Pimpest of the Little Kids

I am helping my mother move. One of my tasks is to go through all the banker boxes of files, secret papers, and classified reports. I have to repack everything into new banker boxes and seal them.

I have come across a group of papers, stories, and art work that I made when I was between 3-7. All I have to say is that I am the pimpest.

My treasure includes the realization that I invented Harry Potter after I came across a story I wrote where Harry battled the big one eyed monster and killed it. I also came across my first encounters with the typewriter. I found 30-some sheets of paper that I had written one or two lines. The best one:

I am a thege it is encredabol.

There is also "I see my trkees"

That is just awesome. I invented Harry Potter (just like uggs and miniskirts in Boston), and I was a thug and had tricks. Proof of how hardcore I was a little. I'll cut a bitch.

Oh to be home again.

Oh the stress, the drama, the love, the crying. Oh, to be home again.
Oh, to know that I am leaving soon. Oh, to know how much my mother
disapproves.

I have been here for less than 24 hours, and already, the emotions
have been running all over the place.

I am helping my mother move. I am packing boxes, putting books on
Amazon.com. I am going through my things, throwing them out, and
repacking boxes. I am paring down my clothing, and throwing out even
more material goods. It is funny. You start out with so little, and
over the years, they add up and turn into more and more. Things you
don't even use. Things you can't remember where you got. Things that
have great memories, smells, pictures, ideas. You hold on to them.
Perhaps you'll need them one day. Perhaps you'll remember what
happened. Perhaps they'll be good again. Over time they pile up and
become these overwhelming towers of emotions and good times.

So the first time throwing things away is overwhelming. We go
through, and it's so hard to let things go. But you do it. You pry
the objects of love from your fingers and your heart, you can hear
the dry crackle of old glue as you pull it away. You take them, in
boxes and bags, either to charity, to the corner, or the dumpster
depending on the condition. You let them go, hopefully sold for petty
cash, to a charity for someone more poor and a handy tax write off,
to the curb for a magical fairy of the early morning to take away.

And then, it has fallen down to half the size it was before. You
continue on with your life, and two days later, you've forgotten
about everything you've thrown out.

I wonder if I will keep trimming down till I have nothing left, or if
it will all soon be replaced.

Happily Ever After

This is Epyslon's name for it.
Happily Ever After.

Happily Ever After
he gets to live with the woman of his dreams,
he gets to wake up to sparkles and kisses and tickles down his back,
he gets to cuddle all night long,
he gets to engage in philosophical talks all night long,
he gets to have meditations and yoga every morning,
he gets to have team baths,
he gets to make dinners for two,
he gets to clean,
he gets love.

4.5 hours to my ride to the airport.
7 hours to my flight
15.5 hours to LAX
12 days to Happily Ever After.

Gentle and Irritated

I know that these are two things I need to work on. My lack of gentleness and how easily irritated I can become.

I am not gentle. I do not know how to coddle or coo over someone when they are having a hard time. I do not know how to not be blunt, forward, and aggressive in my actions and the way that I think. I am a strong hitter, I don't take pity, and I am not easy. I tend to be aggressive, and while I don't mean to step on people's boundaries, I know that I do it.

I become easily agitated. Not when things are directed at me, but when people do things that I think are stupid, emotionally, illogical, or idiotic. I can't stand people who don't think. They annoy and irritate me. Now, I know this isn't about me, and I know that it is not worth getting worked up about. But I still do.

So these are the two things I need to work on right now. I have decided to stop being irritable, and I have decided to be more gentle. We will see how this goes.

Satyasamadhi

This is what I do for fun.
Granted, this video was taken in November 05, when I was far less experienced, and terribly frightened of the flames. Oh, my flow has gotten so much better ever since.

Fire Spinner

I started spinning poi almost a year ago: July 2005, on the roof top of Freeman. I taught myself the basics, and then some more. I was adamant about it. I love the flow of it: two vectors traveling through space that never were allowed to collide or change their path abruptly. It was easy for me. It was thinking about how blades move through water. If these two objects were spinning the ocean, how could they go? How could they not go? Now take them out of water, and apply the same physics to air. After all, air isn't space, it is billions of particles floating around, just like in water, simply not as compact. It was brilliant.

It was taking my element, water, and applying my knowledge of it to air.

And I was happy with the socks, and with the poi with tails. Honestly. They are beautiful, with these bright pinks swirling all around me. Nothing could make me happier.

And then, after a while, I met some other spinners who had pushed me into fire. No. They didn't push me, but they made it look so lovely and perfect that I had to try it. And I was terrified of it. Terrified. It was so dangerous, and everyone was watching me. My biggest problem was people watching me. They watched me with the socks, and it was an issue. They watched me doing anything, and it was an issue. I was not ready to be seen, I was not ready to be the center of attention. Attention, I love. Yes. Not when I have to perform though.

I don't know where this fear came from. I have my theories. Partly because my mom forced me to do recitals with instruments when I was a little, and partly because of my issues of standing out and becoming a burden. After all, if you stand out, it is easier for people to poke and figure out what is wrong with you and abandon you than if you stand in perfectly. Or perhaps it was the pressure to be perfect at everything, and really I am not. Who knows.

For that past year, I've been dealing with this anxiety and people watching me. I've been dealing with performing. I've been dealing with this idea of flow and the poi being an appendage of me. And last weekend, it all came down to the Latina Cultural Show, and you know what? It was horrible. I did fine, and that was good. But I couldn't breathe, I was shaking, I thought I would pass out from how dizzy I was. I walked off the stage, and fell down in a heap and cried my little eyes out from the anxiety.

And then last night came. I went to a burn at Brandeis, and people watched me spin. A lot of people watched me spin, a lot of times. And not once was I disconnected. Not once did I hit myself. Not once did I tense up and freak out. Not once was I thinking about the people watching me. It was glorious. I finally hit that spot, that flow, that feeling of just me, and the warmth, and the fire.

Amazing, I hadn't picked up the poi since January, I picked it up again two weeks ago, and suddenly, it more natural than anything I've ever done before. Ahhhh, it feels good.