Am I A New Yorker Yet?

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Aviators, Chandelier, Chasing, Dragons, Dreams, Flubber, Georgia, New York City, NYC, NYU, Sia, Tinder, Union Square, Valdosta

Settled. Peaceful. Adjusted.

After two and a half weeks, you’d think I’d be all of these things… The truth is, I am… Kind of.

I’ve regained my distain for highly populated tourist areas (because, ya know, my commute to that meeting was only supposed to take 10 minutes, not 22). I’ve become immune to the ridiculously large amount of beautiful people, all with perfect teeth. I’ve broken and readjusted my budgets several times (because expected costs of moving far underestimate actual costs of moving).

So… Am I a New Yorker yet?

I doubt I’ll ever gain the distinct and notable northern accent, but I am able to walk through the city with a sense of purpose and false apathy while blasting Sia’s Chandelier and donning my rock star Aviator knock offs…

So… Have I arrived?

Barely.

There’s a part of me that feels if I fake it hard enough, I’ll be able to replace the southern culture I’m so accustomed to with the hip, trendy individualistic attitudes that are so prevalent and popular in the city. But alas, like the feeling of trolling Tinder and gaining that overbearing feeling that SO many frickin’ people are SO out of your league, you cannot shake the occasional feeling of homesickness… That feeling of friends within arms length, a support network awaiting your arrival every night after an outing, and the general happiness of proximity to people that have (and will continue to have) your back.

It’s time to fess up to the truth behind the glitz and glamour of the city…

Living in New York is hard.

Especially if you’re a foreigner (and for all intents and purposes, I – a guy from the remote bubble of suburbia that is small town Valdosta, Georgia – might as well be). There’s an interpersonal detachment that’s rampant throughout the city that kind of wears on you emotionally. It’s an atmosphere that I’m not used to; it’s not prevalent in the South. Granted, that detachment is not enough to prevent me from doing what I came here to do or make me regret my decision… It’s just a facet of the city I wasn’t prepared to deal with, so it’s the most glaring obstacle to my adjustment at the moment.

As I begin to create a “home” out of my apartment – which, I admit, is coming along quite nicely – and establish stronger relationships with the people I’ve met here, I think the detachment will become less prevalent and it will be easier to feel a sense of comfort and support within the city.

But GAAAAWWWDDDDDD I wish that moment will hurry up!

 

On a differing note, I have officially completed the first week of class and it has been breathtaking. I’ve learned that my preconceived notions about what this would be were both valid and fallacious. The belief in the artistic growth I assumed I’d gain from the program is well in tact, as demonstrated by leaps in ability after only a few minutes of instruction in class. The teachers are far more eccentric (and sometimes, intense) than I could have ever imagined – I swear my history professor nearly bounces off the walls during class (think, the scene from Flubber).

More than anything, I’m impressed with the newfound motivation and inspiration I’ve gained just after the first week. Though I remain open minded, before coming here, I was afraid that I wouldn’t love the work enough to actually want to pursue a career in the arts, but between the immense talent of my classmates, the excitement of the faculty and the endless supply of opportunity I’ve experienced thus far, I’ve rekindled an even larger flame and passion for the arts. I’ve seen and remembered why I wanted to do this in the first place. There’s something absolutely profound about sitting in a class and watching someone hone their skills with the help of a seasoned professional. It gives you hope. It makes you think. It inspires and insists upon your growth as an artist.

For the time being, I seem to be receiving the things that I came here for and it’s honestly so exciting.

Keep Slaying,

MDP

Let It Happen

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Central Park, Chasing, Dragons, Dreams, Kindle, Let It Happen, New York City, NYC, NYU, Sam Smith

Four. Days. Later.

That’s right. I’ve been in the city for 4 days. And in that small span of time, it feels like so much has happened.

I assured my grandmother that I had indeed survived for at least 5 minutes without having been robbed or kidnapped. I met my roommate (who seems to be just as sane and awesome as I imagined he’d be). I secured an apartment. I’ve reacquainted myself with the subway system. I’ve had great conversations with friends. I’ve gotten my NYU ID card. I visited the Freedom Tower complex and ate at Chipotle. I’ve avoided Time Square like the plague. etc. etc.

The interesting thing is, I thought that once I arrived, the anxiousness, the nerves, and the fear would disappear. Like… I’m here! I made it! The plane didn’t crash. My luggage wasn’t over the weight limit. My mom didn’t successfully tether me to my bed headboard.

I’m here.

So why am I still anxious? Why am I afraid? Why am I still waiting for someone to tell me the horribly sad news that I’ve accidentally booked a ticket to some foreign destination that only looks like New York?

