Thursday, March 31, 2011

Back on track AND

"I am so much betterrrrrrrrrrrrr....than befoorrrrrre!!!!" (clearly singing the song from Legally Blonde, the Musical)

Perhaps not so clearly talking about the fact that

1st off: I'm back on track in terms of writing 1 extra post per month this year (if you pretend that February never happened)

And 2nd: I am SO much better than before when, in the Fall, I had what was nearly a full on panic attack when the BFF and I were killing time before a Fordham Law fundraiser and I had to try my damnedest to continue to breathe while eyeing W 56th Street from the East side of 9th Ave.

He laughed until he realized I was seriously short of having a stroke as we strolled past the laundry mat (now closed - likely because of how many batches of linens bearing bed bugs were done in their machines) where I logged a scarring amount of hours during December of 2009 and lost easily hundreds of dollars and what's more, my marbles.

But I know I am SO much better, because in the past two weeks on my long Sunday afternoon Half Marathon training runs, I've looped up 12th ave and made my way east towards 8th ave by cutting right in front of the dreaded 418 W 56th (two weeks ago on the opposite sidewalk, and this past Sunday right there on the even numbered side - of course both times with heart pounding aggressively behind my sports bra and not without staring at the ground and the various piles of trash wherein I might have been able to spot the tic sized terrorists).

So here we go, friends. Onward into April :)

Look forward to a lucky 13 entries in the four weeks to come - I have a feeling April's going to be be full of fun things to muse upon as my wall calendar's got Sister Friend Actress Writer Agent Nomad and even Princessy events noted in the days between now and May.

And what's more...I'm ending on this sunshiney singsongy note, because sure there's talk of a blizzard blowing in tomorrow and it "not being an April fool's joke," but that's nothing a little Junice can't handle. Snow (& showers & her freakish little doll hands) bring the flowers that bloom in May!

Saturday, March 26, 2011

You guys wanna get some coffee?

"Sure"

"Where?"

Ohhhhh Chandler Bing....

This post is subtitled: I <3 NETFLIX.

Just cried like a kiddo at the series finale of FRIENDS.

My apartment has a purple wall in the living room and doors to the two bedrooms on either side of the wall our television is up against, so I like to think that I have effectively moved into Monica & Rachel's apartment, and I think when I next go house hunting in Manhattan it will be for a place in the Village on the corner of Bedford and Grove.

How lucky am I to have a cast of characters in my own life who are equally as humorous at those six, and how badly do I wish I got get any permutation of 6 of them to move to this city??

Maybe as I run down the side of the mid 20s hill that I'm on now I'll acquire an NYC based crew of my own that's a sitcom in the making, but if that's not in the cards I'm gonna have to go ahead and cash in on stories of yore to relive for film crews in Cali a couple years from now and call it a day...

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Have I ever written about Tommy Burkley?

I tend to not use real names in the blogosphere, but I doubt that's what he goes by at his fancy finance job here in the Big Apple, and I further doubt it will get back to him that I'm sharing this story with y'all, so I think it's safe to go on.

"Go on..." says the toney voice of the impatient singular audience member I imagine I am writing for in this moment.

Tommy Burkley, in Nook Girl folklore, is notorious for being my neighbor roomie's first kiss.

Well, her first kiss on the cheek.

We told our sixth grade social studies slash homeroom teacher, Ms. Andrada, alllll about how giddifying an experince it was when he caught up to her at the busses outside of Day Middle School that fateful afternoon and planted a peck right there on her rosy cheek, causing her to smile for miles for days on end.

But before he was being all Rico Suave sixth grade playa style, and before he was the hot ticket item at the singles' table at the Nook/BC wedding we ALL went to last Summer in August (shit, I still have yet to drop off that ginormous gift I have for the now expectant newlywed couple at their 3 bedroom, 1 dog-family home in Needham, but I digress), Tommy Burkley was tormenting me weekly in our CCD class.

My Catholic nemesis from the time we first faced off for the rights to the First Reading at the Sunday Family Mass our class was going to be leading as proud/newly proficient second-grade readers, Tommy was the Mr. to my Mrs. Goody Two Shoes back in the day.

But our rivalry was all in good, clean fun until one day in the Fall of Seventh Grade when he SLAMMED me with the worst insult I'd ever received (and by this time my brother was nearing tweendom himself and lethal with taunts of his own toward me so I was fielding dastartdly digs regularly)...

"I bet you plan out the conversations you're going to have with people the night before," Tommy sassed on Sunday.

