How to spend your birthday with 50,000 of your closest friends

Or, my **th birthday on the Playa

This year, anticipating my **th birthday was a bit daunting, to say the least. I just broke up with someone and moved 3000 miles away, so the prospect of spending a landmark birthday with four friends in an unfamiliar city was pretty depressing.

Enter - Burning Man!

Venturing into the unknown, I packed up costumes, toilet paper, dust goggles, glow sticks and A LOT of See's lollipops and prepared to be impressed.

I was.

The playa was a carnival of beautiful people in creative, sexy costumes; tents under which to escape the midday sun; amazing music that moved me all night long; sunrises at Opulent Temple... but I digress.

My birthday.
Well, I was still awake at midnight of the 28th, dancing my little booty off in fairy garb at OT. I stayed there til about 7am, then grabbed a "yellow bike" - they're actually green, and available for anyone to use, if you can find one with both tires inflated, still possessing its chain and both pedals. (The one I found was actually missing a pedal, but I just hooked the crook of my boot onto the metal rod and made do) I rode across the playa, letting the breeze stroke my newly birthed skin.

Took a 2-hour nap (the only sleep of the day), then got ready for the day: massage at Cock'n'Waffles. Two massage therapists and a *very* adorable Reiki healer I had met the day before at a party worked on me. Yum. Don't mind the bruises on my a$$ - I'm as delicate as the princess and the pea, and we all know it.

Truth Ruth brought me waffle while I waited, and some cute boy brought me watermelon to cool me down. I noticed a gorgeous naked guy walking by, and pointed him out to TR. Yes, he's cute, she said, but gay. I wasn't so sure. Five minutes later, he walks into the tent, sits down next to me and starts chatting me up. I look over at TR. wink. A spot opens up on the hammock next to us, and he asks me to join him. Would I like a foot rub while we wait? (These massages were popular, people - the line was hours long) Um, sure. Oh, it's your birthday? Would you like me to wash your hair later? Um, yes, that would be kinda hot.

Hair washed, feet rubbed, body kneaded and energetically balanced, I grabbed Spike and Karol, and we headed to The Deep End for some afternoon dancing. I changed out of my nipple tape and into a little dominatrix outfit - purple bustier and black boy shorts with knee-high boots. Along the way, we ran into Danny Greene who helped us celebrate, then helped lead Shabbat services back at Sukkat Shalom.

Jade Netanya, Shuli, Avi W. and all kinds of wonderful people showed up for services, which were super fun and creative. Then a little brigade of friends went off in search of birthday adventure. Everywhere we went, Rachel, Tamuz, Avi and Spike would yell "it's her birthday" and people would scream and hug me and sing. So much fun.

First stop, Thunderdome. Spike and Snow White wanted to go at it with an audience. Too bad it was closed. But hey, we don't need things to be open! We did it ourselves. Avi announced and I tried to rile up the crowd. Eventually the Death Guild people shut us down, but we'd already had our dusty fun at that point - we were satiated.

We had some party favors we needed to divide up so we wandered into a random camp and made ourselves comfortable on the couches. One of the camp's residents, a hot Brazilian, came over and sat with us, then invited us into his trailer where we got to know each other a bit. Then we all went to the Hookahdome for some hot dancing. (Thank you Avi and Tamuz for proving that sexuality is indeed on a spectrum. You should have seen those two go at it on the sand.)

Next stop - Opulent Temple, where we danced until 9:45am. Ran into Bronya, Julia, Dan and Charlie, who were a super fun addition to the birthday party. I got some birthday kisses from my new friend, and we danced until the sun came up and it got too hot to stay outside!

Thank you, playa, for the best birthday ever.

Harmony on the Playa

Before heading to Burning Man this year for the first time, I thought about whether to choose a "Playa name" - what would it be? Should it be a description of how I am, like "Neurotic", "Chaos", "Buzz Fairy"?

