Children of the mentally ill learn early on how not to be a bother, especially if they grew up with neglect. As my sister insisted once, when she was in severe pain after injuring her ankle, 'This isn't me! This is not who I am!
I want make more records with my sister. I want to go on the road. I want to tour around the world. I want to continue to make great films and work with incredible directors that I respect and look up to.
I loved my family so much when I was growing up, my parents, my sister. I wanted to be able to give them everything they ever dreamed of.
But me and my sister knew all the Doris Day and Frank Sinatra songs, too.
My father died when I was 10; my sister got polio a couple of years later and was paralyzed. So there I was - my sister in a wheel chair, my father gone, and my mother a quiet little mouse. You see, it was the '30s in the South, so my mother was not prepared to cope. So I was scared to death. And being that scared, everything afterward became a struggle not to go down the drain. Struggling became a way of life for me.
I was always storytelling, since I was a child. I remember myself at 10 years old telling stories to my sisters and brother. This is something I did through my adolescence and even through my twenties.
My sister played the piano. She’s two years older than me, and I always wanted to play something. So my grandmother got the guitar for me, and showed me a couple of chords to start off. And then I got me a book. Next thing you know, I was playing along with sister.
For those 10 months back in Afghanistan after university, I felt I had no rights. It felt like I didn't exist. It was like I was their doll, and I was lost, somehow. My sister's husband brought me to an art gallery. It had a big effect on me.
When I first moved to L.A., I didn't have a lot of money to join a gym or take classes, so I improvised. My sister and I went to the library and looked over their DVD collection and discovered Neena and Veena, these Egyptian twins who have a whole series of belly dancing routines. We did them all.
Music saved my life. I mean, music is life. It is everything to me. It's why I can meet people - I was so shy as a kid, and when I started to write songs and perform them with my sister in front of the public, people started to talk to me, and that made me feel really good. Everything about it has always been positive.
My grandfather was a teacher, my grandmother on my mom's side, four of my aunts, my sister-in-law, my best friend. So I've always, my entire life, been surrounded by teachers, and because of that I've had a tremendous respect for what teachers can do, the power that they can have.
I used to have an eBay addiction. I was really good at selling stuff. My sister needed to get to a funeral in Ireland - the airlines were on strike - so I listed her on eBay: damsel in distress. Guys were outbidding guys to be the hero and help her. A guy who owned a helicopter won.
I have an older sister and my mom would dress us up identically, so in all of our pictures, we're in these giant pink, poufy outfits. I remember when I was four or five, we all went to a theme park and I had to go to the bathroom but couldn't hold it in anymore. Let's just say, I had to buy a brand new outfit! But that moment was the first time I remember ever wearing something different from my sister at an event. It was my breakthrough moment when I decided I was never going to match my sister again!
Pulp Fiction' was probably one of the first films I ever saw that really kind of took effect on me. I was about four years old - obviously wasn't supposed to be seeing that film; my sister kind of sneaked it out and we got to see it. She's older than me. That was something I always used to watch.
The women I love most are Latina - my sister, mother, and daughter. They're spontaneous but spend a majority of their time trying to make others happy.
My parents came to this country after World War II, Jews from Czechoslovakia who had survived Auschwitz and Dachau. They settled with my sister in rural Ohio in the 1950s, where my dad became the town doctor and I was born.
My sister and I said, Dad, are you doing to do anything about that? And he mentioned treatments other people sent him that he'd been working on. So we thought it would be kind of cool to give these guys a real script.
I was raised by drag queens, practically ... my mother died when I was four-years-old, so I was effectively raised by a bunch of different people. A lot of those people were friends of my sister, Kathleen, who had all these gay friends. She would baby-sit me everyday, and she would take me over to her friend's houses with all kinds of things going on: tucking, and eyebrow drawing, waxing, all sorts of things. I was literally raised by gay men.
Growing up, my sisters and I would always talk stories. One of my frustrations was I didn't know anything about cameras. I didn't know how to make a film and I obviously didn't have a special effects budget. I was a kid. So I was learning to draw to get down the stuff that was in my head, that I couldn't afford to actually do.
I've been drawing my whole life. My mom says my sister and I were drawing by age 1. Animation seems a real, natural extension of drawing as a way of telling a story visually.
When you don't have kids and you're in a Catholic family - one of my sisters had 10 children in 11 years - she's part rabbit - you feel kind of guilty about that. So, I want to do things for other people's children.
I refuse to put the unnecessary strain of learning English upon my sisters for the sake of false pride or questionable social advantage.
My father had left behind an old piano. My sister was already going to school, my mother was out working, and I stayed at home alone with my adorable grandmother who understood nothing I said. It was so boring that I stayed at the piano all day long, and that saved my life.
My first girlfriend, when I was about 18, was a fashion designer, and my sister was a fashion designer as well. I've always been into shopping, and I've always been very aesthetic, in a sense.
When an almond tree became covered with blossoms in the heart of winter, all the trees around it began to jeer. 'What vanity,' they screamed, 'what insolence! Just think, it believes it can bring spring in this way!' The flowers of the almond tree blushed for shame. 'Forgive me, my sisters,' said the tree. 'I swear I did not want to blossom, but suddenly I felt a warm springtime breeze in my heart.
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