I will admit; I am slightly obsessed with Facebook. That little blue and white world that caters to the voyeur in all of us, delivering a tantalizing supply of photos, conversations, witty banter, whereabouts and oh so much more. A bit reminiscent of my love affair with Starbucks, my journey into the Facebook world began with much trepidation and skepticism.
I remember my sister first telling me about the site, into which she and so many of her college age cronies were already embroiled. At the time, only people with valid college email addresses could join, and since mine was long defunct, I could only explore the site through my sister. I was not dazzled at first--it seemed a mere reincarnation of one of the first social networking sites--Friendster. But soon after, I kept getting wind of certain wall posts and Facebook camaraderie between my cousins--all younger than me and most of college age--and I started to feel left out. As a group, we are a mighty chatty and boisterous bunch and our get togethers are always lively and laughter filled. With a new virtual venue to bring us together even outside of our frequent family functions, things could only get more lively. So, with the intention of bolstering our cousinly bonds, I got myself a Facebook account and my 14 cousins as friends.
My initial vow was to remain friends with only my cousins, and use Facebook as a cyber watering hole for us--bridging the distances between schools and the times when we all get to be together. I only got a few friend requests myself--and most were from people I truly did not recognize. I wanted to keep my Facebook universe small. But then....
I started to get friend requests from people I absolutely recognized, and was admittedly curious as to their lives...I started to troll for classmates...took notice of who other people were friends with....my cast of friends began to grow...and before I knew it, Facebook had cast its spell on me and I was, and continue to be, captivated by the entertainment it provides. A sort of window into other worlds, comment on our culture, personal expression entertainment that has me captivated by profiles and my brain constantly commenting on its phenomenon.
Sometimes when I'm perusing profiles, I'm reminded of the days of decorating your room as a teenager, or your college dorm. Well thought out placements of pictures, quotes and posters that made your room your own and broadcast the person you knew yourself to be. I think what Facebook has essentially done is migrated this decorative form of self expression to the internet and given people a wider, more interactive forum for the exploration and showcasing of who they are. As an adult, I no longer have a million pictures scattered across bulletin boards or favorite quotes displayed on my wall--my tastes demand a bit more refined decorative sense. However, I have Facebook-- wherein I can be just as playful and witty as I'd like, and in the end have a satisfying little spot on the web that is uniquely me.
After my initial hesitations in the realm of requesting and accepting friends, I have wholly embraced both actions and love stumbling upon acquaintances from college or high school, or even middle school. There is something comforting, somehow, just getting these small glimpses into their lives. Gives you a sort of "we really ARE all connected feeling", and it's just nice to know that somewhere, this person is living their life, doing their own unique thing. It ocurred to me that Facebook also delivers to me, via its web interface, the one aspect of college that I loved most of all, and still miss dearly to this day---simply walking around campus. I just adored going from class to class and saying hello to all I'd pass along the way. I went to a small school, so there was something very special in knowing so many people--even if you didn't know their name but their face was a familiar part of the landscape. So here I am, removed quite significantly from the days of being surrounded by so many people you knew, and voila, here is Facebook, bringing me many of those same, familiar faces. And that is how I will explain to the naysayers, who can't understand why I am friends with someone on Facebook that I never talk to in "real life", why it really doesn't matter. Because seeing that this particular person changed their status or added some photos is just like walking past them on campus and saying hello. A nice little bright spot, a window into the life of someone you might now know all that well, but you just like their friendly face.
It is certainly a funny culture we live in where a site like Facebook has swept into the lives of people from several different generations and created its own little subculture, complete with vernacular and unspoken rules, etc. It's the power of technology that fuels it all--but I really believe at the heart of it is still that human need to put a little of yourself out there, and see what everyone else has to offer too.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Float Like a Butterfly...
Someone should make a tv show, or at least an SNL skit, about the waiting rooms at auditions and the array of characters that are bound to show up there. Although very few will actually land a part in whatever they're trying out for, they alone comprise a heartly little cast in and of themselves. Sometimes there's the guy who has a misguided concept of reading to oneself, and is practing his cold read over and over in a high decibel whisper, or the two girls that know eachother and gossip on endlessly about who's doing what play where. And then there are the garrulous types who will talk to just about anyone who crosses their path--and they usually drone on about their own career path and give countless tidbits of unsolicited advice.
