YUP.
That's right. I'm writing this post on my good ol' HP Compaq which I inherited when bosslady moved our executive office up to the North Shore this November. And I'm packing this puppy up and bringing it with me to my new place on the UWS tomorrow morning. And I'm working and writing and facebook stalking, I mean, webrowsing on it from this point on.
No more laptop means no more Nomadic Naugs.
For at least the length of my first official 1 year lease.
EEEEEK! I'm super stoked.
And obviously not just to no longer be relying on / married to the pink dell laptop aka worst purchase ever, although I'm not going to lie, that's high on the list of things I'm looking forward to the new year for. Super stoked for the move in general though and for life as I will come to know it in the 5th place I will have lived in the city and 9th place I've lived in the last year and a half.
Signing off for 2010 since I imagine it will be a rather hectic next few days. Fear not though, I've got four drafts of future posts that I started last week when I was stretching myself to work full days at the Elsworth office so I could backlog hours and still get a paycheck for this week the company and industry in general closes down for. AND I still need to offer commentary on this article my oldest friend sent me. No, just kidding, she did send me that one as well, but this is the one I'll chat about a bit at some point in the New Year.
“Today, we operate on a simple premise—that every little girl should be able to grow up to be anything she wants, and she can only do so if she has the ability to chart her own reproductive destiny.” Oh, Kelli Conlin, president of the National Institute for Reproductive Health, tell us how you really feel. (Like every day you get to play God a little.)
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
December 30th..The Dawn of a New Decade
For me it will be anyway. I will start my new year's resolutions on the 1st of the year, and kick off the race to my prime that morning, commence training for my next half marathon, and pin up a new calendar on my wall.
At dawn on the 30th though, I'm moving for the 10th time in 16 months, and while my lease is only for a year, I'm thinking of it as a doorway leading to stability.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
speaking of defunct
first of all, is this even a word "defunct" or did i make it up? i always do that.
anyway. thought this graph i just received from one of my modmates in the city was blogworthy. happy holidays from the brits interested in heartbreak:
anyway. thought this graph i just received from one of my modmates in the city was blogworthy. happy holidays from the brits interested in heartbreak:
where's Hugh Grant when you need him? i thought love actually was all around???
and apparently (just got a follow up email from another modmate..."Facebook can predict who you're going to date and or breakup with and when!!!") there's an article out there on all of this. need to find that one one of these afternoons at the office.
Defunct dating site results
I laughed out loud on the megabus at the prospect of writing my "must have list" out in full in the "what are you looking for" section of my lackluster lovey dovey dating website profile.
Prior to taking the plunge with my one year lease that goes into effect 16 days from now, my 3 month trial membership subscription to said lovey dovey dating website was the longest concrete commitment I had made to anything in, um, ever.
Apparently my profile on it sucks though (according to my mod mates who I had a lovely holiday dinner with Monday night at Eastern Standard in Kenmore Sq).
And I suppose proof is in the pudding pie since my two mod mates who made the three month commitment to the site at the same time I did have both garnered significantly more success in their guided communication with the guys they've been matched with through it, gone on lovey dovey dating website prompted dates, and everything.
I could crack a few jokes or reveal some legitimately interesting aspects of my personality on my profile...
I'm just not that into it.
Prior to taking the plunge with my one year lease that goes into effect 16 days from now, my 3 month trial membership subscription to said lovey dovey dating website was the longest concrete commitment I had made to anything in, um, ever.
Apparently my profile on it sucks though (according to my mod mates who I had a lovely holiday dinner with Monday night at Eastern Standard in Kenmore Sq).
And I suppose proof is in the pudding pie since my two mod mates who made the three month commitment to the site at the same time I did have both garnered significantly more success in their guided communication with the guys they've been matched with through it, gone on lovey dovey dating website prompted dates, and everything.
I could crack a few jokes or reveal some legitimately interesting aspects of my personality on my profile...
I'm just not that into it.
Friday, December 10, 2010
People of interest
In this metropolis it's amazing how often the line blurs between it being a big city/small town.
Last night I went to the Alumni Christmas Party at Forum with my only other modmate who got a ticket in time - for whatever reason, the annual function sells out without fail. It was so nice to have a night out with Hips and one of her other good friends from college. It was so interesting to note the people I was most excited to bump into...
Namely: My residents - the guys & girls I was an RA for my junior year (when I felt like the world was falling down all around me. When I was all woe is me because I got cast as a pink sheep in Candide. When I was kind of crazy to be honest). They clearly were way more important to me than I gave them credit for being at the time based on the pride I feel when I see them now as successful New Yorkers setting the world aflame, as you do when you're an Eagle.
And then all blast from the past-y: PETER. This guy I met when we RV'd to Notre Dame that same year - the Fall of my junior year.
Peter from Alaska, who at the tailgate, I was tempted to cheat on my boyfriend with for the only time ever, and might have had it not been for my now-married (and apparently infinitely wise) friend answering his phone that morning and talking me out of making a terrible mistake.
Peter, who didn't exactly remember me/Hips at first when he came up beside us at the bar, but who totally came around with his recollection of the infamous pink trucker hat I wore for the duration of the epic road trip, flirt session and football game.
Peter, who 19 year old Naugs had romantacized to such an extent that I could have sworn we may have been meant to be or at the very least destined to date had we found each other at another time or place in our lives.
Peter, who's phone number is still randomly in K Koster's cell phone I'm sure.
Peter, who was a person of interest partly because running into him and feeling so far removed from everything he was connected to in my past proved how far I've come as NY Naugs.
Last night I went to the Alumni Christmas Party at Forum with my only other modmate who got a ticket in time - for whatever reason, the annual function sells out without fail. It was so nice to have a night out with Hips and one of her other good friends from college. It was so interesting to note the people I was most excited to bump into...
Namely: My residents - the guys & girls I was an RA for my junior year (when I felt like the world was falling down all around me. When I was all woe is me because I got cast as a pink sheep in Candide. When I was kind of crazy to be honest). They clearly were way more important to me than I gave them credit for being at the time based on the pride I feel when I see them now as successful New Yorkers setting the world aflame, as you do when you're an Eagle.
And then all blast from the past-y: PETER. This guy I met when we RV'd to Notre Dame that same year - the Fall of my junior year.
Peter from Alaska, who at the tailgate, I was tempted to cheat on my boyfriend with for the only time ever, and might have had it not been for my now-married (and apparently infinitely wise) friend answering his phone that morning and talking me out of making a terrible mistake.
Peter, who didn't exactly remember me/Hips at first when he came up beside us at the bar, but who totally came around with his recollection of the infamous pink trucker hat I wore for the duration of the epic road trip, flirt session and football game.
Peter, who 19 year old Naugs had romantacized to such an extent that I could have sworn we may have been meant to be or at the very least destined to date had we found each other at another time or place in our lives.
Peter, who's phone number is still randomly in K Koster's cell phone I'm sure.
Peter, who was a person of interest partly because running into him and feeling so far removed from everything he was connected to in my past proved how far I've come as NY Naugs.
Thank you notes
I sent my godson a birthday card this week with 2 $25 giftcards to Mobil. He turned 16 last year and bought a car this past summer.
(Admission: I was clearly having a blonde moment Monday when I was thiiiiiiis close to buying him a YOU'RE 16!!! bday card at CVS. Woops. Good catch, Naugs. And now that I'm realizing he obviously turns 17 tomorrow I am totally having one of those "wow if you're ___ I must be getting old" moments that grown-ups always have).
Anyway in the card I wrote a note asking him to facebook message me when he got the card so I'd know he got it and also to let me know what he could use for Christmas (band equipment, new sneakers, parts for his car, whatever he needs/wants - I love this little guy, he's such a cool dude, and I used to love buying him the latest & greatest toys, then he turned ten and got much harder to shop for).
Ready for this?
(Admission: I was clearly having a blonde moment Monday when I was thiiiiiiis close to buying him a YOU'RE 16!!! bday card at CVS. Woops. Good catch, Naugs. And now that I'm realizing he obviously turns 17 tomorrow I am totally having one of those "wow if you're ___ I must be getting old" moments that grown-ups always have).
Anyway in the card I wrote a note asking him to facebook message me when he got the card so I'd know he got it and also to let me know what he could use for Christmas (band equipment, new sneakers, parts for his car, whatever he needs/wants - I love this little guy, he's such a cool dude, and I used to love buying him the latest & greatest toys, then he turned ten and got much harder to shop for).
Ready for this?
Thank you notes. Simply the sweetest thing.
He also happens to be a rockstar drummer opening for a band playing at Gilette Stadium this month on December 20th. nbd.
Naturally, I'll be in the audience. I'll also be scouring shopping malls in MA for the next three weeks if anyone has ideas of what to buy a super awesome 17 year old drummer boy godson for Christmas.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
There is a cleaning lady cleaning my studio
Right now. At this very moment. Louie Lips sent her down. Suppose she's taking it out of my security deposit which I'm chipping away at with the 12 days of December that I'm staying in my little cave on this lovely tree-lined street of ours.
Super surreal. Pretty sure it'll be a while before I spring for another cleaning service (although note to self: that'd make an awesome gift for my mom for x-mas next year - this year, of course, she's already over the moon about the gift I gave her and my dad: 2 tix to none other than Donny & Marie: A Broadway Christmas).
Anyway - all of this is irrelevant as I primarily intended to report the latest outlandish request Louie made of me, and I quote:
"Hey if I gave you like a hundred bucks or something is there any chance you would be able to move out by Friday night instead of Sunday?"
Is she freaking kidding me? I paid $1100 to spend 12 - 17 days in this little box this month so I could attend the holiday parties I need to and see through at least half of the last 30 days of my membership at Crunch, and I am already ducking out 5 days earlier than I had originally planned.... WOMAN IS NUTS. $100? Try $600 and we'll talk Louie. Try, two nights at a hotel for my parents who are driving down here Sunday to loan me their car while they're at Donny & Marie so I can put my stuff in storage until Jan 1 when I move to the heaven that is my new 2 bedroom apartment on 109th and Amsterdam. Try, nope, sorry, thanks anyway :)
Super surreal. Pretty sure it'll be a while before I spring for another cleaning service (although note to self: that'd make an awesome gift for my mom for x-mas next year - this year, of course, she's already over the moon about the gift I gave her and my dad: 2 tix to none other than Donny & Marie: A Broadway Christmas).
Anyway - all of this is irrelevant as I primarily intended to report the latest outlandish request Louie made of me, and I quote:
"Hey if I gave you like a hundred bucks or something is there any chance you would be able to move out by Friday night instead of Sunday?"
Is she freaking kidding me? I paid $1100 to spend 12 - 17 days in this little box this month so I could attend the holiday parties I need to and see through at least half of the last 30 days of my membership at Crunch, and I am already ducking out 5 days earlier than I had originally planned.... WOMAN IS NUTS. $100? Try $600 and we'll talk Louie. Try, two nights at a hotel for my parents who are driving down here Sunday to loan me their car while they're at Donny & Marie so I can put my stuff in storage until Jan 1 when I move to the heaven that is my new 2 bedroom apartment on 109th and Amsterdam. Try, nope, sorry, thanks anyway :)
It's a jungle out there
Maybe it's the season.
The city IS inundated with out of towners and locals alike spending billions by the second on holiday gifts.
I have a sneaking suspicion though, that this sort of insanity goes on daily between 7 and 10 and 5 and 8.
Rush Hour - right? Isn't that what that block of time spawning either end of the work day is called?
Picture me shuddering at the sound of that phrase like these guys at the name "Mufasa:"
The city IS inundated with out of towners and locals alike spending billions by the second on holiday gifts.
I have a sneaking suspicion though, that this sort of insanity goes on daily between 7 and 10 and 5 and 8.
Rush Hour - right? Isn't that what that block of time spawning either end of the work day is called?
Picture me shuddering at the sound of that phrase like these guys at the name "Mufasa:"
People - WHAT am I going to do if I ever have to go back to commuting some day?!?! I fear I have been overlooking and undervaluing the number one perk of working from a home office, and I was rudely awakened to that fact last night when I got KNEED in the THIGH by some guy who was walking DOWN what was clearly an UP stairway at the Union Square subway station.
(I wish I could explain/understand the physics of how this happened - I simply have the bruise to prove it.)
In any case, I rarely find myself amidst the mayhem on either the road or the public transit routes between 7 and 10 or 5 and 8 because I'm either out the door for an audition by 5:30 or 6am or commuting from my bed to my bathroom to my kitchen and ultimately my desk in the hour approaching 9am. I schedule meetings with clients and potential stylists most commonly at either 11 or 2, I walk a block to my gym around 8 in the morning or evening and I don't go "out" before 9pm.
Last night I met some of my artists at Japonais to review proofs from the shoot I produced Monday night, so WHAM I found myself smack dab in the middle of the frenzy of folks leaving offices/going to pick up kids from daycare/running errands/heading to the gym after work/and whatnot.
So this morning, I am saying a special prayer for everyone I know who does commute's safety on the roads and subway stairwells alike. And I am letting everyone know how blessed they already are to be spared my own personal/potential road rage. Thank you telecommuting for coming into existence.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
A two-fer in support of dreams coming true
And here's why.
After finishing that last post more or less about being an aging Agent in NYC, I went for a run, on my lunch break, around the resevoir that's in my backyard, also known as the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Resevoir in Central Park, and while running I was reminded of how last night when I left Starbucks and parted ways with the BFF he asked me "where are you walking towards?"
