Innocence Lost
Thursday, February 28, 2008

She awoke that morning, just as she would on any other - the southern exposure allowing the beautiful streams of fall sunlight to shine in. She had prime Manhattan real-estate...southern exposure and a half block from the park. So what if that southern exposure came through a single window which led to a fire escape which made the size of her miniscule apartment exponentially bigger? She was in Manhattan with a place on the Upper West Side. Plus, she had high ceilings.


Still half asleep, she climbed down from her lofted bed and shuffled over to her radio to turn on NPR - the first ritual of her morning routine. She never really considered the fact that she was just about to get in the shower so there was really no need to turn the radio on until after as the words would go unheard. This was her routine. It was just the way she did things. She directed the toothbrush toward her mouth, demanding the minty-fresh feeling to help her rise and shine. She stuck one foot in the shower as she gave her final spit into the sink. The two were close enough together that this posed absolutely no problem at all.


She continued her morning routine, only occassionally bumping into the stove which was directly across from her dresser as she opened and closed drawers, trying to figure out what to wear. It was pure coincidence that she wore flats on this day. Most days she could be found strutting the streets of Manhattan in 3 inch heels. She may have chosen differently had she known the number this would later do to her knees. Or she may have chosen exactly the same. But on that particular morning, she had a new pair of tan leather slides calling her name and she wanted to get a wearing or three in before the weather turned cold.


As she slipped into her new slides and slid a fresh coat of gloss on her lips, her normal NPR morning edition was interrupted. She would have missed it had she still been in the shower. She may have missed it if she'd left just a minute earlier. But as she walked toward the radio to shut it off, confusion seemed to ensue on-air. There was an accident and no one was quite sure exactly what had happened. A plane had crashed or accidentally flown into the top of the World Trade Center. She froze as she listened to the words. A horrible accident they exclaimed. Not sure how this could happen. Accident, accident. Over and over they said the word accident. They reported that they had no more details at that time and they would update as they received them. And then, they returned to their regular broadcast. She stood still for a moment wondering how on earth a plane could fly into a building. But they were reporting an accident. A horrible accident indeed...


And then she picked up her bag and was on her way, out the door in her fresh new leather slides on a beautiful September day in Manhattan. She thought about the plane and the World Trade Center and this accident as she walked the block and a half cross town to catch the bus. She thought about it until she saw her bus on the block ahead and she broke into a slight jog in hopes of making the bus. With a smile on her face and the sun at her back, she bolted across the street, grateful for her flats, momentarily able to relish in the sun and the day. She had no idea she was relishing in her final moments of true innocence.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:04 PM 1 comments  

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Classifieds
Monday, February 25, 2008

LOST: the ability to sit patiently while waiting for life to proceed as planned at a pace that I sometimes have no control over. If patience is found, please return it to owner as quickly as possible. In fact, if you can let me borrow some of yours, I would greatly appreciate it.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:52 PM 2 comments  

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Structure
Friday, February 22, 2008

Lately it seems the thoughts are coming so quickly and rampantly that they start to overlap each other. They accelerate as though they're going downhill without breaks but by the time I get myself to the computer, they're gone. There are remnants, general themes left swirling around. But the lines of prose that popped into my brain as I walked down the street or watched my friends from a slight distance or breathed deeply in downward dog...they're all gone. Poof. Disappeared into thin air and I can't think of anything remotely smart or interesting to say.

Normally, the more I do, the more I want to do. I am stimulated by activity. But the writing is seemingly undone right now. I am invigorated and excited and exacerbated - all at the same time sometimes, but I'm struggling to translate it to the world, to words.

I think some of it stems from my lack on anonymity. There are things that I'm not sure I want to share with those that know me as much as I am willing to expose to the few dear readers I have that only know me from my words on the page. Because with those that are just a part of each others lives via the blogosphere, there are no attachments or expectations. We read each other because something grabs us. Because we can relate to each other or because we entertain. We experience new and different things through each other but also, we relate to each other and feel less alone. We sometimes live vicariously, but we also live parallely. There are no judgments or expectations. I feel good when something great happens for them. I can relate to many of their wants and hopes and fears. I read other blogs and they're anything but simple, but my relationship to them is simple. They are simply a name attached to a whole world that I get to know and see solely through their eyes. I read them with compassion and desire to know more. To understand who they are and what they are experiencing in their lives. Sometimes I long to reach through the internet and hug them, tight and close - the kind of hugs that people don't give often enough these days. Not one of those half hugs or the hug where they stand with their body about 200 feet away from yours and then gently tap you on the back with their other hand. Hugs are meant to wrap two people together. Sometimes I ache so deeply from the words of another person that I read that I want to wrap my affection around them and give them a hug. Sometimes they bring me to tears with their ability to expose themselves, to relate their worlds and their wants and their hurts and their triumphs so brilliantly.

