feet, heart, eyes, memory

It has been some time.  It has been a time.  Sometimes too much is happening, sometimes whatever is happening is difficult to express.  It is June, and 2013 has seemed long despite the fast pace of life now.

In January, I went to Maine to visit my parents in their new home.  We had to take my sister to Newark to leave for her semester abroad, and on the drive back we stopped in Connecticut, to drive through the little town where I spent the first nine years of my life.  I have not been back since then, and though much has changed, I felt as though I was looking through my old eyes, my young eyes.  In my head I could hear the music that used to play in the tape deck of our old Honda as my mom would drive me to the library or dance class or school (Paul Simon's "Graceland," Steve Winwood, Bruce Hornsby, Eric Clapton).  While they have added on to and remodeled parts of my old elementary school, looking at the playground, and the walk between the science building and the main building, flooded my mind with memories of simple childhood games and adventures.  And when we stopped to see our old house, the current dwellers were home and invited us inside.  Stepping through that doorway was incredibly emotional, and I was hit with the realization that my feet had walked on this floor before.  My feet, my body, had been there, a little version of me, of who I am, of my essence, was inside that house with me.  And that happens everywhere, everywhere we go that isn't brand new (to us) has known us, holds a part of our souls, and is marked with the tread of our feet.  Little versions of my brother, sister and I had run around that house (it seemed so big to us then), and younger versions of my parents loved us and taught us how to be good humans (we are trying to keep doing that, I do think).  It was the location of birthday parties and Christmas miracles and bad dreams.  We cried, we laughed, we lived and breathed in that place, and though we have grown up and moved elsewhere, I had the sense that that house still remembered me, still remembered our time there.  It may sound silly, but I do think that places remember us, or perhaps it is we who recognize ourselves in the air, in time and space.  Nothing is ever lost, if we hold it close in our hearts and memories.  The past was at one time the present, and this present moment will someday be a past we remember, it disappears second by second, but each moment exists and shapes us.  I get overwhelmed when I think of all this - that each moment holds potential and each decision could be life altering.  I am in love with life and it causes me such anxiety all at once.

I went back to New York City for a wedding last weekend.  I flew there exactly one year to the day that I flew away, which was interesting, and, if I choose to look at it this way, symbolic.  Perhaps it is everything else that occupies my brain right now, but as soon as the plane touched down, I was ready to leave.  I was happy to be there to celebrate my dear friend Kathy's happy day, and to see some people whom I miss and love greatly.  But I had an almost immediate reaction of relief that I only had to be there for two days.  "Belonging" is a difficult subject, a difficult word, a feeling I have searched for, and will search for indefinitely.  I do not know exactly where I belong, but I am able to see where I do not belong, and to have that feeling about New York surprised me.  I had an overwhelming feeling of not wanting to live there, of being glad that I left, and feeling confident in my decision to move.  It is odd, because I rarely feel confident about choices, so this also surprised me, and to be honest, worried me, and I probably lost a bit of confidence from that concern.  Places once called home in that city are still there, of course, but they aren't my home anymore.  Yet it is like I said before, my feet have walked and my body and mind have existed in these places, so a part of me is there, even though my current self is somewhere else.  And my eyes see the same things in different ways - much the opposite to the feelings I had about my little home in Connecticut.  Is it because this place was a part of my adult life and the other was a part of my childhood?  Perhaps it is more difficult to be nostalgic when the experiences are still so raw and influential to our current lives.

As we grow up (which I do not think we ever finish doing), if we are open to it, we can learn new things about ourselves.  We can grow and change while still being the essence of who we have always been, and those changes can be subtle and vast, and everywhere in between.    The difficulty lies in the acceptance of these changes, especially if they surprise you, shock you, or challenge you.  There are some things about myself I always assumed were one way, and I fought against the change.  I was embarrassed by some of the new thoughts, some of the new desires and hopes.  I was afraid.  I am still afraid of many things, but there are parts of me that I recognize now and am choosing to try to celebrate and treasure, to cultivate and honor.  My yearning for simplicity, in comparison to the ideas I used to have about my life and who I am, just requires different methods and different goals.  My dreams are still the same - altered, but the same.  I have heard that our twenties are the time to learn who we are, to discover ourselves, to be open to whatever comes our way.  Seems accurate.

