As of late, my heart has been turned off. I cannot think of it anymore.
I pour my thoughts and soul into my work, and the ‘I’ I’m training to become.
Yet… yet…
Fire continues to be played with. Boots remain muddied. Glasses have not had the fog wiped off.
I have jumped off the cliff, but I refuse to think of the fall.
If I crash, or if a bed of flowers awaits me, concerns me not.
My heart has been turned off.
Y así mismo mis sentidos regresan a mí. Vuelvo a mi misma. Encuentro mi centro que andaba perdido en otros espacios.
“Yo sé que soy fuerte, quizás un poco difícil. Tengo los ovarios bien grandes. Pero sé lo que puedo dar y me amo como soy. Y ESTA (gesto vulgar pélvico) del que me quiera cambiar. Bastante complejos tuve en la adolescencia, y me tuve que aprender a amar a to’ pulmón, y aprender a disfrutarme con todo lo que tengo. Soy feliz con lo que soy.”
… boom!
The story is another.
The characters are others.
The sets and location differ.
But the core is just the same.
I cannot understand love and all it entails.
So, what almost was didn’t get to be. I am sad, but I also feel like I’m floating in the open sea on a cloudy day. I guess it’s because I understand its end, even if it didn’t come from me. As disappointed as I am, I can’t play a blame game. It was also a short-lived little fetus of a connection.
My “I am” grows stronger everyday, more than a mere “I want”. I won’t despair over someone’s mature decision to not put up with myself. We are complex human beings, not every piece fits the next, and the more we know ourselves the more we know which pieces won’t fit in the long run. I’m aware and certain it wasn’t a question of quality or “how good”, but of wisdom and discernment.
… I still do admit to entertaining and enjoying the idea of it.
Relationships are so frustratingly beautiful. All their what-if’s, maybe’s, almost’s, why’s… they wreck havoc in my awkward brain. The pleasure of the ride goes hand in hand with the complete panic and fear for the worst. And when things are finally going swell, all these little rocks from the past provide the most terrible of trips and falls.
In general, though, the ride has been perfectly lovely. I just don’t know how to do this, exactly; the handbook never made it to me. But I’ll improvise along the way…
Like most people in our culture, vulnerability is my constant struggle. I fight against it, yet reach towards it. Now, a while ago, a new gentleman in my life sent me this video…
I won’t comment much more on it, the video speaks for itself, but I will say that it really got to me, raining on an old wound that slowly heals through the years. Opening myself up is painful, yet I understand how important it is. I cannot hide behind my fears, or else I risk the bounty of life experiences I can enjoy. We can’t numb pain without numbing the rest of life, like Brene Brown says.
Finally! After, eh… TWO WHOLE WEEKS of planning, I arrived in ol’ New York, the city that calls to me. Dirty, loud, busy, crowded… yet, wonderful in itself. Exciting the subway into the city always feels like entering a room with 20 stereos blasting off different sounds and music at the same time. Yet, once you settle into the noise, you find each song to be beautiful, though maybe broken, in its own.
I feel an attachment to this city, not for the fame it could provide, which holds no interest to me, but for the city in itself. As I walked past the lovely, yet touristy, Time Square I thought… “New York, you’re going to roughen me up. I gotta be tough to make it here, but I think I need a little roughing around the edges.”
It’s been less than two days, but already the word ‘epic’ is describing to travels. It’s as if the city is receiving me, allowing me to enter its jungle, like a welcoming of sorts. One thing I learned after living in Buenos Aires, Argentina, is that the observing artist must build a relationship with the city he inhabits. NYC might be… overwhelming at times for this Caribbean girl, but that doesn’t make it any less magnetic.
Now, I must say, people always say New Yorkers are terrible people, and, granted, I’ve had my little share of bad run-ins with some in earlier trips. But so far, I’ve only been experiencing some wonderful acts of help and kindness by them. I even made a new friend on the PATH train! A Chinese girl, here in NYC doing her M.A. complimented my bowler hat and we then had the loveliest conversation about our cultures and homeland. Now my Facebook friend, we plan to meet again in the city before I leave.
So, for now New York is playing nice. I expect more highs and some lows, too. More than anything, I expect growth. Will the city become my home away from home? Let’s see how my feelings change, or grow, after two weeks.
Mondays are often my weekends, due to most theatre and circus presentations being on actual weekends. It’s usually the day in which I’m hardest to reach, because I keep leaving my phone stranded around the house and refuse to engage in the social pleasantries required to answer the phone.
Mondays are my resting days. My mind and body relax after whatever activities occurred during the weekend have ended. I’m a vegetable, a lovely human vegetable. I read poetry or whatever book has my interested captured, I give my face homemade facials to rest the skin after abusing it with clown white and other theatrical products, I bake cupcakes, I sit outside watching the sun color the trees in my backyard, and I surf… the web. In short, I do anything that can be done while still wearing pajamas.
So while most people are cursing Mondays to death… as long as I don’t have an occupation forcing me to dread them, I LOVE MONDAYS.
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