That’s right. The 8th graders are going to DC, the 7th graders are going to Philadelphia and the 6th graders?

Medieval Times.

I feel like the 6th graders win, right!?

They are going to be able to see some live jousting, you guys. All because of me.

(And some other people.)

I suppose this doesn’t really count as doing something quietly. I was paid a little bit of cash to perform but honestly not enough for that to be the only reason to go. I went because it sounded like a lot of fun, I completely ADORE the people I was going to perform with and SENDING MIDDLE SCHOOLERS TO MEDIEVAL TIMES!? DO YOU THINK I AM SOME KIND OF MONSTER WHO WOULD SAY NO TO THAT!?

We performed on quite a big stage in this gorgeous auditorium in the middle school, which meant we got to wear body mics which meant I kept having flashbacks to performing the spring musical in high school with a body mic taped to various body parts.

Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve worn a body mic?

Answer: TOO LONG.

(I did not miss the mic tape, however. I stupidly put a piece on my cheek. Ow?)

Anyway! Drama club flashbacks yeah!

DAY BY DAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

DAY BY DAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

(I was the Day By Day soloist in Godspell in 9th grade, you guys! And if you’re wondering, I still remember the sign language that went along with it. STAR QUALITY.)

I loved loved loved wearing a body mic. I loved loved loved singing and being goofy and making an audience full of kids and their parents laugh. I loved loved loved having ridiculous hilarious conversations on the train ride to and from Westchester.

Also, they gave us brownies.

!?

I became completely obsessed with the tech kids who ran sound and checked our microphones and all had braces and my heart just swelled because I LOVE THEATER GEEKS SO MUCH!!! I wanted to take them all home with me and adopt them and make them mine and tell them how much I loved them and then my friend Ryan was like please stop, that is illegal and you are weird.

So, okay.

But those kids were SO ADORABLE.

And I truly had the best time ever.

I gave to the community a little but got back so much more than I gave. Including brownies and some high fives from 12 year old theater tech nerds.

Oh, man.

That was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.

I feel like a really, really lucky girl.

Or something.

Anyway, Dear Sugar fell off my radar for a little while and just recently jumped back on. I stayed up way too late one evening clicking back through the archives, reading all the columns I missed.

And…crying buckets. BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. LIFE! LOVE! UNIVERSAL TRUTHS!!!

Last night I decided to send the links to a few of my favorite columns to a touchy-feely friend of mine because I thought she would like it too. She’s actually a friend of my mother’s and I’m still not sure why she came to mind but she did. So I sent it along. I just feel like when good things come your way, you should share.

So on that note, in case you’re interested too, here are some of my favorite Sugar columns. (Slight warning, she is occasionally profane but in the best, best way.) I highly suggest curling up in bed with a cup of coffee and reading them all on a weekend afternoon. But, here are some goodies to get you started.

The lesson is…once again…share the good stuff? I think?

Yes.

A Big Life

The Human Scale

The Obliterated Place

The Ghost Ship

Not fantastic?

The class is from 7-9:30 pm and the subsequent show is at 10 pm. We get notes afterwards on how we did which means I’m out until at least 11:45 every Monday night.

(I signed up for this class before I got my new job so, man. Not the best idea I ever had.)

(And the class isn’t over until mid-March. OWWWWWWW.)

ENOUGH COMPLAINING!

The point is that Tuesday mornings are rough for me.

Luckily, I live off the last subway stop so there is always a train waiting for me and more importantly, there is always a seat.

A few stops into the ride and the train was packed full of people. A mother and daughter got on and stood right in front of me, the little girl no more than six or so.

I realized I should get up and offer my seat.

I am ashamed that it took me more than a full minute to do so.

But I’m so tired, I reasoned.

My bag is so heavy.

I have at least seven more stops to go!

Finally, I took a deep breath, looked up from my magazine and offered the little girl a seat.

Thank you so much! said her mother.

No one else got up to make room for her so her daughter just sat in my seat between two strangers.

They were only on the train for a little awhile, eventually getting up as the train emptied a few stops later and I was able to take my seat back and rest until I got to work.

I’m surprised at how hard it was, my heart saying GET UP AND GIVE YOUR SEAT TO A CHILD and my mind digging in its heels like a stubborn toddler NO NO NO MINE MINE MINE I WAS HERE FIRST.

But every day, I get a seat.

And there is always tomorrow.

When I first got going, I thought that my actions each day would seem forced. Committing out loud and knowing I had to blog about it gave me a sense of urgency. I HAVE TO FIND SOMETHING TO DO!!! I CANNOT FAIL!!!

