ch-ch-ch-changes

​Remember that time when I moved out of Brooklyn, put in my notice at work, and hopped on a plane to Jamaica? Because that just happened.  

To some this may have seemed like a hasty life decision, a bit of an adult temper tantrum to not liking the way things were.  But to many of my nearest and dearest, this came as no surprise.  I am strong believer that if I’m not happy with the way my life is going, then I should take a risk and mix it up.  So I did just that.  For the next six weeks, I’ll be embracing the college life at University of West Indies, learning all about the health system in Jamaica while attempting to gain some nursing skills, and soaking up some sun responsibly with heavily sunscreened skin.

Life here is considerably slower than its NYC counterpart so expect to see some more activity in these parts of the interwebs with hard-hitting topics such as:

-       how to be freezing cold for hours on end in a tropical country

-       where to find vegetarian food options when staying with Rastafarians

-       dorm room decorating for the post-graduate

How have you all been?  Anyone else spend the change of seasons humming some David Bowie while packing bags for a new locale?

all work and no play

I started work, class, sleep, repeat schedule a couple of weeks ago at which point I figured all fun activities would cease to exist.  I try to be realistic with myself as much as possible so I had gotten it in my brain that life would be, for the time being, all work and no play.  Let me tell you - I require a fair amount of play to maintain my sanity. 

Within three days of committing myself to that schedule, I found myself driving out to LI in search of an adventure.  It just so turned out that my travel buddy was back in New York for the weekend.  I spent the better part of Saturday in her parents’ backyard making a fool of myself while playing around with a GoPro.  And it was glorious.

I realize that this lifestyle adjustment has just started and maybe some people (myself included at times) would view it as a bad sign that I am already escaping but I have decided to place it in the category of self-care.  There really isn’t a substitute for good people and the great outdoors, even when that outdoors is just a backyard swimming pool. 

It’s so easy to feel guilty about not spending every minute of every day being productive.  I know this is especially true in NYC but my guess is that it rings true in most places.  We all love to inform each other of the various plates we’re spinning and I think there’s some sick sense of satisfaction with a fully booked schedule.  We get warped into this mindset of regurgitating the weekly to do lists and our conversations turn into repeating mostly the facts of one’s life rather than the thoughts and feelings that go along with it.  Don’t get me wrong - I think there is value in sharing both aspects of one’s life.  It’s part of how we relate to one another but when I allow myself to go down the rabbit hole of judging myself by what’s written on my CV, it’s a dangerous place and frankly not a very happy one.  And to be completely honest, it leads to a place of judging others as well because if I am managing all the crazy in my life why can’t you get all of your stuff together?  That’s not only unfair but also mean and I would really rather not be a jerk.

With all this in mind, I am embracing my wandering spirit and taking the time for breaks and reprieve.  There’s value in not taking oneself too seriously, at least there is for me, so I am going to focus on pursuing that and worry less about the never-ending list of checkboxes.  Besides which summer time is one of the best times and I need to make sure I get my fill of salt air in my lungs and dirt under my feet.

notes:

- fire island is one of my happy places.  to insert yourself into the beachy pics, take the lirr to patchogue and hop on a ferry to either watch hill or davis park.  you can walk to the ferry terminal from the train station or one of the cabbies there would be happy to give you a ride.

- if you enjoy water-based shenanigans as much as i do, i recommend picking up a gopro.  and by picking one up, i mean saving your pennies because these things are pretty pricey but oh so worth it.

- disclaimer: don’t worry mom, i am still getting my schoolwork done and fulfilling my job responsibilities.

spring in bloom, brooklyn

I don't know if there's much more that captures joy than the joy of spring finally arriving. After a much-too-long winter, the anticipation of it all was just killing us. But by the time we got our first day of warmer weather above 40 and the flowers started to bloom...we knew we were going to make it after all. Summer is finally in view on the horizon. You can smell it in the air. 

The transitional seasons in NYC are always a bit tricky, but they are the most enjoyable. We can't wait for the leaves to change color in the Fall or for the flowers to bloom in the Spring...but it's so hard to predict when exactly it will happen! We wait and wait and wait...and then by the time I actually make plans to go take that iconic walk through Central Park, either the leaves have mostly fallen or they haven't quite changed colors yet. I suppose the best practice is to be ready for things to change and bloom. To be present in whatever season we are in. Such is the seasons of life (good things bloom...eventually)! 

One of our favorite ways to experience Spring in NYC is heading to check out the cherry blossoms at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. And they've got this nifty map you can use to keep up with the bloom status. Needless to say, we've been watching this like a hawk for the past 4-5 weeks. (Yes, I always have 100 tabs open on my computer.) I watched it last year and still waited until it was too late :/ 

We were determined not to miss it this year and spent a quiet, sunny afternoon strolling, reflecting, and enjoying the pink wonderland. Once a new season finally blooms you've got to kick up your heels and enjoy it in good company. Meg's childhood Irish dancing days did pay off.