Yesterday, I found a way to deal with that anxiety in a way that I hadn’t since doing the Duke in New York program after my freshman year… I took a stroll through Central Park. My headphones, my Kindle Fire, and I all had an intimate date as I strolled through the park, people watching and thinking – meditating, if you will.

As Sam Smith played in the background, I focused on how relaxing Central Park is during the day time. In a city of utter chaos, here lies a perfectly peaceful and majestic park filled with women, men and children just enjoying life. It’s a place where life is about basking in the sun, riding bikes, rolling around in the grass, and taking in the scene of it all. The juxtaposition is always so awe-inspiring to me.

As I was walking, I occasionally stopped to read a book that’s required for one of my classes. The book (though applied to tennis in its original context) talks about discovering and utilizing the inner game – the game of the mind – as it applies to performance. It’s about learning how to quiet the part of the mind that seeks to regulate, control and convince the rest of the body that it has no idea what it’s doing, when in fact, the body is created to adapt and succeed on its own without too much regulation. The book further explains that it’s this overregulation or “trying too hard” that prevents our potential instead of allowing it.

As I read, I ran across three words, centered and in bold: Let It Happen.

This was the validation and sign that I needed. I think one of the reasons I’m so anxious about being here is because I feel like there are certain things that I have to do if I want to reach what I’m trying to do. I feel like there’s this “perfect path” that I have to figure out or else I will have failed at my coming here in the first place.

The words express exactly what I need to do. I have to let it happen. I have to trust that things do and will continue to happen for a reason. I have to trust that if I’m meant to be in the right place, at the right time, with the right people, it will happen.

I have to realize that, now that I’m here, all I can do is pursue as many opportunities as life will allow. Open all the doors and walk through wholeheartedly. Not everything’s meant to work out, but most things do.

The point is, you can’t tell what’s behind a door, just by looking at it. So, you can’t predict what a project or favor is going to lead you to. You have to just let it happen.

Keep Slaying,

MDP

Our Deepest Fear…

Tags

Chasing, Dragons, Dreams, Duke, Goals, Graduate, Marianne Williamson, Musical Theatre, New York City, NYC, NYU, Our Deepest Fear

Mortified. Anxious. Excited. Nervous. Optimistic. Open-minded.

These are all emotions that I’ve been drowning in since I committed to attend NYU Musical Theatre Grad. Throughout my senior year at Duke, I had adopted a divine devotion to Y.O.L.O. and though I obviously cared about what I was making of my future after undergrad, I have to admit that the decision to even apply was due (at least in some small part) by the philosophy I had embraced.

There’s a solid portion of my conscience that exists as this idealistic schemer who formulates all these grandiose goals. Still, the other (larger and more logical) part of me usually does a pretty good job of helping me regulate and determine what is and isn’t possible in life. Yet, here i am – ticket in iPhone, classes booked, money conserved – on the verge of embarking on a completely unreal journey.

You have to understand the way that I operate: I pray. I work relentlessly. I wish for the best.

I never “expect”. I never “deserve”.

It serves just as much a regulator to my ego as it does my sanity. What it doesn’t serve is when things do happen and I’m forced to take a second to look up from the grindstone to appreciate what’s been done. I pause. I take everything in. And I remember to be thankful. I remember to be grateful – for the life I’ve been given, for the opportunities I’ve had, for the people who keep me grounded, and for the ones that believe in me far more fiercely than I believe in myself at times.

Then I take a second to acknowledge that there are certainly people who work twice as hard and are ten times as good. This inspires me with new goals and motivates me to promptly get back to work because there’s more potential to be unlocked.

I’d like to believe that this (along with help from God and good home-training) has led me to where I am now. I’m making this next step because I believe it’s time to allow other things – instructors, mentors, LIFE – into my process of working. I’m excited to collaborate with all the elements available in NYC and see growth and development as a person and artist. For the next two years of my life, I’m giving myself to the arts wholeheartedly…

…And it scares the mess out of me. Because it’s new. Because it makes me more vulnerable. Because (no matter how much I tell myself I’m not) I am at least a little bit scared that I might fail. But these worries are fleeting as I try to keep in mind my favorite quote by Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

This quote helps me find purpose and comfort.  It helps me reach the fact that my dreams and my reality don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

As I move forward, I look forward to exploring whatever’s ahead. I’ll try my best to face it all as honestly, as fearlessly, and as openly as possible. After all, dreams are kind of like dragons, right? Huge, daunting, fearsome, and illusive at times. But I’m guessing there’s no better feeling in the world than conquering one.

Let’s slay.

MDP