My New York City

Memorable New York City moments....

- A little girl, maybe 3 years old at most, in sparkling gold tights and very dramatic pig-tails, sits next to me on the subway just like a grown-up, with no help from her care-taker, and happens to sit on the edge of my coat. She doesn't notice, of course, but I feel a significant pull on my right side, and for the rest of the ride try not move too much so as not to disturb this little person, who sits quietly observing others in the subway, more like a grown-up than I've ever known myself to be. I am relieved when her stop comes before mine, so that I won't have to disturb her when I have to get up, and she gets off my coat and walks out with the same self-importance with which she had sat down on my coat earlier. I smile.

- My first day at Yoga to The People. Donation-based yoga (essentially, free yoga). Forty people in an unpretentious room, sweating, chanting, breathing, creating, moving, being moved, opening themselves up, all together, and all alone, with different missions but the same movements. I feel a sense of belonging and independence all at once, with such intensity I start to laugh, loudly. And no one, not one single person, judges me or asks me to be quiet. Most of the people around me, in fact, without knowing why, join me in my laughter.

- A spring day, always a relief after winter, and Washington Square Park is crowded as can be. I sit on the grass, get out my lunch, and eat it while soaking in the happiness and relief that surrounds me. Then a bunch of people get together, and start singing songs and playing instruments. They are fantastic, and crowds gather. A very old man is dancing along. Everyone is happy.

- It is summer in Bryant Park and on Monday nights they screen old films for free. I get there early, before the grass opens, and stand around, with hundreds of other people, all of us holding our blankets out, waiting for the grass to open. No one steps on the grass until the guard lets us. And as soon as he announces, "The Grass is Open", we all rush out, screaming, running as fast as we can to get the best possible square foot of grass that lets us see the screen. I sit close to the screen, I spread out my blanket. I pull out my pic-nic, my book, and take off my shoes. It's only 5pm. The movie doesn't start till 9.

- I perform a Greek Comedy throughout the parks of New York one summer, for free. We are wearing togas and many layers of sunscreen. It's hotter than anything I have ever known. We have been rehearsing this play for several weeks, we have songs and dances and jokes and many cute moments. There are people gathered in the grass waiting for us to perform it. They're sitting in the shade. We're under the sun. We do it, and the crowd loves us, even though our only thoughts throughout the whole performance are "Please, God, don't let me pass out". It was that hot.

- My friend Ashley and I go out drinking one night. We are looking for boys. We decide we're gonna pretend we're southern, because new york men love out-of-towners (they have commitment issues, see). We tell people we're from Tennessee. I think I'm even wearing my gold cowboy boots. People are intrigued. But we don't meet anyone. We laugh really hard though, because everything is funnier when you say it with a bad southern accent. We come home and my other friend, Kerri, who is staying with me during that time, is sleeping. We try to be quiet but we're still talking in a southern accent so everything is funny. The next day Kerri says she dreamt we were speaking in southern accents.

- I have friends over for election night, 2008. We are not very talkative. We are nervous. We eat cheese and crackers and drink beer. And then. Just like that. Barack Obama is elected president. No place on earth, I think, is happier than New York. The city literally explodes in screams. From the 14th floor of my building, we can hear people screaming all over New York. Most of us are crying. We walk to Union Square, and the city is a party. There are people on lamp posts. Everyone is so happy, so genuinely and purely happy, there's no choice but to join in the vibrations of the night. We know we are living through a unique moment in history, and we will be the ones to tell about it.

- I decide to go for a jog. A very unusual event. But it's a nice day, and I am inspired. So I go all the way down to the river and start my jog. It feels good. Then, with no real warning and quite suddenly, it starts to rain. Then it starts to pour. There is absolutely nowhere for me to seek shelter. So I keep jogging. And then I start running. I am running through the rain and it's thrilling. I run all they way back to my apartment, and when I get to my building, soaked and confusing my doormen ( I apologize a hundred times for dripping everywhere, but they're laughing at me), I feel like my soul has been cleansed. It's amazing.

