I'm in the process of writing my story of when I was living in NYC studying acting. There's a lot to my story and for many years it's been so private and special it was hard to even talk about. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times :) If you're just tuning in, I suggest you start at Part I for it to make sense. All links in order at the bottom of this blog entry. I promise it's a juicy read. These entries often include actual journal entries from that time in my life. I'm so grateful I documented so much! Once I finish here, I hope to expand into a book. I'm posting these frequently but they'll also be interspersed with real time blogs :) Thanks for reading & supporting!
*All names are changed
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During school, we had 10 minute breaks every hour and half as you would in a professional rehearsal. Almost everyone in class would get up and go outside to smoke. It was so different to me. Nobody I knew smoked like that at home.
Everyone, teachers included, seemed to all have the same favorite word. Fuck. I heard it all day everyday and nobody batted an eye. I was no prude, I used it to, it was just how nonchalantly it was used that surprised me at first. Again, nobody at home (especially any teachers I'd ever had) spoke completely freely. I liked it.
I smoked my first cigarette. Sorry mom and dad. I was successfully distancing myself from Martha and growing closer to Jenny. As Christmas break was approaching we went out to one of her favorite places. She loved greek bars, restaurants (and greek men) and seemed to know where they all were. We had food, drinks and a smoke. I didn't tell her until years later that it had been my first cigarette. I just tried to look like I knew what I was doing. Yes, this was way back when smoking was still allowed inside. I can remember just where we were sitting, our cozy candlelight table and snow falling outside. The nostalgia of remembering that night gets me every time.
I don't remember if I'd seen The Guy again since the party, I'm sure I was stressing about it all when suddenly a detour with Mark came out of nowhere just as I was about to head back to SLC for our break.
"...[a group of us from school] were out last night and of course, I was one of the last to leave. I was only going to take a cab with Mark to the one/nine but then he asked me to go to a play with him in the morning and crash with him. So I said yes, thinking I just wanted to be with him like old times. We'd drink, we'd crash and cuddle and that would be it..."
(Well. It wasn't all that happened. And I wasn't too thrilled with what had happened. I don't think we went to a play the next morning.)
"...Afterwards he was all about giving me his email address, kissing me goodbye at the bus stop, god I don't know. Maybe I'll get an email in his typical Mark pattern saying that this time we really need to "just be friends". Or maybe he thinks we'll have a "thing". But there's not going to be a relationship...
...anyway, Mark knows about The Guy. After his inquiry [about The Guy], his ripping on him impersonation of his "Scarface" scene he said, "The Guy seems like a nice guy...but do you like him?"
...passing through Hoboken then Weehawken, thinking how fitting to end where I began. The place that started it all. Launched my adventure. How did I ever handle it there and who was that girl? I'll write when in the sky..."
And then I hoped on a plane to take me back home for the first time since all of this had happened. How would it be? I couldn't feel more different. About everything. What would it be like to see my family? My friends? Would it be weird? I'd changed. Surely they'd changed. I had a new life. It was filling up with new people and places. What would we talk about now? What would it be like to sleep in my old bed? I was happy to be going home for this holiday in particular and pack up more of my clothes and belongings to take with me when I returned to NYC.
And how on gods green earth had that just happened with Mark? That hadn't even happened with The Guy. I wasn't into Mark, and things had just started happening with The Guy. What the hell? It was all sorts of weird and confusing.
On the plane I wrote.
"In the sky...and I really don't have anything to say. I guess it's because I'm viscerally and mentally so filled, so busy, I can't even begin to straighten out my thoughts. So I'll just turn up the volume of the travel channel to drown myself out, and continue to feel the way I've felt (to various degrees) for who knows how long now. A little fuzzy, a little tuned out, out of adjustment, zen."
Part 1: http://beanerlarue.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-york-state-of-mind.html
Part 2: http://beanerlarue.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-york-state-of-mind-part-ii.html
Part 3: http://beanerlarue.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-new-york-diaries-part-3.html
Part 4: http://beanerlarue.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-new-york-diaries-part-4.html
Part 5: http://beanerlarue.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-new-york-diaries-part-5.html
Part 6: http://beanerlarue.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-new-york-diaries-part-6.html