I was worried that I would come off disingenuous or that my actions would lose their meaning, just an item to check off on a to do list. I was afraid it would get tedious and that I would view it as a hassle and just start frantically trying to find nice things to do in a rush and that just sounds awful and fake.

I am so relieved to find that so far, that has not been the case. Because I said I was going to do it and write about it, I don’t wake up every day thinking OH CRAP WHAT CAN I DO FOR SOMEONE?! THIS IS SO DUMB AND STRESSFUL!

Instead, I start the day with an attitude of “How can I help?” which, let’s be honest, is not usually the way I begin my mornings.

It’s as if I am going about my day with a little more gentleness, a little more openness. I approach people who pass me on the street, who sit next to me on the train, who sit next to me at work, with a silent offer to make their life easier, instead of viewing them as things that are just in my way. It has been such a wonderful experience in serving, in lessening my ego, in making my world more inclusive. We’ll see how the rest of the month plays out!

And now onto Quiet Deed #6.

Over the Christmas holiday, my grandmother and I got to talking about books. We are both voracious readers and she will often send me something in the mail she thinks I would like. She doesn’t own a computer and since my grandfather passed away, I think she has lots of lonely evenings though she won’t exactly say so. She told me she spends most nights with a book and I imagine that passing through other worlds through the words of others fills up some space in her heart, at least temporarily.

I would never claim to know what it must feel like to love someone for 60 years and then to lose them. All the air rushes quickly out of a thousand balloons, all the noises in a room screech to a halt at once, you sink further and further underwater, not knowing how to swim. All these things. But somehow, sadder.

My grandmother mentioned how much she recently enjoyed a certain novel and since I had read it too, we chatted about it for awhile. I asked her if she had read the author’s previous book and she remarked that she hadn’t known he had written other things.

I’ll send it to you! I said.

And we left it at that, as you often do.

We should catch up!

I’ll e-mail you the link!

Let’s get together soon!

I’ll call you back!

So many promises we make throughout the day. And we mean them, I think, in the moment, most of the time. But I tend to forget to follow through.

I have decided I want to be the type of person who follows through.

Someone you can count on to do what she said she would do.

Last night I searched out the novel I was talking about. It was sitting on my bookshelf, bored and impatient.

I packed it in my bag, took it to work with some stationary and on my lunch break, I wrote a note, bought some packaging and mailed it to my grandmother.

I’ll send it to you! I said.

And I did.

I love to do it. It calms me, it feels good to create something delicious for myself and I enjoy sharing what I make with other people.

I used to be that girl who would randomly show up at work with a tray full of pumpkin muffins. FOR NO REASON! JUST FOR FUN!

Over the past year, I’ve barely baked at all.

I wondered if this counted as doing something quietly because it was, after all, bringing me a sense of satisfaction and joy. And I suppose it doesn’t count as quiet if you’re all HEY YOU GUYS, LOOK WHAT I DID!!! But I also couldn’t help but think about how good it feels to put time into something that you give to other people. To make it a little more personal.

We were invited to a Superbowl party on Sunday so as frantic as the weekend was with back to back improv rehearsals and a few million other errands, I carved out some time to make a delicious dessert.

I settled on these brown butter and sea salt Rice Krispie treats which did not disappoint.

Turns out it was the only dessert at the party and almost as soon as they appeared, they vanished.

It sounds so silly but I could not have felt more content.

No big deal, just spreading some sweetness around. It felt so good.

Plus, let’s be honest, they were ridiculously delicious.

WIN WIN!

And kind of headachey and tired.

And hungry.

I very much wanted to go to the deli and get an egg wrap for breakfast but I was secretly hoping my boyfriend would volunteer to do it. Meaning: I didn’t want to go at all. I just wanted it to magically appear before me.

I’ll stay here! I thought. ALL WARM AND INSIDE!!! I AM TOO TIRED TO WALK FIVE SECONDS TO THE DELI!

Then I realized that sometimes it’s good to do things you don’t really want to do. Even if it’s a really short walk outside to end of the block for breakfast. I looked over at my boyfriend who was glued to his laptop, scrambling to get a few things done that he never has time for during the week because he works so hard.

“Egg wrap?” I suggested, putting on my sneakers.

“You don’t have to do that!” he said. “I can go with you!”

“I know,” I said. “But you’re busy. I got it!”

Because I have two legs, you know. And sometimes being lazy is just not a good excuse. And being in a relationship means sometimes you have to be the one to get the egg wraps, even when you don’t feel like it.

I picked up his bag of dirty laundry on my way out the door and dropped it at the laundromat.

And then I proceeded onto the deli.

And you know…

It wasn’t cold out at all.

And it felt wonderful to be outside in the fresh air in this crazy bustling city.

