To me, more than Christmas or Thanksgiving or any one of those other holidays, the New Year is most exciting. It may be because it presents a new start, a new beginning...the obvious: a new year. And, while I'm hesitant to encourage the making of vows and promising changes in behavior simply because we're at the beginning of another 365 day cycle one must admit it gives one pause to consider the things that must change, the possibility of the coming days and weeks.
This New Years I spent working. No doubt capitalizing on hopes and celebratory spirit of the holiday. I made off quite well. Before heading to the two parties we promoted for that night, I cleaned my apartment. I was determined not to go into the New Year with a dirty home. I swept, washed the dishes, cleaned the kitchen and made the bed. I soaked in the bath and scrubbed myself, brushed and flossed, oiled my hair and put on my most expensive shoes. It was almost ritualistic and something I'd never done before. For some reason though, and I'm not sure why, I thought it all appropriate.
I anticipate that this year has a lot in store for me. I expect there to be many challenges. I expect that I will have my share of disappointments. But I think above all, this year will present my greatest adventures yet and possibly some of my great successes. I am so very, very excited and so very, very thankful. I feel as if I can conquer the world, as if I have everything before me. And if one is to start the New Year in any sort of way, I guess it should be with the promise of a renewed sense of living, that the next 365 days will have an amazing new chapter in store for me. I love my life...
[This blog started over three years ago and I sometimes think that I was more inspired in the past than I am now...being in school, being in love, just beginning to live. My writing then, in my opinion was some of my best. So, in my "In the beginning" posts I dust off old posts for newer readers to hopefully enjoy!]
I was talking to my brother Rocco last night and in the course of our conversations we usual touch on dating. I don't remember what was said but I got really upset for a second. It took me back to this time in my life and I realized that maybe I hadn't completely gotten the closure I needed. Either way, reading through this I realized it was a hell of a post, so enjoy!!
On Omens, Chance and closure
When I woke up earlier than usual this morning I had no idea what the day had in store.
I sat at my computer beginning the work for my aunt due by midday when my phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize off hand, a number not programmed in my phone. The caller left a voice mail and I went on about my business like I always do, not stopping to check who the caller was until I had found the time. After a shower and breakfast and everything else that my mornings involved I finally decided to listen to the message. It was the new boy at work, the one sitting at my desk, doing my job while I'm out being DC's most fab illegal immigrant.
Joey. Can we talk before you come in for our meeting today. Give me a call back. Thanks!
I called him back, and he informed me that he had put my personal stuff in a box just to clear the desk and organize things, and I could come pick up after our meeting today. I was a bit hurt...my things, from my desk, in a box.
See I believe in omens, that sometimes the universe let's you in on what's about to come your way if your just observant enough. Or from another perspective, if we are discerning enough we can see the ripple of some small event reach into the future... For me, the boxing up of my things, I believe, is about the coming closure around so much in my life...
I didn't immediately see the congruence between the events of the morning, and when your new boyfriend of a month and a half happened to friend me on Myspace, by chance. Just like I didn't immediately realize that was you in the picture kissing him. Ahhhh but clarity comes to the patient and eventually all things became clear.
Bewilderedness. Disbelief. Anger. Disappointment. Then that deafening composure that drives me toward purpose. I wanted to find out exactly when this happened. And yes, I initiated the conversation...
Me: hey...whassup??
Him: Hey hows it going. nothing much over here just chillin meetin new friends everyday!!!!how are you?
Me: I'm good! How long have you and your boyfriend been together???
Him: about a month and a half..Y?
Me: You guyz look so happy together...and I'm happy for you!
It amuses me at how a single episode of dumb chance can bring on it's wings swift understanding...the answers to the whys and hows and whats that can peck at our minds like filthy buzzards among the rotting remains of some poor starved creature. (And, I'm assuming it was chance. If it wasn't, here we have further proof that tact is an innate skill, not accessible to all. But if it was in fact chance, I am given further reason to believe that the universe is not as random as some may claim. For how much of a coincidence can it be that the day after I wrote a thank you prayer for peace of mind that the chance of attaining it is now greater still.)
