Where Do I Start?

It's been a while. I'm trying to spend my time more wisely. I don't write enough. Not enough to consider myself a writer.

I'd like to change that.


The past few weeks have been eventful. I'm sure I should start with the end of last year, but instead I want to write about the last 6 weeks, I'll get to that in another post. In my life it feels like if it's not a barren plate, it's an over flowing one; i.e. My plate's full at the moment. It just seems to happen that way. Around December of last year, I decided I wanted to begin working on my documentary film project again; pick back up where I left off and finish it outright. Just as I began collecting myself and reworking the project I came across the opportunity to be a part of a digital marketing apprenticeship. I decided to accept the invite and since have been spending Monday through Thursday nights down at the very tip of Manhattan with a group of people who, like myself, want a career.  It's called Cooperate NYC, Co-op for short. It's meant to teach us a skill and fill in the gaps of a growing job market. It's also meant as a way of creating a community of people, most of us being underemployed and unemployed people of color.

It's pretty nice. I like most, if not all of the people within this new community. I haven't really been a part of something in about two years. Before my film project dissolved, I was pretty well integrated int the NYC comic scene.

How I digress.

In order to finish writing this post, I sat down and scheduled the rest of my night. I became slightly hungry and began foraging for food. then I saw the black eyed peas I wanted to make tonight. Then I saw the dishes, both clean and dirty. Then I saw the beer.

So first I grabbed the beer. Next, I sat down and wrote out what I was going to do tonight. I would write for another 20 minutes. then I would eat something. Word for word I wrote, "Eat something healthy." After, I would sort and wash the beans I'm cooking tonight. And then, I get dressed and meet My boyfriend in the city.

Even further digression.

Like I said, I've been busy. It's been six months now that I've been living with my boyfriend. We're definitely figuring each other out. So far so good. I'm still working the part-time jobs. Still struggling financially. That is why I decided the apprenticeship would be a good idea. I dream of a different life. One with a career. At least a career I can stand more than a few months. Then I can keep moving on to whatever it is that I really want to do. So my film project is suffering now. Boo. Either way, I want to make time for everything, and in order to do that, I have to put the work in and be patient. If I don't, I won't make it big in the successful adult department.

Oh to dream.

Positive Post

I had a very lovely day today. I don't write often enough about days where I wake up in a good mood and have fun.

A good friend of mine came and scouted out an apartment in Woodside with me. It was a beautiful sunny, lightly breezy fall day. It was actually really warm today. I found myself borderline sweating. We walked around the neighbor until my appointment time, viewed the apartment, and then walked back towards the train station. Because we took the train to the showing we decided to walked back home after lunch.

We were in prime tasty Filipino food area and took advantage of it. It was Ashley's first time trying it, and I was excited to apart her experience. Not to mention my affection for reasonably priced drool-worthy food.

The two mile walk back home rounded out the afternoon.


Days like this should be remembered. Days like this should be written down. Days like this I should remember more.

It's Not You, It's You

A very important person in my life reached out to me a bit ago and I missed his call so I called him back. He didn't answer and I didn't leave a message. After another month went by I began to worry. We actually don't have mutual friends and really the only way I know he's alive is direct contact. So I called him again. This time he answered and we talked for close to an hour. It was nice.

Then he went into his usual spiel.

How much he was sorry for hurting me.

How important I will aways be.

Yada

Yada

Yada.

But this time it didn't effect me the same way. I told him I will always love him as well and left it at that. Eventually I told him about my current boyfriend and it wasn't more than 10 minutes before he had to go.

It was okay though. There was nothing much else for me to say that I hadn't already told him a year ago: when it comes to him, I was tired. And this year, I'm still tired. I'll probably be tired next year, and the year after that.

I can't keep up, with his waning emotions. It's maddening.

I write all this now because it seems he's found a special lady. That's not an odd thing to me. He always does. At first my eyes narrowed. It looks like they got together and/or have been together from right around the time of that last spiel.

Which has happened before. It even happened the last time he gave me a spiel.

Possibly every time he's spieled me.

But then I smiled. I started thinking, "Maybe I'm finally free of of the spiels."

Maybe this is enough to solidify how bad of a person he is to have in my life romantically--maybe even non romantically. Regardless of how strongly I feel or felt for him, it's a good way to end a bad thing. I'm kinda in an amazing relationship right now and I don't need or want any unnecessary outside forces to muck it up.

Not even the ones I myself create in my head.

Every day I grow more harden, more no nonsense, more striving for betterment. I can't do better for myself if I keep people in my world who aren't helping me grow.

But here's the thing.

