Reality Trip

Not to sound like a jet-setter or anything, but yes, I did just get back from Hawaii and yes, I'm going to write about it. A quick overview on why I went: My dad is an Ironman triathlete. In case you've never heard of this (and trust me, I do not think any less of you if you haven't) the Ironman triathalon is the hardest tri race in the world. It is a 2.4 mile swim, 114 mile bike ride, and then, a MARATHON. You know, only 26.2 miles and miles and miles of running.
If you think you'd have to be insane to want to do this race... you would be absolutely correct. That is a minimum requirement, actually.
Now, the World Championship Ironman is in Kona, Hawaii. It is the same race, only through Hawaiian size waves, over blacktop surrounded by petrified lava, in the hot sun and fierce winds. To do this particular Ironman, you must qualify, which means you must be in the top 2 or 3 of your entire age group in another Ironman race. Kona is only for the toughest, most competitive, and craziest people who participate in this sport.

My dad is one of them. He set this goal for himself years ago and, this weekend, achieved it.

So, of course, my entire family goes to support him and (incidentally of course) get a trip to Hawaii out of the whole spectacle.
All caught up? You with me? Awesome. Moving on.

Many people say that they love NY because of how real it is. No one tries to sugarcoat anything, it's where you're forced to prove yourself in the 'real' world, and when you see a bum pooping in a box, you think life doesn't get any more real than that.
This is certainly what I thought when I first moved here 5 (holycraphaveIreallybeenhere5years) years ago, and up until recently, I kept that in my head. But through looking at myself and meeting a wonderful person on my trip, I now have a very different point of view.

In NYC, besides money, one of the top commodities a person can have is wit. Cleverness. The ability to quickly and intelligently make fun of anything, and make anyone laugh. Wit can, and totally is, used to cover insecurity, loneliness, any number of emotional ailments that NY hands out to its loyal members so abundantly, along with the flu and common cold.
Mostly everyone tries to use wit in public, and as a result, mostly everyone comes into a conversation, especially when meeting people for the first time, with a layer of skepticism and cynicism that is almost impenetrable. Constantly looking for double meanings and sarcasm, not trusting for a moment that this person is being at all genuine; because, really, who is?

Oh wait, that's right! Not everyone lives in NY! There are places outside these 5 buroughs, where people say what they mean and are allowed to be who they are without trying to be who they are in the most fashionable and ironic sense. Places like... Hawaii maybe?

My sister and I went on a spiritual (among other things) journey together in Hawaii before race day, and at the start of this journey we met two young men and they decided to come along with us. Me being the hard, toughened NYer that I am, and watching out for my little sister in addition to myself, I was instantly on my guard and my bullshit detector was cranked up to an 11 out of 10.
So when one of the young men started going on about saving butterflies and absorbing energy, and literally was stopping to smell flowers, I was certain this was a whole carefully constructed act to make the big city girl loosen up her morals and legs on her amazing Hawaii vacation to the mysterious, yoga-tastic boy with the sandy blonde wind-blown hair and deep blue-green eyes.
Hey, I never said positive energy was the only thing he had going for him.

It took a whole day for me to realize that this guy wasn't bullshitting, and after that, that he wasn't just plain crazy. He was simply saying what he thought and felt. Without giving a thought to what other people might think of it. And this attitude had a deep effect on me. I began to lose my 3rd eye. Not my true 3rd eye to wisdom and clarity, but my fake 3rd eye that is always watching everything I do from an outsiders point of view. I did things like jumping on a wall and climbing a tree, not because I thought it would look like I was a free spirit, but just because it was fun and felt good to use my muscles.

It's been a while since that happened. Longer than I'd care to admit.

I had to go all the way to Hawaii to find someone who was real; who allowed me to experience something real. And while people in NY may laugh their superior laugh, this man is braver than all of them, because he is who he is, and is not afraid to be beautiful.

It's a lesson we can all benefit from.

The H.A.L.T. Rule

Common sense. Oh, common sense. What has happened to you in this day and age? Do you feel forgotten, left behind, mocked even? Sometimes it seems that no one uses you any more except for adorable old couples from the South and people who drop out of law school to own and operate bakeries.
The days of "If it ain't your dog, don't walk it" and "Don't bet on a tater hill before grabblin time" seem to be faded, or maybe pushed, far into the past.

My personal favorite is the H.A.L.T. rule: Never make any decisions when you are Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired.

But even though we don't listen to our own common sense, it's still there, just waiting for us to use it when the opportunity arrives.

Case in point: Because I did not use common sense, the other night I thought I was hallucinating.
Nope. Not a joke. Fo realz.

I work as a cocktail waitress at a popular bar in downtown Manhattan, and as a result I put up with a lot of shit from ornery customers and people who like to pretend they never heard of a tip. I am usually pretty good-natured about this and over the years have learned how to handle it, but saturday..... oh saturday.
It was my Perfect Storm.

I arrived early per my bosses request because our bar was the last stop on the Greenwich Village Pub Crawl and it was going to be packed. And it was. And just as those people started to finally leave, the normal Saturday night crowd came in. And kept coming. And kept coming.
To the point where there were so many people it took me 5 minutes just to get from one side of the bar to the other.

Now, it may not seem like a hard job, but I run my ass off and try my best to sell drinks and make sure people have a good time. I know it's nothing to really be proud of, but dammit I'm a good waitress. And saturday night, even though sometimes I pictured myself graphically and mercilessly killing certain customers, I was keeping an eye on my tips and knew I was doing well.

At the bar, we keep all of our money folded together, and the computer keeps track of how many drinks we order, and then at the end of the night we give the bar the money for the drink sales and keep the rest. On a night like this, for me it should have been around $300.
Should. Have. Been.

I counted my money once.
"Must be a mistake"
I counted it twice.
"I must have put some somewhere else... wait, no I didn't"
I counted it thrice.
"WHAT THE F***"

I was left with a grand total of $11.

