Louise's blog

The run of Blue Surge closes this Sunday. This play definitely takes it out of you, very emotionally ravaging. I know that I’ve alluded to my personal and professional quandaries during the process but I hope that I end the run with contentment at having taken the journey.

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I will then, starting Monday, be freed up to focus on what’s next. There are some fun things brewing but OF COURSE I am always on the hunt. I realized, however, that I am entering this interesting phase of very specific, direct focus. I know what I want to develop career-wise and I am resolved to make it happen. But along with this specificity comes the acknowledgement that I need to let go of somethings. I need to move on. The only analogy I can think of it repotting a plant. When it starts to outgrow its pot, you replant it but then there’s this time of adjustment when it’s too small for the big pot. It will grow and fill it but you have to be patient. And you have to replant it. Because if you simply leave it in the small pot because it’s comfortable there or it looks so massive and powerful there, it will probably die.

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Okay, enough of the replanting analogy. I’m sure you get it. I have realized that I might need to be repotted. I am grooving at this level but itching for more. The terrifying more, the one that means being tiny again and new and at the bottom. But I want it. I realized that with a fierce certainty on Tuesday when the Academy Award nominations were announced. I want that, and people like Jeremy Renner and Anna Kendrick are inspiring. Wow, that feels evolved because I would have thought that I’d think “damn them” or something equally take-y. Full on jealousy.  But instead I am choosing now to see it as hopefully. They have two very different stories. Jeremy Renner has been kicking around the industry for years and Anna Kendrick is emerging.  And boy I would love to be in their shoes right now, rather than the snow boots I wore yesterday morning as I walked to my day job.

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Yes, saying that I want an Oscar nomination is not that rare or surprising. I know. But what it really signifies is that I want to do meaningful work. Work that lasts, a career that lasts.  Work that makes an impact.  And builds the foundation to grow and do more work and more work and more work.  Now sometimes I think that the critical praise machines (press, reviews, award shows) get it wrong but there is much truth there. The remarkable performances and scripts and productions are often rewarded and honored. I have decided that what I want to cultivate now is a series of career-developing/career-building and then career-solidifying projects. And if something doesn’t serve this goal, then I need to pass on it and let it go. Ever forward (or at least, not backwards). Because every time I go in for something that might send me adrift career-wise (be a setback of sorts) I know it, I feel it and I usually get grumpy.  And interestingly enough, I usually don’t get it.  Which is good, but strange and (if I’m not aware of what’s really going on) upsetting.

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There’s some female political activist (the quote is attributed to many people but oddly they are all women speakers) that said “you cannot be it if you cannot see it.” Since I’m not a fan of the negative in any context, I am reformatting that to be “you/I have to see it to be it.” I have to clearly see the “what I want” of my career and lock on that in sharp focus.  And if I cloud that possible vision with filler and half-assed things then I’m not leaving room for the good stuff. And I do that.  I cloud and muddy.  Because it’s often very seductive.  I get scared of the extra room in my pot (that was so lame, sorry) and instead of embracing the freedom and room to grow I tend to rush around trying to fill the empty space. No more.

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I am going to wrap up this run and then make myself stop. I’m going to sit and actually craft out a plan because 1) I don’t know if I have Jeremy Renner’s stamina and 2) I definitely haven’t had the same career beginnings as Anna Kendrick.  So they cannot be this year’s litmus test.  They are not the easy answer, the coveted actor success Mad Libs.  The “answer” doesn’t really exist (sad to say) because honestly no one gets there the same way anyway. You know?! There’s no clear path and even the “best practices” are usually a karmic crap-shoot.  So there’s no room to be envious. I take that back, there’s no time to be envious. And it doesn’t help in the end.

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So, Louise what are you doing to do? Well…  thanks for asking. I am doing to laser-focus myself on a few things I really want to accomplish career-wise, continue to cultivate relationships with people I’m dying to work with and move full force with my writing. Because there’s nothing quite like trying to empower yourself and make work for yourself. I’m going to dig in and get ready for Spring. After all, that’s when everything grows.  And hey, if you have any ideas or suggestions I would love to hear from you. 

