This morning thanks to a segment on the Today show, I discovered this: www.futureme.org. Write yourself a letter and date it twenty years in the future! Imagine your surprise when you totally forget that you did this and you're forty and you hear from your past-self.
Also, it's so perfect outside, almost my birthday, and this coffee is great. BTTF, Erin
When I was at Emerson, there was a period of time when I hosted a morning radio show on WERS called The Coffeehouse. It was pretty awesome - acoustic music, indie rock, some hippy music for the population that can't get enough hippy music. Those folks, by the way, aren't as docile as you'd imagine. They WANT to hear folk from the early 1970s and they're vocal about it. Anyway, it was a morning show in Boston and it started at 6am so I'd take the first blue line train from Winthrop, dodge the staggery AM crackheads, and make it to the studio by 5:40 or so. There was something alternately exhilarating and terrifying about this - being the first person to open up the station, being generally alone there with all that big equipment until 8am or so. But as scary as that was, I loved the independence of it.
This week, I've opted to start taking on opening shifts at Healthworks (the nice ladies gym for nice ladies- I'm pitching the slogan), and it's much the same feeling. There's a lot less stress involved as there are virtually no aging flower children berating me over the phone for playing too much Morrissey, but the excitement of being the first person up is still fresh. Three days in a row I've been Dunkin Donuts' first customer -- beaten on Monday by a shifty construction worker who left his car door open blasting JAMN 94.5. Never again, shifty. I'm first.
In this interim time, where I'm kind of filling in the employment blanks, I'm really excited that I've rediscovered the part of me that thinks sleeping 'till seven is for suckers. YEAH YOU HEARD ME. Just kidding. But I'm hoping that I can keep this motivation for early living going, maybe utilizing it for writing when there's a day when there's no sauna to turn on or Joni Mitchell to play.
Thinking this morning about how inspired I am by all the people I know who are making wonderful things. I've always fancied myself a "creative" person, even when that just chalked up to having the most radical perspective drawings in Miss Meserve's 1st grade art class at the Willis School. As a creative person I've kind of always been drawn to other creative people and this morning I was reflecting on all of the kind of amazing, driven, and entrepreneurial ladies and gentlemen I have the pleasure of knowing. Here's a short list of creative stuff creative folks are doing:
Gus and Ruby: I know I've raved about this brand new small business before, but it bears repeating. Take a look at their website and if you're in NH, check out there store. I'm kind of obsessed with their paper, initiative, and business idea. Seriously, check out their little organizers - adorable.
Jess Barnett: My former co-worker, former roommie, and current friend I don't see enough, Jess, is a brilliant artist and is continually creating and marketing her work. When we lived in an apartment in Central Square she lost a coin toss and ended up with the smaller room which was always packed with drafts of her unique paintings -- hope she's got more room now!
Cut to Hollywood where 9 out of 10 of my Emerson classmates are doing one amazing thing (Ulterior Productions) or another (Easy Bake Lovin'). These folks have taken the reigns and started their own production companies to make the kind of work they want to make. What balls! I'm filled with admiration.
One of my more brilliant compatriots Neil Reynolds created, wrote, produced an original TV pilot, Unbalanced! It was directed and edited by Jeremiah Jordan and stars some of my very favorite people. Needless to say, it's going to be awesome, and Neil is an absolute inspiration for seeing the whole thing through from idea to completion. Go Neil!
And this is to say nothing about all the folks in improvisation and performance/writing in general who continue to tirelessly work and create hilarious, or moving, or ridiculous stuff. I think there actually may be too many of these ones to name. ALSO, the small band of idiot warriors (of which I am one) who have begun the tradition of trying to write a novel in the month of November. Crazy jerks, all of them -- literally, all these people are a little crazy, but there also a lot talented and very unafraid. Check them out! Buy their stuff, watch their videos, go to their shows, or write one yourself.