He's definitely still a big part of my life. Heh. He took up eight turbulent years of it. I can't imagine it being so easy to let it go to the waste side, but then again why not?  I have this issue when it comes to a lot of relationships. I have friendships where I've reached out over the years and still they dissipated. Some relationships have come back vibrantly; others, though pieced back together, never the same as before. Some, hanging in limbo as I speak.

No, not everyone is meant to stay. We can't. That's not how growth works. Growth is movement. And we're all moving. Moving objects crossing each others paths. Like a very complicated solar system surrounded by what we assume are our hopes and dreams, the stars.

Those bright, brilliant, baneful, blaring stars.

Us Currently

It's weird.

It's weird knowing.

It's weird  not only knowing, but coming to terms with the fact that a small percentage of your boyfriend's family is going to crack jokes behind closed doors about his inability to find a suitable woman to date.

It kinda finally hit me. It's not that I didn't know, we've talked about it. We talk about a lot of important things. How it will definitely happen. How he knows it will happen. Because he knows how a few people in his family are.

It's a strange thing to know and a strange thing to have to accept. Even if it's just in jest, it's still a pretty terrible thing to say about another person.

About me.

That he's that desperate. That he would stoop that low as to entertain a person outside of his race. Even worst, a black woman.

The older I become the more I find myself having to deal with issues like this.  My eyes continuing to be open.  Not necessarily about my lovely and me, but about how the world works. How it's so terribly bloated. Bloated with so much anger and unnecessary ugliness.

It really sucks.

Critical Hit

Yesterday I felt really good. For once in a long time my spirits were high and I had energy and I felt optimism about everything.

Then I applied to a job and woke up this morning restless with my stomach hurting, and no longer seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Just like that all of my anxiety about fulfilling work crept back. There's too much competition in this city and I'm tired of being told how "intelligent and personable" I am followed by "but we'll pass."

I'm finally applying to writing and copy positions, but my fear is I won't be taken seriously even with my published work because it's not on well known sites or about celebrities.

It sucks because I have to go to work at noon and I feel so crippled by this that I don't feel like doing any searches this morning and just curling up into a quivering ball of covers until I have to leave my room.

I don't see my therapist again until September because she's away on her annual vacation and I'm just... I'm just working myself up and I really don't want to and it's such a struggle.

This year I upped my reading, writing, and applying to jobs I really want and I've definitely gained a lot of perspective. That feeling of doom is just really hard to shake, especially when you make just about the same little amount of money everywhere you go. Seriously, it doesn't matter if I'm working for a tv show or holding down a couple of part-time jobs, I literally make the same amount of money everywhere I've gone.

One of the few things that has been helping is swimming laps: I have to focus on my breathing and stroke. I know exercise is a proven mood booster, but it's still hard to get myself up and going when I feel this way.

I finally got a swim cap that fits over my dreads (it's gigantic, one day I'll post a picture. My roommate says I look like a futuristic Ethiopian aristocrat). Today I'm going to try to swim a few laps and maybe even practice some drills so I have something to focus on other than my Pandora's box of fears. But I don't know if I have it in me. I really wanted to do it this morning, but I need more time to get myself together.

I Need To Write More

I need to write more.


So I'm trying to. Even if I have nothing to talk about, or anything in particular I want to write. I need to make it a point to write more. At least 30 minutes a day. Hopefully this will lead to something. Im unsure what. I know I'm a talented writer. So I should make use of said talent.

This Is New

I've been dating J___ going on 6 months now. Though it's not an amount of time I've ever considered long, I--actually we, feel like it's been forever. It's not too strange when you think about it though. We knew each other for at least 3 years prior to dating.

Upon further thought I realized how easily we sank into each others lives. We have this crazy ying and yang effect that I'm finding really hard to ignore. It's a strange yet nice feeling. I've seen how happiness with someone in the first few months has played out way too often with friends so I gotta say I'm not interested in rushing it. I can't help wonder though where this will take me. Either way I'm enjoying the ride. Slow and steady wins the race.

He makes me laugh, but more than that; he makes me giggle uncontrollably, like a child would if being tickled (embarrassingly enough). He kisses me everywhere: my hands, my shoulders, even my feet. I would say he has successfully planted a kiss on every part of my being, including my mind and soul. When he embraces me he breathes me in and tells me how wonderful my scent is. Even when my hair smells of chlorine after I've come back from the pool, he comments on the loveliness of my pheromones. When he touches me, he remarks on how soft I am, how wonderful it is to be near me.

He is strong and of good build. His voice is deep with gravelly hints, but not so much to take away from it's sweetness. It's appealing to my ears.

Geez it's embarrassing to say, but... as masculine as he is, he amazes me with his gentleness.

