The past week has given me a lot on which to reflect. Earlier in the week, I modeled for a Portuguese embroidery designer, and got incredible feedback from friends, loved ones, and strangers alike. Heading to the venue and carrying the dress and 'siat' to our uber, people asked me "where's the wedding?!" and gushed that I looked beautiful. This was the beginning of a night that would prove to be surreal. Let me elaborate.
I modeled the most beautiful dress I've ever worn. The dress felt so special because it fit like it was made for me. It boasted embroidered flowers and butterflies in a rainbow of colors that, as the wind blew, made them dance and flutter on a bed of white linen. My literal job was to stand or sit there and look beautiful, and to greet and to pass out sachets of lavender to guests of the event. Being that the evening was hosted by the Portuguese Consulate to celebrate Portugal's longstanding relationship with America for the upcoming holiday (fun fact: the founding fathers toasted the signing of the Declaration of Independence with Madeira wine), all of the guests were Portuguese or Portuguese Americans. They were very friendly, and fell all over me in this dress. People I'd never met fawned over my beauty in this masterpiece and pleaded for photos with me and of me, which I, flattered, obliged. The night was elegantly simple, and classic. The guests enjoyed a fine catered dinner in a private museum garden, where I frolicked in my beautiful gown in the late day sun. After dinner, we sprawled on chairs on the lawn to take in the beautiful music of a Portuguese concert pianist and singer. Listening to the tinkling of piano keys while draped across a chair in a white gown that surrounded me, enveloped me, consumed me in the best way, I felt grateful for the beauty of the moment. The wind blew and the butterflies danced on my legs. I drank in every drop of every second there on the lawn, as each was exquisite. At a point, I got up to walk toward the gate where I would see the guests out, as they'd soon be leaving after a peaceful hour of music and wine, and I was actually still working, believe it or not. As I stood there, the beautiful green flickers of fireflies caught my eye, and I let my eyes rest on the lush bed of ivy as dozens of little green lights swirled about. I stood there in a dress of white and couldn't help but think: this is what my wedding would be like. People gasping at my beautiful dress, the look of bliss overtaking me as I take it all in, a green ivy-laden garden with dinner and music, and guests in elegant suits and gowns. The most surreal part is when a man asked me to dance. He was an older gentleman- older than me, at least- and smiling at seeing me sway to romantic music in a language I don't yet speak, he asked me to dance. Yes, if this were my wedding, we would dance among fireflies in a garden of green, and I would be the happiest of any bride in the arms of a man who'd love me.
Friends and loved ones, seeing photos of my elegant night, extolled upon me the kindest compliments, expressions of admiration and awe, and encouragement to pursue my dreams and desires. Some sent private responses that were incredibly thoughtful and tender, and some, I think, just marveled at the unlikely event of seeing me in a white gown. I often balk at marriage and kids because my desire for them waned over the years since nearing this life with a man I loved. My desire for them further diminished after I was left by a man without explanation, after I was raped by a man at my most vulnerable, after I have endlessly allowed men to break down my barriers only to commit the same or similar acts of treason to which the man prior had subjected me. It is not hard to be a decent person, but I have somehow managed in the past three years to allow terrible or emotionally inept men into my world, and it ended up costing me a great deal.
The truth is, I am not closed off to the idea of marriage. I'm not closed to love. I believe, in spite of it all, I am more open to it than ever, almost as an act of rebellion. I REFUSE to close myself to the life I want. I DEFY the notion that hurt people hurt people; they CAN, but that doesn't mean they must. I was talking to a man I'm getting to know about trust, as he, too, has been greatly hurt, and it hurts me to know that he feels, in some way, unable to trust women. I find it especially troubling because he is a man I'd desire to pursue if he were available, but instead, some other women ruined his ability to trust. I don't want to become so jaded that men see me or listen to me and head for the hills because I'm bitter. I am an optimistic idealist and I believe in the good in people, while hoping for the best in them. But the world and it's terrible, hurtful people chip away at my natural character, making it hard to stay open. Defense is a learned response, so only a fool fails to block repeated blows. But how do you stay open for the right person while trying to dodge the bad?