This past weekend I encountered quite an interesting species of auditioner, which is what prompted this musing on the topic. It was for an indpendent film, and the waiting room was a classroom, equipped with some snacks and water for those waiting. When I walked in, there was little activity, but I just sat and waited quietly, sure that someone would eventually come in with sides and that the auditions would proceed in the order of those arrived. Several minutes later, in breezes a middle aged man, dressed quite slovenly in green pants that were too short, a ratty flannel shirt and a newsboy cap. Immediately upon entering the room he asks rapid fire questions to the other auditioners, "Is this the waiting room? Is there a sign in sheet? Have they been in to check us in? Are there sides? Is this food for us?" And then he just digs right into the food, crunching on carrot after carrot, helping himself to several packets of crackers and making a generally noisy production of refreshing himself with the snacks and water. After he sits down, he begins what I knew was the inevitable chit chat with another actor in the room, and it isn't until everyone else has cleared out, except for me, that he even pauses to take a breath and read the sides, and this short activity is accompanied by overdone hand gestures. It's only a matter of seconds before he turns on me and asks, "So, do you do a lot of film?" I reply with a short, "When I can", hoping to imply that I'm just not up for conversation, but yet again he inquires, "So then you do a lot of stage." When all I say is "Yup", he takes this as his cue to tell me that he has a show in Baltimore that he has to be at by 6:30--and I very satisfyingly do not take his bait and ask him what show, as I know he is yearning for me to do.
Several minutes later, another unsuspecting auditioner walks into the room, and is immediately preyed upon by the overgrown Oliver, who first instructs her that yes this is the waiting room, there is no sign in sheet and the food is for us. Then he proceeds to inquire about her current projects, and finds a way to again work in his current show in Baltimore, and drop the fact that he has been in touch with the people behind this particular film since October. I am relieved when my name is called and I can leave his obnoxious chatter behind, and go do what I came there for.
Over the course of many auditions, I've honed my own little strategy for them. It's basically a keep to myself, but in a pleasant, not off putting kind of way. I like to remain focused and positive, and for me, the best way to do that is to tune out all the chatter in the room, which has the power to "psyche you out". If I focus too much on other people and the self promotional and competitive underbelly of most waiting room discussions, it gets to me and I start to doubt my own abilities and career status. So, I just wear a smile for everyone, but remain solitary and put my mind solely on the task at hand.
My mother has always told me that I posess a quiet confidence--that rather than boast of my talents or successes, I take pleasure in them for the simple joy of them, and share that joy mostly with my family and close friends. It is a behavior I absolutely learned from my father--whose personal accomplishments he celebrated only with a wry smile, and then went on to do whatever me or my sister needed urgently that particular day. My parents easily demonstrated to me how not to rest on your laurels--but instead keep them cultivated in your own, private garden, and move constantly forward to expand your little plot of earth.
This is how I go about my auditions--I view them as an opportunity to hone and develop the craft that I love. They are an experience, from the beginning to the end, and I feel so much is gained from being aware and focused enough to absorb every aspect. The characters around me are merely amusing dots on a landscape of learning, growing and striving towards a goal, one tiny step at a time.
This past weekend I encountered quite an interesting species of auditioner, which is what prompted this musing on the topic. It was for an indpendent film, and the waiting room was a classroom, equipped with some snacks and water for those waiting. When I walked in, there was little activity, but I just sat and waited quietly, sure that someone would eventually come in with sides and that the auditions would proceed in the order of those arrived. Several minutes later, in breezes a middle aged man, dressed quite slovenly in green pants that were too short, a ratty flannel shirt and a newsboy cap. Immediately upon entering the room he asks rapid fire questions to the other auditioners, "Is this the waiting room? Is there a sign in sheet? Have they been in to check us in? Are there sides? Is this food for us?" And then he just digs right into the food, crunching on carrot after carrot, helping himself to several packets of crackers and making a generally noisy production of refreshing himself with the snacks and water. After he sits down, he begins what I knew was the inevitable chit chat with another actor in the room, and it isn't until everyone else has cleared out, except for me, that he even pauses to take a breath and read the sides, and this short activity is accompanied by overdone hand gestures. It's only a matter of seconds before he turns on me and asks, "So, do you do a lot of film?" I reply with a short, "When I can", hoping to imply that I'm just not up for conversation, but yet again he inquires, "So then you do a lot of stage." When all I say is "Yup", he takes this as his cue to tell me that he has a show in Baltimore that he has to be at by 6:30--and I very satisfyingly do not take his bait and ask him what show, as I know he is yearning for me to do.
