[a thousand miles onto the sea bed/found a place to rest my head]

Being home for the holidays is really fantastic. I feel so fortunate to have these people in my life who love me no matter what, who support me and bring me into a warm and safe environment full of tradition and familiarity. While my brother is in Thailand until mid-January, the magic of Skype (and creativity - see here and here) allowed us to talk to him many times over the holidays and almost feel like he was with us. I find it so crazy to think that a mere ten years ago (or even less? Not even sure anymore what has been invented and when, it all happens so quickly) we couldn't have had this immediate and cyberface-to-cyberface correspondence. Very grateful for this, obviously.

So my dad is really awesome an scored some first-class tickets for my flight home, and while I felt a little not-fancy-enough for the ride, it was pretty sweet. Free(ish) wine and lots of legroom. And my seat-mate was a sweet, talkative girl, so we were obviously besties five minutes into the flight. I realized something while talking to her - people rarely introduce themselves with their names on airplanes (or trains, etc.). The people will talk about thousands of details about life (if they talk at all - oftentimes they do not), but when you get off the plane, you realize you never exchanged the basic information of names. Weird. It was interesting to talk to her about living in NYC, because our lives are very different - and to me hers sounds kind of ideal. She works in PR and lives in the West Village, it sounds like a movie. However, she wanted to know all about living in Brooklyn, and she thought my job sounded glamorous (it's not) and that pursuing a career in the arts was so trendy and fun (it's exhausting and terrifying), so basically, no matter what, the grass always seems greener on the other side. I think everyone has these ideas of what other people's lives are like, when we really have no idea. Our opinions are based on movies and high-expectations, and oftentimes we put these same standards on our own lives, never living up to what we think we should be. Does anyone ever have everything he or she wants? Probably not. I hope there are people in the world who don't suffer from this crazy syndrome of never being good enough for themselves, and I'm sure there are. It just seems to me that we live in a world that encourages the harbor of such dark disappointments, I am not quite sure how to crawl out of that world - especially when I recognize so many people deep in that world with me. I do not have an answer for this, maybe some of you do.

Why is it that I feel guilty about changing? It is completely natural (and encouraged!) to grow and change along with our life experiences. We learn, we realize, we ponder, we reflect. The things we see, hear, smell, touch, taste, do - all of these experiences and sensations pile into this thing called life; sometimes, what we thought when we were nine years old is different when we are twenty-seven. I understand and respect this when it happens to people I know (and even people I do not know), but for some reason I cannot accept it when it happens to me. I resist change in general (it may not seem like it, with all the moving around I have done, but just trust me on this), and resisting change in my own personal feelings and goals is always a heavy load on my shoulders. It's like I am afraid of letting "Little Amanda" down - like I don't give myself credit for knowing a lot more than my nine-year-old self. And my future self will know a hell of a lot more (I hope) than I do right now. I also worry far too much about what others will think of my changes and choices. As if I don't have enough judgement on myself, I enforce all of this judgement coming from others - when in reality those people are not even thinking about my choices at all. Like, at all. Most people just hope everyone else is happy and figures out their shit, and maybe if other people figure out their shit they can teach the rest of us how to do that. My priorities are obviously different now than they were at sixteen, at twenty-two, even at twenty-five. So why do I give myself such a hard time about this? I should just be excited about new ideas and new adventures and role with it. I would not be a good hippi. I don't know how to just "go with the flow." I am horrible at that. In some ways, yes, I am very free-spirited, but in other ways I really do need to get the stick out of my ass. Haha. At least I can laugh about it (a little).

On a completely different note, I love and adore the moments in life when I am listening to music and a song comes on that never fails to bring a smile to my face and warmth to my heart. I have a large handful of songs like that, but a special five I want to share with you (click links to listen!).

"Start a War" - The National, Boxer

"Wasp Nest" - The National, Cherry Tree

"Warning Sign" - Coldplay, A Rush of Blood to the Head

"The Way It Is" - Bruce Hornsby, Greatest Radio Hits

"I Must Go" - Late Tuesday, Late Tuesday (unfortunately, this was the only free youtube link I could find with the whole song, otherwise it's like a bad quality video of them live, so ignore - or enjoy, I guess, if you want - the Adam Cartwright/Pernell Roberts tribute, which I find a little awkward, so maybe buy the song on iTunes or check it out on Spotify if you like!)

Anyway, I love that feeling, a connection amongst the ear, heart, body, mind, spirit, soul, everything. Just perfection, really.

I'm going to sign off for now, although I have lots more to write about, so stay tuned! And Happy New Year to all! Let's get it on, 2012.

[amanda]

title quote - Florence + the Machine, "Never Let Me Go," from the phenomenal album, Ceremonials.

[all i want for christmas is...]

I'm about to leave for the airport. I plan to blog whilst at home...get ready!!! I hope everyone has merry and magical holidays with those you love.

"Oh there's noooooo place like hooooome for the holidays..."

xxoo

[amanda]

[take this pink ribbon off my eyes/i'm exposed and it's no big surprise]

What is it about a "Winter Pine" candle that just makes everything better? I don't know, but this candle has turned my room into the best place to be. If only our landlord would turn the heat up just a tiny bit, and if only I had just made cookies or something, I would be truly content right now. But this candle puts contentment at about 96.2%. So I'd say that's pretty good.

I'm cozied up on my bed right now, listening to what I have appropriately named my "f*&ckin' sweet playlist" (and it is pretty f-ing sweet), and taking a break from memorizing sides for an audition I have coming up (details not listed here, in case things don't work out, but if you want to send positive vibes I would certainly welcome them!). I've been thinking a lot about my ability to be excited for myself - my ability to wish myself good luck, to believe in myself, to throw caution to the wind and say "Screw what everyone else wants, this is what I want and I'm going for it." I am not the strongest in this category. I have heard that it's best to go into any situation envisioning yourself succeeding at whatever you may be doing at that moment. Envision yourself singing the best you can sing, giving the best performance you can give, knowing all the right information, wow-ing the crowd, getting all the laughs and cries and sighs at all the appropriate times. Granted I am equating most of this to performance and theatre, but you can put it into whatever medium you wish. And I do try to do that - I really do - it's just that "little Amanda" still creeps in sometimes and says, "Why are you thinking that way, you're so conceited, all this is going to do is make your failure more of a let down than it would be if you just kept a low opinion of yourself as usual." Why do I, and other people, think this way? All it does is sabotage success and well-being. What is it that makes people afraid of being excited for themselves, for being confident in their abilities? I have been told so many times by so many people whom I respect and admire that confidence and conceit are two very different things. Confidence is attractive and acceptable - it should be encouraged. Yet even when it is encouraged, it doesn't always come naturally. I have two of the most encouraging and loving parents I know, I should be one of the most confident women in the world, given the support I have received since the beginning of my life. Is it society? I don't think we can always blame society. Sometimes I think the growth of technology makes it harder - being able to see the beauty and success of everyone else at every instant can make all of us wonder why we don't measure up. But there are so many good things about social networking as well, so I don't like to blame it entirely.