It's actually quite simple. It all comes down to the ability to be vulnerable. And this is a medium that allows that in ways that being with other people sometimes does not. I'm aching for vulnerability these days. I rejoice in sitting with people who aren't afraid to admit that they don't have the answers. I am proud to be the person to ask for help. I love exploring life and the world with others. I feel stronger admitting that in moments I am weak. I am uninterested in putting on a good face - especially in this LA land of so many good faces under false pretenses. I don't live a perfect life (I know that's totally shocking...heh. heheh.) and I don't feel the need to pretend I do either. And I want to be around people who appreciate that. Because that is just real. And how do you truly squeeze all the juice out of life unless you're being real and true? I've liked my OJ fresh squeezed since I was 3 and I like my life that way too - pulp and even a few seeds here and there.

I told you - it's all swimming in there bursting to come out but unable to come together with beginnings, middles, and ends. But maybe that's because this is all just sort of open ended. In fact, I'd venture to say it's just the tip of the beginning.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:24 PM 1 comments  

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Not quite ripe for posting
Wednesday, February 20, 2008

I've been a little inconsistent lately. You can take that to mean whatever you want.

It's not so much that I don't have anything to say as it is that I've got so many things and not a lot of time to sit and sort through them effectively. I've been up and down and back up again - sometimes in a single day. I'm having intense conversations - the kind that help you grow and see new perspectives. I'm learning new things about people in my life and about myself - some of them amazing, others I wouldn't mind not knowing. (The things, not the people, although occasionally I come across one of those too.)

I'm busy at work which means that my head is actually getting more creative but with less time to sort through it and get it on the page. I think once this week is over and I'm less jet lagged, I'll get back on track. But I'm finding myself enjoying where I am more and more these days rather than thinking about where I'll end up. I'm going to sit in this moment and enjoy it, allowing myself to take it all in and process before I spill it back out.

So for tonight, I'm continuing to mull - the day's events, the week's events, the year's events thus far - and I'm not going to comment on any of it quite yet. Because the thoughts aren't quite ripe. But when they are, I promise to give you something juicy.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:45 PM 1 comments  

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The little things
Sunday, February 17, 2008

Nothing's better than a fire in the fireplace and snow on the ground outside.

Nothing's better than sinking into a huge couch with old friends surrounding you on all sides.

Nothing's better than laughing so hard that your belly hurts, laughing so hard you cry.

Nothing's better than having no place you have to go, nothing you have to do, no one you have to see.

Nothing's better than reminiscing.

Nothing's better than sleeping late and taking naps and doing things on your own schedule rather than the schedule of the world.

Nothing's better than hot chocolate and bloody marys and jelly bellys. Not necessarily together.

Nothing's better than watching old movies that are so bad they're good.

Nothing's better than having a moment where time can truly stand still. Where you can just be and live and experience people in a way that the world so rarely allows us to do anymore.

Nothing's better than cooking in a kitchen full of people, drinking wine and laughing.

Nothing's better than having grown up together and continuing to grow.

Nothing's better than realizing that you're not alone in the things that you struggle with - in work, in love, in life.

Nothing's better than a weekend away with old friends.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 8:36 AM 2 comments  

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Some days
Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Some days the words come out just right but are heard all wrong.

Some days you feel like having a cocktail by noon.

Some days the tears sit quietly behind your eyes, begging for the perfect moment to stream down your cheeks.

Some days you question every decision you've made.

Some days you wish someone else would do it for you.

Some days you wish you were 5 again and had the whole world ahead of you. Or at least in your early 20's.

Some days you don't have to feel like you don't exist because there are people to tell you it's true.

Some days you just want to run away.

Some days you wish you could do things differently.

Some days you want to tell people to just. shut. up.

Some days you would like people to realize that they actually do NOT know everything - about the world or about you.

Some days you wish you could see into the future.

