[i spy with my little eye]

Rather than comment on the enormity of time I've been away from my blog...no, let's acknowledge that. The last few weeks have somehow gotten away from me. There has been plenty of time for reflection, just not enough time for me to write it down. And this post may be a bit haphazard; however, that greatly resembles my current lifestyle, so perhaps it is appropriate.

Okay, so recently I have been entirely and unabashedly creepy by observing the things people are buying in line (or "on line" for you New Yorkers) ahead of me, at Target or the grocery store especially, and trying to figure out what kind of person they may be. I would hesitate to admit this, but I know that I am not the only one so I'm just going to put it out in the universe. Or the blogospehere. Or whatever. Today I had an interesting case. Mr. X was buying: packaged lean bacon, digestive aids, olive oil, a giant bag of Splenda packets, and deodorant. Now I don't want to give the impression that I'm judging these people, I mean, we all have different needs at different times, and I am no exception. Today I happened to be standing behind Mr. X in the line and my items were the following: a family size box of Honey Bunches of Oats (which I will probably finish in four days, and the family it feeds is my tummy), an equally large box of Corn Chex, some Tres'emme Volume Hairspray, 0.7mm mechanical pencils, and a giant package of staples. If we are going to talk about an odd assortment at the check out counter, I just might win. But I found myself thoroughly intrigued by Mr. X's lean bacon and olive oil and Splenda (perhaps the reason why he needed the digestive aids...). In my mind I started making up a story about him, like, he goes home from work and makes a nice little pasta dinner whilst watching True Blood (which I have never seen), afterwards adding three packets of Splenda to a glass of iced tea (despite these winter conditions) and reading the New York Times or that giant new Mark Twain biography. He was a prim man with little glasses and a sweater vest, seemed quite pleasant, completely unaware that the crazy lady behind him was thinking about the possibilities of his favorite TV show...

Anyway, it's not the only time I've done that, and if you've NEVER done this, I encourage you to do so, it is quite entertaining. And try to think about what others might think of your purchases as well. Today I seemed like a girl who eats a lot of cereal and likes to make sure her hair is perfectly volumized whilst being well stocked on school supplies. Most of that is true. However, I don't think I have had to buy pencils or staples in about four years, so that was a wild card right there, haha.

Well, I am off to rehearsal. The combination of work, rehearsal, life, and trying to sleep has preoccupied my time lately, but that is all the more reason to write! I shall get on that.

Until then, be the creeper in the shopping line, and let me know how that goes.

[amanda]

[paint me a picture of perfection]

There are moments in life when you can stand outside of yourself and simply observe. You can vacate your body for an instant and get a new perspective on reality. I had one of those moments this week. I am in a production for the Strawberry One Act Festival called Salamander Stew, and the experience thus far has been one of the most unique and beautiful I've ever known. The play was written in 1973 by the father of one of the directors while he was a student at Columbia University. The directors themselves are pretty fascinating people, and when you combine that with a cast of passionate, existentially hungry, 20-somethings, you find yourself in a world of experimentation, support, and risk. The callback process alone created the existence of a "safe space," and the rehearsal process has only increased that feeling. It is a movement based piece with poetic language; it is a dark tale of love, loss, suicide, drugs, and hallucination. Each rehearsal is four hours of dance, challenge, fight, failure, success, struggle, laughter, tears, and discovery. My soul is being fed with the raw beauty of art, and I am loving every moment.

My "out of body" moment came on Tuesday night, when I was sitting against the wall watching one of the groups perform a movement task. I was sweaty and exhausted, leaning against the mirrors in a rehearsal studio on 54th and Broadway. My eyes moved for a moment from the performers to the windows in front of me. Through the windows was a view of the tall buildings of New York City, lit by streetlights and a wintery haze, and in that moment I saw myself sitting there, part of a group of people with talent and determination, in the middle of Manhattan, and I nearly started crying. These are moments when I know that this is who I am supposed to be, moments when I experience true passion. No matter how tired I am, no matter how big or small the project, I love this. My body forgets its exhaustion. It forgets that I need to get up at 4am every day for work. I am simply in the moment, soaking up everything around me, as if this particular night is the only thing going on in my life. At this point, I am still an unpaid artist, scraping by with a full-time job that does not connect to my love of theatre and music (although at least it carries some creative interest of mine), living day to day in a city of millions. I have no idea where my life will go from here, but I do know that I am content when doing anything of artistic value. And I get to do it in New York City...no matter what happens, I have this right now, and that feeling is indescribable.

I am so happy that I can find joy in the little things, in the tiny perfections that are often overlooked. This trait can make me seem a little naive at times, and perhaps I am a bit naive, but I am delighted to be so. It only makes me a more joyful and satisfied human being, and I would not want to experience life any other way.