And I replied, "I'm crossing here to take the T."
And he snarkily quipped that, "Yep, writing Christmas cards'll do that to you." Suggesting that being sentimental's such a Boston Naugs thing to do. What he didn't notice that I caught out of the corner of my eye at that same moment however was this super cute guy dressed in gym clothes and about to head to the C train station at 50th and W 8th about a stride in front of me glance over his shoulder and smile at my slip up.
I had to bet he was a Boston boy himself or else had gone to school there and had a soft spot for the good old "T." It was the tiniest instant, and then he was getting on a car in the middle of the train and I was trying to situate myself in front of a set of doors towards the front of it so I'd be lined up with the exit at 81st and not 79th street when I got uptown. I thought for a second about trying to find this cutie patootie on Craigs List's missed connections later that night though.
And I thought about how happy I was to have run in, albeit only for a moment, to a fellow Boston appreciator here in Manhattan, when I was on my run which reminded me of this great post I read on Open Eyed Sneeze and how I promised its author, Jess, in my facebook friend request to her that I would blog about her blog and her BOOK which is well on its way to being published!!!!
Published! How cool is that?!?! How much does this girl rock?! She's a real deal writer - and her dreams are in the process of coming true! If that's not something to celebrate and support - I simply don't know what is.
The End.
After finishing that last post more or less about being an aging Agent in NYC, I went for a run, on my lunch break, around the resevoir that's in my backyard, also known as the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Resevoir in Central Park, and while running I was reminded of how last night when I left Starbucks and parted ways with the BFF he asked me "where are you walking towards?"
And I replied, "I'm crossing here to take the T."
And he snarkily quipped that, "Yep, writing Christmas cards'll do that to you." Suggesting that being sentimental's such a Boston Naugs thing to do. What he didn't notice that I caught out of the corner of my eye at that same moment however was this super cute guy dressed in gym clothes and about to head to the C train station at 50th and W 8th about a stride in front of me glance over his shoulder and smile at my slip up.
I had to bet he was a Boston boy himself or else had gone to school there and had a soft spot for the good old "T." It was the tiniest instant, and then he was getting on a car in the middle of the train and I was trying to situate myself in front of a set of doors towards the front of it so I'd be lined up with the exit at 81st and not 79th street when I got uptown. I thought for a second about trying to find this cutie patootie on Craigs List's missed connections later that night though.
And I thought about how happy I was to have run in, albeit only for a moment, to a fellow Boston appreciator here in Manhattan, when I was on my run which reminded me of this great post I read on Open Eyed Sneeze and how I promised its author, Jess, in my facebook friend request to her that I would blog about her blog and her BOOK which is well on its way to being published!!!!
Published! How cool is that?!?! How much does this girl rock?! She's a real deal writer - and her dreams are in the process of coming true! If that's not something to celebrate and support - I simply don't know what is.
The End.
That pre birthday dip
can be direly detrimental.
Were it not for the fact that my birthday falls conveniently just a few days from the onset of December and right around the dawn of the Holiday Season, I might be prone to spiralling downwards into a "what am I doing with my life" depression for weeks on end following it.
Fortunately - I heard Christmas Carols sung at two services on the Upper East Side this past Sunday (one Baptist, one Catholic - surprising that Spiritual Naugs thrives in this city of sin, isn't it?) and then I spent two hours sipping on a peppermint mocha and writing out holiday cards at a Starbucks in Hells Kitchen while the BFF played with my iPad across the table from me yesterday afternoon, and now all it's going to take is me tuning into my favorite holiday stream of music in time for a daily 5 o'clock rendition of "Dominic the Donkey" for me to be full on festive.
Yesterday morning flurries were falling for my walk to the subway, and then I had the pleasure 
of producing a shoot at Go Studios on W 29th St photographed by the fabulous, Laura Rose, and featuring the work of agency All Stars, Stefanie Syat, Annie Nicholas, Charlotte Omnes, and friend of ENNIS, Carrie Butterworth. Pleasure might be an overstatement as I came to find I am far better suited to be an 
agent than I am a producer. Regardless though, our team artfully made it snow in Go, and now I can't wait to feature a photo from this shoot in the holiday card my bosslady will be blasting around in conjunction with a donation being made to the charity set up in Boston photographer, Kim Kennedy's name. How the heck can I mind having turned 26 on the 27th when it's undoubtedly the most wonderful time of the year?
of producing a shoot at Go Studios on W 29th St photographed by the fabulous, Laura Rose, and featuring the work of agency All Stars, Stefanie Syat, Annie Nicholas, Charlotte Omnes, and friend of ENNIS, Carrie Butterworth. Pleasure might be an overstatement as I came to find I am far better suited to be an agent than I am a producer. Regardless though, our team artfully made it snow in Go, and now I can't wait to feature a photo from this shoot in the holiday card my bosslady will be blasting around in conjunction with a donation being made to the charity set up in Boston photographer, Kim Kennedy's name. How the heck can I mind having turned 26 on the 27th when it's undoubtedly the most wonderful time of the year?Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Behind the ball from behind my wall
I love it - the pressure is on! I've got another awesome article to post tomorrow or Friday from my dearest oldest friend in DC, and so that means I better hurry up and write about what the Celebrity Relationship Expert had to say so I can get back on the ball here in the blogosphere.
I've also got to chat about the delight that is http://www.openeyedsneeze.blogspot.com/ within the week. So without further ado here's what she had to say...
"So you're telling me," she's smiling, smiling, she takes a dramatic pause for the camera, since after all she's shooting this with the hope of being granted the privelege of producing a full pilot before the New Year, and she's gunning for her own network TV talkshow in time for 2011's Spring Sweeps, "you'd date a compulsive gambler, or an alcoholic so long as he was 6 feet or taller and never planning to live in Connecticut?"
::nervous laugher from Sassy Single Naugs::
"You really are more worried that your friends and family seek out "suitors" for you who's sensistivity levels aren't threateningly effeminite and who are college educated and regular-joe shoe wearing vs interested in being loving, compassionate, caring, invested in and communicative with you?"
Shit.
She told me this was a defense mechanism, this list of mine, she said I've built up a wall as a result of breakups past, she said I shouldn't worry about "giving too much" to the next guy who may very well be deserving of my time, love, commitment, because in giving we receive, and she told me the work that needs to be done is on myself...
Errrr... check please? My interview lasted all of 25 minutes. It garnered some great laughs from the executive producers and PAs who were in the room for the filming. And it left me shaking in my boots and seriously considering entering therapy at the start of 2011.
Not two days later, my fashion forward modmate bemoaned her mother having sent her this article. Arguing that its message has always been her "thing" - "how can you expect someone to want to date you if you don't want to date yourself?" She (we'll call her Hips) thought she'd be justified in telling her mother not to talk to her ever again for assuming she hadn't already been working to strengthen the pillars of her emotional core - self-esteem, attitude, happiness, kindess & compassion.
I for the most part am on board with this goldfish guy's sentiments though. And particularly after receiving the instruction from the celebrity relationship expert to start working on strengthening those pillars and breaking down the wall I've built up around myself if I'm serious about wanting to someday re-enter a healthy relationship with the right one.
So add it to my list of New Year's resolutions I suppose:
Monday, November 29, 2010
Back to broccoli
It's unbelievable how it happens every time without fail. I get off the bus in Boston decked out in all black and wearing fierce NYC boots and then I head home to Manhattan after my mom drops me back off at South Station a mere 5 days later, and I'm frumpily sporting my New Balance sneaks on the subway ride back uptown.
(Well if the mouskateers can do it...)
C'est la vie of a Boston turned New York Naugs. Regression's a bugger. And the bff would say it has to do with the batches of chocolate chip cookies I insist on baking whenever I'm home for a special occasion (or no special occasion) which is every time. I toted them on the T with me from Newton Centre to Copley this past Friday night for our Nooksgiving Festivities.
Anyway, luckily there's a Starbucks directly across the street from where the megabus drops us Massholes off at the corner of W 28th St and Fashion Ave - theatre folk all know it because of its proximity to Chelsea Studios where Bob Cline gets us brimming with smiles, flaunting fake eyelashes, and modeling the brightest possible dresses we can whenever there's a non-eq tour auditioning.
So I hopped off the Mega and hopped up on a peppermint mocha quicker than you can say Hannukah Harry and I should be back to normal in no time.
I thought I would quickly warn y'all , though, to be on the lookout for a facelift of sorts as Younameitnaugs.blogspot.com will be going through a renaissance before long because I was informed this weekend that it's hard for a fella to justify reading a thisawayrose themed blog at the office, and I want to be sure I can reach as broad an audience as possible with this here vehicle.
As I'm sure many of you can relate, I feel bloated thanks to a carbloaded albeit they were the best and their my favorite four days - so I'll be saying goodbye to the white bread and mashed potatoes diet and going back to brocolli for the next few weeks. N Y See ya real soon . . .
As I'm sure many of you can relate, I feel bloated thanks to a carbloaded albeit they were the best and their my favorite four days - so I'll be saying goodbye to the white bread and mashed potatoes diet and going back to brocolli for the next few weeks. N Y See ya real soon . . .
(Well if the mouskateers can do it...)
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Home for the holiday, and oh so thankful
Thankful beyond belief to no longer be spinning my wheels, and to be here home on Elsworth just visiting for the week. Thankful to have come so far since last November when I was nomadic to the n'th degree, moving three times, in more debt than I could manage, at war with the bugs, and hardly feeling the least bit festive.
I LOVE the holidays again! I LOVE LOVE. Thank goodness I went to three beautiful weddings this summer and was reminded of this.
My four favorite days of the year have arrived and I'm so looking forward to loving each and every moment of them and all of the quality time I'm going to get to spend with people I love.
Because I can like the sound of my voice all I want, but at the end of the day, there's nothing
more gratifying than eliciting laughter from an audience of readers or onlookers, than giving with whatever gifts you've got. I heard back from another agent regarding my book, and her encouragement was uber exciting, what's kept me plugging away at the project though is the texts and emails I've gotten back from the few people I've let read some of it who represent my "target sales demographic:"
from an actual nook girl, "I'm almost crying reading it so far and only on pg 3!"
from my sorellina, "I'm on page 36, and although I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, I'm loving it. It's very good and I've found a few typos." (Ever the editor apparently)
Talk about being tickled pink :)
So thankful for friends, family, the fun that was had at my birthday party Monday night, the creative processes I'm involved in, and the fact that in honor of my birthday, Disney's gone and released a brand new princess movie for me to see on Saturday. Happy Turkey Day All!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Are normal people narcissistic too?
Here's a short one for the bff...
Actual text message I sent him this morning: "Do you ever search for yourself on broadwayworld.com just because you can? I do."
Actual thought that occured to me: "Does the photographer call me so often to chat partly because he just enjoys the the sound of my voice?"
I'm not interested in solely pursuing a career as a musical theatre performer, because frankly I'm fulfilled by a plethora of other outlets in my life (personal, professional, creative and comical ones like cookie baking).
I am enjoying this blogging thing because I get a kick out of re-reading what I've written after a few days or weeks have gone by. I could listen to the recording of my sisterbands' country album on repeat an embarassing number of times and find myself looking forward to it being so close to seasonally appropriate for me to re-post this little Sam Willmott gem on FB.
Actual text message I sent him this morning: "Do you ever search for yourself on broadwayworld.com just because you can? I do."
Actual thought that occured to me: "Does the photographer call me so often to chat partly because he just enjoys the the sound of my voice?"
I'm not interested in solely pursuing a career as a musical theatre performer, because frankly I'm fulfilled by a plethora of other outlets in my life (personal, professional, creative and comical ones like cookie baking).
I am enjoying this blogging thing because I get a kick out of re-reading what I've written after a few days or weeks have gone by. I could listen to the recording of my sisterbands' country album on repeat an embarassing number of times and find myself looking forward to it being so close to seasonally appropriate for me to re-post this little Sam Willmott gem on FB.
What can I say? I like my voice - the one I've found through writing these, and the one I'm reminded I have whenever I go on cartrips by myself and get to listen to / sing along with my favorite showtunes.
Are normal people narcissistic too? Or is it just those of us in "the arts?"
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The crown has led us to the crux
Sounds almost HP7 Part 1ish, doesn't it?
We're not talking about he-who-shall-not-be-named's horcruxes though, we're talking about the crux of the matter brought to our attention in light of Prince William's recent proposal to Kate Middleton which is that "neither men nor women need to be married to have sex or companionship or professional success or respect or even children -- yet marriage remains revered and desired."
Thank you "What is Marriage Good For?" for this observation and thank you ACK Roomie for sending this article my way upon reading it yesterday morning and thinking of me.
Interestingly enough I've just re-read part of an old email I received from an ex-boyfriend I would describe as having been on "the marriage track" with at one point once upon a time. In it, he said:
"I don't need to get married for any financial reasons, emotional or "goal oriented" reasons. My dream isn't having kids and taking them to Europe or Disney..."
His second sentence is less relevant to the TIME article, I'm just compelled to include it in light of having referenced ideally wanting a boyfriend who loves traveling to those two locations equally as much as I do a couple posts ago when I was babbling on about my "must have" list... which I'll get back to before too much time goes by also, since I've yet to let you all know what it was that the Celebrity Relationship Expert Lady had to say about said list.
