Leaving Brooklyn
This is where my insides reside.
Welcome to Brooklyn.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Neighbors
Every once in a while, when I switch off my lamp and close my laptop, I will open my blinds before I resign to my bed. As my consciousness dwindles, I look into my neighbor’s windows, and I wonder if they’re all okay.
Despite our relatively close living arrangements, I have never met any of them. I do not know the name of the round-faced brunette woman who grows tomatoes in a hanging basket on her balcony. I do not know what the overweight bearded man who is chain smoking cigarettes on his stoop every single time I look over at his building does for a living that enables him to be chain smoking cigarettes on his stoop every single time I look over at his building. I can see the early-thirties black man when he stands in front of his apartment, at least once a week, with his headphones in and a lot to rap about, but I do not know what inspires him. I can't even hear the words that come from his mouth. I only see the conviction in his delivery and I assume that he’s speaking with passion.
Despite our relatively close living arrangements, I have never met any of them. I do not know the name of the round-faced brunette woman who grows tomatoes in a hanging basket on her balcony. I do not know what the overweight bearded man who is chain smoking cigarettes on his stoop every single time I look over at his building does for a living that enables him to be chain smoking cigarettes on his stoop every single time I look over at his building. I can see the early-thirties black man when he stands in front of his apartment, at least once a week, with his headphones in and a lot to rap about, but I do not know what inspires him. I can't even hear the words that come from his mouth. I only see the conviction in his delivery and I assume that he’s speaking with passion.
I do not know their stories, my neighbors. I know nothing of their struggle, of their families, or jobs, or hobbies. I do not know where they have been or what they have done. I do not know if they are christian, atheist, a parent, a student, single, or married. I do not know if they have more good in them than evil, or more evil than good. I am only an observer; unentitled to any type of opinion of these people, my neighbors...
but when I look into their windows at night, though I’ve never seen any of them looking back at me, I feel a sense of unity among us all.
I do not know the gardening woman,or the bearded man, or the black man, but I do know what it is like to be human, and I know that we’re all doing the best that we can.
I just hope they're all okay.
I hope we're all okay.
I just hope they're all okay.
I hope we're all okay.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Do Not Disturb
Sometimes it's hard to accept new things in life, even if they're good. We're so use to working up to the good things like becoming dance captain, winning a competition, graduating high school, or getting a job promotion, that sudden good fortunes can almost seem dooming. Usually it's the bad things that take us by surprise. Loss, injury, death, are all things that we don't see coming. Things that come into our world unexpectedly, really throw shit around, and fade away as we continue to work toward the good.
So how do you respond when good things come unexpectedly and really throw shit around too? What if I was comfortable with what was happening in my world, do I turn away the positive change or do I accept it? Am I expected to accept it? I think that since I'm so use to sudden change being a bad thing, my mind automatically assumes that this change will turn sour as well, and so I should protect myself.
How many good opportunities do you think you may have turned away because you thought you were protecting yourself? Friends, career, experiences, love...
How do you forgive yourself for pushing something good out of your life because you're afraid it could hurt you? It just sounds fucking stupid.
This is fucking stupid.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Silk
Your first love really shapes who you are as a person.
You will experience your most extreme emotions when you are in love. You break boundaries and cross lines in your ability to trust someone; your ability to cherish and care about someone; to feel hurt by someone; to feel rage toward someone. You realize what you're emotionally capable of, and I think you start to feel more strongly toward most other things in your life too; effecting, changing, or altering your general perspective on life completely. Just like fine fabrics, once stretched, they will not return to their original shape, neither will you.
Be careful, you can be stretched and pulled in all the wrong ways.
p.s. I don't know anything.
p.s. I don't know anything.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
My Nomadic Mind
I'm trying to teach myself that it's okay to live in the now a little bit. My mind is always stuck in the future, and that might be just fine if it were because I'm working toward something, some goal, but I'm not. It's almost like I'm working toward working toward something - if that makes sense.
