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Jul. 26th, 2012 | 11:44 am

It's been a very long while since I updated this olde journal.  There are so many other mediums for self expression now.  It saddens me though.  My entries here make me laugh and help me to see the growth of my self...which strangely hasn't grown all that much.  I'm still very much the same person I was when I started writing here 11 years ago.

There have been changes though.  I'm clearer in my truth of self, and my mind is much quieter.  Perhaps another reason why the posts have decreased.  My mind is less of a maelstrom.  There is more breath and less holding.  There is also less time to spend sitting at a computer when there are so many other delightful things to be doing.

I still journal in paper journals and in computer files, but I think I'm also becoming more aware of the concept that things put on the internet are throwing them out into the ocean.  Anyone can find them and pick them up.  They might unintentionally harm someone else.  They might come back and damage you when you least expect them.  Journals, at least for me, are specific moments in time.  They are a working through of an idea or a particular memory that needs to be preserved.  The internet takes away their immediacy of moment and timeless quality, instead imbuing them with a kind of eternal present.

So in this moment in my life I am finding ever deeper clarity, and am starting to revel in my consistency.  My relationship with Jean-Paul is two years new.  He is on his yearly sojourn to upstate New York where we spend a minimum of 7 weeks apart.  It's our third time around this merry-go-round and, as it does every year, throws what we're doing into sharp relief.  Absence may not make the heart grow fonder for those who examine their experience, it makes the heart really consider the what and why.

I am unsure about what is going to happen next.  I've spent an unhealthy amount of the last 6 months fixated on the next phase of life.  Pondering marriage and kids and "having it all" and those societal expectations of adult-ness.  Though I have done a great deal of powerful work on the minimization of future living, I still take the future into consideration.  I still have an inkling of what comes next and where I want to be and what I want to do.  I've released a lot of expectation for my career and my business and my day to day existence, but not in my relationship.

We appear to be reaching a moment of decision.  A perfect storm of information and thoughts have descended upon our us, and it is time to see if this is an us that will continue forward.  What helps to hold my heart in a state of grace right now is the knowledge that I have never claimed to be something I'm not, or to want something that isn't what I seek.  I found a missive written in early June 2 years ago, where I laid out my truth of what I'm seeking in another and in a relationship.

It is about a life shared.  About a partner and friend and fellow adventurer.  I want to find someone to grow old with.  To grow with.  He has known this from the moment of our beginning.  If he is finding that this is not a path he wants to follow, or I'm not the person he wants to walk this path with, then that is a truth that I will absorb and acknowledge as I continue to carry on living a life that is full and beautiful and true.  

Commitment doesn't look like anything owned, given or consumed.  It is a confidence in another person, that even when things are at their worst, when I am at my worst, you know enough of me at my best to help me find my way back into the light.  It is the agreement that you are the person I want to fall asleep with every night and wake up with every morning, even if miles separate us.

It is the person who, if it makes sense, will help to bring an awesome being onto this planet with me.  

Aging is a natural process.  Though my mind/heart is still very much the mind/heart of the dreaming little girl I was at 6 and the overwhelmed teenager I was at 16 and the developing soul I was at 26, my body is now that of a 30 year old.  I cannot change that there is not forever time to have children.  I cannot change that my body will start to find aches and spots and wrinkles.  I can accept these truths and enjoy and appreciate that this is all part of the experience of living.

I'm scared that I have to gaze into the future.  That I have to make certain decisions for my life that may have life long impacts.  But that is silly.  Because all decisions can be made again.  The world is full of infinite possibility always.  All of my life decisions have life long impacts because they become part of my past, which is part of my present and future.  Just because I'm aging doesn't mean that things must change.  If this body doesn't give birth to another body in this life that doesn't diminish my love for this body, or preclude the possibility of giving teaching and joy to different bodies not of mine.

The stories and mythologies of society are powerful forces...and they are not always working for good.  I am trying to pause in this maelstrom of life that now swirls around me instead of within me and ask the quiet voice, that core at the center of my being, what is true.  What is right.  What is it that I want in this life.  What I want my universe to look like and how I want to fill the waking hours, the dreaming hours, and all the hours inbetween.