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Soon to be getting home before midnight,

Louise

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Things I’m digging this week: rewatching the Extras series finale and the Yantra Mat (I think I want one)

Dream Role: Someone in a Martin McDonagh play (well, the next one)

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Yep, this one is about sports.  Does that surprise you?!  But there’s some universal stuff, I swear.  Now while it’s always rather easy to be a Jayhawks fan, my “hometown” teams of the Chiefs and the Royals have given me much heartache.  I diligently cheer them on and try to relish the underdog and “not again” status they evoke.  I’m hoping for a comer like George Brett (even with the bat tantrum) or the final career glory of Joe Montana.  Impressed, aren’t you?!

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So when I recently found out that the Royals signed Rick Ankiel for this coming Baseball season, I started dreaming of Spring.  Who’s Rick Ankiel you ask?  Well, sit back and relax because this is a good one.  Now if you read my blog you know that I am sucker for a good story, something affirming that shatters the odds.  Because I believe that anything is possible.  People can be amazing when they do not accept the alternative.

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So briefly (and there’s much more detail if you google him) Rick Ankiel started as a pitcher with the St. Louis Cardinals back in 1999.   And he was good.  Damn good.  On track to make some huge records and end up in the Hall of Fame.  Then in 2000, at the age of 20, he and his team were in the playoffs and something happened.  His arm was gone, or his directional tragectory was gone.  He thew 5 wild pitches in an inning (9 over 4 innings) and was pulled from the game.  People were saying it was over.  He had lost it. 

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Proving that he is of singular conviction, Rick didn’t accept the end of his professional baseball career.  This is what he was meant to do and if he couldn’t pitch… well, hell he was a good hitter too.  So my boy Rick decides to become an outfielder.  Yep, he says “take that MBL, I’m not going away.”  But it was a long road back because this just doesn’t always happen or it doesn’t always work.  So a few years pass and he ends up with the Pacific Coast League Triple A ball club.

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Now we jump to August 9, 2007.  Rick got the call and is back with the St. Louis Cardinals starting out in his first game.  And he hits a 3-run homer.  And the crowd freaks.  And Sports Center freaks.  And everyone rejoices because this just doesn’t get to happen, right?  People don’t get to be wonderful numerous times.  Or do they?!  Maybe that ability is in everyone but when you lose your arm for some unexplainable reason it might be easy to cash out, to give up.  Not Rick.  He knew his place and it was the ballpark.  Maybe not the pitcher’s mound as he thought in high school, but out in the field. 

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At 28 years old his first  four games contained three home runs.  And for me it brought this amazing sense of hope.  Because we all want to think that life gives us multiple chances.  That we get, if not a do-over, then another try.  And I think we do.  But we have to earn it, we have to be workers and fighters. 

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And now Rick Ankiel is a Kansas City Royal, for at least a year.  And I’m buying a jersey with his name and number on it (I’ve never done that before).  My dad said he’d take me to a game when I go visit over the summer.  So I’m going to sit in the Midwestern sun and watch a man live out a dream.  Not a bad way to spend an afternoon. 

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Thank you Rick.  For reminding me that there is nothing foolish about destiny, there is nothing wrong with a (verging on) fanatical belief that you belong somewhere specific and that if life smacks you down you have to get back up.  You have to make it happen and not stop trying.  Ever.  So here it is from someone’s home video.  It’s not majestical or anything, but it’s a man stepping back into his dream.  And that is amazing.

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This also makes me think of an episode of Sports Night (which you know I love) where a pitcher is making a MLB comeback.  The details aren’t necessarily important (although it’s a great episode, “The Sword of Orion”) but one line sticks out.  Casey (played by Josh Charles) says “There’s really nothing like seeing a guy realize he’s not done yet. Usually it goes the other way.”  It’s  true, right?  Life gets hard and people give up.  When I am less resilient, and I have been lately, I have a tougher time gearing up for the fight.  But then I realize that it’s not going to get easier and, if Rick Ankiel and others are any indication, it’s probably going to get harder.  So maybe I have to switch positions and get creative to stay in the game.  Because I love the game and I belong there.

