|me. many years from now|
Today was one of those days. In Ballet today, I was Dorit Koppel's demonstrator. When she wanted to show how to properly execute a backbend, she directed attention to me.
"Watch the articulation in his spine. You can see each vertebrae stack one at a time."
After the barre work, a new student stood beside the teacher in front of the mirror.
"No, no: that's Alexander's spot." She was moved elsewhere.
Now, I am very much aware that this isn't an Alvin Ailey professional level ballet class. It's very much a Basic level course. I'm most certainly not overstating my ability or getting beside myself. At all. I am just very proud of my progress in this relatively short period of time, especially in Ballet, a style that most hip hop-based dancers hate and/or deem unecessary. I am proud that I am building a very strong technical Ballet base, which, as expected, has translated to better performance in contemporary jazz/modern as well as hip hop.
I am not considering myself the best in my class. I am just confident (and have been told) that I definitely work the hardest. That, I'm sure of.
I spent the weekend in Virginia with my family, catching up with friends, saying goodbyes, and racking up free meals.
Before I left on Sunday, I had a beautiful dinner with my parents. We discussed my L.A. plans, my financial status, family issues, among other things. My primary reason for taking them to dinner was to open up the lines of communication among us all, in hopes of creating a more open relationship.
We haven't really discussed my sexuality since I told them I was geigh when I'd moved out shortly after my 18th birthday. Now, like then, my objective is to stop them from worrying, wondering, guessing, and assuming what my life has been like. When I came out to them, I assured them that "I'm not out here dressing like a woman, being promiscuous (which wasn't entirely true, lol), wearing makeup, and shaming the family." Overall, I don't want to embarrass them. My ultimate goal is to make them proud in everything I do.
Sunday, I informed them about my two-year relationship with M, our highs and lows, and confessed that the "roommate issues" that led to me moving out was actually a terrible breakup. I opened up about the depression, financial and emotional instability, and shitty times that followed. And I elaborated on my bounceback and journey to now, perhaps the happiest time in my adult life. I told them it would have been great to be able to share that I was crying every day for months (breaking down in public places, etc), or just how bad my finances were last year.
My mother responded that even though they wouldn't have chosen this way of life, the bigger concern is that I am happy, healthy, safe, and successful. In the coming months, I'd like to reach a point where I don't have to censor myself for them, and can talk openly with them as I do with friends. Hell, I drank alcohol in front of/with them this weekend for the first time, which was a major step.
That dinner brought us closer. I'm glad I opened my mouth and invited them into my world. My sister and I are both extremely private when it comes to our family, but I've always viewed this as an unnecessary barrier. Initiating that conversation opened the door for them to feel comfortable asking me "personal" questions, which I welcome.
In a perfect world, I would dig up the desire to engage similarly with my sister, with whom I have no actual connection beyond my nieces. I can't say this makes me sad, as I am more disappointed with her with each frustrated talk with my mother. As I stood in the doorway of my parents' house, saying emotional goodbyes to my nieces and, generally, having a hell of a moment gathering the strength to leave the house I grew up in (for the second time) prior to moving far away, she...leaned against the wall, talking on her phone, saying, "Awwww. Awwww. Alex...," and other stupid shit like that. Fool ass woman.
I won't let that damper my spirits. I'm in a great place, finally, no thanks to her.
Today, the girl who will be finishing up my lease when I move West flew from San Diego to view my apartment. She loved it and the neighborhood. My roommate likes her, the landlord likes her. And she's pretty. Can't have an ugly woman sleeping in my room. Needless to say, everything's a go. One less thing to worry about.
Now: it's late. Work-study and Ballet wore me out. Off to bed. Another beautiful day awaits me tomorrow.
(Insert smiley face)