It's an adventure

Here is the most important thing about my eyes: they are brown.

Yesterday, our movement teacher held one on one conversations with each of us, pretty much just to check in and ask us questions about how we feel her class is going. One of the questions she asked me was if I "liked my body." The little voice inside my head started to scoff, daring me to be just a little whinier, but I answered truthfully anyway.

"I... Appreciate what it's trying to do," I said, and my teacher laughed. "It sort of works against me sometimes, but we're figuring it out."

My teacher raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

I cringed. I usually tried to avoid this conversation at all costs. (I am forcing my fingers to put it out on the interwebs)

"Well, I have this retinal pathology?" The sentence came out of me as a question. "So I have blind spots that make it sort of hard to see. And, you know, dealing with the medications for it and how that changes everything..."

"Why didn't you tell me??"

I don't know what reaction I was expecting, but it wasn't that one.

Here's the thing. I spend 98% of every day telling inner-Kaila not to be so over dramatic. My eyes are a little messed up, but there are still two of them, and they still work, mostly. There are people who have it so much worse. So yeah, it was weird to have a teacher give immediate significance to something I try to belittle.

"Do the people in your group know?" She asked me.

"No," I shrugged. "I know how to deal with it, and I don't want it to change anything."

"So when I have all fifteen of you running through the space?"

"Yeah that's terrifying."

(I guess I should take a second to sort of back all of this up. So when I was twelve, I noticed that when I put my fist in a certain spot, it disappeared. Cool trick, right? We've all got blind spots. Then my first turned into my hand, spread out full. That's when I figured it was time to tell my parents.

There were a lot of different eye doctors on the windy road to Anita Agarwol, who just happens to be the leading doctor in the search for answers concerning the pathology with a big name that pretty much just means "white dot" or "blind spot" syndrome.

Eventually I became friends with all of the different nurses. All of the technicians knew me, and Anita Agarwol and I exchanged pictures of our dogs.

We spent seven hours at a time taking pictures, looking at the pictures, putting in eye drops, injecting dyes into my arm veins, and wearing contacts with wires in them. Party time!

Unfortunately, the blind spots grew, and my left one is bigger than the right, but as of now they're stable.)

"Then what must it like," you're all asking, "to have moved to one of the fastest moving cities in the world?"

It's an adventure.

Sometimes I bump into people that I just didn't see coming. Voices come from seemingly nowhere and sometimes I trip on trashcans that I just didn't see. Curbs are the worst and stairs are mean, but it's so completely doable. Also, the lights never go out, so the dark isn't a problem. I don't have to deal with driving in parking lots, so it's pretty much a breeze.

Last night at crew, my nightmare came true. I'm running sound for this play, which consisted of listening for "sound standby" and then "sound go", until it was discovered that the stage manager could be heard every time he opened his mouth. Then it became a series of hand signals. In the dark. Yeah. I don't think he understands how hit or miss this system is.

"It's good that I know this," my teacher said, putting away her chair. "I was going to tell you that you seem hesitant, but you obviously have a really good reason."

Now these blind spots aren't all bad. In an audition where the director is making me nervous? Sing my sixteen bars to the wall five and a half feet to his right. Poof! He's disappeared.

I can't work in a room with Lindsay Mendez

Why does 11 pm on a Sunday night find Kaila on the floor of the Tisch building making strands of paper snowflakes? It's kind of a long story.

Today felt like three days rolled into twenty-four hours, but lets start a week ago.

So I was sitting in Introduction to Theater Production, right? And this girl sitting in front of me is on her laptop. Now, I'm no Hermione Granger, but I have super puffy hair and it certainly does bother me when people aren't paying attention in class (and I'm Hermione Granger).

So there I was, glaring at the back of the girl's head in front of me, when all of a sudden her screen reminds me why I didn't want her on it in the first place--it distracts me completely. So, a few years ago I fell in love with this beautiful musical called Dogfight. Set during the Vietnam war, it centers around an awkward young guitar player who just wants to make the world a better place through music. And there was the Dogfight album cover art, right there on her computer, on a Facebook event marked 'NYU auditions'.

I pulled out my phone. (Bad, Hermione. Bad.) I was signed up to audition before the class was over.

Of course I couldn't help tapping the girl on the shoulder as she left.

"Excuse me, I know this is totally rude, but I saw your computer screen... Those Dogfight auditions, are they open to freshman?"

The girl shrugged. "I'm not sure, but a few of my friends and I were just going to go and see if they let us try out." I nodded. Made sense to me.

So, that Saturday, I headed to the Steinhardt building with a few friends, a headshot, and a resume. They had absolutely no problem with the fact that we were freshmen. In fact, they didn't even mention it.