I take random blog notes all the time, and when I look at some of them now, I do not feel the need to write about them because my thoughts have changed or something else has taken priority.  These I will add, however:

You have to want to better yourself, want to pull yourself out of the fog and the sadness.  Of course you know there are many things you can do to pull yourself out, but what happens when you don't want to?  It can be preferable to wallow and reflect, unable to push for improvement because you are afraid that improvement leads to the acceptance of something that you do not want to accept.

We spend so much of our lives trying to figure out who we are, yet as we try to figure it out we are living who we are each moment, regardless of whether we've figured it out or not.  We think so hard about what we are supposed to do, and who we are supposed to be, but we are who we are no matter what.  If we run and hide and fear the unknown we might as well not do anything.  I have no idea how to combat or overcome this - and I think the search is positive and necessary, but it also can stop us from living and when we stop living for fear we will make the wrong choices, we just stop.

I am at a loss for my own words now, but I will leave you with this, from Julian Barnes' novel, The Sense of an Ending.  

...what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.  We live in time - it holds us and molds us - but I've never felt I understood it very well.  And I'm not referring to theories about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions.  No, I mean ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assure us passes regularly: tick-tock, click-clock.  Is there anything more plausible than a second hand?  And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time's malleability.  Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing - until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.  

As always, I hope my time away from this blog will not be long.  Until next time.

[amanda]

[there's a grief that can't be spoken...]

...therefore it must be sung.

Les Miserables 
Directed by Tom Hooper
Screenplay by William Nicholson
Screenplay/Music Production by Alan Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg
Screenplay/Lyrics by Herbert Kretzmer
Starring: Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway, Samantha Barks, Eddie Redmayne, Amanda Seyfried, Aaron Tveit, Sacha Baron Cohen, Helena Bonham Carter, and an enchanting and talented ensemble.

I'm about to review this cinematic marvel.  Get on this musical train.

I have been criticized in the past for my inability to be hateful and critical, especially when it comes to theatre and music.  I have been told that I cry too easily, that I love characters too much, that I mourn fictional loss as if it were true.  I know the difference between fiction and reality.  But when a story is beautiful, when it is captivating, when it reaches deep into your soul and pulls at your very senses, you must feel.  Reception on a deep level is connecting the story to your own life; however, reception on an even deeper level is letting the characters live in you, allowing their struggles and successes to seep into your skin, and empathizing with the people who share their stories.  I am not ashamed to feel too much.  The richness and appreciation it adds to my life gives me fuel.

I have been in love with Les Miserables since I was four years old.  My parents went to New York to see the show and brought the soundtrack home with them.  Some of my first solid memories are of listening to that musical over and over again, trying to understand the story, asking my parents questions.  This musical taught me about some very adult subjects, like prostitution, thievery, uprisings, and suicide - I found myself empathizing very much with the character of Javert.  My mom helped me understand that Javert was a man who believed so much in his morals and convictions, that his hatred for Jean Valjean blinded him to seeing any other path in life; and when he was faced with forgiveness and redemption from the man he hated, in spite of the years he spent in obvious determination to destroy this man, he absolutely cannot live in his world any longer.  Every story grabs and twists my heartstrings, and Javert's tragic tale has always held equal standing to those of Eponine, Fantine, Enjolras, Gavroche, the students, the beggars, the poor, the deluded.  I held a particular fondness for Eponine (what girl hasn't, really), and I remember imagining her in a pink bedroom when she sang "On My Own," as the rain poured outside.  I wanted Marius to forget about Cosette and love her; I wanted Fantine to be able to keep her hair and rescue her daughter; I wanted Valjean and Javert to be friends; and I was in love with Enjolras so I wanted him for myself.  I grieved for these people, I adored them, I wept for them.  And when I was nine years old, I went to see the show myself.  I bet my mom $5.00 that I wouldn't cry, and when I emerged from the theatre with tears streaked across my face, she told me to keep the $5.00.  She told me that it was okay to cry, that I should have cried, that when I see and hear a beautiful story and beautiful music, I need to allow myself to be affected.  I knew then that I should never be ashamed of giving into my emotions, and I knew in my deepest heart of hearts that I wanted to be a storyteller, that I wanted to be on stage and bury myself in a character and give the audience the ability to go on a journey with me.

