secret to happiness

I say I have the secrets
The secrets to happily live
And the secret advice
That I not so secretly give
Is to gleam from the inside and not change from the out
But we want to FEEL what change is about
So we pack and we move and we quit and we run
Then we look for contentment that never does come.

But if we don’t give ourselves that push and that voice?
Then what have we then? What is our choice?

The what ifs would settle in and the what ifs are a bitch
What if I do nothing and don’t scratch at this itch?
What if I don’t act but just sit and stay?
What if I do nothing to make this yearning go away?
Then live in a world never knowing if there’s more
If I’ve got the talent to be a comedy whore
If I can share with the world what I am about
To let the me on the inside walk around and get out…

So I’m still on this peninsula
With choices all around
Should I step in the water or onto the ground?

For now, I’ll let my sunshine out and I’ll loosen my laces
Eventually I’ll choose the how, the now, and the places

When will I remove my soul from this cement?
And let myself act on the secrets of content?

put the pen down

I start writing about what he did
To me
Just a few words on paper about
What happened
To me
And my heart starts pounding
And I'm there again
And it's happening again
To me
You are standing in the bedroom
Your jaw dropped
At my discovery
At the drawer pulled out of its dresser and onto the floor
and me
next to it
on the floor
holding the pile of papers in my hand
the bills
the credit cards
target, visa, master card, j crew, bank of Belmont, bank of America, bank of whateverthefuck
While you stand there
And lie
To me
And I take out the scissors
And I start cutting
Up
everything
CUTTING
Statements, credit cards, lies
Where did these all come from? How have I never looked through this drawer before?
And I cut and I scream and I cry and the tears wet the papers in a huge pile on the floor
And I breathe so deeply that I have trouble talking
And the lump in my throat hurts so much
If I could just push it down
For a moment
And swallow
How could you do this to us
To me
How could you lie
To me
Piles of lies as big as this pile of stupid accounts and credit cards and I can't breathe and anxiety fills my chest like smoke and
I need to catch my breath so I don't choke
and I try to talk and wipe the tears from their place
And I reach for my face and
sort of come to and realize
That I'm sitting alone
miles away from that old bedroom
years away from that old life
in a new place
and a new time
And the tears are dry
And the papers are gone
And the floor is clean
And my life
Is
Sane


I put down the pen for a while…

how it happened

We danced like fools till 4 am
Then tackled the snowy roads
Singing out loud
I kept one hand on the wheel
You held the other to keep it warm
And you switched the gears for me

In perfect rhythm

At that moment, I took a sharp turn – I swerved
Behind me….a flirtatious friendship
I could separate from love and what ifs
But in front of me, the inevitable
Too late to turn the car around
Too late to shift my own gears
…to withdraw my hand
…to dance with someone else
…to turn my head from the kisses
…to walk away from this ride without any scars

We pull up to your place and
You invite me in

reflections

Those blue, blue eyes
I always loved
Seeing my reflection
In those blue blue eyes
I knew who I was
In those eyes
I am strong
I am beautiful. I belong.
In the mirror of your eyes
I love my size
My humor, a surprise
My writing inspires
I am warm. I am good. I am smart.

But wait – don't look away – I can't see your eyes
Without that mirror, I am gone
I doubt and internalize
My throat dries
No longer wise

And with those fucking sunglasses
That I so despise
I am lost

How can I see myself, when I can't see your eyes?

drunk on you 1 and 2

1

Just one drink
I said
I'll go home after this one
I said
I can stop anytime I want

That was what I said

Then it was four drinks later
And two weeks later
I'm still drinking away
The wheat hitting my mouth
Making me conscious of my hips
Thinking about how sweet your lips
Are looking to me

More and more confident,
funny and sexy
I feel

you make me laugh

This is the last time
I say
I have to move on
I say
But really I'm just drunk on you

There is nothing I can do
But step back and away
And learn that its ok
To not be loved




2

When it comes to you
I am a lightweight
It doesn't take much for me to get into this state
Just two drinks and I gravitate
Closer and closer to you

Why do I even contemplate
You and I and more than a friend date
The more I drink, the more I can take
Until I'm drunk on you

I already know I'm not the girl
Whom being near makes your insides curl
Its not my body, to which your eyes are drawn
Not this dawn
I'm simply a pawn
For you to lure in another queen
At the bar

But still…

Look at me.

