Origami 折り紙

Lately, my brain has taken an incessant interest in replaying the last year and a half of my life. I am constantly thinking of the gamut of emotions and experiences that I have lived in this last year. I begin to wonder whether I really lived it at all. Surprised by the recollection and realization of my own memories, the more I think about them all, the further away they seem to be. The less like me they seem to be. And it seems like a life that I never actually lived, but more like a story I heard somewhere at some time in some place I cannot remember.

It may be the first time in my life where I actually can say that I have regret. I don't regret all of it, but there are definitely some aspects that I wouldn't mind erasing from my history. Wouldn't that be nice? I know "they" say you can always learn from your experiences.... good or bad.... But now I know the meaning of making mindless choices that do not teach me a thing.... do not contribute anything to my life... and those I would rather forget.... But... I guess, in a sense, even realizing this, I may have learned something.

As I move forward, I think about the path in front of me and forget about that bumpy diversion that lead me to a place called Nowhere. There is a familiarity about what I face and also an overwhelming sense of the unknown. I feel as if I have a fresh start.... I am a clean and crisp, brightly colored piece of origami paper ready to be folded and molded into a beautiful shape....a shape that defines something...a shape that can stand on its own...a shape that is delicate and beautiful while strong and long lasting. Even if unfolded, the tendency will be to return to what feels right... each piece fitting right back into place... on the path where I belong.

It seems only fitting to compare life, especially mine, to the art of origami. It is truly a treasure. The paper can tear or stain easily if not treated with the utmost care. With proper thought and attention, it can be folded into a beautiful shape. I am beginning to see how my life is taking shape. What shape will yours take? -M

Wake Up Call

Good morning Mandy. This is life giving you your wake up call.....

Yep. It's been one of those mornings. I was going through all of my clothes trying to organize and pack. Yes. Packing again. As I shuffled through items in my closet that I haven't touched in months or in some cases, years, I decided to try a few on.... Bad idea. They don't fit. One piece after another, zippers won't zip, buttons won't close, and some are like a Houdini escape act to even try and take off again.

I want to live in my sweats because they are comfortable. I avoid wearing my jeans at all costs. And I dread the thought of shopping because I know it will force me to see what size I really am at the moment.

SH*T SH****T SH********************T! How did this happen?

Well, truthfully, I know exactly how it happened. I fully participated in the process of making it happen. With every sip of alcohol, every serving of chips, guacamole, and salsa, with every slice of cheese, with every excuse for why I shouldn't go to the gym, I have not only made myself feel uncomfortable in my own skin, but I have continued to put my health at risk. Oops.

I scratch my head. I wonder if it is too late? Can I turn it around? I mean, look at Madonna! I can have arms like that! If I vow to NEVER eat cheese or drink alcohol again, eat like a rabbit, and work out four hours a day, every day, for the rest of my life.

And then I begin to wonder, is it all in my head? I mean, I feel fat-er. I look fat-er (to myself). But how do others perceive me? Well, I suppose that depends on whose perspective it is coming from.... If you ask the obese WalMart shopper, she'll probably call me a skinny bi$%&. If you asked Tim Gunn, he would say I am way too fat for even a plus size model. If you ask my mom and my gay best friend, they would simply say that I am beautiful just the way I am.

Well, thanks Mom and thanks Jere, but I can honestly say that I kinda do want my arms to look like Madonna's. Maybe I can eat like a rabbit! Lettuce is good! And working out four hours a day could be great! I mean, especially if I have some good tunes to listen to.... And who needs cheese anyway! I mean, when you really think about what cheese actually is, it's kind of gross.

So here I go. I am throwing away the mantra of Scarlett O'Hara: "I'll think about that tomorrow". I have already thought too much about it today. It is time to do something about it! It is time to feel comfortable in my own skin again! It is time to get to the gym!

Ok, well maybe after lunch!-M

Thanks and Goodbye.