I know, I know, you are all thinking of a perfectly sane and easily explained reason for this, but please keep in mind that at this point it is 3:30 AM and I have been on my feet for no less than 11 hours. I start going over the night in my head, trying to see if maybe I undercharged people, if anything seemed out of order, if I dropped off some money at the bar? Not a chance.
The money, seemingly, had disappeared into thin air.

And this is the point when my brain goes haywire. I actually thought that I had hallucinated charging people the right prices and that all night my brain had been screwing with me. After 2 months away and coming back feeling like things were finally really and truly different for me, I though my brain was having a breakdown trying to drag me back down again. And so I did the sanest thing I could think of at that time.
I completely freaked out, started crying hysterically, and stormed out of the bar.

Of course, I talked to my version of personified common sense (mom) and she assured me that of course it was a pickpocket who was smart enough not to steal my entire roll of money to alert me, but only take a bunch of twenties that I would not notice for hours.
And if I had not made a decision when I was Tired, Angry, and Hungry I probably would have realized this too.

Morals of the story? More often than not, there is an explanation for anything, Don't carry so much money around at once, and of course, When in doubt, call Mom.

And before you decide, don't forget to H.A.L.T.

Spirit in the Wreck

I should mention 2 things before writing this blog, as a courtesy to readers:

1. I could have died today

2. This post will contain talk of the big G-O-D

In other words, if you are an athiest who takes yourself way too seriously, or you are not in the mood for 'heavy' subject matter, you probably are gonna want to move on and read the last 5 textsfromlastnight that have been added since the last time you looked at the site.

Note: this is not me judging, I do it too.

I originally did not want to blog while on my trip, but I want to get this out while it's still fresh in my head, plus I'm coming home in 3 days anyway, so same diff.

Ok, so about almost dying... sorry I ruined the punchline, but here goes.

I was traveling in a car (not in the drivers seat I would just like to point out) along one of Burkina-Faso's best maintained roads on my way to hopefully see some elephants. Now, when I say best-maintained road, I'm not lying... but here, that's not saying much. Potholes and rocks galore, and since it is rainy season, mud and puddles. The driver, there being essentially no other vehicular traffic, was going from side to side on the road to avoid said obstacles, when suddenly.... A high-speed turtle shell hit us from behind just as we slipped on a banan peel and-

Oh, wait, that's MarioKart. Sorry.

Seriously, suddenly three women came onto the side of the road we were driving along in a SUV at around 35 miles an hour. The driver swerved to avoid them, they dived out of the way, and our car went out of control, slid off of the road into a small ditch, then went AIRBORNE and flipped counter clockwise. I believe we would have turned all the way upside down if a large tree did not slam into our windshield and roof, effectively stopping the car balanced on the drivers side with the passenger window above our heads.

Kids, I can't make this shit up.

So those are the mechanics of what happened, but what struck me is so much more than that. In the maybe 1.5 seconds between the first swerve and slamming into that tree, I had the oddest emotional reaction imaginable.

I felt absolutely calm.

Now I know there are many ways to explain this. There wasn't enough time to process what was happening, my brain couldn't keep up with my eyes, I went into survival mode, whatever. And if I was emotionless I would maybe believe that.

But what I felt was this calm certainty that nothing serious would happen and that I would be ok. I mean, not just hope, but absolutely knew without a shadow of a doubt, just like I know my name is Rachel and Oscar Wilde was a homo.

My life did not flash before my eyes, because I knew I was not going to die.

I know it sounds cliche, but that accident did seem to go in slow motion. As we were heading off the road I knew we were going to crash, and as I saw the tree coming I knew the car would be damaged. But I was not at all surprised when the roof directly in front of and over my head crunched inwards, and stopped about an inch from my face.

And boys and girls, out of that horrible wreck, I emerged with not a scratch.

I don't talk about this side of me that much, but I take my Jewish spiritualism pretty seriously. I believe in God, if not the traditional image of God (please note lack of pronoun use) but my own interpretation based on Torah and personal morals and logic. I don't think you're going to hell if you don't believe in God, I'm just saying I do, and I've known that for a while.

Usually the time I talk to God most is on the subway; I'm either thanking him for making the train come right on time or cussing him out for it just pulling out as I step on the platform, late yet again.

This trip has made me feel closer to God than I have in a while. I think it's because when I'm thankful for something, I feel at peace, and I've had so much to be thankful for on this journey.

But this was the cherry on top of the African dark chocolate fudge sundae.

Call me crazy, but in those 1.5 seconds, I knew without a doubt that God was, in some small way, in the car with me and letting me know that I was going to be fine.

When I got out and saw how the car was wrapped around the tree like a stepford wife christmas present, it hit me how low the probability of me not getting hurt at all was in a crash like that. Even the driver had only a small cut on his thumb. In all honesty, we could have, and maybe even should have, been serously injured or died.

Plus, neither my iPod nor my camera were damaged. If that isn't God's hand, I don't know what is.

So call it what you want. Call it luck, call it karma, call it a guardian angel, or call it a fluke. There have been times in my life (and long-time friends have agreed with me on this) when it has seemed like I have more luck than the average person (knock on wood). But maybe, just maybe, it's not always luck.

Maybe someone is actually watching out for me on a universal level.

I couldn't be more grateful.

Eat, Help, (Hopefully) Love

So I have spent the last 9 days wandering, mostly by myself, around Paris, France.

I'll give you a moment to seethe in jealousy..... done? Good. Let's continue.

This is the first part of a 6 week trip I am embarking on for multiple reasons, and I think I've just about covered the section where I purely enjoy myself. I literally have had nothing on my agenda but wander, eat, drink, and try not to spend too much money in one day. I have seen the end of the Tour de France, the top of the Eiffel Tower, heard the bells of Notre Dame, and seen waaaaaay too many naked European men in one room. It has been wonderful.

And I am scared shitless for the next leg of my journey.

