What is it about society today that makes mediocrity acceptable? Why do we as a people accept par, or even sub-par, behavior? While I think it is unfortunate, I do understand that not everyone can be excellent at many things. Some people only excel at one thing. And there are some who excel at nothing. They dabble in many things that may seem easy for them, but in reality they are mediocre, at best.
I spend a lot of time watching young dancers. And dance is a hard thing to excel at. Lots of years and discipline go in to dance training. There are some great dancers. There are a lot of okay dancers. And there are a whole lot of bad dancers. One of the issues I have is that people not only accept mediocrity, but encourage it. I don't get it. Why? We should push young people to be better than everyone else. They should excel at what they do... and if they don't, they should find something they are good at. Because saying "look at how she does this! and she's only 14!" does not make her any better at it. She is still bad, and we're limiting her by pretending she's not.
I find while I'm watching the next generation (are they the next generation? am I a whole generation ahead of today's high school kids? gosh...I'm old) of kids grow and mature, that there is a general lack luster attitude about life. Like it's not their responsibility to make the most of the situation present. Sometimes when I'm teaching, my students are trying to do something, but they are doing it wrong. They look to me like, "Help me fix this!" when really, there's nothing I can do. They have to find it and figure it out for themselves. But sometimes that seems to be too complex an idea. So instead they put forth a "half-ass" attempt, and just tell me it's because they can't do it. Bullshit... oops I meant, B.S.
But Epiphany, why, you may ask, are you writing this post disparaging mediocrity this new year? Because it is absolutely the time to tackle this. Quick, while everyone is making their New Year's Resolutions. In 2012 MEDIOCRITY is not acceptable. Personally, nothing less than 110% will be acknowledged as effort from myself. In the Kwanzaa celebration, January 1 is the day of Imani, meaning faith. Last year, I talked about having faith in my God to lead me where He plans. This year I see that, and raise myself to take more risks in my faith that no matter what, what God means for me to be will be. Whatever needs to be done to make my life and myself who and what God wants will be done without hesitation. I already know I have many blessings, they only wait for me to take them. I plan to excel at not only what I want to do but everything God leads me to do in 2012.
the rest is still UNwritten...
My Body is a Piece of Art
photo by Jaqi Medlock
December 28, 2011
December 9, 2011
When I Grow Up
I wanna be famous.
I wanna be a star.
I wanna be in movies.
I feel like after I turned 20, my birthdays have become progressively anti-climatic. I mean, for 20 I did it in a big way. Party at Bourbon Street, 2nd floor reserved for the Epiphany Party. 365 Days and Counting... I was celebrating my 21st birthday, the bar just didn't know I was celebrating a year early :-)
When I was underage I would flip out if I was carded. I'd cajole, and flirt, and try to reason my way out of showing my fake. Why? Because that's what you do when you're trying to get away with being bad. But alas, you're only bad if you get caught. So that makes me a good girl...right? *wink*
Being pretty can get you a lot of things in this world-- it's a sad but true fact of life. Being a pretty girl... man...the things I'm tempted with.
I'm sorry, you want to buy me what? Indeed. It happens, and I'm not just talking drinks at the bar on that gentleman in the corner. Shoes, clothes, little mementos... I've got them all. And for what? A little bit of my attention. I can do that. A little bit of my #@*$&? *gasp* What?! I am a good girl :-)
But I'm digressing. What I want to say is that as I get older, I constantly feel like I have to get my life together. There are many a day when I reflect on where I am in my life, and how much more I want to do. I want to be on Broadway. I want to be in a movie (like for real, not as background). I want to go on tour with cirque, or on a cruise ship. Basically I just want to work. Big works. A lot. As in all the time.
Unfortunately, pretty girl that I am, on a good day I look about 17. On my best day, with make-up, older people, and grown up clothes I can pass for 20...ish. I will unfailingly be carded for the next 10 years. In an audition I wouldn't say that I have an exotic look, but more often then not I'm type cast out for whatever reason I don't fit what they're looking for. For every yes I've ever received in auditions there have probably been 8.8 nos.
How is that relevant? Well when I finally grow up, and can pass for 20s instead of 15.
I'm gonna be Famous.
I'm gonna be A Star.
I'm gonna be in Movies.
the rest is still UNwritten...
I wanna be a star.
I wanna be in movies.
I feel like after I turned 20, my birthdays have become progressively anti-climatic. I mean, for 20 I did it in a big way. Party at Bourbon Street, 2nd floor reserved for the Epiphany Party. 365 Days and Counting... I was celebrating my 21st birthday, the bar just didn't know I was celebrating a year early :-)
When I was underage I would flip out if I was carded. I'd cajole, and flirt, and try to reason my way out of showing my fake. Why? Because that's what you do when you're trying to get away with being bad. But alas, you're only bad if you get caught. So that makes me a good girl...right? *wink*
Being pretty can get you a lot of things in this world-- it's a sad but true fact of life. Being a pretty girl... man...the things I'm tempted with.
I'm sorry, you want to buy me what? Indeed. It happens, and I'm not just talking drinks at the bar on that gentleman in the corner. Shoes, clothes, little mementos... I've got them all. And for what? A little bit of my attention. I can do that. A little bit of my #@*$&? *gasp* What?! I am a good girl :-)
But I'm digressing. What I want to say is that as I get older, I constantly feel like I have to get my life together. There are many a day when I reflect on where I am in my life, and how much more I want to do. I want to be on Broadway. I want to be in a movie (like for real, not as background). I want to go on tour with cirque, or on a cruise ship. Basically I just want to work. Big works. A lot. As in all the time.
Unfortunately, pretty girl that I am, on a good day I look about 17. On my best day, with make-up, older people, and grown up clothes I can pass for 20...ish. I will unfailingly be carded for the next 10 years. In an audition I wouldn't say that I have an exotic look, but more often then not I'm type cast out for whatever reason I don't fit what they're looking for. For every yes I've ever received in auditions there have probably been 8.8 nos.
How is that relevant? Well when I finally grow up, and can pass for 20s instead of 15.
I'm gonna be Famous.
I'm gonna be A Star.
I'm gonna be in Movies.
the rest is still UNwritten...
November 25, 2011
Thankful.
It's been about a month since I last wrote. In that time I've been to Las Vegas, turned 22, celebrated my birthday for a fortnight, got an iPhone, made money, lost money, loaned money, spent money, and danced like crazy. I mean, pretty much life as I know it. Right?
This was supposed to be a Thanksgiving post, but I've been sidetracked. So what is it that I'm thankful for this year? Everything.
My life.
My friends.
My family.
You. If you're reading this.
I have so much to be grateful for. I mean I continuously wake up every morning - under no power of mine. I go to work at a job that pays me well to do nothing, and allows for me to actually pursue my passion. I have an amazing friend base in the city that let's me stay here and not be completely alone on the holidays. I'm in projects I'm in love with, with some of my very best friends. And I find that when I get close to people, and let them get close to me, things are so much better. LOVE like you've never been hurt, and all that.
Thanksgiving is a forgotten holiday. (Unless you're a college student, and it's the break landmark that signals 6 weeks until Christmas.) People tend to go right from October to December. Not sure why, Thanksgiving is awesome. You get to eat all the food that's like normally not acceptable. I mean, can you eat stuffing any other time of the year? Well, I suppose you can, but do you know anyone that does? No.
So today's post is short and sweet. I hope you were properly thankful on Thanksgiving. But like Valentine's day, you needn't wait for next November to let any and everyone know just how THANKFUL you are to be alive and well. Successful. Managing. How thankful you are for the people in your life and the effects they've made. I'm thankful every day for what I have so far, and what I'll achieve in the future.
the rest is still UNwritten...
October 30, 2011
What Were You Thinking?
Soooooooo. Life is based on the decisions we make on the daily. Obviously. Newton's law says every action has an equal and opposite reaction, meaning there is always a consequence for the things we decide to do. The choices we make are what make up the experiences that frame our lives.
As children we learn some basics: Fire is hot, don't put your fingers in it. Hungry dogs bite. Walking into oncoming traffic will get you hit by a car... Reading some of these you may be like, Duhh Piph! and that's just it! These are all duhh! things, and yet people still put their hands in a hungry dog's mouth and cry foul when they're bitten.
My Daddy used to always tell me before I'd get out of the car, or leave the house, or hang up the phone, "Think for yourself, use good judgement, do the right thing." and I'm always like, okay dad...because, you know, I'm a smart girl. But not everyone can say they've mastered that whole common sense thing. Guess we aren't really made equal. How unfortunate
The thing about life decisions is that you have to live with them for the rest of your life. Yeah, I know. Shocking right? And, of course, everyone makes mistakes. But really you shouldn't be making the same bad decisions repeatedly, because then your mistake becomes an error. My source/ inspiration for this topic came from a chat I had with my cousin, Bari Starr. He's still growing as a person, trying to become independent-ish. Compared to some of his friends though, his life is not only on target but spotlessly clean. To put this in perspective, his shit is no where near together (no offense cuzzo).
But while we were talking he was telling me things that blew my mind and rocked my world. At 16 and 17 years old, kids are soooo not ready for the kinds of consequences the decisions they're making lead to. I mean, when I was that age, Pluto was a planet and I was doing all I could to get to New York City and be a dancer. The choices I was making were related to SAT questions and what college I was attending in the fall. NOT whether or not I'm using condoms tonight, or which of five guys I'm sleeping with. Never that. I wasn't out trolling for conquests, or another notch on my bedpost. Frankly, if that bedpost is still at your parents' house, you needn't be notching anything! I was in my bed watching others take the antibiotics from their latest round of STDs. Oh, and I got the very top of my earlobe pierced. That's what I was doing at 17.
