Day 7... Scab Pickin' Fool

I pick my scabs.

This is a gross unladylike habit.
I always thought that once I was an adult.
A LADY
I would stop doing that.

Guess WHAT????
I haven't.

I suffer from chronic-scabpickulitus.

And you know you know what?
Fuck it.

What childhood oddities did you bring along with
you to your adulthood? I would love to know. Here
are a few other of my signature child to adult idiosyncrasies:

1. the previously mentioned scab picking

2. every time I eat a bagel, I take a bite of each
quarter, separating them, forming a bagel line. I eat the
worstquarter bagel first, and then end with the last BEST
delicious
bite at the end.

3. in fact, come to think of it, I basically am, since childhood,
OBSESSED with the last bite being the best bite.

4. when I watch TV my jaw draws open and my chin "falls"
upward- I am a space cadet!

I am sure there are others........but we/I have 24 more days
of writing to let you/myself in on more of my little secrets.

Adult formed neuroses - well that is just a whole other
category.I personally believe that in the future, we will be
able to create,instead of a holiday savings account, a prepaid
therapy account only to be cashed when you are Bonkers...
(note to self, write that down in the book of ideas BC it could
be a winner!).

Some of my winner adult induced neuroses:

1. I cannot tolerate ANYONE who doesn't know that they
should speed up when a light is green at an intersection
infamous for being a long red. HOW DO THEY STAND IT????

2. The mispronunciation of the word supposedly, to be
supposeBly can literally cause my hair to stand on edge

3. The visceral reaction I get when I see a baby, especially
with his/her daddy. Reaction somewhat akin to the pounding
of a clock, BIOLOGICAL one perhaps, pounding in my chest.

4. My absolute inability to sit still without touching myself,
not sexually,in some way. In particular I scratch my arms a lot.
My family calls itgiving the chills. The person whom I wrote
about yesterday oftencalls(ed) me Tactile Dana...

Aren't people just about the weirdest form of life? Where the
hell did the idea of normal arise from? Where is that man? I
would like to kickhis ass? Seriously, we are freaks. We all do
things that can't be explained.That can't even possibly work to
fulfill any of the main needs of survival, which are:

1. FOOD
2. CLOTHING (including shoes!)
3 SHELTER
4 ORGASMS ( I submit this is as necessary, or why would we
have the ability to repetitively do it - sorry boys!)

And yet we all do odd-ass things that we are embarrassed of
or celebrate, but certainly we do not DO those things without
awareness of the fact that they are not NORMAL....

I submit to you that we rage against normal.

Who needs it?
Who cares?

I have enough shit on my plate to just get through today, to
worry about the fact that I have a scab on my arm from an
annoying mosquito bite. So what if when I sit in my friend's
car after work today, heading to a bar to meet an old friend,
I obsessively move the seat up/down/forward/backward using
the electronic controls...and laugh the whole time. SO WHAT!!!

WHO CARES!!!

Tonight in celebration of all that is freaky about me, and all I am
sure is freaky about any one of you reading, in the words of Luke
Wilson in The Family Stone...................

LET YOUR FREAK FLAG FLY!

Hope and love,
Soul Dancer

Day 6... Sloughing off the Excess

I woke up this morning in a shitty mood. I am having money troubles. I am a fiscal failure with a promising job. It is a sad pathetic treatise on my inability to live within my means. But it is true.

Because of this, I had to ask my brother for help. I couldn't ask my father again...

ONE MORE TIME

Because he has helped me so often, and without payback.

Maybe it this journey I am on of late. A journey to be the best me. But I went to my brother knowing he would help and knowing he would be strict about the following:

1. I WILL pay him back
2. There will be no money directly deposited in my acct.
3. He will force me to admit everything about my spending habits and help me come up with a plan

Needless to say, I felt like a baby sister in the truest form last night.

I went to bed with an inspired idea on what to write about. I would write about how it is a blessing to have someone to fall on when you are in need. How I was humiliated but calm about it all for the first time. I felt a change ahead. I feel a change in me.

I am not going to lie to get the money. I told him my predicament. I tried not to cry.

It didn't work.

But instead of ending on this note of hope, I woke up to find an email from a friend, who is clearly NOT a friend anymore.

We were close.....so close for so long when I first moved down to DC. She is this amazing female who feels the need to help everyone around her selflessly.

Except she neglects to work for one person. Herself.

