Deal or No Deal?

A few weeks ago, I reluctantly went on a date with a guy who I really didn't want to go out with.

But he was extremely persistent.  

He was a bouncer at a bar that my friends and I like to go to.  I had met him a couple times and he was always very amiable.  So one night, I gave in and typed my phone number into his phone.  I didn't think much about it. I mean, how many times do guys actually use the number they're given?

I was so wrong. 

I immediately started getting a superfluity of texts.  He was very consistent; Always sending me messages, asking me questions, trying to get to know me. 

It was the kind of thing a girl would want from a guy she really liked.  

He was extremely complimentary and seemed very interested in getting to know "who the real Dara was".  But having just gone through a little heartbreak over the holidays, I wasn't really in the mood to get to know anyone, nor was I in the mood to let anyone get to know me.  However, at my roommate's insistence (and against my better judgement), I decided to not break New Years' resolution #3 (Not be lame).  So I finally acquiesced and went out with him.  

The date itself was, for lack of a better adjective, nice.  He was polite, sweet, and very pleasant.  He asked me a ton of questions, and seemed fascinated by my answers.  I learned that he had attended Ohio State University where he played football and majored in business.  Originally from Massachusetts, he was a New England Patriots fan (burn), and loved the Red Sox (double burn).  He had worked in finance for awhile, but then decided that it wasn't for him and that he wanted to be an actor.  So about a year ago, he moved to LA to "do the acting thing."  He was tall, dark, good-looking, and very strong.  He was cordial and respectful.  There weren't any awkward or quiet moments, and ignoring my protests, he even paid.  At the end of the date he kissed me goodbye, and while there weren't any fireworks or sparks, it was just (like the date) nice.  

A few days later he called me and told me via voicemail that he had a good time and wanted to hang out again soon.

Then I did something I almost never do.  I didn't call him back right away.

Yet the text messages kept coming.  It was clear that he was interested; he was really trying to get to know me… asking questions in a way that made me feel like I was on a Barbara Walters special.   It was very sweet… in an overwhelming kind of way.

But that didn't make me want to go out with him again.

What was wrong with me? This guy was great on paper… Why was I not even giving it a chance? 

So I decided to go through my list of usual "initial deal breakers" to see  if he qualified.  

1.  Smoking: He didn't do that. 
2. Not intelligent/doesn't used proper grammar or vocabulary (I realize that this sounds a bit ridiculous.. but one of the things I really appreciate in a man is intelligence and his ability to talk about something other than Derek Jeter's batting average): He attended a good college and seemed to be pretty smart and cultured.  He didn't make any major grammatical mistakes, and he even used the word "exacerbated".  
3. Under 6'2: He is 6'4.  (I know, I know… I'm so shallow.  But I'm tall and I like to wear heels.)
4. Long Distance: He lives in Studio City (about three miles away).
5. Not be "passionate":  Here was the only area he kind of drifted into...  He didn't challenge anything I said, and he didn't seem to be a very "passionate" person. He was very agreeable (which drives me nuts - take initiative, make a decision, and have an opinion!)  The only thing he had going for him in this category was that he worked as a bouncer so I'm pretty sure he knows how to defend himself (or me for that matter) if he needed to. 

Damn.  Well I couldn't use any of those, so unwilling to give up just yet, I came up with some more, shall we say, specific excuses- er I mean deal breakers.

1.  He was a Patriots and Red Sox fan.  I could never fall in love with a Patriots or Red Sox fan (which is total bullshit because last year I went out with a Patriots fan and was really into him. )
2.  He didn't know how to dance (though he said he would try and truthfully, the only thing more sexy than a man who can dance, is a man who can't dance, but is willing to try.)
3.  There was no apparent chemistry… no spark. 

But were these lame reasons sufficient enough to end something that hadn't even started yet?  Was I being ridiculous? I was never the kind of girl was willing to just "settle" for someone because they were there…  So maybe all my deal beakers were just excuses to avoid being with someone I just wasn't crazy about.  

The whole thing got me thinking.  Why was I being so picky?  So I thought about the last guy I actually really liked, and tried to figure out why I liked him so much.  

What made him different than this guy?  

He had flaws of course, just like we all do. But I adored him despite his imperfections.  In fact, I think it were those imperfections that truly attracted me to him. 

So why didn't my deal breakers apply to him? He certainly qualified for a few of them.  

I couldn't explain it.  Why are we drawn to certain people and not to others?  Are our deal breakers iron clad without any room for negotiation? Or do we toss the list aside when we find someone who we think we really like, despite all the red flags?

And what makes someone "perfect" for us?  The bouncer was seemingly perfect; I can't really pick out anything about him that wasn't "good enough" but I wasn't even remotely interested… And the last guy I was interested certainly wasn't perfect…  but I fell hard and fast for him.  

So what made him so right and the other one so wrong?

It's no secret that I'm unforgivingly picky when it comes to men.  I've never been a "serial dater" and if I'm not into someone right away, I don't waste his or my time "getting to know them." I'm a believer in the "when you know, you know" school of thought and  if there's nothing there from the start, I cut my losses and move on.  But with that said, when I really do like someone (which so rarely happens), I give it my all and dive in full speed ahead. 

It's a huge problem.

So I started to look at my own "dating stats" and tried to find a pattern.

Some were older, some were younger, and aside from all being tall, they all were physically quite different.  

But looking back, almost all of them had one thing in common:  Almost all of them were "wounded" men.  Of course there were a few exceptions, and don't get me wrong, they were all good guys, but most all of them had endured some traumatic or heartbreaking experience that left him emotionally scarred and pseudo closed off.  And I wanted to be the one who saved him and nurtured him back to happiness.  I wasn't looking for perfection...  I was looking for a project.

Then I realized it:  I had a type. 

 Not only did that type contain many specific characteristics and qualities (tall, strong, super intelligent, and reticent), but they were simply emotionally unavailable.  The worst possible match up for someone as emotionally charged as me.  

But as it turned out, my emotional charge was completely aroused with them because they were all strong and stoic men who had some impenetrable wall that needed to be torn down..  

And I wanted to be the person to do it. 

So there it was.  I had "lost puppy syndrome." 

And my new friend wasn't lost.  He seemingly had it all together.   

No wonder I wasn't interested.  

Of course, he could have been putting on a front.  I mean, I didn't let him in on the little known nerdy fact that I read AP History books "for fun", or that my "soothing bath music" is a Puccini Spotify station.

And furthermore, maybe it was unwise for me to want these "projects".   After all, each one of them ended, didn't they? Not one of them were successful relationships.... So maybe this was a pattern I needed to break.  Maybe all this time, I was picking the wrong men. 

So I made a decision.  I decided to give the guy another chance.

Who knows, maybe he'll surprise me…..  Or maybe he'll end up with all the others, on the island of lost men.  

But either way, let's be honest here... He's a Patriots fan.

This thing realistically can't go any further than September.

All You Need is a Dollar and a Dream

For Chandler, Shannon, Becca, and Tim... Thanks for keeping me inspired. <3

There is a tradition amongst my family and friends: When someone leaves for a trip, a dollar bill is separated into halves and each person is given a piece to carry with them for the duration of their journey. The purpose of this is to ensure a return since the dollar only has value when it is whole, complete, and back together. The words "Per Fortuna" (Which mean "Good Luck" in Italian) are written on the dollar to bring luck and safety to the traveller. When both parties are reunited, the dollar is reattached and sent out into the world to be used again.

I can't tell you how many dollar bills I've cut and handed out to people; there have been so many...   But what I can tell you, is that the dollar has always been reattached and sent back out into the world...

With the exception of four times.  

Those four half dollars were given to four very special people.  They weren't people who were about to go on a trip,  but they were about to be separated from me for an indefinite amount of time.  However these dollars represent so much more than just "a separation"…. They aren't necessarily meant to be reconnected.   On the contrary, they represent "a connection."  The four people who hold the other halves of these dollar bills hold a special place in my heart and have made a profound impact on my life in some way or another. The words on those dollars symbolize either the element of their personality that I strongly admire and wish to embody myself, or a word that represents my relationship with that person.   The idea is that as long as we each have our half dollar, we will always be connected  (Think turtle doves in Home Alone 2). 

