MOMENTARY THOUGHTS OR THOUGHTS ON THE MOMENT (August 18-August 20)

August 18, 2017

The slow hiss and purr of the air conditioner overwhelms the room. A sound of dripping water in the background. The air is vaguely cool. The light is that of dim sunshine trying to poke through a sky full of clouds. Though I can’t see outside I sense it is puddle filled. Will there be more rain? I fold myself in half facing the wrong way on my bed. It was comfortable but now quiet aches are growing louder in multiple places. My stomach and head want me to stop writing but I’m telling them no for now. A low dull pressure starts at the base of my skull.

August 19, 2017

I sit just one speck on a giant stage usually packed with people. Warm leather beneath me, a smell of old dusty curtains, a low hum of energy constant above me and yet it feels quiet. Three people chatter in the distance and the sound comes to me in waves. Sounds of children even more distant. The set is resting. It worked hard to impress those who inhabited (temporarily) its home and now gets a moment of respite. Empty chairs (and empty tables) still cooling from the bodies which were recently attached to them.

August 20, 2017

I lay uncomfortably sprawled across my bed. The things we did as kids aren’t as comfortable anymore. The shower water runs in the other room, another human’s presence. Music plays in another room. A quiet comfortable lazy day. Home. I am not too warm and not too cool. The soft bedspread beneath me not yet plagued with copious amounts of cat fur. My belly pleasantly satiated and a lemony aftertaste lingers in my mouth.

MOMENTARY THOUGHTS OR THOUGHTS ON THIS MOMENT (August 12-August 17)

Lately, I’ve noticed that I spend most of my days thinking about the past or considering the future rather than keeping myself present in the moment. I’ve been trying to ground myself more and really observe what is going on around me in an effort to stay more present. I’ve attempted to write in a journal daily and when I do that, I usually take a moment to describe exactly what is going on around me. I write down what I see, feel, hear, and smell. I don’t edit what I write or attempt to sound any particular way. I’ve really enjoyed going back and reading these excerpts and thought I’d share them here in hopes that they might inspire you to stay more present as well. Or maybe you’ll just get a good laugh. I’ll also try to include a photo taken on one of the days I’ve written about just for funsies.

Saturday, August 12th

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Ceramic bowl crusted with a sugary thick layer of milk, not the color it started out as. The AC purrs beside me blowing a slightly too chilled draft across my face. Toes separated from one another resting on a metal pipe. Coffee in a sweating glass, caramel colored, not quite as milky as I’d like. The cat wanders around the house and around me, circling her prey. Clouds gather outside, the sky is a thick hazy gray which looks pregnant with rain water. I can feel the ache in my body pre-emptively as if preparing me for the long day ahead.

Wednesday, August 16th

I sit in a tiny room high above a completely empty Broadway stage. The fast hum of a fan above me and an otherwise silent mass of space. The air feels empty, lonely even, having just experienced an exodus of the masses. I try to fold myself comfortably onto the rug, I am not as nimble as I once was.

Thursday, August 17th

A small shallow hallway which I’ve spent months loitering in. The dull hum of an air conditioner and an icy draft which only hits the right side of my body. The walls talk a bit, a bump here and a groan there. A vague sound of the city street. The carpet I sit on does not provide any cushioning but yet some sense of comfort. Soon these walls will be filled with bodies. Happy, hopeful, disappointed, bored, anticipatory bodies. Moving knowingly through the space. Every step calculated and every direction pre-determined.

SO AFRAID TO FAIL THAT YOU CAN’T EVEN START

I haven’t been blogging much recently. I’ve been trying to unpack the reasons for that because it is something that brings me great joy and I’d like to continue doing it. One of the perpetual themes in my life is a crippling fear of failure. This fear rears it’s ugly head in the most unwanted places and leaves me feeling like I can’t even start something because what if it sucks and everyone hates it, and everyone thinks I’m stupid, and I think I’m stupid, and why did I even think I could do this anyway?

The funny thing about this thought process is you usually have to suck before you can be good at something. You also do in fact have to do something in order to become good at it.

People often ask: “if you could do anything in the world, what would it be?” If I could do anything in the world, I would be a singer-songwriter. I’ve dreamt about it for decades (all 2.8 of them). Do you want to know what I do about that dream? Nothing. I don’t write songs, I don’t practice guitar or any instrument regularly, I don’t even sing all that often. I’m intensely afraid that if I wholeheartedly pursued this dream, I would be terrible at it. And what’s more heartbreaking than being terrible at something you love?

Could it be never having done it at all?

Yeah, I know.