“I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”

— Pablo Neruda

There were lilacs too!! And people with selfie sticks. We didn't have one, so we showed them!! (I mean we did the best we could.)

notes:

- i think i may go back and spend my whole weekend there laying in a bed of fallen pink pedals. pink really is the best color ever, right?

- Pablo Neruda does something to my soul. (see full poem)

- if you're making a day of it, there's a killer Basquiat exhibit in the Brooklyn Museum next door. 

mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys

Two weekends ago I took a last minute trip to Dallas. As I mentioned, the wanderlust does not mess around these days although I like to think this kind of travel precludes the anywhere but here mentality. 

There are few people in life that can hold you accountable the way a childhood friend can. They know your story, your personality, your tendencies to make the same sort of bad decisions. After all, most of the time they were right next to you doing the same thing. So on a bit of whim and on a bit of need, I made the trek to Texas and spent the weekend with my friend and her family. And everything was exactly the same and everything was completely different. 

We turn the music up to drown out the passing suburbia. The same sequence of stores line the streets as we make our way around the now familiar curves. We sing loud as if with purpose like so many times before. Each song with its own distinct set of memories attached. The good and the bad equally weighted with each track. Remember when becomes the oft-repeated refrain.

A little voice pipes up from the back seat "like this Mama?" And just as quickly as we melded into the past, we are forced forward into the present. Her little body bounces around as much as possible within the confines of a car seat in an effort to move to the music. She mimics our movements and sometimes sings-along to these songs she's grown up with. The same ones we grew up with. 

Eventually, we arrive at our intended destination and the scent of manure and muck greets us. Following the flurry of flailing limbs, we sidestep puddles making our way to the slightly soggy paddocks. It's too muddy to ride today but none of us care. The three of us take turns feeding scraps of hay and grass to the locals. With no where to be we mosey around the barn's grounds making sure to visit each of its inhabitants. 

I've known this friend for 15 years and despite living in different states for the last 10  it's easy to fall back into the familiar rhythms. Perhaps because those first 5 years feel at least twice as long as the last 10. Most of the time though I feel completely changed. I've moved on. I'm older. Supposedly wiser. At least I tell myself that. But the past creeps into the present and permeates into my everyday life in ways I fail to see until it can no longer be ignored, forcing me to reconcile the old and new me.

I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be. -- Joan Didion

notes:

- listen/watch here if the title to this post confuses you. actually click on it either way for ed bruce in all his glory, some great 80s fashion, and to reminisce about indoor smoking.

- as you may have guessed, some of these pictures are from a few months ago. some day i'll remember to use my camera consistently. 

the dust of snow

Within 48 hours of returning from Southeast Asia, I packed up my car and drove to DC.  I had just returned home yet I wanted to get away and explore some place different.  Despite plans for skiing, mother nature had a different idea which resulted in some forced rest and relaxation that I am sure my jet-lagged body appreciated.  To somewhat make up for last weekend, I'll run away again this afternoon to a new locale and I am attempting to hatch a plan for the end of this month as well.  I’ve already sent out emails to start solidifying some summer excursions - beach, mountains, repeat.  The wanderlust bug is real and not to be ignored but the intensity of it as of late (…and my dwindling travel budget) has led to some introspection.  What is it exactly that I am escaping from?  I mean I live in what some (very biased folk) dub the greatest city on earth.

In a few short months, I will start up school once again and my life will drastically change.  I am in an accelerated program which will require 20 credit hours a semester while maintaining my current full-time job.  I’ve known about this for quite some time but the reality of the situation has begun to sink in.  Add to it that I am another year older in a week or so and the need to be anywhere but here is amplified.  

I don’t want to be that person though who is completely focused on the proverbial next best thing while taking for granted what is right in front of my face.  In an effort to reclaim the present, I took a break from my computer screen and moseyed outdoors into the snowstorm du jour.  Because what better way to regain perspective than to make myself a little uncomfortable and get right in the midst of this place I call home.

With the snow blowing in my face, I made my way down to the waterfront and meandered along the mostly abandoned path.  The slipping and sliding of snow beneath my feet forced me to focus on my surroundings enough to quiet my usual nonstop inner dialogue.

I only encountered a handful of people who also wished to tread in the wintry wonderland: a fellow snow marveler/wannabe hermit who shared which paths have not yet been graced with footsteps or plows, a gentleman who persisted on inquiring where a bus was going despite my best efforts to explain that I had absolutely no idea, and a lady with seven of the same dog in varying shades of brown but all thoroughly wet from an afternoon of play.  Our brief interactions reminded me that we all have some place we're trying to get to, someone we want to become.  

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

--Dust of Snow, Robert Frost

notes:

- brooklyn bridge park is a ghost town during a snowstorm.  there were robins flying and chirping about (see the above picture).  if you're in nyc and need to get a little away from it all during our next bout of never-ending snow, i highly recommend meandering these paths.

