5K.

Going to type while I still have my coffee buzz going...

By the way, for those of you who also work in an office, the perfect office-coffee recipe may be 3 shots under the "espresso" setting, mixed with about 5 packets of sugar. I'm still tweaking it, though.

I ran in the Terry Fox Run on Saturday - a 5K for Cancer Research that takes place every year in Central Park. I've run a lot throughout the last few years, and generally try to run about 3-5 miles whenever I do, but this was the first time I had ever done an organized event. I think I'm hooked - I am already planning the next one, and plan to join the 100-mile bike ride for missing children next year. (http://www.rideformissingchildrengcd.org/)

My teammates - a few of my friends and co-workers - and I gathered outside the park at 8:30 Saturday morning in the 45 degrees, and ran in this quaint (just kidding), sky-scraper encircled park with thousands of people. It was far more uplifting than I thought it'd be, actually, not that I thought it would be negative in any way. A seriously positive vibe, and of course - for a great cause. For me, though, it was a landmark for personal reasons: I ran with my cousin Lynn in mind.

Lynn did not have cancer - he wasn't even sick. He wasn't running in the Terry Fox run (that I know of, anyway). He WAS, however, running in the Maritime Race Weekend in Halifax, NS, in a marathon that raised money to help people affected by drought in Rwanda. The group running for his cause was called "Run From Hunger." He'd even been given a write-up for this here: http://www.foodgrainsbank.ca/news/1936/nova_scotians_running_from_hunger.aspx

He'd been training for months for it, logging the miles he was running on facebook, when he passed away suddenly during a training run with a friend of his on September 2nd. This fact, and the adjustments within our family since, have changed my life forever. Truthfully, his loss still hasn't sunk in for any of us.

Most of my childhood was shaped around my time with my Erskine cousins. Ben, the oldest, was usually teasing me in some way while simultaneously cracking me up (this dynamic has not changed, by the way, even though he has a wife and kid(s - a second one on the way!). Allison and Kaia were my littler cousins, branching off with my little brother to create mischief of one kind or another. Then there was Lynn, who was so close to my older sister that they would create an alliance so strong it included a secret language I didn't speak. (I later found out they were speaking French and Spanish, combined). We would pile into the patio at our grandparents' house in rows of sleeping bags and keep each other up all night with scary stories and giggling. We spent Christmases together, vacationed on the beach together, and taught bible school together. (I will never hear a "veggie tales" song without thinking of Lynn, belting out "If you like to talk to tomaaatoooes -- " in front of a large congregation of kids in Delaware one summer). Who knows how we each look back on our lives - all I know is I consider them siblings.

Lynn, over the years, started to become someone I confided in. I never thought I'd say this, but thank God for Facebook for our ability  to share pictures and stories with one another when he moved up to Canada. I got to see pictures from his wedding when I wasn't able to be there. When I had a crisis of faith (or several), I would write to him and beg for his insight. Usually, he'd write back an entire book about his thoughts on God, faith, life, with a unique and often hilarious point of view.

Naturally, when I started running, I'd follow his running progress too. We'd prop each other with "like"s and comments to each others' posts, and I couldn't wait till we would get to share in our experiences in person together. It was almost too painful to see all the pictures go up about The Run From Hunger, a couple weeks after his funeral, but I felt ready to connect with his memory on Saturday.

It all hit me harder than I anticipated after crossing the finish line - though I was happy and laughing with my friends, as I watched one runner after another cross under the balloons I thought about how much I wished I'd gotten the chance to see Lynn in action, or run with him myself. It was an overwhelming moment after a month and half of thinking of him every time I went out for a routine run each day, and missing him and his place in my life very much. (As well as feeling for his beautiful and strong wife and girls, and of course - my amazingly resilient cousins, Aunt and Uncle as they grieve his loss).

Maybe I will never run another mile without thinking of him, or even go another day without a thought to him, but I will always be grateful to him for his influence in my life - and so many, many others.

Amanda and me, celebrating our 5K success. We was runnannggg.

YAPping.

