reason to do anything you are uncomfortable with.
• Be legitimate. Be professional. Be your best, bravest, and brightest.
• Avoid slippery slopes.
• Don't break your mother's heart.
• Stay lovely. Practice loveliness. Look for it everywhere!
• Enjoy life and be thankful for it.
• Treat others as you wish to be treated. No exceptions.
• If something isn't right, it isn't right, and it isn't right. Do the right thing. 

 As my Daddy jolted me by saying, "If God wouldn't do it, don't do it." A tall order to be sure, but a good thing to aim for. I plan on using this simple note to self to help me avoid falling down the rabbit hole next time.

Fellow voyagers, there is no reason why we should let the dark side of the force overwhelm us. It doesn't have to be complicated. Why waste away in a black hole when you can just...not go there?

2013: Year of Awesomeness!

Hi friends! I am stealing today's image from a buddy's facebook feed, as a refreshingly cheesy reminder about positivity, hope, and forward motion. (Who doesn't love cheese?!?!)

Don't give up! My roommate and I have declared that 2013 will be the Year of Awesomeness, and so far, January is laying some great groundwork. I'm happily working my acting muscles at The Barrow Group's fabulous Scene Study 1, meeting cool new acting peeps, attending workshops and EPAs, and working on producing two awesome original projects. AND I got a promotion at my dayjob! Don't you love the days where you can see some of the fruit of your hard work?

Want to join in making 2013 awesome? What are some awesome things you want to make happen this year? Our energy, intention, and perseverance can make it happen!

Babies

Our babies, our best and brightest and most beautiful humans, you whose eyes and minds are full of wonder and raw feeling, new thought and discovery - our babies, the ones who we ought to live for, you who quicken our steps and make us make it through the day - you, babies, you deserve a world better than this one: a world that deserves you. You, sweet things, are too good for us. We could not ask for more perfect creatures for the world. How can there be horrors in your world, the world you better by touching it, the world that ought to protect you? We fail you. We old ones ought to be your big brothers and sisters, your mothers and fathers when your real mothers and fathers are not nearby. We ought to keep you safe. We fail you time and time again. And there is nothing that can be said to justify it. Nothing can explain it. We fail.

Stop the violence. Give them back their world. Love one another.