January 1st
New Year's Resolution 2010:
To fall in love with winter.
Why? Because I hate winter. I hate everything about winter besides hot cocoa and my leather boots - but those are two things that I'm not exactly longing for in summer. And for 24 winters of my life, I've just accepted the fact that I'm not a winter person. But I realized that winter in New York is 4 months of my year. That's 1/3 of my year. That's 1/3 of my life! That's a long time to be miserable. In an effort to be more positive, I am going to fall in love with winter. And try to love it just as much as summer. Maybe I'll find I love winter so much that I'll actually look forward to it! Maybe when people ask me what my favorite season is, I'll now have 4 to choose from! Maybe my friends will think of me as the winter-loving girl. They'll say "Oh Jodie's always in a good mood. She loves all seasons. She's such an any-weather-loving girl."
Good-bye to my list of reasons why winter sucks!
WHY WINTER SUCKS:
1. It's cold.
1a. You always wish you had one more layer on.
1b. You are uncomfortable walking anywhere.
1c. You feel lazy for staying in your apartment because you are too cold and uncomfortable to walk anywhere.
2. It's dark.
2a. Less time for playing outside.
2b. It's proven that the Vitamin D of the sun makes you happy.
3. Hats make my hair flat and static-y. (Is that a word?)
4. I takes forever to put on hats and gloves and scarfs and coats and long socks. Time that could be spent doing more enjoyable things. Like sipping iced tea on my porch in the summer.
5. Snow
5a. Snow makes sidewalks slushy and dirty, which make your shoes gross.
5b. Snow turns to ice, which makes you slip and fall.
5c. Snowstorms cancel things, like school and after-school activities.
(Ok -- yes I was the kid who was upset on snow days. When other kids were excited to build snowmen and have snowball fights, I was secretly sad that I could not go to school and see my friends and learn things. And snow was always getting caught between my mittens and my coat and it would be so cold. My mom would sometimes cut a whole in a plastic sandwich bag and then secure it between the elastic of my coat and the elastic of my mitten. I don't remember it working too well.)
"Why Winter Sucks" continued...
6. You think winter will end in March...but it doesn't!
7. There aren't any fun holidays in winter. (Don't kid yourself that Valentine's Day is fun.) And Christmas just passed, so now what do we do?
8. I like tank tops.
9. Beach trumps everything.
10. My radiator is 100 years old and clanks all night long and I don't sleep. At all. For 4 months.
But I am not dwelling on the negative anymore! New Year, New Me, New Favorite Season. There are a lot of things to enjoy in the winter! My sister and I went for a run today, New Year's Day - not to kick-off most people's resolutions of exercise in the new year, but to kick-off our Fall in Love with Winter Crusade. Hello list of reasons why winter's awesome!
REASONS WHY WINTER'S AWESOME:
1. Running through a snow-filled park - when the sidewalks are clear and it's not too cold out - is really pretty.
2. When there's snow on the ground - and it's sunny out - it's pretty.
3. My winter coat is pretty.
4. You can drink hot cocoa.
4a. And have a cookie with it.
That's all I have for now. I'm sure I'll find more as the days continue.
January 2nd
WHY WINTER IS AWESOME TODAY:
1. It's not snowing today.
January 3rd
WHY WINTER IS AWESOME TODAY:
1. It's not snowing or raining today.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Lessons from a 7th Grader
“Yea what’s up with that Harry Potter kid, anyway? He’s still at that school. Is he ever going to graduate? I mean, what is he doing - getting his PhD in wizardry?” My 12 year old brother has made me laugh so hard with his stand-up comedian voice, I’ve got tears in my eyes. Then he confesses he heard that line in a movie. Which makes me laugh even harder because kids are always repeating what they hear from adults and TV. Especially my 12 year old brother who has 5 adults for family members.
I wrote my college essay on my brother Michael who was born when I was 11 years old, and how when my parents told me the news I shouted at them “He’s going to ruin everything!!!” You’re supposed to write about a life-changing event or a significant person, showing your personality and personal growth. His birth certainly was life-changing, because I transformed from THAT type of kid into the type of person that would now shout “That’s wonderful!” at such news. I wrote that essay 7 years ago, and it got me into Fairfield University with a scholarship. And forced me to move away from my little brother when he was only 6 years old and didn’t yet know what college was or what going away meant. Although, being the oldest child, I don’t think any of us in my family knew yet what that would mean.
