I Bet You Think This Blog is About You.

That's because it is..
This the next edition of my bridal series. Something Old: check. Something Borrowed: check. On to Something New!


I have a new friend. I think of him as my new boy space friend. My new, 18-year-old boy space friend. Well, because he's 18. He was born in 1992! I know, right?!?!

Not that there's anything wrong with being born in the 90s. But as a child of the late 80s - very late 80s. *Being two months old when the 90s hit doesn't really make me a child of the 80s. But my birth certificate says 89 and I'm sticking to it, damn it!* - I can hardly fathom being born in the 90s. And for some reason I associate 90s babies with 12 year olds. Really, it's a puzzle to me as well. 


Back to my new friend. We met through Creative Outlet. He danced with the Young Artist (I think? The JAs are something different?) I'd seen him around before at rehearsals/performances and what not, but I didn't really talk to him until this past week. To be honest I'm not sure that I knew his name. (But I'm bad at that, so don't take it personally) He was helping to teach the duet that I am learning. Whatever, whatever we're sort of marking through the piece. Actually, he was dancing, and I was marking because there are lifts and I didn't want to hurt him. I did do the turning section full out. I like to do fouettés =) There weren't that many, and they weren't even that good. I went to continue on in the dance, and he's just standing there staring at me. AND so was Jamel... and Amber. What?! I don't know why they were all staring at me. It's a bit disconcerting, let me tell you, to have everyone just gaping. I thought I'd done something wrong...


Now, I've started quite the collection of Young Artists facebook friends, many of them before I knew entirely who they were. But I'd never received one from him. Imagine my surprise when before I even got home from rehearsal that day I had a new email from Facebook. J-------- W-------- has added you as a friend. My thoughts? What the hell. We danced together today... Epiphany is now friends with J-------- W-------- 


He's leaving soon to go to North Carolina, he has to go to college. Which is great. Sometimes I still think I'm 18. But then I remember I was a college freshman at 18. Now I'm a college graduate at 20. I feel old...


As I'm on the upward slope to my quarter life crisis (I feel like I'll be there soon) I think I like his attentions - But, then again, I like everyone's attention. Step One: Acceptance. My name is Epiphany, and I'm an attention whore 


And because I think he's cute, we have good chemistry in rehearsal. Haha I was legitimately shocked when Jamel said today, "after this caress, this...this breath here, then you can grab her and tongue her!" *gasp* JAMEL!!! Don't give him any ideas! He was only joking... Not that I would have minded; that is, if we weren't in a church and there weren't like 34985793842 other people watching. The sexual undertones of the duet allows me to reiterate my fondness of hard bodied men and the smell of clean clothes. Although clean clothes has absolutely nothing to do with the piece... I just like that scent.


I also keep referring to him as "He" he has a name. It's not "he," but I'm keeping that little bit of information private. To protect his anonymity from all the curious masses that read this blog. Duh! Everyone reading this probably knows who I'm talking about... Anyways that's my story. The moral is I'm currently enjoying something new. Until he goes to school. I won't be going to school this fall, which is also something new. My apartment is new. So is roughly everything inside of it. And today I got the sheets for my bed. And curtains for my window- now it's not a peep show every time I get dressed. Though I feel like since I live on the top floor, if they're trying that hard, anything they see is kind of like a reward for their persistence. But I'm digressing...


That's all the new for now. The rest is still UNwritten...

Santa Marta, Colombia. Population: 410,309

Something old and borrowed... from my facebook that is. I'll find something new and blue to blog about soon. This is me getting psyched for my sister's upcoming nuptials. Hoop Yeah!! I present: Santa Marta, Colombia. Population: 410,309 published March, 2009


Bienvenido a Colombia! Porfavorsientense.Quisieraagua? congas? 

Um..what?
Yeah...that's what I thought too. 