I don't even know anymore. This is a challenging topic. Not really sure where I'm going with it, perhaps some other input would be valuable. Thoughts from you, dear readers? How do you get through times of insecurity and self-doubt? What are your methods for boosting self-confidence? Are you afraid to be confident? Or does it come easily to you? Is it possible to just fool people while you work on your inner strength? Can you eventually fool yourself?

New York is a place where normal rules do not always apply. Things happen ten times faster and are ten times more difficult. But maybe I feel that way because I am sucked up in the middle of it. Perhaps, again, the words of someone else will help.

One of those out-of-the-ordinary days that made sense of the slew of ordinary days. New York had a way of doing that. Every now and then the city shook its soul out. It assailed you with an image, or a day, or a crime, or a terror, or a beauty so difficult to wrap your mind around that you had to shake your head in disbelief...because it was a city uninterested in history. Strange things occurred precisely because there was no necessary regard for the past. The city lived in a sort of everyday present...New York kept going forward precisely because it didn't give a good goddamn about what it had left behind...the city was bigger than its buildings, bigger than its inhabitants too. It had its own nuances. It accepted whatever came its way, the crime and the violence and the little shocks of good that crawled out from underneath the everyday.

Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann (pgs. 247-248)

It's a different sort of beast, this city. I never knew I could love and hate and want and need a place all at once and on so many levels. I'm definitely excited to go home for the holidays. I need a break from the city right now, but I know I'll be itching to come back. New York is a clever little bitch, you want to cry and scratch her eyes out as much as you want her to be your best friend. It accentuates the qualities within yourself that you love, and those which you wish rid yourself of. New York City brings out parts of your personality you didn't realize existed. She gives you the opportunity to do things you never thought you could do. There are times when I walk around the city and hold back tears because of the beauty that surrounds me. And there are times when I'm holding my breath and closing my eyes and turning up the music on my ipod because I want to block everything from my senses. (I also find it interesting that I think of NYC as a female...)

I'm not flowing with this entry but I'm going to stop apologizing for it. My brain is not flowing right now, and this blog is a reflection of my thoughts, so perhaps it's appropriate. And now I have a bit of a headache. Next on the list - tea, tylenol, and some reading. Enjoy your night loves.

[amanda]

title quote - "Just a Girl," Tragic Kingdom, No Doubt

[welcome to your life/there's no turning back]

Oh blog, my darling, how I have missed you! I think a snowy [!] day at the end of October is the perfect time to catch up.

So I spent most of September and October traveling back and forth to Maplewood, NJ whilst playing the leading lady, Amalia Balash, in She Loves Me, a lovely little musical that inspired the film You've Got Mail and probably countless other story-lines (boy and girl write letters, boy and girl meet unknowingly, boy and girl hate each other in real life, boy and girl agree to meet, boy realizes girl is the hated-girl, boy is asshole to girl, girl thinks she's been stood up, boy feels guilty and tries to amend his actions, boy and girl start to like each other, girl doesn't realize boy is the boy, boy confesses to girl, happily ever after time ensues). I learned a lot and gained an NYC vocal coach out of the experience, which has been a fabulous addition to my life. However, what I'd really like to talk about is what this show taught me about New Jersey Transit. Yes, ladies and gents, that is an experience in itself. It is a thing of madness and mystery, and to immerse oneself in it for a month and a half deserves an award of bravery. This is a place where 40 year old businessmen will elbow you in the face and push you down the stairs; where one of them will take up three seats with his briefcases, his newspapers, and his suited-up ass even though people are standing up and seatless all over the train car. A place where anyone, yes, anyone, is willing to shove you into a pillar or a door in order to make it down the stairs first to ensure a seat on the train. The holding room looks like it's full of zombies, staring up at the screens which will post which track each train departs from a mere ten minutes (or less) before scheduled (or delayed) departure. As soon as a track is announced, there is a flurry of running and movement. I have been trying to figure out a way to describe this phenomenon in words rather than pantomime, and I don't know if I can...so find me sometime and I'll show you. Traveling on NJ Transit is really an art - an art that one must master, lest he or she want to get trampled. While much cleaner and comfier than the subway, I'd have to say that I saw more despicable behavior in these travels to NJ than on the C train to Brooklyn. Let's go back to the lessons we learned in kindergarten, please, and remember not to shove, and remember the importance of sharing and compassion. Living in NYC or NJ does not give us a pass to be immature mongrels of society. No. Haha. Once I started to view it as humorous, I felt a lot better. Now if I could only view the actions of the many NYC shoppers in my place of work as such, I'd be less stressed and less angry at the end of the day. Personal project, I guess.

I spend a lot of time observing the behavior and actions of those around me, with positive and negative thoughts and conclusions built from these observations; however, my ability to write about these things ebbs and flows, and I don't feel as though I am flowing today.

I got to spend time with my dad in September, and then my mom and sister came to visit for the show. I definitely wish my family lived closer to me, it would be nice for these visits to not be so short and scattered. But beautiful and special nonetheless. Autumn is the time of visiting friends and family, which is always exciting and sad. Seeing people whom I haven't seen in a long time is magical and energy inducing; yet, it also makes me realize how much a part of each others lives we are not, how little of the day to day we actually know about each other. Facebook, Twitter, emailing, texting, blogging, etcetera, help ease that pain of disconnection, but our lack of involvement is still evident in the many times we all say a phrase such as, "What?! No, you didn't tell me that! I can't believe it!" It isn't as if we don't care to tell one another, or that we forget. We're just all trying so hard to stay afloat in our own lives and we know everyone else is doing the same...it's difficult to put everyone's happenings and needs first when ours are so desperately asking to be attended. I think of myself as being very good with communication and "keeping in touch," but I am not nearly as talented at the skill as I'd like to be.

Moving on completely, the latest book we read for the book club I am in was The Catcher in the Rye. I had never read it before, (I know, shocker...but I didn't read the Harry Potter series until the summer the 6th book came out...sometimes I like to be late on literary trends.) and I absolutely loved it. Before reading it, all I knew was that the main characters name was Holden Caulfield and that it was controversial when it was first published. Obviously the book is a great deal more than that, haha. If you haven't read it, you should, there is a reason it's so famous.

I feel like I thought my grand reopening back into the blogging world would be brighter and more joyful and full of deep thoughts...but as usual, I just rambled. I hope you got something out of it, dearest reader(s?), and I promise I won't wait so long to write again.

[amanda]

title quote: originally Tears for Fears "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" from Songs from the Big . Chair, but there is an EXCELLENT cover you should also check out by Anthony David featuring Shawn Stockman of Boyz II Men (and I think I'm right in saying that "Boyz II Men" is one of the greatest group names ever. I mean, you have boys spelled with a fuckin' "Z" at the end, Roman Numerals II for the word "to," and then just regular "men" but whatever, that would have been overkill, right?). Anyway, check out both renditions of the song. Pretty awesome.

[many happy returns]

I am 27 years old today.

