ON this very moment.

I think it's sort of hilarious that I sneak over to this blog to write things down that are sitting in my heart. I understand branding and the business of being a business just a little too well and so I never want to cross those lines on the mustard seed co blog. I like to keep that shiny and polished and brand-centric (you know, that is, when I actually write over there).

But this little space is so safe. Anyone who still reads it knows that I pour out my heart here, that I'm honest almost to a fault. And may I also say I think it's hilarious how many readers I still have? I can see those stats, you guys, and it blows my mind that people continue to come here to read. Thus furthering my point about authenticity - when we just are who we are, people want more. When we present something that makes sense and flows really well and we look great on, it can be give or take. I've always thought that this blog would be the one to "take off", if you will, if I ever actually was consistent. Because being our true selves is, like, the freaking jam. It's where success lives. (Hey can someone remind me of this sometime? When I'm forgetting it? Great, thanks in advance.)

Every time I get back to my apartment from being home in NJ, I have to take a couple of days to shake back into my routine and life here. And every time I get back, I try to remind myself to be gentle with the transition. "Try" being the keyword. Coming back to the city means being slammed with the reminders that I have no idea where I will be living in a couple of months, and I mean that in regards to city, state, and apartment, including my current one. I'm slammed with the reminder of what I want and how far I often feel I'm from it (and how close). I'm slammed with the reminder of the people and animals who need help, who need others, with so many sitting on the ground around me. I'm slammed directly in all of my senses with all of the awesome and scary and loud and exciting things that make New York City what it is. I'm hit dead on with where I want to be, where I am, what I'm working toward, what I'm running from. And, of course, I'm kicked in the gut and in my heart with the missing human in my life. Still. Daily. Every blessed moment.

Re-reading all of that now it's easy for me to think "well of course all of that at once can make a girl a little wonky for a day or two". But in the moments of living it, I just want to be past it. I want to know the future, I want a clear freaking answer on if I should move and if that's down the street or across the country. I want guidance and a big giant sign that says I'll be fine financially, emotionally, physically, and in so many other ways.

But that giant sign is faith, right? That's what we do, right? We keep taking these steps forward despite the fact that we are wobbling around in darkness, completely unsure of what's in front of us, with feet and legs that can't seem to remember how to move, and a pounding heart. We keep going. And the difference here is that many just stop. They feel the power of fear and they just stop. Even if they are urged to move for the rest of their life, they won't. They stay frozen and cave to fear. But we get to choose faith. We get to say that it is bigger than that paralyzing fear. And so there I am again, on my knees, face pointed upward, sobbing and talking and asking and praying and wanting and trusting.

And while it doesn't sound so fun, or feel so good in the moment, it is the only thing keeping me moving forward. And that is some powerful shit. The days I cross my arms and stomp my feet and say no to God and no to praying and no to trusting are so much worse than any handful of minutes spent crying on my floor. The times I spend thrusting a hand over my eyes and refusing to look at God and demanding that I know best are so much freaking worse than the terrifying moments of taking a tiny step forward when I feel God call me to move. It is so much worse when I pretend that I'm in charge. I'm not in charge, and neither are you. It's all Him. I grant that this sounds insane and ridiculous and terrifying but damn if it isn't true. It's insane how insane it is, because it is TRUE. And terrifying. And glorious.

The other day, I was walking behind a family in central park. People not from New York tend to walk in a straight line so they can, like, actually see and hear each other (what is that about?) and so I literally was forced to walk behind them as I caught my breath from the run I'd just had. In between my wheezing, I heard one of them say something about how he didn't understand why people run. Another cracked a joke about New Yorkers needing to run so they can run away from their crazy lives. And I thought to myself how that's not it at all. How it's the opposite. That we are running, full steam ahead, with everything we've got, toward our lives. We are the brave ones running head on toward it. We are running toward the amazing things that are on their way. We are running with each tiny, terrifying step.

I don't have any answers still. I'm like a one-woman detective team with my quest for "signs" - a certain song will play and I'm convinced it means to move somewhere, I'll see a certain word and I'm convinced it means to make that call, and so on. I honestly have no idea what's coming next and God is drilling that so hard into my brain you'd think I would freaking accept it by now. Sometimes I think He's like "hey Kerry, I'm running out of ideas here on how to get you to see that you cannot control your life or know what's happening next. Can you do me a solid and just surrender to it? Cool, thanks!" But even with absolutely no answers, and even with all this pain and fear and wondering and growth, I have this faith. And He calls me to take a step. And to take another. And if I'm lucky, I do it. Slowly, steadily. Step.