There are hundreds more. These are just a few. In essence, I love New York. And what I love most is when it surprises me with moments of connectedness and truth.

Mary's Story

This was the very first poem I wrote in my very first poetry class in college, 6 years ago. I sat down and wrote it, and edited very little ever since. It is completely simple and yet I have always felt an attachment to it. It wasn't about me, I didn't actually know the circumstances of which the narrator in this poem speaks, but it seemed to all just come to me, like a fiction story that was somehow personal. And a couple of years later, I would play a character who went through these exact circumstances, and this same poem would surface again to help me find her heart. I share it here with you now.

Mary’s Story

So Mary came to me in a dream.
She told me how she lost her virginity.
You wouldn’t believe it unless you heard it.
She lost it to some guy, Doug,
who said she was a pretty girl.

He liked her lips.
She liked the way his hand felt on her cheek.
He said I love you baby.
She said Don’t you tell ok.
And then she was knocked up.
Mary wasn’t allowed to be knocked up you see,
and guess what, she went to
the same Doctor I went to!

But instead of digging into her and yanking it out,
Doctor said,
Mary I’ve got a brilliant idea.
Mary, legs spread open, naked and doped, couldn’t wait to hear this.
Doctor said,
I’m going to make you the mother of a prophet.
I’m going to give you an eternal virginity.
Mary, well she thought this sounded just swell.
But in my dream, just to me,
she confessed that maybe it wasn’t the best idea after all.

See, Doctor didn’t have any brilliant ideas for me.
He just shoved the whole world inside me it seemed,
and then I guess my vagina vomited it all out,
and somewhere in that mess was
my slaughtered baby.

Maybe he could’ve been a prophet too.

Ten Years Ago, or Laly meets Larissa

Since my last post was about my vision of myself in 10 years, it has me thinking of who I was ten years ago as well, and what that version of me wanted me to become, and what she'd say to me now. I decided 14-year-old Larissa and 24-year-old Larissa should meet and have a talk, so I wrote it out, and I used my left hand to write out my younger self's dialogue, since writing with my left hand gets me out of my head and lets that younger me really express herself, and then I replied as myself now, with my right hand. I hope this isn't too confusing. Here it is. I'm calling 14-year-old me by Laly because that was my nickname then, and an appropriate description of who I was as well.

Larissa: Hi, Laly.

Laly: This is kind of odd, I have to say, Larissa.

Larissa: You must think I'm old.

Laly: No, I'm relieved that you don't have pimples and that you're so pretty!

Larissa: You're beautiful. You don't know it yet, but you are.

Laly: People say that all the time. I still wish I was blonde. What happened to your nose? And your boobs?

Larissa: Plastic surgery.

Laly: Oh. Wow. It looks great.

Larissa: It'll hurt.

Laly: I'm afraid of pain.

Larissa: That is still the case.

Laly: Are you an actress?

Larissa: Yes. I am.

Laly: I'm so happy to hear that!

Larissa: You've just played Ophelia, right?

Laly: Yes! Oh my god. I loved it!

Larissa: I know. I still love that memory. You will do a loooot of Shakespeare, honey.

Laly: That's so exciting. So, like, what else have you done?

Larissa: Well, you know that TV show that you're completely obsessed with, Inside The Actor's Studio?

Laly: Yes!

Larissa: Well, I'm just gonna say this: you're going to get a lot closer to it than just watching it on TV!

Laly: Oh my god. Ok. That's amazing. What else? Are you married?

Larissa: (laughs) No, darling. I'm not married. I forgot- you're not a feminist yet. Oh, you're in for a ride. But don't worry, you will love so deeply, and you will be loved just as deeply, and it'll be wonderful. And I'm only 24!

Laly: I think I'm in love now. With two guys.

Larissa: I know. You're going to break both of their hearts. It's ok. Enough people will break your heart later on to make up for it.

Laly: That sounds painful too.

Larissa: It's delicious pain. And it's gonna make you a much better actress.

Laly: Ok. I can live with that. It's really cool seeing you. You seem totally awesome.