And I have to say I took advantage of her. Maybe not consciously, but I did. I was broke when I came down here. And I was sad because I didn't have the "dream job" or even a permanent job at first.

But little by little, I started to gain strength. I started to not need her. This is not what bothered her - because she is at heart someone whom I KNOW wants to see me happy.

The problem is... I was now strong enough to help her. I was now able to see that our relationship was unequal and I wanted to contribute. I was met with closed ears and retreat.

I pushed, wrongfully so. And our friendship, then exacerbated by the fact that we lived together became unbearable for both of us. A big blow out pushed me out of our apartment and into where I currently live.

We didn't talk for six months.

We tried again.
This was a new friend.
A friend with a boyfriend.
A friend with HOPE and HAPPINESS.
A different person.

I was elated. I was truly happy for her. I would stare at the two of them. He is sweet, and definitely a positive force.

It makes me smile........

And then the other shoe dropped.
I found out about my ex's engagement.

CRASH...

She was no where to be found and I don't know why. I called her and expressed disappointment. I didn't yell.

I have screamed before.
I was hurt and said so.
She never responded - 2 weeks and no call to see if I was OK.

I got my first communication this morning. It was a quick email saying that someone was after me for money. She let me know as much and said she would not pick up the phone (which is totally FINE by me).

The tone could be described as.........

Condescending.
Mean-spirited.
Uncaring at best.

I was not sad, and I was not going to do the thing that my mother does. Which is somehow blame myself. I will not blame myself for the the fact that my heart, whether justifiably or not, hurts. I will not blame myself for needing a friend.

I will no longer blame her either.
I am sloughing off the excess.

Why continue to try when clearly it is broken. I am not going to launch a diatribe against her. I am not going to say she is a horrible person.

She isn't. She is better than most.
Definitely better than me.

She is simply not a good friend for me. And I gather, that she feels the same about me.

This exfoliation today was rough. It hurt. But like any good skincare professional will say, it was necessary to clean out the matrix below.




Hope and love,
Soul Dancer

Day 5... Origins Male

Every day from age two till adolescence, I would be doing a variety of things around my house: dancing, annoying my brothers, watching TV, or making a mess.

When I would hear the sound...

The most exciting sound of every day

The sound of the 5:22 train out of NY Penn FINALLY rolling in to Ronkonkoma Station with my daddy on it

I would stop

Run

And sit at the top of the stairs waiting for him

Energy lifted

He would walk in and 2 sets of eyes would light up!

We spent every Saturday morning together;: bagels, carwash, drycleaners, library, ANYWHERE!!!!!!

Two days ago, I wrote about the nature of the relationship I share with my mother, and now I need to bring to life the other half of me.

How do you make a God human? I don’t know if I can. I am not sure he is. I do not know, have never met, and never will meet someone who emanates such goodness. He is selfless, devoted to his family. And the charisma!!!! Oh my God, every hot dog vendor from Penn to his old office on 40^th and Broadway knew his name. Every store he patronizes loves him.

He never EVER fails to make someone else smile. He is a child at heart but at the same time has given us all so much

People say I am like him.

We do share personalities. We both have a certain charm. An ability to make people smile and an ability to make people feel close with us. I too know how to get a laugh.

But while he is perfect to me...

I am not. I didn’t get all of him.

I have lied, and manipulated for my own purposes when necessary

I have been selfish.

I have been jealous and angry and put my needs before others.

Not always, not in EVERY scenario, but at times. I don’t see him as ever doing ANY of those things.

I know that it may not be healthy to feel this way.

Because he IS human.

He is a man.

A Husband.

And lord knows I don’t know ANY woman who would say their husband is perfect.

I know that in me he sees himself, and I know that I have brought him much happiness, but I just want to be more, do more, give him the right to be so proud of me and so sure that only good things can and should happen to me.

I guess, though I never was verbally taught to seek his approval, I have been craving it forever, and he has never disappointed. He is such a proud papa. I just want to be worthy of what he feels.

I think of the way I view humanity because of him

He always says, "Treat the president of the United States the same way you would treat the custodian in your building.”

Lesson learned.

Hands down.

We had(have) so many silly little ROUTINES…………

Every night we would say, “A Kiss and a hug and that nice warm feeling.”

We would gang up against mom, with our famous double entendre maneuver (we would show you, but then we would have to kill you!) Our fattening trips to Bennigan’s after he had sweat out five pounds playing racquetball.