Instead of focusing on a plan, I'm wondering when a plan is going to present itself. I spend so much time wondering that I feel like I'm trying to control my future before it can reach me. I'm trying to control my life without having any idea about what direction it's going in.
Every day I think about what I want, but not about how to get it or about the things I already have. My mind is always hopping a hundred different trains of thought and rarely jumping off to rest with an idea.
I feel like if I would just stay in one place for a little while than I could start to figure out where I'm going. That makes sense. Basketball would nearly be an impossible sport if the hoop was always moving all over the court. How is life supposed to fall into my lap if I'm never in one place?
I can't expect myself to learn to sit still, but maybe I can try slowing down. I'll start small. Walking slower, writing slower, taking my time, trying to be more patient.
Ah there it is.
Instead of focusing on a plan, I'm wondering when a plan is going to present itself. I spend so much time wondering that I feel like I'm trying to control my future before it can reach me. I'm trying to control my life without having any idea about what direction it's going in.
Every day I think about what I want, but not about how to get it or about the things I already have. My mind is always hopping a hundred different trains of thought and rarely jumping off to rest with an idea.
I feel like if I would just stay in one place for a little while than I could start to figure out where I'm going. That makes sense. Basketball would nearly be an impossible sport if the hoop was always moving all over the court. How is life supposed to fall into my lap if I'm never in one place?
I can't expect myself to learn to sit still, but maybe I can try slowing down. I'll start small. Walking slower, writing slower, taking my time, trying to be more patient.
Ah there it is.
Patience.
I need to stop expecting things in life to happen instantaneously, and being upset when they don't. I need to be patient with my music, and my art... than maybe I can actually become a songwriter instead of a singer, and a choreographer rather than just a dancer. Growth takes time and focus.
Focus.
Growth takes patience, focus, and energy invested into the things you're passionate about.
Passion.
No matter where my path leads, or what my future holds, I'm never going to be content unless I'm doing what I love. I'm never going to be truly happy unless I have faith in my dreams.
Dreams.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
"Hot bitches" and why girls try so hard.
"Yo, bring bitches."
"Hey, this party is crackin' there's tons of bitches."
"Don't come if you don't have hot bitches with you."
"Bitches get in for free."
"That place was a sausage fest, I swear there were NO bitches."
It would be easier to give all the reasons that comments like these aren't degrading, but then there would be absolutely nothing to say, right? Day after day I see Facebook posts about how "slutty" this girl is, and how "trashy" another is. How she is trying too hard.
"Yo, bring bitches."
"Hey, this party is crackin' there's tons of bitches."
"Don't come if you don't have hot bitches with you."
"Bitches get in for free."
"That place was a sausage fest, I swear there were NO bitches." <-- This is why she's "trying so hard."
Boys make their expectations, not to mention their intentions, very clear. "Hot bitches."
Then they turn around and complain about the rise of promiscuity in our generation. On the weekends, girls are often given a choice between staying at home and watching Netflix with their cat, or going out to party. In order for them to even be let in the door however, they have to shave their legs, put on a miniskirt, rub bronzing lotions all over their body, put on fake eyelashes, brush their extensions, pencil in their eyebrows, paint their nails, tease the life out of their hair, and put on a push up bra that would suffocate any teenage boy unconscious.
By the time they make it inside, they look like JWOWW, only 17.
Then, being a 17 year old girl who doesn't have a 23 year old brother in the Army reserves who buys her alcohol, she feels like she has to flirt to get herself a beer. Also, being a 17 year old girl, she thinks beer is gross, so she just starts chasing shots.
Now she's drunk, looks like JWOWW, and is surrounded by a mass of equally drunk adolescent boys. Mind you they didn't want her there in the first place unless she was wearing a hot pink garment that hardly covers her no-no zone. Clearly these little guys wanted some sloppy drunk, ill advised, i'm-never-gonna-talk-to-you-again high school action.
