the head and the heart. my love affair rages on.

they've just released a music video. their first, their second? not sure, reports vary.

 but because i love them and would follow them to the ends of the earth just to hear their music, i thought i'd share. 

ps: my personal mac may or may not be at some warehouse somewhere in the greater new york area getting repaired. there may or may not have been an incident with coffee that led to it's breakdown. 

posting may be sparse until it is returned to me. 

(a big thanks to my roommate amanda for lending me her computer for this and the previous post). 

FED: my five-point roadmap

i've said this before and i'll say it again. i thought the end of my eating disorder would come with the speed and force of a mack truck. (in a good way). 

i figured i'd be waking across the street, a sudden impulse would prompt me to turn and then

and it'd be over. done. and i'd be free.

turns out it hasn't really happened that way.


it has been inches. slow crawling inch after slow crawling inch.

when this recent funk hit i took a deep breath, thought, been there, done that, then realized my familiarity with the thing was not a get out of jail free pass. took a longer inhale, getting air into the space between my toes and reminded myself that this too shall pass. only then did i go about doing everything my capable little hands could do to crawl and claw my way out of the trench.


my version of trench warfare? full fat mochas (they feel luxurious and indulgent--make me think i'm on vacation). afternoon tea with girlfriends. indulging in massages at that place on 80th that sections of the tables with nothing more than clothes lines and bed sheets. painted red nails. a trip to boston. hurtling down icy northeastern ski-slopes. tickets to see noah and the whale. and investing in a very lovely, lovely cannon (i may not be able to crawl out of this funk, but perhaps i can photograph from within it?).


and so it has gone for the last six weeks: a funk. and so it goes. deep and encompassing. an overriding sense of apathy. and a feeling of claustrophobia--suffocating in my own skin.


and yet.


it's been bearable (as most funks prove to be).


and even a little exhilarating. exhilarating, you ask?


yes.


because the eating disorder (ned) has been so quiet.


yes it's still there. but somehow now it's not so important.


in the past the funk would come. and i would eat. and the eating disorder would quickly spiral. and the feelings and sensations that would follow i would label as such: that pesky ned, rearing his disastrous, hellish head once more.


but this go round the feelings and sensations came and the eating disorder didn't.


illumination. for better or for worse, illumination.


and another step forward.

a little while back a reader emailed asking for advice in dealing with her own eating disorder. in replying to the email i realized i was mapping my own little trail of recovery. and because i am slightly better and because it was national eating disorder week just two weeks ago and because why not? i thought i'd share:  so here goes. my five-point road map to mental health:


1. get help. find a therapist. a really, really, really good one. one who specializes in eating and weight disorders. (i can't emphasize this enough. if nothing else, please get help). it is unbelievably difficult to deal with an eating disorder, but to struggle alone is nearly crushing.


in looking for help, trust your gut. i sought out medical professional after medical professional before i found one who could give me a correct diagnosis. (two doctors, and four therapist--the fifth therapist was able to diagnose me, and the sixth (tom) literally gave me life back). there is a huge amount of mis-information and lack of information out there regarding eating disorders and not everyone who should be able to help can. 

2. figure out how food can be about more than just necessity. and more than just pleasure. for me the decision to become a vegetarian was an easy and practical (and meaningful, might i add) way to make food bigger than myself--it took some of the selfishness i was struggling with out of the equation. i do recognize that going vegetarian isn't for everyone. may i suggest volunteering at a food bank or soup kitchen? reacacquaint yourself with what it means to really need a warm meal--and fill yourself up in the process (i find goodwill much more filling than any of the many flavors of ben and jerry's--and i've tried them all, so i should know).

3. fall in love with kitchen. or try. at least, try.

i don't love to cook. but i'm working on it. it began with my hour long bake potato. from there i figured out that cinnamon in tomato-basil soup is delightful. i now make a mean vegan banana bread and pretty darn good raw chocolate chip cookie (made from cashews and oatmeal). making your own food is good for you--studies have been done indicating that when you make your own food and there is some time and process involved, you end up eating less because you fill up faster. i like that my baked potato takes an hour to make--i don't want to shorten that process. 

4. experiment, experiment...in life. do things you don't want to do. that you wouldn't usually do. go to a party. flirt with a guy. take risks on a daily basis (they don't have to be big). wear those skinny black pants before you're ready. exercise in spandex (even if you feel naked in them the first few times). take someone up on an invitation even if you're afraid you won't know anyone else. 