Several minutes later, another unsuspecting auditioner walks into the room, and is immediately preyed upon by the overgrown Oliver, who first instructs her that yes this is the waiting room, there is no sign in sheet and the food is for us. Then he proceeds to inquire about her current projects, and finds a way to again work in his current show in Baltimore, and drop the fact that he has been in touch with the people behind this particular film since October. I am relieved when my name is called and I can leave his obnoxious chatter behind, and go do what I came there for.
Over the course of many auditions, I've honed my own little strategy for them. It's basically a keep to myself, but in a pleasant, not off putting kind of way. I like to remain focused and positive, and for me, the best way to do that is to tune out all the chatter in the room, which has the power to "psyche you out". If I focus too much on other people and the self promotional and competitive underbelly of most waiting room discussions, it gets to me and I start to doubt my own abilities and career status. So, I just wear a smile for everyone, but remain solitary and put my mind solely on the task at hand.
My mother has always told me that I posess a quiet confidence--that rather than boast of my talents or successes, I take pleasure in them for the simple joy of them, and share that joy mostly with my family and close friends. It is a behavior I absolutely learned from my father--whose personal accomplishments he celebrated only with a wry smile, and then went on to do whatever me or my sister needed urgently that particular day. My parents easily demonstrated to me how not to rest on your laurels--but instead keep them cultivated in your own, private garden, and move constantly forward to expand your little plot of earth.
This is how I go about my auditions--I view them as an opportunity to hone and develop the craft that I love. They are an experience, from the beginning to the end, and I feel so much is gained from being aware and focused enough to absorb every aspect. The characters around me are merely amusing dots on a landscape of learning, growing and striving towards a goal, one tiny step at a time.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Grande..Venti...Happy.
Oh, Starbucks. That caffeinated haven of treats, nestled on street corners far and wide. I felt it was high time I write a little something about this place, whose trademark green and white has a special spot in my heart.
My first foray into the world of lattes was in high school, when for some reason my friends and I decided that we didn't spend enough time together as it was, both in school and out, and decided it was absolutely necessary to meet before school even began. Mind you, our first class started at 7:25 am, so short of going to eachother's houses and pulling eachother out of bed, what could we really do in the morning? Go to Starbucks, of course. Now, this was in the mid 90's, even before the height of the Starbucks phenomenon--so to us it was a novelty, and I can only think we fancied ourselves quite grown-up and bohemian to be visiting a coffee house for our morning caffeine fix. So, several mornings a week we drove in the opposite direction from school and convened at 6:30 am, Starbucks mugs in hand. Back then, I knew so little about the menu, and at that time it probably contained about a quarter of today's options. Due to my early morning weariness and adolescent absence of conviction, I always ended up with a raspberry latte. I'm not sure I even liked it, but all in all it wasn't really about the drinks, but that my extremely tight knit group of friends squeezed another half hour of companionship into our days.
After high school, my trips to Starbucks were more infrequent, perhaps ironically as their presence was on the rise. But then, I moved to New York City, and when one beckons on every block, they're impossible to resist. Thanks to several more savvy friends, I was introduced to larger array of drink options. There was my skim chai kick, my sugar free vanilla skim latte kick, then there was the discovery of just how tasty a huge cookie shared with a friend over a cup of tea could be. I think because I had now succeeded in satisfying my taste buds, I took more notice of the atmosphere in Starbucks. Cozy, without a doubt. A place that immediately felt warm and inviting as you ducked in out of the biting wind on Broadway. Somewhere that would let you sit, for hours on end, long after the last drop of cappucino, and engross yourself in a novel, slave over your laptop in the quest to write your own, or just daydream about possibility. I grew to love this about Starbucks--that as soon as you see that circle logo, you know there's a place where you can go, and just be.
