On: The End & New Beginnings

1. I have a confession. When I came home from the opera, I did see Phil. Not very many times. A lot has happened in the last few months and I wasn't really motivated to fight him for his time. But now it's ended. I cried at work yesterday. I surprised myself. I cried because I was sad that after two years of whatever it was we had, I have nothing to show for it but a really harsh lesson. I was never in love. He never wanted more than my ass. And now it's over.

2. I passed my Pilates Final this week. I'm planning to complete my hours by late March and April's Orientation at the Studio will be my last. I'm 224 hours away from my new path!

3. I started a Dance Education Training course a couple of weeks back. It's been really great so far, quite enlightening actually. What I'm learning in the class each week, I've been applying to my TA gig with the Studio's Children & Teen Modern classes. I hoping that at the end of this course, I'll be prepared to teach in the city school system, in arts-in-ed programs, or in after school programs. The course ends in May. I banking on landing a sub or part-time gig at a school for September.

4. Tonight's date didn't happen. He had trouble with his car. I'm trying not to be superstitious about it. We rescheduled for Tuesday.

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attaining a virtue

When there is something really important I need to remember to get done, I will write it somewhere on my hand--less important tasks end up on a to-do list. I want to get the word "patience" tattooed on my hand.

It's been well over a month since I've last posted and so much has happened since, mostly positive: I stood by my word and opened my online vintage shop; I taught two modern Master classes at the studio; I made a lot of money and was able to save a substantial amount of it; my creative juices have been flowing and I feel more in tuned with the Universal Rhythm than I've ever been!

Chizuru invited me to attend an introductory meeting at her temple this afternoon. She is a Buddhist and a member of Soka Gakkai International (SGI). This was my second visit to the temple. I'm always happy to be around Chizuru--she is such a beautiful and inspiring young woman. She embodies so much of what I want to see in myself. It's her patience is what I admire most. Even when someone is nasty to her or she is sad for what ever reason or anything like this, I've never seen her be short with someone or lose her calm, sweet, patient demeanor. She is such a rare and amazing person. What I love so much about her is that with all her beauty, she still knows how to be silly and human.

I want this sort of balance for myself. This idea (and several hundred others) came to mind while I chanted for about an hour over the course of the afternoon. I really struggle with defeating my own ego long enough to let other ideas in.

***SIDE NOTE: My patience is seriously being tested at this very moment. I'm having a conversation with my mother and as usual she finds some way to turn an innocent request for information into an attack on her where she is the victim and I'm the selfish, ungrateful piece of poo. It's takes everything in me to bite my tongue and let her go on and on, jumping from one random unrelated rant to another. I sincerely wish we were better communicators--that we understood each other. The problem is we never talk and when we do, it seems like we make up for it by tossing our individual resentments and struggles into the mix as well. We're starving for that verbal interaction and so we argue to make up for lost time. This argument will remain unresolved and we will continue to live as if there is no tension, until we have to speak to each other again about something. ***

So patience is what I'm chanting for. There are eight days left in this year and I've decided that it's plenty enough time to change my life. I accepted a 7-day challenge this afternoon. I will chant "Nam-myoho-renge-kyo" in the morning and in the evening every day for the next seven days. I will return to SGI to share my experience next weekend. Chizuru has offered to help me by remotely chanting with me the next three days (while the temple is closed for the holiday) and we will meet again on Thursday and Friday at the temple for 7:00 chanting. I believe that I am expected to join, but I'll see how this week goes. I'm always pumped at the beginning of a challenge (Master Cleanse, Yoga Week, jogging schedule, etc.), but my discipline begins to wane soon after. If I become an SGI member before I leave for Haiti, I will continue to chant throughout my journey. I've been connected with an SGI leader who travels to Haiti regularly.

There's so much more to say, but I'm tired now and I would like to go to work in the morning. So good night everyone :)

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I just gave up

There was a lot of quietness, but I said what I needed to and he explained himself. Now I give up. I still know what I want, but I'm settling for something else because I'm tired of being patient. So I give up. He won. I'm the loser in this relationship.

poop.

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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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B(ack)logging: befriending creatives, tightening my circle, losing a legend

I've been away. Inconsiderately neglecting my one and one-half readers, off attempting to live a life worth blogging about. I thought to post separate entries for each of the listed items, but then decided against it after seeing the hour. I have many things to share and if I don't get it all down now, it will fall out of my head.

1) I've been meditating on the idea of finding creative compatibility among the people I know -- liking the people with whom I create and creating with people I like.

