Palatial Environs

This day off found me wandering around Capitol Hill. The weather was damp and grey (for a change - it's been gorgeous during this past week). It set a pensive, calm mood for me. I walked from Union Station up to the Capitol, behind the Capitol and over to the Supreme Court and the Library of Congress.    

Though I had experienced these buildings before, I was struck by their incredibly ornate, regal presence. For instance, looking at the back of the Capitol was like looking at one of the great palaces of Europe. Except, there is no monarch here but the People of the United States. My roommate said she always thought of the Capitol as the "People's Palace." I like that.  I was truly humbled by these noble structures - which is exactly why I moved here. To be near things that feel majestic (kind of dorky but true). 

{Walking up to the Capitol}

{The People's Palace, i.e. The Capitol}

{The People's Judicial Centre, i.e. The Supreme Court}

{My heaven, i.e. The Library of Congress}

{Inside the Library of Congress - so regal}

{Carpeting in the LOC's Main Reading room - my type of rug}

{The view from the LOC - my new city!}

Imagined Possibility

My dear friend Susie suggested that I watch Actress Meryl Streep's commencement address to Barnard College's Class of 2010. I am so glad that I did.

Streep's smart, empathetic words meant so much to me. What a light that shines through that woman.

Here are some highlights that meant the most:

"Pretending is imagined possibility."

"Your calm focus can pull people in."

"Empathy is at the heart of an actor's art."

Streep talks about changing her appearance, her "giggle", her mannerism to please men when she was younger. During this portion, I kept nodding my head. Oh, yes. That was me. I think that was all of us.

And finally,

"Pay attention to the cracks because that is where the light gets in." A quote Streep used by Leonard Cohen.

Where I Go

A scene from Carousel: A Dance

Everyone has his or her own relationship to music. Why they listen to it. How they listen to it. Some people pay close attention to the lyrics, while others are in it for the rhythm. I fall into the latter category. To be honest, I have to listen to a song MANY times before I remember the lyrics.

The world seems kinder to me with music playing. Life needs a soundtrack! Music serves as a salve to heal my woes and revitalize my spirit. A vehicle of catharsis. I take refuge in the worlds created through each note. I think that's why I have always loved soundtracks. Listening to the orchestral music makes me feel as though I have escaped into another world. I can become a different character - feeling relief from reality for a brief moment.

Below is "Ballet" from the Carousel (1957) soundtrack - a song where I often go for relief and catharsis. Now, I must clarify that I rarely listen to the entire song. If you listen to the first part, the notes are sprightly and mischievous (fun to listen to at times). Then, they grow to be grandiose as the Carousel Waltz plays (oh, I wish we had more waltzing in life).

Then, the rhythm tempers to a gentle beat. I most often go to the place that begins at 5:37 and ends at 6:47. Seventy seconds. I have curled up into those 70 seconds more times than I can count. Violins swell to a dramatic crescendo of grace and strength. It is the part of the ballet where Louise falls in love with the carousel barker - one of the most romantic and beautifully-executed dance sequences. The music here feels like the full-blown manifestation of my inside. And there is such solace in hearing your feelings played back to you. A sort of affirmation - however transient - settles in my heart and I am little bit more whole than I was before visiting this clinic of musical solitude.

Does my love of these seventy seconds seem a bit to particular and quirky? Or do you have moments in a song that resonate? Why do you listen to music (if you do)?



The 1957 film version:




Image found here.

imissthisplace

A view from Wiscasset - which calls itself "the prettiest village in Maine" - and the Sheepscot River. I stood in this spot at two years of age, dwarfed by two rotting schooners, the Hesper and the Luther Little. The schooners were removed in 1998 and all that remains today are rotting remnants of the dock that once led to the ships. I took my dad out to a thank-you-for-doing-my-taxes-cause-I-am-purely-an-English-Literature-soul lunch on Saturday and we stopped in Wiscasset so that I could patronize my favorite stationary shop, rock paper scissors (they sell the best notebooks - better than Moleskine - and eclectic laptop sleeves)!

An Easter supper table, decorated by the Bowen women. We know how to pull a fine table together. I love when we pull out our good china and silverware. Such refinement.

Raspberry sherbet and fruit salad, served in antique dishes, to cleanse the palate between courses.
My mother's Easter basket - fresh blooms to herald the spring season.

An Easter mantle filled with eggsflowerstwigsbunnies.