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Today

Aug. 11th, 2010 | 08:09 pm
mood: jubilantjoyful

I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and saw the exhibits on the progression of fashion on American women, excerpts from the Ramayana, the wonderful bedrooms of 18th Century France, an assortment of NYC photographs from the late 60's/early 70's, and a giant bamboo structure where I chatted with one of the builders about the various tools most effective in trimming bamboo.  In case you're wondering, pocket knives are not considered the most effective.  Jigsaws are too noisy for Met patrons, but electric clippers are really awesome, and a bargain at only $1,200.00!  He gave me a little carved piece of bamboo as a memento since I was his most entertaining conversation all day.  

Then I walked home through the summer afternoon in Central Park.  Watching the tourists patiently sweat and suffer in the insufferable heat.  Brides waiting for the perfect photo in the shade as they try and blot their melting make up.  A rustling caught my attention and I saw a turtle cruising along the edge of an area with tall grass.  As I observed him I noticed that the markings on his head perfectly captured the patterns of the grass behind him.  Even the way the light illuminated the grass and the slight iridescence of his markings was perfect.  I could almost watch his head disappear into the grass.

Upon my return home I had a productive bout of laundry and grocery shopping.  I joked with the butcher and bought my organic ethical food.  Then I brought in the half dry laundry and draped and folded and arranged. Having the inside of my apartment look like the inside of a Chinese laundromat is not ideal, but it will have to do.  I can never wait for dryers to finish.

I just finished making dinner of  spicy Italian sausage on a bed of chard greens sautéed in garlic.  I've plated it on top of crispy potato slices and sautéed onions with chard stems in a balsamic glace.  I plan to dine on the roof as some of the heat drips from the day.  

Once I've digested it will be time for yoga and perhaps some piano and then to bed.  Maybe watch the last episode of Mad Men or an old Katharine Hepburn movie.

I must remember to do this more.  To do the things that I love all the time and make me smile and make my life and day feel abundant and full.  These things that make me joyful.

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Midsummer Night's Dream

Jun. 2nd, 2010 | 01:10 am
mood: excitedexcited

I am mere hours away from my NYC theatrical debut.  

Sure I've performed in New York.  I've done school productions, staged readings, clown gigs, and music.  I walk through a lot of my life performing for the masses, whether they realize it or not.  Yet, at 8pm tonight, I will be gracing a small New York theatre with my presence.  I will be wearing full costumes, acting on a designed set, with lights, and memorized lines, and other dedicated actors.  

Though it is a small step in a small theatre in a variety of small roles...it is a beginning.  It is real.  It makes me feel like a professional.

This production makes me feel a way doing Bay Area theatre never made me feel.  I don't know if it's the place, or the dedication of the other performers/directors/techies, or my own life place, but this feels special.  Maybe it's all Frank Sinatra's fault for saying I can make it anywhere at this point...

I am so proud of myself right now.  That this is a beginning I can be excited about.  That I'm performing SHAKESPEARE in NEW YORK CITY.  Yes.  YES.  A thousand times yes.  That everyone involved in this production is committed and excited to be involved.  That there has been no petty bullshit and no divas and no backstabbing.  That it has been an ensemble that knows the play is the thing.

Having spent the past two days fully immersed in rehearsals and play and tech and dress...there is no where I'd rather be.  Even when it was work.  Even when rehearsals felt lousy, or half assed, or pointless...it is still amazing.  That this group of people who didn't know each other 2 months ago met for a month and a half together to create something that can make you laugh and cry and experience something that is more than this life.  Is there a better art form out there?

I feel like I'm an artist again.  I want to savour every second of this.  I want to remember every performance and every moment and every crazy panicked costume change and every character choice.  I want to hold this in those dark quiet hours when I wonder just what I'm doing with myself and why I don't give up and go become a botanist to study moss.  

I had a moment walking home tonight, passing the Chrysler Building, the Empire, Madison Square Garden, hopping on a city bus and then transferring to the uptown A...I am a New York City actress.

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On aging and epiphanies

Jan. 19th, 2010 | 01:44 am
mood: jubilantjubilant


I'm...an hour and a half into my birthday.  Depending on how you look at it.  If you want to be SUPER technical, I still have 6.5 hours until my birth 28 years ago.  But according to popular mythology, even though my birthday isn't yet occurring in my time zone of birth, the calendar has clicked over here in my current residence.
Read more...Collapse )

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Meant to Be...

Feb. 27th, 2009 | 03:12 pm
mood: pensivepondering
music: Squirrel Nut Zippers-Meant to Be

I never thought I would become bitter and jaded about love.  And I'm still not, not really.  But I've definitely become more hesitant and reluctant to pursue it.

