27 Apr N 0 D A Y

I am not a liar. I brought this post into existence to stand as a testament to my claim. I mentally agreed to author this post as I scrambled for a backstory to legitimize my unsolicited appearance at Manhattan’s luxurious Grand Hyatt for the 2014 NYU Alumni Awards. I was trying to get inside this formal event to see my friend, Alex Spears, perform with the Men’s Glee Choir. When I arrived all the guests were seated at numbered tables dressed in suits and ties (and the female equivalents). I, on the contrary, was clad in jeans, vans, and a $1 dollar store cap. I walked into the ballroom and boldly claimed an unoccupied seat.

“For what purpose would a guy in street wear be seated next to formally dressed NYU graduates?” I asked myself as the lovely folks seated around the table looked at me with an expression that indicated their minds were loading up their introductions with inquisitory ammo. As I shake their hands the lady seated to my left (the University Development Chief Of Staff for NYU) inquires about what connections brought me to this banquet. My moral compass wildly spun in circles. Aware of the forthcoming birth of this blog I felt the only legitimate and honest answer was to respond: “I’m a reporter for noday.co, I’m doing a piece on the men’s glee choir.” The table’s inhabitants bought my story and I was officially granted unspoken authorization and approval to remain in the seat that I had boldly claimed as my own. As I received the green light I simultaneously called for the waiter and requested that I could substitute the meal in front of me (herb crusted filet mignon) for the vegetarian option that was prophesied on the pamphlet in my seat. When the waiter agreed I knew that my presence would not be questioned further.

As I remedied my hungry gut with a rapid consumption of my successfully acquired vegetarian plate, I wondered if my actions reeked of imposter. Were the people seated at the table suspicious of me? Could they sense that just an hour prior I had yanked my sweaty, half naked body out of my sleeping bag and out the door of my cheap and crowded Brooklyn apartment just in time to catch the train to Grand Central Station? If the NYU Alumni couldn’t tell, the waiters most definitely could, they usually can at these types of things. They serve thousands of well-to-do guests a month and can quite efficiently smell the phonies out. Maybe it’s the velocity with which I inhaled my meal, or maybe it was my sly consumption of the un-eaten roasted apple crisp sitting in the vacant seat next to me. Whatever it was they knew, they always do, and they subtly signal their displeasure with serving one of their own kind, and understandably so. Why should they be required to serve me? Without a doubt they maintain a steadier gig than me and are undoubtedly the more grizzled veterans of the punishing maw of the day-to-day grind. I always try to reconcile this dissonance with my hyper politeness and occasional comic relief.

What was it that had me believing I could walk into an upscale ballroom in the middle of Manhattan and claim a seat and a meal and not spend the night in jail? “The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.” The realization that you are the force that dictates the majority of your outcomes could be one of the most transformative revelations. With this notion on the table, the question takes shape: “what are you going to do with yourself?” or maybe the question that must be answered first is “what can you do with yourself?” That question is exactly why NODAY exists.

Not because we are anything special or have any outstanding talent, quite the opposite really. I am just a dude with no particular advantage in life, no any remarkable looks, no profitable talents. These kinds of deficiencies would drag down most of my contemporaries but secretly they have acted as a guiding light for my true potential. I’ve spent a lot of years trying to compensate for the shortcomings that I felt made me inferior to other males my age, but as my war for restitution raged I stopped to analyze my location. I pulled out the map and my compass. I added my coordinates and saw something peculiar. I pulled out my binoculars and intently looked behind on the trail I had been walking since my metamorphosis had begun. There like little specks of sand way off in the distance I spotted the star athletes, the chick magnets, and the braniacs: society’s chosen ones, far behind where I was at. I had in my possession a much more desirable life than the former champions of elementary. A more attractive offer than the heavy hitters from high school. A more promising future than the thrashers in college. I had surpassed those that society said were superior to me. Not because I had grown the traits that I had once lacked, but because I had conjured the energy and motivation to leverage the traits I did posess to their fullest and wield a conquering hand that couldn’t be matched. “Life is not always a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.” I am still far from where I want to be, from where I could be. The saying that “youth is wasted on the young” scares me out of my slumber. I wake up every morning swinging and thrashing for my chance. “We are born with a chance, and I am gonna have my chance.” How far can I stretch. To what lengths can I reach. What am I gonna do to get there? How far can I take myself? Those of you ahead of me, teach me your ways, those of you behind: I’ll share what little I know. No day like today.

Oh also, to complete my necessary obligations: Alex’s glee choir was spectacular. They sang the NYU fight song to a crowd of 500 people which included the man forbes said was one of the most influential scienteists in the world and Jackie robinson’s wife. Great job alex, and great food to the Grand Hyatt caterers!