Pier 1 Introversion

When I stand at the edge of Manhattan, listening to the toxic water beating against a nonexistent sandy shore, the reality of my life splatters on my face like seagull poop. Manhattan seagulls...As they share the baby blue dance floor with helicopters and the hairline of Jersey, I pray that I never find out what that splattering actually feels like. It’s 4:32... An hour away from my boring economics class...and i’m taking this time to feel like myself again. I come to the Hudson or the East River because being by the coast suddenly makes me remember that I’m on an island. Suddenly I remember that there is a sky bigger than the gaps between skyscrapers. Suddenly I remember why I am here and the people who I have left behind somewhere on the other side of this expanse of water. Feeling alive and reconnecting to yourself is the best date that one could ask for on a sunny and chilly thursday afternoon. The sun looks yellow in the sky until it splatters in a triangle and floats on top of the grimy water. It turns the Hudson, the coal of Northeastern waters if you will, into the purest gold. Light, sparkling, gold paint...splattering and moving in liquid frivolity, and gracing the tops of little waves with its presence.

Hudson View...

East River View...

My fingers are getting too cold to type. This past week New York has been skipping fall and throwing occasional, invisible snowballs at me saying, “haha you like that? Well you aint seen NOTHIN’ yet, sunshine.” Needless to say I’m quaking in my thin boots from tenth grade. Poor boots...you will soon be discarded and replaced with the pretty ones in the window that give you glares laced with judgmental humor. I hope you enjoyed my intentional pun.

A beautiful, speckled bird with feathers like a nice brown, mink coat, landed next to me on the pier. I watched him look sharply around, looking to see if someone was watching no doubt, and quickly regurgitated a small, bright orange object only to swallow it again even more quickly. He had my unwavering attention. The bird’s head started doing its isolations again; up down, left right...so sharp, i’m sure Fosse would be proud. Then a small, brown version of the birds meal of leftovers fell neatly from the bird and onto the deck. I was mesmerized. It was hilarious! But also compelling...Life at its core. The simplest of the many cycles that keep us alive.

Cycles... one is before my eyes and reflected in the water... the sun is starting to go down and sink into the Hudson, while my fingers are begging for it to stay and knit me some golden mittens. Trips like this are cycles for me. I get involved with school, sing, dance, go to sleep, socialize, push through crowds and breath in toxic fumes...until I leave and go to edge of my world for a few hours. I listen...don’t talk to anyone...don’t sing if I can help it...and just be. Be Myself, be lost in thought, and be away from the city...And then sometimes I look. I look at the water, I look at the skyline, and I backwards, and then forwards in time to that other world I also call home.

ABC, 123, Baby, You And Me...

Today I decided to go to Alphabet City to study at a cute coffee shop I heard about. I decided to walk there because that is really the only way to explore a new neighborhood in New York city. As the blocks pass slowly by you, the buildings start to morph, the demographics slowly change, and something in the air seems to change colors. Before you know it you are immersed in a new world. On Avenue A I felt like suddenly I was a local... everything touristy about New York faded away with $1 pizza, strollers, and community gardens. Then I stumbled upon Tompkins Square Park and tripped and tumbled over to it, intoxicated by the smell of grass. In the center there was a square where people could get

messages or names etched into the fabric of the ground and have it last forever. I wonder if they lasted forever...

As I left my oasis an old man played on his saxophone with a goofy, speckled smile and tightly shut eyes. The bills weighed heavily in my wallet, daring me to give in and share what I could spare. After I passed him he began playing “Over the Rainbow” and without warning my feet stopped moving and my throat bubbled with emotion. I turned around and stood transfixed as the familiar song wafted over me with nostalgic aromas. When he finished he asked, “do you know that song?” to a young woman taking pictures of him. Her words melted over my mind as I relaxed into the spanish accent that always reminds me of my ten days in Valencia. She said that she did know it and that she plays it on her Ukulele. At first I wanted to chime in and recognize all the similarities I shared with this scene in front of me...but instead I just observed bits of my worlds flirting and dancing with each other. I gave him and dollar, said thank you, and walked away.

Subway Tales

An old homeless man stands outside the gates to the subway with a stack, three inches thick, of discarded and dirty metro cards. He swipes every single one...waiting for a green light. Every swipe digs deeper into the grooves etched in his forehead. This is how he lives. Pinning his hope on the carelessness of those more fortunate than himself...all he wants is to get onto the trains and ride them through the night. No particular destination...possibly he will wander the cards with a cup, reciting his monologue and hoping to finally win an oscar...or at least a quarter.

Deep rumbling, high-pitched squealing, and a mid note that sounds like Marley’s chains rattling...1, 3, 5. A perfect chord rumbling through all the discord of Manhattan. Suddenly, another beast rises from the steel and grime marshes and runs along side of us. I see smeared faces racing my own reflection in the black window. Suddenly, eye contact with a stranger. For one second in both of our hectic, separate, and uniquely complex lives, you let each other in. For one second each of you is thinking of the other person without prior knowledge or basis to judge...Your train slows down as it nears the next stop and his zooms him forward to continue his life that is completely void of even one thought of you. The buzz is overwhelming. It’s amazing we trust these wild, jostling, underground snakes. A black man with blue eyes to match his shirt smiles at some inside joke. Do people wonder what my life story is? Inside the belly, we are all dual citizens of our own personal worlds, and this new 10-minute world. For one ride...we are all the same.

Takin' The Bite...

New York City....

Well, here I am. Waking up with the invisible sun every morning, going crosstown to a dance studio where I catch up with my childhood dream and pretend to be a real ballerina...every day starts with a sore and sweaty smile. {:`) My classes are composed of beautiful girls with red lipstick and boys... all gay... all beautiful... all delicious smelling. My room is a colorful hippy oasis. Records hang from the wall, my guitar and ukulele lay next to my bed wishing their owner actually knew how to play them...and then there is me. Little 'ol Tarah from Charlottesville Virginia. Wondering what she is doing in this big, scary city... and then I skip away from an amazing voice lesson and see a bride and groom sitting at a cafe, casually sipping coffee...I see a homeless man finding numerous packages of uneaten fruit and sandwiches with a heart breaking smile...I see necklaces with mini bowls hanging proudly as pendants, I see my reflection in the window overlooking an incredible skyline view...and then I know why I'm here. I'm here for the adventure, for the training, and for the characters.