dancing vs. being broke

imagine my frustration and sadness as i sit here, eyes glassy, shoulders sore, fingers shaky from hours hunched at my desk while there are agents in the conference room shuffling through headshots and watching reels. i'm overhearing conversations between choreographers and producers. i'm watching students improve and be recognized. i'm saying "have a good rehearsal!", "merde! you'll be great tonight!", and "have a wonderful time on your all expense paid two-week teaching gig in australia!" i'm winding down and feeling stuck and wishing for the courage to just say "fuck it! i'm a dancer!"

do care about dancing more than i care about being broke?

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i want to be dancing

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I'm offended...

 but I shouldn’t be. What she said was in fact the truth, but I’m on my grind... unstoppable. I commend her for having the nerve, even if she's too dim to understand when it is and when it isn’t appropriate to speak out of turn. She just erks me, but that’s on me. It’s because she embodies the gross extreme of everything I loath in myself: her listlessness, her flakiness, her melodrama, her histrionics, her arrogance. I tell you, it surely tests my character, cause I just want to sucker-punch that silly bitch right in her jaw some days.

Oy!

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Here we are again...

I’m such a fool. I act so indignant until he gets me on the phone. Then... then, it’s just like everything’s cool and my anger evaporates. I know what I want. I’m sure of it, but takers are so hard to come by and I do really love the attention.

I suppose my fate isn't sealed. I mean, I haven’t made any promises to him. I could just be direct about it. I could just call him back right now and give him a piece of my mind. I could tell him that I think this whole thing is lame and I want out. No disappointment. No compromise. No nothing. Period.

But, it is brutally cold in my house (mom dukes doesn’t believe in turning the heat on until it falls into the 30s or until it's snowing) and he does have heat... and here we are again; like Jekyll and Hyde :(

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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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I need to poo

... and I'm blogging at the board. I'm on my rag + I may be hyperemotional but I hate this show. I been losing sleep on this shit?

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Meditation #5376 or I'm a monster.

I have trouble finding sympathy for most things, people, situations. I admit to feeling overwhelmed by the current events, what with the wars, the hunger, the disease and the history repeating over and over... it can get me into a funk very quickly. I mostly feel that all that is bad in the world is beyond my control. That the ice caps will melt and the rain forests will disappear and children will continue to die and a war will always be fought. I would consider myself spoiled, having never gone hungry or penniless. I get offended when I hear white folks' conversations about what's good for the poor. I think: "That ho has no idea what it is to be broke. She never lived on food stamps. She never been homeless. That uppity ass bitch!" Then what am I? I've never been hungry and never been homeless; and I roll my eyes at the rash of young "homeless" people who line 14th street, cardboard placards and desperate pets in tow; and I sometimes want to trip the beggars on the train who, in their fresh Tims, will harass you for your hard earned quarter, but suck teeth when you give 'em a bit of food(!). Beggars apparently have the right to be choosers in New York City.

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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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Meditation #4,855 or Agnis & Roco

Every few days I get this heaviness in my upper back and it wraps around over my shoulders to tighten the flat part of my chest, then it pulls up the two hard columns on the back of my neck, traipses behind my ears, past the sides of my skull to land somewhere behind my eyes where it tries to escape by stabbing at them. It marches on this crisscross path for a couple of hours, sometime an entire day, back and forth, hard and heavy. The length of my neck has shrunken and it pitches my head forward, so that I have to look down at my feet. I almost hunch. I think it's where all my stress lives. In two large knots that sit just in the hollow bowls behind my collarbones, on either side of my neck. The right is bigger than the left; my left generally hurts less than my right; my right shoulder hangs lower than my left. Magic fingers, big shivering chairs in the mall, little rubber hammers made in China, tennis balls – none have done much to relieve me of them. I think of them as the good and bad sides of my ego. Like in movies, when an angel and a demon show up on a character’s shoulders just in time to help him make a hard decision. Except mine just sit there mute and lazy, fattening up on candy coated McDonalds Happy Meals and Super-sized diet energy drink, while I carry their weight and figure things out on my own. I wish I could shake ‘em off, or get them scooped out.

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Batshit on Ice

I think I'm getting sick. My bosses at two of my three jobs are away this week. The third performs at PS122 later this week and I'm shooting dance scenes for a short film over the next three days. I really can't afford to be sick. Being sick is not cool :(

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Spring Cleaning 2

No one might ever see this, but I'm haven't eaten and I'm thoroughly annoyed.

There is a lady in my life, who I would rather not have in my life. She gets under my skin. She brags and talks too much and is nosy and bossy and not a really genuine or nice person in my opinion. I want to surround myself with people that are greater than me, but because they actually are and not because they see themselves as greater. I like talented, educated people, with big dreams and who make those dreams happen. But those who are constantly flaunting their good luck or announcing they're "hard work" or always looking to get recognition and attention are supremely unattractive to me. Lack of humility and modesty are my absolute biggest annoyances. I don't want to sound like a hater, because I believe people deserve every bit of what they earn. And I think everyone gets their time to shine and you just have to recognize when your turn comes. I HATES ON NO MAN.

And my time is near. My energy is pulsing and my spirits are high. I have talents and goals and dreams and this great big life ahead of me, and I'm so tired of following. I want to lead, even if I'm solo. I'm tired of being scared and limiting myself. I'm OVER IT! I mean I feel blessed and grateful for my accomplishments, but I feel like those were too easy. i didn't have to work very hard for some of it. Even when I stressed and worried, in many cases, it was sheer luck... being at the right place at the right time.

I want to do great things because I worked hard to get to them. I'm tired of doing things just to do them.

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