Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well--"Your art Matters--It's what got me here": Part 2

***Disclaimer: The title is a mash-up of the Eve 6 Song and a quote from One Tree Hill***

It's been nearly two years since I wrote an open thank you note to all the people that have inspired me. Two years. I should be saying thank you every day. 

Because truly, "Your art matters"--yes you--"It's what got me here." (One Tree Hill)

I am a go getter--a strong-brave--courageous-lively individual. But I am also grateful. I didn't get here on my own. I got here through all of you--through all of you in my past--through all of you who are in my present--through all of you that I've only met for moments--seconds in my life. I got here through my past--I got here through looking towards the future--and I got here through your constant pushes, your endless support, your brilliant love and passion for life and whatever it may bring. I got here through you. Yes--you.

I didn't always wear my heart on my sleeve when it came to what I truly wanted. The truth is--I've always wanted to be a performer--an artist--a creative soul giving her most intimate thoughts and gifts through words and writing on the side of the street. I always wanted to be in the school plays, take voice lessons so I could be on Broadway, and make art. Growing up, the only reality TV show I wanted to be on was Say What Karaoke. But up until my senior year of college, I never acted on it.  I am not sure if I was scared of what people would think of me--or if I just didn't have the confidence in myself. Whatever wall was stopping me seemed unbreakable. But I don't regret waiting so long to find my inner arteest (hehe)--because along the way, I formed friendships and long-lasting relationships with people who taught me to love myself and push myself in ways that have propelled me to become the artist --and person that I am.

I was an athlete. In everyone's minds that's where my life was going--athletics. When I was in eighth grade, I engraved it in my head that I needed to be good enough to get a scholarship for college--at softball. In sophomore year, I sat down with a recruiter and discussed how to reach college coaches. And by junior year, I was no longer focused on softball--but rather field hockey--another sport. I hadn't given myself a chance to TRY anything else. Being an athlete was all I knew. My life revolved around the emotion of the final game of a season--statistics--and morning runs. I knew nothing else--and my heart yearned for me to be trying EVERYTHING. I got a glimpse of what my heart was truly yearning for when I auditioned for class speaker, and won a vote to speak at my high school graduation. I compared high school to coffee--my inner art was screaming to get out, but again the wall built itself up. But my heart was yearning to be on a stage--somewhere--talking to people--laughing with people--performing. My head won this game. But I don't regret it.

What better way to get comfortable speaking and performing in front of people than playing sports--where you are put on display for people during every practice and during every game--choreographing just like a dancer how you'll dodge, move, and drive toward the goal. What better way to learn about performing in front of people than when you don't have time to worry about what people on the outside are thinking of you. It's just you and your teammates. It's because of those teammates--those coaches--those support systems--that I can perform. Here's to you.

Additionally I was always one to quote underdog movies: and prove that I should be on that field through my drive and my passion for wanting to be there for my teammates--for wanting to be a pillar to the foundation of a group of girls who meant the world to me. Through my teammates--through my coaches--through those support systems--through wanting to be there for people--who were always there for me--I found passion. Here's to you. My team.


When I moved to New York City, life changed. I met hundreds of people who were all part of team-dream (haha). I met hundreds of people who were following their passions. I met hundreds of people who made me realize that I could do the same. I met people who invited me to their shows--who asked me to watch them do their art--who showed me WHO THEY WERE. I met comics--and actors--and singers--and aspiring novelists. I met my acting class--I met my new mentors. I met people who were okay with being THEM--I met people who showed me that it's okay to be ME. These people are part of my team--these people are part of me. Here's to you--my team.

That's what life is about to me--the passion to perform--and the inherit pleasure in being part of a team--an endless team of people that are constantly making moves that in turn allow me to make my own. A team that often is off on their own, performing on stage, singing, dancing, playing and dreaming--a team that is inspiring me. I consider the world my team: My friends--my old teammates--my family--my new acquaintances--the faces of people who don't look back--the faces of people who worry, but push through--the faces of friends who pursue their dreams. You are all my team---Whoever you are--wherever you are--whether I met you in passing--or I spend time with you on a consistent basis--whether I read your blog--or followed your Twitter--I admire you--and I am inspired by you. I am me because of my team--This team. I am me because of  you.

                                                           "Your art truly matters. It's what got me here."

How I Geeked Out with James Franco

Disclaimer: I started this blog over a year ago with an intention of following the "reel" in New York City. My blog often features posts about real-life struggles, inspiring moments, and comical outbursts. This post is a return to the root of the blog, as I returned to the "reel" world tonight with a visit to the Tribeca Film Festival.

