Aiyani Mersai

Mary Jane by Alanis came on the iTunes tonight a little after one in the morning when I was playing online.  It came on, and I thought of you.  I started lip synching to the song, it’s too late to sing along, I share a wall with someone who gets up in five hours and want to respect his sleeping patterns.  This song, it represented me in so many ways during my twenties.  It was a “signature” song at karaoke you’d catch me singing at least one a week there for a while.  But that’s what we do when we love something, we listen to it over and over, read it over and over, sing it over and over, look at it over and over, and we do it because it makes us smile.  We love to smile.  We love to listen, and read and sing and look at things, over and over.  Tonight when Alanis started with What’s the matter Mary Jane, had a hard day? I teared up a bit, because I thought of you.  I thought of all of our times together.  I didn’t just think of you, I thought of us.

Brighteyes, you are the reason I went to karaoke for the first time ever.  I was cast in a play and given a solo, something I’d never had, and with my semi stage fright you said the best way to get over it was to practice.  You made a junkie that night over ten years ago now. That kind of mark set me on a very important path, which inevitably makes you a very important piece to the puzzle that is my life, a very important piece.

Nahnnah, I found you that same year I learned to sing on my own.  I was so intimidated by you.  You had an amazing voice, you were (are) so beautiful, and when I didn’t know how to read the music you stood up without a thought, came to sit by me and began teaching me a bit about the music, how to follow him (the guy teaching us the song), and the notes.  You were so patient, you still are, and you know how important that is to me.  How fearful I can be sometimes of people growing tired of me, and my ramblings or questions or inability to carry a conversation without a large vocabulary.  Your words are important to me, all of them.

Kevin, you’ve always been so supportive and encouraging of my everything.  My drives, my goals, my pure intentions to do nothing, you supported those too, and I appreciate that.  There are moments you have I had over the years where tears have been shed and words of love pass our mouths.  You will always be close to me, you are family to me.

Kitten, where would I be without you?  I met you when you were sporting dreads.  Is that even how I’m supposed to spell that?  You had such a great energy and mysteriousness to you, I wanted to be your friend immediately.  The stories we’ve shared over the years, the countless analytical conversations, the hundreds of ounces of coffee with creamer.  I trust you, and I trust few, and it’s important to me that you know that.

Colin, somehow you’ve fixated me to certain ideals of what I expect in a relationship with a man, be him a friend or more than a friend.  We dated briefly and I loved you, just the way I was supposed to, and you know I still do, just the way I’m supposed to.  There’s an honest quality to you that makes me want to hear what you have to say, and for some reason that’s a difficult quality to find in other straight men.  I respect you and what you offer to me as a person and friend and I want you to know that I acknowledge your triumphs and use you as motivation sometimes.  I miss the sound of your voice when you sing.  There’s a kind of love in your voice when you sing that resonates in my ears and vibrates my heart.  I will always want to be in the front row, I will always want the back stage pass for your tour.

That time in our life, all those years ago, its truly molded me into the kind of performer I am now, and the kind of person I am as well.  There is a stage presence and vulnerability, I’m told, when I’m singing certain songs, and no one can really tell what I’m thinking.  If I’m thinking about the song, or something entirely different.  Sometimes people guess, “oh she’s singing a sad song, and she looks sad singing it, she must be sad” and although that makes sense just fine, it’s not as accurate as…the only way I know how to sing this particular song, is with these people in the front row, with these people and their children, and bbq’s, and dogs, and slow dances, and dance shows, and surprise parties, and alcohol!, and coffee, and their smiles.  Their eyes.  Eyes that have seen me succeed and fail and hugged me regardless.  Eyes that have cried for me in joy and sorrow.  Your eyes, that’s what I’m looking for when I sing that song.  I’m searching and longing for the twenty something year old I was when you and me were together.  I’m searching for the lights above my head, the spot light in my face, and your smiling faces in the seats among our “front row.” And maybe that’s what being vulnerable really is.  Letting someone see what you’re feeling.  Be it while you’re walking in the rain, singing on the stage or trying to drown it all away with glass upon glass of 7&7’s.  Maybe that’s why I’m a better person, and actor, now.  Maybe that’s why when I have anxiety over something, I have to share it, because keeping it to myself keeps me from everything else.  When you let someone else see what you’re feeling, they can connect and relate to you.  And that’s all people want in the end, a sense of connection, a place rooted within them to define a branch of their existence.

