The World Is Watching: The Hunger Games

I’ve given you an extra night to have gone to the theater and read that last page of the first book of Suzanne Collins series before reading this post. Note: If you have not read the The Hunger Games, seen the movie and want to stay in the dark about the contents of either, take about 48 hours and come back to this post later.

I’m not here to review the book or deliver my criticisms and praises of the movie which grossed over $100 million in its opening weekend—though I admit both would be fun to write. Rather, I want to discuss lessons learned from The Hunger Games.

In the country of Panem, once a year each of the twelve districts sends two tributes (one of each gender) to the Capitol to fight to the death in The Hunger Games. When Katniss Everdeen’s sister is randomly chosen at the reaping in District 12, Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) decides to leave her family and best friend Gale (Liam Hemsworth) behind as she volunteers to take her sister’s place. Katniss and her fellow tribute Peeta Millark (Josh Hutcherson) travel to the Capitol, train with their mentor Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) and eventually enter the Games arena where their ultimate survival battle is put on for show. The annual reality television spectacle where only one can win.

Amidst all the hype back her in reality, reporters and critics have been scraping the barrel for any new story, any new angle about the series that has everyone integrating fancy words like “apocalyptic” and “dystopia” into their everyday vocabularies.

It’s a commentary on the 99% versus the 1% (nice tie-in, but Collins wrote this book long before Occupy Wall Street). It’s a commentary on the sad realities of the viscous world of high school. Well, personally I think the novel is an important examination of entertainment.

In my junior year of high school, my English class read Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death. Postman debated our society and whether our demise would come as a result of Big Brother-type oppression from George Orwell’s 1984 or by our own consumerism and dependence on technology as in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. Folks. We have our answer. Because in The Hunger Games we finally reach a point in the future where we kill our children and literally amuse ourselves to death.

The Hunger Games portrays a world in which we will do anything for the thrill of entertainment. After all, The Games are essentially the Olympics of Panem. They come around cyclically and only one can win. The slight difference between our current Olympic Games and these games is that this competition is fatal.

But we, in our current era, do a lot in the name of entertainment. Professional athletes are seriously injured all the time—football players, hockey players—at the expense of entertainment. Reality TV has taken over the airwaves. And I find it slightly concerning how quick we are, as viewers, to hope for the worst in other people’s lives.

The Bachelor’s Chris Harrison describes his latest bachelor’s pick as “the girl America loves to hate.” On Survivor last week, Colton Cumbie experienced a bit of 'karma' as he was evacuated from the island due to acute appendicitis; this after his racial slurs and general intolerable meanness towards everyone. (I'm pretty sure more than a few viewers were excited by his ousting.)

Even in regular programming (you know the fictional kind) the more disastrous people’s lives are, the better. We want drama. We want thrill. We want suspense. Essentially, as 26 million books and record-breaking box office sales will tell you, we want The Hunger Games. At this point, clearly we are only ok with the imaginary form. But I can’t help but feel Suzanne Collins calls for an awareness among readers and spectators.

Now I’m not totally condemning reality television. In fact, my relationship with Survivor has become an obsession. I want to point out that we do a lot for a spectacle, but we need to be cautious. Let’s not cross the line. The medium of television often creates a false distance. We even become numb to real-life tragedies as their frequency increases on the news. Be aware. Don’t let your mind go numb.

Aside from the reality TV warning, The Hunger Games is a story about relationships. Now apparently, I am the only person known to man (or at least to my knowledge) who is on team Gale. [For those of you who need catching up, Katniss’ best friend and hunting partner at home is Gale--who definitely loves her--but her fellow competitor, Peeta, confesses his love for her during his pre-Games interview. Love triangle established.]

Let me be clear. I really like Peeta. A lot. I think he’s a fantastic and loveable character. Adorably innocent and kind. I feel for the boy who’s had a crush on Katniss since the day he saw her. He harbored that love even while she didn’t even know he existed. BUT, let us not forget that Gale clearly has had feelings for a long time as well. Gale and Katniss have been hunting together, confiding in each other, depending on one another for years. Gale even says he wants to run away with her. His mistake: not telling her. Say what you want while you can.

We’re so afraid of rejection, judgment, change, an awkward moment. No one seems to be afraid of dishonesty or losing the chance to say what you feel. Maybe we should be less afraid and more concerned with being true to ourselves.