Sidenote: my bff zinged me last night when I cracked him up by saying him pointing out the warning signs of wrinkles on my forehead even when my face is at rest was the worst thing that had happened to me since my brother first shattered the bubble I was living in about 5 years ago by calling me out on having cellulite.
Terrible.
The zinger was the bff suggesting I share that exchange with my blog readers. All 3 of them. He has ADD and can't stand reading a blog that isn't linked to Broadwayworld or Playbill.com so I don't take offense to him also telling me I ought to try writing shorter posts. Especially because I know the 8 or so people that read these from time to time are more often seeking sufficient distraction from their desk-jobs and willing to lend me their ears or eyes as it were for the time it takes to read through these verbose rants I go on.
Anyway.
Back to the article, the timeliness of my receiving it within a day or so of posting about the fact that marriage gets brought up in my day to day life on average once every six hours and the various interesting topics it touches upon. On the whole it's rather fascinating to find ourselves facing the statistics it highlights, and I noted at the article's end that similarly to the way in which my married friend wrote off the "dating" done by our 20something friends these days, the claim is that mere "cohabitation has not yet proved to be a robust enough substitute for most Americans to believe they can build a family on it," which I take to mean, the prevalent metality is Go Big or Go Home. Commit and "close the door" as my dad would say, because even the monumental step of moving in together remains somewhat wishy washy.
And now, I have to go back to that crux part from the top of this to explain what I find myself perpetually circling around on this blog, in my mind, with each passing year which is the necessity of marriage or seeming lack thereof. Approaching 26 on the 27th, I feel like my poor ex did at 23, like I don't need to get married for any financial, emotional or goal oriented reasons. If anything marriage might serve as a hindrance to my pursuit of my dreams and career ambitions. At the same time, the further I get on my own, the higher I am educated (as this article and various statistics would have me believe) the better postured and positioned I'll wind up to enter into a successfull marriage in the long run (victoriously).
So that happy fact and Stephen Dubner (author of Freakonomics and Confession of a Hero Worshipper's) comment on the Writing Program in the School of Arts at Columbia University are two of the things that propelled me to request information on the application process to the MFA program I'm going to set my sights on for the Fall of 2012. And you heard it here first.
Louie Lips Update: She must have spent last night at her house in Queens. Lucky? for me she neglected to turn her alarm clock off, so through the wall our apartments share, I have heard her radio in its attempt to "wake her up" blasting tunes from the 80s for the past hour and 45 minutes. PLEASE COME HOME AND HIT SNOOZE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
We're not talking about he-who-shall-not-be-named's horcruxes though, we're talking about the crux of the matter brought to our attention in light of Prince William's recent proposal to Kate Middleton which is that "neither men nor women need to be married to have sex or companionship or professional success or respect or even children -- yet marriage remains revered and desired."
Thank you "What is Marriage Good For?" for this observation and thank you ACK Roomie for sending this article my way upon reading it yesterday morning and thinking of me.
Interestingly enough I've just re-read part of an old email I received from an ex-boyfriend I would describe as having been on "the marriage track" with at one point once upon a time. In it, he said:
"I don't need to get married for any financial reasons, emotional or "goal oriented" reasons. My dream isn't having kids and taking them to Europe or Disney..."
His second sentence is less relevant to the TIME article, I'm just compelled to include it in light of having referenced ideally wanting a boyfriend who loves traveling to those two locations equally as much as I do a couple posts ago when I was babbling on about my "must have" list... which I'll get back to before too much time goes by also, since I've yet to let you all know what it was that the Celebrity Relationship Expert Lady had to say about said list.
Sidenote: my bff zinged me last night when I cracked him up by saying him pointing out the warning signs of wrinkles on my forehead even when my face is at rest was the worst thing that had happened to me since my brother first shattered the bubble I was living in about 5 years ago by calling me out on having cellulite.
Terrible.
The zinger was the bff suggesting I share that exchange with my blog readers. All 3 of them. He has ADD and can't stand reading a blog that isn't linked to Broadwayworld or Playbill.com so I don't take offense to him also telling me I ought to try writing shorter posts. Especially because I know the 8 or so people that read these from time to time are more often seeking sufficient distraction from their desk-jobs and willing to lend me their ears or eyes as it were for the time it takes to read through these verbose rants I go on.
Anyway.
Back to the article, the timeliness of my receiving it within a day or so of posting about the fact that marriage gets brought up in my day to day life on average once every six hours and the various interesting topics it touches upon. On the whole it's rather fascinating to find ourselves facing the statistics it highlights, and I noted at the article's end that similarly to the way in which my married friend wrote off the "dating" done by our 20something friends these days, the claim is that mere "cohabitation has not yet proved to be a robust enough substitute for most Americans to believe they can build a family on it," which I take to mean, the prevalent metality is Go Big or Go Home. Commit and "close the door" as my dad would say, because even the monumental step of moving in together remains somewhat wishy washy.
And now, I have to go back to that crux part from the top of this to explain what I find myself perpetually circling around on this blog, in my mind, with each passing year which is the necessity of marriage or seeming lack thereof. Approaching 26 on the 27th, I feel like my poor ex did at 23, like I don't need to get married for any financial, emotional or goal oriented reasons. If anything marriage might serve as a hindrance to my pursuit of my dreams and career ambitions. At the same time, the further I get on my own, the higher I am educated (as this article and various statistics would have me believe) the better postured and positioned I'll wind up to enter into a successfull marriage in the long run (victoriously).
So that happy fact and Stephen Dubner (author of Freakonomics and Confession of a Hero Worshipper's) comment on the Writing Program in the School of Arts at Columbia University are two of the things that propelled me to request information on the application process to the MFA program I'm going to set my sights on for the Fall of 2012. And you heard it here first.
Louie Lips Update: She must have spent last night at her house in Queens. Lucky? for me she neglected to turn her alarm clock off, so through the wall our apartments share, I have heard her radio in its attempt to "wake her up" blasting tunes from the 80s for the past hour and 45 minutes. PLEASE COME HOME AND HIT SNOOZE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Wisdom from the blissfully wed - warning this one's not that funny
Sometimes when you are turning 26 on the 27th you find yourself in a stage of life that is very much full of marriage talk. So this weekend on Friday I received a text from my best friend from kindergarten was she was proposed to by her boyfriend of 8 years, on Saturday I attended my little brother's engagement party at a lovely home on Center Street in Newton just across from the BC Law/Freshman Campus, and on Sunday I helped my mother pick out a card and an outfit for the wedding she was originally asked to be ordained for and preside over between our dear family friend and her 15 year senior fiance who had decided two weeks ago that one morning this month they'd like to make it official in the back yard of their house in Ayer either out on a canoe or just at the bank of the pond that they live on.
These are the most prevalent marriage-themed occurences of the weekend, but give me a minute to count here...yes, I would have to say between Friday evening and this morning, marriage/proposals/divorce/the shit or get off the pot point in a relationship/engagements/and the case for remaining single have come up at least 12 other times in my conversations with the various friends I've seen, chatted or email corresponded with. In 72 hours, 72 divided by 12, that's once every 6 hours, right?
Yeah, I mean, it's out there. And it's on people's minds. All the time. And obviously more so in Boston than NYC - city of singles, city of people searching not for love but for success, and committing not to partners in life but partners in business. C'est la vie, I supposed.
The wisdom from the blissfully wed I received was twofold. First, from the father of my brother's bride to be, who welcomed everyone to the engagement party with a few words of advice for my little bro that basically summed up to be: "brace yourself buddy, women are bitches, and you're in this for the long haul now. you'll have my support if you want to sneak upstairs to watch the basketball game so you don't have to shmooze down here with all of your future in-laws, but you'd best know you're going to be answering to my daughter if you do that and she's going to be none to happy in spite of whatever catchphrase she lobs coded your way." He was explaining how "nothing" never means nothing, and a loud sigh would be "i can't believe what an idiot you are" were it to be replaced with words spoken by the woman uttering it.
Charming, no? Rather apocalyptic really. But he's a good ol' boy, and there was a heartfelt line he wound up leaving out when he threatened to get choked up by it toward the closing of his little comedy routine, so ultimately, we all cheered for his chauvinism and appreciated the toast he encouraged everyone to make to these two coming together to start life as man & wife...
Later that same evening, I was catching up with the first of my homefriends to get married, and he was laughing at the triviality of the "dating" that we 20somethings are doing these days. "What's the point? If you're not really ready to get married, or to be engaged to be engaged, why not just all stay friends and makeout with each other?" He mused. Because our friend who's recently committed to a relationship was lamenting not being able to hit on the one uber flirtactious, skankily clad, noteworthiestly drunk girl there in the minutes before his own gorgeous girlfriend walked through the door looking stunning even in her grey sweatshirt.
And the married friend had a point, I thought. And if I might add, he also seemed perfectly pleased to be out with the boys for a bit but ultimately heading home happily to his wife of 6 months. And that was so delightful to see. **Check out the feature on his fairytale wedding in Newport Wedding Magazine, btw to see wedded bliss in its fullest :) Could not have been happier for him this May. I'm thinking I much prefer his perspective than my brother's future father in laws.
I'm all for having fun as a single gal for now, however there's ultimately going to be nothing better than finding the one and making a go of it with him. That said, I was laid up on the couch this morning with a bit of a stomach bug after spending the weekend eating everything under the sun that is so not a part of the south beach diet, and I opted to take a 2pm bus back to the city instead of sitting nauseous on one for four plus hours starting at 5am, so now I am drinking tea my mother made me out of a mug that says "love the moment" and "I do."
These are the most prevalent marriage-themed occurences of the weekend, but give me a minute to count here...yes, I would have to say between Friday evening and this morning, marriage/proposals/divorce/the shit or get off the pot point in a relationship/engagements/and the case for remaining single have come up at least 12 other times in my conversations with the various friends I've seen, chatted or email corresponded with. In 72 hours, 72 divided by 12, that's once every 6 hours, right?
Yeah, I mean, it's out there. And it's on people's minds. All the time. And obviously more so in Boston than NYC - city of singles, city of people searching not for love but for success, and committing not to partners in life but partners in business. C'est la vie, I supposed.
The wisdom from the blissfully wed I received was twofold. First, from the father of my brother's bride to be, who welcomed everyone to the engagement party with a few words of advice for my little bro that basically summed up to be: "brace yourself buddy, women are bitches, and you're in this for the long haul now. you'll have my support if you want to sneak upstairs to watch the basketball game so you don't have to shmooze down here with all of your future in-laws, but you'd best know you're going to be answering to my daughter if you do that and she's going to be none to happy in spite of whatever catchphrase she lobs coded your way." He was explaining how "nothing" never means nothing, and a loud sigh would be "i can't believe what an idiot you are" were it to be replaced with words spoken by the woman uttering it.
Charming, no? Rather apocalyptic really. But he's a good ol' boy, and there was a heartfelt line he wound up leaving out when he threatened to get choked up by it toward the closing of his little comedy routine, so ultimately, we all cheered for his chauvinism and appreciated the toast he encouraged everyone to make to these two coming together to start life as man & wife...
Later that same evening, I was catching up with the first of my homefriends to get married, and he was laughing at the triviality of the "dating" that we 20somethings are doing these days. "What's the point? If you're not really ready to get married, or to be engaged to be engaged, why not just all stay friends and makeout with each other?" He mused. Because our friend who's recently committed to a relationship was lamenting not being able to hit on the one uber flirtactious, skankily clad, noteworthiestly drunk girl there in the minutes before his own gorgeous girlfriend walked through the door looking stunning even in her grey sweatshirt.
And the married friend had a point, I thought. And if I might add, he also seemed perfectly pleased to be out with the boys for a bit but ultimately heading home happily to his wife of 6 months. And that was so delightful to see. **Check out the feature on his fairytale wedding in Newport Wedding Magazine, btw to see wedded bliss in its fullest :) Could not have been happier for him this May. I'm thinking I much prefer his perspective than my brother's future father in laws.
I'm all for having fun as a single gal for now, however there's ultimately going to be nothing better than finding the one and making a go of it with him. That said, I was laid up on the couch this morning with a bit of a stomach bug after spending the weekend eating everything under the sun that is so not a part of the south beach diet, and I opted to take a 2pm bus back to the city instead of sitting nauseous on one for four plus hours starting at 5am, so now I am drinking tea my mother made me out of a mug that says "love the moment" and "I do."
Friday, November 12, 2010
I gained 30 lbs in the summer of 2009
and I am currently very much in the process of losing them.
Fortunately for you this is not a weightloss blog.
God those are awful. I mean, informative from time to time. I'll admit I check http://www.dwlz.com/ twice a month on average, because how amazing is that restaurant list she and her followers have put together? It's like every time Starbucks adds a new variation of those sparkly donuts (which, by the way, the mastermind behind just asked one of my food stylists to shoot a cookbook of in Seattle, but I digress), the very instant a pink frosted or lemon filled one gets added to the Starbucks menu, there's an update on the points to be consumed right there for we point counters to find, and that is just so fabulously gratuitous.
Otherwise though weightloss blogs tend to be tumultous and rather depressing as inevitably people cave or they yo yo or they lament their falling off the Over Eaters Anonymous wagon and write about their re-committing to this or that new fad diet, and for those of us who weren't wired with wonderful metabolism and height to help the proportionality of pounds packed on periodically it all just hits too close to home.