Every time I go home, like for this Thanksgiving trip, I sound like an old lady who pinches little kids’ cheeks. “Oh you’ve grown so tall!” I no longer think old ladies are crazy, because Michael really does grow another 2 inches every time I see him. And his voice is getting a little deeper. And he’s getting more muscle on him. And he cares about how he dresses. And he says grown-up things. And he holds the door for me and takes my suitcase up to my room. And he uses a cell phone!!!
“Mmmm this chocolate pie is just exquisite,” he says instead of “This is good.” What 12 year old describes chocolate pudding pie as exquisite? He uses big words - usually incorrectly - in an attempt to fit in with the 5 adult members of his family.
But although he seems grown up in a lot of ways to me, he is still full of youthful innocence and playfulness and purity. Sometimes I wonder if life is easier when we’re kids because we have our parents to guide us and take care of us, or if it’s because we don’t yet know about all the awful things that come with life. For most, stress and self-doubt aren’t in our vocabulary yet. Most children don’t know about loss, or heartache, or grief yet. They all want to grow up to be professional hockey players, rock stars, and astronauts. They all have big dreams and they believe they’ll come true.
“Jodie when we all grow up, do you want to live in a big house together? Me, you, Kristen and Lindsey?”
“That sounds nice, Michael. Sure.” Because even though it’s unrealistic that my 2 sisters, Michael and I would all live together, it does sound nice. So instead of crushing his novel idea, I decide to play along and partake in this dream.
“Ok, it’s gonna be an old farmhouse like in Suffield or something – so, close to Mom and Dad. But the inside will be all new. And we’ll have a huge yard. 4 acres. And we’re going to have 2 dogs – a black lab and a golden retriever, named Tiki and Lucky – and 3 cats – doesn’t matter what kind or their names yet – and 4 horses. Kristen and I will take care of the horses, so you don’t have to worry about that. And we’ll have a path down to a tributary – wait, what’s like a little river called?”
“A stream?”
“Yea, a stream. We’ll have a stream that connects to the ocean and we’ll keep 20 kayaks down there.”
“20?! Why do we need 20 kayaks?! Don’t we only need 4?”
“So our friends can kayak with us.”
“Oh, right. Duh.” How could I forget about all 16 of our friends? Maybe because I’m still thinking that it’s funny that our dogs are clearly more loved than our cats.
“And we can have a motor boat there, too. Or a sailboat. Whatever we decide. Sound good?”
“Sounds great, Michael,” because it does. Except… “Except I don’t know if I want all those animals. The house will smell.”
“That’s ok - we’ll be able to afford plenty of Febreeze.”
And with that comment – my new gauge of success in life is if I’ll be able to afford Febreeze when I’m an adult.
I have so many friends who are worried about the future – our careers, our relationships, our financial security. I confess, I’m guilty of facing those insecurities on a daily basis, as well. Am I really taking the right steps towards my career? Will I be as successful in achieving my life dreams as I was at getting A’s in school? Will I ever meet the man of my dreams and fall in love? And if I do, will I be able to raise my kids without them turning out nuts? And can we live in a nice house and buy nice things? It is refreshing – no, inspiring – to hear my little brother speak so confidently and precisely about his dreams. They say if you envision your dreams coming true, they will. And the vision my 12 year old brother sees, with the floorplan of our country home already laid out on graph paper, is so vivid, that I feel as if the 4 of us are already there. Obstacles are not in Michael’s way. His plan is flawless. His vision is clear. And he has all the details worked out. “That’s ok - we’ll be able to afford plenty of Febreeze.”
I’m hitting the one-year mark of when I lost my job at Letterman, and when I thought the world might end because I was a horrible human being for wasting my college degree by sitting at cattle call auditions instead of a desk. But in this past year, I have found that it is channeling that hopeful, confident inner 12 year old in myself and having a clear vision, complete with 20 kayaks and bottles of Febreeze, that keeps me going and keeps my world from crumbling down or turning into a waste. Success does not happen overnight, or in a few months, or in a year. Success is believing in yourself and your dream and not giving in no matter how many bumps you hit in the road. This is the longest race of my life. This is the biggest challenge to face. This is what all those childhood years have prepped me for. In the midst of my conflicting doubt and confidence, my 12 year old brother is there to remind me of the dream I announced when I was his age: “I am going to be an actress when I grow up.” 12 years later, my dream is coming true, because I have Michael to remind me how simple it is to turn dreams into realities.
We’re watching the VH1 Top 20 Music Video Countdown, when I confess a dream to Michael. “I’ve always wanted to host the Top 20. That’d be the coolest job in the world.”
“Yea, you should do it.” He says…like as if I could just march into the VH1 office, declare this and get the job.
