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Dreaming of Paris in the Fall.
One Month Later...
September was a whirlwind of a month, and a beautiful tie-up of all the new and exciting adventures I embarked on during #projectlife101. I know you've all been waiting with bated breath to hear what I've been up to since my flying trapeze class, so I figured I should check in and give you an update. I can break the 101 days down into four categories: Work, Art, Living and Love.
Work: I left my job hostessing and spent the month of September studying and training for a promotion to server at restaurant #2. Last week, after passing the food exam, I completed my five days of training and had my first official server shift on Sunday. For those of you scoffing at the idea of a "server exam," the packet of info to be memorized literally includes hundreds of recipes, dishes, dressings, food allergies, etc., on top of our full wine list and cocktail menu. It was harder than the SAT's. (It was. Stop it.)
Anyway, my point in this update is that I'm finally settling into just one job, with a semi-regular schedule, so I can start to focus on what I really love. Which brings me to point two...
Art: Two fun things in this category. To begin with, the first short play I ever wrote was part of a staged reading by a local independent theatre company, The Shelter. You may recognize the name from some other #projectlife101 blog posts. It was a truly unique experience, to see the characters you've written and played out in your head come to life on the stage. As a writer, I learned a great deal from the evening, particularly in understanding structure, voice and tone. Turns out my snippy sarcasm doesn't always translate on stage. Unless I'm delivering it myself, that is. And on that note...
Last night I had my final performance for my Improv 101 class. I completed the eight week course on Tuesday, and for our "graduation" we had to perform long form improv at the UCB East Theatre. (Upright Citizens Brigade, for those unfamiliar). It has been a LONG time since I was up on a stage... and I think the last time I actually acted in front of an audience on my own was in middle school. Needless to say, I was nervous as shit beforehand, but it ended up being a lot of fun! There was a rush of adrenaline, a slight pressure to step up to the plate, and a bit of relief that the bright lights drowned out the faces of the relatively large audience. I felt more comfortable than I expected to, and while I'm not planning on auditioning for Saturday Night Live anytime in the near future, I do like the idea of challenging and pushing myself to become familiar with the stage again.
Living: I moved. Again. About two weeks into living in Brooklyn Heights, I found a roommate through the aptly titled Facebook group, "Gypsy Housing." I'm now settling into a sweet, quiet two bedroom apartment in Park Slope, and staring at my recent IKEA purchases as I type... willing them to put themselves together magically. I have no idea where my journey will take me next, but I can tell you that it's nice to finally have a place to call home that's a little more "me."
Speaking of "me"...
Love: This has always been the most difficult category for me to sort through, because I struggled for a long time with the word as a whole. What does it look like? How does it feel? Why does it seem so much harder for me than other people? I think what I've learned (or what I'm learning, at least) is that you can't be afraid of what you want. This summer taught me forgiveness. It taught me strength. It taught me that time is too precious to be wasted, but that no time is wasted as long as you learn. It taught me acceptance, and how to see the big picture. It taught me the power of the word "yes," and the power of the word "no." These lessons didn't come from going on a dating spree or match.com-ing my way through the five boroughs. In fact, they didn't come from my own personal romantic life at all. They came from watching the people I love, love the people they love, and finally being able to admit "I want that." More importantly, "I deserve that."
Currently I'm plotting my next journey. I'll be breathing new life into NYC Art Scene, planning some trips, and nurturing my artistic side whenever possible. One of my favorite quotes as of late is by Kristin Martz, and goes, "We lose ourselves in the things we love. We find ourselves there, too."
Sometimes, you just need to get lost.
Next Up: Chief World Explorer
A few weeks back a friend of mine sent me a link to an article that appeared in Forbes. The piece was on a new job opportunity provided by Jauntaroo, a website devoted to matching travelers with their ideal destinations based on a variety of criteria... a "travel matchmaker" of sorts. The job title- "Chief World Explorer."
Sold.
Unfortunately at the end of August I was caught up in the move and the #projectlife101 finale, and I temporarily forgot about the application. Finally, this past Friday evening, I sorted through my thousands of travel photos and footage to compile a 60 second video promoting why I would be the perfect adventurer for the job.
