My Story

There are days when I can't wait to leave high school, to leave home, to go out into the world and start defining my life. Then there are days like today, those "Oh my God, high school is ending" days. Suddenly everything feels rushed. I don't feel like I have time. I have to move on and leave some of my friends behind, where they'll continue being in high school without me. And while I know that I don't want to stay in high school, the comfort of it can be appealing. So I want to capture all of high school but I don't feel like I possibly can, and my schoolwork seems so insignificant compared to the people I want to see, the things I still want to do. It all piles on and I'm left feeling really overwhelmed. 

I tried tangoing with friends to make sure I didn't isolate myself amidst my overwhelmingness. A run helped clear my head. Sex and the City and The Office were good mind-distractors. Chocolate frozen yogurt and peanut butter cups never hurt. But it always comes down to Lin-Manuel Miranda––composer, rapper, actor, lyricist, and playwright. Watching interviews with him and listening to his work never fails to remind me of the direction in which I'm headed.

Before I performed Miranda's Tony-award winning musical In the Heights my junior year of high school, I knew I wanted to study theatre in college. But studying Miranda's musical intensified that passion for me. While preparing for In the Heights, I watched every YouTube video imaginable about the show and Miranda. I soaked up every interview, every backstage tour, every promotional video. 

If I were to say who my idol is, it would be him. He, along with those he has brought with him in his artistic endeavors (Alex Lacamoire, Thomas Kail, Christopher Jackson) are spearheading this next generation of art. Miranda doesn't just create art––he creates timeless art, as evidenced by the stories he chooses to tell. (His new musical Hamilton, which I saw back in February at the Public Theatre, tells the life of Founding Father Alexander Hamilton.) His art already spans generations. 

Tonight, watching videos of Hamilton was what relaxed me. I just want to soak up everything Miranda says. His genius of turning a 800+ page biography into a hip-hop musical astounds me. He said in an interview with CBS (warning about spoilers in the video) that by the time he had finished the second chapter, he was looking online, saying, "Someone's already made this into a musical. How could someone not make this into a musical?" That sureness, that clarity of vision, is the most incredible feeling. In my limited directing experience, the best way I can describe it is like wearing a different pair of glasses. Everything looks clearer. Unnecessary muck is blocked out of my sight. I see the stage, I see what's in front of me, and I start to construct my vision. 

The underlying message of Hamilton is, "Who lives, who dies, who tells your story." Miranda is telling the story of Alexander Hamilton. He is bringing Hamilton of the late 18th century into the 21st century, making sure he lives on. Art tells stories. It crosses bridges between social classes and generations, creates this universality. I want to tell stories. 

I still don't know where I want to go to college next year, but I know that I want to end up where Lin-Manuel Miranda is. I'm ending one chapter of my life and moving on to the next. I feel like I can see what I want five chapters from now to look like. Now it's just a matter of figuring out how I fill in the ones in between, what will best get me to that target chapter. 

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

This is the front of the T-shirt I got when I arrived at the Reynold's Writer's Workshop at Denison University in Granville, OH. I was dropped off this morning. For the next week, I will be immersed in one of the things I love most: writing.

I got my binder and my schedule and all the pens and stickers. I got the key to my room and I hugged goodbye and my mom closed the door and that was it. An empty dorm room with emerald and cantaloupe braided carpet; two wooden desks with cork boards and an overhead lamp; tape residue on the walls, textured from multiple repaintings; stripped navy blue mattresses atop rickety springs; white linens and a blanket; a 100% polyester ProTech Pillow, covered with breathable fabric covering.

I unpacked my suitcase and arranged my comfort food on the shelf above my desk: dried apricots, almonds and fat, unsweetened coconut flakes, two Clif bars (dark cherry almond and apricot), and two packages of Honey Nut Cheerios that I took from the hotel's continental breakfast this morning. I've learned that I need to have comfort food with me when I travel...otherwise I have a minor panic attack. Like this morning when I mildly freaked out because they didn't have the yogurt I liked...yeah, so I'm working on that with myself...

I made my bed and tried to tuck in the corners...sorry Grandma...

I arranged my favorite pillow and my childhood comforter Puff (although it has lost so many feathers by now it's more of a sheet than a comforter)...

Yes...I'm sixteen years old and still bring my Puff with me when I travel. I've given up on carrying my childhood stuffed animals Teddy and Mocha with me when I travel, although they sit propped against a pillow on my bed at home to greet me when I come back.

