B(ack)logging: the weekend & what have you

So, I've been trying to be diligent about posting regularly and keeping this thing updated, but lately, I'm wondering what it's purpose is. I first approached it as a personal diary, but this blog is out for public judgment and I'm a generally private individual who's not interested in becoming less private... but it feels good to express my thoughts and ideas candidly (I've kept a journal of some sort since I was in elementary school)... but I've felt the sting of private thoughts exposed and secrets revealed. To be honest, I am not expressing myself fully in these entries. I would really love to post all the truly awful things that float around in my head. But I have no idea who reads this blog and I feel that it wouldn't really be in the best interest of anyone, especially myself, to rant and rave haphazardly about my life. So, what is the purpose of this blog? I guess to have a record to refer to that won't get lost (I tend to lose my journals regularly).

Onward. Many things to discuss:

It was Phil's birthday on Friday. I didn't call. I didn't go to his gigs. I was bummed, but I had a great weekend avoiding thoughts of him. Lenée was in town belatedly celebrating her berfday at Bembe. I passed through for a about an hour and headed home at around 11p, which was a shame because her peoples were so cool and had it not been for my 8:35 train the next morning, I would have enjoyed their company for a little while longer. There was one girl I really connected with. I can't remember her name, but I'm gonna try to get in touch with her. She lives in Philly and doesn't have a network page, but I added her to my mailing list so she can have an excuse to come back to New York soon :) I really am proud of myself for going out. I let loose without the aid of alcohol and I truly enjoyed myself. I picked up some Dumpling Man on the way up to Penn Station as a reward and promptly polished off 10 of those chicken jawns before my transfer at Jamaica :)

Saturday was a completely perfect day. I finagled my way into a six-hour teaching workshop with Urban Bush Woman that was so unbelievably valuable! I made some great new friends and I feel more prepared to consider an education in Dance Education. I finished all my prep work for Monday CPU in just a few hours and had time for a little online shopping on Etsy (I'm obsessed with this site!).

Sunday was a cold and I tried to do everything. I got some errands done. I finally trimmed my ends, about an inch everywhere. My fro looks much healthier now. I'm planning on putting twists in as soon as this apprenticeship is over and I have the time to work for the money to pay for it (:P). Then I went into the city to take class at DNA -- yoga with Constanza who is beautiful and powerful and has great smile. I recommend her. I then went to see ABT at City Center which was both annoying and inspiring. The first ballet, a Tudor work, had me nodding off through most of it. I haven't been so bored at a show since that LA incident (You don't wanna know... Ugh!). The corps was so unimpressive and the movement so dull, I considered walking out right then. But the next piece seemed much more promising. The Lar Lubavitch work starring Julie Kent was breathtaking. Kent is absolutely electrifying, though the corps, again, was seriously, remarkably boring. I don't get it. You're in the nation's top ballet company. How's about a little umph!? Capped the night off with a double order of Dumpling Man, seven of which were in my belly before my Jamaica transfer. What can I say, those things do something to me.

Now at some point this weekend, Phil called and left a message. I have a habit of forgetting my promises to myself. Sometimes, I can't remember why I need to be disciplined about some things. Like in this instance, I've spent a good part of today playing with the idea of returning his call, seeing him again and justifying it to myself by saying that this will be the absolute very last time that I see that man. And then, then, then I'm done. For sure. But that's what I always say and I always feel like a fool in the end, because it's the affection and the attention that I really crave. I think, I'm not that fond of sex, actually. What I love is the feeling of being wanted and feeling irreplaceable, which is what I feel in the few hours that we're together, but then that fades when we part ways the next afternoon and I don't hear from him for weeks. The whole thing's out of balance. He gets exactly what he wants and I trick myself into thinking that making him happy makes me happy, which is a lie and a nontruth!

I don't want to call him. I want a relationship. I want a boyfriend. I want consistency and effing consideration! And I know deep in my heart that this man is not able to give me what I want and I'm cheating myself by letting him just do whatever the hell he wants with me and my emotions. Bump that mess! I'm done. For reals.

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