Sixty seconds is not a lot of time to recount some of the most amazing, memorable, and inspirational moments of your life. As I poured over images of the places I've been, I felt overwhelmingly blessed to have this burning spirit to constantly go out and explore. I've worked as an international volunteer, helping to build a home for a struggling family in San Ramon, Costa Rica. I toured with an indie singer-songwriter through the cities of Germany, Switzerland, Amsterdam and the UK. I've walked Paris until my feet bled, and I've stood on the edge of the world at the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. From New York to Hawaii, I've hit at least half of the 50 states. I went skydiving over the Swiss Alps, and swimming in the caves of Capri. And in between, I built a life, a career, and countless relationships that come with me wherever I go.
For those that followed the #projectlife101 journey, and want a taste of what's to come in the future, check out my video application at http://www.bestjobaroundtheworld.com/submissions/view/14855 and make sure to click the "like" button. Then take some time to play around with the Jauntaroo site, and see where YOUR next adventure should take you.
I'll meet you there.
Day 101: Great Adventures Never End
I am a lucky girl. It's hard to remember that sometimes, on those brutal New York days when nothing seems to be going right. But I am.
On Day 101 I took a flying trapeze class at the New York Trapeze School at Pier 40 on the Hudson. It was a stunning late summer day, with the sun shining bright, clear blue skies, and a cool breeze coming off the river. My instructor strapped me into my harness so tightly I was convinced he broke my rib, and after a VERY brief lesson, off we went. The ladder climb may have been scarier than the actual jump, and I found myself filled with complete terror each time I would get to the top. I figured that terror would subside after the first few jumps, but nope. Definitely stayed.
Once you let go, all bets are off. You listen to the coaching of the instructor on the lines, you hold your body to form as best as you know how, and when you jump, you trust the net is going to catch you. My one critique I received was to slow down and enjoy the ride... ironically a life critique in addition to a trapeze critique. I flew. I flipped. I let go and caught the guy on my first try. My friend Samantha came with the two little girls she babysits for, so the pressure was on not to traumatize them. After, the older one, Sadie, asked me if I was going to join the circus. Maybe. After this project, I rule out nothing.
The past 101 days were some of the most unexpected, memorable, and frustrating of my life. I started Day One on May 27th, with a class at SoulCycle. I ended Day 101 on September 4th, with my first flying trapeze lesson, which you can watch some highlights of HERE. And in between, I learned that...
...you don't need to run away to build a new life, you just need to make smarter choices and conscience decisions, right here, right now.
... when times are tough, you do something to fix it. You get a new job, or you find a new apartment, or you ask for help. Or all of the above. Action is the key to unlocking change.
... time spent alone is precious and important, but time spent with family, friends, and loved ones is priceless, and should be appreciated and valued much more than it is.
...the Universe is fielding you signs from every angle, so pay attention. Know which ones to catch, and which ones to let fly into the outfield. They are coming at you for a reason, even if that reason isn't evident quite yet.
... there are pros and cons to self-employment vs. being an employee, and I developed a new respect for an industry I had never experienced before.
... trusting your decisions is the key to happiness, success, and a good night's sleep.
... there is no fear you won't survive when you face it head on.
... nothing is as scary as it seems.
... every day is an adventure, if you treat it as so.
... the best way to become better at anything, is to commit to it.
... there's always tomorrow.
... slow down, and take it all in. When you rush through things, you miss the beauty of what's happening around you.
... it's never too late to do anything.
... as much as I have a bipolar relationship with NYC, at the end of the day, I love the shit out of this city. I just needed to see it from a different angle.
Many people have asked me what my favorite "day" was, and I haven't really been able to pick one. Clearly some have been more exciting than others, but the truth is, my favorite days were the ones I spent with people. Whether it was taking a class, exploring a new city, visiting a museum, learning a "language," or just trying something different, like a restaurant, or a TV show, I've simply loved making memories that I can carry with me no matter where life takes me.
I am a lucky girl. And even though #projectlife101 has come to an end, real life is still very much in full force.
So if you need me, that's where I'll be.
Living.