I remember in my youth how I would fall in love.  How it would be this all encompassing obsession, rife with romance and imaginings and poetry.  How I could so fully believe and embrace this person as my one true love.  How magical and fated our meeting was, how divine must our histories be that created these two beings to encounter each other in this one true moment.  How we would seem to read each others thoughts, how we would fill in each others gaps of knowledge so perfectly, how we both wanted the NY penthouse apartment and the lovely cottage in the countryside (how rare!)  Clearly, CLEARLY, this was a magical relationship meant to happen.

And it did happen.  Again.  And again.  And again.  And maybe it is the repetitiveness of it that has lessened the impact.  That feeling of infinite romance fades when the infinity stops.  Perhaps the fact that it keeps ending over and over again makes me hesitate to embrace the infinite again.

Or maybe age mellows one.  No longer am I a textbook of raging hormones.  Whatever clashing synapses I have to deal with now are part of a rather long term ooze.  So without this constant catalyst of raging highs and lows am I no longer capable of achieving that heart rending, profound romance of my youth?

I do not know.  Then I question if it is somehow contained in the other, the person who I am desiring to lavish this emotion on but am strangely incapable of doing so.  Could they be to blame?  

This is the point where I run into some difficulty.  For I can make a list of positives and negatives about my other.  But I can make an equally detailed and direct list of all the other others I've had.  There is no lack of chemistry that brought us together or keeps us there.  I have lived in much more intimate circumstances and dealt with all manner of bizarre body and household habits while still maintaining the desire and desperation for eternity.

Perhaps it's the lack of the chase.  He loves me.  He really does try to please and fulfill me.  There is no tremulous doubt in my soul that this man will stay.  That if I want him to, we could share that yellow brick road into eternity together.  Is there something in the confidence that removes the mystery and magic?

What is the magic potion that spells out romance and long lasting love?  Is it someone you can discuss finances, grocery shopping, house projects, and dinner plans with?  Is it someone who you have champagne and strawberries in lingerie with chocolate fondue in the future?  Is it that moment of two eyes alighting and souls igniting in an ancient ritual of recognized mutual lust and recognition?

Is it better to marry your soul mate or someone who would be a partner in life?  Is it possible to have both?  And how do you know?

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Vote

Nov. 4th, 2008 | 10:22 am

If you've already voted, yay!  If you haven't voted, today's the day.

I'm holding the hope today that the US is going to make a strong statement about the state of our affairs.  I hope that you will be a part of this historic moment.  And if you have some spare time this morning, encourage others to vote too.  You can go to barackobama.com and log in to make phone calls to people in swing states.  They're all registered voters, and all you have to do is make a phone call to remind them/encourage them to vote today.

Let's make history.

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No Call Back

Jun. 7th, 2008 | 12:14 am

Rejection, rejection, rejection.  Shit, it's all shit!

Bah.  I'd rather be rejected in New York than in Berkeley I suppose.  At least when I'm depressed I am in a place that I'm happy to be in.  Not that I wasn't happy in Berkeley, but New York just feeds my soul more.

It's interesting.  How much I needed to leave this city and now how much I find it home.  I always knew I would come back.  I couldn't honestly imagine myself never living in New York again.  And now that I'm here it really is everything I wanted it to be.  Even if my profession isn't.

I just can't help thinking that if I can't even get cast by someone I KNOW, what are the chances of me getting cast by someone I DON'T know.  I thought I did a good audition, and I know that I took his direction perfectly.  I'm also perfectly aware that they could be looking for someone who is taller/shorter/paler/darker/whatever-er than me.  I suppose at least in this instance I get to query the party in question.

Part of the problem too is that I was starting to get somewhere in the Bay.  People were starting to recognize me, and call me for specific projects.  Request me for auditions.  But now I'm a non-entity again.  A nobody in a sea of hopefuls.  Another girl who just moved to NY to live the dream, without any real grounding in reality.  Sometimes I think that I'm more savvy than that, but most of the time I know I'm not.

Clark has helped assuage that damage.  In addition to feeling that I'm tenuously connected to the industry through him, so I get to live (or vicariously live) the joys and trials and tribulations of set, he does comfort me.  I am fearful that he is all that I have in New York to keep me joyful, and I'm far too leery of putting all my eggs in one basket.  Especially when an emotional romantic sexual relationship is involved.  I know on a real level that I'm happy here regardless of Clark.  But...I'm getting so wrapped up in him as an aspect of my happiness.