"I really like your hair." That was the first thing they mentioned, "they" being the piano player.

"Thanks!" I chimed back, "I showered!" Immediate regret.

I sang my cut.

"I just have one question..." The director asked. "Can you sing more?" He phrased the question like he was on a game show.

I started from the beginning of the song and completely forgot the words. Ah, the dangers of only preparing a sixteen bar cut. Lesson learned.

"You can sing over [the pianist's] shoulder, that's completely fine," he offered, and I accepted. I finished, trying not to judge myself too harshly.

"Thanks so much. Please tell everyone outside that the callback emails will go out later tonight." I nodded, and out I went.

I had fuzzy post-audition brain for the rest of the day.

The callbacks came out that night, as promised.

My roommate and I were both called back for Rose and Marcy, the two female leads in the show. We were beyond excited. We worked on sides and music for the rest of the night.

And then I remembered.

I had tech in the morning.

Okay. So, the first year of a drama student's NYU life consists of many requirements, one of which being freshman crew for their Introduction to Theater Production class. Mine started on Sunday. Nine in the morning to midnight. Those were the hours. Except now I had a callback at twelve thirty with no definite end time.

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

I sent out a regretful email to the stage manager of the show that I'm crewing, and I got a swift reply. "Got it, thanks for letting us know!" It was as if a stone was lifted from my chest.

Side note: Downtown NYC is a ghost town at 8:30 am on a Sunday. NO one is around. It was amazing. I definitely suggest trying it sometime.

My next worry was to figure out when I would get to eat. The callback would take up at least my lunch break and I was hoping to meet with my Adler scene partner during my dinner break. I shouldn't have worried. I ordered lunch and dinner that morning but was too excited (ok, let's be real, nervous) to eat it.

I walked into the blackbox theater at 8:55 to find an eclectic mix of people who sort of resembled a real life super hero team.

The Lighting Designer. Short spunky hair and enough natural confidence to overthrow the entire tabloid industry, I can easily picture her in a green spandex suit with electricity spewing out of her palms. If I could draw I would totally create a comic to explain these people to you.

The Scenic Designer. He definitely would have been in yellow. No spandex for him though. Quieter and stubborn, he feels like the muscle of the group, even with plenty of brains.

The Sound Designer, probably in red, but not the angry kind. Friendly and efficient, I feel like he would be the super hero team member who always solves problems in the simplest of ways that the others were too busy arguing over to figure out. "Guys, while you were all discussing how to jump the raging river I found a bridge, right there!"

The Director. Absolutely a blue costume, and without one of those ridiculous mini skirts female Power Rangers always wear. She's thorough and precise and just quirky enough to be endearing.

Last but not least is the Stage Manger. Purple. The biggest smile and the best hug. Absolutely holds the group together with all the heart in the world.

I want to call them The Blackboxers, but I feel like that might be controversial. I'm open to suggestions.

We, another Tisch freshman and I, have the simple task of being their sidekick.

By ten am, I knew how to hang a light. By noon I had learned out to plug them all in and route the electricity efficiently. By 12:15 I was in a skirt with a folder of music under one arm.

Of course, Kaila being Kaila, I was late to the audition, cause I got kinda turned around on the five minute walk it takes to get from one building to the other.

A good sign of any audition for me is when a director knows and correctly pronounces my name. All you Janes and Marys are sitting at your computer scratching your heads right now. Here's the thing--My name isn't a common one, and therefore not super easy to remember. So, any time someone in the professional world puts in the effort I smile a little inside. It's a teeny tiny victory.

"Oh, good, Kaila," the director of Dogfight said when I finally walked in. "You're here."

There were probably around ten girls there for Rose and even more for Marcy. We sang a bit of one song and then they made some cuts and then were about six of us. Then we sang for Marcy and I think I was actually cut straight away. We sang again for Rose and then there were four of us. Then one more time and there were two. We did a scene with three boys and we sang a song with the two girls left for Marcy. Everyone else went home.

I kept getting messages from my crew assignment. "Think you'll be done soon?" "Could really use you back here." "Think you'll be done by 3:40?" It got later and later.

Finally, they had the two girls sing the beautiful and heartbreaking song "Pretty Funny" in its entirety.

I started to sing and they stopped me.

"Can you step back a little? Thanks. Also--and this goes for both of you--sing this song just completely raw and hurt. If you cry that's fine with me."

Who knew that that was what I needed to hear?

It's not that I feel like I sang the song well, it's that it felt so natural. I just kinda sang the song, like I did in my closet that one time in the middle of the night, and like I did in my shower every morning. The room actually clapped when I finished. I heard one of the women on the production team let out a strangled breath. The girl behind me whispered, "That just gave me actual goosebumps." The piano player stood up from his bench and hopped around a little, shaking out his arms.