Spring Break '09 found me at 4 AM March 14 on the way to the airport to meet Marvel headed to Colombia. "But Epiphany," you ask, "why are you going to Colombia?" I say the answer is simple. Mommy called me up one day and said hey, lets go to Colombia. So I said sure. What's Spring Break without the tantalizing option of runins with drug lords? I could appreciate the opportunity (if I was interested in hardcore drugs, that is) that vacationing in Colombia could present. So I packed by bags. Said my goodbyes, and headed for JFK before the butt crack of dawn. *Insert "festive" hand motion here*


Airport ticket drama, an almost missed flight, and a 6 hour layover in Bogota later, Mommy and I step out into the balmy night air. Where we are promptly ripped off for the taxi ride to our hotel. =) Good start right? Meanwhile I'm thinking of the very specific instructions from the bff: 
-Don't die. 
-Don't get raped by drug lords. 
-Don't get stolen. 
-Don't get sold. 
I'd do my best to return to the states in one piece. 

So Day 1. It's really too bad that like no one speaks English here. At all. It's also too bad that they speak so fast thatallthewordsruntogetherliketherearenospaces. Which makes it really hard to even begin to understand, so my highschool Spanish wasn't much use. Anywayss..We need food and, you know, the cultured girls we are-we decide to take the "bus" to the grocery store. ...Now these "buses" are actually more like vans. With attendants. It's a cute little system though. They'll pick you up from the side of the road wherever you are, which is handy I guess...

We make it through the next couple of days with the food and the wine and the rum purchased at the grocery store. We spent some lovely hours on the beach and some quality time with our reading materials. Unfortunately the view from the beach was crisp blue waters, grayish sand (Marvel thinks it's from oil) and about 6-9 tankers. *another "festive" hand motion* When we went diving I could see all of like 5 ft in front of me. I've never seen so much trash in the ocean in my life. There were maybe 7 kinds of marine wildlife, and the best part was getting to see the city before we got in the water. 

That was where we met 1 of the 2 guys that spoke English. The other guy kept trying to sell us necklaces on the beach. [He had a great deal: you could buy it on credit. Take it home with you to the States and pay him later...right...] I'd say the most interesting thing about our English speaking amigos was that they learned English here in Nueva York. "But Epiphany," you ask, "How did they get here?" Funny story. They, both of them, stowed away on cargo ships bound for the states; and were then deported several years later. They both have kids here too. They're nice guys...I guess that's not really a funny story. oh well. 

But hands down. The BEST part of the trip was when Marvel dragged me to the Simon Bolivar Memorial house thing. I was quite content to sit inside (because by this time I'd had about enough of the sun) and read my like 9th book of the trip or something equally as ridic. But no...So. We hop on our favorite mode of transportation and tell the man in horribly broken Spanish that we're going to the museo. We get off 45 minutes later and head back in the direction he pointed us in. The first building we come to looks like it's a...but no that can't be right. We walk inside. And it is, in fact, a mall. Yes, my friend we ended up at the mall. This story would be much funnier if we hadn't found the museum, but we did so the voyage wasn't a complete waste. It was hot and sunny and I felt like freakin Edward Cullen trying to hide in the shade (I wouldn't get all bedazzled like he does) but it was cool. I guess. 

After that we spent the last day reading. And had a long day of traveling back home. I did make it back all in one piece, sans sexual assualt and encounters with slave trade! I also stayed up for more than 24 hours that day! Yayy! The moral is, I make entertaining stories of my vacations with Mommy, but really they're super chill and lots of fun mother-daughter bonding. =) Nothing like a good book, a good drink, and a nice beach to get you relaxed for the last 6 weeks of school.


*This has already been written. 

We're All in This Together

And it Shows When We Stand Hand in Hand. Make Our Dreams Come True.

Ahhh Sunday. It's the Lord's day. Right? Wrong!! In my life it appears that Sunday is now a day to do hard manual labor. Or dance... A lot. This evening I blog about the former. 

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me - Sharing Patrick's 8 x 8 room at the old apartment. Dealing with the long and sometimes frustrating creation process of Prize. The Gala. Moving. Working. Performing. Working. And finally Moving... again. - I had a solid 24 hours to myself. Well I was working, but I wasn't dancing or moving or doing too much in the apartment. Which leads me to Sunday. 

Sunday, Patrick moved into our apartment. I'm happy. =) Honest. But on that day he said "your face looks miserable" And I was. It was my day off and I was tired and irritable. I really didn't mind helping so I said nothing, so I wouldn't make Pat feel bad.