These kids, they're getting ultrasounds. And I don't mean the kind for an injury. She's picking baby names, and hoping she guessed the right guy as the father... I mean, 'tis a 1 in 5 chance she got it right. He's taking AZT breaks. What?! And the sad part is, I can't see that the circumstances have made them reevaluate the choices they're making.
I'm not knocking anyone's relationship with their mother, because maybe yours sucks. But I'm thankful for my mom. She talks me up, she talks me down, she doesn't talk at all. She disagrees with my decisions to get pierced and tattooed, but loves me anyway. (and she's borderline surprised with how tasteful they are. Which sometimes offends me, mom, really what were you thinking?)
Today's point: once you make your choices, you have to live with the consequences of your decisions. You decide you don't like condoms-- which are probably the best invention ever-- sooner or later your eggo is preggo. And you can't cry about it, because it was your choice not to look into another form of birth control. If you've had sex with over sixty people before the age of 20, you're definitely going to catch something gnarly. If you're lucky, it's something curable with antibiotics. Or you can get something you don't come back from. You could die, years from now, from something you contracted based on decisions at age 16.
After I was enlightened so, I had to talk to people that age. I teach 15-17 year old girls. We didn't dance, we sat and talked, and I told them: Think for yourselves. Use good judgement. Do the right thing.
I, Epiphany Davis, being of sound mind and able body do hereby declare that you just might have to buy yourself a clue.
the rest is still UNwritten
As children we learn some basics: Fire is hot, don't put your fingers in it. Hungry dogs bite. Walking into oncoming traffic will get you hit by a car... Reading some of these you may be like, Duhh Piph! and that's just it! These are all duhh! things, and yet people still put their hands in a hungry dog's mouth and cry foul when they're bitten.
My Daddy used to always tell me before I'd get out of the car, or leave the house, or hang up the phone, "Think for yourself, use good judgement, do the right thing." and I'm always like, okay dad...because, you know, I'm a smart girl. But not everyone can say they've mastered that whole common sense thing. Guess we aren't really made equal. How unfortunate
The thing about life decisions is that you have to live with them for the rest of your life. Yeah, I know. Shocking right? And, of course, everyone makes mistakes. But really you shouldn't be making the same bad decisions repeatedly, because then your mistake becomes an error. My source/ inspiration for this topic came from a chat I had with my cousin, Bari Starr. He's still growing as a person, trying to become independent-ish. Compared to some of his friends though, his life is not only on target but spotlessly clean. To put this in perspective, his shit is no where near together (no offense cuzzo).
But while we were talking he was telling me things that blew my mind and rocked my world. At 16 and 17 years old, kids are soooo not ready for the kinds of consequences the decisions they're making lead to. I mean, when I was that age, Pluto was a planet and I was doing all I could to get to New York City and be a dancer. The choices I was making were related to SAT questions and what college I was attending in the fall. NOT whether or not I'm using condoms tonight, or which of five guys I'm sleeping with. Never that. I wasn't out trolling for conquests, or another notch on my bedpost. Frankly, if that bedpost is still at your parents' house, you needn't be notching anything! I was in my bed watching others take the antibiotics from their latest round of STDs. Oh, and I got the very top of my earlobe pierced. That's what I was doing at 17.
 |
| Me &Naassstty + new piercing circa May 2007 |
These kids, they're getting ultrasounds. And I don't mean the kind for an injury. She's picking baby names, and hoping she guessed the right guy as the father... I mean, 'tis a 1 in 5 chance she got it right. He's taking AZT breaks. What?! And the sad part is, I can't see that the circumstances have made them reevaluate the choices they're making.
I'm not knocking anyone's relationship with their mother, because maybe yours sucks. But I'm thankful for my mom. She talks me up, she talks me down, she doesn't talk at all. She disagrees with my decisions to get pierced and tattooed, but loves me anyway. (and she's borderline surprised with how tasteful they are. Which sometimes offends me, mom, really what were you thinking?)
Today's point: once you make your choices, you have to live with the consequences of your decisions. You decide you don't like condoms-- which are probably the best invention ever-- sooner or later your eggo is preggo. And you can't cry about it, because it was your choice not to look into another form of birth control. If you've had sex with over sixty people before the age of 20, you're definitely going to catch something gnarly. If you're lucky, it's something curable with antibiotics. Or you can get something you don't come back from. You could die, years from now, from something you contracted based on decisions at age 16.
After I was enlightened so, I had to talk to people that age. I teach 15-17 year old girls. We didn't dance, we sat and talked, and I told them: Think for yourselves. Use good judgement. Do the right thing.
I, Epiphany Davis, being of sound mind and able body do hereby declare that you just might have to buy yourself a clue.
the rest is still UNwritten
October 23, 2011
Maybe She's Born With It
♫♫♫I'm beautiful in my way cause God makes no mistakes.
I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way. ♫♫♫
A serious debate in the world is nature vs. nurture. Are people born a certain way, or do they develop because of the way of their specific life experiences. Well, that's a bit beyond my scope of reasonable conversation. I'm sure I could talk it out, but I can't guarantee the arguments would hold any factual basis, and would probably just be a lot of b.s.
But for the sake of making a choice, I'm throwing my towel in with nurture over nature. Want to know why? Well, because no one is inherently evil... Okay I'll tone it down. People aren't inherently bad, either. Let's be honest, something happened to the kid that likes to torture small animals. And something happened to the girl with daddy issues so deep she doesn't trust anyone further than a single night hookup that doesn't even include sex. What happened? Who knows. They might not even be consciously aware of it. But some experience, either directly or indirectly, led to the "abnormal" behavior. Short of putting them in a box for study, there is really no way to know what triggers the truly heinous behavior that some people adopt. But then if we did that, the experiment might not work.... Le sigh
Right, but back to the point: everyone is a product of their raising. You're the sum of your parts ( in that your parts are your past...not like your body parts...which you're also the sum of, I guess?) You live your life as a child; you do what your parents say because, hey, they're the parent and you're the kid. As you grow, life happens outside of your parents and your family (if you have siblings and what not) and other outside forces affect you. Then you have that first circumstance that changes your life. And nothing is the same. Ever. You may not have lost your innocence but some major alterations occurred and there is no going back.
Your entire life is made up of moments like that. While the experiences may seem minor, they are in fact, what shapes us as people; and frankly, I don't see that one could ever completely sever the tie between the person and the aspects of life that made them that way. I like to think that I can be objective, but objectivity is all relative. Any sort of measurement can be skewed, or biased based on one's personal experiences. Much as we may try to block out negative emotions, they will always play a part in our subconscious.
Here's the part you read for, I know, Life According to Epiphany -- Shenanigans and Mishaps that is 21-year-old life in New York City. A Scorpio woman can drown you in her passion. It is in my nature to be a very passionate person. About everything that matters to me. Get your minds out of the gutter, because for once I'm not talking about sex. (aside) Want to know more about Scorpio women? This is shockingly accurate about me. Seriously, character profile breakdown. So while it is in my nature to be passionate, it was my nurturing that encouraged me to focus all the passion on something besides sex. There will always be sex. Or so I'm told... But for the past 21 years I've spent more time dancing, than sleeping and eating... I mean, probably. That's not an exact calculation. So who had time for sex?
It was also based on past experiences that led me to close myself off from the world around me–we kinda talked about ignoring things in (Living My Life Like It's Golden 3/11) – I had a hard time coming to terms with thefriend...girlspacefriend...girlfriend situation I'm facing. I mean, the last time I called someone the b word I was 12. For the past nine years, I didn't so much shy-away as flat-out-run-the-opposite-direction from any sort of romantic relationship. But check me out now. I tried to be objective about it, really I did, but there was no telling me it was a good idea. Epiphany get over yourself. Yeah, yeah easy for you to say. Mi amore vole fe-- my love needs faith...yeah!
the rest is still UNwritten
I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way. ♫♫♫
A serious debate in the world is nature vs. nurture. Are people born a certain way, or do they develop because of the way of their specific life experiences. Well, that's a bit beyond my scope of reasonable conversation. I'm sure I could talk it out, but I can't guarantee the arguments would hold any factual basis, and would probably just be a lot of b.s.
But for the sake of making a choice, I'm throwing my towel in with nurture over nature. Want to know why? Well, because no one is inherently evil... Okay I'll tone it down. People aren't inherently bad, either. Let's be honest, something happened to the kid that likes to torture small animals. And something happened to the girl with daddy issues so deep she doesn't trust anyone further than a single night hookup that doesn't even include sex. What happened? Who knows. They might not even be consciously aware of it. But some experience, either directly or indirectly, led to the "abnormal" behavior. Short of putting them in a box for study, there is really no way to know what triggers the truly heinous behavior that some people adopt. But then if we did that, the experiment might not work.... Le sigh
Right, but back to the point: everyone is a product of their raising. You're the sum of your parts ( in that your parts are your past...not like your body parts...which you're also the sum of, I guess?) You live your life as a child; you do what your parents say because, hey, they're the parent and you're the kid. As you grow, life happens outside of your parents and your family (if you have siblings and what not) and other outside forces affect you. Then you have that first circumstance that changes your life. And nothing is the same. Ever. You may not have lost your innocence but some major alterations occurred and there is no going back.
Your entire life is made up of moments like that. While the experiences may seem minor, they are in fact, what shapes us as people; and frankly, I don't see that one could ever completely sever the tie between the person and the aspects of life that made them that way. I like to think that I can be objective, but objectivity is all relative. Any sort of measurement can be skewed, or biased based on one's personal experiences. Much as we may try to block out negative emotions, they will always play a part in our subconscious.
