How Much Wood Could a Woodchuck Chuck?

One day my mom was moving, again, and decided she was tired of hauling my boxes of doll house furniture and Duran Duran trading cards from attic to attic. She boxed them up and mailed them to my office. I don't have a car and at the time my apartment was about the size of the boxes combined.

I purged.

I still have my first Cabbage Patch Kid and my twirling badges but I was forced to decide between my yellowing sticker collection and a much needed blender. Kitchens are for kitchen things and whiskey.

We all have those moments where we dig through memories. Sometimes they don't even belong to us but we do it because we know there is a story there and if we find enough layers, pieces, segments we'll be able to stand back and see a larger picture. Gain an understanding from a micro perspective before we see the macro. Maybe even learn how to build one. Crack in the pavement and Grand Canyon...same relative principal.

I think what I'm saying here is I'd like a new desk.

...when the dog bites, when the bee stings...

As the official mail recipient of my office, I sort all the junk and snag all the fun stuff that was sent to former employees. Today I swiped a postcard with the image of a human brain slathered in drippy, Barbie-pink paint. It makes me feel happy and giggly and now I have it resting in a frame next to my phone.

I'm not sure what this means.

Outing My Brother

This morning my eyes popped open and I discovered I was an Adult with a capital A.

I was talking to my beloved younger brother last night and after hanging up the phone I found myself worried with a capital W. I've watched myself increase this part of how I care for him throughout our lives but this time it bled into my self conscious and this time instead of yelling at him I woke up realizing I needed to help him, not advise him to death.

I still called at 7:30a and yelled at him.

The boy won't do his taxes. He runs his own business and the IRS is going to hunt him down and drag him away in chains. It took a while for me to realize this, but I have to admit, my reasons for helping him came out of a selfish place. I'd like my brother to be at my wedding and I'd like to not have to get a second job to bail him out of jail.

So I'm going to take it upon myself to figure out his taxes. This should be fun considering I'm a secretary with a Theatre degree. He may as well have his cat's help.

I now understand the meaning of parental-big-sister love. Cover their butt so yours doesn't get whipped.

Fear + Experience + Responsibility = Adult with a capital M...for Martyr.

This might have something to do with the fact I'm currently being audited.

Save Art Anyway You Can

I heard Ohio Theatre was being squeezed out of their space. I went to the website of the folks who bought the building where the Ohio has been for the last 30 years and found a "News" section. They proudly displayed a link from The New York Observer titled: Zar Snags Another Soho Lovely; Theater Group Fears Eviction.
I clicked on it to read more. The journalist states the facts, reporting 'good for Zar; bad for theatre' and quotes language from each company's website - "Zar Property NY has not let the fears of a commercial meltdown or "credit crunch" slow them down."

I decided I had to say my peace anyway I could. So I emailed the President.

"He'll think TWICE before he buys another multi-million dollar property!"

I realize an email is maybe as powerful as flipping off a bomb but I had to do it. I have to start opening my mouth if I want to feel integrity about my beliefs.


And I think I'm a little bored at work.


Dear Dario Zar:

I am not sure I recall having ever written my opinion to a complete stranger before except the time I wrote to Ronald Reagan when I was eight. But I read a story about your acquisition and went to your website. Then I read another article posted in the "News" section of your site. And I just HAD to say this to you. Please know I am typing with compassion for you and all of humanity. "Fears of commercial melt down and credit crunching" do not affect people who base their success on tangible 'acquisitions'. I honestly hope that one day you realize the true value of nurturing our most human element: Art. And I truly hope, for your own guilt and pain that WILL sneak up on you, it is not too late. This will affect something you love. Money is nice and if trophies are what you desire, you could at the very least give to those who are not capable of being like you but give to the world in a different, necessary way. They too must survive in this world. What happens to us when they die? Let the Ohio stay. Hell, it would be better press for you. I have no direct connection with the Ohio. I just performed there once and I just had to say that. Thank you for reading if you got this far.

Jennifer Boutell

...one is silver and the other's gold...

Today is about 'New'. And we really only have that...the 'New'. Every day is about the new. Every second is. We look to the past to inform our choices but the publicist in our own or collective head has his own judgements. Should we 'keep' everything? Garage sale that blue one-piece you only wore to the beach to hang out with your nephews?