And step. And step. And step. And step.

on MESSAGES

**I wrote this awhile ago and promptly forgot to post it. Upon finding it, it still feels worthy of sharing. Add on a few weeks when you see the number 3. Add on a few things to my lists. Make them real good in your head, I won't ask.**

We were early on in our walk when Henry froze up. All it takes is a loud truck or a lot of people to stop him in his tracks. I knelt down and he ran directly into my arms, paws using my knee like a launch pad. I pressed my mouth next to his ear and quietly said, "You're safe, I'm right here. I got you, kid."

I looked up and realized I was directly under a large church. The message was not missed.
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In the last 3 weeks, I have changed my hair color and started to grow out my bangs.
I've begun guitar lessons and begun conversations with musicians and producers.
I've started to work with a doggy behaviorist, finding myself carrying meatballs on each walk.
I've taken on a handful of new clients, more than I expected for the shortest month of the year.
I've gone out with other boys, seen best friends, had visits from people who live across the country.
I've seen three Broadway shows, one reading, and one where men made for gorgeous women.
I've taken myself to the MoMA, to the park, to Lincoln Center, out to eat, to get my nails done.
I've been in auditions, callbacks, on-screen with producers in other states, and recorded endless copy.
I've re-arranged my room, changed out the furniture, planted a vision board next to my bed.
I've purged items and papers and junk and clothing and books, donating to people and garbage cans.
I've had endless dreams where I am going up and down stairs, all types, in all places, always stairs.
__

We were still sitting on the fountain, my favorite place of all, in one of our Conversations. We must have been nearing an hour by then, the summer heat cooling down as evening was settling in. He was continuing on when he said something that struck me:

"I want to know where God is in our relationship."

It quickly became the second best thing he's ever said to me. The first, I realized, had been about God, too.
__

I was antsy tonight. Checking my phone every few seconds. Instagram, texts, facebook, emails, on repeat. I started to work and stopped a million times. I put on a new episode of pretty little liars, my favorite, but my eyes darted around, hands grabbing for the phone again, feet restless. I was mad at God and ignoring the calming voice telling me to pray, to talk it out. I kept picking up my phone instead, clicking back to facebook, when I heard it:

"What are you looking for? You won't find it there. Pray."

This time it didn't feel like a suggestion.
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In the last 3 weeks, I've looked up apartments in other cities, way too many flights.
I've been given multiple gifts, from people I expected them from and people I do not even know.
I've been to church every Sunday at 12:30, usually running late because of course I am.
I've drunk dialed the safest people I could, the ones across the country, too far to meet up.
I've remembered why I hate drinking and don't do it.
I started on a young artists board with an incredible group of other artists, makers, creatives, thinkers.
I've soulcycled my little heart out, hitting each beat beat beat beat, singing along.
I've reached out to new voice teachers, joined a group to read plays just for the sake of reading them.
I've re-designed my website, re-designed my resume, submitted to endless casting breakdowns.
I've finally finalized plans for my business website and logo with my designer.
I've had amazing opportunities, exciting things that made me jump around with delight.
I've fielded questions about you in a way that has taught me the definition of grace.
I have been busy.
__

I know without a doubt that we are put into situations and frustrations and challenges to learn lessons and grow as humans. I also know none of us have any damn idea what is going to happen next in our lives, despite our desperate and strong beliefs that we definitely-absolutely-totally are planned and ready.

When I talk about following my gut and what I'm called to do, people are excited and on board. When I talk about God, sometimes some of those people are not so sure anymore. To me, it is the same thing. A voice, a calling, guiding me. When I hear "myself" I believe I'm hearing God's will. When I refer to my truth, it's God's truth, too.

For years, I have had this boy on a pedestal but God was not on one. Over the past year, it's started to shift. The pedestal was gone, choosing to stand eye to eye instead, a better view for both of us. I started to talk to God again, started to turn to passages from the bible, started to go back to church and started to really like it. I mean, I named my business after a passage that I love, that I felt called to use. I picked my designer based on a gut instinct that God wanted me to work with her. My life has actually gotten monumentally better in the past year and even better with each step closer back to God. Like, shockingly, surprisingly, mind blowingly better. But still, this boy, my whole heart, my eyes just as wide for him as they are for God. No, even wider. So it's really no wonder to me that I've been flipped up and over and shaken and set back down on the ground without my best friend next to me. It's no wonder that I'm being called back to God even louder now. It's no wonder that I'm being literally forced to replace my fear with my faith. It's also no wonder that I have peace in my heart despite the unknowns and worries coursing through my veins, through my mind. It's no wonder that I am still filled with pure love for him, despite confusion and pain.