Larissa: Hah. Yeah. It's really cool seeing you too. I had forgotten how in love with life you are, how eager you are. How in love with life I am, how eager I am, I should say.

Laly: Well, I'm here to remind you. Always. And can you come by more often to remind me that I'm gonna have clear skin one day and nice boobs and pretty hair?

Larissa: Of course. You won't listen. But I'll try my best. And you should eat more. Your metabolism is really good, eat as much as you want. Diet later in life.

Laly: I'll try to remember that. Oh, and remember that there's nothing more important than integrity in acting. Please don't give in to social pressures, ever.

Larissa: Ok. Thank you for saying that. It's hard, being unemployed most of the time, and wanting people to like you.

Laly: I bet. But we're gonna be ok. I think we're doing really well so far!

Larissa: We are.

Laly: Ok, I gotta go call one of my friends and tell them about this because it's like totally awesome.

Larissa: Go for it! I'm totally posting this on my blog, I think it's amazing to talk to you. Bye for now, darling.

Laly: Bye. Hey, by the way, I'm your biggest fan.

Larissa: I know. And I'm yours.

me at 14 with shahar

me now.

In ten years...

I have been challenged by fellow blogger http://copasetica.blogspot.com to write here about how I see my life ten years from now.

In ten years...

I'm 34, five months away from 35. I love it. I plan a beach trip for my 35th birthday.

I am acting, a lot, in films and plays that I love and that touch people in some way. I am getting paid to act in these beautiful films and plays. I am making a living as an actress and I am loving it. I am playing characters such as Becca in Rabbit Hole, Lizzie in The Respectful Prostitute, Billie in Women of Manhattan, Kat in Dylan, Joyce in Top Girls, Jessie in Night Mother, and many, many more. I am saying something with every project, I am happy with my career. I have worked hard and I am working harder every day, because there's always a new story to tell, and a new set of ears that needs to hear it.

I am involved in some kind of women's movement. Maybe a magazine, or a foundation, or a home, or a theatre company, or a film company, or all of the above! Basically, I am working with women and for women. I will also have either gotten my Ph.D in Women's Studies or am on my way to doing so!

I am still here, blogging, and loving it. Hopefully with more followers, but if not, it's ok. I rather really touch a handful of people than have a thousand readers who retain nothing. I have either published something already or I am in the process of writing something that will get published sometime soon.

I am still in love with cooking, and possibly have done something about it. Say, started some kind of delivery of home-made goodies business, or just planned a regular dinner every thursday night for people I love to eat the food I love making.

I have traveled a lot, I have seen at least ten places I had never seen before, like Iceland, Vietnam, Morocco, South Africa, Russia, Japan, Ireland, and India. I am planning even more trips. I have learned at least one new language really well. Hopefully two.

I have found ways to thank my family, especially my parents, for their love and support through out the years.

I look great. I mean- whoa. I look really great! It's fantastic to be in my 30's! All the yoga and face creams and organic food looks really damn good now. I look beautiful, yes, but because I feel healthy and happy. I am at peace, and it feels amazing.

I am in love. Madly in love and in a committed relationship with a man I have a real, truthful connection with. Someone I can rub my feet on when they get really cold in the middle of the night and he won't question why I don't just put on some socks. Someone I cook for with such joy the food I make seems to smile at us. Someone who wants to go to feminist meetings with me (ok, I know, I'm pushing it... but hey, a girl can dream...) Mainly, someone who holds me but also lets me fly, with love and care.

I think I may have a kid by now, but I actually don't want to predict that, or to predict wanting that. If I am meant to be guiding a precious little soul through this world by now, then I will happily embrace it. If not, then I will embrace whatever other callings life has given me for now.

The essence of all of this is, I am happy, and I am living my dreams and making new ones every day. I feel peaceful, free, successful, and powerful. Life is exciting, and I can't wait to watch the next ten years unfold and continue to reveal to me who I am.

****

If your name is written below, I challenge you to write a blog post about your vision of yourself in ten years as well.

Gugs

Maria

Gabi S.

Deema

Ma N.