We're both emotional people so we take turns falling apart. Sometimes when it's my turn he wraps himself around me and soothes me with his words; those words calm in such a way that all I can do is believe him. So I do.

Today was one of those word-soother days. He looked at me and asked if I'd been crying. I hadn't, but I had been holding it back, which was apparent from the tears in my eyes it seems. Before my face even had the chance to crumble he slid in bed with me and held me close. He used so many words, some of which he said before, but today he said something different and it stuck with me: You're a beautiful woman. Both inside and out.

less than a minute later he repeated, "You're a beautiful woman."

Him calling me beautiful is not a strange thing, in fact whenever he does say it I quite enjoy it. But this was different. I watched him intently as he spoke: his eyes, the seriousness in his expression, his hand stroking my arm lightly to comfort, I watched him. And in that moment I believed him completely. And now that the moment has passed I still believe him.

Outside of family, I don't think I've ever had someone say that to me and fully believed they meant it. Both the beauty and being a woman part.

This is new.

I like it.

The United States of Wastfulness

I work in a place with a bakery. I learned last night that EVERY day they throw away trash bags full of bread. GOOD bread. One of the janitors has a good rapport with my coworkers. I spoke with him and he said, "Yes, everyday it's like this." He leaves it out on a counter so people can take it home. "I feed my family with this bread."

In the United States of America we throw away so much food. We throw it away because it doesn't look uniform, perfect. We throw away food because some of us have too much of it. We throw away food because it's the end of the day and it didn't sell.

There are actual people starving across the street, and we're putting full loaves of bread in the trash.

The bakers make sure to only place bread in the trash bag. That way they are following company policy of throwing away day old bread, but allowing others to salvage it. I made toast this morning with a cranberry walnut loaf the janitor showed me. "It's perfectly good bread."

It was.

It's A Long Long Long Long Long Long Way Coming Down

Long time no type. 

I went on vacation and when I returned I took a nap, got up cooked two meals, and then when it was time for bed, balled my eyes out for three hours. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

I've been down this road before. It isn't the most pleasant. I find myself often nostalgic for something I've never had; looking above for some answer and hearing silence. But I try my best to keep on trucking-a-long.

It's hard.

That's life.

It sucks.

Maybe one day it won't feel this way.

Discouraged

I write this during another insomnia episode. Maybe it's the stress from having to live with roommates who do not cherish the sacredness that is home, or that my period should be starting any day now and I'm super hormonal, but I am very discouraged at the moment.

I  just, at this passing moment no less, broke down into tears. I want to go to sleep so badly. I have to wake up and go into work an hour earlier (something my boss likes to wait until 4pm to ask of me), which is normally not a problem.

Forgive me if my thoughts bounce around as I write this; I have so many so often it's hard to keep up with myself sometimes.

I'm discouraged because for over a year now--not religiously every month, but definitely religiously 92 percent of the time I have been looking for new work. The job I am at currently is doing nothing for me but sucking the soul right out of my body. I don't know how people work in offices. I don't know how people work in offices that produce terrible things. I don't know how I'm still working in an office that produces terrible things.

For a year and a half I have applied applied applied, and have had no more than three actual interviews, maybe four. They can't even follow up with me to let me know the position is taken. Or even better, I get an email three months after applying for something saying they are no longer looking. Thanks, I kind of figured that three months ago when you never got back to me. In fact I forgot I even applied so what really is happening is you're reminding me of my failure. Great.

And I'm tired. I want to sleep so badly and I can't. I want to look for work, but I'm so tired and emotional and frustrated and I can't.

I haven't felt this down and out for a while and my fear is that it's the onset of something worse: my cycle through depression. I don't think it is though, my ovaries are starting to cramp a little to much for it to just be that. But the fear of going into another cold winter still working in this office makes me want to step in front of traffic, no joke.

My inability to get interviews, while my coworkers go on interview after interview after interview, weekly, makes me feel inadequate. I've re-worked re-written re-blahblahblah my resume so many times now I have a folder on my desktop titled "My Resumes."

It doesn't help that I still have no clue what I want to get into. It doesn't help that I don't feel like I'm really all that good at much.

Even the things I enjoy doing I can't see myself doing for any long period of time.

I have no idea what that means. I have absolutely no idea what that means for my future. And the uncertainty in that makes me even more anxious. I spent a good few months learning to relax and not worry so much. I've spent a lot of time feeling grounded and okay with my current situation; why not? I am doing everything possible to change it.

But maybe I'm not. I feel like maybe I'm not doing enough. But how can I do more? When can I do more? Between working, working out, trying to eat right, working on my side projects, and trying to keep my apartment from becoming an actual shit-hole, I hardly have time to eat, sleep, and take showers.

