how often do you talk about physical appearance?

087d7f86cab9c439a051afd253aab3da The other week, Raven and I planned a special date night out. We met up at landmarc, ordered beers and steak (for Raven) and treated ourselves to a fancy dinner. It was a pretty awesome night; we had great conversation and left the restaurant feeling full and giddy.

While outside in the taxi line - and I'll spare you the details - I got into a squabble with a lady who cut us for a cab. I was, admittedly, tipsy, and I let a few swear words fly. Not my best moment. At one point, the woman with whom the exchange occurred asked me why I needed a cab anyway.

"You look like you could use a walk, your thighs are fat."

Game, set, match. That was the end of that; Raven and I walked away and found a cab somewhere else. The exchange wrecked me. For days, I felt horrible about the incident (how could I let my anger get the best of me? why are women always fighting with each other?). What's worse, I believed what she said about me. I looked in the mirror and saw exactly what she was talking about.

It's fascinating; I have felt more comfortable with my body as a 29 year old than I have ever in my life, and I let a stranger's words completely demolish any personal progress I've made (years worth, in a matter of seconds).

I found this article today in the New York Times, about summer camps that institute a "no body talk" rule. Good or bad, campers aren't allowed to comment on a someone else's physical appearance.

Reading this article made me feel relieved. Can you imagine getting dressed every day and knowing that you won't have to listen to anyone's opinions about your appearance? Even if someone says "I love your shirt," you won't have to wade through the emotional tug-of-war in your head, do they really mean it, should I return the compliment, etc.

Yes, there are downsides to "no body talk," and I encourage you to read the article, and maybe think of your own (mine would be - it's nice and important for everyone to hear that they're beautiful), but for me, I'm ready to try it for a day. Or maybe a week. However long it takes me to forget about my thighs and start focusing more on my brain.

Tell me, friends...do you agree with the "no body talk" rule?

 

image via Pinterest (and totally made me tear up :).

giving up on prestige & stability to unblock your best work

Author's Note: I'm in the process of writing my first book on how to build and sustain a creative life. This post may be the basis for one section of the book. If you're compelled, engage with it - tell me your stories, share your experiences, let me know where and how this resonates with you. And thanks for letting me share my process, Wellers. Lots of advanced love to you for your generosity. A constant and colorful narrative has been playing in my head as of late. I look around at the world and imagine alternate realities of my life. I imagine having money, not lots of it, but enough that booking a vacation wouldn’t feel like taking out a second mortgage (not that I know what having a first mortgage feels like). I imagine having a normal work schedule. I imagine knowing that one day I’ll have a retirement savings. It all looks and feels so stable from my vantage point. It looks grown up. It looks grounded.

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And then I look around at my life - our little rental apartment in Queens, my MacBook Pro from 2007 without a battery because I can’t afford a new battery or a new computer, my bank accounts where I need to constantly shuffle around money to pay the bills on time and I see my reality. It’s very much an artist’s life. It’s feels inconsistent, incoherent, untamed. It has all the trimmings of uncertainty and hand-me-downs that you’d expect of someone disregarding financial stability to favor the pursuit of passion.

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Which makes it tricky when you lose your passion. I haven't loved acting as much lately. Let me be clearer: I haven't loved the business of acting as much lately. In her play The Understudy, Theresa Rebeck writes, “Being an actor is great. When you get to do it.” This is Truth. But we don’t always tell the truth about what happens to us when we don't get to do it. The times we don’t get to create. The times we feel oh so very trapped in a system that doesn’t seem to have room for us. These are the moments it feels like the artist’s life we're living is merely a facade because we are not actually engaged in the point of leading an artist’s life: making the art. We are ideas of identity. We are casings around the gap between wanting and doing.

This is maybe the biggest question of your career. Not only for actors, of course, but for anyone who feels they have a calling they must follow come hell or high water. Because when hell and high water inevitably show up at your door, this big question has to be answered: Do I love this enough? Is this worth it?

I have been asking myself this question for a hot minute now and I think, for me, it’s come down to this: if you choose to really live an artist’s life, one with magic and power and agency in it, you no longer have time to care about stability. Would it be nice to have? Of course. Is it worth chasing anymore? Hell to the no.

