a thought she has caught by a thread




so i've been busy mulling over all of your questions.

and there's one i keep coming back to.

because do you remember when le love posted this video?

i became unbelievably taken with it.

and i began to play the song ad nauseum. 

i've yet to tire of it.



so when Thao asked, what song lyric best describes you...well...



Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in its case

Soon she's down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And she goes...
Nobody knows

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
Where people are pleasently strange
And counting the change
And she goes...
Nobody knows


"Her Morning Elegance"
Oren Lavie

of course. 





(this big break here is
my Shakespearean pause.
it's meant to indicate a
substantial period
 of silence. so please do
observe while
mentally reading this
aloud.)







of course. 




i am fighting for my life. 

aren't you?

so last week, when i wrote this about how actually ned's not so bad and i'm thankful he's making me who i am...

well the next two days i could hardly breathe. the fight against ned became so intense that even breath failed me. 

and i fought for my life. 

and  i knew. i am who i am in spite of ned. not because of him. and i don't need to thank him for anything. to hell with ned. 

every day is a fight for my life. my life. versus the life ned would have me lead.

and putting on my coat. and getting out of bed. and getting on the subway. and smiling. and sitting down for a meal. and standing in front of a camera.

i fight for my life as i do all of these things.

but i am. i am fighting. and that's something.





and even more than that...i think i'm starting to  win.





Plato got it right, Be kind...for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. 

When my mother taught me driver's ed we followed one maxim above all others. When another driver made a really glaring error, we always said, oh that must be their one mistake for the year. 

So when the man on the subway is nasty, or the patrons at my job, or the girl in front of me at the supermarket, I try to remember two things now: they are fighting a battle too. and it's most likely their only nasty moment of the year. 


image via visualize.us



don't know what i'm talking about
because you don't know who ned is?
check out my sidebar. i've left you
some clues there. happy searching.

you asked. i answered. or tried to.


What would you like to know? I asked.  And Ask you did. If I answered all the questions at once I fear you would become terribly overwhelmed and then terribly bored. So here are a few. To start.


Who am I? Answered through your questions. 


In light of your recent Disney related post, which of the heroines of animated yore was your favorite. And which hero (prince) did you have a crush on (because no gal grew up on Disney without a crush on at least one of them)?

Well, Belle of Beauty and the Best fame, for sure. Adventurous, daring, an independent thinker, and a lover of books--yes, please, me too. And my goodness, have you seen her library?

 

As for my crush...Prince Eric...his dark hair made me swoon.

 

What is something people are surprised to find out about you?

I'll give you three:

I had my first kiss the day before I graduated from high school. 

I once went on something of a date with one the most famous American playwrights of all time.

Most nights I fall asleep listening to an old episode of Frasier.

 

What is your favorite part of performing?

I honestly don't know if I can answer this one. I don't know what my favorite part is and I'm afraid if I probe too deeply, well then I might just ruin it. But perhaps, it's the challenge as well as the freedom. In performance anything is possible.

 

What's your dream job? 

So many dream jobs. To work on stage in New York with actors I admire and respect. To travel all around the world making film after film. To write a book. Or a screenplay. To write for a magazine. To coach politicians on how to deliver a speech. To be a wife, a mother.

 

What kind of music do you listen to?

Oh brother, not sure if there is a particular genre. I love a lot of different things. But dance music and ultra-poppy stuff of today is not my cup of tea. I tend to love female songwriters: Missy Higgins, Ingrid Michaelson. And anything that would fit into the movie Almost Famous. I love Badly Drawn Boy. The Beatles (who doesn't). Beirut, oh let me count the ways I love Beirut. Billy Joel. Blue October's first album. Bruce Springsteen's album, The Rising, following September 11th. Some stuff by The Decemberists. The Dixie Chicks' album Taking the Long Way. Edith Piaf (my God, she could sing). Some of Eric Clapton's classics. Garth Brooks (yup, I got some Texas in me).Gipsy Kings. John Legend. John Mayer's No Such Thing album. Marc Cohn. Zoe Keating (she plays the cello and it's unbelievably beautiful--look it up). some things by K'naaan. Simon and Garfunkel. Cat Stevens. Elton John.....the list could go on and on.




Favorite item of clothing?


black leather, winter boots


What do you do when your down and just in need of a good cry?

Drink a glass of wine. Soak in the tub. And pray. Pray for its arrival.


What is your worst bad habit?

Ned.

 

And complaining...


Do you have a favorite poem or little saying?

 

Lord knows I live off of quotes. They feed me. Nourish me, deeply. How can I choose a favorite?

 

I can't. Instead I'll just post as many as I can. For as long as my little fingers can type. Though, this one that I posted recently--the language always catches me off guard--it's not what I expect or remember when I think of the quote--it's better. And this too.

 

As for poetry. Jeffrey McDaniel is my absolute favorite poet. I love "When a man hasn't been kissed," "The Secret," "The Archipelago of Kisses," and "What Year was Heaven Desegregated" to name a few.

 

What's the one thing that really, absolutely drives you bonkers?

Entitlement. 

 

If you were to just drop your bags and escape to one place on this earth, where would it be?

The Dalmatian Coast. Off of Croatia. Go ahead, watch Casino Royale again (the first of the Daniel Craig Bond films)--it you don't fall in love with some of those landscapes than we just cannot be friends.

