The Step with the Seafood

Today I went to Central Park. I've been meaning to go out more and do things/see things before I leave this New York for three months. I'm very conflicted about leaving (more on that later, perhaps).

So I went to Central Park to work. Today was a perfect New York autumn day: overcast and windy yet not cold enough to be uncomfortable. That is, until the rain.

Rain that came out of nowhere, like in perhaps every episode of LOST. Luckily, I had ducked out of Central Park before it got really bad. Yet the sheer power and scale of the storm forced me to go into hiding. Where did I hide?

A wine store. Correction: a wine store with free tastings from local wineries and free oysters and clams. It was pretty sweet. I thought to myself, "Why not? I'm here anyway? Why not try some wine and get a nice midday buzz going." And that's exactly what I did. I even tried oysters on the half-shell, an experience I don't believe I've ever had. It was surprisingly good! I think I may be addicted (I just imagine myself going to every wharf and begging for oysters in order to get my "fix"). Finally, I bought a nice bottle of wine that I hope to share with roommates at dinner tonight.

Then I went to Michaels to procure my [harbor] fix. Afterwards, I went to Barnes and Nobles to get my postcards for family fix and my Scott Pilgrim fix. And what a surprise! I found myself by Gray's Papaya (a New York tradition), and while I wasn't really hungry I knew I had to try one of their hot dogs. I didn't get the papaya juice, which will have to be remedied. Someday.

I'm home now. Time to get started on some [harbor].

The Step with the Village

In the month or so that I've been here, I haven't felt really here. As in NEW YORK CITY: that city of your dreams and what not. I chalked it up to working a lot and living in a primarily family-dominated area. And maybe, just maybe, that my reality could never hold up to my dreams. I love it here, but perhaps the New York I dreamt was only just that: a dream.

That is, until I went to Greenwich Village.

I finally made it down to 14th St. to visit my roommate at his opening night (or, more so, mid-day) after party. He had just opened a play called Lost and Found for the New York Fringe Festival. The party was casual and fun: free wine, free food, and an actor in the play who also was in a few episodes of LOST (Guess who! Guess who!!). I'm glad it went well for my roommate.

But getting there... getting there was half the fun, if not all. I've been all the way to the tip of Manhattan and I've been about as far as 23rd St. The stuff I want/need to do is mostly midtown, a place I rarely want to go. Times Square is more an amusement park than an actual city.

So here's my surprise when I enter the Village. Interwoven streets; calm, rustic buildings; and even cobbled streets. Cobbled streets! It was as if the Old World came to New York and had a hipster baby named "Greenwich". It had edge, yet it felt comfortable. It was home.

I know I can't afford to live there. Hell, I'm amazed that anyone can. But that doesn't mean I can't play every chance I get. Perhaps I'll start tomorrow.

The Quarter-of-a-Century Step

I'm a quarter of a century old. And I'm kinda glad my birthday is over.

Not that I don't like turning older. 25 is much better than 15, or even 21, where I was this oddly shaped triangle trying to fit into the square peg that was college. And I'm very grateful for my birthday; spent it with wonderful people, had a wonderful brunch, a wonderful (though rushed) dinner at Dave & Buster's, had a great time at Assscat 3000 Improv, where Jack McBrayer (from 30 Rock... yup, 30 Rock) not only made fun of my dancing (you're turning the wrong way, Jacky Boy) but also (apparently) was impressed by my dancing (I had danced onstage for the audience. Because I was drunk!), and especially for ending the night with Cindy and Miia, two amazing people who (hopefully) will be in my life for many birthdays to come, at a rooftop bar overlooking the best view of New York ever. I loved Chelsea, I loved the presents I got, I love the family I talked to (I saved the message from my nephew), and I loved my birthday. But I'm glad it's over.

On your birthday every one expects you to have the BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!! It adds a lot of unwanted pressure and stress; like if everything doesn't go your way then your birthday is a FAILURE! Well, I believe the first, and most important, rule of being an adult is everything doesn't go your way, especially on your birthday. So I'm glad the unneeded stress of having the PERFECT BIRTHDAY EVER! is over.