Also, when you are the one who goes to get the egg wraps, you can buy gummi bears too because you’re the one in charge of buying things.

It’s a wonderful responsibility, after all.

By the time I sat down at the table, I realized I hadn’t done much of anything for anyone all day.

I held the door open. I smiled at a stranger. But nothing else.

“I could buy someone a drink?” I suggested.

“Good idea!” encouraged Alayna.

“That guy at the bar? Is he alone?”

“Um, he’s with another woman, she’s in the bathroom.”

“Oh. Well. I don’t want it to come off like I’m hitting on him.”

“Yeah,” agreed Alayna. “Right now you are just sounding kind of creepy.”

Finally my eyes rested on a man dining alone a few tables over. He had a wedding band on and was enjoying some red wine but he looked kind of lost and unhappy.

I pulled our waiter over and asked if I could buy a glass of his wine and could we keep this a secret because that man is definitely married and this is not a creepy weird stalker thing I AM JUST TRYING TO DO SOMETHING GOOD EVERY DAY AND OKAY SORRY AM I TALKING TOO MUCH? THANKS.

And so it was that I bought a man a glass of Chianti, all super secret like.

On our walk to the subway after dinner, Alayna and I stumbled upon a delicious bakery that I had never seen before. They had homemade Swiss cake rolls which were a childhood favorite of mine.

Alayna bought one for me.

Just goes to show, you buy someone wine, someone might buy you dessert.

It’s a pretty good deal, you guys.

Success!!!

1. Going out for a walk.
2. Listening to music.
3. Going out for a walk and listening to music.

She has upgraded her walkman to an actual iPod and when she first got the little thing, she sat in front of the computer scrolling through iTunes trying to fill it up with music asking me, “What do I like?” because she couldn’t remember.

James Taylor! I said.

Amy Grant!

Amy Grant’s Christmas album!

Anything that comes on the oldies station!

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me by Mel Carter!

For The Longest Time by Billy Joel!

That Christian rock I Can Only Imagine song!

All of Carole King’s Tapestry!

Steve Winwood!

“OH I LOOOOOOOVE STEVE WINWOOD!” she exclaimed. And she does. Because she is adorable.

(Last time I saw her, my mother was wearing jeans TUCKED INTO HER BOOTS and I nearly fell off my chair at the restaurant because God, she is just so damn cute.)

Anyway.

Rita likes music she can bop her head to. She likes music that makes her feel good and happy to be alive and outside, wandering up and down the hills of her neighborhood.

I first heard this song when a then-pregnant Beyoncé sang it on the VMA’s and it got stuck in my head for awhile and then I forgot about it, as you do and then a few weeks ago I heard it again and it replayed in my brain AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN and so I bought it.

It just makes me feel SO SO GOOD and SO SO HAPPY and like my mom, I pop in my earbuds and put my iPod in my pocket and walk around the city bopping my head back and forth probably occasionally singing out loud.

Today I thought that my mom might like a new song to bop her head to so I bought the song for her as a gift.

It only cost me $1.29.

Easy peasy.

Just sharing some love by sharing some Beyoncé.

Put your love on top, you guys.

I’m going to just look outside myself and see where it takes me day to day. If you want to join, feel free to leave your experiences in the comments! I’ll take suggestions too.

February! A love month to begin with and now I’m just gonna add to it! A sort of daily Valentine.

It begins! With kind of a longer post than I had anticipated! But ah well, here goes.

I pay two monthly student loan payments from my undergraduate degree. (Only 13 years to go, guys! And then it’s gone! And I went to a state school so, man, can’t imagine how long a private school would take me to pay off…)

One loan is in my name and is taken directly out of my checking account and the other is in my parents’ name, as they co-signed that loan, and it is taken out of their account every month. I write them a check and mail it to them to pay them back for that payment. However, when I was unemployed last year, mailing them a monthly check fell further and further down on my list of priorities. In fact, it became something I didn’t budget for at all most months. When I had the extra money for it, I sent it to them. When I didn’t, I didn’t.

My parents never said a word about the missed payments of 2011 and I assure you that it isn’t because they are rolling around in rooms full of money and don’t care the slightest about $134. They do. And they probably felt it every month when that money came due and I didn’t pay them back.

I decided to sit down and figure out exactly what I was able to do last year and so I scanned through my bank statements online and calculated that I paid them for five months last year, leaving seven total payments unpaid.

I grabbed my checkbook.

I wrote seven checks in a row.

I put them in an envelope with a note that said to please cash one every week until there were no more left. I sent my dad an e-mail and thanked him for eating those payments last year for me, how much my unemployed self appreciated that act of kindness and generosity.

