Thinking About Social Masks – All the World’s a Stage

In my studies, I spend a lot of time thinking about why we wear social masks. Whether we realize it or not, we are constantly performing and adjusting our masks to suit the occasion. We play many roles: parent, friend, spouse, employee, citizen, etc. Each role requires us to change the mask.And admit it, sometimes it’s fun to wear a mask. As children, we pretend to be someone we’re not, but as we grow older convince ourselves that such child’s play is no longer acceptable. Unless, of course, we choose acting as a career and then we get to play pretend all of the time. We love dressing in costumes on Halloween, getting our faces painted, and many of us still delight in playing dress-up. The reality is, actors or not, we are still pretending on a regular basis.

Do you think I might be advocating phoniness or concealing our true selves? Or maybe that there isn’t a tragic aspect to our need to wear masks? Not a bit of it. What I’m asking for here is a bit of awareness–thinking about what masks we wear and why we wear them. Once we’ve accomplished this awareness, we might have a little fun with wearing masks and turn the tragic into comic, or at least tragi-comic.

The problem with wearing masks occurs when you don’t know who or what you are beneath them. That’s a whole new issue. In order to have any real fun with this whole performance thing, knowing who and what you are is imperative.

My favorite archetypal figure is the Trickster. For those of you who don’t know who or what Trickster is, see Hermes/Mercury, Coyote, folkloric figure Peter Wheatstraw, and for pop culture references, Loki of Thor and The Avengers (deliciously portrayed by Tom Hiddleston), and Petyr Baelish of Game of Thrones (Aidan Gillen). Tricksters are expert performers and wearers of masks. They are chameleons who transform themselves at will to challenge a power structure.

Ralph Ellison noted the American-ness of mask-wearing (I would note that it’s just part of being human):

For the ex-colonials, the declaration of an American identity meant the assumption of a mask, and it is imposed not only the discipline of national self-consciousness, it gave Americans an ironic awareness of the joke that always lies between appearance and reality, between the discontinuity of social tradition and that sense of the past that clings to the mind. And perhaps even an awareness of the joke that society is man’s creation, not God’s. (“Change the Joke and Slip the Yoke,” Shadow and Act)

Note that last bit about society being our creation. It is a construct, and in order to operate within and cope with that construct, we perform roles, create myths, and play along with a joke. See where I’m going with this? Wearing our masks can be an act of creation, and if we so choose, a source of amusement and empowerment. A mask can just as easily be a challenge to a power structure as it is a an acceptance of one.

What mask are you wearing today? How can you make it a source of empowerment?

 

Thinking About Beauty – A Trick of the Eyes

I was looking at a photograph of someone this morning and thinking, Wow. That’s really beautiful. But it was beautiful according to my definition. According to the generally observed American definition (not mine), this person would be old and wrinkled (mid-forties), freckled (sun-damaged), too thin (out of shape), etc. In other words, ugly. So what was it about the photograph that made me think “beauty”? Was it the lighting? the composition?

I’m certainly not the first to ponder the concept of beauty. Countless philosophers have pondered the nature of beauty: Plato, Aristotle, Hume, Kant, to name a few. Most of us are familiar with the quote:

Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.

Beauty is not simply the perception by the eye of the one who gazes, but by that gazer’s understanding of the form of beauty itself embodied in the gazed upon. Beauty is also relevant to function: this object might be a beautiful bottle but an ugly vase. The problem with the concept of the eye of the beholder theory is that each of us has our own concept of what the Form of Beauty actually is–we make it up.

For example, Hume on beauty:

Beauty is no quality in things themselves: It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; and each mind perceives a different beauty. One person may even perceive deformity, where another is sensible of beauty; and every individual ought to acquiesce in his own sentiment, without pretending to regulate those of others. (1757)

So wait. There isn’t a problem with the theory, unless someone tries to impose their idea of beauty upon someone else’s. The Sigur Rós Ekki Múkk video below is beautiful–unless of course you have a phobia of snails, or you have a fear of death and decomposition, or you don’t find aesthetic pleasure in Aidan Gillen’s messy hair.

In order for us to utilize the word “beauty” in our vocabulary, we must agree on an accepted meaning (from Merriam-Webster):

the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit

Beauty, then, is as much related to what we perceive as it is to our response to what we perceive.

