"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.

Cleaning Out

I cleaned out my room a little bit today. Got rid of a lot of stuff, mostly clothes, that I don't need, or want, or have the room for. I found $20 in a box on my desk which was nice. I found my number from my first audition for a Broadway show. I found a lot of old t-shirts from high school. Battle t-shirts, STAC t-shirts, sweatshirts from everyone's bar/bat mitzvahs and sweet 16s. I found bras that don't fit. And a lot of other things of expired sentimental value. I say they're expired because they meant a lot to me in middle school or in high school. I can appreciate the importance of these objects to that part of my life. And now, with only two weeks left until I'm 21, those objects don't mean much to me anymore. It's funny how your perspective changes as you grow up. Something that seems like life and death when you're 17, just isn't that big of a deal almost 4 years later. And of course I believe that everything in my life happened for a reason. The events, the people I've known, they all helped me learn and grow and made me who I am today. But we grow up. We move on. It's normal and natural and I'm happy with it. Today I laughed at myself and my life and my 14 year old self. And I'm sure that 4 years from now when I'm looking back on my 20 year old self, I'll be laughing as well. And I'm not devaluing anything. I'm not saying that any moment is unimportant because they're all important. Our lives are made up of moments and each moment has the potential of contributing greatly to who we are and our journeys. It's just, when you look back on it after the fact, it's different. It's ironic how much I love the story of Peter Pan. I've loved it ever since I was four years old. It's ironic because Peter Pan does everything in his power to keep from growing up, and here I am, completely okay with it. In fact, I'm excited for it. I think about my future, the possibilities of what it will bring, and I'm excited to find out. I think about this summer and I can't wait to start working. Yipee.

I'm back

I'm back. I'm not sure why I left to begin with. It's been almost a year since my last blog post. Wow, time flies by. The last time I wrote on this thing I was in Maine doing summer stock. So much has happened since then. And there were times when I thought to myself "oh, I wanna blog about this..." and then I would proceed to construct the entire post in my head. But when I got back to my room at the end of the day I had homework, I had to practice, I wanted to be social, cuddle, shower, and live. So documenting my life came to a sort of halt. But anyway, now I'm back.

A group of seniors made a documentary about their theater performance class for their independent study. When I watched their film, I found myself answering some of the questions they were asking their friends: Why did you choose Wagner? How did you get into performing? What was a turning point in your career, both here and outside of Wagner? I realized that I was just as interested in answering those questions as I was interested in listening to the answers of the upperclassmen. I also became very curious what my own classmates would say if they were asked those same questions. It's funny. At school, we live with each other. We spend hours and hours in class together, in rehearsals together, and partying together. And while it seems like we know everything about one another, it occurred to me how much we don't know.

So here we go. Here are my answers.

Why did you choose Wagner?
After narrowing it down to a few programs, I visited Wagner and sat in on a few classes. I went to John's acting 4 and that was it. I saw people rolling around on the floor, slapping each other and themselves, jumping up and down, running around the room, kissing and hugging, and fighting. I now know that this is called pre-work. But at the time I just sat there with my mouth wide open. I thought to myself "I don't know what this is. But it's crazy and cool and I want to do this. This must be what acting is." I left that class and told my mom that I wanted to go to Wagner. We went to the bookstore and got a t-shirt that said Wagner on it, and sent my deposit in later that week.

How did you get into performing?
My mom's a singer and used to act and my dad's a musician. I grew up in a household where I was exposed to Barbara, The Beatles, and show tunes. My parents sang all the time. I started humming before I could even really talk. When I was three years old my parents put me in my first ballet class. I saw Annie on Broadway when I was four years old and decided that I was going to be on Broadway by the time I was twelve. Although that didn't happen, I've had the same dream ever since.

Turning points?
At Wagner: Going to Amsterdam and Junior year (acting 3 and especially 4)
Outside of Wagner: Breaking my foot sophomore year of High School which made me realize how precious it is when I get to dance. My perception of what it means to be a dancer changed 360 degrees. Also, being diagnosed with nodes junior year of High School, which lead to about 2 months of vocal therapy and hard work. I'm the first one to preach that nodes don't have to be the end of your life. I did not need surgery. I did not need to be completely silent. I listened to everything my vocal therapist said and got rid of those babies quicker than the ENT thought I would. Our bodies have an amazing capacity to heal themselves, sometimes they just need a little extra assistance.