And in these past 3-ish weeks, despite the endless list of what I have done, what I had not done yet was hand it on over to God. So tonight I did just that. Take it, lead me, bring me closer to you. Bring him closer to you. If you want us back together, let it be when we're both back with you. Give him the grace he needs to do the work he wants to do in his heart and on his life. Work in him. Work in me. Let him seek out God, that's where he can find me.

We all love a good happy ending. We all nod in agreement as we listen to people talk about how they just needed a month or two apart or a year or two apart in order to realize they didn't want to be apart. We chime in about how important it is to take the time to work on ourselves before being with our partners. But what about while that part is happening? What about the part where we're uncertain, fumbling around like baby deer, just trying to get our footing underneath? What about the middle section of discovering and questioning? The part where the lesson hasn't yet been made fully clear because we're still literally in it? What about the part where we're wildly uncomfortable?
__

I had caved and been talking out loud for a few minutes when Layla started to fuss, moving from my pillow down to the mattress, laying one way before flipping around to the other and kicking her feet into me. I leaned down to her and smoothed her fur, calming her down. "Can't get comfortable, huh? It's okay, I'm right here, you're okay. Shh, you're okay, you're okay."

The message was not missed.

Unapologetic; Or a post on 2014 and a case of the busy-busies.

this photo has nothing to do with this post. except i like it. and it fits my thoughts. credit: Philip Spaeth

Here's the thing: I really miss writing.

I keep wanting to write, thinking I should blog, but then - no, organize the new website for Mustard Seed, take the dogs out on a longer walk, finish that project, reply to the seemingly endless emails, eat-did-you-eat?, do the things, say the words, make the calls, blah blah blah. And then I don't. Mostly it's because I'm over here hoarding posts and post ideas for my soon-to-be new blog for my business website that I swear I am so close to finishing except no not at all but it's a damn good start. And I think about all these things and start to get overwhelmed and then I have to stop and take care of myself because I'm no good to the world if I'm no good to myself.

And I think about how I miss writing. And here we are.

I don't care for the idea that being busy stops you from doing what you love. That is potatoes. But I am a firm believer that we ourselves stop us from doing what we love. I see it in my clients, I see it in my community, I see it in myself. And when I spy something in myself that I don't like, I have to change it. Self-growth, change, working on myself provide me with a high unlike any other.

I've been searching around for my word for 2014. My clients and I have chosen some most excellent ones for themselves and I'm thrilled for them. My 2013 word was Brave. Capital B. And I look back at the past year and I can see how Brave weaved itself into my choices, my struggles, lessons, gains, Love, passion, and career. I can see it. I couldn't always then but that hindsight thing is no joke. 2013 blew my damn mind. I never saw any of it coming. Actually, if you had told me what would happen in 2013 a year earlier, I would have laughed my face off at you. So I'm eager to see what happens this year and am fairly without any expectations. I got that lesson loud and clear last year: you cannot control, you do not know, just show up and trust. But with that mindset, it can be hard to choose a word to encompass the upcoming year.

So I've been working through some: Light, for one. I find myself asking if that's a strong enough choice but I remind myself to be light multiple times a day so it's worth pursuing. Confidence, another. Release. Proclaiming. Balance. Commitment. And then tonight, I had a thought: Unapologetic. There's something about that word that lights up a part of me that I forgot I had and reminds me of who I am. In that deliciously unexpected way, you know? Like when you're wearing your favorite outfit and feel so right, or see a photo of yourself where you're like "oh, there I am". It feels like the piece of me that's been sitting quietly, waiting for the rest of me to come back for it.

Unapologetic. I like it.

Not in a way where I won't be apologizing. Obviously. But unapologetic about my life, my choices, what I feel like wearing, saying no to going out, saying no in general, enjoying the things I enjoy. Unapologetic about my love and ability to love and my words and my ability to speak them. Unapologetic about my success, about receiving compliments, about my commitment to hustling until I get everything I want. And freaking unapologetic about what it is that I want. And need. And crave. And hope for. And don't need. And don't want. Unapologetic about being myself.

I think the reason I love to blog so much is that it forces me to catch these tiny moments within my life that I may have missed otherwise. I don't want to miss those moments in my life. I don't want answering emails or making color palate choices or texting someone back or shoveling breakfast in my mouth to cause me to miss out on those simple, sweet, intoxicating, life-changing, life-awareness moments. I don't want to miss any of the magical life lessons that come from my sweet pups. I don't want to brush away Henry when he taps me on the shoulder with his paw (no but really he does this) because he needs something and I'm too busy working to have noticed. I don't want to miss the moments when the Universe and God are talking to me but I'm too busy updating my google calendar to hear them. I don't want to miss the way the sweetest man in the world looks at me because I'm too busy trying to plan the next time we'll be able to see each other. And I don't want to miss out on remembering these moments later because I was too busy to write them down.

