Spring Awakening

(transcribed from paper journal)

It was a packed house, and I felt so excited to be at a Broadway show on a Saturday night!

Then the show started, and it was everything I hoped it would be and more. Let's face it, I cried throughout, even when the song wasn't remotely sad. I loved the lighting and staging and seeing the songs I know so well in my head exploding into life.

The cast so impressed me so much that I don't think I can convey it aptly. Their voices were so powerful and amazing. I was especially impressed by the three leads, John Gallagher, Jr., Jonathan Groff, and Lea Michele. I had my typical anxiety that my favorite cast members would be played by understudies, but they were all there, there, there.

Some of the songs were regulars for me during my running training, and I know them inside and out and backwards, and to see them in person was just mindblowingly great. What can I even say. I wanted to jump out of my seat. These kids were really just phenomenally gifted.

It was especially great to see Gallagher as Moritz metamorphose during his songs from the meek, terrified kid to the full-on blazing powerhouse rock star. I would love to see his real-life band play. And I really thought that Groff was quite incredible as Melchior, whom I see as the heart of the whole damn story. I read one review that described his performance as "wan," and I was like, excuse me, WHAT? He was anything but wan. Even when he started doing some weird modern dance moves that were kind of like vogueing that made Shelley put her face in her hands, he was flat-out awesome. He really did a great job balancing being the wholesome and idealistic gentleman, the reckless and jerk-like adolescent boy, and the heroic rebel. I think they both definitely deserve Tony nominations.

And you could tell that the audience members, young and old, were really with the show the entire time. (Except for the mom who dragged out her 11-year-old son at the end of Act I -- she couldn't be convinced to stay by the lovely older couple behind us who encouraged her not to leave. My sister whispered loudly that she should let him stay because "THAT'S WHAT THIS SHOW IS ALL ABOUT!" Clearly.) At intermission, my sister expressed her discomfort about the way a key scene went down, but I was like, "What? You're crazy."

Then Act II started and flew by, and too soon it was almost over and I found myself losing all control of my tears and during "Those We've Known," I just kind of fell apart and wept in manner of a river. And the tears continued during "Purple Summer," even though that song is random and I have no idea what it's talking about or what it has to do with anything but it was so beautiful and I was so heartbroken that the spell was about to be broken that I just cried and cried like some kind of unbalanced lunatic. I was very composed and quiet about it, though, because I think those who make scenes in Broadway audiences should really be shot on the spot.

I'm not kidding when I say that when it ended, the audience leapt to its feet. And that lack of hesitation, that unquestioning, instant ovation was so moving to me that I had to keep crying. And I said goodbye to the stage (silently as not to appear crazy), shuffled out sniffling, and we headed home.

I'm not sure why I was such a basketcase about it, but there you go. I felt so lucky to see a show that I love with its original cast with two of the original loves of my life. It's okay that they didn't love it like I did. My love remains pure and true. It turns out that lots of people, we discovered, have the same problems that my sister did with that scene, but we all kind of agreed to embrace the ambiguity, amen.

Part of what I love about seeing a musical for the first time after only knowing the CD is that the plot transforms from uncertain to clear, the funny parts become hilarious, the sad parts become devastating, and you are close enough to see the sweat and the spit fly and really, what is better in this life than going to a Broadway musical? Not much, that's what.

I just turned on my iPod as I sit and wait on the runway to fly home, and what part of what song should be playing but "NYC, just got here this morning, three bucks, two bags, one me. NYC, I give you fair warning, up there in lights I'll be." I'll never be up there in lights, but I will always go back to see those who are and love it more than just about anything.

Honestly, I think I might be kind of inconsolable about the dearth of live musical theater in my life if not for the fact that I'll be seeing the Wicked tour very soon.

My romanticizing of New York is something I've mostly outgrown ... I realize that I could not live in such a maniacally loud, busy, crowded place, but the skyline still moves me and I still love the adventure of feeling brave enough to navigate and maneuver through the chaos if a bit spastically and with my hand sanitizer always within reach. It's so weird to think of Shelley not living there after seven years. I'll always look back on our times there together so happily, even when we screamed at each other. Even that is okay.

Overall, it was a great trip to NYC. I loved seeing Kymm and Anne, staying in Shelley's tiny and wonderful Chelsea studio, going to a museum and a Broadway show, eating Thai and Indian and Italian, going to Crumbs not once but twice, walking through the rain through some of my favorite neighborhoods all by myself without getting (totally) lost, and most of all, being with my beautiful friend and my beautiful sister before they set off for sights unseen.

