Mami Dearest

For all you spelling and grammar junkies out there, no I did not spell Mommy wrong in the title of this post. "Mami" is how latinos say Mommy. We don't grow up saying Mommy, or momma, or mammy or Ma. Its Mami, phonetically, latino.

Now that that's out the way... Hello all! Long time!

I wrote this post today to speak about my mami. Those who know me know that she is an everlasting thorn in my side but I love her dearly. She didn't raise me, and I don't bring her around much. As a matter of fact, I can probably count on one hand how many of my friends in life have ever met my mother. But they've all heard of the many stories that come with the one and only Nancy Rosario Vega. My mami.

What inspires this post you ask? Insomnia, first and foremost, but also the job interview that I had this morning. Somehow it came up that I grew up in Foster Care my whole life and the interviewer commended me stating "you've come so far, my kids can't imagine how lucky they are, and seeing someone like you makes me so emotional and happy that you've been able to achieve so much with so little..." Or something to that nature. This is generally the response I get when people do eventually find out about my upbringing and I never know how to feel about that. Is it so inconceivable that a foster child can be successful, have a college degree? Be in a profession that she loves? Serve as a mentor to others? It isn't really... To me its like I never had a choice but to succeed. When you come from nothing you gotta be something or risk being nothing.

Anywhoodles.... All this got me to thinking about good old Mami dearest and this little story I wrote about her a year ago. Her life story is so interesting that I swore to write a book on it one day. And I will. It wasn't any fault of her own that all her children were taken away from her, just unfortunate life circumstances... So here is my story about Mami. Maybe it'll be the start of the book? Vamos a ver... Enjoy!


God, it had to have been one hundred degrees out. No breeze, just thick,heavy, sticky air enveloping you in a blanket of hot, wet, sweat. All you needed to do was stand still for too long before you noticed the rivers flowing down your arms and back. Yuck. New York Summers-unforgiving.

It was one of those days where the heat index was so high the news put out warning to keep the very young and very elderly indoors. You know them days, when you're actually happy to be at work because of the broken, frigid AC in the office. Hot enough that if you cared to you could probably fry your breakfast on the pavement. HOT!

But, smart woman that she was, she was out and about. Hanging out at the usual spot with the usual suspects. The small park at the intersection of 157th and Broadway was a weird one. It was shaped like a triangle, benches lining the border, trees here and there-patchy grass and scraggly bushes abound. In the middle of the park stood a funky wooden statue. It was a soldier on a horse or maybe it was a midget on a pony? Poor statue looked as if you blew on it it would fall down like a jenga tower. Either that or the heat was going to melt it away.

She was standing at the corner. Arguing. As usual. This time with one of the neighborhood junkies about Lord knows what.

Right as I crossed the street she let out a hearty bout of laughter, about as hearty as her solid two hundred and thirty pounds. She never laughed quietly. I think I inherited that from her.

On her head was a large brim black straw hat, all of her hair pulled into it. You could see a few wispy blonde and gray curls escaping out of the back of it. Her skin was aglow. Golden from sitting out in that park daily. Moles and freckles sprinkled her face, crows feet set deeply in the corners of her brown almond shaped eyes. Those eyes... They were so alive. They had a light all their own. Another thing I inherited (actually I think we all have her eyes). Underneath her high set cheek bones was a small rosy mouth and when she smiled you saw she was missing her top row of teeth.

It seemed as if she had adorned herself with all of the jewelry in her posession. Three pairs of earrings, four necklaces, five bracelets on each wrist, a white watch on the left and one ring on each finger-including her "wedding" ring.

The red tank top she wore was maybe a size too small and stifling her triple D's (shame i didnt inherit those). She wore men's jeans belted at her waist-surely to cover her pansa. She finished off her outfit with a pair of white Nike uptowns-fresh out the box.

That bout of laughter took away all of her energy and she flopped down onto one of the benches. Out of a breath and breathing heavy, she still managed to keep a smile lingering. I snuck up behind her "Hey Mami..." I said. She shot up and gave me a huge mami hug. "My MIDNIGHT DARKNESS!" You gotta love the nick names Ma pegged on us. I'm not even dark skinned.

"Ooooooo!! I'm so glad you're here" she turned "Look everyone this is my daughter! Look at my beautiful daughter." She turned back to me "Come on Melany, I have to introduce you to everyone!" She led me by the arm and I grudgingly followed. She does this every time.

"Ma, it's ok. Can't we just sit and relax?"