I don't want to miss my life because I'm too busy creating the life I think I want.

I don't actually have a cute way of wrapping this up or tying it all together or even a point in why I'm writing except that I just needed to write. At this point I can't imagine anyone is still reading this thing but in a way that almost makes it better. And either way I don't care. It's for me, right here, right now. And I'm unapologetic about that. (Look at that, I DID have a cute way of tying it together.)

on SEEING WITH THE HEART

"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; 

what is essential is invisible to the eye." The Little Prince

Switching my computer off, and leaving it in another state for two days, helped me remember what's important.

Running with them in the park, joyous smiles spread across their little faces, helped me remember what's important.

Playing scrabble, my favorite Halloween movie on in the background, my phone silenced, helped me remember what's important.

Sitting across from my favorite human, marveling as he took the same words from earlier, and shook them around like real-life boggle, spilling them back out in front of me until it all made sense, helped me remember what's important.

Weaving through the aisles of the grocery store together, continuing our life long conversation in a way that only best friends can know, helped me remember what's important.

Seeing updates on Facebook as a friend was losing her dog, my heart breaking for them, helped me remember what's important.

Watching as she went to help even though she was already tired and would have preferred to relax, helped me remember what's important.

Taking a cab across town, to a part of Manhattan I rarely encounter, just to give him a hug goodbye, reflecting on the great lessons he taught me the whole way there, helped me remember what's important.

Resting, instead of working just-a-little-more, helped me remember what's important.

Hearing the crunch of leaves under my feet, navigating our way through the pumpkin patch, helped me remember what's important.

Watching as he stretched out his body, relaxing, trusting, knowing he is safe here, helped me remember what's important.

Sharing my truths honestly, instead of covering or worrying, and having them received with love, helped me remember what's important.

You never know when you're going to get a boatload of lessons delivered to you. Might as well stay open just in case.

on CAESAR MOVES TO THE MIDWEST

It took us a little while at first. We had to learn each other. One of us liked to pull the other one down the street, feet lifting up from underneath, hair flying in face, beagle nose on the move. We had to learn how to talk to each other, give and take, like any relationship. But the love had been there from the start.

Caesar taught me some really important things. Like what happens when we release control and push ourselves to go a little further. And that it's important to be held a lot. And that playing is a 24 hour a day commitment. And that trusting can be scary, but you just have to keep trying.

When C and his mom moved out of town last week, we had just wrapped up our last few days together. Long walks, and toy tosses, and couch time together. And a final "you're a good boy, Caesar, be good, I'll see you soon" and you better believe I started to cry as I left. These dogs that I get to watch, to take care of, they aren't just a job. They're furry bundles of lessons and love, and while the job sounds like an easy out for some quick cash, it's always me who ends up unbearably lucky to have gotten the chance. C was even more special as I'm currently taking a pause from the doggie-sitting world (we'll see how long that lasts) and he could very well have been the last. Plus, I have a soft spot for furry little boys with eyes that tell you they've seen things, and a need to know they're safe. C is lucky, he's got a great mom, who loves him so much, and has kept him through endless moves and changes and years. He is absolutely one of the lucky ones, and one of the sweetest, too.

You're a good boy, Caesar, be good, I'll see you soon.

on HEARING AND SEEING

I can and I will.

I heard it clear as a whistle, my body sunk into my bed, laptop in front of me, freshly used notebook to my right, piled on top of three larger notebooks, my organizational system of life.

I can and I will.
__

We'd had this conversation before.

"You love to look busy", she said, "it's a great distraction. You're doing so much and yet, you're doing nothing."

"Yeah. I know. So what, then? What do I do? What am I not doing? What am I missing?"
__

I remember the first time I heard one of these phrases. Truths that are placed gently into my mind, incredibly soft and loud at the same time. Little lightening bolts of honesty. Maybe it had happened before, but June 29, 2010, sitting in that airport, was the first time I can remember. Like a rush, woosh, a steady voice, words I didn't know I needed. A gift.

These eight words are still only for me, kept tucked into my soul, running through my mind, motivating and reminding me. Maybe it was the first time I was hearing myself. Maybe, there in the noisy space of an airport, with the culmination of those eighteen months, and the fear of the unknown boiling within, maybe it was the first time my own voice could get through, or maybe it was the first time I was able to hear my guiding source. Maybe they are the same thing. It's hard to be sure. Hearing with your gut, your heart, is so very different than hearing with ears.

I grabbed my journal and wrote the phrase, tucked into the corner of one of the pages, before I could forget, saving it for when I would need to find it again.
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He was up on his feet now. A sure sign that something important was coming, the kind of words that require his entire body's support underneath them.

