A little while back, I was selected as a featured artist at the
First Person Arts Salon. First Person Arts has a mission of transforming the drama of real life into memoir and documentary art to foster appreciation for our unique and shared experience.
The kind folks at First Person Arts wanted to know why I decided to choose animation as my original medium, move onto writing, and then juggle live performances for my series "American Goulash". After all, the medium is the message!
I was honored to answer their call, and threw in some funny stories and cartoons in with the mix. Enjoy!
(This is the final installment of New York, New York)
I stood on the corner for an eternity and listened to the hum of New York City. A wave of relief washed over me as the all-familiar flashing lights came up the street. I walked into the street to flag the police car down, but a few taxi cabs drives got excited and immediately pulled up next to where I was standing. I shook my head and tried to shoo them away.
“No, no, I don’t need to go anywhere, I need the police, I-“
“Police? Is someone hurt?” a random jaywalking lady asked.
“No, nothing like that, there were these kids with fruit and-" I stopped because I sounded crazy. I wondered whether or not I should have gotten involved. Was I making too big of a deal? Did this stuff happen in New York all the time?
“Hey, Steph!” A familiar voice said from behind me. I spun around to see one of the people in my group. “I’ve been looking for you, what the heck is going on?”
A crowd had quickly formed around me and the police car started to travel past...
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My mother gave me a call a few weeks ago, "I heard you vaz gonna be in town tomorrow. You vant to go to the Buffet?"
"Actually, I'm not passing through Piscataway, Anyu. I'm heading straight to New York City to see my friend's gallery show."
"Oh, noooo! New York is dangerous!"
"I've been to New York a zillion times. I'll be fine."
"Didn't Anita get mugged last time she was in New York?"
"First of all, that was TEN YEARS AGO. And you are incorrect. She was in Piscataway at the time. See? I'm safe in the City while all you scaredy cats in the suburbs get held up for your hoagies."
(read about the mugging here)
"Make sure you vear your glasses so you can see if somevon is mugging you."
"Anyu, I can see perfectly fine without glasses, I wear contacts."
"I hate dose tings! Your eyes need to breathe more. Promise to vear you glasses."
"Fine, I'll wear my glasses."
"Vell, just be careful. Are you brinking a man vit you for protection?"
I groaned.
The next day, my friends and I took the train in to New York and I could not stop thinking about delicious New York...
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The Annual New Jersey
Hungarian Festival occurs the furst weekend of June in New Brunswick. As much as I am looking forward to having a little bit of fresh
lángos with powdered sugar, I always get worried when I take my family to public events. I already mentioned the whole ordeal concerning "
The Secret Language" but sometimes, Nagymama's actions speak louder than her words.
Every time we attend the festival, we always make sure to stop at the Athletic Club around dinner time to sit down and enjoy truckloads of stuffed cabbage, kielbasa, and other Hungarian goodies. We usually all sit down at the long rows of tables while we eat so we could enjoy a free performance from the talented Hungarian Folk dancers. One time, we were so enamored by what was happening on stage that no one noticed when Nagymama wandered away.
It wasn't until I heard the table next to us laughing hysterically that we even noticed that she was gone. Apparently, she quietly strolled over to another table, grabbed a bottle of Hungarian "Bull's Blood" wine from in front of a...
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