The more I think about it the more hopeless about my work situation I feel. I really really hope that I'm just being hormonal, but I'm sure it's more than that. I've spent a year and a half-- A YEAR AND A HALF-- looking for work, looking for a career and nothing.

I don't even feel like I'm all that good at anything at this point. Whenever I do something I think I like, eventually I lose all passion, and I feel empty, like the work just sucked all of the joy out of me.

And maybe that's the real deal with work. You're miserable, but you have to continue living somehow so you press on in your miserable life finding outlets via an escape, a hobby, a bad habit. And once you settle into that miserable job you settle for a miserable person to be miserable with you; and because you are afraid of dying alone you marry, and you have children, and they grow up to be just as miserable as you and then you die alone anyway.

That's not the life I want to live. I really do feel like I've grown a lot the last few months for the better, but my insides are falling a part.

I don't know the future. Maybe in 24 hours I'll meet the love of my life, get an amazing job doing something I care about, be able to take care of myself and my offsprings--though I'll still die alone because that's just life, you die alone (God, I am a very depressing person).

Or, I'll continue having small shards of my soul taken away until there is nothing left but that shell of a being necessary for me to live a very boring, unsatisfied, regretful life.

I don't know.  According to the clock I won't be sleeping tonight. That's nice.

God I hope I'm just getting my period today.

Fast Approaching Nothing

I feel like a captain who has lost his ship; afloat on top of a piece of drift wood in a vast sea.

It's not very often I find myself  making a decision that is "the best for me" but at the same time complete and utter misery. I found myself doing this recently. And as I predicted, I gained my freedom from the world I was living in, but lost everything else-- though I thought I'd be oh-so-happy to let go of it.

I'm not sure what I was expecting to come of it.

Was I expecting a last grand gesture? Or maybe that immediately following all would be dandy and I would be well on my way to bigger and better and brighter things? Not to say that I'm not. More so to say maybe I wouldn't feel as shitty as I do right now or that my world still feels like it imploded. 

Contrary to my beliefs-- or maybe not-- It still did. I realized last night that even when I don't run away from problems, even when I take a stand and make a well thought out decision, I still lose. This is going to sound really depressing so forgive me in advance, but life seems to be a lose-lose kind of deal.

Though.... The wounds are still fresh. Everything seems miserable when you just cut off your finger. Now what if you cut it off because you had gangrene? Would that make your misery any less applicable? Not really, but in the long run you'll be fine. Right?

I want to believe I made the right choice. I want to believe that all of these feelings are just blinded emotional shades that will eventually be lifted off of me. I want to believe that so far this year I've cleaned out my closet and then some. I want to believe things can only get better, even though right now it feels the worst.
\
I wanted to end that last sentence with "so I will" but I know myself. I won't. I will wallow. I will beat myself up. I will cry. I will crave. I will try and build myself up, only to breakdown. I will harden slightly only to completely soften at the perceived sincerity of the next. And I will fight internally whether to fully trust another person or to keep my guard up. But by then it will have been too late.

I'm just miserable.  


 

Giraffe Parts

I wasn't going to say anything about the Denmark zoo things but then.... I had to log this CNN news story and was like, "UGH." So I'm writing America an open letter of sorts:

Dear America,

Listen, could they have given Marius the giraffe to another zoo? Maybe. Would that have been a happier ending for that poor giraffe? absolutely. But guess what?

Before we can be up in arms about a giraffe in another country that is not only known as one of "the happiest countries" in the world and who seem to have their snit somewhat together... maybe we should be up in arms about Jordan Davis; about our veterans coming back from war unable to find work and begging on street corners.

Maybe we should be outraged by the MANY chemicals mixed into our food, the antibiotics fed to the animals WE eat and feed our children; into the lotions and products we use everyday.

Let's be mad about the fried chicken and watermelon lunch for "Black History Month" and the piles upon piles of debt students have after being told you HAVE to go to school if you want to get a good paying job only to get out of school and find NO work.

I'm not saying to forget about the rest of the world or the treatment of animals. I'm saying If you want to be upset be upset about Syria. Be upset about the treatment of the Roma people. Be mad about what's happening in Somalia. Be mad about how Japan dumped TONS of radioactive water into the sea that will affect your food supply, your children's food supply, and your children's children's food supply.

I know it's hard to think about all of those things, but those things are WAY WAY WWAAAAYYY more pressing than a giraffe that is now excreted Lion waste (Less we forget Marius is a tasty meal and could have been eaten by a pack of hungry lions if he were still in the wild.

Wake up.

Do something.

