Initiation Tool - create "Morning Pages", writing 3 pages longhand every morning (90 days straight)Fri. Aug. 27, 2010 - "Morning Pages" - Day #17 - Bay Ridge between 84th/85th St./Fort Hamilton, a bench.
I sit down on the bench to get comfortable, surrounded by empty benches, except across and through bushes a husband and wife (as they appear to be) sit with a baby carriage, and their two boys (as they appear to be) are playing catch with an orange squid-like ball. The family appears to be comfortable, all accepting their roles, in this family, and within this stage of life. And of course, as the saying goes, everything isn't the way it appears to be, it is? I appear to be a stunning red headed 20-something that's simply enjoying a summer day with a pen and pad on a park bench, or is this a rotunda? Now, with looks, most people are what they appear to be. Yes, I am this stunning. I looked at myself for hours in the bathroom mirror this morning, and would have continued for hours to come, but my brother (not as stunning) had to take, what he later titled, "The biggest shit of his life"...
I take out my headphones with the hopes to become more comfortable. I may appear to be comfortable, but underneath this navy blue-T, is a sweater, cut-off style, but some may think it appears as an animal of some kind growing out my chest, but no, it's really just hair. It keeps me warm when it gets cold at night, and makes me sweat when simply walking down the street going to the deli for that pound of ham, half pound American cheese, my go-to sandwich choice -- leaving sweat stains in random spots. A man works out, and he usually sweats under his pits. I walk down the street and sweat in blotches, one on the right side of my abs (of steal), another on my back near the back-hair-trail to my ass. Walking down the street sweating isn't comfortable, it is? But, since I appear so stunning, and so smooth with my new and perfected walk, they, and by they I mean black people, and by black people, I mean everyone that isn't white...they don't see me sweat, never let 'em, they say. Underneath this navy blue-T is that animal growing out my chest, under that is a hurt soul of a man that's freckled and still is morning the loss of his glow stick, a soul can be freckled? Another great example being - a Speedo appears good on you Mista when trying it on in the clothing store, those mirrors are proof magic exists, they aren't?
That family's now playing keep away of some kind...the annoying kind from my benches point of view. The bird shit lounging on the bench next to me agrees.
I guess I bring up "what appears" and what's comfortable because I have been substitute teaching for a decade. I graduated college in May 2005, and have been subbing since, so the Math is a little off, but my point couldn't be more on, it could? It may appear that I'm comfortable just subbing my life away, but the truth is that I just feel I can reach the children, they're tomorrow's leaders, you know, from the subbing position better rather than being the "real" teacher, yes quotes. Of course sarcasm, and the real truth is that I am definitely not comfortable, nor did I, or do I, plan on subbing for a real decade. That would be doing what that dick over there said I was doing, "You're throwing your education away". Well, I've observed and learned that cliche saying of "everything's not the way it appears". And, well, I may appear I'm settling for this life, career (lack of) I have, don't have, etc. and whatever...While there are others that have careers, and appear to be using that education to the fullest, but on the insides they are missing something way worse than a glow stick...
...I may have appeared to have a point, or was going somewhere with that. I would be much more comfortable right now, and eventually with the idea that people will read this, if I did have that point, or knowledge of where this writing was going. Maybe that is the point. Like I had known or planned to be on this Bay Ridge bench at this point in my life. I'm sure you didn't have a clue you'd be where you are at this point in your life. I'm trying to be done caring about what I may appear as to other people. Anyways, I guess that's selfish of me for even thinking people give a shit about where I'm going. I'm trying to be done with just being comfortable. Writing, in particular, at this moment, is far from comfortable. I just ate lunch, but my stomach's turning, my arms shaking somewhat, my face cringing. I don't know how to wrap all this up and it leaves me nauseous. I guess all I can do is keep writing. Hey, I look at Daily Nuggets and it appears that the writing is piling up. It makes me feel good to see that. I feel like I'm heading somewhere with this, but obviously don't know exactly where. That's wrapped enough for now, but let me leave with this...Ask my brother about "what appears"...he thought he had a date with this hot chick...what appeared to be one...and that's offensive, not because I called her a chick, but because she was not what she appeared to be...
...So, even to oneself things aren't always as they appear...and the next time you think you're heading nowhere, think of this writing and my brother's story...he appears to be over it, but...who knows, who knows?
And in closing, I had written in one of the margins after hearing my brother's story: And that's why I like the "real" girls...comfort isn't always stagnation, sometimes it's just Dockers slacks.
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