So - the film!  I saw it last night.  I have been ridiculously excited about this film adaptation since I first heard of its conception.  I heard some critiques early on, and I also heard a lot of praise.  Obviously I just needed to decide for myself.  I had good feelings.  I walked into this experience with my heart open, ready to fall in love, ready to be swept away and enchanted.  And I was - I was completely and happily entranced in the film, every moment.  Of course there are imperfections, but that is always unavoidable.  I am ecstatic that people came together to bring this story to a wider audience.  While doing justice to the story, characters, theme, and music, the film also explored realms of the story that only a film can do - the scenery, panoramic views, costumes, make-up (and lack of make-up), montages, the close ups and ability for quieter, darker moments.  These aspects added a richness to the story and performances.  I also enjoyed the close-ups during the soliloquy/solo/ballad numbers, I think that the raw and unmasked emotions these actors selflessly bared for us was a brave and respectful way to give the characters life.  It isn't something one can always get from a stage performance in the nosebleed section (although any actor doing his or her job should be giving that much if not more), and I am glad that this adaptation took advantage of its resources.  Everything was appropriately magical and revolting, hilarious and tragic.  Some things were taken in a bit of a different order, and most of these changes I could accept.  I am happy with the casting.  While I know that a lot of these people were given the roles because of their names (and what Broadway show isn't doing that these days?), I feel like most of them made sense.  And if they didn't make sense right away, they earned my respect in the process.  There is never one perfect person for any role - I am sure hundreds of people well-known and unknown could have done beautiful jobs with these roles, but this is the cast so I will only comment on that.  I have always been a Hugh Jackman fan, and I thought he gave an honest, heartfelt portrayal.  I felt the same about Anne Hathaway, whom I adore, and I found her performance to be brave and thoughtful.  I was unsure about Russell Crowe, yet he surprised me.  While he does not have the beautiful voice that I long for in Javert, his stoic and honest nature interested me, and as he smashed into the Seine, I wept with as just as much sorrow.  Samantha Barks was endearing and tragic, although I didn't fall in love with her as much as I had hoped.  I very much liked Eddie Redmayne, despite the slight splash of femininity he added, and his rendition of "Empty Chairs and Empty Tables" was almost ugly in its honesty - I didn't think the pretty boy had it in him.  Aaron Tveit has the vocal chords of an angel and I am unabashedly enamored with him, so mixing that with the beloved Enjolras had me smitten.  And the horrifically gorgeous stage picture of his death was perfectly captured in the film, from what I could see through the blur of tears :)  Amanda Seyfried is a darling, although her soprano was a little Snow White-ish for me, but I can accept her in the role.  Cosette is easily cast aside as the "boring girl soprano part" and I wish that more people would enrich her spirit a bit, but I liked many of Seyfried's choices nonetheless.  I sometimes think audiences' disaffection for Cosette stems from annoyance that she gets what she wants in the end, but she is not without her trials.  Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen - what a duo.  I always love the laughter and disgust that the Thenardiers bring to the table, and these two added even more of their own spices and quirks.  Young Cosette and Gavroche were perfect.  And the ensemble was outstanding.  I especially loved "At the End of the Day."  The dirt and grime and bad teeth and tears seemed to make the smell of poverty and misery leap out of the screen.  Les Miserables was a surreal, beautiful, sublime experience that reminded me why I have always loved this story, loved these characters, loved this music.

One of the magical things about the theatre, in any medium, is that there are so many ways to depict a tale.  This was one version by one group of people.  It stayed true to the original, and bravely strayed and experimented with new and raw material.  Every production of anything should strive to find something new.  My life was enriched by this particular production, and I am excited that it is in a medium I can experience again and again.

There it is, people.  I'd love to hear your comments.