"No! WHAT! I can't show off my beautiful daughter. What's wrong with you! You don't visit me enough. I need to show youse off so shush! " She turned to two elderly women sitting on the bench beside her. "Doña Maria, Doña Carmen-esta es mi hija-una de las mellizas. Recuerda a la otra quien vino el otro dia-aye si -no se parecen..." I smiled my fake smile and let mom ramble. She's good at that.

We made the rounds : Papo, Pepito, Jose, el vecino de Jose, el primo del vecino de Jose, el compai de la commai de Doña Maria, el tio de Juan, she calls him Cien Pesos, beats me as to why because he looked like he didn't have cien centavos to his name.

"Mira' mi hija-she's so beautiful, right? como su Mai." She winked and sucked in her stomach. She released it two seconds later. My mother is a trip. "And she's smart too! She's a scientist-right Melany? She's going to cure AIDS. Right Melany?"

"Yes Mommy" I let out an exasperated sigh. "Can we go upstairs now ma? Its hot and I'm thirsty."

We walked towards her tenement building. The whole way there we stopped to say hi to all the vecinos. Ma had a story for all of them. She'd smile and introduce me and as we passed she'd whisper all of their fun facts in my ear.

"He used to be a tecato, but God Bless him, the Church turned him around. Now he's a mujeriego . Pobrecito is always fighting Satan.

"She's such a nice lady, una misionera. She knew Mami and Papi. May they rest in peace. Papi was her Pastor when she came to Christ.

"You see that ugly guy right there? He used to be FINE! We all used to hang in the park on 149 and Woodycrest. Back in the day your Titi Evelyn used to do him"

"T.M.I. MA! I don't need to know that! " She laughed her toothless laugh.

Upstairs we sat in the cool living room. No Lights were on. Con Ed cut off the elctricity just the day before. Mommy's SSI check was late and they cut Juan's hours at the garage after his car accident. Times were hard.Juan is my mother's significant other. She calls him her husband, and he might as well be. They've been together for 15 years. She always told me it was NYC Law that made him and her husband and wife because of the many years they've been living together. The legal marriage law, however, is no longer a law. But whatever Mami says is truth and that's Puerto Rican Law.

Juan was a dark skinned Dominican not more than two inches taller than my mother but a lot more slender. If you look at him from the corner of your eye with your head tilted at a forty-five degree angle he's actually handsome. He didn't speak much English (Or at least fakes that he doesn't speak it). But he's a good man. He has to put up with a lot with my mother. She's a big woman, with big problems. No matter what happens he has always been there for her and with her. He makes her happy so as far as I'm concerned he's okay in my book. The apartment we were in is actually his.Belonged to his mother and after she passed he stayed there with his crazy sister, and moved in my crazy mother.

Sitting on the couches in that living room was uncomfortable.I readjusted myself to get the plastic covering to unstick from my thighs. I gave a quick look around. Both Juan and Mommy throw away nothing. Your classic hoarders. The living room looked more like a storage room than a living room. There were boxes here and there, framed photos of his children and mommy's children, decorated boxes, a portrait of my older sister on her wedding day, all my nieces and nephews smiled back at me from somewhere in that room. Hats. clothes, tools, toilet paper, paper towels, pots, pans, an old television, an old radio, some large speakers, etc etc etc -you get the picture. Clutterific.

"Mira you! " My mom pipes "You finish daydreaming? I wanna go back out."

"Yeah ma. But I cant stick around for much longer. I gotta go teach the kids in an hour."

"You ALWAYS gotta teach! Spend ten more minutes with your momma for Christ's sake. Before I go crazy. Jesus Santisimo! You know you don't want me to go crazy. But we leaving the house right now cause IMMA SUFFOCATE IN HERE! I'll have a heart attack if I stay in here five more minutes. So lets go-ahora."

Something in the tone of her voice didn't sound right. I became concerned. She sounded like she was about to have another one of her episodes. "Ma, you alright? " I asked.

She glared at me.
"Have you been taking your meds?"

"Of course I'm alright!" she snapped. "I took them this morning. You wanna see me take them again now? Huh? huh? "

"WOAH WOAH Ma. Relax. I'm just making sure"

"I'm fine, you know why!?!? Because I'm admitting that I'm crazy. If I weren't ok I would deny it." She stated it so matter-of-factly we both couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, you're right."

We went downstairs. At the building steps she stopped and looked back at me. She gave me the "you know what time it is" look. I fished in my purse for my wallet. Took out my last twenty and gave it to her. She smiled and snickered. "Thank you my Midnight Darkness. I pay you back when my check comes on Friday."

