Tuesday, January 27, 2009

upon my return

two weeks, seventeen hours, ten minutes, five states... and i'm right back where i started from. technically.

i began this trip going to new orleans to teach, then up to manhattan, to jersey, back down to mobile, then up to boston, back to new york, and traveled the plethora of states to return to the atl. by train, overnight, trying to drown out the three children under the age of two, who happened to sit directly in front of me, who all sounded like they had been affected by cholera.
i reconnected with friends from elementary school, high school, and college. i made a snow angel in a little courtyard in jersey. i took class with principals from american ballet theatre, and got offered potential jobs in a town i thought wouldn't offer me anything but an overwhelming feeling of absence.
it has been an amazing trip.

but then again, they always are. that's why i call them adventures.

it's time to call another place home, and look for things that will make me a better artist and 360 degree person.

and it's here (well, actually, everywhere) i am powerless to a disease that happens to be the only thing that repaired my relationship with the man that it's destroying. which is, i should say, one of the most confusing things i have ever had to deal with.

it's the first time in a long time that i have opened my eyes to everything in my life, everything that i am not, and everything that i can be. And it stretches past just me. we put blinders on with so many things that we love, cause we love them so much we don't want them to have faults. even when we can see them. even when they are so evident the hand will strike our cheek and as we fall to the floor we think, it's not their fault.

i have hit the linoleum more times than i can count, sometimes blindsided but mostly, because i asked to be hit. i don't think i took responsibility for it. but i'm not a victim, because i allow it to happen. so rather, i am a masochist. but now, i want to be a masochist of reason. like the terminator of masochists. i want to get up after i'm hit and spit in their face. just as a test.

so life, here's the thing: you want to beat me, it's fine. i don't mind being slapped around a little. as long as i can hit you back, we'll be all good.


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