642 Things to Write About: #1

I'd guesstimate that there are about four people on this planet who know me better than I know myself. Truly. They can predict my reactions, explain what I really mean when I can't express myself well, and know what makes me excited, happy, angry, emotional, irrational, proud, crazy, sad, giggly, and reassured. Two of those people are my brother and Lindsay. For my birthday, which was about three weeks ago, Jim and Linds gave me a book that can only be described as the best gift ever (close second is the iPhone my parents are giving me in a week). This fantastic book is called 642 Things to Write About. Writing is one of the few ways I give my brain a break from all of the spastic-ness that's constantly reeling about up there, but sometimes I just don't know where to begin. Now, whenever I'm lacking inspiration, I can open up my lovely little book and just go! Thanks, Jim and Linds, for knowing me so well and picking the perfect gift! So today's topic is...
  
Write, in ridiculous detail, directions on how to get to your house.

Now, this all depends on where you're starting from. But let's assume that your bus/cab/car service/whatever just dropped you off in the middle of Times Square. You are standing on the southeast corner of 45th Street and 7th Avenue, right in front of the Swatch store that has blue, green, yellow, and other multicolored plastic watches on display. Walk south on 7th Avenue, towards the dancing people dressed up as Dora the Explorer, Mickey Mouse, and the like. The naked cowboy should be about fifteen feet to your right. When you get to 44th Street (Toys "R" Us on your left..hence the dancing cartoons), turn right and walk across the blue concrete with overwhelmed and tired tourists sitting down at the filthy metal tables scattered about. Avoid crazy taxi drivers as you cross Broadway (which intersects with 7th Avenue at about this point...don't get confused).

SIDE NOTE: Everything in New York City is an easy grid. Avenues go North and South, while streets go East and West. Broadway is just there to mess with you...it juts completely diagonal through everything. You can NEVER judge which way to go based on where Broadway is. It's a stupid street.

Back to where you are. You've managed to cross Broadway without getting trampled or hit by a taxi and are standing on the northwest corner of 44th and Broadway. Turn 90 degrees left and face the LEVI's store. On the wall across the street, you will see a giant picture of a handsome African-American male model on his back in the fetal position, modeling a pair of Levi's and nothing else. Walk towards him. Stop before you hit the wall. Turn right, staying on 44th street heading West, past the street stand that sells I <3 NY t-shirts and other questionable looking paraphernalia. You will walk past the famous family-style Italian restaurant called Carmines on your left, then past obnoxious yellow signs for Broadway's Rock of Ages. You're getting close to the train station you're aiming for after you pass the St. James Theatre, where my childhood friend, Adrienne Warren, is starring in a new show, Bring it On: The Musical (yep, I name-dropped just there).

About 20 feet past John's Pizza (my stepmom's favorite NYC pizzeria), enter the subway station that advertises the ACE trains in blue circular symbols. Buy a metro card (figure it out), and enter the turnstiles that have been touched by at least 200,000 people before you. Today. Immediately to your left, there will be two staircases going further down into the ground. Go down the left one. Wait for the A express train that will come on the left track in about 3-20 minutes, depending on how much God loves you that day. When it arrives, get on the very first car at the front of the train (don't worry, you're already positioned well to be right at the first car) and try to find a seat next to someone thin and well-groomed. It's a relatively lengthy ride.

Four stops later, once it's clear that no tourists are left in sight, get off at 168th street. You will exit through the doors on the left-hand side of the train and take the staircase that is closest to where you stepped off. This will lead you up to two cage-type turnstiles on the right. Choose one and exit. Take the stairs that lead to 169th street and St. Nicholas Avenue, northeast corner. When you emerge, don't be alarmed by the men sitting on buckets who will stare at you. Walk straight forward on St. Nicholas towards 170th Street. You will pass an out-of-place flower shop on your right and see a wine store on the corner. They know me there.