Some days you wish you could stay in bed eating cookies all day.

Some days you actually wouldn't mind being invisible.

Some days you wish you never got out of bed in the morning and you count the minutes until you can crawl into bed and turn out the light. And turn off your brain.

Some days you just want to end.

This was just one of those days.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:57 PM 2 comments  

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What do you want to be when you grow up?
Monday, February 11, 2008

I never got to have a meeting at the career center at Northwestern. Or rather, I should clarify that I chose not to. I had no interest. While the rest of my friends were busy going on recruiting meetings and spending time planning their futures, I was dedicated to a life in the thee-ah-tah. I was busy getting headshots taken and perfecting my resume, acquiring monologues and focusing on subscribing to Backstage.

In the fall of 2000, as I cartwheeled across the floor of Chelsea Studios at a callback for the National Tour of Annie Get You Gun!, something snapped in my head as my hands hit the floor and my legs defied gravity.

"I don't think I want to cartwheel my way across the stage 8 shows a week," one of my little me's said. "I don't think I want to live out of a suitcase and bus. I wouldn't give my right arm (the one I'm balancing on in mid-air right now) to get this job."

And in slow motion, my legs flipped to the other side of my head and I came up stunned and staring at the leotard-clad girls lining the wall across from me.

"I don't think I even want this job."

I finished the combination with less determination to make them notice me, less concern about making sure that I was a character and that I was shining through. I finished the combination and walked across the room to lean against the bar with my friends. Normally, this was the part where I would intently watch each group following mine, picking out the girl (or maybe there would be 2) that had "it" - the sparkle, the indescribable, the whole package. I would study her execution, knowing that I could learn something from everything she did.

But this day, I was sitting there saying to myself, "What the hell can I learn from her cartwheel? I point my toes, I go up and down with grace and with ease. What do I need to learn from watching anyone cartwheel?"

My mind wandered to the 250 girls cut earlier that morning who would have given their right arm to be able to cartwheel across the floor 8 shows a week. But I wanted more. I wanted to stop being chosen and I wanted to start choosing. I wanted to make new things, not regurgitate old. I wanted to be inspired and I wanted to inspire. This wasn't going to do it for me. I took off my character shoes and I went home and started writing letters to the producers that inspired me...and that was the end of that career.

But not the end of the theeeeeeeee-ah-tah. I simply moved from being onstage to off, from performing someone else's work to working to get someone else's work performed. And when I moved to LA three years ago, I thought there would be great opportunities for me. I was going from the small confines of the theater world to a booming culture. I saw climbing the corporate ladder written all over my forehead. I could be creative and get to the top! I was rearing to go.

But somewhere along the way, my motor slowed way down. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn't want to climb another rung. Somewhere along the way, that creativity part got zapped out of me and I was all corporate culture. Somewhere along the way, the fat man came and sat on my chest.

And now the same 21 year-old who snubbed the career center because she was going to be creative is a 31 year-old going to exactly that place to help her find it again. I don't know what went on in that career center then but I can tell you this -- there's something invigorating and exciting and...alive about dissecting yourself and finding out what you're made of and what you're made for. There's something inspiring about understanding what makes you run. There's something revitalizing about rediscovering who you are and how that translates into the world. And there's something rousing about realizing that possibilities are endless.

I feel like I'm a little girl again. I can be anything I want to be when I grow up.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:18 PM 1 comments  

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43.4%
Thursday, February 7, 2008

I've started about 50 drafts on this subject before...and I never hit publish. They sounded trite, preachy, uninteresting. But I just read something that confirms my fears and I can't be quiet any longer and if I sound trite or preachy or uninteresting, well, so be it.

' "There was a survey done by the Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse U. that found that 43.4% of teen girls wanted to become celebrity personal assistants. They chose this option twice as often as being president of a college, three times more often than U.S. senator and four times more than chief executive of a major company," Gladstein said.'
-Fox Atomic pauses for a 'Moment', Variety

I am rendered speechless. And heartbroken. And...well...ummm...PISSED!!!

I'd feel about ten thousand times better if they had at LEAST said that they wanted to become a celebrity. And by the way, do not think for a moment that I'm dissing celebrity personal assistants because I'm not. It's a challenging job that requires very specific talents. Call me crazy, but I don't think that most of the girls answering this survey really care about the actual job of being a personal assistant. They care about being a part of what they read every week in Us Weekly. They care about getting into clubs and being in the know. They care about meeting famous people. They care about seeing and being seen. They care about being a part of a world that has become the obsession of this country.

