Take Me Back to Manhattan

LOVE AND LIGHT
Monday, August 16, 2010

To be honest with you, I don’t know if the movie Eat Pray Love was good or not. I don’t know because I felt moved at times, inspired, and connected. A movie doesn’t have to be well done to do that, but when it does do those things for me, it’s hard for me to determine if I think it’s a good movie. I’ve seen a few HORRIBLE movies that I left the theater loving because I related. Upon 2^nd viewing, I would realize that it was simply the circumstance or the place I was in my life at that moment or whatever – but that the movie itself was actually awful. I don’t know if Eat Pray Love falls into this category (the reviews would have me believe so) or not, but I left feeling satisfied.

There is a moment when the main character is in India talking about her ex-husband and looking for forgiveness or looking for him to tell her she’s ok and it’s ok or whatever it is she’s looking for that is not only outside of herself, but outside of her control. And her friend at the Ashram tells her that all she can do is forgive herself – that when a person that she is concerned about floats into her consciousness, all she can do is wish that person Love and Light – and then move them out of her consciousness.

In the past year, I have struggled with a few close relationships in my life. Close is a funny word to describe them, because that’s exactly what I no longer feel with these people. None of them have relationships with each other – the only thing they have in common is that at one time in their lives, they had an extremely close relationship with me. And from my perspective, we don’t have the same relationship anymore. The details are different with each person but the underlying reason is the same. Things change. People change – even the people that you are sure you know because you’ve known them for 10 or 15 or 20 years. We all grow up and new people enter our lives and new experiences effect us and we grow and we shift and we change. So we’ve probably both changed and with that, so has the friendship. I don’t know whether or not they feel the things that I feel, but I no longer feel good or happy or fulfilled by these relationships. I often find myself angry after interactions with any of these people. I go in hoping things will be what they once were – but fool me once, shame on you…fool me twice, well – you know the rest. So shame on me for expecting things to be different at this point. I leave angry, hurt, frustrated, nostalgic. But more than anything, I’m left sad. And conflicted. I care deeply for all of these people. But I no longer desire to have the relationship that we once had. And my inability to figure out how to “let go” has taken up a part of my being that would be so much better used for other, more positive things. I ultimately wind up angry at MYSELF. Why am I letting someone that I don’t even really LIKE anymore get to me so deeply? Why am I spending so much time thinking about it? Why, just when I think I’ve gotten to a new level, does something happen that sends me reeling all over again? And in the end, I’m the one who’s left with all the shit swimming in my head and my heart. It’s not good for me.

So I’m going to try something new. When anything happens with one of these people, or if I just happen to be thinking about them for whatever reason – be it because they’ve reached out or have come up in conversation or whatever – instead of thinking and thinking and thinking some more about what used to be and what isn’t now and what happened the last time we saw each other or spoke that just chipped another piece away from the relationship – I’m going to send them Love and Light and then I’m going to move them out of my consciousness. It makes sense – I struggle because I do love, even if I don’t like so much anymore. And looking for answers has my chasing my tail. So I’m going to try only being positive and letting go.

Yes it’s totally idealistic. But I’ve been trying to let go for a few years with some of these people and nothing has worked. So as someone smart once said, “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 8:45 PM 1 comments    

Labels: books, friends, introspection, life lessons, movies, musings on life

Doody Day
Monday, April 27, 2009

That's the name of my blog post from yesterday. The one about the fact that every time we changed Evvy's diaper, 5 minutes later she made ANOTHER doody and we had to change it again. Oh wait. You didn't read that post because I never got around to writing it. It lived only in my head along with the other 35 posts I've written but never actually written about being a mommy and having a child and just about life in general. 

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 9:56 PM 4 comments    

Labels: daily, I HAVE a baby, life lessons

Your path is your own
Sunday, March 15, 2009

There's been a lot of discussion of age recently. Not simply because we're having a baby, although I know from personal experience that other people's "milestones" (of which I have always felt having a baby is one) tends to leave others looking and reflecting on their lives...which often leads to looking at age and where you are, where you expected to be, blah blah blah. In the course of a couple of weeks, I have been to the birthday celebration of a person turning 50, a dinner party for someone turning 39 and tonight we're headed to a dinner for someone turning 33. My husband's birthday is on Monday and of course, the most significant (for me) literal birth day is swiftly approaching. And that doesn't even cover the 7 or 8 other friends who had a birthday last week or are approaching one this week. 

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:55 AM 2 comments    

Labels: introspection, life lessons, musings on life

What Happened?
Monday, December 22, 2008

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 12:21 AM 1 comments    

Labels: introspection, life lessons, meltdowns

Content My Ass.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008

I suppose I spoke too soon.

I've been staring at the screen, trying to figure out how to make this creative or funny or...something other than straightforward. I haven't figured it out.

It's 5:33 on a rainy LA morning and I've slept for a total of about 3 hours. I'm chock-fucking-full of angst. I don't actually know if it's a rainy LA morning or not - I don't think it's raining anymore to be honest, but rainy sort of fits my mood and it sounds good. So for my purposes of this post, picture it rainy.

