Structured Daydreams

Here’s how people take a beautiful moment, sap it up, make an example, take out the guts, divinity, and leave banal, bored, magnet-for-refrigerator-wisdom.

I was running.

I was running, and it was hard. I was going uphill. I left the house at 12:44, and wasn’t sure If I’d have enough time to get back home, shower, and pick up my son. I ran to Prospect Park (1.2 miles) and kept going around the loop (3 miles), however, in the middle of that run (2.7 miles) I should have made a left turn. It would Read the rest of this entry »

And stumbled on a real esate ad that read:

“Our beloved roommate is leaving us for grad school and we have one room available in our 3 bedroom apartment. We are two girls in their mid twenties looking for a third roommate to complete our happy home. The apartment is practically on top of the metro and is attatched to a major grocery store (Giant). Read the rest of this entry »

I made this website private for about a month because I was in the process of applying to schools and didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention from my fiction writing.

Now, however, I am safely accepted into a school and will go about my business.

Juilliard is every young actors wet dream. It is the Alpha and the Omega. It is a wasp among flies, a spark among mist, a god among men. Someone from Juilliard saying “yes” to you, is someone confirming your life: Yes, you are great. Yes, you are talented. Yes, I see you are gifted.

If you don’t get a callback at Juilliard does it mean the opposite? That you are not talented? Not gifted? Not great?

Absolutely not.

Juilliard sees thousands of students, and like most of the best Theatre schools in the nation, they are looking for a certain type. They may not know what that type is, so don’t try to fit in, or be like him/her, or try to act like the person that moves you the most. Just be you. No one can be you, as well as you can. Not getting a callback Read the rest of this entry »

For the last six months, auditioning for Graduate School took up a great portion of my life. In that time I was also involved in a court case which would ultimately decide the location of my sons residence; and writing and completing a full length play.

I am now happy to see that my son will remain in New York City, am in the process of mounting my play, and (so far) have gotten two rejection letters out of the seven Grad schools I applied to.

For those thinking of applying to Graduate School—you have an exciting road ahead. If you think Read the rest of this entry »

“Hey everyone. Sorry for the interruption; I will let you get back to your ipods, nooks, kindles, and children in one second. My name is (your name here), and I am here selling candy cause I’m not old enough to bartend. Seriously, I would much prefer making martinis, and meeting woman, but I’m not old enough. I have Welch’s fruit snacks, M&M peanuts, and granola bars. Thank you so much for your time.”

(A conversation between a four year old, and a thirty five year old.)

It ate her up.
It ate her up?
Yes.
Why?
Cause it didn’t like her.
The cancer?
Yes.
And she’s dead?
Yes.
When is she coming back?
Never.
Can we see her?
No.
Oh, no.
Yes.
What did you say?
What did I say when she died? Read the rest of this entry »

I hope this will be understood as more of an outpouring than a critique of your work.
To the actor who played the painter. You were the most comfortable; in fact, the men were the most comfortable and the best written.
The Greek tragedy, finding the body of your sister, was a little much. I’m surprised no one in the rewrite room said, “Yeah, everyone is screaming at the same time. It’s unrealistic.” Not to mention, no one cared that much about the main character.You made her completely unlikable.
I want you to know Read the rest of this entry »

I would have really benefitted from a writers room. I kept writing my buttons then reading them aloud and looking around my kitchen table for repsonses.

Of course I was alone.
I was attempting to find some sort of smarmy “Thanks, 1%” kind of attitude-not sure if that transfers. Read the rest of this entry »

I become the inside of my palm when we dance,
It’s warmer there.
I can jump back around and look through the eyes,
Keeping distance and time,
I can be normal.
“Your name,” I’ll ask.
“Rose,” you’ll say,
How long?” I’ll ask.
“Four months, today!”
But the conversation dwelling while my concentration drowning on,
1,2,3, fade.
1,2,3, fade.
Imagine meeting you at a Tango Parade.
But all I am is salsa, Read the rest of this entry »