I thought of you tonight when Alanis started to sing.  I thought about your eyes and your smile and the way we used to be, then I cried and remembered, its the way we still are that makes me love you more.

(Scratches head)

The names and places of this event have been changed to protect the individuals involved.  This is loosely based on true events.

Patricia is Samantha’s new boss.  Patricia is younger than Samantha, but well qualified to be the boss, this does not bother Samantha, at all.  During her second day at work, still new to the company’s procedures, Samantha asked a question of Patricia.  Patricia laughed, trying to be light hearted about the question, but in fact, never answered the question, and laughing at Samantha made her feel very small and insignificant.  Now, Samantha is a bright girl, this new job is an excellent career move for her ultimate goals, and she is frustrated and confused by the sarcasm and apparent belittling Patricia has left with her.  So, Samantha writes Patricia a letter.  This letter expresses her frustrations and her expectations and her feelings.  In return, Patricia responds with a letter apologizing.  Patricia explains clearly what her intentions were when answering the question Samantha had asked, and also said she was glad Samantha had even bothered to ask!  She was so pleased that Samantha was assertive enough to ask her question.  However, Patricia also said it wasn’t her job to walk Samantha through every little step, which clearly was not Samantha’s question, and Patricia also said she would help Samantha move to a different department if she thought it would help.

After careful consideration, Samantha decided to stay put, after all the career goal is still the same, the path getting there just may be a bit rockier than anticipated.

A week goes by.  Samantha is doing her job, but has not seen Patricia.  Patricia is doing her job, but has not seen Samantha.  It is not necessary for them to see one another, but once a week.  At the department meeting, all employees, including Samantha, attend and everyone fills everyone else in about their work-stuff.  Meeting adjourned.  As Samantha is leaving, Patricia asks her politely if she can stay a few minutes, Samantha agrees.

Patricia loses her office meeting smile and stares Samantha in the eyes and begins a speech about the letter Samantha wrote.  Samantha is confused, it’d been a week, she didn’t know there were any issues, but is willing to listen to Patricia, of course.  Patricia quotes Samantha’s words, and tries to name the contradictions, and concludes with saying Samantha needed to show more respect to her boss, give her the benefit of the doubt, because if Samantha doesn’t like her job, she can just go and get a different one. Patricia is disgusted that Samantha wrote a letter, instead of talking to her face to face.

Samantha was confused, but not necessarily frustrated.

Samantha begins to respond saying it was never her intention to contradict herself, that she doesn’t want to leave her job, she felt like it the only other option.  An option which would, inevitably, set her back perhaps even years from her career goal.  So, she believed the only option, was to stay and find a way to make it work.  As Samantha began to explain this, Patricia constantly interrupted her until Samantha stopped and with a little sarcasm herself said “do you not want me to respond? because you’re being very defensive.” To which Patricia replied “I’m not being defensive!” Samantha stared and took that in for only a moment, then opened her mouth and said “Interrupting me, a defense tactic.” Then there was silence, and Samantha could feel the cold on Patricia face.  The “blank” expression with so much behind it, yet no words followed suit.  Samantha then said “Is there anything else you need to say?  Because, I’m ready and willing to listen, but its’ clear you don’t want to hear what I have to say.  It’s confusing, because I already agreed with you.”  and although she meant every word, she, still, also meant you’re taking this personally, and it’s not – and, sometimes people think talking in person is too confrontational, how was I supposed to know your preference?

Samantha thought in that moment what Patricia wanted was an apology.