Thoughts? Helpful tips? Sympathy? A good slap in the face? Anyone?

 

THE 90% RULE

This morning I went for a run in my neighborhood and while I ran I listened to one of my favorite podcasts, The Marie Forleo Podcast. One of the episodes I listened to was called “The ‘90% Rule’ That Puts You 100% in Control (Of Everything)”. The premise of the 90% rule is, life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it. While this theory is certainly not groundbreaking new information, I believe that attempting to put it into practice can change how you move through the world in a dramatic way.

I want to give a few examples of what I mean, but before I do what I want to make a public service announcement. When I write I am often tortured by the inner monologue running through my head. Today my inner monologue is saying “Emma, everyone is going to think you’re standing on your soapbox telling them about how you and your mom just walk around looking at life through the rosiest glasses and ‘it’s so easy you can do it too!'” Listen, it’s not easy, and we aren’t always that cheerful. I’m not the best at any of this but I find that talking about it and writing about it is very helpful. My hope is that it might be helpful for you as well! So, adios inner monologue! I’ve addressed you, you may exit the building.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming. How many times have you been delayed at an airport, or stuck in traffic, or waiting for a bus that doesn’t seem to be coming in a part of New Jersey that you’ve never been to before during a tornado warning? That last one hasn’t happened to you? Oh weird. Well, all of those things have happened to me and my attitude during those events significantly changed my experience of each one of them. I am not naturally great at finding the silver lining at times when I am frustrated. However, my mom REALLY is and I can tell you that the dichotomy between simmering in anger and frustration versus making the best of a situation is astounding.

If you choose to find the positive aspects of annoying circumstances, it radically changes your experience of those circumstances. Let’s say you are stuck at the airport and you’re frustrated because your flight has been delayed for the 3rd time. Getting angry about it isn’t actually going to affect whether the plane takes off on time (newsflash, you’re not that powerful) so why don’t you relax and enjoy the newfound time you have to read a book you never get to read or drink three glasses of crappy wine?

This morning as I was on my aforementioned run, I got to the track in my local park and there seemed to be some kind of field day event going on. There were probably 150 young kids in the center of the track playing relay games, screaming, laughing and enjoying themselves in the most beautiful childlike way. Up until that moment, my head was still spinning from news of another possible terrorist attack and I was feeling heavy hearted. As I watched the kids playing I realized that there is still so much joy to be found in the world that can’t be taken away from us. Each day it feels like there is another horrific news story bringing more sadness into our lives. But again, if we give ourselves moments to grieve and then continue on in search of beauty and joy, it will make all the difference.

Give it a try! Let me know how it goes! 

25 THOUGHTS I HAVE WHILE RUNNING A HALF-MARATHON

1) Why did I ever think a race at the crack of dawn in the winter was a good idea?

2) 13.1 miles. That’s doable, right? That’s like 6 miles two times plus a little extra.

3) This isn’t so bad. I love race day energy.

4) A water station after the first mile? What kind of wimp already needs water?

5) Ok maybe a little water would be nice. I’ll skip the next water station.

6) These people who are passing me are probably going out too fast. They won’t be laughing when I’m passing them at mile 12.

7) I’m really cruising, all that training paid off.

8) “If you want my body and you think I’m sexy….”

9) This is starting to hurt in places I didn’t know could hurt.

10) I thought I’d covered all the chafe-able spots.

11) Think happy thoughts. What will my first post-race meal be?

12) “Is this how I die?”

13) Would I be considered an American hero if I died during a half marathon?

14) Shut up, Emma.

15) Ok halfway there, that’s good!

16) HALFWAY FU***** THERE? I have to do all that again?

17) There is a literal layer of salt forming on top of my skin.

18) French fries, french fries, french fries, all the french fries.

19) The winner has already been done for like an hour.

20) If I quit my job and dedicated my life to running could I win this thing?

21) I probably could.

22) I don’t even like running.

23) Maybe I should be a professional swimmer.

24) Ohh finish line I see you! I SEE YOU!

25) That was kinda fun, maybe I’ll do a full marathon next time.

I USED TO THINK “FEMINIST” WAS A DIRTY WORD

I used to think the word “Feminist” was a dirty word. I associated it with angry, loud, man-haters who just wanted to find things to yell about.  I am ashamed to say that, but it’s true. However, as I’ve gotten older I’ve started to recognize that this perception of feminists is a symptom of the sexism that is still very much alive and well in our world.