5. and exercise. (for the mental aspect of it). i can't emphasize this enough. i've been exercising consistently for years now. but it took going to physique for me to really get all the benefits that exercise has to offer. yes, in part because physique is tremendously good for the body--but more because it challenged my mind--forced me so far out of my comfort zone and provided my mind with a whole new set of skills to tackle. for me it elevated exercise form something i had to do to something of a personal practice. and the most important thing i've taken away (even more important than increased bone density) is the knowledge that it gets easier. pain changes and morphs. and everything, every sensation passes. in life to. exercise as metaphor! meaning all those pesky sensations and emotions that i would attempt to self-medicate by binge eating would pass if i just gave them time enough--lived through them.  

this list is by no means comprehensive or all-inclusive. there are so many other things i could include like recognizing patterns and identifying those aforementioned pesky emotions, but much of those things can be done with the help of a really great therapist. and if you are really, truly in the throws of an eating disorder, or even if you're struggling with disordered eating, i can't recommend finding help enough.


also, know this: i still struggle. often. i have good days and bad days and in-between days. i eat too much sugar and too much processed food. i'm not a whiz in the kitchen. and the last month i've found it much more difficult to get to exercise class. i still strive for perfection when i know--in my bones, i know--that perfection and the pursuit of it is not good for my health. but i am better. and i continue to get better. and that is something to celebrate and applaud.


small victories. small victories.

the best thing about going to juilliard...

...was getting to see the dancers at work. hands down. best part. world renown choreographers would come in and put on these shows. and holy smokes. it was like moving light on a stage. all of it.

but a few times a year the students would make their own pieces. and in the end there was nothing more remarkable than that. 

many sunday mornings a little band of us--myself (an actor), two dancers, and a bassist would traipse to some part of the city to put on an hour-long variety show at a nursing home or aids facility or the like. and each sunday, carolyn would perform the solo from the video below. and each sunday it took my breath away.

so when this popped up on my facebook this morning i just had to share. carolyn (the lead in the middle) is really something.

i don't get to see everyone dance anymore. not all together at least. and i don't act so much myself now. but i see something like this and i remember:

once upon a time we all made magic.

(we still do, yes, but it's different. changed.)

choegraphed by bret easterling.

song: die alone by ingrid michaelson

dancers: carolyn rossett, rachelle rafailedes,

charlotte bydwell, allysen hooks, 

sarah murphy, julia stiefel, 

chelsea ainsworth, esmye boyce, 

stephanie amurao

these are my two truths (as of late).

1. i've been feeling a little low. for a little while now.

2. and i've gotten myself a camera.

somehow these two things are related. and while i'll expound on the connection at a later date, this post is just to say...

turns out a good camera can make a girl feel pretty darn good.

beautiful, even.

and when you've been feeling a bit blue, that's surely something.

i took the plunge.

and got myself a cannon EOS 60 D. and also, as it turns out, a new hobby.

just a thought.

once upon a time not so very long ago i dated a man who should have made me very happy.

and he did.

sometimes.

but sometimes in the cool darkness of another day done i felt a low, rolling sadness.

deep and soft.

it was my friend angela who pointed out what a big thing that was. i would go on and on about all the reasons i should like him and all the reasons i was struggling in the relationship and she'd kinda look at me from out the corner of her eye and say: but you're sad when you're with him.

and that would be that.

the end of the discussion.

sometimes i wonder if that's what this city has become for me. a place i should love. a place i work hard each day to convince myself that i could love. when truth be told, the city makes me sad. a low, rolling sadness.

deep and soft.

because my to-do list extends several feet today, another video it is (but a really good one).

on saturday night when connor (my brother) and i headed to the concert we had no real intention of staying for the main act, dr. dog. 

but here's the thing: they were pretty darn great.

so today i leave you with this, the video for my favorite dr. dog song of saturday night:



i just can't get over how fun the whole thing was.

i really need to get out of the house more.

because enough people asked...

the food in the pictures from yesterday was from parish cafe on boylston street. its menu is comprised mostly of sandwiches, each one created by a different local and acclaimed chefs.

my brother and i ordered corn cakes to begin. and from there i got the portobello sandwich and well, i can't remember what he got, but i'm pretty sure he liked it.

it was there on saturday afternoon that my brother explained his theory that all females are crazy (i do not disagree) and how a man's tolerance for said crazy is related to her level of attractiveness (though they are not directly proportional because the correlative line curves {or something like that...remember it's been a really long time since i've taken a math class--i don't remember how to talk about it all}).











that top line reads: meg's uncertainty zone. from there connor's broken the chart into three sections: (1) too crazy (2) good and (3) marry now (or as he said, lock it down). i do think my brother has overestimated my level of crazy, but live and let live...who knows, maybe he's right.

my christmas gift to my brother (and to myself...just a little bit).

just two days before this last christmas my family collected in new york where we spent our first night at the new leaf cafe (arguably, my favorite place in all of the city). there we talked and drank and ate and somewhere in the conversation i mentioned this indie band from seattle i had taken a liking to and my brother said something along the lines of oh yeah, i've heard them. i really like them. 


that night when i got home inspiration struck. i looked up tour dates, found a concert in boston (where my brother now lives, and where i had yet to visit him) and booked us two tickets.