Several years and life changes later, I had quit my job in the city and had a full on case of the blues. It was Halloween, and as my sister and I brainstormed costume ideas, I was inspired by a Frappucino bottle turned bank that sat in her closet. That's how my sister, my boyfriend and I ended up at a Halloween party, dressed as a caramel macchiato, a barista, and a mocha macchiato, respectively. Which led to a fellow guest commenting that Starbucks is a solid corporation to work for, offering health insurance to it's part time employees--music to my unemployed and Cobra paying ears. And so, several weeks later, there I was at the Caldwell Starbucks, feeling slightly conspicuous in my green apron, on my first day of barista training.
Sure, over the next few weeks I had my share of mental wars as I struggled to pull the shots, steam the milk, mop the floors and properly work the cash register. The strain of "I'm wasting my college degree, I'm too smart for this, I used to have so much responsibility", careened around my head. But little by little, it quieted until I realized that it really, really didn't matter. Because all of a sudden, I was zooming around the bar, greeting customers by name, and genuinely enjoying being at work every day. And man, what a great feeling.
About a month after my first station at the Caldwell Starbucks, I moved to our new store in Roseland, and over the first few days of its grand opening, met my new associates. I could tell almost immediately, as we restocked cups, shouted drink orders and filled cup after cup, that it was one of those special combinations of people that just click. After a few weeks, we were our own little family, and our new store was like our home that we welcomed our customers into daily. We were constantly laughing, sharing thoughts and concerns, and looking out for eachother. In doing so, we created a store environment that our customers loved coming to--as evidenced by handwritten notes and countless whispered admissions that ,"I used to go to the Caldwell store, but I switched because I LOVE coming here."
As for me, I enjoyed every minute behind the counter. It ocurred to me that this job was perfect for my psyche and my personality. I loved setting people up with their morning coffee, their afternoon fix, their indulgence. It appealed to the Italian in me...and the mother/grandmother to come. I have always had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and it was a delight to find there is a myriad of things to know about coffee. I loved educating my palate to the different roasts, beans from different regions, feeling the citrus taste in a Latin American coffee burst in my mouth when I paired it with a yummy slice of lemon loaf. I reveled in being surrounded by people from so many different backgrounds and walks of life, after years of being comfortable in very homogeneous environments. I've always been a "school spirit" kind of person, and now I was infected with a company spirit, always feeling a certain pride when visiting stores all over.
I loved getting to know my customers--who knew that you could feel such satisfaction, and this little fizzle of personal connection when you can greet your customer by name and make his/her drink before he even reaches the register? That seeing little baby Hannah come in every day with her mom,smiling and giggling, could always make you happy? As an actor, I revel in moments--it's what we always seek to find on stage--points when the words in the script come out of your mouth, but instead of coming from your head, come from your soul. And that's what Starbucks gave me--hundreds of little moments to brighten my soul.
I give much credit to Starbucks and my fellow partners for the personal growth I experienced during my time there. When I started, I was feeling so heavy inside. But little by little, wearing that green apron, calling out "Decaf Venti Skim no Whip Mocha" with no shame-- it taught me to just enjoy life for the simple, lovely fact that there is so much joy in human connection, sustenance, and a good, warm cup of coffee.
My first foray into the world of lattes was in high school, when for some reason my friends and I decided that we didn't spend enough time together as it was, both in school and out, and decided it was absolutely necessary to meet before school even began. Mind you, our first class started at 7:25 am, so short of going to eachother's houses and pulling eachother out of bed, what could we really do in the morning? Go to Starbucks, of course. Now, this was in the mid 90's, even before the height of the Starbucks phenomenon--so to us it was a novelty, and I can only think we fancied ourselves quite grown-up and bohemian to be visiting a coffee house for our morning caffeine fix. So, several mornings a week we drove in the opposite direction from school and convened at 6:30 am, Starbucks mugs in hand. Back then, I knew so little about the menu, and at that time it probably contained about a quarter of today's options. Due to my early morning weariness and adolescent absence of conviction, I always ended up with a raspberry latte. I'm not sure I even liked it, but all in all it wasn't really about the drinks, but that my extremely tight knit group of friends squeezed another half hour of companionship into our days.