On the phone with a seasoned Burner, he told me that he had chosen a name that would be a mantra - every time he said it, it would remind him what he was striving for. (I won't divulge his real or Playa name here in case he doesn't want it revealed.) So, I decided to give some thought to what I am trying to achieve here on this earth...

Harmony.

It was so lovely, because every time I said the name, I got more comfortable with it, and right from the beginning, people said that it suited me perfectly. This definitely came as a surprise since I have many times been accused of being quite difficult and unharmonious.

Now that I am back, I feel almost like I am lying when I tell people my name is Rebecca! It doesn't feel like the whole story.

Mindful Breakfast on the Roof

This morning I woke up much earlier than usual, so I took my sunrise breakfast up to the roof, where I discovered my neighbor playing the sur bahar. Faint stringed stylings from three or four roofs over...

I ate each bite slowly, mindfully; smiling at my food as it became part of me. I have just finished a introductory series on ayurvedic nutrition, and I am learning "self-realization meditation," in which you seek to understand each organ, each cell in your body to know what it needs.

I feel so blessed to have a roof in Park Slope where I can see the treetops, the water, the church towers, and most importantly, where I can be with myself.

LA, New York, LA, New York, LA

Well, this blog is called Can't Sit Still, and that is no joke.

On Tuesday I am flying *back* to LA to film 7 episodes of a web series I just got cast in. Obviously, I'm really excited about that. And I'll be hanging out with Chana Rothman at her show on the 26th, doing a little duet to punctuate the trip.

Then I'll be back in New York for another two weeks before heading out to LA for a month, then two weeks in New York at the end of September at which point I guess I will be a real Californian after 8 years here.

Honestly, I am scared and anxious in addition to all the fun and excitement.

Getting what you want always comes at some kind of a cost. I already had to let go of Joe, and now I am letting go of close friends, biking around Park Slope, knowing the best way to get everywhere in this crazy city, security, a job... the list goes on. It's definitely harder than it was to move here, which just kind of happened with no real forethought.

Control, or the lack thereof

Perhaps I should be embarrassed to say this (well, I am, so there's really no perhaps) but I am reading Eat Pray Love and finding some actual insight.

If you haven't read the book, it is a memoir of a woman's journey to three different places: Italy, India and Bali.

In Italy, this woman was really annoying me, and I would have stopped reading the book but the whole point was to see what all the fuss was about and my lovely friend Liz loaned me the book, so I persisted.

It started to pay off when she got to India, where she spent six weeks in an ashram. This is actually something I have considered doing and may still do, so it's quite interesting for me to read about what happened to her there. And she and I have a bit in common - she went through a nasty divorce (which sounds much, much worse than mine) and then a heartbreaking relationship right after that (double check). And what her friend tells her is basically that she is bending herself all out of shape to try to control everything, and not admitting that she just can't control it. And that the energy she puts into trying to control it is ruining her life and blocking her ability to find God.

I am a control freak. Everyone knows this about me (please don't put in the comments that you agree. It's painful enough.) But what I have started to learn, first at the meditation retreat back in October with Thich Nhat Hanh, then with the couples therapist, is that I cannot control everything. All my responses to this breakup with Joe have been about control. I don't want the breakup to happen, so I will bend and twist and change to please him. I don't want to be sad about the breakup, so I will be angry and pretend I don't care that much. I don't want to have this heartache happen again so I will dump the next guy who comes along as soon as anything goes wrong. Let's be honest, these all work up to a certain point, but there is no controlling life and the relationships that we all crave. So I am letting go more, relaxing into the situation I'm in. Joe didn't want me, and I am probably better off without him, but it still hurts. And someday, it will not hurt anymore because time goes by, and I don't think about the other relationships in my life that have not worked out. And I can't make it hurt less by trying to control it.

So I am breathing.

I am living in the present moment.

And I am slowly starting to feel ok.

Things People Say When They Mean Well

But that, let's face it, hurt anyway.

