Sarah Paige

Sweet Procrastination

2012-02-23T11:46:00.000-08:00

I’m supposed to be doing my taxes right now. There is a man named Rocco building shelves in my living room and it is distracting me from the fine print rules of itemized deductions.

Since Rocco got here he’s been making excuses for how the shelves will turn out. “You know your door frames are crooked?” Um, what NYC apartment has straight door frames? “I’ll have to tighten these corner screws by hand because the drill won’t maneuver into that space.” When I ask if that would affect the weight bearing ability of the shelf, he says; “No.” Okay then. With every step, he interrupts me to show how the air bubble in his level is even and the joints will fit together nicely. I keep telling him that I trust him to create straight shelves that are strong enough to hold all our crap. Not sure why he needs to give me the play by play.

But I have to say, the smell of fresh cut wood in the apartment brings back memories of my dad’s workshop. Dad is a talented woodworker and he taught me some basics while we built a few things together. Using an electric saw is an empowering thing. So is taking raw pieces of wood and making something useful and pretty that didn’t exist before. Wow, I probably should have taken on this shelf building project myself. Dad, if you’re reading, sorry to disappoint you.

Rocco just announced that he found a stud.

Being pregnant, I’ve removed myself from the normal stresses of the acting career. Pilot season pressure is getting to my friends. I see it. It’s tough out there. I’m not feeling it. One would think that would mean I have the time to take on other things. Like taxes and shelves. Where does the time and energy go? I have no answer. I sleep and eat and attempt to focus my pregnancy brain on activities in between. How’s this? I promise to complete one task today. It might be the task of listening to Rocco talk about knots in the wood. But I will listen like I’ve never listened before. And at some point, shelves will be finished and listening will be complete. I’ll try to get back to the taxes. No, really, I will. But first I’ll just go take a look at these support brackets...

“Procrastination isn’t the problem. It’s the solution. It’s the universe’s way of saying stop, slow down, you move too fast. ” - Ellen DeGeneres

A Remarkable Woman

2012-02-15T02:58:00.000-08:00

I recently spent a few days volunteering at a soup kitchen in the Bronx and would like to take a moment to recognize a truly remarkable woman. Her name is Sandra. She works full time as a registered nurse and has further dedicated herself by volunteering to feed 250 hungry neighbors every week. Bronx residents show up in droves every Saturday. Kids run to play around the small bright blue tables under the Dr. Seuss mural in the corner that was designed just for them. Adults check the racks of donated coats to see if one might fit. All while enjoying good company and a home cooked meal.

Sandra runs the entire operation on a shoestring budget, scraping by with small grants from United Way, other organizations and supplemented by her own wallet when funds run dry. She has applied to larger grants that would ease her workload, but has been denied because of loopholes. One grant was denied because the soup kitchen doesn’t have a website. Another grant wasn’t given because Sandra couldn’t prove that at least 40% of her beneficiaries were veterans. Another required a certain percentage to be homeless. But Sandra refuses to tailor who benefits from her meals. She opens her door to everyone who is hungry and the majority of those that show up are residents of the neighborhood who hold jobs but still live below the poverty line as a household. Many of them live in multi-generational homes and bring in the entire family. Sandra said that two years ago, she was feeding just 50 people per week. That number has increased five fold due to unstable employment in this difficult economy and nearby soup kitchens being shut down because of lack of funding.

But all of this only fuels Sandra. She and her cooking partner, Larita, laugh and tell outrageous stories as they peel potatoes and chop onions for beef stew. Kids from the local high school set up tables. While they work, the light from the basement space can be seen from the sidewalk and is a signal that community members are gathered there. People drop in to chat, hoping to see friends, staying for a few minutes or an hour because they “saw the light on.” Sandra has created a neighborhood haven and is determined to see that neighborhood thrive. I’ve enjoyed being surrounded by her enthusiasm and optimism. And so far, as with most volunteer work, I feel as though I’ve learned more from her than I’ve been able to give.

When someone shares something of value with you and you benefit from it, you have a moral obligation to share it with others.