Day One Hundred: Take Your Sister To Work Day
My brother and I are divided pretty evenly between the "things we have in common" column, and the "one of us was adopted column." One of our biggest differences lies in our career choice. While the "occupation" line of any application tends to change on my part, depending on the day or year, Anthony has known what he wanted to be since middle school, and has taken every step along the way to achieve it.
So on Day One Hundred I went to see Dr. Morelli in the place where he spends most of his days (and nights) as a resident- New York Methodist Hospital in Park Slope. Our afternoon started off a little delayed, as Anthony texted and asked me to come earlier because he had to finish up consults but I was in a Starbucks editing my recent script and couldn't get there right away. (Point 1 in the "Adopted" column.) Since I'm living out of a suitcase and was heading straight to my job after, I threw on a pair of jeans and a lightweight, somewhat sheer top, and sandals. Upon seeing me, the Doctor informed me it was not casual Tuesday and could I please put on a shirt the next time I came to work. (Point 2.) We went and got salads, since he was on lunch break, and then I waited in Barnes and Noble until he was done with his patients and I could come in and visit.
Finally I was collected from my Starbucks holding cell, and we began our tour. Methodist is the first Methodist Hospital in the world, and was built in 1881. It's huge, spanning from 7th to 8th Ave, 6th to 8th Street, and 9 stories high. We walked through all of the wings, from the cardiac to the women's care (the nicest of them all, as it should be), and I got to see exciting things like the "on call" room (the prison cell where all the docs sleep) and the residents lounge (no Keurig, I call bullshit). I met a few of his friends and fellow residents, got a peek at the cafeteria, which is actually very nice, and learned a little bit about the way the ship was run. We walked up and down stairs, and in and out of elevators, and God knows if I ever had to find anything in that place again I would be completely lost.
The on call room. Love what you've done with the place.
On our way out Anthony made his daily stop at the ice cream truck he frequents so often that he actually doesn't have to speak to the guy, he just hands him money and the ice cream man gives him his order. (Point 1 in the "related" column.) We then walked over to Prospect Park, Anthony's "new thing" for the day, and explored for a bit before taking the train back to the city.
Shoulda been an ice cream man.
Exploring Prospect Park.
My brother and I lived together for a small period of time when he was in med school and I was still running the dance studio in Philadelphia, so I saw how much work and preparation went into his career. Add to it the fact that hospitals depress me and I feel wildly uncomfortable around the patients just made me that much prouder of and impressed by the career choice my brother made. And I will be the most proud on the day when I can call him for a Z-pack or pinkeye eye drops, no co-pay needed.
Today I was the very proud (and apparently underdressed) sister of Dr. Anthony Morelli. It was a highlight of #projectlife101, a highlight of real life, and a moment of thankfulness that at the end of the day, I'm really lucky to have a sibling that fits in both columns.
Welcome to Methodist.
Day Ninety-Nine: A Trip Back In Time
I love how so many things have come full circle over the course of this project, and in my final two days I find it highly appropriate to be reminded of my first two days and where it all began.
Today I did the “Hard Times” Tour at the Tenement Museum in the Lower East Side. Located on Orchard St., I must have passed this building hundreds of time on route to music venues over the course of the years, and never knew it existed until this summer. The “Hard Times” tour takes you back in time to learn about the lives of two immigrant families- the Gumpertz’s, German-Jews who lived in the tenement in the post-Civil War economy crash of the 1870s, and the Baldizzis, Italian-Catholics who lived in the building in the 1930s, during The Great Depression. As you walk through 97 Orchard St, you walk through the apartments set up exactly as they were when the families lived there.
In the first story, we learned how Natalie Gumpertz’s husband disappeared one day after the stock market crashed, leaving her with four children and no money. The youngest child died of dysentery, and she built a small sewing business to support herself and her remaining three daughters. Years later she received a letter that her husband’s father had passed and they received a $600 inheritance, which she used to move out of the LES and up to the UES. Just a few years back they traced Gumpertz’s death certificate to a small town in Ohio. On it his occupation was listed as a “huxter”... another name for a con artist. Nice guy.