The Games also addresses another side of relationships, a side I am all too familiar with as a single gal in New York: playing the game. Don’t text him, make him text you. Don’t say “I like you,” hold on to the power. Play hard to get. Play it cool. Well, I think that Katniss proves that playing games with people’s emotions always leaves someone hurt.

In order to survive, Katniss needed to win the affections of wealthy spectators. These “sponsors” would send her gifts, packages necessary to her survival if they felt for her and wanted her to win. So, she had to play to their fantasy of her love with Peeta. Katniss had no choice but to play with Peeta’s heart in order to live. I cannot say the same for the folks of New York.

Aside from these lessons, the screen adaptation does provide an additional teaching compared to its print counterpart. With greater emphasis on President Snow of Panem (played by Donald Sutherland), the movie reveals a telling scene in which the evil dictator figure asserts, “The only thing stronger than fear is hope.”

While in Panem this hope is meant as a tool of repression, hope is important to remember as a source of strength in our lives. As strong as fear is, as paralyzing as it can be, hope prevails every time.

While the debates about the movie continue—how true it is to the book, if it’s the new but better Twilight—there are two things that came of the cinema version that are without doubt:

1) 1) Stanley Tucci is a supremely gifted actor. He’s an absolute star.

2) 2) Everyone should consider wearing clothes as vibrant as colorful as in the Capitol. Think of how happy and carefree we would feel!

And with that:

I urge you to read the book and go see the movie that has clearly become a marker of our generation. Think about the lessons that I hope will linger for just as many years.

An Attitude of Gratitude

Thanksgiving has come early. Not the Turkey and the cranberry sauce—after all, with spring sprouting tomorrow they’re not in season—but the thanks.

It’s too easy to complain. In life. In general. In fact, it’s lazy. When you think about your world, for some reason it seems like less work to think of all that you don’t have and/or all that is wrong. This may partially be backwash from living in New York, the capitol of aiming towards a goal and future-thinking. We’re so focused on where we’re going, it’s simple to dwell on what we lack in comparison.

But today (and every day) I challenge you to challenge yourself. Drama makes for fun television and often times interesting conversation or great books, which is probably why we gravitate towards it. When it comes to your thoughts and perspective on life, practice an attitude of gratitude. (Note: I cannot take credit for this phrase as it was suggested to me by a friend.)

Try making a list once a week (or every day for you over-achieving New York crazies) of five things you are thankful for. Write it down. See those five things. Appreciate them. Smile because they are true. In a city that is so fast-paced and constantly achieving, take a few minutes to acknowledge the present moment.

This past weekend, I spent a little time in the Motherland: good ole West Hartford, CT. I arrived home for Shabbat dinner on Friday. Can I just say that I love Shabbat dinner at home? The five of us sat around the dining room table, talking and laughing. (Thankful item number 1). But quickly, my sister began complaining. I don’t even remember about what. It happens that fast. One second you’re giggling, the next you’re nagging. Don’t give in.

Saturday night I went to Pops n Jazz, the annual jazz show at my high school where I performed as a Jazz Dancer from 9-12 grades. The show has been in my family for years, as my brother followed and my sister closed out the Fierberg clan dynasty. As I took my seat, one parent behind me was blabbing on and on, “You know, it’s easy for these kids to think that they are good and can make it doing this when they’re in this school. But when you’re paying for college education, music school is not exactly what you want to spend your money on. You need to plan for a career.”

My blood was boiling. First of all, our school’s program is stellar. Award-winning. If you are good in the realm of Hall High, chances are you’re actually really talented. Secondly, there are plenty of kids who graduate and pursue a music major rather than a conservatory program so that there is a “fall-back plan.” Third of all (particularly in this economy) music is a completely legitimate profession.

But I digress. Rather than get into it with this stranger, I realized how fortunate I am to have parents who support me.(Thankful item 2). I’m not pursuing a career in music, but sometimes it seems that the chances of making it in music are greater than in writing. Point is, success is difficult. Support is key. And I am lucky to have encouragement from my parents.

Yet, when we got home from the show my sister started complaining. I love her dearly, but she was in a negative place. (I don't want to sound like I'm throwing her under the bus. She's not a negative person, she just had a moment.) So my mother chimes in with, “If you’re life is so hard, I’ll go live your life and you can stay here and live mine.” To which I exhasperatedly huffed, “Your life is not hard either!”