With everything finally settled, I jumped on the bed and listened to the sighs of the springs. I leaned my head against a former nail hole, now smoothed over with putty. I was alone. No one else from the camp had arrived yet and my mom and stepdad were on their way to the airport to fly home. It was one of those empowering moments, like when I drove by myself for the first time and I rolled the windows down and blared 102.5 on the radio. Or when I watched the sunrise over Mt. Washington. These past few months, I've gained so much independence. I'm doing the things I love and starting to figure out the person I want to be. 

So, what is it I plan to do with my one wild and precious life? I plan to make the most of it. I plan to use my life to better others. I plan to take life as it comes and let it run wild, while always keeping a watchful eye. As I write this week, nobody knows me. And that's exciting. Because I can write whatever I want without worrying about offending someone. I can be graphic. I can be specific. I can be honest. This week, I will let my writing run wild. 

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" 

The Star

I have a friend who dreams of being on Broadway. Whenever she talks about the future, she never says "If I become famous..." It's always "One day when I'm famous..." She visualizes it; she sees it. She just hasn't gotten there yet.

"Some people may think I'm conceded," she says," and that's okay. They see I have my headshot on my wall and think I'm full of myself, and that's okay too. This is what I need to do if I want to make it. I need to be confident in myself."

When I was three, the fortune teller looked at me.
She took my palm in her hand and she saw a star, and she said to my mom
"She'll be a star."
I will be the star.
Whether that star be shining on stage or in the classroom or underneath some big giving tree someday
with a notebook,
I will be the star.
I will sprinkle my stardust and people will remember my name, they will remember
the difference I made.
God only knows what octave I will reach, what journals I'll publish, what
credits I will receive but God I do believe,
God you can rest assured,
I will be the star.

Go be the star you were born to be.

Practice and (Practice In) Tolerance

I listen to my brother dribbling the basketball downstairs in the kitchen. I am tempted to go downstairs and ask him to keep it down, or go outside–which would be cruel considering it's 30º out–or at the very least, go in the basement. Then I remind myself that he hears my singing exercises every morning, which are infinitely more ear-piercing and distracting than dribbling a basketball. Two nights ago he listened to me plucking out notes on my keyboard at 10 o'clock at night. And then on dress rehearsal week he tolerates me when I gargle every night with salt water to assure I don't get a sore throat (my Grandma swears by it). 

So I let him practice. After all, he has dreams and goals just like I do. He loves basketball. I'm not sure how far he's willing to take it, but as of right now, I know he wants to play in college. He's decided to join another basketball league in the spring instead of track, despite the fact that it means leaving a lot of his friends. He's beginning to find his passion, and he's recognizing that to harvest that passion, he needs to commit to it. (He could perhaps play a little more physical basketball than NBA 2k12, but that's alright...he's getting there.)

That's what I realized last year with theatre. This year, I made the decision to commit myself fully to theatre. There is not a day that goes by when I don't read about theatre, practice singing, watch interviews, whatever it may be. I am especially excited for my classes this semester because my English class (Intro to Shakespeare) is very acting-intense, and I have chorus for my Art/Music elective. This means every week this semester I have nine hours of in-school acting/singing, 10-12 hours of play rehearsal, an hour of voice lessons, and this doesn't even include what I do on my own time. My bedroom walls are also beginning to be filled more and more with theatre reviews and head shots and playbills. I am completely immersed in it. 

It is times like right now I need to remind myself, "It's not all about me." Perhaps I am just excusing my selfishness, but I feel like this isn't uncommon, especially during the teenage years. Am I wrong? I feel like I have to remind myself of this fact quite a bit, like when I want the bigger brownie or when someone needs help at school but I myself have a lot of work to get done. 

Zig Ziglar said, "If you can dream it, then you can achieve it. You will get all you want in life if you help enough other people get what they want." The brownie example is irrelevant, but on a general note, help offered is never wasted. It's nearly impossible to accomplish a dream by ourselves, even if we don't recognize the help that aided us along the way. We have to be willing to ask for help, but also willing to give it. 

I ask my brother to tolerate my singing; the least I can do is tolerate his dribbling...even if it does shake the house. 