Bitch

I have been thinking about the word Bitch a lot lately. In general, I see it as a negative word- even when used playfully, I feel it is rooted in anger. More specifically, rooted in anger towards women.

So I've spent a few hours tracing my own personal history with the word. I can not remember the first time I heard the word, but I remember it becoming a familiar part of my vocabulary in the 7th grade. It seems like that was the age and time for cursing to become popular, and I started saying words that didn't feel comfortable in my mouth because, well, everyone else was saying them. As I sought to sound like my peers, I was also practicing the common teenage act of defiance. Saying "Fuck this shit," in reference to my algebra homework seemed to defy something, something that remained ambiguous, but I think it had to do with the feeling of obligation that pre-teens become aware of and instinctively resent. Obligation to do well in school, obligation to make our parents proud, obligation to take certain classes we have no interest in, obligation to fit in- so much overwhelming obligation, coupled with an equally overwhelming desire for independence, and suddenly rebellion seems extremely appealing. Since most of us were not about to drop out of one of Latin America's most expensive schools or run away from our parent's mansions, cursing seemed like a small way of showing the world, and ourselves, that at least we were in charge of our language usage.

I had a click of girlfriends at that time, and we used the word bitch quite often, usually lightly, but sometimes in reference to some girl who was dating a guy we had a crush on (How dare she! Bitch.). But eventually, as we got closer, I think we all sensed it was too heavy a word to use with each other and, although we never talked about why, we sought to make up a word that would sound more playful so that we could use it loosely with each other. We came up with "Slitch", a combination of Slut and Bitch, and eventually created our catch phrase: "Slitches Rule!". The word felt truly playful, and because it was ours, it felt rooted in love, not hate.

But Bitch would come back to me, in college. I think I really learned to curse comfortably in college, actually. It seemed like everyone at Sarah Lawrence was angry about something, and since we were a bunch of hippies who weren't going to go around punching each other, cursing was a particularly delicious- and necessary- outlet. I was doing so many things that felt outside of my comfort zone, cursing seemed like just another to add to the list. At one point I even bought t-shirts for me and my housemates that had the word BITCH printed on them- thinking, I imagine, that if we wore the word, it was ours, and no one could do us harm. It seemed to work for a while. I thought I had the word under control, I thought it was my weapon.

Then my little brother became a man, and went to college and bonded with other men. And in their world, which I have been exposed to only a few times, all women are referred to as "bitches". Even in casual conversation, "Tell the bitch we'll be right there." They are comfortable with it, and it seems to be integral to their male bonding time. Such conversations are probably not meant for me to hear, but I have heard them, and their use of the word Bitch, over and over again, in reference to any woman in any situation, started to make the word feel like their weapon, and started to make me feel like I didn't have Bitch under control at all. My reasoning for this is that their use of the word is stemming from hatred and anger towards women, making the word a violent gesture that is capable of doing great damage, and this is frightening to me. I don't want men hating women.

I talked about this with a friend last night, and he kept asking me why I don't want men hating women. It forced me to think about it, and I realized I don't want men hating women because it kills the possibility for beautiful, rewarding, and fulfilling relationships, where both parties' visions of life are expanded. When men are supportive and understanding of feminist points of view (and when women, too, are willing to take in men's perspectives), an opportunity is born where two people can really communicate, learn, and grow.

I realize that my being bothered by their use of the word Bitch has more to do with me than with them, but, and I also said this to my friend last night, I don't want to not be bothered by men calling women bitches. Aside from the fact that I can't help it- it bothers me, period.- I want these young men, and all men, to respect women and to be open to women's worlds. While it's important to acknowledge the hatred that may live inside us, I'm a believer of doing so with consciousness, so that others are not harmed. Being open to another person's view of the world has usually opened up my own understanding of myself and, on the same token, when someone else is willing to see my perspective, I also grow. So when I hear young men calling all women bitches, it breaks my heart, because as far as I know, there are no possibilities for real communication when hatred and anger are present. Love and respect create space, whereas hate and disdain, without awareness, create only limitations.

