I arrived in the US
Twelve years ago today
It’s strange to think of that person
Landing in the freezing cold at Denver Airport
Clutching a folder thick with immigration paperwork
Feeling excited and scared about the next adventure

In the twelve years since
I’ve been married and divorced
Survived cancer
Had my heart broken
Lost two grandparents
Lost six friends to cancer
Been in two choirs
Moved 7 times across 3 states
Lived with 5 different people
And survived NJ Transit

I’ve worked a lot of jobs
Second-hand bookshop and farm volunteer
Babysitter
Receptionist atop fancy glass towers
Broadway usher
Teacher
Vocal coach
Writer
Actor
Fake patient
Stage manager
Director
Podcast editor, and an
Operations/staff assistant

I’ve done the Artist’s Way twice and
Built Filmed Live Musicals
Written and performed a cabaret
Written a book chapter 
Spent hours in the archives at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts 
Performed in Colorado, New Jersey, and New York
In plays, musicals, and immersive shows
Seen a show in every Broadway house
Taken class at Broadway Dance Center
Played flute and ukulele and piano

I’ve run, quite a bit
All around Fort Collins
Brooklyn, West New York,
Astoria, and Harlem
6 marathons
4 half marathons
And a handful of races

I’ve traveled to Acadia State Park and Atlanta
Salem and Boston and Washington DC
Traipsed around Connecticut
Honeymooned in the British Virgin Islands
Did a road trip from FoCo to New York
I’ve been back to Australia three times
And London once

I’ve frequented farmers markets
And made my own yogurt
Grown arugula and spinach and basil and chives
Strawberries and raspberries

I helped raise a sweet and ridiculous floof of a puppy
Learned Spanish and Danish
Learned to bake cheesecake
Learned to manage my depression

I grew my hair out again
Started eating meat again
Started morning pages again
Got my first tattoo
Tried contact lenses and
Finally got my drivers license

I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest
I’ve been held and taken care of and spoilt rotten
I’ve met, and become friends with, some of the most extraordinary and beautiful people
From FoCo, Brooklyn, Carteret, Astoria, and Harlem
MSK, front of house, MasterVoices, SP land, and, of course
Buck’s Rock

And today, on the anniversary of my moving here
I performed a two show day
With a group of people whom I utterly adore
With a lead actor whose cast albums I have listened to on repeat
In a rarely performed musical by a composer whose work inspired my life path
With friends in the audience

And tomorrow I’ll direct a musical with a cast of sweet and precocious kidlets
And the next day I’ll start rehearsals for a new project with MasterVoices
And I think
It’s taken twelve years, but I’m finally doing the thing I came here to do
It just took a little cancer, divorce, gestures-at-the-world-in-2025 detour to get here

I think about what I want from the next chapter
To live on my own
To travel, and keep exploring my glorious city
To visit all the museums
To fill my days with music and theatre and writing
And delicious food
And time with friends
And glorious books
To keep tripping the light fantastic
And being so very thankful
That despite *everything* (again, gestures-at-the-world-in-2025)
I’m here.

A part of me laughs reading about
Suleika Jaouad’s journaling practice
The seriousness behind it
The intentionality
I starting journaling
Keeping a diary
Because Elizabeth Wakefield in Sweet Valley High kept a diary
And, because she was the nerdier book-smart twin,
I wanted to be like her
I wrote in code for a bit
To deter prying eyes
But gave it up when my boyfriend (who was studying computer science) figured it out in a few minutes
I still remember the code
My high school friends teased that I would journal on my honeymoon
I did, for the record (haha)
And my (then) husband didn’t mind

I got my first diary for my 10th birthday
Hard cover, blue, with an art nouveau illustration of a woman clutching an armful of fruit on the front, and scented pastel colored pages
Thirty years later there are over 70 journals sitting on the bookshelf
“Lockable” dairies with pale pink pages
Exercise books that I covered with white paper and words cut out from magazines
Lovely leather-bound books with hand-made paper
Pretty cloth-bound books from fancy stationery stores
And even one I made at camp
Mostly there are notebooks of varying sizes,
Books that were easy to carry in my backpack
For writing on the bus or the train
Or, on lucky luxurious days, while hurtling through mid-air on a Boeing bound for someplace else
The pages are filled with angst and dreams, crushes and heartbreaks, joys and boring day-to-day minutiae
Ticket stubs and bits of brochures and seemingly significant fortune cookie predictions
The diaries are not particularly profound
They’re not the record of a historically significant person
I have no idea what will happen to them when I’m gone
But they’re my most prized possession

After I got sick I fell out of the habit
There was so much to say, I couldn’t say anything at all
But I did make an attempt of keeping up with morning pages
A habit started in my mid-twenties
And now I have 31 spiral bound 5-subject notebooks to accompany the journals
Pages and pages of streams of consciousness scribbles

And if I think about it, I also have over a decade of blog posts to add the pile
Poems and scribblings and reflections
Tracing my desire to find the beauty, find the joy, find the light
Amidst break-ups and falling in love and moving away and falling love again and moving away again and cancer and to trying to find the light again

It has been delightfully fun to follow the prompts in Suleika’s book
My favorites so far have included
Write with your non-dominant hand (Marie Howe)
Write a paragraph about the funniest thing to happen to you from the perspective of an inanimate object (Kiese Laymon)
What would you write if you weren’t afraid? (Dani Shapiro)

What would you write if you weren’t afraid?