I started to write about all the good things, the things that are truly important - like the fact that my baby is healthy - and, for that matter, how excited I am that I'm having one. That everyone important to me is ok. And then I realized that I'm doing via blog what my friends and I all discuss our parents do to us when they call with bad news. They go through a laundry list of all the things that ARE ok. Everyone that IS fine. Telling you that everything is alright...all the while preparing you for the fact that things actually AREN'T ok, that not everyone is fine, that everything actually isn't alright...until you want to reach through the phone and punch them, but not before they tell you what the hell is GOING ON ALREADY!

Yeah. So I don't want to do that. I got laid off yesterday. Almost exactly 2 months after I was promoted. Almost exactly 3 months before I have a baby.

So yes - everyone is fine. And everything will BE fine. But things aren't ok right in this moment.

I keep reminding myself that everything happens for a reason. That when one door closes another door opens, that out of necessity comes invention. That we are not handed anything that we are not capable of handling. EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON. I'm working every last ounce of energy I have to embrace zen. Because what other choice is there really?

Zen as hell - except when I'm not. Not in the the moments of complete rage I've flown into or the twenty minutes spent crying in the middle of the night, trying to understand how certain people who make four times what I make and do about a quarter of the work still have their jobs but I don't. What the reasoning is behind laying off a person with a salary that's less than the new desk that the CEO of our company recently purchased. A person who has been loyal and worked hard and told time and again of their value to the company and their potential for the future.

All I can remind myself is that someone, somewhere knows that I am destined for bigger and better.

Dear Someone,

Your timing sort of sucks.

But I'm sure you have your reasons. I'm sure you have big plans for me. You're more than welcome to reveal them sooner than later.

So yeah - about that whole being content thing? I spoke too soon. But I sure enjoyed it while it lasted.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:32 AM 4 comments    

Labels: introspection, life lessons, meltdowns

No way out but through
Thursday, July 31, 2008

One of my oldest friends (we'll call her Buttercup) was in town from NYC this past weekend with her adorable baby. As we strolled through the gorgeous streets of Hancock Park (and I continually rammed the stroller with sleeping baby into the edge of the grass), we discussed the fact that we had definitively entered a new time in our lives. Gone are the days of bars until 4 AM, (of course, this only took place in NYC, since everything is closed by 2 out here. I am grateful everyday that I spent the majority of my 20's in NYC where a proper night out didn't end until the sun was only an hour or two away from rising.), the days of showing more skin so that we could inch our way to the front of the line, the days of Saturday nights that didn't start until 11, the days of wondering when or if the text from that guy was going to come, and the days of jumping when it did.

This has been a conversation that I've had on multiple occasions as of late, with different friends. Another of my closest described her insane evening out in NYC at the Beatrice Inn last week, surrounded by ridiculously gorgeous 24 year olds, drunk on their youth (and a few too many Ketel and soda's). When I asked her if she missed it, she didn't think twice before answering that she most definitively did not.

The attitude seems to be one of been there, done that - enjoyed it whole-heartedly and no need to look back. And I love that.

But there's often a second part to this conversation and it involves the last two things on my list of "gone". The days of wondering when or if the text from that boy was going to come and jumping when it did.

"I wish that I hadn't wasted so much time wondering if I was ever going to meet someone. I wish that I'd just been able to enjoy that time of kissing random boys, meeting new people, flirting incessantly - without so much angst involved. I wish that constant questioning and fear that I was never going to find someone hadn't hovered over that time in my life like a Jewish mother watching you eat that ice cream sundae," Buttercup vented as I once again, rammed her baby's stroller into the grass.

It was like she was reading my insane mind. I had been one to voice my fears and anxiety to my closest friends more than most. Recently, another good friend returned a phone call after a month. She has a seven week old baby. She doesn't EVER have to return phone calls as far as I'm concerned...As soon as we got on the phone she started bitching about her significant other and how much he was driving her MAD. And then she stopped and apologized.

"I haven't spoken to you in a month and the first thing I do when I get on the phone with you is complain. Nice."

My response? "It's the least I can do for you after the years where the only phone calls you got from me were full of anxiety and complaining."

She laughed. Because it was true. I had so much anxiety about not knowing how my life was going to turn out, was it going to be ok, would I be successful, would I ever meet a guy, blah blah blah blah BLAH, that I literally had to express it to my friends or my brain was going to EXPLODE with ridiculous fears. My point is, I had expressed those fears to Buttercup while they were happening. It was rare that she had expressed them to me. I had no idea that she felt plagued by the same anxieties, so much so that at times, it prevented her from enjoying that crazy and wild ride we were on.

We continued our stroll, trying to figure out a way to make money by teaching women this lesson. But the problem is that you can't teach anyone any of this. They have to learn it themselves. They have to go through it. Sure - there are all sorts of Goddess classes, The Landmark Forum, Personal Dynamics, to name a few...But none of it can teach you what you need to KNOW in order to live it.

So my question is this, why is it that the women of my generation and those younger than mine (which, incidentally, seem to be increasing every day...) don't just know? Why do we spend precious hours, months, days deep in the dark hole of anxiety? Is it because our grandmothers are constantly hounding us about when we're going to meet someone? It is because the way things are now are so different from the way things were? Because people aren't settling down right after college and so yes, "meeting people" is becoming harder and harder?

I'm fascinated by this phenomenon...and curious to know what others think...