To exorcise some of the bad that has happened to me, I said his name aloud. I finally told someone outside of my close circle of trusted friends, someone in the community who could possibly help, his name. I told this person what he did to me, and I said his name. So now it's out there. Yes, it hurt to relive it. Yes, it hurt to admit it out loud: I was raped. Yes, it makes me angry. Yes, I want him to die. Yes. The act of saying his name conjures strong emotions and reactions, but saying it to someone with authority felt like safety. It felt like taking off a bandaid to discover the wound had healed. Yes, there's a scar, but the wound is shut. It felt like freedom.
I seldom revisit or entertain people or things that have hurt me, but since talking this week about the man who ghosted me, he was on my mind. I was annoyed at him tonight. I was reading an article about sexual harassment in comedy, and he came to mind (despite all of his terrible, selfish traits, which I would uncover during our 9-month relationship, he was an ally to women in comedy, and I can never balk at him for that). I visited his facebook page to discover that he left New York and is back in Orlando. He is single. The man who made plans to move to New York to pursue comedy and- bonus- build a life with me, has started his life all over. Seeing that he started dating someone else a few months after ghosting me was devastating, but the realization I had tonight was profound: Ross ghosted on his own dreams, not just me. He'll never have anything good or stable to build on because he is a coward, as proven by the way he failed to address his motivations with me, his partner. As I have known, and can now confirm, he made a decision for me, which, despite his selfish, hateful way of doing it, bestowed upon me the blessing of opportunity to move on. I could have been wasting my time with a man made of cowardice; instead, by his backhanded blessing, I am single. And I am open. I'm open to building a life with a man who dreams of me in a white dress. I'm open to dancing with a man among fireflies to the tinkling of piano keys, to the winds that rustle butterfly wings. I'm open to sweaty days in bed, now unto the age of wrinkles, with a man who makes me laugh. I'm open to loving a man who will stay, who will bravely stay by my side, even in uncertainty (and there will be some). I'm open to you, whoever you are, and I'm waiting.
Monday, July 4, 2016
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
All life is energy. Feed what you want to grow. Starve what you don't.
Things are well with me this week. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the world. Every day, we read about some new terror in the news, whether it's too close to home, or it's across the seas, someone somewhere is suffering at the hands of someone filled with hate, and it begins to feel like a lost cause. From our stalled legislation here in the states and our over-dependence on our media and government to take care of us and our blind trust that they have our best interest at heart, to the crumbling global relations that are leaving us all spinning and in pain. On a deeply spiritual level, I am devastated. I constantly find myself in debates regarding the moral and ethical responsibilities of caring for other people, animals, our planet, and our finances. It's exhausting. I am a part of the world, no matter how unlikely, and I feel an obligation to remain engaged. I often find that people in direct opposition to me don't stick around. When I believe in something, I am relentless in my pursuit of its realization. I consider that a strength, but for many, that presents itself as a challenge. The hard truth is, though, that in my spirit, I cannot be well unless I know I am working toward the fruit of peace that the world needs, and if that separates me from people who rebuke my efforts, it is not to be helped. We do not affect change by becoming small, being quiet, or doing nothing so as not to make waves. I WANT TO MAKE WAVES.
As for waves, that seems to be the law of the universe: the ebb and flow. I feel the tides turning, drawing strength from the ocean within me, to build toward something massive. I am meeting people every day on the streets of New York, and I am losing the fear of reaching out. Last year, what with all that I went through, reaching out and opening up to new people became terrifying. The truth is that the bad come in with the good, and the bad caused much damage to my progress in 2015. The great takeaway from that time of pain is that my filtering process has become mesh-fine. I no longer keep association with people who don't deserve to share my energy. I ran into a former friend today leaving a casting call. She got out of the elevator at the casting office as I was getting in. We had to acknowledge each other. This was especially uncomfortable because a week ago, she sent me a message via my professional website to try to make amends. She asked if I received it, and I admitted that I had, but that I didn't feel ready to respond. This was someone I considered a best friend, someone I loved deeply and loyally, and in the face of a mutual friend's abuse, she failed to stand by me. She failed to do what was right, and I consider that a mortal offense. In my life, I am a Stark type. Yes, Stark as in House Stark of Game of Thrones. The Starks are good, moral people, and that morality and dignity has cost them dearly. I take the moral high road almost exclusively so that I can look myself in the mirror each day. The wonderful thing about the surviving Starks, however, is that they are also incredibly smart and adaptive. They learn to choose their allies more carefully, while still maintaining their sense of what's right, and choosing it. All that said, I can make peace with someone who has chosen poorly, but "the North remembers". I cannot forget a person's offenses, even if I can forgive. And forgiving her might mean making amends, but it also might now. What has resulted from seeing her today is a desire to respond, a need to say my final words before a decision is made. I need her to know what it felt like to be betrayed, and that I will never tolerate it again. Not ever.