My whole body and spirit breathe such sighs of relief when I journey homeward. I unravel the tightly-wound cord of my person to become a free creature of time and the earth. Barefoot, I wandered around the green, mossy knoll in the backyard, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of spring. Hair tendrils askew, dirt-stained toes, I felt singular with this spring moment in Maine. God in heaven, I miss this place from whence I came. Someday, I must return. It is decreed in my soul that I will rest in the country once more. There are many days where I pray this return be soon. Please soon.

Style Love: Fanny Chanel in A Good Year

The rainy doldrums prompted me to pull out my worn copy of Ridley Scott's A Good Year so that I might bask - through the magic of the cinema - in the warmth and joie de vivre of the Provençal countryside. The movie (and novel by Peter Mayle) tells of Max (Russell Crowe), a British banker who travels to Provence to sell his recently deceased uncle's chateau. The film is rich with hilarious and colorful characters - the town locals and Max's British friends. His love interest is the owner of a local restaurant, the mysterious Fanny Chanel (Marion Cotillard). Watching this movie makes me want to run away to Provence and work in a local restaurant like Fanny (alas, the movies always make this adventure look far more romantic than I am sure it actually is)!

I adore Fanny's carefree, casual style that suits a Provence summer. I would describe Fanny Chanel style as comfortable sexy with a splash of bohemian chic - scoop- and v-neck tops, flowing, above-the-knee skirts, and a hairstyle either done up in a messy bun or flowing freely.

Images found here, here, here, here.

Entering Holgaland

Friends, I think I am entering Holgaland. I have lately been dissatisfied with my Nikon point-and-shoot and even my iPhone isn't taking the pictures I want. I want to introduce a level of reality mixed elements of artistry and creativity. Basically bring a little more life and originality to the pictures I take. I like the unpredictability of a Holga (and it has the coolest name - so pretty and Scandinavian-sounding) as well as its excellent price point! In an ideal world (someday), I would be able to afford an SLR, but for now I think this Holga camera could be a cool experiment and a chance for me to flex my creative muscles in a new way.

I found a Holga starter kit online for $60, but I would love any advice (good places to purchase Holgas and accessories, general tips for first-time users, anecdotes from your Holga experiences, etc) that Holga users would be willing to share!

Image found here.

What's My Stake?

For the past three years, I have worked in the "corporate" world. Blerg. One of the terms that is often bandied in this place is "stakeholder." Essentially, the marketing endgame in the business world is to determine your stakeholders, find out what gets them excited, and sell that to them. Boom! You're done. Maybe there's more, but my interest stops there.

However, I got to thinking. A "stakeholder" is really just a gussied up term for someone who is passionate about something, or at the very least, cares a modicum about something. So then, for what I am a stakeholder? What are my passions? Honestly and sadly, I don't think about this often enough. And my mom is always asking me this question: What are your passions? It's a good question, mother.

In a separate conversation yesterday with my friend Emily, we discussed how society tells us what we "should" have versus what we actually have/want to have. If we're single, we should be dating. If we are dating, then we should get engaged. If we are engaged, then we should be planning a wedding to beat My Best Friend's Wedding. If we are married, we should have kids, etc. If we have a family, we should balance both career and family. Jessie of 20-Nothing's post on redefining a career woman discusses how she would choose career aspirations over a man who would make her choose between him and her career. Men in her post come off as being pretty black and white, and I am thinking that there are some guys out there who wouldn't make a woman choose. Those are the worthwhile ones. They make the true partners.

The buffet of "shoulds" we are fed in life never ends. I'm trying to remember the first time I genuinely thought about my wedding, probably around age fourteen when I saw Father of the Bride for the first time. I saw Annie Banks as "having it all," with her loving family, her career as an architect, married to a dashing businessman, the ideal wedding, and then the perfect little baby boy. That movie franchise represented the larger cultural expectations I think many of us face as women. And I've bought into it - started dreaming up what my wedding might look like, what I would do for a career, what charming man I might marry, and the cute kids we would have. But much of this is not real. Something we all know. But not something that we all believe.

Lately I am wondering whether any of the marriage/husband/kids package will actually happen. And do I even want all that? Sometimes I am not so sure. I am sure that I don't want to be fixated on just one set of things, especially material things. Dreams are all well and good, but dreams should be of my own making and not some expectations generated by the cultural machine. Do you ever feel like you are on this treadmill/timeline, one that doesn't really fit who you are?