I get now why you couldn't stay. Now I realize why those promises for lunch dates were never fulfilled. Now I understand why calling me back in 15 minutes was so difficult that you couldn't even do that. I get the bad person comment now, it's all coming together. And now I can't help but feel like everything about not being able to love, about not being able to be in a relationship and why that is was just filler...you know, like how cheap carnations thicken an otherwise gaunt bouquet of flowers. That's what's so disappointing...not that your loving someone else (someone that I'm truly happy you've found).
By doing this I run the risk of seeming "pressed". Maybe I come off as a bit crazy. And, maybe I made it hard for you tell me what was really going on because I was too honest about my feelings...pressed and crazy. But, here's the thing...this, what I'm doing right now, isn't about you. The 2 miles I ran tonight were about you. When I gagged after I saw the pictures, that was about you. When I spoke to Rocco this morning about how disappointed I was, that was about you. But for these words that I'm writing now, you are but context, the back story, the impetus that led me to write them, not the purpose for which they are written. See I'm sitting here, busy authoring my own closure...
So no, no "preemptive reads" this time. To say preemptive would suggest we are at a beginning when, for me, this is an end. Not a nasty, jagged end. Not a violent, malicious end. No, the kind of end you get to when you decided to put the things that are of no more use to you in a box...taped, labeled and pushed into the closet just far enough to reach when one needs to be reminded why those things were boxed and stocked in the first place. Labeled: Lesson.
I was feeling some kinda way, so I thought I'd write. Let's see where this goes.
I'm a fan of astrology. I wouldn't call my self a follower of it, but to me it's a curious experiment. I enjoy testing its accuracy, keeping count of how often it's wrong or right. In that regard, I've spent a little time learning about it, testing the truth of astrology on myself to see if I fit the mold given to me.
I'm an Aquarian. My birthday is Feb 6th 1986 which puts me almost in the very middle of the Aquarian cycle. I've read about aquarians and I have to say I'm sort of a text book aquarian. Chances are what you've may have read about aquarians is true for me. It's not something I don't like, I'm happy to share the traits, both the negative and positive.
Us aquarians are intellectual, progressive, social, honest and loyal. On the dark side we can be intractable, perverse, and unemotional. We're sneaky and unforgiving and wrathful. These are just a few of the traits that define the aquarian spirit. There's something else though. Aquarians tend to feel detached from the world around them, alien and completely out of place. I can't remember when I haven't felt that way.
When I was a kid, I would always play by myself. In the bushes around my home I would imagine a world completely different from the one I was living in, I would play there for hours with no one around. I would always think I was a kind of alien or not completely human. When I got older the aquarian egotism kicked in and I considered myself a kind of demi-god, better than everyone. That's changed(somewhat lol) but I still feel so different.
Maybe I experience a kind of dismorphia when it comes to myself. I know people find me interesting, but often times I feel more like a strange species in glass cage. Fantastic to look at, you could even poke it with a proverbial stick, you just wouldn't take it home. This isn't true for everyone around me, I have family and friends that I feel completely fine around. There are other people and places that I'm inevitable tied to that I have so little in common with I resent them. Maybe I've made myself into a spectacle of sorts, a problem of my own doing I guess. And it could be in my head...it possibly is. It's got me feeling some kinda way...
There's that song "Nature Boy," I came across Nat King Cole sing it while at work. The melody is intoxicating so I've never really listened to the words. It's magical I think, but the lyrics...I think the song captures an aspect of me. The boy, a strange boy, seemingly as enchanted as the melody of the song itself who's far away from home. He's traveled so far and in his travel he becomes both sad and wise. This boy had a message, as the song goes,"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."