I want to be a person capable of forgiving, just because without it, I don't know how to stay light. I am making an effort to spend time solely with people who make me feel good and reciprocate positive energy when we are together. This extends to friends, potential love interests, artists, and business partners. I no longer have the time to tolerate energy vampires. I want to be better about giving my good energy to those around me. New York City is a hard place to live, and many of its people are hardened as a result. Don't waste my time! Get out of my way! You bumped into me, you son of a bitch! Etc. I am an aggressive person by nature (possibly more nurture, but since my life changed drastically at a young age, it's hard to tell which is more likely; nevertheless). But so much more of my person is made of love than I know with what to do. I want to love more, even if my love is aggressive. I am making a concentrated effort to continue to unfold myself like an onion, petal by petal, to give more and open myself to receiving more. I realized how necessary this is when my roommates and I started feuding a month or so ago. I shut down and go into myself when I am dealing with things: heavy feelings of being disrespected or being hurt, or sadness. And I do this to process and to protect myself. I know this, and to some degree, I regret this. I regret that this tendency keeps me closed off to the possibility of letting people who are good, even if we have differences, from getting close to me. My roommates can drive me so nuts sometimes, as I know I can them, but all in all, they're kind young women, and I think we can continue to learn a lot about ourselves living together, and I'd like to stay vulnerable to that. It is my goal to be a more open person. It is my task to work on this daily.
And love. Where is love? I had a deep sadness last night when I got home late from an awesome day, and I heard the front door open. I had thought all my roommates were home (I was mistaken), and the jangling of keys in the door locks reminded me of the times my former boyfriend would come over and stay the night. It reminded me of what it felt like to have not only a place, but a person, who personified home. I want to build a life with someone. I want to be committed to someone. It has seemed very hard to find that here, to find a sense of permanence with a partner, and that's what I really want. I have never been one to move from relationship to relationship, but this city seems to live and die by this model. Among all of this fast living, can I find a man who wants what I want? I can't be anything less than I am, and I know the strength of my character alone limits my potential partners. Who can keep up with me? Who is up to the task of loving, being committed, being honest, being honorable, being silly, and being just as passionate about people and things as I am? Am I dreaming to believe anyone is made for this? I have some interests currently, and I have hope that this could turn into true potential. And while inside, all I can say is "LET'S FUCKING DO THIS!!!!", I'm allowing myself to move through this phase slowly. I want to be sure before I jump into anything again. I can't fall in love with another man who will love me quickly and then fade when the new relationship energy has waned. I deserve permanence. I am ready for it. And I will not stick around trying to revive a flash in the pan love ever again.
So, here is where I am, thriving tonight on positive energy, grateful for and looking to invest in good friendships, and buzzing with excitement for new and glorious things. To all this, I say "YES".
As for waves, that seems to be the law of the universe: the ebb and flow. I feel the tides turning, drawing strength from the ocean within me, to build toward something massive. I am meeting people every day on the streets of New York, and I am losing the fear of reaching out. Last year, what with all that I went through, reaching out and opening up to new people became terrifying. The truth is that the bad come in with the good, and the bad caused much damage to my progress in 2015. The great takeaway from that time of pain is that my filtering process has become mesh-fine. I no longer keep association with people who don't deserve to share my energy. I ran into a former friend today leaving a casting call. She got out of the elevator at the casting office as I was getting in. We had to acknowledge each other. This was especially uncomfortable because a week ago, she sent me a message via my professional website to try to make amends. She asked if I received it, and I admitted that I had, but that I didn't feel ready to respond. This was someone I considered a best friend, someone I loved deeply and loyally, and in the face of a mutual friend's abuse, she failed to stand by me. She failed to do what was right, and I consider that a mortal offense. In my life, I am a Stark type. Yes, Stark as in House Stark of Game of Thrones. The Starks are good, moral people, and that morality and dignity has cost them dearly. I take the moral high road almost exclusively so that I can look myself in the mirror each day. The wonderful thing about the surviving Starks, however, is that they are also incredibly smart and adaptive. They learn to choose their allies more carefully, while still maintaining their sense of what's right, and choosing it. All that said, I can make peace with someone who has chosen poorly, but "the North remembers". I cannot forget a person's offenses, even if I can forgive. And forgiving her might mean making amends, but it also might now. What has resulted from seeing her today is a desire to respond, a need to say my final words before a decision is made. I need her to know what it felt like to be betrayed, and that I will never tolerate it again. Not ever.