"Don't worry about it ma. You need it more than I do. " She smiled and gave me a kiss on the forehead. She walked me to the train.

At the one train station on Broadway and 157th street we kissed and said goodbye.

"Love you Melany."

"Love you too ma."

I started walking down the steps and stopped. I looked back up at her. She was leaning against the banister. Smiling. Beaming. Proud.

I smiled. "Hey ma. Imma write a book one day. A book about you. And your life story."

She slapped the banister in agreement. "You should! You'd make millions! And you could get me out of this dump."

"I will ma. One day, I promise.

"Just do me a favor ma. I just gave you twenty dollars. Take some of it and buy a notebook and a pen and start writing down your life story. From your first memory and on.

She nodded.

"Good, I'll come by Friday to check on it."

"You promise you'll be here on Friday? " She said hopefully.

I hate lying to mom. "Probably not, but before the end of the weekend" We both laughed at that.

"Ok my Midnight Darkness. Be careful! Don't go home too late. And call me when you get to the dance studio! And when you get home later too! And in the morning when you wake up! Call me!"

"You got it Ma." I lied.

"I love you! "

"Love you too Mami" I walked down the stairs and jumped onto the downtown one train.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That was a Tuesday. Thursday morning I got the text. It read:

"Mommy is in Harlem Hospital. Leo had to admit her last night. Call to make sure they have her medical records and prescriptions on file please. Love you Lil Sis. -Camille"

Here we go again.

5 Things I'm Thankful for:
1. Life
2. The bare necessities
3. Mami
4. My Foster Mom
5.Aunt Jemimah (like the pancake mix)

Let Go & Let LIFE

Hey World

Happy New Year first of all! Yes it is April but shoot me! I'm inconsistent with this blogging.

So..... I'm not one to make resolutions because I am generally the first to break 'em but this year I do have one. It's the title of this post.

Let Go & Let LIFE

Before I go into explaining why and what this resolution means let's update the world on my LIFE. The point of this blog in the first place. If you're not interested in my life then you can click the "X" at the very top right hand corner of this box. Please and Thank You.

Now... where was I? Oh yes-

Update: So as most of  you know I lost my job last June... Which to be quite honest was a blessing in disguise. It gave me the chance to no longer be the girl on the third floor that dances in the hallway and to take the chance to pursue my dream as a dancer. Since then I joined a dance program at Broadway Dance Center called the Professional Semester. At the start of the program I set a lot of goals for myself- but my primary goal was to be noticed by a Talent Agency and to be signed. Specifically by Bloc Talent Agency. Without representation it's extremely difficult to be "in the know" about different dance opportunities. They happend to be present at my final recital and the next day I received the email that Bloc was interested in meeting with me to discuss representation. I was taken aback, surprised and extremely flattered. As the dancer in the program with the most limited amount of dance training I found it amazing that they were interested in me. I was beyond excited- especially because I particularly wanted representation from Bloc- they are the best and I never settle for less. So at the beginning of this year I signed my contract with Bloc! And although I hate to admit it, the signing of this piece of paper made me feel legitimized as a Professional dancer. Since then they have sent me on numerous auditions for a variety of dance gigs and a few weeks later I booked my first dance gig! A movie, a ballroom movie where I was to play a dancer in a wheelchair in the competition scenes. Weird I know. But it was such an eye opening experience.

During the gig we rehearsed a week before the shoot and here we learned how to maneuver the wheelchair, and then learned the mechanics and basics of converting basic ballroom technique into wheelchair ballroom technique. It was quite challenging. Imagine how difficult Cha Cha and the Waltz is when you have your own two feet, and now you lose your arms to wheels and lose your feet too! Wrap me up! I was a hella hot mess! And then I broke every single one of my finger nails in the wheel spokes. I fell out of the chair like 5 times. SMH. But with the help of the choreographers and the actual wheelchair dancers there I was able to get the hang of it.

