New Yorker Status

I’ve been in the city for a week now.

My bedroom looks oddly similar to a crack house, my hamstrings are tighter than they were after my rock climbing adventure in Maine, running an 8miler in downtown Charleston, and that 5 hour yoga lesson I taught last summer combined.  There is more dust than I know what to do with on the upper ledge crown molding that runs throughout my apartment, and the OCD traits within me are currently being taunted because I don’t have a step stool to reach said collection of allergen holy ground. I hold my breath every time a cashier swipes my credit card, and I have to close my eyes when I withdraw cash from Chase ATM.

I don’t want to see my balance Chase.  YOU CAN’T MAKE ME.

Is this what dreams are made of?

Yesterday I asked someone how to successfully move in to the city.  After a weird glance was shot in my direction I said, “NO, REALLY.  Like how do you move all your shit in?”

They laughed in my face.

The only way I can be adventurous is to dive in full force without contemplating real life scenarios like money or sanity. I have to go in blind, completely naïve, and with an intense sense of childhood wonder.

Typically, this method proves to be severely flawed, and breeds lots of wine intake until some level of order is restored. 

But I don’t mind it.

Just when I really start to get pissed at myself for being a dreamer – I see some random guy playing a piano in the middle of the park or some lady burst out in song mid Target aisle, and the stress from the quickly fading balance in my checking account seems to vanish.

This city’s crazy talented people bring out a better side of me.

They force me to step outside of my box, they force me to smile, they force me to be accepting of everyone, they force me to see the opportunity in life, and they force me to keep dreaming. They are a daily reminder of why I wanted to be here.

Someone once told me if you want to be the best at something, surround yourself around people who are better than you.

That’s exactly what this city is.  The whole place is better than me.


On Crying and Friendship

I found this along the Freedom Trail in Boston the other day:

“A childhood friend of mine once found a raspberry in the camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf.”

“Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry, and you give it to your friend.”

I had to pick my heart up from off the ground after I read the quote mid stride.

It was referencing one of Gerda Weissman Kein’s experiences as a Holocaust survivor, and while I know the struggles I’ve had in my life in no way come close to Gerda’s, I felt some kind of odd connection.

I’ve been lucky enough to have people like that in my life.  People who seem to drop everything, give anything and run full speed when I don’t even ask.

People who know you need them before you know you need them.

People who make this world better just by being aware of others.

That’s something worth writing home about.

I’ve been feeling this for two weeks now, and I think I’ve only just gotten my emotions in order.

I know.  Cap, crying?  Who would have thought?

The thing about my tears though, the thing I don’t think many people get, is that I really only cry when I’m so happy I don’t know what else to do.  I don’t cry when I’m sad, or when I’m stressed, or when I’m freaking out about an essay that instantly vanished from existence 5 minutes before it’s due.

I cry when my heart is so full it somehow explodes via my tear ducts.

The more life I go through the more I appreciate relationships.

I’m not just talking about Mosie.

Adulthood is funny that way.

Friendship changes from a blasé acquaintance to something of much more substance.  It becomes this sort of lifeline.  The second thud in your weird little heart beat. And if you’re lucky enough, it follows you and supports you no matter what crazy road you choose.

So, thanks for being there.  Thanks for showing me what family and friends and love and a crap ton of happy tears look like.

– Cap


5 things you thought no one ever told you…

I have this theory, and really it’s more like a signed will and testament.

It’s that little beauts of knowledge have been dangling themselves in front of your eyes for centuries waiting for the exact moment when you reached full maturity and intellectual capacity to expose themselves to you again… to give you one last shot at the pudding.

Clearly, they’ve been there all along.  They fought for your attention like a little infatuated sixteen-year-old girl.  They tried to warn you of all the shit life could throw your way, but you insisted on finding it all out on your own.

In other words, you have been too egocentric, too closed minded, or too oblivious to acknowledge their significance.  And now, when you look back, you realize all of those annoying clichés have stemmed from something real.

All of those short sentences that make you roll your eyes in irritation actually do mean something.

This is a little sappy (something I’ve apparently grown accustomed to), but it’s the exact event in which this theory arose:

Two summers ago, my grandmother (aka the human equivalence to Jesus), was in the hospital after a heart attack. This heart attack occurred months after a breast cancer diagnosis, and we (the entire family including the human form of Jesus herself) all thought it was the end for Corrine.

I spent a couple nights at the hospital with her, and tried to really soak in her holy ambiance for all the time I had left. Now, I realize that was more selfish than helpful… but I think Corrine liked me being around because I make a great Skip-Bo partner – in the sense that I’m easily beaten.

But that’s beside the point.

The point is, Corrine and I were listening to some of her favorite tunes when Doris Day’s “Que Sera Sera” came on. I found myself really focusing on the lyrics, because I wanted to connect with who my grandmother was as a younger girl. I wanted to appreciate the stuff she’s appreciated in her life. I wanted to cling on to everything about her and her past and who she was before I existed in this world.

When the song ended, I said, “That’s really beautiful. I’ve never heard that.”

And that’s when Corrine really took on the crown of thorns.

“You’ve heard it, Cap! You just never listened.”

(mic drop)

And the theory was developed.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read or heard something that I’ve seen a thousand times, but suddenly it takes on new meaning.  I’ve always heard life was cyclic.  That there was some kind of serendipity in how things play out.  And, if I’m being honest, the way things seem to grow in meaning and substance over time and experience is one of the more vital signs of that sense of connectivity in the world.

I like to think that #lyfe, no matter how its spent, contains surprises and new learning, but now I feel like I’m in a race to find it all out.


There’s a large part of me that fears some of the knowledge I’ve discovered while revisiting literature or life situations may have never been uncovered if I hadn’t needed to hear it.

But how do I force myself to grasp on to the significance in the moment?

More importantly… Can you even train yourself to do that?

I don’t know, but I will tell you what I’ve figured out so far.  The ones that were right from day one.  The good ones.  The steady ones.  The ones Little Wayne would refer to as his bottom bitch… if he read into clichés like I do.

So, without further ado… the five things you thought no one ever told you:

1.  Goodbyes really do lead to new hellos.

2.  Its never too late to go home.

3.  Time spent learning (anything) is never time wasted.

4.  There really is a lot of commotion in silence.

5.  Life really does start at the end of your comfort zone.

Let those soak in.

– Cap

(Thanks Mamaw)