Couldn't it be just a little bit easier?

 
You know how I've been yearning for that good cry? How I could feel it just below the surface? How I tried to induce it by ridiculous means (aka the One Tree Hill episode about death this past week)? It came today. In the middle of the street. Surrounded by people. As my feet awkwardly clomped against the sidewalk to prevent the formation of blisters. The tears began their steady and solemn march down the terrain of my face and I was helpless to stop them. There in the midst of a gorgeous "autumn is so close to full bloom that I can feel it"  kind of day, I quietly lost it. I didn't sob, wail, or beat my breast, but rather stood there silently, tears streaming, mascara running as the people of New York milled and seethed around me. And it was then that the softest, little voice said "see, you do wanna be an actor." It was so quiet I almost missed it. A few weeks from now I'll probably wonder if I heard it at all. But it was there, carving out my future persistently and passionately in its oh so unassuming way. 
 
What brought it on you ask? Well, I had this audition. And I was hoping it might go well to balance out the audition the day before where I left thinking the director was the only person with more doubt about my ability than myself. Not to mention, as I sat in yesterday's waiting room I felt like a beached whale. Now, I've made great strides in the acceptance of my body. In fact I kinda like it. It's normal and beautiful. In the real world. In the acting world, sometimes I still feel like...well I already said it, no point in repeating the image. And by the way please someone shoot me if I spend five whole minutes in front of a mirror adjusting every possible strand of my gleaming, panteine pro-v, wouldn't you just kill for these locks because I did hair while everyone else looks on. Do it in private. But in public? By the way, it was fine, my audition today. But it was far from good. I have a strength on stage that is deceiving. Because in person, lets face it, I'm a bit of a flake. I'm kooky and bumbly (not really a word but if Shakespeare made them up, so can I) and all of the place. And the parts I'm sent out for (which are actually perfect for me) are not really any of these things--they're in there but overshadowed by a poise that I'm all together lacking in any kind of audition situation. And thus I'm left standing there saying "confidence, oh confidence why have you forsaken me?" So today I realized, its gonna take me a year. A whole year before I can expect to get any callbacks, any jobs, any real positive feedback. A year to translate what I know I can do on the stage to what I know I have to do in an audition room. And that's okay. It's my path. I've always been a late bloomer and this is just par for the course. I have so much to look forward to. Because today was the day that I decided (or maybe realized) oh yeah, see that...I do want to be an actor
 
But is it okay to say this? I wish it could be just a little bit easier. Not much. Just a little.
 

 

I guess I should confess...

that I'm in need of a really good cry. It's not that I'm sad. Because I'm not. I just feel something welling up inside of me and I could use a little release.
that I even resorted watching to One Tree Hill in bed last night to try to get that "really good cry"...
...and then drinking a smirnoff (because I didn't have wine) and taking a hot shower (because I didnt' have time for a bath
that I started playing footsie with Ned about a few days ago thinking it would end there, but it didn't.
that I'm may never ever escape Ned.
that I discovered the exact location of that really good chlorine whiff on 5th ave. It's 54th street in case you want to know.
that I fell asleep in Sheep's meadow today and it was so good that I forgot where I was. In fact I started to get chilly so woke up to turn off my ceiling fan, only to realize it was the breeze and I was napping in a public park. And that I had no shame about that.

that I'm blogging right now from Rockefeller Plaza (thanks to someone's free wi-fi), while I kill time before my job starts at the Met. I should be preparing for my auditions. But I'm not. Or exercising. But I'm not.
that I've become addicted to blogging, most especially right now anything to do with the Nielsons. I go to Nie Nie and C Jane Enjoy It and wonder at their strength and faith and the glorious writing and then I stare at those gorgeous pictures of Stephanie and her children and wonder if I've ever met someone so beautiful. And I find myself praying for people I don't even know. And I don't pray much.
that I hate having to ask people for gifts (aka money) over the phone...even if it is for a good cause. I get it...no one likes the pushy phone calls, no one likes to give money away...but it's my job and I love the people I work with. So please...have patience with telemarketers and fundraisers...they're just trying to make a go of it like everyone else.
that I can't understand why not one man offered me his seat on the bus this morning. I stood there for an hour. Chances are I would have refused, but really--is chivalry actually dead?
that I just realized I actually have to do something other than this...oh damn, the real world beckons and I am forced to answer.

The is just to say...


I love the smell of new paint. It makes me think of the fourth grade. We were living in a hotel while they painted our house (we had just moved) and we had to bring in apples to make apple juice (who knows why, we were in fourth grade, we did this and spent the whole year writing only in cursive) and I ended up having to bring in sad little apples from the hotel's continental breakfast. 

I love that the smell of paint makes me think of that. 

I love memories.

I hate the book banning, gun-toting, "sexist" screaming, Tina-Fey look alike that is Sarah Palin. Woman, you were chosen precisely because you are just that. You're not shattering the glass ceiling, Hillary did that. You're just riding on the coat-tails of a man.

I hate when you're in a the kind of mood where you end up going to bed in what you've worn all day. 

And I hate when you get up and then wear it all over again. 

Or I love this. Not sure. Jury's still out. 

I hate that I don't know how to add you-tube videos to my blog. 

I love that my uncle and I now have our morning meetings via email.

I love my friends. And my family. 

I love making new friends. In the oddest of places. 

I love finding kindness where you least expect it.

I hate that I have no idea how many m&m's I just ate. Alot. That much I know.

So Long Summer. Take Two.

Dear Summer,

You know how I wrote you that long letter wishing you well 'till next year. That was your cue. What makes you think its okay to hang around until September 14? C'mon, fall barely gets any time as it is. You'll get your turn again, sooner than I'd like to admit. So seriously, please, please go. It's time.
Meg