The most annoying part is the amount of tension I felt in my hamstrings and hips from sitting in the chair for so long. I'd get up and stretch through-out the day and at one point I thought "Wow, what a luxury- I actually CAN get up from the chair. Thank God" I'd look over to John (one of the actual wheelchair bound dancers, name changed for privacy) and almost felt sorry- then he'd smile tell one of his wheelchair jokes and I realized that there is nothing to be sorry about. John has Lumbar Sacral Agenesis and has been in a wheelchair his whole life. But he never let that stop him from LIVING. He does everything else an able-bodied person does. He plays basketball, he loves to dance, he goes out clubbing, he wheels the streets better than I walk 'em! And he was so positive, truly a blessing to have had him there. I would also look over to Seth (another actual wheelchair bound dancer, name also changed for privacy) He was in a car accident in 1998, became a paraplegic and lost his chance to become a professional football player. After a deep depression he sought out body building to "build" back up his confidence. Now he is the CEO of Wheelchair Body Building, travels the country and the world representing the sport and is a motivational speaker. And let me tell you Seth is BUILT. He has actually regained the ability to get out of his chair after years of physical therapy- but he cannot feel a thing from his knees down and depends on splints to hold his legs up. But he does not let his wheelchair stop him from LIVING. I'll call the last person in a wheelchair Angel. She used to be a singer, rapper and dancer, and like Seth she was involved in a car accident that made her a paraplegic as well. She cannot feel anything from her waist down. She was another beautiful beautifully spirited individual. She'd wheel into the room with a smile on her face and joke and she lived for making us laugh. She still dances- and teaches dance at a high school as well as being a motivational speaker to people who like her- once could walk and cannot any longer.

Being surrounded by people like this brings me back to the title of this post, my new years resolution to Let Go and Let Life. These three individuals do not let their disability disable them, they use it to ENABLE them. They LET GO of what could have been something that hindered their happiness in life and they LET LIFE be lived regardless of that. I don't think I could ever look at a disabled person the same again. I don't even think I can call them disabled- they have more ability than any able-bodied person I know.

So with that said I have been shown time and time again that letting go and living is the ONLY way to be. I realized that I am a freak, a control freak (and I will not confirm nor deny the other allegations of my freakiness, ahem. lol). I always had a plan, I always wanted things to go a certain way and if they didn't I would be extremely unhappy. Now I realize that a plan is always good and always necessary but accepting that it will not always be daisies and rainbows is important too. Accepting and still living, letting go, and having FAITH that God has a better plan. KNOWING that you will and can be elevated to the heights beyond your capability if you just LET GO and allow that elevation to occur. Even with dance. Especially with dance. When you think about the steps so much, and you try to control your every movement, your every emotion, you cannot grow. But once you abandon your constraints and just BE you will grow beyond measure. I am being more aware of this. I will live my life this way. And in this way I will always be happy.

-M.A.C.

5 Things I am Thankful For: 

1- My legs- Never again will I ever take walking, running, jumping or dancing for granted again.
2- New People- always giving you different perspectives on life and allowing you to LEARN more and more
3-  Life- there is nothing more precious than this and I can never be more thankful for it
4-  Falafel and Tahini sauce- Ate this everyday for lunch at rehearsal--- yummyyyyyy
5-  Opportunities- they come into your life unnumerously. Happy to have been able to grasp them :-)

The Only Constant in Life is Change

I feel like I should be quoting someone here. Like maybe I've heard this before? Read it somewhere? Did this thought just materialize in my head? That's a nice thought. So what do you do when you're unsure of something? Yup, I googled it. Come to find out it is an age old saying dating back to the time of Heraclitus, a Greek Philosopher (many hundred years before Christ). According to Wikipedia he "established" the doctrine of change being central to the Universe. I vaguely recall learning this in Philosophy 101... but everything I learned in that class was vague- Monday, Wednesday, Friday 8am class.You know it- optimal catch up on sleep class. Still managed to get an A... I actually enjoyed going back to the dorm and doing the readings.

* Side Note* - You ever wanted to edit those Wikipedia posts to say some nonsense? I have... But I dare not- at least I'm not going to admit that I have. 

So let's analyze this quote shall we?

"The only constant in life is change."

The ONLY- without others, alone, solely, exclusively... CONSTANT- something that does not, or cannot change or vary... is CHANGE- a transformation or modification, variation or deviation.

So the first thing of note is that the quote is a contradiction in and of itself. How can something that cannot vary or change be transformed or modified if the very essence of that thing is lack of change. SWINDLE! Or not... Here's the loophole- LIFE, activity. Every second that passes is different from the next. Constant Change. The antonym of life is inertia, inactivity, no power of action.

So now that we know that our life is in a ceaseless, continuous, interminable, non-stop activity of adjustments, advancements, modifications, mutations and transformations then WHY (And here is the dinger) do we as HUMAN BEINGS (The very definers of LIFE) look so much to AVOID the inevitable? Change? Why? Accept it. Embrace it. Change. Is it because we love to rebel against nature? Do we say - Hey Mother Nature, I know you want me to be constantly changing and all that but I rather stand right here and accept my uselessness in my refusal to change and be complacent in my nothingness in hopes that something outside of me will validate me and I will die a happy nobody. Thanks.

