The Painful Transition from Washingtonian to New Yorker

I was warned that my first year in New York would be the hardest, that you never fully understand the toll of the city until you're there. That subtly little things like navigating the subways and pushing through crowds, the cacophony of never ending construction or horn honking, the fast pace and short patience of real New Yorkers build and build until suddenly you're sitting on a park bench in Central Park crying because you're lost and can't find your way out. From what I have heard, witnessed, and experienced first hand this is not a unique experience. No matter how much you adore the city, you can spend your entire first year doubting whether or not you belong here.

I personally have been obsessed with the glamour and promise New York capitalizes on since I was small. I knew it was going to be where I ended up, the Chrysler Building quickly becoming my shining beacon of hope. And yet, the second I stepped out of my taxi from JFK I hit the pavement as hard if not harder than any other transplant. This was not the city I knew and loved, mainly because I couldn't spend all day on Fifth Avenue and every night on Broadway. I had a job to do, and some days it's beautiful but some days it can be terribly ugly. 

Now, when people ask me about living in New York, I am very honest. I always say "It will give you your best days, and it will give you some of your worst." People here don't spend days just going through the motions, there's no gray area. So everyday you are brave enough to take a step out of your apartment, you better accept whatever that day will throw at you. But have faith because it's thrilling, you will never be the same person you were leaving your apartment this morning, and you certainly don't know who you will be climbing those five flights of stairs tomorrow.

I did my time. I celebrated my anniversary on August 7th this year. I have passed silly, cliched New Yorker qualifications like giving directions to a tourist without looking at my phone, openly crying in public, jumping a turn style, eating food out of a food truck, navigating the subway system without a map, cussing out a cab driver, and falling asleep in a variety of places that are not home. But I don't consider myself a New Yorker, unfortunately my roots back home were far too strong. I do however, feel like I belong here now. Despite pangs of homesickness or the (not so) occasional lonely day, I live here, work here, learn here and love here and New York City is now my home.

Yet, what people didn't warn me about was the pain associated with the second year. Yes, the wound has healed but the stitches must be removed. Suddenly I have started to experience the painful process of losing pieces of Washington I was still attached to.  It started with mundane yet impactful moments like the day my Washington driver's license was confiscated to be replaced by a shiny, flimsy New York State one. But it feels as if the universe is cutting the threads of anything pulling me back home to ensure that I stay here. It's bittersweet really, because it suggests that I have purpose, but it still hurts a little more everyday. Suddenly one by one relationships change and love ones disappear from your life, but it's alright because the city will give you new ones. Suddenly news from back home will break your heart and New York will be the one to restore your hope, and suddenly ideals you have had your entire life will be shattered and you'll have to look to the city lights for advice. Everyday a new cut with a new Bloomberg bandaid. I think this is the real process of becoming a New Yorker, when the city starts fixing you instead of breaking you.

I have shed more tears on this tiny island than probably anywhere in the world. But this city has also given me unrelenting hope and happiness. 

To those of you brave enough to make the move or who are stumbling through the transition now:
Even on those worst days you're in the best city in the world, and I promise every time you try to turn your back on New York it will put something so amazing in front of you that you'll have to turn around. I swear it will make you stronger than you ever thought possible and you will never be bored. And every time your old home makes you cry, Manhattan will find a hundred little ways to make you smile.

This city is something special, but everything worth it takes work. As important pieces of you are painfully chipped away you have to be brave and open enough to let them be replaced with something equally beautiful. Between the thrills and passion, good days and bad, even the tears and laughter, I am always incredibly thankful for my transition.

Love always,
M

Finding sunshine in the Manhattan storms

Sometimes it just takes a few perfect strangers to have faith in you to completely turn your hellacious week around. While walking in the park, working with six dogs get you a lot of attention from European tourists. Dog-walkers aren't something they are especially accustomed to seeing so they might want your picture, they might ask if they're all yours, or they’ll probably just quietly giggle and point to their favorite pup. But sometimes, if you're lucky, they will care about you and not just the dogs.

I had a couple not only ask why I'm in New York but after I told them I was attending NYU they went further to ask me what I was studying. When I told them acting they were overjoyed- this is a reaction I'm not used to seeing when I state that I'm a theatre major. They were grinning and squealing about what exciting of a life I am going to live and how they must get my autograph before I become rich and famous- it was kind of a silly situation but it definitely left a smile on my face for the rest of the walk.