I am traveling to Burkina-Faso, one of the poorest African countries, to volunteer for 5 weeks. I'm not going with an organization. I'm not staying with a bunch of people my age. I am going pretty much on a whim with little to no idea of what awaits me.

What am I scared of you ask? Well, yeah, I am REALLY freaked out at the idea of a bug laying eggs in my leg or something, but that's not what I think about as I look out at the twinkling lights of the city of love.

I wanted to do this to find out who I really am. What sort of person I have become. How I react when I leave behind friends, technology, safety, family, basically everything that is familiar, and put myself in an alien world.

In other words, what happens when I go 5 weeks without facebook and hair gel.

I have this memory as a kid of me coming out of the circus with my parents in downtown Miami. There was this homeless guy Sylvester, and whenever we saw a show in that area my parents would always see him and talk to him and give him money. I remember seeing him and putting my hand in my pocket and fingering the $1 bill and the $10 bill I had in there.

Now, the question I was asking myself was not whether or not to give him anything. That was a given. I was caught between giving him the $1 or the $10.

Walking the 20 feet over to him was one of the longest I can remember. I was a mess trying to decide, knowing he needed it more than I did, but knowing that it was 2 weeks of allowance money. My heart was pounding; every step I took was slower than the last.

I finally grabbed a bill and handed it over with a smile. It was the $1.

These days, I do not look twice at a homeless person. It is a part of my daily routine, I am almost immune to it. And I know it is a stupid thing to worry about, but I wonder about the change that has to have taken place in me, to go from mentally agonizing over how much to give to not even thinking about giving anything.

And this is only one example. It's the tip of the iceberg of how much I've changed as a person, and the fact is, I don't know how much of it has been for the better.

So it's time to confront all of that. I'm going to help and relate to people I don't know as much as I possibly can, and maybe while trying to learn about and concentrate solely on others, I'll learn about myself. And once I learn who I really am, maybe I can respect and love myself enough to push all of my potential out of the hypothetical universe and into the real one.

And maybe, just maybe.... I can learn reasonably fluent French.

It can be a little lonely sometimes being by yourself in the city of love, but all of the love I've seen in this city has only strengthened my belief in it. I think my favorite example was something scribbled on Oscar Wilde's tomb:

"She was sitting in a cupcake shop, reading you. - J and B"

So here I go to see the world

With my eyes and with my soul,

And so much love, so little hate,

The Devil inside won't control my fate.

Love yourselves. I'll see you in September.

The Curious Case of Feminine Mystique

Remember all those sci-fi movies you loved watching as a kid?

Anyone?

Ok fine, remember ANY movie that was set in the future you loved watching as a kid?

Back to the Future counts, yes. Ok, we're on the same page now.

The two big predictions that always seemed to be the forefront of technology in 'the future' were A: flying cars and B: video calling. Uniform fashion comes in at a close 3rd, but since the popularization of Lady Gaga I feel that pretty soon the only possible way to get crazier is simplicity.

Anyway, although we have not yet solved the flying car dilemma (which is good because we should really focus on going green rather than going up up and away) with the new iPhone 4 coming out, it seems that we have started the personal video calling revolution.

Now, I'm aware a similar technology has existed via the internet for a while. Video chatting through Skype or iChat has become very popular, conference calls are now face-to-face meetings for companies that can afford it, and whether it's true or not, we all assumed that millionaires have been able to do this since the early 90's. If you know any, please find out if this is true; I always thought something was off about Richie Rich.

But this is bringing all that technology to your mobile phone. No need for a clunky computer, no setup required, all you need is a wifi signal and you're off. In other words, almost everywhere you go, you can now be seen and heard.

Now gentlemen, go ahead and cheer, but ladies, please stop and think for a moment. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? 30 minutes? An hour? 2 even? Unless you are just naturally radiant when you first wake up (in which case, yes, we all hate you and want your secrets) you do not want ANYONE except the people you live with to see you until you are damn well ready.
Or what about at night? Maybe you have a certain someone you've been dying to talk to all day, but if you're not going to see him or her, who is really going to keep their makeup and push-up bra on for a phone conversation? No one.... unless you know you will be video chatting.

Phone calls allow women to create that mystery and slight illusion we have been practicing for centuries while still being accessible. Even if you get a 1 am bootycall, you still will have a good 10 minutes to perk yourself up.

Now again, this does not apply to the women who do not give in to the pressure of wearing bras and makeup and hair products, but for the 95% of us that do, we need a little warning before we are expected to look presentable. With video calling, that luxury will disappear. Sure, you can reject the video request, but who wants to be rude?
Ever answer a phone call leaving the gym? Getting out of the shower? SLEEPING? Did you really want the person you were talking to to see you?

As Chris Rock says, men lie big, but women lie a lot about the little things. Our hair color, height, skin tone, boob perkiness level, we all try to upgrade a little for the sake of some feminine mystique. The truly sexy women of the world know you ALWAYS leave a little to the imagination.

Feminine mystique was dealt a good blow with high-def. I'm pretty sure not even Megan Fox wanted her pores in high-def on the 30-foot screen. Instead of just having their fashion picked apart on the red carpet, stars now have to worry about the camera catching a slightly puffy eye, a frizzy out-of-place hair, a bead of sweat from the harsh lights. The camera sees it all.

And now, thanks to video phones, everyone who has your number will too.

I know this will only be available to iPhone4 owners, but look at all the phones that came from other companies in the wake of Apple. Now almost every phone has a touch screen, email, and facebook applications. In 3 years, who's to say just how many people will own a phone with video capabilities?

Just like ladies are wondering now where all the gentlemen of the world went, men are going to start to wonder where all the mysterious women of the world went. And if Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and the Scooby-Doo Gang were to investigate, they would all land on the same answer:

Blame Steve Jobs.

Acting is my Stalker

Hello, my little monkeys. Miss me? No? Pssssh, whatever. Not like I care...