Waiting for Opening Day,

L

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THINGS I’M DIGGING THIS WEEK: LOST’s Seasons 1-5 Recap (so excited for Feb 2) and John Denver’s “Sunshine on My Shoulder” (cynics beware, it’s cheesy but great and my mom & dad used to sing it to us)

DREAM ROLE: The Angel in Angels in America (someday, the third revival perhaps)

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I want to get the self promotion out of the way first; Blue Surge begins its three week run tonight. All the details are here or on my website.

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Okay, last week I wrote about all kinds of me-ness. And not much has changed in that situation; it’s still incredibly rough going for me and will probably turn out to be one of my biggest professional challenges for many reasons. But I realized something. In my icky moments, when I feel my most conflicted or irritated or (let’s go there) resentful, something always happens to shake me out of it. Not forever, not for good. But enough to stop the pity party, the self indulgent behavior. It’s a twisted gift that the world gives me, a reminder to reevaluate.

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Last week, and probably for many more, that was the news coming out of Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquake. And even more specifically, it was two stories that shook me, rock me to the bone. Forced me to stop being such a freaking baby and realize what really matters.

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The first was about the massive amount of amputations being done in Port-au-Prince. Doctors are flying in from around the world to help and they are finding that people have been living for days, over a week, with crushed bones and extreme injuries. This damaged limbs and severe infections are leaving the doctors with no option beyond amputation. This is a drastic and difficult reality in the best of circumstances, in the best of situations, but in a country like Haiti it is devastation. Living as an amputee in this environment is insurmountably difficult. People know that and argue with the doctors. One woman was refusing to let them amputate the left leg of her daughter and the doctor was trying to explain (through an interpreter) that the alternative was death. This still did not calm her fears. The issue is compounded by the severe lack of prosthetic limbs. They were almost non-existent before and virtually impossible now. There’s hope that companies will step in and help out but the demand will be staggering. The reporter said the fear is that Haiti will become a nation of amputees.

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So that is heartbreaking. I cannot imagine being an amputee. I don’t think I could handle that and I live in a place where I would be given every possible shred of assistance and support. The scope of life beyond this tragedy is almost beyond comprehension.

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The other story was about a woman… well I’d advise you to just watch the story unfold. It is amazing and I will not do it justice. Bill Neely of Britain’s ITV comes across this man named Roger who is searching in the rumble of an office building for his wife, Jeanette. It’s Sunday and she has been missing for six days. It’s rather quite when he first starts yelling for her and suddenly he hears something. She is calling out to him. Roger and others start to dig away but it’s not until a unit of the LAFD shows up that they are able to start making some headway. Mr. Neely sticks the microphone into the rumble and they can hear her talking. Much like the children who waited in line for hours and said “thank you” when being handed a bottle of water after 5 days of going without, she is polite and patient. Her hand is crushed under a beam but once they remove it, they are able to free her.

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When Jeanette is carried out into the night air she starts to sing. Yes, she starts to sing. Seriously, watch the clip. When they ask her if she thought she would live, if she thought she would make it, she says “Why not?!” Why not indeed. If I ever needed a sense of perspective… there it is.

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Yet again I have been yanked from my moping, from my self-reflection, and reminded that I don’t have to be blue. Or, honestly, that I don’t have any reason to be blue. When I feel disgruntled and bitter (even if it’s justifiable) I should simply take the time to focus outward. I should find something else to support, something outside of me. I can do some good instead of pouting. It’s like my mother used to say when we would be sitting inside complaining about feeling gross or being bored or any other childhood exasperation, “Go outside and get some sunshine and fresh air, it will do you good.” Give a little to the relief effort; watch the news and most of all: be grateful for what I have. Reverent in the surplus and patient in the lack. And hopeful, always, that tomorrow will bring with it more joy than sadness.