1. Friend who means well 1: Are you engaged?
Me: Umm, no, we broke up.
FWMW1: Oh, I guess that's why you don't ask people whether they're engaged.

2. FWMW2: Why is there an empty chair next to you?
Me: I rsvp'ed with Joe, but then we broke up since then.
FWMW2: Oh. Sorry!

3. etcetera...

Pilot and Voice-Over

This week I did a teeny tiny (read: non-speaking) role in a pilot that hopefully will get picked up this fall. If it does, I will tell you when to look for me.

And I did my fist voice-over! It was kind of a strange thing, like acting over the telephone, but it was neat to get sort of blockaded into this soundproof room with the Sennheiser microphone and do accents and whatnot. The film is Homeward Bound by Robert Duncan. I did a lead role in another film of his a while back, which hasn't been released yet (hoping for end of August.)

Math...and seduction?

Yesterday I shot a film. I played a math teacher who seduces her student. I'm happy to report that the second half of that statement is much further from the truth than the first half!

As many of you know, I am actually a tutor for math (and chemistry and French). But I don't usually let my hair down and unbutton my shirt.

In the film, Miss Math is teaching away about simultaneous equations, and the student is so bored that he begins to fantasize that his teacher is seducing him, throwing the papers and pencils aside, letting her hair down and strip-teasing!

Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

I do.

Well, I want to be on the show...

Yesterday I took the written test for the show and passed! I was pretty proud of myself because in the whole cafeteria of people taking the test, only six or seven other people got called. Some of the questions were pretty hard!

They took a Polaroid photo of me, which they affixed to my application.

I had a short interview and they sent me out saying, we'll call you in a few weeks. I'll keep you posted.

The Plan is Always Changing

Most recent developments:

I am now a resident of Park Slope after 8 years as a committed Manhattan gal. I love Park Slope - it's the closest thing to Prenzlauer Berg you can get outside of Berlin.

Postponing Eastern Europe a bit. Been getting a lot of tv work and I want to see where I can go with that before I skip town again.

Things are over with Joe. The answer is Yes; you can set me up with your cute cousin/nephew/friend from prep school.

My Plan

My current thinking...

Performing "Bella's Dream" made me realize how badly I want to know my family's history and therefore I have decided to spend some time this summer visiting the towns where my family comes from in Poland and Belarus.

After that I'm planning to study at Pardes for one of the summer sessions, and possibly visit Turkey, one of my fantasy travel destinations, before heading out west to make a name for myself in La-La Land.

Silent Huddle

A group of Jewish women had been rounded up from the town. A bucket near the border crossing had a sign in German that said "put a contribution in or we'll shoot the women." The guards took the money and shot all the women anyway. That is how Bella and Raymond crossed the border. (This text loosely based on Dana's words in the play.)

"Bella's Dream" in Baltimore

Last night I performed "Bella's Dream" by Dana Boll in Baltimore.

The show is about Dana's grandparents, Bella and Raymond, who left Gabin, Poland in the late 30s, escaped to Russia, were interned in a work camp about Siberia, made their way on a cattle car through Uzbekistan and eventually settled in New Jersey.

The script and choreography beautifully told the story of these exceptional people and of Dana's journey to understand and remember them.

Here are a few photos of our work.

The dancers are Dana Boll, Lisa Hokans, Grace Ann Dorse, Heather Bloch, Dawn Trautman and myself (Rebecca Jupiter.)

A Day in the Life - My First LA Film Gig!

Last weekend I spent three days on the set of "A Day in the Life." It's a short film produced by Green Ambassadors, a cute, campy comedy about a day in the life of a typical American family. Each scene consists of the unreflective choice and the green choice we could make to replace it.

It was such a treat to be silly, funny and quirky on set.

The film will be shown at the LA Convention Center in April and at an environmental festival and various schools. Once I have the dvd, maybe I'll have my own screening for those who want to see it!

