Category — Uncategorized

I’m in the New York State of Mind.

Pull up your pants buddy!

Call me old fashioned, call me weird, but the feel of a beautiful theater makes me tingle to my bones. There is just something about a well-respected stage that feels regal and intimidating – and Lincoln Center is the holy grail of soul-tingling theaters.

Even the word “theater” seems so inadequate. In no way can what I saw last Thursday night be called simply a “theater.” As I walked up Lincoln Center’s slippery stairs in my soaked, slippery shoes all else floated away. Conversation didn’t matter, the fact that I was severely underdressed didn’t matter, and the fact that I was drenched to the core didn’t matter. I set my eyes on the fountain, romantically lit by the large, elegant buildings surrounding the square. People were everywhere, almost gliding around in their suits and heels. I felt like I should have been hand in hand with Daddy Warbucks.

As I ran inside to keep my hair somewhat dry, I stopped dead in my tracks. I don’t think I’ve been so stupefied in my life – everything was so lovely. The huge marble staircases wrapped around the entrance, engulfing me and all the other opera-goers that night. Once I took my head out of the clouds, I was sitting down, people-watching. At that point I didn’t need to see the opera. What was more interesting, to me at least, were the people. Excited families sneaking pictures, old couples quietly waiting, Macaulay students chatting to each other. Pure human interaction and excitement.

I sat on the edge of my seat like a little kid at their first baseball game. As I watched for the chandeliers to rise (as a very knowledgable opera-goer I know pointed out would happen), I could not contain myself. I watched, transfixed, as the lights dimmed (the most exciting part!). The curtains opened, and I almost jumped in my seat I was so happy.

Call me weird, I love going to shows. There is something about those mysterious curtains, and the nervous chattering, and the lights dimming, that I just just can’t wait to see what’s in store. It probably has something to do with the feeling I get when I’m on the opposite side of the curtain.

The view from my side of the curtain, Thursday, was phenomenal. It was a blur of huge costumes and insane voices. I may have been more excited about the experience than I was the actual performance, but there is no harm in that. The performance was so alien to what I am used to on the stage that it was intriguing – the set up was so totally separate from the theater I know. But in it’s novelty, it became all the more fun.

I only dozed off once, and I am proud of that.

As the golden curtains receded to the orchestra’s elegant music, I received goose bumps that stayed with me until the end of the show.  All of the components of the production focused on the most minute details, creating an enthralling experience for the viewers.  The performance of Rigoletto at the Metropolitan Opera, from start to finish, was simply astounding.

The tragedy of Rigoletto is shocking, so for those individuals who are feint of heart, you have been warned.  We see the jester, Rigoletto, suffer the serious ramifications of a curse.  While he is at the side of the Duke of Mantua at his palace, Rigoletto thinks that he is invincible, and that he is shielded from all dangers.  However, after Monterone (whose daughter, the Duke has seduced) makes his way into the party, and curses both Rigoletto and the Duke for their behavior, he later discovers that he is human, and susceptible to these dangers.  From this point on, we witness the colossal downfall of the jester.  The disparity between someone who has a position of power and a common man is also seen, as the Duke is practically immune to the curse, while the jester, watches helplessly as the curse sends his life crashing into a downward spiral.

What was most impressive with Rigoletto, were the sets and costumes.  Authentic and grandiose, the sets immersed viewers in the realm of the setting.  The sets were three dimensional, and the buildings were detailed to the point that they actually displayed some wear and tear.  Vines covered some of these walls and buildings making it appear even more realistic.  Torches lit up the stage, and gave the sets a unique luminescence.  All of the backgrounds were stunning; there were backdrops showing everything from dark and cloudy night skies, to purple sunset skies.  What was intriguing was that the backgrounds were changing throughout the performance.   For example, in the opening of the second act, the purple sunset sky became darker as night approached.  In the third act, while the storm was raging, lightning bolts pierced the dark midnight sky.  The costumes of the characters were true to the time period of the opera, and complemented the sets and the roles that the characters played.  An example of this can be seen with characters such Sparafucile, who wore darker clothing matching his equally dark representation.  The sets and costumes of Rigoletto engulfed viewers, and made us feel as if we were truly in Mantua watching the tragedy unfold.