Things will happen, for the good and for the bad, in their own time. I know this to be truth. But in practice, it's not always easy to accept that truth.

Right now I am just on the edge of feeling liberated from thinking that I should have certain things, that I should look a certain way, that I should have a certain type of personality. I feel like I have been living fake for a while now. Worried so much about what others think of me. Enough is enough.

Clearing away all that junk, I am a stakeholder of many things that I have either been afraid to want or was to distracted to know I wanted.

If I say them out loud and write them in this post, it makes them more real to me. It means I have to work towards them.

I want to be a writer. I started out with that idea in college and then somehow lost it. I want to write the kind of pieces that inform the public about stories that might otherwise go unnoticed by the mass media (think NPR's The Story with Dick Gordon - AMAZING). I believe in the power of fair and balanced journalism (yes, "fair and balanced" comes from the mantra of NPR and yes, a dream job has always been to work for NPR). I am a stakeholder in trying to find something as close to the truth as possible and presenting the facts to a wider audience. If we can educate the public on key issues, I think we can build a better society.

I want to be involved in international politics. My favorite course in college was Islamic Women's Writing. It opened my eyes to a vast, vibrant world and prompted me to minor in International Studies and learn the Arabic language (of which currently I have mostly and sadly forgotten). Fear, ignorance, and indifference prevent millions from appreciating all that the Muslim world has to offer. It is really so incredible. I wish to re-immerse myself in the Arabic language and the international political stage. I also love the idea of the United Nations - it has so much potential to be a incredible organization (if only certain countries would pay their dues on time and give fair play to other nations - *ahem* USA).

I want to be more creative. My current career track has an incredible gaping hole where my creativity once resided. Corporate life doesn't really allow for much of that - to its detriment, in my opinion. This blog has really re-inspired my creative self. But I want more. I want to learn about web and graphic design so that I can take this space in new directions of my own devices.

I want to have influence. Does this mean I have a power trip? No. This ties together all the items above because it means that I am using them to ideally make something good, something positive, maybe even something better than before. And something that is wholly outside myself - in the world. I would be affirming my "power," i.e. that place within yourself that you always want to change but which is really the most valuable thing about you.

I am thankful for the luxury to have the time and the space to consider where I stake my passions. We live in an extraordinary time of consciousness and opportunity. It's time that I started capitalizing on that opportunity to better myself and hopefully the world around me.

So now I ask you: what's your stake?

If I Ever Go...

If I ever go to the Academy Awards, I would wear this Oscar de la Renta gown from his Spring 2010 Ready-to-Wear Collection.

And this Stella McCartney Silk ball necklace:

Image via Style.com and Net-A-Porter.

A Dress That Dreams Are Made Of

I am nowhere near the point of even contemplating the idea of a wedding dress, but as a twenty-something girl raised in the culture of My Best Friend's Wedding and Father of the Bride, I love to read about weddings, which is why, as I was perusing Once Wed yesterday, I happened upon pictures from Seth + Dionna's wedding and promptly fell madly in love with Dionna's dress. If I owned this dress, I would never take it off. Not only does it look so comfortable, but it's style, texture, and hues play perfectly to my tastes. This dress is so dreamy. Pure magic in it's occasional sparkles, lace, and tulle. A mish-mashing of all my favorite things. And also, don't these two seem like the cutest couple?




Images of Seth + Dionna's wedding found here at Once Wed.

The First Waltz

The First Waltz. So romantic. A pair falling in love. Oh, to wear such fine silks and florals and have a dashing young royal whisk you about the dance floor.

I've been listening to The Young Victoria soundtrack on repeat (this is the last post of this film, I promise!). The music by Ilan Eshkeri is illustrious, inspiring, and reminiscent of my beloved England.

The First Waltz - Ilan Eshkeri

Image found here.

My City

Indeed another New York City post for I have returned once more to what is increasingly becoming my favorite city. The apple of my eye. This visit was for my new job. In between all the new ropes to learn and content to absorb, I found spare bits of time to explore the city even further and on my own. This independence became my true friending of this vast metropolis. The view from my hotel window showed an ethereal gold hand from Madame Tussuad's (see here in a tilt shift-style photo), a strangely comforting object to see amidst the vast linear architecture of Times Square.