Hannah Engle Memorial Lecture

On Tuesday, NYU Wagner hosted the Second Annual Hannah Engle Memorial Lecture. I gave the following remarks about Hannah.

Hannah Beth Engle was born on November 6, 1980. She weighed nine pounds, fourteen ounces. This is pretty heavy for a baby, and I had been almost as heavy, and as children, we were so embarrassed about being fat babies, but the older we got, the more we relished those birth weights for the reliable shocks they produced in anyone we told. As an adult, Hannah loved that the chubby baby she had been had grown into a beautiful woman. She loved to surprise people with her unique blend of seeming contradictions.

Hannah stood out in a crowd – tall, blonde and poised. And that was part of her charm. But good looks will only get you so far, and Hannah didn’t rely on them. She was smart, hard-working, committed and innovative. After taking a meaningful trip to Eastern Europe, she defied expectations by raising $50,000 to take ten other UCLA on a similar trip the next year. These trailblazers led seders in Russia and the Ukraine and brought fresh blood to a Jewishly anemic corner of the diaspora. Hannah lived her philosophy of Jewish communal service in her personal life.

A lot of people who lose siblings find that they become more like their sibling after their death. In the past two years, I have definitely followed Hannah’s lead – both deliberately and unconsciously. One thing that’s happened is that I have made an effort to become the organized person she was.

Hannah didn’t wallow in perfectionism. She analyzed a project, determined what could be simplified and then set to work on her tasks. She was famous for finding time to make Shabbat dinner for 12 people despite being in grad school and working almost full time. (And working out.) I remember once coming over on a Friday afternoon before services to help her put the finishing touches on her apartment before dinner – I came across a to-do list for that week that planned out what and when she had to do things. One of the things on her grocery list was a package of pre-grated cheese. A food snob and obsessive homemade warrior, I turned up my nose at the idea of pre-grated cheese. (In fact, I didn’t even know they made it until I saw it on her list!) That list has stuck in my mind, because Hannah’s efficiency wasn’t borne out of a desire to be the best at anything, or to impress people. She had goals, and she wanted to accomplish them.

One of Hannah’s most important goals outside of her professional life was to weave a community for herself. When I was 15 and Hannah was 13, our father, our Papa, died of AIDS. I had already left for prep school two years earlier, and I think that was probably about the time that Hannah started taking community-building seriously for herself. I will never forget hearing her say “your friends are your family, Rebecca.” She used pre-grated cheese so that she could spend those 30 minutes with the people she loved at dinner instead of obsessing over the perfect quiche.

Even people who did not know Hannah well were touched by her – some even after her death. I mourn Hannah’s loss every day, but I do know that the person I lost was a treasure to so many people and a true inspiration. I still meet people all the time who knew her in some tangential way and miss her presence on this earth. There is no doubt that the 500 people at her funeral ached to know she was gone too young.

When Hannah was little, I used to tease her that she looked like a boy. Our parents liked to dress us in matching clothes like twins, which drove me crazy because I just wanted to be an individual. But of course as we got to be adults, looking alike became fun. We reveled in the attention, and truly cherished our unique relationship. Long before Hannah died, she became one of the first things I thanked God for in my daily prayers. I knew what I had, and having lost Papa, I knew to be thankful for it.

During the course of the past two years, I have gone through many different philosophies in an attempt to understand Hannah’s death. There were times when I thought that her death represented a veering off-course of this world, signaling that we are doing something wrong. There have been times when I wondered whether life is totally random. Perhaps Hannah’s death was fated or ordained by God for some purpose. None of these explanations has held up under scrutiny. What I do believe is that each of us is here on this earth to do something. Sometimes our grief blocks us. When we are sad, we must sit with that sadness and express it to the people we trust. Hannah’s death created an enormous amount of sadness. But it also spurred an urgency in many people including myself, to make a meaningful life that is unique to our gifts and strengths. To honor Hannah’s life, we must become more fully ourselves.