The Metropolitan Opera Orchestra gave life to Rigoletto.  The brass powered the tense moments, while the woodwinds and strings sections guided the calmer and melancholic moments.  The orchestra’s crescendos served perfectly as segues for the solos of the opera singers.  The change of pace in the orchestra’s music helped create the atmospheres for the scenes.  For example, in Act II, when Rigoletto was frantically seeking his daughter, the music was at a faster pace, perhaps at allegro.  In Act III, as the opera was concluding, the music performed by the orchestra was monumental.  The brass along with the percussion ignited the storm taking place in the scene, and finished off the opera with a homerun.

The singing and acting in Rigoletto kept the audience enticed throughout the opera.  Mr. George Gagnidze, who had a cold, showed no ill effects, as he delivered a riveting performance.  My favorite singer from Rigoletto was the bass, Andrea Silvestrelli who played Sparafucile.  His voice supplemented the dark and stormy scenes that he was mostly a part of.  The one weakness of this performance of Rigoletto was the acting of Mr. Gagnidze (Rigoletto) in the first act.  Often, the character of Rigoletto appeared emotionless, which was perhaps due to his extensive focus on singing.  For example, when Monterone curses Rigoletto in the first act, although he often mentions that he has been cursed, Rigoletto fails to exhibit too much pain for it.  However, starting from the second act (after his daughter is abducted), Mr. George Gagnidze showcased his talent as an actor.  We were able to clearly see Rigoletto’s anger, grief, and fiery appetite for revenge.

Never did I expect to enjoy an opera, as much as I enjoyed Rigoletto. A review just won’t simply do it justice; you must go and experience it for yourself.  The combination of orchestral music, realistic jaw-dropping sets, and a gripping tragedy make Rigoletto a must watch for anyone.

When having trouble describing a neighborhood, I look around. I do the Cha-Cha Slide: a slide to the left, then the right, then back. A mental tap-dance on the New York City map is all I need to get me in the right direction.

So when I needed to find a Rite Aid close by the dorm, I shimmied around the Lower East Side until I found it. A few taps to the right is Chinatown, to the left are some projects, with some hip little restaurants and dives in between.

As it turns out, the only Rite Aid on my dance floor was a jive to the left. The art galleries and boutiques gave way to factories and large housing projects. While marching down the blocks I saw a sad little book lying on its side, wet and worn-down, its title face-up for the world to mock.

“The Audacity of Hope, Barack Obama” sighed the dog-eared pages of this melancholy little novel. The sight of the lonely block littered with nothing – no people, or stores – but this book, left a sour taste in my mouth. It made me chuckle at its irony, but overall was a pretty bitter image. I shook my head, took a snapshot, and reluctantly rumba’d on my way.

I stood in Times Square like I was one the hundreds of tourists who stare in awe. Although I had been in Times Square countless times, the bright lights never failed to capture my eye. As I walked through the crowds of people, I heard a tremendous variety of different dialects, and saw cameras flash left and right. The allure of Times Square, like always, had me in a trance, but tonight I couldn’t stop and stare. I had to rush and get on line for the Jason Derulo concert. The line bent in and out of the city blocks like a slithering snake. I don’t call myself a fan of Jason Derulo’s music, but when my friends decided that we were going to his concert on Thursday night, I had no other options. While on line I saw that Jason Derulo attracted a huge range of fans. There was a group of excited friends who started talking to us about Jason Derulo. What I found intriguing about them was that they had come all the way from Australia, for the concert (as well as other reasons). They told us about a new and upcoming pop group from Australia called Trinity that was going to perform that night. I was surprised to hear that Jason Derulo, an American R&B and pop singer had such a huge fan base in Australia. The concert, unlike I had expected, was extremely entertaining. Jason Derulo’s singing, and dancing were spectacular. I also became a fan of Trinity; their pop music, which had an Australian taste, was unique and appealing to me. Watching an entertaining concert in my favorite place in the world made that night, one to remember.

New York is truly the cultural and artistic center of the world, and Fall for Dance is a microcosm of New York’s cultural diversity. Even if you think dancing isn’t for you, like I had previously felt, you are bound to find something that interests you in the show. It is truly a captivating collection of dance performances that exhibit cultures that stretch from all over the world.