Chai, in honor of my Uncle Rick

I didn't get to speak at my uncle's memorial, but there are some things that I would've liked to have said. So I wrote them down…

I received a pretty chai necklace for my bat mitzvah, many many years ago. Let's not do the math. But I still have it.

I always thought that the idea of CHAI was a beautiful one. The fact that CHAI, or LIFE, should be celebrated… it's a simple, but wonderful idea – and one that not many people think about often enough. When my grandfather passed away a few years ago, I took the old necklace out of the bottom of my jewelry box and started wearing my CHAI every day. To be honest, his name was CHAIM and therefore, wearing the necklace made me think of him. And I felt that – somewhere out there – he knew I was thinking of him… and that made me feel good.
Fast forward from a few years to now. My uncle Ricky passed away about a month ago from a hard fight with cancer, and again – I took the CHAI out from the corner of my jewelry box that doesn't see much attention, and started to wear it again. In this case, a more appropriate symbol could not have been found.

I don't know another person who epitomized life and hope more than Ricky. When he was diagnosed with a cancer that we all knew would eventually get the best of him – he didn't give up or give in. In fact, he did the opposite of that. He said – I am going to fight this… I don't want anyone to be sad or complain. He asked everyone to send him their good, positive energy and thoughts so that he could live the fullest and longest that he possibly could – and that is exactly what he did.

The first thing he did was marry the woman he loved… simple, on a beach – just like they wanted to do. Next, he traveled, he worked, he visited friends and family, he wrote…
He even flew out from California and visited me and my cousin, Shana, in Boston and got to meet our significant others. Walking around the city, he didn't complain – even though I'm sure he was tired from his treatments.

When you live across the country from your family, it's hard to be close…although, I've always felt really close to my cousins in California – despite the distance.
In any case, although I didn't see Ricky as often as I would have liked – there was one quality about him that I always valued and that really connected him to me. This quality was SUPPORT.

When you are an artist – whether it's a singer, actress, model, or improv comedian – support isn't always the easiest to come by…especially from family. This isn't because your family doesn't approve – because of course they appreciate your talent and your interests. But, let's face it - art is never the fiscally responsible choice. It isn't the safe choice. Art isn't the choice that will lead you to supporting yourself and a family in the future…

All of this aside, Rick is one of those people who forever supported my comedy. He was on my email list of upcoming shows – even though he was 3000 miles away from it all. When he came to Boston last year – he saw me perform, even though my slot was at 10pm and that was late - and he got tired easily. Rick never failed to ask me about my comedy. It was the first thing he would mention in an email or phone call. You can't even imagine how much I appreciated that support.
I wasn't the only one who benefited from Rick's support of artistic interest… there are many of us in this Rosenthal family who have pursued some of our dreams, and Ricky always supported us – and reminded us that it was the right choice.
I will always thank him for that. As I'm sure Abby will as well.

In the end, I know that Rick tried his hardest to live to his fullest and hang on as long as he could… for his children, his wife, his brothers, his friends…
He truly made the most out of the time that he had left and for that, we are all thankful.

CHAI.
L'chaim.
To life.
To Rick.

Miss you and love you,
Rachel

puppet master

We were all just puppets in your sick, sick show
our wires entangled for so long
that not until so many years later
are we finally getting the knots out

So skilled at your trickery
You really made us dance
We fell in love with your words, your ways
your forever giving of giving
Throwing our trust, our hearts, at your feet
You played with my limbs,
my outsides my insides
And held me upside down until
my will and
my fight
began
S
P
I
L
L
I
N
G
Out of my head and onto the floor…
Empty and powerless
A puppet on a string
I hate you for your puppetry
I hate you for your lies
How could love so deep and strong turn to such despise?

I wanna sweat the small stuff

(I don't usually rhyme... but I'll give it a shot today... )


I want to sweat the small stuff
and argue over messy rooms
crying over silly boys
choosing sad songs on itunes

I want to cry over spilled milk
and fill you in on my tough day
oh man, work was such a bitch
they ran out of coffee today

Instead I have to deal with this
Its too heavy. Its too much
I feel sick when I picture your face
cringe remembering your touch

I almost married a thief
a criminal, a ghost
feeding me with words and lies
3 years later, it stings the most

Now I am a woman
but then I was just mist
everything washing over me
until I ceased to exist

So let me help you miss your goal
I'll lose your package in the mail
I'll accidentally kill your plant
I'll take your test and fail

Let me sweep up your child's mess
let me lose your big game
let me put out the fire
let me paint grey over this flame. . .