[amanda]

[too many places and people to love]

"...back in new york...starting a rock band..."

Well, not exactly. First I have to work on (one of) my New Year's Resolution(s) of playing more guitar, and then perhaps I can start a rock band. It would have to be more of an Indie Rock Band, and I would need some kick ass instrumentalists, but I don't think they would be difficult to find. Anyway, enough of that, and on to the next.

So the first part of that quote, from Rent by Jonathan Larson, the "back in new york" part, is true. It was a bit more bitter than sweet of a return this time. I feel so caught, stuck, split...all the time, really. I've felt this way my whole life, I think. While it's been great to move all over the place, I've constantly been saying good-bye to people and places and houses and schools. Some people probably wouldn't care as much as I do; as I've said before, I have a terrible problem with nostalgia. There are just so many wonderful people everywhere - I mean seriously, think about it, there are so many brilliant, fantastic, interesting, beautiful, talented, fascinating people, at least in my life, and they are spread out all over this equally beautiful and fantastic world. And this world is so BIG! In many ways it is small, but as far as traveling to the many corners of this planet to wrap my arms around all of these people I love more than I can even EXPLAIN to them, it's too big. On the one hand, I consider myself one of the luckiest people in the world to feel this way. On the other hand, sometimes it makes me feel even more lonely.

There are moments when I am shocked out of my mind that I actually moved to New York. Every time I've moved before, it has been with my family. When I went away to St. Olaf, my family was only a five hour drive away, and we had delegated vacations at least six times a year. So in comparison to "real life" - and I hate that phrase, because all life is real life, but for now that's all I can think to write - it was just a baby step, ya know? Especially at St. Olaf, because they are very gentle there, haha. So now, with work, living in a different time zone, and not having a ton of money, I make it home about two times a year. And I'm really lucky, because I have 90 hours of paid vacation with my current job. Many people don't even have that. And when I start feeling sorry for myself about all of this, I can't help thinking of all of the homeless people in this city, and all of the people in the world who don't even have families to love them unconditionally, or who don't have the amazing friends that I have, and I feel like the most selfish person in the universe, which only makes me feel worse. Because to complain that there are too many unbelievably spectacular people and places in my life only shows that I probably have the best problems to complain about ever. I swear, I am one of the most insane people I know.

The thing is, when my parents told me that we were moving to Milwaukee after I graduated from high school, I was livid. All I could think about was the fact that I wouldn't get to see my best friends over Winter and Summer breaks, and how I wouldn't know anyone because I would be away at college all year. I was already worried about making friends at St. Olaf, and I was so ridiculously angry about the Milwaukee move that I made the selfish decision to not even try to love it. That was pretty stupid. If I had looked at it as an opportunity to grow and thrive in a new place, I could have had a better time a lot earlier in my life. I could have met some of the people that I eventually met a lot earlier. I could have done theatre over the summer. Instead, it took me four years and a few months, when I had moved there after graduating from Olaf, to begin my positive relationship with the city that I have now. When I moved there after college, I spent about seven months feeling sorry for myself and missing St. Olaf so much that I cried nearly every day. I had my job at Starbucks, and then I would watch CSI: Las Vegas on Spike for about five hours. It may seem incredibly lame that I am confessing this, but I have a point. One day in December of 2007, I was complaining to my mom that they had started over with CSI episodes and now I'd seen all of them, and she finally said to me what she'd probably been wanting to say to me for months - "Oh my GOD you need to get over this, I will not let you sit around being LAME anymore, go find an audition and I will drive you to it." So I did, and that was the beginning of my fabulous time in Milwaukee. The move to NYC happened a lot faster than I expected, but so many things lined up that I knew it was the best time to go. But by that time I had had nine wonderful months and met much more than nine wonderful people, and it was a tragic farewell.

The point of all of my rambling (sorry) is that there is a lot of truth in positive outlook. Situations look better if you want to see them that way, if you make an effort to see them that way. I know this can't apply to every situation (like the death of a loved one, I can't even get into that right now), but it can apply to many. However, the downside is that you have so much positivity spread all over the damn place that it mixes with nostalgia and desire and unrequited love and tears and far too much sentiment for a regular day. Someone once told me that he wished he could create a dome, under which any place or person he loved would live, and he could always be with them no matter what. There is a lot of beauty to that sort of existence.

However, would we appreciate all of these things as much if we didn't have to miss them? Temporarily lose them? Probably not. This has been touched on by numerous people, but if everything was great, we probably wouldn't even understand the meaning of greatness.

I don't know. This world is so complex and full of contradiction that it drives me quite mad.

I do love this mad mad world, though :o)

Happy 2011 to everyone, I hope it's off to a stellar beginning. If you feel like sharing your resolutions and thoughts, please do!

[amanda]