It feels odd. I'm excited and terrified of this whole "growing up" concept. I mean...what does "growing up" really mean, anyway? Do people ever actually do that? I'm not sure. I've been reading the short stories of Simon Van Booy (please read his work...seriously), and I find myself completely entranced by his ability to write things that I have always thought, yet have never been able to express so eloquently.

Example:

Night can unmoor so many feelings; it is a relief we sleep through it. Night unravels the day and reinvents it for the first time. We may mean nothing to time, but to each other we are kings and queens, and the world is a wild benevolent garden filled with chance meetings and unexplained departures.

- The Secret Lives of People in Love, "Everything is a Beautiful Trick"

I wonder if things can happen too early or too late or if everything happens at exactly the right time. If so, how sad and beautiful.

- The Secret Lives..., "The Still But Falling World"

…realized…that anyone could love anyone under certain circumstances, and that life is a museum of small accidents.

- The Secret Lives..., "The Mute Ventriloquist"

Language is like looking at a map of somewhere. Love is living there and surviving on the land...there is no such thing as fate, but there are no accidents either. Love is like life but starts before and continues after - we arrive and depart in the middle.

- Love Begins in Winter, "Love Begins in Winter

We are not at home in the world because we imagine it is as we have become, full of nothing but yearning and forgetting and hoping for something so raw we can't describe it. We think of the world as the place of beginnings and ends, and we forget the in-between, and even how to inhabit our own bodies. And then in adulthood, we sit and wonder why we feel so lost.

- Love Begins in Winter, "Tiger, Tiger"

There's so much more I wish I could share, but please just read these short stories (and his novel, Everything Beautiful Began After) and underline the crap out of them as I did, if you wish (college taught me the beautiful concept of writing in books).

Anyway. Although it is supposed to rain later, at the moment it is 70 degrees and sunny and I am writing from my room where my windows are wide open, letting in fresh breeze that I can always feel from the lovely second story of this pretty little brownstone. I am not celebrating too much because of the approaching opening night of She Loves Me (get tickets, east coasters! http://www.interactproductions.org/), but plenty of people are making me feel special and loved today and I appreciate it more than I can say. I got the BEST package from my wonderful family, which included: homemade granola, nutella, cookies & chocolates, swedish fish & sour patch fruits, TINY post it notes (so tiny!!), sassy napkins (wine! how classy people get shitfaced), peanut butter, jelly, applesauce, tuna, and a beautiful card...I mean it's everything I need, really :o) I kind of burst into tears upon opening this package and discovering all of these treats...I blame it on my current over-emotional state, haha (but when am I not over-emotional...ahhh).

Anyway, my birthday. Wow. Birthdays are strange as one gets older. Strange in a pleasant way, yes, but I am also nostalgic (surprise, surprise) for the feeling of younger birthdays. There is an indescribable excitement that has somehow gotten lost as I've gotten older. It creeps up a little, but it's not the same.

I'm happy to be here, happy to be alive, happy to be 27. Let us see what this year brings.

[amanda]

[that's just the way it is]

HELLO!

I am alive. Busy up to my earlobes, but alive...and do I not love to be busy up to my earlobes? Things are spinning about like mad in my daily life and I have not had the time to sit and write of my reflections, which is a damn shame as I have so many!!! Work has, as always, been eating away at my sleep and energy; however, what would I do without a job? Plenty...let's not think about that, because I'll just get depressed, haha. But in all seriousness, I am thankful to have a job. I have also been in rehearsals for the musical She Loves Me with InterAct Productions in Maplewood, NJ, which has been an absolute dream. I'm working with some very talented people, and I am able to play a role that has been an unknown dream to me, as I just heard about this musical before the auditions. If you are in the tri-state area, you should seriously consider checking out this lovely little show - here is the link to the facebook event: https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=211426572250470

I am always reminded of what must be my true passion for theatre and the arts when I spend hours of travel, memorization, rehearsal, etcetera on a project when I won't see a penny of money...and I don't even care or mind. The reason I would love to someday get paid for this is so that I can do ONLY this, I can spend my days rehearsing and writing and singing and dancing and playing and learning and growing as an artist - and that would be all! Aside from good times with friends and family, all of that other fun stuff. Someday...

Anyway, I must run, just wanted to update a short bit...hope I will have time for a good entry soon. Love to all, xoxo.

[amanda]

title quote: "That's Just the Way It Is," Bruce Hornsby :o)

[goodnight irene, goodnight irene, i'll see you in my dreams]

Hurricane Irene.

Aside from a spot in my molding where rain droplets entered in the night (seriously, can I live in a bedroom WITHOUT rain coming through the window? I mean...really...), I think I slept through most of her wrath. Right now it is clear and windy-ish, and I've looked a pics of lower Manhattan and Coney Island, where there seems to be a bit of flooding (and in other areas as well), but Hurricane Irene has now been renamed Tropical Storm Irene (or perhaps just "Tropical Storm," I don't know if they get names). I think some people are going to be a bit "miffed," as my dad would say, at some of the over-preparation, but I think that would be silly. We should be thankful that Irene did not hit as hard as it was predicted she would. And there are still aspects of the storm that created difficulty, there was flooding, there was power outage, so it's not like some people didn't experience some hard knocks.

Another thing I noticed on Friday, when I was out and about with my roommate preparing for our possible week stay indoors should the power fail, etc, is that New York City in crisis mode is a city of friendliness, compassion, gentility, and politeness. While we did have to wait in lines at Target and the grocery store for 30+ minutes, there was a sense of calm about it, and everyone was saying, "excuse me," if they had to pass by a tight crowd. There could have been pushing and shoving, but none was seen. People were smiling and interacting with strangers, and I found that to be a very beautiful thing. At the end of the day, we are here for each other and wish each other well. I remember people saying the same thing after 9.11.01, that NYC showed its true colors - colors of beauty and and acceptance, reflections of the many colors of the city. At its core, humanity is good, at least I think so. I get upset when people go against that goodness. If I were alive in the 60s I would have been the biggest hippie ever. Love and peace, man. No war. Hell, maybe I would have even burned my bra. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. Hurricane Irene.

The thing that we will feel is the aftermath. For the first time in HISTORY, seriously, history, MTA shut down the subway system...they also shut down the buses, the bridges, Amtrak, NJ Transit, airports...so getting all that up and running again is gonna be a bit of a bitch. Perhaps another day off from work? Don't mind if I do...

Anyway, I'm going to go plan on some canned food meal ideas with my roommate...haha. I think we prepared for dear old Irene the perfect amount - everything we spent money on we can use, power outage or no power outage. I need some coffee...and a nap.

[amanda]

title quote: "Goodnight Irene," Jim Reeves

[will you be there?]

All right blog, it's you and me. Some quality time. Starting out with some inspirational singing by the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, I am eager to begin. Referring to my notes is a little hilarious, as finding a way to tie everything together is a ridiculous prospect, so I will just let you enjoy the spastic nature of it all. In a way, that is an appropriate way to go, as that is my main style of communication - it all makes sense in my head, but once it's out there, only the brave and willing can connect the dots.

