RE-ALIZE

June 2nd, 2009

(transcribed from the chicken scratch in my notebook)

I'm on a plane to NYC.

Upon arrival, a car service will pick me up and take me to a hotel, then the next day to an undisclosed location: Pure Unadulterated Reality.

There is a woman across the aisle from me twitching slightly in her sleep. The clouds at this altitude are solid below, the way Antarctica looks in my imagination.

I have the window seat and there are what look like tiny fractures in the glass and I think this cannot be good. I sip my Mr. and Mrs. T's Bloody Mary Mix and gaze into my own future.

I know not at all what to expect. I don't watch reality shows. I don't even watch tv.

About a month ago I was browsing the SF Bay Area craigslist and came across an ad for a web-based project-runway style reality show called Concrete + Cashmere. The website offered an online application process for those who couldn't make it to the NY or LA auditions. It was 3am, I was crashing at a friend's house and a little tipsy thanks to the Shady Lady. I filled out their online questionnaire, figuring I had nothing to lose, but not much of a chance at making it on to the show without auditioning. But after a series of emails, scanned documents and the apparently obligatory audition video, the most incredible thing happened: They called me. I was in.

So here I am, expectantly awaiting my month (?) in NYC, all expenses paid, thanks to Alize (which I tried for the first time at my mini going away party two nights ago).

I've never been away from home this long, and I've never traveled anywhere completely by myself for more than a weekend. But this feels good. It feels written in the stars. 

A whole month of getting payed to what I love and getting judged for it and bitched at and my pride hurt and probably brought to tears on camera. Ready or not...