Free Falling

On May16, 2011, the University of Pennsylvania's graduating class had the honor (yes, honor) of having Denzel Washington deliver the Commencement Speech. Despite opening his speech with references to the Men's Basketball team and head coach Jerome Allen, the central message was all about falling forward. You see, Denzel Washington revealed that he has never liked the idea of having a "fall-back plan" in terms of pursuing a career. This was not news to me however, as I heard him explain these exact sentiments in an interview years before--and it was actually what I referenced when breaking the news to my mom that I was going to be a Theatre Arts major once enrolled at Penn.

I remember the exact moment when I realized that I wanted to pursue theatre as my profession.

I was eleven.

I was standing in my kitchen on what had to have been a weekend morning because my mom was cooking a full breakfast.

On tv she had on one of those generic programs that only comes on non-cable, basic television. It was my typical behavior to just ignore whatever my mother had on the tv, but for some odd reason that day I was mildly paying attention. On the screen was a middle-aged black man talking about his career. I think he must have been somewhat successful and well respected in his field--for he was on national television speaking about it. Nonetheless, it was more likely than not that I was only in the kitchen to see if my mom had been making bacon--and then to steal a piece. But as I stood there in the kitchen, all of a sudden this man said something that I still value this day nearly ten years later. He said,

"Your profession should be your passion. And if you do not know what your passion is; it is the one thing that you would do for the rest of your life regardless of pay."

Initially, I think I was stumped. But after some thought, it kind of just hit me: performing arts, acting, theatre! Now... when I think about it, I am slightly confused by my own epiphany because I never really had much success in the field up until that point or even knew much about it to say the least. I had never been that Theatre Dork who knew the entire soundtrack of Les Miserables or Phantom of the Opera since infancy. I was never that kid who always got the coveted solo in glee club or chorale. I was never that kid who was cast in all the lead roles in the school plays. In fact, I was the exact opposite of those kids. I never even heard of Les Mis until mid high school, I can't think of a single legitimate solo Joan Testin gave me in choir, and I definitely was never cast as the lead role in a play or musical. I think my largest role at the time had been "Lady in Waiting #3." And yet, I just had this strange confidence that I was going to be a part of this world.

My first great experience with the theatre, the moment I fell in love with it, was not during a time when I was onstage performing. I fell in love with the theatre while sitting as a spectator in the audience. It was in the front row, center, of the mezzanine level at the Broadway theater that was showing The Lion King at the time. I was literally at the edge of my seat, peering over the rail since the moment the curtain was lifted. Julie Taymor had successfully transformed human actors into giraffes, lions, meerkats, hyenas, and many other animals. But it was one particular moment that had me sold, the moment when it all changed for me (*dramatic pause*). A young Simba went to the lip of the water, and as he looked into it he saw the reflection of his father Mufasa. Easily portray in a cartoon, but the fact that they were able to pull this off on an actual stage, in front of a live audience--Blew my Mind! I had butterflies in my stomach, my heart dropped, I was feeling a mix of emotions: anxiousness and excitement and nervousness and joy--it was indescribable, it was incredible. Nevertheless, I knew; those indescribable mix of emotions that I was feeling, I wanted to one day be responsible for evoking those same feelings in another.

Theatre Arts, I told my mother. I was going to major in Theatre Arts at the University of Pennsylvania. I wanted to pursue this degree so that I could go on one day to perform professionally and teach at the college level.

"So what's your fall back plan?" she asked.

"HUH?" was my response.

"You know, your plan B."

I was extremely confused by this notion of a "Plan B" because it was like she was implying that Plan A (or the only plan that I had thought to establish) was not going to happen. It was as if my Dream were a chair that I had blindly began to sit down on, and Reality was the rude little prankster that pulled the chair up from under me--she wanted to know what I had in store to fall back on, what "plan" would help to cushion the blow of landing flat on my butt.

I didn't have one, and to this day I still do not have a fall back plan. I find it very hard to put any effort or energy into establishing a Plan B, when I can be utilizing that for the master plan. Denzel said that he would rather fall forward, that way he can at least see where it is he is going to land--and he rather it be flat on his face. I say; fall freely. Have the confidence in yourself to put everything you got into that leap, and trust that you will land somewhere between your passion (everything you could ever want) and your fate (everything you need). As the end of my college career begins to creep up on me, I am afraid that my dream may not become my reality. But I am more afraid of a reality that consists of maintaining a career that I am not truly and fully passionate about. So despite the statistics of the amount of people that make it in The Biz, despite the countless head tilts and "Oh that's interesting" responses I receive when announcing my major, despite being at a prestigious and extremely competitive ivy league institution where students rather follow the paper vs their passion, and despite my fear of failing,

I'm free falling baby.

?

The Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy used to apply to my love life. If I didn’t ask you for it, then I didn’t want to know! Ignorance can be bliss some of the time right? Wrong. Not when matters of the heart are concerned. But was my failure to ask those important BIG questions in reality just my indifference towards the subject matter—or my fear of what the answer to those questions might actually be? In an effort to protect myself from the potential responses (from the one I said I loved) I really just caused more harm than help.