I met him at the old apartment and we took a bus to the U-Haul on Atlantic Avenue. Despite the fact that Patrick reserved a van and all they had was a small struck getting it was quick and easy and then Daisy (that's my phone's name) navigated us back to 728 Franklin. Patrick was absolutely hilarious driving the small truck back. Like the cars around him were driving on the autobahn and he had to keep up or something. Lol. Several times he asked how he would get around a car that had paused, double parked. Just do it?!? And he did. Then we made it back thanks to Daisy's stellar navigation and a little help directing on my part for the parking across the street. 

Loading everything from the apartment took about 2 hours and more trips up and down the steps than I can count. Though I honestly think we spent more time pondering all the stuff than actually moving anything. But who's to say for sure? When that was done I said my goodbyes to the apartment, carried Turtle down to the truck, directed out then we were on our way. 

Please note that towards the end of our loading it was nearing noon and Patrick promised me food. I'm happy to report that my countenance improved greatly with that declaration. And I wasn't so much of a moody brat after that. Good thing Pat loves me too... =)

We had to drive around a few blocks before we found a parking space and in that time my phone rang. My brief reprieve from sullen moods was broken when I answered. In my frazzled state The Hair demanding my time and talents on the phone was not something that I wanted to commit to. Had he not dropped the fact that I could possibly get a few hundred dollars for the performance I would have declined immediately. I would have regretted it (because rehearsal today was actually quite enjoyable. Once I got over myself.) but I wasn't thinking that far in advanced. Luckily my diplomatic side won out and I told Hair that because I was flustered I needed time to sort out my schedule and gather my life before I could confirm or deny my participation. 

-- Yes I do really use words like that in my day-to-day vocabulary. I also once asked him if the rehearsal time he called was "Truth or Fallacy"

Sooo....anyways... back to the moving. We found a parking spot about half a block away from the front of the apartment for fear of having to leave the truck in the crosswalk and getting a ticket from the ever present po-po. Unlike Madea I am afraid of the police. So we're parked. We start unloading. On the first trip I take Turtle and Pat takes Bruce and we just run that stuff upstairs. It's warming up so I change out of my jeans into the black shorts I wear under dance costumes. On the next trip this nice man in a red t-shirt stops me. Great I'm already getting attention. It's been 5 minutes. It's going to be a long afternoon. 

Red Shirt: Hey do you guys need help.

Me: ....Um... Well... Yeah. I mean. If you want to help, we could use another set of hands.**

Red Shirt: Okay. What do you need? 

I hand him the stuff I have in my hands. Which isn't much but he takes it and follows Pat up to the apartment. We proceed this way for a bit. He carries the mattress up by himself!! Yes, you may be recalling my affinity for hard men. It's too bad he's old. 

About 3/4 of the way through unloading it's only be like 30 minutes. And Patrick quietly tells me that if Joseph (that's Red Shirt's name. About 10 minutes in I gathered the courage to ask his name.) wants to go out with me I damn well better go. Patrick...are you pimping me out to facilitate your move?? Anything to get the job done *shakes head at my fortune* Now when we're all but finished this nice older couple comes down to sit on the front stoop with their grandson (?) The little one is trying to skateboard... and failing. Miserably. But he's a little gentleman holding the door for me and what not. 

So on the next trip his uncle - okay, so I'm totally making up these relationships; but it's my blog and I can do what I want! - asks if we need any more help. I say sure another body could only help. But he tells me to move the truck closer before he'll help. LOL!! Luckily a spot right in front of the building opens up and we move the truck there for the last two loads. This new gentleman, we'll call him Igor, organizes the last few items so that we finish unloading in the next two trips. The little boy wants to help too, so Patrick lets him carry the shelves for the bookshelf. By the third floor the kid is huffing and puffing and I'm shaking my head at childhood obesity. It's a serious problem. He tells us his name is Dior. D-I-O-R. Dior. As in...the designer?? Make eye contact with Patrick, silent laughter is exchanged at our telepathic question

The last trip is mostly heavy stuff and Dior can't really help. So I play the hapless female who needs help carrying the air mattress. This time he makes it to the fourth floor before he starts complaining. Though his breathing is labored after two. 

Dior: I can't. I can't make it. 

Me: Yes you can. 

Dior: No! No I can't do it. 