- i also recommend warming yourself up with some tea and sweets at one girl cookie. as i type this i am really regretting that i didn't pick up a whoopie pie. 

winter solstice

I woke up this winter solstice in a brand new place- an apartment all to myself. I signed a new lease Friday, my (amazing) friends helped me move all my stuff Saturday, and we drank champagne out of the bottle Saturday night, giddy with joy, even though I didn’t have lights for half of my apartment, hadn’t unpacked anything, and didn’t even have a couch to sit on. Sunday morning I woke up in my bed, but I was surrounded by foreign white walls- my new clean slate. 

Most of the time, I’m longing for the seasons to change, hoping the next will be better and I can leave my current worries in the rearview mirror. And I know sometimes we want the seasons to shift badly, and they don’t. and that’s disappointing. It’s actually the worst- feeling stuck. You’ve got to sit in an uncomfortable or painful or confusing season for much longer than you feel you’re built for. 

I guess I’m trying to process- that even when seasons seem like they will never change— they will surprise you.

I know moving is not that novel of a thing, but to find a little corner to yourself in Manhattan THAT YOU CAN AFFORD is a huge deal. 

I moved to New York City to be a creative: I came as a dancer and I now pursue that alongside other creative endeavors. However, I know that lifestyle choice is not going to earn me the big bucks. I never saw that as a downfall, though; I almost glamorized the starving artist lifestyle. I love living simply and within my means; it’s given me such freedom. I’ve been living in Washington Heights, and our apartment is cozy, and we've had so many friends from around the world move in and out of that place (their writing is on the wall too!). Living in a 3 bedroom with 4 people sounds crazy to people outside of the city, but to me it was home. I didn’t foresee any houses or luxury apartments in my near future - so why set myself up to be disappointed? I tend to be rather the-glass-is-half-full, so I didn’t want to want what I couldn’t have. 

A few months ago, I got called off a housing lottery list. I’ve been on a soapbox about affordable housing for a few years, strongly referencing THIS ARTICLE by David Byrne, about how NYC was going to change for the worse if all the artists got pushed out because they couldn’t afford to stay here. You get so caught up in surviving in this city and paying your bills, it’s easy to get distracted from pursuing the art that brought you here in the first place. A week before this phone call, I had one of those ugly public cries on the street. I plopped down on a stranger’s stoop and talked to my mom on the phone— I had injured my back and even though I paid a lot of money for health insurance each month, I couldn’t afford to additionally pay to take care of this injury (of course not covered by my insurance). And injuries are even more painful when your art is dance. It broke open a conversation in me that I had never really allowed myself to consider before- maybe it was my time to leave the city. I had put so much time and effort and money into pursuing a performing career- and what was coming out of it? I couldn’t even afford to take care of myself! I sacrificed so many other areas of my life to pursue this career— quality of life, sunshine, better paying job (aka more money for adventures), relationships (have you TRIED dating in the city?) — was it worth it anymore? I think a lot of people in the industry secretly judge people who leave the city, wondering if they gave up. I had decided a long time ago I wouldn’t be one of those…at least not for a while. But I now wondered what was I supposed to do next? Did I really need to start considering a new chapter? I survived here for over 9 years, but it was wearing me down- did i need to waste any more of my years? 

This housing lottery call answered that for me. And I was shocked. I mean I entered this specific lottery a few years ago and forgot about it. It seemed like the stuff urban legends were made of, but for whatever reason I spent a few hours and sent in the application one afternoon in 2012. I was picked out of 30,000 people who applied- and I never win anything! Especially the Wicked lottery. This was an opportunity for a new start, a new neighborhood, a new energy. It is a game changer: long-term affordable housing in midtown NYC? It’s actually better than winning the real lottery in so many ways. Babs (my bike) is not going to know what happened. BYE MTA.

I was careful not to say too much over the past few months, because I actually thought I would jinx it. Seemed too good to be true. (My friend Drew calls it PTSD from auditioning too much - where you could be overqualified for the show and still not book the job, which happens alllll the time. Our logic has been morphed by this crazy business we are in. Thank god audition land does not equal reality in this case.) 

When you’re stuck in a season for so long, you actually start to stop believing it can change. But I woke up yesterday, and the season, despite my disbelief, had changed. It wasn’t a dream. And it also happened to be winter solstice. I love when life is poetic like that.  

I’m embracing a new season heading into 2015 (with pink cupcakes and champagne, like you do). I’m also staring at my new blank slate and trying to figure out what the heck I’m going to do with it. I’ll get back to you on that… 

You may find me down on my knees thanking God for a while before I hop over on Pinterest. 

note:

if you are an artist, or a human, or both (the best kinds!): check out the nyc housing connect site here! apply! what do you have to lose!?