Here's the part you read for, I know, Life According to Epiphany -- Shenanigans and Mishaps that is 21-year-old life in New York City. A Scorpio woman can drown you in her passion. It is in my nature to be a very passionate person. About everything that matters to me. Get your minds out of the gutter, because for once I'm not talking about sex. (aside) Want to know more about Scorpio women? This is shockingly accurate about me. Seriously, character profile breakdown. So while it is in my nature to be passionate, it was my nurturing that encouraged me to focus all the passion on something besides sex. There will always be sex. Or so I'm told... But for the past 21 years I've spent more time dancing, than sleeping and eating... I mean, probably. That's not an exact calculation. So who had time for sex?
It was also based on past experiences that led me to close myself off from the world around me–we kinda talked about ignoring things in (Living My Life Like It's Golden 3/11) – I had a hard time coming to terms with the
the rest is still UNwritten
October 12, 2011
Hello, My Name Isn't Pete Miser
This is the first video I've done that isn't still in production or an NYU Student Film. Go me. And here it is, Pete Miser's new video "Honest Mistakes" directed by Brad Aldous.
The shoot was fun, but hotter than hell in that studio. The garage is a studio for artists that do all those epic billboards around New York. This is the one they were actually working on when we filmed and now it's finished and on the wall just across the street from the studio. And at the bar/coffee house/restaurant where the release party was held.
Hello My Name Isn't Pete Miser. That's what the sticker said in my thank you package from rapper Pete Miser said. Obviously I'm not Pete Miser. It's Epiphany. (No Davis)
the rest is still UNwritten
Oh and P.S. here's the link to the last NYU student film I did, Trip The Light Fantastic. There's another coming up in November. Yay for work to do!
The shoot was fun, but hotter than hell in that studio. The garage is a studio for artists that do all those epic billboards around New York. This is the one they were actually working on when we filmed and now it's finished and on the wall just across the street from the studio. And at the bar/coffee house/restaurant where the release party was held.
 |
| This is painted. Click Me! I get bigger |
 |
| Duh! |
Hello My Name Isn't Pete Miser. That's what the sticker said in my thank you package from rapper Pete Miser said. Obviously I'm not Pete Miser. It's Epiphany. (No Davis)
the rest is still UNwritten
Oh and P.S. here's the link to the last NYU student film I did, Trip The Light Fantastic. There's another coming up in November. Yay for work to do!
October 9, 2011
Is Your Viewfinder Right Side Up?
How do you trust a brain that doesn't know which way is down?
Has something ever thrown you for a loop? Like shit, here's this new and stunning situation I find myself in. And f*** if I know how to handle it. It literally rocks your world, so that you're seeing things aslant. Pineapples I'm uncomfortable... I'm not into this. But then you start thinking about it. Some time passes and that initial wtf?!?! is resolved into something you can wrap your mind around. Your vision settles into something a bit more right side up.
I see weird shite all the time. I mean, just recently I saw a woman walking her dog in a stroller. Really, lady? Really?! Your dog may be small but it has legs, isn't the point of walking the dog? To let it walk? Anyway, it was weird. But! What if everyone walked their dogs in strollers? Every time you saw someone walking their dog in a stroller, it wouldn't seem weird. Because you've seen it before. I'm not sure I could ever accept that as right side up; however, that is truly weird shite and not currently the point.
I'm talking about situations. In my 21 years I've been proposed to by 4 guys only halfway serious - um Thank God- and once in a completely serious fashion. Like dead ass "will you marry me" my initial reaction? Nooo pineapples! Stop. I don't want to. But then we kept talking about it-- the benefits to both of us, the cons as it were. And the idea settled in my mind. It had only been a few days but I was going to do it. How did I ever not think this whole marriage thing was a great idea? I mean, Ikind of sort of love him.... Enough that we could make it work, anyway. For about a month my world right side up was in this idiotic plan to get married. (don't judge me, you don't know my life...)
We're an adaptable race. Evolution, survival of the fittest and all that. There's the norm and then there's the mutation. But after a while that which was a mutation, becomes the norm. Genetically this takes years...centuries...eras? Idk I'm not an anthropologist, but it only takes your brain 3 days to adapt to what you see in the world around you. It took me about three days to decide that getting married (ew...marriage) was a great idea. And it took me three days after my mom freaked, to realize that it really wasn't. I had to put my life back in the right perspective. After I refocused, I couldn't go through with it.
Good thing too, because if I had, I wouldn't be debating the pros and cons of becoming someone else's girlfriend. It took me much longer to get my head around that idea -- which is more of a personal problem than anything to do with adapting-- You want me to be your what? Can we not use that g word...please? But I'm coming around, I guess. I don't cringe anymore when he says girlfriend. Or anything else possessive. I mean my world is still rocking, it probably won't settle until I make a decision one way or the other. I'm working on it. (shut up! you still don't know my life)
So it takes your brain 3 days to adapt. 3 days to turn the world right side up again. Think on that the next time someone makes your world flip upside down. Sooner rather than later you'll be right side up again.
the rest is still UNwritten...
Has something ever thrown you for a loop? Like shit, here's this new and stunning situation I find myself in. And f*** if I know how to handle it. It literally rocks your world, so that you're seeing things aslant. Pineapples I'm uncomfortable... I'm not into this. But then you start thinking about it. Some time passes and that initial wtf?!?! is resolved into something you can wrap your mind around. Your vision settles into something a bit more right side up.
I see weird shite all the time. I mean, just recently I saw a woman walking her dog in a stroller. Really, lady? Really?! Your dog may be small but it has legs, isn't the point of walking the dog? To let it walk? Anyway, it was weird. But! What if everyone walked their dogs in strollers? Every time you saw someone walking their dog in a stroller, it wouldn't seem weird. Because you've seen it before. I'm not sure I could ever accept that as right side up; however, that is truly weird shite and not currently the point.
I'm talking about situations. In my 21 years I've been proposed to by 4 guys only halfway serious - um Thank God- and once in a completely serious fashion. Like dead ass "will you marry me" my initial reaction? Nooo pineapples! Stop. I don't want to. But then we kept talking about it-- the benefits to both of us, the cons as it were. And the idea settled in my mind. It had only been a few days but I was going to do it. How did I ever not think this whole marriage thing was a great idea? I mean, I
We're an adaptable race. Evolution, survival of the fittest and all that. There's the norm and then there's the mutation. But after a while that which was a mutation, becomes the norm. Genetically this takes years...centuries...eras? Idk I'm not an anthropologist, but it only takes your brain 3 days to adapt to what you see in the world around you. It took me about three days to decide that getting married (ew...marriage) was a great idea. And it took me three days after my mom freaked, to realize that it really wasn't. I had to put my life back in the right perspective. After I refocused, I couldn't go through with it.
Good thing too, because if I had, I wouldn't be debating the pros and cons of becoming someone else's girlfriend. It took me much longer to get my head around that idea -- which is more of a personal problem than anything to do with adapting-- You want me to be your what? Can we not use that g word...please? But I'm coming around, I guess. I don't cringe anymore when he says girlfriend. Or anything else possessive. I mean my world is still rocking, it probably won't settle until I make a decision one way or the other. I'm working on it. (shut up! you still don't know my life)
So it takes your brain 3 days to adapt. 3 days to turn the world right side up again. Think on that the next time someone makes your world flip upside down. Sooner rather than later you'll be right side up again.
the rest is still UNwritten...
September 25, 2011
You Had Your Chance--You Blew It
Out of sight, out of mind.
Woe is you, but this is sooooo true. Out of sight, out of mind. Have you ever had the feeling that you're invisible? There but only on the periphery of someone's consciousness. Like an "oh yeah, there's [that person], too..." It's not a pleasant feeling. One, I'm sad to say, I have felt numerous times in my young life. Out of sight, out of mind.
On the other hand; it's hard to be distinctive, too. Every move you make speculated upon, noted, critiqued, or even praised. When you would kill for just a second to be... average; able to dissolve into a sea of everyone. Not resented for standing apart, not praised for being so different. Not unique, just normal. I've felt that too.
I have learned over the past 21 years, as you can guess -- or maybe you can't? -- I'd much rather be the center of attention, than be forgotten. You can always pretend there aren't people talking about you; but I'm fairly certain you can't pretend you matter when you don't. As harsh as that sounds, you can't make people care about you.
Damn, Piph. What's with the down and depressed? You ask
Well, honestly I'm not down. It's just something I've been thinking about. Having been on both sides of the attention scale. What I wouldn't have given, growing up in my church, to not have been so smart. I was teased, ridiculed, and continuously brought into the center of attention by teachers. I was too smart, too literate. I dressed nicely, rode in nice cars and "talked white." Not that I would give my education up for anything, even then I knew I had an opportunity the kids teasing me didn't. But I resented the fact that I was resented.
But it continued, the attention.
the rest is still UNwritten...
Woe is you, but this is sooooo true. Out of sight, out of mind. Have you ever had the feeling that you're invisible? There but only on the periphery of someone's consciousness. Like an "oh yeah, there's [that person], too..." It's not a pleasant feeling. One, I'm sad to say, I have felt numerous times in my young life. Out of sight, out of mind.
On the other hand; it's hard to be distinctive, too. Every move you make speculated upon, noted, critiqued, or even praised. When you would kill for just a second to be... average; able to dissolve into a sea of everyone. Not resented for standing apart, not praised for being so different. Not unique, just normal. I've felt that too.
I have learned over the past 21 years, as you can guess -- or maybe you can't? -- I'd much rather be the center of attention, than be forgotten. You can always pretend there aren't people talking about you; but I'm fairly certain you can't pretend you matter when you don't. As harsh as that sounds, you can't make people care about you.
Damn, Piph. What's with the down and depressed? You ask
Well, honestly I'm not down. It's just something I've been thinking about. Having been on both sides of the attention scale. What I wouldn't have given, growing up in my church, to not have been so smart. I was teased, ridiculed, and continuously brought into the center of attention by teachers. I was too smart, too literate. I dressed nicely, rode in nice cars and "talked white." Not that I would give my education up for anything, even then I knew I had an opportunity the kids teasing me didn't. But I resented the fact that I was resented.
