After around two months away, I have returned to zaadz. Actually, it's called Gaia now, isn't it? Let's try that again....

After around two months away, I have returned to Gaia. I actually like the sound of that, "returned to Gaia."
In the time away, if you read my last blog post, I'm sure you can guess that a lot has occured. I visited home for a bit longer than I normally do, trying to escape the mess I left in New York. A lot of craziness in Indianapolis occured, but none of it was bad. 
One such occurance was when I got so drunk that I actually vomitted in a bar. I never vomit anywhere but home. But rest assured, it was into the toilet and there was no mess... If nothing else, I handled it well, but I had to ride in a cab home. The cab driver was nice enough, talked a little but not too much, which was good. Enough to keep my conscious but not too much where I got annoyed. He was a good guy. I passed out that night but did not sleep.
I came back to New York not really all that much better off than I had been, but then again, for all the occured, I was not in that bad of a place. On the bright side, my mother and I bonded. For those that don't know, my mom and I have had a very rocky relationship since I hit puberty. I attribute this partly to my physical similarity to my father and partly to liking men... Neither of which, I am sure, pleased her...
I don't know when it occured or why or how. But some time after I came back, something in me changed. I don't know how to explain it exactly.... It's like I suddenly realized all the possibilities that laid before me and that my ending with Arlyn had somehow multiplied them and that all of this potential laid within me, ready to wake up, that something about him was holding it back. And now, with him gone, it could hardly contain itself. I felt limitless, or rather, like I could be limitless. That I could be everloving, evercompassionate, everinitelligent, everemotional, everspitirual, that I could become great at anything that I practiced sufficiently. Not just physical skills but components of the soul as well. That I could become anything and anyone I have ever dreamed of. I suppose the reason I can't explain it is because that is part of the journey, to find out what I will become and why I must become it. In short, I feel I must become the best of myself simply because it is possible, and I have seen that possibility.
As such, I have taken the inital steps. I have started to exercise on a near daily basis which includes one session per week of kundalini yoga. I have only recently experienced this type of yoga first hand. It caused my whole body to vibrate. I have felt these similar vibrations in the past durring other activities. I am not entirely sure what they mean, but I think they are connected to the breath. And the breath is life.
I have also been having dreams, hearing voices, and organizing ambient sounds in a different way. Most of these occurences have yet to produce any real results or message, but it's peculiar and bares more thought before being dismissed.
I am now pursuing my second degree, a BA in Spanish with a minor in adolescent education. In addition, I am playing games to try to improve my memory (which turns out to already be pretty darn good) and other basic cognitive skills. I am trying to make every moment a chance for self-improvement.
I am still getting used to this new way of life. A way of life in which I don't do whatever I want whenever I feel like it. That I must go to sleep at this hour, that I must wake up at this time, that even if I don't feel like it, I must go swimming or running, and I must not eat those chocolate Skittles in the vending machine.
This is the way I have chosen for myself. I must give. I must receive. I must inspire change. I must inspire love. I belong to my brothers and sisters now. I belong to the world.





(P.S. If you ask who do I look at as an example, it may sound silly.... But Special Agent Dale Cooper from the series <I>Twink Peaks</i>. If you don't know who I'm talking about, watch the video below.)

Well, folks, I'm leaving the city for a bit. Packin' up my bags (or, rather, bag) and going to Indy for five days. It couldn't come at a better time.

My boyfriend and I are broken up. He attacked me Sunday night after we argued in a bar. The argument was over how he finished the cloaks late for a play my theatre company did a couple months back and that his increasing reliability is the reason he was not invited to be on our board of directors. His response to this was, "Fuck you, and fuck your theatre company, and fuck the cloaks!" He walked out of the bar on me. I, of course, immediately questioned why I date men who are ten to fifteen years my senior but they are always so immature. I came to the realization that that is probably why they are still single.

When I came home, he had strewn the cloaks around the apartment.

"What's this all about?" I asked calmly, gesturing towards the cloaks.

"Nothing."

"Just checking."

And then as I picked them up and returned them to the hamper he said, "It means you can go fuck yourself at the present time."

I just laughed softly. He wasn't funny, but I felt a sudden relief that he no longer had control over me, couldn't make me upset if he tried.

He threw a bottle against a wall which shattered over some of my clothes when he realized I was going over to another guy's apartment to get away from the situation. I was in my room and not looking in the direction so I had assumed that in his drunkenness he had knocked something over. I didn't even understand that I was supposed to be intimidated.