"I know what you say you want. But I also see what you're doing. And they don't match up."

Fiery, I am. Passionate, I am. Up on my feet now, too. Was he challenging my dreams? Me? Our conversation continued until it had to be paused and I got to walk my thoughts home with me, watch as they shifted and settled. I reviewed the conversation in my head, let my ego have it's turn to speak before putting it down for the night, and let his words settle into my soul.

I entertained the idea that he didn't believe in me. Ridiculous and dismissed. Something more. I waited until it hit me. This isn't what performers do. I'm not performing. I'm researching, I'm taking meetings, I'm submitting, I'm emailing, I'm at the agency several times a week, I'm auditioning like a motherfucking fiend but in a beautifully safe way, comforted by the walls of the recording booth, or the fun environment of commercials. I'm killing it at "the business" but the "show" part seems to have gone missing. Set aside, waiting until the day I am.. perfectreadybettermore. Enough.
__

I can and I will. I heard it again. The second time through it sounded like the start to a favorite song, the kind that stays with you years later, the one that always gets you up dancing. A more familiar melody.
__

Within minutes, everything started to shift. Within less than a day, I spent hours in a casting session observing auditions, being a reader for those auditioning, wrote a new song, got a new script sent to me, made a list of fifteen ideas for kickstarting my creating, was given an industry magazine, warmed up my voice and sang for no other reason than the fact that I can sing, that I have a mouth and a tongue and teeth and vocal chords that somehow all work and create a sound that is unique and made just for me to have. And now, I am writing.

And just like that, a puzzle that I've been carrying around, something I could not unlock for the life of me, snapped back into place. This beautiful gift from a perfect mirror, in the form of a brave person, pacing around his living room, reflecting back to me what I cannot yet see by myself. We'll see what happens, if I keep moving toward it. There are no declarations, just really glorious lessons.

And tiny, huge truths.

And big, little moments.

And I can and I will.

on MY PEOPLE, MY PEOPLE

This all started the other day. I was bounding out of my apartment, when I saw a girl across the street, mid-walk with her dogs. She had her face pressed into the furry face of her larger pup, and was talking softly to him, soothing him. And I thought: girl, you are my people.

So, without further adieu:

Girl on the street, with your dog standing on his hind legs, front paws wrapped around your waist, as you lean down to meet him face-to-face: you are my people.

Man bopping down the street, keeping beat with his steps and singing along nearly at full voice: you are my people.

Elderly couple who caught me mid-stretch, waiting for the elevator, and said "you better use it while you got it": you are my people.

Friend that referenced getting her tiara on as a way to celebrate a personal victory: you are my people.

Other friend who texted me a quote about keeping your head tall so your crown won't slip: you are my people.

My clients who tell me extravagant dreams with a look in their eyes that I won't be able to give words to: you are my people.

Older gentleman, carrying your dog on your waist, as though he was a toddler, one leg on each side of you, upper paws around your neck: you know you're my people.

Crazy facebook strangers who add me so we can share even more dogs in need, even though we've never met, have very little in common, and are far apart in distance and age: you are my people.

Girl explaining to her visiting relatives that the bags they have just offered to carry aren't very heavy at all, not in comparison to what she carries around during the week: you are my people.

Those who dive right in, and have no need for small talk when there is passion to discuss: you are my people.

Boy who took me on a date at 8:45 in the morning because that's the only free time we both have, face lit up with excitement for each piece, listening intently to me: you are so my people.

Girl that yells out each order as it is set on the counter, cause she does not have time for the loud customers everywhere: you are my people.

Room full of peers who were throwing their hands in the air, responding aloud to certain phrases, and yelling out in pure joy as the singers poured their souls out: you better believe you're my people.

Girl sitting to my left, just a few feet down, a book in your arms, legs crossed indian style, a total look of contentment on your face: you are my people.

Henry Elliot & Layla June: you are mommy's little furry people, yes you are, mommy loves you (you knew I'd sneak them in, right?).

Mr. President, calling out BSL for the bullshit that it is, and being super freaking cool always: you are my people!

Friend who took my hand, pulsating love from your being into mine, as you wrapped up a conversation with someone else: you are my people.

Girls on speaker phone, taking turns telling tales, interrupting each other, calling each other out, laughing: you've been my people since before we were really people.

Who are your people? xo

p.s. do you know what the title is from? I'll give you a hint: Lin-Manuel Miranda: you are my people!

on SOCRATES, I LOVE YOU

For so long I would harp on the past. On what had to be "fixed" from years, days, hours gone by, so that I could move forward. It wasn't enough to let it settle, or forget about it. I had to analyze, understand, and talk it out until I (and anyone else involved) was blue in the face.