I will begin with a more detailed written (and quite odd) note, something I observed one night (7.16.11) on the N train as we crossed the bridge to Manhattan:

What is it about men eating alone that makes me want to cry? On the N train, and across from me is a guy, probably mid-30s, kind of odd: dirty oversized peach and white Nike shirt, highwater khakis, white socks, black dress shoes, big headphones (all of this could also be considered trendy, haha) and eating homemade rice and veggies in a tupperware, smiling and bopping his head a bit to his music. Finishes half, puts the rest in a ratty old backpack for later. Never loses his smile. Observes those around him with unabashed and candid curiosity. Does he know I'm writing about him? That I'm observing too?

That was it. I don't know why this person fascinated me so much to write about him that night, but I could probably do this about multiple people every day. This world is full of people just begging to be watched, and most of us are either too polite or too absorbed in our own selves to do it.

I'm going to go through my other notes now...although there is one that just says, "notebook" and I'm really not sure where I was going with that one...so I may skip it, haha. Onward, readers!

So...another question. Do you think people ever really listen? Or is everyone just planning the next thing they are going to say? Acting classes go over this topic over and over again - just because you have a script and you know what your next line is, the stakes must be high, just like real life, you must listen to the line(s) before yours so you can determine how you say the next thing - would you even say it at all? Obviously you should, as that is the way a lot of theatre works; however, it's a difficult task, one that must be practiced and perfected in order to give a true to life performance. But is it true to life? Sometimes I feel like we could all listen a lot more in real life as well. I am guilty of this too - sometimes I'm so excited about my responses or additions to conversations that all I am thinking about is making the biggest statement possible with my thoughts and opinions - of affecting the other person or other people around me so that we can further stimulate our insights and ideas. Yet when I am saying my bits of wisdom (or nonsense), I can see in the other person's eyes and face - they are planning their next bit! Granted, we cannot plan without hearing what the others are saying, but too often we are only half-hearing - we need to LISTEN, we need to HEAR EACH OTHER, or what is the point? We cannot grow otherwise. And all the better if someone is challenging our thoughts - either we gain new perspective or we strengthen our own. I am going to work on this, and it is a challenge I give to all of you.

Next up - this will be short - when one is sending a text and it takes a really long time to send, long enough that one thinks of canceling it, either to write something far more witty or to cease sending at all, is this a warning? Are we too careless with texts? They can be so misinterpreted, you cannot always give the inflections and tones you desire - people get in fights because of misperceived text messages. I remember when I had my friends' home numbers memorized, and oftentimes when I called them, a parent would answer and I would have to say, "Hi Mr./Mrs. So-and-so, this is Amanda Carson, is so-and-so there?" Haha, that wasn't even that long ago. And now, we have all these numbers stored in our little phones, no need for memorizing or personal greetings, we can just type in a series of words, most of them abbreviated, and that is more common these days. A self-proclaimed bad phone person, I will admit that I probably text more than call people these days. But I want to get phone talking back. We all claim to be so busy, and we are, people are busier than ever these days. However, the world is also moving a lot faster, and we can take the time to sit down and call one another on the phone and talk with human voices instead of with fingers. Another goal on my list, put it on yours.

So, I am sort of half-introvert/half-extrovert. When I first meet people, I tend to be rather shy, I don't like to say much, I like to figure out my surroundings and the people involved, etc. Yet, as my family and good friends can tell you, I am quite a talkative and silly person. I can be exceedingly vulgar and inappropriate, my humor rivals that of the most perverted teenage boys out there, and I have a biting sarcasm that is sometimes so easily mistaken for seriousness that I have to do damage control. I think there are thousands of facets to everyone's personalities, that is what makes humans so interesting. No one can ever be completely "figured out" - I highly doubt anyone will ever figure themselves out, to be honest. Different parts of us come out at different times, most of the time it has to do with how much we trust those around us. How much we can trust them to accept our less attractive qualities, to understand our moods and appreciate the good with the bad. Some people find this trust in others quickly, others never do. Yet I do find myself annoyed with the people who take credit for making someone who they are. Let me explain further - when a shy person starts to make jokes, or begins to speak a little louder, to offer more opinions in conversation, to essentially become more vulnerable with those around her, there are some people who make comments like, "Oh my gosh, see, I knew I could make you funny," or, "I love that you are changing, that you are becoming funnier/sassier/etc." NO. This person did not CHANGE her, they did not make her this way, they cannot take credit for FINDING HER PERSONALITY FOR HER, it was always there, SHE just chose which parts to bring out, and when to do so. It works the other way too - someone who is more outgoing from the beginning, who seems unafraid and constantly happy, who looks cool even when making a fool of himself - whenever this person has a bad day or feels like taking things inward instead of outward; whenever he wants to be quiet and left alone, to take a break from being the entertainer, there are those who are quick to say, "What's wrong, why are you in bad mood, what did I do to make you this way?" Again, this is just another side, loud people like to be quiet, quiet people like to be loud. We are not one dimensional creatures. No one "finds" your personality for you, you cultivate it on your own. Yes, it is influenced by those around you and your experiences to a certain degree, but no one can take credit of bringing you out or reigning you in. I'll get off my soapbox now :o)

I thought I had more notes, but that seems to be it. I feel Autumn pushing its way through the heat of Summer, and this excites me. I am working on improving myself physically, spiritually, and mentally, and the cooling of the weather is the perfect way to begin. The blog is back in business, friends, and I would love your comments and insights to my crazy ramblings. Until next time, lovers.

[amanda]

title quote: "Will You Be There," Michael Jackson, Dangerous

[time, where did you go, why did you leave me here alone?]

Hello all!

Should you be lovely enough to be following my blog, and even more lovely as to be wondering where the HELL I have been, well let me just say, time has been taken away from me recently. Until last night, I had not slept more than two hours a night since last Sunday, the 7th. Ridiculous, no?

HOWEVER.

I have been writing blog notes in my little notebook I carry around, AND I have a nearly free weekend approaching, so get ready for some spastic and interesting thoughts and questions, my friends.

Get. Ready.

[amanda]

title quote: "Time," by Chantal Kreviazuk

[time for you to go out to the places you will be from]

It is excruciatingly hot here right now. Like...I don't even know what to do with myself besides lie around in as little clothing as possible. We do have a little window air conditioning unit, and she's doing her best, she really is, but it's hard to keep up with 110 degrees. Ugh. I would much rather be cold, at least you can layer and snuggle.