I want to be a person capable of forgiving, just because without it, I don't know how to stay light. I am making an effort to spend time solely with people who make me feel good and reciprocate positive energy when we are together. This extends to friends, potential love interests, artists, and business partners. I no longer have the time to tolerate energy vampires. I want to be better about giving my good energy to those around me. New York City is a hard place to live, and many of its people are hardened as a result. Don't waste my time! Get out of my way! You bumped into me, you son of a bitch! Etc. I am an aggressive person by nature (possibly more nurture, but since my life changed drastically at a young age, it's hard to tell which is more likely; nevertheless). But so much more of my person is made of love than I know with what to do. I want to love more, even if my love is aggressive. I am making a concentrated effort to continue to unfold myself like an onion, petal by petal, to give more and open myself to receiving more. I realized how necessary this is when my roommates and I started feuding a month or so ago. I shut down and go into myself when I am dealing with things: heavy feelings of being disrespected or being hurt, or sadness. And I do this to process and to protect myself. I know this, and to some degree, I regret this. I regret that this tendency keeps me closed off to the possibility of letting people who are good, even if we have differences, from getting close to me. My roommates can drive me so nuts sometimes, as I know I can them, but all in all, they're kind young women, and I think we can continue to learn a lot about ourselves living together, and I'd like to stay vulnerable to that. It is my goal to be a more open person. It is my task to work on this daily.
And love. Where is love? I had a deep sadness last night when I got home late from an awesome day, and I heard the front door open. I had thought all my roommates were home (I was mistaken), and the jangling of keys in the door locks reminded me of the times my former boyfriend would come over and stay the night. It reminded me of what it felt like to have not only a place, but a person, who personified home. I want to build a life with someone. I want to be committed to someone. It has seemed very hard to find that here, to find a sense of permanence with a partner, and that's what I really want. I have never been one to move from relationship to relationship, but this city seems to live and die by this model. Among all of this fast living, can I find a man who wants what I want? I can't be anything less than I am, and I know the strength of my character alone limits my potential partners. Who can keep up with me? Who is up to the task of loving, being committed, being honest, being honorable, being silly, and being just as passionate about people and things as I am? Am I dreaming to believe anyone is made for this? I have some interests currently, and I have hope that this could turn into true potential. And while inside, all I can say is "LET'S FUCKING DO THIS!!!!", I'm allowing myself to move through this phase slowly. I want to be sure before I jump into anything again. I can't fall in love with another man who will love me quickly and then fade when the new relationship energy has waned. I deserve permanence. I am ready for it. And I will not stick around trying to revive a flash in the pan love ever again.
So, here is where I am, thriving tonight on positive energy, grateful for and looking to invest in good friendships, and buzzing with excitement for new and glorious things. To all this, I say "YES".
Monday, June 20, 2016
Scattered Thoughts from a Lovelorn Heart
I don't know how to justify what I'm feeling. I've just been contacted by a third person within the past 4 months alone whom I removed from my life having proven toxic to my well being, and I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed that people can so easily hurt me and then try to come back in. You don't get to tear me apart and then come back with packing tape. It doesn't work that way.
At the same time, I know I am not without flaw and fault. I have caused wounds in many of my past relationships and friendships, and I've had to make amends for them. Some friendships resumed, being better for the wear, and others, while forgiven, did not continue. I respect that. If I have been wrong, I have done my best to apologize and to change my behavior to cease the hurtful action. I have usually succeeded in my efforts, and I am grateful to the friends and loved ones who've been gracious enough to give me second chances.
And maybe that's what these attempts to reach out to me are; attempts to make amends, if nothing else. Two of these contacts are former loves, and one a former friend. Would I open myself to friendships with these men? Do they deserve it? Would it be healthy for me or detrimental? I can't say either sought to hurt me with an intent of malice, but certainly with a selfishness and disregard for human decency which I cannot abide in any of my connections. So while it may seem petty, I owe them nothing. And friendships with them would serve no one. Can I forgive them? Yes. Does forgiving mean resuming? Not always.