I'd hope not? But you know what? The actions of most people in this world say JUST THAT. I'm not happy, but I'm not sad so I'll stay right here and be ok. WRONG. To be honest the thing that stops most people from accepting change is fear. Simple. Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failure. Fear of difficulty. But we forget that before something is known it is unknown, before you can succeed you must fail and before anything is easy it is first difficult. And I don't know about you, but that AHA! moment when something goes from one to the other is one of the most fulfilling feelings in the world.

Because of this realization I am officially EMBRACING CHANGE. And doing this is no easy task. It requires commitment. And full commitment. One of my favorite dance instructors and mentors says to me that commitment is 100%, when you commit only 99% it'll be that 1% that'll hold you back from being good to being FIERCE. So I'm committing to that last 1%. I am trying to will be FIERCE, I will be REMEMBERED, I will leave a LEGACY. Even if it's only one person that I affect I will have a PROFOUND effect on that individual. And I'll owe that effect to my commitment to CHANGE.

Fortunately yet unfortunately that commitment comes from nowhere else but inside. Inside the deepest troughs of my mind, into the most abysmal reaches of my bottomless gut, down down where the muscle fibers of my right ventricle meet my left ventricle. Thought, instinct and heart. All things that I must emmerce in my goal of  NOT SETTLING for ok, alright, whatever, and just good enough. I will apply this to everything I do. And I know sometimes I'll be exhausted, and I'll want to just not follow-through- but then I'll find that 1% that will make it worthwhile. That last little pump of adrenaline that puts you over the top, across the finish line... wish me luck. (Not that I'll need it)


-Mel


5 Things I'm Thankful For:

1. Cecelia Marta- My Jazz instructor and mentor who I mentioned. She reminds me that no matter how hard I work there's always room to work harder and find my inner Senorita Cosa (Miss Thang in Spanish) 
2. My Niece Savannah- a constant reminder that there's always a reason to be better, and do better- even if it's just to serve as her example. (Besides- her smile melts my heart)
3. NYC in the Fall- something about all the different color leaves whirling through the air that makes it super special.
4. Thanksgiving- which is everyday for me but specifically the Holiday- my time to get in tune with my inner FAT GIRL... *licks lips* 
5. ColdStone Ice Cream- Frozen heaven in a cup

Headshots :-)

Not much writing in this post-- just excited about my headshots! My first ever... Just wanted to share a few of my faves and ask for your opinions...

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All of these pictures are untouched proofs... I was very happy with the outcome. If you're looking for head shots done I highly recommend this company Dirty Sugar Photography. 

Ta ta for now! 

-Mel

The Best of Both Worlds

Ok so I've neglected the blog. Who starts a blog and then abandons it? I do. Eff it- everyone does eventually. Sorry-- I never said I'd be good at keeping up with this. And to be quite honest I haven't been in the "writing" mood. *Shrug*

BUT! I found something that I wrote more than 5 years ago... about this beautiful city we live in. Thought I'd share...