What is one word captures the essence of XOVER? I would have to say bizarre. Everything, from the music, to the costumes, and to the dance was clashed together. First of all the music, if it can be called that, was absolutely horrifying. It ranged from sounds of nature to eerie sounds that felt as if they had been pulled straight out of a science fiction movie. As far as the dance goes, at often times, the dancers appeared rigid and emotionless, but they fit the bill for the music. Their all white attire also exhibited this sense of lack of emotion. In quite a few instances there was utter silence, and the dancers continued to dance in synchronization. It seemed as though the music they were dancing to was in their heads, and the noises were merely distractions. This encounter between the music and the dance was unique, even though the peculiar sounds hurt the Merce Cunningham Dance Company’s overall performance.

The next performance, I Can See Myself In Your Pupil, performed by Gallim Dance was quite simply phenomenal. The upbeat music in this performance snatched the souls of the audience members, as the deep bass and the singing trumpets became one with the viewers’ beating hearts. A flavor of Israeli music provided some of this upbeat music. The dancing was free, wacky and highly entertaining. Each dancer was wearing casual/club style clothing, which along with the music and the dance allowed the viewers to form a connection with the performance. However, the most exhilarating part of their performance was captured in the backdrop. The shadows of the wacky dances on the backdrop, created a second, equally as entertaining show. At the end of the performance, members of Gallim Dance received a well-deserved standing ovation; not one person in the full house was seated.

Vistaar by Mahavi Mudgal was a tremendous display of attention to detail, and Indian culture. It wasn’t the most entertaining performance, but it was very well done. All five dancers worked together as an extremely cohesive unit. Throughout the dance they were arranged in tightly knit patterns, and didn’t spread across the stage. Each one of their movements was in synch, including the stomps, and their intricate hand movements. Their attention to detail was stunning. Indian culture was exhibited through every aspect of the performance, from the music to the costumes. They wore Indian saris, which is a traditional dress for Indian women. The music that they were dancing to was predominately vocal, with the tabla (Indian drum) and sitar providing the background beat; this captured the qualities of classical Indian music. Focus and collaborative work made their premier a worthwhile watch.

The finale, The Golden Section, performed by Miami City Ballet was a sensational display of ballet. They were probably the most talented dancers in the performance, and they showed their talents with fast paced dancing, and executing countless spins and acrobatic lifts. In the background, the music sounded like it was from an aerobics workout video. However, I can’t lie, it was extremely catchy. From their golden attire, to their fast dancing, The Golden Section was truly a golden finale.

Fall for Dance is a must watch for all those who have the slightest passion for dance. It provides the audience with a wide array of entertaining dances. All of the performances were unique, and could stand alone, but Fall for Dance meshes them together to establish a fabulous viewing experience.

In 2006, my mom’s three siblings got engaged and the news brought a whirlwind of excitement, anticipation and family drama. I thought that attending three weddings in one year would be thrilling, but my aunts and uncle thought otherwise. As the three set to resolve the issue of who was going to get married when, my family waited anxiously to see what they had settled on. As I discussed the matter with my sister, I asked her why they couldn’t all just get married the following year, as each couple had originally planned. “Well, duh,” she replied, “three weddings and one family? Don’t you think they’d all explode or something?” I digested her comment and realized it was probably impractical to clump them all in the same year. After all, planning a wedding and the stresses of in laws can drive not only the bride and the groom insane, but their families as well. While my sister’s logic seemed to make sense, I soon discovered that my aunts and uncle had another reason for their different wedding dates. “Sukob” was the term that explained it all. Apparently, there was a Filipino superstition that if one gets married the same year as another immediate family member, both parties will experience terrible luck, leading to great misfortunes, such as death. When one of my aunts first explained it to me, I could not get myself to believe her. This sounded like absolute rubbish. My aunt could tell that I was not convinced, so she showed me a movie called Sukob, which meant “wedding curse.” Though it was a bit frightening, and showed a series of unexplainable tragedies in the lives of two siblings who got married in the same year, I wasn’t buying it. Whatever the truth may be, I suppose I am just thankful that I have no reason to believe that any of my family members are cursed …

“The North side uses more butter, the South side actually uses more oil.”

Wait, what? I looked up from my computer up at my friend Frankie, cooking pan in hand.