Thanks 2R.
Thanks Albatross.
Thanks Taxis for accepting credit cards and Livery Cabs for always honking to see if I needed you.
Thanks 3 flights of dirty green stairs.
Thanks Steve.
Thanks orange tapas bar across the street for the weekend fights.
Thanks Cavo (sort of).
Thanks HSH, Italy, L.C., MDC1, MDC2, MDC3. Am I forgetting anyone?
Thanks wine.
Thanks street meat smell.
Thanks Starbucks.
Thanks Lotteries at Shows.
Thanks New Dance Group.
Thanks Brenden.
Thanks auditions with long waits and not getting kept or seen.
Thanks agents: especially the geriatric ones that have hospital beds and ask you to grab their meds and forgot they had an appointment with you (and who and where they are).
Thanks snow.
Thanks Diego.
Thanks Sunday Brunch at Film Center Cafe for unlimited bellinis in new glasses every time.
Thanks Hop Stop.
Thanks J.
Thanks Japas 55 for keeping my karaoke alive.
Thanks Laura Rose Photography.
Thanks delivery of any food at anytime.
Thank you India (for Alanis).
Thanks LaDuca: You made my legs look like a dream.
Thanks Backstage.com.
Thanks Rhodes.
Thanks Akai Sensei.
Thanks subway: You always got me where I needed to go; except on a Broadway Stage.
Thanks Beckie.
Thanks submissions.
Thanks TKTS.
Thanks PAX for some great salads that I can never finish on my own.
Thanks again taxis.
Thanks Gyu Kaku.
Thanks Eric.
Thanks Crunch Gym: especially for the pole dancing classes and the unique people that take them wearing clear stilettos.
Thanks Park Slope.
Thanks Thai Food: I may have eaten so much that I don't like you anymore.
Thanks Bryant Park and your green metal tables.
Thanks pigeons: You always seemed to fly right at me and then dodge me at the last second.
Thanks Brooklyn Bridge.
Thanks Today Show.
Thanks iPhone 3G: without you, I would have been lost here.
Thanks Cobble Hill.
Thanks Lucien.
Thanks Hudson River Park.
Thanks Blockheads: I will really miss your black flower margarita.
Thanks CD guys on the street.
Thanks 3 hooded muggers: hope you enjoy my purse, LV wallet, all of my makeup and brushes, pink sony cybershot, and my favorite Diesel Hat..hope you have girlfriends (they must be so proud).
Thanks Lady Liberty.
Thanks Nanny Play Dates.
Thanks voice lessons.
Thanks guys selling M&Ms.
Thanks Naked Men Singing: see it for yourself.
Thanks Central Park.
Thanks Kate.
Thanks NYSC.
Thanks West Village.
Thanks Bartenders: You know who you are.
Thanks faint smell of urine all the time.
Thanks REALLY LOUD sirens all the time.
Thanks iChat.
Thanks (oh my) Duane Reade.
Thanks 73 Columbia Street.
Thanks hottie on the 2: I should have introduced myself, but you're probably gay.
Thanks Hugh Jackman.....yep. THAT Hugh Jackman.
Thanks Bleecker Park.
Thanks Peter.
Thanks Mariachi on the train: You always made me hungry.
Thanks Don't Answer: 1 and 2: You always picked the best time to call.
Thanks stoops.
Thanks Woodstock.
Thanks window AC units.
Thanks radiators: I used to be so scared of you, but you kept me warm, so thanks.
Thanks Rite Aid Manager: You lent me your plunger in the nick of time!
Thanks American Apparel: love your deep neck V.
Thanks Bodegas.
Thanks BDC.
Thanks Don't Tell Mamma.
Thanks Bumble and Bumble.
Thanks Camp: you brought back some great memories with Uno and Connect Four.
Thanks WTC: I will never forget.
Thanks Tattoo Parlor on St. Marks: You made me a star!
Thank you for being a friend. (Just because)
Thanks Staten Island Ferry for being free and orange.
Thanks Uggs.
Thanks Sleepy's: for the rest of my life.
Thanks Curb Your Dog signs: even though people don't always pay attention.
Thanks Top of the Rock.
Thanks Random Burlesque Show.
Thanks Poland Spring.
Thanks non-existant train between BK and Queens.
Thanks Ella Boutique.
Thanks for honking: All the time. NY drivers should just have a permahonk.
Thanks Jere and Jaime. See you soon.
THANKS MOM AND DAD: I could not have done it without you.

Goodbye New York City!

Tales of Tequila and Times Square

Here I sit... on the last Saturday of summer.... MY last Saturday of summer in NYC.... in a Starbucks drinking a skinny vanilla latte that is making me sweat.... I need it because I had 3 margaritas at lunch alone in Times Square... and I need to be here so my phone can charge because I called everyone in my address book that would listen to me blab away this Saturday afternoon.... to perhaps not appear to be so alone.... And, I stalked Facebook until I had read every posting I remotely cared about reading twice...I had to interrupt the romantic couple to my right to plug in my charger...which only reminded me of the lack of romance in my own life at the moment....