But it continued, the attention.
- Epiphany made the high honor roll.
- Epiphany was accepted in the National Honor Society.
- Epiphany is in the Who's Who of American High School Students.
- Epiphany is in the newspaper...again.
- Epiphany is on the cover of the newspaper.
- Epiphany scored highly on standardized testing.
- Epiphany got a scholarship to NYU
I had to learn, after many, many years of teasing, not to be self-conscious because I'm smart. Yes, I can read a complete sentence...very quickly. I eat books. And book worms are sexy. I don't "talk white," I speak proper American English. And damn right, I will be acknowledged and praised as an excellent dancer.
Summer of 2007 ended, and I got out of Cincinnati so fast I probably left dust trails. I left my family and -- I was going to say "friends" but I think "people I knew in high school" might be a better description. "I was Eastbound and down, moving to New York." I worried, of course, not about whether I'd make it in school. I had every faith that New York City was just what I needed. No, I worried about leaving my family. I worried that my younger cousins wouldn't remember me, the youngest was only about 2. But that didn't happen. The babies were ecstatic when I would come home. I think me leaving was a bit of a novelty, as my whole family pretty much lives in Cincinnati. I was the first person to leave the tri-state area in quite some time. And upon my graduation I can't tell you how many times people (not just family) asked if I was moving back.
I'm sorry... I don't understand your question.
I have every intention of staying, and if not here, then I can confidently say I'm sure as hell not going back to Cincinnati. What for? Yes, my family lives there... but it's not home. Not any more. And I find myself wondering, as I spend more and more time away from the center of things, how much longer I can be out of sight until I am officially out of mind. Am I an after thought yet? Do they think of the first round of grandkids, my generation, and remember that I too am a part of it? I don't know.
And as shitty as it feels to be a second thought to someone, I know I've done it to others. Think 2 paragraphs up when I talked about my friends from high school. Yeah, I've talked to maybe 3 of them since graduation. And only on facebook. Our lives just grew apart, we wanted different things. I was separated by at least the distance from New York to Ohio, and from some the distance of a country. When I no longer saw them everyday, we had no reason to keep in touch. Out of sight, out of mind. Really puts certain relationships into perspective, eh?
But what can you do? Sometimes we outgrow the people in our lives. The directions our paths take go separately for a time. Maybe the come back together, but maybe they don't. If you find yourself out of sight and out of mind, I say try not to let it bother you. It just means that something, or maybe someone, new is coming to fill that void. You never know what the Lord has planned for you. My advice? So glad you asked:
Live. Like there's no tomorrow.
Laugh. Like it's heaven on earth.
Love. Like you'll never be hurt.
Dance. Like no one is watching.
the rest is still UNwritten...
September 18, 2011
Good Lord, There's Gonna Be an Orgy!
Okay, there's not really an orgy... Or maybe there is? But it's not here. I did get your attention though huh? Apparently the prudish (and I use that as a very loose definition, and in comparison to the rest of the world's sexuality) United States is becoming more overtly sexual. Who knew? amNY did! I only know because it was the cover story; and that's the newspaper with the crossword, sudoku, AND ken-ken games. The paper's article was focusing more on porn, and I mean, if that isn't a STOP and Read Me beacon then I don't know what is.
The writer was saying that porn-ish (?) culture was infiltrating our daily lives. What with designers advertising their clothes and jewelry with half naked models. Sex appeal is clearly the selling point for many a marketing campaign.
 |
| Abercrombie & Fitch |
 |
| Calvin Klein X |
 |
| Calvin Klein X |
Mind you, not that I care particularly how they go about their marketing. Sex sells, it is what it is. He's got a hot bod, and it's a hot ad. I may go to "that Fitch place" just to see more half naked white boys. But companies like Abercrombie, and Calvin Klein in his X campaign received so much criticism for the overly sexual subtext.
The article was saying that nowadays marketing campaigns are borderline porn (really? porn?) and that younger generations - I'm thinking like 30s and under - are eating it up. What used to be obscene and strictly contained within a small audience is becoming more expansive. All those "seedy" sexual preferences are becoming popular fads - chains and whips excite me na-na-na come on S-S-S & M-M-M
But more than Rihanna's catchy song about S and M, the article mentioned how today's youth and those young 20-30 somethings in my age group are more into recreational sex than relationships. They mentioned sexting (which is verbal foreplay via text messages, in case you couldn't come up with that on your own) and even talked to professors in social behavior. In the regime of the "porn creep" they say that intimacy is being socialized out of sex. Of course, when you can read about last night's sexual exploits and drunken debauchery on textfromlastnight.com, I may have to agree with that statement.
(412): New bet. First person to f*** their girlfriend and narrate the whole thing in Morgan Freeman's voice wins. You are disqualified if she asks you about. My girlfriend is on her rag. U have the headstart. Your move...
I have the textfromlastnight app, and every hour I get updates from the website. It makes me feel better when I start thinking that my life is out of order. I get first (maybe second) hand details of some person's night, along with the rest of the world wide web. Most of the time the texts are about last night's random hook-ups. The amNY article mentioned that mostly it's guys that are into the no-strings sex, but that's not true. A good portion of the tfln debauchery is perpetrated by equally uncommitted females.
I'm withholding judgement on these people; because, frankly, I don't know their lives. I guess the article made me think about the people who don't want just casual sex. The people who want some sort of connection, other than physical, to their hook-ups. I wonder about younger girls. My niece is 15. Will she fall victim to the recreational sex fad, and lose her virginity to some guy who just "wants to stick it in". Or will she find someone special, that cares for her and that she loves? Is it even possible to make that connection these days?
I imagine emotionally detached sex, while physically satisfying, is different from the all-encompassing passion of sex with someone that you love... And until you find someone like that do you settle? So let's talk about sex baby...
It's a new world for a boy and a girl; letting go of it all, holding on to one another. Oh, there's a whole other world to discover...under the covers. So if you wanna go, baby let's go.
It's a new world for a boy and a girl; letting go of it all, holding on to one another. Oh, there's a whole other world to discover...under the covers. So if you wanna go, baby let's go.
the rest is still UNwritten
September 9, 2011
Et tu, Brute?
What is it about us as individuals that we can turn on those that care for us, love us, or even those people that just help us along. Why as a race, or species, are we capably of such subterfuge? Animals, they aren't that petty. They don't have the capacity to hurt without reason. We have the capacity to completely ruin someone over a minor slight. We slander reputations out of jealousy. We ridicule people because they're different. We despise others because we envy what they have, while we have not. And we take advantage of generosity, like leeches, sucking a person dry before falling off completely stuffed.
How is it that we can betray those around us. And for what? The small comfort that we have bested them? The satisfaction of a job well done? Giving into those deadly sins of Pride, Envy, Greed, Rage, and Gluttony.
To turn on an acquaintance, someone who has put their trust in you, is bad enough. But to turn treacherous on your best friend, your lover, your family, what could possibly prompt us to violate such a precious relationship? How can we become so engulfed in envy, so lost in lust, that we cheat on our significant others -- husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends. It doesn't matter if it meant nothing; I almost think that might be worse. You ruin something, with someone you "love"; over something that was nothing, with somebody who is nobody.
The girls and I were together again yesterday evening. While in Sweden we would lay in our respective bunks and have seriously philosophical conversations. It was deep, and I think we're all closer for it. But last night, as we waited for our audition time slot (it came and went during this talk, btw, because they were running 40 minutes late) we created hypothetical situations.
How is it that we can betray those around us. And for what? The small comfort that we have bested them? The satisfaction of a job well done? Giving into those deadly sins of Pride, Envy, Greed, Rage, and Gluttony.
To turn on an acquaintance, someone who has put their trust in you, is bad enough. But to turn treacherous on your best friend, your lover, your family, what could possibly prompt us to violate such a precious relationship? How can we become so engulfed in envy, so lost in lust, that we cheat on our significant others -- husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends. It doesn't matter if it meant nothing; I almost think that might be worse. You ruin something, with someone you "love"; over something that was nothing, with somebody who is nobody.
The girls and I were together again yesterday evening. While in Sweden we would lay in our respective bunks and have seriously philosophical conversations. It was deep, and I think we're all closer for it. But last night, as we waited for our audition time slot (it came and went during this talk, btw, because they were running 40 minutes late) we created hypothetical situations.
- If you cheated on your boyfriend would you tell him? Is telling out of guilt selfish, when you'll never do it again, and it would crush him? What if it was long ago, before your relationship was exclusively established?
- You're having an affair with a married man. It's your best friend's husband. What the hell kind of friend are you?
- Your boyfriend is cheating on you. Do you want to know? What if it's a serial thing?
- You're engaged to be married, do you tell your future husband about every guy you've ever been with?
Ironically this conversation didn't spark this particular blog, but it did feed in quite nicely. While none of us had personally been in these situations it was interesting to talk them through and get everyone's opinions. Simmers said she's writing a book #151--the guy she's finally going to marry-- and numbers 1-150 that came before him.
What really planted this seed was my mom. She's given the board of ballet tech ohio performing arts association DBA arts innovation movement: aim cincinnati, her vast experience in PR and marketing free of charge since 1997. She was President of the board, Producer, and then Executive Producing Artistic Director. She worked a full time job for the majority of the time she was working with the company, and volunteered all of her free time to the stressful business of running a company. She brought it from some rinky-dink studio company to an internationally known affair. The Gala of International Dance Stars? All her. You had a dance career that started on stage at the Aronoff Center Jarson Kaplan Theater-- thank Marvel. 14 years of single-handedly keeping the association afloat, through diva Artistic Directors, a long line of Executive Directors, creating a headquarters for a non-profit organization, and maintaining and growing a community center.
