#Designer Tisch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frau-heuferscheidt · 11 months ago

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Alles was war – ein Blick in den Rückspiegel

Nun sind wir also auf der Zielgeraden. Und damit – und weil es sich zeitlich gerade fast perfekt ausgeht – möchte ich euch heute dazu einladen, auf das vergangene Jahr meines Lebens zurückzuschauen. Etwaige Parallelen dürft ihr danach selbst ziehen. Also, macht es euch bequem, nehmt euch ein paar Snacks – und los geht’s.

Winter 2023

„Das mit uns, das passt einfach nicht mehr.“

Diesen Satz glaube ich am Rosenmontag des vergangenen Jahres aus dem Mund des Mannes zu hören, der mir um 8.15 Uhr in unserem gemeinsamen Wohnzimmer gegenübersitzt. Auf der Couch, die er selbst bezahlt hat, und die er nie leiden konnte, weil lila keine schöne Farbe für ein Sofa ist. Trägt den dunkelblauen Mantel, den wir wenige Monate vorher noch gemeinsam in einem Designer-Outlet kurz hinter der holländischen Grenze gekauft haben. Dazu den unverhältnismäßig teuren Pullover, den wir vierzehn Tage zuvor gemeinsam in München gekauft haben. Auf der äußersten Kante sitzt er, als ob er nur zu Besuch wäre, guckt mich mitleidig an, und ich denke, nein, das kann nicht sein.

Du träumst.

Das hat er gerade nicht zu dir gesagt, der Mann, mit dem du seit sechzehn Jahren zusammen und seit zehn Jahren verheiratet bist. Der noch vor zwei Tagen auf der größten Karnevalsparty der Stadt mitten auf der Tanzfläche eine Knutscherei mit dir angefangen hat, die wir anschließend daheim fortgeführt haben. Und waren wir nicht erst gestern noch gemeinsam auf einem Kindergeburtstag? Nein, so ein Blödsinn, das hier, das passiert hier gerade nicht wirklich. Totaler Bullshit.

Und während ich noch darauf warte, dass dieser absurde Traum endet, fällt schon hinter ihm die Tür ins Schloss. Instinktiv schaue ich auf die Uhr: 8.32 Uhr. Siebzehn Minuten hat er für die Aktion gebraucht. Aha. Na dann.

Eine Stunde später setze ich mich an den Laptop. Homeoffice. Meine beste Freundin fragt an, ob wir später zum Karnevalsumzug wollen. Ich rede mich darauf raus, dass ich heute keine gute Gesellschaft sei.

Am Abend kommt er nach Hause. Ich setzte das Kind vor den Fernseher, folge ihm ins Schlafzimmer, wo er anfängt, eine Tasche zu packen. Ich frage ihn, ob das ein Scherz war. Nein, sagt er, kein Scherz. Er bleibt dabei.

Also koche ich das Abendessen, während er in den Keller zieht. Decke den Tisch, wir essen gemeinsam, räumen anschließend zusammen auf. Er bringt unsere Tochter ins Bett.

Anschließend sitze ich allein auf der Couch, starre meinen Ehering an. Rufe ihn im Keller an, frage, ob das jetzt wirklich meine neue Realität sein soll. Er bejaht. Ich lege auf und telefoniere anschließend zwei Stunden mit meinen Eltern.

Hello Darkness, my old friend, denke ich, als ich ins Bett gehe.

Und nun?

Die vier Wochen darauf sind die schlimmsten meines Lebens. Ich lebe unter einem Dach mit einem Mann, der noch konsequenter als zuvor alles hinter sich stehen und liegen lässt. Wohne einem Gespräch bei, in dem meiner Tochter von ihrem Vater erklärt wird, dass Mama und Papa sich nicht mehr liebhaben. Stimmt nicht, denke ich, nur du hast mich nicht mehr lieb. Ich hab dich lieb, vielleicht lieber, als jemals zuvor, bleibe aber stumm.

Ende März komme ich von einem sehr späten Pressetermin nach Hause, als meine Mutter anruft und mir sagt, dass mein Opa gestorben ist. Sie selbst wird eine Woche später operiert, weil sie wieder Krebs hat. Meiner Schwester steht ebenfalls ein größerer Eingriff bevor. Ja, sonst noch was, du Scheißjahr?

Zwischendurch bleibt mir die Flucht in die Münster-Storyline von Aww. Wenn gar nichts mehr geht, häufig nachts, und ich nicht weiß, wohin mit meinen Gedanken und Gefühlen, schreibe ich die Liebesgeschichte zweier Medizinstudenten auf. Habe Angst vor der Berlin-Timeline, aber die hat ja noch Zeit. Die wird mich schon früh genug einholen, wie ich annehme. Genauso wie mein reales Leben.