Now of course, life is difficult. Life is stressful. I’m not trying to deny anyone the need to vent. I’m not trying to say be happy all the time. All I’m saying is, in those trying moments allow yourself to be upset but then recover by expressing thanks for the big picture.

Yeah, it sucks that you didn’t get into the job you wanted. But be thankful that you are smart enough and possess a skill set that you will get the job you want and is a better fit soon. Sure it’s not ideal that you have to work late tonight and cancel your dinner plans. But chances are, big picture your life is good.

Focus on that. Trust me. In this city of crazy and constant climbing to the top, you’ll feel better to linger on your current rung and appreciate the view. I’m going to contemplate items 3-5; there's a lot to choose from.

Find Your Happy Place

I’ve been practicing Bikram yoga for six years. The yoga room is my happy place.

When I first tried yoga in high school, I was completely bored. In my gym rotation I practiced the sunshine series. I found it repetitive and slow. But when I found Bikram—and I grew up a bit—the yoga room transformed from a place of tediousness to a sanctuary of smiles.

Practiced in a room heated to 105 degrees I complete a 90-minute moving mediation of 26 postures and 2 breathing exercises two to three times a week. When I leave the room, I drip as if I had climbed out of a lap lane.

But I feel incredible. No matter how my class went—I could have been nauseous or dizzy, I could have sat out multiple postures—I feel revitalized and wide-eyed after. Literally, my eyes dilate and I see more clearly.

The endorphins pace through my veins and I feel light and rejuvenated. At times, I think to myself this is bliss. What the hell happens in that yoga room?

Sure Bikram is a fantastic workout (you can burn up to 900 calories in a class) and there is a piece of me that feels productive knowing that I worked out so hard. But when I do an aerobic workout or a cardio workout, the high is never as euphoric or whole.

Why does yoga feel so happy?

1) Yoga is the one place where it is my job to dedicate time to myself. Teachers coach: this time is for you, so I don’t feel guilty about being “selfish.”

On Friday night, I took class with Emily Vartanian who injects a bit of silliness into her class to keep the hard work and concentration that we perform lighthearted. The clock struck 6pm and Emily welcomed the class to “your date with yourself.”

After the standing series—Bikram divides the class into a standing series and a floor series—Emily congratulated us, “you’re halfway through this date and it’s going great.”

It is healthy to get to know yourself. It’s important to spend time with yourself. Not enough people spend time with themselves, as if on a date getting-to-know-you style.

2) Yoga is time away.

No one is going to chase me down into a hot room. I check my cell phone and internet connection at the door. This is the ultimate me time.

3) I slow down in the yoga room. Life, particularly in New York, moves so fast. But in the yoga room it slows down.

I’m not a master yogi. I cannot silence my thoughts, but I have learned to slow them down. Instead of whirring around in my head like a tangled ball of yarn, they come in one at a time and in order like a smooth string.

This past weekend I saw The Shawshank Redemption for the first time. In the movie, Shawshank releases institutionalized prisoner Brooks Halten after 50 years of living inside the walls. Brooks writes to his fellow inmates, “I can't believe how fast things move on the outside. I saw an automobile once when I was a kid, but now they're everywhere. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.”

We did. We are all in such a hurry. Life feels more like a race than a journey. Yoga, even if temporarily, allows me to experience life at a more enjoyable tempo.

4) I feel accomplished.

When I leave the yoga room, I feel like I did something productive to improve myself.

5) I achieve mental clarity.

I feel like when I leave the yoga room, I linger in a state in which I understand what is truly important to me.

When I leave yoga, I often make a phone call. My friends can tell when I’ve just come out of yoga. My voice is clearer. Happier. Uplifted. Unbogged by worry or self-judgment. I feel fantastic.

Of course, there is always a threat that the happy place will begin to feel like an obligation. Beware of this.

Before Friday, I hadn’t been enjoying yoga as much. Of late, I entered the room very seriously. “This is work out time,” I said to myself. I was getting upset when I wasn’t hitting my mark in poses. I had lost sight of the happiness in my happy place.

The atmostphere of the 2012 National Yoga Asana Championships held in New York further fueled an idea of competition and a goal within myself. The championship had been in the media, reporters questioning if the integrity of yoga had been compromised by the idea of quantitative judging and medals.

