Gratitude Journal [entry #13]

1. Kira Rose
2. Mango Hookah
3. Wine

We live in a beautiful world... yeah we do, yeah we do.

Gratitude Journal [entry #12]

1. Sunshine
2. Sunshine
3. Sunshine

Happy SPRING!

Gratitude Journal [entry #11]

1. Not having to wear a jacket
2. Hummus and pita
3. Gilmore Girls, Season #2

Gratitude Journal [entry #10]

1. The graciousness of Sonya LeBrun
2. Daisies
3. Spring in Central Park

Farewell Big Love - You Have Officially Jumped the Shark

Oh Big Love. I loved you so deeply for the first two seasons. I held on during the third, too sucked in to break away. However, after the season finale on Sunday it is official. Big Love, you've put too much in, lost your template, and ignored the point of the show - how a "regular" polygamist family subsists in America.


Auf wiedersehen.


PS - Adaleen, I always loved you. Kudos.

The Galliant Input of Amar James [the Brits]

Although we do not speak as often as I would like, one of my great friends from the London Year, Amar, and I are still very much in touch. This boy knows far more about the year abroad than I will ever soberly admit too and although the statement might be a bit exageratted - if not entirely sweeping - I probably would not have survived it without him. And not just because traffic was coming from the opposite direction. But that was an issue too. I think that he may be reading this now so hi Amar! Look at you on an American blog! You're so famous.

Anyway, if you beautiful readers have been keeping tabs on my other creative writing blog you know that I have been struggling to write about the dichotomy of teenagers and class systems in London. The characters in The Prince of Notting Hill are very real people and it is important to me to not finish this story until I have the details and feeling right. Thus, Amar. I wrote him recently to ask about the hierarchy of English Public (our private) schools. All of the people that I met whilst abroad attended one of these schools he described below, and receiving this message from him just reasserts my fascination with their social system. Here it is:

Hey, Rachel the public school hierarchy goes: Eaton ,Harrow (they're both boarding schools) St. Paul's  (boys and girls) then Latymer Upper School and Latymer and Godolphin, City of London schools (b&g) Francis Holland Girls school, the Lycee Francais Charles De Gaulle (where the french ppl like JB went). Generally if you go to Eaton, Harrow or St.Pauls you are expected if at least moderately bright to make into oxbridge (or the equivalent in another country).

With the public school system you get very bright and interesting people and very crappy and vindictive people, at least it isn't boring. So I'm intrigued what's an MFA manuscript and what are you writing? Do tell.
xxxxxx

Does that blow your mind? This is probably why I loved "An Education" so much. Either way, I don't think that I could write this story without having someone report back with details like that from the inside. The story is not where I would like it to be yet, but I think in the end it may not end up being a story but instead a novella. I don't know what it is about British Upper White Privilege that I can't seem to let go but the sociologist in my is positively titillated.  What do you think?

Deep in the Heart of Texas [cowboys]

.... it is 70 degrees. Yep. 70. I realize that it was 50 in NYC over the weekend but who cares? Because it was 70 here bitches! And I wore a t-shirt. It was glorious.

I like that I've been here enough to know where I want to go to dinner, what bar I want to meet people at, etc. It makes me feel like I can be apart of life down here even though I'm far away. This is important because I found out on Thursday evening that I was accepted to the Columbia University Master's in Social Work program for this coming year. I mean, not to put a wrench in things or anything.

I had recently decided to write, for real. I've applied to summer programs at Iowa, UCI, and the Tin House Writer's Workshop. I decided that I wanted to get my MFA, move to California when my lease is up in May, and start my life as a literary siren. I'd mostly forgotten about my Columbia application and decided that it wasn't really what I wanted anyway. I guess I never really thought that I would get in and with the recent Public upset (I clearly didn't get the job) I've been reevaluating a lot of things. Like who I want to be. And what I really want to do. And where I want to be.