I like to do little experiments with myself on the subway. I like to 'check out' of any current mood or situation I might be in, pretend I don't have anywhere to be, anyone to answer to [including myself], and see how I react [inwardly and outwardly] towards my fellow man. I almost always find my heart goes to a giving place. I have a 'feel-good' thought. I try to invoke a 'feel-good' vibe. If someone needs a seat I try to give it to them or if someone speaks to me I try to respond thoughtfully. I'm not saying I'm a saint here. I don't do this often and most of the time I'm pretty much just tired and annoyed with my commute but I have an idea that this 'feel-good' vibe comes from my soul. And that my soul IS this through-line we all call God. And I think if we pause and listen long enough sometimes we are this little tool of 'God' to communicate to one another. I can honestly say, I have only felt I've experienced this connection twice in my life. I'm quite positive that I've been an instrument many other times without realization or with maybe just a residual 'feel-good' feeling... and I KNOW I've heard words I've needed to hear or been around people I needed and it wasn't an accident... but twice in my past I actually FELT that I was being used and I FELT I was literally a part of an immense whole. And I just went with it. And both times were on the train in New York City. And both times involved complete 'strangers'.

I once was sitting on the train stuck in my head, stuck in my own world. I snapped to when I saw a family getting on. A young mother with four or five kids in tow. Stroller, papoose, a little one dangling by his shoulder in her angry grasp while she yelled at each of them a series of cuss words and insults. Bad day. A quiet little boy sat down right next to me and the noisy family filed in next to him. He was very small and probably four or five years old. There was a wisdom on him in his stance and in one second we exchanged this look and he gave me this message I will always carry with me. I'm sure my look to him conveyed some sort of pity [for him, for myself, for mankind...my heart ached...could have just tried on a new swimsuit...but seriously folks...] as soon as our eyes met, I instantly saw a complete grounded, knowing soul and he was just full of, for lack of a better word, true love.

And he smiled.

And I smiled back. And I swear I heard somewhere in my gut, "Everything is OK."

I felt like it always has been and always will be. [Including swim attire.]

The second time I felt as a conduit I was the messenger and as I type this, I'm just now realizing it was the same message. I was on the train several years after the first encounter. There was a pretty, young 20-something sitting across from me just willing herself not to cry. I could see her nose turning red, her lips twisting and her eyes well up. I could see she was trapped in her thoughts. I felt sooooooo compelled to say something..anything to her...to the point where I got kind of sweaty and panicky...my heart was beating fast...I worried if I said anything she would think I was a busy-body or lunatic or trying to pick her up...[the swim suit I was wearing was a little tight....JOKE...] but I couldn't NOT say anything. I had no idea what was going to come out of my mouth, I saw my stop was next and the train was slowing down. I stood up and stood next to her while I waited for the train doors to open. I felt this weird rush like you did before you jumped off the high-dive in front of everyone at the community pool and when the train doors opened I turned to her and directly said, "Everything is OK."

And I said it very calmly. With a voice that was so confident and grounded.

And full of true love.

She looked up at me and held her breath and you'd thought I'd just handed her a winning lottery ticket. She literally stood up as I walked away and we watched each other through the window. I smiled and she smiled and I wanted to high-five somebody.

I was recently asked if I believed in God. And this was what I came up with. Today, this 'New' day I'll bet some of those folks standing side-by-side at the very least will carry a 'feel-good' vibe around for a while.

Two Dead and a Concussion: The Name of My Next Band

Twice the in the past two months Greg and I have been on the Long Island Rail Road and heard the following announcement over the PA system:

Do to a pedestrian fatality we will be stopped indefinitely. Buses are en route.

In the silence after those words. Your head goes to strange places.

Man or woman?

Tied to the tracks?

Headphones up too loud?

Dare?

How long did he/she stay alive?

The buses are for us right?

Are they taking us to the mall?

How many buses?

How often does this happen?

Last Saturday night we heard this, the train stopped, the eight inches of snow started and after many frantic phone calls his parents diverted their vehicle to pick us up where we landed. We were headed to a family party. Greg navigated his mother through rights and lefts. We made one wrong turn and BAM!...my vision comes back and I'm laying on my future Father-in-law. He is about the size of my thigh.

I feel like I have a constant hang-over but on the ceiling. Gravity is a bit challenging.

New Campaign for Seat Belts:

Close your eyes and think about your first toilet-hugging hang over. Now imagine that feeling every waking moment of your day because you didn't wear your seat belt.

Concussions feel like a bad hang over that won't go away. Wear your seat belt. Or a helmet. And don't drink and stuff kids.

I hope those two pedestrians are in heaven shaking their fingers at me.

Smile, It is Friday.

Everyone loves Friday.

...except maybe strippers and people who have a bad 'F' stutter.

I happen to be one of the robots who type "TGIF" at the end of most of my emails on this day.

It is universal. Like, I don't know...stuttering strippers working hard on a Friday night.