Next there was an older French gentlemen curious about an apartment in a building I was walking out of. I answered as many questions as I could but I had to tell him that I don't actually live here, I was just dropping off the owner's dog. He asked me what I was doing in the city and I bitter-sweetly responded, "trying to be an actress". His apartment frustration vanished as he smiled a huge smile and stated, "What a beautiful girl, I cannot wait to see you in the movies. Your movie will be my favorite movie." I guess it's just a little bizarre to experience this degree of kindness from a city full of selfishness and aggression. Lifting me up like this didn't benefit themselves at all, but simply made my day a little lighter and my dream a little more believable.

It's easy to get bitter and angry as an actor when you feel like what you've always dreamed to be possible suddenly looks immature and unrealistic. You doubt your own abilities instead of being inspired by others, you take to heart the concerned reactions you get when you share that you're a theatre major, and worst of all you start to resent the experiences and struggles you have along the way. Really, there is no "along the way", the life you want to have cant be a destination or your wasting all the inevitable days in between. This is your life, right now, whether you like it or not. You're an actor today, it doesn't matter if you're an Oscar winner or you haven't auditioned for a year.

And although I know I shouldn't rely on others to remind me to have faith in my dreams, it certainly helps in a crazy city like this. One of my favorite people visited and said, "Wow, New York certainly is a box of chocolates." I laughed because I couldn't agree more.

There are days, where its pouring rain outside, and I cant seem to get control of my endless to-do list and I daydream in my French class about just dropping everything and running away to Paris. Unfortunately, and fortunately, even on the worst days New York can offer (and trust me, this city has done some pretty admirable work) there is some sort of glimmer of hope that will surface. Whether a sweet European couple, or the Turkish deli downstairs that’s practically adopted you as family, you’re never alone in this lonely city. And no matter how many tears you shed, or how severely it seems like your life cant get worse, its gratitude that makes it okay- yes, this is really hard, but I get to live a lot of people’s dream. I cant neglect to see what incredible things I have just because some might hurt along the way.

I guess to live here you just have to put all your chips on Optimism- because that faith in that everything will work out is sometimes the only reason to leave your apartment. As an actor, all it takes is one moment, one single moment of being in the right place, at the right time, in front of the right person. And honestly, I feel like that applies to most of life's deepest thrills.

So once again I face the bitter realization that their is no key to success, it's not some twelve-step program you can do to get yourself famous.

All you can really control is you.

So when the day comes, where I am potentially in the right place at the right time, I can be that right person. And if I’m not that day, then to keep faith in my work, and to keep making myself better (whether that means revising point of views and tactics in a monologue or sitting blissfully getting a mani/pedi depends on the day). Training hard is not something I have ever struggled with, in fact pushing myself too hard is probably something I could list in the “Special Skills” portion of my resume. So I think the goal for right now is to take care of myself a little more. It sounds so narcissistic but I feel like most of us are in an abusive relationship with ourselves. A weird concept, but hear me out- if you body was a separate entity, lets make it a child, would you treat it the way you do? I push my body into physical situations where it fails me because I don’t let it sleep, I don’t let it rest, I certainly don’t nourish it properly, but then I get mad at it when it doesn’t do what I want it to. Not to mention, I only critique it and never reward it for helping me out all day.  I would NEVER treat another person like this, so why am I treating me like this? I’m sure most of the world is in the same boat, besides a handful of heiresses and health junkies. So I need to start looking at the relationship with my body as more of a give and take, not just take, take, take… be thankful for all it does for me and reward it, with a few extra hours of sleep or maybe a facial? Its all in the little things.

The only way to survive this world is to find your own bliss. Whether its for five minutes on the subway while you sip your earl-grey, or running away to Paris for a while. A crack of a smile can turn even the darkest of days to something palatable. During one of my most stressful mornings I ran into the deli, soaking wet from yet another New York storm and dying for a much-needed coffee, when one of the Turkish gentlemen said "Good morning! The sun doesn't shine too much outside but it's because we have the sunshine right here, don't lose your sunshine it's so nice to see!" I laughed because I certainly wasn’t feeling the sunshine that day. But either he was just being sweet or he could since my little glimmer of optimism. I proud of the fact no matter what life throws I still have that. And I hope you have that, whomever you are. A tiny bit of optimism can go a long way, whether you believe that things will always turn around or maybe just that good or bad everything happens for a reason.

So I hope you have a nice summer of taking care of yourself, because everyone needs a little love now and again. Find your little blisses and find your optimism. That’s the goal. Then anything bad that happens can be dealt with accordingly, but at least you’ll know how to feel love and how to be happy when you need it the most. Good luck out there.

Until next time,

Madison

A Break of Silence

Unfortunately, sometimes it takes tragedy to strike to remind us how incredibly lucky we are.