And there's still so much more to me than that. It's good to be back.

Metaphor

It's a beautiful day. The sun is out. There are a few cotton candy clouds scattered across the sky. It's warm. Not humid. The sand is soft and the beach is wide. You lay on your towel. The sun feels good on your skin but you're not sweating. After a long time of shuffling through songs on your iPod you get  a sudden urge to jump in the ocean. You know the water must be icy cold but the thought seems refreshing. You turn off your iPod and put it away. You take a drink of water and take off your sunglasses. It's only you, 10 yards of clean sand, and then blue. Forever clear, bright, blue. You walk with confidence up to the edge of the water. There's not a doubt in your mind that you're going for it. But when your toes touch the first few drops of cold, you're suddenly not so sure you want to do this. You think of how cold your body will feel. That stinging sensation that your toes are already experiencing would envelope you from head to toe. The courage and confidence that you previously felt turns into doubt. So you stand in the water. Two inches deep. Your whole ankle isn't even submerged. And you look out. There's ocean as far as you can see. And blue sky above. And a bright shining sun. You stand there and you look. The world is beautiful from that spot and your feet are turning numb. And then you remember the courage you had laying on your towel. And you decide to go for it. You smile to yourself and start to laugh as you walk into the water. Ankle deep. Shin deep. Knee deep. Thigh deep. Your legs have goose bumps. It's cold. And you know it's going to get colder. You wait for the perfect wave and then you dive under. Head first into the freezing, salty water. Once you're submerged you're positive that your body is going to freeze. The blood running through your veins will freeze solid and you won't resurface. It feels like you're under water for 5 minutes even though you somehow know it's only been 5 seconds. You jump out of the water and take a deep breath. At first the air feels chilly on your skin. And suddenly a calm, warm sensation waves over you. The part of  your body that's out of the water feels cool, but comfortable. And the part of your body still under water feels almost numb, but almost warm. You're proud of yourself. You feel accomplished. And you laugh at how silly you were to be scared of the cold.

My afternoon at the beach

Today I had an epiphany. I came to not only believe, but feel with my whole being, that happiness is truly a choice. It is a state of being that a person can choose to live in. I think sometimes it might be much more difficult than others to choose happiness, but I think that the option is always there. I was at the beach listening to really uplifting, inspiring music on my iPod, standing in the waves and I felt so free. I think it was the most free I've felt since I've been here. And so I've decided to choose happiness for myself. For the rest of the summer. No matter what I miss back home, or who I miss, I need to stay freely in the moment of this summer.

There's a lot more I could say, but I'm not going to. Actually, I will say one more thing: there's a lot I want to do with my life. And I'm going to do it all.

My first Maine post

I've been in Maine for over a week and so much has happened. It's absolutely beautiful here. We're 100 yards from the Beach, so on a sunny day it's really great to take a short walk down to the water and walk along the sand. But yesterday it rained. And it was the most beautiful thunderstorm I've ever witnessed. In NY when it rains, I get disappointed. But here, there was something so beautiful, comforting, and extremely romantic about the rain and thunder. I didn't mind going outside because the sound of the fat raindrops hitting the pavement, the roof of the buildings, and the tops of cars mixed with the intermittent thunder claps was like music. It was so quiet in town. It was cozy. I think I might like it better when it rains. Or maybe it's just the fact that it's been so beautifully sunny and not humid that the rain seemed like a special treat. Actually, as I'm writing this, sitting on my bed, I just heard the sound of thunder from outside my window. I hope it rains again today. To go outside on the porch and watch the rain while eating lunch would be wonderful.

But I'm not here to fantasize about the rain. I'm here to act. As much as I love music rehearsals, and choreographing the show, my favorite rehearsals have been those dedicated to the scene work, the characters, and the acting. The ease in which I am able to relate to this character, only makes my job that much more fun. We have so much in common, Luisa and I, and I'm finding more and more in common with each rehearsal. Just thinking about how much fun it is to play her makes me want to cry. Part of me wishes that we had more than two weeks of rehearsal time because I want to dig deeper, but at the same time I know that I have a month long run and I will be making discoveries every night in front of a live audience, and that is exciting.

