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.