A vendor sells cheap look-a-like handbags outside the window to tourists that pass by... the sidewalks, crowded with vacationers still manage to seem empty because they are all strangers to me. The BGM jazz seems to sedate me....or maybe it is a combination of the tequila and caffeine... and the thoughts running through my head about voluntarily leaving one of the most amazing cities in the world....

I migrate to Times Square. I sit at a round metal red table and an extremely uncomfortable chair...it's as if they don't want you to stay long... they encourage you to go.... Strange and unfamiliar languages are spoken around me... the masses migrate to see the lights that seem to fuel the city, but actually just repeat repetitive patterns that can be dimmed by the simple flick of a switch. Two Lady Libertys which are far-from-female beneath their green shrouds stand beside one another holding American flags, pose for pictures and pocket change atop of plastic crates.... I begin to wonder how many people may find me in the background of their photos... sitting, writing, and drinking coffee...-M

Transition

As I sit alone, in an empty house, belonging to my friend, who was here when I needed him, the silence speaks loudly in my ears and resonates in my heart. The smell is familiar, the furniture colorful and comfortable. Memories of better times flash before my eyes like ghostly images come and gone. It has been a year and maybe 3 months since I decided to leave this house for New York. I didn't want to have any regret for not going. And now, I can only think of all the things I regret since moving there. They weigh heavily upon my shoulders, and I harbor a deep resentment for all the poor decisions I knowingly made. Like a beggar on a subway shaking his paper cup of change, I hold out my cup to the universe for the advice and guidance that I so greatly need. I want to turn it all around. I want to feel proud of myself again. I want my family and friends to be proud of me. And I do not want to be a burden to anyone.

While the pros and cons battle each other in my mind, I begin to feel the beating of my heart. With every beat, the what ifs, the whys, the hows, and the whens play a redundant and paralyzing message I cannot ignore. I won't ignore. It is time to listen to that little voice in my heart... the voice I have been ignoring for quite some time.

I give up. I surrender. I was unable to make it happen in New York. Whether I was actually capable or not, doesn't really matter anymore. What matters is that I have lost my happiness. I left a little at each audition that turned me away. I lost some as guys in my life came and went so quickly...I left some in each cocktail I served in the lat-night hours. I lost some with the sight of each and every homeless and needy person I could not help. I lost some to the three muggers who preyed upon me. I lost some when I realized how far my friends and family seemed to be. I really knew I had lost it, when even the sight of Broadway couldn't make me smile anymore.

It is time for smart decisions. It is time to make a change. It is time to find my smile again. I know I can, and I will. -M

The Breakup

"They" say that, "all good things must come to an end." I suppose, inevitably, that is true. And in hindsight, in this particular circumstance, I am not so sure that this was such a "good thing".... (certainly not by Martha's standards... and it should never have been by mine) But nonetheless, it too came to an end. Today.

It hadn't been easy. Being the girlfriend of a devastated guy after the loss of a parent then thrust into a demanding career. I tried my absolute best, as I always do. Trying to fix things...trying to make it work, as Tim Gunn would say. But this is not Project Runway... and I am not next in line to be New York's newest fashion icon... I am just a girl in NYC trying her dream on for size... and so far, it has proven to be WAY too big for me.

I helped him move. I packed up EVERYTHING while he worked. I overlooked his complete lack of organization.... I helped him carry it all down the old stairs and up the new, so he could get to training on time. I helped him study. I researched the answers to his study guides and recited them to him as he drove three hours to training because his time management skills were completely absent. I consoled him when he needed it. I cooked dinner. I barely ever let him pay for me full stop. I cleaned his house when he didn't have the time. I didn't want my boyfriend living in chaos. I ignored his dependence on ambien, adderall, and anti-depression because I thought, hey... that might just be the perfect cocktail for someone who's lost a parent, can't sleep, can't focus, and needs to study. Nevermind that he got his prescriptions from some irresponsible doctor from his Pharma days that would write him a script for anything he wanted without an examination. I ignored the fact that he admitted to me that he used to be a pot head and almost lost his job. There were many signs of abuse... and I chose to ignore them.

NO! He is NORMAL! And he is MY boyfriend!

I mean, it didn't matter that he constantly made fun of me and my friends and my family members.... that always felt really good! It was also fun when he would call me, drugged up on ambien and wine and say crazy things he would never remember in the morning... like he was GAY.... WHAT?

Nope. No matter what you say, I love him, and he is MY boyfriend!