I honestly don't know how to reconcile what caused me great pain with what now causes me great sorrow. Sorrow for the realization that time is fleeting and unpromised. My hometown and loved ones suffered great loss last week in the Orlando shooting, and it is a reminder that we should use our time to love as deeply as possible. I can forgive what people have done to me, but I can never forget. Does the inability to forget inhibit the ability to love?
So now I have to sit with the weight of what it means to love, and the question of whether choosing to love and respect myself enough not to entertain toxic connections is what love is also about.
At the same time, I know I am not without flaw and fault. I have caused wounds in many of my past relationships and friendships, and I've had to make amends for them. Some friendships resumed, being better for the wear, and others, while forgiven, did not continue. I respect that. If I have been wrong, I have done my best to apologize and to change my behavior to cease the hurtful action. I have usually succeeded in my efforts, and I am grateful to the friends and loved ones who've been gracious enough to give me second chances.
And maybe that's what these attempts to reach out to me are; attempts to make amends, if nothing else. Two of these contacts are former loves, and one a former friend. Would I open myself to friendships with these men? Do they deserve it? Would it be healthy for me or detrimental? I can't say either sought to hurt me with an intent of malice, but certainly with a selfishness and disregard for human decency which I cannot abide in any of my connections. So while it may seem petty, I owe them nothing. And friendships with them would serve no one. Can I forgive them? Yes. Does forgiving mean resuming? Not always.
I honestly don't know how to reconcile what caused me great pain with what now causes me great sorrow. Sorrow for the realization that time is fleeting and unpromised. My hometown and loved ones suffered great loss last week in the Orlando shooting, and it is a reminder that we should use our time to love as deeply as possible. I can forgive what people have done to me, but I can never forget. Does the inability to forget inhibit the ability to love?
So now I have to sit with the weight of what it means to love, and the question of whether choosing to love and respect myself enough not to entertain toxic connections is what love is also about.
Saturday, April 30, 2016
30
Thirty is the final poem, and so, I'm gonna make it count.
A chapter has closed in my life, that is certain. And I'm finally fed up with re-reading all the chapters I left open from the past year. It's come to a point that re-reading instead of writing new chapters has claimed all my energy, creativity, and sanity. So this is it- this is the year.
--- --- ---
With all the chapters
I have written and will write,
I do love this book.
16
I've been so busy the past week, so I may have to wrap up #NaPoWriMo with a bunch of haikus. But so help me, I will complete it this year.
The weather today
Proved a most welcomed return
To a sunny mind.
15
Free form:
The sky was pink this morning. I walked on your side of the street. I stopped to watch three pigeons pick at pieces of bread. I walked past your door, careless as to whether or not your doorman saw me, despite the fact that he'd definitely remember my face. After I passed your threshold, I smiled. I conquered you. I don't know where you are in the healing process; hell, maybe you never really loved me, even if you thought you did, thus rendering healing unnecessary for you. I have no way to know, and I no longer care. I crossed the street to the deli where I'd be working for the day. Just then, I watched a black lab sprint to me- no, GALLOP- carrying her own leash in her mouth in the purest moment of joy I've ever seen. There were no cars on the road, so I didn't mind, and almost celebrated the fact that she was running free. I was happy to be happy and to be around happiness. I knew in the pink morning that I am going to be ok.
Friday, April 22, 2016
14
Fourteen is a conversation with my ex after the first time we'd slept together. We were not a couple, and given his age and my pretty painful past year with men, I was very hesitant to take that chance. I wanted to send him this conversation we had via text, to congratulate him on his exceptional ability to be exactly the person he said he was not. I guess he's a pretty good actor after all. Instead, I'll immortalize it here, with parenthetical commentary.
Me: I guess the way I'd explain myself for where I'm at is that the past year gave me some baggage with men, and while it's small - carry-on size baggage- what's inside is a heavy reminder that men love me while it's exciting and then they'll leave. So then I take something from that trip and put it in my little suitcase and continue to carry around more and more tokens to remind me that I shouldn't get too involved, shouldn't take too big of a risk because it's only going to lead to me being stranded with baggage.