In any case, again, this is not a weightloss blog, but I do feel inclined to address the weight I am actively taking off, because (brace yourself for some empowerment on the move here) I realized this morning when I woke up wearing a leopard print nighty I'd had on as a blouse under a cardigan for a Jersey Shore themed birthday party at the Olive Garden in Times Sq (because when you're there you're family/Italian) that got moved due to a ridiculous wait time to a French place with a fixed price menu and an unlimited Svedka drink special (have I mentioned I love November and life in general in New York City?), I realized as I rolled out my yoga mat and opted for crunches here in the basement in lieu of an hour at Crunch down the street and did some free weights while still wearing my leopard print nighty, that I am back to being a work in progress, and that is A-OK.
Because the last time I lost a significant amount of weight I did so without really focusing on it all that much. I did so by embracing being a work in progress, by eating healthily, and exercising regularly, running a few races, and drinking vodka sodas instead of dogfishheads. And my Doctor Roomie asked me on Shelter Island at the end of the summer of '09, HOW had I gained 20 lbs in two months???? Because it was hard to believe that it had happened (and because that was when i had yet to face a scale and the cold hard fact that I had actually gained 30lbs not 20). But I had completely reversed my style of living in that summer, and I could only go up from the low low I hit the week of the 4th of July that year. It was a summer of indulgence, and it was followed by close to a year of incongruity and instability, and it's only been in the last two months that I've really reigned it in and gotten a hold of myself here.
And now I've been doing double sessions at the gym, and slowly but surely I can see the inches around my waist lessening as I stand stretching in front of the mirror in my leopard print nighty , and I know it'll still be a while before I'm down to that low low again, but I'm alright with that, and I'm alright with the fact that I had a phenomenal piece of pizza last night when I got back uptown from the Jersey Shore Svedka saturated birthday party, because everything in moderation - right? And I'll spend two hours at the gym Sunday night when I get back from my little bro's engagement party in Boston because guess what... in other news: Louie Lips texted me last night, and I don't have to move out by the 15th!!!
Wooooooo! So that means, I'm here with Central Park as my back yard for another full month and by Christmas I'll have Crunched off the next bulk of the Nantucket belly, and won't it be very merry and bright by the time the ball drops and we're brought into 2011?
Fortunately for you this is not a weightloss blog.
God those are awful. I mean, informative from time to time. I'll admit I check http://www.dwlz.com/ twice a month on average, because how amazing is that restaurant list she and her followers have put together? It's like every time Starbucks adds a new variation of those sparkly donuts (which, by the way, the mastermind behind just asked one of my food stylists to shoot a cookbook of in Seattle, but I digress), the very instant a pink frosted or lemon filled one gets added to the Starbucks menu, there's an update on the points to be consumed right there for we point counters to find, and that is just so fabulously gratuitous.
Otherwise though weightloss blogs tend to be tumultous and rather depressing as inevitably people cave or they yo yo or they lament their falling off the Over Eaters Anonymous wagon and write about their re-committing to this or that new fad diet, and for those of us who weren't wired with wonderful metabolism and height to help the proportionality of pounds packed on periodically it all just hits too close to home.
In any case, again, this is not a weightloss blog, but I do feel inclined to address the weight I am actively taking off, because (brace yourself for some empowerment on the move here) I realized this morning when I woke up wearing a leopard print nighty I'd had on as a blouse under a cardigan for a Jersey Shore themed birthday party at the Olive Garden in Times Sq (because when you're there you're family/Italian) that got moved due to a ridiculous wait time to a French place with a fixed price menu and an unlimited Svedka drink special (have I mentioned I love November and life in general in New York City?), I realized as I rolled out my yoga mat and opted for crunches here in the basement in lieu of an hour at Crunch down the street and did some free weights while still wearing my leopard print nighty, that I am back to being a work in progress, and that is A-OK.
Because the last time I lost a significant amount of weight I did so without really focusing on it all that much. I did so by embracing being a work in progress, by eating healthily, and exercising regularly, running a few races, and drinking vodka sodas instead of dogfishheads. And my Doctor Roomie asked me on Shelter Island at the end of the summer of '09, HOW had I gained 20 lbs in two months???? Because it was hard to believe that it had happened (and because that was when i had yet to face a scale and the cold hard fact that I had actually gained 30lbs not 20). But I had completely reversed my style of living in that summer, and I could only go up from the low low I hit the week of the 4th of July that year. It was a summer of indulgence, and it was followed by close to a year of incongruity and instability, and it's only been in the last two months that I've really reigned it in and gotten a hold of myself here.
And now I've been doing double sessions at the gym, and slowly but surely I can see the inches around my waist lessening as I stand stretching in front of the mirror in my leopard print nighty , and I know it'll still be a while before I'm down to that low low again, but I'm alright with that, and I'm alright with the fact that I had a phenomenal piece of pizza last night when I got back uptown from the Jersey Shore Svedka saturated birthday party, because everything in moderation - right? And I'll spend two hours at the gym Sunday night when I get back from my little bro's engagement party in Boston because guess what... in other news: Louie Lips texted me last night, and I don't have to move out by the 15th!!!
Wooooooo! So that means, I'm here with Central Park as my back yard for another full month and by Christmas I'll have Crunched off the next bulk of the Nantucket belly, and won't it be very merry and bright by the time the ball drops and we're brought into 2011?
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Just when you thought she couldn't get any better
my crazy-assed landlady (who has accused me of trying to play games with her by asking for my security deposit back when I no longer wanted to stay through January after she questioned whether I was attempting to sneak a live-in boyfriend *aka my bff who spent two nights here in early September* into my 9 x 11 windowless, kitchenless, basement studio and then told me she feared it would appear to our neighbors that I was running a brothel out of said studio the weekend my two best girlfriends from Boston came to stay here) apparently thinks I'm in the market to buy in Manhattan.
That's right, the gem I found in my inbox today is below:
And the first question this begs is, did she think I'd see the maintenance fee of $666/month and jump on the offer????
Because I didn't. I saw the maitenance fee of $666/month and jumped to the conclusion that I have been right all along and there is a very good chance that this woman is the DEVIL.
Hold on a second. I need to backtrack and stop slandering while I'm at it. This landlady is otherwise a seemingly sweet woman. A newly wed, real-estate agent, who went to India to see the Taj Mahal and spend a few days in an Ashram the same week I was eat, pray, loving my way through Italy. She believes in Karma and botox and dyeing her eyebrows and eyelashes and injecting collagen into her "louie" lips. And when we first spoke the terms of our agreement (that I'd commit to living here for through the holidays and then go month to month starting after the New Year) I really appreciated the offer she made me to pull listings of apartments that promised to have lower rents than the ones I would have been looking to sign leases on for September or October move-in dates.
But, that was then, and this is now. It's 4 days from the 15th which is the date she called me on the 1st of the month to ask if I would be willing to move out of by so that she could effectively rent out her duplex in its entirety (her upstairs apartment and my little box in the basement). She'd had an offer from someone who would like to move in and rent the unit (my space included). Then she told me she would likely know if the rental was going to go through by Friday of last week (the 5th). Then Saturday the 6th came, then Sunday the 7th, Monday the 8th, Tuesday the 9th (when I emailed her to check in), Wednesday the 10th and today the 11th, Thursday, when I left her a voicemail saying I would be happy either way (content to move out next Monday and spend an extended holiday with the fam before moving into my new beautiful, bright, big apartment near Columbia on Jan 1 or content to stay here through the holidays the way we'd initially agreed) but could she please let me know what her plans are for the apartment.
And now I'm waiting and waiting (and mind you, I can hear this woman through the wall our apartments share, so I know she's been around all day working from home, making calls, yadayadayada), but I've got nothing. Nothing from her.
But this damn mass email about the time to buy being now. People, am I losing it here? Or, is my bgf from Boston right am I the sorrily unknowing participant in a bizarro social experiment??
Gotta bounce - I'm doublebooked with Birthday Parties this evening. I love November in New York.
That's right, the gem I found in my inbox today is below:
And the first question this begs is, did she think I'd see the maintenance fee of $666/month and jump on the offer???? Because I didn't. I saw the maitenance fee of $666/month and jumped to the conclusion that I have been right all along and there is a very good chance that this woman is the DEVIL.
Hold on a second. I need to backtrack and stop slandering while I'm at it. This landlady is otherwise a seemingly sweet woman. A newly wed, real-estate agent, who went to India to see the Taj Mahal and spend a few days in an Ashram the same week I was eat, pray, loving my way through Italy. She believes in Karma and botox and dyeing her eyebrows and eyelashes and injecting collagen into her "louie" lips. And when we first spoke the terms of our agreement (that I'd commit to living here for through the holidays and then go month to month starting after the New Year) I really appreciated the offer she made me to pull listings of apartments that promised to have lower rents than the ones I would have been looking to sign leases on for September or October move-in dates.
But, that was then, and this is now. It's 4 days from the 15th which is the date she called me on the 1st of the month to ask if I would be willing to move out of by so that she could effectively rent out her duplex in its entirety (her upstairs apartment and my little box in the basement). She'd had an offer from someone who would like to move in and rent the unit (my space included). Then she told me she would likely know if the rental was going to go through by Friday of last week (the 5th). Then Saturday the 6th came, then Sunday the 7th, Monday the 8th, Tuesday the 9th (when I emailed her to check in), Wednesday the 10th and today the 11th, Thursday, when I left her a voicemail saying I would be happy either way (content to move out next Monday and spend an extended holiday with the fam before moving into my new beautiful, bright, big apartment near Columbia on Jan 1 or content to stay here through the holidays the way we'd initially agreed) but could she please let me know what her plans are for the apartment.
And now I'm waiting and waiting (and mind you, I can hear this woman through the wall our apartments share, so I know she's been around all day working from home, making calls, yadayadayada), but I've got nothing. Nothing from her.
But this damn mass email about the time to buy being now. People, am I losing it here? Or, is my bgf from Boston right am I the sorrily unknowing participant in a bizarro social experiment??
Gotta bounce - I'm doublebooked with Birthday Parties this evening. I love November in New York.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Need dating advice????
Was the subject of an ACTUAL email I received yesterday from a dear friend of mine. She went on to write (and I naturally responded):
She sent another email elaborating on what she needed from volunteer advisees and asking if I happened to have a dealbreaker list when it comes to dating, like "he has to be this tall or have this color hair" and so on.
And do I....
I told her her celebrity expert would no doubt have a field day with this one. Many are familiar with my list as whenever I'm getting ready to go back on the market I remind friends and loved ones who might be interested in setting me up with single lads they know that he need not apply if he's not
*over 6 ft tall
*preferably athletic
*appreciative of the arts however
*in no way employed in an artistic field
*at least as funny as I am if not funnier
*and at least as smart as I am if not smarter.
*he cannot regularly buy nicer shoes than I do
*he cannot be an only child
*he cannot be from Connecticut or ever want to live there
*his heterosexuality musn't be at all questionable
*and he would ideally love travelling to Disney World and Europe equally as much
And while the photographer manfriend from the Upper East Side who I went out with last night has the whole career in the arts category working against him, I found out that in addition to loving football, his motorcylce, and dancing like a doofus, he also loves making a fool out of himself singing karaoke in dive bars (and this fact counters the career faux pas).
And it was in being thoroughly delighted by our dueting Dashboard Confessional that I realized I must add yet another must-have to my list.
*he has to be able to sing
Obviously. Can't believe I hadn't thought of that one earlier on in the listmaking process. Also can't believe I delighted in dueting Dashboard Confessional - blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol. I'm not usually one to volunteer for karaoke, but I was particularly appreciative of the photog taking the lead and making a plan for the evening, complete with a moonlit stroll through Central Park on the way from having a pair of pink frozen cosmos at my favorite West Side bar to an East Side dive bar he'd heard about where there'd be karaoke and canoodlin, so I simply had to oblige.
Is it bold of me to claim that this blog got a whole lot livelier in the past 24 hours?
She sent another email elaborating on what she needed from volunteer advisees and asking if I happened to have a dealbreaker list when it comes to dating, like "he has to be this tall or have this color hair" and so on.
And do I....
I told her her celebrity expert would no doubt have a field day with this one. Many are familiar with my list as whenever I'm getting ready to go back on the market I remind friends and loved ones who might be interested in setting me up with single lads they know that he need not apply if he's not
*over 6 ft tall
*preferably athletic
*appreciative of the arts however
*in no way employed in an artistic field
*at least as funny as I am if not funnier
*and at least as smart as I am if not smarter.
*he cannot regularly buy nicer shoes than I do
*he cannot be an only child
*he cannot be from Connecticut or ever want to live there
*his heterosexuality musn't be at all questionable
*and he would ideally love travelling to Disney World and Europe equally as much
And while the photographer manfriend from the Upper East Side who I went out with last night has the whole career in the arts category working against him, I found out that in addition to loving football, his motorcylce, and dancing like a doofus, he also loves making a fool out of himself singing karaoke in dive bars (and this fact counters the career faux pas).
And it was in being thoroughly delighted by our dueting Dashboard Confessional that I realized I must add yet another must-have to my list.
*he has to be able to sing
Obviously. Can't believe I hadn't thought of that one earlier on in the listmaking process. Also can't believe I delighted in dueting Dashboard Confessional - blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol. I'm not usually one to volunteer for karaoke, but I was particularly appreciative of the photog taking the lead and making a plan for the evening, complete with a moonlit stroll through Central Park on the way from having a pair of pink frozen cosmos at my favorite West Side bar to an East Side dive bar he'd heard about where there'd be karaoke and canoodlin, so I simply had to oblige.
