Bethesda

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“This angel. She’s my favorite angel. I like them best when they’re statuary. They commemorate death but suggest a world without dying. They are made of the heaviest things on earth, stone and iron, they weigh tons but they’re winged, they are engines and instruments of flight.” – Tony Kushner, Angels in America

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During my junior year of college, I spent six months working at a theater in Philadelphia. I started about a week after their production of Angels in America opened and was highly encouraged to see the show (all six hours of it).

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

The utter enormity of this piece really changed the way I looked at theatre forever. I realized that a play could be both extravagant and intimate. It broke all the rules that had been ingrained in my brain since my first playwriting class. It gave me so much hope and is still a source of inspiration.

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Bethesda Fountain, located in Central Park, plays a huge part in Angels, and yet it was one of those places I hadn’t truly visited in my many trips to the city. On a gorgeous day last August, I decided to fix it (and bring my camera along).

The fountain is truly magnificent, and you can see why it attracts so many visitors on days like this one. It’s also not far from the iconic Loeb Boathouse, where you can take a rowboat for a spin on the pond.

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The terrace directly across from the fountain features these gorgeous tiled ceilings and plenty of room for artists and visitors alike. On this particular afternoon I caught some buskers taking advantage of the space’s interesting acoustics to play some gospel tunes.

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Though I haven’t had a ton of time to get back to the park yet this season, I plan to in the coming weeks. The fact that Central Park exists and continues to thrive is truly a testament to what this city is capable of and it makes me incredibly excited to live here.

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Finishing The Hat

There are at least 3 unfinished screenplays sitting on my hard drive right now. They all start with good intentions: I get some brilliant idea that I have to turn into a script, forgo outlining, and just dive right in. Then, about 10 pages in, I get stuck. I go back and read over my pages and deem it an unsalvageable mess. Rather than go back and fix the problems, I just move on to the next best idea. Brain crack gets the best of me.

If you followed this blog at all last year (and bless you if you did), you know that this reluctance to finish things is nothing new. I may have finished my senior project (2 episodes of an hour-long drama) on time, but not without extending a few deadlines in the process. Half of it was due to extenuating circumstances, but half of it was because I was, well…having trouble finishing.

Finishing things feel great. It’s nice to be able to hand your project to someone and say “Here, check out this thing I made.” The road to the finish line is difficult, but crossing the last step off your to-do list is amazing.

On the other hand, starting a new project, especially one that you are really excited about, is falling head-over-heels for someone. All your thoughts are focused on this new idea, and you can’t wait to come home to it. Every hour you’re not working on it is agonizing. It’s kind of addicting.

However, as I mentioned above, the honeymoon phase wears off quickly. Right now, I need to work on sticking with things. There’s a solution to (almost) any creative problem. When I’m¬†out in the trenches, though, sometimes it’s hard to remember how great it feels to type the words “Fade Out.”

The One About the Jacket

leather jacket

My leather jacket is filthy. I’m pretty sure it’s never been cleaned in the year I’ve had it. Frankly, I’m not even sure how to clean it. I don’t even know if it’s real leather (I know it’s not, but part of me wants to keep the dream alive).

I found it at a Bloomingdales outlet in Miami’s infamous Dolphin Mall (is it infamous? IT IS TO ME.) I saw it as an inferior replacement to my Topshop jacket, which I foolishly left behind on a plane coming back from Los Angeles the summer before. The cut wasn’t quite as trendy, the sleeves were too long, and it kind of felt like plastic. But every good city girl needs a cool leather jacket, so it made the trek back to Philly with me.

Of course I needed to get the sleeves hemmed in order to not look like a tall baby in it. I took the jacket to my usual tailor. She was out, but her partner promptly remedied the issue. Sure, one sleeve was a little longer than the other. Nobody’s perfect. You can really only notice it when you squint. Right, guys? RIGHT?

I wore that jacket everywhere that spring before it got too hot. It kept me warm through¬†debauched college parties, study sessions, play rehearsals, concerts, the whole nine yards. I pulled it out once again this fall when I moved to New York. Maybe it’s not the most on-trend, but it makes me feel like I actually belong here. It’s the finishing touch on any hard-femme look I try to pull off. It’s even pretty work-appropriate (for my office, at least). It makes me feel like one of the Cool Girls,¬†even if I am such a dork that I dedicated an entire blog post to a dirty “leather” jacket.

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Did this sound weird? Probably. In an attempt to kick my creative ass back into shape, I’m doing BlogHer’s NaBloPoMo challenge (yes, I’m aware that I’m starting late, why would this project be different from anything else I’ve done). Check out this month’s prompts here! And if you want to keep up with this nonsense, follow me on Bloglovin.