“Oh, Italy?” Well, duh. I wasn’t exactly on my A-game, at midnight with a four page paper due in the morning. I dipped my finger absentmindedly in the jar of Nutella I had conveniently moved away from the cook.

“Yeah. Most people think that oil is the biggest ingredient in all Italian foods, but it’s totally not. In the North side, they actually only use butter. I don’t know, it’s something to do with the seasons. But crepes are French, so I don’t even know why it matters.”

I had no idea where they were from, or what they were made of, or why we were really even eating them. By the bottom of the Nutella jar, I had lost an hour and gained only one introductory paragraph to my essay. But, I learned something new. I looked around the kitchen from my white, food stained counter throne, and smiled to myself. And what did I spy but an Irish girl from Brooklyn who knows diddly-squat about cooking; a Russian girl from everywhere whose experience with Italian food stops at spaghetti; an Italian-Puerto Rican girl from the-middle-of-nowhere, Upstate whose cooking preference is primarily easy mac; and an Italian from Staten Island with cooking pan in hand and an endless stream of cooking remedies and anecdotes. All assembled for the common goal: procrastination. And on our path to procrastination, we actually found something interesting.

Also, we found out how FANTASTIC crepes are at one in the morning.

It felt as though a rock was blocking my windpipe. I gasped for air as the sweltering summer afternoon showed us its wrath.  It was so hot that you could fry an egg on the concrete. “I can’t play anymore,” my cousin blurted out, as he stood hunched over in the deserted Cedar Grove Playground.  My cousin had brought me to the park to play basketball, and although he was much older than me, I had told him I wouldn’t leave until I beat him.  After my fourth straight loss, I considered giving in, but decided to play one more. He snickered and told me that we were going to make it a short one.  In the fifth game I played with gusto, and I made the right decisions, leading myself to victory. Although I won, I wasn’t satisfied because I felt that he let me win; I’d rather have lost, than have him hand me a win.

A couple of years later, as I sat outside of the conference room, waiting to be called to make a pitch for the creation of the Socioeconomic Sports Club, I kept thinking of the games against my cousin.   To a certain degree it was like a déjà vu experience.  I had failed several times in achieving the desired result in both situations.  This was going to be my third pitch to the student government and faculty members, regarding the creation of the Socioeconomic Sports Club.  As I walked into the conference room, I remembered that just last month, a mere two people out of this same group were in support for the foundation of my proposed club. “Why even bother to present, they’re going to reject it anyways?” I thought to myself.   Thoughts like this raced uncontrollably in my head, but I maintained my composure and presented.

In my presentation, I covered all the concerns that the skeptics had previously brought up, such as having an educational purpose to the club.  I had created a vibrant and informative PowerPoint relating the impact of steroids on Major League Baseball, covering aspects such as inflated statistics, game attendance, and impact on revenue.  After the presentation, I surveyed the room, and I felt an aura of satisfaction amongst the judges.  My proposed club was passed on a close eight to seven vote.

“ I just wanted to let you know that I admire your persistence, and that is a reason why I’m voting for the formation of this Sports Club,” said the principal, Mr. Bonamo as I was leaving.

I was happy that the club had been approved, but my satisfaction vanished, as I felt that the only reason he passed my club was because of the fact that I was showing up every month for the meetings.  Later that day I called my cousin to tell him about what the principal had said.  He quickly downplayed my belief, saying that it wasn’t the case.

“Today made me feel like the time you let me beat you in basketball” I told my cousin. “ I mean, I achieved my goal, but I feel as if it was handed to me.”

“What?!” he hollered over the phone.  “I would never let you win. You won fair and square.  Just because you are persistent, doesn’t mean people give in to you.  Your persistence is serving you well; in basketball you played smarter and smarter each game until you beat me, and I’m sure you did the same with each presentation.  Have some confidence in your abilities, because there is no way someone will give in to you.  Your effort will improve your capabilities.”

Ever since that conversation, I’ve become more confident in my persistent nature, because I know it will help me improve in every facet, including sports and education.   While serving as president of this club, I became a better leader, and also became a better organizer.  Also through the club, I’ve discovered that due to my passion and extensive knowledge of sports, and the business that surrounds it, my ultimate career goal is to indulge in the sports business world.  One day I hope to be a general manager of a professional sports franchise, and I know that if I remain determined, and believe in my abilities and effort, one day I might just be known as a GM.