9/11

   When you do a blog that focuses on life in New York, I'm pretty sure it's expected that one covers 9/11. This might be the one and only time I write about this. Sure there will be future Facebook status updates and maybe some tweets, but I only want to cover this once in full detail. Just listen closely. I think the message is clear. Let's begin. This is the view from my neighborhood in Queens: 

  How beautiful is that? It's magical at night. It's just a street on my corner. It's a beautiful reminder that I'm following a dream. I live in a city of dreams. It's missing something I know... That's where we find ourselves today. On this day a terrible tragedy took place here in New York. An event that hit so many people far and wide and changed if not the world, it changed our country, my country.
  I actually wasn't in New York yet on 9/11/2001. New York City was still a far away dream for me. None of my friends were in NY yet, and I barely knew anyone from the city at the time. I was in my freshman year of college at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis on the day the planes hit. I got up early to check the internet in my dorm's computer lab. In the lobby of Middlebrook Hall, they have this huge big-screen TV. The 1st plane had hit, and the screen showed a tower on fire. That image is still burned into my memory. I didn't stop to watch the news. I breezed past to the computer room. My morning brain had not processed that something terrible had happened. Later, about noon classes were cancelled. I think I was in my Intro. to Theatre class that was being taught by the department head at the time. He stopped class and announced that all classes were cancelled. Something big had happened. Again, my brain had not made the connection. My rehearsal for my first student play in college met that night. It was our first rehearsal, and we got to know each other. We shared feelings and fears, and decided to cancel the rest of the rehearsal that night. I returned to the dorm, and my fellow dorm-mates on our floor were crowded around the tv in the lounge watching the non-stop coverage. I couldn't watch it. Something inside of me was disconnected. It wasn't that I didn't care. I did. Somehow it just didn't seem real to me. Something out of a terrible dream. I was lost in a fog. My heart went out to everyone affected, and parts of me inside were screaming, "Why aren't you crying? Why aren't you glued to the tv? What is WRONG with you?" I just honestly didn't know how to deal.
   Cut to February 2006. I was in the ensemble for this play: The Trial of Osama Bin Laden. The play was terrible and confusing, but it's heart was in the right place. I was just happy to be in the midst of such talent and grace. In the play we had actual video/news segments from 9/11. We had short clips of people jumping from the towers that we had to watch in the middle of the show. The first time we watched them in rehearsal, I finally lost it. Every time I saw those clips I would cry. It finally hit me. It was good knowing that I wasn't cold or dead inside. I was starting to worry that I couldn't feel anything. Thinking of the sacrifice and love that was given burned a fire inside of me. I wouldn't take life for granted. I had to push forward and do what I wanted to do. Follow a dream. Move to a city I love and adore.
   I moved here to New York in the summer of 2009.  Broke and struggling, times were tough, but I managed. I pulled myself up to a better place, and I'm still a work in progress. Hopefully next year will be better then the one before it. I love New York, and the love affair will never end. It just grows stronger each day, even if it's always a surprise when I can make my rent. I'm heading into the city soon. I'm leaving safe Queens for the unknown in Manhattan to practice with my musical improv team. 5% of me is terrified to see smoke and crumbling towers. The other 95% is proud and happy to step out onto the streets knowing that I'm in a country that is free. Doing musical improv today seems kind of petty in the grand scheme of things on a day of such importance, but it's how I carry on. We have to be strong and rise up against our fear. That's at least what my parents have taught me. And so today I vow to sing and laugh on this day with some special people, and that's how I know that neither side necessarily won... But we will have heart and hope and love. I hope the other side does too. I just want people to remember. To take a moment, to think, and just try to make life better for those around you. Just never forget.

Life in Art

   Thanks to a friend, I went to the Moma (Museum of Modern Art) this past Sunday. I'd forgotten how much I love visiting museums, and I need to get out and see more. Especially when you live in a city bursting with art and creative influences. I only really had two and a half hours to walk through the exhibits before I needed to run to class, and now I've been kicking myself for not spending more time there. Walking through the halls, it is incredible to see so many different individual pieces. Each piece is so unique and inspired. You can almost hear each piece say, "This is my voice. What do you think?" Some I loved, some I hated, some didn't make me feel anything, and some just moved me to an emotional place I hadn't been to in a while. Especially this one:

   This is just the final segment from a huge triptych called "To Be With Art is All We Ask...". To see the rest of the work is stunning. It's this huge manifesto, a love letter to art from the artists Gilbert & George with two side portraits of the artists. You read it and fall deeper into the rabbit hole with each line. Seeing it helped spark something in me. A new appreciation for what I do, why I love it, and why I must share it with the rest of the world. Here in the city, it's easy to become bitter and forget why you even pursue this thing called art. You can learn to hate the work, the process, or the bullshit you have to fight through. I've seen too many people give up on art or themselves. They lose the spark, and at times I worry that it will die out in me too. It's nice to have something feed the fire in you again. To feed your heart, your soul, your mind. Granted, it's also good to keep people around you that inspire you and celebrate what you do. You can't do it alone. It's a paradox. Most of the work you do alone, but you work together with many others to grow, learn, and reach success. Just like good old Gilbert & George here you build something together, but first you must develop yourself. Here in New York, it's easy to surround yourself with creative and talented people, and I'm very grateful for that. They only make you look better, work harder, and be stronger. I've been doing theater for almost twenty years now, and to be moved or pushed to keep growing is a wonderful feeling. It's why I love art. It challenges and brings us moments of sheer brilliance and passion. Seeing this piece at the Moma only heightened my love for what I do and encouraged me to press on. To continue. To fight. To love. And so, to be with art is all I ask...