(there are times when procrastination pays).

on christmas morning i passed him the gift, which he unraveled to the tune of: who are these people?


me: but we just talked about them two days ago. you said you liked them.


him: oh. did i?


such is life. the good news is that the thought was not lost and in two months time i'd take a trip up north for a little quality time.

on this saturday night we hopped in cab to the paradise rock club and stood in line where we were met by the smell of herbal such-and-suchs and a group of people far grungier than ourselves.

i could have cared less. the whole thing was bliss. and my brother having boned up on his the head and the heart knowledge since december was well prepared.

there's nothing like live music is there? the communion between artist and audience. the feel of the drums in the body. the dimensions and layering that few recordings can really illuminate.

they were so good.

they were so, so good.

in this age of over-processed music where artists can rarely match what we hear on their cds--they were brilliant.

when they finished their set my brother turned to me and said: yeah, that was a good christmas gift. 


(my brother wouldn't let me take a full video of the band, but in this age of instant media, i pulled one off of youtube from the very night we were there. and since it's connor's favorite song...)



ps: when we were leaving i totally recognized two members of the band just outside the door and in a moment of rare (really rare) social prowess i turned to them and told them just how brilliant we thought they were. and since we were a little star-struck (and crushing on just about every member of the band) just getting to talk to them for a moment was surreal. it was only later that we kicked ourselves for missing out on the photo opportunity. oh well, next time.

if you can get yourselves to a head and the heart concert do it. by all means. run to one.

and my favorite song? rivers and roads. heaven. absolute heaven.

weekend in boston.

i apologize for the dearth of posting around here. i've hit the winter-has-gone-on-far-too-long-funk. 

that's it.

that's the whole of the explanation i can offer up.

but this weekend i've been in boston visiting my brother and attempting to overcome the winter blues. and i must say what a difference it has made...it certainly doesn't hurt that we saw a brilliant concert by my personal favorite, the head and the heart and then drove to new hampshire sunday morning for a day of skiing.

my camera powered off about two minutes into sunday, but for now i'll leave you with these.

i've been thinking a lot about this lately...

all changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another

anatole frances

via

book club: the first meeting

it started to snow saturday afternoon. for just a moment. and for the first time since that first fateful snowfall following christmas i found myself willing the sky to really open up. i figured a blanketing of the city would be a perfectly valid excuse to postpone the next day's book club meeting.

i was scared.

utterly terrified.

i knew no one. but nor did anyone else.

and then a little gift of the universe: an ice-breaker in the form of a room change. our pre-assigned room--room 401 had been re-assigned for none other than...wait for it...stripperexpertease (yes, please do note how that word is spelled).

i figured if that didn't scare people away, well then, by golly, we were gonna be okay.

the whole thing was lovely. truly, lovely (there was a really good energy in the room {does that sound new age-y and weird?}). and i felt so incredibly lucky to be surrounded by smart, out-spoken women (and one man!).

discussion of the book led to discussion of writing and blogging and our own lives and what brought us to new york and on and on. the two hours flew by but we followed it up with a late lunch at a corner diner and more discussion.

i feel so very lucky to have met such good, brave people and i can't wait until next month. the book has yet to be decided but our tentative date is sunday, march 20 (probably around 3 pm this time) and newcomers are of course welcome and encouraged.

a tremendous thank you to those who came and anyone who read along (please do tell what you thought of the book!)...and until next time.

a not-such-a-valentine's-day-story.

she sat in the cool, dark theatre. surrounded by strangers. a book on her lap, waiting for the play to begin.

she had come to see him. in the play, on the stage. come to see him, tell a story.

but she was sitting so close. and wanted so desperately to move, just a little. wanted to be further away--wanted to make it harder for his eyes to light upon her during some great scene or important moment. didn't want to be privy to a moment in which the fourth wall broke.

perhaps it was that she knew they were breaking. maybe that was the real impulse to move, to run, to escape to the light beyond the theatre.

but she stayed, marveled as the words of the playwright tumbled around in the actors' mouths, and then  sat across from him at dinner.

and when things were good, there was nothing she liked more than sitting across from him, sharing his space, being close enough that his laughter could land on her--she had forgotten that all these many months later--she had thought she had nothing nice to say. and that that was the real tragedy. that she had fallen for the markers of a man and not the man himself. but she had forgotten that without him ever even looking her way she could feel his awareness, his enrapture. total and complete. and it felt good.

life and its many shades of grey.

because for all the warmth he aroused, he also stirred something deep and sad within her. and he didn't want to know that. to touch that. to taste that. so he'd flirt with the bartender as she sat quietly on the adjacent stool. or so it seemed.

in fact, it all seemed a bit ridiculous now. the few extra blocks she'd walk out of her way in those first few months after it unraveled--charged both by the dread and hope that she might see him. or the now untouched bottle of perfume in bottom drawer of her dresser. she couldn't stomach the scent; he had so liked it.

she ran into a friend recently. a friend who had sat in the same cool, dark theatre on the same winter-swept night. and watched the play with the same tumbling words. said friend asked about the guy, remarked that her own attendance at the play had sparked a series of messages between the two, culminating in their own ill-fated date.

and there it was.

she had sat in the theatre, worried that his eyes would find her too easily. what a needless worry. for in fact his eyes had found someone else that night.

yes, yes. it all seemed a bit ridiculous now.

happy valentine's day lovers!

i don't want to live. i want to love first, and live incidentally. 

zelda fitzgerald

photo by ask_alaska

on flickr.