I’m giving myself a headache. Definitely not a thing of beauty. And I’m not even exploring the misogyny or the acceptance of it within the concept. (Google “beauty” and look at the images to see what I mean.)

Before I go completely sideways, let me say this: perhaps true beauty resides in our ability to perceive it, our ability to respond to a person, object, or concept. In other words, it ain’t all in your eyes, beholder. It is an active participation in both your internal universe and the external one.

Have you ever met someone who you initially thought was extremely attractive–beautiful–only to get to know that person and decide that he or she wasn’t all that after all? Suddenly in this “beautiful” person you begin to perceive characteristics of ugliness: rudeness, dishonesty, a look in his eyes that indicates cruelty. Conversely, have you ever met someone who was “okay looking” who, over time, becomes more and more attractive? It is his or her intelligence, strength, or humor that attracts us instead of how they look. This definitely resounds with something my grandmother used to say: “Pretty is as pretty does.”

Our concept of beauty, if we are active participants in our world, is always changing, altered by our perception, by time, by our knowledge of the object, person, or concept. We have the ability to tell ourselves to seek beauty in the quotidian, in what frightens us, in giving meaning to our existence in an unconcerned universe. The power of perception and response are ours to tap into. And that is truly a thing of beauty.

What do you think is beautiful? Has your concept of beauty changed over time?

Image credit: Untitled (Skull) by Jean Michel Basquiat 1984

Thinking About My Muse – An Offering of Gratitude

Ask most any writer about their muse, and they will tell you of his or her inability to control him (John Updike claimed that his ran off with the postman and now only occasionally sends a postcard). I’m using the gender-specific “him” because my Muse happens to be male. Muses in mythology are, of course, female. Mine is a strikingly ordinary man who inspires the extraordinary. Don’t blame him if I’m not always successful in recording what he says.

As I mentioned in my post on creative inspiration, my Muse is somewhat amorphous. It took me forever to realize that I only had a limited time with him before he took off, only to return weeks, sometimes months later, looking, acting, and talking like someone else. Hey! Where are you going? I was just starting to get used to you!

So what’s a girl to do? Never finish anything? The Muse shakes his head in frustration. No, a girl must learn to draft quickly while the idea is still exciting to her so that she can finish it later. Don’t blame me if you took so long to realize that I can’t be around forever. I have frolicking to do. I’m needed in Dublin (or London or Paris) next week.

My Muse of the moment whispers in my ear at night as I fall asleep, showing me various possibilities for my characters. In his voice, soft and low, he asks the question “What if…?” Some people read to fall asleep. I make up stories (with a little bit of help). The next morning, he stands by patiently as I review them in my mind and put them down on paper. He smiles when I have those Ah-ha! moments, seemingly pleased to have been present for the epiphanies, great and small. He often appears to enjoy the creative process as much as I do. Don’t blame me if I have to leave you right after I give you that smile. Again, frolicking.

Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes he’s a distraction. That voice is easy to get carried away on, hypnotic, like a melody from the music of the spheres. I’m lost in the realm of imagination, ideas tumbling one over the other, and I am watching them as they go by. Days have passed, and I haven’t actually written a thing. Don’t blame me for being so gorgeous. You’re the writer. Write something.

Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working. –Pablo Picasso

Ay, there’s the rub! We can’t blame the Muse when we are the ones not doing the work. The Muse is there to whisper “What if…?” He stands beside us on our quest, finds the ship for our voyage to the unknown, gives us a map, sparks the fire of imagination, and touches us softly on the shoulder when we forget where we’re going. Don’t blame me if you’re not doing anything with all that I’m giving you. It takes two, you know.

We are the ones who must record the history of our voyages with the Muse, in whatever our art form. We have to do the actual work and then say, “Thanks. It was a great trip.” Sometimes he has to go frolicking. That’s where he gets those magical ideas that he’ll later pass on to you.

Don’t blame your muse if he isn’t reliable enough for you. He’s standing right there beside you waiting to whisper in your ear that next “What if…?” Maybe he’s just waiting for you to create something from the last “What if…?” before you move on to the next thing.

And by the way, Muse, I’m listening.

