Upon the closing of RENT
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
ed note: I wrote this two days ago but I needed to sit with it for a moment. RENT closed on
Sunday, September 7 after 5,124 performances on Broadway.
I watched RENT for the first time on the Tony Awards in the spring of 1996 - my Junior year of college. I was awe-struck and overwhelmed by the innovation and excitement I was seeing on stage. I knew I was seeing something new, something life changing. I felt like I was going to jump up and start dancing as they performed "La Vie Boheme". I didn't care what or how - I had to get to New York to see the show. And that fall, after I'd already memorized the entire album (and consequently had driven my Senior Year roommates absolutely mad - it was the only thing I listened to. Ever.) one of my best friends and I went to NYC for my 21st birthday to see RENT.
I saw the show at least 7 or 8 times in next 7 years. Sometimes I was madly in love with it and sometimes I was underwhelmed. That's the joy of live theater - you never get the same thing twice. But no matter how much I loved that particular show or not, I always left that theater inspired and fully and completely alive. Like tingling. From head to toe.
8 years after I watched those Tony Awards, I went to work for the men responsible for bringing the show to Broadway. I sat in the audience again during a particularly impressive performance and once again, I was awestruck. I felt the magic of what good theatre does. I felt like absolutely anything was possible. La Vie Boheme.
And last night, as the curtain came down on a show that changed my life in so many more ways than I ever could have possibly imagined, I was not in NYC to witness it or to celebrate it. But I thought about it.
I thought about Seasons of Love and how much I've been reflecting on it lately without even realizing it.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?
So last night, while I couldn't be there in person, I found my spirit soaring to NYC to the Nederlander Theater. And I taped those lyrics to my computer. And I said outloud "You measure in love. Seasons of Love."
That's my mantra these days. Measure in love. Not much else matters. And I find my spirit soaring to NYC more and more. Even if my body is physically in Los Angeles. Just to feel the pulse of the streets and the energy of the people. And the love of the people that I have there. And the familiarity. La Vie Boheme.
There's so much going on right now -some of which I can't post about, some of which I've been choosing not to. So I've been escaping to a story from my past - to write, to have a presence here, because I'm curious to have people read something that I've been working on in addition to my random ramblings and musings and thoughts.
But tonight I had to write. I'm feeling the end of an era. That show rocked my world in a way I didn't even realize at the time. It has become a part of my identity. It's part of how I measure my life. La Vie Boheme.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:01 PM 1 comments
Labels: homesick, introspection, musings on life, nostalgia, NYC
Well said
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
I literally couldn't have said it better myself. I've tried.
It is 5:28 PM. I am staring at the screen which is fairly blurry given that my eyes are brimming with tears. There is a choke hold in my throat and a throbbing in my brain. I'm in my cubicle in my office and I don't care if anyone sees. And they would probably think me a fool if they were to ask what's wrong anyway.
I just finished reading the second part of Jon Robin Baitz' article on HuffingtonPost.com about his departure from the show he created, Brothers and Sisters, and from Los Angeles. It's appropriate that an award winning New York playwright has put into words everything that I feel about Los Angeles with such perfect genius and clarity. I was reminded of a lyric that a reader sent me about a month ago from the Neil Diamond song, I am I said:
LA's fine, but it ain't home
New York's home but it ain't mine no more
Baitz says so, so many striking things about LA - about how lonely it is, the obsession with looks and youth, about how the industry runs and how no one talks about anything else, about the way this town reeks of desperation. But that was not what brought me to tears. It amazed me with it's accuracy, with everything I have felt in my gut and soul but not quite found the words to say. But it did not bring me to tears.
No. What brought me to tears was his beautifully perfect description of New York:
"However, in New York, the life of the street, the flirtation and ebb and flow of strangers getting off of the bus, makes for a perpetual energy machine. New York is just sexier, smarter, and better dressed, less vulgar, more diverse, filled with accident, and unexpected encounters, as a rule. There is the Neue Gallery across from the Met, down the street from the Guggenheim, which is up from the Whitney, just a twenty minute walk to MOMA, across Central Park, etc, etc, forever and ever. You will see, smile at, spy on, talk to, stare at, be enchanted by any number of utterly different kinds of people within twenty minutes of leaving your apartment in NYC. A barrage rather than the white noise of the undulating palms and brackish skies of the dream coast."
And in LA...well it's all a 20 minute drive away in your isolated car and there's not even the opportunity for a chance encounter or a new meeting on the subway. And when you get where you're going, everyone turns around to see if you might be "someone" (which of COURSE you are...just not someone they know.) And I feel grateful for the few friends out here that I know with my heart are true friends because I have found that there are so many more that are not. People are harder to trust in LA. Everyone's in it for something and rarely is it just to get to know you.