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The pursuit of stability is unquestionably linked to the pursuit of prestige. For me, I actively pursued prestige by looking to anyone who would cover my insecurity with good reviews, compliments and buoyant optimism. I wanted so badly for everyone else to tell me how it would all turn out well so that I could easily and comfortably make my way from gig to gig knowing that I was always inching closer to “making it.” [Sidenote: Let me know when you figure out what “it” is.] The problem with that is that when you base your entire trajectory on grabbing prestige and stability as fast as possible, you blind yourself to what makes you shine. You’re looking to fill the market’s demands, not your soul’s. Your strengths and nuances get drowned out by the big, bad roar of SUCCESS. The one thing that actually could create stability for you - an authenticity in your work - is the one thing you’ve given up.

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I lost my passion for the work because I put my passion into ambition. I have been chasing a finish line for years because the rest of the world agreed this finish line was the best possible outcome - as stable as it could ever get. So if I’m utterly honest with myself (painful though it may be), all of those years, it was never about the work. It was about being the best. And we all know what kind of work shows up when we are focused on “what they’ll think” instead of what we know. Stale, meaningless, blank, boring work.

It makes sense that we crave the stability we think success will bring. We think we live in a world of finite things. We look around and see buildings, structures, order. But that's not the nature of the world. The nature of the world is uncertain, ever-changing, chaotic. The butterfly effect and all that. What we see in the world as finite is merely a representation of the human search for order. But that yearning comes from our mind - not our nature. Our real nature reflects chaos and change; as Walt Whitman wrote in Song of Myself:

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Our very nature is to contain multitudes and so should our art. It's in our nature to be thrown off, unbalanced, unhinged. So it stands to reason if our art is going to compel the world in any meaningful way, then it must contain a recognizable reflection of those natural  multitudes. And so, if our art (and artist's life) does not obey the laws of our very nature, we are automatically sacrificing its power and falling short.

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If I’m going to be living the aforementioned artist’s life of living paycheck to paycheck, then I better be making more than stale, meaningless, blank, boring work. Not everything I touch will be gold, and I’ll surely look back in a few years at the work I’m doing today and cringe, but at least I will have pursued the glory of the work itself - not my attachment to it, not my benefit from it, and certainly not any prestige or stability it might bring.

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Even if the paycheck, the award, the stacked resume do show up, they will never generate enough satisfaction if you’re not doing your best work. Nothing can cover up shortcomings. Nothing can cover up regret. Letting your best work out of you day after day, despite crappy circumstances, despite instability, despite daydreaming of alternate realities is the direct route to reigniting your passion, remembering why you committed in the first place and playing for keeps. And living that life is totally worth it.

How has the quest for prestige and stability affected you?

all images via Pinterest

why new york city is the best city, even at its worst

Everyone calls it “The City That Never Sleeps” and it’s true. New York City has its eyes on you every second you're here. You cannot take a breath without feeling the reverb somewhere else in your day, which means that what you exhale comes back to you in full force.  

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One of the many reasons I love this city is that you cannot escape here. So many days we just want to get out of its borders and rough edges, flee to the hills or dream about buying a 3-bedroom house in the suburbs. Some days, having a driveway and paying car insurance seems like the prize at the end of a dark, smelly subway tunnel. But recently, this inescapable city has me all kinds of lit up. The painfulness that we sometimes feel from being here has got me feeling all kinds of healed. And its darkness has brought on the proverbial light.

Here’s why I love it:

You overhear the exact right things in the exact right moments. As I was heading to work the other day, I decided to change up my usual old commute and walk down a different street. I passed two men talking - both in some sort of service industry. One said to the other, “It’s all about happiness man, you gotta find a job you love.” Okay, not overly profound in and of itself, but in the context of my day, it was a bold reminder.

As I approach a new decade, I am taking stock of my emotional and aspirational inventory and that includes making sure I am filling my days with things I love. This particular day, I said no and let some people down in order to do what I needed to do to feel happy. Not a comfortable thing for a people-pleasing, needy, affirmation-junkie like myself. But because I left my earbuds out at that moment, I allowed some New York in and was reminded by this stranger that you have to do what you love. You have to create happiness. If something isn’t working in your life, then change it.  Being uncomfortable is only temporary because the happiness you create is connected to your truth. The city gave me a dose of affirmation when I needed it the most.