Suddenly, things aren't going so well. A slothful board doesn't want to honor the contract the company signed with world class dancers. They want to file for bankruptcy because they're too lazy to do some fundraisers. They want to create a new position, and take the little money left in the account to pay themselves-- for their mediocre performance and selfish indulgences. They dare to fault my mother, and all that she's done for them, for their failures.
It was her that offered you a job, when you had no money. She that paid you, sometimes from her own pocket, for your choreography when you'd never seen a dime for dancing. Marvel that opened her building and her arms to a bunch of kids no one else would give the time of day. After all these things, the board asked Marvel Gentry Davis, president for 14 years to step down. They thought things would be better if she weren't in charge. More like she wouldn't be able to stop the stupidity from running the company into the ground. It was this situation that planted the thought that's been niggling the back of my mind for the past week. How could they bite the hand that fed them so? Was it envy? Were they jealous of all the things my mother is that they were not?
The board insidiously tried to suck everything that my mom offered, then turned on her. They used and used and used her, and finally her reservoir was empty. The board wanted to keep her on, to sustain them, even while they proclaimed things would be "better" were she but out of the way. She's a better person than I am, and for that, the board should be thankful. I'm indignant on her behalf, and she's far better off without the weight bearing down on her. Did you mistake the kindness for weakness? Faster than the collective board could say "oh shit" she walked completely away, denouncing all affiliation. She is gracious. I am not. On behalf of my mother, to the treacherous people who betrayed her out of envy, jealousy, resentment or ignorance, I give you my one-fingered-salute; and my resignation.
It hurts so much more when someone we like is the one serving the betrayal. People we love may be pissed in our honor; but the person betrayed, all they can think is Et tu, Brute?
the rest is still UNwritten...
September 5, 2011
Dear Zoë...
Dear Zoë,
Ever since you played that sassy but oh so passionate ballerina in Center Stage, I've wanted to be you when I grow up. My 10-year-old self fell head-over-heels in love with you when I found out you'd also been a dancer. I don't mean I want to be you in a literal sense, in that I actually become you-- that'd be weird. But I admire you as an actor, and the passion and versatility you show in your craft. From Theresa Jones in Guess Who to the title role of Colombiana to the classic popular girl in that teenage classic Crossroads. You even showed your comedic hand in Death at a Funeral. You do Daddy's girl, chic business woman, and bad ass assassin like nobody's business; with a skill that others should aspire to.
I don't know you. I wish I did. You're like 12 years older than me, but we could friends. I'm digressing...I don't know you. So I can't comment on what you're like as a person, you could be a huge bitch. No offense. I hope you're not, because that would crush my inner child.
Anyway, I guess I just want to say that after 11 years of fan-hood you still motivate me. I want to excel in my craft just as much as you excel in yours. I read your interviews and I'm inspired all the more. You're gorgeous and you're great. And when I grow up I still want to be like you.
Just saying.
Epiphany
the rest is still UNwritten
Ever since you played that sassy but oh so passionate ballerina in Center Stage, I've wanted to be you when I grow up. My 10-year-old self fell head-over-heels in love with you when I found out you'd also been a dancer. I don't mean I want to be you in a literal sense, in that I actually become you-- that'd be weird. But I admire you as an actor, and the passion and versatility you show in your craft. From Theresa Jones in Guess Who to the title role of Colombiana to the classic popular girl in that teenage classic Crossroads. You even showed your comedic hand in Death at a Funeral. You do Daddy's girl, chic business woman, and bad ass assassin like nobody's business; with a skill that others should aspire to.
I don't know you. I wish I did. You're like 12 years older than me, but we could friends. I'm digressing...I don't know you. So I can't comment on what you're like as a person, you could be a huge bitch. No offense. I hope you're not, because that would crush my inner child.
Anyway, I guess I just want to say that after 11 years of fan-hood you still motivate me. I want to excel in my craft just as much as you excel in yours. I read your interviews and I'm inspired all the more. You're gorgeous and you're great. And when I grow up I still want to be like you.
Just saying.
Epiphany
the rest is still UNwritten
September 2, 2011
SSD is Hot Stoff 2011
So, remember how I went to Sweden last week? Well, as predicted I didn't really blog too much, but mostly because I didn't bring a computer. And typing on the iPad is uncomfortable. So here we are, I'll give you a run down of the highlights (and undertones) of Simone Sobers Dance taking Stockholm by storm. =) starting with leaving rehearsal the day we left.
8/23- 2ish
Titi and I lug bags/dodge NY midtown traffic to make last minute stops before heading to Jersey on the Path train. Shopping list: European adapter, toothpaste, snacks. Done
Cut to leaving T's house headed for the 6:45 rendezvous for check-in. There are two creepy black guys working for Iceland Express (I know right? There are less black people in Iceland than Sweden) Picture Titi and I standing about halfway through line, watching this man neglect his duties as luggage porter, while he's watching us. He doesn't say anything, just stares. But alas, such is New York...or Jersey as the case was.
We killed the time between check in and take off at the only food establishment in the entire terminal. We had drinks and nachos and said goodbye to all those we'd be leaving behind. We boarded the plane...
8/24- 7 am in Iceland
I woke up and we were in Iceland. There is but one town on the entire island as I could see. And but one road that led from that town on one side, to the airport on the other. Now, that may or may not be completely accurate, but this is just what I saw. We experienced just how cold it is up north and how expensive eating was going to be when we landed in Iceland. After I spent 17 bucks on smoked salmon and tea we headed for our connection. Next stop Stockholm
From the airport to the hotel we stayed in felt like such a debacle. We tackled the airport bus, and the Stockholm underground all in one go. It helps to know how to pronounce where you're trying to go in order to get better directions. When Simone said we were going to Sah-tra, they stared at her blankly. It's pronounced Sae-ah-trah. Back to the debacle-- we took a nap to head out for dinner later.
In hindsight, what we thought was cold that first night was actually quite reasonable considering we were away from the bay breeze. Vapiano was the only restaurant still open. After dinner we wanted to go to a place where there were a lot of bars or clubs to hang out...apparently they don't have an area like that in Stockholm. Or so we were told. -- This is why everyone loves New York!!! You can pick an area and find at least 5 places to go, and there's always food open! And it's cheap. --- I'm digressing. We stroll around this place, that has like maybe 4 venues. We just want to dance!! These British guys walking close to us are talking about House Party "Are you talking about my hair?!" Of course Simmers confronts them. Lol but it was a good idea, because then I got into the club and drinks all night on the "clever one". There was also the "good looking one" and the "funny one" They were quite entertaining. Now it's a Wednesday night, I know people go out on Wednesdays. So why at 12 was the bar still empty? Because in Stockholm things don't pop off until like 2! Which is quite unfortunate during the week because their metro stops running. When we finally left Spy Bar that night we had to take a cab back, because there were no trains. Another point for NYCtransit.
Day 2 in Stockholm
We woke up at 2 pm. I'm going to skip over our getting ready process and jump straight to the we-went-to-see-some-of-the-shows in the festival part. Fringe Festival... what exactly does that entail? Good question, I don't know. I imagine each Fringe Fest is something different. But I'm gonna go ahead and say that the artists they found for this, some of them were definitely on the Fringe. The Butoh performance we saw was 45 minutes long. I fell asleep around time check 10 minutes. She was STILL walking on stage. Are you kidding me? I wish I could say that the whole festival wasn't like that. But from what we saw, most of it was pretty weird shit.
This was the day we thought we saw Eric. You know tall...square of jaw...blonde of hair...Viking? Sulks in cemeteries and what not. Anywho...we're walking along, I don't really know what happened, but all of a sudden we were running away from the cemetery and seeking a street with way more light. Le sigh
Show night!
We tried to call it an early night that night. We had to be up early for our tech for the show, 7 am to be there at 9. Unfortunately it was an epic sleep fail on all our parts. I don't think anyone slept more than a couple hours. We were, however, quite prompt, for what was the biggest waste of my sleep time. The lighting designer was there. But the person running the lightboard wasn't, nor was the stage manager there.
After tech, instead of experiencing all that Sweden has to offer in the day time we went back to the hotel. To sleep. Again. We were well rested for the show.
The way the fest ran, there were specific time slots allotted for each performance, obviously, so whenever the show before your slot finished was when you got the stage. We got to the theater at 7:30 for our 9:30 show, and the slot ahead of us was done. So we had a nice run through with lights before the audience came in. We blasted Beyonce and were in general rambunctious black girls. It was pretty great. AND they loved us! Kaged was a huge hit at Stoff. Not only were we probably one of few if not the only black people, and American no less, in the program, we also did DANCE. Which wasn't so big in the Dance/Performance category. At the end of the piece, when we're all standing in our naked underwear, we got such a rousing applause we came out for a curtain call. They wanted and ENCORE (tell me do you want more?)
To celebrate a show well done we wanted to go out to dinner, it was like 10:30. Everything was closed so we kept it classy. McDonalds. We did have a round ...or two...of drinks and a little dancing. Oh! I almost forgot. This was the night some 50 year old man slipped something in the drink he bought Simmers. Lucky we're such smart girls.
Titi: It's laced with something, put it down
S: I should pour it out.
T: Put it down!
Really though, you got to be more careful!
Our second rooftop show went not as smoothly on our part, but was just as well received as the premiere of Kaged! The audience was probably bigger than what we had in the theater, and there were quite a few people there just taking photos. Um sir, with the iPhone. We're not even dancing yet, you are not being stealthy. I see you taking snap shots. We ended our performances at Stoff with a nice flourish and left bird feathers in the dressing room for them to remember us by. They were pink. =)
That night was also Simmers' 27th birthday!! We went to sleep. Lol. good thing we celebrated the night before.