Is it bold of me to claim that this blog got a whole lot livelier in the past 24 hours?
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The Gauntlet Has Been Thrown
and this-sister-friend-actress-writer-agent-nomad-princess has been put to task. Give the people more... I've been told. And make it funnier than finding trailers for the movie Eat Pray Love.
Fair enough. If inquiring minds want to know, there's certainly more to be said, especially now that I'm back in New York full time. And if I can't find funny things to comment on and write about then what's the point of blogging in the first place I suppose?
I am going on a date tonight.
Over on the East Side with a photographer manfriend who I see from time to time who loves football, his motorcycle and dancing like a doofus. It struck me as I was exiting the subway at 81st and Central Park West a few minutes ago how happy I am that this time when I trek across the park to see him on the Upper East Side, I'll only have a small purse or clutch with me. The last time I met him in his neck of the woods it was when I was very much in my nomadic naugs mode and I was schlepping a gym bag, an overnight bag, a bag with a bottle of wine for my college roommate who was hosting me in Manhattan that evening, my huge purse and of course the iPad in its handy dandy tote-case (since afterall I was meeting said photographer professionally on this occasion and would be showing him my artists' portfolios over a drink...or two...or dinner...drinks, dessert, and so on).
In anycase. Picture me frazzled from having gotten off the 5am megabus at 9 and going straight into a day of meetings with clients and potential new artists to represent, an hour at the gym, a coffee with the bff, and sitting up at one of the tall tables at the trendy bar I suggested we meet at with all five bags at my feet, barricading me in my seat. I looked like the complete spaz that I was.
A few minutes ago when I realized how happy I was that I would only have to travel East this evening with very little in tow, I was carrying my big purse that I now tote the iPad in because I was coming from a couple meetings in Brooklyn, and a frightening thought occured to me: I feel weighed down, oppressed and overwhelmed wearing a pea coat and carrying a bag on my shoulder, what in God's name am I going to do when I have a child to lug around someday?
Living at the 81st St subway station, it's inevitable that there are mothers and their little ones or nannies and their clients' kids getting off midday for excursions to the Museum of Natural History, so naturally I am always carried away by the cuteness that is their excitement upon seeing the murals of the animals and dinosaurs along the walls of the station. Because there's very few things more adorable, but still... to sit in your seat on the subway car and see the pictures through the window is one thing, to have to go through the process of disembarking, getting through the turnstile with baby, diaper bag, maclaren stroller, hats, mittens, scarves, jackets, pacifiers, blankies and whatever else goes along with you on the excursion...
I am literally exhausted just imaging the process. I was frazzled carrying five bags for myself to a dinner date. I am annoyed having to hoist a bag over my shoulder just so I'll have the iPad well secured for travel around the city. I was excited planning what small purse I'll pack with lipstick, wallet, and metrocard six hours from now. I'm just baffled by the fact that I'll be 26 in 18 days and here I am the girl who used to want to have popped out three babies by the time I'd turned 30, and now it's a lifestyle that's rather altogether unfathomable to me.
Now for where this all gets a little trickier to tackle. (Trickier? Thus far this has been inane babble that any 20something single girl in the city's likely to think on any given day but not bother anyone else with. Still I think I'm getting to some sort of relatively insightful delivery of a day in the life that's somewhat more interesting and slightly funnier than finding an Eat Pray Love trailer while tracking down an exercise routine, so I'm plowing onward).
Last night my bff was going to Brooklyn to meet up with a specialfriend, and I said to him piss and vinegarily, "pssh, I would never go to Brooklyn for a boy."
But then this morning, I had a meeting with a producer who grew up on Long Island, went to Syracuse, moved to Manhattan, and is now living in Brooklyn Heights all happy-family-ly with her husband and 5 year old daughter. And I don't know if you're familiar with the Clark Street stop on the 2/3 just one stop out of Manhattan and into Brooklyn, but it is so damn cute. So. Damn. Cute. It spits you out on a tree lined Street with a friendly little cafe and a Gristedes on the opposite corner. And I'll be damned if I didn't think to myself leaving that meeting, "well I mean I guess I would go to Brooklyn for a boy if we could live on Clark Street in Brooklyn Heights and buy pink-sparkly-sugar-covered cookies for our little five year old daughter who was having her first playdate today."
Will the real slim shady please stand up? Will the real Naugs ever be revealed to me even?!?! Would I rather go simple pursed on this date across town or have a five year old who I'd get all excited showing the animal and dinosaur murals to in the moments before I whisked her and her entourage of random little kid accessories up the stairs to the museum?
I don't know. But that's where this blog's going. With me on the decision making quest. Cause believe me, y'all, this is about choice every step of the way.
Fair enough. If inquiring minds want to know, there's certainly more to be said, especially now that I'm back in New York full time. And if I can't find funny things to comment on and write about then what's the point of blogging in the first place I suppose?
I am going on a date tonight.
Over on the East Side with a photographer manfriend who I see from time to time who loves football, his motorcycle and dancing like a doofus. It struck me as I was exiting the subway at 81st and Central Park West a few minutes ago how happy I am that this time when I trek across the park to see him on the Upper East Side, I'll only have a small purse or clutch with me. The last time I met him in his neck of the woods it was when I was very much in my nomadic naugs mode and I was schlepping a gym bag, an overnight bag, a bag with a bottle of wine for my college roommate who was hosting me in Manhattan that evening, my huge purse and of course the iPad in its handy dandy tote-case (since afterall I was meeting said photographer professionally on this occasion and would be showing him my artists' portfolios over a drink...or two...or dinner...drinks, dessert, and so on).
In anycase. Picture me frazzled from having gotten off the 5am megabus at 9 and going straight into a day of meetings with clients and potential new artists to represent, an hour at the gym, a coffee with the bff, and sitting up at one of the tall tables at the trendy bar I suggested we meet at with all five bags at my feet, barricading me in my seat. I looked like the complete spaz that I was.
A few minutes ago when I realized how happy I was that I would only have to travel East this evening with very little in tow, I was carrying my big purse that I now tote the iPad in because I was coming from a couple meetings in Brooklyn, and a frightening thought occured to me: I feel weighed down, oppressed and overwhelmed wearing a pea coat and carrying a bag on my shoulder, what in God's name am I going to do when I have a child to lug around someday?
Living at the 81st St subway station, it's inevitable that there are mothers and their little ones or nannies and their clients' kids getting off midday for excursions to the Museum of Natural History, so naturally I am always carried away by the cuteness that is their excitement upon seeing the murals of the animals and dinosaurs along the walls of the station. Because there's very few things more adorable, but still... to sit in your seat on the subway car and see the pictures through the window is one thing, to have to go through the process of disembarking, getting through the turnstile with baby, diaper bag, maclaren stroller, hats, mittens, scarves, jackets, pacifiers, blankies and whatever else goes along with you on the excursion...
I am literally exhausted just imaging the process. I was frazzled carrying five bags for myself to a dinner date. I am annoyed having to hoist a bag over my shoulder just so I'll have the iPad well secured for travel around the city. I was excited planning what small purse I'll pack with lipstick, wallet, and metrocard six hours from now. I'm just baffled by the fact that I'll be 26 in 18 days and here I am the girl who used to want to have popped out three babies by the time I'd turned 30, and now it's a lifestyle that's rather altogether unfathomable to me.
Now for where this all gets a little trickier to tackle. (Trickier? Thus far this has been inane babble that any 20something single girl in the city's likely to think on any given day but not bother anyone else with. Still I think I'm getting to some sort of relatively insightful delivery of a day in the life that's somewhat more interesting and slightly funnier than finding an Eat Pray Love trailer while tracking down an exercise routine, so I'm plowing onward).
Last night my bff was going to Brooklyn to meet up with a specialfriend, and I said to him piss and vinegarily, "pssh, I would never go to Brooklyn for a boy."
But then this morning, I had a meeting with a producer who grew up on Long Island, went to Syracuse, moved to Manhattan, and is now living in Brooklyn Heights all happy-family-ly with her husband and 5 year old daughter. And I don't know if you're familiar with the Clark Street stop on the 2/3 just one stop out of Manhattan and into Brooklyn, but it is so damn cute. So. Damn. Cute. It spits you out on a tree lined Street with a friendly little cafe and a Gristedes on the opposite corner. And I'll be damned if I didn't think to myself leaving that meeting, "well I mean I guess I would go to Brooklyn for a boy if we could live on Clark Street in Brooklyn Heights and buy pink-sparkly-sugar-covered cookies for our little five year old daughter who was having her first playdate today."
Will the real slim shady please stand up? Will the real Naugs ever be revealed to me even?!?! Would I rather go simple pursed on this date across town or have a five year old who I'd get all excited showing the animal and dinosaur murals to in the moments before I whisked her and her entourage of random little kid accessories up the stairs to the museum?
I don't know. But that's where this blog's going. With me on the decision making quest. Cause believe me, y'all, this is about choice every step of the way.
Monday, October 11, 2010
At my tiny flat there's just my cat...
a bed and a chair.... Lyrics from Broadway Baby, a Sondheim anthem I first sang on stage in front of a thousand people when I was all of 5 or 6 years old opening one of Peggy McGlone's glory day dance recitals. And they say we don't write our own destinies?
Here I am - NY Naugs, happy to have shed the title of nomad for the next 7 weeks at least, as I swore of planes, trains and buses between my arrival home to Manhattan and when I head home for Thanksgiving the week of the 22nd.
Yes, I refer to both NYC and Newton as home, no I don't really own anything substantial in either place, but home is where your heart is, and my family and my dreams are effectively my heart, so there you go. As I told my best gfs, the Nook Girls, in a recent email update, I decided in late August to find a studio in Manhattan and forego my plan to spend the Fall abroad in Florence and Bologna for a place of my own to take my hat off and work my butt off from in NYC. And now, the race is on.
At my tiny flat, there's no cat, and to date no chair or desk for that matter - which I really do think I'll have to cave in and buy sooner than later if I mean to finish the book I'm writing, but there's ample space for me and what things I have that are not in storage. I have a futon that serves as bed by night and couch/office by day, all that I need in terms of a kitchenette, and cable TV which I doubt I will ever fully appreciate or use as much as some others would.
I also have a brand spanking new gym membership to a whole new franchise.
Oh, and Central Park for a backyard. nbd.
Here I am - NY Naugs, happy to have shed the title of nomad for the next 7 weeks at least, as I swore of planes, trains and buses between my arrival home to Manhattan and when I head home for Thanksgiving the week of the 22nd.
Yes, I refer to both NYC and Newton as home, no I don't really own anything substantial in either place, but home is where your heart is, and my family and my dreams are effectively my heart, so there you go. As I told my best gfs, the Nook Girls, in a recent email update, I decided in late August to find a studio in Manhattan and forego my plan to spend the Fall abroad in Florence and Bologna for a place of my own to take my hat off and work my butt off from in NYC. And now, the race is on.
At my tiny flat, there's no cat, and to date no chair or desk for that matter - which I really do think I'll have to cave in and buy sooner than later if I mean to finish the book I'm writing, but there's ample space for me and what things I have that are not in storage. I have a futon that serves as bed by night and couch/office by day, all that I need in terms of a kitchenette, and cable TV which I doubt I will ever fully appreciate or use as much as some others would.
I also have a brand spanking new gym membership to a whole new franchise.
Oh, and Central Park for a backyard. nbd.
Friday, September 17, 2010
All in a New York Minute
Literally - I understand the expression now, because of how quickly and how much I accomplished in the past two weeks.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
I'd want to be friends with me
And I think it's totally cool to feel that way about one's self. Here's the bio I posted a few months back on http://www.airbnb.com/:
Countdown to my trip to Milan, Leysin, Cinque Terre, Florence, Rome & Gaeta... 4 days! Ciao 4 now!
Countdown to my trip to Milan, Leysin, Cinque Terre, Florence, Rome & Gaeta... 4 days! Ciao 4 now!Monday, September 6, 2010
COLLLLEEEGGGGGEEEEE
Sidenote: 10 in 9/10 means I need to start cranking!
Sister Friend Update: my sorellina's starting her freshman year tomorrow! Moved her in yesterday after a combination BC Football Game/Bachelorette Party extravaganza Saturday, and cannot deny my love of all things co-ed. It occurs to me that that might refer to college-education. Does it?!? I'm simply going to have to investigate.
Teared up on the drive out to Western Mass when it really dawned on me that she's off to explore the infinite abyss and was tickled pink to see how thoroughly in her element she was meeting & greeting the other chatty nursing majors on her floor and decorating an as-girly-as-they-come dorm room with her new roommate.
Ah, to be 17 and starting that adventure again...
Sister Friend Update: my sorellina's starting her freshman year tomorrow! Moved her in yesterday after a combination BC Football Game/Bachelorette Party extravaganza Saturday, and cannot deny my love of all things co-ed. It occurs to me that that might refer to college-education. Does it?!? I'm simply going to have to investigate.
Teared up on the drive out to Western Mass when it really dawned on me that she's off to explore the infinite abyss and was tickled pink to see how thoroughly in her element she was meeting & greeting the other chatty nursing majors on her floor and decorating an as-girly-as-they-come dorm room with her new roommate.