Change the world in a positive way. Change the country. Change your state. Change your city. Change yourself.

*Rant over*

I Wish You Love

People are going to believe what they want to believe. No amount of common sense or conversation will change that. I didn't speak my peace, he wouldn't let me, but I tried to and that's what matters.

8 years is a long time to be in a relationship with someone you're NOT in a relationship with. I'm 200 lbs lighter today than I was yesterday. It hurts like a motherfucker, but our paths are no longer leading in the same direction, and we have to do what's right for us; separately. I really want nothing but the best for him. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

I'm not mad. He wants to believe I am; he kept saying so last night, but I'm not. I'm just terribly sad about the way it ended. About the situation as a whole. It's very hard to let him go.

I have never loved anyone as much as I've loved him. I thought I might have, but I've realized over the past year I haven't. I've tried to, but I haven't.

We're just two different people.

After all of this he still wanted to marry me. This is what scares me about marriage. People grow apart. People change over the years. How am I suppose to commit to someone who might not be their in 5 years? How can I try and make a life with a person who might grow into another person all together.

*Sigh* It's maddening.

The Orange

Today as I watched a pot of water boil I decided to eat the very last piece of fruit in my fruit bowl: an orange. I leaned against the counter taking my time as I peeled the orange, which is unusual for me. As I began to pry the orange open with my thumbs I encountered the gruesome scene that was the inside of the orange; it was black and grey, like something had taken up residence inside it and died shortly after.

I threw the orange on the counter out of surprise. I then picked the orange back up for a second look. It was the same as before. I threw the orange in the trash along with the peels. I washed my hands twice... the obsessive compulsive side of me taking over. by the time I finished, the water had begun to boil.

That orange was a perfect representation of how I often feel about life. No matter how much effort and care you put into something, in the end you're rewarded with the pleasure of knowing someone else got to enjoy it first, or worse, more. So yeah... I'm pretty depressing.

But when I told a friend of mine the story he asked me, "What are you going to do about it?"

What am I going to do about it...?

I've been trying to answer that question for years now.

In Bloom

You got me.

You got me,

Down in that hole.

Deep and dank; dark.

You got me.

And you covered me, in dirt and silt.

Until I grew, and emerged.

And I bloomed, I was open.

You got me open.

And the sun and rain fell down on me.

And still you got me.

You got me.

The Adventures of Bree: Bumping Into An Ex-Boyfriend

Well, it was bound to happen. I walk the streets of Queens as if I'll never see my Ex-boyfriend who happens to lives 2 blocks away from me. Surprisingly in the nine months since the breakup, I've only seen him  once: I stopped at a Family Dollar to return something before going on a jog and while in line jamming to some tunes (yeah man) in my workout clothes someone pats my shoulder. I turn and it was him. We exchanged pleasantries. I thought he would be on his way but he waited until I did my transaction and we talked for another 30 seconds and then we did actually go on our ways. It was civil.

Last night... not so much.

It was a live comedy awards show at the restaurant I used to work at. I was told to come dressed to the nine, so I wore a bridesmaid dress and sandals. I put on enough makeup for two (I was going to be on stage late that night for a guest appearance. I had no words to say so... I thought I'd do the talking with my eyes lol). I went downstairs to grab a drink. I then immediately realized my Ex was there. "Got...dammit.." I thought. Though I shouldn't have been surprised, Everyone was here that night. But I knew I'd have to say hello. He sat out back on the patio smoking with his back to the door. I decided not to approach him. We'd run into each other eventually. Instead I got a margarita and walked around saying hello to various people before making my way back to the bar (more alcohol please!).

It was there that it happened. It was extremely packed that night because--as I said before-- everyone was there. I squeezed myself beside the bar in hopes that I could more easily get a drink there. I was on my phone, waiting for a bartender to not be busy. I rarely pay so I don't really make a big deal out of getting my drink quickly. After sending a text I looked up and we locked eyes. He waved and I blinked twice. I then smiled walked over and said hello. I gave him a hug. we chatted a bit: he complimented my dress, I asked how work had been. From time to time other people I knew would walk by and I would make passing conversation.

One of the comedians made an all call that the show was going to start in 5 or so minutes. I told my Ex I want to say hi to some people and left him. I buzzed about talking to people, making jokes and finally found myself upstairs in the theater. I stood near the front of the stage laughing at jokes and clapping. I eventually sat. I didn't see him and he wasn't on my mind. I didn't look for him either. I left twice. Once was to order a taco (two drinks in I realized I would be drunk that night... because I didn't eat much that day). The second time was to get another drink. When I came back the second time I noticed he was at the back of the room. I was about to be called on stage as well. I went on stage, smiled, chatted with some of the comedians as someone spoke in front, and walked off stage. I sat down with my drink; excited at the fact that I was able to get on stage without tripping and falling, and that I didn't feel nervous at all, I actually enjoyed it.

