filling in the blank.

i'm going to turn twenty-four in just over a month.

my mom said her scary-age was twenty-five.

twenty-four.

well, it's not my scary-age. this much i know.

and yet it's the first age that causes some...trepidation.

twenty-four.

not so young anymore. i mean, well, yes of course twenty-four is young. it's so young.

but its not young-young.

and because my life seems to have no direction, maybe that makes the number a little older. if i was twenty-four and in law school, the number would be younger.

does this make sense?

the ironic thing about this number--this age--causing any fear is that for two or three months now i've been telling people that i'm twenty-four.

its not that i'm fibbing, im just forgetting.

i keep forgetting that i'm twenty-three and keep thinking i'm twenty-four.

i'm talking in circles.

when my mom was here just before i left for australia, we were sitting in my old bedroom surrounded by boxes and mess and not a door to be found and i was relaying a friend's story.

she was working in a restaurant one night when a gentleman ever so slightly older (mid to late thirties, early forties maybe) asked her how old she was.

twenty-three.

twenty-three? he responded. wow. nothing matters in your twenties. everything you think is important isn't. enjoy this time and the prospect of just how much time is ahead of you.

my mom listened patiently and then said, well, that's easy for a man to say.

excuse me? i somewhat screeched (the feminist in me reeling).

well, women don't have all the time in the world. it's much harder to have children when you reach a certain age.

there it was. amidst the mess, in the middle of my life in boxes, my mom was giving me the i-want-to-be-a-grandmother-some-day-speech.

and as it was happening i had a million thoughts including all those that would negate just exactly what she was saying. but the one that stuck with me was: oh, this is it, this is one of those once-in-a-life moments. like the first sex talk. or the first (and only time) you make out with a random guy standing on top of the bar counter. i now get to check this off the list.

my mom knows its gonna be a while before i come through with a wee one. but i like knowing that she wants me to have a child. i like knowing that she wants to be a grandmother--that she wants me to experience the thrill of motherhood.

there are moments in your life that age you.

i was in the what-must-have-been-400th-hour on my journey to Oz, one hour away from landing, when i pulled out the visa i'd need to present to customs.

and there it was:

regular occupation _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

with the customary blank boxes calling out for my penmanship. and an answer.

regular occupation?

for the first time in my life i couldn't pencil in "student" and i sure as hell wasn't going to put "hostess".

actor? no that's not right either. not now at least. maybe in the future.

and so i sat there, blank boxes taunting me.

i suppose that's what i want now.

an answer. a response.

i want to be twenty-four with direction.

then it might not be so scary.

_ _ _ _ W R I T E R _ _ _ _ _

that's what I put.

it was the most truthful thing i could think of.

and it may in fact be the direction i dream of.

time will tell.

and then wee ones will follow. many, many, many moons from now.

so i'm a once-a-week-nanny...

but my lovelies are moving to paris on saturday.

yup, paris.

tomorrow is our last day to play.

oh man, i'm gonna miss them.

I guess I should confess...

that I'm in need of a really good cry. It's not that I'm sad. Because I'm not. I just feel something welling up inside of me and I could use a little release.

that I even resorted watching to One Tree Hill in bed last night to try to get that "really good cry"...

...and then drinking a smirnoff (because I didn't have wine) and taking a hot shower (because I didnt' have time for a bath

that I started playing footsie with Ned about a few days ago thinking it would end there, but it didn't. 

that I'm may never ever escape Ned.

that I discovered the exact location of that really good chlorine whiff on 5th ave. It's 54th street in case you want to know.

that I fell asleep in Sheep's meadow today and it was so good that I forgot where I was. In fact I started to get chilly so woke up to turn off my ceiling fan, only to realize it was the breeze and I was napping in a public park. And that I had no shame about that. 

that I'm blogging right now from Rockefeller Plaza (thanks to someone's free wi-fi), while I kill time before my job starts at the Met. I should be preparing for my auditions. But I'm not. Or exercising. But I'm not. 

that I've become addicted to blogging, most especially right now anything to do with the Nielsons. I go to Nie Nie and C Jane Enjoy It and wonder at their strength and faith and the glorious writing and then I stare at those gorgeous pictures of Stephanie and her children and wonder if I've ever met someone so beautiful. And I find myself praying for people I don't even know. And I don't pray much. 

that I hate having to ask people for gifts (aka money) over the phone...even if it is for a good cause. I get it...no one likes the pushy phone calls, no one likes to give money away...but it's my job and I love the people I work with. So please...have patience with telemarketers and fundraisers...they're just trying to make a go of it like everyone else.

that I can't understand why not one man offered me his seat on the bus this morning. I stood there for an hour. Chances are I would have refused, but really--is chivalry actually dead?

that I just realized I actually have to do something other than this...oh damn, the real world beckons and I am forced to answer. 

Not much to say today, so how bout this...

You know when you wake up and go to get dressed and end up trying on everything in your closet only to end up feeling as though you should just crawl back into bed?

That's how I felt this morning.

After settling on a basic skirt and blouse and leaving a heap of clean laundry on my bed I headed to the bus for my second audition in two days. I'll be an actor yet! Well, it turns out it didn't matter what I put on because I got soaked to the bone in a lovely little New York monsoon. And that's when I decided that for the moment I'm going to choose not to hate this lovely, little city of mine. Instead, I'm going to look at it as a fantastic challenge--a game I get to play day in and day out. And I'm ready for the ride. 

Today. 