I left my room and went to the bathroom to clean the alcohol out of my mouth. It was then that he grabbed me. He started yelling and I tried not to fight, but fear to over and I struggled. When he increased his hold on my arm, I pushed his face. I'm not sure what happened next--I was a little tipsy--but the next thing I remember is his hand around my throat and being lifted over the sink. More yelling that I didn't understand. I was too busy trying to figure out why I couldn't speak and why it felt so hard to breathe. When the realization hit me that he was holding me by the throat, I hit him (I think) and somehw got to the bathroom door. We struggled for a moment and then I let go of it and he shut me. A moment later, he began to scrape a knife against the other side of the door. I brushed my teeth.

Through all of this I remained unafraid. And not afraid but courageous. And no afraid but using self-righteousness as a shield as many people do in these situations. I was not afraid. I had the serenity of someone who knew the big bad wolf could never blow his house down ever, ever again.

Needless to say I left. I went first to the other guy's apartment and then eventually my friend Jose picked me up and drove me back to his apartment in Jersey City where we hung out. When I came back, he was leaving. He apologized. I told him it was all right. He said it wasn't and I told him he was right.

The rest after that is really quite boring. A series of text messages. Most of the time, I tried to approach the situation with compassion and empathy. He wanted to fight. Eventually, in weakness, I succumbed and got argumentative. I had to get in my last kick in the throat. I am not a saint, after all.

So, now, I am going home. My mom is worried, of course. For once I told her the whole story, nothing edited. I told her not to worry. I'm tough and unafraid, especially of a thirty-five year-old man-child. (Look at all those hyphens, by the way.... Just a demonstration of how feeble the English language is for all its words, but I digress.) I may even have a date or two when I get there.

I am looking forward to a nice, long love affair with myself.

Don't get me wrong: There will still be men. Humans are one of the few creatures who actively seek out sexual contact for enjoyment. And I intend to be very human. I intend to reclaim every last bit of my humanity that the big, bad wolf stole.

I just woke up from a disturbing dream. I was back at home, the sun was out, and I was in my mom's family room. Other members of my family were there.My sister, a few cousins (Chris, Melissa for sure but probably two more) and I think I had an aunt and an uncle there too but I'm not sure which ones. I had just finished talking to them all as a group, probably updating them on theatre stuff I'm doing. Adter I finished, I left the room and my right "bugs bunny" tooth (you know, your right front most tooth) began to feel loose and I called out to my mom and told her so. When I did that, it fell out, root and all, into myhandand I began to bleed profusely. I started screaming and running back and forth the kitchen,not knowing what to do and just generally really freaked out and upset. I eventually called for my mom but she was already halfway there because I was running around screaming. She yelled at me some to calm down and stop acting wild and then she took me to the sink and started trying to wash out my mouth. The tooth in my hand, when I looked at it again, was brown and had pieces falling off. At some point, I was trying to fit it back in my mouth when it crumbled and the one below it fell out too, also root and all, also completely brown. I screamed and then woke up. [add analysis later]

Who is Pedrolino you may ask?
Well....




How did I meet Pedrolino? Well....

Last Sunday, I took a seven-hour workshop in Commedia Dell'Arte. I had never done commedia before, but I saw my friend Neill do commedia when we were in the NY Ren Faire two years ago, and I was jealous. So when I found out about this workshop, I jumped on the opportunity.
It was taught by Laura Rikard, who along with a few others, has founded Laughing Gravy Theatre. It was an extremely interesting and fun class. All the other participants were very talented, dedicated, and diverse which made for a grand time. We learned the character stances and movements from Zanni, the Lovers, Pantalone, Dottore, la Signora, and of course, Pedrolino.
Pedrolino is my favorite character. He is a type of zanni which are the servant characters in commedia. Pedrolino, specifically, is the servant to La Signora who is the older, cultured, narcassistic, commanding, (dare I even say bitchy?) gold-digger of the town, often married to Pantalone (the miser). He's generally characterized as a somewhat effeminate young boy enamored by La Signora. She'll always ask him to do chores for her, which he gets wrong, which in turn often earns him a slap in the face but he loves to trot behind her and fullfill her every wish none the less.
I played him in the final improvisation of the day and had such fun. Though I don't think I've got a real handle on a lot of the different characters, I got some good feedback, and I'm definately going to take her next workshop. She said she'd notify us as to any future ones. She's also thinking about inviting certain participants from her workshops to join Laughing Gravy, so I'm definately hoping to get an invitation.

I took the workshop also to help become better connected to my body. When I was in acting school, my teachers used to say I moved like I was made out of wood because I was so stiff on stage (and off stage too). Now, two years later, after a lot of massage, chiropractic work, advice from Arlyn, and exercise, I finally feel like I'm breaking out of that. At the workshop, one of the other participants had asked me if I were a dancer to which I shook my head. (It was an apt question since I was wearing ballet shoes and tights.) When I shook my head though he said, "Well, I would have figured. You have a certain grace about you."
That comment made my day.

http://www.thegodparticle.com/2004_02/01Udall.html

I just read a short story called "Otis Is Ressurrected." The link is above.