Thinking About Being Lost – Ekki Múkk and Existential Crisis

Just wanted to share this strange but beautiful short film Sigur Rós Film Experiment No. 10 Ekki Múkk by Nick Abrahams (2012) and my thoughts on seeing it as metaphor for finding a sense of direction, for finding our way.

I don’t want to give too much away here. I mean, really, the film is less than ten minutes long and breathtaking, so watch it. The Man (Game of Thrones and Love/Hate’s Aidan Gillen) is lost in a rural field.

You’d think that these days you couldn’t get lost. But you can.

Despite how close we all are together now and GPS, it is still possible to become lost in an unfamiliar setting. Something about this film makes the Man appear so small and vulnerable.

He comes upon a snail (voiced by Shirley Collins), exquisitely photographed (enough to make me a bit squeamish), who agrees to help him find his way. He gingerly places the snail upon his shoulder and continues through the field. We see him turning his ear to listen to her.

The Man ends up in the forest, and turns to and fro, seemingly more lost than when he started. The forest is dark, and we hear distant screams. “Why do things always have to change? I don’t want to be on my own again.” As if in answer, an injured fox is there in front of him. It growls at him, and he is afraid. The wise snail, who refers to the Man as “Little One,” tells him to be brave.

Now we see the Man again in a field, carrying the injured fox, the snail still upon his shoulder. It is a comfort–to him and to us–that he is needed by the fox (as he believes he needs the snail) and that he is not entirely alone.

We next see the Man asleep against a tree, the fox in his arms and then beside him decomposing in time lapse. The snail tells the man to sleep and that she will likely be gone when he awakes. But not to fear. He will find his way.

Now the Man is awake, the camera close on his downcast eyes, and we hear the snail tell him “Look around.” He raises his eyes as she continues “You will find your own way home.” As he looks, we see the sky alight with innumerable stars. The Man seems even smaller, dwarfed by the vastness of the universe. The hint of his smile leaves us with a feeling of optimism as the screen fades to black. (The ethereal music helps.)

He is still lost and alone. In fact, he is more or less right back where he started. And did I mention that he, like all of us, seems so small and insignificant? However, he is and we are confident that he will find his own unique way.

On this journey that seemingly leads nowhere, what way are we to find? Well, that is the question of the existential crisis, isn’t it? Perhaps it’s not about being lost at all but about being free to make the choices that intimidate us, that make us fearful. But those same choices are the ones that lead us to ourselves and upon our own unique journey.

You are free and that is why you are lost. –Franz Kafka

Be brave, Little One. As vast and unconcerned as the universe may be, this journey has meaning because we choose to give it meaning. We are free to make the choices that lead us out of the dark forest, that lead us home, that lead us to a friend to comfort us. We are free to question whether we are lost or simply finding our own unique way.

Thinking About Being Creative

Inspiring Creativity – A Liberatum film presented by illy from Liberatum on Vimeo.

I just watched this excellent Liberatum short film Inspiring Creativity in which various artists talk about what inspires their creativity. It got me thinking about what inspires me to be creative, and I realized that it can be almost anything.

I might say music, but really, music is an art form that encourages me to be creative once I’m already there. I have an idea and am now working on making that idea come to fruition. Music distracts my mind from its busy-ness enough so that I can focus on the one thing, creating.

I might say reading great works, but really what great works do is give me permission to write the way that I write, to turn a phrase, to develop interesting characters, to express my thoughts.

I might say film inspires me, but really, its function is closer to that of music–distraction. Great films and crappy movies (I love ’em all) calm my mind and provide me with a momentary distraction. And like reading a masterpiece, watching a film by an innovative filmmaker gives me permission and encourages me to be innovative.

Sometimes it’s something that’s poorly done that inspires me. I taste a dish and think they should have added nutmeg, and that’s it. The next night I’m busy in my kitchen creating a culinary masterpiece.

And then there is the almighty amorphous muse. I say amorphous because my muse is always running off and comes back looking like someone else. He comes around every now and then, get me all excited about a project, and then leaves before I can finish. But, at least he gets me started. Completion is my job, after all.

So what is it that does actually inspire me? Would pinpointing that thing, that moment make me more creative? Could I then wake up every morning and say Hey, I want to be creative today so I’m going to listen to Moby, watch a Truffaut film, read an essay by Ellison, have a conversation with my muse, and eat some ramps?