I guess you could say that it's my way of telling someone how special they are to me, and how I will never forget them.

So in addition to the description of the original tradition I described above, recipients of these special half dollars also received the following addendum in their letter.  

"Over time a new tradition evolved: To write a word on the dollar that represents the person I have split it with.  I never use the same word twice because each person will always have something different to offer - so I use a word that will remind me of them when I look at their dollar.  And for you, I have chosen the word "[whatever the word is]." 

Here are those four special people their words, and why they their half dollars mean so much to me.  

Dollar #1: "Strength and Discipline"

His name is Chandler.  And he is the best dancer I know.  

He is in fact such a great dancer, that one night when we were out dancing in Murray Hill, he dipped me so fiercely that he dipped me right into a high-top bar table where I slammed my head and and got a concussion.   

Four months later I took him to my brother's wedding as my date and everyone thought he was my actual professional ballroom partner.  He's that good.  

But our story began way before that night.

Chandler was my very first customer at the bar I worked at in NYC, Kings Head Tavern. 

After five minutes of talking to him, I intuitively knew that we would be friends…  And I was right.  

Maybe it was because he was at the bar so often with his buddies because they lived across the street, or maybe it was because whenever he was there we had so much fun, but over time,  Chandler and I became very good friends.  We would always do our signature shots of Jameson when he came in, and we started hanging outside of the bar when I joined his flag football team for Zog Sports.  He always came in with the same crew; They were all good looking, fun, athletic, and very intelligent.

Oh yes, I said both athletic AND intelligent.  Chandler was the captain of his college football team… and that college was Yale University.

He is also the most social guy I know - everyone who meets him absolutely adores him.  He has this magical way of making you feel like you're his best friend, even five minutes after you meet him.  

So when he came in to visit after his work day during happy hour, we would talk about the Ivy League (I went to Columbia which was a rival of Yale), his favorite football team (Broncos) vs. mine (Giants), or just life in general.  He learned about my family, and I learned about his.  As time went on, I became very fond of Chandler.  I adored all the guys in his crew, but he was my favorite. I called him My Scarecrow.  I even took him to my brother's wedding and he was the best date anyone could ask for.  We spent the entire night on the dance floor (I told you he was a great dancer), and he closed out the night with my dad in the hotel bar doing shots of whiskey and talking football.  He was not only sociable and fun, but he was a true friend.  

He is also very strong and very disciplined.  

Chandler knows that hard work is required for success… An exceptional athlete, he also recognized that training was vital to keep his body strong and he was disciplined enough to do the hard work when he needed to.  Natural strength is necessary of course, but discipline is essential to supplement and maintain that strength… And as a testament to that strength and discipline, in 2006, Chandler led his football team to the Ivy League Championship… and won.   But it didn't end there...  He is now working as an assistant football coach for the Vanderbilt Football team down in TN.  

Impressive, right?

As a professional dancer, I spent years turning down dinner invitations because I wanted to avoid eating anything that would make me gain weight.  I spent endless nights nights in the dance studio rehearsing instead of out with friends (My line was always, "I can't, I have rehearsal.").  I starved myself before ballroom competitions so that I my costumes would fit.  I had to work really hard to be disciplined… and it wasn't easy.  

So needless to say by the time I met Chandler, I was a bit burned out.  And I started eating lots of Lindt white chocolate and lots of pizza.  

But when I decided to move to Los Angeles a few years later, I knew that the west coast would not be the place to have a little "winter padding".  

So I got myself back in dancing shape and prepared to move out west.  But before I left, I chose three good friends that embodied some sort of quality that I knew I would need in LA.  

Chandler was the first.  

So when I look at my Chandler half dollar, I remember to stay disciplined, keep my body strong, and to avoid the Lindt White Chocolate.   

I also think about how he can Double Dutch better than anyone I know.

Dollar #2:  "Passion and Conviction"

Her name is Shannon.   And she knows every word to almost every Disney song ever written.  

This was demonstrated to me one night when we had a Disney movie marathon where we sang along (word for word) to every song from the films Aladdin, Mulan, and Pocahontas. 

Her ringtone on my phone is "Make a Man out of You" from Mulan.  

However that song is in no way indicative of who Shannon is.  On the contrary, she is the personification of femininity.  She's the girl who every guy wants to date, and every girl wants to be.

I first met Shannon in a Waltz class while I was in Grad school at Columbia.  She had just graduated from the school the year before but was still involved in the ballroom program.  I noticed her instantly - she was tall, beautiful, and very good at the waltz. She was also extraordinarily trendy - the girl has an incredible sense of fashion.  She looked like the kind of girl who had everything … you know, one of those girls.   Probably totally unapproachable, standoffish and snobby.  So of course, I went over to her and introduced myself to her and asked her some stupid question about the combination, just to prove myself right.  

She was the antithesis of everything I thought she would be.  

We instantly became friends.  

As time went on, we became very close.  We shared an affection for Disney movies, fashion, and dance.  I was living by myself up in Morningside Heights, and as fate would have it, when my lease was up, she happened to need a new roommate.  The next thing I knew, I was moving 30 blocks south to my new digs at 81st and Broadway with her.  

It was an awesome apartment, and we made some great memories there.  Shannon worked for the New York Times, and I was bartending and dancing, so our hours at the apartment were total opposite.  But we still made time for each, other especially on Sundays when we would go to our favorite brunch spot (French Roast), catch up, and shoot the shit about everything; from the men we were dating to the shoe sale at Saks. 

Like I said, Shannon is beautiful.  She is intelligent.  She is also really trendy and cool.  She's an amazing dancer, and she also is a super talented artist.  She's kind, considerate, and always willing to lend an ear to listen, or advice to be used.  But she is also has something that very few people have.  

Conviction.  When Shannon wants to do something, she does it.  And she never half asses it.  She sees it all the way through.  When she started to get involve in Zouk, a Brazilian dance, she quit her job at the Times to move to South America and continue her training properly.  THAT is conviction.  She also puts everything she has into what she does.  She is one of the most energetic people I know and it's one of the things I love most about her.  Everything she does, she does it passionately and completely.  

I have a tendency to not finish things that I start.  Maybe it's because I dabble in so many different things, have so many options, and never know what I truly want to do (ie. grad school v. a pro dance career).  Moving to Los Angeles meant that I would be running full steam ahead towards a professional acting career.... or at the least, a continuation of my dance career.  I would need to keep my eye on that prize and not get distracted.  

I would also have to remember that on the days when things weren't going so well, or the days when my feet were bloody from dancing for nine hours, that I truly loved what I was doing.  That passion is essential to any profession in the arts.. it's a thankless and moneyless job where you have to sometimes literally scrape the bottom of the barrel to survive… It's really easy to walk away, or sell out.  

I knew that when I moved to LA , I would need to remember that….. I would need to remember why I was there; for my passion of dance and entertainment industry... but I also needed to remember that I had to truly follow through on the decision I made move there.   Not half ass it, but give it my all.    I would need both passion and conviction…. just like Shannon has.  

So when I look at my Shannon half dollar, I remember why I came here in the first place, and become motivated to keep going, even on the days when I want to quit.  

And I think about how even on her most "dressed down and casual" days, she still looks perfect.. right down to her accessories.  

Dollar #3: "Loyalty and Faith"

Her name is Becca.  And she gives me wrinkles.   

I love hanging out with her because she is the funniest person I know.   I hate hanging out with her because she's giving me crow's feet from all the damn laughing we do together. 

Becca is the true embodiment of a Renaissance Woman.  She holds a Master's degree in Biomedical Engineering.  She is a marathon runner.  She has a beautiful singing voice (I even saw her sing at Carnegie Hall!).  She plays an instrument.  She's funny. Social. Beautiful. Kind.  Compassionate.  And she has a kick ass sense of adventure (we've traveled all over the world together). 

She is totally Type A.  I am totally Type B.  

She is a responsible planner.. The girl won't do anything without thinking it through.  I am impulsive, jump into things without thinking, and can barely keep a calendar.    

