Childhood choices: is it okay to recruit a 9-year old?

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Jaden Newman is 9 years old. She also just became the youngest person ever recruited by a college program. Jaden plays basketball. I'm no talent scout but I saw a 30-second video of her playing - and she's damn good. Clearly, the University of Miami thinks so, too.

While I understand why many people are celebrating this fantastic achievement, it still makes me squirm a little. I'm not sure that we should be celebrating colleges recruiting 4th graders.

It's wonderful that Jaden is such a talented, hard working kid who has found something that she loves to do. But can't it just be left at that? Isn't that enough? Why does basketball need to be something that defines her future right now? There's a lot of baggage that comes along with being labeled a "phenom" before you hit double-digits.

I'm not sure why a university needs to take ownership of Jaden's future at this point. She should have the freedom to wake up next Wednesday morning and decide that she doesn't want to play basketball anymore and that she is much more interested in the debate team. Childhood is all about being free to explore who you want to be for the rest of your life. And if there is pressure of a college scholarship and this precedent-setting recruitment, I worry it will stifle her vision for herself.

Maybe Jaden really did find the thing she wants to do for the rest of her life at the age of three. Maybe this is just giving her a great option down the road. I hope that is what happens.

When I was three, I started my career and I identified myself as an actor for the next 18 years. Then, when I was 22, I slowly realized that I didn't want to do that job anymore. I had never even bothered to ask myself what else there was, because it hadn't occurred to me that there were other options available. I assumed I was incapable of anything else. Suddenly, I had no clue who I was. I identified myself as an actor before I identified myself as anything else. If you had asked me who I was, I would have said:

1. An actor

2. A girl

3. A Canadian

So, if I wasn't an actor anymore, was I anything at all?

For me, it worked out - I don't have any regrets. I was able to find a new path and eventually found my self-worth somewhere else (thank you, therapy). But not all kid actors end up in a good place. I hope Jaden knows that she has the ability to be something different if she wants - even if it doesn't come with the media attention and the prestige of college sports. Just because she is good at something doesn't mean she is required to do it.

When little kids say they want to be firefighters, we don't suit them up, put an axe in their hands and send them out there. But with sports, music and acting, it seems like the rules are different.

I believe that it's always important to know, wherever you are in life, that you are allowed to change your mind. None of us have to be just One Thing. If we all had to commit to what we wanted to be when we were little - there would be a whole lot of firefighters and ballerinas. And my husband would be a bird.

So, go do what you love, Jaden. Kick ass and have fun - whether you want to be a basketball player, a firefighter, a ballerina or a bird. I'm pretty sure you'd be awesome at all of them.

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The Tiger Mother: race, success and lessons on the wrong thing

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The Tiger Mother is at it again. She's getting folks all riled up by saying that the parenting style of some groups (such as Chinese, Indians and Mormons) primes their kids for success more than others.  Personally, I can't offer any opinion on parenting, since we've not chosen to go the kid route. My only parenting advice is that liver treats work well for convincing Grace to not attack the neighbor dog. People are getting all flustered about the racial implications of what she's saying - but I keep coming back to one thing:

What the hell does "success" mean?

Tiger mom says it's clear - income, occupational status and test scores. That kind of makes sense. It's a nice, clean, empirical way of measuring something.

  • Higher income = more success
  • Higher status = more success
  • Higher test scores = more success

That seems to be a widely accepted definition in our society. But I'm not sure I like it. By those measurable accounts, I was much more successful when I was 15 than I am at 35. Twenty years ago, I had:

  • Higher income - I got paid more.
  • Higher status - I was more "famous" (whatever that creepy word means).
  • Higher test scores - I rarely went to school, but the movie marketing people told me that I "tested well" with screening audiences, which resulted in more work.

But what about...oh, I don't know...happiness? Where does that rank? What about passion? Purpose? Authenticity? How do you measure that stuff and roll it up into success? In our culture it's pretty simple: you don't. You toss them to the side because you can't buy yourself a boat with purpose.

I have so much more joy and passion now than I did when I was an actor, but those intangibles don't seem to carry as much weight in some circles.

I recently made a list of the things that equal a successful life for myself. It mostly had to do with my family and friends, contributing to the greater good and taking care of my mind, body and spirit. None of them had to do with being on the cover of People Magazine.

But it took me a while to develop this way of thinking. When I left my acting career, I was scared of what people would think. Would I get thrown in a pile of useless "has beens"? Was I, at 22, washed up and destined to never do anything as good ever again?

I went through a phase where I decided I wanted to be a lawyer. I even visited a law school to sit in on classes and went to their campus store and looked longingly at the sweatshirts. At least if I was a lawyer, I'd have a fancy degree I could wave around. Something that proved to other people that I was still worth something.

It finally dawned on me that I didn't want to be a lawyer (no offense to the lawyers out there...especially my dad). I was just trying to feel like I had a justified place in the world and people would think that I was still successful. But what I really wanted was to be a writer. That less prestigious, less financially rewarding occupation was what made my heart flutter.

Ambition is wonderful. But I was being ambitious about the wrong things.  What I really wanted was a life that really fed my soul - not just my bank account and other people's opinions of me.

Being successful now means that my life has meaning. Being "known" never made me feel successful. Doing interviews didn't do that. Getting invited to fancy parties didn't do that.

What does make me feel successful is volunteering to clean litter boxes and write thank you notes at the animal shelter. Or getting an email from someone who was touched by something I wrote on this blog - which I offer for free and get paid absolutely nothing. Or making my husband laugh.

So, what if we thought about success differently? What if we thought about:

  • passion instead of income?
  • authenticity instead of status?
  • happiness instead of test scores?

