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)
