Author: Zac

I’m not sure exactly how, but I have gotten so far behind on a post I initiated amongst my blog supporters, Liz and Alyssa. We have been going with a theme and holding each other accountable for posting words about a certain topic. The topic I seem to have missed was about a memory. And I think I know why.

The memory that I immediately thought about was the memory of when I moved to New York City. I imagine that the reason why I have had difficulty with posting this one is because I have so much going on and I am actually in the process of leaving all of what I have in the city behind.

What does one do when he/she is exhausted? I mean really exhausted. There is no hotel which claims to take care of informing your employer/s and friends when you reach a point when the color has disappeared from what was vibrant and sustainable. Once the point is reached, it is an internal scavenger hunt for techniques to make the need for a new beginning seem legitimate. The need to make a plan that reads smart and thought-out becomes crucial.

So, there is much to examine. For now, I want to go back to a post I should have completed a couple weeks ago. I want to write about what brought me to Brooklyn— to a place I am at, where I have so many people I am finding so hard to leave.

When I was just 24 years old, I received a call from my friend Cathy. Her sister lived in Park Slope, Brooklyn and was in search of a roommate who was from out of town and really wanted to move to NYC and was willing to drop everything. When I heard of this, my mouth dropped. I felt I was the person she and her 3 roommates were looking for.

At the time, I thought that a miracle was the only thing that would get me out of my situation. Against my family’s warnings, I had majored in theatre and had been going through a difficult time, figuring out what the next step in my life would be. I had recently blown off an offer to work for a Christian-based theatre company where I would have been making a lot of money to pretend to be what I managed to succeed at pretending to be during my call-back at a large audition event.

Turning down the offer and another offer that just felt like the wrong choices left me feeling like I was crazy for not just taking whatever life had handed to me as work. But I did turn it down. And then I got the call from Cathy. I realized during the call that the only thing I needed was to move to New York and I knew in my heart that I would make it work. Despite the look of doubts in the faces of my friends and family, I still knew that I would make it work and proceeded to sell what I had to sell and broke the news to friends and family.

I would have been here in NYC for 8 years in April of this year. The story that I have to share as a memory is one that I currently replay on a daily basis. The fact that I am going over my story so often has prevented me from feeling validated in writing it down. But, I am writing it down now. Mostly, because it feels nice to see that I can write out a passage and am able to follow through on a project that I formulated with my friends who are supporting my blog endeavors.

My dream of living in New York is not an easy dream to let go. However, I am moving forward and find myself, now, sketching out the blue prints of my future where the dream I thought was so pie-in-the-sky to live in such a wonderful city is shifting into an acceptance that I can do a 180º and not look at it as a loss, but a gain.

One step at a time. I am striving to allow myself to take the future as it comes. I have worked my ass off to make it all work this long and I will continue to work and allow awesome opportunities to present themselves. I could probably use an inhaler. And I still heart New York.

I have recently decided to make some changes in a certain area in my life. With intentions to fill my life with more positive energy, I have put into the universe that I will find what it is that I am seeking. My boots are on and I am ready to do the walking –I only hope that life will meet me in the middle.

My sage is burning and I am repeating my mantra, “Out with the bad and in with the good.” Here’s hoping.

And here is a little something I wrote:

Glitter. Entrance. Floor.

Glad you showed up tonight
Now is the time to dim the lights
Everything is lovely
Everything is amazing
Just as long as you stay what you are:
A mirrorball. A shining star.
Spin your globe around all night
You disco diva who I hope just might
Drop down low and give the floor
A tickle and make it beg for more
Dance on glitter, through that door
Breathe the music;
Shaking deep into your core

Here in New York, we are all going through that uneasy period when you don’t know what exactly to wear. We are transitioning from summer to fall clothing. Anyone who does not know the perils of pulling items of clothing to wear the night before— or even the morning of, when it has suddenly become quite chilly— might not understand.