Now that would require true thinking on Samantha’s part.  Most of her life she did not apologize for her feelings or words.  And not because she was bound and determined to stand by them and be “right” as it were, but because apologizing, to her, meant not meaning who she was in the moment “it” all happened.  Apologizing also meant never doing it again, which she could not guarantee to anyone, not even herself.

Patricia only stared and then said “have a good day,” and walked out of the room.

For the rest of her work day, and for the better part of the evening Samantha pondered what she could have done differently.  If she was so sure of her intention, and didn’t get what she wanted, should she try another tactic?  Was she even sure that she still wanted the same thing?  How important is tone in a letter?

Well, Samantha eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps she did do wrong in writing the letter, instead of approaching Patricia in person.  However, her experience in being heard by the other person when something like this happens, proves…sour..as far as results go.  Nonetheless Samantha sat down to write another letter to Patricia in hopes to clear the air, as it were, however, Samantha wanted to make sure her argument was valid so she wrote a couple drafts to make sure she was stating facts, and not her feelings – it was the only way she knew to take the conversation logically.

::::::::::::

What might the letter have said in order for Samantha to be logical and clear about the whole ordeal?

Was Samantha right to write the letter(s)?

Was Patricia right in her response, and how she approached it?

What can be expected for the days at work to come?

A  feature WordPress offers is the “dashboard.”  The dashboard houses other windows of information.  One, in particular, tells me the most recent searches on my particular page.  And this, is interesting.

Truly.

Alright.  This semester I’m taking:

Stage Management

Acting II

Intro to Logic

Voice & Speech II

Writing

Totaling 15 credits.  After the first “initial” week, I’ll explain that in a minute, I emailed the head of the theatre department and asked if I could add a class.  Mondays and Tuesdays I’m at the school for …ever, with long breaks so I thought why not throw in another class?  He informed me that 15 credits is the most I can take (until second semester then I can add 1 more class, but I have to have attended and complete 1 semester first before I’m allowed to add).  Now, I sent him this end of the week last week.  I had not at that time been to my stage management class or intro to logic class.  After completing the past two days (wherein I have been to each class at least once, I have 2 classes that meet twice a week) I don’t …reeeeaaallly know what I was thinking.  NOW, before you go “yah aiyani 15 credits is full time, ease up” I’d like you to keep in mind that at PCPA I had 21-22 credits per semester.  Met 6 days a week for an average of 10 hours a day.  Then I’d go home, do homework and get up and keep at it.  I did not work (too much) while attending PCPA.  There just wasn’t any time for it.  I was still sporting the green apron, once a week and of course for the summer and holidays, I was THAT kind of employee at that time.  THIS time around, I work more.  I have to.  There is no getting around the fact that I will have to work full time AND go to school full time.  Now, STILL that is not too much to me, where my issues or stress or whatever you want to call it is building is ALL THE FREAGING READING I HAVE TO DO.

Plays and handouts for Stage Management

Plays for acting (duh), as well as journaling about what I’ve read, and work in class. And not just the plays *I* will be working on, all the plays that will be in production at the school, and all the plays other students in my class will be working on

Chapters and handouts for Logic.  Professor Logic also said the word “variables” the other night in class and my mind sunk to 9th grade geometry and the defeat began to take over.

Writing we have 3 books we have to get, and we get 2-4 handouts a week that are 10-12 pages in length front and back that I have to read and journal about solo, then journal again after class discussion, including essay outlines, summaries, drafts and final drafts

The WRITING slash journaling or typing will be the death of me.  I can only say I’m so …SO glad I took a typing class in High School because I would drown so fast here.  So not only is there lots and lots of reading, there is “reflecting” and journaling for each class, there is homework and a lot of it.  There are prop lists to write and scene breakdowns to create after I’ve read the play at least three times.  There will soon be memorization I have to do, and scene work, and voice & speech work.  I have to get GRAPH paper for my Logic class.