Thanks,

L

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Things I’m digging this week: The Heavy (unexplainable joy) and Hoops & YoYo (I laugh every time)

Dream Role: the future will be televised; got my eye on Mercy, The Good Wife, Damages and Law & Order

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I was hesitant to write this post because people involved might read it (if anyone really reads this besides the few I’m already aware of that spend much of their time in close proximity to me) and I’m sharing a pretty unflattering side of myself.  Well, I guess that’s what blogs are all about, a transparency… so here goes.

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I am involved in a show (it runs Jan 21^st- Feb 7^th so here’s  the info) and it’s mostly the normal process of a production.  It’s not a new play, which is a change from over a year of solely new work, and I truly enjoy its embracing but lacerating story.  However, I find that I have this high level of envy going on.  The cast is two guys and three girls.  Usually I slide into my role and move forward but in this play I am very covetous of the other two female parts.  There are many reasons for it.  Some are very basic and perhaps childish: my part is smaller (please don’t say “No small parts only small actors” to me, I know that and she is a great role, blah blah blah) and circumstantially less developed because of it.  That I can handle.  I can rope in my desire to be on stage more, my wish to dive into pages & pages, scenes & scenes and really chew up the furniture.  I read the play; I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the offer.

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The deeper and more challenging part of my jealousy is that I want to say their lines, their characters’ words.  Not because I wish it was me instead of them, they are lovely, but because I want it too.  Does that make sense?  It’s especially true with one of the roles.  I would love to play her.  That’s it.  And there’s nothing I can do about it.  I cannot change it, not right now.  So, because I’m in this situation for another month, I have to find a way to cope (hell, to thrive) despite my conflicted nature.  They were cast in the role, I was not.  Believe me; I’ve given myself a stern talkin’ to about that…

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I received great advice early on in my endeavors.   Someone said to me that it’s okay to be envious but the trick is to get to the place where instead of “I want it/that” you can truly say/think/feel “I want it/that TOO.”  This helps make it about how you feel without lessening the accomplishment or experience for the other person.  (Truthfully, I have been on receiving end of “I wish that was me” and I felt kind of crappy about that scenario as well so maybe jealousy is difficult from any angle.)  It’s the feeling of exposure, of vulnerability, of lack. 

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But maybe I should choose to see it as hopeful. My mother and father, the brilliant parental strategists that they are, always embraced our wild emotions with the affirmation “That means you really care about it.  That’s a good thing.”  When something was super exciting or infuriating they would never invalidate our reaction.  Instead they told us that the feeling meant something positive, it meant that we cared so much about the thing/person/event and that IS a good thing.  So maybe the green monster is our friend.  Pushing us to be more by showing us what we are not.  And there’s always next time…

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Thanks for “listening” and I hope you don’t think less of me,

Louise

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Things I’m digging this week: my gluten free haunts- Baby Cakes, Sugar Rush Bake Shoppe, Risotteria

Dream Role: Mae in Maria Irene Fornes’ Mud

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Writing about Nelson Mandel last week reminded me that I had yet to mention one of the best theatrical experiences of my life.  And yes, there is a correlation (I promise).  I think this event was so powerful because it blended theatrical performance with real life, with history, in a way that causes this awareness of artistic eternity.  There’s a reason that words spoken on a stage thousands of years ago are still relevant.  Why we still weep when Juliet wakes up.  It is beyond us and inside us all at once.

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The show that rocked my world was Sizwe Banzi is Dead.  I saw it at BAM in April of 2008.  The play developed through workshops with its two performers Winston Ntshona and John Kani along with the playwright Athol Fugard in the early 1970s.  When it began performances in South Africa its gripping indictment of apartheid lead to jail time for the actors when they refused to stop performing it.

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Joe Melillo of BAM said it much more eloquently than I would: ”The very existence of this play is a remarkable testament of the defiance and daring commitment of these artists in the face of grotesque oppression.”  What really brought me to tears (beyond those evoked by the strength of the play itself) is the fact that the two originating actors were performing the show for the last time.  They were “retiring” it after the run.  Thirty six years after being thrown in jail for saying these exact words, I sat feet away from them.

