New Adventures?

The first time I went to New York City that I can remember distinctly, I was ten years old. My mom and I saw Les Mis. As I walked out of the theater holding my mom's hand she said to me "So, Al, what did you think?" I know now that my mom was so nervous to take me to see Les Mis in general, but also as my first Broadway experience. I looked up at her, smiled, and said "This is what I want to do when I grow up."

For the next eight years, I thought that day was a significant point in my acting career, like one of those moments you see people reflecting back on during interviews on E! News. I remembering auditioning for everything I could, falling in love with every aspect of performing. I remember telling my mom that I wanted to be a drama major in college and she told me that if I was going to do that, she would prefer that I double majored in something else too. I remember thinking that I liked to write, but didn't want to be a novelist. I remember taking a journalism class to see if it was something I'd consider for my double major. I remember auditioning at Muhlenberg College for the drama program. I remember the head of the theater department praising me for 20 minutes after the audition and taking down my name and email address so he could pull my application out of the pile when it came in to request that I be in his program. I remember being set on being a theater/communications double major at Muhlenberg College. I remember choosing Syracuse. I remember being a broadcast journalism major. I remember deciding one day in October of freshman year in COM 107 that I wanted to write for magazines. I remember meeting Greg Hedges and loving graphic design. I remember being so content in my choice to be a magazine journalist that I can't even imagine doing anything else. I remember Bill Glavin passing away and being heartbroken. I remember everything Bill Glavin taught me.

As I sit here and remember how I got to where I am right now, halfway through college and sitting in a living room full of my belongings sorted into "Brooklyn" and "William Street" piles, I wonder how I got here. I remember everything happening, but I'm not sure how it all happened. I have no idea how I got here. I have no idea what I'm doing actually, but I do know that tomorrow I am moving to New York City for the summer. And that scares the hell out of me.

I realize that day in New York with my mom opened my eyes to the city as a whole, not just theater. I remember walking around with her and never looking down. I remember riding the carousel in Central Park with my Aunt Jean. I remember how Aunt Jean always inspired me. She was the performer of the family - everyone said I was "just like Jeanie" all the time. I remember when I was little and I told her that I wanted to live in the city forever when I grew up. I remember her telling me that I could do whatever I wanted and me actually believing her when she said it. I remember the night in December when the phone woke me up and I heard my mom say, "Alright, I'll be right there" and knowing what it meant somehow. I remember being at the funeral and somehow knowing that she would always be there with me, not in the way I felt about everyone who I love that passed away, but some sort of strong, spiritual connection.

And as I embark on this new adventure this summer, I know that I'm taking her spirit with me. I know that I have some of her same brave spirit, and that although I might not know how to use it quite like she did, I'll learn. I know that all those choices I made somehow led me here, and they wouldn't have if this wasn't what was meant for me. I built this for myself and I'm ready to take on the challenges that are thrown at me.

And I'm more excited than afraid.