I feel that life as an adult is mainly about satiating other people, even on your birthday, a day I kinda don't understand to begin with; my parents did all the work, so treat me to cake and presents. Yay! I could have slept in, but I went to brunch with a roommate; not totally selfless, as the brunch was delicious, but I woke up early nonetheless. Could have gone to see a musical, but people didn't have money, so we went to free improv, to which people invited other people. I need to let it go; so it's gone. 'Cause even on your birthday your going to get jabbed in the nuts by your roommate who thinks he's being funny but is just being... well, that guy you kinda knew from college that you said "sure, I'll have him as a roommate for a year. It's either that or some creepy guy from craigslist that I don't know who apparently wants to invite his friends over to shoot coke into their rectum or to play nightlong D&D. Or both!" That guy. You're constantly compromising, like having to eat your birthday dinner in line 'cause the cooks at the place you went to eat f*cked up your order so they had to make it again so you had to get it to go so you weren't late in line for an improv show. But that's good to know, because I feel those who think their birthday is all about them think their life is all about them. And, er go, they lead a very difficult, annoying-to-everyone-else-because-they-bitch-so-much life.

So I let it slide. Because in the end I got amazing presents/books from so many friends which I can't wait to start reading. I was made fun of (and admired by) Jack Mc-f*cking-Brayer from 30 Rock in person, I had an amazing brunch, I had a beautiful view of the city with amazing friends, I saw my parents, I talked to my sister, I talked to and got the best message from my nephew ever, and I have the knowledge that not only did I spend my birthday here in New York, but that I'm here to stay.

As birthdays go, this was a pretty good one.

Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old

I am a quarter of a century old.

Sometimes you turn a year and don't feel that age. You're nine and you turn 10 yet you still feel like a nine year old even though you've entered the illustrious double digits (11 more months and Bubs is there...). Well, this time is different. I already feel 25; I'm already more confident, wiser, and more relaxed. Twenty-five is a good year to start chasing your dreams.

Did I mention I want to take a hip-hop class? After my class yesterday, I saw a hip-hop class and it was mesmerizing. I love the way hip-hop is moving right: it's this interesting juxtaposition between smooth lyric movements and sharp staccato steps, and when it's really good it still tells a story. This class was really good. Don't know if I'm experienced enough for that class, but I'm certain ready for something.

This birthday has already been the best ever: got a call from my 'girls' exactly at midnight; they sang me "Happy Birthday" and then giggled when I told them I was at work. No work tomorrow, though. Gonna wake up, open a beer, and not stop until the day's over. 'Cause that's the best way to celebrate your birth: trying to kill yourself with alcohol. Wink!

The Step Where I Die (But I Resurrect, So It's Okay)

Good news! I got all the stuff I ordered from Target today! That includes a desk, chair, bookshelf, pillows, and other fun stuff. I started building the desk in the wee hours of the morning and completed both the desk and chair today (I've been keeping a terrible sleeping schedule). So... that means I'm not typing on my desktop computer on the floor, craning over the keys and killing myself in the process. I'm now in a nice comfy chair seated in front of a sturdy desk, which means I can write more updates much more frequently! Will I update more? Probably not.

Took an amazing contemporary jazz class today at Broadway Dance Center in midtown. I initially wanted to take this choreographer's 6-7:30 class, especially because I had boxes that were begging to be unpacked. Yet, I was late. So I waded around midtown for an hour and took the 7:30-9, which actually was better suited for my experience bracket.

Lo and behold when I get to BDC again, but who do I see? Erin Lynne-Hall from college. She's managing BDC now (which is pretty awesome; no big deal). I was surprised to see her though I knew she worked there, but I don't believe she even had the foggiest that I moved here. I've been here a month, and I've met up with very few friends (I need to get on that... yes, I'm looking at you person who lives in or around Manhattan that I haven't seen yet. I apologize, but the phone does work both ways. Think about it).

Class was exhausting and difficult, which is exactly why I need to keep taking it. I need to have difficult; in terms of dance I've had easy for too long now. I've become soft. So I'm ready to step up my game.

Today was someone's birthday in class, so the teacher gave her what she wanted: something fast. This techno-infused roller-coaster ride of a routine had us going a mile-a-minute while getting down on the floor then up on the floor then down then up then side then out. It was intense. But, again, it was good because it was difficult. I felt clean because I was drenched in sweat. I'm a dancer again.

I also want to take an improv class and maybe do some stand-up. 'Cause it terrifies me.

Birthday looming around. 25. Want to see improv at the Upright Citizens Brigade.

Good news: tickets are freezies!

Bad news: they give them right before the show starts.

So I'm guessing that if I get there an hour before the show starts I'll get some tickets. I hope. I really would like to see something on my birthday, but I have a history of things like this not working out. So we'll see.