And now, I seem to be nearly completely without concern for the past. So when I saw this quote today, it caught my eye. I re-read it a few times, in my head, and then aloud. While I do my best to not harp on incidents from the past, nor identify people with any particular traits/ways they've treated me in the past (i.e. if I've changed so much, he/she could have changed just as much), I do still obsessively want to "fix" the parts of myself that I would like to be "better". I spend an awful lot of time trying to break down old belief systems that do not serve me anymore, and keep a watchful eye as to when they show up (i.e. "I'm not good enough"). This is good because it means I've identified harmful beliefs and am getting them out one by one. But could I stand to put more energy into creating my life right now, in this very second, and working toward goals? Yep.

What if, and stay with me here, but what if, in creating what I want for my present, those old belief systems just went poof. Poof! What if that's the kicker to get rid of them? What if focusing so much on wanting to stop them, is part of what's keeping them around? What if we don't need to wrestle with the ghosts of who we used to be, and can, instead, just love the living being we are right now?

That Socrates, I tell you what. Guy knew his shit.

on A BLACK LAB TEACHES ME EVERYTHING IN CHURCH

image via

I slid into the pew about ten minutes after mass had started. I'm a late person. I just am. When I left the apartment almost at the time church started, I figured I'd be much later than just ten minutes, so actually I was delighted with myself.

There was a homeless person in the pew in front of me, laying down, asleep, so there was a massive amount of seating open in that area. An invisible bubble of nonsense protection from whatever it is that people think they'll get from homeless people. For the latecomer here, this was great news, because it meant that I got a seat.

When I sat, I saw it; the flash of a long black tail whip up and around underneath the pew. And then my ears heard a familiar jingle of collar tags knocking into each other. And then out slid one paw, followed by the other, and bang, she was licking my feet. A beautiful black lab hanging out under the pew while her family took in the service. My kind of people. Her mom apologized profusely, but I shook her off. The only thing I could possibly think of to make a relaxing Sunday morning at church better, would be if there were dogs in every pew.

Every time she let out a little whimper, or thumped her head by accident, or jangled, or did one of the many other things that pups do, various people turned their heads, trying to place what the noise was. Add to this, the various screaming children who are either very upset, or are praising god in a way that adults somehow forget after age six. Parents who are shushing and hushing and rocking and reasoning. And then add the many other shuffles and sounds that come with a large amount of humans - jittery, cell phone having, busybusybusynewyorkers - all gathered in one quiet place. And I noticed something: the heads turning, the comments made, the stares and eye rolls and judgements. One couple got me, in particular. They were the first to whip their heads around when the sweet dog made a noise, every time. Yet they maintained a conversation between the two of them the entire mass. And this got me thinking.

Why were they here? To fulfill an obligation? Or because they wanted to be? Were they just punching in and out each week in order to earn enough star stickers to win extra good karma? And then ever further: Why do we do the things we do? Why do I do the things I do? What's the impulse? Reasoning?

I was speaking with a friend last night who mentioned they were considering making a decision based on filling their savings account. Now, you don't have to tell me about money. I'm an artist, for pete's sake. There are many moments where I'm like 'shoot I would be down to do that just to make the money'. Anyway, my answer to this was 'What do you want your life to look like? if you want to be in new york city, then be in new york city. If you want to feel secure knowing you have this check coming in and money being saved, then do that. If you want to move to, like, Atlanta, then move to Atlanta.' If she wants to make money right now, then she should absolutely do that. It's not for me to understand, it is only for her to do. Actively choose and do, based on what she wants for her life. Now, if the answer actually is that she wants to become a deep sea diver off the coast of some island but she's just too scared to pursue it.. well, that's a whole other thing. But if there's no fear, just an actual decision, then boom. There you go, do that.

I think this is one of the biggest blessings and curses of modern day living and freedom. We can literally choose anything that we want for our lives and then make it happen. Sure some choices come with a lot of hard work, a lot of money needed, a huge change, etc, but it's up to us. And there are so many choices, it can be overwhelming and much easier to stay where we're at, doing what we're doing, exactly as we are.

I'm rambling. I do this. I guess what I mean to say is: why are you doing the things you're doing? What do you want your life to look like? What would it look like if you took out a notebook and wrote out everything you want for your life, how you want it to look, where you want to be, heck even what sights and sounds and smells you want (or don't want) - what would it look like? And are you checking in with those ideas?

As for me, I've got a puppy friend here, and a blank notebook, and I believe it's high time to go sit by the water and check in with what I want, what I'm doing, and why I'm doing it. And then mayhaps enjoy an iced treat because holymoly it's hot.