And lets not forget I have to carry my computer bag, purse and duffle bag to and from.  Computer and cords, binders, scripts, books, course packs (photo copies of stuff used in a class that is bound into a folder like thing for the class) notebooks, purse things, clothes for work or school depending on which is first, work shoes too, and I haven’t even TRIED to take gym clothes or go.   Im’ already in pain from the weight of this decision, the literal weight; from school stuff to work stuff.  I’m not actually sure there is enough time in my week to work and get all my assignments done for my classes.  I’m so absolutely baffled.  And standing at the bus stop tonight at 10pm I realized when winter comes, it will only get worse.  The to and fro, the weight of the bags and then…the chill factor will set in.

I have a headache just from typing this.  I have to try to get 2 assignments done tonight before I go to bed, because NOW is when I have “time” to do it.  sigh.  shrug.

And I have an interview at 9am tomorrow so I need to be out the door by 7:45ish to assure I show up on time, and can find it.  Then I head over to school, then back over to work, then home, then homework. . .

Do not overwhelm yourself.

Stick with one thing at a time, focus on it, give it your time, then move on when it is finished.

Be efficient and organized with your time.

Drink water.

Eat food.

Shower, don’t forget to shower

And at some point, I’ll sleep as well.

“this” is what the build of living in New York is/was for me.  This is what will make my experience different than the friends before me.  School.  And that doesn’t make me better – at all, it just gives different perspective on the “life” i’m going to have here.

take vitamins

wax eyebrows

drink water

eat food

…things I’m just trying to not forget to do with this new schedule.

ps. I’m going to find Spock ears and wear them to my Logic class.  Party.

It was easy.  It was the first day of school.  The student to teacher ratio is low, so we will be getting good one-on-one time in these settings.  I walked in with my computer bag and purse.  I had a 3 hour wait period between classes and although computers are available…everywhere it seems, they are theirs – and I like mine.  I can save stuff here, I know where everything is.

I walked in and got to the back of the line, albeit short, for the lockers.  Yes, they offer lockers.  And I’ll need it with my gym clothes, work clothes, school stuff, and winter coats and such when it becomes time for all of it.  It is however, a bottom locker.  Sad face.  I had mixed feelings about it, then reminded myself I needed one and to shut up about it, it’s even on the floor I wanted.  Next stop the Center for Student Services.  I needed some paperwork filled out.  En route to said department I passed every stereotype I could think of.  At least all the “new” ones, the ones you’d name off the top of your head.  I wondered if they saw me and stereotyped me right away too.  Shrug, I didn’t judge I just smiled and nodded and kept moving.  Time paused for a brief moment when I noticed a girl with her pant leg pulled up to her knee revealing pink tights.  the ones with footies that you had holes in the bottom of the sole so you could wear them with shoes, or be barefoot.  I immediately knew she had dance.  Regardless if she was a dance major, minor, or Musical Theatre minor.

I auditioned for the Musical Theatre minor, and I didn’t get accepted.  I wasn’t disappointed right away, although as people introduce themselves and say they are a musical theatre minor student, I feel…sad – kind of.  I immediately go to the standard thoughts “why didn’t *I* get in?”  “is it because I couldn’t be at the dance audition in New York?”  “am I to fat?”  I guess if and when I really want to know I can just ask the guy who auditioned me, he IS in charge of the department.  I try to say things in my favor to convince me I’m not envious somehow “he thinks I can do better”  “it trains you to be an ensemble member, and I can be a lead or feature.”  Then I shrug those thoughts away too, work is work in this field.  Ensemble is awesome and needed, leads are few and far between, character actors are come and go.  So where do I fit in?

Oh good, my brain can stop because it’s almost time for class.  I head over to my first class at a new college.  Voice & Speech.  We fill out a short vocal health sheet, then he goes around the room and asks us a little of our goals or fears.  He chose me first, fate?  Nah, I was the last to turn in my sheet, so I was the first on the pile.  He DID say my name correctly, although it is IPA appreciated.  (IPA = International Phonetic Alphabet.  Symbols that denote sound) It so happens my name is spelled just how you would write the symbols down to pronounce it.  Heidi Ewarts voice echoed in my head “oh, just like its spelled” and I smiled at him the same way.