As always, I am an advocate for love and awareness. My request today is this- Please, to anyone this reaches, think twice before you use the word Bitch again, know that it is a weapon, and while a weapon can be vital for survival, it can also do a lot of unnecessary harm.

A Tribute to Women

I am blessed to have had many powerful, talented, incredible, generous, beautiful, intelligent, and loving women in my life. What better day to honor them than today, International Women's Day? Since there is too much to say of each one, I will write about only one thing they've each contributed to my life, though I am sure they know their values are immeasurable.

Thank you to....

My mother, for forgiving me for being a completely impossible teenager who hated her, and thus allowing us to become best friends as adults.

My godmother, Valderez, for watching all of my plays and coming to all of my major events, even when she couldn't understand a word of it.

My Aunt Susie, for never questioning and always supporting my dreams, sharing my love for literature and art, and helping me to believe I am worth everything I dream of.

My Aunt Vera, for holding me when, at 13, my mom caught me kissing a boy 7 years older than me in front of a church, and telling me I hadn't committed a sin.

My much-more-than a cousin Gugs, for all the times I made her act out little plays with me for our parents, even though she didn't want to- and for making up countless imaginary worlds with me, over and over again.

My cousin Ju, who took me to watch plays and movies- gestures that made an unbelievable difference in my life.

My cousin Fer, for pulling me aside when I turned 15 to tell me the truth about drugs and sex.

My cousin Grazi, for making me watch "Free Willy" every time she babysat me and therefore helping me develop empathy for whales.

My paternal grandmother, Baba, for letting me do her make-up when I was a child, and then for never washing it off afterwards but rather wearing purple eyeshadow on her nose when she went to the grocery store and proudly saying, "My granddaughter did my make-up today."

My maternal grandmother, Alzira, who I never met, for raising my incredible mother.

Marina, for a 20-year-friendship, for reminding me of who I really am, and for letting me love her.

Melissa, for 16 years of letters.

Tati, for my childhood. I'm sad we've lost touch.

The BSG's (BackStreet Girls), you know who you are, my middle-school "click", for holding my hand through the hardest years of a girl's life.

Marina B., Diana, and Manu, for sitting with me in lunch for four years of high-school.

Gabi, for my first back-packing through Europe experience, an unforgettable trip.

Maria, for nights of chocolate milk and french fries with mayo at the pub in college, and for all the times you took care of me when I was sick.

Starsha, for your contagious smile.

The women at Brebner, for a year that taught me more than I was prepared to handle.

Divya, Preetha, and Andrea, for a summer through Turkey and Greece that I will never forget.

Olivia, A.J., Kate, And Kioko, for being wonderful housemates in Andrew's Court 10 and teaching me that women CAN live in harmony.

Laura, for Top Girls.

Fan, for being my mother in college.

Gina, for the times we did share. I'll forever regret losing your friendship.

Moe, for reminding me of my roots.

Ker and Ash- I have to put you two together, because the three of us are like a trio of beauty and talent, for so many conversations at starbucks' around new york that simply changed my life.

Deema, for your talent and drive.

Rena, for unforgettable memories in Extremities.

Thesa, for your grace and courage.

Susan M., my teacher and friend, for being a brilliant teacher, and for seeing me.

Susan A., for, quite simply, teaching me to act.

Regi, my Italian love, for bringing out the feminist in me and for teaching me to cook.

Sal, for never judging me.

Whitney, for trusting me.

Julia W., my internet friend, for being so open and friendly with someone you've never met.

Ellen Burstyn, for giving me the book "Forgiving your Parents".

And to some women I've never really met, but who have had a huge impact on my life,

Gloria Steinem, for writing "Revolution From Within", and for making it ok for 'beautiful' women to be feminists.

Meryl Streep, Kate Winslet, and Cate Blanchett, for inspiring me over and over again.

Eve Ensler, for writing "The Vagina Monologues".

Ruth, my diary, whoever you are, for hearing my soul's cries all of my life.

And for every woman who has touched my life in any way, I am grateful.