Letter to My Future Self

It was 7:30pm and I didn't feel like writing. Grandma had a book waiting for me by my beside table at the beach house,  so I wasn't about to start a new book when we were going to be there in less than half an hour, either. But I could always skim. Naturally, Grandma had several books in the car; in the back pocket of her seat alone, I had a selection of two or three. This is when I picked up "What I Know Now––Letters to My Younger Self," a compilation of letters written by an impressive group of grown, successful women to their younger selves. You've heard people say, "If only I knew then what I know now." Ellyn Spragins––a journalist with a work portfolio compiled of Newsweek; O, The Oprah Magazine; and The New York Times, among others––sat down with these women and asked them to reflect back and tell their younger selves in the form of a letter, a piece of advice they know now and wish they had known then. A popular interview question is always, "If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, who would it be?" I always find it impossible to choose. Reading "What I Know Now" is like being invited to a brunch with forty-one of these people, among whom includes Maya Angelou, Lee Ann Womack, and Naomi Wolf. The themes of wisdom vary from, "Live in the moment," Don't let your happiness depend on someone else," and "Don't be so quick to judge. " It is reassuring to read their letters. Here are forty-one women who appear to have it all figured out, but we learn through reading their letters that getting to where they are today wasn't a walk in the park. They had their self-doubts and fears, just like we all do.

As I flipped through this book, I was inspired to write my own letter. But, I took the reverse challenge. Instead, I wrote a letter to my future self because, as I wrote in my letter:

I am still too young to give my younger self advice. What I know at fifteen won’t do much for my former self of twelve or thirteen or fourteen. To those things that I found important at ages eleven and under––like missing my favorite TV show or someone wearing the same Halloween costume as me, or someone on the bus saying they didn’t want to be my friend anymore––the best advice I can offer is simply, it’s not the end of the world. You can watch your favorite TV show some other time; you both make a great Dorothy (and no one’s basket is better than the other’s); and that girl who didn’t want to be your friend anymore, you haven’t even seen her for four years. You’ll face a lot more in life.

I found it to be a fun writing exercise, and I strongly recommend giving it a try yourself. I know it's something I'm going to enjoy looking back on and being able to see where I was at fifteen years old. The things that worried me, the questions I had. "What about family?" I asked in my letter. "Am I married? Do I have kids? What about that golden retriever? Did I ever get that white house with the green shutters? Do I have my office overlooking the water?"

If you're older, then try answering the same question that Ellyn Spragins asked the forty-one women in "What I Know Now." What piece of advice would you give to your younger self? There's no right or wrong way to complete the exercise. It's entirely personal. Of course, I'm not asking anyone to post their letters (unless you want to share them or a portion of them in the comments), but if you try the exercise, I'd be curious to see what you thought of it. I, however, would like to share the very end of my letter, where I address my future self directly (it does seem a bit silly when you think about it):

“So I am seeking guidance from you, my future self. Although I know you won’t be able to prevent me from making the same mistakes as you (we are the same person, after all), maybe you can at least offer me reassurance. Reassurance that everything will be okay; that I’ll make it through whatever it is I’m going through now. And reassurance that I’ll make it in the world; that I’ll turn out alright.

Love,

Megan

New Year's Resolutions

http://brainz.org/10-great-new-years-quotes/

Happy New Years, everyone! There's something refreshing about today. The thought that tonight at midnight, I can leave whatever baggage I picked up during 2011 behind. As soon as the ball drops in Times Square, NYC tonight, I will be reborn. Every year on the 31st of December, we are given an opportunity to redefine ourselves. A new year brings new beginnings, so the saying goes. So now, with the final hours of 2011 ticking away, is a perfect time to reflect on 2011 and make plans for 2012.

New Year's resolutions are very popular in our society. They can range from broad goals like studying harder and running more, to specific ones like losing a set number of pounds and trying a new sport. Goals give me a sense of purpose, something to work towards.  I am the type of person who's always making goals, even in something as small as making a To-Do list for a busy weekend. There's something satisfying about crossing something off a list, checking off a box.

I find my biggest challenge is in actually following through with these goals. In the hustle-bustle of everyday life, sometimes they get swept aside and then will blow back into our paths periodically throughout the year. Something my cousin told me about several years ago was to take something that will remind you of your goal--a picture, quote, whatever it may be--and hang it somewhere you look every day--above your bed, on your mirror, wherever is most visible. This way, when you wake up every morning, you're reminded of what you want.

It's hard to imagine 2011 is already fading away, another year come and gone. In saying goodbye to 2011, it is also the time to abandon any negative energies or feelings of regret. For 2012, my main goal is to live every moment for the moment, in the moment. There's so much promise with a new year. Tonight is the night to set the stage for what you want the new year to bring. And of course, 2012 is the perfect opportunity to tackle those crazy dreams. Wishing you joy and inspiration in the new year.

xo Megan