I used to have a yoga teacher who would say that "Fear is the absence of being present. Unless a bear is chasing you or a gun is being held to your head, there's not much reason to be scared in the present moment. Especially not in downward dog."

I wish I could bottle this sentiment and sell it. But I know, given that plenty of people tried to instill this in me while I was going through it and I just. couldn't. get it. that, at the end of the day, there's no way out but through.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 2:39 PM 6 comments    

Labels: friends, introspection, life lessons

Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde
Monday, June 9, 2008

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem.

We were playing Celebrity. Anyone unfamiliar with Celebrity should know it's a game of pop culture. Everyone writes down a bunch of names of "celebrities" on paper (sports figures, political figures, movie stars, singers...anyone who is a bona fide CELEBRITY -the meaning of which is apparently up for discussion) and throws them in a bowl. Sort of like keys in a bowl except not really because no one goes home with someone else. Unless you win the game and that's the grand prize. (ed. note: Wow. Where did that come from?) ANYHOW...teams take turns giving clues and trying to get their fellow team members to guess as many celebrities as possible in the allotted time period. It's fun, it's festive, it's fabulous.

Unless you're playing with me, apparently. Apparently, when I play Celebrity, some sort of Jekyll and Hyde thing happens and I turn from lovely and gracious (albeit slightly loud) hostess to competitive, tantrum throwing monster. There. I've done it. I've admitted I have a problem. I've taken the first step.

I'm not really sure what happened last night. Except to say that I haven't had a cocktail since my Sex and the City escapade in NYC (which apparently resulted in the contraction of strep throat. STREP THROAT??? What am I - 12? Wait...don't answer that. If you were with me last night, you would have answered yes.) So when I did have a couple of glasses of wine, it hit me a little harder than it might have. (The question here is this -- does this mean that I should have had less to drink? Or simply that I need to make sure that I'm drinking more consistently in order to keep my tolerance up?)

We break off into teams of two and I am with the celebrity virgin who, claiming she knows absolutely nothing about celebrity culture, is scared shitless. Having been a celebrity virgin myself at one time and having been slightly scarred by the experience of a very type A partner who was infuriated with me for not knowing Carrot Top from the clue "vegetable comedian", I was determined to make her first experience with the game a lighthearted one.

Sometimes good intentions just aren't enough.

It's not that I got upset with her. In fact, I was so determined to make her experience a good one, that I somehow became infuriated and enraged with the rest of the people around us when I tried to make the game as user-friendly as possible and was told that I was not allowed to do it that way.

See, the problem with Celebrity is that everyone plays a little differently. And while I am normally amenable to other people's rules, I like to know the rules before I start the game. And apparently, when I think the rules are different than they actually are, I turn into a MONSTER.

Everyone else had taken their turn and they were flying - team one got 8 points, team two got 9. We're up and the pressure is on. I open the first slip of paper and read to myself:

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:45 PM 2 comments    

Labels: life lessons, meltdowns, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

In which she learns that there's more to her than she might realize...
Thursday, April 17, 2008

I've always worked better with restrictions. I'm not so good with simply "write a story" or "paint a picture" or just go create something...without any guidelines to follow. For many people, this might feel freeing. It allows them to be as creative and inspired as they want to be. Not so for me. I am inspired by figuring out how to create inside of limitations. A puzzle or a problem if you will. Free reign makes me uncomfortable. Freedom makes me second guess. While the lack of limitations very clearly says "there's no right or wrong", I am constantly left feeling as though I can still do it wrong and will. That mine will never be as creative as everyone else's.

This was the case when I got my first assignment for class last week:

On an approximately 8-1/2 x 11 (or larger) posterboard or reinforced paper, and using collage, water color, goache, or any other medium, "explain" yourself in color.

The color part was easy. Sort of. There are colors that I know I'm not. I'm not green and I'm most definitely not blue. I don't really think I'm so orange. I had colors that popped into my head immediately. The problem was that I had to remind myself that this was not about colors I liked and, given my proclivity for fashion, I also had to remind myself that this was not about colors that looked fabulous together. The latter of these two caused me to initially think monochromatically (simply because I felt like it would look good) but I quickly realized that there is no chance in hell that I am just one color with many different tones. After repeatedly reminding myself that this was about colors that describe me (not look good on me) I settled on yellow - bright yellow, but also some gold, and red in shades ranging from cherry to deep fire to more pinky magenta.

I went to the art store and bought paper and some paints and mosaic tiles and those sort of oil-y crayons that we used to call craypaws in first grade (oh wait - I think it was craypas...like French or something. Goes to show you how sophisticated I am). I had almost zero game plan, but I figured it was good to start with some supplies. I knew that I'd try to find images in my colors in magazines and I knew that I wanted to have some sort of structure to my collage. I got home and started cutting. As I flipped and searched and cut, I came up with the concept of doing a huge flower with each of the petals being a different color and all of them swirling together in the center. Sounds great - Right? Say yes or I'll kill you. (Or make you pay for therapy.)

Actually, it wasn't. It turns out as I started laying it out on the paper, it was anything but great. It was, in fact, horrible. So I started playing around with the different magazine cutouts, trying to figure out some sort of plan, some sort of concept. The more I played, the further I felt from coming up with anything.

At about midnight on Sunday, I ended up screaming, "I am not a freaking artist damnit!!" to absolutely no one since my husband and dog had gone to bed several hours before.