Happy Sunday, friends.

on BASKETBALL TEACHES YOU THINGS & STUFF

I've been watching the NBA finals over the past week.

I'll give you a minute to pick yourself up off from the floor. Don't forget to close your mouth that is surely hanging open.

Now that you're back with me, let's start again. I've been watching the finals, and before that, some of the playoffs. Here's what happened: one night, many a week ago, I went to meet my favorite boy type person for dinner, and he was ancy as all get out. This is not uncommon for him, but this ance had a special flavor to it, and it was quickly discovered "there's a game on!". Plans changed to ordering in, and watching the game. Well, actually, he watched and I.. a little bit watched, but mostly saw first-hand how happy this silly game seemed to make him. I happen to like things that make him happy, and trust his judgement on all most things fun, so I watched another game.. and it was interesting. By the third, I found myself seriously enjoying it. This was highly disturbing to me, as you may imagine. Actually, all of it is; I let us cancel our date to go watch basketball, and even paid for dinner (it's true), and then wound up liking the darn thing. It's yet to be determined if I'm the coolest girl ever, or just crazy. More on that later.

Fast forward and I've watched like.. seven games? Mostly I've watched them in conjunction with something else, flipping back and forth between things like The Bachelorette and The Tony Awards. A perfect fit, I'm sure you are thinking.

And since I'm a bit of a personal-growth-let's-learn-lessons-in-everything-person, I've realized that there's been quite a bit that I've learned during my new time as a basketball fan, both about the sport and about life.

1. Basketball is basically like a TV show or soap opera. Everyone is recurring, but there are stars, then supporting. So, if this was Pretty Little Liars, LeBron James would be Hannah (Ashley Benson), and Dwayne Wade would be Aria (Lucy Hale), and so on. And just like PLL, they are all hella dramatic. When someone falls, the world is ending. They lay there, drawing it out, waiting for the call from the ref. Everyone rushes over to help them up, as though they've been shot. When they're called on the foul, their eyes widen with innocence (Mr. James is super good at this, and looks about six years old). When they feel they've been shortchanged, they yell and make hand gestures, and just about have a fit. Oh, the drama.

2. Despite the drama, nobody really says anything bad about the other team. Actually, they say nice things. When a player is pulled aside to answer some quick questions, and the interviewer is all 'what's happening?', the player usually somehow compliments the other team. For example, they say things about how the other team/another player is really on their defense and working hard so they just have to work harder. They're also all very well spoken and never out of breath. How?

3. Ignore the praise. That's right, ignore it. If you make a basket and everyone cheers, and your fellow teammates are dancing around by the bench, you just make the shot and get on it with it. Back to the game. Focus on what you're doing. It's kind of crazy. If thousands of people were cheering for me for doing something well, I'd be all Taylor-Swift-Face-Making, like whooo me? Thank you, thank you! (You know what I mean if you've ever seen her accept an award.)

4. Practice really fucking hard at what you want to do. These guys are no joke. What does that book say? Outliers? That you must log 10,000 practice hours to achieve your goal? I'm gonna say these guys are at like 30,000. They've become the best at what they want to do, with diligence and practice.

5. Encourage each other. High fives for every little move. A little tap on the bottom doesn't hurt either. Actually the boys seem to enjoy this very much.

6. Work out. I mean, LOOK at them. It almost makes me want to get off the couch and put away the baked lays.

7. A small setback is no reason to quit. So you don't make a basket, okay, better stay on your feet because everyone else is still moving. The game is still going on. In the time that would be spent pouting, they could easily make a great block or rebound or something (look at me with the lingo!) that would also be super good.

8. On that same note, just because you have an off night personally, or just because your team loses a game, you can't dwell on it. You've just gotta keep hustling, keep moving, keep going. When I think of all the actor nonsense I've heard over not booking something and being in a funk for losing a role, holy potatoes. So if losing a role is akin to losing a game, I say no dwelling and get back on the court (in the audition room) and remember that you have no idea what will happen the next time.

9. Coordinating outfits with your friends is VERY IMPORTANT. It would be very embarrassing to show up in the same dress as a pal, right? Well imagine both teams showing up in the same color. The horror. Plus, super confusing. So outfits must be decided before hand. I get a good giggle over imagining the head coaches on the phone, arguing over who gets to wear white on which day.

10. Be the best at what you do. Then, find the other people who are best at what they do and team up with them. This seems to be what went down with the Heat. Or, okay, at least according to the Miami Heat fanatic who is singlehandedly educating me. So it could be that he was telling the story with pride and respect, but really some shady biz went down, I'm not sure, BUT it sounds like all of these super good players decided to figure out how to play together and make that happen. They could've been competitive with each other but instead they were all 'wait! I'm the best AND you're the best and we would be unstoppable.' Hello. Brilliant.