As my husband and our good friend Jessica have often said, "My favorite thing about LA is leaving it."
It was appropriate that I read this after a conversation with one of my best friends and former roommates from New York in which he told me about August Osage County, a new play on Broadway that I've been told I absolutely CAN NOT miss. I haven't seen a Broadway show or an off-Broadway show in over a year. It used to be my daily life. I told him that I didn't know when I would be in New York next, that since it's a limited run, I might miss it.
But I don't WANT to miss it. I want to see it, and every other show that I've missed in the past three years.
Uch. I miss my home.
***
Find Jon Robin Baitz' posts here:
Leaving Los Angeles, (Part One: Work)
Leaving Los Angeles, (Part Two: Love)
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:26 PM 4 comments
Labels: homesick, LA rant, NYC
History
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I had an interesting conversation with someone yesterday. She also used to live in NYC and now lives in LA. Unlike me, she can't fathom going back. Her entire family is there - no matter. And when I asked about all her close friends from NY, her response was, "Yeah - I don't really miss them. I just made new best friends. I talk to my friends back east now and they always yell at me because we never talk. But I've moved on."
Huh. Interesting.
Moved on? I can't fathom the idea of not talking to my friends in NYC. I can't imagine replacing the friendships I've had for 10, 15, 30 years with new ones. Gaining new friends? Absolutely. Just forgetting the old ones? Are you freaking kidding me? That's my HISTORY. Those people are part of who I am. I can't even compreHEND the idea of not missing my friends in NYC. I wanted to question whether or not she actually had really good friends in NYC because if she did, then how the hell could they be replaceable? I, of course, did not ask this question. It was interesting to me that this person has adapted to Los Angeles so easily. I feel like that sort of laissez faire attitude fits perfectly into LA. And so does she.
There was a part of me that was mildly envious of her ability to pick up her life, transport it here and start anew. To create a new core group of friends so much so that she felt she wasn't missing anything. I'm sure if I didn't miss the people back east so much, I would be able to adapt myself to Los Angeles more. I would undoubtedly still miss New York itself - the energy, the hustle and bustle, the culture, the (and I know some of you will laugh at this description, but for me, it holds so much truth) ease. But it would be easier for me if I didn't love so many people there.
But I do. And they are people that I would never want to "give up" or "find new ones" of. They are irreplaceable. So while I slowly but surely make some new friends out here, they are just that - new. They are not a replacement of anything. And if we find that we like each other well enough to maintain our relationships then we, too, will begin a history. But we'll never replace my old ones.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 9:33 AM 2 comments
Labels: friends, homesick, moving to LA
This weather sucks.
Monday, October 29, 2007
It's too hot here for sweaters and I'm pissed about it. I opened my closet this morning and I have absolutely nothing to wear. Sure, I have an entire closet full of beautiful jackets and wrap sweaters and turtlenecks. But I can't wear any of them because it's 80 degrees outside!!! It's Halloween in two days and it's freaking 80 degrees. I know that I'm supposed to like that about LA. The weather is one of the upshots of this place. But I couldn't possibly appreciate it less right now. I want to bundle up my body in a blanket of warmth and comfort and this stupid weather is telling me to get out my sandals and put on a tank top. Screw you LA and your sunny, hot, October afternoon.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:26 PM 0 comments
Labels: homesick, west coast prejudice
Far
Monday, September 24, 2007
Last night I flew 6 hours back to Los Angeles from an extremely brief weekend with my parents. I stood on the sidewalk outside the American Airlines terminal and stared at the airport. Hadn't I just arrived there one day ago? Was I seriously leaving already?
I didn't want to come back to LA. And it's not because I don't like Los Angeles. I like Los Angeles just fine. Is it my favorite place in the world? No. But it doesn't have to be. I like it here. I'm happy here. The weather is great, I've made some terrific friends, we have a great home. It will never be New York - but it doesn't have to be. It's Los Angeles. Apples and oranges, baby.
I didn't want to come back to LA because it's far. It's far, far away from at least 80% of the people that I love. It's far away from both of our parents, from our siblings, from our three nephews. It's far away from my grandmother and our aunts and uncles and cousins. It's far away from most of my closest and oldest friends. And it's not just a little far. It's really fucking far. It's really hard to go home for a weekend far. It's not driveable far. It's impossible to be there for important occasions far. It's miss people so much that it actually hurts far.