More cupcakes, immigrants, and pasta

(transcribed from paper journal)

I'm sitting at LGA trying to block out the annoying anime audio being loudly emitted from the laptop of the kid next to me. It is a beautiful sunny morning in NYC.

Yesterday, my sister arrived from Mexico in the morning looking sunkissed and resplendent, and we ate some breakfast and visited and she passed out.

Then Shelley and I headed out to meet the glorious Iz for lunch because no visit to NY is complete without seeing her and also for another round of cupcakes at Crumbs.

I had the mini-strawberry buttercream, and it was possibly the best cupcake I've ever had. I also had a caramel cafe au lait.

We headed to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, which let's face it, I dragged her to. I just felt like we should go, partly because of Tateh and Little Girl in Ragtime and since we'd be seeing Little Girl all grown up later that night as Wendla in Spring Awakening. The museum was cool but not as cool I hoped it would be. My favorite part was seeing the different layers and patterns of linoleum on the floor. Maybe I'm morbid, but I wanted to hear more about diseases and squalor and fire and less about the set-up of the garment shop in the apartment. But I'm still glad we went.

After the museum, we went back to her apartment and fetched my sister and walked over to Cola's for Italian food. I had whole wheat penne with peas, asparagus, fennel, and marinara sauce, and we had bread dipped in olive oil and white beans. We had a good talk about religion, faith, and the search for and lack thereof. I started weeping and professing my love for them. My sister had penne with giant prawns and Shelley had salmon with pink sauce. Those are two smart, deep-thinking women. Then it was time to head to the show!!!

Margaritas, Cupcakes, and Samosas

(transcribed from paper journal)

So lunch with Anne at Cowgirl was really super. We had frozen margaritas (me: blood orange, her: lime), sweet potato fries topped with pecans, a grilled veggie salad, and a grilled veggie wrap. We caught up on our lives, and it was so lovely. It definitely did not feel like it had been years and years since we last got together. Anne is so funny, fun, beautiful, and wise.

We headed out in the rain, Anne eschewing an umbrella completely and me gripping mine for dear life. And it's always exciting for a couple of Annie fans to stumble upon One Fifth Avenue.

We arrived at Crumbs, from where to no one's surprise Kymm requested a plain cupcake (but with coconut frosting!), and Anne got red velvet, I got Reese's (shock), and Shelley ordered a cappuccino cupcake.

We rode the subway up to see Kymm and had a nice talk on the train about the pointlessness of seeking a life-altering event that will suddenly make you happy but rather just trying to be at peace where you are, with who you are.

We went to Kymm's theater, posed with our cupcakes, and had a good visit. I parted ways with Anne (tragedy) and Kymm agreed to meet Shelley and me at the movie later.

I fetched Shelley at her ridiculously, insanely fancy office nearby and got to meet some of her work friends and we took a self-portrait in the bathroom, and we headed down to the Angelika, eating our cupcakes and talking about life and love. Kymm made it just in time and we settled in for The Namesake, which I liked very much, and which Kymm was so attuned to that she would start crying BEFORE anything sad happened. Shelley said that it was very faithful to the book, and I'm excited to read the copy I borrowed from her. I found Jacinda Barrett's wig annoying to distraction and thought that Kal Penn wasn't up to the level of the actors who played his parents, but he seemed to give it his best shot. The parents -- God. The parents were amazing. Every iota of each of their performances was so beautiful, so perfect. I was in love with them both, especially the dad.

After the movie, we headed to Indian Row (theme) and ended up at Taj Mahal on 6th, where luckily the food was very good because the ambiance was fouled by a very loud talker who spoke as if into a megaphone about topics too profane to mention in a family journal. Ugh! We split vegetable kurma, chicken and spinach biryani, samosas, and naan. Super delicious. It was just great, despite the idiot nearby, to sit down and have a nice dinner and some wine together. That sort of thing doesn't happen often enough. Look at my beautiful friend!

In short, it was great to spend the evening with her and to see where she works and also to see Anne and Kymm. Anne and I had lots of quality time and discussed a lot of heavy things that we somehow just understand about each other in a way that was really peaceful and inspirational, and it worked out well that Kymm could come to the movie because there is truly no better person to laugh and cry beside in an audience than the Mighty Kymm Zuckert.

People Watching

Pearl River was the store. Cool place. I wandered around some more. Then Anthropologie. Then the rain came. Splashed around with my umbrella and am now at the corner of Hudson and W. 10th, relaxing and people watching through the window at Starbucks.

I dropped my map at some point like I usually do and someone blew his horn and yelled at me, "YOU DROPPED YOUR MAP! WAY BACK THERE!" So that was helpful. It's still raining. I wish I'd brought a book with me.