While I know that my parents would never ask me for back payments, that the thought never crosses their mind, I am now employed and able to repay. I am almost 29 years old and that is just way too old to be leaning on my parents for anything financial when I don’t have to be. My college education is something I value and something I don’t mind paying for every month. Of course, it would be nice if it was one less thing I had to pay but truth be told, the payments aren’t even that much.

I sat and thought quietly about college and what my experience meant to me.

About all the things I learned.

About all the growing up I did.

About the singing and the dancing and the monologues.

About friendships and romance and late night runs to Wegmans.

About how my parents borrowed a van and packed up boxes and dragged along my little brother and sister and drove eight hours away to Buffalo to help me move into a dorm, to help me settle in, to help me find my own ground, to help and encourage me to study something I loved passionately.

My parents, though they cried while they did it, happily guided me out of their home and into my own life.

I always have a very visceral reaction when parents make comments about saving so their kids can go to college.

My mother has many stories of friends and acquaintances of hers who almost literally bankrupted themselves trying to make college payments for their children, taking on extra jobs to send them to the perfect school. She marvels at this immense burden that parents feel to make college happen for their children. She understands the need, the want to give that to your kids but she was never able to make it happen for us. I think on some level, she feels like she let us down in that regard. On another level, I think she recognizes that she did what she could do and that my siblings and I all would figure it out. And this is what my mother understands intrinsically: that ultimately, it all gets figured out. It just does.

By being honest about the fact that they couldn’t afford to pay for college, my parents helped me grow up. They sat with me at the kitchen table and told me what they could do. We made a list of which schools I really wanted to go to and how much they cost. We talked about which ones had good theater programs. About the location. About the size. About whether I should have a back up plan or double major in something ‘safe’.

We figured out how much of a loan I would need to take out for each school. We weighed the pros and cons. When I realized it would cost me $10,000 more per YEAR to attend the private school I was DYING DYING DYING to go to, I chose the public school, with the smaller program, north instead of south.

It was the best decision I ever made.

I was able to make that decision because of the time they spent with me and the communication we shared and the honest way they told me Look, here’s what we can do, here’s what we can’t, also Welcome to Adulthood! This is what it’s like!

My parents couldn’t afford to pay for my college education.

They could, however, co-sign my student loans.

And because of that, I lived very happily for three and a half years of my life, immersed in creativity and joy and independence.

Paying them back for seven months of unpaid loan payments was one tiny way of saying once again, thank you.

Thank you for what you did for me.

Thank you for what you continue to do for me.

I put a stamp on the envelope full of seven checks and I dropped it in the mail and a tiny piece of me, far back in my chest righted itself. I hadn’t even noticed it was leaning too far to one side.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Or bringing, in my case. I haven’t done much cooking lately unless you count Mario Batali’s eggplant parmigiana which involves broiling the eggplant instead of frying it WHICH IS FANTASTIC.

(Also, have you all tried Trader Joe’s Lentil Soup w/ Ancient Grains!? MAN. I am getting so involved with this lately.)

ANYONE ELSE? What are you eating!?

The month of January ends today which means that my 31 days on the wagon is over.

Every year my boyfriend does a sort of New Year’s detox and gives up alcohol and caffeine for the month of January. I joined him on the alcohol because that’s easy. COFFEE? HA HA. YOU ARE A BETTER MAN THAN I AM.

(Also I am not a man.)

Anyway, we both agreed that we missed the social aspect of drinking more than the actual drinking. I miss meeting up with someone for a glass of wine. But I don’t actually miss the wine.

I mean, I do. A little. Especially if it’s a crisp sauvignon blanc.

But the month of January was pretty easy. And we saved a bunch of cash in the process.

So now it’s February!

For 2012, we decided to try something new for each month. Or give up something. Or what have you. We can commit to separate things or we can both do the same thing, doesn’t really matter.

So, January was no booze. We also locked down a daily meditation practice and pausing and giving thanks before eating dinner. I suppose I could kick that up to every meal but I haven’t yet.

February starts tomorrow and I still am not sure what I’m going to commit to. Exercising every day? Keeping a food journal? Taking my multivitamin every day? (So dumb but I never do this). Random act of kindness every morning? Offer a prayer?

I have some ideas for the months coming up but some of them just wouldn’t work for February.

So, who has some ideas? Anything I should and could feasibly put into practice daily? I want it to be challenging but not impossible. Something small but meaningful. Spiritual/mental/physical improvement? Writing? Friendship? Romantic partnership? What can I do every day?

Someone tell me.

(My mom is going to comment and say CALL YOUR MOTHER but I don’t even think she wants a phone call from me every day, RIGHT RITA!?!?)

Have at me, guys. February starts soon. In the mean time, I’m eating lentil soup.

GO. HELP. NOW.