I'm scared for the first time in my life that its going too quickly. That I'm getting older. Losing time. Running out of time. 27. Almost 28. I used to love that. Thought it was sexy and grown up. I'm happy to grow up if things are progressing. But setbacks and disappointments, like the Mint show being a bust, rock my happy floating boat. And not in a “light turbulence” kind of way: like the end of the Perfect Storm: the sun finally peeks out, and Wahlberg says "we're gonna make it, Skip!" and then Clooney's face is devastating, and you know they're screwed, and then the wind whips up and that one big wave, that mountain of black death, rises, rises... and rolls the giant ship over like its a toy. That's what it feels like. Like my ship is a joke, no match for the elements of the industry. I want to be building, stacking up the accolades, accomplishments... I want all the acc- words in my life, but I can't get any traction. My doubles all get caught in the outfield. Can't even watch the fucking Yankees this year. Unwatchable. Who are we? We don't even look like us.
Ughhh, and this is my BLOG; I'm supposed to be positive and uplifting and illustrating how GREAT my career is going, and how INTERESTING I am, and how HOORAY everything is and I'm TIRED OF IT. I just want to have a career, without having to whore myself out to everyone. Oh, great, I'll write pithy, colorful, interesting email blasts to make sure people aren't forgetting about me. I'll blog about relationships and diets and not-too-controversial political shit like the libraries closing all over the damn city (which is SHAMEFUL as far as I'm concerned, and contributing to the rapid deterioration of our society, by the way) and pretend I've got it all together. I feel like a plasticky, upbeat cruise director of a shiny ship called the SS Stefanie and really I think you all should probably just JUMP SHIP. Seriously, I'm sick of selling myself. Selling my soul.
Ugh. I ranted. Great. Now anyone who was reading this blog (my parents) will be disappointed and think I'm ungrateful for all my blessings. YES, I KNOW. I am grateful. I truly am so grateful. I'm so grateful that I'm TERRIFIED that if I forget to be grateful the hand of God or something is going to reach down and shove me in front of a bus, and I'll have awful terrible injuries and have to pee into a bag the rest of my life and I CAN'T EVEN TYPE OUT THIS SCENARIO because I'm afraid its some kind of curse ---my God, I just knocked on the desk. I'm that superstitious. I'm that afraid.
And so, people (mom) if you're still reading this very raw, snide, sad, maybe funny, definitely truthful post about where I am today, your takeaway should be the following:
"Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unnerving ease. It begins in your mind always... so you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.” -Yann Martel, Life of Pi
This blog is about the things that move me as an artist, musician, human, woman, friend, sister, daughter, American, New York City resident, Primal Blueprint follower, yoga practitioner, shoe-lover, dog-lover, cupcake-lover and fascinated observer of the human condition.