When it was merely warm outside last week, instead of this oven we are living in at the moment, I did some neighborhood exploring. It actually took some visitors arriving for me to do this...somehow I inherited my father's trait of "embarrassment whilst I am inside purchasing establishments" - basically, I feel guilty (and stupid) going into stores because I feel like I am in the way, and I worry that if I just want to look around and not get anything that everyone will judge me or something. It's really dumb, I'm aware, but it's difficult to shake it. My siblings and I used to chuckle when we would go shopping with my dad, because he would always go up to the sales person in a preciously awkward manner and say, "Um, excuse me, I would like to purchase this." What followed was either an amused grin by the sales person while he/she said, "Well...yes...I can help you with that," or an amused grin by the same person while he/she said, "Well...yes....you go over to the counter to do that." It was really cute, but the more I analyze my adult characteristics, there is something eerily similar to the way I conduct myself in a store. I appear to be apologizing throughout my visit. Odd. Anyway, some friends were in town and we were walking around Park Slope, where we visited a few stores, including these two amazing vintage places, Odd Twin and Beacon's Closet. Beacon's Closet has another location in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for those of you who would like to check it out (it's actually pretty well known, but because of my quality explained above, I've only just recently ventured inside). Anyway, I found some amazing gems at both of these fashion hide-aways, and definitely plan to check them out again, as well as sell some things of my own. I couldn't help noticing, however, that there are two reasons people go thrift/vintage shopping. I've always known it was for trendiness, and I have some friends that have always been experts at finding amazing pieces at Goodwill and Salvation Army, as well as independent places like the ones I've recently explored. New York City is especially in a vintage stage...whether it's 80s vintage or 40s, if you can make it work and it looks like you took it out of someone else's closet then you succeed. I am constantly amazed at the myriad of styles strutting around this ridiculous urban landscape...and I love it because my idea of a cute outfit changes on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. One of these many looks is throwback-whatever-decade-you-choose (there really isn't a better choice, as I said before, own it and you will do just fine). It makes most of it's appearances in downtown Manhattan and Brooklyn, but the rest of the city sees quite a lot of it as well. Needless to say, I was excited to search around for a high-waisted acid wash jean skirt and possibly a sheer high-collared blouse, among other things. Most people in the store were the same. However, in the midst of all this, two men came into the store to sell some clothes, and on their way out, one of them said to the other, "Man, can you believe some people are so poor they have to buy all their clothes here?" Thus, I was confronted by the the other reason these stores are in business (as well as being confronted by the sad ignorance of the gentleman selling the clothes, because really, who says that?)...while some people have the luxury of getting excited about a neon patterned crop top that just happens to be $8.95, other people shop at second-hand stores for necessity. And it struck me that the possibility exists for extreme annoyance and even hatred for these hipsters (and stylish non-hipsters, as I don't like to identify myself with this sub-culture; however, there is no doubt that they are, perhaps, some of the most frequent vintage shoppers in the city) who run around, flaunting these used, cut, and/or shredded (at times self-cut and shredded...I'm guilty) articles of fashion. It reminds me of people my parents' age looking at a pair of distressed and ripped up jeans in disgust while muttering, "Well if they're going to cost that much they should at least be in good condition," or something like that. It's difficult for me to put this observance into words, because I fear making a wrong assumption or saying something ignorant, but please know that these thoughts are coming from the purest and most noble of hearts (well, when I am at my best, anyway). But doesn't this strike any of you as odd, that a place of fashionable experimentation for some is an embarrassing life-sentence for others? I don't know. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. I generally read too much into everything, so I wouldn't be surprised.

I am wondering if the search for happiness is obsolete. Some say it's doing what makes you happy. In some ways I agree but I also find that far too general. What if too many things make you happy? What if you know what makes you happy but you don't know how to get there? It's not just a matter of knowing. According to Nivea (TM), happiness comes in an orange blossom and bamboo something-or-other body wash. While it does smell quite nice, using it hasn't helped me discover my answers to life's questions so I think they are being a bit too egotistical, personally. Is happiness doing what you love, no matter where you are or how many people know you're doing it? I am beginning to think so...

...I think I'll elaborate on the rest of that subject in my personal journal.

In other news, I finally saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part 2) last night and was thoroughly affected by the experience. That woman (J.K. Rowling) has given me more insight to life and death and being a good person than any Sunday School class ever did. I know some people like to berate and belittle the choices made when turning these beloved books into cinematic adventures, but I simply enjoy seeing bits and pieces brought to life with actors who, in my mind, perfectly resemble the characters I so love and adore. Well done, congrats all around, and instead of grieving that the experience is "over," as some are saying, I am just happy that I can pick up any of these seven books and/or eight movies any time I want and escape to a place that is cherished by many across the globe.

Again, relying on others to help me speak.

It is just so - incredibly difficult, you know? To try to create something. And to know that there are so many people waiting to criticize or capitalize and all you want to do is make something that will connect with other people so that we all won't feel so profoundly alone. And we are all so profoundly alone. Why does it have to be so hard to try to cure that in some way. It...is..so...difficult.

- Wyler, As Bees In Honey Drown, Douglas Carter Beane

[amanda]

[title quote: "closing time," semisonic]

[i'll let you be in my dreams if i can be in yours]

Where has my Muse gone? Apparently whatever Muse I have is on summer vacation.

I did some background work for a new webseries-turned-TV-show called Girlhattan (formally known as The SkinNY) last weekend, which was pretty fun. However, I gained some interesting knowledge. Some people there were like me, doing this sort of thing every once and awhile for a bit of cash, the learning experience, and the networking possibilities. But there are a lot of people around who do this all the time, and not only that, but they seem think it makes them small time film and TV stars. Seriously, this one guy was talking about Will Smith like he knew him, just because of some background work on Men in Black III (yes, they are making that right now). And I don't know how many of you have experienced the coy actor trait of pretending to be ashamed or bashful when they brag so that you will think they don't want to tell you every credit they have, yet somehow all of a sudden you know everything they have done in NY, as well as all of their elementary school leads. To be fair, the majority of the people I met were not like this, but that type of person tends to stand out. And while background work is fun, it really is a lot of sitting around...I probably sat around for six hours and worked for two. It was a similar situation with the last project. Pantomiming and pretending to eat sushi, or pantomiming and watching the fake 2012 New Years ball drop in mid-town, all very exciting. But it's not acting. Well, it is, I guess. But I would not want to spend my days doing it. Yet sometimes I feel like...I don't know what I feel like. Success means different things to different people. I guess I'm not sure what my definition of success is right now.

Ann Brashares wrote a fifth "Sisterhood" book called Sisterhood Everlasting, and the four girls are now 29. I read it the other day, in one day, because I couldn't stop, and to be honest, I cried throughout the entire book. It's beautiful, and like I told my mom, there will be a point when the reader might want to stop reading the book, to put it down altogether and shield themselves from the difficulties. But if you do read it...keep going. Finish it. That woman knows how to write...she breaks your heart and feeds your soul.

I'm going to close with a quote from Siri Hustvedt's The Summer Without Men.

Time confounds us, doesn’t it? The physicists know how to play with it, but the rest of us must make due with a speeding present that becomes an uncertain past and, however jumbled the past may be in our heads, we are always moving inexorably toward an end. In our minds, however, while we are still alive and our brains can still make connections, we may leap from childhood to middle age and back again and loot from any time we choose, a savory tidbit here and a sour one there. It can never return as it was, only as a later incarnation. What once was the future is now the past, but the past comes back as a present memory, is here and now in the time of writing. Again, I am writing myself elsewhere. Nothing prevents that from happening, does it? (pp. 177-178)

I feel like other people can form words and thoughts for me better than I can these days.