{A room with a view of Times Square}

Though I was based in Times Square for the three days, I tried to move beyond the "center of the civilized world." In the late evening, I wandered the streets as a means to understand the city 'scape. I passed by the Palace Theater, currently the home of my beloved West Side Story. While tempted to see an encore of the show (after my thrilling autumnal experience), I was unable to steal away from my work duties to make an 8 o'clock show. In the early evening, I walked up East 42nd street to Grand Central Station where I procured a small cappuccino at a delicious, albeit pricey cafe. I leaned against a wall in the vast main room of the station, pretending I was meeting someone, a dashing young man perhaps, when really I was observing the streams of people whose busy paths intersected eamlessly and sometimes clumsily, as they journeyed to their destinations.

{Snazzy cars zip by the marquis of Broadway}

I strolled down West 44th street for an evening work event at the Harvard Club (very "shay-shay," my term for upper-crusty and possibly pretentious) and after, stole away to the Algonquin Hotel bar where I sat in a corner booth and enjoyed my favorite cocktail, a gin and tonic. Here I sensed the witty, bitting presence of Dorthy Parker and the Algonquin Round Table. I surveyed the scene: a pair of businessman discussing stocks and new hires over oysters and martinis. Two young British men, in slim, dark jeans and matching striped cashmere sweaters nibbled bar nuts and drank thick, dark drafts of stout. Never before had I sat by myself at a bar and this classy, historic venue was just the ticket for this new experience. I felt a kinship with the scene and a sudden comfort in the city.

{Pricey drinks at the Algonquin Hotel}

This interlude energized me to stroll around the area and I soon found myself at Bryant Park where a skating rink and outdoor cafe had been erected. The cafe's translucent white tents and the brilliant white spot lights created an ethereal effect amidst the dark city night. This city breathes such possibility into me. It seems to fit me like that pair of black suede Dansko boots I magically found in a thrift store. Nothing ever fit so well. Boston-bound for now, who knows what may come in the months ahead!

{Bryant Park Skating Rink}

A New Day

Out with the old (a view of MIT and Cambridge)...

...and in with the new (downtown Boston)!

A glorious day! Not only is the sun beaming down on the frozen Boston 'scape, but I am moving to a new point in my professional career, as it were. A point where I will be writing! Yes, friends, writing will once again be my trade, my big meal ticket. Hooray! Writing has always been so very natural to me (I know many of my blogging friends can relate). A frequent pastime in college, this skill of mine has lapsed over the years. The miracle of this blog and encouragement from my few, but oh-so-treasured readers has remedied this deficit of creativity. A change of this kind reaffirms a life, energizes the spirit. A new epoch for me awaits in the coming weeks. Until the thick of it begins, I will be traveling to NYC for a little Colbert Report viewing, some law school inquiring (a journey to be tucked away for a year or two), and lots of friend-visiting.

May these next winter days be joyful for you all! xo

Of Hope

{Narcissus - a flower of hope, rebirth, and new beginnings}

So begins my reflections of 2009. If anything, this year was not the friendliest to my spirit. However, I found many cheery moments. If anything, this year showed me how lucky I am to have all the people I have found in my life and through this blog! You are all gifts!

So this year and decade draw to a close, and a new time throws back its crisp, fresh curtains to all that lies ahead. This is the part I have been waiting for. I hopeful that this time to come will be my brass ring.

In thinking about these past ten years, these past twelve months, I marvel at all the joys and trials, how they have changed us and how, in some cases, we have refused to change, refused to succumb to things that would cause more harm than good. I think about how I've changed since the start of this decade - in many ways, I started very closed and focused on a few straightforward goals of being a "good girl," studying hard to advance in life, and enjoying a simple, quiet life in the tranquil Maine woods. There were times when I clung to this lifestyle more tightly than I ought - there were times when I should have let go, but I didn't. These small chinks of opportunity were filled whole with my fear of change. I dreaded change as much as I wanted it.

But no more. In this new time, I hope to be more open to change. I will crave it and welcome it. This is a promise I make to myself. A simple resolution I carry in my pocket. I am hopeful! I wish you all, dear friends, hope and joy for your own lives in the coming time!

Ignite

Friends, it's been quite a week. One where my mind traveled to other places besides my beloved Marginalian. This week - full of meetings, kind, smart people, life decisions, and a crescendo-ing of the holidays. Coming out on the other side, I find myself weary and feeling older in a good way. Older not just because of the busyness, but perhaps as a passage into a new part of my life. All good things come to an end. New things, new perspectives begin. I am trying to steer my life towards as many positives as possible, to embrace the gifts I am given daily. I want the next part of my life to ignited with an energy and a hope for better living. This is a promise to myself.