I'm not sure if that's my message, I'm not sure what my message is...I'm not even sure what this post is about or if I'm feeling my usual *sigh*...that a weight has been lifted off of me. But as I prep to take another long journey over land and see, I can't help but feel like what I'm really searching for is a place where I belong... ________________________________________________ Song du jour: Lizz Wright "Nature Boy"
She's 41, at a hotel bar, drunk and crying in Greensboro of all places. It would've been a scene more apt for New York or LA, you know the city-worn woman of a certain age left destitute by urban travails. But no, we were in the Marriott in Greensboro, and she was one third of a group of siblings, sisters all in town from Myrtle Beach, SC with their church group for the "Women in Faith" conference. I was at the bar, scarf tied up to my chin, blazer, cardigan, skinny jeans and Pradas, weird looking for the city and that hotel bar. The women of faith warmed up to me even though I was obviously one of "those sinners" and I wasn't sure if it was because of my style or because they were on their 5th round. Either way, conversation was initiated, a 6th round was bought and the oldest sister began to weep. Her boyfriend had broken up with her, she was 41, she had given him everything she had, loved him completely and his words were that after 5 years he didn't love her and that he couldn't take care of her child.
Despite the fact that this weeping willow and I had little in common-- she was a white, 41 year old, supposedly devote Christian woman from the South and I am none of those things-- her story resonated with me. I felt as if I'd heard it before and after a bit reflection I was sure I had. In fact, over the last few weeks I'd heard it over and over again. So much so that it became the impetus for this post.
Now let's be clear. I haven't been hearing the exact same story, but more so the essence of it. Statements like:
"Men are a waste of time."
"He was never really serious at all."
"When it comes to commitment they disappear, leaving you high and dry."
"I gave this man everything and he took it without any intention of sticking around."
And, these statements have been used to describe men in a specific place, in a specific dating pool over the last few weeks to me, specifically. I'm talking about here in DC in the gay community. And maybe that's the first observation in this commentary: that this woman, very different from people like me, in a very different situation, is singing the same sad love song. Make a mental note of it because for the purposes of this discourse, I'd prefer we stay close to home.
These numerous conversations over the last few weeks have been with men who date exclusively in the black gay community and the white gay community, and those that float in between. Apparently, there's a consensus-- and in every conversation we've come to one-- that the DC dating scene is a minefield of disappointments, wasted time and energy, deception, and utter confusion. And then the comes the question why, why here in DC specifically are things so difficult...
You see, this part of the conversation involves a lot of hypothesizing, based on anecdotal evidence and arm chair psychology and is something that I've personally gotten very good at. We may not all know the answers but here's what I've heard and theorize. Here we go:
1. The DC scene is so unstable because first the type of city it is. Everyone knows DC is a transient city, a starter city if you will especially if you're intentions are to go big: like New York, LA or Atlanta etc. This is a big factor. No ones really sticking around, I mean every election the city changes.Very few people are from here so know one really wants to settle down.
2. With the size of the community the search for something better is always on. Why tie yourself up with someone when there maybe the perfect person waiting out there for you.
3. The good catches aren't out on the scene. You have to go to "regular" places, straight bars etc. They aren't flamboyant, they prefer discretion and may not even be out. You're looking in the wrong place.
4. DC boys are conservative, they date a certain guy that dresses, talks and acts certain ways. The roles are set and if you don't fit into a role around here people don't know what to do with you.
5. The facade is more important than honesty in DC. Men prefer to pretend as if they want something more than just sex when really they'd prefer to just get in your pants and be done with it.
There they are. Just a few of the things that I've heard, stated and restated over the three years I've been here in DC. And as I look at them now, if they are true, none of them bode well for my dating prospects. Number 2 speaks for itself...I'm cute and I'm good on paper, but none of us can be all things to a person. As for number 3, well I just happen to be a 24hr gay, both my day and night job are effectively in the scene. Discretion isn't something I've ever been good at, but flamboyancy tends to come naturally. I generally dislike all forms of conservatism and I haven't been able to fit into a box for a very long time. And lastly, I'm not one for games...dating games, video games, Monopoly, Spades...none of it really.
Now if you read that last paragraph carefully you'll realize I didn't address number one. Well that's because it makes me, effectively, both a part of the problem and a victim of it. Leaving for London, I've made a conscious decision to not actively search out a serious relationship, although I'm not ruling it out. But, even if I were actively looking for someone, I'd be one of those transient, passing thrills that leaves such a bad taste in so many mouths. Like we say at home, "I can't win for loosing..."