 

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When you unexpectedly run into people you know in a city of 8 million people, a signal is being sent. For some reason in the past couple of weeks, every time I take a detour on my way home, I run into someone else I know. Each of these times, this happenstance meeting, this serendipitous pow-wow rubs off on the next few days. We connect again, plan something magical and get our ducks in a row to create something new. There is a spark that gets lit by the chance of meeting in New York City and that spark burns bright into furious creation. It also signifies something. It feels like there is a giant cartoon arrow pointing at the moment, saying, “Look over here! This is where you should be paying attention! Got energy? Put here!” The fact that I’m not supposed to be there at that place and time, that it was a last minute decision based on train schedules and phone calls and grumbling tummies makes it all the more surprising to run into those friends-turned-collaborators. It’s poetic, really: Change up route. Get new direction.

You find your tribe. There are all kinds of tribes out there and I have been part of many. The audition tribe, those fellow actors waking at dawn to stand in line and wonder if we’ll be wearing heels or flats that day. The day job tribe, those fellow artists who are just trying to make rent and hold onto their creative mojo while we’re all still young. The down and out tribe, those late 20-somethings with too much heaviness and not enough experience, trying to calculate just how long they can run on the fumes of their formerly ambitious 22-year old identity. But the best thing about this city (and growing up in it) is when you seek your tribe, because in this city, when you seek, you find. It’s taken me years to figure out that the people in my life are choices I am making and not just inevitable circumstances of fate. When I decided I wanted to cut the fat from my mental chatter and recycle all of those used up negative stories into fuel for creating a passionate, happy life, I found my people. This city has a lot of gems. And when you decide what and who you want to surround yourself with, you’ll never be alone.

 

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Facing your demons becomes a daily practice. The moment you walk out of your apartment, everything you see is a reflection of you. If you leave the apartment with a dull sense of dread, chances are there will be no subway seats, someone will knock into you on the street, you’ll spill the coffee you got from a barista with a major attitude, and you’ll find a dead cockroach in your hallway when you come home. (I mean, at least that’s what I have heard…) But, if on the other hand, you leave your apartment with a sense of ease, chances are you’ll make all of your subway transfers easily and efficiently, you’ll meet a laughing baby on the subway who will make you giggle with delight, you’ll find a new coffee shop with a darling barista and a delicious cold brew and the barista will over-punch your rewards card so you’re closer to your next free caffeine fix, and somehow, miraculously, when you get home the dishes will be done.

It’s all perspective and we know this, but the magic of New York is that you have to face your perspective. This city is either the best thing or the worst thing and it is barely, if ever, just mediocre. Which means there is no denial here. There is no wash of “okay.” I have been the despondent, coffee-drenched, cockroach-finding Debbie Downer and looking back on those times, I’m glad that I felt like I could crumble. I would rather have that shiny New York City mirror in my face so I can deal with it and pull myself out of it than stay stagnant in a gray wash of average. New York is not always comforting, but my Lord when it comes to reflecting you, it sure is accurate.

 

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You cannot take for granted one moment of being here. In this city, people are getting out of town all the time. I don’t mean vacationing in the Hamptons, I mean fleeing to other parts of the country. I have lived here for seven years and the first time my friends started leaving felt like a punch in a gut. I thought we were going to conquer the beast together. Selfishly, I felt a little bit abandoned.

But as the years have gone on and more and more of your friends leave, you realize that every day you stay you are making a choice. Every time someone else packs up and ships out, a little part of you asks, is it my turn? Should I go? What is keeping me here? Sometimes the answers come and sometimes they don’t, but at least it forces you to ask the question. Knowing why we stay in this city that hustles us, and rejects us, and loves us, and dumps us, and forces us to check ourselves is the motor that keeps the city running. It’s the fuel in the early mornings and the late nights and the scraping together of rent for just another month. Being forced to acknowledge why we stay is maybe the most endearing part of this aggravating town. It will hurl you full force to wherever you choose to go and then say, Wanna stay? And when the answer is yes, it takes you full steam ahead.

What do you love about New York City?