Me: We're almost there. Look. 5.4.

Dior: panting. panting...

Me: 3.2.1. You made it. **

Meanwhile around floors 2-3 Dior forgot he was supposed to be helping me and lets go of the air mattress. Which is fine with me but he's walking slow so I remind him of his duties as a gentleman and he picks up the string. While I support most of the weight. Hey it's takes a village, right?

Finally - Finally!!! - we're done. I thank the gentleman for their help and they just peace out. And that was it. They helped us for no other reason than it was the nice thing to do =) What friendly people live in my building. 

We just barely miss the torrential downpour that began immediately after we got in to return the truck. We got nice and soaked running from U-Haul to the subway and ventured back on the C to the Franklin Shuttle to the B/Q. Back at the apartment we start unpacking and putting things together anticipating the TV which came on Monday and storing our toiletries in the bathroom. 

In the end it wasn't terrible and we got Patrick moved in so that we finally and officially live together. After 3 years. Our apartment is fast becoming home with the addition of the TV, and Patrick moving his clothes out of Dorian's room. Completing the set up of our kitchen. Only a few things remain. Like fixing the broken window to our fire escape so Ramon - the super- can unscrew the windows. Putting a rod in my closet - A real one. Not that janky piece of shit that Ramon installed. And getting some bedding. That'd be nice. We're working on it. You should begin to expect a housewarming invitation on the horizon. :-) 

And the rest is still UNwritten.

** Okay well, you know, the conversation went something like that. This may or may not be an actual direct quote.

Uh-oh... You've been DATENAPPED.

Of course there are some down sides to life as I currently know it. I'm busy most days. Or I at least have something to do most days. But I also have a lot of free time. Way more than I'm used to. And I'm considering getting another job just to fill the time. I kind of want to work in a bar. Or maybe dance at a club. That could be fun. The free time I have now, I spend in a variety of ways. Last weekend I went out with Patrick and his friends from Lucinda Childs Dance something or another (I don't actually know the name.... =/) We went out and ended up on the topic of men. And why (present company excluded, of course) they don't listen. 

DATENAPPED. It's my new show. It's where girls can relive and relate to some really horrible dates. Patrick's friend, let's call her Hatheway, was telling us about this bad first date she went on. She was DATENAPPED (bum bum bummmm...) Stuck on a motorcycle for 5 hours with a guy who would not listen. When she said "I want to go home" he heard "Please take me to your house and show me your shaggy bed cover and your stuffed moose head."  No! I want to go home means, "I want to go home."
Unless you're Patrick or Mommy, you've probably never heard this story. But I too have been datenapped. We'll call him Mo. Mo thinks I'm the biggest tomboy and that I'm incapable of having fun or going out. In my second year of school he texts me one day and asked if I'd eaten dinner. I'm never one to turn down free food so I said no when he offered to bring me some. I was at home, so naturally I was not dressed. Surprisingly I was wearing clothes but just shorts and a tshirt. When Mo said he was downstairs I went down with adidas sandals and socks, purple shorts and a pink tee to pick up my food. Little did I know the food was actually in HARLEM!! I lived on 23rd street! Like wtf? He was mad that I wasn't dressed, like I didn't tell him exactly what I was wearing. But he took me anyway. After I got in the car I was marginally worried about the fact that no one knew where I was and I had no idea where I was going. ** He made me go get my food to go by myself and just gave me money. What part of "I'm wearing sleeping clothes" was hard to understand. "No I don't want to go to Harlem" does not mean, "please take me anyway". I'm not being coy, I'm being honest. Just listen. 

Whew! I feel better now. Got that off my chest.