11. Cover your mouth if you're gossiping. You never know when a camera is on you.

12. Lastly, try something new. You might think you have very little interest in something.. say, for instance, basketball.. but then you try it out and start to learn some stuff and come to find that you're enjoying it. You may also find yourself up on your feet, yelling at the TV screen, and cheering in excitement. Hypothetical example, of course :)

Thus concludes the post I never thought I would write.

ON when it rains

Yesterday was rough. It was the kind of day that prompted a desire to hide under my blanket, tucked away in bed. The kind of day where everything is delightful one minute, and chaos the next. A right hook, followed by an uppercut, and then, bang, square in the face. Ring the bell, this girl was knocked out.

I wonder about these days. Even as I'm experiencing them, I wonder 'where is the lesson?'. I watch myself, usually without being able to affect my own behavior or to stop my own words, in a nearly out of body experience, and I think about what I'm trying to be taught. I had pulled the blanket up and over my head, Layla tucked in next to me, tail wagging and thinking we were having a grand playtime, and was trying to figure out what the heck had happened in the past hour, when it dawned on me.

We are not supposed to know what's going to happen. We don't know. It is not for us to understand or to be made aware of earlier than the very second it happens. For those of us that yearn to control, this can cause a bit (a lot) of the fear of the unknown. But it isn't for us to know. We are not in control, we are not God.

And then, another thought: I am not God, but I have God. And there, under that blanket, I felt that familiar comfort of knowing we are never alone, and my heart started to feel lighter. As it lightened, I slowly began to surrender to all of the situations that had just occurred, and I slowly gained clarity.

Slowly.

It's all a series of choices. We choose how we feel, what we're dwelling on, how we're thinking. We choose to believe someone else over ourselves, or vice versa. We choose to lose an entire day to tears, or only an hour. We choose to reach out, or we wait with fingers crossed for the other person to reach out. We let it go, or we don't. We can make a choice to be on our own team, or against ourselves. We can ask our friends for advice, or we can listed to our guts and our hearts.

The beauty here is that once I remember it's all about choosing, my power comes right back to me. Being a victim is unbelievably unappealing to me. You know, the type of people who bemoan why something is happening to them, or the kinds that sing their sob story to the world. "I'll never get this, I'll never do that, it'll never work out". I know this kind of person well because I used to be it - and once in awhile I'll go back down that road. But then: choices. And all of a sudden it becomes questions of why is this happening to me turned into what lesson am I being taught, and how will I pick myself back up, and what do I want to do next.

If you'll excuse me, I have some choices to make.

photos by Daniel Silbert

ON Birthdays & Happiness

The past several birthdays have been kind of strange.

Four years ago, I celebrated my birthday in Dallas, sharing it with two other people after having it all to myself for my whole life.

Three years ago, was celebrated with a tea party in Denver, and cards for St. Judes kids.

Two years ago, my twin and I reunited for a party in New York City on a rooftop bar with the strangest mix of industry, friends, and strangers from a second party that had been accidentally planned for the same time.

Last year, I celebrated by doing my first birthday fundraiser, and meeting the disabled dog that inspired my collection, and missing my birthday dinner due to illness.

This year, I just feel content. I don't know how else to explain it. When twin and I started talking about what we wanted to do, I didn't have any feelings one way or the other. A party would be fun, staying home would be fun, too. Strangely enough, I think this is one of my favorite birthdays yet despite being super low key. I've had a birthday breakfast with my momma and my aunt, my best friend & I hit the outlets to shop, my sister took me to meet Lauren Graham, had Birthday dinner with my dad, my puppies decided to gift me with their decision to get along (!!), I have plans with several of my most favorite people throughout today, and you beautiful strangers (and friends and family!) gave me the best gift by generously donating to my fundraiser for the dog rescues. I feel so happy and blessed.

This style of celebrating comes with a lesson I plan to take with me into my new year of life: when I just roll with whatever, I tend to be really joyful and much more appreciate of whatever comes to be. When I try to control and plan (whether that be a party, or my entire life), I tend to be disappointed, frustrated, and anxious. Sure, schedules have to be made and planning in advance needs to happen sometime, but mostly, for me anyway, going with the flow gets me to where I want to be much faster, with a smile on my face. Perhaps that's the best gift of all this year. Being quiet and still enough to hear a great lesson to inspire my upcoming year. Here's to birthdays and happiness :)

p.s. yes, I am wearing my tiara today. Can't suggest it enough.

Tell me your favorite birthday memory or way to celebrate by leaving a comment below!!