In Search of the Best of All Possible Worlds

"Life is not good or bad. Life is life."

-Voltaire, from Candide.

I have approximately ten dollars to my name right now. I'm starting to worry a bit because the new job isn't working out so far. They've been cutting me almost every shift I'm scheduled for, so I've only been getting to work one shift a week and I've cut my availability down at Morimoto in order to accomodate the new schedule. Every day I come home from work, make some pasta or scrambled eggs and settle in to watch hours of TV. It's a terrifying slippery slope.

My brother Jake sent me this text message a couple hours ago:

Jake: Hey, I'm like really really really unmotivated about life right now. Any advice?

In the middle of watching last night's episode of Top Design on DVR, I stared at my cell for a moment, trying to think of some pearl of big sisterly wisdom. I was tempted to blow it off with a flippant, breezy comment about how I'm not really one to advise these days, as my outlook hasn't exactly been sunny lately. But I ultimately wasn't ready to admit to spiritual defeat... especially to my little brother. He's about to graduate from UCLA's School of Film and Television in the spring and he's burnt out and discouraged. I know his plight all too well, and it breaks my heart that he feels so jaded. I tossed my cell phone aside in hopes that some kind of insight would come to me if I gave it a few minutes.

Tuesday morning as I sat on the New York-bound Bolt Bus at 7:15 am, returning from Philadelphia after a divine weekend trip, I tried to translate my complicated feelings into blog fodder:

"I don't think I'm supposed to continue living the way I'm currently living for much longer," I wrote.

At the time, I was a little overwhelmed (not to mention totally exhausted, having slept for one hour before leaving at the crack of dawn to return to NYC in time to work at Tabla at 10:30. And still a little drunk from the Barrymores the night before.) I was unable to further sort through the static in my head and the swirling in my heart. But I definitely felt a change...and whatever it was it felt so good.

My weekend in Philly was exactly what I needed, and not a moment too soon. I'd asked for Sunday and Monday off from the restaurants, and was pleasently surprised to get Saturday night off as well. I got off work at 5, rushed around getting my errands done (buying a dress for the awards show, bus tickets, and Vogue for the bus ride) and hopped on an 8pm Chinatown bus. Heather met me at the diner after her show, and we walked down to South Philly, catching eachother up on the past three months. As we walked, a cluster of burly former frat guys stopped us to ask where Finn McCool's was. We expertly pointed them in the right direction--I felt like I was home.

Sunday, I went into Center City early with Heather to shop for Barrymore jewelery and meet up with my old friend Andy for coffee. Having non-college friends makes me feel like such a grown-up. Andy worked at Chili's with me for one summer before he quit and somehow we've managed to stayed in touch over the years. He walked me to the Arden in Old City so I could take in the matinee of Candide that Heather had gotten me a comp ticket for (in exchange for me taking her as my plus-one to the Barrymores.)

I love going to the theater by myself. I especially love going to matinees and sitting amongst the over-sixty crowd. I feel like an insider, like I'm going undercover to watch how the patrons interact with eachother, and how they react to the show. (Plus, old-lady chit chat in the bathroom line at intermission is totally priceless. "I like it, but it's not my favorite. Sondheim is just so wordy...it goes by so fast. This is Stephen Sondheim who wrote this, right?The voices are just wonderful, though.")

As I waited for the lights to dim, I felt so inspired--and nothing had even happened yet! It was then I realized that it's been months since I'd been to see a show. I haven't had any money, so my entertainment options have been limited to the lowbrow. It was an absolute relief to be sitting there. As the overture started, I felt my heart thaw and my mind begin to open, and my whole being began to hungrily soak up every drop of creative juice that began to seep across the stage.

I always forget about the overture to Candide until I hear it. It is one of the most perfect, exhilirating overtures in the American musical canon. When I was in tenth grade, I played first violin in the Symphony Orchestra at the Etobicoke School of the Arts in Toronto, and the overture to Candide was in our repetoire that season. As I recall, it was the piece I had to play to audition for re-entry into the orchestra. As the Arden's ten-piece band played, I did miss the bravado of the seventy-piece orchestra. But the band did a commendable job with what they had, and the lush beauty of the playful, yet moving score remained in tact. I teared up the minute it started, and from then on was totally on the journey.