My sister and I are polar opposites in just about every respect, but the most distinctive difference between us is in the way we relate to others, our approach to relationships. Jessica is a witty, outgoing, smart, beautiful young woman with exotic, yet friendly features, a carefree attitude, and an wholesome belief that all people have at least some goodness, and so she treats them as such until they show they're figurative asses. She's a typical Libra: magnetic, casual, born to be social. Upon first meeting us, you may immediately notice the stark contrast. I am reserved and slow to initiate or alter the pace, direction, or depth of a relationship on any level -- I am an extreme follower in that respect. I need to have a clear understanding of the association and all possible trajectories as early on as possible, because being unsure makes me uneasy. I'm a “cuspian”, cursed with a double helping of shameful insecurities (bah!): Cancer is severely protective of her soft bits and will crawl into her shell until she feels it's safe to come out; Leo is always questioning, doubting, and it's fear (of rejection, humiliation, exposure) that keeps her away from people she can't easily read, or more accurately, people who read her more quickly. To top that, my looks are unremarkable, generic, vaguely African (Nigerian is the popular assumption these days), resembling a visiting cousin of high school friend many years ago, maybe. I think people find me inaccessible, familiar but not memorable.

Anyway, so I have a hard time with relationships, but I've been thinking about how much more well off I'd be in terms of my career, my love life, my general happiness, if I were better at them. Life is about relationships: collecting them, nurturing and maintaining them, letting them go. My life is about creating. Why aren't I more invested in relationships with people who create and inspire for a living? I live for the connection I have with Jessica. Why don't I have more of something close to that?!

2) I have a coworker who I once admired for his boldness against "cultural authorities", his breadth of knowledge, and, in spite of his obvious greatness, his unwavering humility. I wanted him to be my mentor. I wanted to learn from him and absorb his spirit. But then... but then he found Jesus and lost his damn mind. As it turns out, he's miles away from humble, obscenely arrogant actually, and far from saved. And he's a pathological liar who won't own up to his wrong doings! He condescends and then rants about lack of support from his peers. I have no need for him in my life.

As of this moment, I'm done with that man too.


3) Once, this guy asked me out on MySpace. He brought me to a swank vegan restaurant in the Village and then to SOBs to see Lucky Dube. He was doing all the right things: very gentlemanly, lots of compliments. But, to be honest, he lost me at “hello”. I didn’t forget Lucky Dube though – crazy energy, beautiful music, cool crowd. I fell in love instantly. Just a few days ago, the reggae legend was gunned down in front of two of his seven children. Read here

May his music be testimony to his greatness, may he rest in peace.

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On: blessings, praying for karma & a bronze sculpture that perfectly captures my take on my relation to others

1) My sister came home today... hooray! She's the most beautiful person I know and I feel blessed to have the relationship we have. We inspire each other. We encourage each other. We slap sense into each other and laugh and laugh and enjoy each other's company. I love (♥) that cocoa string bean!

2) My boss told me about an author who once said, if your problems can be solved by throwing money at them, they're not very interesting problems [paraphrase]. Now whether or not that negates the weight or validity of any particular problem in the grand scheme of things is debatable, but I sure feel blessed for my experience of life. I like to think that I'm tough enough to take on my own ego and that the more I war with it -- the more I choose to shut down my negative thoughts, to actually be happy and fulfilled, to be the ruler off my emotions, to make my days worthwhile -- the more certain I am that my problems are hardly that! I asked Chizuru to bring me meditation beads and a prayer book. I need to be more vocal about my gratitude. I'm grateful for the way my mother annoys me. I'm grateful for my period. I'm grateful for my aches after ballet class. I'm grateful for my father's bunions. I'm grateful for my 2 hour commute. I'm grateful for my job and my craft and this life that I don't take enough advantage of! I'm grateful because any one of those things could be taken from me in a blink, but this moment right now is mine.

3) I don't want to be a vengeful person. I think jealousy is an exhaustive waste of an emotion that has never done anyone any good ever in the history of the world. I've often pondered the usefulness of jealousy and I've come to the conclusion that it can only get you shot or stabbed. I get angry with myself when I allow my ego to slip into that pool of self-pity... when I let it point fingers and tear down others. And I've come a long way from the old me who would ask "... but why?!" but I still need to learn to let myself lose a fight, to just let a muthafucka go! I also have to remember that karma is real and it works when it needs to. Balance is important and I need to be worried about maintaining my own, and not about trying to upset someone else's.