Turn right on 170th street, and walk towards the foul-smelling silver truck that has an illuminated sign displaying the word "CHIMI" in all capital letters. Try not to look at whatever they're frying as you pass. I think it's squirrel. Once you've passed the CHIMI truck on the left and the playground full of darling Hispanic children on the right, you'll be on my corner. 170th and Audubon.

I cannot disclose my exact location on this corner, be it North, South, East, or West, for fear of creepy internet stalkers (and you're probably one of them). But essentially, you have arrived. Call me when you're here.

Oh, and here are some pictures from my birthday!

Me, Lindsay (thanks for the book that inspired this blog!), Tess, and Lindsey

Miss NY girls!

Claire and Lindsey came in town from DC!

Dancing!

Spectacularity

Modern travel always amazes me. At 10:30 a.m., I'm riding the bus through New York City, sitting next to a 27-year-old sign language minister (I eavesdropped for that information, oddly enough) and across from a coke addict (and I'm not talking about the carbonated beverage), on my way to LaGuardia airport. Eleven hours later, though the time difference tries to shock my body into believing it's only been eight hours, I'm in Los Angeles, CA, cruising down Santa Monica Boulevard in a rented Mustang convertible. Wait, what?!

Think about the space between New York City and Los Angeles. The amount of people's lives that are being lived, the changes in climate, and the miles of different landscapes. Three THOUSAND miles. Yet, in a few short hours, I'm casually wearing the same clothes and carrying the same bag as I was when I was on the other side of the country. Maybe I let myself get too overwhelmed and amazed by ideas that I shouldn't...like the time I was telling someone that I think that the idea of having a baby is unfathomably miraculous. So, maybe a lot of people think that having a baby is unfathomably miraculous, but the point is that I was telling whoever it was that I never want to say "I want a family" just to have a nice little nuclear family. No, to me, wanting a child is motivated by the desire create a being- a live little human- who is a perfect mix of me and my husband (clearly I won't be having children any time soon with that husband clause in there). Rather than being "the next step," my future-kid will be a personalized gift to the world that represents a bond with someone who changes my life with love. Crap. I sound like a crazed-romantic. STILL. I don't think you should have babies just to have babies. They should be a representative of a love between two people. After explaining all of that to this person and excitedly finishing my thoughts with, "Isn't that just unreal that we have that opportunity to create such a lasting memory of our love with someone??", he/she/can't remember said, "Shannon, it's called reproduction." Debby downer.

Back from that tangent...I don't think we stop to soak in the wonder of the world often enough. Be it man-made, like the ability to state-hop as though we're just walking to the other side of the park, or nature/God-made, like creating new humans, life is CRAZY. Why do we get caught up in our steak not being cooked perfectly or whether or not we win a beauty pageant? The splendor of the world is way more fun to get caught up in. Having fun with all of the other little humans that were created out of love (or something...), giving way to new thoughts and ideas inspired by majestic scenery, humbling ourselves to remember how small we are as we fly over 3,000 miles of land that is full of millions of people who value their lives as much as you value your own, and not letting our minds become immune and idle to the intricate and enrapturing world around us. That is how we should aim to occupy our time and brain-power.

Think about something extraordinary, yet you often pass as ordinary, in your life. A connection with someone unexpected. A car ride where no matter how many red lights you hit, it's still faster than a horse and buggy. A star that seems out of place. A building that is 50 stories high and doesn't fall over. A song that gives you goosebumps...what are goosebumps anyway? How can emotion manifest itself on skin?

Don't get me wrong, I still like my steak cooked medium rare, but there are much greater, more spectacular, and more challenging things to think or care about. Life is pretty cool. Take an active part in enjoying it, pondering it, indulging in it, and appreciating it.

Excelsior

We often glamorize our dream jobs. If only we get hired, we will have endless energy to accomplish everything we've imagined, every day will be a perfect hair day, and nothing will bring us down. Yes, we know hard work is part of the game, but that hard work will feel easy since we are so passionate about the position. 

Let's get real.