Anfang April hat er endlich eine Wohnung, und nach fast sechs Woche, in denen wir im eigenen Haus wie Falschgeld umeinander rumgelaufen sind, werfe ich ihn endgültig raus. Er zieht innerhalb von zwei Stunden aus. Zum Abschluss kommt er noch einmal ins Esszimmer und fragt, ob er den Fernseher – der mir gehört – mitnehmen darf. Ich stehe am Rande einer Existenzkrise.

Und dann ist er weg.

Sommer 2023

„Dein Zimmer ist leer wie die Stadt am Sonntagmorgen“, singen Fettes Brot Anfang Mai in der Halle Münsterland. „Schön wär’s“, raune ich meiner Freundin zu, die neben mir steht, und die lacht. Denn ja – schön wäre es.

„Ich ziehe nicht einfach die Tür hinter mir zu“, hat er gesagt – und dann genau das getan.

Die ersten Monate des Frühlings bis in den frühen Sommer hinein bin ich also damit beschäftigt, hinter ihm her zu räumen. Und was mich zuerst noch nervt, wird bald zu einem absurden Hobby: seine Bachelorarbeit? Scheinbar uninteressant, weg damit. Kaufvertrag unserer ersten Küche? Müll. Hochzeitsbilder? Ciao, ein paar wenige hebe ich für unsere Tochter auf. Ah, schau an, unser Bausparvertrag, den kündige ich doch mal direkt.

Irgendwann bin ich fertig. Kurz vor der Schlüsselübergabe – meine Eltern sind unsere Vermieter – rufe ich ihn an und bitte, mit dem Sprinter aus der Firma zu kommen und den Müll mitzunehmen. Ich hätte da ein wenig aussortiert.

Er kommt, lädt ein. Und schaut mich anschließend mit hochgezogenen Augenbrauen an. „Kommst du mit zur Müllverbrennungsanlage?“ – „Äh? Nein?“ – „Äh, doch? Das ist nicht nur mein Müll? Na gut, denke ich, einfach auch deshalb, weil mir die Kraft für irgendeine Diskussion fehlt. Also gesagt, getan, wir fahren gemeinsam zur Müllpresse. Unsere Tochter sitzt in der Mitte, trägt ihr Prinzessin Elsa Kleid und isst Quarkbällchen. Wenn das hier eine Serie oder ein Film wäre, denke ich, würde ich sofort umschalten.

Und dann fliegt alles, was ich aussortiert habe, in die Müllpresse. Wir reden nicht, wir werfen. Im Gegensatz zu ihm weiß ich, was er da wegschmeißt. Und so fliegen sie, die Kirchenblätter unserer Trauung, die Menükarten, die Reiseunterlagen vergangener Urlaube, die Babyschlafsäcke unserer Tochter, die Steuerunterlagen aus dem Jahr 2010.

Es ist absurd. Und befreiend.

Im Juni fliege ich für eine Woche nach Sardinien, allein mit meiner Tochter. Sitze früh morgens am Gate und frage mich ernsthaft, ob ich vielleicht bescheuert bin. Was ich mir wohl denke, und was sein soll, wenn hier irgendwas schief geht. „Du machst jetzt gar nix. Und da geht auch nix schief. Du steigst jetzt ins Flugzeug, und ihr macht euch eine schöne Woche“, lautet der Rat aus einer bestimmten Chatgruppe, und den befolge ich.

Es soll die beste Woche des gesamten Jahres für meine Tochter und mich werden.

Am Tag unserer Rückkehr verkündet mein Mann, dass er eine neue Freundin hat. Aha, hat sie den Sprung von der Affäre zur Freundin also doch noch geschafft. Interessant. Glückwunsch.

Da ich logischerweise den weiteren Verlauf von Aww kenne, verabschiede ich mich in die Pause. Aus der ich, so denke ich, mit an Sicherheit grenzender Wahrscheinlichkeit nicht noch mal zurückkommen werde.

Herbst 2023

Der Sommer vergeht. Ich verbringe Zeit mit meinem Kind, aber auch mit meinen Freunden, besuche Schützenfeste, Dorfpartys und eine Menge Konzerte. Unsere Tochter wird eingeschult, betretenes Schweigen auf dem Schulhof. „Machen wir noch ein Bild zusammen, als Familie?“ – „Familie. Selten so gelacht. Aber ja, bitte, lass uns ein Foto machen.“

Ich arbeite viel, komme gefühlt zu nichts. Daheim bekomme ich zwei neue Badezimmer. Der Rasen muss gemäht, die Wäsche gewaschen, die Bude geputzt werden. Ich stelle Möbel um, mitten in der Nacht. Und auch sonst läuft mein Leben fantastisch.

Zwischendurch öffne und schließe ich immer wieder die Dateien von Aww. Soll ich? Soll ich nicht? Ich soll, sagen die Reviews und Nachrichten.

Also dann, denke ich. Wer weiß, vielleicht macht es die Sache ja nur noch realistischer und authentischer. Und selbst wenn nicht, macht das Schreiben vielleicht wenigstens den Kopf frei.