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I suppose that it’s rare to have a moment  in your  life  feel weighted and meaningful and special WHILE it is happening.  Normally you look back on something and see how important it was, but at the time it was a day like any other.  Well not this time.  To watch these men perform this play, words fail me.  They were young men when it began in 1972, speaking out against something so evil that it doesn’t exist anymore.  They survived, traveling from jail to Broadway.  Now in their 60s, they still crackle and sparkle with vibrancy and passion.  They never forgot what the play meant, they never lost the power of the work.   They bellowed and raged, wept and rejoiced.  And so did I.  I was there.

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I think that’s the amazing thing about the theatre (and movies and music and painting…. the list goes on and on).  No one can take it away from you.  And as I sit and write this I can still hear their voices.  I get chills and my eyes well up with tears.  It will never not mean something.  It will remain visceral and immediate.  And I am grateful and humbled to have been there.  It’s that story that I will tell.  Of being taken to a time and place I will luckily never know, of being shown how 36 years and a million tellings cannot dampen a story’s efficacy. 

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Then the final words were spoken, the lights fell and all was silent.  Amidts tears and applause,  Winston and John took the stage.  They simply stood, embraced by a mass of people unified and connected.  Race and gender and background had dissolved.  We were taken to a dark and haunted place and then brought back home safe and sound but forever changed.  This is why I can imagine no other life.  Because you hope against hope to be a part of something that means more than you.  Something that mends the cracks that the world can create.  Something that will live on.

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I can never thank them enough.  For being brave and fierce… and staying so damn healthy.  I am eternally grateful.

Thanks for reading,

L

*****

Things I’m digging this week: my Kansas Jayhawks basketball team (rock chalk!), Rebecca Gilman, Jello Mousse

Dream Role: Anastasia/Annain Marcelle Maurette’s play (but science recently proved she didn’t survive, I always wanted it to be true…)

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I missed a week. I know. But a snowy Midwestern visit somehow caused things to slip a bit. So here’s the last of my year end three. I wanted to generate a list of the more universal things that bring me joy or fill me with wonder. And I started it about a dozen times but it seemed lacking or less. So here’s a little list of the bits and pieces that float to the top of the “what I love” pile. It’s forever growing and shifting, so I’m open to suggestions.

And then, as I am prone to do, I’m sharing probably the most poignant moment I have experienced, the one that still rattles with its own enormity.

The Itty Bitty Kitty Committee

The PS 22 chorus

Six Feet Under

LOST

The Lower East Side Tenement Museum

The Staten Island Ferry (it’s free too)

Risotteria

The Cliffs of Moher in Ireland

The Time Traveler’s Wife (in BOOK form)

Running on Empty

The Butterfly room at The Natural History Museum

The actual painting of Vincent Van Gogh’s The Starry Night

Matisyahu (he’s amazing)

Dante Gabriel Rosetti’s Beata Beatrix

The Damnwells

Art Start

Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice

Clinton Lake

The Dalai Lama speaking in Central Park on May 23, 2010 (let’s go)

Finally, a moment I hold almost above all others: on a visit to London I was privileged enough to inadvertently come across the Dorchester Hotel at the exact moment that Nelson Mandela was standing outside the building. He was talking to a few people, perhaps a press conference had recently ended or he was simply chatting with some other guests. We took a picture from across the road in Hyde Park, as not to be too rude, and then made our way over. He was gracious and so kind, he wished everyone well and then headed inside.

It was this amazing moment where I was so keenly aware of my small blip in the human existence. How I had so much work to do if I even hoped to make any kind of impact. I know that artists can create work that is meaningful and transcendent, but nothing compares to surviving 27 years in prison and leading a deeply divided country to multi-racial democracy. No matter how hard I try, I can never give that much or mean that much. And somehow it’s good to know and remember that, so that I simply try to forge my own path in its small and steady way.

I came across a quote that seems mantra worthy:

“Life is always a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.”

Edith Wharton

I wish you every blessing for the year ahead,

L

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice.”