I want to be Miss New York. This is my dream job. I came into this week 100% ready for that job. Not the job of presenting the perfect pageant package on Saturday night with a Victoria Secret-ready swimsuit and a gown would get perfect tens from the Fashion Police. I mean that I came into this week 100% ready to travel the state promoting multiculturalism, authenticity, and the Miss America Organization. I came ready to be a confidant for my fellow competitors, a student to the current Miss New York, and an example of strength and leadership to the Miss New York board. Nothing could possibly bring me down.

So why was I tearfully listening to Claire Buffie, Miss New York 2010 and a good friend of mine, encourage me to keep my chin up yesterday afternoon? Why was I so, what felt at the time, weak? I am a strong, no drama mama who can push through anything. I am a future Miss New York who is confident, motivated, and in no need of hand-holding. I am not the girl feebly sitting on an ottoman in the back of the theatre being comforted and challenged to stay in the game. But there I was, holding a ball of wet, white flakes of paper that only vaguely resembled a tissue, trying to get out of this black hole that my brain had been sucked into.

Three months ago, my mother was diagnosed with bladder cancer. Bad, progressed bladder cancer. I haven't shared this on my blog because I would never want to share something so personal that could be misconstrued as a need for attention on the social media circuit. But I share this now because of how it has affected my week here at Miss New York. Yesterday, as I saw the production start coming together, all I could think was "is this the last time my mom will see me in an exciting production? Will I make her proud if it is?" This deep pain at the thought of losing my mom manifested itself in insecurity that I wouldn't be enough on Saturday night. That I was wasting my time when there are much bigger, more important issues to be focusing on instead of a pageant. Looking back, these thoughts are useless, self-deprecating, and untrue. But at the time, all I wanted to do was go be with my mom, my family, and not in swimsuit trying to learn how to do a corkscrew modeling turn without falling over.

I tell you this story of momentary defeat, not to explain how I got back on track (which I am), but to compare this experience with the possibilities of this year- the year I may be Miss New York. Not every day will be perfect. I won't feel like a put-together, powerhouse Miss New York every single day. I may question my ability to push through my personal problems or the validity of my hard work. I may have to reach out for a hand to hold, as Claire lent me yesterday. And that's okay. We all have moments of weakness, even during a week where we are so determined to exemplify the definition of strength, or during a year where we are a spokeswoman for Project Empire, the Children's Miracle Network, our platform, and the Miss New York Organization. We can't possibly maintain that sort of stamina without the help of our fellow human beings. HUMAN beings. And no matter who you are- Miss New York or the President of the United states- you are human. The important thing is recognizing that humanity within us, so when our mental, physical, and emotional challenges flair up, we can humble out, get help, and get up.

"Excelsior" is the New York state motto, meaning "forever upward." I'm up. And I'm ready to be Miss New York on the good days and the bad ones.

Claire and I after night 1 of preliminaries

An Unexpected Afternoon

One week ago, I rolled out of bed for my weekly breakfast shift at the restaurant. Usually, I throw my hair up in a bun so that no one notices that I didn't wash it (hopefully) and run out the door in my gym clothes, prepared to go straight to Planet Fitness following my double at work. Last week, I had a strange amount of energy at 5:45 a.m., so I actually washed my hair, put on a sundress, and packed my gym clothes in a bag before walking (okay..running..a little late) out the door. I'm really glad I did.

You see, you never know who you're going to meet on any given day. I certainly did not expect my day to unfold as it did on that sunny Thursday in NYC. I made it to work in time to change out of my cute navy blue strapless dress and into my lovably androgynous uniform, set up the tables, and open the doors by 8 a.m....and wait. And wait. And wait. Was anyone interested in eating breakfast? It's the most important meal of the day, people! And I got my butt out of bed to serve it to you, so please show up. Over an hour after our doors "opened," and I say that lightly because no one actually opened them until 9 a.m., in strolled a tall, impeccably dressed young man with perfect brown hair and, lucky for me, a hankering for a cream cheese bagel. Perhaps a party of one wasn't going to pay my rent, but at least I could stop folding napkins for a minute and bring him a latte. One latte turned into three as he ate his food and I interrupted whatever he was doing on his computer in order to chat for an hour. His English accent was the icing on the cake as I listened to his reasons for visiting New York: he is a motivational speaker and life coach who was in town for 24 hours to meet with four top publishing companies regarding his book about dating. He helps women (and men...but not with this particular book) build confidence in their love lives and in themselves. Something told me he was good at it. Did I mention that I'm glad I washed my hair?