She works hard for her money and maintains a solid budget. I spend my money on designer shoes and fancy restaurants. 

She is open to dating all kinds of interesting and different men.  I am unrealistically picky and won't go out with someone unless they fit into my very specific type-box.  

She and I are totally the opposite.  

But we are totally the best of friends.  I love that girl like a sister.  

We've also been to hell and back together.  

I met Becca on two separate occasions.  We both had the same summer job one year, and she also happend to go to Graduate School with my boyfriend.  

I always joke around that I got Becca "in the divorce."  And it's true.  When my ex and I broke up, she did a great job of trying to stay friends with both of us.  But he turned out to be an ass to her, totally cut her off, and so by default, I got her all to myself.  My friendship with her was the best thing that came out of that relationship.  She and I were both living in the city at that time and we lived it up... to the fullest.   

She literally carried me through my break up.  It was one of the darkest times of my life, but she somehow guided me through it, all the while, making me laugh.  I also was present for her devastating breakup about a year later.  We've seen each other through it all.  The best part about Becca is that when I'm low, she always steps up (no matter what she's going through) and helps me through the rough patch.  And when she is down, I always seem to muster up the strength to carry her through her dark spot.  It's how we roll.  There are ten thousand things that I love about her.  

There really isn't enough space on my entire computer to talk about Becca. I've had more adventures with her than I have with any other friend.  She is fiercely loyal, something I truly appreciate in a friend, and I honestly don't know what I would do without her.  She's the kind of friend I can totally be myself around... I can call her at 2 am to cry to her when my heart is broken... I can interrupt her workday to tell her about the new gig I got.  She's the kind of friend who will never judge, but always offer honesty.  She always knows when to coddle, and when to give tough love.   Every time I see her, we end up laughing.. Hard.  She's funny as hell and makes me laugh so hard sometimes that I cry.  We're like Lucy and Ethel.  

But the thing I love most about Becca is that she truly believes in me.  And she has ALWAYS supported every one of my crazy ideas and dreams.   She has also been present for almost every competition, show, and exhibition I performed in while in New York City.  And she always believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself.  Her loyalty to me as a friend has never waned.. not through boyfriends, disagreements, nor through distance.  I know I can go to her with anything, and she will never turn on me.  

I can never truly articulate how grateful I am for Becca and her friendship over the years.  She's an All-Star.  

She constantly reminded me to follow my dreams, and to be open to any and every possibility.  She was one of my biggest cheerleaders and always reminded me to have faith, even when I was at the lowest of the low.... her ever nagging reminder to "believe" became my mantra.  She kept telling me over and over that things would get better.  And she was right.. all I needed was a little faith.  

So when I look at my Becca half-dollar,  I remember to have faith, to believe in myself, and also that no matter what I do, I will always have her loyal support.

And I think about how I will need to start getting botox on my eyes if I spend anymore time with her.  

Dollar #4: "Trust" 

His name is Tim.  And he is the only person I know who can beat me in Jeopardy.  

While I can dominate him in the musical theater and history categories, his brain is an endless abyss of useless trivia and knowledge...  He gets every question correct (and I have to say that even in my categories, he gives me a run for my money…. I mean, he knew that Alexander Hamilton was a senator from New York State and was shot dead by Aaron Burr during a duel… Come on, aside from history teachers and tenth graders, who knows that?!)  

The guy is a walking encyclopedia… He's brilliant.  

He can also do a foxtrot that would make Frank Sinatra croon out "The Way You Look Tonight'  from his grave.  

But upon first glance, you would never suspect any of this from the handsome lieutenant…  I certainly didn't when I met him.   He was a pilot in the Navy who had just returned from deployment and was visiting his family in NY.  I was a dancer working a couple of gigs and vacationing in the NYC for the summer.  We met through mutual friends, and after a night in the city filled with way too many Jameson shots, we got in a cab, and left the bar together.

I never thought I'd see him again.   He moved to Hawaii, and I went back to LA.  

The End.  Or so I thought....  

In October, I booked some dance work in Honolulu, so I decided to reach out to him to see if he wanted to meet up while I was there.   I mean, if i was all the way there, why not stop by, grab a Mai Tai together, and catch up?

He agreed, and before I knew it, we were playing "getting to know" you though text messaging during the weeks prior to my trip.  I learned a lot about him, and surprisingly started to look forward to hanging out with him again.  But I tried to keep in mind that I had only spent a collective 12 hours with this guy…. this whole thing could have been a huge mistake.  

But the second he pulled up to the Lihue Airport in his jeep and flight suit, any anxiety I felt was instantly assuaged.  We immediately hit it off.  It was like we had known each other for years.  

I was only supposed to stay with him for three days.  But then next thing I knew, I had rebooked my flight to leave a week later, and was being twirled around the dance floor in a Versace gown at the Navy Ball in the Grand Hyatt Kauai.  

Sometimes, life is funny like that.  

I ended up spending ten days in Hawaii with Tim.   They were a magical ten days, and in that time, I got to see what an extraordinary guy he really was. 

He reminded me of still water; Quiet and placid on the surface, but filled with an enigmatic matrix of great depth that was inaccessible and hidden to most people.  However once I was able to dive below the surface,  I discovered so many wonderful things about him.  Not only is Tim easy going, fun, and cultured, but he is also both highly intelligent and extremely erudite.  He's a stellar swimmer and an impressive surfer.  He has strong, broad shoulders and a warm smile.  It was easy to talk to him and I was surprised by how many common interests we actually had.  

But what was most surprising of all was how easily I trusted him. 

Trust is not something I offer to many people.  I can count on one hand how many people I truly trust, and that number includes both my parents.  But for some reason, I intuitively knew that I could trust him.  And I really did.  There was just something about him that made me feel safe.... As a result, I completely open my heart to him, something I hadn't done in years.  

The day I left Hawaii, I put all my trust in the future..  I trusted that no matter what happened, each of our futures would lead us to where we needed to be; whether that meant together or apart.  I trusted that things would work out the way that they were supposed to.

And they did...  Just like they always do.  

So when I look at my Tim half dollar,  I remember to trust….not only  in people,  but also in my choices, and that things will always work out the way they are supposed to.  

And I think about how his vocabulary is more extensive than the Webster's Dictionary.

These four people have each left a handprint on my heart.  While we are all geographically in different corners of the world, I have made it a point to stay in touch with them as much as possible.   And I keep their half dollars in a safe place; they are all attached to my wall as a daily reminder... to keep strong and disciplined, to have conviction and passion, to maintain my faith and loyalty, and to trust.

And someday, maybe those dollars will be reattached and sent back out into the world.. and maybe, just maybe, they will be able to inspire someone else the way they've inspired me.  

  

The four special dollars that I keep on my wall.

With Chandler at a Mets Game, NYC

With Becca in Barcelona, Spain 

With Tim at the Navy Ball, Kauai, Hawaii

With Shannon at Boat Basin, NYC

   

If I Knew Then, What I Know Now...

*I dedicate this post to all my students, especially Kimmy LaVecchia, who reminds me so much of myself when I was her age.  I hope it inspires you to live every moment to it's fullest and to remember that when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you always dance. <3*

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a bit of a Peter Pan Complex.  

I just don't want to grow up.  

And I don't mean maturity wise (although I'll admit that I do sometimes act like I'm twelve).  But what I mean, is that I don't want to get any older.  

As someone who works in the entertainment industry, especially as a dancer, I am well aware of the consequences of aging. Growing up in the studio, I was brainwashed into thinking that 25 was old. 

So when people ask me my age, my impulsive reaction is to say "26".  Maybe it's because I don't really feel "my age," especially because I'm a bit "behind" my similarly aged peers who have mortgages, spouses, and children.  

And sometimes I really do feel like I'm only 26. I'm enjoying myself, living every moment to it's fullest and taking advantage of every opportunity that I'm given. I can date anyone I like. I can hop a plane and go to Spain on a moment's notice. I can live and work in NYC for a few months if I want to. I can travel to Hawaii and spend a week perfecting my tan and surfing in an aquamarine ocean. I have a job with such great flexibility that I can choose when and where I work. I can sit in my bed, eat ice cream and watch Sex and the City reruns all night long. I can move to any city in the world that I desire.  