In many ways I grew up in a very liberal, forward thinking bubble. It was not difficult to find strong females to admire and emulate. I went to an all-girls school where we were taught we could grow up to do and be anything we wanted. The “popular” girls were simultaneously intelligent, athletic, philanthropic, gorgeous, and probably going to an ivy league college post-graduation. If that wasn’t enough, I was raised by the strongest woman I know. She had a dream as a kid of being on Broadway and she made that dream become a reality tenfold (I believe it’s 11 Broadway shows at this point) and she did it all while raising a child.

I’m not sure whether my hesitance to accept myself as a feminist was a result of not feeling obviously marginalized or whether I was rebelling against the strong females in my life. I often wonder whether I would have felt more of a need to fight for equality had I grown up in a more glaringly patriarchal community. However, as I grow and observe and learn, I see just how prominent the inequality still is.

On the day following the election, a friend of mine came into work after having spent the day with his mother. She had been crying all day and in an attempt to help him understand how she felt she said: “America voted and with their vote they said that the least qualified man in the country was still better equipped to be the President than the most qualified woman in the country”. Of course, now we know that Hillary won the popular vote by 2.9 million people (more than any losing president in US History), but I think this truly speaks volumes about the inequality which is still alive in our country.

I will never be the kind of person who is offended by a man holding a door open for me or offering me his seat on the subway. I will never yell at my boyfriend for trying to pay the bill for dinner. Those acts of generosity and chivalry don’t upset me. I also don’t expect them. The goal is for us to be equals. I will just as gladly pay the bill and hold the door open for my male counterpart. I won’t look down upon another woman for deciding to take her husband’s last name but I might question whether there was a discussion about this decision. Again, can we make moves toward equality?

Nearly half of this country (46.1% of the population) voted for Donald Trump to be the next President of the United States. Donald Trump was heard on video very clearly saying the following things:

I moved on her like a bitch. But I couldn’t get there. And she was married. Then all of a sudden I see her, she’s now got the big phony tits and everything. She’s totally changed her look…I better use some Tic Tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything…Grab ’em by the pussy. You can do anything.

The excuse that people make for this behavior is that it’s “locker room talk”. Ok, fair. I wouldn’t want to be quoted on things I might say to my girlfriends when I think no one is listening. But I also don’t want this man anywhere near me and I certainly don’t want him representing my country and the women who reside in it. THIS is inequality. It’s blatant misogyny. It’s disgusting. Sexism, just like racism and homophobia, is still very present in the world today and if nothing else we need to continue to be vigilant.

And with that, I leave you with this photo of a time when I had very big  (or dare I say ‘yuge’) aspirations for my future:

THINGS DON’T ALWAYS GO AS PLANNED

Picture this: the little girl who sat behind the audition table with her mom doodling on the audition notes, grows up to be EMPLOYED behind the audition table… ideally not doodling on the audition notes but in fact taking actual notes. Cute right?

It’s adorable for the plot of a film but it hasn’t turned out to be the long-term trajectory of my life.

After the revival of Cabaret announced it’s closing, I knew I had to start looking for what was going to come next. I had previously interviewed at a Broadway casting office and had been offered an internship, so I decided it was time to go for it. In May of 2015, I started my 3 month, 5 day-a-week, 8 hour-a-day internship. It was SO COOL. Very shortly after starting at the office I felt like I had possibly found my “passion”. I got to work with and learn from the most talented and hard working casting directors in the industry. Not only that but I got to be in the room while some of the most talented and hard working actors in the industry auditioned for us.

I lived in constant fear of what would happen post-internship. What if I couldn’t find another job in casting and I didn’t get to do this anymore? I desperately wanted a job at the office to open up. And then it did. A week before my internship ended, a job became available…and a more qualified person got it. I’m not going to say I was devastated because that’s a little dramatic (who me?) but I was disappointed. Jobs in casting, particularly casting for theater, are difficult to come by. One became available and I didn’t get it. There was no hope for me.

The weekend after my internship ended, I went on a two-week vacation to Europe. When we landed in Italy I had a text from my boss at the casting office asking me to call her. Let me tell you, I was shakin’ in my proverbial boots (except they were flip flops because it was summer and I was in Rome). I was convinced I had done something wrong in my last few days at the office and she was calling to tell me how disappointed she was.

Of course, I was in Rome with no data plan and no way to call the US without incurring a hefty AT&T bill. So Roman and I hurried to our AirBnB, dropped off our luggage and searched for the closest phone store that would sell me a sim card which would allow calls the U.S. We got on the train and headed for the store. In true Italian fashion, the sales associates moved at a glacial pace. They very kindly helped out their customers, taking the time to chat and joke…didn’t they know I had a very important call to make?