Goodbye Ian

Last night Julia took me to hear her friend's band play at the Troubadour here in LA.

I had just gotten off a seemingly endless flight from New York, and for me it was already 1:45 am, so going out wasn't exactly first on my list of things to do, but I figured, I'm in LA to figure out whether I want to live here, so I should try everything, right?

Goodbye Ian was fantastic. There's Doug, the lead singer, an exuberant golden boy. He plays the keyboard and the guitar, although this was stifled somewhat at his announcement that the day before, he had fallen off his skateboard. There's a blissed-out singer (Kerstin?) who also plays electric cello. Another singer/keyboardist/accordian player, a fantastic drummer, a very skilled violinist and an affable bassist.

The music is danceable, the lyrics clever and un-self-conscious.

Definitely check them out if you can!

As I watched the lead singer hop and dance around the stage, I thought to myself - that's what I need to do more of - be free and fearless and musical. That's what ease with oneself an actor needs. Turns out he IS an actor - he's the son on "Big Love."

And that's LA.

Fess up, RC

Remember when you were a little kid and you did something wrong, and then before you knew what was happening, someone caught you? You started to equivocate, tell little white lies, split hairs, change your story. The most obvious thing about your guilt was the way you squirmed in your chair, and your voice went all over the place looking for the exit.

We all know that exit is the truth. The only way to get out of the situation you were in was to accept that you were going to be punished, and then be brave and admit it.

It is really pathetic watching Roger Clemens act like a befuddled little five year-old in front of the Congressional Committee. His guilt is written all over his Good-Old-Boy retellings.

Obama after all

Until the last few hours before the New York primary, I was on the fence. I love Hillary Clinton. I think she's a brilliant, powerful, determined, admirable woman. I think she would make an excellent President. All this false debate about whether she is for change? She has been making important changes in the Senate since she was elected, and before that, she was a pioneer since her early years in college and law school. Her problem is that she's a woman in an extremely misogynist culture. There are countries that we high-minded Americans like to think of as the "third world" where a woman has already held the highest office in the land. But as soon as Hillary wielded the tiniest bit of power alongside Bill, detractors set to work undermining her - the hairstyles, the baking. I'm sure it goes without saying that those things would NEVER have come up if she were male.

So why did I vote for Barack Obama? Unlike all my misty-eyed friends (and I do love you all) I don't actually *like* him that much. He's kind of cocky. But let's face it, he does not inspire the antipathy that Hillary does. The "vast right-wing conspiracy" is no joke - they hate her and they would mortgage their houses to see her go down. Because hating powerful women is still ok, even though we've figured out that racism is wrong.

I look forward to the first Black President. I look forward to the first woman President. I look forward to a time in our country when we will actually be able to tackle the issues that plague us. I voted for Barack in the primary, and I'll vote for either one of them in November. And hopefully we will stop the shameful backslide to the dark ages we've experienced in the last seven years.

Papercut in Memory of Hannah

I made this papercut in memory of Hannah. It's her Hebrew name in the center with a pomegranate below, representing the vast kernels of her diverse soul. And of course vines of life everywhere.

leaving for LA

I've been talking about moving to LA since college, so it might have seemed like an inevitability, but every time I go anywhere, I think I want to move there. (I'm suggestible, would probably be the polite term for my fickle geographical commitments.)

When I got back from Europe and Africa last summer, I didn't think I wanted to live in New York anymore. I had fallen in love in Croatia, wanted to settle down in Berlin or Budapest...I didn't know what was good for me, and I wandered about. Pretty soon after returning home to New York, I met Joe. Then, this past December we traveled to Berlin together and my longings started all over again. I talked his ear off about how badly I wanted to move there. And when we got back to New York, I realized: my love affair is not yet over, I will probably always love New York, but it's time for me to try something new.

This is so difficult. I am leaving an amazing community of friends and the whole life I have built in the last 8 years. But I have to see what is waiting for me in LA - will I be happier there? I hope so.