Silence is Golden

Soooo...I haven't updated in quite some time.  I'll be honest, since I've been back in the city, it's been a bit of a whirlwind and readjustment.  When I first got back, I was relieved to finally be in my spacious apartment with only me and my roommate.  

(Confession:  I love living in actor housing, I'm thankful for actor housing, but sometimes you want to get OUT of actor housing...especially after doing it for a year.)

And I was relieved to sit in my recliner and watch tv when I wanted.  I could scrapbook and not think about having to move all of my shiny new supplies in a few months when I knew I would have to leave.

However, I wasn't sitting in my recliner much or scrapbooking either because I was working.  And working on working.  I was temping for $12 an hour and when I would work 40 hours at the US Open, because of lovely taxes, I would get $300 for the week of hell I endured.

And then, of course, I immediately flipped out on how much it costs to live here.  Not just making rent, but the fact that the normally priced can of black beans at $.89 is now $1.50.  

Since then, I have calmed down and adjusted yet again.  It only took two months.  ;)  And now I have two jobs (thank god, temping is not one of them) selling organic yummy juices and serving tables downtown in Tribecca.  

But I did want to share the moment that finally made me...smile.  Adjust.  Breathe.

Back in late August/early September, I was working an Escada sale down on the 19th street where I was paid a small amount of pocket change to mindlessly pick up clothing for ungrateful rich people, constantly thumb through racks of clothing to size and categorize, and just basically hate my existence and the fact that I signed up for such said job for 10 hours a day.  

On my ten minute breaks, I would venture outside to be in anything but that stuffy room and sit on the stoop around the corner.  This particular day, I was sitting and just wanted to take in the scene around me and my eyes fixated on a group of men across the street. A group of minorities, there were a couple of African American men, a Latino and if my memory serves right, a Asian man as well.  I also remember thinking instantly that they men were so built and huge in stature, I would never want to meet any of them in a dark alley.

And then something occurred.  One of them signed with his hands a response, a sentence.  Something he wanted to say.  And when I thought maybe just one of them was deaf, the other signed back.  And suddenly, this group that I had judged (and even in some way, feared), started their incredible conversation with only their hands.  

No words.  Just movement.  

And in this bustling, incredibly loud, very unpredictable, forever moving city of New York, there was a group of men having a complete conversation without words.

And I smiled.

And I breathed. 

And I accepted.

And like these people, I will leave you with silence and leave you with whatever word comes to your mind.  

Love love,

Adrienne