Best of Both Worlds 

As I stand here on this rooftop looking down on the city street I can’t help but notice that Central Park West creates a border between two distinct worlds; one of the gray concrete reality and the other the green dream of escape. I look down at the divider, the busy street, and blur my vision to create a kaleidoscope of colors - silver, red, green, and blue all in the sea of slate gray, tar black and the ever so present taxi cab yellow. On this side of the boundary the common sights and sounds of the Upper West Side in the summer grab my attention. The familiar tunes of Eddie Santiago ring from a car on 109th street, as women dance in the street, and kids scuttle by with towels and bathing suits in hand running to the pool located in the great green escape. Beyond the division is a picturesque view of the park. The many different shades of green that represent the trees, the grass, and the shrubbery blend together to form a lake of greenery that makes you want to jump in to leave the blistering heat of this bustling city. Escape. In the midst of the green there are pin points of red pansies, yellow lilies, pink tulips and purple forget-me-nots, and forget you I will not oh beautiful Central Park. It’s a wonder how these two worlds live so harmoniously together, a harmony you may only find in this city of all cities, New York City.
    As I make my way off the rooftop, into the building, the stories of the lower middle class families of this tenement building pique my interest. In every Apartment complex in the Upper West Side you find five stereotypical families- the break up to make up fighting white couple, The single black mother working two jobs to make ends meet, the typical Latino family who runs the “bodega” on the corner, the real quiet Asian family that owns either a Chinese restaurant or a fish market down the block, and then there’s every other family who doesn’t quite fit the above mentioned four. As I walk down the stairs I hear a door slam. A man is standing outside in his boxers and a tank top as the door opens, a truckload of clothing and shoes are thrown out and the door slams yet again. The “break up to make up” couple has broken up, again. On the fourth floor “Big Momma” (as everyone on the block refers to her) is rounding the stair case coming home from her second job, eyes weary from a night without any sleep. Her rugrats are on the third floor playing with the Puerto Rican kids. “Tag you’re it!” “Ah MAN!!!” “Close your eyes and count to ten!” “Ok, fine! One, two... Ten! Ready or not here I come!” “Hey! You cheated!” The youngest goes and tells mami. Two minutes later a head full of pink, green and black rollers pokes out of apartment 3D and a woman with a heavy Spanish accent yells to play nice. In the lobby two young Asian girls are waiting for the elevator, books in hand. A short woman with slits for eyes and jet black hair cut shoulder length is quietly scolding them in a foreign language.
    Once outside the dark clouds gather, a summer rain is about to wash the city. I stay in the lobby as the quick 15 minute shower pounds the dirt off the sidewalks. The children are still outside while it is raining. There is nothing better than playing in the rain (although the beating that may directly follow isn’t appealing). Little five year olds jump in and out of puddles and open their mouths to the sky as if the rain drops were really gum drops. Soon the sun breaks through the clouds and a rainbow appears. ROYGBIV smiles down over Central Park, inviting you to cross the dividend between the two worlds and escape.
    You must always be extra cautious crossing a New York City Street. In this city, one in ten drivers actually knows how to drive. The rest ignore traffic signals and violate most traffic regulations. They speed up on yellow, drive faster than the city speed limit, run red lights, do not yield for pedestrians, start driving before the light turns green, and it doesn’t take much to get a New York driver angry.  Be prepared to dodge cars that are driving faster than a speeding bullet, combat feisty yellow taxi cab drivers, narrowly miss your death by a  millisecond and possibly come in contact with other nasty New Yorkers, some (if you get in their way) might just flick you the finger. Being the cautious pedestrian that I am, I jay walk across the street thirty seconds before the light will change to green and daringly weave through traffic, horns blaring , curses thrown at me in English and Spanish and other languages that cannot be named. Once on the other side I look back and smile. I can see the fiery red sun of the summer day beginning to set. I have survived yet another day in the city.
    Night is beginning to fall and I head to the park. The rain and the heat bring out the smell of fresh cut grass and the beautiful smell of flowers in the gardens that dot the park grounds. I love to come and lay by the forget-me-nots, especially after the rain, the droplets on the petals creating little rainbows of their own. It is a thing of beauty this green world across the threshold of black tar and gray concrete, tall buildings and dirty sidewalks. The sky has darkened and the man on the moon is frowning down at me. I stick my tongue out at him. He’s just jealous, wishing he could lie in the grass and admire the beauty of the stars in the sky, the black night sky meeting the dark green head of the trees standing watch at the edge of the field.
    I look to the left and see endless acres of park, nature recreated in the heart of the city; I look to my right and watch as the lights in the tenement building go off one by one. The families of the Upper West are off to sleep, in preparation for tomorrow, another hot summer day. Big Momma is on her way to her night job while her kids sleep soundly and the “bodega" on the corner is closing for the night. A woman’s laugh breaks my trance and I look to the left again. The break up to make up couple is walking in a tender embrace, looks like their making up, again. I head to the A train stop on 110th Street. Back to Brooklyn I go. Good night green world, good night gray world, time for me to go back to my home and sleep.




The End.... Hope you enjoyed it. :-)

So just to give a quick update on my life-- I've hated the world for the past two weeks... and I know why... and it's actually a bunch of things. And I'm not going to share right now but know that if you see me a little withdrawn it's cause I've been in deep reflection lately. Everything on the surface and from the outside seems like it's all falling into place but I feel like I need to do some drastic changes on the inside. Everyone goes through it. My turn... time to commit to change. And change is something that can only occur from the deepest part of you. But that's for another post...