Winter 2023/2024

Meine Tochter geht gerne zur Schule, lernt rasch. Ist aufmerksam und empathisch und fröhlich und mein Ausgleich zu allem anderen. Mein Anker, mein Ruhepol. Der Teil meines eigenen Herzens, der auf dem Bürgersteig vor mir herläuft.

Zu Weihnachten bekommt sie von mir das erste Harry Potter Buch, und seitdem verbringen wir gemeinsam eine Menge Zeit in Hogwarts. Wir schauen Filme, kochen und backen. Als ich es an Heiligabend immer noch nicht geschafft habe, die restliche Deko aufzustellen, übernimmt sie das für mich. Sie muss mich nur anschauen und weiß, wie es mir geht. Und sie fragt nicht, sie handelt. Ich versuche, sie vor den meisten Dingen zu bewahren, aber unsere Verbindung ist zu eng dafür. War sie immer schon, aber sie ist noch enger geworden seit der Trennung. Sie erklärt mir in einem Nebensatz, in der allmorgendlichen Hektik, dass sie weiß, dass ich ihre Mama bin. Und keine andere Frau das jemals sein wird. Ich gehe ins Badezimmer, mache die Tür hinter mir zu und heule. Wir kommen deshalb fast zu spät Schule, aber was soll’s.

Nachts schaue ich sie an und frage mich, was und wo ich ohne sie wäre.

Auf dem Weg zum Co-Parenting

Wenn der Mensch, der dir fast 20 Jahre näherstand als jeder andere, einfach geht, nimmt er einen Teil von dir mit. Und dieser Teil ist für immer verloren.

Wir haben uns gestritten, persönlich, am Telefon, per WhatsApp. Rechtsanwälte wurden eingeschaltet, Unterhaltszahlungen berechnet. Es gab Schuldzuweisungen, Beschimpfungen, Vorwürfe.

Aber, das alles – zu jeder Zeit – außerhalb der Kinderohren. Verabschiedung im Flur unseres ehemals gemeinsamen Hauses, ich wünsche ihr viel Spaß mit dem Papa, obwohl ich genau weiß, dass sie heute Abend bei einer mir völlig fremden Frau übernachten wird. Die ihr die Nägel lackieren und Zöpfe flechten und sie am nächsten Tag vielleicht sogar zur Schule bringen wird. Mit diesen Gedanken im Hinterkopf beiße ich die Zähne zusammen, und kaum, dass die Haustür hinter ihr und ihrem Vater ins Schloss gefallen ist, greife ich zu meinem Handy und nehme eine wütende Sprachnachricht auf. Acht Minuten lang, voller Beschimpfungen, für meine beste Freundin.

Dennoch – das Kind gehört nicht zwischen die Fronten. Sie darf bei der neuen Freundin ihres Vaters reiten? Prima, viel Spaß. Sie bringt Sachen mit, die sie dort gebastelt hat? Na, das hast du aber toll gemacht. Danke dafür. Mein Ego leidet, natürlich. Aber das ist mein Problem. Ich möchte ein glückliches Kind, und keine Feindbilder erschaffen. Koste es, was es wolle.

Die erste Zeit war schwierig. Oft war er nicht verfügbar, mit allen möglichen anderen Dingen beschäftigt, die plötzlich wichtiger waren als sein Kind.

Aber, heute, ein Jahr später, ist es okay. Noch nicht gut, aber so wenig er am Anfang da war, so sehr ist er es jetzt. Er ist und bleibt ein guter Vater.

Wir schaffen es mittlerweile, uns auf einer neutralen Ebene zu begegnen – mit kleinen Ausreißern. Manchmal ruft er an, weil er mir etwas erzählen möchte, was nur ich verstehe. Weihnachten klagt er über seine anstrengende Familie, ich weise darauf hin, dass ich mit den Leuten nichts mehr zu tun habe. Er lacht und sagt, dass er mich beneidet.

Wir lieben uns nicht mehr, nicht im klassischen Sinne.

Und trotzdem habe ich noch ein Zitat für euch, was euch – sehr ähnlich oder genauso – in der nächsten Zeit noch einmal begegnen wird: „Ich werde immer sauer auf ihn sein. Aber er ist der Vater meines Kindes.“

Will sagen – diese Verbindung, die werden wir nicht verlieren. Nicht, solange wir beide leben, ganz egal, wie alt unsere Tochter ist.

Diese Verbindung ist sehr speziell und mit keiner anderen zu vergleichen.

Und lieben, lieben werden wir uns auch immer, auf irgendeiner Ebene. Weil wir für immer eine besondere Position haben werden für den jeweils anderen – egal, wie oft wir übereinander schimpfen oder sauer sind.

Danke

Das vergangene Jahr war eine Reise. Vor allem zurück zu mir selbst.

Mein ständiger Begleiter: Aww – und ihr.