Sorry for the somewhat cryptic nature of this post. You'll know more soon! Until then, I wish you all, dear friends, many of whom I have never met but who, I feel, are kindred spirits, a peaceful and joyous weekend!

A Special Time

Pretty lamps at Upstairs on the Square, a delicious and stylish restaurant in the heart of Harvard Square. My birthday lunch with two wonderful parents. Salad Niçoise. Zebra cake with a long, thin sparkly candle. Delightful!
Birthday flowers from my mom. Yellow mimosas. Red and white reniculas. Purchased with such love. A girl should always have flowers on her birthday.
The family birthday cake. Yellow cake with yummy frosting. The last of its kind. I'm really "growed" up.
Birthday car (well, a birthday ZIPcar). Snazzy red luxury. Carrier of good friends to brunch at my favorite place and around the city on a brilliantly sunny Sunday.
Peeking outside my window on my birthday morning. If you can see it, there are a pair of interlocking hearts drawn in that patch of snow. A loving sign, and perhaps, a wish for my coming year.

Birthday Business

'Tis my birthday time of year, friends! As a kid, I recall such excitement flowing through my young limbs during the days leading up to my birthday. Especially the night before. I would lie awake in my bed, listening to my mom bring down my presents. Hearing the crinkle of paper told me that she was putting my birthday sign up, which read, "Happy Birthday, Emily Cora," written in her fantastic bubble letters (she really has some mean bubble lettering skills) and containing pictures drawn by her of all the different themes for my birthday cake - Belle, Misty of Chincoteague, dinosaurs, Isabelle, our family's cat. I cherish that sign. It symbolizes how much I know my momma loves me.

There's something notable about your birthday that makes you feel magical inside - perhaps invincible even. While a little of the specialness becomes tainted by reality and age, I can't help but feel a certain giddiness as I anticipate the coming weekend!

My first gift is the tops! From my dear friend and roommate, Emily, some personal cards from moo! I had been thinking about getting some cards and the doll beat me to it! Thanks, friend!


Image found here.

Believe

This is what my mom always says to me. Believe. Believe that your life will work out. That You will find your career. That you will meet and marry a good man. That you will have some beautiful children. That you will make the world a better place. Sometimes this believing business is hard to do. But I am trying. In the spirit of this mantra and the holiday season, here are some pretty examples of believing:

{A copper tag from windshine}

{A silver ring from ArtandSol}

{This charming print from PenelopeandPip}

{Some sweet silver earrings from tickeledfancy}

Stretch!

Mmm, there is nothing like a good night's sleep to help heal your aching parts. I felt a burst of energy this morning when I awoke at 4:30 am (early, I know). Though I still have a cold and cannot taste anything, and it was pouring rain out (no fella with an umbrella today), I felt a sudden giddiness for this day. Okay, so perhaps this is due to the fact that yesterday I received an early birthday present of an iPhone upgrade (this thing is neat-o!) or perhaps because my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, is fast approaching. Or maybe because it's Friday and the promise of the weekend lies ahead of me! Anyways, I did a glorious stretch as I lay in bed and experienced a renewing presence in my taut limbs. Such a delicious feeling!

Though I still carry this stalled feeling, I cherish these little pauses, joyful gifts, when the world casts a grin in your direction and you smile in return.

I wish you all a lovely, restful weekend!

Image found here.

Stalling

I am stalling. Procrastinating. Dragging my heels. Pretending that everything is fine. Yes, the usual routine.

It feels like everyone around me is moving forward. Life is working for them. And I am just lying in the leaves, starring up at the sky. Not thinking much. Just reposing in the eye of the storm, it's kind of beautiful here. Ethereal. Possibly lethal if I stay too long.

Earlier this year, I thought I had it all figured out. I would do this to do well on this. At the same time, I would get this for a few months, which would help me be accepted into this. Then I would move to this place and do this. However, none of the this's really happened. And now I have a choice. I can do more of the first this to try again to do well on the second this. But essentially, I feel as though I am at square one and the road is feeling long. This here mountain of "this's" looks quite steep. I feel old (the quarter life crisis rears its head once more) and a waster of precious "youth time," that special time when you are young and free and only in charge of the nation of your body...and trying to spread goodwill to others, of course.