Note the sarcasm.

Two of my favorite quotes from the film:

Creativity. All those creative people, you are ruining [pretty much everything]. All of you kooks with your creativity, I would like to ban you to some distant island. –Filmmaker Jonas Mekas

Most of us don’t even know how to ask a question. Most of us do not see that the root of the word question is the word quest. Most of us don’t have a quest in our life. –Richard Saul Wurman, TED Founder, Designer, Architect

There we go. Creativity is about first asking the question, and then you have to go on that quest. It’s about action, discovery, and creating. Talk all you want about creativity, but if you aren’t actually making anything, you’re not being creative. You’re just a pretentious kook that’s ruining my food.

So what are you creating today? What questions are you asking? And what quest will you go on to create something new?

Thinking About Maya Angelou – And Other Phenomenal Women

It was a week ago today that Maya Angelou passed away, and it was a major event, for the media, for women of color, for writers, and for me. She was a powerful influence in many lives, including mine. She taught me some things about being strong, having no regrets, and most importantly, about being myself.

The day she died, Twitter blew up. Any publication that matters devoted tributes to this formidable woman. What could I possibly have to say that hasn’t already been said? Little old me? I never met her, never got the chance to hear her speak or read from her poetry in person. I am humbled by the very thought of all that she accomplished. She was, as she declared in her poem, a Phenomenal Woman. (Listen to her reading it here.)

But wait a minute. I too, in my own way, am a “phenomenal woman,” like so many women I know. Mothers, sisters, aunts, friends, and grandmothers. They are not famous. You probably wouldn’t recognize them if you passed them in the street. They haven’t won any fashion awards for wearing next to nothing at all. They haven’t been featured in any major publication. But they are powerful. They are phenomenal indeed.

And because of women like them, you and I are phenomenal. I will utilize one of Maya Angelou’s most famous quotes to talk to you about some of them and how they inspire me:

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

One phenomenal woman I know…

• Listens to me. She makes me feel like I’m worth listening to. She’s one of my moms.
• Has shown me that the little things add up to big things. She makes me feel like a big thing. She’s also one of my moms.
• Works, is a mom to three, and is a rock. She makes me feel like there is no one better to be than myself. She’s one of my sisters.
• Is a mom to two boys, super smart, and hilarious. She makes me feel like laughing. She’s also one of my sisters.
• Has a smile that can light up a room. She travels the world, reads voraciously, and takes on whatever the world throws at her without batting an eyelash. She’s beautiful and makes me feel beautiful too.
• Created an online community and shares a little of herself so we can watch her grow. She makes me feel strong and probably doesn’t even know it. (Now she does.)
• Is a mom to two beautiful girls, works and goes to college full time, and plays the right music at the right moment. She calls me “sis” and makes me laugh out loud.
• Is a comedian, a writer, a student, and someone who works all hours of the night to help support her family. She makes me feel smart–wicked smaht.
• Knows everyone in her community, is a mom to an amazing young man, and knows when to talk and when to listen. She makes me reach out when I’m feeling shy.
• Has a million things on her plate but always makes time to talk to her students. She makes me want to write.
• Is a writer and a scholar. She reminds me that I am also a writer.

These are just a few of the phenomenal women that I know. Maya Angelou’s poem reminds us that each of us is phenomenal in our own unique way. Because we believe we are. And we have to remind each other every now and then.

So what could I—little old me—have to say about a powerful force such as Maya Angelou? Thanks for the reminder. You made me feel phenomenal and you reminded me how lucky I am to know so many phenomenal women.

Thinking about Comedy: My Interview with Jen Angulo

I’m talking with Jen Angulo, up and coming standup comedian, comic writer, and future law school student. It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon in New York’s West Village. Spring has finally sprung, on the sunny side of the street, anyway. We’re having brunch at Le Baratin, a French bistro, café, and bar. A tiny space, its walls are covered in vintage posters, 45 records of popular French music, and paintings and prints of Paris. Like most restaurants in the area, it’s crowded and noisy, and the two waitstaff look like they would rather be at home sleeping.