[amanda]

[title quote: Bob Dylan]

[you mean the bible is actually a trilogy, and the book of mormon is return of the jedi? i'm interested!]

Hahahaha. Oh, The Book of Mormon. What a brilliant piece of musical theatre. I was so fortunate to see that show last Wednesday evening, and I have to say that I have not enjoyed a musical this much in far too long. I had purposefully not listened to the music beforehand, and I'm so glad because everything was a beautiful and hilarious surprise. The show was complete perfection, and I cannot recommend it more. If you're lucky enough to get tickets, that is. I happened to be with a very wise and resourceful person the night I got to see it...after not winning the lottery drawing for $32 tickets (for our third try), he put his trust in a kindly ticket scalper, and we were able to see the show from box seats! Quite a lucky chance. Otherwise I think the next tickets available are for November. But SEE IT!! See it if you can. It's superb.

I feel as though I've been lacking inspiration lately. My feelings and emotions are so up and down right now. I definitely feel like I'm on a mid-twenties roller coaster. I'll think things are going a certain way, that then I get blindsided and surprised and caught off guard all over again. I want to write about funny and entertaining things, but it's almost like I am too contemplative, that I am too much in my head to make any sense of it. If I cannot sort things out in my own head, how can I get them in writing?

I think I am also perplexed by the selfishness of some people right now. I don't know if it's New Yorkers in the Summer, but the people around me have been so rude and pushy lately. So many individuals seem to have a "ME FIRST!" attitude, whether it's simply walking to and from a place, getting in and out of the subway, standing in line at a store, or riding the bus. I find myself in a state of absolute disbelief when I watch some of the interactions that take place from day to day. And what is worse is that I let all of this affect MY mood, when really that's not fair to others or to myself. My dad, being a minister, always offers the "Serenity Prayer" to me as a way to feel better, and while my spiritual thoughts are all over the place, I can see the comfort in these words:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Whatever a person's religious or non-religious beliefs, these are good words to ponder in times of frustration. It's pretty easy to take the word "God" out, if you wish :o)

It's one thing to give the advice, and it's another to take it, so I'm working on the "taking it" aspect right now.

I feel like I am a part of a generation of people who have the optimism to change the world, but the realism to know we cannot do it alone. People who have the passion to live our dreams, but the knowledge that the road to our dreams is not an easy one. People who are intelligent and driven and excited, but who are also overwhelmed and confused and frustrated. We want great things, but we know those great things will not just come to us; we know that simply "reaching for the stars" is not enough, but our hearts are so full of love for our particular "star" that it hurts when we cannot reach it. It is a wonderful and terrible time to be alive, and we are desperate for some kind of meaning.

Thoughts?

[amanda]

title quote: "All-American Prophet," The Book of Mormon, Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Robert Lopez

[it's the wanting to know that makes us matter]

My spirit has been awakened.

My artistic hunger has been fed and satisfied.

My heart is full and my soul is nourished.

I saw Tom Stoppard's Arcadia at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre on Broadway tonight...just in time, as it closes tomorrow. Stoppard is one of my favorite playwrights, and Arcadia is truly a masterpiece. I haven't taken myself out to the theatre in far too long, and tonight was perfection. Everything about this show was saturated with beauty, intelligence, and masterful artistry. The set was simple, yet exquisite. The lighting was soft, and the sound design fitting. The actors were superb, every single one of them. And being in the rear balcony allowed me to look down at the expert choreography of the blocking in a way I definitely appreciated - as a complete piece, the direction was fantastic. The lines were delivered with precision and delicacy, the dialogue quick and witty...Arcadia is a play of brilliance, and it flowed with perfectly alternating rhythm and an obvious understanding of the content. I cannot say enough about this production.

Theatre is magical to me. When the curtain went up, my heart leapt up into my throat and tears filled my eyes...and I ended with the same feeling and intense emotion. This is one of my favorite states of mind. I feel complete as a human being. If you haven't read this play, please do so. You will laugh, you will ponder the state of humanity, you will consider the passage and meaning of time.

A fantastic night, indeed.

[amanda]

title quote: Hannah Jarvis, Arcadia, Tom Stoppard

[and it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours]

I have been reading some incredible books lately. I love the urge to dive back in to a book I am reading, to fully immerse myself in the characters and their triumphs or sorrows. The title of this entry is from a line in Alan Bennett's The History Boys, when the teacher, Hector, is speaking to one of the students, Posner. He says:

The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours.

This feeling that Hector describes is magical and healing; the realization that you are not alone, that you are not the first, or the last, to think of certain things, as you may have once thought you were. I have been having that feeling quite often with the recent books I have added to my list of favorites.

Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen

Man Walks Into A Room, Nicole Krauss

The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen

and currently reading...

The Summer Without Men, Siri Hustvedt (for those of you who care, she is a St. Olaf grad!)

I highly recommend ALL of these, they are forever imbedded in my heart and mind, and I long for the day when I am ready for a re-read.

In other news, I am trying to learn to be more patient with myself. Is that difficult for anyone else? I find myself, too often, comparing my accomplishments and successes to others, always falling behind and brushing against the fear of failure. It is such a mystery to me that we, as humans, can be so aware of our own flaws and weaknesses yet we have such agony and apprehension about finding ways to fix these character traits. Should we fix them? Certain ones, probably not. I was recently lamenting to my mom about my constant plague of feeling too much, something I have talked about many times in this blog. She suggested that I stop seeing this as a negative trait - for one thing, the likelihood of me changing this trait is quite slim to none, and for another, I really should view this as a positive thing. The ability to feel, not only for myself, but for others, is quite beautiful. It allows me to be empathetic to the challenges others face, to be attuned to my own extreme emotions, and to be a better performer. On the other hand, my comparison of myself to others is something to consider altering, because it does nothing to add beauty or light to my life. I need to do what is best for me and those I love, not what is best in the eyes of others. My dear friend, mentor, and guitar teacher told me once that success has different definitions for different people, and I need to find my own. Off the top of my head, I would say that success to me means: being loved and loving good people; supporting myself as best I can; doing what I love as much as possible; striving for my best potential; seeing as much of the world and my surroundings as I can; allowing and learning from mistakes; allowing myself to change; allowing myself to stay the same; absorbing information from all corners and areas of life; finding the beauty and elegance in the everyday and the extraordinary. I'm sure the list could go on. These terms of success are not unreachable, but it is up to me to reach them. I admit that my fear of the world and its harshness will sometimes cause me to hide and escape, a challenge I face on an almost daily basis. I would love to hear some thoughts on all of this - your definitions, your fears, your successes that you have already attained.