I have not posted in this blog for while not because of negligence, but simply because I was taught "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all".  And as hard as it may be to believe, my beloved, glamorous ideal of New York City was shattered, and I was a little too shook up and bitter to say anything nice about it. Months later, as I finally start to find my footing, I can happily recognize how blessed I am no matter how difficult the day may be.

Moral of the story, New York is hard. Really freaking hard as a matter of fact. When it rains you don't run into your lover like in Breakfast at Tiffany's, but you're usually dog walking and now have to pick up soggy poop. When you return home to your Central Park West apartment, the door man doesn't smile and hand you your mail, but you have five flights of dirty stairs waiting to be climbed. And when you have a free minute, it's not spent in Bendel's picking out a new handbag or seeing a Broadway show, but instead cramming homework and running to the 24 hour Staples for materials for acting class. I don't wear heels but instead sneakers, I'm not seen in Kate Spade, but instead yoga pants for class, and I'm never on stage, I'm in training.

Not the chic New York life one would imagine huh? But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy either. There's an incredible feeling knowing that you are exactly where you are supposed to be. It might be hard, and I might occasionally get bitter that I'm writing yet another term paper instead of my Oscar speech, but one step at a time I suppose.

To catch you up on how my life unravelled here. I found an apartment, happy nestled on the Upper West Side (surprisingly on Central Park West)- and how we managed that is still a little beyond me. My roommates are neither Elora or Nyna, circumstances sent all our paths different ways but I wish them the best. Instead I live with Laura, a recent NYU grad from North Carolina, and now Julianna, an FIT student from South Hampton. The girls are lovely, we all share a strong love of sweets and even stronger lack of attention span. I work as a dog walker, sometimes walking 6-8 large dogs at a time (yes, I'm that person from the movies) but I adore my job. It's kind of my doggie therapy on the weekends. Although I am consistently covered in dog hair and some sort of canine fluids, it has its perks- really amazing bosses, free Starbucks, outdoor exercise, famous clients, and endless puppy love.

I still attend NYU, and I'm always challenged to the utmost degree in every way possible. My acting studio tears any emotional walls I have down to force me to find truth and pushes me to face whatever scares me (usually failure) head on. General education classes provide an environment where I am thoroughly inspired by the insight and intellect of my peers around me, I can only hope to become as well-versed and cultured as they are. It's a completely humbling experience, because here I have never had the feeling that I am the best or even one of the best. But instead I just have to work my hardest to keep my head above water. In the beginning, and even for the months that followed, I was waiting for Tisch to be the right decision, merely hoping that I had made the right choice to transfer, but I now realize that isn't something I can wait for. It instead is a goal I actively pursue everyday. This university, and this city, is a place of endless opportunity- it's just not handed to me on a silver platter like it used to be. I was spoiled before, and now I have to fight tooth and nail for what I want, and I just might get it.

They say gratitude turns what we have into enough, and I couldn't agree more. As I constantly made mistakes, burned bridges, fell on my face, and was continually trampled by the city, I started to resent my big move. 

But life is about silver linings and little things.

I know New York is the right place for me right now, it's giving me the backbone I was lacking and providing me the exercise I needed to strengthen my passion. It's the place of endless inspiration and exploration. I might miss home, almost every second of every day, but what baby bird doesn't? Here I know, no matter how hard the day may be, I go home stronger and better.

I'm lucky, so so incredibly lucky. And embarrassingly enough it took a family devastation to make me see that. It's so easy to get caught up it little tragedies like feeling fat in a dressing room, or blowing an audition, or getting a bad grade on a final, but why do we weigh ourselves down like that? I have the greatest family in world, friends whom are always willing to pick me up and dust me off when I fall, and I just have this amazing feeling I am at the brink of something great.

No one said this was going to be easy, but they said it would be worth it. I can't lose faith in that. 

So sitting on a train from Boston back into Manhattan, I now have a restored sense of strength to keep working. I don't feel like I am lacking anything, but instead passionately grateful for everything life has given me. I think that's where bitterness stems from most of the time, and people should take a minute to reexamine all the blessings that they have. So sorry for the lack of communication, I will make it a new goal to update this more often than once every few months.

I hope you all know how close I hold our bonds, whatever they may be, to my heart. Studio teaches me life is all about moments of contact, and one can never take those moments for granted because you'll never know how many you have left. So thank you. 