By the time he ordered his third latte, I decided that he enjoyed talking to me as much as I did him. But maybe I like to make myself feel good by imagining a handsome British guy who gives seminars to thousands of people every year would find a little waitress in Times Square interesting. Why not pretend for the sake of a good story? The time came for him to get to his morning meeting, so I brought him his check and wished him the best of luck. He suggested we exchange information so we can meet up next time he's in New York, so I gave him my email address thinking to myself "Well, wouldn't that be nice...but I'm about 95% certain I'll never see this chap again." And off he went.

Three and a half hours later, I'm a sweaty mess in the upstairs corner of our restaurant where the A.C. decided to take a nap and leave me with seven needy tables and a shiny forehead. Real cute. My lunch shift was in full swing, my makeup completely erased, and my head spinning like this: "carbonara...tuna...rare...no artichokes...British boy...2 veg 1 seafood...Diet Coke...or was it regular...Get the Guy...refill water...add mushrooms...offer them pepper...I liked his vest." As I was pouring water for table 43, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Not now, busboy. Can't you see I'm busy? He tapped me again. I glanced over my shoulder to shoot the busboy a "give me just a second" look and...

HOLY CRAP. IT'S HIM.

Trying not to pour the rest of the water all over my poor customer's lap, I did nothing but look surprised before Matthew (that's his name, by the way) quickly said, "Come find me for 30 seconds when you get a moment." Wait, what? I thought I'd have to fly to London to see the kid again, and here he was back in the restaurant.

I hastily finished what I was doing and found him standing at the top of the stairs like freaking Prince Charming, so I rushed him down to the kitchen with me, where I needed to fire a food ticket. I could see my managers and a few coworkers watching curiously (and totally ready to make fun of me afterwards) as he asked what time I got off work. He had one more meeting that would end at 4, then had to catch his car to the airport by 6:30. "Could we hang out in that small window of time?" he wanted to know. He must have really liked his cream cheese bagel.

This is LITERALLY what happened after we made fun of yoga.

At 4 o'clock, we met next door to the restaurant and walked to Bryant Park to take advantage of the beautiful weather and the 2 1/2 hours we had before he flew to another continent. As during breakfast, our friendship connected immediately, and we laughed hysterically at our disdain for yoga (only to ironically get kicked out of our grassy spot 30 minutes later so that 200 people could take a free yoga class on the lawn) and about numerous other topics that I can't remember. All I know is that we laughed a LOT. And I made fun of him the entire time for being a fancy life coach- likely to be famous within the next year (though I'm not privy to reveal the details)- and how he won't be seen with lowly girls like me in the near future. He assured me that if a picture of us surfaced, his reputation would definitely take a hit. I'm glad he was as sarcastic as I am. Again, I have no shame in boosting my own confidence.

In the short time we spent getting to know one another, one thing he said really resonated with me. Actually, much of what he said resonated with me, but this one statement stood out. When I asked how he accomplished so much at such a young age, he said something along these lines: "I never tried to accomplish this or that. I just knew how I wanted to live, and lived that way. I'm still living that way. When you know what you want your life to be like, you just live as though it's already that way. Everything else will just happen." He didn't have to try to be successful, because to him, there was no other option but to work in a field he was passionate about and not partake in a mundane existence. What an extraordinary mindset. I've grown up hearing "don't try, just do" from my mom, but the way he exemplified that mantra sparked a new excitement within me. Explaining this ideal on paper...well, computer screen...is difficult. But we have to stop thinking about how we want to live in contrast to how we are currently living, because that means that there is the option of living in a way other than how we desire (that way being our current condition). If there is no other option, then we can only live how we want to live- which means that we must be currently living that way, whether there are tangible accomplishments reflecting that desired life or not. Those tangible things will come. We choose our life's puzzle, easily creating the borders of how we live. The rest of the pieces will fill in in due time. I'm sure that much of that was hard to grasp, but the point is this: live as though mediocrity is not an option. If it's not an option, it will not appear. In its place will be passion, energy, creativity, and pioneering.