Diese Reise wird nun also innerhalb der nächsten Wochen zu Ende gehen – und ich möchte euch danken.

Für jedes Review, jede Diskussion, jeden Shitstorm, jede Nachricht.

Dafür, dass ihr diese selbsterfüllende Prophezeiung genauso liebt und hasst wie ich.

Dafür, dass ihr nicht nur Team Klako, Team Joko oder Klaas seid, sondern auch Team Jens und Team Amelie. Oder auch schon mal Team Thomas Schmitt.

Danke für die ungebrochene Liebe, die ihr dieser Fanfiction entgegenbringt, und die mich niemals nicht verlegen machen wird.

Danke.

Wir lesen uns.

#Danke #Aww #Co-Parenting #singlemom #Spotify

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whateverbringsyouthroughthenight · 2 years ago

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[1932] Cover design ‘Maskierte am Tisch’ (masked character at table), Vol. 37, Jugend, No. 5, p.65, January 26. Heinrich Kley

#Heinrich Kley #art

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evolvingsidekick · 1 year ago

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BD - winners where are they now (incomplete)

I think someone requested this somewhere

Most females and recent males because there are just too many to do rn

At companies:

Miriam Gittens (s2013): Gibney Company

Alyssa Allen (s2014): Ballets Jazz Montreal

Brianne Sellars (s2014): Dallas Black Dance Theatre

Ashley Green (s2015): Alvin Ailey American dance Theater

Payton Johnson (j2012, t2015, s2017): L.A. Dance Project

Vivian Ruiz (s2019): Ballet BC

Kelis Robinson (t2018, s2020): The Batsheva Dance Company; The Juilliard School

Kiarra Waidelich (m2016, j2018, t2020): Royal Flux Company

Quinn Starner (t2017): New York City Ballet Corps de Ballet

Emma Sutherland (j2014, t2016): MashUp Contemporary Dance Co.

Sarah Pippin (t2011): Ballet BC

Timmy Blankenship (s2017): Sydney Dance Company; choreographer

Brady Farrar (m2014, j2017, t2021): ABT Junior Company

Easton Magliarditi (t2020): Royal Flux Company

Graham Feeny (t2015): Artistic associate at Gibney Company

Logan Hernandez (t2015): Göteborgs Operans Danskompani

Zenon Zubyk (t2013): Nederlands Dans Theater

Jonathan Wade (j2011, s2016): Rambert Dance Company

Wyeth Walker (s2017): Rubberband Dance Company

Faculty/teacher/choreography:

Lucy Vallely (t2015, s2018): Broadway Dance Center, freelance choreographer

Jayci Kalb ( j2011, t2014, s2016): The Dance Centre; Radio City Clara 2010

Taylor Sieve (s2016): Jump Dance Convention

Jenna Johnson (s2012): DWTS pro, 24 Seven Dance Convention

Jazzmin James (t2012, s2015): faculty several intensives

Jaycee Wilkins (j2015): Club Dance Studio

Sophia Lucia (j2014): Dancelab OC

Brynn Rumfallo (m2014): Strive Dance Workshop (own project)

Talia Seitel (m2012): Project 21 (part-time)

Lex Ishimoto (t2014, s2016): Jump Dance Convention

at University/college:

Ellie Wagner (s2019): Ohio State University Dance Team

Ella Horan (s2021): USC Kaufman

Kayla Mak (m2014, s2021): The Juilliard School; Radio City Clara 2014, 2015

Brianna Keingatti (s2022): The Juilliard School

Julia Lowe (s2023): USC Kaufman

Ava Wagner (j2018): University of Minnesota Dance Team

Avery Gay (m2015, j2017): University of Arizona School of Dance

Leara Stanley (m2011): Duke University

Sam Fine (s2023): USC Kaufman; Young Arts 2022

Seth Gibson: The Juilliard School

Alex Shulman (s2022): New York University Tisch Dance

Joziah German (m2014, t2018, s2020): The Juilliard School

Joey Gertin (t2018): The Juilliard School

Professional dancer/choreographer:

Simrin Player (t2014, s2017): The Voice, Missy Elliot, Justin Bieber, RBD

Jaxon Williard (s2021): Rihanna, Madonna, Lil Nas X

D'Angelo Castro (j2012, t2016, s2019): DWTS troupe

Findlay Mcconnell (t2017, s2019): Tate McRace

Christian Smith (s2018): Tate McRae, NBC's Saved by the Bell

Keanu Uchida (s2014): Dancer the Musical; also a big advocate for protecting dancers and calling out inappropriate behaviour

Eric Schloesser (s2014): Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Dua Lipa, Billie Eilish, J Balvin; choreographer, creative director, designer; Dana Foglia Dance Company

Other/a combo of things:

Bianca Melchior (s2011): actor, dancer, singer; Nick Jonas, Alessia Cara, own music; faculty at On The Floor dance competition