When I came to DC, I was so naive. My faith in love and its power, my belief in people and their desire to be and do the right thing overshadowed the warnings that I got early on about how things were here in the city when it came to dating. Things have changed though. To say that my faith and belief has been shattered would be a gross overstatement. Instead, I think they've been tempered by the many mistakes I've run into and the mistakes I've made. Yes the mistakes, the mistakes that kept their boyfriends or their intentions a secret, or the ones that just never got me because I dress, talk, act a certain way but perform in another. Mistakes like the one that took 8 months of living in hell before I realized what a grave mistake it was, or the mistake that I sat around waiting to call me. People not only make mistakes, they can be mistakes too. Remembering every mistake as a lesson though insures that each time things will get better.
So speaking of lessons, here's what I learned. That 41 year old woman crying in the bar, wasn't telling the whole story at first. After round 7 and a cigarette, I found out that the man that left her was the man that she left her husband, the father of her children, for. You can call it karma, irony or poetic justice...but like I said, I learned something. I don't want to make any broad assumptions here, but I would venture to guess when she got married it's likely she wasn't ready and she wasn't honest with herself or her partner about. And it is also likely that when she told her "side-piece" that she wanted to be with him and only him, he wasn't ready either. That dishonesty with others and self possibly set off a chain reaction of continued deception, delusion and resentment that led this other wise composed woman to cry tears into her cheap rum and coke cocktail.
I think the truth (and truth is relative) is this: no matter what we believe about the condition of the dating scene in the District, there is little we as singular individuals can do about it. I say if you must, accept it for what it is. But because we can't change the scene doesn't mean things can't change. It may sound cliche but again, the truth for me is that in lieu being able to change what we perceive as the almost universal misbehavior of DC men, we can work on changing our own behavior.
Maybe we can start with being honest about what our situation is and what we want with each individual we meet from the start, in the middle, and at the end...forget the pretenses, and if people aren't comfortable with that, fuck 'um. If you're truly tired of the status-quo, stop being the status-quo. The next time you think about giving him everything, try giving yourself some time to think. And, he can't waste your time if you're keeping yourself busy doing the things you enjoy, instead of waiting around for someone to fill your dance card.
I may not have this shit completely right, and I know for a fact that I'm not perfect at it. But I don't mind jumping out there and taking my own advice:
Hi, my name is Joey. I'm leaving for London in a few months and it's unlikely that I'll be willing to pursue a serious relationship with you, but you never know. My schedule fills up pretty quickly so it would be good to get a clear picture of your intentions before I give you a page out of it...and just to be clear, I'd prefer if you could be so courteous as to show a comparable measure of honesty. M-k-thanks...
___________________________________________________ Song du jour: Lady Gaga- "Bad Romance'
My first Vlog!!! Yay!!! It's a little primative, I know. But this is the first of what will be short, 30sec (+/-) clips of me on the move, doing what I do: the travel, activism, shopping, partying and socializing, etc. Hopefully I'll get better with it as time goes on, in the meantime tell me what you think.
I think there's a certain rhythm that accompanies the general movements of the universe. I'm sure there exists some kind of algorithm or equation that can give us an answer. In any event, when we go faster or slower than that universal rhythm things may come a little undone. Between the flu last week, and the speed I was going at the week before I think I out paced the universe and then fell behind. But things are coming on track and I'm finding my rhythm again...which included makes blogging a regular part of the my existence.
This weekend was relatively slow. I spent a great portion of it with my ex, String Bean (SB). Friday night the ultimate plan was to continue my absence from the DC scene and stay in. But, as only he could, SB pulled me out of the house and we went for a midnight walk to Anne's, a local diner that stays open late on the weekends. We ate and drank, kikied mostly and then eventually I crashed at home while SB took the late train back to north east.
I woke up Saturday morning and remembered that I'd promised my gay mother that we'd spend some time together, and I felt in my very soul that I need a new pair of black shoes. We ventured out to Tyson's corner to visit the Neiman Marcus and Saks. Luckily, my sister Quincy was working at Neiman's and I came across a beautiful new loafer, albeit outside my original budget. I thought about it, checked Saks and decided to gather my coins measly non-profit coins and purchase (re: invest in) these new shoes.