4) Back to the topic of throwing money at a problem, I gotta figure out a way to get more of it. I'm launching an aggressive campaign/grand scheme to get a lot of money into my bank accounts, like yesterday. More details soon come...

5) Image of the Week: Misunderstanding a Clown

... but at least he sees me (sigh).

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Feeling bummed about ol' boy :(

I just can't help feeling used and discarded. I sent Phil a text on Wednesday to let him know that he was on my mind. I should have thought out the possible scenarios, but at that moment, it just hadn't occurred to me that he would be cold. And not a word since. I don't get it. Why be a jerk? I take the blame for setting myself up.. again. If I kept my own promise, I wouldn't have gone looking for an ego stroking. So, I guess this is how it will be. I've deleted his number and all his messages. I've totally dropped the ball on developing me, so I vow from this moment forward that I've quit that man and can't nothing move me.

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Preach Björk!

Björk on Big Breakfast reciting "The Object" by Alma Luz Villanueva

I came to an epiphany last night, that great physical connection isn't worth sacrificing my absolute desire for a healthy and loving romantic relationship. I spent the evening with Phil, and even though physically we were as intense as ever and the conversation was relatively global, but lovely, there was something very strange going on between us otherwise. It could be because we haven't been so close in nearly a year; could be his new, cramped apartment; could be that we know for sure (or at least I do) that a relationship between us would be disastrous; could be that the smoke screens are cleared and though there's still a lot we don't know about each other, we know what we want and we know what the deal breakers are between us.

I miss those googly-eyed feelings I had for him a year ago. I just miss feeling desired in a more than physical way; feeling as though someone's got me on their mind, wondering about my day and my well being; who adores me and wants to shower me with love. But I can sense that he's not interested in doing that for me anymore. I know for sure what I want though and if he won't give it to me, I will be patient and allow someone who will to find me.

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Blogging from the board... again

I've always wanted the type of friendship that felt more like marriage, a real best friend. I mean Jess is my best friend by default, but she lives so far away and she's my sister. I wish I had a buddy to go shopping with and chat with 'til the wee hours who wasn't blood related. Camille used to carry that distinction, but since she's started her family and I've become more proactive in developing a substantial career for myself, our relationship has taken a back seat. We still have fun when we get together, but it's so rare that we actually get together these days. This isn't to say that a friendship needs to be about spending every waking moment with a person. I mean, when I was away at school or when we could only spend weekends as a crew, our friendship was still teflon strong. It just seems that now priorities have changed between all of us and we're just starting to drift apart.

A long time ago, I wouldn't have believed that the day would ever come. But now that it has, at a time when I'm okay with letting things, people, patterns go, I'm willing to accept our new abbreviated friendship and move on. There are so many amazing people out there in the world... so many potential best friends. And I will always love my Camille like my own sister :)

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Meditation #5501 or I've been thinking of him about as much

... as normal, but lately I wonder if he thinks about me too. Then today he sent a text asking what I was up to today and if I wanted to go to the Labor Day Parade. He sent it while I was at work and I caught it on the way to the theater around 5:00p. I felt sad that I didn't catch it earlier, but I'm happy that he thought to write to me. I'm happy that he wanted my company.

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Something's wrong with me...

It took me a bit, but I found him... "Mike the Hot Drummer". I can't believe I found this. I would be a little scared of me... probably more scared than flattered. What do I do with this? Begin my obsession anew? Such a stud, this one and so talented. *sigh*

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Meditation #5001 or It is possible to be everywhere always.

Earlier this week, a young black man selling comic books on a table in the underpass between the red line and the orange line at 14th Street sat me down and proceeded to perform some sort of good fortune spell he learned from an American Indian woman (so he said). Rakim, this handsome young man, rubbed a quarter on my hands and tickled my feet counting to 10 or 20 or 30, but not always. I can't say the intentions of this boy, but I've toyed with the possibility that I'm the only girl he thought to coax. Here was a young man so kind and pure of heart that he would thought a stranger might be in need some good fortune. It's also crossed my mind that this young man, with his folding table of maybe 50 or so neatly organized, plastic wrapped comics could also have some fetish tucked away from friends and lovers.

What I'm having trouble understanding why I let him do it... why I allowed a complete stranger hold my hands, touch my feet, sit me down and consider the validity of superstition. He told me not to wash my hands and not to spend the quarter he eventually handed to me. Sure I consider myself a street savvy kind of girl who'll know when to swing or which knee to use when the need becomes apparent. Generally, I'm a girl who can control herself... my emotions, my reactions, my words. But sometimes, like the time I took a ride from that junior high school kid from around the way with his constant eczema flare-up and a set of wandering hands... or my first time.... or that time I pushed that snotty white lady on the F train in the middle of am rush... sometimes I surprise myself and I can't find an explanation. Sometimes (less and less these days, I guess) I do things on a whim and I have analyze it in retrospect.

