21 December 2014

On the Season.

I've wrapped so much my fingers are bleeding.
Arm knitted so much my hands are numb.
Baked so much my handes are burned.
And subjected myself to one too many nights of chanukah.

8 too much ;)

At one such a dinner, of latkes and jelly donuts.

Yeah, I went there.

I was asked, why on earth, I am buying my kiddos.
Because "back in my day, we didn't buy gifts for kids."

Well, my teachers did.
And I still have them.
But that's beside the point.

I bought gifts for my kids because:

1.) I don't know what it's like to be homeless.
2.) Or live in a hotel with 7 people.
3.) Or go hungry.
4.) Or not know if there will be enough food for everyone in your family.
5.) I've never waited for DCF to clear my foster home of abuse allegations
6.) I've never been sexually abused.
7.) My mothers did not die of a drug overdose.
8.) I don't know what it's like to have your older brother drop out of school because of drugs.
9.) I don't know what it's like to have your mom abandon you and move to Florida...er...I mean to say, I don't know what it's like at 8.
10.) I don't have a mom who is drug dealer.
11.) Or ones who don't have time to take care of me...er...now.
and because...
12.) I know what it's like to have parents who don't know what's best.
13.) I know what it's like to not be seen.
14.) And never quite feel like enough.

You ever try to stuff your entire LIFE in a 3/4 full of a trash bag?
Didn't think so.

And if some books, and socks, and box of love make my kids feel loved for a hot, fleeting second.
Well then.
I'm gonna do it.
I do not feel obligated.
Or required.

But I do feel an exceptional amount of love.
For my littles.
And I can send them home for the vacation to their hotel room houses and one bedroom apartments.
Well then.
I will.
And I will hope in my own broken heart that they feel the love we are sending them all break long.
Because I will worry about them from the end of day Tuesday until we return.


02 December 2014

Going home

I keep thinking the further away we get from December 2012, the less vivid it will be.
I won't remember Lauren's call while we walked through walmart.
If the thing I was posting about missing on Facebook was in fact, my passport.

And of course, it was.
The hours that ensued with my incredible sister Jen and my amazeballs production team.
Haven't faded in the least.

Nor, has the hilarity of finding my passport six months later while in Boston.
Sitting in my scanner.

December 2012.
And the memory of it, hasn't faded.

I can still vividely remember my amazing flights to Santiago.
Meeting my production team.
Sans Chris and Heidi.
And my luggage.

The anticipation of it all.
What would my challenge be.
Would we really drive all night to the longest pool in the world?
Where were Chris and Heidi.
And that first night of anxiety, doing a shredder in my hotel room.
Push Ups
Sit ups
Jump Ropes.

I knew whatever challege Lauren had created with Matt would be awesome.
Allbeit...a little crazeballs.

I'm wearing the same clothes I had travled in.
Remember the lost bag?
And I am living on protein bars that weeks later land me in the ER.
For my first enema.
I walk out on that dock.
Listen to Chris tell me he's not coming.
And just breathe.
And 10 minutes later, while in tears by myself, I text JoliBestFriend who reminds, I'm ready, and they are with me in spirit.
Today, I'll swim.
And run.
And kayak.
And just live.
In the most beatuiful motherland ever.

In a few hours we'll load up and head to Chile.
To meet my mom.
Matt will yell at our driver, David, no less than 10 times.
And I'll have to pee every five minutes.
Along with the fact that due to the cold water, I'm now coughing up blood.
And in the early stages of pneumatic flu.

Life is short and sweet, though.
And meeting my mother, my MOTHER.
My heart.
Singularly, the most beautiful experience of my life thus far.
Probably ever.

And I have such a greatful heart.
To Lauren.
Jesus, probably most of all to Lauren.
For filling the role of believer.
Since we didn't have Chris and Heidi.
And chauffer.
And friend.
Speegs and I hit Valpairaso and got to see some beautiful areas.

And I told Matt and Lauren then.
That it had been them, but mostly Chris.
Who had pulled me back.
From those days that I'd hang up with production and want to die.
Want to kill myself.
Because I couldn't be myself.
Or be honest with them.
That I hated myself enough for the both of us.
And screaming at me.
That you hate me.
And working with me was the worst.
Only validates how much I already hated myself.

December 2nd, was a homecoming in so many ways.
And the death bed of feeling like I couldn't.
And the beginning of you never know until you try.
Again, to Matt and Lauren, and our amazeballs tech crew that captured every minute of meeting my mom.

I love you.
A lot.


09 November 2014

The Elephant Man.

I don't know how many of you are around NYC.
If you get the chance.
Get over to the Booth Theater and take in the Elephant Man.

I saw it in previews today.
And folks.
It wrecked me.

In every way a play can wreck someone.
It irrevocably changed my life.
And the tear factory has not stopped some 5 hours since the curtain fell.

I knew the story.
Did my homework.
Had seen the movie.
Knew what I was going to watch.

I didn't.

::Here I will pause to also chastise the women in the mezzanine whose cellphones went off no less than 6 times during the first act - SERIOUSLY?!::


But back to my "world will never be the same."
My eyes started leaking almost immediately.
Cue Bradly Cooper in man form.
And in a matter of statements from Dr. Treves.
Cooper contorts to lead the show.
With a depth.
And a breadth.
And an indomitable energy.