Some things you should know about Jen: She grew up in New York believing that she was Italian and Costa Rican until, at twenty-seven, she signed up for a free ancestry.com trial offer. That’s when she found out she’s not Italian at all; rather she’s Puerto Rican on her mother’s side. She’s expressive, and her hands are as much a part of the conversation as what she’s saying. She’s smart and open-minded. And she’s funny as hell. I firmly believe that true comedic talent requires a keen intelligence. Look up the word wit, and you will find that intelligence trumps humor in the definition.

Jen and I attended numerous classes together at City College CWE. While I spent my Saturday afternoons enjoying film and art classes, she was taking classes in constitutional law and philosophy of social justice, already dedicated to her goal of attending law school. After a few semesters of grad school, Jen decided to take a break to work on her comedic talents with classes at the People’s Improv Theater. Law school deferred, she took some time to decide if she wanted to put herself into the debt required to attend law school or to pursue comedy. Today I learn that she’s working out a way to do both.

She’s just come from an admitted student’s day at Fordham, which she plans to attend in the fall. I’m surprised to see that she carries a beige Marc Jacobs bag (a concession to adulthood/law school?), which replaces her usual overstuffed backpack that contains a laptop, iPad, notebook, and pens of various colors, all of which are utilized for writing when the inspiration hits her. Jen and I discuss law school, being a woman in the man’s world of comedy, and, of course, what makes her laugh.

RMB: You know, when I was on the train on the way over here to meet you I was thinking that performance is integral in both law and standup comedy, that when arguing a case, much like doing your bit, you’re part of a performer-spectator relationship. It’s theater.

JA: It’s funny you should mention that because this morning I was watching the professors “perform” (she makes air quotes with her fingers). There was required reading that we had to do before attending this morning’s event, so last night I was reading an 1892 Supreme Court decision that I had to put into my own words. In my head when I’m reading, I don’t hear my own voice, I hear this Kim Kardashian-like voice, like I’m mocking something. So the document was about four pages long and was about a New York decision that you can’t contract a clergyman or brain toiler–yes, it actually said “brain toiler”–from a foreign country to work here. If he’s already here, you can hire him but you can’t recruit him to work here.

In her best Kim Kardashian: So, we’re like a Christian country, so obviously when they say labor, they’re talking about the unwashed masses. Ew.

RMB: So the dumb girl voice helps you to memorize smart stuff.

JA: Yeah. The comedic voice helps me to memorize serious, dense info.

RMB: So you were on watching the performance of the professors.

JA: Well, the second professor was very engaging and used humor to get everyone’s attention. Nothing over the top, just enough to keep you awake. Using satire and humor is like the sugar that makes the medicine to down. Why go out of your way to be boring?

RMB: So you’re definitely back on track to go to law school. Are you still going to pursue comedy–standup and writing?

JA: You know, at CWE, I was so happy, probably the happiest I’ve ever been. I really enjoyed the reading, the ingesting, the writing. So I want to find a job that allows that. I can do that in the legal field and use that as a monetary launching pad (for comedy). There are no guarantees. I’m a thirty-four-year-old. I can’t make decisions like a twenty-two-year-old. I have household responsibilities, bills to pay. I can still pursue the dream, but from a different angle, and I might have to work a little harder.

Our food arrives, so we tuck in and enjoy a few bites before we continue.

RMB: Many of your jokes center around women. Let’s talk a little about issues exclusive to women and comedy. What are some of the experiences you’ve had, in general and with other women comedians at performances? What’s it like backstage?

JA: I’ve always worked in a woman- and gay-centric world. I mean, I knew sexism existed but never actually experienced it. Women and gay men are powerful in visual marketing. In comedy it’s straight males. I’ve always had a lot of guy friends and was just one of the dudes. My first day at standup class I realized I’m such a lady. I might as well have had ovaries stapled to my forehead! The dynamic is that it’s a man’s world.

She pauses and looks out the window, thoughtful.

You would think that girls would be like, “Hey! Let’s band together.” But before a recent show, I’m standing there with all of these women, and no one was talking to each other. It can be a bit weird and lonely. Women don’t have to be friends, but they can be cordial even if the only thing they have I common is being a woman. They can acknowledge that.

RMB: What about being Latina? How does that influence your comedy?