Now that I've been accepted, I've been thinking some different things. The reason that I love the Public so deeply is because of its founding ethos of bringing exciting theater to people that cannot afford it. Now I've realized that an MSW with a concentration in community organizing I could start my own theater company, bringing professional theater in schools and districts that would not otherwise be exposed to it. Today I applied for the Artistic Director internship for either the summer 2010, fall 2010, or winter 2010 seasons. I think that I thoroughly explained my motives and goals in my essay. Here is an excerpt:

I am applying for the Artistic Director internship for both the summer and fall seasons of 2010. As an avid reader and Public Theater enthusiast I was inspired by various Joe Papp biographies to have my impending theater company perform their productions on a traveling flat-bed truck. In this way it is my hope to maximize exposure to people, particularly adolescents, of the equally beautiful and shattering world as it has been penned. As a member of the house staff during the 2008 Shakespeare in the Park season I was very moved by the borough distribution experience. Being new to the job, it was such a delight for me to see so many people who were so excited about getting their ticket voucher. I suppose that I had wrongly assumed that people that did not attend the park productions were simply uninterested. During distributions I learned that instead it was because their hectic lives did not allow them to have the time to wait in line at the Delacorte. That was the moment that I realized that it is not people’s dismissive attitude toward theater, but instead mitigating circumstances, that force them to not be able to explore theater for themselves. I want to change this. It is my intent to use my experience at The Public as the Artistic Intern to further both the theater’s revolutionary trek and gain the ability to carry out the power and grace behind the pieces that comment on what it means to be alive in the Western hemisphere, Eastern hemisphere, Spanish Harlem or Flower Mound, Texas.

I do not expect to get this internship, or even be seriously considered but for the first time I was able to write down in essay what it is that I want to do and form a tangible career outline. As someone that has been so desperately floundering over the past year this is a huge achievement in itself. Whether or not I am even rewarded with an interview, I love the idea of having a traveling company that performs on a flat-bed so that it can reach the maximum amount of people.

As for writing, I think that I can still do it. I like submitting things and applying to programs. I think that I would very much like to do both, but I suppose that that is going to be further determined by whether or not I am admitted to these summer programs. We will see. At the very least I'm excited to say "Why yes! I DO have direction!" I can also hear my parent's audible sigh of relief. Thanks for the patience, guys. So as of right now I have applied to two writing workshops, two literary magazines for internships, and four theater companies for internships. Let us see how this goes... I have an interview set up with one [for Tin House] already next Monday so fingers crossed! Also, a personal plea for the stars to align and grace me with whatever the hell the "right" answer is.

Gratitude Journal [entry #9]

1. My sistah!
2. 6 Feet Under
3. YOU! (yeah! You!) Thanks for reading!!!!

Gratitude Journal [entry #8]

1. Being my own abundance
2. Living free
3. Paris Review Interviews, vol. I
   

I Can Blogz Too?

Feverish Musings [germs]

Having a fever sucks. On the other hand I don't feel so guilty about not getting out of bed. So...

Drop Your Elvis Costello Glasses and Your Organic Coffee. Put The Book In Their Hands. [Strand Week 2]

At an orientation yesterday a handful of new employees were debriefed on the history of the Strand and given a tour of the building that lasted a hour and 45 minutes. To steal from my fifteen year old self's favorite MTV video-doc: You think you know, but you have no idea.

The Strand is the last survivor of Book Row. Originally on 4th avenue, it was one of 48 book shops on the avenue. Book Row was established in the late 1890s and ran from Union Square to Astor Place. The current owner Fred Bass, son of founder Ben Bass, began working at the store when he was 13. In 1956 Ben Bass moved the store from 4th avenue to the current 12th street location, as Book Row had all but become moot.

In the 1970s, Pulitzer Prize winning journalist George F. Will wrote in an article about the store: "the eight miles worth saving in this city are at the corner of Broadway and 12th Street. They are the crammed shelves of the Strand Book Store." Today there are over 18 miles of books, adding to more than 2.5 million volumes that can be found on the same corner of 12th and Broadway. The Bass family recently bought the building as not to be victim of rising rent prices. Currently Fred and his daughter Nancy are the co-owners of the store. So that's the history.

Now the books.

I've mentioned the overwhelming amount of books before, but being led on tour through the building from the 5th floor warehouse to the basement was indescribable. I know think that if we don't have a book than it is either very popular and we can't keep it on the shelves or it doesn't actually exist. There are books that cost $35,000 dollars. $40,000. $45,000. The oldest book in the rare book room was printed in 1480. Now that I've walked through it all and have been given the history I feel like it is like the Louvre. You can't do it all in one day.