 

Which do you like best? cookies or cupcakes?

I was going to say cupcakes, of course. Taza and I agreed, all bloggers must love cupcakes--it's there in the terms of use agreement. And then a quiet voice deep inside reminded me: my mothers sugar cookies with frosting trump all.

 

What do you do when you're typically upset about something?

I'd like to say I don't stew. But I do, I'm sure I do. And I imagine those around me, who know me very well, know that I'm upset even before I do. But...a good book, a good bath, a good clean of the room...well, those things just make it easier to get out of bed in the morning. And a good cry. A good cry above all else. The gentle, rolling release. Unfortunately, my good cry often comes at the most inopportune times, but I'll take ‘em when and wherever I can.

who am i? (a detailed overview).


aboutme


Okay.


So.

You've been reading this blog for some time now (or you're brand new) and you're wondering who this nutty gal is that refers to herself as the brunette bombshell.

First of all, let's be clear..I refer to myself as a brunette bombshell and boy-oh-boy does that little thing referred to as an "article" by the grammar gods (I looked it up) make all the difference. In truth, the title should probably be the wild and wily ways of a sometime brunette bombshell because most days I am anything but...but that's the brilliance of creative license--you get to twist the truth.

My name is Meg and I'm twenty-three. (now twenty-five, euf)

Actually, my full name is Meghan, but in the fourth grade when we moved back to Houston (from Dallas) I requested that I be called by the shortened version. My family pronounces my name May-gn so even the nickname comes out May-g (which I prefer to Meg {with the e-sound you'd find in the word let}). I was born and raised in Houston, Texas. Three things distinguish me as a Texan: 1. a undeniable love of Mexican food, 2. the desire to have all beef cooked to the sublime medium-rare (okay, well, i'm a vegetarian now, but when i ate meat, medium rare was the only way to go); and 3. a strange pride in scrapes and bruises (battle wounds). I never ever thought I'd miss Texas, but like it or not it's home. And parts of it I'd give my left arm to have where I am now. Bluebell ice cream. The luxury of a driveway in which to wash your car. A car, in fact. Supermarkets with aisles that go on for days. Luckily, my parents still reside there so I get to return every once in a while.

My parents are both originally from New York--my dad from the Bronx and my mother from a small town upstate that is completely on an Indian Reservation. I have one brother who is four years older than me and in some ways my complete opposite. He's much smarter and gregarious in a way that I'll never be. But he's the engineer and I'm the actor (go figure).

Where am I now? Well, New York City of course. I've lived here for five (almost seven) years now (deep sigh, I can't believe it's been that long). Four of those years were spent at college. One year ago I graduated from Juilliard with a Bachelor of Fine Arts from its actor training program.


I spent my childhood dedicated to three things: 1. sports 2. the pursuit of make-believe and 3. reading as much as I could. My love of acting was a product of the latter two endeavors. And when in sixth grade I met a teacher who seemed to think I had potential--well that was it, some sort of path erupted before me. I spent middle school engaged in speech and debate (a very specific sort of acting competition), which then led me to the academic high school with a strong acting department. When I applied to college (14 of them--most basic liberal arts schools) Juilliard was always the unattainable pipe-dream. I never said the name of the school aloud, nor did I allow anyone else to. I auditioned for the school in Chicago and knew immediately that something felt right. And so I allowed myself to dream. To dream of a life in acting school. To dream of a life in New York City. To dream of what I had never dared imagine. And when the news came two weeks later that I'd been accepted, I was over the moon--so over the moon that no other offer of acceptance from any one of the myriad of colleges and universities could pry me from my now fixed point, Juilliard. And you know what the really ironic thing is...I visited Juilliard after my acceptance and I didn't like the school. It didn't feel right as it had in the audition. I don't know that I've ever told my parents this. But I do know my father describes this day as one of the worst of his life--the day he realized I was leaving. I think perhaps we all sensed that there was something not quite right--(and let me be very clear that this was my experience) not quite right for me. But hindsight is twenty-twenty.

While at Juilliard I developed my nasty, little eating disorder (heretofore known as Ned). So I can't really evaluate my time at school because it was all experienced through the perspective of this ghastly creature which began to destroy everything that made me me. All I can say is that the school (as I'm sure most performing arts schools are) was a hotbed for eating disorders and my graduation was not a joyous experience--it was the inevitable jump from a sinking ship.

That being said Juilliard gave me innumerable tools to excel technically as an actor--necessary tools. And now in this year after school, when I am for the first time putting my health before all else, I am gaining the life--and the life skills--that I believe will make me a better actor (and more importantly, a better person) than I ever dared hope.

I am a hostess. A sometimes salesperson. A once-a-week-nanny. Hell, I'm actually a blogger. And I like the idea that I might just be a writer. I am everything but what I went to school for. And right now I'm okay with that. Because I know that--well, that won't always be the case.

This is the year I am failing. For the first time in my life. I am failing brilliantly and freely and nothing has ever been so exciting.

This blog is my account of my failures. My successes. A celebration of the little things. It is a love letter to myself as I heal--as I put myself back together. It is a love letter to the family I dream of having. This is my memory book for the future.



(post-edit changes marked in bold)