R-U-D-E June 28, 2008

Hmm. A few things have occurred over the past few days that I’ve wanted to write about, but this one is the most present. Others will leak, I’m sure.

Today I was getting a manicure and pedicure (don’t judge) at my favorite spot in NYC – if you want to know what it is let me know. There were four 20-something women having pedicures when I arrived. This is a small salon, with only four pedicure and four manicure stations, so they were taking up the whole back of the room. And they were loud. LOUD. And somewhat cheery and trying to be a little bit “cool,” each one subtly trying to simultaneously impress and best the others. Eventually I was with two of them in the pedicure area, and they were LOUD and pseudo-complimentary to one another, saying things like, “Oh my god, that color looks AMAZING on you – I totally couldn’t wear it, but it’s perfect with your skin. You are SO daring!” Eventually, we all in our own time made our way to the front of the salon for manicures. All four women were reunited, some being painted, some drying, and the din began again. “This summer is TOTALLY about “short shorts” (a color).” This continued for a while, until 3 of the 4 girls had to leave. The intention of the fourth was to get a French manicure (for those of you who don’t know, it’s traditionally a nail painted to look very “clean” — white paint is applied to the tips of the fingernails, and the rest of the nails are given a pink coat or painted with sheer polish that is colored either pale pink or very light beige. Dying to know more? Go here: http://www.frenchmanicure.com/fm/ ) Nowadays it’s been given a spin, and any colors will do. So this girl had already had her toenails painted yellow and was going for an unconventional french manicure – white nails with a yellow tip.

I overheard her saying that the contrast of yellow on white wasn’t great enough for the fingernails, and shifted her focus to doing the French style on her toes, and asked the esthetician to do the job. The esthetician, who had been working patiently and carefully on this woman, informed her that it would be an extra $10 above a regular manicure/pedicure to do this.

Here’s where it gets good. The chirpy smiling la-di-da aura vanished into thin air. This woman got pin-drop silent and put on her sun glasses. For 10 minutes she sat there, pouting. Then it came out. Every word she had been forming in her mind. “I don’t understand – it’s not a big deal – you just have to paint some lines on my toes. Can’t someone else do it – can’t she (motioning to another esthetician who was working on someone else) do it? I was supposed to have it on my fingers and SHE messed up all the polish in the beginning.” Even with the false accusations flying, it became clear that the women at the salon were not backing down, so she started with this tactic, “I’m the client, and I am not happy. I came with someone from a magazine – she brought me, and I am totally unhappy. Why can’t you do this simple thing? It’s ridiculous.” The esthetician explained that although her manicure and pedicure had been paid for by one of the other women, she hadn’t specified that it was French (more work for the esthetician) so hadn’t been charged for one. And they would gladly do it, but she would have to make up the $10 difference (note: that is all she would have spent on a job that is 6x that amount) And she did nothing. Just pouted and became increasingly uncooperative and unresponsive.

And I just kept thinking, “Wow, that is really something.” I don’t know how it ended, because I left. And it took every fiber of my being to not stand in front of her and tell her what a brat she was, and that a modicum of respect and decorum goes SUCH a long way. Entitlement is a dirty word.

Next up: I am guilty too. Cell phones and ipods and bikes, oh my. (another blog coming tomorrow)

In ? We Trust. June 15, 2008

I’ve always kept myself on the periphery of political conversations — I am strong and full with “emotion-based” opinion, but find that in order to argue/heatedly discuss the topics I’d like to, I lack cold, hard, supportable facts. And I think that when fact isn’t at least 51% of the argument, the word “hysteric” can be used freely and usually supported…so I shy away.

But these questions keep coming up for me. If I’m so timid to throw myself into these conversations, how can a presidential candidate’s opinion — and I stress the word opinion — about religious- or emotion-based issues be part of their platform?

And is there really a separation of church and state? And I really mean state-by-state. Living in cities like NY or SF or LA, I think there is a pull to forget that a lot of this country, the United States of America, do not have the same beliefs, thoughts, and ideas that I/we do.  And what “god” (and I mean this word to be all-inclusive) says is, in the end, the “word.”  But what is that word?  And if one candidate believes that he has that one word and speaks it louder and with more conviction than another, what will that mean for the rest of that rich lexicon?

This, I know, is an emotion based entry.  But it’s what I’ve been thinking about quite a bit.  Would love to hear your thoughts…

Obstacles and what we make of them April 18, 2008

Michael was asked to play trumpet in the house band for a benefit show the other night, and I was invited to attend as his guest (thanks to the very generous folks over at Our Time.) This benefit was for “Our Time Theatre Company” a 501 (c) (3) non-profit organization dedicated to providing an artistic home for young people who stutter. The company members of Our Time (age 9-19) study acting, singing, playwriting, drumming, and dance with professional artists.

The benefit was honoring Bill Withers, a former stutterer, and the performances were filled with renditions of his famous tunes — Lovely Day, Ain’t No Sunshine, Lean On Me, etc. Interspersed throughout the performance were pieces written and performed by the company, accompanied at times by a handful of New York actors (Rosie Perez, Sam Watterston, Jesse L. Martin, Lauren Ambrose and many others)

These performances – from the writing right through to the presentation — were so amazing. Inspiring, humbling, and exciting.

As I watched and listened to these kids speak and sing, the former with various levels of difficulty, the later with fluid ease, I was struck by this thought: These kids were fierce, and they wanted their voices to be heard, regardless of how long it took them to get their point across. Not only did they want to be heard, but they demanded that I listen. That demand came in the form of poise, persistence and a true respect for themselves.

One young man, Andre Gillyard, spoke about having “given up” when he was 12 years old. He’d stopped speaking out in class, hanging out with his friends, going outside his home — his stuttering made him feel isolated and alone, without the ability to have his opinion heard. His mother discovered “Our Time” and through the work that he’d done with this group, here he was, speaking to all of us — telling us his dreams and frustrations. Poised, emotive, and intelligent, he stood and spoke.

So this got me to thinking about what I, as an artist, take for granted. What I fret about – what I distract myself with in order to get away from an uncomfortable situation or feeling. And I started to think that I can do better than that.

In that hour and a half, I found that I wanted to be as fierce as these kids — as dedicated as they are to having their voices heard. Thank you Our Time.

Check out www.ourtimetheatre.org