Not for the Life of Me [YouTube Video]
Manhattan, I prepared for you…
What to make of a writer who has forgotten how to write?

There are certain memories that stick out in Technicolor against the hazy grey of misremembrance- people, places, conversations all eventually fade into some sort of cerebral abyss, but snapshots of importance can be recalled as well in 30 years as though they had been experienced in just the previous 30 seconds.
I have a memory like this. I was 18, and we were in the final week of preparation before my debut as the Mayoress Cora Hoover Hooper in Steel Valley Senior High School’s production of Anyone Can Whistle. I was just days away from committing to The University of Pittsburgh’s main campus (thank you very much) to study biology with an emphasis on pre-medicine. As we had dinner, my parents, Kelly, Spikey and I, my mother offered to play me a voicemail on our now-obsolete landline’s answering machine.
As we ate the meal my mother had prepared for us, I heard the voice of an admissions advisor, informing us that I’d been awarded a golden ticket- formally known as the William V. Campbell Family Endowed Scholarship, and that it was redeemable for four years of undergraduate education at Duquesne University: tuition free.
I did what most teenagers would in this situation. I bowed my head over my mother’s cooking and I burst into tears. That was the very first action of an incredible life-changing journey, one that I’ll be on until, well, I’m not.
From a genesis at a kitchen table in Munhall, Pennsylvania, I would go on to graduate from Duquesne University with a 4.0 GPA, two degrees (English and Public Relations, go figure), and a one-way bus ticket to employment in New York City. I am quite simply living my dream, the one I’d imagined in that frilly pink bedroom at an age that’s decidedly too young to be making that kind of decision. Bossy, loud, and incessant- I’d tell anyone who would listen about that dream: I’m going to get out of here, you know. I’m going to leave the Steel Valley, and I’m never coming back.
For the past several years, I’ve written on or around my birthday to reflect on the year that has past. This year, I’ve been putting it off. Because there’s a lot to say about a hard year. A bad year.
Struggles make us grow, so I don’t think that any hard year is ever unnecessary. This one was hard for lots of reasons. The first year away from my family. The first year of my career. The first with all this responsibility. Of what finally feels like actual adulthood.
I can’t believe it was already a week ago that Claire and I returned to my favorite Wicked Little Town to see Darren Criss perform as the titular role in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. This run on Broadway has been of particular importance to me- not least because it has given me the opportunity to meet Darren not once, but twice, and to have an extremely memorable interaction with him at that.
More importantly, if there is anything more important than that (debatable), I was introduced to this musical for the first time. I’m generally a more traditional theater person. I was raised in the barricade and the woods with the likes of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Stephen Sondheim. So when I heard the announcement that one half of my favorite fictional couple would be portraying this groundbreaking role that I had only ever heard of in passing, I knew two things: 1. I had to see it and 2. I had to figure out what this musical was actually about.
I am well aware that the title of this blog is a bit of a misnomer. It’s not even close to being a daily. Hell, it hasn’t even been a monthly since last October. It’s sort of been a vestige of my former self– a tribute to a life that I no longer lead, and haven’t led in quite some time. I stopped writing when I no longer wanted to know myself. When I no longer wanted to be intimately familiar with my thoughts and feelings– when I realized that I romanticize the people in my life to the extent that the way I view them is not the way that they actually are, but the way I believe they should be– a way that they never intended.
I’ve been known to pass judgment on quite a few things: books, movies, strangers, etc. So on the cusp of my 23rd birthday (which I cannot believe is less than a week away), I would like to take a moment to review this year: the year of 22.
“If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere — but not because of something as banal as ‘job opportunities.’ It’s out of the sheer force of… will that brought you here when you could have had it easier somewhere else, where you would have driven a four-door sedan and shopped in suburban grocery stores with wide aisles and pristine parking lots and have had 2.5 children by the age of 28 and worked a 9-to-5 job in something [yawn] somewhere.” Source
The last time I wrote on this blog, I was saying goodbye to something exceptionally dear to me. Since then, I have had to say goodbye to hundreds of other things: my friends, my family, the only life I have ever really known. Soon, I will have been living in New Jersey for a month and working in New York for almost that amount of time and let me tell you– it still doesn’t seem real. It still doesn’t seem like I’ve actually done what I set out to do all those years ago. It still doesn’t seem like the reality that I’m living is just that- reality.
I have had this post drafted since April 29th, 2013. An entire year has passed, and it still hasn’t been enough time for me to figure out how to say goodbye to the first place I ever felt like I belonged.
I got a phone call this afternoon offering me an interview for a position at a marketing company in Manhattan. But once I explained I am still in college, I was told to get in contact with them once I graduate.
This is the first call I’ve received that actually gave me hope, even though nothing ended up coming from it. Because now, I have a new sense of resolve in the fact that just because I have sent in what feels like hundreds of applications doesn’t mean I’m not getting a job– it just means that the timing is wrong.