All photos by Craig Hanson Photography.

goodbye 20s: the biggest mistakes of my last 10 years

Reflecting at the turn of a decade ain't nothin' new. It's an easy, clean, obvious way to structure self-growth.  It's the proverbial fork in the proverbial road, so we think, well this seems like a good time to make a change. As I stare down my own fork in the road, I'm struck and overcome with enormous gratitude for the life that has built up around me. I am excited for what is to come. But mostly, I am profoundly indebted to the mistakes of my 20s. They were all so generous to me, and I would make them all again to get where I am now. But now that I'm here, oh dear God, I'm ready to give them up so I can make brand new ones.

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Here are the biggest hits (or misses) of my 20s to which I'm saying thanks for the growth and goodbye forever:

Being there for everyone else but not for myself. I have The Good Girl Complex (GGC) where you assume that being what everyone else needs means you are being a good person. In my 20s, I would say yes to absolutely everything just so I didn't let anyone down. Now I am learning that saying yes to everything means no one actually gets to know you. No one actually knows what makes you tick, what you like, what you see, who you are. No one knows any of that, including you. You cannot possibly create genuine connections by lying to yourself and to others. You cannot possibly give your heart away, create the work of a lifetime, take any huge and profitable risks if you don't show up authentically. The 20s are a great time to try out what everyone else expects of you, but make sure if you do this that you burn out enough to stop doing it as soon as possible.

Following a prescribed path instead of defining what moved me. More GGC: I believed in dues and paying them. Okay, if you're here, just stop doing that now. Yes, there is always something to learn and there are always people to revere, but that cannot take the place of your instinct. Absolutely no one in this world has the answer, so your solution to following your dreams or creating the life you want is just as valid as your mother's, or Gandhi's, or any of your Facebook friend's.  There is no prescription to a happy life that you don't already know. The work is in clearing the mental muck out of the way so you can access all of that juicy, instinctual, know-it-all-ness in your bones. Don't get me wrong, you will make mistakes when you follow your own path, but better they be your mistakes, ones you can own and learn from, than someone else's.

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Creating false boundaries. Here were stories I used to tell myself on the daily: Actors can't be moms. Actors can't be writers. Successful actors can't have day jobs. For acting work to have value, someone has to give it to you, you cannot make it yourself. Guess what, 20s? I see through you now. The only value anything has is based on the integrity with which you come to it. Tweet: The only value anything has is based on the integrity with which we come to it. - @courtneyromano via @littleredswell http://ctt.ec/839qK+Those boundaries are lies. We are lying to ourselves when we look at the world and say it's never been done before, because once upon a time - none of this was done before. So it comes down to either wanting to do it or not. False boundaries are lines we draw in our brains and repeat like they are facts. ALERT: just because it's in your head, does not make it true. Cross-check with your heart, your gut, and the people who love you the most.

Denying the fact that I didn't know a lot of things. I know barely anything anymore. Not for lack of trying. I would love to know all the answers to every question, problem, conundrum. I used to think that not having the answer was a weakness, like I should be able to come up with something if I was smart enough. But not knowing leaves you open to being a student, and if there is one thing I want to be doing when I'm 80 years old, it's learning. The way I feel when I learn something brand new ignites my mental fire. It makes me certain that the mystery of this universe will continue unfolding, we will never have the answer, and every day will be more beautiful because of it.

Acting like there was a finish line I was desperately trying to cross. That dull ache of not getting enough done, and over-extending, and collapsing in exhaustion? I'm all set with that. When you're 22 and getting out of school and wondering who you will be, you'll set goals and time limits and benchmarks of success. But before you know who you are, there is no way you can accurately set so many standards for your future self, so those "standards" are completely arbitrary. Every actor has this one, right: be on Broadway before 30. But here's my new one: play the long game with your craft, create a sustainable lifestyle that keeps you creating every day, and if, as you travel forward on this path of making art you cross over Broadway, that'll feel really amazing. Which version do you think has a better chance of "success"? There's no finish line. I'm in it for the long haul.

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Not traveling so I was "available." Availability, availability, availability. We are so available to everything else that we forget to show up to our own lives. When I tell people I haven't been to the West Coast, they look at me like I have just emerged from the large rock I must have been under all these years. I never used to plan vacations because of what might happen. I didn't know when the next job or paycheck would come, so I didn't want to leave for fear of missing out. But the world is too big to not go on adventures, and I've learned that when real opportunities come - you'll make yourself available.