Once we had the sim card, I made the call to the office. I was met with the familiar greeting “casting” and asked for the boss. Naturally, she wasn’t available so I was given the infamous gloss-over phrase “I don’t have her at the moment”, meaning I’d have to call back later.

Roman and I walked the streets of Rome, visiting the Vatican just before sunset and stopping for Cacio e Pepe and a bottle of wine on a tiny cobblestone side street. When we got back to our apartment I tried the office once more before bed. I was shocked when my boss answered and told me another assistant was going to be leaving. If I wanted it, the job was mine. I was in Rome on the first of a twelve-day vacation and had just been offered my dream job. What?

I lived on a constant high for a few months after that. I was so excited to go to work every day and assist on these incredible projects with such a wonderful group of people.

I guess this is the part where you expect me to say that the s-h-i-t hit the fan. You think I’m going to tell you that everyone was horribly mean and I cried myself to sleep every night. The thing is, that’s not what happened at all. Everyone stayed as wonderfully kind and patient and hard-working, the projects were still fascinating, and I was still employed at one of the top Broadway Casting offices in the city (maybe even the world).

So why did I leave? (“So what happens now?” “Why did I do it? What did it get me?”) My feelings had been maddeningly inexplicable for a few months. I can only describe it as feeling a pit in my stomach. It was a combination of stress and the realization that this possibly wasn’t the job for me. I feel silly saying this, but casting is stressful. I have a friend who’s an ER nurse, a friend who’s one of the top back surgeons in the country, and my cousin is a Naval officer. But yes, casting Broadway musicals is stressful. It’s the kind of stress that I didn’t see ever going away and I couldn’t imagine that I’d grow accustomed to it.

I was initially disappointed in myself. I had an incredible job in an aspect of the industry that was very difficult to break into. And yet I couldn’t seem to figure out why I wasn’t happy.

Here’s the thing though, the gift of that incredible experience is not lost on me. I am a big believer in following your gut instincts and my gut was telling me I wasn’t made for casting. Still, I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to give it a try. It may not have been right for me in the long term, but I learned and experienced so much. In my time in casting, I assisted on four Broadway shows, two of which I got to do with my mom, worked on countless off-Broadway/regional plays and musicals and learned from the best casting directors in the industry. It was an incredible journey, and I am forever grateful for it.

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WITHHOLDING LOVE IS NEVER THE ANSWER

Today my mother said these words to me: “withholding love is never the answer. Why would someone want to withhold love?”

It is a good question, isn’t it? Why WOULD someone want to withhold love? It is often used as a form of punishment. If someone does something you don’t agree with or something that is hurtful, you stop loving them or stop displaying your love for them temporarily. You punish them to teach a lesson. The lesson carries a message and the message is: if you do (blank) I won’t love you anymore.

Why is that a lesson we would want to teach someone we claim to love? In a recent statement made by the Dalai Lama, he said: “All major world religious traditions carry the same message: the message of love, compassion, forgiveness, tolerance, contentment”. If that is true, which I believe it to be, then withholding love should never be an option. It isn’t our job to teach each others a lesson by refusing them our love. Our only job is to generously give all the love we have to give, even when it feels impossible.

I am trying to teach myself to love unconditionally. As of yet, I’m not very good at it. I’ve come across some inspiring quotes in my quest to learn how to love unconditionally, I have included them below.

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend. – Martin Luther King, Jr.

Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves without any insistence that they satisfy you.- Wayne Dyer

Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.  Do to others as you would have them do to you. -Luke 6: 27-31

I’ve learned that love, not time, heals all wounds. -Andy Rooney

TRAITS I INHERITED FROM MY MOTHER

Whether we want to admit it or not, we all inevitably inherit various traits from our parents. Sometimes these traits are good, sometimes they are bad, sometimes they are embarrassing and we really wish we could push them back into our DNA helix things and save them for the next generation.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve become increasingly aware of just how similar my mom and I are. Though there are far too many common traits to list, here are a few that I’ve noticed most recently:

We get a bit obsessive. Who me? I’m not obsessed with Wooden Swedish Clogs. Yes, I did purchase my third pair in the span of two weeks but they are a necessity for my life.

There’s no one I could have gotten this obsessive quality from but my mom. Have you seen the Birkenstock picture?

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This isn’t even all of her Birkenstocks.