I could write for days thanking him. I could write for years sharing stories.

The thing is this…

I know that people are bound to be disappointed when they place someone on a pedestal.

I never have been disappointed by him.

My fear is that he will somehow determine that the love he shines upon me will be tarnished by my irresponsibility, my refusal to live according to Standard Operating Procedure. Deep down knowing, that won’t happen. Because he JUST that amazing.

SO today, I am going to actively begin to STOP waiting for that to happen. I am going to accept that what my father wants, selflessly as always, is for his little girl to be happy. And I am going to be PROUD of the fact that I am working on just that.

Everyday as I write, I feel as if little weights are being lifted and I am growing more aware of the woman I want to be.

So why worry if I am worth the love he bestows on me. I have it, and I damn lucky for it. It is a “nice warm feeling!”

Love and Hope,

Soul Dancer

Day Four... Loved Stoned

This is not intended to be read by prudes…

I just saw JT in concert last night and am feeling a bit dirty.

Just

U

Slide

That

Instrument

Nice

Tightly

Inside

My

Body

Embracing

Ravishing

Licking

And

Kissing

Everywhere

After a two and a half hour show, he rises up to the stage again, sits at the piano, and belts out a song, ostensibly to someone else, though I see at as a call to myself, a call to forgive and fall in love with myself once again.

I was going to share the lyrics with you, but decided against it. Instead, I ask you to think about a song that inspires you.

Listen to it.

Loudly

And give in.

Completely.

Sing your heart out.

Let it affect you.

Let it inspire you.

Justin, thank you for reminding me why I need to keep writing.

Thank you for showing me how amazing it can be to do what you love.

Thank you.


Hope and Love,
Soul Dancer

Day One... The Thesis

This is the first day of the rest of my life. This is the day when it all starts for me.

How many times have I said that? How may times have I followed through……………..a lot less times than I have puttered out….dieing down to the humdrum monotonous life I have been leading for the past few years. Monotonous not in terms of most.

Major move to fresh city, drunken nights dancing, random boys a screwing, and a partridge in a pear tree (please excuse the contradictory religious reference - but Jews are not known for their catchy holiday tunes, minus the Hanukkah song of course).

It started three weeks ago – the unfortunate series of events leading up to me reevaluating the writing I had started in February after a certain incredible concert by the one and only JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE, a man whom I still waiting to receive a present from ……….. in MY box!

I had lost touch once again with the inspiration I had discovered watching this man sing his heart out on the piano.

I was a robot.

AGAIN

Three weeks ago I discovered that the man whom I was waiting for; the man whom I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I was waiting for, was engaged.

I can’t tell you what I felt at that moment, other than complete loss of hope. And a physical piercing through my heart down into the pit of my stomach through my spine up over my head and squeezed out through multitudes of wet sloppy tears.

He was never going to drive down to DC and take me in his arms and laugh about our time apart. He was never going to share with me the moment that he knew I was the girl he wished to be awoken by every morning.

OK so there are two lies above – one is that there are VERY few people who sleep later than me. And two is that I never really had him in the first place. And the other annoying thing is that I watch WAY too much TV to think that stories like that EVER happen.

I keep hearing this phrase:

“God only gives you what you can handle”

I was destroyed – crying at work. Crying all the time. God heard me. Someone heard me………..

I found an old friend. She is the sister of the soon to be married ex. She was my best friend. She was sent to me like an angel – a muse rather.

She is why I am here RIGHT NOW starting this 30 day process, starting, yet again another journey.

And yet, though she is here, I know it is me doing this. As a child, as a young adult, my fears were about failing. I was so scared to fail that I worked my ASS off (NOT LITERALLY FOR SURE) succeeding. I was great at it. I was charismatic, sexy, talented with a future wide open and free.

Life happened. Some drugs happened, some shitty decisions, a lot of shitty men. I stopped being afraid to fail. I became afraid of something MUCH MUCH worse.

I became afraid to succeed.

This fear is ridiculous when you think about it, and yet probably more prevalent. I am afraid to reach the potential I feel bursting inside of me. Because what if it isn’t really there? What if I am not sexy or charismatic or talented? What if I can’t do it? WHAT IF?

Well this stops here.

This stops today.

I am afraid but fuck it. I am going to try anyway.

I am……………..

Hope and Love,

Soul Dancer