Tate McRae (m2013, j2015, t2018): singer/songwriter

Bostyn Brown (j2016, t2019): Professional assistant at DanceOne

Megan Goldstein (t2017); dancer, photographer

Christina Ricucci (t2013): actor, musician, dancer

Bella Klassen (j2017): The Space, vlogger

Kalani Hilliker (j2013): influencer, teaching at several places (Danceplex, MBA)

Elliana Walmsley (m2018): influencer, DWTS Junior, Radio City Clara 2019

Diana Pombo (m2016): singer/songwriter, dancer, actor; Young Arts voice 2023+2024

Morgan Higgins (t2016, s2018): dancer, aerialist

Zelig Williams (s2013):dancer/actor: MJ the Musical, Hamilton

Daniel Gaymon (s2011): dancer/actor; Broadway (Cats, The Lion King); Hamilton national tour, La La Land

Ricky Ubeda (t2011, s2012): choreographer, actor; Steven Spielberg's West Side Story

Michael Hall (s2015): Saturday Night Fever the Musical, tv dancer in Cairo, Egypt; teacher

Julian Elia (t2014): Steven Spielberg's Westside Story, working on the development of a new Broadway musical

Sage Rosen (t2016): influencer; DWTS Junior

Ryan Maw (j2015, t2017): choreographer, dancer, actor: High School Musical: The Musical - The Series

Holden Maples (j2016, t2019): dancer, teacher, choreographer

Competing/not graduated honorable mentions:

Cameron Voorhees (m2018, j2021, t2023): Evolve Dance Complex; starting career as a teacher/choreographer

Crystal Huang (m2019, j2021, t2023): The Rock Center for Dance, Bayer Ballet Academy; Prix De Lausanne 2024, Young Arts 2024, Radio City Clara 2021

Hailey Bills (m2017, t2022): Center Stage Performing Arts Studio, DWTS Junior

Brightyn Brems (m2017): DWTS Junior

Avery Hall (t2022): Danceology; Young Arts 2023

Savannah Kristich (t2021): The Rock Center For Dance; Twyla Now

Savannah Manzel (m2020): Larkin Dance Studio, Radio City Clara 2023

Kya Massimino (m2021): Radio City Clara 2023

Ian Stegeman (m2019, j2021, t2023): Woodbury Dance Center, Young Arts 2024

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y2k-fantastic · 8 months ago

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Ref: garden design 'tisch'

#my post #y2k #landscape architecture

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harryleatherfit · 2 years ago

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Upper East Side || AU

Chapter 1: The Letter

word count: 3740

warnings: mentions of unavailable parents, smoking, mentions of bad sex (BYE)

if i’ve missed any let me know!

authors note- hi!! first chapter is finally up! this may take me a while to plan but this whole plot i have makes me so excited to write. this is my first fic but pedro pascal has taken me off my harry styles feet and wow. god bless the met gala seriously.

🪩Main Master List 🪩 Series Master List🪩

—————————

“Hey have you checked the mail? You have a big ass envelope saying NYU on it!”

You immediately sprung from your bed.

You and and your best friend Laylah have been roommates all throughout college, deciding to stay in the dorms of UNCSA for summer because you both couldn’t commit to an apartment or afford moving back in with either of your parents.

Your senior years were 3 months away, and you both took this last summer to work, study, and humanly live. Laylah was majoring in Wig and Makeup Design, as you were majoring in Acting for film. The last three years have been a buildup to your applications for senior year at Tisch. The School of the Arts at NYU in New York City. Known for its alumni and seriousness in the performance world. You guys both decided to apply just to see what would happen, against all the odds. With no idea how to pay for it, it’d only be one final year for the both of you. No matter what jobs would be found, money would be made.

Before the previous school year ended, you played Sally Bowels in Cabaret and Laylah did the makeup for the whole company. A team from Ticsh came down to North Carolina to see one night of the show. It was the most exhilarating experience. The audience was packed, and you never let yourself slip up once, feeling the character in your heart. You were genuinely proud of your work, but the following day was your Spring Concert Recital and you had a feeling that the whole team from the awaiting college was going to go to that as well.

They did. You could see the bunch in the corner of the theater. Your eyeline was just catching them in the blinding light.

It had made you really fucking nervous but your voice teacher, Ms.Kim, let you know they left some comments, you didn’t care to listen.

Luckily Laylah already got in, she found out 3 days ago and this was the best news. Your best friend got into NYU Tisch. She’s fucking best of the best. You were truly happy for her, no matter if you didn’t get in.

“Go on, open it.” Pushing the envelope towards you.

You take the envelope and slowly, slicing it with your fingernail, pulling the paper out slowly.

You blanked and could barely speak. “Congratulations on your acceptance TO NYU TISCH SCHOOL OF THE ARTS.” You yelled.

Cheers and fits of screams came from you and Laylah. This was happening.

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, you realize what this means? We’re moving to New York City, TOGETHER! We're going to college with the pretentious shits at the best arts school in this damned country!” She cheered.