​I spent the day at Buck’s Rock
Giving a tour in the rain
To new campers and their families
Trying to convey the magic
That happens in the summer
And then I made my way
All the way to BAM
The Brooklyn Academy of Music
To see Suleika Jaouad
Fellow AML survivor and
Journal writer who is
Undergoing her third round of treatment and is
Currently on the New York stop of her book tour

It wasn’t until I was sitting down in my seat
That it occurred to me
BAM was the place where I had my first job post-cancer
I didn’t work there for long
I had gone back to work too soon
I didn’t have the stamina to make it through a shift
But I was desperate to get back to normal
I had to ask for permission to sit down during the show
Another usher saw me and scolded,
“We’re not allowed to sit.”
I wanted to say
“I just had cancer.
I had a transplant.
I can’t stand for long periods.”
Instead I pretended I hadn’t heard her and
Fought back tears.

And now I’m nearly 11 years out.
How did I get so lucky to be here?
When Ruth is gone?
When Miguel is gone?
When Katy is gone?
When Miren is gone?
When Suleika has relapsed twice and is likely to be in treatment for the rest of her life?
Watching her standing up on that stage
Looking absolutely radiant in a bright and colorful dress with a thin gold belt
Her pixie hair sleek against her head
Reading her extraordinary words about fear of mice and cancer and treatment
While her husband, Jon Batiste
Played on the piano behind her
The love between them
The way they seem so grounded
So in touch
So in love

It broke my heart a little
The longing for a creative, spiritual, loving partner
Someone
To traipse across this mortal coil with
The heartbreak of tasting it
And having it taken away
Because I’m not enough?
Because it’s not the right time?
Because of so many factors out of my control
The fear of relapse
The fear of being ok
The fear of having what you want
The fear that you will never fulfill your dreams
Reach your potential
Do the thing you came here to do because
Illness
Pandemic
Politics
Global warming

And it wasn’t until I was on the train home
That I realized that I’d spent the day at camp
(The place where I was diagnosed)
And not once thought about getting sick
I was too busy being excited about the summer to come
Thinking about my to do list
Chatting with the new campers

The day was full of synchronicity
Old camp friends messaging out of the blue as I arrived at camp
Being at camp on the day of Suleika’s New York book tour
The New York stop being at BAM
On a rainy day  
​At the end of April 
Something magical 
Alchemy
From the French, Latin, Greek, and Arabic 
"The pursuit of the transmutation of baser metals into gold,
Search for the universal solvent and the panacea."

Imagine a gorgeous blue sky day
And having lunch in a fairy grove
With your dear friend
And climbing up to the turret of Belvedere Castle
And taking in the Delacorte
And the ball fields
And the turtles swimming in the pond
What is it like to be a turtle swimming in a pond in the heart of Central Park?
You think you want
To be
A turtle swimming in the pond in the heart of Central Park
But alas, today you are a mere mortal
So you take comfort in
Sitting in a shady spot
Overlooking the trees
Writing together and
A red-breasted robin comes and perches by your foot
And your friend says you are Mary Poppins
Well if you can’t be a turtle, you may as well be a magical mortal
And you spend a happy hour
Immersed in creation

The joy of archival research
Handling letters sent 100 years ago
The crumbling paper
Making historic confetti

Connecting with loved ones
With old friends 
With old self 
A return to writing
And routine 
Eating well 
Feeling good 
The Mmmm's
Morning pages
Meditation
Movement
Music
The purpose of art 
The purpose of life 
Finding connection
Amidst the chaos 

Visiting UNSW
Being awed by the construction
And Miles’ work in the food pantry
Sitting on the Library Lawn
Remembering the lunch time bands
And traipsing around campus at all hours
Flyering and giving tours
Promoting shows and
Tripping the light fantastic
And also the dwelling in the darkest depths
A place where I learnt to write
And studied history
​And put on shows 
And became myself

A quiet hour of 
Writing and admin
With a cup of hot chai 
​And a cheese danish 

Hot chocolate and writing
And a surprise chocolate croissant, gratis

The joy of research
And writing
My happy place