Day 5- Relocating...We on a Boat!
On Sunday we moved from Sätra to Slussen. To a boat. The youth hostel we stayed in had to be the most snatched room I've ever seen. The four of us couldn't be in the room at the same time unless we were laying down in the bunks. No more than 2 people could stand up at a time.
We found some guys that were also staying on the boat with us, it was like 5 and they were leaving. We had just awaken from our, if you guessed nap you'd be right! By the time we'd dressed and left the boat the only thing open for dinner was Vapiano. Again. Now this is like night 3 of Vapiano for dinner. It's good, but I needn't spend $25 for pasta. Just saying. The guys come find us and we head to the boat docked next to ours. Patricia. Sunday night is GAY NIGHT aren't you excited! I think all four of us had been to our fair share of gay clubs. The Brits though, straight to the bar, for the only 2 straight men at the gay club. As well they should. Basically, hilarity and craziness ensued. And that was the night I got sick. Singing Lady Gaga on the boat deck. And before you ask, I was wearing long sleeves, a warm jacket, jeans, sneakers, and a scarf. damn...
That was the last of our insane craziness. We took it easy for the rest of the trip. Exploring Gamla Stan, Stockholm's medieval town. The Vasa Muskeet on Djügarden where the Vasa sailed into the musuem after 333 years on the bottom of the Stockholm harbor. It literally capsized, less than a mile from the dock, and then sank straight down, 115 ft from the surface. Sadly about 50 people drowned in places they couldn't escape. The Vasa museum was awesome, and I don't usually like museums. 7 floors with recreations and walk through exhibits of what things look like inside and how things worked on the ship.
Finally, Finally! we were headed back to New York. All in all I say it was a pretty spectacular experience. Minus not meeting Eric Northman. And it being cold. And getting sick. And spending all my money. Those parts sucked.
I'd travel with these heffas again o_0
- Can't knock it, haven't tried it. That's what I tell Gierre all the time about eating pussy.
- I don't like people with dirty nails. It makes me think they've been doing evil things.
- I feel like these are the men that will kidnap you and slay you with...a deer horn!
- I wanna get high -- I don't know, we might get shit laced with...deer horns!
- You know who you look like? You are the spitting image of...a Viking!
- Day two of Stockholm: Epic sleep fail.
- Guys I'm gassy...
- This was quite a night. Chased by vampires and cursed out by crackheads.
- His life says, "desperate, desperate, I am really desperate. Are there any 20 somethings I can drug?"
- I'm a caribou and I can rap.
- Where did all the ice go?
- I don't like black things with white stuff coming out...white things, however...
- I know this is your home, but if you see guests coming, give them the right of way!
- Eric? Come over here. I'm tired of chasing yo ass through Sweden.
- What brings you to Stoff?
- I'm looking for tall, blonde, Viking? He has a bit of a fang...situation. Goes by...Eric?
- I heard there were Vikings.
- Got to be more careful.
- I have never been less curious about anything in my life.
- She needs to go straight to his bed. Do not pass go, do not...actually, please collect your 200 dollars
- Gotta snatch 'em up.
- That guy looks like Matthew McConaughey
- -- If you close your eyes and picture Matthew McConaughey, then yes.
the rest is still UNwritten
August 19, 2011
We Rockin' Stilettos Ho
I started packing for Sweden today. So far I've got underwear, makeup and stilettos. I think I'm off to a good start.
That's right. Simone Sobers Dance is taking Sweden by storm at the Stockholm Fringe Festival. A bit irresponsible of the festival presenters to unleash the likes of the four of us black girls on the unsuspecting city of Stockholm, but what can you do? We're there to dance, but that won't stop us from celebrating the occasion to get our drink on!
The girls and I are playing with a few ideas on how to document the trip. Obviously pictures and video will be a necessity. I'm gonna try to blog through it, but I make no promises. It may turn out that I'm too hung over from Swedish booze and Viking looking men to write much more than "ummmmmmm" ;-) one can only hope. (Just kidding, Daddy)
Until then, we rockin' stilettos ho!
the rest is still UNwritten
That's right. Simone Sobers Dance is taking Sweden by storm at the Stockholm Fringe Festival. A bit irresponsible of the festival presenters to unleash the likes of the four of us black girls on the unsuspecting city of Stockholm, but what can you do? We're there to dance, but that won't stop us from celebrating the occasion to get our drink on!
The girls and I are playing with a few ideas on how to document the trip. Obviously pictures and video will be a necessity. I'm gonna try to blog through it, but I make no promises. It may turn out that I'm too hung over from Swedish booze and Viking looking men to write much more than "ummmmmmm" ;-) one can only hope. (Just kidding, Daddy)
Until then, we rockin' stilettos ho!
the rest is still UNwritten
July 23, 2011
I Am Woman Hear Me Roar
How do you know when you're fully grown up?
I stopped growing at 14; I've been confidently 5'6.5" since 9th grade.
I was legally an adult at 18-- 3 years, 8 months, 20 days ago.
I became financially independent when I graduated from college May 2010.
But am I a woman? Biologically, of course. I am female, my body is physically able to reproduce, but what makes one a woman? Or man, as the case may be... Recently my notes (corrections, things to work on, for my non-dancers) in rehearsal have been that I dance like a girl, and not like a woman. I try. Obviously. I work hard to take the corrections, and move in a way that is mature. But what is it that makes a girl a woman? Is there one specific rite of passage that moves you to womanhood? Or is it a combination of things? Do you wake up one day, and think I'm officially mature.
Good dancing, incorporates good acting. Even if you aren't telling a story, a lackluster performance quality, can make good technique and training, bad dance. Sometimes when I dance I have an alter ego. She's a bolder, fiercer, sexier, sassier, hotter and all around more over the top version of, well, me. Her name is Malia Chantel. Malia came about for dancing that didn't feel comfortable on me. She is the character I go to when I move in a way that's not my personality. I like to be her. But I prefer movement where I can be me. It feels more honest that way. I have my own performance quality, that I hear is just as good if not as "in yo face" as Malia is.
Which leads us back to the point. I'm a young dancer, and a young woman. I clearly lack certain life experiences. We've been over my sheltered youth. I didn't have a hard life; I didn't have to overcome some travesty to pursue my dreams, I was never brutalized or suffered abuse. I had clothes on my back and food in my fridge. I didn't have to grow up quickly to take care of younger siblings. So all those things that make for interesting life experience never happened to me. All of a sudden all of the analogies in rehearsal have turned sex related. "You know when you're doing [that thing] and then..." umm no...sorry, I still have my V-Card.
So which of those character building life experiences makes a girl a woman? I can't say. If I knew I probably wouldn't be writing this, and I wouldn't be getting that note in rehearsal. I'm not a girl. Not yet a woman. I'm still trying to find the woman in me. All I need is time.
the rest is still UNwritten
I stopped growing at 14; I've been confidently 5'6.5" since 9th grade.
I was legally an adult at 18-- 3 years, 8 months, 20 days ago.
I became financially independent when I graduated from college May 2010.
But am I a woman? Biologically, of course. I am female, my body is physically able to reproduce, but what makes one a woman? Or man, as the case may be... Recently my notes (corrections, things to work on, for my non-dancers) in rehearsal have been that I dance like a girl, and not like a woman. I try. Obviously. I work hard to take the corrections, and move in a way that is mature. But what is it that makes a girl a woman? Is there one specific rite of passage that moves you to womanhood? Or is it a combination of things? Do you wake up one day, and think I'm officially mature.
Good dancing, incorporates good acting. Even if you aren't telling a story, a lackluster performance quality, can make good technique and training, bad dance. Sometimes when I dance I have an alter ego. She's a bolder, fiercer, sexier, sassier, hotter and all around more over the top version of, well, me. Her name is Malia Chantel. Malia came about for dancing that didn't feel comfortable on me. She is the character I go to when I move in a way that's not my personality. I like to be her. But I prefer movement where I can be me. It feels more honest that way. I have my own performance quality, that I hear is just as good if not as "in yo face" as Malia is.
Which leads us back to the point. I'm a young dancer, and a young woman. I clearly lack certain life experiences. We've been over my sheltered youth. I didn't have a hard life; I didn't have to overcome some travesty to pursue my dreams, I was never brutalized or suffered abuse. I had clothes on my back and food in my fridge. I didn't have to grow up quickly to take care of younger siblings. So all those things that make for interesting life experience never happened to me. All of a sudden all of the analogies in rehearsal have turned sex related. "You know when you're doing [that thing] and then..." umm no...sorry, I still have my V-Card.
So which of those character building life experiences makes a girl a woman? I can't say. If I knew I probably wouldn't be writing this, and I wouldn't be getting that note in rehearsal. I'm not a girl. Not yet a woman. I'm still trying to find the woman in me. All I need is time.
the rest is still UNwritten
July 17, 2011
Carpe Diem
Life is too short, to not live everyday to the fullest.
Live. Laugh. Love. Dance.
What's your motto?
UNwritten
Live. Laugh. Love. Dance.
What's your motto?
UNwritten
July 5, 2011
Classy B****
I've been reading a lot of historical romance novels recently. And before you get your judgmental hat on, it's not literary porn. I mean, there's really only so much sex you can write about basing a story in 19th century London. I enjoy reading about the ton, and the Season in London. I find it... fascinating... I guess. All the Lords and Dukes, Earls and Marquis -- first rate gentleman. And the rakes, of course. Now they make for the interesting sex bits. Most of the stories are about how the gentleman with the borderline rakish behavior (or vice versa) fall in love with the Lady and live happily ever after- with you know, what ever plot twists make things interesting. They go to balls, and the Ladies wear three dresses a day (morning dress, riding habit, and evening gowns). They drive with horse drawn carriages, or phaetons, or curricles. They call on people in the morning, with a butler to act as Caller ID. They may not be home to answer your call. They sit in drawing rooms and talk about... the weather. Literally. And whatever gossip currently drove the ton.