Ah, to be 17 and starting that adventure again...
Friday, September 3, 2010
I'm not Josie Grosie anymore!!!
But I do have a new movie to add to my top ten favorites. "Can I get 5 minutes on the clock please???" "They're not shorts, they're gauchos, I got'em on sale." Apparently my whole family has thought this movie was the story of my life since it first came out when I was in high school, and tonight, at 25 (the age, coincidentally, that Drew Barrymore's character is supposed to be in the movie when she goes undercover and poses as a senior in the graduating high school class of 1999), I watched "Never Been Kissed" for the first time and absolutely adored it. Perhaps in part because I too saw much of myself in Josie Gellar. Aside from thinking that if they ever do a movie about Drew Barrymore's life I should get the opportunity to audition to play her, I'm a downright dork to the core AND a total romantic. Hence my periodic belief that my life is in fact a romantic comedy in the making.
So anyway friends, August, huh? The month that was not I guess. I'll fill you in via retrospective - 10 in 9/10...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
When life hands you lemons
Yesterday on the elliptical at the gym I read about how Kristen Davis aka Charlotte on Sex and the City stays slim. And I'm not going to lie, the part where she said she's most proud of her toned deltoids because they're such a difficult area of the body to firm up prompted me to come home and do some research on deltoid working dumbell moves.
Which I watched giddily and have admittedly just indulged in viewing again before turning the pic above into a link. Because holy smokes, I forgot how much I looooved this book, and how excited I am to see the movie, but moreover how excited I am to start adventuring on MY own. It's getting to be about that time for this nomad to flutter away for a while. And the very thought of boarding that plane on Sept 19th'll pretty much have me smiling nonstop between now and then :)
BUT! As luck would have it, my google search for said moves brought to me to a page featuring none other than an Eat Pray Love trailer!!!
Which I watched giddily and have admittedly just indulged in viewing again before turning the pic above into a link. Because holy smokes, I forgot how much I looooved this book, and how excited I am to see the movie, but moreover how excited I am to start adventuring on MY own. It's getting to be about that time for this nomad to flutter away for a while. And the very thought of boarding that plane on Sept 19th'll pretty much have me smiling nonstop between now and then :)
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Gamechangers
I love this piece: Understudies: The Technicolor Grace of Godspell.
I'm sure Richard didn't realize it at the time, but there were a couple cast members in the show seriously considering transferring out of the BC Bubble as well. We didn't because we found ourselves in that show. Literally "found ourselves" or at the very least started to. Gamechangers are so fascinating in that way that they happen instant and unexpectedly. One seemingly simple night - one momentary sense of community can sway the course of one's life.
I dropped my Education major and picked up my BFF in the week after we wrapped that show. I can't even imagine what path my college career would have taken had I not had that experience, and I find myself an actress and agent today largely because of the role my being in that ensemble led me to play in the Theatre Department at BC.
Isn't it truly crazy how one thing leads to the next?
Monday, July 26, 2010
Creativity in motion
Today is the official unveiling... I have given my roomie/neighbor the name of my blog so she can finally find it and rabbit trail her way to it for random reads at her leisure instead of having to only see the posts I feel comfortable sharing sporadically.
Maybe I'll even go one step further and post a link to good old "younameitnaugs.blogspot.com" in my FB profile! Ehhhh, might wait till I'm in Italy to do that ;)
In the meantime, I think it's importnat to share that THIS BRINGS ME JOY!!! That's my lifelong friend's new professional website for her Freelance Graphic Designer career that's totally taking off right before all of our eyes. Wahooooooo I love when people love what they do!!!
Rock on, girl, and rock on, LuBerry Cards (another lifelong friend's creativity in motion), the girl is right: good happens :)
Maybe I'll even go one step further and post a link to good old "younameitnaugs.blogspot.com" in my FB profile! Ehhhh, might wait till I'm in Italy to do that ;)
In the meantime, I think it's importnat to share that THIS BRINGS ME JOY!!! That's my lifelong friend's new professional website for her Freelance Graphic Designer career that's totally taking off right before all of our eyes. Wahooooooo I love when people love what they do!!!
Rock on, girl, and rock on, LuBerry Cards (another lifelong friend's creativity in motion), the girl is right: good happens :)
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
"I love your heart"
Ahhhhhmazing. Isn't that one of the most wonderful phrases you've ever heard? I think it possibly ranks as one of my personal top 5. And guess where I just stumbled across it this morning... At my kitchen table on Elsworth. On a blue sticker. On a chiquita banana.
So now I'm having the best Tuesday. Because even the bananas in my life are pointing toward positivity and sharin' the love.
All. Smiles.
Hey and guess what else: Good ol' Newton's the third nicest place to live in America. So local friends be sure to thank your moms and dads for raising you here in quintissentially ideal suburbia. Granted I'm off to a meeting about prolonging my nomadic tendencies for a 10 week stretch this Fall, but even I can appreciate having Newton for a home sweet home to head back to whenever I'm in need of a reprieve? from the Wide Open Spaces I inhabit most frequently.
So now I'm having the best Tuesday. Because even the bananas in my life are pointing toward positivity and sharin' the love.
All. Smiles.
Hey and guess what else: Good ol' Newton's the third nicest place to live in America. So local friends be sure to thank your moms and dads for raising you here in quintissentially ideal suburbia. Granted I'm off to a meeting about prolonging my nomadic tendencies for a 10 week stretch this Fall, but even I can appreciate having Newton for a home sweet home to head back to whenever I'm in need of a reprieve? from the Wide Open Spaces I inhabit most frequently.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
An optimistic person is the personification of Spring
So... even though it is SWELTERING in Cambridge right now, I'm playing it cool and celebrating all things Awesome. IE:
-having finished the banister on the porch we built the Maddage family in PA last week
-my successful one year marriage to myself ;)
-my ACK roomie being here to visit
-the inception of the country rock album my sisters and i are cutting in late August
-and how wonderfully refreshing water is
Awwww, also how my ACK roomie and roomie/neighbor just said I'm like a 10 on the roommate scale.
Have an easy breezy afternoon, y'all - I'm about to go way more all around positive in this next month worth of blog posts - I feel like June had me glum in some ways, and I'm so not about that against my thisawayrose template.
-having finished the banister on the porch we built the Maddage family in PA last week
-my successful one year marriage to myself ;)
-my ACK roomie being here to visit
-the inception of the country rock album my sisters and i are cutting in late August
-and how wonderfully refreshing water is
Awwww, also how my ACK roomie and roomie/neighbor just said I'm like a 10 on the roommate scale.
Have an easy breezy afternoon, y'all - I'm about to go way more all around positive in this next month worth of blog posts - I feel like June had me glum in some ways, and I'm so not about that against my thisawayrose template.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I broke up with
one of my stylists today. The agent/artist relationship is the closest one I've had to a marriage (well, besides my 6 year on again off again relationship with the college bf that is, but we'll get into that some other time), and so now we are entering into what is comparable to a legal separation.
It's sad, but at the same time, such a relief to be parting ways amicably the way we are. It's a matter of clicking, syncing, jiving, and gelling, and it's like with any relationship if we're honest with ourselves, we know when it's happening or not, and we thrive when it is, flounder when it isn't.
Can't feel bad about the flops though. There are lessons to be learned from all of them.
Our "type" is just one of the clues we're giving that's leading us to the right connection - it's okay to go in the direction of it.
It's sad, but at the same time, such a relief to be parting ways amicably the way we are. It's a matter of clicking, syncing, jiving, and gelling, and it's like with any relationship if we're honest with ourselves, we know when it's happening or not, and we thrive when it is, flounder when it isn't.
Can't feel bad about the flops though. There are lessons to be learned from all of them.
Our "type" is just one of the clues we're giving that's leading us to the right connection - it's okay to go in the direction of it.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Earl had to die
WOOOOOOOO!!! I'm going to a Dixie Chicks concert this afternoon with ma' girrrrrrls. Holler at us in our matching jean skirts, country looking tops and cowgirl hats, or don't and feel free to laugh at us for going in the first place and being such super cheeseballs, but first a note on my life as an actress/writer/nomad/princess....
Seriously, y'all (so in the spirit) my life should be the basis for a sitcom. And I'll get into that more at another time, but suffice it to say for now, that alarm clocks are just inherently havoc wreaking. I had a theatre teacher who said he started laughing the second the lights came up on the set of the production of Cabaret I was in my senior year because there was a flat with 3 or 4 functional doors for people to enter and exit from and he said that many doors are just asking for comedy - they present infinite possibilities for silliness. And this morning when my alarm went off at 8 am and I scrambled to the end of the bed to grab my purse and fumble around for my phone and in doing so tripped over the cord to the fan causing it to come crashing down on the pile of my clothes that had wound up on the floor the night before, oh man, I realized there's always a joke to be made from an alarm clock going off. So I'm gonna pocket that knowledge and bust it out one of these days in a pilot. You heard it here first.
Okie doke gotta go - Cowboy, take me away!!!!
Seriously, y'all (so in the spirit) my life should be the basis for a sitcom. And I'll get into that more at another time, but suffice it to say for now, that alarm clocks are just inherently havoc wreaking. I had a theatre teacher who said he started laughing the second the lights came up on the set of the production of Cabaret I was in my senior year because there was a flat with 3 or 4 functional doors for people to enter and exit from and he said that many doors are just asking for comedy - they present infinite possibilities for silliness. And this morning when my alarm went off at 8 am and I scrambled to the end of the bed to grab my purse and fumble around for my phone and in doing so tripped over the cord to the fan causing it to come crashing down on the pile of my clothes that had wound up on the floor the night before, oh man, I realized there's always a joke to be made from an alarm clock going off. So I'm gonna pocket that knowledge and bust it out one of these days in a pilot. You heard it here first.
Okie doke gotta go - Cowboy, take me away!!!!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
And then a splish splash I forgot about the bath...
I went and put my agent shoes on....
why? you ask. because bosslady was calling. so that's right, this morning, mid shower, shampoo in my hair and everything, i went ahead and answered my purple blackberry, because it was ringing, and i was still covering calls from the night before since at 5 each night the "LA office" is actually referring to my direct line with the bizarro 339 extension, and i bring my blackberry with me evvvverywhere in case it rings with a work call, because times is tough and we all need the work so i'm happy to answer int whenever, wherever, but honestly, has the mobility of our phone lines gone too far? and can you blame me for wrapping a towel around me but proceeding to shave my legs while my boss lady lamented the mood swing and sudden departure from the agency of one of our star stylists? time is money, and i needed to be at my desk by nine, so that meant finishing up that shower by 8:55 come hell or high water.
Is that the expression, come hell or high water???? Whatever. Hillarious.
why? you ask. because bosslady was calling. so that's right, this morning, mid shower, shampoo in my hair and everything, i went ahead and answered my purple blackberry, because it was ringing, and i was still covering calls from the night before since at 5 each night the "LA office" is actually referring to my direct line with the bizarro 339 extension, and i bring my blackberry with me evvvverywhere in case it rings with a work call, because times is tough and we all need the work so i'm happy to answer int whenever, wherever, but honestly, has the mobility of our phone lines gone too far? and can you blame me for wrapping a towel around me but proceeding to shave my legs while my boss lady lamented the mood swing and sudden departure from the agency of one of our star stylists? time is money, and i needed to be at my desk by nine, so that meant finishing up that shower by 8:55 come hell or high water.
Is that the expression, come hell or high water???? Whatever. Hillarious.
6-8-10
I woke up this morning thinking "I pretty much love my life." I'm not sure if it's because today is 6/8/10 and I love even numbers, or because I realized it's the first time I've stayed in one place for more than 3 months in over 12 months, or just because the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. But annoyed as I was to find two zits on my otherwise sunkissed face (what am I fifteen?) I smiled at myself in the mirror as I put on my running gear and then I floated through my five miler along the river.
Last night I had drinks with Sinks and the other Nook girls and then the Tolman Trio went to surprise my sorellina at her senior prom downtown - and my goodness did she look beautiful, like a greek goddess, and all grown up. Such a fabulous night of sisterfriendship and I've got a feeling today's going to be a perfectly fabulous writer/agent/nomad day, and then one week from tonight, the actress in me starts to come back to life when I step into the role of Holly in The Wedding Singer. Wahoooooo life is good.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
i miss my bed
I have the most amazingly comfortable and unnecessarily large bed in my Manhattan Mini bug storage. And one of my favorite parts of being a still sleeper is the way in which I used to be able to leave notebooks, pieces of my wardrobe, my least favorite purchase even (the pink dell laptop) beside me at night when I'd go to bed. Now I'm forever finding myself sans sufficient surface space around me when I go to clear my day away.
The Blind Date version to boot. And it was brutal. And I'd feel bad for myself for waisting an hour watching it, but the upswing was it kept me on the elliptical for an hour. Here's to sweet dreams of singles wiping out on the impossible obstacle courses. hehehe.
But eventually I'll be able to take that big bed in all it's feather mattress covered glory back out of storage and call it my own again. So no worries.
Random sidenote: watched the most moronic show at the gym just now from the elliptical:
The Blind Date version to boot. And it was brutal. And I'd feel bad for myself for waisting an hour watching it, but the upswing was it kept me on the elliptical for an hour. Here's to sweet dreams of singles wiping out on the impossible obstacle courses. hehehe.
