Today was such a beautiful day. I volunteered this morning to help set up the Broadway Flea Market and support an organization very close to my heart. It felt so good to be there with a huge group of fellow Wagner Theater students representing our school and what we stand for. Besides the fact that I think Wagner's theater department offers top notch training, there's something else that makes Wagner Theater stand out among its competitors. And it's the simple fact that this student body cares. We have huge hearts. How many other 18-22 year olds would wake up (or pull an all-nighter) at 5:30 in the morning right after a huge party the night before to help unload trucks full of tables, chairs, and boxes of goodies while battling hangovers galore? We are a family. We are Wagner strong. And I'm proud to be part of it.
One of the reasons I love the flea market is because I get to see a community of aspiring Broadway hopefuls and seasoned professionals come together as one to raise money for a fight against AIDs. Being that it is 2013 it's easy to forget or push aside the struggle of HIV/AIDs. But the horrible truth is that the fight against AIDs isn't over. It isn't a dead issue. In fact, it's far from being a dead issue. It's very much alive and it's affecting people every single day. We don't talk about it because this isn't the 1980s. We don't hear about it in the news anymore. And sadly enough, I'm still disgusted with the highly inaccurate negative stigma that surrounds HIV/AIDs. More people should be informed and educated. More people should know the facts rather than the myths. I think it's something that needs to be talked about more often. Once a year isn't good enough since people are contracting the virus every single day. Scratch that, according to aids.gov, every 9.5 minutes someone in the U.S. alone is infected with HIV.
I got to be with my Wagner family today, and I got to see alumni, directors from last year, and a lot of my OPTC summer family. I felt so lucky to be surrounded by so many special people in my life in one day. On my way home I realized how much my life is filled with love and how lucky I am that I can say that.
At the flea market there was a box filled with these fabulous red high heels. They had your name written all over them, Justy. I don't know who went home with a pair of those beautiful shoes but I know that whoever it was will not be able to strut in them as gracefully as you would've been able to.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
This & That
Yesterday morning I spent two hours researching possible photographers to use when I get my headshots taken. This morning we took our senior theater performance class picture for showcase. Tonight I began working on my senior thesis paper. I still can't believe that I'm a senior and yet somehow all of this feels like it's supposed to be happening. Well, it does and it doesn't. I'm still trying to process the fact that next September I will not be a returning student at Wagner College. I'm also still trying to put into words what all of this "senior year" crap feels like versus what I think it's supposed to feel like. But I guess this IS what it's supposed to feel like. It's confusing. Bizarre. Seems too soon. But also not soon enough. It's scary. But REALLY exciting. It's hectic. Busy. So far it's going by really fast. But not fast enough. It's also going by really slow. But not slow enough. The list of this and that is never ending.
But one thing I know for sure. And this is something that I am positive about. There's no other side to this: I am so happy, proud, honored, and humbled to part of the Wagner College Senior Theater Performance Class of 2014. It's an amazing group of talented individuals. It's also an incredible group of really loving people. We began our journey together in the fall of 2010. And I'm so excited to see where our journey takes us this year and beyond.
A silly shot of us laughing during our showcase photo shoot this morning.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
"Hows senior year?!?!"
What do you say when someone asks you how your senior year of college is going when it's been the hardest two weeks of your life? This happened to me just the other day. I didn't know what to say. Do I lie and say that it's going great in order to avoid being a huge debbie downer? Or do I tell the truth and talk about how even though my classes are wonderful, I'm going through something that nobody should ever have to experience? It's an awkward situation and it feels like it will be something I struggle with for a while.
Dealing with the loss of a friend my own age was not something I expected to happen only a few months after my 21st birthday. If life were perfect, I wouldn't have had to deal with a death of a friend until I was well into my 70s or 80s. These past two weeks have been like a roller coaster ride. My friends and I have had to re-learn how to laugh and joke around. Laughter has proven to be the best medicine, along with the support of an extremely loving community, kindness, and unity.
I feel like I'm living in a play I read, or a movie I watched, or a suicide prevention film that my high school health teacher showed our class. It doesn't feel like real life. I don't know if it will ever feel like real life. We all thought that the funeral and burial would be a necessary reality check for all of us. But it still felt just as surreal as it did that first night when we lit candles on the oval, sang "Seasons Of Love" and shared funny Justin stories.
Tonight I wrote to Justin in the leather notebook my friends and I have been passing around. I had avoided writing in the notebook for about a week because the thought of 'my last words to Justin' was daunting and disturbing. But then I realized I can always talk to him. For the rest of my life I can talk to him. Ever since my Grandpa died when I was fourteen I've been skeptical about the existence of God and heaven because at the time it was much easier for me to believe that the doctors could make a mistake while doing heart surgery on my Grandfather if there were no God. How could God, if he does exist, let something like that happen? And so I turned my back on God, on religion, and on the idea of heaven. But now, 7 years later, I feel a little differently. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because Justin decided to end his life at the young age of 22. Maybe it's because I'm more mature. But whatever the reason is I know this: it gives me comfort to think of Justin strutting into heaven, teaching all the angels how to twerk to Beyonce, and living his afterlife just as fully as he lived his life on earth. And so I know that I can always talk to Justin whenever I want to because even though his body is no longer with us, his spirit and his energy are. And so what I wrote in that notebook is only the beginning of a lifelong conversation I will be having with my dear friend.
So what do I do for now? Sometimes I feel like I'm walking around campus like a zombie. Sometimes I feel extremely emotional. And sometimes I actually feel happy. The only thing we can do is hang in there and support one another, which is what we've been doing.
Dealing with the loss of a friend my own age was not something I expected to happen only a few months after my 21st birthday. If life were perfect, I wouldn't have had to deal with a death of a friend until I was well into my 70s or 80s. These past two weeks have been like a roller coaster ride. My friends and I have had to re-learn how to laugh and joke around. Laughter has proven to be the best medicine, along with the support of an extremely loving community, kindness, and unity.
I feel like I'm living in a play I read, or a movie I watched, or a suicide prevention film that my high school health teacher showed our class. It doesn't feel like real life. I don't know if it will ever feel like real life. We all thought that the funeral and burial would be a necessary reality check for all of us. But it still felt just as surreal as it did that first night when we lit candles on the oval, sang "Seasons Of Love" and shared funny Justin stories.
Tonight I wrote to Justin in the leather notebook my friends and I have been passing around. I had avoided writing in the notebook for about a week because the thought of 'my last words to Justin' was daunting and disturbing. But then I realized I can always talk to him. For the rest of my life I can talk to him. Ever since my Grandpa died when I was fourteen I've been skeptical about the existence of God and heaven because at the time it was much easier for me to believe that the doctors could make a mistake while doing heart surgery on my Grandfather if there were no God. How could God, if he does exist, let something like that happen? And so I turned my back on God, on religion, and on the idea of heaven. But now, 7 years later, I feel a little differently. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because Justin decided to end his life at the young age of 22. Maybe it's because I'm more mature. But whatever the reason is I know this: it gives me comfort to think of Justin strutting into heaven, teaching all the angels how to twerk to Beyonce, and living his afterlife just as fully as he lived his life on earth. And so I know that I can always talk to Justin whenever I want to because even though his body is no longer with us, his spirit and his energy are. And so what I wrote in that notebook is only the beginning of a lifelong conversation I will be having with my dear friend.
So what do I do for now? Sometimes I feel like I'm walking around campus like a zombie. Sometimes I feel extremely emotional. And sometimes I actually feel happy. The only thing we can do is hang in there and support one another, which is what we've been doing.
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