The way I live my life makes me feel like I'm 26.  

But I'm not 26. And while on one hand, I admit that I do resent the fact that I am getting older and losing the youth I once took for granted, there's something to be said about the wisdom I've acquired and the lessons I've learned over the years.... Something that can only come with age and time.  

So as another birthday has come and gone, I thought it would be nice to compile my own personal Top 25 "If I knew then, what I know now" list. While I acknowledge that if I had actually known these things, I wouldn't be where I am today (therefore am glad that I didn't actually know them at the time). I also think that as I embark on a new decade, it's important to reflect and look back on the lessons that I've learned, and pass on that wisdom to others who are just beginning their own exciting journeys.  

If I knew then, what I know now....

1. I would never have stayed in a relationship out of obligation. This is a lose-lose for everyone involved. You aren't doing anyone (including yourself) any favors by staying in a relationship "because it's comfortable." It's not fair to them or you. Be with someone you can't get enough of.  Don't stay with anyone because you're afraid of being alone. Being single is wonderful and you will learn so much about yourself. Furthermore, you deserve to be with someone you truly love, and so do they. Never settle for anything less than butterflies.  
2. I would have worn more sunscreen. As someone who is part Italian, I have always been blessed with skin that tans like magic. One hour in the sun turns my skin six shades darker, and I never burn.  So I never really wore sunscreen. But the truth is, that while I may not have "wrinkles" just yet, I am definitely starting to see the results of years soaking up the sun… sans protection.  I hope my Italian Grandma Rose's fabulous genes were passed down to me, that's for sure!
3. I would have dated many different kinds of people. This goes back to the "relationship" comment. I wish I had taken the time to just "date" and not be so seriously involved in relationships. Date around; you have the rest of your life to be married. There's something so fun about trial and error, and your 20's are the times to experience that. Have torrid love affairs and love without fear of consequence.  
4. I would have studied abroad. This comment is a bit contradictory because I have actually travelled all over the world. I've performed in some of the most famous opera houses, theaters, and churches in Europe, and I've experienced many different cultures first hand. But I never actually studied abroad. I was always overseas for work or some random vacation. I wish I had stayed in one place long enough to really absorb the culture, learn in a foreign school, and have a torrid love affair with a random Italian man named Gio (once again, going back to #1). 
5. I wouldn't give up any of my dreams for anyone… nor would I listen to those who told me that I wasn't good enough. I have accomplished almost every one of my professional goals. But I am lucky that I did because for a while, I stopped following my dreams in order to help someone else accomplish theirs... and because mine didn't seem "good enough." No one should ever tell you how to live or what you should do with your career. Nor should anyone belittle your choices. It's your life… not theirs. Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do something. If you want it, make it happen. It's as simple as that.  
6. I would keep reminding myself that timing is everything, and everything happens for a reason. You can fight it all you want, but if something isn't meant to be, it won't be; there's nothing you can do about it. I can't tell you how many times, I've met the right man at the wrong time. Or how when one door closed, another one was able to open and did. Everything happens for a reason, even if you don't see it immediately. That was one of the greatest lessons I learned in my 20s: you have to trust that if it is right, it will find a way, because it always does, one way or another. This also applies to friendships, relationships, and career choices.  
7. I would remember that if what I had was made of pure matter, it would never spoil. I have experienced this COUNTLESS times.. And yet I'm still in awe when it happens, like when someone from my past resurfaces or an old career experience comes back and brings me to a new opportunity. Purity will never spoil… And if it wasn't pure, don't mourn it's death, celebrate it's life, and appreciate the time it was spent in yours. Learn the lesson it was there to teach you; nothing should ever be wasted. With that said, NEVER burn a bridge.. you never know when you'll need to cross it.  
8. I would have searched for the lessons rather than harped on the pain. There is a lesson in every win, loss and draw. Let feelings flow, but then let them go; try not to dwell on the emotion it evokes, but rather the lesson that it taught you. You will find that there is a lesson in everything.. sometimes, they're tough, but they'll always make you stronger. I spent more time in my 20's mourning the loss of a relationship, rather than enjoying the freedom that came with it… and I wasted a lot of time. Keep in mind that this too shall pass. There will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will the beginning.
9.  I wouldn't regret anything. Every choice, mistake, and decision we make is made for a specific reason. Say how you feel. Never regret what you do… if it doesn't produce the outcome you wanted, learn from it and move on. Don't dwell. 
10. I would be more patient. Patience, Patience, Patience! I can't say it enough. And this is something I'm STILL working on. Don't rush - you'll miss out on the beautiful little details that make life so worthwhile. Remember that time will heal all wounds. And that things need to unfold in their own time, so you should do the same. Do things on your own time. Be accepting of how others do the same. Don't think that you need to have it all figured out by a certain time.  Don't let anyone tell you that you should be married or have children by a certain age… don't rush something that shouldn't be; it will lead you down a bad path.  It's like that old proverb:  slow and steady wins the race.
11. I would have made more mistakes. Don't get me wrong, I've made quite a few (and continue to make more as time goes on), but I always tell my students to make mistakes. Don't be afraid to fail. Experiment. Your 20's are the time to do that. See what works and what doesn't. Don't be afraid to fall down; you're still young, and you have plenty of time to get back up. We learn little from success, but much from failure.  
12. I would have enjoyed college more. I never really had "the college experience." Whether it was because I had a steady boyfriend, was always working, or constantly switching schools, I never really enjoyed college life; I just looked at it as a means to an end. I wish I had taken the time to really experience it and also enjoy the time when you're an adult but not yet living in the "adult world" just yet.  
13. I wouldn't have cared so much about what everyone else thought. Be you. Don't try to please others, and don't worry about what other people think.  Trust me, they are too wrapped up in their own lives to really care about what you're doing with yours. And if they do, screw em.  Like I said, it's your life, not theirs. In ten years, it won't matter.  
14. I would have done a better job of maintaining those special friendships. There will be tons of people who come into your life - some for a reason, some for a season, and some for a lifetime.  Cherish them all, but learn how to identify who belongs in which category. Let go of the ones who are only supposed to be there briefly, and make sure you cultivate and nurture the relationships that are meant to last. Friendships takes work, and to have a friend, you must be a friend.  
15. I wouldn't have been such a Life-Know-It-All. You think you know it all. You think you have it all figured out. Trust me, you don't. You don't have a clue.  (Nor do I). 
16. I wouldn't have worried about the future or how fast time was going by. Just live in the moment. Don't harp on the fact that you're getting older, enjoy the age you're at. Absorb every feeling of happiness, sadness, anger, impatience, and pain. Those moments are the ones that will stay with you through the years. I can't tell you how many times I felt overwhelmed by happiness, but recognized that it wouldn't last, and because of that, it passed quickly without me fully enjoying it… Soak it in, because I promise it will not last. The drama in the moment is what makes life interesting. Embrace it.  
17. I would thought more long term, financially. Open an IRA. In your twenties, it's hard to think about long term planning because old age seems so far away. But it's important to at least start planning. Especially for someone like me who has worked in so many different jobs and therefore didn't have a 401K. Open up an IRA and throw in 100 bucks a month. You'll be amazed at how fast it matures and how much money you'll have by the time you retire.  
18. I would have been more vigilant of my credit. I don't have much credit card debt, but I somehow through the years I've managed to "miss" payments here and there. Oh and never share a credit card with anyone. Good credit is something that you should be able to benefit from during your 30's.  
19. I would have relaxed more and not taken things so seriously. Chill out. Don't take things so seriously. Things are really never as bad as they seem. (I promise that they really aren't.) 
20. I would have taken more risks. Never second guess yourself. Trust your instincts and take risks.  Do it every day. This goes along with making mistakes. Fall in love, work in a job that you normally wouldn't, become friends with someone who's different than you, move to a new city, tell people how you feel, never hold back, and always take the gamble - the payoff will always be worth it… even if you lose. In life, sometimes good things happen, and sometimes bad things happen. But if you do nothing, then nothing happens.  
21. I would have listened more to my parents. Listen to those who are older than you; they know things that you do not, and don't be ashamed to admit it when they're right… But here's the thing: it's important to hear them out, but don't always follow their advice.. sometimes, you have to learn lessons for yourself in order to truly benefit from them.  
22. I wouldn't have been so judgmental. Never judge a book by its cover. Some of the most fascinating (and wise) people I've ever met, were the ones I least expected it from. Talk to everyone you meet, and never be rude to anyone because you never know who you're talking to... or who's listening on the bar stool next to them. 
23. I wouldn't have tried to "plan my future" so much. You never know what life will bring, or what it will take away, so you can't really plan too far in advance. It's ok to not have everything figured out right now (in fact, it's wonderful). And while yes it's important to have some sort of tentative idea of where you want to go, I guarantee that things won't pan out as you planned.  Enjoy the detours; they will always lead you to where you belong (and usually provide you a beautiful view along the way).  
24. I would have embraced change. Life is all about progression. It's constantly changing, and so are we. You will be significantly different when you are 25 from when you were 20. And you will change even more from the time you're 25 to the time you turn 30. Don't try to resist the change... embrace it; it's a beautiful thing. Especially because you'll change for the better.  You'll figure out who you are, and when you get there, you can truly enjoy it. You'll laugh at who you used to be and how naive you really were. 
25. I would have taken advantage of every opportunity offered to me. TRY EVERYTHING! Find out what you love to do and do it. Each opportunity leads to another. Never let fear prevent you from taking advantage of every opportunity that comes your way, even if it's not the "dream opportunity" you think you're waiting for. You never know what life will hand you. This goes hand in hand with taking risks.. And it's part of living. Always take the road less traveled, and eat life up as much as you can because it truly is delicious.  