As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I felt completely and totally discouraged. My project was supposed to be FINISHED by that time, given that I would be at work from 8:30 in the morning until 7 at night for the next two days and I couldn't exactly get away with painting and pasting in my cubicle.

I awoke at 6 the next morning, determined to find another concept. I perused magazine upon magazine and finally, found exactly what I was looking for in the pages of Domino. It was a painting that had the exact kind of feel I was going for. The picture had a yellow background with two black rolling hills and 2 figures walking on the hills. One of them was picking a flower in one hand and had a cornucopia of flowers pouring up to the sky in the other hand while the other was dancing along the hills with a small armful of flowers. I loved it! I would do my own interpretation using the paints and all the floral magazine cutouts that I had. AND I could find more floral pix at work during the day so that I'd have more than enough!

(I managed to find the painting on line...I LOVE THIS. We can add this painting to my want list...k? And you can find it here. The artist is Maggy Rozycki Hiltner. I heart her.)



That night I came home ready to make my own version of this picture. The plan was to make a gold hill with a magenta figure carrying the cone of flowers. I drew the picture and started to lay the flowers out and realized that this wasn't happening either. It wasn't for my lack of drawing skills and the concept came across just fine. But my way, it didn't work. Maggy's way sort of says me perfectly. But my job was to do it my way. And my way was NOT working. Even though my cornucopia of flowers was full of yellow and red, it looked nothing like me.

I wiped the many little flower cutouts away and stared at the page. I was surrounded by scraps of magazine pages. Everything was spread out on our dining room table and none of it made any sense. I felt totally and completely screwed. I hadn't waited until the last minute to start, but here I was - at the last minute, totally panicked. I stared at the white piece of paper in front of me and all the little cutout flowers around me. I opened the paint brushes and paints and I just started painting. I swiped colors across the page, I smudged the craypas to mix into different hues. I sprinkled gold over red and magenta over yellow. I didn't know what I was painting but I knew that I had stopped worrying and I was having fun.

The end result was a picture that could be looked at in one of two ways - as something that might hang in the Museum of Contemporary Art (ummmm....longshot) or on the wall of a kindergarten classroom (much more likely). But it was done. And while I was still concerned that I'd totally done it wrong and that everyone else's was going to be better than mine, I was happy with. It seemed a little out of control and in places even messy - but it was...me. (which clearly is at times out of control and messy...who the hell am I kidding??) And me wa the assignment - right? (You have to say yes here, because that was the assignment. It was...)

We got to class and hung our pictures at the front of the room. There were some beautiful pieces and all of them were totally different - not, as I'd been concerned - "right" or "wrong".

The lecturer for the evening was an expert on color and composition. And she was about to tell the entire class about our personalities based on our pictures. Fascinating.

She started by talking about the whole planned and controlled vs. spontaneous and free mindset. She discussed the fact that obviously, most people are a blend of both, but that often, from this assignment, it was clear which end of the spectrum the creator veered toward.

It's obvious which end of the spectrum I'm in...I'm a control freak. I like everything planned out and in it's place. But as I looked at my picture, it was clear that was NOT what it said.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, yours truly created the picture that was picked by several people in the class as the picture that exhibited the MOST spontaneity, the most fly by the seat of your pants attitude. She said that my picture exhibited the ability to go with the flow and just get carried. My picture exhibited a lot of emotion and passion. The few random circles on the page seemed to suggest some moments of frustration. The yellow represented optimism and the belief that I hold power within myself. The gold said that I was extroverted, occasionally like to sparkle and make some noise. She spoke very little about the red actually - except to say that it suggests that I have strong emotions and I'm passionate. Later on she spoke about other meanings of red - but I think it's interesting to talk about the parts of the painting that she felt stood out and spoke to her because she seemed to be pretty spot on.

It was hard for me to even think about the meanings of the colors because I was sitting there baffled by what my picture was saying about me - not only to the expert, but to a classroom full of people.

I'm...spontaneous? go with the flow? fly by the seat of my FREAKING PANTS?????

But the truth is that it actually makes perfect sense.

I often spend my life trying to control things - planning and plotting and making lists. But life seems to have a plan of it's own...and you often have very little say in it . Things have a funny way of rarely turning out how you plan them. And as my very wise therapist has often pointed out to me, control is an illusion on every level. We can try to control and plan - and most of us do - but really, we're just pawns in the game of something greater. Call it the universe, call it God, call it whatever you want. But something or someone else is up there pulling puppet strings, making it all happen.

I tried and tried to plan this project exactly how I thought it should be. I pondered, I had a well thought out plan. But my planning didn't work. In fact, my attempt at planning left me exasperated, frustrated, downright pissed. When I let myself get carried by the project, it all worked out. Maybe I need to spend a little less time planning and a little more time getting carried by the brushes and the paints and the ideas swirling around. Maybe I need to let it all happen a little more and not spend so much time pondering and trying to figure out how to fit it together. Maybe I need to let spontaneity take the reigns for the moment.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 7:08 PM 2 comments    

Labels: life lessons

Jewish Tourettes
Thursday, April 10, 2008

I love a good bargain. I grew up in the car with my grandmother telling my mom about "the bah-gain" she got on grapes at the grocery store that day.