The second story took us into the home of the Baldizzi's, who immigrated from Sicily in the late 1920s. I was particularly fascinated by this story, because my great-grandmother came over from Sicily during that same time period, and literally lived around the corner from this particular tenement building. (See: Day Two- Ciao, Bella). There’s a good chance they knew each other. When the Tenement Museum first opened over 20 years ago, they were able to speak with the Baldizzi’s daughter, who had been about seven or eight years old when they came over. She has since passed, but they have a recording of her on tape describing the apartment and what life was like then. The second her voice filled the room I got choked up, because she sounded so much like my own grandmother. It is amazing how history connects us.
I don’t want to give too much away in case this is a museum you’ve been interested in checking out, but I do highly recommend it... particularly if you have ancestors who immigrated through New York over the years. It’s also fascinating to learn about the structure of the building, and how the amenities changed (or didn’t change) over time. Take a look at the Tenement Museum website for offerings on all the different tours and things you can experience, and get your tickets in advance because they do book up and sell out.
Day Ninety-Eight: Getting To Know You
Moving to a new neighborhood is like meeting a new friend. It takes some time to understand it, learn how it's laid out, accept the quirks and embrace the attributes, both positive and negative. Each time you step outside you discover something, whether it be a restaurant having the allure of being your new favorite, or an unexplored street tempting you with mystery and adventure.
Tonight after work I met up with Liz and we walked from Brooklyn Heights to Cobble Hill, to check out the restaurant Jolie Cantina. The menu, Mexican with a French twist, was diverse and full of amazing options, and we dined al fresco... lovely as the summer winds down and fall dances around the corner. We split freshly made guacamole (where they actually make it for you table-side, love that), a beet salad, and I had vegetarian tacos while Liz enjoyed octopus ceviche. Everything was really fresh and delicious, and the mini pack of Chiclets with the check was a great touch. I love when restaurants are creative with their post-meal minty treats.
Hard at work making us some guac.
Love it.
After dinner we walked a bit more and then stopped for italian ices. I went for the spumoni, just for comparison with the only Brooklyn spumoni I'm familiar with (L&B's in Bensonhurst, a Morelli family favorite), and am pleased to report it was delightful. Nothing beats the whole experience of L&B though, for the record.
Though #projectlife101 is winding down to it's final days, the promise to keep doing something new, exploring and going out of my comfort zone is something I plan to keep very much alive. It's interesting, all the changes that have occurred in these 101 days. I had a whole list of things I wanted to hit up and write about, and didn't get to a lot of them because of all the unexpected twists and turns.
I set out to write about life, and in turn, life wrote me.
My compasses never steer me wrong.
Day Ninety-Seven: Room With A View
Moving Day. Labor Day Weekend. Never. Again.
It's over... for now. But this time around was a new experience for sure. My movers, who I hired to make the day "easier," were supposed to arrive at 8am. They came at 1:45pm. They also used a fancy technique of moving, where they took the garbage bags of pillows, blankets, and soft items I had packed and threw them out my window to each other, instead of walking them down one flight of stairs. That definitely shaved off at least three minutes. They charged a flat rate for the first two and a half hours, and then it was additional for each half hour... how convenient that they rounded the minutes so that we finished in three hours. I mean, if you're going to show up over five hours late, the least you could do is give me the first half hour free. And to have the balls to question my tipping (which I lessened due to the extra $65 I had to pay) is just a whole different story. Take that half hour you overcharged me and consider that your tip, jerk off. Or drive faster.
Farewell, 241.
Everything was thrown into a storage unit in Brooklyn, sans a few bags of clothes and work items to get me through the month. At 4:30pm we were finished, and by 5pm I had arrived at my new temporary home in Brooklyn Heights.
This is a stunning neighborhood, for anyone who hasn't spent time here, and though I've visited a bunch I'm excited to really get to know it. I'm also excited because Liz lives on a sixth floor walk up, so I don't have to feel guilty on days when I skip a workout anymore. We celebrated her birthday with a few friends, a delicious home-cooked meal, some wine, and great conversation about life, writing and the arts. This morning I woke up to a view of downtown Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge, ready to start a new chapter in this ever-evolving book of living. Cheers.
Hi Manhattan. You look pretty from here.
Day Ninety-Six: No Sleep Til Brooklyn
I wrote this long and thoughtful post about my last night in my apartment around 3am, and then my Internet froze and I lost the whole thing. So let's try this again a few hours later.