And it really is. I always try to remind myself that life is for living... and we only get one chance. So as I embark on a new decade of my life, I look forward to seeing what incredible lessons, opportunities, and experiences await me. Especially the new "If I knew then, what I know now" -isms I will learn.  

Because that's what life is all about.  And after all, life is beautiful... even in old age.

Anchors Away

There are a lot of things that I believe people should experience, but one thing above almost all others is that every woman should have at least one torrid love affair in her life. 

You know the kind of love affair I'm talking about… The kind that unexpectedly turns your world upside down. Where there are no rules and all inhibition goes out the window. The kind where every moment is filled with desire and heat. Where there are no walls, and no games - only passion. The kind where you fall so hard and so fast that you know the end result can be nothing but a crash. 

The kind of affair that makes you feel truly alive. 

Yes. I believe every woman should have at least one of those love affairs in her lifetime.

I've been lucky enough to have two.  

My first torrid love affair occurred at a time when I was least expecting it. And it was with the kind of man whom I never would have expected it to be with.  

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a strong… affection for men in uniform. But it wasn't always that way. To be honest, I still don't really understand it or where it even came from. Growing up, I always was drawn to the poetic, intelligent, emotional, and romantic kind of guy. But at some point, the sight of a man in any sort of military uniform made my heart race. It's become quite a joke amongst my friends and family, but to this day, whenever I see a man in uniform, I'll admit that my heart does go aflutter.  

It may have started after I saw "The Gladiator" for the first time. Or it could be my attraction to the romanticized portrayal that was always depicted in my history books and in movies; That of a strong and stoic man returning from war into the open arms of the woman he thought about every day, as she loyally and proudly waited for him back home. Maybe it's my attraction to someone who has strength, courage, ambition, and pride... who knows how to fight and is willing sacrifice for something he believes in.  

Or maybe it's because I once had a torrid love affair with a Marine named Jason. 

Fleet Week in New York City: that magical week where mighty warships roll into Pier 88 and spill out thousands of Marines and Sailors who galavant around the city looking for a good time.  

For me, it's like Christmas.  

But it wasn't always so. Of course I had heard of Fleet Week, but I never really "participated" in it. After all, I had spent the last seven years in a relationship and I was busy with other things. I mean, I was a proud American and supported the military, but I didn't have any out of the ordinary attraction to soldiers.

All of that changed in May of 2009. I had just finished my second semester at Columbia for Graduate School. It had been about a year since my ex and I broke up, and because it was such a heart wrenching break up, I hadn't been involved in a relationship since it ended. I decided to focus on myself and things I loved; I didn't want to waste any time on romance or love. I had just returned back from a trip to Miami with some friends from school when I heard that Fleet Week was starting, but didn't really give it much thought. I was too busy loving life.

It was May 21st. I had literally just landed at JFK Airport a few hours earlier when my friend Rich called me up to meet him for a drink to catch up. "Just one drink," he said.  

It always starts with "Just one drink."

I was exhausted but decided to go meet him anyway. We met at our normal spot down in Murray Hill and proceeded to have "one margarita." One turned into many and before I knew it, he was stumbling home and I was jumping in a cab to meet some other friends at a bar down on the Lower East Side called "Off The Wagon."  

I found my friends on the second floor balcony gawking down at the gaggle of marines and sailors drinking at the bar below us. Like I said, up until this point, I had never really cared one way or the other for Fleet Week soldiers. I mean, I thought they were fun to look at, but that was it. My friends sensed my indifference and started to give me a hard time. So I decided to be a good sport, play along, and pretend to join in on their game.  

Then I saw him. He was standing alone at the bar in his khakis, awkwardly watching his friend flirt with some blonde. He looked uncomfortable and out of place. He was tall with broad, strong shoulders, sandy brown hair, and the most beautiful blue-green eyes I had ever seen. 

I was instantly attracted to him. 

Maybe it was the margaritas, but when we locked eyes for a moment, the whole world seemed to stop.  

I looked at my friend Karen and pointed down at him.  

"I am going to talk to that one."

And with a confidence that only four margaritas could inspire, I walked down the stairs and strutted right on over to him.

I poked him on the shoulder and he turned around, startled. He looked extremely uncomfortable at my bold and aggressive advancement.  

"Hi. I'm Dara. And I'd like take a photo with you," I dauntlessly announced.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Um sure."  

God those eyes were beautiful.  

"You know," I continued without a beat, "You should really want to take a picture with me.  I'm kind of a big deal."

He answered with a little laugh and a doubtful smile. The tension instantly evaporated. 

"I really am, you know. Don't you want to hear why?" I asked coyly.

He laughed and seemed to relax. "Sure. But let's talk over a shot of Jack."

Oh my God. He had the most charming southern accent. I instantly turned into putty.  

We took our photo, got our shots of Jack, and sat down at a table. We ended up talking there for three hours. Even though he was a little shy, I learned that his name was Jason. He was from Alabama, a Corporal in the Marines, grew up on a horse farm, and was stationed in Jacksonville, NC. He loved Jack Daniels and a good steak. He had just been on deployment for the past year and this was his first time in New York City. 

Now it's important to note that throughout this whole thing, I had no intention of being "that girl" (you know what I mean). And I made that very clear with him. I remember after we had been talking for awhile (and after we had drank a few Jack and Cokes) that I said something obnoxious like  "Look, if you're here looking for a quick thrill, there are tons of other girls here who are ready and willing to take you home. But you should know, that's just not me. So if that's what you want, here's your chance to walk away."  

He paused, taken aback at my out of nowhere, pseudo-bitchy candor, but then he started to smile again.

Oh that smile….

Without saying a word, he stared at me point blank and didn't move a muscle. It was then that I realized that maybe it wasn't his game either. I didn't know if he was just trying to be polite or if it was really how he felt… but in that moment, we established a mutual respect for each other.

And I was hooked. 

We continued to talk and I found myself so unexpectedly into him. We laughed all night and talked about the city's many splendors.  

When it was time to leave, he suggested that we go to Central Park the next day so that I could show him around the city a bit. I agreed. We exchanged numbers and said goodnight.  

I figured that I'd never hear from him again. 