JA: Well, I have that one joke about being in a Latin family and the peace and quiet of dying alone being an active fantasy. I know it sounds terrible, but it’s funny when you think about how noisy it is being in a big family. Or the Latina mom being the first Twitter feed–lots of opinions coming at you all the time. Being Latina informs my comedy in that I grew up in a neighborhood where there were not any Hispanics, one that was super-duper racist. My day-to-day experience as a Latina was in my law school application when I checked that box. But I guess it’s really about that feeling of not fitting in, which I think is the birthplace of comedy for most of us.

RMB: Did you see John Leguizamo’s Ghetto Klown? I almost died when he started dancing–Tra, Tra, Tra (reggaeton song by Don Chezina that’s made for endless entertainment on YouTube. Check out the Dominican Barney video).

JA: Yeah, I thought of you. I watched it with my mom, and after it was over she says, “Do you think that was real?”

We turn a few heads as we both laugh out loud.

RMB: I think that’s exactly what makes it so funny.

JA: Oh yeah.

RMB: He’s hilarious. And he’s done so much work over the years. One thing that comes to mind is Pest. I feel like there’s a fine line between being annoying and funny. I was watching the Hangover 3 the other night and thinking that half of the time I was rolling on the floor about the Zach Galifianakis character and the other half, I wanted to slap him. But that’s what makes Alan so funny.

JA: I’m a big fan of cringe and awkward comedy.

RMB: Like Bridesmaids?

JA: Yeah, and The Office (I actually cringe at the mention of the show–it’s all too real for me, and she chuckles), where you laugh out of discomfort. I think it stems from being an extremely awkward person. But people who pretend to be awkward piss me off. Shut the fuck up! I hate you!

RMB: So what are you into right now? What makes you laugh?

JA: I’m really into the smaller story right now. I don’t want to sound like a dork, but that’s what I’m into.

RMB: Like what?

JA: Like High Maintenance (created by husband and wife team Ben Sinclair and Katja Blichfeld), My favorite webisode is the most recent one called Rachel. I also just discovered the Clench and Release (Charla Lauriston) web series. I’m in a space of watching them because of what I’m working on right now–my own web series I Hate You More than You Probably Deserve. It also functions in that cringe realm that–you know, that common thread: When are you gonna grow up? What’s growing up? What is adulthood? In the funny ironic and the funny haha way. I always thought that when I turned thirty, there would be this magical door of adulthood, but nobody knows what they’re doing. That’s the sandbox I’ve been playing in lately.

RMB: That’s ironic–to be talking about thinking of adulthood while you’re inside of a sandbox.

JA: (chuckles but quickly looks serious.) Yeah, but what is an adult? How are you supposed to be in the world as a thirty-four-year-old woman? What is the fine line between pursuing a dream and not existing almost? I mean pursuing a dream as an excuse not grow up instead of doing the work to actually get it done, to achieve the dream.

RMB: I think that’s pretty common amongst people of a certain age, especially those who don’t follow “the plan” of getting married in their mid-twenties and having kids.

JA: Kids. That’s something that can cause a mini panic attack. Well, maybe not a panic attack, but shortness of breath at least.

RMB: Yeah, let’s not go there right now. What jokes do you find offensive, and how does it influence your work? Is there anything that’s off-limits or taboo for you when you’re writing your jokes?

JA: I’m not easily offended. I think comedians should be able to make jokes about anything. I don’t want to be in a place where I’m taking things off the table for others. As long as the joke’s good, funny, and it’s part of your persona, everything’s okay. Look, people are gonna get offended. No matter what you say. “What? My dad’s a coal miner!” I’m not comfortable with racial stereotype jokes: “White people be like… Black people be like…” because they’re just terrible jokes. But I think comedy provides a release of tension and can be a powerful tool to open up dialogue. Good jokes, anyway.

I remember I used to sneak in as a kid and listen to Eddie Murphy Raw, which was really offensive to a lot of people, but it was also really funny. Bill Cosby was supposed to work with Mark Maron on his podcast WTF, but he canceled because of the title. But Mark Maron is really smart and really funny, and I’m like you’re closing yourself off just because of an implied curse word. Don’t get me wrong. Bill Cosby is Bill Cosby, so he can do whatever he wants. Look, I don’t curse on stage. It’s not conscious, it’s just what comes out. The show is called WTF, but you don’t actually have to say “What the Fuck?” You don’t need to box yourself in.