Class finished, and I immediately headed for the bookstore, and by bookstore I mean the store Shakespeare & Company on Lexington avenue,  to obtain my “course pack” that we were told is required.  I hoped it was less than $20, since that’s all I had in my bank account.  Fifteen dollars later it was mine, and in my bag and I headed back to the campus.  I had 3 hours to kill.  The “commons” was loud, as anticipated, the cafe was crowded, as expected the only place I wanted to be was the library.   Second floor.  It was quiet when I walked in and settled on a couch.  I looked over my course pack at what to expect from the semester then hopped online for the beginnings of my assignment.  I stopped only to go grab food (luggage in tow) in the cafeteria, where there are chefs, and organic foods, and made-to-order stations like sandos, pastas, and a salad bar.  I made a very small salad and ate it, then went back to the library.

I didn’t bother people watching, I had some years I could do this.  My business was food and then back to the quiet place.

Finally 7:15pm rolled around and I had my second class, Writing.  A class all students whether new or transfers have to take.  This class lasts until 10pm.  There is a person in this class with a whistley high pitched “s” that made my ears tickle annoyingly.  it’s all I could hear when this person spoke, the “S’s”  In fact, it’s all I can remember.  That and I have 3 short stories to read and write about, and we will start every class with a “free-write.”  Today my free-writing mind took me from “I’m fine in general” to food talk, money talk back to food talk and back to money talk, then ending with the word peanut butter.

Then we had to go around the room with small intros, name, majors, experience with writing.  It seems I may be the one who “writes” the most, this here is considered writing, I am however going to be the underdog when it comes to reading and writing.  Discussing literature has never been my strong suit.  I read a story, then it is read.  The end.  This class will require me to find the symbolism, and themes and discuss why the writer chose those words, discussions I was never really good at before. When I read, I read it for what it is without dissecting it.  So, really, in order to do well in this class I will have to do with it, as I do plays.  Read it once for what it is, then re-read for the work.  I can’t wait. . .

Class was let out early, and I headed to the bus stop and waited for it for 20 minutes.  I took the bus over to the west side, then the train uptown to home where Ro was waiting for me with “how was your day at school?” grin and smile.  So she heard, everything I’ve written down, and more.  =)

Hunger struck me, hard.  I had only eaten my oatmeal earlier, and the small salad, and I did have a fiber 1 bar on the ride home, but I was marvin for sure.  So I ate my Target purchased frozen chicken, garlic herb seasoned.  Made some noodles “barilla plus” and some more greens on the side.  Nothing added to make the salad more then the leafs.  I enjoyed it in my room watching Dexter Season 3.  And now, it’s 12:30am.  I have school tomorrow (only 1 class) and work after.  Tomorrow is Acting.  Due to an excellent acting placement audition, if I do say so myself, I was placed in Acting II.  By excellent I mean, I believe I did the very best *I* could.

My hopes, that The Trilogy would be proud of my little monologue, and maybe my acting teachers from PCPA too.  It occurred to me last week after orientation that I would be representing PCPA.  Marymount used to have transfers from PCPA at least 1 or 2 a year, then there was no one for a bit, then…there was me.  That feels like a weight of impressions to hold and meet, and expectations to meet and surpass, but I think I’m cut out for it.  Well, at least, we’ll see if I am.

This last thursday I had to go to my new school for a discussion about my major with the professors.  This was not one-on-one.  This was all the people in the Theatre Arts Department going for BA’s and BFA’s.  Up until walking into the building I was fine with this.  I walked in, saw we were meeting in the theatre, headed over to the theatre (which was just down the hall) and planted myself in the 5th row, in the middle.  This way I was sitting almost eye level to the teachers who would be sitting on the stage, this way I was in the front, but not, this way I was beneath the lights in order to take notes.  Then, everyone else started coming in.