[amanda]

"Empty Chairs and Empty Tables" - Les Miserables  

[i guess you must be somewhere breathing]

I have not lived in New York City for almost seven months now.  Crazy, right?  Well, maybe not to you, as seven months have brought many life events of your own, but for me, it seems crazy.  And while I do feel like my life is constantly in a transition phase, there is a bit of me that feels...a little...wow I am even afraid to type the word...settled/settling?  I don't know if that even makes sense.  I don't know if I can ever actually feel that way, my heart is in too many places.  But I do feel like I made a good decision; however, with the amount of worrying I do about making decisions, I have not allowed myself to feel comfortable just yet.  Perhaps that is a good thing.  Perhaps one should never feel comfortable, then we wouldn't keep striving for more.  Yet I do think that there should be a combination of comfort and aspiration.  I think in some ways I am often wavering between those, and until now I thought of that as a negative thing.  But I have, once again, proven myself incorrect.

I have felt homesick so many times.  The homesickness I feel for New York City is emotionally overwhelming when it washes over me.  My reasons for leaving stand strong, and the positive outcomes from the move thus far have been lovely.  Theatre, time with family, good friends old and new, less stress about my job, less stress about finances, happier about my living location, and many opportunities on the horizon.  Even though my family has relocated (seriously - I mean it when I talk about our nomadic way of life), the time I had with them while we were living in the same city was perfect.  And I am looking forward to visiting them in their new location, which gives me the ability to keep my connection to the East Coast.  That connection to the East Coast is definitely important to me.  No place is perfect, and while some people may think of NYC as the Mecca for many, it is not lacking in its imperfections.  I think I talked about that a lot.  But my love for that city, though altered, never faded.  I miss so many places, so many people, so many regular day things that are only regular in New York.  I feel so happy, so fortunate, to have called that place my home for four years.  The difficulty lies in merging all of my lives, all of my places, all of the changes I have gone through, into the life I am living now.  I think many people go through this, to some degree, I just wish I didn't think about it so much, didn't worry about it so much.

I have been thinking a lot lately about early childhood behaviors and how they speak to our behaviors as adults.  I have always been afraid of new things.  Going somewhere for the first time, doing something dangerous - I avoid these types of things.  When I was learning how to drive, I avoided getting behind the wheel for as long as I possibly could, and when I did, I would freak out, even though I only practiced in this little residential area for a long time before going out into the real streets.  And even after finishing the class, I waited more than six months to take the test.  And I am still a little afraid when I drive.  Slightly because of the four years of no driving due to complete dependence on public transportation, but I am also too aware of the potential dangers of the road.  Driving can stand in for other things I fear - putting myself out there for love and success.  Moving and changing can help to overcome certain fears; however, some of those fears are ingrained within us and we really have to work to get away from them.  I will never stop being cautious.  Ever.  That's who I am.  I just hope that I can continue to blaze through some of my cautiousness to attain some of the beauty missing from my life.

I am really out of practice with this blog writing thing.

But I have missed it.

So here I go, pushing fear aside, and I'll be back soon.

[amanda]

- The National - "Patterns of Fairytales" - 

[cheers to the last four years]

While a blog post from me is long over-due, tonight I must write because it is my last night in New York City.  For now.  For a while.  These past couple months have been surreal - a mix of being completely and overwhelmingly aware of the finality of this chapter in my life, and an utter loss of understanding and comprehension of the changes around me.  I know that I am making these changes happen, and the personal recognition of the power of my own choices is startling.  However, no change ever comes with the absence of  anxiety and nervousness for the unknown.  I am incredibly excited to see where my life will lead as the following days, months, and years unfold.  New York has taught me to live day to day, sometimes hour to hour, and when I am more confident, perhaps week to week.  I do not know what the future holds, but I know that I have developed more of a trust in myself in these last four years in New York, and I will continue to trust myself as I move forward in this next adventure.  I have gained so much here.  I have grown.  I have cried and laughed and I don't know which one happened the most, but it doesn't matter.  I have met people who have changed my life, I have strengthened friendships with old friends.  I have done something I have wanted to do since I was nine years old and discovered that it isn't what I want anymore.

I am proud to have called myself a New Yorker for the past four years.  I hope that I will always be a bit of a New Yorker.  There is a magic to the city that will never lose it's power over me, but there is magic that has been lost as well.  Magic lost through knowledge, through experience, and, in the end, through acceptance, and a realization that magic isn't the only component of beauty and happiness.