"They were a dollah twenty five a pound at Stop and Shop but Julio's had them for ninety-nine cents!"

This was a conversation that I heard often. I didn't really get it when I was a kid. It was only later that I learned that my grandmother's family had owned a grocery store...so it was her business. The same way I discuss scripts and writers, she discussed grapes. But I digress. My point is that she loved a bargain. She paid for an entire meal at Friendly's in coupons once. I kid you not. The woman was a whiz at saving money.

This was my introduction to bargain shopping. However, as I got older, I didn't care so much about the bargain I could get on grapes as much as I cared about the sale rack at Banana Republic or Barney's Co-op. I prided myself on the fact that I could find great fashion at great prices. My mother assisted in this mission by making the day after Thanksgiving sale at Saks a family outing. We are the crazy people who awake at 7 AM for an 8 AM arrival at the Saks Copley Square. And we don't just get there early to make sure we get the best merchandise (although that definitely plays a role in our logic). We get there early because from 8-11 AM, there is an additional 40% off already reduced prices. Do you hear that? AN ADDITIONAL FORTY PERCENT. Which is how I got my one and only pair of Manolo Blahniks for $125. Amazing - right? I made Carrie Bradshaw proud. Even though she's a fictitious character, I know she was proud of my deal.

I've never been that girl who gets a compliment and just simply says "thank you". I wish I could be...I have often longed to be that girl. The classy one, who never has a hair out of place, who never lets them see her sweat. The girl who has the perfect pearls and is just cool enough to be slightly mysterious but still likable. I've always imagined what that feels like. To be the one who always says just enough but never too much.

I am not that girl. In fact, I am the opposite of that girl. I have Jewish tourettes.

I learned about this disorder at a bridal shower a few years ago. I was at a lovely home near Westlake Village and I was wearing my Manolos. The afternoon was delightful - perfect weather, interesting people, and a few glasses of perfectly crisp Pinot Grigio. We went outside to take a group photo and one of the shower hostesses looked down and remarked about my shoes.

"I love your shoes. They're stunning." And she pulled a few of her friends over to get a look.

She was right. They are. They're tan mules with red accents and the most perfect pointy toe you've ever seen. I just made my co-worker take a picture of them for me so that you can see. It doesn't do them justice...but you get the idea.

For some reason, it didn't even occur to me to simply say, "Thank you." The thought didn't cross my mind. It seemed to me to be my civic duty to let these lovely women in on the fact that I got a bonafide bargain on my Manolos.

"Thank you!" I started, but of course couldn't stop there. "I LOVE them!" I blurted, the excitement building. "I got them at the Saks day-after Thanksgiving sale! They were marked down from $475 to $200 AND I got an additional 40% off!" I exclaimed, expecting the routine excitement that I was used to receiving upon revelation of such an incredible deal.

Instead, I was greeted with blank stares and silence. It was as though I had just divulged my most intimate secrets, given details of my sexual exploits. I waited another moment, hoping that the pause button had been pressed on my life. But when it became clear that these women were horrified rather than proud, I gave a nervous laugh and quickly moved away, wondering how my usual divulging of information had been viewed as a gargantuan faux-pas. Where had I gone wrong?

And then I realized...these women were not Jewish. They were the well coiffed, well mannered women who could simply stop at "Thank you." They were not impressed by my bargain. Quite the opposite, in fact. They were horrified by the fact that I didn't (or perhaps couldn't) simply keep it to myself.

I refer to that incident as the discovery of Jewish tourettes. It's a disease that I've tried to overcome ever since that bridal shower. I have reminded myself time and again that it's ok to simply reply with "thank you" when I receive a compliment. I do not need to reveal the fact that I got it at the outlet. No one needs to know that it wasn't triple the price I actually paid. Let people think that I'm wealthier than I am!! But no matter how hard I try, it comes out. Before I can stop myself, I've let them know that I got it at the Theory outlet, that it came from H&M, that it was on the sale rack at Banana for $20. I simply can't resist. I blame it on those car rides with my grandmother and the grapes. And I remind myself that while other people might look at me like I have twenty heads, she's smiling somewhere saying, "That's my girl."

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:52 PM 2 comments    

Labels: family, life lessons, yeah...i'm a little bit crazy

Getting Old
Friday, April 4, 2008

Every single time I see Avenue Q, I cry when they sing "I Wish I Could Go Back To College." I haven't just seen Avenue Q once or twice. I was a part of the entire creative process...from workshop to Broadway opening which means that I've seen the show at least twenty times, probably more. It doesn't matter. That song has the same effect on me every single time. I mean, who can't relate to a puppet singing the lines "I wish I could just drop a class...Or get into a play...Or change my major...Or fuck my T.A. I need an academic advisor to point the way!" Those words seem to resonate with me more and more the older I get. Sometimes I would give my right arm for a freaking academic advisor to point the way.

There have been many different reasons at different times in my life that I've wanted to go back to college - to have almost all of my closest friends within a 4 mile radius, to not have to deal with real adult life, to be able to drink my current self under the table until 2 in the morning and then get up and be ready for a 9 AM dance class with no issue at all, to feel like I have my entire future ahead of me - to name a few. Seldom has my desire to go back to college had anything to do with academics.