Today, I bit the bullet and grabbed a long-sleeved button-down shirt. I put it on and pranced around the apartment for a bit to make sure it was the right choice for the day. I felt like Edward Scissorhands in my movements, and felt like I could not breathe or move in a way that was easy like summer.

This may all seem like a trivial problem. But it is a problem that I have faced every fall since moving to New York seven and a half years ago. It’s not easy for me to go from shorts, t-shirts, and sandals to a neck-to-toe wrapping. Maybe I am alone in this battle.

For now, I’m just going to pray that my new ankle boots stop making the back of my feet bleed and that I can take less than an hour to decide what cold weather outfit will make me the happiest. I’m all about the dress-and-dash.

My Grandpa Ed recently passed away. He was such an inspiration to me, in many ways. He was an incredible singer/dancer and had the best sense of humor. But, most of all, he was a gentleman. The kind of man that you don’t really see many of these days.

My friend and I were chatting last night about how hard it is at times to be kind. Sometimes, it seems as though people are so defensive that there is not even enough space for goodness to penetrate. My goal, when backed into these sorts of corners, is to walk away with grace. Taking the high road is always the best choice— even when all you want to do is scream and punch someone in the face.

Karma has also been on my mind a lot. I have a big desire to boost my own and I’ve recently taken extra steps to try to do good things for people. I do believe that if we all strive to do so, we can make this world a better place. A gentleman’s world.

Work has been a bit chaotic lately and, sometimes, I just need something funny to happen to turn my frown upside down. One of my favorite emotions has always been laughter through tears.

Picture it: I was on the phone putting out yet another fire. I decided to multi-task, so that I had a small chance of leaving after my 11th hour of being on the clock (and my 3rd hour of being frustrated that I did not get to leave after hour 8). It was a loooong day.

I needed to grab two band-aids from our First Aid Kit which was inside a box on top of a large, metal shelf, in the back of our office. With the phone wedged between my face and my shoulder, gabbing away and trying to calm a frantic staff member, I stood on my tiptoes and reached up to grab it.

Next thing I know, I am knocked hard on the side of my head. I somehow caught the phone —Lord knows I wouldn’t dare to LITERALLY drop a phone call at work! I blinked a few times and told the lady to hold for a second and I placed the cordless phone on hold. Looking down, I see the First Aid Kit and all of its contents spread across the floor.

How ironic is it that the thing that caused me to have a welt on the side of my forehead is the office’s First Aid Kit? I went directly to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of frozen veggies and couldn’t help but just LOL. It would be the thing that is meant to mend our wounds that would almost knock me unconscious.

Laughter. It’s my ultimate weapon. Screw a First Aid Kit. I have my own kit secure inside of me. I decided to go home sans band-aids.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the fact that summer is gone and I look down and see black boots instead of flip-flops on my sparkly, pedicured feet. Busy is an understatement of what my summer was; I only wish I could put my feet in the water one more time before the trees all turn non-green.

I wrote a little something in regards to this sentiment and I think I might just have to be in nature again and make up for lost time.

On the Beach

With suntans
And rainbows
And a unicorn-flowered beach

How could we
For even one second
Not hold it in our hands?

Your eyes said,
“Take a second, Love!
See all
there is to see.”

And then we sat
With suntans and rainbows
And a unicorn-flowered beach

Just there
For a moment
I swear I might’ve dreamed

That you and I —
Under a sparkle-filled sky —
Were side by side
On the beach

                         

After asking one of my besties, Liz, if I should start a blog, she said, “Yes, ABSOLUTELY!”

One day later, I am all set up with what feels like a new beginning. I have missed writing and creating. I was surprised to get the name ZACDAQ (as in “Zachary Daiquiri”—there are a couple bartenders in Brooklyn who know how to mix one just right) and subsequently changed my Instagram and Gmail names right away, out of excitement for short handles.

Not exactly sure where this road will lead, but I am happy to be on it.