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visions of sugar plums

This weekend I took a special little friend of mine to see the Nutcracker. We sat front & center on the first row and could see every detail, every smile, every wave of the dancers.

At the end of the Sugar Plum Fairy's dance, the woman next to Grace leaned over to her.

She said, "The Sugar Plum Fairy just blew you a kiss!"

Grace leaned over and quietly said–without taking her eyes off Jenny, "Yea. That's my mommy."

banksy: tribeca

Somehow I ended up seeing two Banksys in one day (which made for a very happy girl). The sad part was that the Tribeca Banksy had already been vandalized by the time I got there only a few days later.

I had high hopes that this one would remain intact and unscathed since it was a tribute to 9/11. The ironic thing is that the art itself wasn't damaged, but the sheet of glass installed to protect the art was shattered. I was thrilled, nonetheless, to see two of his works of art, and only wish I had caught him when he set up shop in Central Park to score one for my living room wall-o-random.

Maybe I'll catch you next time, Banksy. Until then, keep inspiring the artists.

banksy: uws

I fought my way to the front for this head-on photo.

I fought my way to the front for this head-on photo.

To find my first Banksy, I went on a brief excursion from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side (which is practically no excursion at all). It was a crowded mess with people swarming the art, adding props to the scene, taking photos with their face somehow incorporated in the stencil, but I was glad to experience Banksy's NYC madness. Plus it's a pretty cool stencil, if you ask me.

finding my banksy

When Banksy took New York by storm during the month of October, I jumped right on the bandwagon. I followed his instagram account so that I could know the minute his new art was revealed each day, and much to my excitement, I was able to track down a couple of his pieces in some of the neighborhoods I frequent.

While making my way to the first Banksy sighting, I made this video that literally tracked my steps; and if you look closely I'm pretty sure you'll see that there's an extra pep in my step as I make my way across Central Park and the New York City terrain. I sure am glad I got a small taste of Banksy during his New York City jaunt. You're welcome here anytime, Mr. Banksy.

lives of new yorkers

Last night as I was walking home I overheard a conversation between a homeless man (or perhaps just a beggar) and a passerby leaving the grocery store. The beggar was asking for money for food as a man with the grocery bag passed by him. The man with the one bag stopped suddenly, turned around, and said something I found so fascinating and have never heard before.

"You know what, this loaf of bread was bought with food stamps. I have $ 0.78 to my name, so I'm not sure I can share anything with you tonight."

Everyone has a story. Big or small, it's always there. I like having the chance to see glimpses of those stories, especially when on first glance I erroneously perceive so many to be just like me.

NY ❤ Boston

I've been a part of this great city for almost five years now, and I've seen tragedies big and small strike during my time here. And every time - without fail - the people of this city have come together as one. It's spectacular, really. I've never seen anything like it anywhere else before.

A city of 8 million people, united together. For our city and other cities alike.

three new yorks

Couldn't have said it better myself. If you've spent time here, you know this description to be true.

“There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter—the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last—the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh yes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company.”

-EB White, "Here Is New York"

an elevator pitch

This week I rode the elevator with Tim Keller. We were both going to the 11th floor, but it stopped on the 10th floor instead of our intended destination. Tim looked over at me, smiled, and said,

"All have fallen short."

my experience with Good Friday

With most of the churches I attended growing up, I never remember much emphasis on Good Friday. I hadn't been to Good Friday church services, but maybe it was talked about during the Easter season. Then, I moved to New York and my church had an entire Holy Week series of events. It was all new to me, but I jumped right in on the festivities. I remember the first year attending a Good Friday service on Friday night after work and thinking about what an incredible day it was. Dark and sad, yet light and joyous.

During my second Easter in New York I was talking with a coworker who admittedly put little to no value on christianity. He was a fashion designer who somehow ended up as an interiors intern at an architecture firm. But despite having a very low interest in christianity, he was always open to talking about it.

We would sometimes go to lunch together for udon and as we were talking about christianity, I pondered out loud, "I wonder why it's called good Friday if Jesus died on that day?" He looked straight at me and said, "because Jesus died to save the world from their sins on Good Friday."

Through the words of an unlikely source, I have never again wondered or forgotten what makes Good Friday so good.