Inside The Actors Studio Questionaire

These ten (10) questions originally came from a French series, “Bouillon de Culture” hosted by Bernard Pivot. They’re better known as the questions that James Lipton asks every guest at the end of “Inside the Actor’s Studio.”

1. What is your favorite word?
For it’s sound, either concierge, or lithe.  For it’s meaning, optimism.

2. What is your least favorite word?
Ointment.

3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Enthusiasm.  When someone is genuinely excited about doing something, that enthusiasm is contagious and it’s amazing to see in any context.

4. What turns you off?
Complainers.

5. What is your favorite curse word?
I don’t think I have one that I use particularly often – however, when i’m genuinely frustrated the Australian in me really comes out and I’ll say “Bloody Hell!”

6. What sound or noise do you love?
There’s a part in Mrs. Doubtfire where Mrs. Doubtfire (Daniel) orders french food for the family because her own meal was a disaster.  When she’s dishing out one of the sauces using a spoon, it makes this cool sound. Hard to describe.

7. What sound or noise do you hate?
The door buzzer at Melinda’s apartment.  I race in as quickly as possible just to make it stop.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
High School English Teacher.  Those were some of the most influential people in my life.

9. What profession would you not like to do?
Surgeon.  Don’t have the stomach for it, and I don’t think I could handle the responsibility.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Dog heaven exists too.  Next door over and you can visit any time you’d like.

Snuggle Buddy

I’m moderately obsessed with my dog.

write things worth reading or do things worth writing

I took one creative writing class, one time.

I was a sophomore in high school, and technically, I shouldn’t have taken it.  It was for seniors, but I wanted to and the deciders of these things gave me the o.k.

It was a bad idea really.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I think creative writing calls for a degree of self-awareness, or conversely the awareness that you have no idea who this “self” is supposed to be, that I just didn’t have as a sixteen year old.  I was the worst kind – the sixteen year old who thinks she’s self aware, but actually has no idea what’s going on just yet.    It wasn’t working for me.  This, tied with the fact that it was a class of seniors who I didn’t know, made me very self conscious.  I wasn’t comfortable with other people reading my work, therefore my work was no bueno.

I wish I had taken some creative writing classes in college.   I think I would have had alot of fun with it.

I feel like if I were to sit down and write something that isn’t something i’ve been trained in writing, I’d do it “wrong.”  Which doesn’t make any sense really.  That’s what eighteen years of formal education will do to someone I guess.    Also the fact that my best friend is currently working on her MFA in Creative Writing from one of the most highly regarded schools in the country makes me think there’s at least a little formal training needed.  Just a little.

I just called my mother and told her this.

“I wish I had taken a creative writing class in college.”

“Min, you did alot.  Almost everything you’re interested in you’ve studied.  Just give it a rest already.”

touche, salesman.

Advice, 1.0

“You know what you really enjoy doing, and it’s no coincidence that that’s what you’re good at.  Just find something that let’s you do it.   The context of how and where you’re doing it can change, that doesn’t matter.  But what you really, sincerely enjoy doing – that’s forever.  That’s who you are.  Don’t settle.”

This was good to hear today.

I know, I was there.

In 2008 I began to really appreciate the fact that I have friends who actually like seeing me for extended periods of time, literally seven days a week.

I’m talking about the kind of friends who you see so much they can’t tell you anything about their lives because you’re always there when it happens.

Friends who after 12 hours of classes and meetings ask you if you want to go out for dinner.

Friends who after working 9-5:30 Monday through Friday ask you to hang out on Friday night.

What makes it extra-great is when you still want to hang out with them too.  And you say, “I missed you” when you didn’t see them  for more than 24 hours – and you mean it.

It’s the best.  I feel really lucky to have such amazing friends.   Double extra lucky that most of these people are / were co-workers and friends from school who I worked with over the years.

Today was another reiteration of these relationships existing.  They’re great.  You should get at least one.

I hope in my post-college-graduate life I have relationships like these.

Think For Yourself

I’ve spent the entire day doing work.

Seriously.  I mean hours and hours of research, reading, and writing.  It’s funny how little work I feel like I accomplished though – because so much of it was just processing and making sense of everything.

It’s ok, because I know ultimately that having spent so much time on this will be worth it in the long run.  I just wish there was a way to make thinking tangible.

And tell you of my dreaming

It’s past 2am and I can’t sleep.  This is awful, because I’m very sleepy.  There’s been construction going on here, and I no longer have a roof.  It’s so loud, and jarring.  It’s without a doubt the most unpleasant noise I’ve ever woken up to.  It sounds like people are legit bowling above my room.  Not even people…they sound more like, minotaurs or something. Construction starts every day around 7:30am, which is earlier than my normal waking time of 9ish…total nightmare

Anyway, can’t sleep.  Lately though, when I have been sleeping, I’ve had several recurring dreams.