I don't know any of this for a fact. I didn't talk to the teenage girls. I don't know what reasons they gave for having these aspirations. But I can't imagine that all 43.4% of them are sitting there saying, "When I grow up, I want to be a celebrity assistant!" because that's truly what they hope and dream of, because it's how they feel their talents will be used best. I am willing to bet large sums of money that if this was studied further, the answers as to why these girls want to be celebrity assistants when they grow up would look very similar to the list above.

So what. So what if that's what they want to do. It's their lives.

SERIOUSLY??? SO WHAT? If you're sitting here reading this saying that then please, PLEASE explain to me how it is that you view this situation differently than me because I REALLY want to understand how this is NOT the epidemic that I feel it is. That after years and years of women before us paving the way for us to be anything we want to be, what we want to be is a celebrity assistant??? This pierces me to the bottom of my soul. That the obsession with celebrity in this country has grown to such epic proportions that in order to be close to that world, 43.4% - THAT'S ALMOST HALF - of teen girls want to be celebrity assistants.

Celebrities are not the characters that we see them play. Their lives do not start with teasers and have a perfect ending after a well crafted 100 minutes filled with one major conflict that is almost always solved. They are human beings. I know...I know. They're really wealthy and they can get into whatever restaurant they want whenever they want and people send them free things. They hire stylists that allow them to be trend setters. Oh yeah...except for those moments when their stylists get it all wrong and they walk out of the house looking like bag ladies or like they're color blind and the ENTIRE WORLD comments on it. And then there's the fact that they often feel like animals in a zoo when they go out to eat because the rest of the restaurant is staring at them the whole time and there's a decent possibility that their food choices for the evening will end up on the pages of Star. They have to hear things on the news or see things in print about themselves that aren't true. They get chased by paparazzi at all hours of the day whether their going to the doctor or to their niece's 2nd birthday party. When they go to the grocery store, they inevitably end up in the "Stars...They're just like us!" section. WHAT THE HELL!!!!! OF COURSE THEY'RE JUST LIKE US. Sure there are many ways in which they lead charmed lives...but they are not exempt from being human. They feel deeply. They hurt. They have days where they feel ugly. They feel pressure. They have losses. The feel misunderstood. They need a moment to themselves. They cry and they ache and they want things that they don't have and they have moments where they wonder if everything will be ok. They have to work hard in their personal relationships. Sometimes they want to crawl under the covers and hide. Of course the world will never let them.

Meanwhile, why isn't anyone talking about the latest work that Angelina's doing in Africa instead of whether or not she's having a baby? Why isn't anyone focusing on the great humanitarians of the past 5 years rather than what and who Paris did last night? Oh please...don't get even get me STARTED down that road. That's another post entirely. Yes...the one about how posting a sex video online and having millions of dollars instantly makes you a household name and gives not only you, but the entirety of Hollywood delusions that you might be able to act or even -dare I say it - sing?? I can't. I can't right now...I'm just too upset about the 43.4%. This will have to wait for another day. But for now, someone, maybe the same person who's not upset about this whole phenomenon, please explain to me how it's possible that we live in a world that you don't have to do anything worthwhile to gain notoriety?

And people walk around saying, "Uch...kids these days..." But it's adults that are fostering this - adults are putting crap in the tabloids and paying for the pictures. The kids are just responding to the stimulus we're giving them. And now 43.4% of them just want en tree into this world, any way they can get it.

I'm telling you - it breaks my heart. And it makes me mad. And it should make you mad too.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 2:45 PM 2 comments  

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Disappointment
Tuesday, February 5, 2008

There are not many things that are more disappointing in life than getting to the center of a tootsie pop way earlier than you're supposed to.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 2:59 PM 2 comments  

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Confessions from Super Bowl Sunday
Monday, February 4, 2008

It's rare that one has epiphanies during the Super Bowl. But hey...anything can happen.

It's less of an epiphany than a confession, I suppose. Something I feel the need to recognize and accept. Something I want to own and not apologize for. Something I need to say out loud.

I don't like big parties. And I said it out loud yesterday. In the middle of a Super Bowl party with about 70 people. J to the K people. J to the K. But I did say it to myself. And I decided to own it.