But there is that rare occasion that I've wanted to go back to college to learn. I didn't learn nearly enough academically in college. Not because I wasn't given the opportunity - I went to an incredible school. (Go Cats!) BUT. I don't think that I'm alone when I say that learning wasn't necessarily always my first priority in college. It's not that I didn't want to do well - that was EXTREMELY important to me. But learning to do well on tests is far different from actually learning - soaking in the information so that you have it to go back to again and again. In many of my classes, I learned the first way, and I did exactly what I'd hoped. I got great grades. Most of my theater classes were more hands on. They weren't based on tests. They were based on how I performed in class or the projects that I handed in. And those are the classes from which I remember the most. But I often wish that I'd fought harder to get into some of the "impossible to get into" classes. I wish that I'd paid more attention in some of the lectures that were far more interesting than I realized. I wish that I'd taken more classes outside of the School of Speech. I wish that I'd cared less about doing well on tests and cared more about truly learning. But I was 18, 19, 20...and I cared about proving myself in my acting class, and getting a part in "Pippin", and what I was going to choreograph for Graffiti Dancers, and who I was taking to the next date party. I cared about taking a nap in between tailgates and going downtown on Saturday night and I cared about who I was living with Senior Year. I was too busy worrying about those things to truly pay attention in Human Sexuality (which I'm sure was absolutely fascinating but I can't remember a single thing about it.) To be honest, I've forgotten a lot of the classes that I took. All in all, outside of my theater and dance classes and a few others here and there, most of it is a blur.

And by the way, I think most of what you're supposed to learn in college has very little to do with academics. The most important thing that I began to learn in college was who I am. I learned what was important to me. I learned how to stand up for myself and for things I believe in. I learned about the kinds of person that I want to be and the kind of people I want to surround myself with. I met people who have shaped my life in the most important ways. Those are the most important lessons of college and the ones that I'll never forget.

And why is all of this coming to mind right now?

On Wednesday night at 7 PM, I went back to college. I had the same feeling in the pit of my stomach of nerves and excitement and complete unknown as I walked across the completely unfamiliar UCLA campus trying to find Perloff hall. I walked into a lecture hall...A FREAKING LECTURE HALL!!!!! When was the last time you were in a lecture hall? I looked around wondering who all the unfamiliar faces were, wondering about their stories. I felt unbridled excitement about the fact that I was about to learn something totally and completely new. The questions that ran through my mind from the moment I arrived on campus to the moment my professor began the class were exactly the same as when I was 17 sitting in Intro to Sociology...wondering who I might be friends with (I met one of my best friends in that class), would I do well (got my first D on the midterm), wondering what my future held(I was wrong about far more than I was right about).

Except I'm far from 17...I'm Holy. Shit. FIFTEEN years older than I was when I walked into Intro to Sociology in mid-September NINETEEN NINETY THREEEEEEE.

Ummmmmmmmm. When the hell did that happen?

On Wednesday night, I felt old.

HOLD IT. Before I get the emails, the comments, the phone calls saying "Meesh. Don't be ridiculous. You are FAR from old..." please continue reading. Because I'm not actually talking about the same old. I didn't feel old the way we hear so many people talk about being old.

"I'm ooooooold." She'll say with a drone in her voice, trying to explain why she can't stay out late like she once could.

"We're getting old ." He'll reply when he forgets something, sending the old up in his voice like an Jewish man who's been saying this since he was 22, which is part of what made him old to begin with. I've been forgetting things since I was 16 years old and I sure as hell wasn't old at 16.

On Wednesday night I felt old...or at least older in all of the best possible ways. I felt older because I sat in class and I soaked in every moment of the lecture. I was present in the utmost sense of the word. I didn't, not even for a moment, think about my day at work, or what I was going to eat for dinner, or what I could be doing instead. I was there, in class, taking in everything that was possible in those 2 1/2 hours. I felt older because I could appreciate how little I know but also how far I've come. I loved being a student. Since Wednesday night, I've felt invigorated by the sheer fact that I'm going to learn something completely new. I felt old, because as I walked into the lecture hall, with all of the same uncertainty and questions about my future, there was one question that I no longer had to ask. I know exactly who I am. And that feels good. There's nothing wrong with being old.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:50 PM 0 comments    

Labels: life lessons, musings on life

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    

Labels: daily, life lessons, lists

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    

Labels: life lessons

See no evil
Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Over the weekend it became physically necessary for me to spend time with others with my eyes closed. Long story short (because this isn't what this post is about) on Saturday morning, I squirted Dr. Bronner's Lavender soap directly into my eye. Undiluted. It was painful. Excruciatingly painful. I attempted to care for it but it got increasingly worse as the day progressed, despite my continued eye flushing. However, I was unwilling to take myself out of the fun equation (because Sharon is a self-proclaimed "fun machine" and I have to admit...it's true) so I continued to participate in a large portion of Saturday's activities despite the fact that it pained me to see.

The point iiiiiiiiiiiiiis that over the weekend I spent extended periods of time with others with my eyes closed. No big deal. Right? Wrong.