The rest of my thoughts cannot be formed into words at this time.  I am quite full of emotions.  Thank you, New York City.  I bid you a fond farewell.

[amanda]

[you're a wasp nest]

It's funny. When there's so much to write about, the inability to write becomes greater. My mind has been consumed by thoughts about change and transition in my life. I have had difficulty sorting things out in my own silly brain, so the drive to write about everything in a blogging atmosphere was pretty much zero. Somewhat a case of perpetual writer's block, and somewhat a case of reclusiveness. Since moving to New York I think I have become more and more of a recluse, actually. Seems like an oxymoron, but interestingly enough, many people in NYC have told me that they often feel "lonely" more than anything else. I don't think lonely necessarily translates to unhappy, but it can.

So, the biggest news, in my life anyway. I have decided to leave New York. I am actually very excited about this. I am hopeful and optimistic. I am going to a place where I have a lot of good connections, great friends, and the opportunity to do more of what I love. My aunt Linda told me I should write a piece, "Why I am breaking up with you, New York City," and submit it to some magazines and newspapers, because what's on my mind is definitely on the minds of others. Besides, breaking up is hardly ever only negative - it's difficult to break up with someone (or something, someplace) you love. You have both positive and negative memories, and deciding which memories dominate your final decision can be nearly impossible. I've been going back and forth about this for over a year - but someone once told me that when it's time to leave New York, I'll know. And I have found that to be true. I know. I'm ready. Just like I knew when it was time to move here. I do not regret moving here at all, 0% regret, completely. I am so happy I did. But living here has taught me a lot - about myself, about what I want. And I've grown up in the past three and a half years. What I want now is very different from what I wanted when I was 24. I have always had trouble doing what I want vs. doing what others think I should do. That has evolved into doing what I think others think I should do. Hot mess. As I have said in many posts before, I'm sure no one else is even thinking about me. I don't mean that in a melodramatic way, obviously people think of me, like my family and friends. But I need to do what I want. So I am. And I am happy about it.

On to other perpetual wonderings! Another subject that has consumed my brain lately -consideration. Too much vs. too little. New York City vs. the rest of the U.S and the world. I wonder whether or not I am too impatient about consideration. Do I expect too much? I think I may be a little oversensitive to the subject of consideration, but there are times when the lack of it in this place is ridiculous. Between train etiquette and the retail industry in a city full of millions of people and thousands (millions?) of tourists; living in a neighborhood where people are yelling and fighting outside at midnight, littering in the street, and teaching their children to tell other children to "F$*k off" and hit each other; all of this has led me to become very weary and tired of the behavior I see on a daily basis. [Side note: this topic contributes just a small portion to my many reasons for leaving NYC, the more prominent reasons have to do with passion, art, personal happiness, pace of life, etc.] So many people just shove each other around here, and I've even been guilty of that before. Why can't everyone step to the side while people get out of the train before getting on? Many people do, yes, but many others are only thinking about getting a seat and where they are going that they don't notice that they are walking straight into another human being. I am at work at 6 o'clock in the morning five days a week to make a place look really nice so that people will want to shop there. And when I see people walk in at 9 o'clock and start to tear the place apart, I experience a heartbreaking challenge. Yes I know that I am quite a perfectionist and a bit obsessive and compulsive about organization and cleanliness. But I also go shopping, and I know it is possible to not do so like a fiend on crack. People have to know that someone has to clean up after them, and while yes, those people are paid to do so, it also takes a lot of time and energy and the ratio of shoppers to sales people is not even a plausible equation to me. This goes for restaurants, bars, the street, everywhere. I ask myself every day if my expectations are too high, and usually my answer is yes, they are - but I still don't see a happy medium.

I have become angrier and more frustrated than I'd like. It is difficult to look at myself and see traits that cloud the positive person I have always tried to be.

Moving around throughout childhood has invoked quite a sense of wanderlust in my being. Despite my inability to accept endings and change (even though I am forced to), I still find ways to make changes. This world is so big and full of interesting people and places. New York City is only one of them. I feel lucky to have been able to call this place home for three and a half years. I know that it is a fantastic place. I also know it is not the only place.

