Student Blog: Somewhere Between Here and Hell's Kitchen

This summer was the first school break when I left the house every single day—not because I was clawing my way out of a depressive slump, but because I finally started living a life beyond school. That’s probably a good thing… right? My default has always been to sprint home and collapse on the couch, but I think I’ve just gotten used to being switched "on" all semester. Now, my "normal" includes actually wanting to be around other people (shocking, I know) and, occasionally, leaving my bed and my OBSESSED! With Seth Rudetsky binge.

I’m currently a junior at a high school where the academic expectations are low—and the students’ spirits are, well, equally elevated. I like to think it hasn’t given me a superiority complex (fingers crossed), but it does sometimes make me feel like I’m not with mi gente.

At the beginning of high school, I realized I needed friends who actually shared my interests and dreams (think: an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, a fabulous job as a dermatologist, and a hairless cat named Imogene). My support system—my older sister and my best friend—both graduated last year, leaving me adrift and tempted to spend the year hiding behind online classes and reruns of The Nanny. But leaning so heavily on them kept me from connecting with new people. Turns out, being lonely isn’t nearly as hot as Celine Dion makes it sound—especially with my newfound extraversion. And—as much as I sound like my mother—as I opened myself up to new experiences, I naturally opened up to other people and their experiences.

When I’m not buried in Calculus or Physics, I’m constantly scouring Broadway grosses or flipping through my Streisand record collection. At some point, I realized I could either come out as a gay man or make my world big enough to fit all my passions: science, Streisand, and everything in between.

So, I started interning at my local hospital, joined theater class, and applied for this Broadway World writing position. I spent way too much time trying to convince my counselor to help me fit in five AP classes, a couple of dual credits, and a work-based learning class. Doing all of this while filling in the rest of the white space in my calendar with NHS, HOSA, Best Buddies, tennis, choir–oy vey, I think I actually gave her an aneurysm. Still, hairless cats are expensive, so I’m doing all this for Imogene.

In her book The Creative Habit, Twyla Tharp talks about ritualizing the mundane to make space for creativity. For me, it’s a daily Starbucks run—matcha in hand, reading Jesse Green—that makes me feel a little closer to the fabulous, theater-filled life I imagine for myself while I work toward it.

I still gag over my couch and Rudetsky, but I also appreciate the thrill of stepping out of my comfort zone—at least every once in a while.