The reason I have been away from this blog for so long is because, honestly, (can't believe I'm going to admit this) I.... I.... I have been questioning my desire to be an actor.
Now, don't get me wrong. In the past, I have been frustrated, I have been angry, I have questioned my talent, but I have never, NEVER, questioned my want of this profession and this life.

This, quite simply, scared me. I could elaborate, but please do not underestimate just how much this frightened me.

You know what every acting teacher says. If you can see yourself doing something else for a living, DO IT. If you don't have a burning need to be an actor, DON'T. Make room for the people who do want it, and save yourself a lifetime of rejection.

So, after a lot of thought (and a little therapy) I decided to take a break and go to Africa and volunteer. Get away from NY, figure things out while doing something good for the world.

What's that? Running away? No, of course I'm not, um, running away. I'm.... uh....
Ok, running may be a part of it, but I also would truly like to do a big volunteer project before I die... and make one last effort at getting tan. If I don't get tan in Ghana, it's hopeless.

Anyway, so I have just been focusing on work at the bar, moving into my very OWN apartment, and planning this trip, when two amazing things happened in very close succession.

At the bar where I work, there is karaoke 3 nights a week. I love working these nights because it's not crazy busy, and I LOVE doing karaoke. (don't tell me you didn't see that coming)
One of the bartenders can't sing, so I go up there with him to provide backup and snarky comments to the song lyrics and we have a great time.
I'm telling you this because about a week ago, I was working in the bar and this woman came up to me, and I will now try to recreate the conversation for you, including my thoughts at the time:

Woman: Excuse me, (noise of the bar) Mustang Sally?
Me: Um, what?
Woman: Did you sing Mustang Sally?
Me: Oh, haha, at karaoke? Yeah, that was me. (seriously? is this woman crazy?)
Woman: Oh, good. I just wanted to tell you I thought you had amazing stage presence and very good comedic timing.
Me: Aw, thank you, I was just trying to back up Smitty. You should get up there and sing! (wow, those are very specific compliments. at karaoke? she must be drunk)
Woman: You are sooo pretty! You looked so pretty up there.
Me: Thank you, that's so sweet. (oh she's nice. i know.)
Woman: Listen, I work at a talent management company. When you get a minute, come find me, I'd like to talk to you.
Me: Oh!.... Ok, you got it. (WSKJFBujbiulhsuiIUBGIGBISFBILF!!!!!?????)

So, obviously, I went and talked to her, and she wants me to come in and audition for her to represent me.
Now, I know what you're thinking, but I did my research. She's legit. And I'm going in to audition in a week.
Now, this may seem like a normal step in an actor's life, but let me remind you, I decided to take a break. This happened out of the blue at frickin KARAOKE.

On a completely different track, my best friend has formed an alliance with a movie producer (small-time but that's good because he'll actually listen to us and incorporate our opinion) and is putting together a series of short films about... well.... some really messed-up people. I did makeup for one of the short films and it actually looked pretty damn good. So now they're using me to do all the makeup for all the films which is awesome.

As you may or may not know, I have a bit of an obsession with serial killers. I love reading about them, watching movies, finding out about their sick, twisted minds, etc. I guess you could say it's a hobby. So, I've been the team's twisted adviser in addition to makeup artist.

Now, the producer came over the other day to discuss the possibility of turning the series into an actual TV show. My immediate response was that there must be a 'hook'. There must be something different. Ex: Dexter. Serial killer.... of serial killers. So he's a good guy. That's interesting.
A while ago we had discussed me playing a victim in the one of the films. Somehow over about 30 minutes of brainstorming, we had combined two classic thousand-year-old stories into an idea. Now, I would love to tell you, but someone might steal it (tiny chance, I know, but hey-ho people are crazy). Suffice to say, I somehow talked out an idea where the show would star.... ME. As the victim.
Nothing is set in stone yet, but just as a possibility... wow.

Now, let me remind you AGAIN, I chose to leave this life behind for a while. I had no intentions of taking another shot at this for at least a few months, but somehow, it followed me.

Now, I'm a big believer in everything happening for a reason. If these things had not happened so close together, I might have written it off as a fluke. But they both happened right when I needed it most, when I was at my shakiest as an artist. There is no way this did NOT happen for a very specific reason.

I think the Universe is telling me that I was on the right path. That this is the life for me. To not give up, to keep trying and fight through the dark because this is the existence I was supposed to have. That I am an artist.

I think the Universe is telling me not to run.

Oh to Have a Gingerbread House

I know, I know, dear faithful readers (all 3 of you) it's been forever. I do have a good excuse for my absence, but I don't think I'm quite at the stage where I can talk about it and the disasterous learning experience it turned out to be. For now I will do what I do best, which is say what's on my mind.

And that is... FOOD. Well, food, health, exercise, womens bodies and what is expected of them, all of that. But mostly FOOD.

There are many of you out there that will not understand what I'm about to say. I know this. I used to be one of you. I promise I will go into more relatable topics later, but for now, I know I speak for many women out there when I say food has become a bit of an obsession for me over the last year or so. And not in a good and healthy way.

Pretty much my entire life I was blessed with lightning fast metabolism. No matter what I ate, it had no effect on my waistline and I never gave it a second thought.
But as we all know, change happens. My metabolism slowed down, my body started responding to what it ingested, and years and years of not noticing what was on my plate turned into me not knowing how to limit portions or develop healthy eating habits.

The result is now I am at the heaviest I've ever been, and food with carbs or fat of any kind has (in my mind) been turned more taboo than making fun of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

I would like to change this and form a more healthy relationship with food and my own body. Don't get me wrong, I have confidence in my physical appearance, but as a lot of women know, what we see in the mirror and what the world sees are very often two entirely different things.

Just as a side note, one thing about "embracing your curves" irritates me. It seems the standard is, embrace your curves... as long as you have a big rack. If your boobs balance out the other curves, you're fine. But if you are not blessed in the balcony, you better make sure the rest of your body is fit and tight, then at least there is a reason for it. I do think big curvy women are gorgeous, but when the itty bitty titty club gains a few, it seems out of whack. Anyone else feel this way? No? Fine, I don't mind if it's just me.