T. S. Eliot

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This week I continue with my list but strive to move outwards from my circle to others that inspire me.  These are shining examples of individuals and organizations that rock my world more figuratively.  And in most cases, I would LOVE to know and work with them:

Steppenwolf Theatre Company- I adore them ALL but especially worship Amy Morton

Women’s Expressive Theater, Inc.- in particular their mentorship program

James Thierree- one of the most amazing performers I have EVER seen, in my life…

Blake Snyder- incredible screenwriting coach (he wrote me a beautiful follow up email once)

13P

Callie Kimball- don’t know her, wish I did (this extends to Gus Schulenburg and James Comtois as well)

Gary King- writer and filmmaker

Keith Olbermann (he’s the inspiration for Casey in Sports Night, that’s kind of weird)

Chris Brogan (his ‘overnight success’ series is inspirational)

Art Start- program bringing arts programs to kids & teens in NYC homeless shclters

Jon Krakauer’s writing

Slings and Arrows- three incredible seasons, the amazing Paul Gross

Patty Jenkins- (cheating a bit as I do know her)

So next week I will expand to people, places and things that bring me joy in an even wider context.  I hope that holidays are treating you well and safe travels if they take you away from home.

L

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One of my favorite shows in the world is Sports Night.  I didn’t know about it until long after it’s all too brief airing but I own the complete series on DVD and often find a way to bring the show into a conversation.  I know, the pilot has a pretty serious canned laugh track going on but give it time.  I have many favorite moments, the Everest episode (if you have read anything I’ve written or know anything about me, clearly I have a ‘verging on obsessed’ interest in that Mountain) and I’ve actually had a bit of Dan’s “wall” speech to Rebecca quoted to me personally.  I mean, it was destined to be a part of my life, one episode of the show is titled “Dear Louise.”

So one part I love (this wouldn’t embed, it starts at 5:32)  is when they are approaching the holidays and Casey and Dan (forgive my familiarity but it’s a ploy to get you to watch the series) talk about all the people in their “family” and give thanks and acknowledgement to them.  Okay, Casey and Dan are sports anchors on a Sport Center-esque TV show.  Casey had been a bit oblivious to those that work around him and support him but (aided by Dan’s inadvertent wisdom) he ends up righting any wrongs by paying public homage to those who make his work possible.

So, in breaking with my past blogging (I was going to call it my blogging tradition but I don’t think 6 months qualifies) I wanted to spend the next three Thursdays honoring those that make my work possible.  My life possible.  Well not in the ‘air in my lungs’ way… but you know what I mean.  First it’s going to be those that more tangibly fuel me, whether they know it or not.  Then I want to move outwards from my little world and mention various other people and things that inspire me and that simply bring me joy.

For the lack of a fancier way to do it, here goes my list:

NYWFIT and the Dramatists Guild of America- for letting me join the ranks

Michael Brandt- for his bravery, for his words, for being a great cutman

Jacqueline Goldfinger- for writing amazing work and letting me be a small part of it

MTWorks (David, Cristina, Julie, Antonio, Sarah, Martha, Dianna, Madalyn)- for it all

Isaac Oliver- for your revolutionary literary works, for your blog, for your eternal honesty

Johnna Adams- for your plays (even though I’m pretty sure you don’t like me at all)

Leslie Atkins Durham- for reminding me why I do what I do

Robert Scott Wildes- for your unique vision & stunning take on the world

Lindsey Marlin- for getting it, for a sense of perspective

Molly Ryman, Lindsay Goranson & Erin Cronican- for inspiring envy (it’s a good thing)

Beth Baker- for reading, for monitoring, for always helping, for singing

Mac Rogers- for Viral initially and then a world of other words

Sean Williams- for your kind words, for your thoughtful blog, for future possibilities

Rob & Crystal- for trusting me with your vision

John Lepp- for your inspiration and encouragement

Laura Roeder- for your marketing/pr brilliance

C J Maldonado- for raising the bar, for your help

Dr. Ganjhu- for positive results

TK- for being the first one to respond, for coming to everything, for gf pecan pie

Heather Leonard- for striking up the conversation and keeping it going

Heather Harper- for a little bit of peace

Ian Jorgensen- for teaching me to breathe and stand up straight, for encouragement

And as Sports Night says, I’m sure I’ve missed some people but I will try to remedy that in the coming weeks.  No mention of gratitude would be complete with my family.  I get to see them soon so I’ll try to take care of that in person.