My new friend hopped in a car at 6:30 and is now back in London (or whatever city he's in on any given day for his numerous projects), leaving me with plenty to think about and pleasantly content after a day of laughter and deep thought. I'll probably never see him again, but the moral of the story is this: wash your hair daily. KIDDING. It's that we can affect other people's lives in one afternoon. In one conversation. In one sentence. Live a life you're proud of, a life you can share with a stranger you meet at breakfast. You may not be instant friends with everyone you meet as Matthew and I were, but every once in while, you'll be able to spark excitement in the heart of someone who speaks your same language.

On another note...Sunday night, I went to the launch party of TWELV Magazine to support our Miss New York co-host, Hunt Ethridge, on his work with this awesome, up-and-coming publication! I encourage everyone to go buy a copy of TWELV :)

My beautiful Miss New York roommate- Miss Gotham City, Acacia Courtney

Bronx, Metropolitan, Gotham City

Miss NY Kenn Berry Scholarship Essay: What is Spirit within the Miss America Organization?

I’ve never been a cheerleader. I don’t have the coordination to form any sort of human pyramid, nor vocal chords strong enough for hourless chanting. Growing up, however, those peppy and perfectly energized girls shaped my idea of “spirit.” For many of us, that perception may have carried over into adulthood, leading us to believe that people with the most spirit have the bubbliest personalities and talk the loudest about their beliefs. They are the shining lights at the top of those metaphorical human pyramids formed in workplaces, college classrooms, and the like.

At Miss VA 2008...

At Miss VA 2011...guess I haven't changed THAT much. ;)

I began to recognize the flaws in my original definition of spirit during my first year competing in the Miss America Organization. I was 19 years old, one of the youngest at the state competition, and absolutely clueless. Arriving with no expectation of winning and no expectations of my fellow participants, I didn’t realize how many of the older girls competing- the veterans who had already learned about the spirit of the Miss America Organization- would change my entire perception on spirit and leadership in a few short days. I listened to them talk about their goals for breaking pageant stereotypes, their love for the MAO, and how much the crown didn’t matter. To back up their words, these women instilled within me confidence and excitement during a week that can often be intimidating and overwhelming for a newcomer. I left that pageant week making the top 10, but more importantly, realizing that the spirit of the Miss America Organization had nothing to do with what happened onstage. It was about how those women treated me so kindly when no board members were watching. How they had true discussions about role modeling. How they were passionate without needing attention to fuel their actions. How they so surely believed in the impact we can have as titleholders.

I wanted to be like them.

Fast-forward to now. Here I am, the very oldest girl competing at Miss New York. About to turn 24. Over the hill. Am I worthy or capable of being the same example of unpronounced spirit that those women were to me four years ago? Yes. Because years later, I get it. I feel it. I want to share it. Miss America is about connecting with people, proving you can make a difference by giving your soul to a cause, changing the minds of pageant critics through positive choices and genuine interactions, and representing a dream of all little girls that began on the boardwalk of Atlantic City in 1921. I have shivers thinking that little old me can possibly stand for all of that. But it’s in my spirit. A spirit that does not require a crown or the attention at the top of the pyramid, rather requires a heart of kindness, motivation, integrity, passion, and belief in a dream. Miss America has instilled in me that spirit, and I will actively pay it forward for the rest of my life.