And oh the scandals! It's improper for an unmarried Lady to go anywhere by herself. It's improper for a Lady to be in a man's presence unchaperoned at all. Any amount of time spent unchaperoned with a man, could ruin a Lady. She could be shunned from ballrooms, drawing rooms, and without marriage prospects. She'd be forced to become a spinster. At 25 she'd be too old, already on the shelf, and she'd spend the rest of her life in the country, or any further Seasons in London sitting on the sidelines watching men in their 30s woo a 17-year-old chit.
And the conversation must have been captivating. What is there to talk about? Hair ribbons, and bows? Whose ball is the talk of the ton. What the weather would be like for the rest of the Season. It's not as if they did much else. There were, of course, business men, traders, and household staff, but no one tells stories from there point of view. I'm sure there isn't much known about them aside from how they served nobility. But the rules for them were different, you see, because a maid was not a Lady. Oh no, there are things a maid could do that a Lady could not.
For example, Ladies did not leave their rooms without being properly clothed. There was no slumping through the manor for breakfast in their pjs. They wore kidskin leather gloves, all. the. time. The anticipation of a man touching her bare hand was probably enough to make him come in his pants. Petticoats, corsets, stockings, hoops, chemise, garters-- so many layers to their ensemble, no wonder they needed help dressing. A bodice cut too low at the wrong function was means for gossip and could ruin her invitations for the rest of the Season. Her worth was measured by her parents' title, and her skill on the piano, or with her voice. A dukes daughter who couldn't do anything but stand there looking pretty, was a better marriage prospect than an earl's daughter who could sing and draw.
And for gentleman, there weren't many rules on the way they conducted themselves. But in the presence of a Lady, there could be no swearing, cursing, or any sort of generally unsuitable behavior. No lingering glances or touching. NO KISSING. No dancing more than one dance with the same girl. Two dances meant marriage was in mind, and three was too scandalous to discuss the meaning of that. When it comes to Ladies all that could be done is stare from afar, spend a few chaperoned moments together, and wax poetic about her beauty and grace.
A woman that is not a Lady, on the other hand. Well, all bets were off. They were the mistresses, the whores, the lightskirts, the courtesans. The women who knew the score, not the Ladies. Men could do with those women whatever they pleased, and those women knew something that the Ladies did not. Those women knew desire and passion. Harlots that they were, they knew that feeling low in their belly, the desire for a man. They got his passion. And sometimes, (not in the stories I read, mind you) his wife, the Lady that he married, only got his children.
Passion is not a dirty word. But it was then. A Lady was not passionate. Whores are passionate. Because no one ever talked about sex, how were they to know the way her body reacts in arousal. And wanting to be wanted by a man, and wanting him in return does not make you a harlot. It's so unfortunate, that because they don't know anything about sex or passion, they often mistook their desire for a man they loved as something bad. I find that more often than not I end up getting really pissed at the heroine, in these historical romances. She's just so...dumb. I skip ahead a few pages, thinking shut up you blithering idiot! I don't care what the Duchess of Somerset was wearing and I don't even want to read about it. And ironically, girls like me with their nose in a book were laughed at in polite society. A Lady flirts and simpers, she doesn't read. Not often at least, and nothing smart.
So when did things begin to change? And how did we get to this point? 200 years. Okay, so that's a bit of time, and there was that whole rebellion thing "No taxation without representation" *rolls eyes* ...whatever. But why is the norm now for women not to act like a lady. I'm not talking 15 layers of clothes with the inability to hold a decent conversation because you're too busy giggling behind your fan. Nor am I thinking of some sort of restriction on what you can and cannot do based on gender. I'm referring to class. Even if you're not born wealthy, as a woman, a lady, you have to have some class.
Unfortunately, if everyone had class then it wouldn't make some people stick out. But I want my nieces, my younger cousins and eventually my own daughter to have class. If you act like a queen, and carry yourself like you're important (not snobbish) then people will treat you accordingly. That man hollering at you from down the block, he doesn't know how to speak to a lady. That approach may work for some girl, she may turn around and inquire, but not me. I know my value, it's not determined by the price of my clothes or even that I'm an excellent dancer. No, I am a lady. And I deserve to be treated as such. You don't have to hold my hand when I walk up the steps, I'm quite capable, you don't even have to open the door for me if I get there first. But you will not treat me as your personal play thing. I have a life with things to do. You will respect my person and my time. If you want the pleasure of my time, don't waste it. I have better things to do than sit around if I'm making time to see you. Take me to dinner, to a movie, to a play something that says you value the time I spend with you. Do not get nasty because you think you deserve more of me. Do not get flippant when I say I'm busy. and Do not tell me how you can help me with that pesky little Virginity problem I've still got. When I'm interested, I'll be sure to let you know.
I'm a Classy B**** And don't ever forget it.
the rest is still UNwritten
And oh the scandals! It's improper for an unmarried Lady to go anywhere by herself. It's improper for a Lady to be in a man's presence unchaperoned at all. Any amount of time spent unchaperoned with a man, could ruin a Lady. She could be shunned from ballrooms, drawing rooms, and without marriage prospects. She'd be forced to become a spinster. At 25 she'd be too old, already on the shelf, and she'd spend the rest of her life in the country, or any further Seasons in London sitting on the sidelines watching men in their 30s woo a 17-year-old chit.
And the conversation must have been captivating. What is there to talk about? Hair ribbons, and bows? Whose ball is the talk of the ton. What the weather would be like for the rest of the Season. It's not as if they did much else. There were, of course, business men, traders, and household staff, but no one tells stories from there point of view. I'm sure there isn't much known about them aside from how they served nobility. But the rules for them were different, you see, because a maid was not a Lady. Oh no, there are things a maid could do that a Lady could not.
For example, Ladies did not leave their rooms without being properly clothed. There was no slumping through the manor for breakfast in their pjs. They wore kidskin leather gloves, all. the. time. The anticipation of a man touching her bare hand was probably enough to make him come in his pants. Petticoats, corsets, stockings, hoops, chemise, garters-- so many layers to their ensemble, no wonder they needed help dressing. A bodice cut too low at the wrong function was means for gossip and could ruin her invitations for the rest of the Season. Her worth was measured by her parents' title, and her skill on the piano, or with her voice. A dukes daughter who couldn't do anything but stand there looking pretty, was a better marriage prospect than an earl's daughter who could sing and draw.
And for gentleman, there weren't many rules on the way they conducted themselves. But in the presence of a Lady, there could be no swearing, cursing, or any sort of generally unsuitable behavior. No lingering glances or touching. NO KISSING. No dancing more than one dance with the same girl. Two dances meant marriage was in mind, and three was too scandalous to discuss the meaning of that. When it comes to Ladies all that could be done is stare from afar, spend a few chaperoned moments together, and wax poetic about her beauty and grace.
A woman that is not a Lady, on the other hand. Well, all bets were off. They were the mistresses, the whores, the lightskirts, the courtesans. The women who knew the score, not the Ladies. Men could do with those women whatever they pleased, and those women knew something that the Ladies did not. Those women knew desire and passion. Harlots that they were, they knew that feeling low in their belly, the desire for a man. They got his passion. And sometimes, (not in the stories I read, mind you) his wife, the Lady that he married, only got his children.
Passion is not a dirty word. But it was then. A Lady was not passionate. Whores are passionate. Because no one ever talked about sex, how were they to know the way her body reacts in arousal. And wanting to be wanted by a man, and wanting him in return does not make you a harlot. It's so unfortunate, that because they don't know anything about sex or passion, they often mistook their desire for a man they loved as something bad. I find that more often than not I end up getting really pissed at the heroine, in these historical romances. She's just so...dumb. I skip ahead a few pages, thinking shut up you blithering idiot! I don't care what the Duchess of Somerset was wearing and I don't even want to read about it. And ironically, girls like me with their nose in a book were laughed at in polite society. A Lady flirts and simpers, she doesn't read. Not often at least, and nothing smart.
So when did things begin to change? And how did we get to this point? 200 years. Okay, so that's a bit of time, and there was that whole rebellion thing "No taxation without representation" *rolls eyes* ...whatever. But why is the norm now for women not to act like a lady. I'm not talking 15 layers of clothes with the inability to hold a decent conversation because you're too busy giggling behind your fan. Nor am I thinking of some sort of restriction on what you can and cannot do based on gender. I'm referring to class. Even if you're not born wealthy, as a woman, a lady, you have to have some class.
Unfortunately, if everyone had class then it wouldn't make some people stick out. But I want my nieces, my younger cousins and eventually my own daughter to have class. If you act like a queen, and carry yourself like you're important (not snobbish) then people will treat you accordingly. That man hollering at you from down the block, he doesn't know how to speak to a lady. That approach may work for some girl, she may turn around and inquire, but not me. I know my value, it's not determined by the price of my clothes or even that I'm an excellent dancer. No, I am a lady. And I deserve to be treated as such. You don't have to hold my hand when I walk up the steps, I'm quite capable, you don't even have to open the door for me if I get there first. But you will not treat me as your personal play thing. I have a life with things to do. You will respect my person and my time. If you want the pleasure of my time, don't waste it. I have better things to do than sit around if I'm making time to see you. Take me to dinner, to a movie, to a play something that says you value the time I spend with you. Do not get nasty because you think you deserve more of me. Do not get flippant when I say I'm busy. and Do not tell me how you can help me with that pesky little Virginity problem I've still got. When I'm interested, I'll be sure to let you know.