Thanks for reading, this post and any others you might have made it through.  I am also ever grateful for you. 

Until next week,

L

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I have some fun career news so I’ll get that out of the way first. I am going to be playing Heather in Rebecca Gilman’s Blue Surge at the beginning of next year. I’m working with the folks at Extant Arts Company and the show goes up from January 21st- February 7th at The Wild Project. The venue is this amazing eco-friendly space in New York’s East Village. It might not be the first area of town when you think of theatre but the space is near La MaMa E.T.C. and the New York Theatre Workshop so we’ll be in good company. It’s a pretty brutal show, and a wild role, so I am currently that wonderful mix of excited and nervous in regards to the challenge.

In other matters, I remember someone one telling me that life is going to continue to confront you with situations and circumstances you are usually hesitant (or scared or afraid) to deal with until you finally overcome them. One example, not one of mine but I’ve seen it happen, is the tendency to date the same type of person over and over again until you break the pattern, stand up for yourself, realize the truth of your circumstances… all of those self-actualizing phrases. In my current reality it is not so much being confronted with an uncomfortable situation or something I am unsure of how to handle but more of a “well now that you’ve learned how to (insert proud accomplishment here) you are going to be continually bombarded with reasons and opportunities to test this new-found skill.” I get it; I’m getting tougher and stronger. I have learned to speak my mind, at least more so than my former version that was often overwhelmed by self-consciousness. The whole “will people like me?” and “was that okay to say or do?” mantras have somewhat softened. And they have been replaced with a new talisman of truth. One I share gladly.

This truth that has revolutionized most of my life encounters is “You teach people how to treat you.” Simple, right? Not quite the mind-bending philosophy you expected. I can pinpoint my discovery of this lesson. I was reading a book of short stories by Maeve Binchy called London Transports. Now bear with me because this weaves around a bit. There was one story about an Irish girl who has traveled to London to end a pregnancy because she was sleeping with her married boss. I warned you, it’s seemingly random and not circumstantially related to me at all. While she was in the facility in London she shares a room with another girl having the same procedure. This British girl is with her boyfriend and (if memory serves) they just weren’t ready to have kids. When the two women are alone later in the story, the talk about whether or not the married man knows about the pregnancy and if our heroine is going to tell him what she’s done. She says that she isn’t so the Brit goes into this speech about how she needs to be careful because she is always going to feel that she made this big sacrifice for this man and she gave up so much for him but since he doesn’t know anything about it, he will not shower her with the thanks or attention or extra care she may need at this time.

I know, it’s not really a clean or clear transition from the story to my belief quote but what I took away from that story is that the information you provide to others, the way you behave with others, teaches them how to treat you. If you don’t say what you need, you will never get it. So I have tried to follow my own advice. The best example of it was when someone really kind of screwed me over at my day job in the past. He didn’t stick up for me in one situation and it upset me. He let someone else boss me around when he was my supervisor (and I was RIGHT). After the other person left, my boss turned to me and said “Don’t be mad.” In one of my finest moments of self-proclamation I turned to him and said “I am mad at you and it’s going to have to be okay for now. I’m not going to be angry tomorrow, I’m probably not going to be angry in 15 minutes, but right now I am mad at you. You didn’t defend me and you should have. And it’s going to have to be okay that I’m mad at you because there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” He simply said “Okay” and we sat in silence for a bit. And I was fine very shortly after that, probably because I had been able to so quickly express my genuine and correctly-directed irritation and hurt. I was able to teach him how to treat me. To not invalidate my feelings because, right or wrong, they existed.