Last night was my final night in my studio apartment on the UWS. It's been a bittersweet road this year, and today marks a first in and of itself- Never before in NYC have I made it through a full year lease. My apartment in Chelsea came close, but I bailed a month early in prep for my Costa Rica trip and had it taken over by a sublet. If nothing else, I learned that the whole lease commitment thing just isn't for me. My lifestyle is ever-changing, and I like it that way. Though there is comfort in stability in always have a home base, and I will certainly miss the privacy of living alone, having so much "stuff" is exhausting and cost-draining. I can list a hundred things I'd rather be doing with my money than giving it to a landlord for an apartment I'm barely in.
I miss traveling. I miss my friends, who I barely see anymore and was reunited with last night at a birthday party on the UWS. I miss writing, which I haven't had time to do in the past two weeks. This is not a fun city to live in when you can't afford anything and have to work all the time just to pay your rent.
But there were upsides to the Upper West as well. I loved the proximity to Central Park and the Hudson River. I loved having a place that I was excited to invite people into, where I could be the host instead of the guest for a change. I loved having a kitchen, and a proper writing desk. It was fun to play "house" for a bit.
I worked straight through the night last night packing, and I still have a few last things to do before the movers come. But taking a break to go see my friends, listen to live music, and even dance a bit was indescribably good for my heart and soul, so it was worth the no sleep til Brooklyn.
With that, I'm out. See you on the flip side.
Day Ninety-Five: Bonnie Seeking Clyde
Have you ever driven one of those ginormous vans only used by robbers, hostage-takers, and indie bands on tour?
Well I have. And it was pretty bad ass.
I'll spare you the annoying details of what led to the van-borrowing in the first place, but let's just say 1. CityMovers.com is the worst company ever to hit the interweb, and shall be reviewed as so on Yelp, 2. My studio apartment is apparently the real estate equivalent of a Mary Poppins bag... no matter how much stuff I pack or throw out, more keeps appearing as if by magic, and 3. Now that I have driven that van through NYC during rush hour, I'm confident I can drive anywhere.
I have been pretty good these past few months about reigning in my meltdowns, but this move has put an unnecessary strain on my sanity. Today all hell broke loose and I dropped the F-bomb more times that a tacky Italian mob movie. So at 1pm I decided the best solution was to borrow my friend's van and drive half my shit back to my parent's house until needed.
My brother was called in to keep me company on the ride (by me) and for suicide watch (by my mom), and if nothing else my trip was made by the expression on his face when I rolled up to the hospital where he worked in this dashing red vehicle. *See screenshot of his Instagram below.
Considering how difficult I thought it would be, driving that puppy was actually pretty smooth. The most challenging parts were getting in and out (I almost ate it the first time I stepped out, misjudging the height), parking (but I nailed it on my first try!) and keeping a straight face when I was getting gas (the attendant was mystified).
On my drive back to the city, I felt kind of envious of Caleb and Samantha, for having this freedom-mobile to go as they please. There is something extremely alluring about an open road, and having everything you need fitting in one car. It certainly made me think about the cross-country road trip I've always wanted to take. I wonder if in a former life I was a roadie, or a groupie, or part of a bank robbing duo, like Bonnie and Clyde.
Maybe I just have a gypsy heart, and can find a piece of happiness and adventure in whatever random things are thrown my way. I'm okay with that.
Seek and ye shall find.
Day Ninety-Four: Moving Is A Bitch
So remember Day Seventy-Four: I'm Dating Brooklyn? Much like my other dating life, things didn't go very smoothly. As of Monday, after seeing another awful Craigslist ad and learning an AirBnB sublet I applied for was no longer available, I took my very generous friend Liz up on her offer to stay in her extra room for a bit while I waited it out for the right place. I have to be out of my place by Saturday, and since she already lives in Brooklyn, this will make the continued search significantly easier. (As opposed to hauling back and forth two hours round trip from where I currently live, just to meet one creep-tastic roommate after the next.)
However, this left me with the dilemma of storing basically my whole apartment until I've figured out where I'm going. (See: Day Ninety-One: Downsizing and Donating.) You would think, since I only live in a studio and I've just given away about half my wardrobe, that this would be relatively easy.