Our imaginations, as beautiful and liberating as they can be, can also be ugly and oppressing things. Sometimes, the reality that we create there is far worse than the authentic one that surrounds us. But why? Why do we subject ourselves to the thoughts of our own personal darkly demons instead of seeking the light that is the truth and something veracious?

Fear.

Control.

We fear the unknown just like the little child fears the monster that is thought to be under the bed at night. Instead of pulling back the covers and actually seeing what lies beneath, we construct in our minds some supposed element of truth: must be the Boogey Man right? How much simpler would it be to just get to the truth of the matter than stand around coming up with possible fabrications that we (intentionally or unintentionally) disguise as truths. We as people want to be in control of everything—ESPECIALLY of what affects us, or better yet, what we let affect us. So we rationalize in our heads, and sometimes our hearts, the worst case scenarios so that nothing, even the most devastatingly impossible truths, don’t surprise us or catch us off guard. God forbid we feel anything/experience anything that is a surprise. We have to be in THE KNOW. All the time. 24/7 baby.

But how do we stop this ongoing mental (and invariably emotional) cutting? Just ask. TALK! Who is s/he? What does s/he mean to you? Where do you see this relationship going? Do you love me? Whatever the question may be! Because you just might be surprised to find that the answers are No one. Nothing. To great heights. And…Yes, with all my heart. :)

Love. 愛. Amor. 喜爱. die Liebe. حُب

As many people know, the third installment of the Twilight series, Eclipse, opened in theaters last night. And aside from the riveting action-packed scenes and the numerous close ups of the tight, taut, and tan wolf boy that kept fans of all ages deeply engaged--> there lay the saga of a love triangle at the core of the movie's plot. Edward loves Bella and Bella loves Edward, but Jacob loves Bella and Bella just might love Jacob too?...Edward is everything Bella wants while Jacob is everything she could ever need. To be with Edward, to truly be with him, she would have to sacrifice all that she knows and loves in exchange for a life-changing romance. To be with Jacob, she can be herself--nothing has to change. All she has to do is give herself and her love to him, and in return she gets someone who promises to love and protect her for as long as he lives. (I think we can all guess I’m on Team Jacob lol) Two very different choices, two separate emotional (and physical) connections.

But enough with the Twi-hard recap... A discussion topic was proposed by my sister through the following questions: Can't a woman be in love with two men who can offer her two totally different things? Can't a woman be torn between what she knows is good for her and what she wants for herself? Can't a woman be selfish for just a little and partake in both? Hmm...

I have quite a few thoughts on this matter.

I Love You.

Three words, eight letters, indefinite possibilities, endless potential. Love, is not a word to be taken lightly because its meaning should never be taken lightly. But how unfortunate it is for the English language to only have one word to describe both how someone feels about their favorite dessert and how they feel about the individual who completes their soul! But I digress.

To love someone is to give yourself fully to another--not a piece, not a majority, ALL of who you are! And how can you fully give yourself to two people? The answer is that you can't! ...Especially if you expect an individual to give of themselves completely to you in return. Now an argument has been made that men do this all the time. You know what I have to say to that: Men are dogs! HaHaHa I kid (sort of). But in all seriousness, PEOPLE do this. We, the people, are greedy. I would say people like to have their cake and eat it too, but I do not quite understand that saying. (If someone had cake, is it not expected of them to eat it?) I will instead say; people like to have their cake and a few scoops of ice cream on the side!

Being the indecisive person that I always label myself as, I can completely empathize with the individuals that find themselves in “love” with more than one person. On the other hand, also being the hopeful (never hopeless) romantic that I am, I kind of want to say the person in “love” with two people is full of shit! However, I try to never pass judgment. All the questions listed above can be solved in two steps: 1) getting to know/being real with one’s self and 2) being a considerate individual.

Now every woman (who am I kidding, every man too) has a mental, and at times tangible, list of what they look for in a romantic partner. Some would say that you are never going to find someone with EVERYTHING on that list. I used to be one of those people, until I was blessed enough to have found someone special that has EVERYTHING I could ever want, need, and then some <3. style=""> Because the heart wants what it wants. It is not going to change over time, and you cannot convince it otherwise. And if you are, by chance, involved with more than one person (emotionally, physically, etc..) PLEASE do not do the concept of, or even the word, love a disservice by labeling it as such. It is more than likely you are following your head(s) and not your heart. But hey, to each their own.

Lastly, on being a considerate individual. If the roles were reversed, and you were the one head over heels in love “the one” how would you feel if s/he cuddled up to another at night and whispered those three words, eight letters that you cherish so much?: I love you.

Stream of WHAT?

Every now and then, I find myself having these moments when I just get the sudden urge to write. It's quite strange really, because I could be in the middle of doing something and then suddenly I get an idea and I just have to go with it! For the most part, what I end up writing are first or third person narratives about the most random things. They can originate from personal experiences, other people's experiences that I find I want to write about, or like the example below, a combination of the two.