I am looking for some drive, some pep, some inspiration. Something to wash away this period of indolence and, frankly, weakness. A spiritual astringent for the monotonous aura that is currently taking residence with me.

Image found here. Via Sabino

24 Hours (or so)

A weekend, more of a maelstrom - events, people, places, emotions. Life felt fast and full. It was a good weekend, to be sure, but a harder one than I expected. Throughout the weekend, I had to deal with a very bad chest cough. A loud cough that would rear its loquacious head whenever I would sit for long periods of time in dry air (aka, any sort of theater venue... basically the two highlights of the weekend). However, I mustered all of the open-mindedness that my personality could buy to prevent this minor issue from affecting my enjoyment.

The magic commenced on Friday evening. I ended work around five o'clock and quickly ran into the bathroom to change into my "premiere outfit:" skinny jeans, a blush pink chiffon ruffle top (I just love the blush) with sparkles, a black military blazer, and my red satin flats. My hair was still straight and pretty from my recent hair cut and I felt glamorous for the screening of Brief Interviews With Hideous Men. Everyone deserves this feeling, at least once in a while.

I dashed out of work and met up with Ingrid and her coworker friends (one of whom is a Brown University alum like John Krasinski and procured us these tickets). We had a delectable dinner at The Friendly Toast in Kendall Square and then walked over to the Kendall Square Theater, which was aflutter with people waiting to see the movie (and the man of the moment). As we entered the theater, I thought I saw John Krasinski waiting in line for refreshments. The man before me looked like him - tall and cute. However, it turned out to be one of his brothers as the actor's clan had turned out for the event.

The girls and I headed into the theater, which was almost full (we arrived fashionably late as anyone of importance might). We found some seats on the side, three rows up from the front. This location turned out to be perfect for almost as soon as we sat down, a theater employee walked to front of the room and introduced John (yes, I call him John - this is not The New York Times with its Mr. Krasinski nonsense), who came running down the aisle to introduce the film. Basically from that point on I did nothing but grin. I mean, John Krasinski was like TEN FEET AWAY (maybe a little more, but not much)!! He looked just like Jim with a white button-up shirt, a black tie, khaki pants, and that adorable hair and goofy, knee-buckling grin.

He was just as nice and funny and smart in person as he is on the screen, which made me admire him all the more. He introduced the film with a quick speech about how David Foster Wallace's book had influenced him when he first read it in college and then he ran towards the back of the theater to watch the film with his family. During this first part, I wanted to take a picture but didn't want to be THAT girl at the same time, so this photo was taken without flash (the quality is a bit surreal, which is how it felt to be there at the screening):

The film is short (around an hour and half), but it is thought-provoking and at times, so engrossing and poignant that I forgot myself in the plot's current. The vignette style of the story was handled seamlessly and the casting was superb. In particular, the last scene and monologue wrenches the viewers in the quiet horror of its content. And it was performed by John, who stepped in when the actor who had been cast dropped out. A moving performance by an actor most commonly cast in comedic roles.

After the credits rolled, the lights went up and John once again bounded down the aisle to the front of theater to take questions. I would have asked a question but I could barely speak without coughing and my voice had taken on a very masculine tone from said cough. So, I just sat there and marveled over the fact that I was here, listening to him.

People asked John how he liked directing over acting, how David Foster Wallace felt about the film (a tad awkward since the author committed suicide in 2008, but apparently, before his death, blessed the making of the film via a phone conversation with John), and what were his favorite scenes on The Office. John was intelligent and kind in his answers. I knew I wanted a better picture with a flash, so I waited until the Q&A ended and people were applauding (to be less distracting), which resulted in this one just before he exited the theater:

How cute is he?!?! Swoon...

We exited the theater and I saw him walk through the parking lot with his family, looking so dashing in a blazer and scarf. Though I didn't meet him, the whole thing was really thrilling. I mean, I can say that I saw a movie with John Krasinski...and about two hundred other people (minor detail). So...

...on to the next adventure!

Saturday was an early day (I awoke at 5 AM). My Bolt Bus to New York City left at 7 AM (ouch)! I slept most of the way and awoke to a brilliantly sunny day that charged my spirit. We arrived in the city in no time at all. I scrambled off the bus, so enthused to be back in THE CITY (not that lame MTV show). I have grown to deeply admire NYC over the years - a city that is so many things and so wholeheartedly itself. Boston is a town-city, good if you crave the best of both worlds. But with New York, you come here because you want a CITY in the full meaning of the word.