The mindless chatter enveloped me.  People recognizing one another from auditions, remembering what monologue they used, complimenting each other, hugging each other, and exchanging numbers, comparing schedules.  I sat quietly, waiting for the teachers/professors to take the stage.  Finally, they did.

One by one the teachers introduced themselves and what they taught.  Some I guessed correctly, that was a fun game.  He’s the tech teacher, the one who teaches building sets and hanging lights, she teaches acting.  One woman reminded me of Patricia Troxel beginning her sentence with “so!” and a big inviting grin.  Ellen was her name I think, she ended her introduction with “and I teach viewpoints.”   I immediately wanted in.  I wanted to be chosen and welcomed to the room.  Echoes of Stephanie Courtney’s voice played back in the tapes in my head “find a place on the grid” “if you want to change the relationship, change the space” I hoped I would get the opportunity to be in the class, as it was only offered every other year.

Then the leader of the pack, the department head, David, told us about “us.”  What “our” average SAT’s were, “our” average  and “our” average GPA’s.  Well, I couldn’t relate, I never took those tests.  He caught my attention when he mentioned the transfers GPA’s , the average and percentage.  I felt like I received a small pat on the back for being part of the minimal percentage that transferred with a 3.5 or higher GPA, I also felt honored when he said they accepted only 28 transfers.  He told us what states we’re from, 25 states total with 14 countries represented.  He told us because of our GPA’s he expects the same drive and grade percentages from us in college.  Which moved him into the “You’re in college now” speech.  He again, told the transfers that he was mostly speaking to the freshmen, the 99 of them who were fresh out of high school and starting a four year journey to a degree in theatre.  When he finished a woman came in, another teacher,  and she introduced herself.  After she said her name I guessed Voice & Speech.  I was write.  I could just…tell, I suppose.

Then he opened the floor for questions and I had to be careful not to roll my eyes.  I’m not trying to be mean, but if he said it clearly, twice – and you missed it, look in the policy book just like he said.  This was up there with my first day at PCPA when a classmate said “do i have to look like my headshot” and the teacher replied, you should.  And the classmate persisted, well…it’s obvious that its me, but I have short hair and now I have long hair, I have earrings in my picture etc, and the teacher only repeated himself “you should look like your headshot.”  Finally it was over.  The transfers needed to head to the Black Box theatre for the Acting Placement Audition.  Because I’ve had acting, they automatically placed me in Acting II, however the audition is for the staff to decide if that is the best place for me.  I chose Tyler from Some Girls by Neil LeBute and if felt good.  The voice and speech teacher asked me if I did the whole thing or if I cut it, and I told her I cut it, and she said she liked the cut – I felt like I was in like flynn.

An hour busride home, something I should get used to, I told Antoan about it and we watched a movie, “It’s Complicated” and had chinese food and I went to bed.  Orientation was not over.  Friday, was all day…

Check-in for Transfers began at 10am on friday morning september 3rd.  I arrived by 10:15am, got my “goodie bag” and put my new MMC Marymount Manhattan College hat on backwards.  I was in my zorries (standard for me as you know) grey pants and a grey Castaways shirt.  I was comfy, and everyone else was, dressed how they’d prefer I suppose.  Some were dressed to impress, I could only imagine how much make up some were wearing, boys were sagging their pants just like they did in high school in as my eyes swept across the room I still felt, old.  The oldest there.  I was flashing back to the days of PCPA with other classmates fresh out of high school, and wondering if I made the right choice, if the casting director had made the right choice.  I sat down and read through some of the information we’d be going over today and realized I would be there until 5:30pm, if not later.  I headed outside and sat down in the mild humidity and again, the chatter surrounded me.

I wasn’t necessarily trying to be the outcast, or unsocial, my friends would label me as a social butterfly, but those are my friends, these are strangers.  And I don’t just introduce myself to strangers and try to get to know them.  I know part of this orientation is designed to meet my “peers” (their word), to meet new friends and perhaps find a place where I “fit in” but that’s just not me, and I honored that.  Anyone who wanted to introduce themselves to me, I shook their hand and had a mini conversation.  There were only a few, but I wasn’t stand off-ish, but it was obvious I wasn’t going to begin my art of social fluttering anytime soon.