In the midst of my self-doubt and worry, I would never want to trade my life with anyone else's - not only would I not be me, flaws and all, but I would not have the same fantastic relationships with the family and friends that I have, relationships I have simply because I was born in this body, with this mind, soul, and heart. There is so much to tackle every day, every moment - but there is so much that we do not have to tackle as well. It is more common for everyone these days to concentrate on the failures, the lack of certain things in life. Little successes should be celebrated as much as big successes. Something I would like to work on, and I challenge you to do the same.

[amanda]

the eyes of pink

(not to be confused with "The Ides of March"...oh I do crack myself up with lame jokes...)

Being sick in New York City is NOT fun. Not one bit. Granted, being sick anywhere is not that fun. And, as always, I am fully aware of the sufferings of others, and I am knowledgeable of my absence of suffering in comparison. I am often hesitant to complain in fear that my listeners/readers will think I believe myself to be the bearer of all that is bad in the world, but hopefully I do not give off that impression and am safe to complain a little here. I would not be so afraid of this, perhaps, if I didn't know people who gave off that impression themselves. Anyway, enough excuses and self-deprecation (aside from Grace, those just may be my other middle names), and let's get down to it.

I blame to flight from Milwaukee to NYC for the beginnings of my current ailments. But I could be wrong. Anyway, all week I'd been suffering from cold/cough/slight fever and my LEAST favorite ailment, the loss of normal voice (I have a singing audition Monday, so I care a little more at the moment). I had a rehearsal for a play reading on Friday night and I felt like I was going to collapse, followed by a few very strong reasons to believe I had pink eye. I won't get into detail, you can use your imagination. Or don't, actually. So yesterday I decided to go to the "after-hours care" at this Brooklyn health facility I've been to (when I should REALLY find a regular doctor...), and was there from 12pm to 4pm. Probably 15 minutes of that was spent with the doctor, and the rest was waiting. While it was frustrating to wait that long, don't get me wrong, it must also be remembered that there was only one doctor and a first come first serve basis. What was most frustrating were the people literally yelling at the nurses and doctors about how long it was taking, and saying that the doctor was "probably taking his time on purpose to make [them] suffer." Yes, that's probably what he was doing. WHAT? They be trippin', surrrriously. Along with the crying children, that place was a treat in which to spend four hours of my day. Anyway, after picking up my eye-drops and other meds (yes, both eyes are infected with the pink), a looong wait for the bus-ride home (but worth it, as it drops me off nearly at my front door), a shower, some tears, and mom texting, it was time to relax. Which is what I've been doing since then, and slowly but surely feeling better. Getting along with just my glasses and no contacts for a week is not ideal, but whatever. I just want all this cough/cold/fever crap to go away. Please?

So yes, being sick anywhere is tough, I think just the added stress of public transportation whilst being sick makes it seem more extreme. You can't just get in the car and go to the doctor, you have to walk to the train/bus, wait for it, ride with a lot of people who probably don't want to get coughed or sneezed on, walk to the doctors office, wait with loud crazy people, take public transit to the pharmacy, and then take it again back home. When I'm sick, I don't want to deal with anyone. And I'm sure no one wants to deal with me. I look and feel awful, and I'd rather be a hermit.

Maybe the worst part, for me, is that it reminds me of how far I am from home. Along with the fact that I just got back from a pretty decent amount of time at home, I'm feeling the homesickness pretty hard. My mom and I always joke about it being too bad that our family doesn't hate each other, that we didn't grow up in such a comfortable and loving household, because it makes it harder to leave the nest. While mostly a joke, there are times when there is a slight seriousness to the subject. In many ways I have always been adventurous and eager to explore the next part of life; however, deep in my nature, I am definitely a home-body. I remember being homesick in college - there was one time, on a Fall Break trip to Chicago with some friends, when I had a friend take me home before the trip was over so I could have some extra time at home. I was always tearful when returning to campus after a break. I've been thinking about the reasons I was able to survive the homesickness in college, and I've come up with:

1. There were designated times for me to come home, usually every two or three months.

2. College was still a time when my life was organized by a schedule, one that I alone didn't control. I controlled some of it, but the world of academics and activities was broader and bigger than me. I could lean on it, use it for support. I was still in a stage of life where I was following the comfort of a schedule.

I don't know what it is about me that makes me so aware of the passage of time, of the slipping away of the old and familiar. It's not like it's drastic. And it's not like the past didn't have its downs as well as its ups. I have learned a lot, I have met fantastic people - if time stopped I wouldn't have the pleasure of what is to come - because eventually, I will miss that too. My life is in a perpetual state of missing everything the moment after I've come to love it. Perhaps I need to accept that about myself and learn how to use it to strengthen my life rather than using it to occasionally deprecate the present.

Helen Keller once said:

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us."

One of my journals has that quote printed on the front, and it has always stayed with me, because I feel like I do that - I look at the closed doors for a long time. I don't think I ever completely look away. And not all of the doors are closed completely, of course. The door of childhood, perhaps, yes. But the door of my family and friends, not really. I take complete delight in the development of relationships, both with family and friends, as we grow and change. I love my siblings in their young adult forms. I love my relationship with my parents as I step further into adulthood. I love the friends I've had for years and the friends I am just beginning to make. There is so much beauty in the past, present, and future, I just feel like it's too big for me to hold on to all of it and I don't want to let any of it go.

My mom has been playing a handful of CDs in our house for years, I can't even remember how long some of this music has been in the background of my life. Most of it is instrumental, mostly new-age piano, harp, strings, etc. I did this brilliant and stupid thing when I was home and put all of those CDs onto my computer so I could listen to them all the time. I don't think I've had anything else playing on my iTunes or iPod since I got back. And while it's completely lovely to have this music with me all the time now, it hasn't really helped my nostalgic issues. Especially when I am sitting in my apartment feeling sick and wishing that my mom could be here taking care of me. When I was home last week, my sister and I were discussing the excitement of growing up paired with the wish that we never would. Wanting to see what the future holds, yet wanting to stay young forever. Such a juxtaposition of feelings.

This entry has been all over the place. Much like my mind, I guess. Musings of my insanity. I could blame it on the pink eye, but we all know that's not true, haha.

[amanda]

find your passion...and follow it.

My little brother graduated from college this weekend.

