Archive for Change

The End

And in the end, the love you take
Is equal to the love you make

Dan,

Today marks the first time that this name has felt like a weight to write down, not because it’s your name but because writing it feels incredibly final. I delayed finishing this entry as long as possible because there is so much I wish I could say but I don’t want to walk away from this project feeling as if a question was left unanswered. I want it to feel heartfelt and concise, because that’s the imprint the blog is leaving in my life.

This collaboration affected me more than I thought possible, I shared more than I ever intended and became more attached to this link of our friendship than I ever considered possible. We are better friends because of this and I think we can see ourselves more clearly when we reread our own words. What surprises me most though, is that I no longer hide from the hard moments.

T2C allowed me to have an outlet to voice my frustrations with myself and the world around me. It gave me a place to confess fears and hopes and it created a space where I finally acknowledged the pain I have felt and where I wanted to go from there. I am in no way done growing but I am more ready to acknowledge my own vices than I have ever been before.

This blog saw us through two years of consistent growth and lessons learned, it made us honest with what we wanted out of life and in collaboration. We became more patient and open to constructive criticism so we could create something we could look upon and be proud of.

I know our conversation isn’t over, it’s just changing focus and I know that when it comes down to it, your support will not stop when our project is completed. We’ve been through a lot, and you know more about me than most. In the future, we will share victories, obstacles and joyful moments so I choose to mark this as the first dog-eared page in our saga.

No amount of verbose language could properly describe that appreciation I have towards you for helping with the creation of something so completely personal. So I offer you my thanks and my love for saying yes to me that morning in Grand Central Station, though we were stationary in that moment it felt like our journey began.

Planning the next adventure,

Adair

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Happy Trails

Dear Adair,

I find myself lacking the ability to begin a paragraph today. I’ve done this enough times in my life. I do this daily. Tens or hundreds of thousand of paragraphs later and I am stalled. I can’t think where to begin this end. How do you start a goodbye?

When we (unsurprisingly) unanimously brought up the end date for this project, the date seemed symmetrical and convenient. September makes sense since that is when we began. But as the month has come and gone, it has been remarkably challenging to write these final pieces. The deed seems so much more weighted, even though we are beyond practiced at it at this point. But still the end seemed to add stakes to a very low risk idea. These letters between friends became final thoughts in a conversation that has lasted all night but you still cannot end even as the sun begins to rise.

But end it must. The limits to the format and the range of topics we are willing to explore here is becoming clear. New projects have hijacked the creativity this project began to stoke. And like so many productions and rituals from our lives, this too must end.

I’m proud of this blog. It made me write every week, it made me more practiced and made me work at something only for its own sake. I’m pleased that the outcome could be consistent and as polished as we could get it. And I’m glad that the works created were of great enough impact and interest to us to start a second writing endeavor and began plans for others still. The spark it fanned will not be dying in the near future.

But real gain from Tales from Two Cities was not the habitual writing, but the exploration of a friendship. Through all the new discoveries, forgotten connections, hurt feelings, and perceived digital pressure, we know each other better for having embarked on this together. We have shared family history, hidden passions, cursed our shortcomings, and rallied behind our creative strives. Working together on this made the apathy of long distance friendship impossible. We had to talk, and share, and grow. With new works coming together, I know we can be sure of this continued growth as writers and people.

I’d like to say thank you for suggesting we do this. I feel more involved in your life and more connected as an artist because of this. In fact, the community I’ve felt from working with you has rippled out to every corner of my creative life. For your impact, your editing and your friendship, I thank you.

For the last time, but not the last time,

-Danimg_5123

Maybe This Time

Adair,

It’s odd how January never seems like the new year to me. I’ve mentioned how my birthday is usually my marker for the beginning of a new year, both because July is a more optimistic time than the dead of winter, and it’s in line with my inflated ego to reorient the calendar around me. But there are other moments, my anniversary, the beginning of the school year, and Christmas that also make me pause and think about the year past and the year ahead.

If I had to look ahead right now, I’d be thinking about another year in New York. Another fall that just makes me feel like I’m in When Harry Met Sally, a winter that snows us in just once, a spring that begs for pictures in parks, and another summer sweating in the subway and longing for relief.

The next year is going to see a lot of new projects, and a push like never before to create things on my terms. Working with you has opened me up to working with other partners, and those relationships are beginning to blossom into new ventures that may well be “the project.”

Another year will bring another year of marriage and the wonderful joys and inevitable hurts of a life long partnership. We are also striving to create together, which brings us back to the army days of our friendship working together. This summer’s production of The Last Five Years reminded me of the importance of our creative connection and what beautiful richness that adds to our lives.

My apartment is changing layout and design, I’m changing my diet, having a car is changing our transportation, and the relationships in my life keep changing the creative means I have at my disposal. The next year is going to be one for the record books, no matter how it all turns out.

But why am I looking ahead in the middle of September? What marks this as a moment of reflection and resolve? I’m giving pause right now because in a year we won’t be writing these letters. At the end of this month, we will be finished with this project and moving on to another. I won’t begin to tackle what that means in this letter, but I know that whatever comes next, we’ll still be bothering each other about it every week.

Same time next year?

-Dan

The Laws Have Changed

Dan,

I found myself at work the other day, explaining what podcasts are to my boss. It was at that moment that I realized how much I have to learn about something I help in the weekly production of. Like writing poetry and blogging, podcasting is an ever-modifying way to share and express part of you and like so many things I endeavor to do, I’m learning as I go along.

In the last few months I’ve undertaken the production of a podcast and starting this month I will add more production time to my already impressively booked calendar. But like writing, each project is different and already I love the new things I have to learn from one of my favorite collaborative partners.

I will be sad when our emails and text threads are no longer filled with what we want to explore with the blog. I will miss having the weekly expectation to put a page of words down that show some semblance of coherent thought, but all good things come to an end.

I already see evidence of new and exciting discussions to come by simply glancing at my inbox. I love the writing and rewriting of ideas, the demolition and reconstruction of potential outlines. It shows me that whether we blog, wax poetic or record our meandering conversation; we understand some idea of what one another is trying to accomplish.

All of this revelation reminds me of the early days before we wrote to each other, the days where we just talked at length about whatever came to mind. Of course we’ve learned to be more structured since then, the stability and growth in our own lives helped us become more lucid writers. But I’m ready to transfer those skills into a new medium and I excited that you’ll be on the other end of the line.

There are still things to do; stories to share and deadlines to meet but I am thrilled to have our podcast to look forward to. It makes the ending of this chapter feel less final.

Googling “how do you define a podcast,”

Adair