You couldn’t believe it, all your dreams and hopes bundled into one piece of paper, so much could happen in that city within one year. The year of growth and connections.

“We have to immediately start packing, oh my god. Make the long haul with all our shit. Goodbye North Carolina!” She skipped around the tiny room.

You weren’t too sad about leaving either, you’d miss Ms. Kim, but she would always be at your hand in a call. You’d need to meet with her to talk about the practicalities about what needed to happen in your year, but that can wait. You wouldn’t miss anyone, you had Laylah. She was the only person you needed. Your parents didn’t care about any fucking thing you did. You were independent and free from them. You would possibly call them during Christmas to catch them up, but that was if you were feeling generous.

Your dreams are finally real.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ms. Kim! Over here!”

You were meeting up for the last time at a coffee shop. Your last day in this wretched town. Winston-Salem was not for the weak. Fucking red-necks.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so proud of you! I knew you’d get accepted. Laylah get in?

“Yes!”

“Oh my sweeties, the dynamic duo! You’re the best actor this school has.”

“Please, I’m physically not and could never be.” You laughed.

“Well you’re my favorite so I can say that.” She smiled.

“I’m nervous Ms.Kim.” You felt tears start to shed. “I feel like I don’t deserve this, I know I worked hard and my years here are paying off but I’m so scared. What happens after college? Where is this money going to come from for the both of us? How are we going to be able to properly care for ourselves if we don’t immediately get into the industry?” You felt defeated.

“Do not let this get in the way of your determination. Do not let money hangover your head. Show that hoity toity school what they're worth. You’re truly the best talent I’ve seen in years of my teaching. I’m not just saying that honey, you will have the world at your feet.” Her southern accent shining through. “Did you ever listen to those comments I sent to you?”

“No, I couldn't. I was going to feel physically sick if I did. I also seriously couldn't bare to hear myself in the background.”

“Enough of that nonsense. You have the voice of an angel. Don’t worry I listened and you seriously have nothing to worry about. They all loved you, I’m serious.”

“Okay okay I believe you!” You giggle.

“Good. You have to believe in yourself, New York will be brutal. You can’t shut down or shut anyone out. You have to see yourself at the end. Let Laylah bring you back to life when you’re feeling down. You have to audition for everything and anything. Try to get into those school shows. Be nice to your professors and don’t build an ego.”

“I know I know.”

“If you need anything, I can always fly up and help you with anything.”

“Ms. Kim, thank you for everything. After high school, and my parents I was so lost but you helped me find my path. You were the one that helped me decide my future. I owe this to you.” You hug her.

“No honey, you owe this to yourself.”

——————————

You owe this to yourself.

“You okay?” Laylah looked over. She took over the driving, you were tired from crying.

“I don’t know I’m so damn emotional, I’ve lived here for like forever and I’m scared for the good change.”

“See.” She poked you. “It's a good change. You can come back one day and feel proud. Who knows we could end up staying in New York for forever. Start living there. We could be 23 and be able to show this city up.”

“Don’t get too hype, we have to move in first and meet people, introduce ourselves. Everyone already knows each other. First week of classes will be hell, those professors probably already know all of them.” You reply.

“Oh my god, we have to check out the hotties, there has to be so many. All those rich parties we could get into.” Laylah said.

“No, they’re all gonna be weirdo theater kids stuck in their hometowns. Just watch.” You smile.

You did theater, but you were not an obscenely obsessed Broadway kid growing up. You acted because it was the only way you could express your feelings.

“You're right but just you watch, someone will sweep you off your feet in no time and you won’t even realize it. It could possibly be a weirdo theater kid that you fall madly in love with.”

“Oh yeah and you could fall in love with a sound and lighting engineer, just our luck.” You laugh out loud.

Maybe this was your chance to branch out. Open your heart.

Previously in college you had a fling with a film major, but it felt too real and you couldn’t commit. You didn’t want to waste his time and you were too caught up with the show you were in for school. You felt like there was someone else out there for you. If you committed to him, that was it and you still felt too young to date. High School you only focused on your studies and couldn’t give less of a fuck on teenage boys. You only wanted to focus on your GPA and your friends.

You couldn't put your finger on it but New York just felt like a magnet to you. You wanted love. You wanted it to engulf you, make you feel heavenly, feel sick. You wanted to feel butterflies. You wanted the love of a relationship to feel like this person was your best friend, like you didn’t have to hide anything. No matter what state of life you were in, the value of love was always there.

You watched your parents' marriage fall apart as a young girl and it broke you. If you were to get married it would be a one and done deal. If you were ever cheated on, you would vow to never date again. Seal yourself off to your work. It’s what you already know what to do best.

You kept thinking it all over. You also wanted good fucking sex. Your fling was lame and boring. He could never make you cum like your vibrator could. His dick could never get you off, you felt guilty, but you just wanted more. You wanted the best sex that would make your body convulse, make you see stars. You wanted to be worshiped and praised. And you fucking needed someone who shared your sex drive.