She becomes obsessed with things. This isn’t necessarily a problem, except that the obsession doesn’t generally last very long (the Birkenstocks seem to be an exception to the rule). My mother will decide that she is going to change her ‘look’ and only wear jeans and oversized button down shirts. Naturally, she will then buy ten over priced button down shirts and ten pairs of jeans. A week later she will decide this was a silly idea and go back to her bedouin clothes, which she will almost certainly need more of now that she’s a committed bedouin.

The obsessive quality is not necessarily a negative trait I suppose, we just approach life with gusto!

We need personal space. I almost never had a successful sleepover as a kid. I would beg my mom to let me stay over at a friend’s house and she would trepidatiously allow me to, asking “are you SURE you will stay for the full night this time?” I always assured her I would and then around bed time, she would get a call from my friend’s parents saying that I needed to be picked up because I wanted to go home. I’ve never particularly enjoyed sleepovers and I’ve found this isn’t necessarily a widespread feeling. Two years ago a group of friends and I went away for the weekend. I was shocked when two of the girls requested to stay not only in the same room but in the same bed. Luckily, this meant I got a single room to myself.

My mom is the same way if not exponentially worse. It is rare/unheard of that she will stay over at someone’s house. She will never go on a group vacation (or any vacation at all really) and she probably won’t stay at your country house unless you have a private wing or a guest house she can have all to herself. And she’s not even an only child!

We don’t particularly enjoy using connections. We won’t ask for tickets to your show or to meet your famous friend. We won’t ask you to pull some strings to get us into the hippest joint in town. We certainly will never stop a celebrity and ask for a picture. We will never really be big networkers. We (mostly) take what we get and try not to ask for much more. Can’t the rest of the world be that way too? It’s just uncomfortable, capiche?

Geography and history don’t come easy. My mom once asked if we would have to go through Ohio to get to Maine. When playing twenty questions with my boyfriend, I told him the noun I had in mind (Washington D.C.) was in fact located in the mid-West. We aren’t unintelligent people, our strengths just seem to lie in other areas. History isn’t one of those areas either, see below.

 

 

AIRPORT TALK

Can we talk about the airport for a hot second? Everyone has feels about the airport experience right? They hate it, they love it, they’re scared of flying, they always arrive three hours early, etc. 
I guess I don’t ever realize that I have opinions about the airport until I’m at one, and that I am. So, because I’m one of those people who is always early to the airport, what better way to pass the time than to talk about the airport. Should I say airport some more? 

Airport Observations:

1) You get a free pass to eat, drink, and shop as you please. At least this is my opinion. You are stuck in a building for possibly hours at a time and one of the only forms of entertainment is either a) shopping, i.e. buying books you’ll never read from Hudson News or b) consuming cardboard food and watered down beverages while you pass the time. When is it really socially acceptable to drink wine at 10am? At the airport! 

2) People have crazy stinky feet. This is a great topic of conversation you guys, I recommend it for first dates with strangers any day. But really, how do people have such stinky feet. After a long day in flats with no socks, sure, my feet aren’t smelling like their usual rosy self. But how do you actually get your feet to smell that bad. It’s unreal. 

3) Some people are just chronically late airport getters toers. You see it all the time. They are the ones who aren’t just late because they are connecting to another flight. They are the ones who are standing in the security line asking to go first because they are going to miss their flight. Sure, I don’t know the circumstances so I can’t judge, but that can’t be a pleasant way to travel. I personally don’t enjoy running through the airport with my luggage flip flopping behind me. Why don’t you just leave one hour earlier next time? I think you’ll find that it’s a much more peaceful experience. 

4) Some people have really good airport outfits. Sometimes I’ll go shopping and think to myself “gosh this is so comfy and simultaneously chic, this would be a great airport outfit.” And yet, somehow I always look like a schlub. What makes a great airport outfit? Is it the accessories? Is it a great hair day and a full face of make-up? I guess I’m doomed then.  

5) There’s really no telling whether I’ll be a nervous flier. I started flying alone when I was 6 I think. Mom? Dad? Can you verify? Somewhere around that time I started flying to Canada to visit my father by myself. This was during the time when you could still drop off and pick people up right at the gate so it wasn’t that strange that I was doing it alone. But my point is, I should not be afraid of flying. Regardless, I often am and it hits me at strange times. Sometimes I’ll get on a plane and there will be tons of turbulence and I’m just chillin’, unphased. Other times I’m panicking as soon as the plane starts moving. There’s really no telling how it’ll go so at a certain point I have to make a decision about my sobriety on each flight. Is it hurricane season and I’m flying from Florida to New York? I should probably start throwin’ ’em back. 

There you have it folks. A fascinating read for a Saturday morning, am I right? Gotta jet. Literally. ✈️