5 Things I'm Thankful for : 

1. My Mom-- she's always reminding me that even at your lowest there's a high
2. Literature-- anything to be lost in besides my own thoughts and not connected to a power outlet
3. The Sunrise-- a reminder that every day is a new day
4. The Future-- something to always look forward to
5. Shoe shopping with my biff Anne-- I'm a woman- this is self explanatory

Material Girl in a Material World

Madonna has been hosting auditions at the BDC for the launch of her daughter Lourdes' new clothing line Material Girl. The contestants had their freestlyle audtion posted on YouTube and the favorites are given an opportunity to dance at the launch of the Line at Macy's Herald Square.

I missed the first auditions. It was in the morning. Yeah-- u know me....

ALAS! There were a second set of auditions last Thursday, in the afternoon. Now we're talking. I had no excuse. I was already at BDC and I summoned up the courage to just go and audition.  I had nothing to lose. * Kanye Shrug *

It happened to be an early day for me, and I can't stress enough that I am NOT a morning person. I rolled out of bed,showered and threw on sweats, converses and a plaid button down. Hair slicked back in a low bun and a Yankee fitted cap. My comfort gear :-) As I walked to the train that morning I was thinking "Hmmmm... Am I forgetting something?" I MILKed (Money, ID, Lipgloss, Keys) and figured not.

Midday I remembered. Comfort gear is NOT Audition gear. SMH. I sat there watching as the people milled in for the audition. All the girls looking hella sexy- midriff tops, bangles, hoop earrings, short shorts, tights, heels.... And here I am looking like a 12 year old tom-boy.

*Shrug* what can you do?  I just prayed my bubbly personality and my 1000 watt smile would win them over.

I took my number. 11. Not a great number. I looked up to see Madonna's entourage- the men who would be panelists and * GASP * my heart sunk. Standing there in an Adidas track jacket was Normann. A French breaker I met a few months back. He thought I was "Zee mos beauuutifuuuu gurl in zee world." I had taken his number and after one day of text message exchange decided I was not interested and told him. Yes- that bluntly. I really didn't want to lead him on was the case. He seemed like a really sweet guy. Just not for me. I ignored him after that. Not very nice of me.

It would be my luck that he's the main panelist at the very first audition of my dance career.

In walks Dister. Hip-hop dancer EXTRAORDINAIRE, and a good friend of mine. He was well aware of my Pepe Le Pew fiasco with Normann and why I all of a sudden became uncomfortable. (side note- Normann does not smell bad lol) Dister laughed at me. Five minutes later he calls me over, and lo and behold- he's chatting with Normann! F. U. Dister! F. U. where the SUN DON'T SHINE! F. U. Hard and un-lubricated! ( please excuse my vulgarity).

But to my surprise- Normann was very happy to see me. * PHEW *

Ok- So my number is called. I had my freestyle all planned out, all I thought was Why?!?! Because as soon as I entered studio 4 all was forgotten. I ended up doing the same four moves in four different orders. Not bad- that gives 16 varieties of the same thing. Here were my moves :

• Groove, groove
• Triple spin
• Drop and booty pop
• Side wine (a la Ciara)

Have fun imagining my combination. I did manage however to throw in a round-off and a split. My signature moves from the College years. My sneaker was also falling off at one point and I did a nice shoe flick to get them off my feet. All this amounts to one thing: DISASTER. I did get a second chance afterward to dance some salsa with Dister, I know at least I killed that. THANKS DISTER!

 I left thinking "Great first experience Mel. NOT." Oh well. I'll learn from this.

Then---- I got an email on Sunday. Rehearsal Monday and Tuesday from 6-10 in Studio 8. WHAT!?!!? I booked? My disastrous performance? It had to be the shoe flick. I'm sure that that was BEYOND amusing.

Catch me and some AMAZING dancers tonight at the MACY's in Herald Square performing for Madonna. Wooo hooo!! My first Gig!

Again- Tonight! 6 pm!

Macy's Herald Square 

151 West 34th Street

New York, NY 10001-2101

5 Things I am Thankful for:

1. Dister- he can be as big a blessing as a pain in my a** <3
2. My Upbringing- If I were not raised as a genuinely honest and good person I would not have made it this far in life 
3. Opportunity- we are not thankful enough for this. It approaches us everyday and we rarely seize it, but when you do it is overwhelmingly satisfying
4. Brooklyn- that ackee and saltfish breakfast gave me the energy to last the day! Only in BK! 
5. Fellow Dancers- Always there to remind you that you're not alone and give you what you need to continue to do what we love

-Me

D-Day

The first thing necessary before going into any career field is getting the proper education and training. Usually this starts from a very young age. I was told as a young girl that I would be Mommy's little doctor. My whole life I specialized and excelled in Math and Science, I was in every science club you can think of. My program in High School was "Med-Sci." I got my Bachelors of Science in Clinical Laboratory Science. My path was set. Med School was supposed to be the next stop.

