New York, New York

I think I will always look back at my time in New York with a lost sort of fondness. Something that resonates softly - almost like you can't remember if it really happened or if you just dreamed it. I can recall the first time I knew I wanted to go to New York - it was 1992-93, I was five or six. I had just seen Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for the first time and I was over the moon. I think even my brother was Shredder for Halloween that year. My eagerness to see it only multiplied as my love of film and music took me back again and again. But then when September 11th happened and the world stopped, my dreams of New York hallowed. A city we all know but can barely scratch the surface of - I caught but a mere glimpse. But even that felt enough for me, this cinch Midwestern girl who's never really been East or traveled alone. I built it almost into a pilgrimage. Get there, get around alone. See this, make sure you eat that. I did all of those things. And sometimes it was hard and I got frustrated but also I felt liberated. It seems a bit silly to say that about being in New York for only five days, but it was such a different experience for me. I didn't take nearly as many pictures as I'd always thought I would. I met and spoke to strangers every day I was there but thought it too brash to ask, remarkable people that my mind's eye won't soon forget. I'm still trying to find my line with personal work.

I did see some old friends who I adore. Taylor who has always been a soul I've just immediately connected with - I admire her keenness so much. And Nayef who moved from Omaha to New York about two weeks before my trip there. His tenacity for life is unparalleled. And Matt and Murphy who let me stay with them and made me laugh like crazy. They introduced me to all of their friends one night in Hell's Kitchen, who days later hugged me goodnight after a rowdy night of drinking in Queens. I have a whole 'nother post dedicated to Matt & Murphy coming soon! And Bob, Bob I'm so glad you were there! We drank beers in Brooklyn and saw Rory Scovel at The Bell House.

I didn't get to do everything I wanted or see everyone I had reached out to and that I do regret that. There's just too much, especially when it's your first time. The Chelsea bombing happened while I was there, and the morning they caught the suspect was the morning I flew out. A rainy dreary day, with the previous events overshadowing the time I had left. I was just ready to be home, back to Kyle and the easy way of Omaha.

I am so grateful of the experience and how resilient it made me feel at times and humbling at others. I don't know when I'm coming back - I'm heading in the other direction. But if I return it will be like wading through an impressible memory of a city that can be anything you want it to be, and so much more.