“Well – ” before I can explain that I don’t know how to get that job, that it’s not that easy, or that there’s no application for the job, he says:
“Don’t you have a friend who works at VH1?”
“Yea – ”
“Just do it, Jodie.”
That simple. That easy. Just do it. To a 12 year old, there’s nothing in the way of a dream. And to a girl who was once 12 years old, I say,
“You’re right, Michael. I think I will do it.”
Michael didn’t ruin everything. He didn’t ruin anything. He has made everything in my life bigger and brighter and richer and more meaningful and perfect. And once again – going home for the holidays and visiting my little brother has reminded me that I can have anything and everything I want – a job as the next Top 20 host on VH1 and enough Febreeze to make a big old farmhouse smell animal-free.
I wrote my college essay on my brother Michael who was born when I was 11 years old, and how when my parents told me the news I shouted at them “He’s going to ruin everything!!!” You’re supposed to write about a life-changing event or a significant person, showing your personality and personal growth. His birth certainly was life-changing, because I transformed from THAT type of kid into the type of person that would now shout “That’s wonderful!” at such news. I wrote that essay 7 years ago, and it got me into Fairfield University with a scholarship. And forced me to move away from my little brother when he was only 6 years old and didn’t yet know what college was or what going away meant. Although, being the oldest child, I don’t think any of us in my family knew yet what that would mean.
Every time I go home, like for this Thanksgiving trip, I sound like an old lady who pinches little kids’ cheeks. “Oh you’ve grown so tall!” I no longer think old ladies are crazy, because Michael really does grow another 2 inches every time I see him. And his voice is getting a little deeper. And he’s getting more muscle on him. And he cares about how he dresses. And he says grown-up things. And he holds the door for me and takes my suitcase up to my room. And he uses a cell phone!!!
“Mmmm this chocolate pie is just exquisite,” he says instead of “This is good.” What 12 year old describes chocolate pudding pie as exquisite? He uses big words - usually incorrectly - in an attempt to fit in with the 5 adult members of his family.
But although he seems grown up in a lot of ways to me, he is still full of youthful innocence and playfulness and purity. Sometimes I wonder if life is easier when we’re kids because we have our parents to guide us and take care of us, or if it’s because we don’t yet know about all the awful things that come with life. For most, stress and self-doubt aren’t in our vocabulary yet. Most children don’t know about loss, or heartache, or grief yet. They all want to grow up to be professional hockey players, rock stars, and astronauts. They all have big dreams and they believe they’ll come true.
“Jodie when we all grow up, do you want to live in a big house together? Me, you, Kristen and Lindsey?”
“That sounds nice, Michael. Sure.” Because even though it’s unrealistic that my 2 sisters, Michael and I would all live together, it does sound nice. So instead of crushing his novel idea, I decide to play along and partake in this dream.
“Ok, it’s gonna be an old farmhouse like in Suffield or something – so, close to Mom and Dad. But the inside will be all new. And we’ll have a huge yard. 4 acres. And we’re going to have 2 dogs – a black lab and a golden retriever, named Tiki and Lucky – and 3 cats – doesn’t matter what kind or their names yet – and 4 horses. Kristen and I will take care of the horses, so you don’t have to worry about that. And we’ll have a path down to a tributary – wait, what’s like a little river called?”
“A stream?”
“Yea, a stream. We’ll have a stream that connects to the ocean and we’ll keep 20 kayaks down there.”
“20?! Why do we need 20 kayaks?! Don’t we only need 4?”
“So our friends can kayak with us.”
“Oh, right. Duh.” How could I forget about all 16 of our friends? Maybe because I’m still thinking that it’s funny that our dogs are clearly more loved than our cats.
“And we can have a motor boat there, too. Or a sailboat. Whatever we decide. Sound good?”
“Sounds great, Michael,” because it does. Except… “Except I don’t know if I want all those animals. The house will smell.”
“That’s ok - we’ll be able to afford plenty of Febreeze.”
And with that comment – my new gauge of success in life is if I’ll be able to afford Febreeze when I’m an adult.
I have so many friends who are worried about the future – our careers, our relationships, our financial security. I confess, I’m guilty of facing those insecurities on a daily basis, as well. Am I really taking the right steps towards my career? Will I be as successful in achieving my life dreams as I was at getting A’s in school? Will I ever meet the man of my dreams and fall in love? And if I do, will I be able to raise my kids without them turning out nuts? And can we live in a nice house and buy nice things? It is refreshing – no, inspiring – to hear my little brother speak so confidently and precisely about his dreams. They say if you envision your dreams coming true, they will. And the vision my 12 year old brother sees, with the floorplan of our country home already laid out on graph paper, is so vivid, that I feel as if the 4 of us are already there. Obstacles are not in Michael’s way. His plan is flawless. His vision is clear. And he has all the details worked out. “That’s ok - we’ll be able to afford plenty of Febreeze.”