After high school, my trips to Starbucks were more infrequent, perhaps ironically as their presence was on the rise. But then, I moved to New York City, and when one beckons on every block, they're impossible to resist. Thanks to several more savvy friends, I was introduced to larger array of drink options. There was my skim chai kick, my sugar free vanilla skim latte kick, then there was the discovery of just how tasty a huge cookie shared with a friend over a cup of tea could be. I think because I had now succeeded in satisfying my taste buds, I took more notice of the atmosphere in Starbucks. Cozy, without a doubt. A place that immediately felt warm and inviting as you ducked in out of the biting wind on Broadway. Somewhere that would let you sit, for hours on end, long after the last drop of cappucino, and engross yourself in a novel, slave over your laptop in the quest to write your own, or just daydream about possibility. I grew to love this about Starbucks--that as soon as you see that circle logo, you know there's a place where you can go, and just be.
Several years and life changes later, I had quit my job in the city and had a full on case of the blues. It was Halloween, and as my sister and I brainstormed costume ideas, I was inspired by a Frappucino bottle turned bank that sat in her closet. That's how my sister, my boyfriend and I ended up at a Halloween party, dressed as a caramel macchiato, a barista, and a mocha macchiato, respectively. Which led to a fellow guest commenting that Starbucks is a solid corporation to work for, offering health insurance to it's part time employees--music to my unemployed and Cobra paying ears. And so, several weeks later, there I was at the Caldwell Starbucks, feeling slightly conspicuous in my green apron, on my first day of barista training.
Sure, over the next few weeks I had my share of mental wars as I struggled to pull the shots, steam the milk, mop the floors and properly work the cash register. The strain of "I'm wasting my college degree, I'm too smart for this, I used to have so much responsibility", careened around my head. But little by little, it quieted until I realized that it really, really didn't matter. Because all of a sudden, I was zooming around the bar, greeting customers by name, and genuinely enjoying being at work every day. And man, what a great feeling.
About a month after my first station at the Caldwell Starbucks, I moved to our new store in Roseland, and over the first few days of its grand opening, met my new associates. I could tell almost immediately, as we restocked cups, shouted drink orders and filled cup after cup, that it was one of those special combinations of people that just click. After a few weeks, we were our own little family, and our new store was like our home that we welcomed our customers into daily. We were constantly laughing, sharing thoughts and concerns, and looking out for eachother. In doing so, we created a store environment that our customers loved coming to--as evidenced by handwritten notes and countless whispered admissions that ,"I used to go to the Caldwell store, but I switched because I LOVE coming here."
As for me, I enjoyed every minute behind the counter. It ocurred to me that this job was perfect for my psyche and my personality. I loved setting people up with their morning coffee, their afternoon fix, their indulgence. It appealed to the Italian in me...and the mother/grandmother to come. I have always had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and it was a delight to find there is a myriad of things to know about coffee. I loved educating my palate to the different roasts, beans from different regions, feeling the citrus taste in a Latin American coffee burst in my mouth when I paired it with a yummy slice of lemon loaf. I reveled in being surrounded by people from so many different backgrounds and walks of life, after years of being comfortable in very homogeneous environments. I've always been a "school spirit" kind of person, and now I was infected with a company spirit, always feeling a certain pride when visiting stores all over.
I loved getting to know my customers--who knew that you could feel such satisfaction, and this little fizzle of personal connection when you can greet your customer by name and make his/her drink before he even reaches the register? That seeing little baby Hannah come in every day with her mom,smiling and giggling, could always make you happy? As an actor, I revel in moments--it's what we always seek to find on stage--points when the words in the script come out of your mouth, but instead of coming from your head, come from your soul. And that's what Starbucks gave me--hundreds of little moments to brighten my soul.
I give much credit to Starbucks and my fellow partners for the personal growth I experienced during my time there. When I started, I was feeling so heavy inside. But little by little, wearing that green apron, calling out "Decaf Venti Skim no Whip Mocha" with no shame-- it taught me to just enjoy life for the simple, lovely fact that there is so much joy in human connection, sustenance, and a good, warm cup of coffee.
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