The Step Where I Wonder Who's Pulling the Strings

My roommate, Jen, and I were going to spend an afternoon at Coney Island today to celebrate me being here for one month already.

That is, until the rain. The torrential, almost unearthly, downpour of rain. We didn't make two blocks.

Happy one month!

The Best Step Yet

Today I played with my nephew. Honest to goodness playing.

A few days ago my mom and I found the wonders of Skype. Let me tell you, for homesickness or missing loved ones of any kind in any way, take a dose of Skype and you'll be fine. There's something about actually seeing someone's face and connecting with them in a deeper way than just phone or a letter. I love receiving letters in my mailbox (be it virtual or not), and I can't wait to talk to someone on the phone, but when you can see them it makes it feel as if they were actually there. At least for me. And apparently, for my nephew.

When I talk to him on the phone it's a lot of clipped questions and one-word answers.

What'd you do today?

Nothing.

...What're you doing now?

Watching t.v.

Uh...having fun?

Yup.

You know, that sort of thing. It's not that we don't like to talk to each other (for a nine year old, he's a juggernaut of speech). It's that it doesn't feel right. It's a voice; it's not a person. That's not my nephew on the phone, not all the nuances that make up this wonderful little man. And I know he doesn't feel like Uncle is talking to him on the phone, either.

But today we knew he was going to be at his grandparent's house. So we set up a Skype meeting this morning, and finally, since last I hugged him goodbye a month ago before getting on that plane, I saw my nephew's beaming face. I saw my nephew.

Since he got to see me, he opened up more. No longer was I a disembodied voice; I was Uncle again. We talked like we used to.

Psst...Hey, Uncle.

Yeah, Bubs?

Do you live in Hawaii?

No, I actually live in New York.

But you said you lived on an island.

I do. Manhattan, a part of New York, is an island.

But it has a bridge. It can't be an island.

You know, that sort of thing. He showed me his new toys. He showed me the gift I got him for his birthday (which they still don't know how to play). He showed me the books he's reading. I didn't just hear his enthusiasm for his show-and-tell; I saw his smile, I noticed his kooky expressions, I watched his laugh.

And then, when words were no longer needed, he picked up a Lego sword and I picked up my finger. And we played.

Across time and space, we played. Just as if we were in the same room together, we played. Just like we used to, we played.

After little more than an hour, we said goodbye. We could've stayed on longer; we probably could have stayed on the whole day (a bit of me wanted to), but there were other things needed to be done on both sides. So we waved so long. TTFN: Tata For Now.

This is exactly what we, both my nephew and I, need.

This will help us keep that relationship we've been growing for two years strong.

This will save us.

Just seeing his face will I have my nephew.

And I will stay Uncle.

The Step with the Cats and Dogs

Wow.

I just came back from a rainstorm. In July.

Wow.

Sheets on rain came falling down, as if manufactured from a movie studio. And, as if this was some kind of metaphysical movie in which we're all the heroes of our fable, I was caught in it. Deep in it. Try just finished grocery shopping and you look up and your jaw drops because you have to carry 5 heavy bags deep in it. Yeah, it was fun.

Luckily, I was only two blocks away.

Luckily, I had an umbrella (which after last storm I have always kept with me).

Still did not keep the weather from pouring. And pour it did!

And today was such a pleasant day. On second thought, in some respects it still is.

The Step with the Steps

Getting up at 8 am (when previously for a month I've gotten up at noon), waking my roommate up, getting a U-Haul in Harlem, driving through Manhattan (again!), picking up a mattress and box-spring (and rolling frame!) finally, driving through Central Park, moving a mattress into our place, getting said mattress in our small elevator, getting a ticket just as we were about to move the U-Haul out of the way of a BROKEN (!) fire hydrant, Skyping with Mom with the first time, seeing how excited she was as I show her that my window looks out onto another window, making perhaps the best Star Wars video ever for my dad's birthday, Skyping and singing my own acoustic guitar version of "Happy Birthday" for my dad, going to Target in the Bronx with roomie to pick up bedsheets for new bed, picking up an awesome plaid button-up too, picking up a few nifty household objects (like a fan) as well, eating at Dave & Buster's with Jen and Cindy, missing out on the D&B arcade games as we race across town to make Inception in IMAX, missing Inception in IMAX since it was sold out, realizing that movies sell out here (and elsewhere apparently; not Fairfield, I'll tell you that!), vowing to ALWAYS use Fandango as we race up Third Ave. while trying to buy tickets for a non-IMAX but still exciting Inception, snagging a cab to reach the theatre in time, being a little afraid for our lives as the cab races up Third Ave. to reach the theatre in time, reaching the theatre in time, buying tickets for 10:20, INCEPTION!!!, knowing all the trials today were well worth seeing that movie tonight, taking three subway trains to reach our home, and finally...