And before I could retort with an equally as dogging comeback or insult (something really good and clever like, "oh yeah, well I bet you've already started preparing homilies for when you grow up to be a Priest!!!" for example) I found myself in the worst rut I'd ever found myself...SILENCED!

I mean, I had been born with the gift of the gab, I was CONSTANTLY getting in trouble and shushed in class, at Church, during dance & singing lessons, at movie theatres, lining up for religious ed on Sundays... I talked non stop as a child. But I was speechless when he threw that one out there, because the mystery boggled my mind...

HOW DID HE KNOW???

And how humiliating.

Was it not normal to rehearse coy conversations that could come up with cute boys or ammunitional jabs with which to combat confrontational girlfriends, impressive rants to outsmart pretentious fellow students with or persistent denials of wrong doings in case probing parents came in pursuit of grounds on which to ground one on?

Didn't everyone think up things to say in potentially precarious situations? And since obviously not, was there something strange about the fact that I did loosely outline dialogue so I could carefully steer future exchanges in whatever direction best suited me?

UGH.

Shit.

Seriously he rocked my world. The nerve of him outing me in front of our class. In front of my only recent ex-bf (heartbreaking split after a field trip to the Science Museum and Planetarium...talk about puppy love, but the drama I'd felt I was living when I turned my claddah ring to face outward once more after I'd been dumped before English with Mr. Roberts one Thursday...sigh, it was rough).

Stupid Tommy saw right through me.

But.

What he saw as weirdness, I have parlayed over the years into the true skill of a productive procrastinator.

And now, as I set out to write the non-fiction book proposal that's gonna land me an agent and my lil' coming of age story told through emails a book deal in the next few months, I'm proud as anything that I've thought out the pitch I want to make for this project and slept on the way I want to converse with publishing moguls who'll need to know exactly how and to whom I want to sell this puppy.

So there Tommy Burkley.

So there.

"For people who never stop pursuing their dream, there's Mastercard"

Cue: "Speak to my heart....speak to my hear-r-r-t" (Newton North High School's Jubilee Gospell Choir's trademark song and the reaction I had to this commercial last night when I caught the final line of it on the precor machine I watched Modern Family & Mr Sunshine from at NYSC):


Look at this happy guy - breaking the mold - becoming a bonified Entrepreneur. Huzzah for him!!

And huzzah for THIS GIRL... cause who has dreams she never going to stop pursuing, ample credit on Bank of America, Chase and Capital One Mastercards of her own and two thumbs pointing excitedly at herself in this very moment??? You guessed it.

Yours truly.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Really wish my computer were more with it

Would loooooove to be listening to whatever wonderfulness this link my sorellina sent me would lead to: http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/22nOme/www.8tracks.com/thegirlnamedjedrzejko/magical-disney-film-scores

And love that her promise is that it "instantly will pull you out of a funk" (she's an avid younameitnaugs.blogspot.com reader ;) obv). Magical Disney Film Scores - man, it might as well be subtitled the key to happiness.

In any case...you know when it'll be super easy for me to bounce between facebook & blog posts and to edit together listen to or watch music & videos and zipadeedoodah through my tech-loaded day???

When my new macbook gets here...

Yep. That's right.

Sercreted that ish and the boss lady's getting them for the company's reps in April.

nbd.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Muddling through March

Second day of Spring and it's dreary as the day is long mid June.

In high school March is the most brutal month to get through due to it not having any vacation days to season it, then in college February's the most treacherous stretch of schoolyear albeit succinct with its 28 (occasionally 29) days.

I've come to find that in Manhattan they're both buggers. February flies by in a New York minute but feels long due to the miserable moods everyone's in as they brave the bitter cold, and then March just drudges on. Full of hope at the onset of the month you think it will flutter by and bring Spring sooner than later, but it just doesn't.

Sigh. So my apologies for not being brighter in my March entries - which I've been called on on having failed to do two years in a row now, but I promise this Sister Friend Actress Writer Agent's spirits are high. And if I had to guess, I would say once I've filed my taxes and received my first direct deposit from a full time work schedule in over 2.5 years, I'll have reacquired the pep in my writing step.

In fact, I can even share this exciting connection made with Manhattan yesterday when I was running 8 miles around it... there's a HUGE poster on the side of the Museum of Natural History's library that reads: RENOVATIONS DONE NOVEMBER 2011 and in light of this being my priming year, I smiled for the last 2.25 mile stretch of my run at the thought of posting a similar sign on myself for the next 8 months.

Can't ya just see it?