But, as usual, hard work doesn't come free. After only being here for a few days my left foot started bothering me and when the pain didn't go away I decided to get it checked out, only to be told that I have tendonitis. Rest isn't really in the cards for me right now, but I'm trying to stay off of it as much as possible, icing it, and keeping it wrapped up. Although it still hurts, it definitely feels better, so I must be doing something right. Additionally, my voice is exhausted. Singing high B's and C's isn't the easiest task. But I'll be okay. I'm forcing myself not to talk whenever possible and drinking a weird apple cider vinegar concoction that has worked for me before. Once again, I'm being reminded of the fact that my body is my instrument and I've gotta respect it in order to expect it to perform at the highest of standards.

But one of the hardest parts about this whole thing is how much I miss a special someone at home. I knew this wouldn't be easy, and I was right. I find that I'm already counting down the weeks until school starts (less than 9 weeks now) and it isn't because I'm not enjoying myself here. I love rehearsals and the people I'm working with are all so nice and fun to be around. I just wish he could be here as well.

You asked me to blog about you

This is going to be cheesy. And corny. And it might make some pessimistic, vengeful reader out there want to throw up what he had for dinner a few hours ago. But it is true and honest and brave. A few weeks, or maybe a month ago (I don't remember) you asked me to blog about you. You wanted my "international readers" to know about you. But I didn't do it. But how can I have a blog where I post things that are on my mind, that I like, and that are important to me, if I don't include a post or two about you? Besides that, you deserve it. I think I decided to write about something else that night because if I wrote about you I wouldn't know where to start. There's just too much to say. Even now when I've committed to blogging about you, I'm dancing around not really knowing what to talk about. But I was thinking about your request and thinking about not seeing you for ten weeks and I decided I was going to write something for you and put it on here. I don't really know what I'm going to say but I hope you like it.

I'm so glad we can be weird together. I mean if you look at what we've done this past week it's pretty super fun. We spent five hours at the zoo and I could've spent more time there, we ate a lot of delicious food together, we watched baseball games and basketball games on TV both together and apart, I made you watch Friends with me, took your dog on a walk making sure he pooped seven times, illegally watched Madagascar 3 on your computer, went to the pet store and squealed at all animals we could play with, gave and received presents, celebrated birthdays, and watched national geographic. But honestly, what 19 and 20 year olds watch national geographic?! It was interesting though. Weird and freaky. I liked it.

I just re-read that last paragraph and I don't like it for some reason but I'm going to force myself not to delete it. I've gotta be okay with imperfections.

I'm gonna miss you. Ten weeks is a long time. I'm sorry for bringing it up. But actually, I'm really not. Because it's right around the corner. The next time I see you is going to be the last time before we're back at school and that's daunting to me. When I got this job I couldn't seem to wrap my head around the fact that I'd actually be leaving for real for 2/3 of the summer. And even when school ended I knew we had 5 weeks together, well 4 because of our respective Florida vacations, but four weeks seemed like a long time. And it's scary how fast it went. All of a sudden I'm supposed to be packing and getting ready to go and I don't want to. I cry about it sometimes. Little tears that I try to just wipe away as if they were never there. I don't want to be scared and I don't want to be sad but I've never not seen you for 10 weeks before and I know we'll survive but it's the unknown and the unknown is usually a scary place. I try and find strength in seeing what other people do: an actor leaves his wife for four months to film a movie in another country, a young actress leaves her boyfriend for a national tour not knowing the next time they'll get to be together, a recent college graduate proudly watches her boyfriend fight in the US Army not knowing when she'll see him next or get to talk to him on the phone. Am I making too big a deal out of this? I don't know. I don't think so but who knows. The fact is I won't be seeing both my boyfriend and my best friend until the end of August and that makes me sad.

And that's my depressing paragraph. You must've known it was coming.

Besides all the fun together you know what I really like most? How you make almost everything alright? When I'm upset or stressed or angry about something it's always better when you're there. I have my own ways of dealing with things and calming myself down, but it takes a lot longer. You walk into my room, give me a hug, and somehow know just what to do or say. That's a special skill and I'm very lucky you have it. For example, when I got upset today in the rain you told me to get in the car and that you were going to sit with me until I was okay to drive home. To you that probably seems like no big deal, a no brainer, an easy simple gesture. But to me it was just what I needed. An understanding boyfriend to just let me have my moment and keep me company until I was good to go. It meant a lot more to me than you probably realized.

This post is getting really long and it's getting really late and I'm going to see you tomorrow but I hope you like this. I know it's nothing special but you wanted me to blog about you and I finally did. xox