Part of that is his willingness to provide that role.  Though David was concerned and conscious of my well being, his response was to worry at me.  Clark requests the knowledge of how to make things better, and when I cannot provide it, or request his presence elsewhere, he is wonderfully understanding.  It is rather remarkable and points to a maturity level I am not used to.  It also makes him an active part of my day to day moods.  He wants to influence them.  I am not used to that concept.

My joys and sufferings have always been of my own making.  When I spent the January of 2007 sobbing on my bathroom floor, no one was there for me.  I was so distant from Becks and Chris that I didn't feel I could burden them with that sorrow and suffering.  I didn't feel right doing it to David, my boyfriend (then) of 4 years, and even my parents would just demand I change my life situation.  So I created it, and built it, and struggled through it, and overcame it ,all on my onesome.  I'm not used to having someone who is not only available to help me through bullshit, but actively participating.

So tonight I not only acknowledge that there will be rejection in NY, far more than there was in Berkeley, but there will be a presence on the flipside of that.  Not to say David wasn't sympathetic when I was rejected, but he never quite knew what to do.  Clark knows to ask, and the funny thing is, that is exactly what I need.  It brings me back to reality to demand that I acknowledge where I am instead of blindly suffering.  I am forced to recognize the situation.

The most amusing aspect is, I didn't really want this role. I wasn't really comfortable with the subject matter.  But I wanted to prove to myself that I could reject something.  And ultimately, I will get to a point where I have that opportunity.

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Satisfaction

May. 23rd, 2008 | 04:46 pm
mood: contentcontent

It is so satisfying to sit on the couch in my apartment with a book in hand.  I know I should be doing some work on my party website, or finishing up my pesky Amtrak claim, but I need breaks too.  And sitting in my own apartment is a magical way to do that.  I have my music on the Itunes, and my book in hand.  It's rather surreal not having to take someone into account.  I live alone now, and the people I let into this space are only the ones that I choose.

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End in Sight

May. 16th, 2008 | 03:24 pm
mood: accomplishedaccomplished

The bedroom, it is almost done.  I just need to paint the trim and voila, I have a little jewelry box to sleep in.  The living room still has a LOT to be done, but it's all a one color, one coat extravaganza.  It just happens to require three walls!  But in about 2 hours, it will be done.  All will remain is a little bit of touch up on the trim (cause I slip) and the ceiling (cause the area around the light fixture is ABYSMAL-you know who you are.)  Anyway, I am almost done painting (ignoring the foyer/kitchen/bath.) 

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A New York Minute

May. 1st, 2008 | 07:31 pm
mood: ecstaticecstatic

A New York minute lasts approximately 36 seconds as far as I can tell.

I have been going at a break neck pace since I arrived in this fair city, and there simply aren't enough hours in the day.  For example, I have always NEEDED 8 hours of sleep.  If I don't get that, I have to play catch up at some point to ensure that my body is still properly rested.  Since I have arrived in NY I haven't slept 8 hours ONE SINGLE NIGHT.  Somehow I am still functioning.

Why so little sleep?  Because I have to get up ridiculously early to commute from Brooklyn to an audition/PA gig/bruncheon with a friend.  Then I spend my whole day dashing uptown and downtown, running errands and auditioning.  Finally I get home in the evening, cook dinner, have a glass (or 3) of wine, watch a movie to unwind, and go to bed midnight at the earliest.  I'm exhausted just thinking about it!

And it doesn't stop!  Because on Monday I finally get to move into my amazingly uber cool apartment, which needs to be painted, cleaned, unpacked, and kitted out with furniture.  It also needs some electrical work, a new stove top, a shower rod, and a bunch of other housey things that I cannot control.  Ack!  I know it's going to be a good 2 weeks before it even begins to feel settled down and anything like my "home." 

So that's what's going on.  This is my crazy New York life.  It is exhausting and stressful and so so so busy.  Which of course means I am blissed out on life people!

I am so happy here.  I constantly have to remind myself that yes, that is the Empire States building, yes that is the Manhattan skyline, yes I DO LIVE HERE.  Yes, you can audition for Broadway.  Yes, you can have amazing pizza for $1.50.  What's that?  You say you fancy chinese food at 3am?  Done.  You need to get ahold of an obscure play, the Drama bookstore on 40th and 7th will have it.   It's New York and it's better than ever.

My New York minute is up.  I've got to prepare myself for my next dash into this madcap concrete jungle!

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