Him: I'll always be candid and honest with you (LIE)- I don't want to hurt you. And I can't see the future... I've never been in anything longer than 6 months. I've always knew (GRAMMAR?) there are two end results with relationships. Spending the rest of your life with someone, or not. And I've always opted for not when I thought there was potential elsewhere to put my time and energy into (A RED FLAG- WHY DID IGNORE IT?). And the reality that things fade and go away is very real... I guess I've never stuck around long enough to see whether that's an end result for anyone I've been intimate with (THEN LIKE SISYPHUS, YOU ARE ETERNALLY DAMNED TO START OVER, BECAUSE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO FINISH WHAT YOU START). But again, I believe the fact that we're on the same page for a lot of things will help- if anything changes, let's just promise to keep an open dialogue (TOO BAD YOU WERE TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO HONOR THIS PART) and open heart to any changes... This is where we're at now and I'm really enjoying it- I see our friendship (DUE TO MY STATED RESERVATIONS, WE WERE NOT YET A COUPLE) going through years and years of adaptation (TOO BAD YOU RUINED ANY CHANCE OF THAT). There's a risk with everything.. And I think it's a mutual risk- I'm pretty open to risk- probably because I'm young (AND DUMB).. But it still hurts. I'm more excited about the journey if anything. :) and definitely enjoying where we are now. I don't want to think too too much about the future (THEN DON'T DATE A WOMAN WHO IS BUILDING HERS?)- though it's something I tend to do :/ but the last thing I plan on doing is weighing you down or leaving you with more baggage (LIE). I'll help you carry your heavy carry-on when I can :) (UNTIL YOU GET TOO TIRED OR REALIZE THAT IT REQUIRES YOUR TIME). And I plan to be here when and if we decide to cash in all our overdue tokens.
Me: I guess the way I'd explain myself for where I'm at is that the past year gave me some baggage with men, and while it's small - carry-on size baggage- what's inside is a heavy reminder that men love me while it's exciting and then they'll leave. So then I take something from that trip and put it in my little suitcase and continue to carry around more and more tokens to remind me that I shouldn't get too involved, shouldn't take too big of a risk because it's only going to lead to me being stranded with baggage.
Him: I'll always be candid and honest with you (LIE)- I don't want to hurt you. And I can't see the future... I've never been in anything longer than 6 months. I've always knew (GRAMMAR?) there are two end results with relationships. Spending the rest of your life with someone, or not. And I've always opted for not when I thought there was potential elsewhere to put my time and energy into (A RED FLAG- WHY DID IGNORE IT?). And the reality that things fade and go away is very real... I guess I've never stuck around long enough to see whether that's an end result for anyone I've been intimate with (THEN LIKE SISYPHUS, YOU ARE ETERNALLY DAMNED TO START OVER, BECAUSE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO FINISH WHAT YOU START). But again, I believe the fact that we're on the same page for a lot of things will help- if anything changes, let's just promise to keep an open dialogue (TOO BAD YOU WERE TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO HONOR THIS PART) and open heart to any changes... This is where we're at now and I'm really enjoying it- I see our friendship (DUE TO MY STATED RESERVATIONS, WE WERE NOT YET A COUPLE) going through years and years of adaptation (TOO BAD YOU RUINED ANY CHANCE OF THAT). There's a risk with everything.. And I think it's a mutual risk- I'm pretty open to risk- probably because I'm young (AND DUMB).. But it still hurts. I'm more excited about the journey if anything. :) and definitely enjoying where we are now. I don't want to think too too much about the future (THEN DON'T DATE A WOMAN WHO IS BUILDING HERS?)- though it's something I tend to do :/ but the last thing I plan on doing is weighing you down or leaving you with more baggage (LIE). I'll help you carry your heavy carry-on when I can :) (UNTIL YOU GET TOO TIRED OR REALIZE THAT IT REQUIRES YOUR TIME). And I plan to be here when and if we decide to cash in all our overdue tokens.
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
13
Thirteen is an unedited poem I wrote on my way home last year from my first sketch show with a group of writer friends. I was drunk and still reeling from an already-hard year: terrible heartbreak, and then rape by someone in my comedy community plagued my 2015, and my writings certainly reflect that.
