Well, here we are again.
I haven’t been writing because sometimes it feels like my life isn’t interesting enough. However, I’ve learned a lot in the year(s) I’ve been gone. I might share, I might not, and I probably will share the things I’m bound to learn.
I turned 30, I did another tour, I quit said tour, I moved back home, I moved back to New York, and the list goes on. Coming back to New York felt like the time to just write again. It’s probably every New York cliche you can think of, but I don’t care. I’ve always been a little basic and that’s fine.
I’m sitting in a new apartment, I moved in with two of my buddies from my first tour. It feels iconic, yet, utterly insane that I can now say “first tour”. I’m also writing this before I make my Broadway debut.
I’m making my Broadway debut tonight.
Broadway, of course, is one of those elusive things I’ve always wanted even when I had no clue what to do with my life. It’ll be short lived, and if you read this post on September 12 - I’ll probably be working retail.
That’s the thing though, I don’t feel like I’m going backwards if I’m folding clothes and riding the subway home hating humanity. Make no mistake, I will hate humanity no matter what occupation I have. However, I guess saying I was on Broadway makes it feel a little better. I mean, I have to capitalize the B in Broadway - COME ON!
On Sunday I had to finish Ugly Betty. I know what you’re thinking and yes I still watch that show religiously every summer. As Betty, (SPOILER ALERT), took that leap of faith and moved to London - I got that same fuzzy feeling inside. It happens every year, I know it’s coming, but I still feel a fire brew inside of me.
This year, at 31, I’m more emotional than ever. Betty leaves her family, her friends, and all for what? To chase some crazy dream she has? Even though most of my family/friends are a 3 hour train ride away, I identify with her more than ever. I don’t share it enough, (I probably should), but it isn’t exactly easy to just be away from home. My friends are married, have/having children, buying homes, and settling into a clear path. Betty talks about paths and says something to the effect of even if it’s the wrong path - It’s still a path.
I can’t quite say what my path is. Who knows? After two generous pours of whiskey on Sunday, I went to my living room and looked out the window. I can see the George Washington Bridge, and a great view of (lower) Manhattan. I stared and stared at those buildings. I tried to figure out why I’m back again to take my bite out of the Big Apple.
One last look and one last swig. I felt the heat of the whiskey go straight to my stomach. I took a deep breath and those buildings laid out a path. It doesn’t look clear at all. Quite frankly, it looks dizzy, dirty, and utterly terrifying.
But it’s mine.