Music Therapy

Music is really a wonderful thing. I acquired some new music today, most of it, well, all of it, dance music. First of all, Missy's "Pass the Dutch" makes me smile. And it makes me want to dance. I intend to dance very soon. I heard Meow Mix has a good deal on Thursdays. Last week, a friend of mine, Candace, told me she was taking me out to "a happy hour somewhere." She was sick of me not smiling. When the time came, she said we were going to Meow Mix. "Cool," I thought to myself. Unfortunately, there were five people there when we arrived and they were fixin' to do karaoke. We left and went to a bar called The Library. Candace is 26. The bartender didn't need to see her ID, which is a good thing because she didn't have it. However, when it came time to look at mine, the woman stared at it. "Impossible," she said. "You're not 30." After she was convinced, I proceeded to order my first of two pint-sized Kahluas. Candace wanted to do Meow Mix on Thursday but couldn't. So I will do it soon. Maybe this week. I gotta dance. There's another song I'm diggin' on: Milkshake by Kelis. I was in New Jersey the first time I heard it. So there is some sadness associated with it. Especially because we never got to dance to it together. I'm left only to my imagination, which has been dead for a while. But enough of this sadness bullshit for the time being. It's after 3 am and "Pass the Dutch" is on. So I'm gonna write about other stuff.

I think I've officially decided to not write about Hedwig, which sucks. But I don't want to write about something that someone wrote about just last year. I might have another idea, though. I saw a movie this summer called "Imitation of Life." One of the storylines in it is about a girl who is light-skinned and despises the fact that she has black in her. Her mother is the implicit housekeeper of an actress. Also, there is a book by Nella Larsen called "Passing," which I have to read soon for class. I've just read some critiques of it, which reference Lacan's idea of having the signifier disappear from the subject. I'm not totally interested in race in general, but this particular aspect is similar to that of gender for me. Of course my interest in it stems from my own race issues, but I won't be introducing those into my thesis. I've got to talk to my professors before I go any farther. A couple of good things about my examining this book are that I can use the paper for my writing sample, as well as for part of my thesis. Killing birds here, people. I went to Coney Island today. I took an enjoyable ride on the W train accompanied by seven pages of Emily Dickinson poetry that I got from the Internet. I like this train because most of it is spent above the Brooklyn streets. I didn't go so I could ride the rides or sit by the beach. I went to the batting cages. Apparently there is some anger inside of me that I can't realize. Elizabeth is trying to get it out of me. Since I can't very well hit the walls in my house, I figured that hitting some softballs would do the trick. It didn't. I only became more frustrated, because I have lost my swing. With Dickinson' poetry rolled up in my back pocket, I stood in the cage and hit 84 balls; only a few of them would have been hits. So I spent most of my time analyzing my form and trying to correct some stuff. It was nice to hit again, though. And I don't even have blisters. I'm sure I'll be sore tomorrow. After the cages, I took a quick walk on the boardwalk and then sat on a bench and stared at the Atlantic Ocean. I still haven't replaced my headphones so I was forced to listen to the waves. This wasn't such a bad thing. The Spurs are going to be here tomorrow. Not my house -- in NYC. I might pop over to Madison Square Garden and see if I can get a $10 ticket. I've been sick this past week (a touch of bronchitis, I think, because I can hear the stuff all up in my lungs) and so I've been out of it. Coughing, hacking, sneezing, etc. So I should rest. But I don't want to. They won't be back till January and I don't want to wait that long. I also have to do a lot of reading, because I haven't gotten a lot done in the last couple of days. And seeing as though I'm still up, I can't imagine being out of bed before noon. Which means I won't have that long to study before the game starts. Plus I have a paper due on Wednesday. Plus the Cubs might make it to the World Series tomorrow and I have to watch that. So we'll see about the basketball game. So I mentioned this anger thing. Apparently, anger turned inward is depression. Elizabeth, who, by the way, is the best therapist in the whole world, is trying to help me find it concerning the latest developments in my life. So far I haven't been able to. So last Monday, during my first of two sessions for the week (she wanted to see me twice), she told me the office was going to be closed on Friday because of a health day or something. She had forgotten I made an appointment for Wednesday. After I told her this, I asked her if she had to be at this health fair. She said yes and that she was doing a seminar with a