And maybe, what really tore at me.
Was the photograph.
In which.
You can clearly see.
In the right eye.
The man that existed in flesh beneath what we all labeled the deformity.

I spent most of act one, snot dripping from my nose, trying to put my finger on exactly what was tearing at me so viscerally.

I mean.
It was so good.

I spent all of act 2 in tears.
Full blown.
Sorry everyone around me tears.

And here is the best I have:
Inherent to his story, is the fundamental feeling that ---> We all want to be seen.
We all want to fit.
And to belong.
And in the beginning, when he's not talking, but rather, just moaning,
I heard him.

And the overwhelming emotion that the base feeling of wanting to belong.
Was primal.
Ever Present.

And somewhere.
Inside of us all.
It lives.

For sure.
Inside of me.
Inside of my 300 pound self.
Inside of my 200 pound self.
Inside of my 164 pound self.
Inside of my psoriasis self.
Inside of my everyone hates me self.
Inside of my world would be better without me self.

And inside of this self.
The most authentic self I have.
I belong.
In the best way.
And maybe they were, in the end, tears of joy.
For the belonging that John Merrick finds.
And the simple love that he find.
That Bradley portrays in such a simple, nuanced way.

I find myself already longing to be back.
If only to see the first act without the stupid cell phone rings.
And the Long Island ladies behind me who "love Bradley Cooper, but hated silver linings playbook."

Do me a favor.
And here me when I say, YOU MATTER.
Because you do.
And you are so loved.


30 September 2014

Sometimes. Some. Times


It's been months.
And I'm not really sure why.
Or how that happened, but it did.

I hope you know.
You don't stop mattering, just because I'm not around the old blog.

I've been teaching.
And hanging with my incredible network of friends.
Therapizing - but not in therapy, my therapist moved to Santa Barbara, so we'll connect again soon.

And living.
I mean.
Really living.
3rd Grade life is busy and fun.

Most importanly, ya'lll.
Third grade is fun.
Like tons of fun.
This crew of explorers and learners challenges me in all the best ways.

Most of my friends and family are pretty certain that I've lost my mind in commuting 2 hours to be a part of Les Mis again, but the truth is, while rehearsals have been long, it's also a wonderful experience.

Since the closing of my crossfit gym, I've working out at Healthtrax and I love it.  Rowing daily on my rower in my classroom.

And living.
I went hiking recently with some family and friends.
And I we ran to the top after a 2 hour trek.
As we reached the top, laughing and pushing to be first - yes like we're seven.
I put my hands on my strong thighs and said, "I can't take any of this for granted."
And the real deal is, I don't.

We get one, if we're lucky.  ONE EPIC LIFE.
We make mistakes and teach other, we live, we learn.
We dream about doing it better.
Sometimes we do - sometimes we'd don't.

But I'm passionate about not giving up, or giving in.

The truth is this.
You have to believe.
That you are as important as you are.
As we know you to be.
Stop putting yourself last.
And not just in the realm of weight loss.
OR eating right.
Because, ya'll.
I had Lobster Bisque for dinner tonight and I'm wicked proud of that.

And I had challah bread.
And while you're busy trying to love your little self.
The broken bits.
The hard bits.
All those kibbles and bits.
Let other folks love you too.
Trying to love yourself by cutting everyone and everything else out - isn't really loving yourself.
They are there.
Those kind voices.
The ones who know exactly what you need to hear.
To feel.

I was talking to one such voice late in the morning yesterday.
He works full time in NYC, and is currently in Law School.
Die, right?

Anyways, he laughed at one point.
And said, "If I don't say it enough - I couldn't be prouder to love you."
"What does that mean?"
"It means, I'm proud of you and I love you."

I smiled into my phone, like he could see it, and then thanked him.
"Thanks for seeing me.  Especially on the days, I can't."

Matterers, I see you.
You matter so much.
And you are SO SO SO loved.


02 August 2014


You All.

You remember this post ---> Month of Love #14 - Theatre

Read it.
Scroll through it.

But this is the important part:
"After my finale, I found myself at the Exit 7 Players stage.Waiting to sing On My Own.In front of people I didn't know.
And I thought then, as I do now.Judge away.I'm not here to knock anyones socks off, because I probably won't.I'm here to sing.To prove to MYSELF that I can.
And so.I did.Quickly.And exited upstage and out of the theater.
And truly, truly truly, that moment was enough.Just to sing.And have a few people say that was good, as I exited.

 But my story doesn't stop there.One call back later, Wonder Woman and Shakira and I were shopping for Prom Dresses in JC Penny.No, seriously.Wonder Woman and Shakira and I.
And our Director phoned.To offer me the part...Of Eponine."


Since that incredible experience, I've been chomping at the bit to get into another show.
And by chomping, I mean, I've showed up to no less than 7 auditions.
And paralyzed with fear, never got out of my car.

That all changed last week.
I got out of my car.
Took my Number 144 and got in line.
Sang On My Own.
And left.

This arrived today:
"Hello Jami,I am pleased to offer you a role within the chorus ensemble of Theatre At The Mount’s Fall production of Les Mis."


THAT'S HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!! :)

Since playing Eponine, I've longed to sing some of the awesome Ensemble numbers I missed - Master of the House - Lovely Ladies - Etc.

That's HAPPENING!!!!!

Little steps.
Towards change.
Create Opportunity.
Why is that so hard for me to remember?