Now her judgement is impaired (an actual psychological effect of alcohol, so yes, it is an "excuse") and she comes up with some story in her mind that if she sleeps with this guy, he's going to realize that she has a heart of gold, and he's going to have her stay over all the next day wearing his basketball shorts, playing video games, and eating waffles.
In reality, the result of giving herself up is total loss of respect. At least what little there could have been after referring to her as "bitch" all the time.
Instead of giving her his basketball shorts and cuddling with his new boo all night, he turns over and goes to sleep. She stays up all night, probably crying, and regretting what happened. She leaves early the next morning without saying anything. Over the next couple of weeks she starts to realize what she really gave up... all of her self-respect. At least what little there could have been after letting people refer to her as "bitch" all the time.
She wants to make what happened seem okay, so she texts the same boy a winky face.
(;
She'll try again. This time he'll really fall for her.
This, my friends, is what's going on here. He never falls for her, because he never had the intention of falling for her. She was just a "hot bitch." But now, see, she thinks there is something wrong with her.
What is it that wasn't good enough for him? Am I good enough for anybody?
So she keeps trying. She keeps trying to find her way into a guy's world the only way she knows how; the way you taught her, in fact.
By being a "hot bitch."
"Hey, this party is crackin' there's tons of bitches."
"Don't come if you don't have hot bitches with you."
"Bitches get in for free."
"That place was a sausage fest, I swear there were NO bitches."
It would be easier to give all the reasons that comments like these aren't degrading, but then there would be absolutely nothing to say, right? Day after day I see Facebook posts about how "slutty" this girl is, and how "trashy" another is. How she is trying too hard.
"Yo, bring bitches."
"Hey, this party is crackin' there's tons of bitches."
"Don't come if you don't have hot bitches with you."
"Bitches get in for free."
"That place was a sausage fest, I swear there were NO bitches." <-- This is why she's "trying so hard."
Boys make their expectations, not to mention their intentions, very clear. "Hot bitches."
Then they turn around and complain about the rise of promiscuity in our generation. On the weekends, girls are often given a choice between staying at home and watching Netflix with their cat, or going out to party. In order for them to even be let in the door however, they have to shave their legs, put on a miniskirt, rub bronzing lotions all over their body, put on fake eyelashes, brush their extensions, pencil in their eyebrows, paint their nails, tease the life out of their hair, and put on a push up bra that would suffocate any teenage boy unconscious.
By the time they make it inside, they look like JWOWW, only 17.
Then, being a 17 year old girl who doesn't have a 23 year old brother in the Army reserves who buys her alcohol, she feels like she has to flirt to get herself a beer. Also, being a 17 year old girl, she thinks beer is gross, so she just starts chasing shots.
Now she's drunk, looks like JWOWW, and is surrounded by a mass of equally drunk adolescent boys. Mind you they didn't want her there in the first place unless she was wearing a hot pink garment that hardly covers her no-no zone. Clearly these little guys wanted some sloppy drunk, ill advised, i'm-never-gonna-talk-to-you-again high school action.
Now her judgement is impaired (an actual psychological effect of alcohol, so yes, it is an "excuse") and she comes up with some story in her mind that if she sleeps with this guy, he's going to realize that she has a heart of gold, and he's going to have her stay over all the next day wearing his basketball shorts, playing video games, and eating waffles.
In reality, the result of giving herself up is total loss of respect. At least what little there could have been after referring to her as "bitch" all the time.
Instead of giving her his basketball shorts and cuddling with his new boo all night, he turns over and goes to sleep. She stays up all night, probably crying, and regretting what happened. She leaves early the next morning without saying anything. Over the next couple of weeks she starts to realize what she really gave up... all of her self-respect. At least what little there could have been after letting people refer to her as "bitch" all the time.
She wants to make what happened seem okay, so she texts the same boy a winky face.