I like to think that my internal thought process has become quicker, sharper, and more accurate. I could tell in a matter of seconds whether this particular young man was going to rob me, or molest me, or whatever. Remembering the moments, the tunnel was bustling with people at half past midnight. I was wearing a floor length modest dress and an afro. He called me 'sis'. It's hard to take a grown ass man seriously when he's got a thing for cartoons. We struck a deal that if good things start coming my way in the next few weeks, I would find him and buy a comic book from him.

I believe in romance and finding the one and chance meetings and coincidences... and reoccurring events...

Someone once said of me: "She's always everywhere!" I took it as a bad thing... like something I do on purpose. Then I started to wonder if I do. This was back in my CalArts days and the boy's name was Mike. His face resembled that of previous obsessions and he was just as talented. "Mike the Hot Drummer" from Van Nuys, stoner, part jewish, with a teenaged sister, workaholic and might have been a Pisces. I know this because though I never said more than five words to him the entire school year, I had to know those tidbits. And now that I think about it, I've got the urge to hunt him down on Myspace or Facebook right now. I found out his campus mailbox number and left stupid haiku and bad pickup lines for him. I noted the time of day and day of the week when we crossed paths so that it would always happen. I buddied up with his buddies. I went to every gallery opening that he might be at. I wondered through the halls of the music department praying that I'd pass him. I found his practice room. I was always everywhere.

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Meditation #4,891 or Boys give me the wind

Since Phil, I assumed that my way of managing men and relationships are immature; that I have a lot to learn and that I will, at some point, come to an epiphany. I mean it's easier to talk logically about relationships when you're not in one or when you, as the only one in your crew running solo, are solicited for advice. When you're in that position, you see things relatively clearly – without the glare of love (or lust) or a haze of rage clouding your vision. I'd say that my ideas about romance and sex are realistic and my instincts are theoretically reliable... when I'm single.

It's when I'm involved with someone romantically that I throw my logic to the wind and immediately throw myself at his mercy! And without my brain to guide me, it always ends in certain disaster. The introvertedness and the self-consciousness and the second-guessing and worrying (geeeezus!), and the feet in my mouth and the apologizing and fantasizing... all against my better judgment and I always screw things up. I worry about whatever he might be, maybe, could be thinking (would be thinking if I could just figure him out) instead of the clear messages right in front of me, the reality of it all. And I forget about what I would want if I thought about it for a second: some sort of emotional attachment, maybe, outside of the physical; a bit of communication; honesty perhaps or even an inkling of interest in my day, my life, me… that would be nice.

Much easier said than done, because even when my instincts are right (and they always are), I don't follow. I may recognize them, but I just pretend that whatever feelings I have for a man (whether they are acknowledged or reciprocated, or not) are my more reliable compass. Unfortunately for me, I'm the type to follow a fellow's lead and so the more he seems interested in me, the more I fall for him even if he's absolutely not what I'm looking for, even if all the signs point to the exits, even if the first words out of his mouth on our first date is "I'm not looking for a girlfriend". (The fuck! And I says: "Hmm… but he doesn't really know me yet, and when he sees how rad I am, he'll be singing a whole other tune. I know it!") Eight months after Phil and his girl split, his ex-lady's name still shows up on the Caller-ID when he calls and her crap is all over the apartment, but I've never had a boyfriend so I can't tell if he's just running game, if the kisses and the twinkling eye gazing and the cuddling means anything or if I'm being too much hopeless romantic and not enough "girl, you should know better". I can't imagine that he put that much energy into every girl he's gone out with. It seems like I was just a replaceable body filling a space by his side :(

But, so now, my boss who's nearly 50 and menopausal and deeply depressed showed me exactly how I don't want to be in 30 years. She hasn't outgrown those bright-eyed 20-something ideas about men and it totally freaks me out! I'm like "SHIT! Lord have mercy on my fragile ego!" I can't take many more relationships like the last one… I'd rather not take any at all! I take full responsibility for its inception and failure, because I didn't think before I acted. I just worried and then followed.

Okay. Now, lesson learned? I sure hope so. It's taken me this long (6+ months) to get to a point where I could meditate on it and see it for what it was so that I could be happy for all the real good times we had. Now I know what bliss with my mate will be like :)

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