Men in Black 3 Premiere

Sometimes I have to disregard my grandma-type instincts that urge me to stay home most nights to clean and go to bed early in order to enjoy the fact that I am 23 and living in the most exciting city in the world. Of course, I say that on the Saturday night of Memorial Day weekend having just finished all of the dishes and ready for a quiet evening with me, myself, and I (and the loud Latino music blaring on the street beneath me). My excuse is that I had a big night with Lindsay, Tommy, and Josh last night, so tonight is allowed to be a quiet one. I know you may be thinking, why not two nights in a row? But please, let's not ask too much of me.

Focusing on the nights that I haven't been in my PJs by 8:30p.m....Wednesday was one of those nights. My friend invited me to the Men in Black 3 premiere at Lincoln Center, followed by the after party on the Intrepid aircraft carrier. I hesitated only for a moment as I fought with my practical self that protested, "Shannon, you work breakfast on Thursday. You need to be in bed by 11 on Wednesday." NO. Going to a party on an aircraft carrier with celebrities and socialites is a once in a lifetime...well, hopefully more...experience. I can get five hours of sleep and survive. After ignoring my inner reprimand, I accepted the invitation and put on a dress and heels following my day at the attorney's office. I even put on fake eyelashes. Seriously time to look good. You never know if Will Smith would see me and decide he absolutely needed to know who I was. (Spoiler alert: That didn't happen).

With Ricky after the movie. Glad he was ready.

Two glasses of Chardonnay at Luce, a restaurant right next to the theatre, was the perfect beginning to the evening. Next came the actual movie itself, which was really funny and entertaining (that's about as good as I get when it comes to my movie-reviewing skills). I think Will Smith is absolutely hilarious, and he did not let me down. While most people got on the charter bus that transported guests to the Intrepid after the movie, I instead hopped in the Jaguar with Ricky and his family to enjoy the short ride over to the ship. Riding in a Jag just makes life a little more fun, don't you think?

Flight Deck overlooking NYC. Unreal.

The after party was incredible. Insane. Gorgeous. Posh. Stunning. Outrageous. I need more words, but they don't exist. Every party needs to take place on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. Every single one. The best looking food I've ever seen- Chinese, pizza, sandwiches, chocolate donuts, and everything else in the world that I can't eat on my Miss New York diet- stared at me the whole night as I wandered around wondering who just walked past me that is probably famous but I'd never know because I am the WORST at recognizing or knowing who famous people are. As I aimlessly strolled around with my wine glass in one hand and camera in the other, I got a few random compliments on my backless yellow dress, so that certainly made me happy. Congratulating myself on my wardrobe selection (what, exactly, is premiere-wear?), I followed the crowd to the middle of the ship for fireworks around 10:15, followed by a super fun performance by Pit Bull. For those of you who don't know who Pit Bull is or why anyone would want to be referred to as a canine, he's one of the top rapper/singers out there at the moment. His biggest hit is probably Give Me Everything (give me everyyyything tonight, for all we know, we might not get tomorrowww...you've heard it, trust me), but he also sang the theme song for Men in Black 3. Hence the performance. After Pit Bull's energetic few songs (that man had to have burned 800 calories in 25 minutes), I tried to sweet talk a guard into letting me into the VIP section where I saw Dr. Oz and Nicole Scherzinger mulling about, but unfortunately batting my fake eyelashes did not seem to work. Or maybe he just couldn't see them through his black sunglasses that he was wearing at 11 o'clock at night. You are NOT auditioning for Men in Black, sir. Take off the shades.

As most things do, it all worked out for the better because not five minutes after I was rejected by the man in black wannabe, Will Smith took the stage for a surprise performance!! The VIP section was in the back, so I was beyond glad to be in the front, not 50 feet from Will Smith, accompanied by both of his kids. I was in heaven as I did the white girl bounce to the Men in Black anthem, Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and Summertime. He is SO good. So, so good. And so, so good-looking. Had to throw it out there. That is one hot dad. I'm sure he saw me in the audience and the only reason he didn't approach me later is because he was so intimidated, but that's alright. He's not the first guy that's happened to.

Nicole and me (awful picture of me, but still- so fun!)