But I did. And for the next seven days, we spent every possible moment that we could together. It was surreal; all my rules went right out the window. We walked endless miles around the city, I took him to all my favorite restaurants, and we talked for hours on end. He was a taciturn guy so he did most of the listening, but he seemed to get a kick out of hearing my stories and learning about my life. Our first afternoon together, he compared me to Scarlett O'Hara, telling me that he thought I had her tenacity, stubbornness, and spirit.  So for the rest of our time together, he called me Scarlett and I called him Rhett.  

I had never felt so alive.  

The best part about Jason was that he was the antithesis of my "type." In the real world, he would never have been the kind of guy I would have seen myself with. He was a small town boy from the south who smoked like a chimney and had never been exposed to any real culture or education. He was reticent and preferred to listen to me loquaciously babble on about things rather than talk about himself. And I'm sure I intimidated the hell out of him with my big city personality and loud mouth. But there was something about him that I was just so drawn to. Even now, I can't really explain it, but we had this extraordinary chemistry. We were two completely different people with barely anything in common, but for some reason, the energy between us was electric.  

He was tall, strong, and stoic. He was kind, and respectful. I felt safe with him and for the first time in almost a year, I started to feel something of affection for someone.  He was the first man, in a long time, I let into my world. I never thought my heart could feel those things again, but it did. We spent every possible moment together, avoiding the reality that this would all soon come to an end. We knew we were on borrowed time, and we didn't let any minute go to waste. Each day together was filled with a passion I hadn't experienced in years. It was all so thrilling.  

On his last day in town, he invited me to the ship for a tour. I showed up that morning so excited to see the ship and all it's splendors. But we never did take the tour; we ended up sitting on the deck overlooking the Hudson River talking for six hours. And for the first time, he opened up to me. He told me his life story, and shared some of his most personal, heartbreaking, and uplifting memories with me. We just sat there, two strangers, falling in… well into something. I'm not sure what it was, but whatever it was, we were certainly both enjoying the ride. 

Since that night was his last night in town, we had a special evening planned. So after our heart to heart talk, I left to get ready for our final night together.  

I showed up to the ship right before sunset wearing my favorite white dress. As he walked off the ship, my heart melted. He was wearing the dress blues; my favorite uniform. Earlier in the week, he had told me that he never brought his dress blues with him on deployment, so he didn't have them with him. But tonight, he had borrowed a friend's set for our last night together. I was speechless. He looked dashing.  

And so, as we watched the sun set over the river, the night officially began.

It was a night that turned out to be one of the most unforgettable nights of my life - a night that I never wanted to end. 

But it did end. We spent the last hour just talking… about everything. Every unspoken thought and feeling was disclosed… except one; the tacit understanding that when he left on that ship in a few hours, it would be over.  

That night, the ship had a two am curfew. The hour came way too soon. And before we knew it, it was time to say goodbye.  

I walked him down to the street, and right before he got into the cab, he turned back to me and told me something that I will hold close to my heart for the rest of my life.

"I'm a better man because I met you."

Then he kissed me in a way that made my knees weak and my soul cry. And as the cab drove out of sight down Broadway, I felt an overwhelming wave of sadness.  

Just like that, he was gone and out of my life.  

I didn't sleep that night. I just sat by my window and looked out at the river, knowing that in a few hours, it would be the portal that would take him away. Right before the sun came up, he sent me a text. It was the last text I would ever receive from him.  

It said, "I'll never forget you Scarlett."

That morning, I walked all the way down from my apartment at Columbia to Pier 88 to watch the ship depart. As I watched it cruise down the river, I knew that I would never see Jason again. Once again, that overwhelming wave of sadness washed upon my heart.  

That's the thing about torrid love affairs: they're like tornadoes. They come into your life without warning, turn your world upside down, and end just as hastily, leaving a path of destruction and heartache. But after a torrid love affair, you are a different person… and there can be no room for regret.  

That affair changed me.. It made me feel alive again in ways I didn't think were even possible. Of course after he left, my heart broke and I cried many (many) tears… But the fact that my heart was even capable of breaking meant that it was still alive.  And to me, that alone made the whole affair worthwhile.

About a year later, I received a missed call from him on Memorial Day. He never left a message and for some reason, I didn't call him back right away; I guess I didn't really know what to say. But when I finally did call him about a month later,  his phone was disconnected. I never heard from him again. 

After that, I started to find myself drawn to soldier-like men. The stoicism, strength, masculinity, and discipline that Jason encompassed was just so attractive to me.  I still can't really explain the attraction, but I like to think that part of it derives from that beautiful affair I experienced all those years ago.   

I find myself thinking of Jason often. And when I think of him, I think of him fondly. He was a real southern gentleman who made me feel alive again, and I am so grateful for our brief, but wonderful time together.  

Semper Fidelis, Rhett. You'll always be one of my great love stories.  I'll never forget you.

With Jason on the deck of the USS Iwo Jima

The first photo that we took at Off the Wagon

Dinner at Carmines with some of the other guys from Company 26. 

Wearing his dress blues at the top of the Empire State Building - Our last evening together

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Los Angeles

Hitchhiking in LA is the equivalent to riding the NYC subway after 2 am: It's a crapshoot who you'll be sitting next to… and you almost always get one hell of a story out of the experience. 

When I first moved to Los Angeles, I decided to not get a car right away. I was really only planning on being here for six months, and coming from a city like New York where public transportation is as accessible as pizza at three am, I figured that Los Angeles (another big city) would also have a efficient system. I could easily figure out LA transit; after all, I was a New Yorker. 

Boy was I wrong.  

#1. In Los Angeles, buses and subways stop running at midnight.  

#2. In order to get anywhere, you have to transfer at least four times.  

#3. They usually only run every half hour.  

And last but not least..

#4. The people who take the bus… well they're not your garden variety commuters.  The bus crowd usually consists of the illegal, the license-less, and the paroled.  

Oh yeah, and also the naive New Yorkers who mistakenly think they can get around LA without a car.

And the thing about cabs in LA... well they aren't as accessible as they are in NYC. They don't wander the streets looking for people. You have to actually call a cab and if you take one from the west side to the Valley, you're looking at spending at least 50 bucks. It's less than ideal and if you're phone is dead (as mine usually was), you're proverbially up creek without a paddle.  

As a result, on several occasions, I found myself without car, ride, or mode of transportation. Even though there were most certainly times when I felt concerned, in the end, I always ended up finding a safe way home, thanks to some hardworking guardian angels, and a few kind souls I met on the streets.  And while I don't condone hitchhiking in any city, I'd like to share with you my favorite "hitching" experience.

About three weeks into my LA residency, a short film that my roommate worked on won an award at the Independent Reel Film Festival in Hollywood.  Since she was out of town for the holidays, I attended in her place.   

The night of the show, I took the bus to the theater without any problems.  

But figuring that the bus only ran every hour after midnight, I tried to sneak out of the show a few minutes before it ended to make sure I caught it.  

What I learned once I got to the bus stop was that it sopped running altogether after midnight. And it was now after midnight. I was stuck in Hollywood alone.  

Uh oh.  

I started to panic. I ran back to the theater and started asking everybody on the street if anyone was going back to the Valley, and if I could hitch a ride back with them.  

One person said yes.  

His name was Mike and he was also from New York. He told me that he was going to a diner in Studio City to meet some friends so if it was ok, he would drive me to the diner and I could figure out how to get home from there.

I quickly thought it over and weighed my options. At least I was going to be back in the Valley; I figured that I could always walk home from the diner if I needed to. I had no other options. My phone was dead and I didn't know what else to do. 

So I opened the door to his silver Cadillac, slowly sat down in the soft leather seats, and said a silent prayer. 

Off we went. We started to chat awkwardly. There I was, in a car with a stranger, and I had no idea where I was or where we were going.  

It was terrifying.  

When we got to the diner (thank God we made it there!), he invited me in to meet his friends and have a drink. So I went in, not knowing what else I was supposed to do.  

That night ending up changing my life. 

In the diner, I not only met some of the people who would become my very close friends, but also someone who would indirectly set me up with my dream job.  