As an attendee, I had been looking forward to watching the best in the world demonstrate the poses for which I aim. But sitting in the darkness of the auditorium, watching people bend their bodies in what I previously believed were impossible ways, I felt that something was missing: peace. The peace that I strive for, I did not see.

As productive as yoga is, I needed to remind myself that accomplishment and production is a bonus. The champions can do what they like (impressively, I might add). There is some inspiration in seeing the greats reach the full expressions of postures. For now, I go to yoga to relax. I go to yoga to detach from the outside world.

I needed to re-enter that mindset. I needed to allow my happy place to be happy again.

My point is not that everyone should embrace Bikram yoga, or even yoga. My point is: find your happy place.

Find the place where you make uninterrupted time for yourself. Find a place where you slow down and silence the outside world. Find a place where you feel accomplished—where your desires become clear. Find something that makes you happy. Be gracious to yourself. Visit your happy place often and I promise, you will feel fantastic.

The New York Moment

I love New York. People say it. People wear it. People believe it. But why? Why do we love New York?

There are so many reasons, not to love New York. It’s loud. It’s crowded. It’s dirty. It takes longer to go 2 miles than it does to do the same anywhere else in the country. It’s arguably over-stimulating. It could be easy to hate New York. Or you could be of the mindset, “It’s fun to visit, but I could never live there.”

The truth: there are so too many positives that outweigh the negatives (which is why I’m still here). Nothing reminds me more of why I tolerate these nuisances than what I call "The New York Moment." Those snippets of life that are distinctly New York. Those instances that make you shake your head and laugh and say, “Only in New York,” and secretly add an extra spring in your step.

Lately, I’ve been soaking up New York moment after New York moment.

Moment #1

A couple weeks ago, I went on an after-work drinks date. It seems to be a theme with me that on Thursday nights I go straight to drinks without eating and end up unintentionally intoxicated. As I sat there and sipped my Sangria, I loosened up and began babbling on about myself. I left the date and got on the crosstown bus, ready to fill my stomach with something other than wine. So naturally I dialed my girl friend to tell her about the date.

“Hey, so do you know I’m on a dating site?” whispering to what is barely speech in Ruthie volume.

“Uh, I do now,” she says.

“Well, I just came back from a date,” I say, hissing into the phone.

“Ooh! Is he Jewish?”

“Of course he’s Jewish! Would I be on a dating site if I wasn’t trying to specifically meet Jewish men?!” screaming at the top of my lungs. The guy in the seat across from me starts cracking up, he is actually bobbing from laughter (not from the bus) Oh well, so much for being discrete.

“How did it go?”

“I think I talked too much,” I confess.

My friend has to hang up, so now I’m sitting there considering the surplus of conversation I provided on this first encounter.

Bobbing man looks up and goes, “Was it a first date?”

I break into a huge smile, “Yes.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you didn’t talk too much.” So comforting from my stranger-on-the-bus.

“Oh, you don’t know me. I’m sure I did.” I nod just to add an oomph to my certainty.

“Well how did it go otherwise?” he asks.

“I think it went well. I dunno. I haven’t been on a date in forever.” Not entirely true, but feels like it. It’s definitely the first date of been on in forever where I met the guy ON the date.

“I’m sure it went fine. Girls are supposed to talk more. We’re used to it.”

I just shake my head and chuckle. I’m divulging the details of my dating history to a bus. An entire bus—even though he’s the only one responding.

I spoke too soon: “Where did he take you?” chimes in a girl about my age, glancing in the mirror as she blotted her jungle red lipstick.

“A wine bar.”

“That’s classy.” She smushes her lips and claps the compact shut.

We continue to analyze this date. Would there be a second? Do you think he’ll call? until we hit Broadway.

And then I descended the stairs and laughed as I realized that this could never happen anywhere else. Nowhere else in the world would you engage in a full dialogue about your dating life with complete strangers. Nowhere else would you be given the opportunity. After all, it’s only because we live on top of each other that we were on that packed bus in the first place.

What was your last New York Moment? Do you remember it? Did you take the time to stop, recognize and appreciate it?

Allow yourself to open up. Take the time to pause and notice these New York oddities. Slow down. Witness the New York moment. Wander and observe and invite the New York moment. And as we continue on The A Train, I promise to share more of mine.