- Chinese Proverb

A Letter to Bacon

2012-02-05T15:46:00.000-08:00

Dear Bacon,

I have never been one of your fans. To be frank, your white glistening fat gives me the heebie-jeebies. Sure, I know you add all kinds of flavor goodness to soups, beans and egg scrambles. The most appreciation I’ve ever had for you was when you were hugging a tender piece of perfectly grilled filet mignon. But even then, you always ended up in a pile of uneaten pieces on the edge of my otherwise clean plate. Until yesterday…

I went to brunch at Buttermilk Channel. It was my first time. To my surprise, I was delighted to see what a strong presence you had there, Bacon. Everywhere I looked, I saw you on the plates of other diners. All of a sudden I felt one of those cravings I've only felt during pregnancy: an insatiable desire to eat one particular food. It was you, sweet Bacon. You, and you alone, would satisfy me. I needed you immediately. I wanted only to devour as much of you as I possibly could. The waiter and chef agreed to my request to make you extra crispy. And when you arrived at the table, I had to remind myself that I was in public. Oh Bacon, if we had shared some private moments together I would have whispered sweet nothings as I nibbled all five pieces of you. I would have apologized for all those years I looked down my nose at you and your fat. The way your crunchy smoked deliciousness complemented my eggs and hash browns…it made me melt. I completely gave in to your prowess.

Thank you, Bacon, for our afternoon tryst. But please understand that I was overcome by the pregnancy hormones. It was not the real me. If perchance we never meet again, I will always remember our time together on that fateful February day in a quaint Brooklyn café.

Yours truly,

Sarah

Lisa: "I'm going to become a vegetarian."

Homer: "Does that mean you're not going to eat any pork?"

Lisa: "Yes"

Homer: "Bacon?"

Lisa: "Yes Dad"

Homer: “Ham?"

Lisa: "Dad, all those meats come from the same animal."

Homer: "Yeah right Lisa, some wonderful, magical animal!"

-- The Simpsons

Shit non-pregnant girls say...to pregnant girls.

2012-02-01T17:25:00.000-08:00

Picture me in a bad wig with a valley girl accent.

I want to be cute when I’m pregnant.

How do you stand not being able to drink?

You should be enjoying how big your boobs are.

How do your pants stay up?

I had a friend who did an all-natural home birth.

I hear you’re supposed to do Kegels.

You know people aren’t circumcising baby boys anymore.

I couldn’t live without sushi for nine months.

Could you walk a little faster?

I bet you always get a seat on the subway.

Your pants have an elastic waistband?

When I have a baby, I’m going to take him everywhere.

Can I touch your belly?

When I’m a mom, I won’t let it affect my career.

Aren’t you sad it’s not a girl?

You know your vajayjay will never be the same.

I hear you poop right there in front of everyone.

Are you wearing grannie panties?

Do your Kegels.

I’m scared of getting stretch marks.

I can’t wait to dress my baby in all those adorable tiny outfits.

I can barely take care of my plants and you’re going to be a mom.

Can I see the waistband of your pants?

When I’m pregnant, I’ll eat only raw organic foods.

It’s so cute the way you waddle.

What are you naming it?

Why are you crying?

Are you doing Kegels right now?

If pregnancy were a book they would cut the last two chapters.
-Nora Ephron

Who likes cheese?

2012-01-31T18:38:00.000-08:00

In President Bartlet’s White House they had an annual “Big Block of Cheese Day.” It was a day when the staff granted face time to constituents who might not ordinarily have access to them in order to get ideas for legislation. Leo McGarry liked to tell the legend of President Andrew Jackson, who originated Big Block of Cheese Day when he put a 1400 pound block of cheese in the White House foyer and invited the people to come speak with him in person while they shared the cheese. He would decide what to do based on these discussions. Leo McGarry’s staff mocked Big Block of Cheese Day saying that everyone who came in was cuckoo. But in perfect Sorkin story arcs, they were always proven wrong. The people do have good ideas.

Sometimes I wish I could hold a Big Block of Cheese Day for my own life. If I served people gouda, would they give me suggestions on my daily choices? I need some out of the box ideas. But I also need facts and figures. I need someone to come in with charts, graphs and power point presentations to give statistics on what results certain decisions would have. I wouldn’t necessarily act on everything, but I’m willing to bet that one amazing idea would walk through the door. And I would reward that idea with a serious hunk of the creamiest brie money can buy.

“Never take counsel of your fears.”