One of the girls at our table also happened to be from NYC so we exchanged numbers to hang out. A week later she called me up and invited me to a Christmas party in Beverly Hills. At the party, I met one of her friends, Harold, who introduced me to one of his friends, Melissa. When talking to Melissa, I learned that she too was a huge New York Giant's fan and played in a flag football league in town.

I had no idea what these people did for a living and I truthfully didn't really care - I just appreciated that they were so nice to me.  We all exchanged phone numbers.  A few weeks later, I received a call from Melissa to join him at an after-party for some show.  

The show happened to be Dancing With the Stars.  

And Melissa just happened to be Karina Smirnoff's publicist.  

Wait, what?

The next thing I knew, I was drinking champagne and being introduced to my favorite ballroom dancer, Karina Smirnoff. I had seen her on Broadway years earlier, and she was one of the few dancers I truly admired and enjoyed watching. I couldn't believe that I was actually meeting her.  

She was super cool, and super nice - extremely personable and just as beautiful in person as she is on television. I couldn't believe that we were laughing and talking together over cocktails. It was all so surreal.  

And if that wasn't crazy enough, once we started talking and it came out that I too was a ballroom dancer, she excitedly exclaimed, "This is fate! I am actually looking for someone to work with me at my new studio."

Shocked, I mumbled something about her getting my info from Melissa but she cut me off. 

"No, let's exchange numbers now.  Here's my number and email address, email me your resume when you can."

Was this really happening?  I dumbfoundedly nodded my head, took her information, and walked away. This couldn't be real. In a few hours, I was going to wake up from a dream and laugh at the absurdity of it all.  

But it was real. And the next thing I knew, a few weeks later I was in Karina's studio, dancing a foxtrot to Frank Sinatra for her.  

I am pretty sure it was the most nervous I have EVER been in an audition.  

Once I finished, she took me into her office. I had no idea what to expect. She sat down across from me and told me that she thought I was great. She loved my spirt and positive energy. Then she told me that she would love for me to join her team and work for her. I was hired.  

Oh. My. God.  

I now worked for Karina Smirnoff. Two years earlier I was watching her dance on Broadway.  A week ago I was watching her dance on television.  

Now I was watching her pull out a contract for me to sign.  

So the moral of the story is this: when hitchhiking, never turn down a ride to a diner at one am with a New Yorker; they know all the right restaurants and all the right people. And to think, I never would have needed a ride with him if I had gotten a car when I moved to Los Angeles. I never would have went to the diner that night and met all those people. I never would have ended up at a random Beverly Hills Christmas Party where I met the friends who would bring me to a DWTS after-party and introduce me to Karina Smirnoff.  

Talk about fate.  

It was a true Cinderella story: The poor hitchhiking girl who ended up getting her dream job thanks to a random stranger on a street corner.  

Only in Hollywood.

The red carpet for the show I attended in Kim's place that night: 

Hollywood Reel Independent Film Festival

One of the friends I met that night, Rachel

At the Diner later that night with Mike and his friends.  Photographed here with Josh Sussman who has since become of my favorite people in LA.  He and his girlfriend Tess (who has become one of my best friends) ended up driving me back to my apartment that night.  

Oh What a Difference a Decade Makes

About ten years ago, I was given a very special Christmas gift by a very special friend. It was a book called "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho. It is the story of a boy named Santiago who leaves his everyday monotonous life as a shepherd and embarks on an adventure to purse his "personal legend."  He goes through many trials and tribulations but successfully comes out on the other side. The book chronicles his journey with the overarching theme of "faith." It is undoubtedly my favorite book, and I have read it over ten times in three different languages. I always read it when I am at or about to approach a crossroad in my life. I can quote it on the spot and some of my favorite sayings come from its content.  

The same year I received that book, I fell in love and entered into my first real relationship. I was young, dreamy eyed, full of idealism and had an optimistic view of the future. I was filled with a remarkable sense of faith that my future would be full of amazing adventures, just like Santiago's was. I was in New York City, singing and dancing my way through life and pursing my own "personal legend." I was living the dream I had always wanted. He was a good and kind man. We fell in love quickly. Years went by. We planned a future and expected to live happily ever after.  

Then life happened.  

Seven years later, after countless changes in my life, I found myself sitting on the floor, alone in an apartment outside of Philadelphia. It was the apartment that I once shared with the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. It was a dirty break up. I was heartbroken and devastated beyond comprehension; I could barely function. My parents had to drive down to my apartment to literally scrape me off the floor and take me home with them.   

Now what?

I had given up almost everything for this relationship. I had stopped my dance career in its prime to move in with him while he started Medical School. I became a "house wife," staying home, doing laundry and supporting him while he studied for his medical exams. My friends wondered what had happened to me. I wasn't filled with a sense of adventure anymore; I seemed content with giving up my dreams. I thought I was ready for marriage, children, and the "conventional life." I took a bartending job to make extra money while I completed a history program at the University of Pennsylvania. He told me that I should apply to Grad School for teaching so that no matter where we moved for his residency, I could find work. After all, doctors don't marry dancers.  Reluctantly, I agreed but only applied to one school: Columbia University. I never thought that I would actually get accepted (and I didn't really want to go to Grad School anyway.)  But, I argued, if I'm going to do this, I want to do it in a place I love and miss: New York City. Figuring the whole thing would calm down once I was rejected, I just sat back and waited for my letter.

I was accepted to Columbia University on March 12. By April 15, he and I were broken up.  

Those days were some of the darkest of my life. I had been consistently in a relationship for seven years; I didn't know how to be alone. I fell into a deep depression. I defeatedly moved back in with my parents for the summer, watched Yankee games with my dad, and reread The Alchemist, searching for inspiration.   

Where would I go from here?

It seemed that fate had a different plan for me - one that I was totally unprepared for. But I had no choice. My dance career was extinct and I had no real job lined up. So I decided to follow the signs and press on forward, no matter how difficult it was. On August 15th of that year, my best friend Becca and I drove across the GW Bridge in my dad's pick up truck with my life packed up behind us. I was on my way to my new apartment on 121st street (A sign!! 21 has always been my lucky number...) and was about to start classes at Columbia University with the student ID of DLK2721 (yet another 21!). As we crossed the bridge into Manhattan, the Jordan Sparks song "One Step at a Time" came on the radio. A strong wave of faith suddenly overwhelmed me. I looked over at Becca and smiled.  

"This is going to be great…. I can feel it".  

And it was great. That was the day my life truly began.  

Although I started school that fall with a heavy and broken heart, it was slowly healing.  I threw myself into my work, my friends, the city, and my new life without him. I started teaching at La Guardia, the High School of Performing Arts (otherwise known as "The Fame School").  It seemed that life was starting to "happen." I made incredible friends, was going to major high-profile events like Fashion Week shows and after parties, the Kentucky Derby (and by another stroke of luck or fate, picked the winning horse!), Operas, Musicals, parties, and major sporting events. I got to participate in some challenging and prestigious academic research projects, and I felt on top of the world. Life was throwing me some wonderful credit and I was cashing in every cent. Still wanting to indulge my love for dance even though my career was long over, I became involved in the school's ballroom program and when a friend of mine learned that the show Gossip Girl was looking for tango dancers who looked "Argentinian," she hooked me me up with the show's casting director. The next thing I knew, I was on set with Blake Lively, showing her how to Tango and dancing in front of a camera.  

Really?  

Unbeknownst to me at the time, that single experience set off an incredible chain of events. I finished school that following May, and expecting to get hired as a full time teacher at La Guardia for the following school year, you can imagine my dismay when Mayor Bloomberg announced a teaching hiring freeze in New York City for new teachers. It seemed that I wouldn't be able to shift my career into the world of education after all.  

Great.  

Luckily for me though, as fate would have it, my dance career seemed to experience a bit of an unexpected resurrection. Due to a good reputation on set, I ended up filming additional episodes of Gossip Girl, and even a few episodes for While Collar. Suddenly, I had earned enough credit to join the Actor's Union, and I got a talent manager for dance and print work. Surprisingly, the jobs kept coming. It was effortless; I didn't even feel like I was trying. Things just started moving on their own and I was riding the current. Through a friend at school, I was able to get a bartending job down on the Lower East Side for extra cash. Before I knew it, I was training and competing in ballroom with my partner Fritz, bartending Coyote Ugly Style on weekends, and dancing on set for TV shows and films during the week. I even fell in love again. That dark day in Philadelphia seemed to be a thousand years away. I was living life to its ultimate fullest, never taking a day or experience for granted. It was my rebirth and I was in awe of how my life had changed. 