And the very biggest mistake of all: trying too hard. This is the biggest, baddest mistake I've ever made. In relationships, jobs, auditions, thought patterns, even self-growth. "I'm working really hard on it..." became a phrase banned from our household over the last year. Less working, more breathing. So this is what I've learned about trying too hard: It's selfish. It's not about understanding what others need, it's about making sure you're what they need. Sometimes, you're just not, but if you try to fit into every mold, you'll feel immense pain and constant rejection. Not everyone needs to like you or your work for you or your work to be likeable. For me, trying too hard was about getting a return on investment. Instead of thinking, how can I help make this situation better or give the people something that makes their lives better, I was attempting to affirm my own life through hard, hard, hard, hard work. I'm not saying you shouldn't throw yourself whole-heartedly into your passion and burn the midnight oil from time to time, but dear loves, it should be easy to get down and dirty.

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If there's one thing my 20s have prepared me for, it's the art of mistake-making. I cannot wait to make even stupider mistakes. I cannot wait to learn even bigger lessons, because this decade 'round the mistakes and lessons are going to be unequivocally and authentically my own.

What are your favorite mistakes?

image sources: 1, 2&4, 3 is my own.

 

5 ways to deal with uncertainty

We just want to KNOW. Did I get the job? Does he love me? Will I be happy? We just want to know how it will all pan out. I’m an actress, so half my life is spent hoping hard and being rejected. Does that seem dismal? Well, it’s probably more like 70% rejection. But the rejection isn’t the thing that crowds under my skin, making me all squirmy and uncomfortable - the thing that does that: uncertainty. uncert

This need to plan out our lives with careful, calculated, measured certainty is, of course, the antithesis to living a creative life. We know this, and yet, it doesn’t take away the sting of lingering in limbo. It doesn’t calm the swollen heart that can’t decide whether to pump the body with hope or disappointment. It doesn’t still the nerves that hear phantom phone rings when nobody’s a-callin’.

Uncertainty is a fact of life, but this doesn’t mean we have to be a slave to it. I’m not suggesting we sweep our emotionally split attention under the rug, but we can get resourceful when dealing with it:

1. Define what you crave. Okay fine, so you’re not sure how this one job is going to work out, but why does it bother you? What will knowing get you? When you define the thing you are actually craving, you realize that you can have that thing immediately. Go deep. Dig until you’ve gotten to what you’re sure is your baseline. Creating stability doesn’t happen by having your ducks in a row, it happens by figuring out what drives you and who you are.

2. Reach out from your uncertainty. Chances are someone else in your field has felt the same way. Don’t fool yourself into believing this experience is unique. Don’t get me wrong, it is exquisitely yours, but connect with others because of it instead of shrouding yourself in denial. "I’m fine. That’s just the business…" Yes this is factually true, but emotionally false. Acknowledge your sadness, frustration or tiny touch of neuroticism and then connect with others who can relate. Lighten your load by realizing you’re not the only one carrying it.

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3. Go work out. Please. Just do it. There is plenty of scientific research that supports this as a de-stressor. You know it does because you’ve experienced this in your own life. As soon as you start moving and drop into your body, you get out of your head. There is nothing more anxiety-ridden than worrying about what could be, and there is nothing more present-making than connecting with your body. Even just a walk can bring you back to solid ground.

4. Create something brand new. There is so much out of our hands that we forget what we do have in our hands: creative agency. The power to make something brand new is energetic currency. When you step into your own authority and make something that didn’t exist before - even if it’s just a delicious dinner - you are putting something unique into the world. Sure, grilling up some chicken doesn’t seem like much, but the more you create small things every day, the more your brain will expect that creativity from you.

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5. Toast the unknown. We can struggle against the unknown, we can fiddle with uncertainty or we can appreciate it for what it is: magic. The quiet thrill of feeling flung wildly off track. The generous gift from the universe that proves to us that our spontaneity, improvisational skills and beating heart are all in tact and accounted for. Celebrate the fact that this semi-craziness, this temporary head game, is fleeting. Let it serve as a reminder that our life is not measured by how methodically we hit our marks, but rather by how willing we are to surrender to life's mystery.

 

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How do you react to uncertainty?

 

All images via Pinterest.