Heather told me that Terry Nolen, the director of the show, turned to the cast at one point in rehearsal and said "this may be the hardest musical...ever." And while the production may have fallen a tad short of its ambitions, I was still completely engaged from start to finish as I discovered the rich, poignant satire of the story, the lavish beauty of the score, and the bleak but desperatley moving philosophy of Voltaire.

"We have no choice", one of the characters says deep into the second act, as hope continues to dwindle. "The current will take us somewhere. and if it isn't nice--at least it will be new."

It reminds me of Nina in The Seagull : "And now I know, Kostya, I understand, finally, that in our business--acting, writing, it makes no difference--the main thing isn't being famous, it's not the sound of applause, it's not what I dreamed it was. All it is is the strength to keep going, no matter what happens. You have to keep on believing. I believe, and it helps. And when I think about my vocation, I'm not afraid of life."

After the matinee, Heather and I had a super cheap (but totally awesome) dinner at the Continental, where we visited our old managers from Jones, and discussed the show. We then parted ways as Heather got on a bus to go to New York for an audition the next morning, and I went home to hang out with the boys.

I think, of all the places I've lived in the last year, that the boys' house is the most comfortable, the safest, and the most nostalgic. I just feel so overcome by their kindness and acceptance of me, and so at home when I'm sitting up with them in their living room, talking about school and life. They are such lovely people, destined for so much happiness and success. I slept in until 2 pm the next day and when I got up, I realized it was the most satisfying sleep I'd had in weeks...on the boys'dilapidated couch, no less.

I realized: being back in Philly made me feel like myself again. It makes sense. Philly is where I found myself to begin with.

The next day I ran errands, bought Jamie a chocolate cupcake (it happened to be his 21st birthday) and dropped to visit Peggy, my friend Molly's mother. I adore Peggy. We've gotten to be very close over the years. She is an important part of my Philly family. Funny how the family we make for ourselves can become a more active part of our lives than our actual family.

Heather and I glammed up in a hurry and cabbed it to the Wanamaker building to make it in time for "Cocktail Hour." Within the first five minutes, we each ran into five people we knew from our various theatrical endeavors. (Let me take this moment to state: I'm totally jealous that Heather is now legitimately friends with Mary Martello.) And a lovely thing happened: even though I live in New York now, even though I was in one Philly show this season, for the first time I felt like I was a part of Philly Theater, instead of merely wishing I was. I'm so in love with the theater community in Philadelphia, and I've always felt that if it embraced me, I could be really content there. But for the first time, I realized that I can be a part of the community without living there full-time. I caught myself telling a friend that I was thinking about moving back to Philly. Truth is, this is only a thought I have when I'm there. When I'm in New York, I'm committed to it, and I'm certain that the tough times won't last forever. New York and I are starting to warm up to each other. It's been throwing all kinds of shit my way, and I've been consistently dodging bullets. I'm starting to feel like New York is accepting me as it's equal, acknowledging that I have the strength, stamina and determination to take it on my own terms. New York will never drive me away, and if I choose to leave, it will not be out of necessity or scorn, but because I've gotten what I need from the city and am ready to move on.

It's too soon. I need to stay in the thick of it for now. And in the meantime, a piece of my heart will always be in Philadelphia. I can't wait to go back for the revival of The Irish... in the winter and live with the boys again. I can't wait until my next visit. And right now, I'm trying to work. And I'm enduring.

About a half hour later, I text my brother back:

Me: Changing my location helps me change my perspective...find a new environment to spend some time in. It may help you define what's important to you.

Jake: Wow, that was really profound.

Me: Well, I try. Seriously though. Every time I get out of NYC I feel like my head clears and life seems much simpler.

I hope he wasn't being facetious. I'm a little vulnerable right now.

Maybe there is no such thing as the "Best of All Possible Worlds" where everything happens for a reason and all roads lead us to who we want to be and the ideals we most desire. But I refuse to believe in the worst of all possible worlds, where everything is painful and random and anarchy is the only path that makes any sense.

I have amazing friends and a wonderful family. I will take comfort in the love that surrounds me and the love I have for others and I will seek constant inspiration. I will defy the bleak cynicism that has overtaken this tragically messed-up country. I will maintain hope and faith in humanity. And I will strive to make art a larger priority in my life because art is what I do and who I am and it is that which makes me feel alive and connected to the universe and the greater good. Even in the darkest moments.

"Let us work without disputing: it is the only way to render life tolerable."

- Candide