Something about animals always gets me. Maybe it's because, more often than not, they are the witnesses and bystanders while humans do such crazy, irrational, and tragic things, at least in stories.
I can't figure out exactly why I was touched by this story. Maybe it's because Otis being strangled reminds me of all the stupid and illogical things I've done out of grief or anger. Grief can drive us to do horrible, terrible things. When we're loosing or think we're loosing something (or someone) very important to ourselves, we can do strange things and somehow, in the moment, it seems a justifiable response. Unfortunately, sometimes these things we do hurt others. And for those instances in my past, I am truly sorry. I wish I could erase a lot of them, but the past (as it is said) can never be erased. When a moment is gone, it doesn't come back.
What, then, should we do?
Otis was resurrected. But what happens when the armadillo doesn't magically come back to life? What are the rest of us supposed to? What can you do when you can't ask for forgiveness, when you've tried to do everything you can to better the situation but it all blows up in your face, when you have no other recourse, when you feel like you've reached a dead end? What can I do?

Pues, he enviado el ensayo. Estoy muy felix con el producto completo. Muchas gracias a Susan y George (y Wendy tambien) por leerlo y comentarlo. Eran muy utiles. Tengo confianzia que los jueces me selectaran para publicar pero en realidad, no me importa. Solo quiero el dinero para la universidad.
Voy a atender la escuela de nuevo el enero. Estoy un poco nervioso pero la majoria de mi es muy entusiasmado. Las clases de voy a tomar es "Zen" y "Intro to Computers." Es claro que me animo mucho por la clase de "Zen." Ojala que todo vaya bien y las clases son faciles pero me estimularan. Es desafortunado que yo no pueda tomar una clase de espanol pero voy a hacerla el proximo semestre.

En otras noticias......

Mis visitas al quiropractico son muy provechosos. Me siento mucho mejor en todo del cuerpo. Es bien para actuar porque yo me siento como puedo usar el cuerpo mejor y como los maestros me decian, "El cuerpo es el instrumento del actor." Por usar el cuerpo mejor, puedo sentir mas y entender los emociones y los pensamientos mas. Si me puedo entender mas, puedo actuar y crear el arte mejor.
Hoy, dormi mucho. Dormi por trece y media horas. Era necesario. Tenia muchas tareas pero yo he aprendido que puedo hacerlas mas rapido si he dormido bastante.  Hoy, necesito haver todo los quehaceres que he planificado a hacer el martes y el miercoles porque el martes fui a ver la pelicula Southland Tales con Jose y hice nada con el excepcion de ir al quiropractico. Trato de quedarme dedicado al trabajo pero menos de un mes despues de Doctor Faustus, creo que yo merezco un descanso. El deciembre, necesito empezar una nueva obra para el proximo ano. No se por seguro lo que voy a escribir. Es posible que yo vaya a escribir una obra de los corazones que he planeado o algo del Dios y el diablo como amantes homosexuales.... En realidad, quiero escribir el primero pero los fuerzas en la vida son buenas para el segundo.... Vamos a ver.....

Ayer fui a ver la pelicula Southland Tales. Era muy bien, comico y triste a la vez. Habia una cancion que se llama "All These Things That I've Done" que no puedo terminar de pensar. Me gusta el lirico mas "I got soul but I'm not a soldier". No puedo decir como pero es la manera en que me siento ahora. Tambien me gustan los liricos mucho que cantan como "Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the blackburner
You know you got to help me out"
Alguien necesita ayudarme. Deseo que yo puedo encontrar la ayuda que necesito. No hay que recibirla de una persona pero de cualquier lugar..... los dioses, la alma, el arte, dondequiera; no me importa. Aun no se lo que necesito. Pero yo se que quiero ser bien. Quiero ser bien y amable y paciente y todos las cosas buenas... pero es perfeccion y no vale la pena de tener esperanzas de perfeccion. Pero, a la vez, es completamente bueno para trabajar a perfeccion.
El problema es que quiero que todo pase ahorrita. No puedo esperar y trabajar a lo que quiero ganar: el espiritu. Debo buscar al espiritu mio. Necesito pensar mas y meditar mas.....

Originalmente, voy a escribir de Arlyn y lo que pasa en la casa pero he decidido que lo mas que hablo de esa tema, lo peor la situacion se hace. Y asi, voy a moveme hacia adelante. Debo llegar a ser menos enojado y frustrado, especialmente con el. Debo encontrar la manera para que puedo subirme arriba de este situacion, verla con los ojos del pajaro. Para entenderla, entenderlo. Debo enternderlo. Pero, a veces, tal vez no sea una ruta para entender. Es posible que no esta nada para entender.