After the awards show I went downstairs; the owner proclaimed a one hour open bar. I didn't go straight for the bar. I already had a drink. I walked around and talked with various people. I finally received my taco and ate it. I became drunk friends with a friendly lady comedian. I was having fun. I hate to say it but... I had all but forgotten he was there. Then he popped up again. My ex LITERALLY walked over to me and my new buddy, so we all started talking. Then my friend left and it was just me and him talking. By this time I was drunk. I don't remember everything we were talking about honestly, but it was definitely banter. He said he was going to leave. I told him, "Well it was really nice seeing you!" and gave him a hug. He looked at me, I looked at him and he said:

I feel like you're coming on to me. I'm kinda dating someone.

I blinked drunkenly twice. I think my brow furrowed in confusion. I might have even shook my head. "Go home (Insert name here)." I was so dumbfounded those were pretty much the only words I could conjure up. He turned and walked away. I watched him walk up the stairs and shook my head, rolled my eyes and walked over to the dance floor. That was actually the last time I thought about him that night. I started dancing, praline bacon had just came out (oh my gawd, if you've never had praline bacon... oh my gawd) and a cute Indian guy started talking me up. I danced some more, found myself over to the bar for some water, went to the bathroom and lost my ring, found my ring (thank you baby Jesus) talked, laughed; left. The guy gave me a lift home. I thanked him, I took off my makeup, slipped out of my dress and contacts, washed my face, ate a boiled egg (I still didn't eat enough) drank a huge mug full of water and went to bed. I woke up  angrily at the guy laying on the horn at 8 in the morning. But then I remembered what happened and what my ex said and I again shook my head. Why would he think I was hitting on him??

A) I tell everyone our breakup was mutual, and honestly it was, but I sat HIM down and told HIM we needed to break up. You know... because I wasn't interested anymore.

B) Okay okay, my friend says I am a natural flirt. This wouldn't be the first time a guy thought I wanted their attention when in actuality I was just being cordial. But everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was their that night. Why would I try and hook up with my ex boyfriend? There were a lot of guys with full heads of hair I could have been seducing.

and C) I knew he was dating someone. It's been nine months! I've dated a couple of someones.

My friend came to the conclusion that he just wanted to say he was dating someone. That could be true. Another friend of mine said he was just trying to get under my skin. I just don't understand it and I really want to. My comeback was also terrible lol. I pretty much dismissed him, but I wish I would have said something along the lines of, "Honey, you'd definitely know if I was hitting on you?" or "Right, because you're the most ideal guy at this shindig." or "Okay... congrats?"

Well, those are pretty terrible too. Either way I feel like he has this story he can tell now about how I desperately chased him around the bar all night and talked him up, touched his arm and brushed my chest against him in the hopes of him reiterating the feelings; when in actuality, I smiled I congratulated him, and tried my best to keep at least six inches in between us when possible (it was loud so eventually I had to get closer so I wouldn't be screaming all night.

Everyone is asking me why it bothers me. It bothers me because that is who I am lol. Whenever something happens like this I think to myself, "They're nuts." but then I start replaying the interaction in my head and start to think, "Well, maybe I WAS being such and such way." I over analyze things. All things. All the time. I do this ALL THE TIME.

So I was worried, maybe I was coming on to him.

NOOOPPPEE!

 I was coming on to the Indian guy hard. That night when I talked with other people, I was closer than usual with them as well, even the ladies.

I guess I'll never know what made him think I was coming on to him. I like to know things, but this one will be a mystery. I don't intend on ever seeing him again. And if I do, I'm very tempted to say hello from a distance adding, "I don't want you to think I'm coming on to you." and tapping his shoulder with a stick instead of hugging him.

Ah well. It'll be funny one day. All I can do is shrug my shoulders and keep on moving on.

The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

I knew where this was headed. I gave him two weeks... and not even a text.

So I did what I did best: played my final song. Oh to be a dying swan.


And it ended just as terribly as I could expect. And I cried; I cried my eyes out in the back of the library I work at. It was Sunday and the office would only have a few people in it. And as I sat their surrounded by dusty tapes and stacks of papers, I cried as much as I wanted because I knew I wouldn't be heard. Though, I secretly wished someone, anyone, would find me and comfort me. I'll get back to why in a second.

So my next step was to call a friend in tears. That always is the next step. But after scrolling through my phone (covered with droplets, I had to wipe the screen several times), I found I had absolutely no one to call. There was no one in my texts or my recent call list I could think to call about this, which made me burst even harder into tears. I was alone.