I need to write down all of the things I want to do before I leave. I don't really have a lot of time, actually. I know that there is so much I will miss about this city. I will cry when I drive away. But I am full of hope and excitement. I am ready for the next challenge. If New York could give me one parting gift, I want it to hold true to the statement that "If you can live in New York City, you can live anywhere." We shall see.

I shall see.

[amanda]

title quote: "Wasp Nest," The National, Cherry Tree

[i've got somewhere to go, i've got a new road to follow]

I was going to devote an entry to Christmas Traditions at the Carsons...and I started writing about it...but then I realized that the only people who would really appreciate my nostalgic ramblings about holiday tradition are the four people (and the crazy dog) who share the day with me. So I just want to say that I hope 2012 is off to a lovely beginning! And I encourage you to think of the traditions that make you smile, no matter what time of year.

The world is a big place. So many wonderful places to be, so much to explore. It's exciting and overwhelming. How does one go about choosing the best place to be? Many people don't even get to choose. I really love all of the places I've lived throughout my life, but it's impossible to choose a favorite, and to choose whether I want to stay here or move on to another place - or to go back to an old place. I have called seven states my home in my twenty-seven years of life...and they are all special and beautiful and full of possibilities. I wonder if people who move around throughout childhood/early adulthood have an ingrained sense of wanderlust. I just cannot figure out a way to combine my so-called wanderlust with my chronic nostalgia and resistance to change.

I already posted this on my facebook page, but do yourself a favor and watch this video/listen to this song from Ingrid Michaelson's new album, Human Again, which comes out on January 24th (wish it was sooner!). I cannot wait to have those sweet new melodies ringing through my ears. This woman knows how to write beautiful lyrics and music, it would do you well to become a fan (although I'm guessing many of you already are).

So far, I am not doing too badly on my resolution to listen to myself this year. The more I consider the things that I want and try to accept the fact that nothing can be certain, the more relaxed and optimistic I become. I think I am always going to be a "late-bloomer" in many respects, perhaps I'm learning how to embrace that.

I am watching Love Actually right now, already teared up during the opening montage, haha. Pathetic. Although that bitch who cheats on Colin Firth in the beginning really pisses me off. And my lovely roommate and bff is home to watch it with me, so farewell for the moment and I'll write again soon.

[amanda]

title quote: "I Must Go," Late Tuesday, Late Tuesday (scroll down and take a listen from two entries ago!)

new year, more thoughts

Happy 2012 everyone! I hope you all had a safe, restful, and fun holiday season. I am heading back to the Big Apple this evening, and while that should be the most exciting thing in the world, my reluctance to leave my friends, family, and cozy house behind is trumping that excitement. I am, however, trying to be a brave adult and think of the people I am thrilled to be able to see upon my return to NYC, and the beautiful places to go that can only be found in the city that never sleeps. This positive attitude alongside my melancholy heart is quite an odd emotional sensation. This will be brief, but I wanted to get a few thoughts out there. The next entry will be a fun exploration of Christmas with the Carsons - a commentary on the many years of celebration and weird traditions in my household.

I am not one for a long list of New Years resolutions. Obviously, there are many things I want to work on, that I want to change or better about myself, but I think that should be started and maintained any time of the year - and changes are difficult. I don't like writing a huge list and feeling guilty about what I haven't done. Haha...that sounds really optimistic... But I have two very important changes, or improvements, I want to make this year, and I think they might be useful to share.

1.) I want to listen to myself. What do I really want? How do I really feel? What makes me happy? What makes me unhappy? Rather than doing what I think everyone else thinks I should do, or feel the way I'm supposed to feel, I need to dig deep and figure out my needs. I am forever worried about being selfish, but I think we all need to be selfish to a certain degree. It does not matter what others think about my life. It is my life. Investing in my own happiness will only make me a better person in mind, heart, and spirit. I need to know what I want without feeling guilty or worried about making mistakes. Making mistakes is inevitable. Believe me, this resolution will be a challenge for me, but I'm hoping for the best.

2.) I want to stop comparing myself to other people. Whether they are people I know, or people I don't know, the only person I can be is me.

That being said (written?), I wish you all a happy and successful start to your new year, and I look forward to more thoughts and reflections as time goes by. Please do not hesitate to comment! I love to know what others are thinking.

[amanda]

[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