...assembling a bed so that this room, apartment, and town might feel just a bit more like home.

Good. Bad.

Up. Down.

Back. Forth.

It's been a day.

Goodnight.

The Step with the Bed

Today I did something I thought I never, ever, was going to do in New York.

I drove a car.

More so, a uhaul. Not a big one; a car wagon. But I drove it, nonetheless. Through Midtown, even.

I have been sleeping on our couch for almost a month now (has it almost been a month?). I was going to get a bed eventually, but every time I got a day off I didn't want to waste it doing something benign and dull as looking for something to sleep in; I wanted to live! And since one of my roommates didn't have a bed either, it seemed okay.

That is, until she got one.

Since that slumber party was over, I decided to grab a bed myself. Went online to IKEA, Sears, even discount mattresses. All were too confusing or expensive or confusing and expensive. I just couldn't get a decent mattress for a relatively low price.

So I went to the next best thing: Craigslist. And within a matter of minutes I found two great deals. The one I pounced on was a full size Sealy Posturepedic mattress and boxspring in great condition for only $200. Perfect! Emailed him, told him I was coming for it on Friday, and what was done was done.

Well... not quite.

See, my roommates may have had to pay more for a bed, but theirs were delivered. Mine: not so much. I realized after that I still needed to get the mattress from there to here, and apparently Craigslist frowns on shipping. So... nothing to do but rent a uhaul and go for it!

If my blood boils and all my joints tense up whenever I drive through San Francisco in a small car, how was I going to drive through New York City in a uhaul?

My roommate Emily offered to help me move the mattress and boxspring. We were at different places in the morning, so when I went to pick up the uhaul she was already there waiting for me.

I went into the tiny uhaul to find the tiny uhaul office and an even tinier uhaul man. He wasn't small in size, mind you, just in mind. I reserved the cargo van at 2pm for 4 hours. When I met the man, the first thing out of his mouth was, "I close at six."

Great, good to meet you, too.

That's all he cared to inform me of. He closed at six, and if I don't bring it in by then I have to bring it in tomorrow. Yes, sir, I understand the concept that one day precedes the next. Perhaps you don't realize that 2 + 4 = 6, as in 6 pm. I rented the van for four hours, all the while preparing to return in back at six. And, honestly, how long was it going to take to get a mattress?

Long, apparently.

I got in, took perhaps too long to adjust ALL the mirrors, and started the van. And waited to go. And waited so more. And perhaps there was more waiting.

But after, I finally went. I was feeling confident, brave, in control of my own destiny. I was driving through New York City!

Correction: I was sitting in traffic through New York City.

All I had to do was go to 2nd Ave. and 47th. Problem was, I was on 36th and 10th Ave. Tenth. I chose to fire down one street, pass through each avenue, then come up to 47th. Yet, apparently the street I chose to "fire down" was more of a "simmer where you are" sort of street. Sad to say, but it took awhile.

Tight streets, stupid pedestrians (always walking! ALWAYS with the walking!), and several car honks later, we got there. We arrived! And with a lovely parking space right outside. But where was outside? I knew the cross streets, but he never did give me his actual address. He didn't even give me his number! All I had to go by was the cross streets, his name, and that he called it the elevator building (I'm sorry, what do you mean? Is there an elevator on the outside? Is it just one big elevator? Or do you not know that other buildings in New York have elevators. Hell, MY building has an elevator!). I did know this in advance, but he confirmed through email that I could pick it up on Friday. And it was Friday, and I wanted a bed.

So, my plan was to go to the buildings on the cross streets and see if the guy lived there. Problem was, it could be ANY of those buildings, either way. There were a lot of "elevator buildings". Unwary of the task but knew it had to be completed, I picked the closest building to us and went in.

AND IT WAS IT! BOOM!

Seriously. The first building I went into was this famed elevator building I heard so much about. I talked to the lobby attendant, told him I was here to pick up a bed, and he called up. Just like that. Just as if he was expecting me. Just as if I was expecting him.

I've made it. I drove through town, found the right building, and now am going to finally have a bed to sleep on! So...where's the bed? Hell, where's the guy I'm supposed to pick it up from?