No one these days can make a girl squirt. It’s fucking annoying. It’s not computer science. Stick your damn fingers up there, or watch a youtube tutorial.

“Remember Liam?” Laylah asked. She pulled out her dab pen and handed it to you.

“I was literally just thinking about him, holy shit.” You took a hit, this was going to be a long drive.

“Yeah he’s an example of what not to date, he bored you out. He wasn’t good for you. He didn’t match your passion and level of love.”

Passion.

“Life is gonna be real good in about 9 hours.” You giggle. Everything felt bubbly and surreal.

Due West by Kelsey Lu was blasting in the and you dozed off watching Laylah’s hair blow in the wind.

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You’ve gotten food on the road. Stretched out at Gas stations, but you finally arrived at your big destination. Laylah parked your car, you both had to go to the admission office to figure out your dorm situation, get your keys. Figure out the whole school.

You walked into the big historic building, you were taken aback at how beautiful the architecture was, you were even shocked by the city it was- it was later at night and all the lights were twinkling. You didn’t care if you looked like you were a tourist. This was one of the moments you could pocket.

You looked up through the school and there was a man staring down at you from a level above. You caught a glimpse of him before he walked away quickly. You feel like you’ve seen him before. That was weird.

“Come on, they close soon, they're probably waiting for us.” L rushes.

You both walk through a door and are greeted by a lady at a desk.

“Hi my name is Laylah, we’re the transfers coming in from North Carolina.” That perked the woman's interest.

“Oh yes! We figured you two would be coming in any day now. I have everything laid out, a map of the school. Your cards for meal swipes, parking spot tag, dorm room keys. Now with the dorm room you both are in a suite with 2 others, but these girls are fantastic, they aren’t in your majors so you won’t see them much but this was approved by the dean.” She smiled.

Just great, you thought. Meeting people right off the bat. How fucking lovely. You needed more sleep, and a joint.

You chime in, “Excuse me where’s the bathroom.”

“Just to the left there sweetie.” She replies.

You had to severely piss from the gas station diet coke. As you were walking you passed by the same man you saw on the second floor. Your eyes felt too heavy but he looked interesting. You give a smile and walk on without thinking much of it.

---------------------------

“Before we knock we need a game plan.”

But before you could think of anything the door to your suite opened and you both were entranced with hugs.

What? You couldn’t get a good look at the girls.

“We haven’t seen you guys in so long! How long has it been?”

Now you see, it was Hannah and Rose from the high school over in your hometown. You all knew each other through theater of course. You didn’t think about them going to Tisch though. They were their school's own duo.

“No shit!” You yell.

“Come in, come in. We’ll wake up the whole building with our reunion.” Rose says.

How did the dean know? This was the best you could’ve gotten but how could the dean known to put you in a room with the 2 girls you knew from your hometown?

You look around the suite. The living area looks well decorated and smells fantastic. It’s all you could have ever wanted.

“Where's all your stuff?” Hannah asks.

“We thought to just get it in the morning, it's late and we’re exhausted.” Laylah replies.

“I know it’s late but this calls for Wine.” Rose chimes in.”

She gets out the glasses and the bottle, you think this is such a New York thing to do. You don’t want to get used to it.

“What are you majoring in?” You ask, slouching onto the couch.

“I’m going for Stage Managing, Hannah is majoring in Film.” That makes more sense. They went to this school because they both had the money.

“I hear miss Actor and Makeup’s names are being buzzed around the whole school.” Rose says slyly.

“No way, how?” You ask.

“Eh, it’s not common I won’t lie but it’s crazy that two people from the same school are here. We’ve also heard that you're both insanely good so people feel threatened in your areas.” She responds.

Wow. You thought, way to kick off the year.

“Anyway there's a meeting with all the teachers tomorrow morning. All 400 sum of us are required to go, you get to meet the teachers, it’s kinda like a big lecture. You can ask questions but it’s the kick off for a new arts year. Super important. You guys can make your big debut there!” Hannah finishes.

You needed a shower and to get your shit in your room, not a lump meeting with new people you were going to be working with for the whole year. Not to mention most of them were going to be Actors.

“Well in that case we should all go to sleep to look the best then, have to make a good first impression, right?” Laylah asks.

“Right!” Rose and Hannah get up and move to their room and you move to yours with Laylah. “Goodnight.”

The door closes behind you, you don't know what to feel. Happy? Sad? Angry? You want to be able to take control of your situation and just be liked. Not immediately hated. Please for fucks sake.

“Dab pen?” L offers.

“Dab pen.” You agree.

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You and Laylah wake up early enough to perfect your makeup, pick out the clothes you have in your bag you brought up to make a good outfit. You decide with a light lacy dress for the summer, Laylah going with a beautiful dark green corset with black jeans. Hopefully you both fit in with this city's culture.