Sunday, March 20, 2011

What I learned from "Limitless"

(aka everyone's favorite Wedding Crashing Hungover douchebag Bradley Cooper's star-turn opposite the legendary DeNiro) is that given enough preparation, intelligence, time management proficiency and pill popping here in New York City, anything is possible, rising to the top is inevitable and you too can section off some of the world to own and rule.

Sweet right?

Pretty sure that makes me on track for total domination as I approach my "prime" this November, so as I sit here at my corner desk, cup of coffee in hand planning for the week ahead (which happens to be week 9 or the 18 week transformation for anyone who's wondering/following my progress as guinea pig/spokesperson for whatever mystery product it is I'll be formally endorsing come this Summer) and manifesting shit as I type if you will simply by picturing positively and with purpose the potential awesomeness in store for this Summer and beyond, I'm delighted to have opted to go downtown and braved the risk of bed bugs being brought home from the 42nd Street AMC in order to catch the 9:25 of the film when it was sold out at the Loews on the Upper East Side where I met my moviegoing buddy.

Because I didn't expect to learn anything much from my weekend, and I got that lesson from good ol' freakishly blue eyed bf of Renee Zellweiger and another one from my awesome Improv teacher.

What I learned at the post-performance dinner my class had at McMannus' Irish Pub was that if you wanna be on a sitcom, you gotta go to LA.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Something's coming

Next Thursday, March 24th, I start my two week Gotham Writers course on preparing non-ficition book proposals.

And I really cannot wait. I edited the first quarter of the book down to 98 pages last night, and I've shopped the latest revision of the first 44 pages around to my sorelline and the Rox to stellar reviews.

If we're talking about non-fiction writing though, and you're interested in reading some phenomenal reporting, please take a minute to first say a prayer for all those affected by the Earthquake in Japan and then take a few minutes to read this incredible article from the New Yorker by the talented fiance of one of my favorite friends in the world.

I gchatted her to say "that boy of yours sure can write," and she humbly replied, "not bad huh?"

Seriously, I'm excited for their wedding - these two are movers & shakers. Based in Beijing for a little while longer, I'm looking forward to them coming back stateside to start the next leg of their lives together here selfishly because I want to spend more time with them both.

This week I've checked the mailbox every day on my way in from running (had back logged some of my training runs for the half marathon the week after next, so I feel like I was doing daily 5 or 6 milers), and I can't really explain why, but I checked eagerly each time.

Something's coming.
In the meantime, I bought these new sneaks tonight that are bound to make me run faster and jump higher:not bad huh?

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

here come the brides

I got a text from my best friend from kindergarten informing me this evening that the third of the four original members of our Girl Band from Middle School, G2W, or Girls 2 Women (formed in 5th grade, and loosely modeled/blatantly name after Boys II Men and TLC) has recently gotten engaged. And I'll give you a hint - I'm not one of the 3 with "a ring on it."





That's us (to the right of our idols) at my Sweet 16 Birthday party at the Knights of Columbus. We'd long since given up our aspirations to be the next 3Lw or female Dreamstreet, and I have no idea why this is the only pic of the "band" that's made its way to Manhattan with me.

All of this is insignificant, and really there's no need for me to be making the latest proposal to have reared its head public here in the blogosphere. I just thought it was of note. And I'm just wrapping my mind around it all and keeping people posted.

I suppose it sort of ties in to the quotes from "Up in the Air" that I wanted to muse on, Actress Writer Agent Nomad New Yorker that I am having seen the movie last night...

First George Clooney's character saying "we're not swans, we're sharks" to his audience of business professionals who are soaking in the suggestion he's making that they lighten their loads of personal connections and upkeep demanding relationships.

Second, that firecracker from the Twilight movies (who, did you know is from way Northern Maine, and told Ellen Degeneres she and her brother have been taking the train to Manhattan for auditions by themselves since they were kids? Seriously, from Maine? What were their parents thinking? And when are we going to go ahead and annex the top two thirds of that state? I really think they're more Canadian up there than American)...Anna Kedrick is her name, I can't think of her character's but she plays a convincingly trite Cornell business grad, and she's speaking for all of us career driven lasses when she thanks Vera Farmiga on behalf of her generation for paving the way for we Gen-whatever-we-ares to shatter glass ceilings but admits that at the end of the day "sometimes it feels like no matter how much success [we] have it's not gonna matter until [we] find the right guy."

Tough one to swallow - the movie was great though.

And don't get me wrong - I am thrilled beyond belief with the course I've charted and the progress I'm making from up in my tower here on the Upper Upper West Side...

I think the whammy might just be that we really are going from being girls 2 women and I'm left grappling with my choice to swim in this big sea like a shark while the three of them are gliding through this stage of our lives as swans.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Crazy Love


I guess I didn't realize there was any other kind until I got to high school and had friends falling in things like puppy love.

