Dear young man who sat to my right this morning,

As per usual, we were sharing our standard seven pieces of personal information. You went to a school nearby, you were an English major, we looked for common acquaintances.  You inquired after my major, which means I had to explain my major, race, ethnicity, but I threw some theater in, cause I'm really interested in theater for education and community building.  You thought that was cool.  (POints!) You shared that your senior thesis dealt with theater.  Oh? Your thesis looks at plays that riff and reference A Raisin in the Sun using Clybourne Park and The Colored Museum.  You must know that there's a very small population for whom that's a very hot opening line. 

Here's all I have to say: it is really too bad that you're going to work in another city. 


love,
hannah

Dear introductions,

It's been a while.  I've been busy, and thus, confused.  (Don't worry, it's okay.  I think that's how it's supposed to be right now.  I got an email today from someone I went to college with that said something to the effect of "hope your transition out of college has been okay, mine has been weird."  Amen sistah.  I think that's how it's supposed to be.  Okay and weird.)

Meeting so many new people means introductions all the time.  "Hi, here are the seven most relevant facts for you to know about me at this time." 

The problem is that those facts don't change.  They don't make for the most interesting conversation.  Although, we're playing a lot of "Do you know this person at that private liberal arts college in Minnesota?" (Something I've learned during my time in Minnesota: here, the endings of last names like Anderson and Jacobsen matter, and they matter in a way that matters less other places.)  So at night I see people who shared my college experience and I don't have to share those facts because they already know them. 

I hope this doesn't sound that gloomy.  Things aren't that gloomy.  I think that's just how things are supposed to feel right now.  Okay but weird.


love,
hannah

Dear flats,

I hate you.  Why would I ever choose to wear shoes that require so much pain to break in?  I have so many blisters.  I haven't had this many blisters since in a fateful night in a club in Mexico.  I give up.  Once I have broken these in I am never bothering with flats ever again. 


love,
hannah

Dear Suarez family,

Ya'll are the best.  Seriously.  I've spent the last four weeks re-watching Ugly Betty which is a fantastic series.  (Surprisingly, it was a pretty good match for my search for post-graduation media about young women.)  It's so colorful, funny and approaches topics of identity more than other network TV shows. 

But most of all, at the center, there's the Suarez family.  So much like our own families and friends, they support, tease, and love each other in an incredibly real way.  And I love them for that.  Cause Mode magazine is crazy, but the family drama is so beautiful. 

I have a major crush on Tony Plana.  Major.

I adore Hilda.  And in this month of watching, I spoke to myself a little bit in a Hilda voice.  There were lots of flailing arms and gestures that highlighted my nails.

Justin's coming out episode/dance is so beautiful.  I teared up.  The best part may be watching everyone who loves him react to his dance with Austin.  So much love!

And Betty.  There are ways that we all wanna be like Betty.  And as hokey as it is, her charge to follow her dreams is damn inspiring.  Betty Suarez gets what she wants and challenges with balancing work, family and a social life. 

Interestingly, this time around I was way more invested in the Betty/Daniel relationship.  I didn't hate the possibility of their romance this time, like I did previously.  

Any case, I needed to share my love for that family.  Also, they are fictional. 


love,
hannah

Dear Aaron Sorkin,

You are among my heroes.  (A huge hero.)  I used to write letters to a friend which detailed how much I wanted to write like you.  You were a huge part of my growing up and an enormous part of my personal television obsession.  

Here's what's up: apparently right now you hate the internet, gossip and women.  And, apparently they all go together.  One of the things that I have always loved about your television work is that you show the families that we make for ourselves, particularly those that come from high pressure professional environments.  Your TV shows demonstrated the ways that we make powerful relationships that we simultaneously choose and fall into; groups of people that spend endless hours together and share some interests, values, but hopefully still argue about interesting things.  That was something that always appealed to me, maybe because I had little experience in the work environment.  In theses families everyone made mistakes, had their moment in the sun and supported each other the whole way through. 

However, The Newsroom is about a patriarchal family where the women screw up a lot, and Daddy swoops in to make everything better.  Or, on the off chance that Daddy makes a error, the women step up and make sacrifices because of their deep (either dying or denied) love for Daddy.  (There are several Daddies in this situation.)  Mr. Sorkin, what's going on with the women in your life? Cause clearly something's going on and it's all coming out in your writing.  (What's with that one character who so far has only clarified that you can in fact have sex in a bathtub?) There's write what you know, but you're still writing to entertain your audience.  But right now, that's all you want to talk about.  Except that it's not even now, you're obsessed with the now of eighteen months ago.  (It should be noted that I thought that would be really cool, but it's turned into lazy writing and spitting on the work of real journalists.) 