9/24/15
I looked at the bug carcasses laying in the plastic coffin that was the covering of the harsh fluorescents of the N train. Their bodies were like small flecks of possibility that never knew actualization, life that never fully happened because its sole purpose was to provide a moment of clarity for me: I am the bugs. I am the bug carcass for someone else. An instrument of self actualization that, despite my indefinite purpose here and my uncertainty in my own being, I serve a purpose for someone else, either to illuminate the speck of possibility within another's life or to become an intimate part of another human being. Each day, my purpose becomes less clear. Am I a part of this world for my own purpose, to realize a dream placed in me from the moment I could process conscious thought? Or has my entire purpose been to work as an instrument for someone else, or something else that I can't quite or haven't yet realized? What is a carcass but bones and tissues and atoms? Pieces that no longer live in and for themselves and their host, but rot away in the general populous of this world? Perhaps my life isn't even a purposeful existence, but rather a by-product of a cosmically accidental birth. Was I made for a purpose, or did I just happen to happen and am consequently trying to find meaning in an inherently meaningless existence? I can't know, but I suppose it doesn't really matter. It's all just bugs.
#NaPoWriMo2016
9/24/15
I looked at the bug carcasses laying in the plastic coffin that was the covering of the harsh fluorescents of the N train. Their bodies were like small flecks of possibility that never knew actualization, life that never fully happened because its sole purpose was to provide a moment of clarity for me: I am the bugs. I am the bug carcass for someone else. An instrument of self actualization that, despite my indefinite purpose here and my uncertainty in my own being, I serve a purpose for someone else, either to illuminate the speck of possibility within another's life or to become an intimate part of another human being. Each day, my purpose becomes less clear. Am I a part of this world for my own purpose, to realize a dream placed in me from the moment I could process conscious thought? Or has my entire purpose been to work as an instrument for someone else, or something else that I can't quite or haven't yet realized? What is a carcass but bones and tissues and atoms? Pieces that no longer live in and for themselves and their host, but rot away in the general populous of this world? Perhaps my life isn't even a purposeful existence, but rather a by-product of a cosmically accidental birth. Was I made for a purpose, or did I just happen to happen and am consequently trying to find meaning in an inherently meaningless existence? I can't know, but I suppose it doesn't really matter. It's all just bugs.
#NaPoWriMo2016
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
12
Shadorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines, respectively. I thought this would be more fun to do in Spanish. Here's my piece:
"El Ciclo de la Cosecha"
La flor de
mi amor joven
creció.
Ha muerto.
Me tire las raÃces.
Sembraré.
Translated to English:
The flower of
my young love
grew.
It has died.
I pull the roots.
I will sow.
#NaPoWriMo2016
"El Ciclo de la Cosecha"
La flor de
mi amor joven
creció.
Ha muerto.
Me tire las raÃces.
Sembraré.
Translated to English:
The flower of
my young love
grew.
It has died.
I pull the roots.
I will sow.
#NaPoWriMo2016
11
The Nonet is a nine line poem, with the first line containing nine syllables, the next eight, so on until the last line has one syllable.
The world, heavy upon my shoulders,
stills holds within its unending
memory the truth of who
I was before all of
the sadness set in.
In that place, I
still and will
always
live.
#NaPoWriMo2016
The world, heavy upon my shoulders,
stills holds within its unending
memory the truth of who
I was before all of
the sadness set in.
In that place, I
still and will
always
live.
#NaPoWriMo2016
10
I'm obsessed with this new form. Shout out to my boy Curtis for the prompt for this Luc Bat, with which I am now completely obsessed. The luc bat is a Vietnamese poetic form that means “six-eight.” The poem consists of alternating lines of six and eight syllables. The rhyme scheme renews at the end of every
eight-syllable line and rhymes on the sixth syllable of both lines.
I cling to memories
as a means to help ease the pain.
In living them again,
I weep, but do remain steadfast
in knowing past has passed.
If love was meant to last, it would.
Ideally, it should!
But only through loss could we grow.
To know all that we know
and hurt more than we show is wise;
for the open heart dies
no matter how it tries to clot.
So cling to the whole lot,
but when it's time, try not to stay;
for there will come a day
when a new love will say, "I'm here".
#NaPoWriMo2016
I cling to memories
as a means to help ease the pain.
In living them again,
I weep, but do remain steadfast
in knowing past has passed.
If love was meant to last, it would.
Ideally, it should!
But only through loss could we grow.
To know all that we know
and hurt more than we show is wise;
for the open heart dies
no matter how it tries to clot.
So cling to the whole lot,
but when it's time, try not to stay;
for there will come a day
when a new love will say, "I'm here".
#NaPoWriMo2016
9
Another Haiku (I'm lazy):
If you'll no longer
feed me love, at least I know
how to feed myself.