Friday, May 28, 2010
I have 4 followers!!!
Thanks guys!! I'll totally share the love and follow your faces from now on too. I have to thank my neighbor's college friend and her fabulous blog: MiddleSisterFairytales for turning me on to 20SomethingBloggers and I have to say I was delighted not just to see the followers when I logged on this morning but also to see that I'd already posted 4 times this month, meaning my target of 5per is getting easier to hit by the minute!!! Or well, by the month.
Anyway - I'm all over the place right now (figuratively, not literally the way I usually am) because WOOOOOOO it's the first Nook Wedding!!!!!! In Newport. In like 6 hours!!! Huzzah!!! Our friends have been flying in / up all week, the boys are back in town (as they say), and the excitement is palpable. So looking forward to being a friend tonight - so averse to being an agent at the moment... I love love!
Anyway - I'm all over the place right now (figuratively, not literally the way I usually am) because WOOOOOOO it's the first Nook Wedding!!!!!! In Newport. In like 6 hours!!! Huzzah!!! Our friends have been flying in / up all week, the boys are back in town (as they say), and the excitement is palpable. So looking forward to being a friend tonight - so averse to being an agent at the moment... I love love!
Why princesses should not try to pose as fairy godmothers...
Last Saturday night, I had concocted a hair brained scheme and proceeded to attempt to carry it out... I had seen a very nice suitor twice having been set up on a blind date with him by a lovely friend of my mother's who I trust pretty implicitly. Unfortunately said suitor liked certain things like living in Nonantum and kayaking, things I was just never gonna warm up to, it occured to me though when he lost me at kayaking that he might catch the fancy of my dear friend and fellow roadrunner. SOOOOO since there was a graduation party in Central Sq at my fellow roadrunner's apartment and everyone was feeling friendly since summer's pretty much surprised us by showing up, I thought it would be ingenius to invite the suitor to the party via tipsy texts and then arrange for the two of them to play Beirut all the while connecting up a storm.
I was picturing sparks flying and everyone thanking me for seeing the opportunity to jumpstart my referral system (why, after you've gone on a few dates with someone and realize it's not really working out, wouldn't it make sense to suggest they try dating one of your friends who they're probably better suited for??) but ALAS, no dice. And the suitor was not so happy. And while my fellow road runner friend and I have since found this to make for a hillarious story to re-tell and review, I've lost the opportunity to pass this good guy onto a more fitting good girl.
C'est la vie!
I was picturing sparks flying and everyone thanking me for seeing the opportunity to jumpstart my referral system (why, after you've gone on a few dates with someone and realize it's not really working out, wouldn't it make sense to suggest they try dating one of your friends who they're probably better suited for??) but ALAS, no dice. And the suitor was not so happy. And while my fellow road runner friend and I have since found this to make for a hillarious story to re-tell and review, I've lost the opportunity to pass this good guy onto a more fitting good girl.
C'est la vie!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Google Genius
NEW FAVORITE FEATURE ON LEAST FAVORITE PURCHASE (aka my pink dell laptop) = Alt + Print Scrn...
Now I can capture any image I fancy simply by holding down two keys - ooh how fun! Have I mentioned I'm exceptionally easily amused and remarkably unobservant? Because I am. And is this not the best Google depiction ever??? Oh to be a Google designer, or a Google employee in general. I'd say it's 6th on the list of my top 10 full time potential future jobs.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
CHECK OUT MY NEW INSPIRATION
this is billed on msn.com as a little girl giving herself a pep talk, but are you kidding me??? she's her own regular old life coach and I want to hire her myself!!!! I'm not gonna lie, as a kid I did a lot of talking to myself in the mirror, mock interviews for the camera as if I were sitting with Johnny Carson, Oprah, or Rosie O'Donnell (yes, that means I did this not just as a kid, but until I was probably 12 or 13), but this blows those performances of mine out of the water. This girl could rally troops, give her very own St. Crispin's, she's so positive, she get's it, she's saying yes to life, she believes in herself. Amen, sister. You can do all things good, and your house IS great, I like your family members too simply because you do, and I just got an email from my boss saying "Naugs...I absolutely love your positive energy...it will get you far my dear :) xo, bosslady"Man I hope it does. And I hope it gets this little bundle of dynamite far too.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Copywright
"Theirs was one of those houses with a revolving door and a cascading cast of characters that poured through it on a daily basis." This is a line I want to use in some way shape or form in a book someday. It came to me this morning.
Three weeks ago I read a book, The Piano Teacher and in one of the last chapters there was a line that I have rolled around in my head about a million times and even said out loud at least a hundred. Upon reading it, I excitedly informed my mother and sorelline (sisters), who happened to be near by, that it was official, I was meant to be a writer. Gotta love finding affirmation in various forms and mediums.
Now my only question is will I need to start writing about things other than my own experiences, people other than the ones I know and love? I can tell some pretty good stories, but they're all authentic-experience based. I can act out other people's tales on stage, do I now need to think up fairytales from scratch?
Only question. Woops, guess I have a few actually. Think that sentence is copywrighted now that I've typed it on my little pink blog here???
Three weeks ago I read a book, The Piano Teacher and in one of the last chapters there was a line that I have rolled around in my head about a million times and even said out loud at least a hundred. Upon reading it, I excitedly informed my mother and sorelline (sisters), who happened to be near by, that it was official, I was meant to be a writer. Gotta love finding affirmation in various forms and mediums.
Now my only question is will I need to start writing about things other than my own experiences, people other than the ones I know and love? I can tell some pretty good stories, but they're all authentic-experience based. I can act out other people's tales on stage, do I now need to think up fairytales from scratch?
Only question. Woops, guess I have a few actually. Think that sentence is copywrighted now that I've typed it on my little pink blog here???
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The blurry line between sister and friend
My college roomie, Fiefel, graduated from NYU Medical School last Wednesday - the perfect depiction of a dream come true. Could there be anything more inspiring? When they called her up to the stage with her new formal title, "Dr." on Thursday, when her father toasted to the good fortune of her future patients at her party Saturday, and when her boyfriend stood beside her beaming for the billions of pictures our friends and family snapped of her throughout the course of the weekend, my heart was full of immense pride like I could never have imagined feeling for anyone who isn't blood related, but without a doubt there's a point where the line between sister and friend blurs. I feel fortunate to consider my given family people I'd choose to love even if they weren't the folks I was born related to, but I also love the way friends become the family we've extended along the way. Makes even more moments in life all the more worthwhile and meaningful. And, a wise girl once used as her yearbook blurb quote, "life is not a matter of milestones but of moments."
And that wise girl was yours truly, and that quote is one I found on a calendar. And let's be honest, I find most of my fave quotes in -- RANDOM SIDENOTE: sitting in a Starbucks on 9th Avenue, between 42nd and 43rd (the same Sbux, my Ack Roomie and I called our office one afternoon this January after he so nobly traveled to the city to watch me tap dance more terribly than I have ever tap danced in my life in my fabulously moderate success of a 2-women show) and I just looked up to see a boy I know from summer theatre in years past walk by, BIG city, small town this NYC -- Anyway, I find most of my fave quotes in inspirational journals, my Academic Weekly planner which offers up a quote a week, and on Mary Engelbreit calendars and cards, because I'm original like that. But the point of this post: is that I saw my would-be sister / without a doubt best friend make her dream a reality. It took her 8 fully focused years, and it was a goal she'd had at least 10 more, and she did it. And you can too :) We all can. Just gotta work our butts off and believe in ourselves. So go ahead. I dare ya.
And that wise girl was yours truly, and that quote is one I found on a calendar. And let's be honest, I find most of my fave quotes in -- RANDOM SIDENOTE: sitting in a Starbucks on 9th Avenue, between 42nd and 43rd (the same Sbux, my Ack Roomie and I called our office one afternoon this January after he so nobly traveled to the city to watch me tap dance more terribly than I have ever tap danced in my life in my fabulously moderate success of a 2-women show) and I just looked up to see a boy I know from summer theatre in years past walk by, BIG city, small town this NYC -- Anyway, I find most of my fave quotes in inspirational journals, my Academic Weekly planner which offers up a quote a week, and on Mary Engelbreit calendars and cards, because I'm original like that. But the point of this post: is that I saw my would-be sister / without a doubt best friend make her dream a reality. It took her 8 fully focused years, and it was a goal she'd had at least 10 more, and she did it. And you can too :) We all can. Just gotta work our butts off and believe in ourselves. So go ahead. I dare ya.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Matchmaker, matchmaker
GOTCHA - this one's actually on being a Sister and an Actress and on how freaking AWESOME it is going to be when me, my sorellina and my bambina sorella take to the stage on June 4th for our collective final performance in Lasker Auditorium. Could our T.I. experiences culminate in a better way!!?? I think not. I've been excited about a number of the performances I've had the opportunity to give in the past couple years, but I'm not sure I've ever been as excited as I am to do this "gig." I just love how it's going to incorporate so many things I love or have loved and so many people who are important to me. I am beyond grateful for the gifts I've gotten this Spring. You heard it here first.
Before the clock strikes twelve...
I need to write my last two April entries. I honestly thought I was pacing myself far better this month and then whoooosh the last two weeks ran away from me. Fortunately, I opted for a girls' night in with two of my college roomies this evening and was reminded of the potential I have to wind up a princess the way Tiana does in Disney's most recent full length animated feature.
Naturally I took it as a sign when the big red box didn't have "500 Days of Summer" which I had intended to rent, and since good ol' Rocco just recently refused to keep listening to my opinions on relationships until I'd returned home to watch 10 Disney movies and remember my reverence for all things romantic, it was the clearest of choices, and how happy I am to have realized that I do in fact still believe in fairytales and love. Thank you "Princess and the Frog" for opening my eyes to the idea that going after your dream whilst incorporating a man/prince/frog into it is all right afterall. I wish I weren't so torn up internally over the idea of reconciling the need/want to for pursuing both love and a life in the limelight, but I was thoroughly captivated just the same by Disney's magic. They've done it again :)
Naturally I took it as a sign when the big red box didn't have "500 Days of Summer" which I had intended to rent, and since good ol' Rocco just recently refused to keep listening to my opinions on relationships until I'd returned home to watch 10 Disney movies and remember my reverence for all things romantic, it was the clearest of choices, and how happy I am to have realized that I do in fact still believe in fairytales and love. Thank you "Princess and the Frog" for opening my eyes to the idea that going after your dream whilst incorporating a man/prince/frog into it is all right afterall. I wish I weren't so torn up internally over the idea of reconciling the need/want to for pursuing both love and a life in the limelight, but I was thoroughly captivated just the same by Disney's magic. They've done it again :)
Saturday, April 17, 2010
"I have to wriiiiiiiiite"
When I left my breakfast yesterday after spending a quality hour with my Godfather and bonding over being the eldest children of our respective broods I was near tears out of pretty much sheer happiness. I'm really content with the ambivalence that's rampant all throughout the various aspects of my life right now, and I am extremely grateful to my Uncle for the perspective he had to offer on these totally tumultous by nature 20s I'm currently wandering through. And I called my mom, and I was like, "Mom, I think I have to be a writer!" You know when things are in your nature? I'm a sister - such a sister to my sibs and friends, aunts and uncles occasionally and even coworkers I think sometimes. That's in my obvious, unassailable nature, seeing as how my parents kept popping kids out for 10 years after I was born. And I'm a writer - a story teller - it's in my nature. I've just got lots of things to say and stories to tell.
My sorellina went on a college visit two days ago inspired by moi to make herself an "Independence Mix" and now I've got the lyrics to the Jessica Andrews' song she included (upon my recommendation) in my head.
Sister. Writer. Dork.
My sorellina went on a college visit two days ago inspired by moi to make herself an "Independence Mix" and now I've got the lyrics to the Jessica Andrews' song she included (upon my recommendation) in my head.
Sister. Writer. Dork.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Take me to New York, I want to see...
LA, admittedly, I am not all that familiar with just yet. While I was given props last night for knowing that Marina Del Ray was not far from El Segundo, I still successfully scheduled meetings for me and my boss literally here there and everywhere. It was none too amazing to me to find that after an exhausting two days of back to back appointments, late nights and early mornings with the bosslady I was still fully rejuvinated and recharged hopping off the plane at SFO with my dream and my cardigan. I think there's magic in the air on the West Coast, or something.
Anyway - the gloriousness of being a friend and nomad, I've visited Sinks before at her home in San Fran, so I reassured her that even though she had to work until 5 that night, I'd be fine finding my way to Bernie's the awesome coffee shop on 24th St that doubles as my remote office when I'm in SF. And I came with protein bars, oatmeal, and k20s in my suitcase, and she'd had a key made for me for my time here, and honest to goodness, it's been easy breezy and the best couple days, and an ideal "business" trip thanks to the fabulous informality that comes from our having been friends forever and my living nomadically for a large portion of the last year. So so good.
Anyway - the gloriousness of being a friend and nomad, I've visited Sinks before at her home in San Fran, so I reassured her that even though she had to work until 5 that night, I'd be fine finding my way to Bernie's the awesome coffee shop on 24th St that doubles as my remote office when I'm in SF. And I came with protein bars, oatmeal, and k20s in my suitcase, and she'd had a key made for me for my time here, and honest to goodness, it's been easy breezy and the best couple days, and an ideal "business" trip thanks to the fabulous informality that comes from our having been friends forever and my living nomadically for a large portion of the last year. So so good.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
A Nomad in Agent Mode
Fife informed me that my last entry was depressing - so not what I'm going for here. And so sad that romantic can sometimes read as the wrong kind of hopeless. That said, she and I had a good laugh over what one of our Manhattan Modmates said when I told her one of the main reasons I'm not on Match.com is that I simply don't know how I would "sell" myself on it. "You don't even have a geographical location you can fill in," she reminded me...