In one dream, I’m in one of the neighborhoods I grew up in back in Australia.  It’s not a street I grew up on, but I vaguely recognize the area.  I’m leaving someone’s house, and they ask me, “Do you know how to get home?”

“Yes” I lie, then hop on my bike and ride off.  I ride up a hill for a while, then when I reach the summit, I look down and I realize I have absolutely no idea where I am.

Because it’s past my bed time and I’m not asleep, I’m instead going to interpret my dreams with the help of the internet. Although I don’t really buy it, I think it’s interesting.  Then again, pretty much anything is interesting at 2:18AM (Infomercials…)

Apparently, the bike in my dream means that I need to devote time to leisurely pursuits and recreation. I also need to balance work and pleasure in order to succeed in my current undertakings. I don’t hate the sounds of that.

Now, on to getting lost. According to the omnipotent internet, I’ve lost my direction in life or lost sight of my goals.  I’m worried and insecure about the path I’m taking in life.  Or, may be trying to adjust an d get accustomed to a new situation.  The later is more likely. I’m feeling pretty OK with direction.

I also keep having dreams where I’m balding.  This is strange, because in fact, I’m not balding.  The internet told me that this could represent that I’m concerned about my health.  But, I’d say (terrible sleep schedule aside) I feel healthier now than I have in a long time.  Another website told me that I could have concerns about personal power and beauty.  So, that’s interesting.

I feel like these are such a generic descriptions.  Like how a fortune cookie always tells you something really vague that is applicable to pretty much everyone.  Or horoscopes.  I feel the same way about those too.

2:28am.  I need to go to sleep.

Have you ever had a recurring dream, and if so, do you think it meant something?

Mindy + Brodie + Fall = <3

My dog Brodie is really in to fall. 

 

I am too, but I rarely pose in parks surrounded by the early fall leaves and basking in sunshine, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Everyone has a Paul Newman story.

When I was younger I worked in an ice cream store.  This particular ice cream store, located somewhere in Fairfield County, Connecticut, stayed open through the winter, and it was during a winter day in 2004 when the following story took place: 

I was honestly almost falling asleep.  It was frigid out, nobody came in the store all day and I was reading a textbook on microeconomics (ZzzZzz).  Suddenly the door opened and in walked an older man.   I took his order, and then I took a better look at him.  He had piercing blue eyes, just like Paul Newman – but looking at his outfit, I thought - it couldn’t be him.  He was wearing old jeans with paint stains on them, a pilling sweater and a pair of old, beat up sneakers.     As I was ringing him out I said, “Ya know – you look just like Paul Newman.”   To which he laughed and said “Maybe on a bad day.”  

The man sat down inside to eat his ice cream.  The store was quite small, and him sitting inside to eat meant sitting about eight feet from where I was reading my economics text / falling asleep.  Glad to have the company, we started chatting.  He was asking me alot of questions about myself – Where do you go to school? What are you majoring in? What do you want to do once you graduate? and so on.  I learned the town he lived in, he told me a little about his wife and he told me some winter driving tips since it was my first time driving in the snow.

He finished up his ice cream and got up to leave.  He said how nice it was to have met me and that it was really nice talking to me.  Wished me the best and hoped to see me again.  I said the same to him.  And I meant it – It was nice to talk to him, and I did hope to see him again.  He went to leave, then suddenly turned around to face me.  He dug his hand into the pocket of his old jeans and said,

“Oh, by the way – I am Paul Newman.  Good luck with school.”

He took his hand out of his pocket, and left a fifty dollar bill in my tip jar, then left.  Got into his volvo and drove away. 

——

I told that story when I was a Sophmore in college as a part of a public speaking exercise.  “Just get up in front of the class and tell us a story.  Anything.”  After telling my story, a few members of my class had their own stories, that either happened to them personally or somebody they knew, all involving the generosity and good will of Mr. Newman.  Something he was renowned for around Fairfield County, CT - a place he called home.

Mr Newman’s humility not only won him the affection of people world wide, but also that of those in his own community.  We’ll miss him.

Picture This

I’m not very good at some things.  Baking, foreign languages, parallel parking (this is embarassing) and so on.

But one thing that I know i’m not good at because I’ve never really tried to learn, is photography.   It’s pretty ridiculous that I know literally nothing about photography, because I’m friends with alot of really great photographers.  Sean, John, Steph, and Andy to name a few of many.

So I guess what I’m saying is, Friends - I would like to be schooled.