RMB: Where do you get your ideas when you’re writing, your inspiration? Is it from everyday life? I mean, living in this city is pretty comedic on its own.

JA: One idea was from my time in the CWE Graduate Program. In the class we were taking about 2012 and the Mayan calendar. I was thinking that if there’s something anyone wants to know, they should just ask a Mayan person. You know go to Guatemala or something. So for my sketch class, our assignment was for a three- to five-minute game show. I did Ask a Maya. It’s a show on the Public Access Network, and there are three kooky contestants. Your lifeline is the host and/or a panel of seven people, all of Mayan descent. But since none of the contestants can wrap their head around the idea that Mayans still exist, that they aren’t extinct, they never use a lifeline. (Throws her hands up.)

RMB: Yeah, the number of people of Mayan descent is somewhere in the thirty millions.

JA: Exactly. I also work in the theater of the absurd and have forty to fifty percent of my day where my mind is available, so I get a lot of my inspiration there.

RMB: How important is humor in your personal relationships?

JA: Huge! I was a funny little kid with an over-developed sense of irony. I could make adults laugh, but not kids, at least not with me. I use humor as a coping mechanism. My family does “bits,” which I didn’t realize until taking classes. It’s like improv at dinner. We use humor to break the ice in uncomfortable situations, as a diplomatic tool.

RMB: Name three young working comedians that make you laugh.

JA: Let’s see, there’s Hannibal Buress. He’s a black comedian but not like a Def Jam comedian. It’s a shame to have to say that. His jokes are just about random things, real life. And then there’s John Mulaney. He was a writer for SNL for about five years, and I really like his New in Town. He’s smart and goofy. And Fortune Feimster–I saw her do five minutes on Conan and just about died.

RMB: And let’s have three people you follow on Twitter that make you laugh on a regular basis.

JA: Megan Amram, Rob Delaney, and Abby Crutchfield.

RMB: How do you think social media affects the lives and careers of entertainers?

JA: Oh, it’s huge. You can really create a network of people, a support system, and get great ideas, feedback on your work.

Le Baritin has that European benefit of letting you sit at the table until you feel like leaving. Or was it that they were ignoring us now that their rush was over? I couldn’t decide. We pay the check and Jen places her credit card back in her wallet. Then she pulls out a card and flashes it at me.

JA: See, it’s my ID card for P.I.T., the People’s Improv Theater. It means that I’m real.

RMB: And pretty soon you’ll be able to slide your Fordham Law School student ID in right next to it.

JA: Yeah. Pretty awesome, huh?

Pretty awesome indeed.

 

 

Eating at Smorgas Chef

Read my restaurant review that was published on the CUNY GC MALS journal Room4108. Yum!
http://room4108.org/2014/03/smorgas-chef-at-scandinavia-house/

Thinking About Thinking

It’s been a while, folks, but I’ve been busy pondering the mysteries of the universe. As you may have noted from the category, I’m all about thinking. I’ve often been told that I think too much, usually by people who I believe don’t think enough. So we’re even, I guess. Too many recycled ideas coming from them. Recycling paper and plastic, yes. Ideas, no.

The best way for us to come up with new ideas is to think, and further, to think about how we think. There’s a word for it: metacognition, which Oxford defines as “awareness and understanding of one’s own thought processes.” How did we come to believe anything to be true? In order to make any such determinations, we must exercise critical thinking, defined as “the objective analysis and evaluation of an issue in order to form a judgement.”

There are and have been many great thinkers: Plato (that’s him with Aristotle in Raphael’s School of Athens above), that Socrates dude, Confucius Albert Einstein, Malcolm Gladwell, and René Descartes, to name a few. Descartes bet his very existence on the fact that he was thinking. I’m not saying that we all have to be that great.

I know, I know. We’re busy people. We don’t have time to ponder such things. I, for example, am busy with marathons of television series on Netflix, listening to music, and reading about the travels of this week’s celebrity boyfriend. Ah, precious time…

But… I still want to get you thinking. Here are some things that might get you thinking:

• reading a book;
• watching a different news channel;
• opening a random page in the dictionary and finding a new word;
• listening to music that you normally wouldn’t; or
• that ancient past time silence. Oooh, weird.