It's not. It's sort of a nightmare actually. I have no idea how I've accumulated all this shit, considering it's rare I spend more than 6 months anywhere, but it's here and it has to go somewhere. So here's a few helpful hints if you too, are going through a move:
For moving supplies: City Moving Boxes has cheap supplies and they offer same day delivery if you don't have a car to pick them up.
For movers: Two Guys and a Truck, rates start at $295 for two hours, which is super reasonable for NYC.
For storage: I'm using CubeSmart, because they have a spot right on Atlantic Ave that's very convenient for where I plan to eventually move. Their first month is free, with just a $25 lease fee and no contract (meaning you can go on a month-to-month basis). Hopefully I will be out in a month, or the deal isn't that good, but let's think positive.
Other moving ideas:
Enterprise Car Share is really cheap by the hour, and will probably cost your less than taking a taxi if you need to personally transport yourself and additional bags.
Mix up your books with soft items like towels or winter accessories (scarves, hats, gloves) so that the boxes don't get too heavy.
Good rule of thumb- If it will cost you more money to move it than to just buy a new one, sell it.
I'm sure there are more pearls of wisdom I could bestow on you, but I'm running on little sleep and need to find my bed somewhere in this mess.
To my fellow movers also in the same boat this week...
Good luck and Godspeed.
What my apartment looked like as of 9am today. Not much has changed.
Day Ninety-Three: The Day I Sang In Public
I was on time to my improv class today. (Go me.) Had I known what was coming, I would have gladly walked in 20 minutes late and accepted the reputation of being a slacker.
We gathered in the same circle we start every class in, and my teacher explained what we were going to do for warm up today. It was a game called "Hot Spot"... and it involved singing. By yourself. In the middle of the circle, until someone tagged you out and took over. The whole exercise started with one word, and we were to keep jumping in and out until everyone had gone at least twice.
As he was talking, my stomach dropped and I felt my anxiety rising. What was I going to sing? How long would they make me stay up there? Where is the nearest exit for my quick escape? Why did I do this to myself? Since when did improv become karaoke? Man, I hate karaoke.
This is NOT what I signed up for.
Then I blacked out.
(Not really, but kind of wish I had.)
Most people seemed really eager to jump in (weirdos), though I caught a few equivalent looks of horror on some classmates. The good thing was that if people knew the song, they were encouraged to sing along, so you didn't end up singing the whole thing by yourself. The bad thing was I had to think of a song that everyone would know and I wouldn't sound like a dead cat leading off.
Don't ask me why "You Are My Sunshine" popped into my head, but that's what I went with first. If you don't know that song, you're dead on the inside. That one was a real crowd-pleaser. Then the second time around I chose to bring it back to high school with a rendition of "Waterfalls" by TLC. Also known by at least half the crowd, and fortunately someone saved me before I had to remember the verses.
It was a relatively scarring experience, and based on some of the words my teacher has been dropping (like "monologue") I have a feeling I'm in for a lot of discomfort before the final class. But I survived and I owned the moment for what it was. It's not like I was competing with Beyonce or singing for Simon Cowell so I'm pretty sure no one cared what I sounded like.
Day Ninety-Three, you sneaky little devil. What a way to start wrapping things up and kick off the new with a bang.
Guess that's what #projectlife101 is really all about.
Seems appropriate for today.
Day Ninety-Two: Always Remember
I was nineteen years old, and I had just arrived in Florence, Italy one week prior. It was the fall semester of my junior year, and I was the farthest I had ever been from home on my own... my first taste at true traveling and endless exploring. It was a life-changing four months.
We were walking back to the campus after our lunch break, so it was about 2:00pm Italy time. A couple of students from another college ran up behind me and my roommate, and were yelling how America was under attack and planes were crashing into the Twin Towers. My roommate, who was from Long Island and had family that worked down in lower Manhattan, started to panic, but I assured her that it couldn't be true... they were probably just messing with us.