Wasn't there. Attendant called twice and no answer. He even let us up to the floor to knock on his apartment. No luck. Had we really been all this way, taking such a great journey, to only be denied our sweet treasure in the end?

Apparently so.

I left him a note at the desk, and I offered to buy my roommate lunch for helping me with my phantom bed. We went to this little place called the Manchester Pub. It was small and a little smelly; just like a English pub ought to be. And the peppered-burger was simply divine. Divine? Seriously, Jimmy-typing-this? Seriously, Jimmy-reading-this.

As we went back to the van, we checked in one last time to see if maybe, by some stroke of luck, he had come back! But, no stroke of luck. Not even a faint wave. He wasn't there.

I drove the van through 5th Ave., right next to Macy's, and back to the garage. We hoofed it to the subway, thankful that we didn't have drive through that some more.

Do I despair that I didn't get my mattress? Somewhat. But what I'm more excited and proud for is the notion that I did the impossible today: I drove through New York! I tamed the beast and lived to tell the tale. What did it costs me? $40 dollars and lunch with a friend? Small price for a big victory.

P.S. After some more detailed conversations with this bed guy, I think I'm going to try this all again on Sunday. But this time, I'll be ready.

The Step with the Rain

It's raining right now. Thunder and rain right outside my window.

Today's my friend's birthday. We're going to a restaurant tonight in the city to celebrate.

Rain, revelations, and the possibilities of this place. I'm excited.

Pictures: My First Day Off (Part 2)

After indulging myself in culinary flights of fancy at the Rockerfeller Café, I found this little gem.

'Oh cute', I thought. 'Someone made a giant NY apple out of legos.'

Nope. Not just someone.

The LEGO Company.

If you see the building in the right part of the picture, you'll notice the word "LEGO". Apparently they just opened up. To celebrate, they constructed a giant NY apple made entirely out of legos. Even the heart on the sign is a lego. Click it. You'll see.

This is one portion of a giant snake the wrapped around the whole store. So many things were made out of legos in this store! Which, I guess is the whole concept.

A replica (as lego replicas go) of Rockerfeller Center.

This one does have an ice rink.

They even put their store in their replica. How clever!

This is a replica of the... I guess you could say Zeus figure outside of Rockerfeller Center.

The original one says,

"Wisdom and Knowledge Shall Be The Stability of Thy Times"

This one says,

"Creativity and Imagination Shall Be The Stability of Thy Times."

No offense, wisdom and knowledge, but I like the Lego one better.

Bubba would be so proud.

Pictures: My First Day Off (Part 1)

This is

Rockerfeller Center's Ice Rink.

Really.

Apparently, during the warmer months, they convert it into this posh outdoor cafe.

I didn't even want to look at their prices.

Addendum Dream

I would also like to bring back the song and dance man.

If it's not too much trouble.

The Saddest Step of All

Today's the best day ever! It's my nephew's birthday!! My funny, quirky little nephew is nine-years old today. 9!

And I'm not there to celebrate with them. Or with him.

This is the hardest part about being here. Being so far away from him.

Yes, it's hard to be away from family and friends, but we can still talk on the phone and through email. They also understand why I'm doing this. Most importantly, they have lives of their own, lives that I can be a part of elsewhere. While Bubs (my nickname for him) kinda gets it, he doesn't like it. When I lived with my parents and he would come over, we would play together. We were Pokemon trainers and Jedi, allies and enemies. We would have crazy dance parties or just sit together and watch a cartoon. Now that I'm here, it's as if he's lost a friend. It's as if I've lost a friend.

These are his formative years and I want to be there every step of the way. I want to see him grow up, and I want to help him keep and kindle his imagination while he does it. I want to celebrate with him at his happiest moments and be there to console him at his worst. I want to help shape him into the great man I know he's going to become. Yet now I feel like I'm on the sidelines, not even watching but listening to Bubba's game of life. I feel helpless, and I can't imagine what he must feel. I hope he doesn't feel like I abandoned him. Did I?

But I have to do this, right?

I have to be here, and I have to be here now. Right?

This is the culmination of everything I've wanted and worked for my entire life. My dream becoming reality. And if I stay back in California, regardless of what might pull me there, I'm only letting my dream die. So, I need to do this. For me. Because I only have one life, one chance. And with that chance comes sacrifice. So I must make a few sacrifices. For my dream.

Right?