ANYWAY...

The pressure is always on women to look a certain way, and even more so in showbiz. It's literally our job to look our best at all times... which doesn't do well for trying to focus LESS on food. I'm flying out to LA in about 3 weeks to meet with some industry people, and I know if I'm not confident about where my body is it will come across. Change doesn't happen overnight. I don't know if I can make a significant change, but I'm going to try. Losing weight is not an instant gratification process, which sucks for me.

And if anyone has any helpful advice, please share. I know I'm not alone in this, but it's not something I tend to talk to people about, so it can make one feel isolated.

I guess for now I will at least try to enjoy the 'forbidden fruit' aspect (pardon the pun) of all this. In other words, desserts now get me hotter than a shot of prairie fire.

Face to Face

Everyone I know, including me, has a love-hate relationship with someone or something. We kind of wish we could get rid of it, but it won't go away, and we have to appreciate it to a certain extent, but always are sure to complain about it whenever we get the chance.

For me, that thing is.... commercials.

Let's forget for a moment the fact that I am an actor, and therefore love commercials because they are huge amounts of money for the tiniest amount of work, but hate them because I did not learn iambic pentameter to sell Vagisil. I personally love commercials when they are funny or artistic; when I can see the work someone put into the design or idea behind it. But of course, I hate them because they are too loud, there are too many of them, and most of them just suck.

I recently have seen a couple commercials that have actually frightened me. And they weren't for a horror movie, they frightened me in a deeper way, making me fear for the future of human beings.

Nope, not sarcasm this time. I'm really super serial right now.

The first I saw about 2 months ago. It was for a phone company that was advertising their new phone that was supposed to rival the iPhone, and the premise of the commercial was that three skiers were stuck on a lift. They all instantly whipped out their devices and went browsing through the music, video, and text capabilities or their magical whatever-it-was.

Now, this may seem a harmless situation, but what creeped me out is whether or not these people knew each other, could they really not stand 2 minutes of just, oh I don't know, TALKING to each other? If they're not on the go, must they spend every waking moment checking their online lives, which, let's face it, don't really matter in the long run?

Some of my favorite memories as a kid were skiing with my parents, but more than that, when the lift was big enough to hold four people, I loved being cuddled up with my family, talking about the day, laughing as my dad made up various songs about how his balls were freezing (yes we're a very cultured and mature bunch of people) and just being together for a few minutes, floating above the snow in the sunshine. I don't know what I would do if those memories were replaced by ones of me checking facebook and missing the scenery and chance to be a Brookner in our natural element; with each other.

The other commercial bothered me for the same reason. Advertising same kind of product, with a little ditty about 'checking Youtube on a horse, making your boring job better, ignoring your dad', etc. It showed people ignoring the world around them, whether at a job, on a camping trip with your dad, or RIDING A HORSE ON THE BEACH. Yeah. Because riding a horse on the beach with a beautiful woman behind you is so boring that you need Youtube to make it bearable.

I really wanted to scream WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!!!! at the commercial. I realize this is a disproportionate response, but I was just so frustrated that not only would this not bother a lot of people, but this would APPEAL to them??

I love riding horses, and I LOVE camping trips with my family. Once again, memories that are precious to me are completely trivialized in this commercial, and it seems as if the advertisers are laughing at people that actually interact with other in REAL life and REAL time.

I know everything on the internet can seem really important, it is such an integral part of our lives. I'm guilty of spending way too much time on it, I know this, and I'm guilty of texting during vacations and times when I should be 100% focused on what's in front of me. But I know when enough is enough, and when to relate to the people I'm with.

Don't let it get to the point when you can't even talk to someone face to face anymore. Use the tools we've created, don't let them control you and your life.

Because you could be missing it. And you can't press refresh on moments like that.

Plugged In

Another installment from my old Myspace blog which I feel deserves some attention:

I've been noticing the world around me a lot more lately. And it's really interesting, if sometimes heartbreaking.

Flying home from Aspen, the man next to me was either trying to sleep or was asleep the whole flight. One moment, I happened to look over at him, just in time to see a tear suddenly fall out of his gently closed eye. He immedeately opened it, or woke up, and wiped it away.
Why was he crying? Was it just something irritating his eye? Was he thinking about a past love? A failure? Dreading whatever it was he was flying to? Sadness, nostalgia, anger, fear, love, happiness, so many possibilities for why this man shed one solitary tear on a flight to New York. I spent the rest of the flight thinking about it, and also thinking about why, when he opened his eyes, did I look away pretending not to see? I think it was out of respect, for whatever the moment or thought was that moved him so much, I didn't want him to feel embarrased about it. I don't know if he saw me looking or not, but I still felt a small connection with him.

Later that day, after my flight had landed, I had driven back to the apartment, and as I was pulling my luggage through the courtyard of my complex, I saw the prostitute who frequents my building. She was rather desperately following a man, who, in a reply to some question she had asked (you can figure it out) said "No, I do NOT want that at all."
As she was following him, our eyes met for a brief moment, and I thought I could almost see the scared little girl inside her that was appalled at what she had become. She had the drawn, thin look of a drug addict, and if she was pretty once, it had all been lost to her lifestyle. I've seen her before and had pity on her, or was disgusted. But for this one second, I saw something in her that was human, that was a mirror of something in me, and felt a connection.

I know these people probably don't remember the moments I'm talking about, the probably don't even remember seeing me at all. I don't care whether they felt a connection, I did. And it kind of woke me up to the fact that everyone is an individual human being. It's not just a mass of people. Everyone has individual thoughts, feelings, everyone has a heart and a brain, has gone through countless experiences.
Someone mentioned this observation to me... what seems like a lifetime ago. He was fascinated that I was another human being with a beating heart and a soul, and that we were connecting. I agreed halfheartedly, but now I finally realize what he was talking about. I wish I could tell him that.