I got this idea after watching an episode of Degrassi (Yes I'll admit it, I was a HUGE Degrassi fan! side note: this popular "Drake" figure will forever live in my heart as Jimmy haha). Ellie Nash, a former cutter, has a personal physical therapy that involves snapping a rubber band she wears against her skin whenever she gets the urge to cut herself. A leading reason as to why individuals cut is for the sole purpose that it puts them in control of some aspect of their lives. Its a positive reinforcement for them to see the blood and to feel the pain, and to know that they are responsible for it. That being said, I started thinking...don't we all--in some way, shape, or form--constantly make attempts to control the amount of pain we undergo, be it physical, emotional, etc...? Whether its ignoring the pain in a broken finger in order to finish playing a basketball game, or always keeping people at an arm's length so that they never get close enough to hurt or disappoint-->Everyone wants to be in control of the situation at hand; as if being in control lessens the potential risk of getting hurt. I had the urge to write something that stemmed from this topic.

Being an "English Buff" as those close to me call it, I was interested in finding the correct literary term for these short periods of intense writing...these bouts of creativity. And then it hit me: stream of consciousness! In terms of literature, stream of consciousness portrays a character's point of view by providing a written version of his/her thought process typically in form of a narrative. A wonderful published example of this would be T.S. Eliot's poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (a must read if I may say so myself). I love reading things like this almost as much as I love writing them. It's therapeutic and just plain old fun! :) Enjoy.

4/23/09

1:44 AM

SNAP...SNAP...Snap goes the elastic that she is wearing around her wrist. The stinging feeling she gets in the same place she is hurting, goes red as she continues with this self-inflicted pain. It hurts, and she knows it but she doesn't care. Any pain she can generate just to block out the one she is feeling in the vicinity of her chest's center. She hurt him, he hurt her...all unintentionally of course--or so they say. This does not hide the fact that it keeps happening, and it hurts all the same...every time. SNAP...SNAP...SNAP! The pacing of the snaps quicken as she recounts their last interaction. His diverted gaze, her heavy sighs, his clearing of the throat, her deep inhales--all in an effort to break that earsplitting silence between them that has enough volume to drown out her thoughts. It's awkward and she knows it, but she doesn't do anything about it. It pains her and she feels it, but she doesn't do anything about it. And him? It appears as if everything is just perfectly fine; like there isn't a tension so thick it could suppress their breathing like the air on a hot and humid day, like pollen at the zenith of allergy season. Tension, Tension. Tension. SNAP...SNAP...Snap goes the elastic as it pops across her wrists and snaps her back into reality. He's gone: just like that. Snap!

On Being Big Sis

“A sibling may be the keeper of one's identity, the only person with the keys to one's unfettered, more fundamental self.” ~Marian Sandmaier

What starts off as a night of just congregating for a quick webcam photo, morphs into hours of joking, dancing, and posting silly videos on older sibling's facebook walls. Can it actually be possible for a person to never know exactly how much she loves being an older sister until one exact [and fairly recent] moment? Somewhere between dancing to N'Sync holiday classics and fighting for the most camera time, this girl fell in love--with a seventeen year old chic who marches to the beat of her own drum and has a bohemian state of mind, and with a six year old boy who radiates innocence and has a heart as big as the world.

Being an older sibling is like being cast in a role that you didn't audition for, or landing a job without having gone to the interview. For the most part, we don't ask for these positions, but we find ourselves inheriting it's responsibilities regardless. With statements like "Look out for..." "Set an example for..." and "Take ___ with you" constantly being thrown our way, there is no wonder why being an older sibling can seem like a bit of a burden. However, it is a blessing too. This Christmas break, while watching my sister and brother dance for the camera, I discovered just how rewarding it is to have younger siblings. For most of my life I have been so focused on what I could potentially teach them as being their older sister--that I was completely oblivious to the numerous lessons they have instilled in me.

At an age when most girls are just starting to "find themselves," my teenage sister has a pretty solid idea of the young lady she is becoming. It may have been her decision to turn vegetarian at the tender age of eleven in a house full of carnivores, or her decision to do service in Uganda over a summer vacation filled with fun in the sun...Nevertheless, she has taught me the importance of being true to myself, and not caring so much about what other people think.

My little brother, on the other hand, has taught me so much about myself in terms of love and caring for others. I never knew I had the emotional capacity to care for another individual as much as I do him, and I never knew what it truly meant to love selflessly until him. There is not a thing in the world that I wouldn't do for him, or any of my siblings for that matter.

So as their singing and dancing winds down, I cannot help but smile as I think about how much of an impact these two have made on my life. There is definitely a give and take when it comes to these sibling relationships--and I LOVE that! That's my serendipitous moment... While we older sibs find ways in which we can be there for our younger sibs, let us not forget to recognize and appreciate the many ways that they are there for us. <3