This can't be real life. 

The following summer my manager suggested that I look into going to Los Angeles to check out the market there; I was exhausting the New York City scene. LA would be a new market with endless possibilities.  

California? Me? The Quintessential New Yorker with the Jersey Bravado? Yeah right! Besides, I was loving my crazy life in New York City. When I was nine years old, I went to see a show with my parents in the city. I remember seeing the dancers on stage, and afterwards, over a soft pretzel that came from a vendor on the street right by St. Patrick's Cathedral, I made a vow to my dad: someday, I would move to New York City and become a professional dancer.  

And I had. Why would I leave that dream come true for a second time?

But once again, fate forced me to detour from my original plans, and in November of 2010, I boarded a plane with two suitcases and a one way ticket to Los Angeles in my hand. Six Months. I would give myself six months in LA to make something happen.  

Here we go again: starting over.  

I certainly had my doubts (as did everyone I knew), but part of me felt like Santiago - leaving my easy life behind for a new adventure. Once again, that familiar wave of faith washed upon me, and as the plane landed at LAX, I held onto that faith… very tightly.  

But even with all that faith, my first year in Los Angeles kicked my ass, and kicked it hard.  All the luck, and magical effortless success seemed to be left on the East Coast. My first year was undoubtedly the most challenging and difficult year of my life, and it truly tested my courage, spirit, faith, and patience. In fact without the amazing support of my incredible roommate Kim, my good friend Matt, and my amazing saint of a mother, I would have either jumped out my balcony, or lost my mind.  

Almost everyday, I contemplated what a mistake I had made. I missed New York so much. What was I thinking, giving up my amazing life there? I had left wonderful friends, a great apartment, job, and glamorous lifestyle. I had more money than I knew what to do with when I lived there, and each night was filled with something to do, somewhere to go, or someone to see. Best of all, my family was only a hop, skip, and a jump away across the Hudson.   

What had I done?

I had no job, no car, barely any friends, and I was running out of money fast. It was time to shape up or ship out.  In all the free time I had, I once again read The Alchemist, looking for a sign that I had made the right decision. I held onto that faith that everything would be ok. But one bad thing happened after another. My poor roommate watched me go from homesick, to sad, to pathetically depressed. She felt helpless, and nothing anyone could say or do seemed to inspire me.  

And then in April of 2011, I hit rock bottom. After a series of unfortunate events, the final straw came on April 28. I had experienced some pretty rough nights in LA, but this night was undoubtedly the worst of my life. After finally getting home at four am thanks to a very kind bouncer and cocktail waitress (whom I believe were my guardian angels that night), I called my mother and cried. I cried on the phone for probably a solid two hours. I'm not even sure I really said anything… I just cried and cried and cried.  She sat there 3000 miles away feeling helpless, and I'm sure I broke her heart that night.   

But my mother is an amazing woman. She talked me off the ledge and reminded me of how strong I was. She let me cry, and she told me that if I wanted to come home, all I had to do was say the word. But she also told me that she believed in me. That was what I needed to hear.  

The next day, I made a new vow. I sat on a beach in Santa Monica, looked out at the sea, and promised myself that I would do this. I would make this work.

I would survive.  

It took about one solid year. One year of hitchhiking, scraping for money, walking endless miles throughout the city of LA, desperately taking less-than-satisfactory jobs, feeling alone, crying more tears in that year than I've probably accumulated in my entire life, endless "bad situations", and holding onto hope like it was the only thing I had… because it was.   

But I did it. Not without the help of fate, family, and my friends, of course. But things eventually began to turn around and I emerged as stronger woman. Thanks to a couple of twists of fate, I started to get work. Thanks to my parents, I got a car so that I wouldn't have to take the godforsaken LA Bus, or hitchhike and walk around town anymore. And before I knew it, a new year began - a year that turned out to be one of the best of my life. I was working more than ever, creating a solid family built of both new and old friends (those amazing girls I used to bartend with in NYC actually), and I was starting to love life again. I got a job with Karina Smirnoff, was dancing all over town, and even got a dog. I went to incredible events, awards shows, premiers, and parties. I traveled around the world, and even lived back in New York City for a few months. I started tutoring and was able to satisfy my nerdy passion for history and teaching. I could feel my cynicism fading... I started to take risks again, and even began to believe again - in love and in the kindness of people. That good things can happen, and that they would happen. I allowed myself to love and trust. It was like my own personal Renaissance; I had finally made it through the rain, and into the amazing sunshine that Southern California is known for. 

I had become Santiago.

Looking back at the naive and idealistic eighteen year old I once was, I smile. I smile at her idealistic sense of the future and how she naively thought how wonderful every detour, both positive and negative, would be. How I thought my life would be a specific cookie cutter image, and how sure I was that it would happen. There are certainly times when I wish I was her again… when I could only see the future as filled with promise. But the wisdom I've accumulated over the years, the love, the heartbreak, the failures, the success, and also the amazing (and not so amazing) memories that are archived in my brain… I don't regret any of it. And although there are moments when I wonder if I've made some wrong choices that altered my course of life for the worse and start to feel regret for those mistakes, I try to remember that if we never veered off course, we wouldn't ever be surprised by life. And who wants to read a story when you already know the ending? And while I can certainly be quite cynical and jaded at times, there is still a part of that naive eighteen year old in my heart.  At times, she peeks through the scars and reminds me of how amazing life can truly be, and to remember that everything has a silver lining. She reminds me to enjoy and savor every moment, and to always enter every experience with a bold and open heart. And she reminds me how throughout all the hard times, my faith always remained a constant presence, never letting me down, and lifting me up when I couldn't do it on my own. She reminds me that like Paulo Coelho says, "Sometimes, there's just no way to hold back the river." You have to just sit back and ride the current and see where it takes you, all the while enjoying the view.

Ten years ago, I never thought that I would still be dancing professionally at this age, or living in California doing the things I'm doing. I never thought I would still be making mistakes and learning lessons the hard way. That I would be traveling the world and accumulating an anthology of adventures and stories. I thought by now that I would be married with children, probably living in a house outside of New York City, going to dance recitals and little league games.  

Yep. It's funny how life works out; it never really transpires the way you think it will.

... And I don't think I'd have it any other way.

Getting Interviewed at Fox News

At the bar I worked at in NYC - Kings Head Tavern

Dancing Waltz with Fritz at the Manhattan Classic

My first night in LA with my amazing roommate, Kim

Two of my favorite co-bartenders, Laura and Danielle

My wonderful friends from Columbia

Dancing Standard with Fritz at DCDI Invitational

My amazing Global History Class at La Guardia

On set for Gossip Girl with friend, Dan

Dancing with Blake Lively - still photo from the show

My best friend and guardian angel, Becca

Domenico Vacca After Party for Fashion Week at Pink Elephant with my fabulous friend Sayo

Columbia University Graduation with my friend Melanie

With Blake Lively on set - she was really cool, and I've had the pleasure to work with her on several other occasions.  

My roommate, little sister, and one of my best friends in the world, Kim.

In April of 2011, enjoyed the opportunity to walk the runway at the Claudia Gonzalez Pruitt fashion show... The show itself was great.  However, this photo was taken hours before what I consider to be the worst night of my life; otherwise known as My Rock Bottom Hours.

The car that became my saving grace: Lola (and my dog Bella in the backseat)

At the Clover Classic Comp in Philly with first Latin Partner, Stefan

My knight in shining armor during my first year in LA, Matt, a.k.a "Cali".  He rescued me on more than one occasion and was always the first one to lend a hand to change a busted tire, or pick me up when I was stranded. 

My beautiful bartender sisters.. we all worked as bartenders together at Kings Head and now we all live in LA within  a mile of each other.  They are my sisters and I don't know what I would do without them.