I’m hitting the one-year mark of when I lost my job at Letterman, and when I thought the world might end because I was a horrible human being for wasting my college degree by sitting at cattle call auditions instead of a desk. But in this past year, I have found that it is channeling that hopeful, confident inner 12 year old in myself and having a clear vision, complete with 20 kayaks and bottles of Febreeze, that keeps me going and keeps my world from crumbling down or turning into a waste. Success does not happen overnight, or in a few months, or in a year. Success is believing in yourself and your dream and not giving in no matter how many bumps you hit in the road. This is the longest race of my life. This is the biggest challenge to face. This is what all those childhood years have prepped me for. In the midst of my conflicting doubt and confidence, my 12 year old brother is there to remind me of the dream I announced when I was his age: “I am going to be an actress when I grow up.” 12 years later, my dream is coming true, because I have Michael to remind me how simple it is to turn dreams into realities.
We’re watching the VH1 Top 20 Music Video Countdown, when I confess a dream to Michael. “I’ve always wanted to host the Top 20. That’d be the coolest job in the world.”
“Yea, you should do it.” He says…like as if I could just march into the VH1 office, declare this and get the job.
“Well – ” before I can explain that I don’t know how to get that job, that it’s not that easy, or that there’s no application for the job, he says:
“Don’t you have a friend who works at VH1?”
“Yea – ”
“Just do it, Jodie.”
That simple. That easy. Just do it. To a 12 year old, there’s nothing in the way of a dream. And to a girl who was once 12 years old, I say,
“You’re right, Michael. I think I will do it.”
Michael didn’t ruin everything. He didn’t ruin anything. He has made everything in my life bigger and brighter and richer and more meaningful and perfect. And once again – going home for the holidays and visiting my little brother has reminded me that I can have anything and everything I want – a job as the next Top 20 host on VH1 and enough Febreeze to make a big old farmhouse smell animal-free.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Magic Rocks
"Magic Rock, Magic Rock, what will you be? Magic Rock, Magic Rock, change on three. 1...2...3! Astronauts!"
"I'm an astronaut!" - "Great Alex!"
"I'm Darth Vader!" - "Ok Boston."
"I'm an alien!" - "Sure Michael!
"I'm an asteroid!" - "Um, Oliver."
"I'm a shark!" - "In outer space Bradley?"
I am teaching five 4 year old boys how to act. At 10am. On Sunday morning. And it's as if they've already shoveled down five pounds of sugar and lost their sense of hearing. At least asteroids are in outer space. But sharks? Sharks aren't in outer space. Then again, I've never been to outer space to prove it. So...
"Yes! Good shark-astronaut Bradley!"
Positive reinforcement, whether they're following directions or not, is the only way to get through these 45 minutes without anyone crying...me included. And letting them run around and chase each other is the only way to keep five 4 year old boys interested in an acting class.
Magic Rocks, in case you're wondering, is a simple acting game. I whip out my imaginary invisible super magic wand which is a different invisible color each day (today it is blue with gold sparkles and a lime green star on top) and turn each kid into a rock. For one beautiful split second, the kids shut up. Then they have the power to turn into whatever I say. Astronauts. Superheroes. Pirates. Dogs. Ninjas. When things get out of hand, like all the monkeys escape from the zoo and fall into a lava pit and start screaming, my blue-gold-green magic wand transforms them back into rocks! Silent rocks! And then we sing the song again and change into something else. I don't mean to brag, but the pretty wand and the catchy song are my own special touches that I've added to the game. The kids pour into the classroom singing my Magic Rock song. With no clue that I made it up on the spot on the first day of class.
"Magic Rock, Magic Rock, what will you be? Magic Rock, Magic Rock, change on three! 1...2...3! Cowboys!"
"I'm a cowboy!" - "Good Alex!"
"I'm a cowgirl!" - "That's fine Michael."
"I'm Darth Vader!" - "Still Boston?"
"I'm a jelly bean!" - "What?! Oliver, you have to become what I say. You have to - "
"I'm a shark!" - "Bradley!!!! Ok, yes, what a great Cowboy Shark you are!"
Every day I plan to do something different from Magic Rocks. I've got a ton of games up my sleeve and I've got different stories to act out. But every day they come in chanting the Magic Rock song. I start playing a different game and they shout "Let's play Magic Rocks!" and "I like Magic Rocks better!" Don't they get sick of this game? Should I be teaching them new things? Will they ever grow as actors if they always play the same game? And same characters, even.