Those are my beautiful new pumps (with a bowtie and my Comme De Garcon wallet on my messy bed), and I'm considering them a personal treat for myself.I took them to the cobbler's today to have heel and toe plates add
Even though Saturday was Halloween I had no intentions of dressing up (more than I usually do) so Quincy and I decided in the evening that we'd go to the local strip join, grab a few drinks and celebrate Halloween among the things that really go bump in the night. We had a blast as you can probably tell here. It was chill and grimy, and the drinks got me together...I couldn't have imagined a better place to spend the night.
After time moved back and we headed home, SB keyed into my apartment while I was in the middle of conjuring left overs. We stayed up for a little bit and he ended up crashing on the couch after getting out of his costume.
We woke up to a dim Sunday morning. We dressed, both of us in all black and headed out for brunch. It was disgusting the amount of food we ate: steak, eggs, fries and french toast. I'm sick just looking at it now...but it was sssoooooo good.
We spent the rest of the evening watching "Unsung" on TVOne like two old fat black ladies. After SB left, I got some work done. I had busy week ahead of me.
I'm learning to pace myself though...not go to crazy and end up in the sick bed again. But also not to get lazy and let my work and my goals slip out of reach.
Monday, I testified in front of the DC City Council in support of the new marriage equality bill that they're working on passing. That's me all suited up to testify:
I'm working on a preparing a major grant proposal to the foundation of a billion dollar company. The grant award could be in the 100's of thousands, so the pressure is on. I'm launching the new HBCU program website this week, and moving students to write letters to the representatives in support of the Employment Non Discrimination Act. On top of it all, I'm traveling to Greensboro on Thursday to meet the new student leaders at Bennett College and to keynote a training at NC A&T. This doesn't include my promotional duties. Let's just say it's a busy week...
There's a lot of work to be done, and at this point I'm not getting much "play"...I'm afraid I'm becoming a work obsessed stiff. But, I'm just going to focus on finding that rhythm and hope that things I want eventually find me. _______________________________________________________ Song du jour: Yello feat. Dame Shirley Bassey- The Rhythm Divine
Excuse me here, I may be a little rusty. I know some of you may be asking, "A rough week, what about a rough 3 months?" I know, I've been missing for a minute. I honestly haven't felt like writing until about now. But, I think one of the continuing narratives of this blog is that anytime I have a difficulty it is one of the few places that I can come running back to and let it all out.
I didn't total forget the blog...I wrote this little excerpt when the leaves started to turn:
Summer was scarcely over-- in fact-- we had barely broached September. The leaves had already begun to turn and the first of them littered the city's sidewalks. Fall had arrived like some grim, dark horse driven chariot across the topaz colored cobble stone roads of the sky. Dark, billowy, grey clouds stood like Southern sentinels, obscuring the sun and heat of the weeks before. There was an eerie silence, one that always seemed to accompany the season of dying. It was as if a woolen blanket had descended across the rooftops and main fairways.
...a literary sputter, as it were. It was all I could get out.
After this week though, I had the urge to write. It could have been the 103 degree fever, the absence of a very special item (the Movado watch my father bought for me a few years back that I can't seem to find), or the news of significant damage to my knees that I've been walking around with for years. In fact, it could've been the stress with both jobs, the flooding in my apartment or the absolute confusion that ensued when I logged into my London School of Econ. admissions profile. Something that happened over the last few days has propelled me back to the blogosphere and I'm not sure if I'm happy about it. I'm not sure why I left to begin with.
Whatever the reasons were, those that brought me back and those that exiled me to begin with, I'm here again. Aside from the issues listed above,this summary should be an adequate transition to the now: I work a lot, I sleep very little, I am dating no one and I still love to shop.
Some things never change, and some things simply stay the same...it's been a rough week. __________________________________________________________________ Song du jour: La Roux- Bullproof (Acoustic)
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