But the way the only people for Jack Kerouac are "the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww,'" the only kind of love for me is the eats you from the inside out it's such a monster love.

It's the how desperately seeking to demonstrate just how fully you appreciate someone, you go to the ends of the Earth to try and surprise them with the simplest gesture that says "I've been listening" to you with your birthday gift love, and the how even though you really want that last bite you'll always say sure you can have my pizza crust so you can dunk it in vinegar even though I think that's disgusting love, the kind that makes you spontaneously combust into a big ball of tears in the balcony of church on Christmas Eve when you realize you're never ever ever going to be truly lonely because you've got best friends built into your bloodline and standing beside you holding your hands during the Our Father and making you laugh throughout the, overcrowded mind you, drawn-out 5:30 mass, and that makes you still sort of partial to doing laundry at home under the guise of it being cheaper but truthfully in the hopes that you'll score a home cooked meal and some company, it's the "have a little faith in me" and "you can't live my life for me, even if you're right you probably would do a darn good job doing so, sis" love, and the kind that fills your heart so full of so many people worth's emotions you're not sure it can contain it or that the little house you love to hate and hate to love and curse buying but couldn't have been more proud of to move in to with its dishwasher and sprinkler system and stainless steel appliances and 96inch long kitchen table can contain it. It's the kind my sorellina's talking about when her facebook status says she loves her crazy ass Italian family and the kind my Irish grandfather exhibits when he's offended by the lack of acknowledgement with this being the week of St Paddy's and all.

It's "a mistake or did He do it to us on purpose" kind of, insufferable, intolerable, irresistable, gravitationally pulled and driven simultaneously, and extreme, dramatic, and serene and simplistic beyond any sense of rationality sort of love.

Crazy love is an investment. It's a responsibility. It's a blessing, a curse, a charge, and an unconditional, surely unmeasurable, irreplaceable element - I might even go so far as to say life force, but then I know I'd be sounding trippier than I do already.

To me though, it's seriously the only kind worth holding onto, believing in or fighting for.
So there you have it. That's what I learned when I visited Boston this past weekend. It's a regular old wonderful life.

As of March 20th my mother will be 48 and feeling great. It's a new dawn, it's a new day... Spring's en route, and love is in the air.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

THE PINK DELL IS BACK FROM THE DEAD

Please excuse any and all typos/grammatical errors... I am writing this as quickly as the brown fox jumps over the lazy brown dog ...

Yup. There it went.

Turned off.

Cause that's what this computer does.

Have I mentioned this is the worst purchase I've ever made?

Ever?

And that I'm secreting for a new macbook? Know I've mentioned that.

Okay back to hanging with the bff - MILEY CYRUS (sp?) is hosting SNL this weekend...which means, party in the USA.

I just had to jot down a few quick thoughts because it's not every day the pink dell laptop comes back from the dead.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Do you ever have those days

when you wake up about ten minutes later than it may have behooved you to get out of bed feeling like "well, that's alright, it might still be a pretty okay day" until you're crying at your desk by noon because you can't believe how cranky everyone else you're dealing with is and the attitude in the most recent email you've gotten's enough to dampen even the most bouyant of optimist's mood, so you find yourself perusing Monster.com during your 20 minute lunch break, but not quite sure of what sort of work you're looking for just that you're totally feeling all "what the fuck am I doing" with your life and not at all like doing any of the umpteen things on your afternoon to-do list, least of all paying your bills, checking your bank of america account as it descends towards deficits, or running 5 miles before heading to the rehearsal you have scheduled at 9 for the project you're still not entirely sure you want to sign on board for, and then have the night take the most pleasant of turns as you smoke a cigarette walking through Times Square towards Bryant Park realizing that you live in the most amazing city in the world and things are actually bound to pretty much work themselves out if you keep putting your nose to the grind, your mind to it and your money where your mouth is?

I call those days Tuesdays, and I'm being ware of the Ides of March as I put myself and this first Tuesday of the month to bed in a few minutes, but I'm basically happy as a clam to have weathered the storm that was being an actress-writer-agent on this otherwise breathtakingly bright sunshiney day.

And I hope you'll all come see us bring Lacey and Danielle: From Beantown to the Big Apple back to the stage at O'Casey's Irish Pub later this month.
Of course I should also mention making this my fb profile pic for a full 24 hours may have had something to do with putting the pep back in my step this afternoon as well. The bff taking a punch out of life and really making it count. Can't you just hear him exclaming "YEAH!"