I had felt alone for weeks. Isolated even more when all of my roommate one by one went out of town, because they have lives. I sat on the couch and sipped sangria or picked at plates of food saying to myself, "So this is what it would be like if I lived alone, I like this." when I really didn't. I'd like it more if I myself had a life, but I really didn't.

And so when I did fall apart at work, I secretly did wish for someone to find me. I wanted someone to see my vulnerability and my fall from grace, complete with mucous production and puffy eyes. I wanted someone to see me and feel connected, but that too was asking too much of those around me...no one came.

I know I am loved by my family and friends, but moving to this strange land with their strange customs has created a cylindrical process in my life where I can't tell if I'm coming or going. My dreams become my reality and my reality my dreams.

I can't tell if I'm awake or not.

I already wrote about this phenom. You're always tired, always waking even when you're not. I wake up multiple times during the night only to find I was sleeping. I wake up before my alarm clock, only to be awaken by my alarm clock.

It's tiring.

I finally decided to call some friends in Georgia. You see... when I say "I have no friends" I think what I mean to say is, "I have no friends in New York City that I met within these last four years who I see weekly." Which is also a lie, I have a friend I see pretty much every week, but we'll get to that soon as well.

I don't have a band of people I see very often. I haven't made friends who live in Queens (near me) or anywhere close by that I would be able to see them often. Everyone I've ever met up here, every woman I've ever started feeling attached to have since moved away to some distant land or place across the country. All the other women who do live here, live so far away that coming into the city is quite the event.

That one friend I do see often. As much as I do see and talk to her, this event was one I didn't want to bring to her: I had already been talking about it for days now. I just didn't want to overload that one circuit. Seeing as how she's my only constant friend, I need her for other stuff too, like hanging out, drinks, and yoga.

So I dialed number, after number, after number. It took me three attempts before I got a person. Adding to my belief that I am truly alone.

And I cried, and voiced my frustrations and my friend told me to get a hold of myself. I finally said out loud what I've felt for a very long time: I feel alone. I feel isolated. I'm so broken up over this situation because I feel like I'm constantly in this situation; where a man won't leave me alone until I let them take me out on a date. This is two time in a row that I literally had someone begging for my time. This is two times in a row that that person disappeared without a trace. Two times. I refuse to let their be a third.

My friend told me I need to work on me and I became defensive. What did she think I've been doing for the past six years...

But that's my nature. I feel like I constantly have to defend myself. Once I saw my walls forming I stopped, I listened and I agreed... I got off the phone realizing just how lonely I felt. But also that I still do have friends.

The second person I called called me back. We chatted a bit about my issues, but by then I had cried all the tears allotted to me and she did what she did best, told me cheery stories and silly events. And I was fine with that. It took my mind off of him for exactly 10 minutes.

Then the very first person I dialed called me back.Our conversation was short, but she did seem concerned. She told me to get a massage or a manicure, something for myself. I didn't tell her I was poor and that I don't really have the money. Why would I do that to someone who cared so much?

In the end, everyone I called came through and I thank them profusely for it. But I still feel broken. I don't think they completely understand why. It's not him, or the lack of him. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. It's me. It's pretty much always about me. I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm this, I'm that. Etc, etc, etc.

When I'm selfish, I'm a self-centered asshole. At least that's what I think others probably think of me. I'm so selfless; so selfless that sometimes I forget to take care of myself. And when I do, that is all I'm able to handle.

So my beginning has become my ending. Once again I find myself in front of the glow of my screen begging you, the reader, to love me; unconditionally, including all my faults...all my musings.

 I will sulk and find a sick comfort in knowing I'm not even an afterthought to him. And yet gloss over how much of a current thought I am to so many others.

I really do need to learn to focus on the many positives in my life, instead of the few negatives.

 

What It Means To Be Black

There are no words I can produce that will ever fully encompass what it means to be black. That being said, there are no words to encompass what it means to be white, latino, muslim, gay, christian, mixed, atheist, the list continues.

But as a black young educated woman, I need to try and find those words that express my blackness.