- Andrew Jackson

Chuck Yeager

2012-01-18T21:21:00.000-08:00

I saw Sam Shepard in the East Village. It’s the second time I’ve been within the realm of a possibility of speaking to him, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s not that I’m intimidated by his celebrity, because I’ve approached other famous people. With Sam it’s different. I’ve always had for him what I can only call a cross between a Dad crush and a wish that I'd been his age in New York in the 60's and 70's. It all started in ninth grade when we read The Right Stuff for English. My English teacher was retired Air Force so we read The Illiad and The Oddessy each in just two weeks, but spent an entire six-week grading period studying The Right Stuff. There were model planes all around the room, videos from the view of a simulator, field trip to NASA. We watched the movie twice. And ooooh…Sam as Chuck Yeager. Brave, rugged, mysterious Chuck Yeager. His performance stole my little ninth grade heart. A couple years later I discovered his plays and the mystery of Sam grew exponentially. My dream role to this day is Beth in A Lie of the Mind. At one point I read an interview with Sam in which he tiptoed around the fact that he followed the writings of Gurdjieff. My parents were in a Gurdjieff group when I was young so I understood the tiptoeing and felt another instant connection. He seems somehow equally loyal to his roots while exploring outrageous creative possibilities; raw and vulgar while classy and gentleman-like; fiercely emotional while stoically intelligent; rigid with good posture while completely comfortable in his skin. One of those people that could know more about you than you know about yourself in just a few minutes of conversation. So you can understand why I've frozen up both times I’ve been near him. What could I possibly say to such a man? But the third time is a charm, right? Oh Sam, what shall I ask you first when I see you next?

Man has no individual I. But there are, instead, hundreds and thousands of separate small "I"s, very often entirely unknown to one another, never coming into contact, or, on the contrary, hostile to each other, mutually exclusive and incompatible. Each minute, each moment, man is saying or thinking, "I". And each time his I is different. Just now it was a thought, now it is a desire, now a sensation, now another thought, and so on, endlessly.

- G.I. Gurdjieff

The Belly

2012-01-11T13:54:00.000-08:00

My pregnant belly and I waddled onto the subway the other day. No seats and no one jumping up to offer my belly a seat, so I grabbed onto the pole by the door. Across from me was a woman in her 70’s wearing a floor length fur coat. Also standing. She smiled at me and spoke with a thick Russian accent, “These people. No respect. We stand here and that boy sits!” I follow her bony finger to a 20 year old kid sleeping on the bench, his headphones blaring music, and his jaw slack with escaping drool. “Oh, they’re just not paying attention,” I say, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. “Not paying attention?!” she hollers, “you watch, I throw $100 dollars to the floor, they pay attention!” Then she comes at me with her Skeletor hands, wraps them around my belly and proclaims: “AHA, it is a BOY!” How did she know that??? I kind of wanted to hear more predictions, but we were at my stop so I ripped my belly out of her hands just in time to slip out the door.

People really do look at you differently (or don’t look at you at all) when you have a baby belly. The acting world says to call them when you get back in shape. Strangers smile when they first make eye contact, but then notice the bump, become extremely uncomfortable, stutter and get away as soon as possible. People close to you won’t let you do things because they think you’re fragile. Sure, I move slowly, demand odd foods and cry on occasion, but there’s no need to marginalize me. Besides, I owe it to my son to show him that I’m a doer, right?

So here’s me doing: had a great talk with my friend and partner in writing and crime. We’re going to shoot a few shorts for the web in March. Not too big of an undertaking…we’re talking a weekend and a few bucks. But it’s getting my creative juices flowing and I can’t wait. Watch out world, here come me and my belly!

Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.

-William Shakespeare

2012

2012-01-02T15:59:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

And welcome to my blog! I had a blog a few years ago back when we were all on myspace. Remember myspace? Anyway, I realized that I missed it. The blog. Not myspace. And after an extremely difficult 2011, I plan to concentrate on things that I enjoy in 2012: writing, acting, directing, coaching, working for the most awesome boss ever, enjoying living in New York City with my husband, fixing up the new apartment I call home, traveling, but tops on the list is preparing for the baby boy that I have due in May. This blog might cover any or all of these topics plus all those little random things we observe on any given day. Looking forward to your comments.

“I love writing, but hate starting. The page is awfully white and it says, 'You may have fooled some of the people some of the time but those days are over, Giftless. I'm not your agent and I'm not your mommy: I'm a white piece of paper. You wanna dance with me?' and I really, really don't. I'll go peaceable-like.”
-- Aaron Sorkin