Moral: I'm going to try and keep this idea in mind, and not think of people as a group, or any kind of generalization. I will try to be more plugged into the present, so I can have more moments like this, because they make me feel more alive.

And every moment I feel alive is another moment I'm glad I am.

Worse Than Bullets

A few days ago, while perusing the landscapes of textsfromlastnight.com, fmylife.com, and other various time-wasters of the interweb, I kept stumbling across references to a site called Chatroulette. Being the inquisitive little elf that I am, eventually I moseyed on over to chatroulette.com, and what I found there... is burned in my brain forever.

To try and describe this site, it's a mix between Skype, chat rooms, and Russian roulette. (fittingly, as it was created by a teenager in Russia. Motherland indeed.) Basically, you go on the site, and your webcam is activated. The site then links you up with another random person on the same site, and in an instant, you are video chatting with someone else from around the world. You have the option of deactivating sound, and can communicate through IM-style, but it is still face to face anonymity. You don't have to register, you have no user name, there is no way for the other person to find you ever again unless you give them information.

This may sound really strange, but once you start using the site it becomes addicting. You can say anything you want to anyone, and if you don't like them, simply click Next and you are connected to a new person.

Now I know what most of you are thinking. "Wow Rachel, this site is a great way to expand my mind and talk intelligently about different issues with people from around the world, what a great idea!"

Oh, you weren't thinking that? Well, if you are like a good 20% of people on the site, you were probably thinking "What a perfect opportunity to show the world what I look like masturbating!"

Wait, what??

Oh yes, friends. Just like in Russian roulette, if you go through enough blanks, eventually you get to a bullet. Only in this case, blanks are bored people staring at their computer, and bullets are close-up penises. Lots and lots of penises. In fact, this phenomenon has been turned into a successful drinking game, where every time a penis pops up, you take a shot.

Beware of playing for more than an hour, alcohol poisoning isn't fun for anyone.

Although about half of the site is penises or 15 year old boys asking girls to flash tits for Haiti, I've had some very interesting conversations. I went through about 10 people asking all of them what made them happy. A few didn't take me seriously, a few ended the session as soon as I asked, but some people shared their dreams, their family lives, and what keeps them going.

I also tried going on the site with a fake bruise and cut on my cheek, leftover from a film shoot earlier in the day. It may have been a messed up thing to do, but when anyone asked about it, I said that my boyfriend hit me. It was actually heartwarming to see the outrage and support as people advised me to leave, that I didn't deserve it, and even gave some websites that would help me get out.

I've talked to a man dressed as a cat, a film director in the west village, a bamboo growing out of a smiley face coffee mug, a boy lip-syncing "And I Am Telling You", french girls smoking 'cannabis', a Chilean man playing his tribal flute, and... wait for it.... the cast of Jersey Shore. Seriously. Pauly D and The Situation. Epic abs and hair gel.

Just like anything else, you have to wade through the crap to get to what the site was created for. And if you're patient and keep trying, like anything else, eventually you land on something good. So, try it! Have a conversation, ask the right questions, and see what you can learn.

Just beware of the penises. Unless you're into that sort of thing.

I Have Only One Burning Desire

Yes yes, I know I already blogged today, but the weather outside is just frightful, and there's something about falling snow that makes me contemplative and want to express ideas in my poorly-constructed blogs that no one reads. In any case...

I had an audition this afternoon for a student film. It sounded really cool, and both of the female roles sounded like people I could play, and it looked like it had the potential for good reel material. But to be honest, the weather today is wet wet snow and slush, and no one wants to go out in that crap without a really good reason.

You know, it's hard to be a good liberal and support the global warming theory when this has been the slushiest and snowiest winter I've seen in a while... but I digress.

As flaky as it is, I was thinking about calling and cancelling my time slot when I saw something that caught my attention, to put it mildly.

The director had us all sign up on a digital, online schedule. It was formatted in such a way that you could just write your name next to the time slot you wanted... and you could see the other names of everyone who was auditioning.

And whaddaya know, I found some very interesting names.

To protect the innocent, I will not be terribly specific, but there were two other girls on that list that I know. Now I don't know either of them very well, and they both seem to be very nice people, but all three of us have one thing in common. And I don't know whether it was just that I know them or if it was this common bond, but let me tell you: Seeing those names on the list LIT A HELLFIRE UNDER MY ASS.

Now, you would think I would be raring to go either way. This was a totally improv audition, which I always do the best at, and it wasn't paid so there was no pressure, just go and have fun. But all of a sudden I was infused with this pure energy of competitiveness.

I know that acting is in itself a very competitive business; that every audition I go to I am up against dozens to hundreds of other talented, beautiful girls. For some reason, my brain doesn't really click into the competition part of it. I mostly see it as a competition against my past self, doing better every time. But this time, something in me was dying to beat these specific girls out for either of the roles.

This sense of direct competition shocked, energized, and excited me. I was super confident because of my recent casting, and I had plenty of sleep last night, and inconvenient though it is, snow never fails to make me smile. So I threw on clothing, tossed my headshot folder in a plastic bag, and sped away.

The audition went great. I was loose, and I don't think I did my absolute best, but it felt good and natural, and I was right: it was a lot of fun. And no awkwardness, because I guess since I was the first one to sign up, the other two girls made sure their time slots were nowhere near mine. Smart move, ladies.

As you know, I am constantly looking for motivators and ways to keep me and my ADD self on task. Now that I know I can feel this Project Runway-era desire to stamp out the competition, I'll try and recreate it whenever I'm feeling a little listless.

Just remember who you're up against. See if it doesn't light YOUR fire.

Daddy Time Issues

Father Time and I have always had a bit of a rocky relationship, to put it mildly.