Finally it was 11:30am.  They fed us breakfast.  I had eggs, sausage, bacon, potatoes and my coffee from home.  We went to an admissions/academic seminar.  About transcripts, registering, how to get lockers, basic information.  Next was a seminar entitled “the power of words.”  This was the only true seminar I appreciated on that day.  The day continued with snacks and seminars or “workshops” as they were called, regarding campus security, binge drinking, alcohol abuse, drug abuse and sexual assault.  I had to remind myself this is not only for the schools safety, to encourage their new students to be careful in this new place, but good for the 18 year olds who have been with mommy  and daddy, and will now be “on their own.”  UCSB was represented with a group of three ladies sporting their perfect hair and make up questioning the statistics of student binge drinking.  Their argument was that the statistics were wrong, students must have been lying, because UCSB is a “party college, you go to college there, because its the party college.”  I’m not sure what they were trying to prove, but they made their statements and we stumbled through the rest of the seminar.  School Clubs were represented and we all were encouraged to participate.  The two that stood out for me?  Radio talk, and the school newspaper.  I like writing, I have an opinion, so why not.  I’m not much of a DJ, and I don’t know songs, but I’d bust out tunes from the 80’s and 90’s and represent with the best of ’em, but the “talk show” might be fun.  Like a Mark & Brian deal, but in that case, I’d have to find a partner in crime.  Who could it be?

The evening came to a close when the line formed for school ID’s, I had got mine the day before, smart, and headed for the dinner table where I enjoyed cornbread, macaroni and cheese and some cut of beef that could be classified in the same area as Tri-tip.  I missed my dadda and his BBQ’s and enjoyed every bite.

I grabbed my dinner and took my evaluation form to a chair at the end of a table.  I glanced around the room noticing, that *I* was being noticed as getting food before my ID, or were they noticing I was alone..again? Or were they noticing I was at the table where eventually some of the faculty sat.  I don’t know.  I know that I chose that seat because it was in the middle of the room, by the trash bin, and the door, a helpful bit for my exit strategy.  I filled out the evaluation form, ate my dinner, turned in my evaluation form, finished my dinner, threw the plate away an left without looking back.

Big group functions where the energy doesn’t feel welcoming just doesn’t give me a reason to stay and be social.  The energy wasn’t horrible, it was – young.  It felt the way it did when I used to visit Ms. Sims at the highschool a few years after I’d graduated.  Like we were just obviously in different places.  I reminded myself not to shut myself off or away from them, and that I knew I would get to know some of them in class, and that THAT would be the true test.  Being vulnerable, learning what they are learning at the same time, knowing I don’t need to be better than them, just better than me.  I left the building, saying goodbye to security and see you next week.

I need to remind myself over and over to stay opened.  Open to change, to people, possibilities, all of it.  My experiences already make me different, my age makes me different, my goals, my background, all of it, and that doesn’t make me better or worse than anyone in that building.  But it reminds me that just like at school before, I’ll be watching.

Yesterday Ro and I had our weekly girlie time.  I have found that setting aside time for just her and myself has done by heart good.

She’s lived here, in New York for seven or eight years by now, I think, and for those times we’d text and do the occasional chat over the phone.  She would visit “home” and we’d get to go to karaoke or coffee, just like we did when we were teenagers.  Moving was…is…such a big deal.  I was very lucky to have made the move to New York with such ease.  I already had a place to stay, I had a couple of friends, and I had a job waiting for my arrival.  My friends painted my room, bought me sheets and put them over a futon mattress they saved for me and some toiletries.  They babied me on the train explaining to me how to get Metro cards, how to read the maps.  Where to find placed like Target, and really good mexican food and really good chinese food.  I felt welcomed and safe, but of course, being away from the man that I loved was difficult and in the end – he ended it.  And being away from my other close friends, Seanah, Kevin & Vickie, Kitten, Amanda, Miranda among a few, being away from my family, with whom I am so very very close, my Maamm, Dadda n Terry, Sister & Double-T, Smurf, R.i.k., boyfriendjenn & honeybear, left a very big pit in my stomach.  But they had all wished me so much love and warmth upon leaving, and supported my endeavor to go after something important to me – all of this I held on to, but it was so hard to leave.  Actually leaving was easy because I was excited, staying though..staying is challenging because I miss my friends and family back “home.”