Interestingly enough, I found it to be a very big deal. I know that it is said that when you lose one of your senses, be it temporarily or permanently, your others become stronger. It didn't feel that way for me. Perhaps it was because I was so uncomfortable that everything just started to fade away. The first time I closed my eyes was at lunch. There were four of us at the table and I was sitting in between two people. I got to the point where I realized I was far more comfortable with both eyes closed completely, so this is what I did. And all of a sudden, I felt outrageously removed from the same exact situation that I'd been in milliseconds earlier. In a pure physical sense, I literally couldn't hear the conversation as well. And from an emotional standpoint, it felt like I was eavesdropping. I truly felt like I was no longer a part of the group that I was sitting with. Simply because I couldn't see them.

I pried my eyes open and immediately was jolted back into a sense of belonging. And a sense of pain...so I closed my eyes again and sat with it.

Throughout the remainder of the weekend, I chose to close my eyes at moments. At one point, I was alone with another person...just the two of us...and so I knew that their words were directed to me. I still felt involved. But when we were in a group, I continually felt removed.

Several things have struck me about this, not the least of which is how grateful I am for all of my senses. Although I'd like to believe that I'm not the kind of person to take things for granted, the truth is that I do. I think that most of us tend to take things that are our "norm" for granted. And sight has certainly always been my norm. I've lost my appetite at times or my sense of smell (and consequently my sense of taste) because of a cold. But I've never had my sight taken away from me without CHOOSING to give it up. And I've never thought about it in this way. Of course you think about the beauty of the world that you have the opportunity to see every day...but I never thought about how it would effect me in other ways. Probably because I had no idea how it would effect me in other ways. I could have never imagined that not being able to see would leave me feeling removed from a conversation or a moment. And I find it both fascinating and humbling that it did.

Further, what is striking me as I'm writing in this moment is the fact that I'm not always the best listener. When I have something to say, I feel the urge to say it RIGHT THEN. I don't know if I feel scared that I'm going to lose my thought or if I just feel the need to be heard. I have become increasingly aware of this habit of mine. But this past weekend I was essentially forced to listen. Something about looking at a person makes me feel more freedom to interrupt. But I wasn't looking at anyone and so I lost that feeling. And I'm thinking that this is something that I should work very hard to take with me from this point forward.

I've often talked about listening more. In my head, I know it's much more valuable than talking. But old habits die hard. I think it's time to kill this one. To really see each person as I hear what they say - and to recognize that being able to experience them fully - to see them, to hear them, to feel their energy - is a gift. One that shouldn't be taken for granted.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:54 PM 0 comments    

Labels: life lessons

new and unknown
Thursday, November 15, 2007

Next week I go "home" for Thanksgiving. But not to my childhood home...to my husband's parent's home. This is a first for me. The transition may be slightly easier because my parents have chosen to come to New York to be with us and with my sister. Still, it's hard. I'll miss not being in their house and doing our traditional Thanksgiving things. I'll miss seeing our extended family as I have every Thanksgiving for the past 32 years. I'll miss the annual trip to Saks the day after Thanksgiving with my mom - up at the crack of dawn to arrive at Saks by 8 AM to get the additional 40% off and beat the crowds for the best selection. I'll miss my father's fires. I'll miss seeing my childhood friends and reminiscing about high school, catching up on what's new, and talking about Kelly's new baby on the way. I'll miss my father's fantabulous breakfasts that wake me with their smell. It's one of my favorite times of year. There's something comforting in knowing exactly how things will be, exactly how things will go. It's hard to let go of some of your old traditions - even for just a year. It's hard to do something new. It's hard to give up "yours".

But I'm still looking forward to Thanksgiving. It is still Thanksgiving after all.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 3:19 PM 1 comments    

Labels: family, life lessons

A place where you don't need to get validated
Monday, November 5, 2007

I had breakfast with a good friend from NYC last week. Her husband was here for business and she and her son tagged along to see some friends and get some fall sun. We had breakfast at their hotel and on the way out, I got my parking validated. Thinking in my normal "New York or LA" manner, I laughed. "Of course I have to get validated in LA."

She pointed out that you need to get validated for parking in many cities...but she echoed the sentiment moments later. She mentioned that her husband had been looking at some potential jobs in Los Angeles while they were here this week - but after spending the week here, she just felt like she wouldn't be happy in LA.

"Forget the fact that it's so spread out. Everything - I mean everything - just feels so material. Everyone is in their fancy cars with their insanely big houses. And I can't imagine sending my kids to school here. And it's all about seeing and being seen. I'd feel so much pressure here. And I have some great, great, girlfriends here...but I still don't think I'd be happy."

This was her impression after a mere 5 days in this place. She, too, felt that inherent to Los Angeles is the need to feel validated in a way that doesn't exist in New York or Chicago or many other cities.

Perhaps this is not true for everyone who lives here. And I think there are probably many who enjoy this aspect of Los Angeles. But there does seem to be this constant buzz of who you know, what you do, where you were last night and with whom and it sort of makes you want to crawl into a hole and hide and remind everyone that it's the journey, not the destination...that there's nothing more valuable than love and kindness. And I know I sound cliche, but I think a lot of people out here forget the importance in just being warm and loving and kind.

Why does everyone out here care so much about everyone else? And you could turn around and point this question directly back at me. You could tell me that the issue is my own. You could ask me why I feel like I need to be validated. You could say to me, "But Michelle...if you don't care, then why does this bother you so much?" You could tell me that if I'm truly secure in who I am, then outside validation is bunk anyhow.

