Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 92

“It was simple. So easy to get. I just typed my information...

“It was simple.  So easy to get.  I just typed my information into a website, and was immediately approved.  I thought: ‘Here I go, I’m doing it, this is going to be great.’  The loans seemed like an investment.  According to the law school brochure, which turned out to be lies, I’d be making six figures when I graduated.  I thought the payments would be manageable.  Just another bill.  Like the phone bill.  I first knew I was in trouble after I got my first job, and well over half my income went toward payments.  I kept falling behind, calling some agency, and working out patches and fixes.  That dynamic lasted for years.  It was incredibly stressful.  Things have slowly gotten better, but then again, the debts have gotten larger as well.  My husband has them too.  They keep us where we are.  We’d like to move.  We’d like to own a house.  We’d like to do things.  But we just can’t.  We’re not sure if we want to have children.  But I feel like the debt keeps us from having clarity.  We need to be in a secure place to make that choice.  But I also know that if I don’t decide, nature will make the choice for me.  It’s not all bad.  My husband is an adorable teddy bear.  I made great friends in law school.  I adopted an amazing dog.  And I do enjoy my job.  I just wish I could go back and tell myself: ‘Girl, that’s a lot more than you think it is.’”

“When the relationship failed, it felt like I had failed. Being...

“When the relationship failed, it felt like I had failed.  Being a good girlfriend had been so important to me, and I couldn’t succeed at the one thing I put all my energy into.  Admittedly I was a very codependent partner, which is something I’m working on. Even after we broke up, I still hung out with him all the time. He saw it as a casual thing, but I was still looking for the validation of being wanted. I felt so lost.  All of my life plans had been contingent on the relationship.  Finally I moved back to New York, which is where I grew up. At the time it seemed like giving up. I moved in with my parents. My confidence was low.  I didn’t think I’d be able to find a job.  I went through all the motions but I felt like I was faking it. There was a voice in my head telling me that I didn’t deserve any of the jobs I was applying for. But after months of searching, I just got hired last Friday.  I’m going to be a trauma therapist at a victims’ services agency. It’s exactly what I wanted to be doing with my degree. It feels like the start of something. And that’s exactly what I needed.  Before coming home, everything felt haunted and attached to him.  But up here, everything is completely mine: my job, my schedule, my surroundings.  Even coming to Grand Central is something I used to do as a kid, and I’m doing it now, and I’ll continue to do it.  It’s connected to my history.  And it’s a part of me.  And it has nothing to do with him.”

“We were moving downstate. My wife and daughters went ahead and...

“We were moving downstate.  My wife and daughters went ahead and I stayed behind to pack up the house.  The accident happened on Mother’s Day, so I was already feeling guilty that I wasn’t with them.  Their car stopped at a drawbridge and they were rear-ended by a distracted driver.  Knocked them forty yards onto the bridge.  They’re lucky they didn’t end up in the water.  I thought it was just a fender bender.  My daughters were fine, and my wife sent me a selfie to show that she was OK.  But then the swelling came.  And the next day she was completely black and blue.  It was a traumatic brain injury.  She’s better now, but she still gets very tired.  Sometimes it can hurt for her to carry on long conversations.  She’s been unable to work.  The insurance companies have been fighting us.  So it’s been a tough couple years.  But recently I started a cider business with my friend Steve.  It was a huge risk.  I’d never done anything like it, and there was always so much to do: picking apples, labeling, bottling, capping.  Some of the apples we grew ourselves, but we’d also find these abandoned orchards with wild, craggy, arthritic trees.  We’d literally pick tons of apples, take them to this turn-of-the-century cider mill, and watch them get pressed into juice.  Then we’d bottle the cider once spring came around, and I’d drive into the city to sell at markets.  We’ve sold hundreds of cases.  The response has been unbelievable.  It’s the most fun I’ve ever had.  It’s exhilarating.  But then I think about my wife, and I get the blues again.  It’s like my mind is at war.  I get sad because I’m away from home so often.  There’s a lot of driving involved.  But my wife says she understands.  She says that it’s good for me.”

“I was in my fourth year of owning my own interior design...