Right. In the next 17 days, I will bed-hop at least 7 times. Which is to say that I'm going from Cambridge to Newton to LA to San Fran to Fairfield to Midtown and to Chelsea within the span of the next two and a half weeks.
Some people might shudder to think of such disjointed time, so many disruptions to sleep patterns, saying so long to morning and nighttime routines. But I'm so excited!!!
I'm writing in Cambridge, treating myself to a trip to the spa in Newton, trailblazing in LA for my artists, fundraising for fabulous causes in San Fran, supporting my sorellina in Fairfield, supporting my bff on Park Avenue, and spending time with old roomies in Chelsea before networking my Representative face/nametag off on Monday the 26th.
Spring has sprung, energy abounds, life is lovely beyond words. Gotta jet!
Right. In the next 17 days, I will bed-hop at least 7 times. Which is to say that I'm going from Cambridge to Newton to LA to San Fran to Fairfield to Midtown and to Chelsea within the span of the next two and a half weeks.
Some people might shudder to think of such disjointed time, so many disruptions to sleep patterns, saying so long to morning and nighttime routines. But I'm so excited!!!
I'm writing in Cambridge, treating myself to a trip to the spa in Newton, trailblazing in LA for my artists, fundraising for fabulous causes in San Fran, supporting my sorellina in Fairfield, supporting my bff on Park Avenue, and spending time with old roomies in Chelsea before networking my Representative face/nametag off on Monday the 26th.
Spring has sprung, energy abounds, life is lovely beyond words. Gotta jet!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Down to the wire!
Second to last chance to write my 5th March post! Phew... thank goodness I have four hours and ten minutes to spend at my mobile office / with my laptop on the Megabus this morning! Things I am grateful for include the working wifi and outlet, the seat I have all to myself and the fact that Thursday I will be driving back with Fife and not forced to take another bustrip in the rain. It's not that it's miserable, it's just so darn dreary.
Anyway, this morning I am adressing the Nomad and Princess portions of my blog's title, primarily because, that bambina sorella I mentioned yesterday, the one that was cuter than a pug in a Star Wars Halloween costume back in all of our glory days of yore, is now 15 and full of fabulous teenaged sass, and she said the Princess part's stupid.
But it's not. Dillusional maybe, but stupid, no. I have, on numerous occasions since last summer when I up and moved to an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean for 3 months, described my life as being "all over the place," and this same wonderfully woeful-for-she's-15 sister of mine was the first to call me as she saw what I had undoubtably become: a nomad, but what's so enchanting about the fact that there are bits and pieces of my life scattered around the continent (an office in LA, a storage unit in NYC, bedrooms in Cambridge, Newton, and Bedford, MA, and so on) is the idea that my heart's no where to be found in any of these places, and for all I know there is a prince traversing the globe as haphazardly as I am doing in search of me! How romantic, no? I like to think of myself as one part Cinderella, one part Rapunzel, one part Goldilocks, one part Sleeping Beauty, one part Snow White and one part Anastasia, and it's amazing how much easier having to pay the bills by myself becomes when I embrace the idea that I may very well be living in a fairy tale of my own.
Dilusional. Yes. Stupid? No no.
Anyway, this morning I am adressing the Nomad and Princess portions of my blog's title, primarily because, that bambina sorella I mentioned yesterday, the one that was cuter than a pug in a Star Wars Halloween costume back in all of our glory days of yore, is now 15 and full of fabulous teenaged sass, and she said the Princess part's stupid.
But it's not. Dillusional maybe, but stupid, no. I have, on numerous occasions since last summer when I up and moved to an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean for 3 months, described my life as being "all over the place," and this same wonderfully woeful-for-she's-15 sister of mine was the first to call me as she saw what I had undoubtably become: a nomad, but what's so enchanting about the fact that there are bits and pieces of my life scattered around the continent (an office in LA, a storage unit in NYC, bedrooms in Cambridge, Newton, and Bedford, MA, and so on) is the idea that my heart's no where to be found in any of these places, and for all I know there is a prince traversing the globe as haphazardly as I am doing in search of me! How romantic, no? I like to think of myself as one part Cinderella, one part Rapunzel, one part Goldilocks, one part Sleeping Beauty, one part Snow White and one part Anastasia, and it's amazing how much easier having to pay the bills by myself becomes when I embrace the idea that I may very well be living in a fairy tale of my own.
Dilusional. Yes. Stupid? No no.
Monday, March 29, 2010
"Sister Friend" (the handshake)
If you've never seen it, you are seriously missing out on something spectacular. Truth be told I'm not sure it would still be as adorable to behold today as it was say, 10 years ago, when my sisters and I first invented it, but oh man, if you could have seen my little cupie doll looking baby sister saying "ye-ah dogggg" back in the day, when she was all of four or five, you better believe your heart would've melted then and there on the spot. It was a complicated series of high fives, hip bumps, and face slaps, if I'm remembering it correctly...
These days my sorellina (not to be confused with my bambina sorella) will call me on my cell and say, "sister-friend, how are you?" which melts my heart, and now our relationships to one another as teens, young and emerging adults are a complicated series of conversations, expectations, and, well, high fives.
Fun, huh?
These days my sorellina (not to be confused with my bambina sorella) will call me on my cell and say, "sister-friend, how are you?" which melts my heart, and now our relationships to one another as teens, young and emerging adults are a complicated series of conversations, expectations, and, well, high fives.
Fun, huh?
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
"A part of me wants to say, just go buy a Mead journal,"
is what my bff said when I told him I had started blogging. He argues that it was a funny thing for him to say particularly because it was so specific. Immediately didn't the quote conjur an image of those pixelated black and white covered notebooks with the black binding in your mind? 
Naturally he's right, and I could have just bought another journal, but like I've been saying, this is going to be one of those well directed and highly focused blogs. It's not going to be a series of my musings on random things in my daily life, it's going to be thought out reflection on what it means to be and how one manages juggling the roles of sister & friend, agent and writer, modern day princess, nomad, and aspiring actress.
Case in point: On Being A Friend/Actress
I am writing a book. Well, now see, even that statement exposes the fact that I am an actress because it's so bold and dramatic. I am editing a series of emails written by myself and my seven best girlfriends from high school and compiling them in book format as an original work of creative non-fiction laced together with minimal third-person narration. The intent is to produce a coming of age tale ala "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." I am writing another book in my free time, but it's one of those side projects that one can never really be sure will materialize to much more than an exercise in creativity, so I can hardly come out with a statement like "I am writing a book" and not admittedly sound somewhat like I am only pretending to do so or saying so to sound like I'm doing this grand sort of action. Regardless, this first reflection on being a multitasker and/or multifaceted, "On Being A Friend/Actress" has surfaced in light of an email I read last night that I had written to these seven girlfriends of mine that will not be making its way into the edited compilation in its entirety.
The email is this****
****shoot. I started that blog post on 3/9 and now it's 3/25. It occurs to me that the only way I will be what I deem to be an efficient blogger is if I set blogging goals for myself. Okay: 1 blogpost for each week of each month. So that means February would have needed 5, March will need 5, April...wait a second, are there actually 5 weeks in every month? Hm. Okay, so 5/month. I can do that. I can do that at the very least until I'm published ;)
I'm not including a description of the dramatic email I wrote to my seven girlfriends, blah, blah, blah, because this post is already longer than necessary. I'm simply going to summarize the point I would have made "On being A Friend/Actress."
Sometimes, I worry that my gestures as a friend are actually just me "acting" out the part I think a friend "should" play in any given situation: ie writing a verbose apology letter for acting sub-par on the friend-scale one weekend on Cape Cod. And that's worrisome, because I prefer to be genuine whenever possible in day to day life. Sigh.
But what can you do? Actors in general tend to live larger-than-life. Moving on. I meant my apology regardless.
Naturally he's right, and I could have just bought another journal, but like I've been saying, this is going to be one of those well directed and highly focused blogs. It's not going to be a series of my musings on random things in my daily life, it's going to be thought out reflection on what it means to be and how one manages juggling the roles of sister & friend, agent and writer, modern day princess, nomad, and aspiring actress.
Case in point: On Being A Friend/Actress
I am writing a book. Well, now see, even that statement exposes the fact that I am an actress because it's so bold and dramatic. I am editing a series of emails written by myself and my seven best girlfriends from high school and compiling them in book format as an original work of creative non-fiction laced together with minimal third-person narration. The intent is to produce a coming of age tale ala "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." I am writing another book in my free time, but it's one of those side projects that one can never really be sure will materialize to much more than an exercise in creativity, so I can hardly come out with a statement like "I am writing a book" and not admittedly sound somewhat like I am only pretending to do so or saying so to sound like I'm doing this grand sort of action. Regardless, this first reflection on being a multitasker and/or multifaceted, "On Being A Friend/Actress" has surfaced in light of an email I read last night that I had written to these seven girlfriends of mine that will not be making its way into the edited compilation in its entirety.
The email is this****
****shoot. I started that blog post on 3/9 and now it's 3/25. It occurs to me that the only way I will be what I deem to be an efficient blogger is if I set blogging goals for myself. Okay: 1 blogpost for each week of each month. So that means February would have needed 5, March will need 5, April...wait a second, are there actually 5 weeks in every month? Hm. Okay, so 5/month. I can do that. I can do that at the very least until I'm published ;)
I'm not including a description of the dramatic email I wrote to my seven girlfriends, blah, blah, blah, because this post is already longer than necessary. I'm simply going to summarize the point I would have made "On being A Friend/Actress."
Sometimes, I worry that my gestures as a friend are actually just me "acting" out the part I think a friend "should" play in any given situation: ie writing a verbose apology letter for acting sub-par on the friend-scale one weekend on Cape Cod. And that's worrisome, because I prefer to be genuine whenever possible in day to day life. Sigh.
But what can you do? Actors in general tend to live larger-than-life. Moving on. I meant my apology regardless.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Hafta run hafta write...
Remember those Nike or Reebok shirts that said things like "hafta play soccer" after a series of other "haftas?" "Hafta run...hafta jump...hafta kick...hafta score..."
I promise I am working towards writing more structured postings, but for the time being the freewrite format's just going to "hafta" suffice. I'm pretty sure this will turn into a collection of essays on being a combination of the characters/personas/nouns I've titled this blog with, and so for example when I sat down to write just now it was with the intent of reflecting upon being a Writer/Agent starting at 7:30 today when the sun pouring in through my enormous window woke me up and I immediately checked my blackberry, which I keep beside my pillow at night - literally, not even on a nightstand, but rather on my teeny bed WITH me, beside my pillow.
I mean why wouldn't my "virtual office" hours extend to first thing on a Saturday morning, right? It's 5 o'clock somewhere which suggests it might as well be Monday here at home. So much for the weekend I was so looking forward to enjoying. Not that I mind things picking up in the industry in the slightest. I promise I'll take it. I'm sacrificing the fun that would be going to an EPA next Friday to cover phones and log hours at my laptop that morning because I've got my priorities in line for the time being, and I thought to myself that I'd spend from 9-11 working on the book this morning before heading out for my 3 mile run, but having checked the weather on msn.com, I'm sure the fact that I've spent 45 more minutes than planned on the book will ultimate result in me getting to enjoy the apex of the Spring like weather that is gracing the North East with it's presence this weekend.
Shoot. See, I am so 2003. This is more or less incoherent babble on my part. A personal diary/journal that I'm publishing for the World to see... Will sleep on this tonight and come back in "interesting op-ed article format" when I next post.
A bien tot!
I promise I am working towards writing more structured postings, but for the time being the freewrite format's just going to "hafta" suffice. I'm pretty sure this will turn into a collection of essays on being a combination of the characters/personas/nouns I've titled this blog with, and so for example when I sat down to write just now it was with the intent of reflecting upon being a Writer/Agent starting at 7:30 today when the sun pouring in through my enormous window woke me up and I immediately checked my blackberry, which I keep beside my pillow at night - literally, not even on a nightstand, but rather on my teeny bed WITH me, beside my pillow.
I mean why wouldn't my "virtual office" hours extend to first thing on a Saturday morning, right? It's 5 o'clock somewhere which suggests it might as well be Monday here at home. So much for the weekend I was so looking forward to enjoying. Not that I mind things picking up in the industry in the slightest. I promise I'll take it. I'm sacrificing the fun that would be going to an EPA next Friday to cover phones and log hours at my laptop that morning because I've got my priorities in line for the time being, and I thought to myself that I'd spend from 9-11 working on the book this morning before heading out for my 3 mile run, but having checked the weather on msn.com, I'm sure the fact that I've spent 45 more minutes than planned on the book will ultimate result in me getting to enjoy the apex of the Spring like weather that is gracing the North East with it's presence this weekend.
Shoot. See, I am so 2003. This is more or less incoherent babble on my part. A personal diary/journal that I'm publishing for the World to see... Will sleep on this tonight and come back in "interesting op-ed article format" when I next post.
A bien tot!
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