And you'd be right on all accounts. These are all good and true points. They are questions that I have often asked myself since I settled down in this City of Angels. And I did occasionally have these feelings when I lived in New York. I think the need for occasional validation is human. But since I moved to Los Angeles, I have felt it more and more - at times to an uncomfortable extent. And I've searched more and more for my own sense of peace, my own validation...so that when I feel something other than that from someone I know or someone I meet, I can simply brush it off without paying it any heed. I haven't gotten there yet - but I'm working on it.

My friend that I had this conversation with - she is one of the most confident and grounded young women I know. I have often admired her self-assuredness. And so in that moment, it felt good that another confident, secure young woman saw exactly what I see and knew that she would struggle with exactly what I struggle with here in LA. In that moment, I felt validated.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:05 PM 0 comments    

Labels: life lessons, moving to LA

Releasing the Reigns (or Stop Trying to Make Your Mother/Father/best friend/significant other Someone That They're Not)
Wednesday, October 17, 2007

I just read my Daily Om from yesterday and felt the need to post it here in it's entirety as it relates directly to yesterday's post. This has been a lesson that I've been slowly learning over time (I mean, who doesn't want everyone else to act exactly the way they want them to all the time?)

Releasing The Reigns
Changing Others

Our perception of humanity as a whole is, to a large extent, dualistic. We paint people with a broad brush - some are like us, sharing our opinions and our attitudes, while others are different. Our commitment to values we have chosen to embrace is often so strong that we are easily convinced that our way is the right way. We may find ourselves frustrated by those who view the world from an alternate vantage point and make use of unusual strategies when coping with life's challenges. However ardently we believe that these people would be happier and more satisfied following our lead, we should resist the temptation to try to change them. Every human being has been blessed with a unique nature that cannot be altered by outside forces. We are who we are at any one point in our lives for a reason, and no one person can say for certain what another should be like.

The reasons we try to change one another are numerous. Since we have learned over time to flourish in the richness of lives we have built, we may come to believe that we are qualified to speak on behalf of the greater source. The sum total of our knowledge will never compare to what we do not know, however, and our understanding of others' lives will forever be limited. The potential we see in the people who are a part of our lives will never be precisely the same as our own, so we do these individuals a disservice when we make assumptions about their intentions, preferences, and goals. Our power lies in our ability to accept others for all their quirks and differences and to let go of the need to control every element of our existence. We can love people for who they are, embracing their uniqueness, or we can love them as human beings from afar.

Your ability to influence people may grow more sophisticated because others sense that you respect their right to be themselves, but you will likely spend more time gazing inward, into the one person you can change: yourself.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:13 PM 0 comments    

Labels: conscious living, life lessons

A modicum of control
Tuesday, October 16, 2007

We live in a world of illusion...where we believe that if we do it, they will come. Where we believe that a+b=c. Where a series of actions equals an outcome. It can be as simple as: if I leave 15 minutes early, I will undoubtedly get to my destination on time. But that's assuming that there's a normal pattern of traffic. If there's an accident or roadwork or any other unassumed variant, then I'm shit out of luck. And that's a really simple one.

There's a writer's strike looming in the wood of Holly. No one has control. Sure, the individual unions have control over the moves and decisions they make...but they don't have any control over the other side. And then there are all of us - the employees...that just have to sit back and wait and see what happens and go with the flow. With literally zero control.

We spend our lives muddling the difference between the law of attraction and trying to control the outcome of our lives. Oprah touted "The Secret" and while I firmly believe in the law of attraction, there's a difference between simply having faith in something and saying "I will do x, y, and z and because I believe in it and I've laid the foundation, it's going to happen." In fact, in essence, the law of attraction occurs for a person who releases the element of control.

I am a control freak. I would like everything to go the way I want when I want. I want others to think and be like I hope they will be. I want the people in my life to love each other and get along and understand one another. I want people to see and understand my perspective. I want to know where I'm going and how I'm going to get there. Of course, none of this is possible all of the time. And in truth, how boring would the world be if we all knew how everyone was going to act and react and how it was all going to turn out in the end? For starters, there would be no art and no passion. And that's just the tip of the iceberg (and yes, that is the proper expression - I can't wrap my head around it because every time I type iceberg, I think of lettuce.)

And for those of you who claim you don't have a control issue, I don't believe you. You might not be a "control freak" per se, but you have disappointments. And in general, disappointments arrive from expectation. And expectation is, in essence, a form of trying to have control. Some people are more in touch with their desire and need to control. Others go through life in a very laisez-fare (I KNOW I butchered that spelling...) way, assuming the identity of one who doesn't care. But they too suffer from the broken heart, the lost dream, the failed encounter. And they fly high from the perfect kiss, the ideal encounter, the deal made.

I have spent hours - years - trying to understand my desire to control...trying to release it. I am getting closer. Some days are better than others. Yoga helps. Staying in the moment helps. And looking at myself and acknowledging fear helps. Because at the end of the day, I only want to control things because I'm scared of what will happen if I can't. But the truth is that I can't. And I can choose to spend my life feeling scared that nothing is going to happen the way that I want or I can choose to be in the moment and see where life takes me, understanding that at times it will be down roads I would prefer not to go, but that I can surely handle.

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 9:54 PM 1 comments    

Labels: life lessons