There were also those times where he would "joke" with me. Like the time he said if I didn't do something he'd "cut" me. And to take the joke further, he went into the kitchen, grabbed his biggest butcher knife and said again, "I'll cut you!"....then laughing at his "joke" asked, "you KNOW I was joking, right?" (Yep! We all like to play with butcher knives.... it's called method acting)

Nope.... My boyfriend is amazing. He works so hard. I really do LOVE him!

And in the beginning, his showering me of compliments, flowers, wanting me to move in with him were all the things he swore would never change. "This is me! This is who I am!" (he would say) (and I had thought I had won the boyfriend lottery) Well, those things all came to an end a long time ago...just like this relationship should have if I had accepted the above signs and realized what I truly deserved...

But, NO! He is my AMAZING boyfriend and I will always DEFEND him!

Why didn't I have the courage to break this off myself? I mean, I knew all along that he was not right for me... I kept making excuses for his odd behavior and attributed it all to the death of his father and the stress of his job. I kept painting our future with the colors he gave me in the first month or so of dating him. I held on to that painting in my mind like a coveted masterpiece in a museum. I wanted to own it.

He told me yesterday, as he broke up with me on the swings at a nearby park across the street from my new apartment, that there were some things that I just had not learned yet...and it bothered him. He told me I was un-motivated, did nothing on a weekly basis, and that I would never be on Broadway... that I should get a f* ticket and get in line with everyone else....that we were better off as friends.

Thanks, A$$hole. Got any more salt with you?

Well, he was certainly right about some things... Today, I still haven't learned how to stand up for what I deserve in a relationship. And yes, I am slightly un-motivated because YOU SUCKED it all out of me. And at the given rate, I probably wouldn't be on Broadway because I have been too busy trying to make this sinking relation "ship" stay afloat.

**SIGH**

I know what you are all thinking. I was crazy to stay with him. Well, love can seriously mess with your head. Am I glad it's over? Yes. Do I feel a sense of relief? Yes. Would I ever go back to him? Not even if it meant being cast in the starring role of Broadway's newest hit musical. And that certainly says a lot. -M

The Glass Slipper

So, I moved away from Queens. I moved away from my first New York job, the horrible Greek restaurant that stared me in the face every day. I moved away from that dreaded street where those muggers decided I was their perfect target. I moved away from the little wannabe boutique and the Italian memories it held...I moved away from the plunger-giving drug store.... I moved away from the intersection where rivaling street meat vendors set up shop every single day on opposite corners filling the air with an odor that both made you hungry and a little sick to your stomach. I moved away from the place where the majority of the people I know live in New York. I moved away from the place that once held so much promise to a NEW New Yorker.

I decided to migrate south....

...to Brooklyn.

I moved to a place where I met my first boyfriend in New York. I moved to a place where trees lined streets with beautiful brownstones and converse-wearing people read books on their stoops. I moved to a place where Trader Joe's neighbor is American Apparel. I moved to a place where my window overlooks the East River meeting the Hudson and the south tip of Manhattan and Lady Liberty looks at me every morning and reminds me to get going. I moved to a place owned by a Japanese artist and her family who are also now my neighbors. (Is that really any surprise?)

There are bonsai trees on the window sill in the stairwell... My apartment is oddly Japanese in style.... and I feel like maybe, this apartment found me just when I needed it.

But, today, while tying up loose ends with my "old" apartment, I exited the subway on Steinway.... the street that tried just a little too hard... the street that couldn't decide its identity... the street that so many times, annoyed me and disgusted me, and even sometimes scared me... and somehow, today, it made me admittedly, a little sad..... I am not exactly sure why....

Perhaps it felt like I was running away.... or maybe it felt like I had been a bit defeated by my first year in New York.... Until now in my life, the "glass slipper" had fit perfectly (literally and figuratively), and for some reason, Queens/New York was not proving to be the kingdom of my happily ever after.... Would moving south even change the way this "fairy tale" was headed?

As a veteran of living a life as close to a fairy tale as one can, there was always something missing in those dear stories..... I always wanted more adventure, more struggle, more challenges.... to make the happy ending that much sweeter and deserved.... I suppose New York is giving me just what I asked for!!!

So, as I continue to embark on the adventure of auditions in crowded studios, odd jobs, the search for the ever-elusive equity card, the hunt for a decent agent, dance classes, voice lessons and coachings, acting workshops - my "happily ever-after", I can only dream that someday someone will hire me and slip not a glass slipper, but a La Duca on my foot.... a shoe that was born to dance the night away on a Broadway stage. -M