"Do you need a minute?" The director asked. I realized he was asking me.

"Oh! No. No I'm ok," I answered, wondering if I had really convinced him that thoroughly.

Then it was the other Rose's turn, and I, in true and graceful Kaila fashion, spent the entire time trying to forget the fact that I was having a hard time breathing due to the fact that at the beginning of her performance I had choked on a sip of my water, sending it down the wrong pipe. Smooth.

After we finished that song they had us pair up with the two girls called back for Marcy and sing a duet with them. Then we sat outside and waited. It was almost five pm. Finally they called us back in.

"We've been discussing... how would you ladies feel if we double cast your roles? Of course you can say no."

Say no? Say no?! How could I possibly say no to the opportunity of doing Dogfight twice instead of what had been zero times just a week ago? Sure it isn't four, but two is better than zero! All four of us accepted immediately.

The cast list was emailed out twenty-seven minutes later.

I was in a crew meeting when I read it. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and glued my feet to the ground.

Do not jump up and down here, you silly head. Try to act professional. 

I didn't have to work for too long, though, because not long after we had a down moment, where I shared the news with our favorite Super Hero Stage Manager Man.

"Oh my goodness! Lindsay Mendez's character?" He asked when I explained the role, "I am only calling you Lindsay Mendez from now on. I'm going to put in the program, and crewed by Lindsey Mendez." I laughed. He began to walk away, finding little Stage Manger Man things to do. "I can't work with Lindsay Mendez in the room!" He joked, pretending to be in awe. (See? Don't you want someone fun like him to be in charge of keeping lowlife crime out of your city?)

So where do these snow flakes come in, you're all asking impatiently. Honestly they don't have that much to do with the day except for the fact that they really made me smile. The show on which I am working is set in the winter time, and instead of using stage snow, Director Woman decided to simulate the season with paper snowflakes. You guys they're actually beautiful. Some of them more so than others, but there are some really wonderfully crafted paper snowflakes. The two of us spent hours tying them together to strands that will presumably hang from something.

So, Dogfight won't perform until April, quite a while after all of the paper snowflakes melt, but for now I've got plenty to keep my hands full. Hopefully it'll be as interesting to you as it is me.

XOXO Cartoon Girl

When the TV show Nashsville aired for the first time, I watched it differently that I did anything else. I was paying less attention to the characters and the plot lines and looked more closely at the shoot locations. What school was that? Where was their favorite place to get coffee? Why was that the statue they chose to keep showing all the time?

I never even thought about what moving to New York would do to me.

Think for a second about all of the TV shows and movies that are filmed in New York City. Now I don't see nondescript city-ness, I see downtown. I see the upper east side. I see Washington Square Park and I see the Flat Iron district. I watch characters walking down the streets and I remember seeing the small store fronts on my walk to class every week. The whole entertainment aspect of film is different now because of it.

For instance, the line, "No no no. Ely and I don't go beyond 14th street," would have meant absolutely nothing to me half a year ago. Now I find myself thinking, "Oh my gosh I bet that character LOVES the Union Square Christmas Market.

I have a friend who has lived in the city all of his life and used to have the same complaint about every super hero movie.

"They always destroy New York," he'd shake his head,  "and it's just hard to watch. That's my city!"

Now, I don't feel completely comfortable calling NY my city, I mean, I've only been here for a few months, but I totally understand where he was coming from.

And films with NYU students in them? Forget about it. I'm shoulders deep in a film that is so terrible I'm rolling my eyes at every line, but she's an NYU freshman so I can't hit pause. It's a sickness.

I am currently thirty minutes into a terrible movie that I will not name, in which they are hanging out inside of a dorm room. A year ago I couldn't have imagined what a dorm room at NYU looked like, but right now I'm thinking about the fact that they just did a close up of Weinstein and I'm sifting through the names of the people that I know that live there.

Nothing is the same anymore, it's wild. I keep trying to come up with a better way to describe it than just using words like 'connection' and 'familiarity' cause it seems like more than that.

You know the show Gossip Girl? Anybody who even looks at me can probably tell it's not my style. Overly privileged NYC kids with lives full of petty drama? Not really my thing. Everyone here watches it, and I do too. I can't help myself. (In part it's because my best friend since diapers really wanted me to watch it. But it's mostly for the aforementioned reason.) To be honest I hate the show. I understand it's appeal, sort of, but I just kind of can't stand it. That said, I'm in the middle of season one and don't foresee myself stopping, at least not before the characters go off to college at--you guessed it--NYU.

So, next time you see some interesting (or not so interesting) movie centered around an NYU kid in the city, let me know. I'll probably wanna watch it.