Love is Everything

While crying with a broken heart, I think, "I'd take a root canal while getting a brazilian wax on a cold day and then maybe even give birth with no drugs and fall inside a frozen pond naked- over this pain. I would take anything over this pain." And then my next thought, bumping in right behind that one, practically crashing with it, is, "No, no I wouldn't. This pain means I have a working loving open heart. This pain means I'm alive. The magnitude of this pain equals the magnitude of the love I lived. I'll take this over the alternative of never having lived through so much love." And I cry even harder.

And every time it's worse (or better?). Every time the love is greater, and the crashing pain of loss greater still. And what hurts, exactly? Pablo Neruda, that eternal romantic, wrote,

"We, we who were, we are the same no longer. ...

Love is so short and oblivion so long."

How many times have I gone through this? Apparently not enough times, because my heart is still perfectly willing to love, it is yearning to love again, it is ready to fall in love with the guy with long hair and a guitar in the subway. It is hoping to look at someone and see in their face all of humanity's perfections and all of humanity's imperfections and love them so much, so deeply, so entirely, so tremendously, that there is nothing to do but kiss them as passionately as possible, forever.

I'm bottomlessly romantic, boundlessly sensitive, overly poetic, and a tad bit dramatic, I know. But I can't help it! I love loving! And love loves finding me, it always has. No matter how much it hurts me, it seems love and I and have a life-long date this time around. Bring it on Cupid, this heart ain't done lovin' yet.

I remember when I was in the 9th grade, I was with a group of people chatting about what love is, and one girl said, "Romantic love is completely unnecessary and we can be perfectly fine without it." I responded immediately and viscerally- it's possible that I even jumped up to standing- I said, "How can you say that? How can you possibly say that? It's the whole point! There's nothing better! There's nothing greater! Love is everything!" I think she rolled her eyes at me, I don't really remember. But you see my point- even at 14, in the hell of high school, I already had the suspicion that love is life. And now, ten years later, with a desperate broken heart that has been mended over and over again, that is full of a kind of pain that is capable of taking over my whole being and paralyzing me for days, I believe that still.

But (ugly icky stubborn but), something has changed.

I know now that, in the same space that passionate crazy beautiful pure love inhabits, also lives the possibility of a deadly painful merciless end. In that first kiss where love plants its seeds it also plants the possibility that those two people may hurt each other brutally and irreparably. The greater the love, the greater the possibility of that pain. (I should say probability rather than possibility, because I have not yet lived a great love that was not accompanied by a hurricane of pain, but who knows- maybe it's out there.)

And because I know this, I understand something I absolutely rejected and ran away from for a long time. I understand now why people settle. I don't mean settle down, I mean settle for something that is less than what they wanted, settle for an adult life of "should's" and "at least's" and "good enough's". I understand choosing stability and companionship over passion and mind-blowing love. I understand choosing a life that minimizes the possibility of suffering a great loss.

I understand it so much that today I even said, "I could do it. I could settle." And I meant it. I started to think I could be ok with having just the certainty that the person I'm with will be there the next day over explosive, soul-connected, blinding love where no such certainty exists. Flames, by definition, burn out or fade away. So enough flames, I've been thinking, I'm done with flames. Let flames go to hell where they belong. Give me luke-warm. Give me boring. Give me less than I have always wanted.

Alas, says the romantic day-dreamer, such thoughts are real but fleeting. I no sooner have them than I am ready to fall madly in love again.

But, as a dear friend said to me today, I don't have to decide or choose anything right now, maybe even for a while. I can decide to not decide. It's every empowering, actually. I don't have to narrow down what I want right away- or ever. How great that I know love and love's pains, how great that I understand the sentiment behind settling, how great that I have no idea what will suit my life! I am ever-changing, ever-growing, and ever-learning. That is wonderful and I better get used to it because I can not control it. It just so happens that I can't click a switch in my heart and go, Ok, I'm done falling in love, now just give me something safe.

It is comforting to know that I am in pain, but I am not done loving yet.

As my 14-year-old self would say, I better not be done with love yet, because then really, what would be the point? Love is everything.

And isn't it?