Meaning...I graduated from college four years ago. That is a bit insane to me...I have been out of college for as long as I was in college. And let me tell you, the two commencement speakers still had as much to say to me as they did to the 2011 graduates. My brother had two graduations...one for the entire university, and another for the fine arts department. The first speaker, Indra Nooyi, is the Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of PepsiCo, and has a bio of accomplishments that will simultaneously inspire you and make you feel like the laziest person in existence. The second speaker, Steven Reineke, is a Miami of Ohio graduate (my brother's recent alma mater) and the director of The New York Pops, as well as many other orchestras and musical ensembles. Both speakers offered incredible words of wisdom, both for the graduates and for all of us in attendance. However, these weren't words of how to succeed. At this point in my life, I'm not looking for that anyway. Indra, a beautiful Indian woman in her 50s, and Steven, a handsome gent in his early 40s, have both very recently reached a place in their lives where the hard work of many years has begun to pay off. Both stressed that a person's 20s are a time of exploration, a time to figure out what it means to be an adult. Being that I am still in my 20s, I found this quite comforting. I appreciated the honesty offered by Indra and Steven - they were optimistic about the future, yet realistic about the challenges faced by our generation. They were both persistent about finding ones' passion; however, they also repeatedly stated that this road is neither straight nor simple. Sometimes one must follow different paths than originally intended. One should always be open to straying from the path from time to time. And one should not be disheartened or upset if the path is different than expected. Another important point was that ones' passion is allowed to alter and change just as much as it is allowed to stay the same. As we grow older, what we originally wanted from life may have developed into a different set of goals and desires. My thought is that this usually stems from the original passion itself. While I sometimes wish that I could make life a little easier for myself and suddenly find the desire to go to business school or something, all of my interests have to do with my love of being creative: acting, singing, writing, dancing, fashion(ing?). Whatever path I choose to follow, my original love of self-expression and the arts will travel with me throughout the journey.

I couldn't help but think about all that has happened in my life since I graduated from college just four years ago. And then I started thinking about how much will happen in the next four years, what will have happened by the time I'm sitting at my sister's college graduation in 2015. I can only hope that I will be mostly happy and continuing to challenge myself and follow what I love.

But this graduation was about my brother, not me, and so I should devote some time to talk about his brilliance. He graduated with a degree in architecture, and to see his designs is to see into the mind of an imaginative inventor. His friends in the program are equally bright and fascinating, and have an immense amount of support for each other. It was great to be in the presence of people excited about the journey ahead and appreciative about the experience they were about to leave behind. I can definitely say that I was not only inspired and motivated by the graduation speakers, but also by these bright young 20-somethings, not much younger than myself, who I have no doubt will thrive in the world they are now entering.

So I am currently reading a few books, one of which is Tina Fey's Bossypants, and I cannot recommend it enough. If you love the wit and humor of this hilarious woman, you will most certainly love reading her side-splitting stories and words of wisdom.

On vacation in the Midwest until the 16th...missing NYC but definitely in need of this break. My first challenge is allowing myself to sit around and relax without feeling guilty. This is proving to be slightly difficult, but I'm working on it.

[amanda]

belated entry from the air...

So I’m sitting in an airplane. It’s not even near capacity, so I have taken over two seats, spreading my belongings and enormously long legs over the pleasurably cramp-ish space, and thinking about what it means to be a human being. When floating above the world, where even with both feet on the ground my head is “in the clouds” as the expression goes, my mind seems to wander more than usual. I always assume that I will feel insignificant on a plane, faced with the majesty and vastness of the planet we occupy; however, I tend to feel overwhelmed by my place on this earth. Obviously, I am confronted with the ridiculously high number of human beings living on this crazy planet. Yet this realization, or recognition of fact, only makes me insanely aware that I am playing an important, albeit small, role in this comedic/tragic journey. I know that the majority of the current and future population will never know who I am or what I’ve done, or what I have yet to do. And I don’t want to portray some sort of “there must be a reason I am here” attitude; nevertheless, is there a reason? I don’t mean to say that I was specifically put on this earth to be some sort of significant presence…what I mean is that everyone, no matter how long they are a part of this life that we know, contributes a piece to the puzzle of humanity. I’m sure it seems that there are big and small pieces, and to be honest, some pieces are bigger than others. But I am a firm believer that bigger does not always mean better (I will allow time here for dirty thoughts, and I chuckle along with your adolescent humor, as I share and delight in it myself J ). As I get older, I am further convinced that the most important thing in life is to love and be loved. Perhaps that sounds lame or clichéd or whatever, I don’t care. Love is word of vast meaning and infinite interpretation. Perhaps my romantic view of the world exists primarily because I have been exposed to pure love from the moment I came into being. I am aware that this is not the case for all, and to be honest, I’m not sure how to reason that one. However, it is difficult for me to believe that there is anyone who isn’t loved by at least one person, unless they have purposely put themselves into seclusion; yet there must be a reason for this seclusion, maybe even the fear of love. Enough tragic love stories exist for all of us to know that “true love” does not necessarily mean a happy ending.

Time for me to put my laptop away…I shall expand on this later.

I told you my mind wanders in the air J

[amanda]

[i should just click my heels together and go home/but i'm not sure where that is anymore]

WHERE have I BEEN?!

I am quite embarrassed. Please forgive me? But I am here. And bursting with stories and thoughts and brilliant quotes from books and people I love. Get. Excited.

Out of respect for my own thoughts, I'm going to first paste an entry I had started a few weeks ago:

I have held residency in seven different states, lived in thirteen different "homes" (yes, I'm including dorm rooms on the St. Olaf campus), and I assumed that would make me a professional mover. In many ways, it has given me useful skills and a generally positive attitude to keep me going throughout the process. And perhaps my roommate and I should give ourselves a lot of credit for finding/getting/renting and apartment and then packing/moving/lifting/carrying/organizing/drilling/hanging etc in just ONE WEEK (well, some of it has been a continuous effort). I do give us a lot of credit. But I have also found that I have inherited at least 3/4 of my mother's crazy organizational OCD, and living in a state of frenzy and DISorganization makes me grumpy, flustered, and unmotivated in all ways of life.

That's as far as I got. But just to update, we are a lot more settled in, and the apartment is just lovely thus far. We're getting used to the slightly longer commute, and with the help of new furniture, and being almost completely unpacked, things are much better. I will try to post photos soon!

I just finished one of the most wonderful books I have ever read, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. I wish I could quote the entire book here, but I will just recommend it (if you haven't already read it), and add this small selection of brilliance below:

"I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing...[it's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss]...you cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness."

It's like that book went into my soul and spit it out, showing me that I am not alone in my crazy thoughts. I laughed, I cried, and I quite seriously considered finding a way to adopt Oskar Schell, as he is the most wonderful child ever. Please read this if you haven't. AND I found out that Jonathan Safran Foer is MARRIED to one of my other favorite writers right now, Nicole Krauss (The History of Love, Great House, Man Walks Into a Room), which is honestly orgasmic, more so for them than me, haha, but I think that it's an appropriate description ;o)

Speaking of missing things...I was just home with the fam and friends for a week...and I get to go back on Thursday! I love being home. Which is odd, because I didn't even grow up there. But I love it. I know I've talked about Milwaukee multiple times in this blog, so I won't get into that, but sometimes I really don't know where I'm supposed to be. I love all the moving around I did as a kid...and an adult...however, I have come to realize that I don't feel like I belong anywhere. Not in a bad way, but definitely in a confusing way. I should rephrase that. I feel like I belong too many places. I wish that I could split my life into three or four lives, and each one could follow a different path, and then we'd see which Amanda was the happiest at the end. Since that isn't possible...what shall I do? I wish there was someone who made all of my choices for me.

Perhaps this isn't the glorious update I promised...but I WILL close with a photo from the airplane :o)

[amanda]

title quote: Much Farther To Go, Rosie Thomas