Until next time,

Madison

The Big Move

"You can't start a new chapter if you keep re-reading the last one"

Alright, heres the beginning of a hopefully very interesting blog. To explain why this started:

I spent the last two years at Central Washington University studying Theatre, where I met some of the most incredible people in the world. However, I suppose fate didn't have it in it's hands that I spend the rest of my days in Ellensburg, Washington so it threw a nice curve ball of making it into my dream school- Tisch School of the Arts. So I packed up my oversized closet and moved to New York City- but I promised good friends that this blog would be made so they can keep track of me and whatever crazy antics might ensue.

Wonderful! Now that you've read the Reader's Digest version of my life you're all caught up. To move on to the good stuff...

I moved on Wednesday. A tearful goodbye to my Labradoodle (Tofu), one suitcase, a box, and a one way ticket to JFK. It was a big step for a control freak like me... No place to live, student loans not finalized, just a whole bunch of courage I didn't have. But I did it!

I landed and found my way to Harlem where I'm crashing on my friends house and it suddenly started to sink in...

• ·      Oh my god, I'm here for good.  
• ·      I'm blonde and defenseless and I live in Harlem
• ·      This isn't vacation, its now survival
• ·      Why are all the dogs so tiny? (I miss my Tofu)
• ·      I'm a poor college student trying to live in the most expensive city in the world
• ·      It's as hot as Satan's armpit in this city 
• ·      Well at least the food is good…

This life will not be Gossip Girl, or Breakfast at Tiffany's but instead a lot of falling on your face and picking yourself back up. I'm used to that.

The last few days have been full of quirky people, some rude, some positively clinically insane. But people you will only find in New York City...

For example, Crazy Muffin Lady. This breakfast b*tch had a sour look on her face the second I walked in for coffee. Its five o'clock am west coast time, I just need something to munch on before I tackle craigslist. However, this is no easy task. Her case holds OVER FOURTY DIFFERENT KINDS OF MUFFINS. How's a girl to choose? It takes me a second or two and no one is behind me yet this woman cannot handle having me waste her time. "Which one would you like ma'am." "Which muffin ma'am" "Ma'am can I help you?"

"GET OFF MY BACK MUFFIN LADY!" I quietly thought to myself as I settled quickly on a whole-wheat triple berry.

*You'll come to notice in this blog I have the problem of thinking of a lot of things I am never brave enough to say...

After that lovely adventure, I take sanctuary in one of the most glorious places in the city. The Rockefeller Center Anthropologie. Two giant floors of lovely things I cant afford and one crisp clean resume in my hands. I will work here and life will be beautiful (metaphorically and literally due to all the things I'll own). I hand over my lacking-experience resume on hand picked stationary, give them my best customer-service giggle and smile and go on my marry way. This city's got nothing on me.

THIS CITY'S GOT EVERYTHING ON ME. After 1) almost being pick-pocketed (made sure to elbow the guy in the ribs as hard as I could and cuss him out), then 2) being stood up in the rain by a broker, then 3) being dragged from tiny, filthy apartment to apartment. My future roommate Nyna and I were close to giving up hope. Funny how this city can shatter any optimism in such a small amount of time.

However, life is funny in the way it seems to give you a little hand out right when you need it the most. Eating some lovely veggie dumplings in a little hole in the wall in the village, Nyna and I were reviewing tomorrow's trek into Gramercy for more apartment suffering. But at just that moment the sweetest British couple piped in with some words of wisdom about the neighborhood. Some pieces of advice turned into a dinner conversation, then into late night chatting. It's great how much this happens in the city. We talked about everything, from their fridge magnet-destroying cat, to our lives in theatre, to a homeless Indian man in a hot pink bikini and all the other the crazy things this city offers. At the end of our perfect conversation with Adam and Betsie, he leaned over and simply stated, "Don't worry, you will find your perfect place, but sometimes fate waits to give you good things until you absolutely need it the most. When it's meant to be, it's meant to be." 

After that we could have a nice walk home with frozen yogurt and hope restored.

One nice fateful conversation does not mean smooth sailing though... Brokers still call us "unrealistic" and "naive" but we refuse to settle. New York continues to spontaneously downpour, and not in the romantic Breakfast at Tiffany's way, but the way that soaks you down to your underwear. And the city never stops, even when sometimes you just need everything to stop pushing you down.

Which is why I left.   (Temporarily of course)

A quick weekend trip to Connecticut to clear my head and visit my family whom I just adore. Sometimes the only band-aid you need is a hug, a home, and a dog. Thank goodness for a quick hop on the train at Grand Central. But this break won't last long. One deep breath of fresh air and I'll be back on that train ready for round 2. No one said this was going to be easy, and there's no shortcuts or loopholes. 

But for some reason I'm certain we will find the right place at the right time (I'm just hoping that right time will be before classes start-yikes!)

Until next time,

Madison