Mr. Shapiro was my drama teacher from 7th grade until high school graduation. He wasn't the first person to believe in me, but he was perhaps the most adamant. No excuses, no waffling, no bullshit, just do good work and do a lot of it. He died in 2001, and I'm pretty sure that today is the anniversary of his death. There's a whole big crop of us from Winthrop High School who were molded into the people we are today by a our teacher's caring, ass kicking, leadership, dedication, infuriating stubbornness, and weirdo obsession with Sophia Loren.
I thought about him just the other night after Ryan and I saw Fences at the Huntington Theater. Especially in the light of what I'm trying more and more to do, I think he'd give me the OK on my life, and that makes me really happy. I think some of the most interesting people in the world were Mr. Shapiro's drama geeks, and I'm proud to count myself among the jazz squaring, monologue memorizing ranks.
Mr. Shapiro, we miss you and love you. And as for me, I constantly wish you were alive so I could get your take on things. But I guess the only thing to do is just shut up and do good work, a lot of it.
Week by week, I'm attaining employment...working out pretty OK so far! Last week I taught a week-long improv camp for 5-9 year olds at IB and it was kind of amazing. Intense, because there were 17 of them and I almost lost my voice, but amazing. When a six year old nails a joke during "World's Worst"...that's what joy is made of, folks.
Next week I'll be working at Perkins School for the Blind doing some administrative stuff, so that should be fun. I temped there a week or so ago and it reminded me of Hogwarts in a totally delightful way.
We're off to BBQ city right now, so I'm running off. Have a glorious Labor day, especially if you're actually giving birth.
This year's eighth month has been all over the map -- sorry for the few-and-far-between blog posts. Just checking in now to give the ol "hey, I'm still here!" while I brainstorm something fascinating to write about.
Due to some unexpected twists and turns in my life-plot I'm currently on the search for work, and it's actually been a pretty rewarding experience. I guess sometimes you just wake up at 4am and know it's time to shift priorities. It happens with me that most of my revelations come to me this way, and I'd kind of love it if they were more the "quietly approaching during afternoon tea" type, but you take what you get. I finished my course work for my Masters degree this summer and it touched off a chain of introspection that's led me to where I am today. So, yes, I'm terrified about the "no safety net" nature of my current job(less) situation, but I'm also optimistic and much more focused than I have been in years.
So for all of August's distractions and ridiculous boloney (and there's been greasy truck-loads), it's a strengthening transition. I guess this was a kind of personal and totally not funny entry...er...sorry. All the Kennedy coverage has me a little reflective, I think!
Can't wait until Hank Philipi Ryan makes this whole thing into a literary thriller....
When presented with the opportunity to get out of town this weekend I took it - hard. Friday night, we drove to Harwichport, where my family has a little, sweet, un-airconditioned cottage right next to a cemetery. I think I was probably creeped out by the location when we first started spending time down there when I was a kid, but now I'm pretty grateful for how quiet the neighbors are when they aren't rising from their early 19th century plots and feasting on brains. Which has hardly been a problem since '02. It's not as though Cape Cod is rural America or anything, but what a nice change of pace. The only problem was, because time was so limited, and 9am Monday so inevitable, we had to hurry up and relax, as it were.
The weekends' big wins include but aren't limited to: *A nearly 20 mile bike ride from Harwichport to Orleans from which my body has yet to fully recover * Dining outside on the deck at Clancy's where they may play Billy Ocean, Sheila E., and Prince, but they also have a gorgeous river view and GIANT SHRIMP *Naps *Meltaways *Watching a multi-generational European family furiously playing mini-golf.
On Sunday as we watched an elderly local couple eat soup and Chardonnay at the 400 Club I mused about just moving to the Cape, working here: ..and calling it a day. Doesn't sound too bad to me at all.
But then there's all the nagging business about comedy, aspirations, pipe dreams, etc. But every time I go down for a few days I just want to stay...to go to the beach, bike ride, read a bunch of books that I won't be quizzed on, and eat some GIANT SHRIMP.
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