Needless to say, we went straight to the school's computer lab, and when I signed onto my AOL account, there on the home page was pictures of the Twin Towers, dark smoke billowing out. By the time we got home from school, the towers had fallen. We watched the news in Italian that evening... it's funny how you may not understand a word being said, and yet understand everything. I remember not being able to reach my parents for hours, and that I actually spoke to my grandmothers before I spoke to my mom. I remember it feeling surreal... and I remember feeling so distant from it all that it wasn't until my plane flew into Newark four months later, and the skyline was different from the beloved shapes and angles I grew up with, that I even started to comprehend what had happened.
We all have our story about where we were on 9/11. Like any great tragedy, you don't have to be directly in it to feel the massive impact. You grieve in your own way. You support. You listen. You learn.
Today I headed downtown to pay a visit to the 9/11 Memorial Site. It was crowded with tourists, as to be expected, but I walked through and took a moment to reflect on the magnitude of what happened that day. I don't try to understand why, and I don't try to understand how those who know even one name on the North or South Pool feel, because I can't. It's not our job to understand, it's our job to love unconditionally, listen when needed, and know that we cannot undo what's been done, but we can carry the memory in our hearts and hope for strength to overcome the sorrow.
The phrase associated with 9/11 is "Never Forget," but it's rare that I will use it. To me it sounds like an ominous command. I prefer to say "Always Remember." Always remember the beautiful lives cut short too soon. Always remember the way our nation came together, how generosity, love, compassion, and kindness prevailed despite the horrendous conditions which provoked it. Always remember how New York will forever be a symbol of strength. Always remember that no matter where in the world you are, you are forever bound to every other human by the story of where you were that day.
Always remember that life is too short, too precious, too fragile, to ever waste a day not pursuing what you love, and who you love.
My friend Martin Rivas has a song called, "North." It's one of my favorites. Years ago, when I first met Martin and interviewed him for NYC Art Scene, he told me the story behind the song and the album it appears on.
"Pride of the Valley" was a therapeutic process for Rivas, as many songs deal directly and indirectly with the loss of his stepbrother on 9/11, who worked for Cantor Fitzgerald in the North Tower. Despite the song's upbeat demeanor, the lyrics for the crowd favorite "North" actually came from a dream that they found his stepbrother's body- visions of comfort, sorrow and joy fill the listener and demonstrate Martin's unbelievable ability to bring a smile and foster hope through music.
Everyone has their own unique way of grieving and remembering. We are never defined by what happens to us... because as long as we are alive, we can always choose how to live.
Day Ninety-One: Downsizing and Donating
We all have our breaking points, and mine came tonight. After three weeks of unsuccessfully trying to find a new place to live, I culminated the search with the worst apartment ever. Not only was it terrible and came complete with two weirdo roommates, it was about an hour out of my way home, so there went 2 1/2 hours of my life I'll never get back. And right now, every precious minute counts.
On the three-transfer train ride home, I made the decision that I was done looking for apartments. Either something that I've inquired about will come through, or I'm Airbnb-ing it until Oct. 1, and giving myself the month to find the right fit. However, this comes with the headache of: What do I do with all my stuff?
Tonight I gave my apartment a massive detox. A full on enema. And out of that unpleasant purging, came piles and piles of clothes, shoes, bags, etc. that will all be donated to a local women's shelter in the city. Everything else I'm either selling or storing, and I'm determined to get my priorities into two suitcases (OK, two suitcases and a carry on) for at least the upcoming month.
Though having a home base is a wonderful thing, and moving is the bane of my existence, there was something incredibly freeing about the periods of my life when I was traveling and forced to live minimally. I did six weeks in Costa Rica with just a backpack, and three months in Europe with a suitcase and a carry on. The thing was, I didn't really care what I didn't have, because of all the amazing things I was experiencing when "wants" weren't my priority. Don't get me wrong, I love a pretty dress and a great pair of shoes, and look forward to nights when I get to wear both, but in the grand scheme of life- I just want to experience it. In any pair of shoes. It's the people and places that make it feel rich and full... nothing more, nothing less.
So Day Ninety-One was the breaking point, the turning point, the melding together of my old life and my new life to build a future life. My gypsy-for-life.
My wake-up-and-live-the-life-you-want-life.
If you have a great charity or women's shelter that you work with and are looking for donations, please e-mail me at [email protected].
Just the beginning.