As far as characters go, The Strand is full of them. I need to start carrying a small notebook so I can do sketches of people when I am at work. The most surprising thing to me is that if you are friendly and talkative, customers will talk right back to you. They want to be a part of the Strand Club too. Which obviously makes me feel way cooler than I actually am. I thought that I was well-read before, but one thing has become painstakingly clear. I have read nothing. I didn't even know that "The Tale of the Genji" was accredited with being the oldest novel in the world. It was written by a woman in the early 11th century. Although I wasn't actually holding THE oldest novel in the world, holding the words was sort of magical. Very surreal. These moments happen every day. It certainly drives the point that there was a wondrous world before us and that wonder will persevere long after we've been replaced. Which leads me to everyone's favorite moment:

Gratitude Journal [entry #7]

1. Being surrounded by people much smarter than me
2. Introducing a very dapper gentleman to Marcel Proust
3. Having the courage to write it all down
   

A Writer's Gospel [words for the wiser]

The Guardian came out with a two part article called "Ten Rules for Writers". Various famous authors were interviewed. Overall, the three things a writer must carry with himself at all times are the same things that anyone should really carry with themselves at all times: perseverance, humility, and love. I would also add humor to that list. My personal favorite quote comes from Hilary Mantel in Part Two:

"Be ready for anything. Each new story has different demands and may throw up reasons to break these and all other rules. Except number one: you can't give your soul to literature if you're thinking about income tax."

Part One
Part Two

For more fun interviews like this, check out The Paris Review Interviews volumes I, II, III, and IV.

"What Happens When There Isn't Any More Room for a Book?" "Then the Books Shall Walk the Earth." [Strand Day 1]

Yesterday was my first day working as a goddess of fiction at The Strand. That is my self given title of course, but I think that business cards should be made up. My job at the moment is essentially to stack fiction books back on the shelves and help customers. Which is all well and good, however I came across some unexpected challenges.

The Strand is essentially a warehouse and anyone who has ever heard of it knows that its famous credo is "18 miles of books". The entire mileage of Manhattan is 22.96 miles. Think about that. Ok. Good.

My first challenge came with John Grisham. I had one of his books to stack and as you know, he has been quite prolific. When I tried to stack this particular book it wouldn't fit on the shelf so I took to rearranging it. If you take out some books and put them behind the other books you can make more room. This was my first time doing this yesterday morning and I was very proud of myself for learning how to be efficient so quickly. As usual I jumped the gun. Just when I slide the book I had into place a huge stack of books got pushed out on the other side of the shelf, falling from way high up. Luckily there was no one browsing in that isle because I'm pretty sure I could have caused some pretty serious injury.

My manager laughed and said "Ah yes, the old tumble." The first step of any sort of indoctrination is learning the language. "Tumble" is my first word. I proceeded to "tumble" again yesterday... again, no one was harmed. When I asked a fellow employee what happened when there really is no more room for a book he looked at the stack of books on the shelf that needed to be put back, looked at me, looked at the book in my hand, and said completely dead-pan "Then the books shall walk the Earth." Ok. By 5 PM my manager caught on that I was a "greeter" type (I'm guessing this means friendly? Haven't worked out this vernacular yet) and I was placed in the front of the store saying "Hello, welcome to The Strand" like a puppet. However, it was a welcome break from stacking books and a lot of funny people said "Hello Rachel!" (I had my name tag on) New York City man.

In my down time I've been doing a lot of writing. I'm applying to creative writing summer programs, hoping to refine my MFA manuscript so that I can send it out in the fall. I think that the Strand will be a positive place for me at the moment because if I don't write after being there then I will just feel straight up lazy. I've found that nothing good has ever come of this.

Today I will embark on day 2. Colorful stories to follow but now its time to be gracious.

Gratitude Journal [entry #6]

1. Mucinex
2. HBO on demand
3. The characters of New York City
   

The Best Text Message I Have Ever Received [well done]

"If you're watching the news and hear that some psycho killed my family... it was me. Remember me as I was, please."

I don't know many people that can convey that level of wit, irony, and unequivocal truth into a simple text. That's why she's one of my best friends.