**I recently was informed that I did in fact text Patrick. He was concerned as to why I was in this man's car. I should have known better... Hindsight is 20 x 20

A Hard Man is Good to Find

First off, all of you thinking dirty things, get your minds out of the gutter. That is certainly not what I meant. Lol. I know you're thinking it too, because I had a mental "That's what she said..." when I thought of this title. Second, as many of you know, whenever Marvel and I go somewhere we end up having some pretty serious adventures. Despite the fact that I now live in New York, the past two days with my mom have been no less adventuresome. I present the misadventures of Ms. Marvel and her main man, Ms. Epiphany.
–That's "man" as in sidekick. I didn't want to throw off the alliteration. –

I moved into my new apartment (YAYAYAYAYAY!!!!) on Sunday/Monday following the riotous performance of Creative Outlet Dance Theatre's Prize at the Gala of International Dance Stars in Cincinnati, OH. The trek from landing at JFK at 5:10 PM to the time I finally got back to my apartment at 8:30 PM took twice as long as the entire flight from Cincinnati to New York.  I came straight back to my new but empty apartment. And I was hungry. Mother dearest, arrived shortly after and we had an excellent dinner at some Spanish-American restaurant around the corner. It was midnight. Marvel spent a little time dancing with Sunshine.

Good Times.

By the time we finally went to sleep around 2 AM on the hard wood floor in my room one would think I would sleep soundly. Not the case. And surprisingly, not because of the uncomfortable wooden floor. P.S. I later found out that the unidentified thing in my hall closet was in fact, a queen sized air mattress... =( Epic Fail.

Monday morning dawned bright and early for me at 6 AM. I woke up roughly every 15 minutes until 7:30. Which is when I decided to do something productive and go get some things from the old apartment to assist in the moving process. After getting back home, *insert beaming smiley face here* I spent a rather uneventful morning waiting for installations and deliveries by seriously cleaning.

How the day should have gone:
8-10:30 - Optimum Cable/ Internet installation
10-11 IKEA delivery
11-1 - Building some furniture
1:15-2 - Get rental car and go to storage unit
2-3:30 Load car and return to BK with stuff
3:30 - Meet Derek, Cara, and Amber to move stuff from storage
4 Take Derek to meet Patrick at old apartment to load bed and miscellaneous 
6:30 Back at the apartment done unloading things. Preparing to stop for dinner
7 Leaving for dinner with Jamel, Bahiyah and Soleil
10 PM - Coming back to BK

=)

How the day actually went:
8-11:15 Cleaning with Mom because Optimum guy isn't here yet
11:15-12:30 Optimum Installation / Marvel makes work calls
12:30-1:45 More cleaning waiting for IKEA / Marvel makes more work calls
2 - 2:45 IKEA delivery. Missing the Midbeam for my bed- that's a very important part...
2:45 Watch True Blood waiting for Derek and Marvel (Don't finish)
3:45 Leave with Derek and Mom for Avis at 2111 Atlantic Avenue
4 PM Get to 2111 Atlantic Avenue to find out the Avis is actually 211 Atlantic Avenue
5 - 5:30 Get to Avis- dilly dally with problematic cards etc.
5:30 - 7 Go to Storage (easiest part of the day) Move out. Drive back to Brooklyn.
7 - 7:10 Derek carries all the heavy things up my 5 floor walk up =) He's strong. It was handy. Hence, (yeah...hence!) a hard man is good to find.
8 PM - 2 AM dinner with Jamel. In Garrison.
2:15 to 3:05 AM Fight with Mattress and box spring at Patrick's apartment
4 AM - 5 AM start my bed.
5 AM Marvel makes me go to bed. LOL!

It. Was. Awful.

I particularly enjoyed spending 2 hours trekking to East Bufu, Brooklyn only to find that we just needed to go to Borough Hall. And the especially long drive to and from Garrison, NY. Because the 6 hour field trip was exactly what I needed just then...  I feel like I must inform you that when I'm flustered and/or tired, my patience is all of 90 seconds. And has been for the past 20 years and 9 months. Good thing she loves me, because my poor mother received the raw end of my frustrations.

Regardless of the tribulations that first day, many thanks go out to my mommy and one, Mr. Derek Lipscomb, for their time, effort and hard bodies in helping to facilitate my move. Without Derek I'm afraid to say I probably would have fainted and then fallen down the 5 flights of steps. Without Marvel, I would have castigated some unfortunate person.

I wish I had before, middle and after pictures- but alas we can't have all that we want. I do however, have the first picture of my mostly complete room taken last night after i finished putting all the furniture together.

Before. Duh!

After. Shut Up! I know I need to make up my bed...And my sheets don't fit. Embrace it. I have.