The music in this Starbucks is loud, almost blaring, and it is really quite agitating. Isn't my caramel macchiato stimulating enough? What gives with the assaulting music, Starbucks?

It's almost time to meet Anne for lunch. I really enjoyed walking through this 'hood despite the rain. I have the cuffs of my cords rolled up in a very dweeb-like manner because if there's anything I hate, it's wet cuffs.

Morning in the City

(transcribed from paper journal)

It's 11 a.m. on Friday, and I'm sitting in Cafe Duke in SoHo with a hazelnut coffee and a poppyseed bagel with veggie cream cheese. Feeling a bit lost and lunatical after the morning trek from Chelsea. Luckily the weather is divine. Of course I wish it were more sunny, but I'm mostly glad it's not (a) raining (b) cold or (c) God forbid snowing. Snow's nice and all but not when I'm wandering around on foot. I mean, who am I? I know, I am weak, delicate, and lame.

"Chasing Cars" is playing in here, and it's playing in every store I enter, it seems. It was fun to get ready with Shelley this morning. It was like the old sleepover days. She went to work, and I walked down 7th Avenue to Greenwich and then through Washington Square Park and thought about when I was totally coming to NYU for grad school and how alarmed my mom and sister looked through our entire walk around the area. Lord! I don't regret not coming, but I do have to wonder what different paths I might have followed in life by living here, meeting people here, taking whatever chances and opportunities that would have been presented to me here. I guess in the Felicity scenario, I did not listen to Noel's impassioned plea, "Stay in New York or perish."

I stopped and looked at some of the Tiles for America, which was a neat display.

I bought some postcards, and after eventually getting to SoHo, I started feeling quite antsy and like I really needed coffee and a snack, and I almost wept when beholding Dean and Deluca as if it were bathed in heavenly light at Prince and Broadway only to realize that it's a giant (albeit awesome) grocery store Dean and Deluca with no tables for taking a load off with a cup of coffee in a chilled-out manner.

I regrouped and spotted Kate's Paperie, thank God, which is always a salvation haven, and I walked around in there and calmed down for a few minutes. Then I ended up at this nearby cafe. There wasn't any sort of real line at the breakfast counter, and I couldn't tell who'd been there before me, so person after person kept shoving forward to order while I just stood there clutching my messenger bag, and I finally worked up the nerve to order and possibly cut in front of someone. Thankfully, I ordered without incident. Now I must find the store whose name I can't ever remember at Broadway and Broome. Which makes me think of Bialystock and Bloom.

Arriving in NY

(transcribed from paper journal)

Last night I went to B.'s. We had an excellent dinner ... I had grilled shrimp over citrus risotto and capers, a side of grilled asparagus, and a spinach/arugula salad with goat cheese, strawberries, and pecans.

This morning we parted ways, and I killed time at Morning Call, Scriptura, Earthsavers, the mall, and Borders, and I finished the absolutely wonderful Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life. (Thank you again, Melissa.)

I then went to the airport, where my flight was delayed for two hours and I saw Terry Bradshaw. I amused myself by reading the latest Vanity Fair and the Sarah Vowell book I got at Borders, Assassination Vacation. Love. Brilliant. So glad that B. played part of The Partly Cloudy Patriot for me and I was able to realize that Sarah Vowell is My People. I almost finished it on the plane ride up here, which went smoothly after the delay o' pain.

I hopped in the cab at LGA and told the driver Shelley's address and he asked me which way I wanted him to go. "...? Uh, the fastest way?" About 20 minutes and $35 later, he dropped me off at her corner. I was frightened by the giant mounds of snow on the sidewalk but relieved to discover that it felt like 60 degrees outside.

We had a joyful reunion, and I told her about my feeling emotional at the sight of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building and that I want to go balls-out tourist and do things here I've never done.

We ordered Thai take-out ... it got delivered, and she accidentally ordered an eggplant dish, and she famously hates eggplant. She drew maps for me and even fixed me a little welcome table of snacks and tulips. And her studio is to die for. And I love it. And she might be the nicest and funniest person ever to live.

I made lunch plans with Annegrrl, said goodnight to B., and have settled in for the night. I can't wait to walk to SoHo in the morning and just really enjoy spring in the city. I really wanted to go to the East Village Tenement Museum in the morning or the Jewish Museum, but apparently they don't open until the afternoon. And I am sort of fantasizing about taking the ferry to Ellis Island after hearing this amazing story about its "dark side," but I don't see that happening ... maybe next trip.

Goodnight, NY!