We'll see how I feel tomorrow. 

Early afternoon I took my rain-soaked behind to my audition and guess what...I didn't want to die (this was a big deal for me--since yesterday I left hoping I'd never see another casting director/actor/theatre/tall building/tree again). 

Then this evening I got my sweaty (not to worry, it was post-gym) butt off to my second day of work.  For those of you who don't know, I'm now officially a member of the Metropolitan Opera fundraising team (shout out to Erica for suggesting this even if she's already abandoned me). It's oh so very exciting and guess what...it pays money--which right now, I need.

And then just now, after a few Chinese veggie rolls, I took in a little tube in the form of "How to Look Good Naked" with Carson Kressley. And I was skeptical, but my friends...it was good. 

And moving. 

Maybe I cried.

And then I ate almond butter and jam out of the jars. And you know what, I'd do it again.

Tonight, I'm happy. Life is good.

And by the way...Ned's been gone for three days now. And life is so much better without him.

So Long Summer.

Dear Summer, 

       

I will miss you. I will miss you ever so much.

You began with a little thing known as graduation, for which my entire family (well, a large number of them) trekked to NYC to experience. And to those who came, most especially my parents, I must apologize. I was not excited. At all. Yes, I wanted to be done with school, but the actual pomp and circumstance associated with it--no thank you, not now. Juilliard met me half-way. If graduations are usually like four course meals at a five-star restaurants, Juilliard skips the meal altogether and just serves the shot of espresso that usually comes at the end.  So, here I offer up my promise that I will make this up to my family in the years that come. With parties and shindigs and events that far outweigh what any graduation could offer. 

I take after my father. I can't take a straight picture to save my life. Goofy face? Check.

Then summer you obliged me by letting me return home to Texas (home, Texas, one sentence? wow, I never thought I'd publicly put those two things together--ever) where I applied for jobs that had nothing to do with theatre and spent the evenings sprawled in a large leather chair enjoying books and reruns. I ended up at a lovely little retail shop where I made next to nothing, but learned more than you might think possible...

1. a big rock on the left hand does not entitle you to be a bitch

2. showing up on time is so easy to do and will so endear you to the people you work for

3. gossip is wasted energy

4. its possible to like almost anyone if you give them a chance and let go of your own ego

5. when raising children don't begin with the question: how do I make my child a good person? this will become overwhelming and you'll end up getting nowhere...instead you must teach them the simple things like look someone in the eye, say please and thank you, clean up after yourself, offer up words of kindness, no one exists simply to serve you (oh, and you're not your child's friend, you're their parent)

6. doing simple little things in life will take you such a long way

7. when taking in criticism, the person offering it isn't interested in your excuses, they just just want to know you've heard what they've said

And before heading back to Manhattan I took a lovely, little vacation (my first true one in a year and half) to Chautauqua. The previous two years I had been there as a "theatre student" (as Jonathan would say) and had met some of the most amazing people a girl could ever hope to know. Well, this go round I was there as a tourist and I loved it. I ate more food than I knew what to do with because Karen, my adopt-a-mom, cooks like Monet painted, or Neruda wrote. I read (after all this was the summer of my never-ending-book) and I slept and I went swimming and I made new friends. 

Summer, I must thank you for this most especially. New friends. Lovely friends. People whose path I had no right to cross and others I knew, but got to fall in love with in ways I never dreamed possible. Friends who have armed me with a new and deep knowledge, who serve as springboards for ideas, and instigators for trouble. Friends who make me laugh and laugh and laugh. Who give me reason to smile and giggle and want make secrets just so I can whisper them in their ears. Friends who I thought I would never see again because our friendship had run its course, only to realize I need them now more than ever. 

Whitney--I'm so glad you walked in to Francesca's and we got to reconnect. I feel really, really lucky to know you.

Ariana--seeing you this summer reminded me of this: you are my family and the keeper of my secrets. And I love you in so many ways. And we're gonna be okay. We're gonna find jobs and create lives others will only dream of.

Nicole--where were you the first 22 years of my life? Now that I found you, I'm never letting you go.

Jonathan--I'm so glad we got to spend time together, and you finally go to see that human side of me. I look forward to countless mint chocolate chip adventures in the future. 

Naomi--I admired you from afar for four years and now am so excited to get to play with you in the city. I actually have to admit, I'm still intimidated (even now) by how beautiful, intelligent, and self-possessed (not to mention talented) you are. You're blog opened up this glorious world to me and for that I'll forever be indebted. 

 

Vic--you were my friend through the worst of it and now we get to be friends through the best of it. I love exploring with you and trying new things and talking about those old bugaboos (of course looking forward to the day when they won't enter into our conversation at all). I love that Rob makes you so happy and you him.

Rob--I'm so proud of you. And so lucky to be able to tell you everything, even if it grosses you out and you choose to take three steps away from me. 

Gavin--As long as the offer stands, my answer will always be: yes, yes, let's run away together.

So thank you summer. 

Summer of the red door (I see them everywhere). 

Summer of the never-ending-book.

Summer of goodbyes...so long school, farewell Ned.

Summer of discovery. Summer of finding out that love is everywhere... in everything and everyone if you just open yourself up to it.

And of course...summer of you, my little blog-spot lover.

So summer, thank you. But now it's time for fall. Time for me to start working. Time for me to turn twenty-three. And time to at least give this acting thing a go of it.

See you next year my sweet and sinful season. 

'til we meet again, 'til we meet again,

Meg