I know, get to the point Louise. Well… as of late I am finding that many situations demand this same kind of direct and truthful “calling out” of reality. And it’s a challenging thing to do. It’s hard to speak your mind but the reward of simply expressing your thoughts and feelings is so amazing that I try to gear up and do it. But I confess that it’s challenging. And often you are reminded of the fact that hiding and stifling and tolerating usually feels like the easier road to take. It’s hard to be honest. And sometimes it truly sucks. But I ask myself “what would I rather.” And even if it hurts and even if it’s soul-crushing in the moment, at the end of the day I can look myself in the mirror and fall asleep in peace. I can rest knowing that I did my best. That I tried to be the most honest, bravest and giving version of myself. That in the end I will know that I tried. And the people and situations around me are worth it. Maybe my bouts of insomnia are really those times when I put up with things and situations that are hurting me, or when I am fighting my true feelings. And I don’t have them much anymore. Okay, I still have them but they are MUCH less frequent. Even when things are frightening or challenging, when they don’t turn out as I hoped, at least I can sleep.

I wish you all the strength and passion possible. I know it’s a crazy world but I wish you peace.

L

Things I’m digging this week: The Damnwells’ new album in the making (amazing passion and talk about never giving up!) and this cutey kitten (have you seen this?!)

Dream Role: Antigone (keeping with the fighter girl theme of this post!)

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It’s Thanksgiving here in the USA (in case that is not your corner of the world).  It’s going to be strange and rather exciting when my blog posting day falls on a holiday.  I suppose it’s only appropriate to adopt the inherent theme and go with it.  In the case, I should write about giving thanks.  In quiet moments it is almost shocking to reflect back over the course of 2009.  I don’t quite feel ready to do the year analysis yet (five more weeks to accomplish things) but it has been a very blessed stretch for me.  Creatively I have achieved all of the goals I set out for myself and then some.  That’s usually hard to do given the lack of control normally predominant in my industry in general and my profession specifically.

There is a sense of satisfaction with the work done, the collaborations created and the artistic journeys taken.  But I can never quite forget that at the core of it all, I am so lucky to have the opportunity to even take this life path, to even be pursuing this career.

Thanksgiving, or really holiday dinners in general, usually brings with it these strong memories of my Great Uncle Virgil.  I know that there are those people in everyone’s life; the people you wish could see those landmark moments.  He was proud of me for no real concrete reason, encouraging back when New York City seemed as far away as the moon.  He died when I was a teenager and… well I tried to write the end of this sentence four times and I think that I cannot find the words to finish it.  I love him for so many reasons, one of which is that he had such faith in me.  When family and friends express this kind of faith or believe in me it is so powerful because this isn’t their life, this isn’t a career or an art form that they have any connection to with any tangible regularity.  Like most people, it’s simply rented movies and a night out at the theatre every now and then.

But the opportunity to have it in my life daily?  To get to focus on art as my sole professional endeavor?  I mean even my more consistent money-job is in this industry. Now, that is amazing.

And I should actually be MORE thankful for that than all of the achievements that exist within that allowance.  That I have the amazing fortune to live as an artist.  I grew up hearing about the working life of a social worker, a lawyer, an engineer, a nurse, a state payroll employee, a county patrolman, a teacher, a farmer, a waitress and the list goes on and on.  These were/are the professions of those family and friends around me.  I saw that you could make a life doing anything, as long as you make it YOUR life.

Maybe that’s why I never really get scared about my life.  Okay, that’s a lie.  But I don’t stay scared for long.  I know that I was genetically bequeathed the strength and passion to survive and I was logistically provided the education and opportunity to really try, to make a go of it.

So more important than WHAT I have been able to accomplish this year is THAT I was able to accomplish it.  That I have been given, through the whirligig of time and geography and countless variables beyond my control, the chance to be this person in this life.  I’m realizing as I write this that this fact is what I should celebrate, this is what I should be most thankful for today.  And every day.  To never forget how blessed I am.  And sometimes I forget.  I have moments of defeat or petulance or simply being a giant whiny baby, so shame on me for that.  Today I take the time to remember, to feel so supremely lucky, and to embrace the work ahead.

I hope that you have had a blessed day wherever you are,

L

Things I’m Moved By This Week: Chris Brogan’s Overnight Success blogs & the documentary Trouble the Water

Dream Role: Mae in Maria Irene Fornes’ Mud

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