I'm a Classy B**** And don't ever forget it.
the rest is still UNwritten
July 4, 2011
You Are Sixteen Going On Seventeen
Today I was talking to my Mommy. My relationship with Marvel has already been established, but for those of you just joining (and not reading, Previously In Epiphany's Blog) my mom and I have a strong if unusual mother-daughter relationship. She's still my best friend. And I'm still her daughter. We talk about everything. What can I say? She's a cool mom.
We were talking about a lot of things-- you can cover a lot of topics in 45 minutes. I was lamenting the fact that sometimes because of how young I look I'm typed out of some castings. I'm 21 years old, but even on my best nights I look 18. And I often times look younger. My older cousin has 20 month old daughter, "it seems like yesterday you were her age," she said. *Sigh* What fond memories I have of been a child in the Gentry Family. Well, I don't really remember, but there are pictures enough of my cousins and me that I know roughly what was going on. We were cute.
Darn kids. Grow up so fast. Like I said, I'm 21. 21 years ago, my family celebrated its first Umoja weekend-- our family reunion. I was still an infant, and Jay was just a little older than that, no more than a toddler. A lot has changed since then. My newest niece is 9 weeks old, I haven't seen her in person yet, but my seester texts me pictures every week, and we can skype. I've not had to leave New York. Going to Chicago to see my grandmother was like, the biggest deal in my young childhood.
So back to tonight and me lamenting my fortunate genes that allow me to look so young. My mom was telling me how at Umoja weekend, yesterday she told my aunt that before she knew it, my 8-year-old cousin, Nikke (not to be confused with Morenikke, who's nickname is also Nikke, but pronounced differently) would be wearing a bra. And my aunt said that Oh! Nikke already wears bras for her "breast buds"
Now, I'm sorry, but what the heck are those? There are stages, Mom was told, that progress through puberty. Two sophisticated ladies that we are, and we didn't know what "breast buds" were. So, naturally, I googled it. Mind you I just went through puberty, it hasn't even been 10 years and already there is a new name for it. When I was younger you wore a training bra, once you got some substance behind your little mosquito bites. My cousin wears a "bra" and she's a flat chested as any 8-year-old ought to be. Why, little girl, do you want to wear a bra so badly? I opt out of them as often as possible, and I know tons of women who wish they could.
Here's what my research found. When I started searching google actually suggested Stages of Breast Buds. Why thank you, oh knowledgeable internet. At http://www.female-puberty.com I found all the information a girl could want on pubescent boobs! Annnnd everything else puberty related. Here's a small lesson, for those of you who haven't been through puberty in awhile. Times are changing, best keep up with the fads.
Regardless of when you start to get them, puberty breasts are one of the most obvious signs, to you and others, that you are becoming a woman. It is often the first sign that you have started puberty.
We were talking about a lot of things-- you can cover a lot of topics in 45 minutes. I was lamenting the fact that sometimes because of how young I look I'm typed out of some castings. I'm 21 years old, but even on my best nights I look 18. And I often times look younger. My older cousin has 20 month old daughter, "it seems like yesterday you were her age," she said. *Sigh* What fond memories I have of been a child in the Gentry Family. Well, I don't really remember, but there are pictures enough of my cousins and me that I know roughly what was going on. We were cute.
Darn kids. Grow up so fast. Like I said, I'm 21. 21 years ago, my family celebrated its first Umoja weekend-- our family reunion. I was still an infant, and Jay was just a little older than that, no more than a toddler. A lot has changed since then. My newest niece is 9 weeks old, I haven't seen her in person yet, but my seester texts me pictures every week, and we can skype. I've not had to leave New York. Going to Chicago to see my grandmother was like, the biggest deal in my young childhood.
 |
| 6 weeks |
 |
| Morenikke Delaney April 26, 2011 |
So back to tonight and me lamenting my fortunate genes that allow me to look so young. My mom was telling me how at Umoja weekend, yesterday she told my aunt that before she knew it, my 8-year-old cousin, Nikke (not to be confused with Morenikke, who's nickname is also Nikke, but pronounced differently) would be wearing a bra. And my aunt said that Oh! Nikke already wears bras for her "breast buds"
Now, I'm sorry, but what the heck are those? There are stages, Mom was told, that progress through puberty. Two sophisticated ladies that we are, and we didn't know what "breast buds" were. So, naturally, I googled it. Mind you I just went through puberty, it hasn't even been 10 years and already there is a new name for it. When I was younger you wore a training bra, once you got some substance behind your little mosquito bites. My cousin wears a "bra" and she's a flat chested as any 8-year-old ought to be. Why, little girl, do you want to wear a bra so badly? I opt out of them as often as possible, and I know tons of women who wish they could.
Here's what my research found. When I started searching google actually suggested Stages of Breast Buds. Why thank you, oh knowledgeable internet. At http://www.female-puberty.com I found all the information a girl could want on pubescent boobs! Annnnd everything else puberty related. Here's a small lesson, for those of you who haven't been through puberty in awhile. Times are changing, best keep up with the fads.
Regardless of when you start to get them, puberty breasts are one of the most obvious signs, to you and others, that you are becoming a woman. It is often the first sign that you have started puberty.
When you were a little girl, there wasn't much to distinguish you from the boys when you ran around without a shirt. Things are about to change. Over the next three to four years of breast development, your breasts are going to swell and grow until they are fully developed.
What are the stages of Breast Development?
Doctors have made it easy for you to identify where you are at in your breasts development by putting it into 5 stages. Try and figure out which stage you are in now.Stage 1
This is the little girl stage before you have any development because puberty hasn't yet begun for you. Your chest is flat except for your nipples which stick out a little. In another description, she defined nipples. Thanks, lady, because I didn't know what those were..Stage 2
This is when you start to develop breast buds. Breast buds for girls is a small swelling under you nipples. The raised part is made up of the same tissue, fat, and glands that will make up your breasts when they are fully developed (right now it is just in smaller amounts).The small mounds that develop may be uneven on each side of your chest and that is okay. In fact your breasts may develop at slightly different rates during all of the stages of breast development and that is normal. Phew! I thought I'd have lopsided tits forever!
Stage 3
Your puberty breasts are gradually getting bigger during this stage. Also, the dark colored circle of skin around your nipple, called your areolas, is also expanding to become a larger circle. Your nipples and areolas may start standing out from your actual breasts. This may look like a mound on a mountain. Your breast are taking on their adult form, but have not gotten to their adult size yet.Stage 4
Everything continues to get bigger. You don't say? Your areolas and nipples more noticeably stand out now from your puberty breasts. It is common for your breasts to look a little pointy when you are at this stage.Stage 5
Stage 4 and 5 may kinda mesh together for some of you. Stage 5 is where you have reached your adult shape and size for puberty breasts. Your breasts has grown larger and fuller, not as pointy anymore. You also don't have a separate mound for your nipple and areola because they have become one mound with your puberty breast tissue.Some of you may not think you have reached this stage because your breasts are not as large as you expected them to be. There is a chance your breasts will continue to develop, and there will also be times in your life when they get larger (for example, when you are breast feeding a baby or if you gain weight in the future).
There were points when I literally laughed out loud reading these descriptions to my mom. I guess to me it just sounds like common sense. And maybe it's because by the time I started going through puberty I knew just about everything there was to know about my body. Or maybe because I'm 21, I don't know. But I laughed my way through every tab on that site. Puberty Breasts, Hormones, Menstruation, Sex, Vagina, and Gynecological Exam were just a few of the tabs I read through. There are portions that are targeted for young girls, obviously, like the boob section. But then the gynecological, and sex sections are seeking an older audience. How old are you when you're going through puberty? Like 11-18ish? I know some guys who went to college looking like boys, and came home for the summer looking like men. And it differs from person to person, so obviously I can't pin an age on it. But honestly, I hope by the time you're old enough to be deciding to have sex you know the basic mechanics of it. Ohhh that's what that's for? Is not the proper response. You are so not ready.
In my personal opinion, young girls reading about the stages of their breast development and worrying Will mine get bigger? do not need to be reading about puberty sex. Regardless of the stand taken. One may argue that if teens are going to have sex, knowledgeable, safer sex is preferable to unprotected sex that results in unwanted children. I would agree. But I also think that sex at a young age is a stupid decision to make. (Yeah, yeah says the girl with the V card, you say... What'd I tell you about patronizing me?)
I suppose this just all goes back to the last entry about change. Things are constantly changing, even in the world of science and medicine. They are forever trying to come up with new cures and discoveries etc. etc. and in the process they've obviously given more detail to the whole puberty development thing. The internet is so accessible that anyone who can spell can google anything they want to know about. Who needs parents when google can tell you, anything your heart desires...or point you to something that can. I'm sad to say that there are some girls who go through puberty not knowing anything about the changes going on in their bodies. The hormones, the periods, and the physical changes could turn the most confident of little girls into self-conscious teens with low self-esteem.
Girls who end up thinking if only I was prettier...
If only my boobs were bigger...
If only I knew what the hell was going on...
But they don't. And there's no one to tell them, or they don't feel comfortable asking. So they sneak to the library, or on the family computer, and search out sites like the one I found tonight. And they learn, as best they can, and then they delete the internet history. So no one knows the change they're going through. And that young they don't know any better. Eventually, you get through puberty, gain some life experience, and find who you're supposed to be. But you don't know who you're supposed to be, at fifteen.
♫♫♫
When you're fifteen
And somebody tells you they love you
You're going to believe them
When you're fifteen
Don't forget to look before you fall
♫♫
the rest is still UNwritten...
Works Cited
Fifteen. Taylor Swift. Fearless. 2008, Big Machine Records, LLC.
Your Time to Blossom. Female Puberty. July 3, 2011.
♫♫
the rest is still UNwritten...
Works Cited
Fifteen. Taylor Swift. Fearless. 2008, Big Machine Records, LLC.
Your Time to Blossom. Female Puberty. July 3, 2011.
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