I only hope that when Bubba gets older, he'll understand. I just want to be that uncle who's there for his nephew always, regardless of how far away I am. I want Bubs' and my relationship to only grow stronger. As he grows older, he should feel comfortable to call me whenever he has a problem that Mom or Dad can't help with. And if things ever get really bad, I want him to know that he can always spend a couple of days (or as long as he needs to) here in New York. Or if he just wants to come over and spend some time with Uncle. That'll be alright, too.

We may not have our old relationship, but we'll forge a new one. Because no matter how far I'm going, it's not too far to keep that boy in my life.

Right? Right.

P.S. I'm coming back to California from late September to early January, so he and I'll have plenty of time to play then.

The Step with the Subway

Today, I took the wrong train.

You'd think this happens a lot, given my little experience riding the subway. But in fact, even though I've lived here for so short a time, I feel I know the subway system. How it works and the like. Perhaps that's why I took the wrong train to begin with; I trusted I knew where I was going.

I like my station. It's small, dingy, and always has at least one homeless person in it. It's home. Best part about my station is that it only has two trains: the B and C, which means less people. The C takes me uptown to work in Washington Heights in a quick ten minutes and back down home in less. I don't have much use for the B, so imagine my surprise when we reach the stop "161 St. - Yankee Stadium"... in the BRONX!

I think back for a minute. I took the C... right? I was so sure. So sure, in fact, that for a moment I even thought they built a whole new station on the C, in a day no less! Nope, I was on the B. In the Bronx. With twenty minutes to get to work and a dead phone.

It's said that if it takes less than forty minutes to get somewhere in New York than you're making good time. How was I going to hoof it back to 145th so I could go uptown to 168th in half that time? With sheer luck and a lot of running, that's how.

167th: I dash out of the car (not before saying a quick hello to a little one), run up the stairs, briefly meet the Bronx for the first time as I'm leaping across the street to the downtown Manhattan line, spend another $2.25, wait for a few minutes, and with fifteen minutes left get on the D back home.

But I'm not going back home. Two stops later I'm back on the island ("We have to go back, Kate! We have to go back!!!") and breathe a short sigh of relief. Not a big one, mind you. I'm still not out of the urban woods yet. A stop after that and I again dash out of the car to try and make an uptown train. If you miss one, you've got to wait another ten minutes, and I only have twelve to go.

145th: Race up two narrow flights of stairs, navigate my way to the track I need (luckily I don't need to spend another $2.25 this time), and admire the coolness of a track above another track while I wait for my train. A or C. Either one will do. Ten minutes to go, and I need something. Hoofing it even comes to mind. Might be better than waiting.

But I do not wait long. Only minutes pass and the A train comes ("You must take the A train!"). The Express. My subway guardian angel. See, the C train would have been perfectly acceptable. With the C, I would go through about 3 stops and arrive late to work. Late, but I'd get there. But not with the A train, oh no no no! From 145th, the A train takes you straight to 168th. My stop.

A bumpy rocket sends us flying uptown. I don't sit. Can't sit. I've only got 7 minutes!

The train opens and I come running out. Eyes set on the prize, and this time (as opposed to 145th) I know the station.

I head straight for the stairs on the other side, all the while strategizing how to weave through these people, my head going faster than my feet.

I make it to the other side. I reach the surface. I'm almost there!

I have to wait for the light.

But I don't wait for the light. I do as all who live here do and cross. Cars coming? Eh. Traffic? What of it? Impending doom? Over my dead body.

I cross the street, open the door to my work, and make it with 4 minutes to spare! 4 MINUTES! I gasp for water as I do a victory lap in my head. I have passed through the underground gauntlet, and I have made it out the other side victorious.

In other news: It's hot. Mind-frying hot. I don't know how people do it year after year. Something I'll have to learn to deal with, right?

But in more good news: I found out today that those with Equity Membership Candidacy (or EMC for short, or "points" for anyone like me who never knew they were called EMC until you had to sign up for them) get to be the first seen after equity members in equity auditions. So it goes: equity, EMC, non-union. EMC still has to wait, but they have a much greater chance of being seen! Right before I left, I did a show which started my EMC. I may only have six points, but that still qualifies me to be seen after as a candidate after equity!

I was going to give myself these first three months to get myself situated with the city: see the town, learn the subway, feel at home. But with my daring escapade on the train today I feel I just might be ready to get ready to throw my hat in the ring.

If I can make it here...

I have three dreams. Three wishes, if you will.

1) To live in New York City.

2) To be in a Broadway show.

3) To help bring musicals back into the forefront of American society.

I have been here in New York for almost two weeks, now. I see no sign leaving. Ever.

Wish one granted. Two more to go.