[Gratitude Journal - Entry #5]

1. Diana F+
2. Expired 120mm film
3. The Ticking is the Bomb - Nick Flynn
   

Sand Painting, Washington Square Park, 1/23/10

The Coolest Du-Wop Troupe Evaaaaa (or at least that I saw today)

Gratitude Journal [entry #4]

1. Human kindness
2. Bad ass guitar riffs
3. Lucille Bluth [figure 1]

figure 1.

Gratitude Journal [entry #3]

1. Cheap wine
2. Godzilla rolls
3. Not having to work the line at today's HAIR open call

Bonus points for Sam Neuman's apt (and appropriately theatrical) facebook status:

"...is reminded of the "Kim's Nightmare" sequence from Miss Saigon"

Quell My Bleeding Liberal Heart [kennedys]

The Kennedy reign has been fraught with peril, PR disasters, dysfunctional family dinners, and unbelievable sadness but I always understood them to be the human symbol of the American Dream. This is not to say that this was grounded in reality or in their actual political decisions, but instead to say that their time and upheaval in American politics has resulted in their name becoming an infallible symbol of America's hope, prosperity, and possibility.

The truth of the matter is that until JFK there was not much of an ideological difference between democrats and republicans. Both were members of the Bohemian Club, both had silver spoons, and both played the game. JFK became a symbol for justice during the civil rights campaign. In fact, JFK didn't want to touch the civil rights issue. He felt that it was too sensitive and too big of a mess to take on. It was not until the dogs were set on black children in Alabama that he acted. This was, in fact, not of his own calling but instead of the critique of other countries. How could the POTUS allow hoses and dogs to be sicked on small children and not do anything? This, readers, was the beginning of John F. Kennedy, POTUS becoming JFK, beacon of American Idealism.

This is important because this symbol, despite motivations, became a cornerstone of our country. Obama ran his entire campaign based on the same ideals touted by the Kennedys. Throughout their very public trials, the American people have continued to believed in them and their message. Today, the Kennedy reign is over. As the NYT published yesterday:

"That seat, held for nearly half a century by Mr. Kennedy, the liberal lion of the Senate, will now by held by a Republican who has said he supports water boarding as an interrogation technique for terrorism suspects; opposes a federal cap-and-trade program to reduce carbon emissions; and opposed a path to citizenship for illegal immigrants unless they leave the country."

Mr. Brown also strongly opposes gay marriage. How did this happen in Massachusetts? I am very sad for today. I only half understand why it happened and I'm not sure anyone is sure what the full impact will be. I can't help but feel that the sea change that swept the country during the election has passed and Americans have again seceded to safe, traditional views that they are comfortable with. I mentioned in my last post that the youth of today are passive and lazy. Posting a facebook status or updating a twitter account does not a revolution make. If you feel the way that I do please educate yourself on the issues, and spread the message. There are so many ways to help that are local. I don't know if young people just don't think that this effects us or what, but it does.

I phone-banked for Massachusetts via Obama for America. If you're interested about democratic policy or want to be in the loop so you can hear about active opportunities for change, just visit BarackObama.com. It really is that easy.

[Gratitude Journal - Entry #2]

1. Everything bagels with scallion cream cheese
2. Heart shaped sunglasses
3. Mint tea

The Joys of a Monday-Sunday [and other things]

There are so many. You get a short week, an extra day of weekend, and in my case a lovely day in the park with beautiful Kira. I've still been incredibly on edge about a potential life change (which I've just started referring to as THE DECISION as if its something of global importance) and the fresh air and the view of the Delacorte from Belvedere was exactly what I needed. Looking down into the theater reminds me why I care so much. This is love. [See figure 1]

I'm trying to feel peace now in my wonderful apartment with regal Ophelia. I've been practicing a lot of mindfulness lately, which is in fact utilized in Buddhism. The principle is that one can isolate thoughts and feelings for a moment and regain perspective. Another large part of mindfulness is being grateful for what you have in life.

[Gratitude Journal - Entry #1]

1. Central Park
2. Votivo Sea-Island Grapefruit scented candle
3. My record player

I am grateful for rediscovering LOVE. As in, a love that is yours that will never disappear. This happened when I was 21 and began working for the Public. I didn't feel alone anymore, but that's why I'm so freaked now. What if this love wasn't unconditional but just a phase that ends if I don't get my shot there? Right now I'm forked between New York and Dallas. If this comes through I will stay in New York because I will have a strong enough reason to. If I don't then I'm going to get my teaching certificate at SMU. This waiting period is nearly intolerable.