My dear friend Stefanie picked me up on 34th street and after many hugs, we strode over to the West Side to walk along the High Line Park, a gorgeous landscaped walkway that is constructed on an old 1930s freight train track 30 feet in the air (elevated to protect the public from the dangerous freight trains). In lieu of demolishing the tracks, the Friends of the High Line and the City of New York sponsored the creation of the park. On this glorious day, it was just lovely to explore.

{Several New Yorkers enjoy the High Line}

{A quick shot of some kindred spirits!}

{Some snazzy High Line landscaping}

{Purple clouds}

{A view of the trendy Meatpacking District}

{Fire escapes - I couldn't help myself}

We strolled through the Meatpacking District and into Greenwich Village where we had a late brunch of divine Oeufs Benedict at the charming Cafe Jacqueline. A long meal, full of good conversation (my favorite). We walked through Washington Square Park, where I spotted the cutest white Scottie dog, who was making an unreal amount of noise (he gave me a dirty look after I snapped his photo...hehe).

{A very boisterous white Scottie at Washington Square Park}

We took the subway back to Stef's apartment, where we dressed for our evening out on the town. Our other college friend, Jen, who lives in Brooklyn, joined us to dine on a delectable meal of chicken, oven-roasted vegetables, fresh salad as well as a mozzarella and tomato salad (all lovingly prepared by Stef who is in a master's program for nutrition at NYU). Stef is such a gracious hostess who always shows me the best parts of the city whenever I visit - I am truly blessed to have her friendship!

{Chef Stef cooking up a storm}

After a delicious meal, we prettied ourselves a bit more and headed for Times Square and the blazing marquees of Broadway (couldn't help but hum a few bars of "Give My Regards To Broadway") to see the revival of West Side Story.

{My first Broadway show!}

We met up with another friend, Susie, at the Palace Theater, which was fairly bursting with theater-goers (buffs and dilettantes galore). We had balcony seats that were quite good but I remembered to bring some small binoculars to see all the action up close (okay, to see the very handsome Matt Cavenaugh up close). The show was simply stunning!

Without getting too schmaltzy, the story, music, and movement of West Side Story resonates with a deep part of my creative and dramatic spirit. To see it live on Broadway was humbling, checking off a line on my List. The singing was as gorgeous as the soundtrack recording (although Matt did not hit the high B flat in "Maria," which I missed), but it was the dancing that made this show a true spectacle to behold. I was so happy to be sitting there (despite desperately trying not to cough) experiencing something I had loved for so long. A true gift, this feeling. The show is over three hours in length, an opus of emotions that leaves you trying to catch your breath and your heart. Such fervency of love and then in a matter of hours, all is snuffed by some knife stabs and a gunshot.

As we exited the theater, I saw Matt Cavenaugh selling show memorabilia for charity. He was still covered in the faux dirt and blood from the performance, his blue shirt torn from his toil with the Sharks. So handsome and perfectly in character. I thought of going over to tell him how much I enjoyed his performance, but again, I didn't want to be THAT girl. So, I walked by him, ever the cool pretend New Yorker leaving for a post-theater drink in the Village.

However, walking down Broadway with my friends, I felt a weight of a sudden sadness befall me. Strange, I know, because this was an incredible weekend. But I like to attribute meaning to my story. I constantly try to explain why things happen. The whole of this beautiful weekend overwhelmed me - seeing two men whom I idealize in person in the matter of 24 hours. It sort of felt like a sign but also a big slap in the face by the universe.

To be blunt, it's been a long time since I've had a meaningful relationship and to temper the sting of my singleness sometimes, I daydream about fictional characters like Jim Halpert or Tony. I see qualities in them that embody the type of man with whom I hope to one day be. Seeing these two men in person somehow made that type of man seem unreachable and I felt lonelier with this loss of mystery. A sharp pang of reality. Maybe all this makes me a sad person or maybe it's something that everyone experiences. I'm not sure because I have never really talked about it openly before. But this weekend really brought everything to a head and now I feel a little bit lighter somehow. Better, maybe. I suppose it's all in the perspective you choose.

Alas, this post is quite epic but these 24 hours were epic in activities, travel, the people, and the meaning attributed to the entirety of my pastimes. Thanks for reading (if I didn't lose you a few paragraphs ago!)!