I don't know if it was my crazy family who always left at least an hour late for every vacation or family event, or if growing up in Miami just put me permanently on Cuban time (fun fact: you want Cubans to show up at 7:30, tell them the party is at 5. Don't say I didn't warn you), but I was just never one of those people who could leave the house on time with any regularity. Sure, once in a while I would have a fluke and have plenty of time to spare, but this occurs either when I

A: am already out of the house

B: gave myself 3 hours to get ready

or

C: didn't fool around on the computer because the power was out

Needless to say, this does not happen often.

So my life usually consist of me running desperately, curls flying askew, to make it just in the nick of time, or more normally, 5-10 minutes late for any given occasion.

When it comes to auditions, I have pretty much kicked the late habit by programming the appointment time into my phone 10-15 minutes early. Even with this little technique I still have had to sweat it out, but I haven't been late yet.

But something as simple as a few minutes in your day is not by any means the only way time affects our lives. Ever had a ridiculous coincidence that just made life seem like a real-time version of The Sims? Ever just miss an opportunity? Ever realize that what was happening could have worked, only it wasn't the right time?

Yeah, me too. Everyone has.

Not to get too personal, but last night, to quote Mark from RENT, "I was dumped". And it seemed to come from out of the blue, but it's very true that the only ones who understand artists are other artists, or at least people with a desire to learn about it. I was cursing Father Time once again because chances are, the way things were going, if it had gone on longer I probably would have been the one to end it.

Even my mother, the most positive person in the world, called this one "Mr. Right Now".

Time tricked me and brought things to an end too early, and so I look like the idiot. Damn you, Father Time!!

But wait...

No sooner do I get home and open my email, but I find out that I just booked my first ever non-school related NY play. A classical play. And I booked the strong female lead who cross dresses and fools everyone. NOT the ingenue which is what I originally went for.

Now, leaving aside for a moment how I'm THRILLED that I might get paid, that I get to do theatre again, and that for once someone saw in me something stronger than the pretty girl in love, even the world's biggest cynic cannot deny that the timing could not have been more perfect. With this play, I am not going to have, well, TIME to dilly dally around.

Basically, instead of making me worry about how to shift my focus and what to say, the Universe took care of it for me. Just for this once, Father Time seems to be on my side.

For however long you're here, sit down. Have some tea. Let's be friends. Thanks for having my back.

Bipolar Spotlight

Everyone has something about themselves that they don't like admitting to. Something that is a part of who they are that they try to fight at all costs, but in weak moments, it rears its ugly head. Something that you only ever hear deep in your own subconscious, or when the person closest to you is furious and knows just which button to press.

For me, and to some extent for all actresses I truly believe, that quality is... ugh I can't say this publicly.... damn it... ok... ok..... one, two..... two and a half...

I LOVE ATTENTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There. I said it out loud. Or, wrote it out loud.

I do, Lord help me. I have loved attention ever since I was a little girl and after singing Itsy Bitsy Spider I would applaud FOR MYSELF. In fact, I have only recently forgiven my little sister for being born and taking some of my parents attention away from me (God forbid).

The reason I don't necessarily like this quality about myself is, in my mind at least, there is an inescapable parallel between liking attention and being selfish. I know we can't all be Mother Teresa, and that acting is inherently a selfish art (who am I, what am I trying to do, how am I feeling, yada yada yada), but the people I have looked up to most in this world, at least the ones I know personally, have had a distinctly unselfish quality.

I have made mistakes in the past and have been incredibly selfish at times, but it is one of the many things I am actively trying to turn around.

I know none of us really want to be selfish. Who wants to be around someone who is constantly me me me? But, on the other hand, every person needs to know what is best for them, and when to draw the line and exhibit a little self-preservation and respect.

So where is that line when it comes to relationships?

In the last relationship I had, one of the big lessons I learned was to speak up and ask for what I want. I tiptoed around the other person too much and tried too hard to please him all the time, and it bit me in the ass, not to mention that I was miserable. So I promised myself in my next relationship I would attend to my needs as well as the other persons.

Today was a blizzard. And let me tell you, this was a doozy. A gazillion or so inches of snow, wind, slush, and general inconvenience. Not that I didn't love being outdoors in it, but that's besides the point.

I was supposed to have my man over for some keeping warm in the storm time, but because of weather and work, he had to go home. Not his fault, I'm aware, and maybe this is only because I'm slightly jealous that he has a real job, but when he broke the news I got pretty pissy.

You wouldn't think Queens and Brooklyn would feel so far away, but when you rely on the public transportation system, that's the Manhattan version of a long distance relationship.

As soon as I got pissy I felt selfish, childish, and like I was becoming the worst part of myself. I don't want to tie into the cliche of "Actresses are always high-maintenance to date, they need plenty of attention and compliments, you must cater to their needs, and for heavens sake watch out for those mood swings!"

I don't want to be that girl. And I think most of the time I am successful. But I'm having trouble finding that compromise. And this is not the issue to pick at.

Tonight I will curl up alone, read my lines, and simply look forward to the next time I see him.

I'm making the decision for it to NOT be about me.

Spotlight out.

The Secret? SHOW UP

This may be hard to believe, but when I was a tween and teenager, I was... wait for it.... a DORK. A huge, gangly, glasses-braces-frizzy hair having DORK. I loved musical theatre and reading, I actually liked spending time with my parents, and I was quiet and always felt incredibly awkward.

I also loved boys. Different boys from time to time, but it seemed that from 5th grade on, I always had a crush on somebody. Somebody that almost never liked me back.

When I got down about it, my dad would always try to cheer me up the same way. He would say "Rachel, what you don't realize, because you can't see yourself clearly, is that you are the whole package. You are smart, you are a good person, AND you're beautiful, and boys your age don't know how to handle a girl like that. They are way too intimidated to talk to you."

Needless to say, I was a tad skeptical of this explanation.

To this day, I don't know whether that was true, bullshit, or biased information. But as I get older, I need a different kind of encouragement. The boys I have under control. My life... needs a little work.

So whenever I get down at my ability to handle, well, life as an adult, my dad still tries to cheer me up the same way:

"Rachel, you are the whole package. So many good things will happen to you if you will just LET THEM."

