Expression of Self

It was just about 2 years ago that I sat in front of the camera and froze, nearly paralyzed. The room was silent after several minutes of fussing around about lighting and the silence along with the feeling of 3 pairs of eyes focused on me ignited a bit of a panic attack. Of course my reactions are generally held within so I sat, still, glancing over at the only pair of eyes I found comfort in. The silence felt heavier as the moments passed and I just couldn't give what they all wanted. The idea behind all of this was an attempt to help me restart my youtube channel and the video clip was being shot professionally. When I recorded I was always alone. I set the camera how I wanted. I lit myself and the room how I wanted. If I fucked up in speech, I'd start over without the pressure of other people standing around waiting. It was something that was mine wholly and had a homegrown feel whereas this felt like a huge production and just felt wrong.



Growing up my mom used to joke that if I ever went missing she'd have no shortage of photos to show the police. This was before the digital age, when film reigned. As the internet was born to us common folks and community sites popped up left and right, my own digital imagery was born as well through fuzzy webcams and eventually my first digital camera. Somehow I stumbled upon Photoshop and spent hours playing creating designs, layouts, ads, flyers etc for myself and friends. Long before "selfie" was ever a word, I had no issues with photographing myself and using that image as somewhat of an art piece. I loved doing it. Where my mom, who hates to have herself photographed and will fight it at any cost throwing her hands across her face, views it as narcissism, I always used to view it as a celebration of oneself and the various ways that self can be manipulated. In fact, "selfies" were my therapy and artistic expression after chemo. Selfies were how I first learned to hone any kind of skill set with makeup and lighting.

In conversation with a friend a few weeks ago about blogging, she showed me her site, explained how her stats had slowly grown and asked me for my opinion and any advice. I told her that she was missing. She shares what she likes and other peoples creations giving people a sense of her style, but she is nowhere to be found in her blog. As I ran that end of year statigram thing for Instagram last week, I was shocked that all my "top 5" photos were of myself. Back in the days of Migente, Collegeclub, MySpace, Livejournal and even Youtube, I had no qualms about posting photos of myself yet in recent years for whatever reason I became extremely uncomfortable with who I was and only shared myself through photos on rare occasions - which though the viewer may have not known, were emotionally driven for me and I cherished for one reason or another. Though I won't begin youtube again until I have the means to produce to my standards, I must again become comfortable with myself and my presence. Which has been slowly happening in ways I never explored before thanks to a very trusted soul.

On my birthday I vowed to myself I would write every day. I haven't posted every day, but I've written. In light of rediscovering myself and regaining comfortability with my image and presence, I'm going to post a photo every day because I'm remembering that there's nothing wrong with celebrating oneself so why the hell not? Here are the last 3 days:


January 1st 4am
exhausted


January 2nd 1pm
Those days where I paint the sky as I please


January 3rd
There's certain ways the light always plays whenever you're in my world.

I contact

Last night I celebrated the birthday of someone I've known since I was 10. Her actual birthday isn't until Saturday but as I was already up and moving around the city, I went with the flow and accepted the invitation. I wondered who aside from my parents I'd actually see first upon moving back. I didn't think it would be my ex but I guess that's how she wanted it to play out. Walking up the stairs to my old job, though it of course felt familiar, also felt like I was time traveling and had been away for centuries. My attendance had been kept a secret so when I showed my face, the reactions were interesting. My sobriety versus everyone's inebriation and having been gone for so long colored my sight in a hue that had grown in saturation. I felt a sense of sadness at how little appeared to have changed. Yet, there were new dynamics to appreciate and familiar eyes to get found in.

The last year in NY I existed mainly as a hermit. People drained me. The job I had left me stressed, anxiety ridden and exhausted. I spoke with very few people and gave even less my eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and quite frankly I was too drained to share any more of my soul with anyone never mind desire to take anyone else's in. Last night I realized that it's only really been in the last month that I've engaged in any kind of serious eye contact. Upon visiting my best friend, my eyes felt like they could finally breathe again. He told me my eyes brought him a sense of calm. Which was nice to hear and relieved me after not giving it up for such a long period of time. As a scorpion, eye contact is everything to me. A persons eyes reveal their heart and I had somewhat starved myself.

I don't know why I didn't consider that she would be there last night, but she was. The first person I dated upon re-entering the world after my illness. At the bar she pounced upon seeing me, lifting me off my feet and swinging me around babbling about NY and how long was I in town etc etc. We had an immediate bond when we initially met and went through a few years of awkwardness after our intimacy ceased. I don't remember when that finally healed itself but I had forgotten just how strong our bond was.

The party group moved to my friends house and so we all had a somewhat more quiet environment to hang out in. By this point I had a drink in my system and being a lightweight don't recall how the conversation began, nor a lot of what it was about but what astounded me and sat with me long after was the near uninterrupted direct eye contact that happened throughout the course of our exchange. This doesn't exist with everyone I interact with even when I am feeling up to sharing my soul. Not everyone can handle the intensity so when I find those who can, there's this deep, calm yet exciting warmth that seems to creep through me. There's a recognition that occurs, something clicks and the only words that seem to echo are "I know" as both pairs of eyes smile and beam at each other. It's really more of "I" contact when this happens. Recognizing yourself in another.

Sensory Snacks

This morning the clover called me outside. Bejeweled with a mixture of sun and dew, our yard took on a rainbow hue. 2 doves sat nestled in the tree as a teeny hummingbird came to greet me.

Today was more of a visual aural kind of trip down memory lane with both the past and present colliding. Possibly the future as well, though I don't like to predict those kinds of things. An old partner in crime whom I haven't seen nor really heard from since my sophmore year of high school added me on Facebook. I "ran away" to his house when I was 14. That wasn't my initial intention but it kinda sorta happened momentarily. Long story not worth jotting down but needless to say my brain flooded with the hours we all spent together before and after school being bad asses. As life would have it, hours after our initial contact, I accompanied my mom to get her hair cut. The salon is in a neighborhood I spent 4 years trotting through each day after school with said being along with others. So as I waited, I walked around to explore this blooming neighborhood that once was pretty desolate. My soul was soothed with the random street art I saw as it's been a bit starved since leaving Brooklyn. After just writing about flight, the first piece I stumbled upon was none other than Ms. Amelia Earhart.



After my jaunt I sat down with my coffee beneath a tree outside Cafe La Vie, amused at the name per usual. Ravens joined me singing their song and the breeze that came my way was filled with scents of a sacred plant. After her hair was cut, we walked to a small park where I watched a little girl in a purple tutu play beneath a beautiful art installation from Burning Man called Future's Past.



We walked and walked and walked some more. My mom is used to driving but her car broke down so it was back to basics and my own favorite. The sun was warm and I began to sweat, layered in clothes forgetting how each neighborhood here has its own climate. So much has changed since I've been away and today was quite beautiful rediscovering the city I was born in. She's blooming.