“I was in my fourth year of owning my own interior design business.  Things were beginning to click.  I was finally hitting that sweet spot where after so many years of putting myself out there, business was starting to come to me.  I don’t one hundred percent remember the wreck.  I just remember driving to work, being hit from the side, and ending up in oncoming traffic.  I still haven’t fully recovered.  I had headaches for months.  I was sensitive to light and noise.  I got tired easily.  Some days I couldn’t even get out of bed.  And my business began to suffer.  I was forced to turn down offers, and each time I did, it felt like the opportunity would never come again.  Everything I’d worked for seemed to be slipping away.  I got mad at myself for not recovering faster.  I tried to push through the pain.  One morning I decided I was going to write an article, and take my daughter to play dates, and be home in time to cook dinner.  By the end of the day my head was going crazy.  My body was no longer willing to keep up with my drive.  I’ve always been a ‘yes’ person: student council, president of clubs, always one more thing.  But that isn’t working for me right now.  I’ve had to learn that the pain isn’t a weakness.  It’s a real injury.  And it needs time.  My current mantra is ‘do what you can.’  My only goal is to become a healthy mother, wife, and friend.  Today I’m meeting a friend from New Jersey.  And we’re just going to chill.”

“I was the only black girl in my sorority. I don’t even know...

“I was the only black girl in my sorority.  I don’t even know why I rushed.  I think I was inspired by ‘Saved By The Bell: The College Years.’  I pictured sleepovers, and nail painting, and close friends that you could share secrets with.  I imagined that once you became a sister, these things would just materialize.  But it doesn’t really work like that.  My pledge name was Eeyore.  I didn’t talk much.  I didn’t smile.  I always assumed people were thinking negative things, about my weight, or my clothes, or my hair.  I joined the sorority to feel like part of a community, but I mainly just felt black.  One time my sisters tried to set me up with the one black guy at another fraternity.  And once I was wearing a French maid’s costume, and somebody asked if I was Aunt Jemima.  I couldn’t seem to make any close friends.  Nobody really included me in things, or opened up to me.  And I always attributed it to my race.  It’s what I always assumed.  But now I’m not so sure.  Maybe I could have been more social.  Maybe I could have made more of an effort.  People don’t automatically want to spend time with you, and I wasn’t the friendliest person.  So it’s hard to tell: what was race, and what was me.”

“My parents used to live on a farm in a rural area of Costa...

“My parents used to live on a farm in a rural area of Costa Rica, but there were no schools nearby.  So they moved us to the city.  They could only afford a small house made of wood.  I was the youngest of eight children, and we split three bedrooms between us.  All of us couldn’t even fit at the kitchen table, so we had to eat breakfast in shifts.  We shared everything: school supplies, books, bicycles.  One Christmas we got a single pair of roller-skates for eight kids.  Adolescence was the most difficult.  My mother would sew our clothes from the same piece of cloth.  And I started to want a little privacy, but instead we’re sharing perfume, and shampoo, and deodorant.  But all the sharing brought us closer.  Everyone helped each other.  We had no choice.  When the oldest kids began to work, they paid for the younger ones’ studies.  All of us eventually went to college and became professionals.  When my mother passed away, she asked me to keep everyone together.  We have a WhatsApp group where we chat everyday, even if just to say good morning and good night.  Or to discuss ways to help my Dad.  Here’s a picture of everyone at his 90th birthday.  He still lives in the same house we grew up in, but we added a second story.  There are four more rooms now.  But whenever we get together, we still have to take turns at the kitchen table.”

“My whole life was denial until the divorce. I always had a...

“My whole life was denial until the divorce.  I always had a script that I followed, probably handed down from my mother.  Always be cheerful.  Always have a smile or a joke.  Insist that everything is great, or will be better soon.  Be likable, which is different than lovable.  And parties, parties, parties, I was always the hostess.  Because the hostess never has to expose herself.  Always bringing other people together: ‘Let’s sit Margaret next to Susan because they both went through this or that.’ Never mind what I might have been through.  Or who I am.  Not that I’d know who I am.  Because that takes time.  And the hostess is too busy keeping things bubbly and effervescent.  When the party’s over, there’s only time to sleep.  And I don’t remember my dreams.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner for eight this evening.”

“I’ve been dancing ever since I was a little girl. But college...