Dear sir, you are still one of my favorites, but I just watch old episodes of Sports Night after each episode of The Newsroom to make myself feel better.  Start writing The Newsroom in a way that entertains and respects me or I will mistakenly send this blog post in an email to everyone you work with. 

...because I'm a woman, and I don't understand the modern world or how to operate in it.  

Also, don't ever use the word "bitch" that flippantly ever again. 


love,
hannah

or, "Internet girl" if you please

Dear Tuesdays in July,

Apparently you make me have ice cream for dinner. 

That's a bad habit I could get used to.


love,
hannah

Dear acting,

So I had an interesting moment today.  After seemingly scheduling a teacher for the teen class at the camp where I work, we discovered mid-day today that there was some sort of confusion and she would not be able to teach the class.  This happens to be our busiest two weeks and we are more short-staffed than usual, so this discovery was about to throw our very delicate machine completely off.  The class happened to be sketch comedy and improv, which is one of the few things in the world that I know anything about, so I offered my ability to step in should the class need that, which turned into me skipping most of my normal duties, skipping my break, running down an alley and plopping myself down as leader of this improv class. (It should also be known that there are only four kids in this class.)  After about an hour or more of games, we took a break for snack and so I could gather my thoughts.  But, since there are only four students, break turns into me talking to them.  One student asks, "Did you always know you wanted to be an actor?" and in my mind I froze.  How in the world do I answer this question?

Well kid, I did not always want to be an actor, although there was a five year period where it was my greatest wish and it consumed my daydreams, but that's over now.  But you should be an actor! It's just not for me; I learned early on that the irregular schedule and rejection and process of auditioning was not for me.  But it is a noble profession! I'm not that excited by it now, which is really okay with me.  But it is such fulfilling work, you should be an actor!

That answer would not do.  Instead, I gave her an answer that was perhaps more honest.

I never told anyone what I wanted to be when I was younger for fear that they would remember and then when I did not achieve the incredible ranks of astronauts and ballerinas they would recall my dreams and I would be a failure.  If I never told anyone they could never see me fail/succeed in becoming that lauded profession.  And that's been true of a lot of things, I did the same thing when choosing a college and a major.  

Again, this answer was insufficient, but it was what I offered this thirteen year old.  She laughed and we agreed generally that this was a weird habit and way of looking at the world and we moved on.  But I should have said something like this:

Well kid, acting is incredible work and I am inspired and captivated by it, and should the chance ever come along for me to do it again, I probably would; but it's not my work and I don't want to be an actor.  For once in my life I've finally started telling people who I want to be and what I want to do with my life.  I'm talking with teachers and mentors and parents and writing papers that share what I want to be and why it's important to me.  And that's really new.  About the time when I started wanting to be an actor I learned from those that served as my teachers that you also have to teach to supplement the money you're not making from acting.  And about the time I realized that I didn't want to be an actor, I realized that I still loved theater and the process of creating new work with words and bodies and that I wanted to teach theater more than anything.  Because I think the changes and confidences that come from working with theater and creating your own plays, particularly when you're a teenager, are some of the most valuable and incredible experiences I had, and I want to give other folks younger than me that chance.  I don't want to be an actor, I want to be a teaching artist.  It means more to me to teach than to go through that incredible high of performing for a live audience onstage.  No one wants to be a teaching artist when they're young, but now I'm young-but-not-as-young-as-before and I want to be a teaching artist.  So why am I not working as a teaching artist next year? Because I finally told people.  And kid, this is where my argument wears thin a bit, I'm not doing what I'm telling people I want to do because when I do become a teaching artist that's for real and that's forever and that's a lot of big decisions that I'm not ready to make right now.  I'm not an actor.  I'm really honored that you think I'm an actor.  But you should be an actor.  I will never tell you not to be an actor.  

That answer might also be insufficient, but that's the one that closest to the truth.  I had a blast teaching your class today with no plans prepared, and that's pretty close to what I would like to do for the rest of my life.  

I would also have liked to have been an astronaut, but that concentric circle, zero G, vomit-inducing looking thing at space camp was enough to turn me off. 


love,
hannah