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NYC: My Own Personal Kickstarter

La Vida Yoga blog

NYC: My Own Personal Kickstarter

karla rodas

Day 14 of the 500 words a day for 30 day @kale&cigarettes

Been researching all morning. Reading and finding out about volunteer opportunities. I’ve been making many mental shifts and moves as of the last few months. My New York trip was the kick-starter for making some moves in my life.  New York is a catalyst for so many things isn’t it? It’s sparks energy and renewed interest in all things creative and stimulating.  I’ve been away from my hometown for half my life now with yearly visits. It’s a pilgrimage of sorts when I do go. Coming home to the unfamiliar yet deeply intrinsic pulse of the city. It’s comforting with its grittiness, tough beauty and cool edge. There’s no other place that unsettles me or confronts me in quite the same way. It’s often described as the concrete jungle. There are many odes and serenades to honor it.

New York is a patchwork quilt of fashion, design, arts, culture, cuisine, pain, history and struggles. While I was there the people proclaimed this one of the worst winters in years. There were accounts of dealing with the wretched elements and that it was growing impossible to stay any longer. It was technically spring but we were graced with grey clouds, icy showers and prismatic snow flurries. We discovered our own inner child while running across the blankets of newly fallen snow. There were snowmen and snowball fights and experiments reenacting that famous movie scene when you stick your tongue out and see if it will freeze to the light post. We skipped and played in it. For one amongst us it was the first time seeing snow fall. It was magical and wonderful. The city was bustling and carrying on with its daily activities as it always does. We marveled at the moms pushing their little ones in their strollers covered in see through plastic snow shields. We couldn’t help but wonder how the pedestrians, the old and young, got up and around like it was all perfectly normal.

My cousin reminded us that this was the pretty stuff. After its been sitting for a while, walked and driven over it gets slushy and dirty. It has shades of yellow and brown eclipsing the pristine white. She said, you don’t know. It’s gotten so bad. The winters here are brutal. The cold has no mercy. It’s a wicked bitch of woman. We need to get out of here. We can’t take it anymore.

I stood on line for show tickets. The one where you can get same day deals on Broadway and off Broadway productions. It was windy and frigid but I was determined to get my hands on some prime tickets. I was bravely joined by out-of-towners, foreigners, tourists, some locals and my best friend in the heart of Time’s Square. We were corralled with ropes to define the lines and we were treated with terse and abrupt reminders to be ready when we got to the front of the line. No wasting time here people. Again, the cold air swept us up in it’s vice grip but we managed to stay strong and spent the better part of two hours moving at a snail’s pace for our deal. We weren’t deterred or aggravated. Instead, we chatted and people watched. We took in the scene, sounds of the city buses and yellow taxis, the smell of the roasted nuts and dirty water dogs wafting through the air, sight of people milling around, crossing  the street in droves, huddled together to take a photo in the middle of Times Square.