“I’ve been dancing ever since I was a little girl.  But college seemed like the natural order of things, so I went to Michigan State and got my bachelor’s degree in education.  After that I taught for five years in Detroit public schools. I enjoyed teaching. But I always knew that I wanted to be dancing full time.  On the weekends I’d perform in off-Broadway shows and little showcases. I was also dancing for the Detroit Lions.  But they didn’t even let us dance on the field.  We had our own little section in the stands.  I had friends who’d skipped college and focused entirely on dancing.  Some of them got jobs with major artists, and I started seeing them on TV.  I wanted that life.  But I knew it would require leaving Detroit.  And I just wasn’t ready. But then came the Beyoncé Formation World Tour. June 14th, 2016. Ford Field. I was sitting just above ground level, stage right.  And there was this moment during the song ‘Freedom,’ where all the dancers were dancing in water, and it was so beautiful.  I just remember sitting down in my seat, and thinking: ‘I can do this.’ The following Monday I told my boss that I’d be moving to New York.  I’ve been here for almost a year now. I’m tutoring and teaching to pay the rent. I was hoping to have a manager or agent by now, but it’s so competitive.  I’ve been to auditions with 400 people competing for five slots.  And everyone is so talented that the distinctions become so small: your body type, what you wear, how you wear your hair.  Things can seem out of your control.  But I’ve had some success. I danced at the Ladies of Hip Hop Festival.  I’ve gotten to final callbacks for Lion King, Mean Girls, Cats, and Motown the Musical.  So I know I have the talent. I know that I’m close. It’s like a carrot dangling in front of me. This year my goal is to have one significant performance.  And my ultimate goal is to dance on a world tour.  With any major artist, especially Beyoncé.

“It happened at 8 pm, Monday, May 12th, 2014. I was driving...

“It happened at 8 pm, Monday, May 12th, 2014.  I was driving home with my boyfriend. I noticed a car coming into our lane so I swerved into three trees.  I almost died and completely destroyed a vertebra. I slept in a hospital bed for three months. I had to learn to walk again.  Even today my back requires a lot of maintenance.  It’s like an engine without oil. It grinds. It flares up. I actually just finished getting X-rays because it’s been a bad week.  But I take a lot of pride in how independent I’ve become despite the disability. Much more so than before the injury. I finally left Long Island and moved to the city. I’ve taken my health into my own hands, which is huge for me.  I have doctor appointments every day this week, but in a good way. I’m being proactive about my health. I can’t do high impact exercises, but I’m weightlifting a lot. And I’m traveling. Next month I’m going to Sri Lanka and India.  The sixteen-hour plane ride is going to be brutal, but it’s important for me. I don’t want to have any barriers. A couple years ago I went on a five day trek in Patagonia.  It was completely off the grid.  Just me, my sister, and my map.  My mother was terrified. It was my first major travel since the accident. And there’s no satellite reception, so if you hurt yourself, you’re done. But I was determined. I didn’t want my sister to leave me behind.  So I exercised every day for six weeks. I bought some hiking sticks and supportive shoes.  I carried 60 lbs of supplies on my back. Each day we hiked eight miles. I brought five pieces of chocolate, one for each day we finished. At night I’d rest my back. The last day was the hardest. We covered sixteen miles and climbed the highest summit. I kept trying to talk myself out of it. I was stopping every 50 feet.  I told my sister to keep going, but she stayed with me. And we finally got to the top. It wasn’t very cinematic. There was so much fog you couldn’t see a thing. But it was a huge deal for me. And I got to eat my last piece of chocolate.”

“She was ‘The Grandma.’ She worked as the head nurse at St....

“She was ‘The Grandma.’  She worked as the head nurse at St. James hospital.  She owned her own house.   I lived with her up until the sixth grade.  We’d have these long conversations every night.  And every morning she’d make a ball of coconut for me to bring to school.  She was the most consistent thing in my life.  Even after Mom got mixed up in drugs, Grandma paid to keep our phone on.  She paid to keep our lights on.  She checked my grades and sent me to after-school programs.  She even bought me my first computer.  It was made especially for me, big tower, lots of lights.  It kept me off the street for months.  Grandma was the only person who ever took me out of the state.  We went to theme parks.  We went to water parks.  Once she even took me to the Bahamas for four days.  Most of my friends had never even left the block.  I did get mixed up in the streets for a while.  Grandma was upset when I dropped out of high school, but she still did her best to keep me level.  She helped me get my GED.  She talked to me about nursing.  She supported me when I joined the military.  I never thought I’d be where I am today.  I’m working construction.  I recently joined the union.  Everything is because of her.  She’s the only woman who’s name I have tattooed on my body.“