alexis in the city

The Baby Talk Deal: how my 23-year-old self sold me out

I thought I’d be a different person by now. When I think about myself as a kid and what I expected my life to be like as an adult, I guess I thought things would be … different. I didn’t have any sort of tangible, explainable idea of the exact life I would live, I never had 2.5-kids-white-picket-fence delusions of grandeur. And overall I think if my teenage self could’ve seen me now, she’d be pretty happy with where I’ve ended up so far.

And yet in the last few months I’ve been thinking a lot about how I just expect that one day I’ll wake up and be someone different - someone more adult, more mature. I still look at my friends who are a few years older than me and think - when I get to that point, I’ll totally have it all together. But I’ve been thinking that for years now and I have not managed to accumulate any sense of said “togetherness.” At lest I don’t feel like I have.

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Down with dairy: how I became a snob about yet another food product

Does it seem strange that I have a favorite dairy farm? Does it seem strange that dairy would be something I would feel extremely passionate about? If you answered yes to the above questions, you’re perfectly right (if you answered “no,” you just know me too well); dairy isn’t something most of us think a lot about. I sure didn’t until recently - yet once I was converted it soon became clear I would no longer be able to continue as I had been.

Since my food awakening about two years ago at the hands of San Francisco and Michael Pollan, I’ve been steadily chipping away at the foods which I find acceptable to eat. I’ve adopted a diet that is devoid of beef and pork, focuses heavily on products and produce that are locally-made and opts for cage-free poultry when I eat meat. I do most of my grocery shopping at farmer’s markets, trying to build the foundation of my diet with what I can get directly from the growers and producers ~ and in San Francisco, that goes way beyond produce! I regularly purchase the most delicious ravioli, freshest bread, flavorful sorbet, sweetest honey, crispiest almonds, tastiest dried fruit and so forth, right from the people that make these things. I’m obsessed.

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Theatre vs. theater

Ryan and I went to see Fiddler on the Roof on Broadway tour last night. I wanted to like it - I have fond memories of seeing it on-stage as a kid, and Harvey Fierstein is supposed to be incredible - but I was less than impressed. I found Fierstein’s performance to be disappointing - from his voice to the way he played his character - and I felt that what should have been complicated themes of persecution, tradition and a changing world were downplayed to the point that the overall focus of the musical was lost. Ryan postulated that the film was MUCH better and - although he enjoys going to the theatre - in general he feels that well-produced films are a better experience than well-produced plays.

Considering that in lieu of MTV, SNL, Nintendo and other 90’s pop culture tidbits, I was exposed to Jesus Christ Superstar, Godspell, The Wiz, Hairspray and the like, I naturally disagree with Ryan’s premise. I don’t think that plays are ALWAYS better than movies - I’ve never seen the movie Fiddler on the Roof, and I’m sure it probably is superior - but I, personally, will likely always choose a live, in-the-moment experience over a manufactured one.

My family’s library of Broadway soundtracks and the immense number of hours spent in the theatre growing up certainly contributes to this preference but it’s more than that ~ theatre is, well, a spiritual experience for me. It’s one of my favorite things about life - the feeling that you’re almost eavesdropping in on someone else’s life, someone else’s story. That they’re sharing something with you in a personal way. I’m not going to make the case that all theatre productions are meaningful and profound. I’m not going to say that Les Mis is the same caliber as Legally Blond, of course. They’re completely different ends of the spectrum but they both have the capability to engage with you in an intimate way, whether it be through the heartbreaking honesty of Jean Valjean or through the earnest hilarity of Elle Woods.

I still vividly remember the first time I saw Les Mis, over ten years ago. I was at the Pantages with my family, sitting in the second row. We were close enough to see the actors spit, to be even more thoroughly drawn into what I would already consider one of the, if not THE greatest musical. It was heart-wrenching, raw, and no movie could ever compare to that.

Not to mention that for me there’s something beyond the actual production itself - theater is the thing my family and I did (and still do) together, it’s the thing Ryan and I do together, it’s a thing I love doing with friends. I have fond, fond memories of laughing through the Scarlet Pimpernel with my parents, seeing 42nd street with my Grandma, being completely blindsided by the nudity in Spring Awakening when I saw it with my sister (ok, that one’s not as fond…), queuing up for the cheap seats to Chicago with a friend in London’s West End, attempting to surprise Ryan with Les Mis tickets. My life’s memories are punctuated by theater experiences, so I guess I’m a little bit biased.

I don’t mean to imply that theater (as in film and movies) can’t produce a spiritual experience or fond memories. I just know that I, personally would be far more inclined to pick theatre over theater. And since Ryan and I need a thing we do together, I guess I’ll stick with it. Lord knows we can’t agree on what movie to see …

obsessive thoughts of an OCD nomad

~ it is not what we carry with us but what we let go that defines who we are ~

my mom has a room full of furniture for me. it’s all the furniture that was in my room when i was growing up (and which belonged to my great-grandparents), along with a couple awesome walnut dining tables that were my grandparents’ and hopefully two green Ethan Allen wingback chairs (if she does, in fact, decide to re-do the living room). all this stresses me out. if you’ve ever seen my apartment - tragically furnished only about a half-step up from a college dorm with craigslist finds, ikea purchases and, yes, even things i’ve found on the street - you’re probably wondering why, for the sweet love of god, i don’t already have all my awesome bequeathed furniture in my apartment. but it’s not that simple ~ as is usually the case with me.

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outsourcing the “nesting” instinct

the holidays have gotten me thinking about it: i am not a nester. my apartment itself isn’t really “decorated” at any time of year. i don’t have an eye for design at all except to choose lots of green accents, and keep things as minimalist as possible when living in 400 square feet ~ nothing on top of shelves, no trinkets or decorations or candles. (i do collect art from the countries i travel, but some of it isn’t even up, and the pieces that are, are haphazardly placed.) perhaps because of this, i’ve never decorated for the holidays - any of them, really.  i go “home” every christmas where my mom exquisitely displays all my childhood nostalgia - how could i ever venture to compete with that? i don’t have my own family and the amount of time and effort to arrange something for two people who really don’t care either way, seems pointless. this combined with my aforementioned lack of design skills and space, and desire for minimalism, is the perfect storm for some really half-assed decor, even if i tried.

so i never have. not so much as a christmas tree. the interesting thing is, i LOVE the holidays. i love family tradition: decorating the tree, making sugar cookies, eating swedish meatballs with lingonberries on christmas eve and swedish sausage on christmas morning. i love looking at all the crazy christmas crafts we did as kids, and reading all our favorite books like “the little drummer boy” and “the grinch” and watching “little women” (which has somehow become a holiday tradition). i love santa lucia and candlelight services and singing carols around the piano. but these are all things i do with my family, and nothing i would try to replicate on my own, which is probably why i don’t see the point of decorating. like all my other traditions, i rely on my parents for that.

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