Have no fear, if my eyelashes couldn't get me into the VIP section, Ricky's connections could. The gates parted for us once his parents waved us in. Yeah, they were already in there chatting up Tommy Lee Jones. I guess you have to be a little more powerful than a waitress who lives in the Heights to hang with the big wigs. I didn't find Dr. Oz to get a picture for my mom (sorry, Mom!), but I did get to chat with Nicole Scherzinger (lead singer of The Pussy Cat Dolls/X Factor judge) for a second. She really impressed me. I told her about Miss New York, and she gave me a wonderful little speech about being a role model and how important it is to be confident figureheads for younger girls. I really respect the fact that she doesn't want to rest on being beautiful, which she truly is. Needless to say, I'm definitely a big fan.

The night winded down a little after midnight, so we headed out right behind the boys of One Direction (apparently they are a wildly popular boy band these days...I've only vaguely heard of them. Should have gotten one of their autographs. Sixteen's not too young for me, right?) and Alice Eve (star of "Out of My League"/etc.)...just rollin' with the celebs. I made it home by 1, but couldn't fall asleep until after 3. So much for a decent night's sleep. I made it through breakfast/lunch the next day with a surprising amount of energy, though, and I'm still here to speak of it. I don't regret that night in the least! I live in NYC- I have to take advantage of events that only happen here! Besides, every girl needs an excuse to dress up once in a while. Oh wait, I already have my excuse...I do pageants. I guess I give myself a lot of excuses to dress up.

Speaking of pageants, Miss New York is 3 weeks from tonight! Gulp.

Is Timing Everything?

How much in life is about what is right, and how much is about what is right timing? Is it really possible to differentiate between the two? And if you can, is it possible to foster something that's very right if the timing is very wrong?

In my life, timing seems to rule just about everything. Why audition if I'd have to turn down anything that could conflict with the possibility of me being Miss NY? However, I moved here so that I wouldn't put my life on hold for Miss VA...so isn't that contradictory to the whole point of living in New York? The timing would have been perfect for me to win Miss VA last year, but it didn't happen. Had I stayed in Virginia for one more year, it very well may have worked out. But I didn't. I moved to New York. Now I'm torn (correction: was torn) about the timing of following my dream to be on Broadway and my last year eligible in the Miss America Organization. I've clearly made Miss New York my priority since I feel so strongly about the values of this organization and the amazing experiences it's already provided me, but there's always that question about if the timing is right. In this case, I'm choosing to make this the perfect time to be Miss New York simply because I know I'd be able to do a lot of good with that title, both for the Children's Miracle Network and with my personal platform. Broadway will still be around come July. However, is it always possible to choose? To actively make a decision that timing is moldable to fit perfectly with the circumstances at hand?

When it comes to situations like Miss New York, you can decide that the timing doesn't matter because what's at stake is more important than convenience. Is it the same in relationships? I think it's a little of yes and a little of no. I think that if the timing is very, very wrong- i.e. the person you meet is moving across the country, is already with someone else, is at a completely different stage of life from you, etc.- then decisions can be made to make things work despite the bad timing, but sometimes it's easier to just let things go for the sake of making life easier. Obviously, much of that decision to work with the timing has to do with the depth of the connection and the willingness of each party to deal with the consequences of bad timing...and most of the time, at least one person would rather wait for something a little less complicated to come around. Even in the case where you start dating someone who is at a different stage of life than yourself, you can bank on the fact that people will change and become more compatible once they enter the same stage. Should you stick around and wait for that inevitable change that you know won't come for another year/however long it takes for them to catch up (or for you to catch up)? Well, I guess it all has to do with if what could be outweighs the difficulties of what is.

As I write all of this out, I see that it's clear that most issues with timing can be dealt with if what's at hand is important enough. Sometimes, decisions to push through timing that isn't ideal are easy (like with Miss New York vs. my move to NYC to pursue Broadway), and other times, they take a lot more mental ping pong on the pros and cons table. At the end of the day, we can only do what we feel is best at the moment...even though each moment changes with the hand on the clock. That's not complicated at all, is it?