Day Ninety: Parks and Playbooks
One of the first things I had on my list of "must-dos" for #projectlife101 was a summer outdoor movie. Fortunately, NYC has one playing literally every night of the week from June until August. Unfortunately, I started working evenings and could never seem to get it together to make it to one.
So when it popped up that Central Park was hosting an outdoor film festival for one week in August, I put it on my schedule. The screenings are held at Rumsey Playfield, just north of Sheep Meadow, and this year the theme was "People's Park, People's Choice." Tonight's selection was "Silver Linings Playbook," which I had not yet seen and thoroughly enjoyed.
It was one of those relaxing, perfect, late summer evenings, when the air dances with the chill of the fall, but still holds the balminess of August. (Read: I needed a sweater but my hair was still frizzy. The other way sounds much more romantic though.) I enjoyed "Silver Linings Playbook" for a multitude of reasons, and have officially decided that when my new play is adapted into a screenplay I will be casting Jennifer Lawrence in the lead role.
Everything seems to be coming full circle lately. There are a lot of references in the movie to "signs," something I do believe in regardless of debating theories of coincidence and fate. Even just the line-up of films was unusually relevant- Thursday was "West Side Story," Friday was "Hook," and tonight was the aforementioned movie. This probably means nothing to you as a reader, but in terms of my life it was strange seeing those three titles together, based on what they remind me of.
Anyway, it was a happy evening. A few hours to escape the stress of not knowing where I'm living in a week, and a physical and mental break from the bustle of the restaurant world. And in my world, the little things always trump the big things, in their own special way.
Check out the Central Park website for the rest of the film festival schedule HERE.
Movie with a view.
I always follow the signs.
"These talks have inspired me to create, in my writing or in my life," says Carlton Cuse, screenwriter and producer of Bates Motel and Lost. "These speakers have 'passionate optimism' -- that inner drive that allows us to risk truly expressing ourselves.â
Day Eighty-Nine: A Creativity Mixtape
A few years back, while I was still living in Philly and running the dance studio, I got into TED Talks. They became a go-to when I was feeling uninspired, frustrated, or just plain bored. The other night a friend texted me that I had to check out a Helen Fisher TED Talk on women writers. When I googled, I was unable to find the lecture, but I did stumble upon a number of great playlists geared towards different topics. The one that peaked my interest was Carlton Cuse's "6 Talks That Help Me Create." When I clicked on the list, I was pleased to see that I had already watched half of the suggested videos. So tonight I completed my creativity education and loaded up on some inspiration juice to kick off the weekend. Consider this a "Creativity Mixtape" of sorts. Knowledge is good for the soul, and communication is key to everything.
Always be a student.
Day Eighty-Eight: Life Is a Balancing Act
I woke up this morning with big plans. My alarm went off at 8am, and despite the gloomy clouds peeking through my shades I dragged myself out of bed determined to start the day. Around 10am, and my second cup of coffee, the sky darkened as though the world was about to end, and all my well-laid plans went to shit.
Fear not, I still found something new to do on my way to work, though it wasn't as exciting as the fierce outdoor activity I was going to take on. (It shall be revisited at a later date.) Instead I wandered down to 57th St., to the Marian Goodman Gallery in the New York Gallery Building to see some art. The current exhibition, which ends this weekend, is a selection of John Baldessari's work from 1987-89. During this period of time he was known for adding an element of architecture to his work, and you'll find random spottings of shapes overlapping and fragments displaced in signature pieces. The white walls and concrete floors of the gallery had a bare, echoing feel, stripping the pieces of any warmth and sharpening the angles even more than intended. Have you ever seen The Break Up, with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn? This gallery totally had the same vibe, except Justin Long wasn't at the front desk playing a quippy receptionist with an odd sense of fashion. That was unfortunate.
Oh, but weird coincidence? On Day Three of #projectlife101, when I went to the MOMA, I took a picture of this quote:
Yup. Baldessari. Worlds are colliding, and they are all mine.
On my way out I dropped in to the Ana Tzarev Gallery, right next door, and took in the bright, beautiful paintings on display. It was a stark contrast to the artwork I had just explored, and I found the juxtaposition rather appropriate on a day that couldn't decide between sunshine and downpours.
But isn't that what art is, in some sense? A delicate harmony of our darkness and our light.
Balance.