I may not be creating the next Robert DeNiro and Meryl Streep. I may not ever get to the Meisner technique with them. I can't even get to the Animal Charades game with them! But at the rate we're going, these children are going to grow up to teach their children how to be a Magic Rock. Knowing my legacy is bound to live on, with patience and a resignation to keeping my other acting techniques up my sleeve, I say "Ok, Magic Rocks it is."
Hey, I actually really love the game. Only in the world of Magic Rocks can sharks live in outer space and mermaids defeat dinosaurs and monkeys fly to the top of a mountain and asteroids talk AND I have ultimate power...
"Ahh! Stop pulling!" - "Alex!"
"Ahh! Stop pushing!" - "Stop!"
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr! I'm gonna eat you!" - "Boys!"
"Ow! I'm gonna kill you!" - "Don't say that word!"
"The shark's attacking!!!!!" - "1...2...3! REGULAR Rocks!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"(whispering) Psst...Jodie...what does a shark rock say?" - "Nothing. He doesn't have a mouth."
"I'm an astronaut!" - "Great Alex!"
"I'm Darth Vader!" - "Ok Boston."
"I'm an alien!" - "Sure Michael!
"I'm an asteroid!" - "Um, Oliver."
"I'm a shark!" - "In outer space Bradley?"
I am teaching five 4 year old boys how to act. At 10am. On Sunday morning. And it's as if they've already shoveled down five pounds of sugar and lost their sense of hearing. At least asteroids are in outer space. But sharks? Sharks aren't in outer space. Then again, I've never been to outer space to prove it. So...
"Yes! Good shark-astronaut Bradley!"
Positive reinforcement, whether they're following directions or not, is the only way to get through these 45 minutes without anyone crying...me included. And letting them run around and chase each other is the only way to keep five 4 year old boys interested in an acting class.
Magic Rocks, in case you're wondering, is a simple acting game. I whip out my imaginary invisible super magic wand which is a different invisible color each day (today it is blue with gold sparkles and a lime green star on top) and turn each kid into a rock. For one beautiful split second, the kids shut up. Then they have the power to turn into whatever I say. Astronauts. Superheroes. Pirates. Dogs. Ninjas. When things get out of hand, like all the monkeys escape from the zoo and fall into a lava pit and start screaming, my blue-gold-green magic wand transforms them back into rocks! Silent rocks! And then we sing the song again and change into something else. I don't mean to brag, but the pretty wand and the catchy song are my own special touches that I've added to the game. The kids pour into the classroom singing my Magic Rock song. With no clue that I made it up on the spot on the first day of class.
"Magic Rock, Magic Rock, what will you be? Magic Rock, Magic Rock, change on three! 1...2...3! Cowboys!"
"I'm a cowboy!" - "Good Alex!"
"I'm a cowgirl!" - "That's fine Michael."
"I'm Darth Vader!" - "Still Boston?"
"I'm a jelly bean!" - "What?! Oliver, you have to become what I say. You have to - "
"I'm a shark!" - "Bradley!!!! Ok, yes, what a great Cowboy Shark you are!"
Every day I plan to do something different from Magic Rocks. I've got a ton of games up my sleeve and I've got different stories to act out. But every day they come in chanting the Magic Rock song. I start playing a different game and they shout "Let's play Magic Rocks!" and "I like Magic Rocks better!" Don't they get sick of this game? Should I be teaching them new things? Will they ever grow as actors if they always play the same game? And same characters, even.
I may not be creating the next Robert DeNiro and Meryl Streep. I may not ever get to the Meisner technique with them. I can't even get to the Animal Charades game with them! But at the rate we're going, these children are going to grow up to teach their children how to be a Magic Rock. Knowing my legacy is bound to live on, with patience and a resignation to keeping my other acting techniques up my sleeve, I say "Ok, Magic Rocks it is."
Hey, I actually really love the game. Only in the world of Magic Rocks can sharks live in outer space and mermaids defeat dinosaurs and monkeys fly to the top of a mountain and asteroids talk AND I have ultimate power...
"Ahh! Stop pulling!" - "Alex!"
"Ahh! Stop pushing!" - "Stop!"
"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr! I'm gonna eat you!" - "Boys!"
"Ow! I'm gonna kill you!" - "Don't say that word!"
"The shark's attacking!!!!!" - "1...2...3! REGULAR Rocks!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"(whispering) Psst...Jodie...what does a shark rock say?" - "Nothing. He doesn't have a mouth."
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