(;
She'll try again. This time he'll really fall for her.
This, my friends, is what's going on here. He never falls for her, because he never had the intention of falling for her. She was just a "hot bitch." But now, see, she thinks there is something wrong with her.
What is it that wasn't good enough for him? Am I good enough for anybody?
So she keeps trying. She keeps trying to find her way into a guy's world the only way she knows how; the way you taught her, in fact.
By being a "hot bitch."
Give some respect and maybe you'll get that girl with the heart of gold who will play video games all day wearing your basketball shorts, and eating waffles. Even if you don't want her today, don't ruin her for tomorrow. God created her so that she could love you, and be loved by you.
She is not meant to be disrespected or taken lightly.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Get Real
Before you act, think. Ask yourself, "If I do this, who does that make me?" Sometimes people, in our generation especially, will argue that it doesn't matter how people perceive them, because that bears no reflection on who they really are... Really, and how is that so? Your body and mind do not act separately. The decisions you make display perfectly who you are; they and you just may not always be read properly, but that is an uncontrollable error of a second part. Still, no matter "how" people take it, the way you dress, the way you speak, the people you hang out with; you do it willingly, day after day. That makes you who you are.
Now, in order for people to receive you properly, there is one simple thing that you need to do--
Be honest with yourself. You may believe that there is a flaw in my thinking. You know that you can think one way and act differently than that. You could be a tomboy but act and dress like a girly girl. Or you could be a gay man that is living your life as if you are straight. Why? Why do people pretend? Well, we pretend because we are afraid of nonacceptance. We pretend when we are weak and not confident in who we are. When you are one of these people, you put on a mask.
Even though a few may be fooled now, when you decide to be honest about who you are, people will see that, as well as the fact that you are insecure. Eventually EVERYTHING will shine through, so if you're honest with yourself... if you decide to be the same person when you walk out the door as you are when you wake up in the morning, then suddenly, people will "get" you. It's not a sin to be different, and the more open you are with who you are as a human being, the less bullshit people will have to pick through to decide whether or not they accept you. The ones that do will stay, and the ones that do not will simply go. You won't ever have to build a faulty relationship with someone and then endure the drama when they say "you've changed." Just be honest with yourself and you'll find that life is much more harmonious.
I don't believe in the phrase, "I don't know who I am." No, you just can't decide which mask to live behind. As long as you have your thoughts, you have a soul. The unexplained connection between your mind and body. When I say 'mind' I am not talking about your physical brain. I'm talking about the voices in your head, the things you like and the things you hate, the people and places that are attractive to you. That's something, right? That's someone, isn't it? That's who you are! Now let it be so. Get real.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Pancakes.
Take what you can get in life. The more memories you make, the longer it will take for your mind to rid of them all. I want to be an old woman, pleased with her past as a wild, daring, bad girl. I want someone to have memories of me being a bad girl too. We'll smile, and i'll rest my pale, wrinkly hand on his-He was a bad boy. We shared as many passionate gasps as we did thick, smokey exhales. We were so in love. My forehead fit right into the nape of his neck. Like I was made to lay over him. I protected his twisted heart from women who wouldn't have been able to love him properly. He told me he knew when I draped myself over him, laying flat on our throne of sheets, my forehead resting against him, my lips, as rosy now as they were then, pressed softly against his spine. The curve of my stomach fit right into the arch if his back. That's when he knew. We were so in love. Nothing else in the world mattered. I knew no world other than him and he of me. The sun revolved around his smile and the moon revolved around his mind. I was the sun and the moon. We were so in love. I still have all of the letters he wrote me, and I know that somewhere, he has the ones that I wrote him. Even though we both know well what they say, we hide them from each other. They're our own, from each other, forever in ink. We were so in love.
I still ask him every night what he wants for dinner, and every night he tells me pancakes. We are so in love.
I still ask him every night what he wants for dinner, and every night he tells me pancakes. We are so in love.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
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