I'm social. I love being with people. I love to go out and I love to have fun. So I've been sort of baffled by this aspect of myself since I moved to Los Angeles. NYC isn't a city of big parties simply because there's not much room. The only big parties I ever went to in New York were opening night parties and Tony award parties and I was throwing them and it was my job to know everyone in the room. Other than that, there weren't big parties where you'd wander through hallways looking for faces of people that you knew. There were no hallways to wander through that were longer than 5 or 6 feet. I had dance parties with my two fabulous roommates, Randy and Patrick in our Perry Street Apartment. Those parties consisted of a whopping 3. I had weekly catchup parties with Sharon - either at her apartment or across the street at Bar Veloce. I went to Super Bowl parties at Kelly and Amanda's (where I, incidentally, was so comfortable that I fell asleep on the couch through the entire Janet Jackson fiasco in the pre-tivo days.) I spent many an evening singing "Against All Odds" at karaoke parties at Winnie's in Chinatown. I had book club and supper club and social gatherings galore. My mid-20's were the years of "where should I have my birthday party" and we'd email conference until we came up with a suitably cool and hip and fun location that wouldn't be so crowded that our friends wouldn't be able to get in. I went to plenty of parties in my NYC years.

But none of these were parties. Not like LA does parties. And yes, yes...I'm sure you're right if you're saying NYC does parties like this too. They just take place in massive clubs with red velvet ropes that no one in their right mind would want to go to. In LA, they deceivingly take place in people's homes making you believe that they will feel more intimate and that you will actually know the people inhabiting the party. But I almost never do except for the few people that I go with. I spend the hours before secretly dreading the party and trying to figure out reasons why I should NOT attend the party and instead, should spend the evening curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book, a good friend, or my husband. But I always go because "I should" and then there I am, at some huge party that's often loud, often either too hot or too cold, often too crowded, and generally offers little to no sitting space for relaxing. And I find myself feeling anything but social as I scream to my equally big-party dis-inclined girlfriend, "WHY DID WE COME HERE INSTEAD OF STAYING AT YOUR PLACE AND DRINKING GOOD RED WINE AND PLAYING SCRABBLE OR CELEBRITY???" as our significant others peruse the room being, well, social. Because, well, they like big parties.

So there - I've said it. I've admitted it out loud. I'm owning it. And it doesn't mean that I'm anti-social or even anti-party. I think it just means that I'm in my 30's. Wow.



Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 11:26 AM 2 comments  

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This Post Will Make Your Mouth Water...and other random thoughts
Friday, February 1, 2008

I am going home to make a devil dog cake. I found the recipe this afternoon while half watching the horror that is 27 Dresses. Can someone...anyone...PUH-LEASE explain to me how on EARTH this movie got made. While you're at it, can you tell me how it was directed by a WOMAN??? Who probably made a LOT of money from directing a major motion picture that quite frankly SUCKED MY ASS. I mean...seriously...I'm all for the romantic comedy but seriously. HOW?

And while we're at it, can we discuss the Eva Longoria film that's coming out this weekend? I don't even need to see Over Her Dead Body to tell you it's the worst thing I've ever seen. It's the worst preview I've ever seen. I'm baffled and incensed.

Not really. It's just fun to say. What's MORE fun is perusing cooking magazines while watching aforementioned horror and finding the following recipes which I will be making over the neext few weeks:
Chocolate-Caramel Sandwich Cookies
Guinness Icecream with chocolate covered pretzels. I mean seriously. This one is GENIUS
Spaghetti with spinach, tomatoes, and goat cheese
Grilled cheese with onion jam, taleggio, and escarole
Brown butter and Peanut Brittle Icecream

aaaaaaand aforementioned Devil Dog Cake. I know. You want to come over for dinner. And also several desserts. Of course, none of these cover what I'll be cooking tomorrow evening with my friend Amy which is what I was looking for -, so I'll have to go home and do some further cookbook perusing.

Oh - and just in case anyone cares...I am in LOVE with this kitchen. I can't wait to have an island that everyone can sit around and drink wine whilst I cook and also drink wine. That might be my idea of heaven. Can you imagine that island spread with Bon Appetits and Food and Wines and Barefoot Contessa Cookbooks and me and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc on a Sunday afternoon? Divine.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:01 PM 0 comments  

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