Today I submitted my 150th YAP (Young Artist Program) application. I have no way of knowing if that number is accurate; it could have been much, much higher than that, but I don't feel like clicking through my email history of confirmation notifications from 2008- present right now.

As I went through all of the usual required fields, I stumbled upon an odd little box in which I was to "describe what special qualities I bring to my operatic performing." This bewildered me: normally we click through these online applications (applications in place so that we may be considered... just for an audition for the program), listing off our references, uploading our headshots, resumes and audio clips, naming programs we've done before (if any), and listing what rep we're bringing to the table. It's black and white: What we've done. Who we know. All the unemotional checks and balances that make us "worthy," but rarely any space for us to argue a case for ourselves! I felt like a child who'd suddenly been handed the phone for the first time to talk to someone: so much I wanted to say, but no idea what I should say.

Should I talk about my comedic timing? Or how I can turn every trip into some part of the choreography? (A very necessary quality in my opinion, especially considering I am one of the clumsiest people on earth...) I typed about five drafts, attempting to modestly cover my violin background, my love of jazz, my musical theater and dance training, my adoration of the french language... and then abandoning all attempts at being me and adopting an oddly sophisticated prose-style with words like "Thusly," and "Affluent."

And, at what point am I allowed to tell them how I've really grown as a human being over the last few years, on and off the stage? Is it acceptable for me to discuss my spirituality? Can I tell them about my loan payments?

...In the end, what I went with was probably the least of what I could have said. Ultimately it doesn't really matter, because regardless of what they think of what I write in that box, I know the deciding factor - for getting this audition, a chance at getting into the program - will come down to what they thought of my resume and recordings. This isn't my way of being cynical, because in my book this company stands out for caring at all how we as performers feel about what we do. It's just that, after 4 years and about 375 applications ( ;) ), I've learned a lot about this field. Some of which I wish I could unlearn.

It would be nice to go into this fall's audition season with a completely clean slate.

Welcome!

I've always loved to write, and with the start of this fall I have felt more inclined to do so than ever before. Maybe due to the far-sweeping distances between myself and my loved ones: family (Canada to California), friends (Amsterdam to Seattle), or the seemingly endless amount of change - whatever the reason, I itch to get it all down on paper and share it.

November 1st marks 2 years since moving to New York City. I've been sharing a house with two very silly, very talented ladies, basically extending our whimsical days at school. Our nights are filled with Amanda's incredible cooking (my love of food will inhabit another section of this blog to avoid this winding up an accidental foodie blog), mutual support of each others' musical aspirations (some opera, some Ukulele, lots of rapping...), Julia's cat's costume fashion shows (He's fairly obese, but he rocks a bow tie and jester hat.), and obviously a lot of laughter. I've felt blessed to live with these girls and often find myself wondering what life will be like one day when I move on from the comfort of our lives together. For now, though, I embrace this sweet phase of transition with never-ending french press coffee and a freezer fully-stocked with Girl Scout cookies.

That isn't to say it's been easy. Moving here to pursue a dream in the music world was never going to be smooth sailing, and I think all three of us knew and accepted that long before we arrived. There have been countless auditions and coachings, tours to sing in churches and recital halls all over the country (in some of the oddest locations), recording sessions, weekly lessons costing more than our monthly train fare, not to mention a ton of work poured into our day jobs. All while training for marathons, taking dance and yoga classes, and, you know, trying to have social lives and stuff. Whew.

Lately, I've been attempting to strike a balance between personal life and career aspirations as much as possible. I don't know if it's the "getting older" thing, or that time here really does fly by much faster, but each week disappears in a flash with not a lot of time to get the extra things done. I find myself having to say "No" much more, while somehow also managing to constantly double book myself. This isn't a complaint - I've always preferred to be busy, and I'm busy with things and people I love. It's mostly a challenge to myself to remember to stay grounded in the center of it all, and keep my eye on the goals and reasons for moving here and giving these years to this city. Who knows where I'll be this time next year, but putting at least some of it down on paper feels like the right thing to do.

Thanks to those who want to join me. :)