The strain I've put my body through in this moving process has not helped my injured toe and I have a very sore muscle in my forearm. That being said, I realize that "A good man is hard to find" but when moving I believe a Hard Man is Good to Find. In absolutely every way that you can possibly think *wink wink*

The rest is still UNwritten

Pillow Talk

I was going to start this blog off with "As many of you know..." But I don't think there are "many of you." And if you're reading this you probably directly know me. Therefore I'm operating on the premise - take for granted, really - that you know I just graduated from NYU in May.  Halleluyer. Praise the Lordt!  Yes, my days of institutional education are over and I've been thrust into the shades of real life. Which is not nearly as exciting or scary as I thought it was going to be. But we'll discuss that later. 

Since my graduation I've been living the homeless life. Staying with friends who can spare the room, and Patrick, who can't. I felt I'd outstayed my welcome in Connecticut, so when I got back from St. Maarten I showed up on Patrick's doorstep with a ginormous ( I tried to work gargantuan into that sentence, but it just wouldn't flow right...) bag and planted myself in his 8 x 8 bedroom. The fact that both of us fit reasonably well and we haven't killed each other is testament that when we move into our NEW APARTMENT on August 15th that we will live together wonderfully. 

That's right all, I will be signing a lease and moving into my first apartment very soon. We're very excited. Patrick and I will be joined by Dorian Parker when she moves up from CIncinnati. And until we make that move I'll be living out the rest of my homeless days with Patrick. 

The other night we were talking before we went to sleep, pillow talk you could say. Minus the sex... since that would be weird. Patrick loves me. He shares his twin bed and covers with me (not well because he's a bed bully when he's sleeping) and lets me eat his food and use his toothpaste. That night while we were talking, I brought up the fact that in a few weeks kids across the country (his little brother and sister) will be going back to school...and we won't. 

This realization was a bit shocking but it brought on a round of reminiscing about the things we did and played with as children.  Evidently Patrick was more of a Digimon kid while i liked to pretend I understood what in hell was going on with Pokemon. We both had those silly nano pets and tomigatchi toys that you had to feed and play with. When really the only excited thing that happened is they pooped. And furbys. Who didn't love furbys? I think I had 2, and in 4th grade, my friend Charissa had 5. We brought them to school. And in all honesty looking back they are without a doubt the stupidest toy I have ever seen. But I loved those things. "teaching" them english and having it blink and be like "I love you" was one of the highlights of my young life. Real talk.

Our conversation then segued into talking about Patrick's little sister, Sam. She's so cute. I don't want to be friends with many 14 year old girls, but I'd totes make an exception for her. I could be the big sister she never had. Patrick thinks that he is better than a big sister. But I'd have to disagree. I have 2 big sisters. And a gay big brother does not a big sister make. We spent a good 5 minutes arguing the pros and cons of this discovery but I still hold steady to my beliefs. 

Talking about Sami brought us back into the present. Real life. It's been staring me in the face for almost 3 months now and for some reason I feel like I'm cheating. What I'm doing right now... it can't be real life. I mean... I dance and work at a day spa for a living. I spent 1 of those three months on an island in the west indies. I've been performing about twice a month since I graduated AND I'm going to Cincinnati to perform in the 9th Annual Gala of International Dance Stars. What's more is that I NEVER thought I'd get to that point in my dance career and especially not 3 months after I graduated. The gala will in fact mark my 3 month anniversary of being a college graduate. 

Before Patrick and I finally drifted off to sleep we talked about our apartment. It's beautiful. Just a couple blocks away from Prospect Park we live in a building called Waldo Hall. At 2023 Caton Ave apt 21 Brooklyn, NY 11226 I will make my new residence. We discussed painting. There's leftover blue paint from when Patrick painted this room. And the furniture we're going to put in our living room. A couch and a table. Bean bag chairs and lounging pillows. Outside on our fire escape we're going to have a sunflower garden. I'm going to try my hand again, since the lack of sunlight in my last dorm room sort of killed my hopes of having a sunflower. And we're both super excited about the dishwasher. It's the little things in life...honest. We plan on having a housewarming party so be prepared for the fb invite. You'll have to wait until we have furniture though. And for the toilet to be taken out of the bathtub...Otherwise you'll be sitting on the floor and you won't be able to pee. And that's no fun. Trust me. 

That's all for now...the rest is still UNwritten.