You and Laylah follow Hannah and Rose through the school grounds. It’s beautiful during the day. Not one person knows you at NYU and you feel reset.

You walk into this building and follow the girls into an auditorium. You immediately see it full in the center. Good you guys can sit in the back. You smell the auditorium. Notice your spatial awareness, look at the catwalk, look at who's on the stage. You immediately feel at home.

More people walk in and as the auditorium fills, you can feel more eyes follow to your area. That’s not good.

“Welcome everyone!” You look to center stage and see a line of people standing. There's the same man you saw yesterday night.

“I’m one of the schools directors, I’m Ms. Roylance, this is your choral director Mr. Miller, this is your dance choreographer Mrs. Cheot, and this is your technical director, Mr. Morales.”

Mr. Morales. That's him.

“We are delighted to kick off an amazing school year! We were looking forward to announcing this year's musicals on Halloween, so don’t get your hopes up just yet!.” Ms. Roylance chuckles. “As you all know this fall play will be Macbeth, and we always do the nutcracker for our dancers in the winter.”

You heard murmurs from around the room. Lady M was a good one, truly. It made you cry. You wondered who would audition and how long you would annotate that script. Shakespeare was no joke. If you master the seriousness of Shakespeare in modern society then you would have respect from anyone in the industry.

“This year, we also have the privilege to put our shows on at a Broadway theater.”

The whole room felt like fire. Everyone was erupting into conversation.

“Please calm down, this is big news. There will be more information in the coming weeks. Now, we wanted to introduce you all to our new transfers for their senior years. Coming all the way from Winston Salem!”

As she calls your names, she tells you to come on up on the stage.

“What!” You look to Laylah in confusion.

You guys get up and walk slowly to the stage. Now everyone was looking at you. You remained your eyes on the floor. You walked up the stairs and your heart started to race.

“Would you guys like to say anything?” Ms. Roylance starts to hand the mike to you, but you side step to let it be handed to Laylah. There was no way you were going to speak.

Laylah looks up, “Hi everyone! I’m Laylah, we're from UNCSA, we’re both really honored to be able to have our Senior year here. I think from the start of time we both wanted to come here and live in New York City.” She laughs.

You’ve been looking down the entire time, holding your hands. The skin of your fingers were going to go raw if you kept picking them. Everyone was looking at you, but the only eyes that mattered were Mr. Morales.

It felt like he was engulfing you with his dark gaze. You wanted to shift your body movement to get a complete look at him but you couldn’t move. You felt stuck. In the corner of your eye you could feel him. Was he smiling or frowning? Was he going to talk to you after this? Were you going to have to talk to all of them after this?

You could see his tall figure, he was in a suit, his brownish gray hair. His hands in his pockets. It unsettled you. Would he be one of your teachers?

Laylah pushed the microphone to you, shit what were you going to say?

“Hi.” You felt like Edward Cullen. The customer service smile was fucking real. “We just came in last night. I’m so excited to be here. This city has been my dream for so long, I think all of ours. I feel honored to be able to work with all of you, and teachers.” You moved to see the adults standing and you got a good look at him. He was breathtaking, it made you blank.

“Um, from a young age acting felt natural to me, making people feel what I feel on stage or through a screen. I’m not really good with words, but I feel emotions really hard and I want people to be able to feel me when I act. I know this will never happen but if there is ever a chance I could change someone’s life up on a stage, then I’ve done my job. I don’t know if that makes any sense.” You laugh. “But seriously we’re both extremely honored to be here. I genuinely would love to meet all of you. Thank you.” You hand the microphone back and the crowd claps for you two.

Your hands felt pruney. That was the longest 5 minutes ever.

Was he still staring at you? You get back into your seat and Hannah and Rose pat you on the back.

Mr. Morales looked like a deer in headlights, he excused himself from the panel. That got your attention.

Why were you so curious about a man, probably 15 years older than you at that, and could possibly be your teacher?

After the teachers finished, people came up to you to introduce themselves, having a slight conversation. There were a few people that would pass you and just glare. You definitely felt like you didn’t belong, but in due time you and Laylah would make your place here.

The money in this room overwhelmed you. It’s all you could think about. They all must have thought that we weren’t good enough to be here. You’d both show them.

You told Hannah and Rose you’d meet back with them in a few hours, you guys wanted to just sit in the House and chat, look around the campus.

Once the whole room was cleared you got up and dragged Laylah to the stage. It was huge.

“What are you doing?” She laughed.

“This is a celebration. I'm gonna sing a loud cheerful song to induct us into this amazing huge popular school.” You smile.

You start The Girl from Ipanema and Laylah starts giggling. You walk around her with her hands interlocked with yours, going in circles.

“Tall and tan and young and lovely the girl from Ipanema goes walking And when she passes Each one she passes goes, “Ah.” You sing.

You continue your little song with banter, and you look up just slightly to see someone watching you both in the back corner of the audience. It was him.

——

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