                                 I am a filmmaker. (and by filmmaker--I mean media maker)

For a while, I've been going back and forth on what a filmmaker is.  In my opinion, a filmmaker is someone who challenges the norms. It is someone develops an idea or message they'd like to clearly and concisely get across, and then relays that message through a medium--in any which way they can. A filmmaker is someone who doesn't rely on mimicking the past, but rather taking bits and pieces from past filmmakers to produce their own picture. A filmmaker is someone who embraces new technology trends and throws people for a loop with them. A filmmaker is an artist. I am a filmmaker.

And James Franco is a filmmaker. Tonight, I had the wonderful pleasure of attending the North American premiere of Franco and Ian Olds new movie: Francophrenia. Following the film, I had the opportunity to sit through a q and a with both directors, and like a ten year old waiting in line for an ice cream cone, I jumped at the opportunity to ask a question:

"First I want to say that I absolutely loved this film; I think it's brilliant; and the long takes and close-ups were just fantastic. My question is: How did the vision of your film change from the beginning of the process to the end product?" Franco took the mic and explained how the process changed quite a bit. He admitted to first planning on editing it himself--and then feeling better about it if he let someone else manipulate the footage. 

What does he mean by this? Well let's look at the film: Francophrenia is truly an experimental documentary that combines a fictional story--about General Hospital--with an ongoing commentary that we have on celebrities--in this case James Franco himself. Throughout the film, we are treated to long takes of Franco on and off set; close-ups on Franco's face like those we'd have in soap operas; dark endearing music to captivate Franco as a crazy man; voice over whispers of the thoughts going through Franco's head during these fictional takes; shots of fans obsessed with Franco as a celebrity; and of course the fictional General Hospital story. Because Franco had become the center of this film, as he said, he unselfishly gave himself up to director Olds. And in that, the film changed completely from his hands to someone else's. For Franco, this meant removing his ego from the manipulation of the footage. Bonus points.

The Q & A finished immediately after my question and en route out, I took a risk and approached Franco. 

"Excuse me, James...I just wanted to say that the film is brilliant." Slowly I reached out my hand hoping he'd take it. He did.

"Thanks, really thank you," Franco graciously said. 

And then the word vomit began. Star struck, I told him how I believed I was an experimental filmmaker. And as I stumbled through all my words to make clear to him how much experimental film and filmmaking meant to me, he sat there and listened to me intently, and he conversed back, despite a line of people behind me awaiting their few seconds with him. His willingness and his excitement over our conversation about film made clear just how passionate this artist is about his craft. We often put celebrities on this pedestal--Francophrenia displays that pedestal brilliantly-and we forget that they too are just working on their art--their messages. They too are just doing what they love to do. And for a moment it didn't matter that my words were coming out backwards, we were just two industry people having an industry conversation...and it felt quite lovely:


 I mentioned that I lectured at URI and it reminded me of him because he's a teacher, and I asked him if he's still New York teaching. he responded kindly and said "Do you teach, you said you lectured at your university?" This led to the last bit of our conversation in which we discussed iPhone apps, what my favorites are for filmmaking, how he'll check it out, and how he goes to school at RISD now. I then made a quick joke with him about his film, and he laughed (yay). 

After telling him once more how much I enjoyed the film and how it was very nice to meet him, I left the theatre thinking about how much I love this art, how much I love the ability to express myself through my medium of choice, how much I love being able to geek out with filmmakers over latest gadgets, and how much I LOVE this REEL world. And how I am not planning to leave it anytime soon.

I am a filmmaker--or in 2012 terms: a media maker.

"Do you ever wonder if we make the moments in our lives or if the moments in our lives make us?"

Moments are fleeting. They are memorable. They are relentlessly persistent on our minds. They are easy to forget. They are saddening. They are disheartening. They are enlightening. They are brilliant. They are wonderful. They are calm. They are chaotic. They are everywhere and nowhere at once. They are an illusion. They are there.

They are in the past. They are in the future.

They are in the present

Moments are undeniably truthful, vulnerable, and life-changing.

"How many moments in life can you point to and say, ‘That's when it all changed'?" - One Tree Hill

I can name two.