What does it mean to be black? For me, it means from an early age being ostracized. I was told as a child I was "different." I had another child tell me "I was chocolate" when all I saw was her being my friend. I felt the uneasiness my parents felt when we went to Stone Mountain Park for the laser show, and people around us were drinking and waving Confederate flags; even though I didn't understand their fears, I could feel them deep inside myself. It means being called "colored" by my neighbor who was upset at how the neighborhood had changed. It's about feeling ugly because my hair didn't sway, or my eyes didn't sparkly like the ocean. It mean being taught early in life to always stay alert, to never cause any trouble; to always have "a way out." To be black is to get your license and almost NEVER be stopped when your Vietnamese or white friends are in your car, but if you drive around with two black young men with braids or dreads you will be stopped immediately and often. It mean feeling depressed and looking for help, and though not on purpose, those in the mental health clinic showing great surprise at your articulation of words, of feelings. It's knowing you are human but often being seen as some sub species. It means being invited to a Yacht club and being stared at. It means living in a majority white suburb and having the neighbors run for the front door when you turn the corner. It's being blamed for the economy, it's being the sole reason for why black people struggle. It's the fear of having children; regardless of what race I marry, because if my child has enough melanin in his or her skin tone, it is solely my fault; because I myself am black.

What does it mean to be black? It means enjoying sushi dates with friends, traveling to other countries, and thinking about grad school. It's about jogging and eating quinoa and finding a special place in your diet for skim milk. It's about visiting beach houses and swimming all day, listening to indie music and having deep and profound conversations with your friends about the world around you.

Honestly speaking, being black is no different than being anything else, other than the differences we put on ourselves; and others have put on us.

Being black means being human. Why can't we be human?

An Open Letter to My Internal Proceedings

Last night I came home, lay down in my bed, and fell asleep before 7; fully clothed and oblivious to the world.

I dreamt of nothing. I woke a few times only because of the sweat forming on my brow.

Mentally I stumbled awake around 2 in the morning, followed by physically rolling out of my bed-- in search of a toilet.

I returned to my room and haphazardly proceeded to undressed myself completely.

I got back into bed only to realize.... I was fully awake.

So of course I've just spent the past 3 hours replaying life in my head and watching the sky turn purple outside; feeling the onset of panic slip in and out of my throat as it often has for the past few months.

Taking deep breaths, massaging my chest; poking at mosquito bites, fiddling with my hair... anything subtle but real to wake myself up if I were really still asleep; if I'm really just dreaming of wakefulness.

I'm not.

At least, I don't think so.

From time to time I forget if I'm awake or asleep (or is it that I've lost the ability to tell the difference).

From time to time I wonder if I'm dead.

I wonder if I'm in some strange purgatory. Sometimes things are just so ridiculous, presumptuously daft, sometimes all the coincidences are too perfectly fitted together that I'm unsure if it's reality or just a trick of the mind.

I've hit a point of consciousness where the edges of my reality have melded with the edges of surreality, fantasy; the unknown.

I was feeling so good a week ago.

But that was probably just manic.

I Went For a Jog and Came Back...

...a cynic. Just like that; dredging through life it seems one minute at a time judging everyone I see and drawing in my perimeter: Don't touch me. I loathe you. Why are you breathing near me?

I wish I could blame others. Society is morally crumbling faster each day; but I have to blame myself. Curse my cancerian signage! I really do try and open up: I'm not a prude. I'm pretty easy going, but I do take things very personal.

More often than not some poor human judgement on my part makes me scuttle back into my shell. No more adventures for me.

And when this happens, either I care too much or not at all. there is no gray in that thought process, though rarely do I not care at all. I guess what I'm trying to say is, it usually will eat at me.

But there is hope yes? Hope for those who are angry and snarky and pessimistic like me. Just kidding not really...

Well actually I don't know. All I know is the more I press forward the more it burns my skin, this hell I'm living in (hey it rhymes).

Flames licking at me when I sleep and when I wake, no down time. Interacting with others takes so much of my energy. It's exhausting. Especially when someone wants my time and I'm hesitant to give them it. I feel tired just thinking about it.

Oh, I also don't trust anyone. *sigh* Of course I do a little... because I am the one person who will always give a benefit of the doubt. But every time I get burned I trust a little less.

I really want to believe mankind isn't a giant quivering asshole. But it is. Bleached pink and ever flowing with the endless shit that is...well, shit.

That's okay though. That's what being a cynic is all about. Finding the brown lining that is undoubtedly hidden behind the silver. Pointing it out and saying, "Hey look everyone! Look how shitty this thing is. Isn't it terrible? Isn't it the worst?" 

hmm..Don't you hate those awkward dreams you have? Those sex dreams with a person you never were attracted to or felt anything for. During the dream you're loving it, but when you wake up you feel weird, maybe even ashamed that you fucked your friend's dad, or your ex- boyfriend's brother.

That's how I feel sometimes ... that weird slightly worried but mostly confused feeling you get when you realize you mentally fucked someone (or didn't, maybe you just dreamt of weird sexy things with them). Either way it stays with you.

It lingers.

It's annoying.

I'm annoyed.