Unfortunately the Arts always had a hold on my heart. I loved to draw and sketch and paint and write. But it was dance that ultimately took  me off that original set path, and it came very late in life.(Most dancers train from the age of 6!)

I'll never regret my education however. I still am utterly fascinated by the sciences. And it will probably serve as a nice plan B if ever something disastrous were to happen in my dance career (knock on wood).

So once I decided to truly pursue dance I had to find a training program. And I found one of the best in NYC. I am currently apart of the Professional Semester Dance Training Program at the Broadway Dance Center.

The program started 3 weeks ago and I learned a lot in just that first week of Orientation. I would tell you everything but that's not nice. Apply and Join! Here were some cool points on Professionalism that were brought up:

•  ALWAYS be ON TIME 
• ALWAYS have a pen ( this is genius!) 
• ALWAYS leave your number twice 
• ALWAYS spell check 
• Repeat as you enter a room - "Happy to be here, and ready to work!" (It's crazy how this small statement changes your whole mindset) 

Thank Miss Bonnie Erickson for these points.

Alright so now to the title of this entry. D-Day. SMH. The day we had our Class Placement Evaluation/ Mock Audition. The following is my journal entry of that day:

8/26/10 

Today was our placement class/mock audition or what I like to call D-Day. YUP- I did horribly. But not all is lost! I already knew I'd do horrible. 

The Ballet/Jazz/Theater section was so difficult! The level of technique needed in each was WAY beyond any technique that I had acquired in my 3 ballet classes ever taken in LIFE. BUT! I attacked it, the whole time smiling. Looking like a hell of a fool and not caring. 

There were 2 people on the panel of judges that helped me feel at ease and encouraged me throughout. Those were Sheila Barker and Jamie Salmon. Sheila teaches Jazz and Jamie Ballet. They could tell off the bat that I was NOT a trained dancer at all. But they winked, nodded and encouraged me through the whole time. I was breaking a sweat, I was attacking that choreo and the whole time my heart was screaming out to Sheila and Jamie "THANK YOU! THANK YOU!"

They broke us into groups and my nerves got the best of me. I got ahead of myself and did everything too early. I forgot my steps and I even invented some new ones. But all I kept thinking was- "Girl go out there strong, smile, do your best and stick that ending pose." And I did. So I was satisfied with that. 

I knew that it would be difficult, and I knew that it would be beyond my current capabilities, but afterward I still went into the bathroom and cried (careful not to ruin my mascara of course). It was a big blow to my ego- and I will admit it's a big ego. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. And mine fell HARD. From the third floor bathroom of the BDC, through to the basement, down to the Earth's core and it resurfaced somewhere in Asia. Rumor has it a Panda cub is playing with it in a Bamboo forest in China. 

It was a truly humbling experience however. It was a harsh smack of reality, that I am a LONG LONG LONG way off of my dream to become a Professional Dancer. But again- IT WAS NOT A LOSS!  

This all just served to be a means to have the determination to go harder. Knowing that potential is there and I just need to attack this road with a fervor like no other dancer has before. I have to work 10x as hard as everyone else but I WILL. I am not afraid. I accept this challenge with pride and dignity. 

After my cry, we changed into our Hip-hop gear. I wanted to do well here. Hip-hop is a lot closer to my language. But that Panda bear had my ego in a choke-hold. I couldn't summon up the confidence I needed. I went through the whole choreo just touching the surface. They allowed us some freestyle and I used it as my release. But again- never leaving my comfort zone. Afterward I was upset at myself for not being able to overcome the blow. 

But what can you do?  You live, and you learn. And THAT'S what I am doing here in the first place. To LIVE dance, to LEARN dance, to become ONE with dance. At the end of the day the realization was this: 

I am exactly where I belong. 

Now to sign up for those basic ballet classes. Can't find me?  I'll be at the barre. 

5 Things I'm Thankful For: 

1. Being on time for the 4th time in a row- I suffer from chronic lateness and have no meds. 
2. Coffee- it makes me a morning person
3. Realization
4. Ahtoy Won-Pat Borja- if it were not for the little ballet training that she was able to give me I would have been a lot more lost. Thank you Toy
5. Fatigue- tired but happy, pained but fulfilled. Call me a masochist. 

-Me