And to get you started, here are some things to think about:

• What is up with Sarah Jessica Parker trying to bring back stirrup pants? Seriously?!
• Why do you have to take a pill to address the side effects of your other pill?
• Why did Stephenie Meyer create vegetarian vampires in her Twilight series? Is there something profound that we can learn from this?
  Note: I love the series for entertaining distraction (one must read something besides great literature by dead people), but think there is more fun to be had with the Volturi than the Cullens—the kind of fun vampires have anyway.
• Speaking of vegetarians, where can I go out to eat with my vegan friends? I’m just kidding—I don’t have any vegan friends. No offense, Ian McKellan (not my friend—yet).

But seriously folks, THINK. Think about anything that prejudices you against anything or anyone—yes, even vegans. Within reason, of course.

Any ideas? What do you wish people would think about? And please, no religion or politics. We can debate that over Thanksgiving dinner.

Melba’s Chicken and Waffles and Book Culture in Harlem

One of the best things about living in New York is its neighborhoods, each of them unique and most of them boasting restaurants that allow you to travel the world. To anyone who hasn’t been to New York, it may seem like a big city, but, for those of us who call it home, it’s actually kind of a bunch of small cities in five boroughs: Manhattan (Times Square), Brooklyn (hipsters), Queens (Mets), and Staten Island (ferry).

We had to take a trip to Book Culture and decided to have a bite to eat before venturing into its intellectual maze. It is located in the borough of Manhattan, in the neighborhood of Harlem. The train wasn’t too crowded—with people anyway.

No idea what was going on there…. Just another day on the C train. We weren’t the only ones snapping pictures, so you might see it elsewhere. Some passengers were amused, some were angered and commented that it was “ridiculous!” while still others did what most New Yorkers do when confronted with a spectacle: ignored it, or at least pretended to do so. I had the slightly immature urge to jump into the middle of them but didn’t have enough cash to cover any that I might break.

A short walk from 116th Street stop on the C train is Melba’s Restaurant, founded by Melba Wilson in 2005, who worked in the kitchen at the famous Sylvia’s Restaurant, one of my favorite places in all of New York to eat. We first learned of Melba’s on an episode of Throwdown with Bobby Flay, featuring chicken and waffles. Melba won, of course. Fried chicken is an art form.

It was kind of a no-brainer. What’s not to love about Chicken and Waffles? It was just a matter of having a moment to get there. The moment finally came, and Melba’s didn’t disappoint. We sat at the reasonably stocked bar (no tables for two available.) It definitely had the feel of small neighborhood place, but with sophistication and great music. The staff was friendly and attentive. Perhaps most importantly, it was obvious that they love the food, which was served promptly and with a look of what I even might call envy.

And it was immediately apparent why Melba won. The piping hot fried chicken was crispy and moist, with a good blend of spices, and the waffles were fluffy and light, served with warm maple syrup and a small dollop of strawberry icing. It was the perfect blend of salty and sweet.

We also had the Wine Braised Short Ribs of Beef, which pretty much melted in your mouth. Put the knife down—a fork will do just fine. It comes with two sides, and we chose collard greens and mac and cheese. I’m a “purist” when it comes to collards, meaning I expect pork. Melba’s makes theirs with smoked turkey, which turned out to be delicious. The mac and cheese was really good but not what I expected.

The portions were large, though not ridiculously so. Alas, however, dessert, though certainly made more tempting by our bartender, was an impossibility. There was simply no space. Next time, perhaps. I would definitely not have a problem with a return trip to Melba’s Restaurant. Not only did we not have room for dessert, there was no room for the country yams or the black eyed peas. Imagine!

It was a beautiful night, and the few blocks that we had to walk to Book Culture (technically in Morningside Heights) were pleasant. If you’ve never been to Book Culture, you should go, if for no other reason than it’s a bookstore. It’s the kind of store, small but filled with treasures, where you find surprises around that corner on a shelf or along the stairs. (Remember those?)

If you visit New York City, go to Harlem. It’s important not only to New York’s history, but to American history. It is, like of many small cities contained in New York, small but filled with treasures.