And sure - there are tons of things that are annoying about Los Angeles - especially for this New Yorker. But they're just annoying. They're fun to pick at and look at and it's fun for me to figure out ways to feel at home in a place that's so far away from mine. But none of that stuff makes me unhappy. It's all liveable and dealable. It's the proximity of Los Angeles to New York and the east coast(or lack there of) that makes me unable to truly love and embrace living in Los Angeles. And I feel totally perplexed. Because I'm not really sure how to get over this or past this or whatever it is that I'm supposed to do in order to be able to live in Los Angeles and be happy here. How can you be truly happy when you can't be around SO many of the people that help to ground you, that make you laugh, that keep you safe, that love you no matter what? And especially in this town, where you need those things more than ever...how do you embrace living in a place that is painfully far away from the people that you want to be near?
I know that people do it all the time. I know that this is not some new phenomenon that I'm experiencing. And I know that I should be an adult and suck it up and get over it. But no matter how hard I try, there is a place in my soul that feels empty being 3000 miles away from all of these people...
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 9:17 PM 2 comments
Labels: homesick, musings on life
Good Yontif
Friday, September 21, 2007
I'm going home to my parent's in Massachusetts for Yom Kippur. A quick 36 hour trip home. No, I'm not exaggerating. I wish I were. We get on a redeye at 11 PM tonight, arrive in Boston at 7 AM Saturday morning, get back on a plane at 7 PM Sunday night and arrive back at LAX at 11 PM Sunday night.
Math is not my strong suit, but I believe that's 48 hours total and 36 hours in Boston. Which means that 12 hours are spent in the air traveling. I have one single word for this.
Oy.
But I haven't seen my grammy or my aunts and uncles or my cousins in 4 months. And it will probably be another 4 before I see them again. So I'm going and I'm going to soak everyone in and carry them back with me to Los Angeles to take me through until the next trip. And I guess this is what you do when you live 3000 miles across the country.
So good yontif to those of you to whom it applies...I'll be spending the plane ride thinking about my "sins" of the past year. As far as asking for forgiveness goes, I think that starts with me forgiving myself. Don't you think? I just started to launch into some thoughts about this but I think I was sounding like a rabbi giving a sermon - and I don't really have a lot of interest in sounding like that.
See you after my whirlwind weekend.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:34 AM 0 comments
Labels: family, homesick, musings on life
"What are you doing here??"
Thursday, September 13, 2007
That's the question I've answered about 50 times today. I'm Jewish. It's Rosh Hashanah. I'm not supposed to be at work today. But I have my reasons...
Picture it. New York, September 2000. I lived on the Upper West Side in my shoebox of an apartment. It was Rosh Hashanah in the middle of the week and while I hadn't gone home to Boston, I'd felt like I should take the day off. I'm a Jew. It's Rosh Hashanah...it's the right thing to do. I didn't have anywhere to go for services or even for dinner that evening but it obviously wasn't a free day to wander around the city or go to yoga or run all the errands that I'd yet to get done. So I sat on my fire escape (which, by the way, increased the square footage of my apartment greatly) and called home. As I spoke to each member of my family, wishing them a Happy New Year, I could hear the sounds of a Jewish family gathering in the background and, while I only lived 3 1/2 hours away, in that moment I felt deeply homesick. I longed to eat my mother's home cooking, to sit with my cousins around the dinner table, to get my grammy's kisses. I missed sitting in temple and getting yelled at by my mom because my sister and I were inappropriately laughing. I even missed the chaos of too many people in the kitchen at once and cleaning up after everyone left. I missed that feeling of familiarity - of knowing that on certain days of the year, there were certain things that were going to happen, certain ways that would mark our celebration. I hung up the phone and sat on my balcony (I mean fire escape) staring out over Columbus Avenue wondering if there would ever be a time that I would know what to do when it came time to celebrate Rosh Hashanah without my family. I sat on my fire escape and cried.
It's hard not to feel even further away in LA, to long to be with family that much more. I know there are people grateful for the distance from their parents or their in-laws. But in these moments, I most certainly am not. I long for the familiarity of those things - even if it includes some chaos and silly family dynamics. I long for the feeling of home.
Every year when we go to our friends, Lori and Yoni, for Break the fast or read from the Hagadah entitled "Passover according to Meesh", I feel a little sense of home. And last night, as I ran around my kitchen like a crazy person, trying to prepare dinner, I think that I came a little bit closer to figuring out the holidays away from our families. Ten friends gathered to share food and wine and laughter. Our home was filled with warmth and love. There's not much more you can ask for.
But today. Well, today I'm feeling homesick all over. I don't have a temple here. We could absolutely find one - I just haven't been so inclined. And the idea of spending the holiday at home without any sense of purpose, without the proper sounds and smells of Rosh Hashanah just brings me right back to that fire escape overlooking Columbus.
So that's what I'm doing here.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:34 AM 0 comments
Labels: homesick