1. The URI field hockey team getting eliminated in April of 2008.

2. The moment I made the decision to move to New York City-and DID.

It's easy for a lot of people to look back and say everything happens for a reason. But I think these "everything happens for a reason" moments are a load of bull shit to be blunt. Moments happen---and these moments force us to make choices--choices for ourselves. The honest truth is that nothing has to to come from a bad moment--or a good moment. Our lives can be completely and devastatingly stale afterwards--or we can get up and fight like hell to create our own present from our own past, so that our own future is worth while.

WE make that choice to make something happen.

We make the choice to have

brilliant-wonderful-vulnerable-life-changing moments.

Be the Green Thumb To Your Own Success & Watch It Grow

Sometimes I wish I could stand in a garden of four leaf clovers, but that would take a genie and a lot of fortune, and no one should be THAT lucky.

Cause life shouldn't be built on false hopes and deception.

Dreams shouldn't be engineered to run without a little blood--a little sweat.

Life shouldn't be mechanical and predictable.

SUCCESS ISN'T SIMPLE

You are the green thumb of that garden--the green thumb of making that patch of weeds into a garden of daisies. Life works off of transformation--not luck--not genies--not 4 leaf clovers.

Life and success works off you.

And there you go--building skyscrapers in your head: Don't let all that beautiful chaos gone unsaid

Beautiful chaos.

I have been an architect for far too long--laying foundation with insecurity and building cement walls with no windows to trap inside anger, to trap inside sadness, to trap inside pain, to trap inside suffering. And when people try to scale the sides, build a peep hole and look in, I add another layer and I build my skyscraper a bit taller, what I believe to be a bit stronger.

.Walls to weather my worries. Cement to cover my cries. Layers to lie low.

But the more heavy the feelings become--the more durable the walls attempt to be. The more built to withstand the sorrow--the painful pasts--the painful presents--the painful predictions of the future--the more likely the indestructible me is destined to detonate.

You cannot build something that is able to withstand anything.

It didn't work in history with the Titanic or the Towers, so I am not sure why us as people--me as me--believes that I can be invincible. We cannot be. I cannot be.

Skyscrapers are beautiful--but they are vulnerable.

It is human to just be--it is human to feel. And I am so tired. I am so tired of sealing up. I am so tired of constructing foundations for fears, towers to treat my tears, skyscrapers to silence my screams, and walls to wallow within. So tired of hiding--of running away--of tensing up--of withholding. Of not being.

Skyscrapers are beautiful--but they are vulnerable.

And sometimes even that vulnerability is bound to collapse us. To release enough to light up entire city blocks with our fragile feelings and extraordinary emotions. A world of safe and sincere souls-a world of shattered windows and delicate debris, a world of...

True. Real. Beautiful. Chaos.

A world of beautiful vulnerable chaos.

"Still I believe, wondering what if, is the worst thing there is"

Vulnerability.

It's the elephant at the circus asked to perform for hundreds of people.

It's the mouse singing for the wolves.

It's in every moment that we stand up and expose ourselves to possible embarrassment, failure, or critique. It's in the moments we feel as though we could be eaten alive--or wish we could be eaten alive to avoid humility. It's in the moments we can say NO to do something that we feel as though may cause us sadness or grief. It is in the moments we will later look back on and say "what if?" It's in the moments we feel scared--yet safe--all at once. It's in the moments we discover our emotions, our feelings, our deepest fears. It's in the moments that we find our deepest strengths. It is in the moments where we find ourselves.

I'll go out on a limb to say that vulnerability is quite beautiful.

Candide: A simple lesson in optimism.

Look ahead-Face forward on the train-See the glass half full-Find sunlight during stormy showers-Smile when it's difficult-Cry when you need to-Sob for joy-Try something new-Find something you love to do-And do it once a day, every day-Write down your dreams, your passions your goals-Envision a positive glow radiating off your face-Stumble and then stand-Fall and get back up-Laugh at things that don't seem funny, but that deserve a giggle-Think about it later-Laugh again-Look in the mirror and compliment yourself-Do it again-Note each positive word you hear during the day-Make a collage of the words later- Turn off the light and still imagine a brightness-Imagine distant success-Go with your heart-Cheer someone up-Reconnect-Learn a new quote, a new word, a new poem-Discover a unique and novel talent-Practice it-Practice it again-Show it off-Brag a little-Have an ego-But don't let it blow up-Get excited-Feel wonder and awe for others-Believe in you-Believe in others-Believe in the unbelievable-Do the impossible-Stray from the path-Get lost-Find yourself-Place your feet forward-Don't look back-Stay optimistic-Candide.