Where am I going? What's going to happen when I get there? Having two loves of your life is half awesome/half succubus. Until I have an answer I feel unsteady and inconclusive about even little decisions. I'm isolating and pushing everyone away. I divide time as moments before and after the decision. I'm not hungry, I have trouble sleeping.

Enough of this. There are also other events cooking. My friends and I are trying to organize a charity concert for Haiti. I've already registered with the Red Cross and they are waiting to draw up a contract with me so that I can legally use their name/etc. I've been having a hard time getting venues to take me seriously but I think that with an increasingly impressive set of performers I will be able to woo someone into providing me with an establishment. I think that it is incredible that the US has raised over $5m via texting "Haiti to 90999" aka red cross international. I want to do something local and I am lucky enough to have a bevy of incredibly talented friends who can draw a crowd. This is important. Right now I am in talks with Joe's Pub, Rockwood Music Hall, and Cake Shop. I wish more young people could get their shit together and mobilize in a way that constituted change. AKA not just updating your twitter and facebook status. Technology has made us all lazy. So here's an open call: if you're reading this, know a venue, have a band, or are interested in helping out leave a comment. Let's do something for the greater good.

[Figure 1] Delacorte Theater, Central Park

This is absolutly how I felt at 6 PM today. TGI LONG WEEKEND!

Are You Jewish?

I was asked this on the subway platform today, as I waited for the 6 train amidst many angry commuters. I had my earphones in so it took me a second to realize that this woman was talking to me. I was so shocked. "Are you Jewish?" I hesitated but then, as if I was admitting something, I said "Yes. Yes I'm Jewish". She then gave me a bag with two Shabbat candles in it and a pamphlet. She told me that she wanted me to have a happy Shabbas. Then the train came.

Three things stand out to me here:

One, her unbelievable kindness. Most people in New York act like there isn't anyone else next to them, as if they are in their own world. This woman came up to me, a 23 year old with an ipod and a pissed off expression, and just asked me if I was Jewish. Then she gave me a gift and walked away before I could say thank you. The pamphlet doesn't have an address for a synagogue or seem to be pushing any sort of agenda. It was just a gift. I know I've been acclimated into New York because I can't believe a stranger was talking to me and not hustling me for anything. It was quite enlightening and made me feel grateful for this city.

Two, her immediate recognition that I was a Jew. She just swooped in out of nowhere. "Are you Jewish?" I mean what is this? I know there's been jokes about tribe on tribe spotting for years but do I have a tracking device? Brown hair, brown eyes, and a look of frustration during rush hour at Grand Central Station does not a Jew make. Or maybe it does. I just know that all of a sudden I felt this connection to someone that I had never met. Then I felt calm. The calmness followed me onto the 6. Which may be the oddest thing of all.

Finally, my hesitation. "Are you Jewish?" Well, according to her I'm probably not. My mom's not Jewish. I barely go to temple. I don't know that I believe in God. I believe in many other things like love and happiness and the goodness of people. I think the notion of God might have been blown for me after taking too many sociology classes: people banding around community, feeling a connection to one another, feeling like there is some reason for life happening the way that it does. Basically what I just described. Everyone from the Israelites to the Mayans to Jim Jones was looking for someone to turn to. My argument for being Jewish is that I was a Bat Mitzvah twice - one in Israel on Masada and once in Stamford, Connecticut. I say argument because when people question my religion I get oddly defensive, like I have to prove it to someone. Except that I don't really believe it. Weird. I suppose that I do want to believe in something.

So what do I take from this? Here's what I know: I've been unbelievably stressed out about a potential opportunity. The idea of which I can barely take because I've never wanted anything more in my entire life. Ever. I've lost sleep over it, haven't been hungry, and have been waking up around 2 or 3 in the morning thinking that I must have forgotten something. Then as soon as she gave me the candles there was this intense calm. Someone was able to reach out through a sea of isolated people on a crowded platform and offer me something to hold on to. That is special.

I am very grateful for today.