I was always skeptical of this as well, until recently. I mean, you have to work hard to make things happen for yourself. You need to wade through crap and push yourself for years and years to make a glimmer of good come about. Right?

But, recently, I have been getting huge bouts of good news. And it didn't even seem that hard.

I have booked 6 jobs in the last week and a half. Nothing paid, of course, but I've booked student films, short films, play readings, you name it. All I had to do was get out of bed on time and go to an audition, and all these parts start rolling in.

I have also needed a way to get money. I went to what turned out to be a fake casting call at a bar in the East village, ended up talking to the owner and giving him my headshot, and they called me in to work as a cocktail waitress. The shift went great, I made a good amount of money, and the best part? NO PAPERWORK. So, once again, I simply showed up, and I got exactly what I needed.

I also, through family connections, am making plans to fly out to LA to meet with one of the top casting directors in Hollywood. We'll see what happens with the meeting, but I have a feeling that as long as I show up, good things will come of it.

I know this is a wave of good things, and that nothing lasts forever, but for now, I'm feeling pretty good about where this year is going. And it's all because I SHOWED UP.

Thanks dad. You're better than any guardian angel I could ever have on my shoulder.

I'm letting it happen. Damn it feels good to be busy.

Soon I Will Be Invincible

For those of you who don't know anything about me, let me say one thing that has been a big part of my self-definition since I was old enough to recognize letters: I love to read. I read a lot and I read voraciously. It has been this way most of my life; in class, on the bus, in bed, to the exclusion of the world around me, I read and read and read.

Since I have a touch of ADD (who doesn't these days?) I'm usually in the middle of 2-5 books at a time. Right now, I'm in the middle of The Help, Treasure island, New Moon (yes, the Twilight book, I don't watch the movies and the books are like playing minesweeper as opposed to chess, very little focus involved but it's still amusing) and Soon I Will Be Invincible.

Admittedly, my brand-new Kindle helps with the whole jumping from book to book thing, but I will never lose my love for real paper books. Maybe it's the smell of the pages, maybe it's seeing the spine of an old favorite crack from constant re-reading, maybe it's the tiny rush of superiority you feel when you're reading next to someone playing solitaire on their iPod, whatever.

And perhaps that is why I am currently most interested in Soon I Will Be Invincible, a comic-geek wet dream of a book in which Superheroes and Supervillains are a part of normal everyday society, as told from the point of view of the world's most diabolical arch-nemesis, Doctor Impossible, and the newest half human-half machine addition to the ultimate superhero team, Fatale.

This book, while being thoroughly entertaining and imaginative, explores the deeper character elements of these supreme beings. It humanizes them, which, in addition to making a better book, draws a main common trait between the two extremes of good and evil: Some amazing ability, be it inherent or from an accident, physical or mental, something sets these people apart from society.

The question is: Why does one grow up wanting to fight injustice and stand for peace, while the other is hell-bent on world domination and destruction? What makes one evil or good? The trend in the book seems to be that while smart, the heroes have nothing on the villains. Somehow, the burden of having a needle sharp intellect is what drives them to be misunderstood, isolated, and therefore revengeful. I don't know if that is true in real life (there seem to be a lot of really evil stupid people out there, not naming names) but I do know that the smart evil people are definitely the most dangerous. **coughANNCOULTERcough**

As artists, we have talents beyond the capabilities of most. It's what enables us to define and understand what many can't, lets us tap into the human condition. Mostly, we want to do good with these talents; we want to enlighten, to share, to enhance.

But what if we didn't?

Perhaps we are lucky that most artists want to tell the truth, and that truth, while hard, is beautiful. But just like the superheroes, we must use our powers, for it our responsibility, and use them wisely. We must use them to fight the modern day supervillains that want to perpetuate the idea that people are evil, that it is better to be selfish, that art is superfluous, that some people are not equal to others because of what they were born as, and that physical appeal or possessions are all that matter.

I guess that Heart guy in the Captain Planet team wasn't so useless after all.

Soon I Will Be Invincible is Austin Grossman's first novel, available wherever.

A Dream is Mental Charity

I have a question for anyone out there: What, or whom, do you dream about most?

That is, if you remember your dreams at all.

No one really knows for sure what dreams are, or what they mean. If you're a realist, chances are you'll say that dreams are just the mind's dumpster, the leftovers of our thoughts and memories jumbled into nonsensical stories or images. If you're a psychology-minded person, you might say that dreams offer clues to who we are, our inner selves trying to gain recognition. If you're a 'spiritual' person, you might say that dreams are projections of what is to come, our mind trying to tell us of the future it sees for itself.

Or maybe, just maybe, your dreams are the thoughts you won't let yourself think during the day. You know what I'm talking about. Those thoughts that you need to snuff out to get through the day. The thoughts that never lead to anything good, and result in unfulfilled longing for a past or future that is never really going to happen, no matter what The Secret says.

There is one subject that my dreams can never quite shake. No matter what I suppress or ignore, no matter where else I focus my main attention, it keeps coming back. It used to pop up way more frequently, but nowadays, just when I think it's gone for good, BAM. Back, bitches.

And for some reason, I never realize that it's a dream while I'm in it. I mean, you would think that however improbable these dreams are, especially when connected with the same improbable subject, I would learn something. If I realized it was a dream, I could take it as far as I wanted. No consequences. I guess if you're an optimist, that is a dream's greatest potential.

So I'm going to be an optimist and say that maybe dreams are our minds way of giving us what we can't have. It's an odd sensation, waking up, realizing what you were dreaming, and trying to figure out if it actually happened. Of course, it didn't. But for that one second, it's possible that maybe... just maybe.... it did. And even though it wasn't real, a part of you is thankful that you got to feel what it was like. Thankful that you got one more moment, one more chance, one more kiss, one more soft word, one more triumph.

Because, let's face it: It's better than nothing.