colleague, "which you can't come to." I asked her why and she said because it's about how to help a friend in need. I laughed. Then she told me about this session in the afternoon about anger and how to express it. I went. The guy was weird. He told too many stories. Elizabeth was there and asked a question at the very end. It was something to the effect of how do you get someone to find their anger. He asked if this person (me, I'm thinking at this point) was depressed. She said yes. "Do they know they're depressed?" She said yes. So I'm depressed, I guess. He suggested she find ways to bring it out in me. We'll see what happens on Monday. It was funny (actually, none of this is really funny but she's cool because she knows how to talk to me -- she sees through my bullshit, which is what she gets paid for) -- last week at some point, she asked me how I felt about some things she had just recounted for me. I wasn't looking at her, and I leaned forward and said "I don't know" a couple of times. Then I said, "angry?" "Are you really angry, or are you just trying to appease me?" See? Funny stuff. She's exactly what I need right now. My friends have been awesome and I know my life is full of them. I appreciate the long e-mails I've gotten and the time people are willing to spend with me on the phone. In addition to this, I have a therapist (my first real experience with therapy, incidentally) who is a woman not too much older than I am. And she's compassionate. A little over a week ago, I expressed to her in a rant of my disbelief in the fact that there is a woman who actually would want to grow with me in a fucking romantic relationship that -- for love of god -- would last longer than two, three fucking months. Who would ask how I'm doing. Call me in the middle of the day to tell me she misses me and just wanted to say hi. Make a fucking effort for fuck's sake. I expected her to say something like "well, you and I will work on making you believe that." She didn't say that, though. She said something like (I never remember the stuff word for word) "for what it's worth, I believe 100 percent that there is someone like that out there." And then I think she said I was an amazing woman or remarkable woman or something like that. I looked up at her and she was looking right at me. I could barely utter a "thanks," but I did. And she smiled. Now, I know therapists forget about their clients when the session ends, but it meant a lot to me. I might even be able to trust someone when they say things to me. I just gotta get over all this crap basically. 2003 has pretty much sucked so far in the girl department, so I'm really looking forward to 2004. And I will not be picking up any chicks in bars on New Year's. I learned that fucking lesson. There's a first and last time for everything. It just dawned on me that this particular post really feels like a journal entry. I'm lettin' y'all in pretty deep here. Just don't hold it against me. I'm still the punk ass you all know me to be. I'm just exposed a little more than usual right now. I can't hide what's going on inside me. In a way it's a good thing. I refuse to suppress shit (apparently everything except anger). But then I am open to what I see as a lot of sympathy, which makes me uncomfortable because I feel like I'm imposing on people. I'm not looking for sympathy. I've been trying to hold everything together my whole life and it's all coming undone now. Not really. That's so dramatic. It's not all coming undone. I'm just examining it for the first time. But for some reason (ok, it was Alia's pleading) I began counseling. And I'm learning a lot. And it just so happens I'm missing someone through it. So it's tough stuff. And I fear that my sessions are running out. I'm afraid to ask how many I have left (I lost count). Anything else? My lungs are still making noise now. I should go to sleep. I'm not in the mood, though. I feel like just going on and on. Michael Franti and Spearhead and going to be in town next week. I might go see them. I think the ticket is $17. He's awesome. I just started reading The House of Mirth for my race and gender class. I think it's due next Monday; Emily is due tomorrow. I'm not big on her poetry. I have no problem admitting it. Maybe my opinion will change after class. In other good news, I keep losing weight. Woo fucking hoo. When I moved to New York last August, I weighed in at a whopping 262 pounds. Huge mother fucker. The last time I checked (yesterday), I weighed 215. Sweet ass. I wonder if I could lose another 35 pounds. I'm not gonna be able to afford the new clothes, although I did buy myself a sweater yesterday. I can't wear any of my pants without a belt and I can even pull them off with the belt fastened. Ridiculous. But cool, nevertheless. It'd probably come off quicker if I worked out. I haven't done that in months. Well, I cannot think of anything else I'd like to regurgitate onto the screen. It's after 4 now and I'm still probably not going to go to bed yet. I'm gonna listen to Missy (wanna dance) and Kelis (wanna dance still and I'm a masochist).