I'm not sure that the Tiger mom would understand, but you couldn't pay me a million dollars to go back to being "successful." I'll take my poorly-paying, lower-status profession that makes me deliriously happy. And besides, I don't think lawyers are allowed to wear sweatpants to work.

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You're either in or you're out

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I admit it. I have a girl-crush on Mary Louise Parker. I've never met her, but my adoration is long-standing. It all started with Fried Green Tomatoes, when she was so sweet. Then there was The West Wing, when she was so cool. And then there was Weeds, when she was just so...hot. I love her in everything.

Last week, my crush became full-blown when she said she is pretty much done with acting because she is too "thin-skinned." She talked about the intrusive culture of negativity and criticism that actors are exposed to. She thinks it's ugly. It is.

Parker wants to spend her time writing, being with her family and taking care of her goats. (Reminder to self: look into getting some goats.) You gotta love a chick who has her priorities in line.

I totally get it - had a tiny fraction of the publicity that Parker deals with, and it was too much for me. I realized that the more I worked at my "dream job" - the more vulnerable and unpleasant the rest of my life became. The trade-offs were simply not worth it anymore. It seems that she feels the same way, and I love that Parker is setting her limits and refusing to participate.

It's a good reminder that there are consequences to trashy and harmful practices like rewarding snark and buying gossip magazines. Maybe it just seems like benign fun, but it's not, and one of the consequences is no more Mary Louise Parker.

We can't fix everything that is wrong with the world, but I have hope that if enough people starting calling this out as unacceptable, the direction of media can change. Maybe we can return to a time of accountability in reporting and a basic notion of privacy and decency.

But then my Kumbaya-We-Can-Change-The-World optimism comes crashing down around me when I hear that Oprah is paying Lindsay Lohan 2 million dollars to give her an exclusive post-rehab interview, then star in an eight-part documentary series on OWN.

Because clearly, that girl needs more money and exposure. That ought to help the situation. (Damnit, why is there no such thing as sarcasm font??)

I LOVE Oprah, but this is a major misstep. This is a blatant grab for ratings. This is putting an ant under a magnifying glass and watching it burn. Because even if Oprah attempts to produce this show in the most Oprah-like, soul-inspiring way, people will inevitably tune in to submit to humanity's most base desires -  watching someone suffer so that we don't have to think about our own purpose in the world.

I'm so grateful that I was never famous enough that Oprah wanted to do a show with me when I was young and stupid. I'm thankful that there is no reality show detailing my attempts to sabotage my own life while recklessly falling in love with anyone who would make eye contact. I'm thrilled that there was never a comment section that kept track of exactly how many poor decisions I made in any given week. But that's seems to be what sells now.

So, I sigh and go back to wondering - a la The Truman Show -  "How will it end?"

I really don't know how it ends, but regardless, I officially want Mary Louise Parker to be my new best friend.

I'd totally help her with the goats.

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The Happy Birthday person

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The anonymity of the internet can be a dangerous thing. It gives people the chance to voice their most nasty thoughts without having any accountability. Comment sections can be brutal, heartless and shockingly cruel. They tend to look like something you'd see in the Roman Colosseum circa 80 AD. They even have a handy little "thumbs down" button. But that is just half the story. The internet also allows for connection on a level that is broader than ever before. Some might say that it's a superficial connection, but since Facebook is the only reasonable way for me to stay in touch with my friends in Zimbabwe, it doesn't feel superficial to me. It offers access to people you couldn't reach before and there can be a true sense of community. It might feel a little different from a community that is created by a cul-de-sac but it's a community, none the less.

There is someone on the IMDB  message boards who wishes me a happy birthday every year.

On my actual birthday.

That's pretty awesome.

It's so easy to become infuriated with the media. It just takes one story about Anne Hathaway ducking into the car of a total stranger so that she can ditch TMZ, and I'm ready to go on an obscenity-filled rampage. But then, I am reminded that most people are not like that. Most people who are interested in movies simply love film and love actors and want to connect. I've met many of you via Facebook, Twitter and email over the past several weeks since I've started this blog. And you know what?  You're cool.

Since I've been completely hiding from my old life for the past decade, I've not had the proper venue for acknowledging the kind act of that dedicated birthday well-wisher. I always felt too shy to say it before. But I've been getting braver lately.

So, thanks, No-one2 for all your thoughtful messages. They have meant a lot to me.

And thank you to everyone who has written and welcomed me with open arms. I've loved hearing your stories of how you took the path less traveled and made difficult choices to pursue your own happiness.

I'll quote someone who emailed me and say that it's been wonderful to connect with you, "one normal person to another."

Isn't that what it's all about, anyway?

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Compassion

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During this year's Oscars, The Onion tweeted about Quvenzhané Wallis, the nine-year-old actress in Beasts of the Southern Wild. They jokingly called her a nasty name. A really nasty name. They then apologized and took it back and I have great respect for that. I love it when someone can admit that they made a mistake. (Maybe that’s because I feel like I need to do that so often.) But a surprising number of people thought that was not necessary. They felt that it was just a joke and that people were too sensitive about it.

I so strongly disagree with them that it makes my hands shake.

I started acting when I was four years old, and I remember feeling that because I was in movies, anything in my life was fair game. Since I got to be part of this revered world, things like compassion and general human decency went out the window.

When I was a few years older than Quvenzhané, I was in a pool at a hotel and got recognized. The man asked me to get out of the pool so that we could take a photo together. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of posing with a stranger in my bathing suit, but when I asked him to wait until I got dressed he got mad. He yelled at me and said, “You’re an actor. You owe it to me.”

It’s sad to me that some people feel that actors are rented humans, here for mere entertainment.

I get that The Onion tweet was a joke and it was supposed to be funny. I love funny. But all I can think about is Quvenzhané's family sitting around the dinner table, trying to explain to her what the "c-word" means.