#NaPoWriMo2016
If you'll no longer
feed me love, at least I know
how to feed myself.
#NaPoWriMo2016
8
The Bop is a poetic form that was developed by poet Afaa Michael Weaver. Three stanzas (6/8/6 lines), each followed by a refrain.
"Let's eat together"
In a world hungry for love, we are starving each other.
We beg to be fed, but bring nothing to the table.
Or, worse yet, we bring the dish we like to eat,
yet fail to feed the other.
We treat each person like a new course,
demand to try them all in order to feel full.
Let's eat together.
Wasting away is common now; emaciated hearts
don't even bother to hold forks or knives.
With what strength could they hold on to them?
What we don't feed dies,
so how can we stop feeding a thing
And then complain that it experiences hunger, longs to dine
with us at a table once long and stocked when we felt
more generous or, too, more hungry?
Let's eat together.
The only way to satiate the hunger
is to feed and, when offered, allow ourselves to be fed.
But not just by anyone; by one who invites us
to the table, daily; and feeds us not by utensils,
but from the hand
and of the heart.
Let's eat together.
#NaPoWriMo2016
"Let's eat together"
In a world hungry for love, we are starving each other.
We beg to be fed, but bring nothing to the table.
Or, worse yet, we bring the dish we like to eat,
yet fail to feed the other.
We treat each person like a new course,
demand to try them all in order to feel full.
Let's eat together.
Wasting away is common now; emaciated hearts
don't even bother to hold forks or knives.
With what strength could they hold on to them?
What we don't feed dies,
so how can we stop feeding a thing
And then complain that it experiences hunger, longs to dine
with us at a table once long and stocked when we felt
more generous or, too, more hungry?
Let's eat together.
The only way to satiate the hunger
is to feed and, when offered, allow ourselves to be fed.
But not just by anyone; by one who invites us
to the table, daily; and feeds us not by utensils,
but from the hand
and of the heart.
Let's eat together.
#NaPoWriMo2016
7
A Cinquain is a verse of five lines that do not rhyme, created by Adelaide Crapsey. I rhymed mine a little anyway:
Broken
pieces remain
in my mind; where once I
was whole, now myself I can't find.
What now?
#NaPoWriMo2016
Broken
pieces remain
in my mind; where once I
was whole, now myself I can't find.
What now?
#NaPoWriMo2016
6
Free form:
Breaking up with you
was the goal, but sitting there in the sun,
surrounded by beauty,
my heart remembered what my tongue forgot.
Leaving has never been a strength of mine
even when my happiness depends upon the leaving.
So I sat in sad knowing and let you do for us
what I could not.
#NaPoWriMo2016
Breaking up with you
was the goal, but sitting there in the sun,
surrounded by beauty,
my heart remembered what my tongue forgot.
Leaving has never been a strength of mine
even when my happiness depends upon the leaving.
So I sat in sad knowing and let you do for us
what I could not.
#NaPoWriMo2016
3
In light of my recent breakup, I've fallen behind on my writing. Several writings have arisen since to catch me up. This is the third. Free form:
I got out of bed before 5p today, so that was good.
Looked at guys' dating profiles online: no one interesting.
I masturbated (I needed to) and thought about him
and all the times he told me he loved me while we made love.
I remembered the first time we had sex and he asked me if it felt shared or like I was being fucked.
It was important to him to know that I felt loved, that I knew the difference.
When I finished, I looked out the window at the beautiful sky
and whispered "why did you do this to me?" as I softly cried.
#NaPoWriMo2016
I got out of bed before 5p today, so that was good.
Looked at guys' dating profiles online: no one interesting.
I masturbated (I needed to) and thought about him
and all the times he told me he loved me while we made love.
I remembered the first time we had sex and he asked me if it felt shared or like I was being fucked.
It was important to him to know that I felt loved, that I knew the difference.
When I finished, I looked out the window at the beautiful sky
and whispered "why did you do this to me?" as I softly cried.
#NaPoWriMo2016
Saturday, April 2, 2016
2
Celebrating #NaPoWriMo2016 with a haiku:
Dimly-lit bar is threatened
By the morning light.
Friday, April 1, 2016
1
In honor of #NaPoWriMo2016, I am writing a poem each day for the month of April. Today, a haiku:
Imagination
Brings life to my greatest fears
And death to my hopes
Sunday, January 3, 2016
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