Algo que he decidido acodarme es que soy cura de mi religion, como todos los paganos. Es necesario que yo actue en una manera que corresponder a eso. Necesito cambiarme, cambiar mi vida para reprsentarlo. Es una viaje dificil pero como es la vida, como es todo que vale la pena. Ojala que los dioses me guiara y me vera porque voy a necesitar su ayuda. Si, ellos pueden oirme y ver lo que yo estoy escribiendo, ayudeme, presteme la fuerza y la paciencia para llegar a ser lo que quiero ser.

No se lo que mas puedo escribir. Es triste que no tengo ningun pensamiento en la cabeza con el excepcion de la oida de Arlyn. La cosa triste, a mi, con esta materia es como que lo he quierdo. Yo lo habia querido con todo de la corazon, todo del cuerpo, todo de la alma, y a el no le importa y ahora lo detesto. Es una cosa triste cuando que se deteste lo que se ha amado. Cuando se pasa, es posible encontrar el amor de nuevo? En la corazon, no se. Espero que sea la verdad pero no puedo saber. Supongo que yo lo inquieto. Lo he conocido por dos anos. Es imposible para sentir nada pero......... No se lo que yo me siente. Es el problema. Que quiero? Que deseo de el? Lo quiero? Lo detesto? Se que estoy frustrado, sin embargo.

Por la gente que lea a esto, lo siento que he dicido nada. Pero, que es el razon de disculpar?

Intro: Student must submit an essay no longer than 500 words on one of the following topics to be eligible for the scholarships:

Topic 3: Recent elections have been characterized by small turnouts of eligible voters. Some democracies require their citizens to vote. Do you think this a good or bad policy?

Essay:
 

            Democracy stands on the principle that the citizens determine the flow and policies of their government, primarily through elected officials; therefore, the electorate's participation in voting is necessary for a democracy to carry out its mission of serving the people. If voter turnout at recent elections has been small, then requiring people to vote through compulsory voting laws, as some democracies do, may fix the symptom of small turnouts but not necessarily the disease of political apathy and discontent.

            Many would argue that a democracy which requires its citizens to vote is more effective because more of the electorate is represented, thus enabling the government to better represent and fulfill the majority's will. This is not necessarily true upon second glance. While the voter turnout will undeniably increase if compulsory voting is enacted, the votes that are cast may not necessarily represent the public's wishes. Those whose beliefs do not allow them to vote, such as Jehovah's Witnesses, may use their vote to protest: they may mark the wrong number of candidates, mark no candidate, deface a ballot by making unauthorized marks, or bend it so it cannot be read by the counting machine. Others, out of indifference, may simply mark whoever is first-listed on the ballot sheet. These sorts of votes are effectively useless. Even worse in the case of the latter, the ballot's vote would be counted. If the purpose of compulsory voting is to motivate the electorate to become more involved in the process of government, presumably so that the actions of the government can reflect the people, it fails in that the people are voting in order to avoid a fine or imprisonment instead of actively participating in their government by educating themselves about candidates and issues and voting accordingly. Requiring people to vote does not necessarily mean that people will vote responsibly.

            The choice to abstain from voting is not always made out of apathy, as it is commonly assumed, but rather out of discontent with the current government for any number of reasons. It could be that the voter feels that none of the candidates are suitable, that there is dishonesty in the process of counting the votes, or even that there is a problem with the structure of the government itself. Nevertheless, despite the specific reason, a small voter turnout is a barometer by which those in politics can measure a reaction. To take away this tool, which allows them to further understand the needs and desires of their constituents, is not only unwise but ultimately undemocratic. If those representing cannot fully understand those they represent, how could they hope to guide the government in their stead? How could they truly run a democracy?

            Compulsory voting will, without a doubt, increase voter turnout but that is not the true problem to be solved. It is a band-aide. Instead of focusing on statistics, on symptoms, those in charge should look deeper and genuinely consider why the turnout is so low.

He quejado mucho de mi novio pasado. Por esos que puede leer esto y no sabe, vivo con el. Hemos vivdo juntos de el primer de Octubre pero el sabado pasado se termino nuestos relaciones. Es muy difcil para mi. Es como veneno a mi alma para separar con el pero tambien es veneno. Yo se que la cosa correcta para hacer es separar con el y yo lo he hacido y no hay un oportunidad para reversarla sin cambios pero lo quiero much aun que yo he estado diciendo que no. Me siento..... no me siento solo pero siento que.... siento algo que no puedo formar con las palabaras, ni ingles ni espanol. Pero no he lloardo y no voy a llorar. No puedo encontrar en mi para ser amable pero puedo ser civil. Puedo ser civil aun que el no puede ser civil. Cuando yo recuerdo todos los momentos buenos que hemos tenido, me siento triste pero esta persona es muerta o no existe. La persona ahora es el matador de esta person. No tengo amor para esta persona, solo civilidad.