So I get to New York, and Ro & Antoan & Mattie are great. Ro would always ask if I knew had to get to where I needed to go she’d say if I get lost to call her and she’d help me, like when my mom would let me go somewhere by myself.  We watch movies together, TV together (True Blood! only what? Two more episodes this season!?), and we do simple things like grocery shopping or going to movies together, or Central Park.

There is just, something very very good and important about getting her all to myself sometimes.  Selfishly, perhaps.  And I can’t “blame” it on “I haven’t seen her!!”  We have the kind of relationship where if we don’t SEE each other everyday, it’s fine.  We remained excellent friends when she was here and I wasn’t, but now – now that I’m here, it’s a little different.  I’ve also never lived with her before.  And it’s easy, it really is.  We both see things the same in many many ways.  And she really does take care of me when I just can’t seem to do it myself.  Like, when the man I loved in California ended our relationship she let me cry to her everyday.  She’d check on me, she’d knock on my door and when I open it she’d hand me a glass of wine and smile then leave me to my wanted alone time.  Sometimes she just, knows what I need.  Isn’t that great about best friends?  That, sometimes you don’t need words.  And, Antoan had let me cry to him too, don’t get me wrong.  I live with two of my best friends.  I have known these people for twenty years.  Twenty.  And when all I could do was lay on my bed and cry, Antoan laid there with me holding my hand and running his hand through my hair and said “it’s okay, Angel.”

I digress.  I could write on the topic of love and lost love for pages.

Friends just, know sometimes what they need to do for you.  These are the people that see the best and beautiful parts, and the ugly and horrid parts of who I am as well. They house my secrets like vaults.

I trust them

And because I’m able to be vulnerable to them, and around them, they are able to fill me with joy when I need it, or let me have a good cry too.

Last night was another “date night” with Ro.  I got home from work, showered, dried my new hair cut and attempted a bit of styling and put on four eyeshadows.  Yah, four, smokey look with natural colors – just enhances my eyes and compliments my hair.  (smiley face).  She came in my room and watched me do the remaining parts of my getting-ready-ness and we chatted about work, my hair and how cool my “who cares” Care Bear shirt is.  We said bye to Mattie and headed down our five flights and over to the subway.  We chatted about work and chores and food and stupid little things and arrived at west 4th.  We headed to a bar called Stone Crow and there is a picture of John Mayer above the bathroom sink, the only reason Ro took me there ahahahh.  And Yes, my eyes brightened like a little girl on Christmas morning and I squatted down and spoke to him.  Yes, spoke to him, get off me.  Then we went to “The Liar” its where we often go, it’s her bar and now because I get to go and I’m learning the bartenders names and they are learning mine it’s ‘our’ bar.  I like being included. A few 7&7’s and we head over to a bar whose name escapes me but they have karaoke – and this is important of course.  So Ro sings Total Eclipse of the Heart and I sing Alone by Heart and we sing Uninvited together and win over everyone’s heart. =)

We are drunk.

We head back to the Liar and drink more, and then some water and it’s 4:30am and we are hungry so we go over to a 24 hour diner place thing and have breakfast.  Mattie joined us at the Liar eventually so all three of us head over and have coffee and food and take the train home.  The sun is out and I stumble to my bed and strip my clothes off and crash for six hours.

I love days off.  I don’t have to do anything if I don’t want.  Not a thing.  I can read, watch TV on with Miranda! (my computer/laptop) or sleep again.

It’s just, nice to have friends and get to spend time with them, whenever I want!  Spending time with people makes me feel loved.