Wednesday, September 28, 2011


I had a moment with someone tonight. It was late, I was hungry so I got off the train and walked into this Mexican taco shop before heading home. It was completely empty, but as I looked around, I spotted a man sitting in the corner with his head in his hands. I said hello, seemingly startling him. I asked if the restaurant was open and he said yes and immediately stood to his feet. He washed his hands, and asked me what I wanted. I immediately noticed that something was way off. He was either drunk or really consumed by emotion because his words were rushed and slightly unintelligible. I told him I wanted a quesadilla and he nodded but then seemed to drift off into a daze. He ignored my request and instead started talking in circles: he'd been in the shop since 10am [if so, he'd been there 12 hrs], how he was the only one in the store all day, how he had no wife or kids at home and no family here in the States. I couldn't tell if he wanted to punch something or cry uncontrollably. Bewildered, I encouraged him to cancel my order; "Never mind," I smiled, and then hightailed it home as fast as possible, embarrassed at myself for feeling fear at his desperation.

But three hours later, as I found myself in bed with big fat tears streaming down my face, I realized that his heartfelt woes had conjured familiar feelings in me. It has been years since I have been around or felt any genuine love from another person. Dare I say, nearly a decade.  I find that the lack of love in my life - the deprivation of truly believing that someone cares - is taking a toll on me. And this has little to do with feeling empty and unfulfilled and more to do with the sheer absence of a real human need. I constantly feel stressed, anxious and overwhelmed. I often feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I feel alone. I am alone. And though most of the time I'm okay with that reality, I have moments where it feels like I'm crumbling because of it. I have those moments once in a blue during that time of the month where I feel low. Pure rock bottom, true emotional depravity. And there is no one to hug me and say "It will be okay, because I'm here for you." As a matter of fact, I can't even remember the last time I hugged anyone at all. This isn't a cry for help, this is real life. And I'm speaking for every single person out there who feels this same way: you, me, the man at the taco shop.

I wish I'd had the courage to hug him and say "Don't worry. It will be okay."

But I didn't.

All I could do later, in the silence of my sadness, was understand.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

What boredom leads to:

I could say that this post is all about getting to know Lady Blue better, but the truth is, I have 6 drafts sitting in my portfolio that I don't feel like tackling at the moment, so instead I'll show you what happens when I'm pressed for blog material*. Enjoy!

What is one thing that no one knows about you?
There's a lot on my plate, so I often combat feelings of worry and stress [usually triggered by the most inconsequential stuff]. I usually just hide out until the feeling passes.

What's one thing people should know about you?
I have high standards for who I spend time with, but the only people bothered by them tend to be the people who don't meet them. I'm becoming a bit more lenient though, if someone has positive energy and treats me well, that's honestly good enough.

Celebrity Crushes:
Looks-wise: Idris Elba, Columbus Short, Anthony Mackie, Charlize Theron, Jackie Guerrido, Kate Beckingsale, Kim Kardashian [pre-plastic surgery]... I feel like there's more that I'm forgetting. Swag-wise: Pharrell, Gaga, Posh. Style-wise: Posh again, Zanna Rassi, Stacey London.

Celebrity Crushes that I can't explain:
Pitbull, 50 Cent, Ryan Gosling, Bradley Cooper, Teyana Taylor, Justin Bieber!

What are 3 things you do best?
I'm an amazing dancer, I'm a fabulous communicator, I'm highly skilled at understanding people. Such marketable skills!

What are 3 things you do worst?
I'm terrible at lying, I have little patience for most things, and my time management skills generally suck.

What are some of your pet peeves?
People who are immature, people who are delusional [ie: people who are super cocky without the slightest reason to be], poor speech/grammar, when baristas fuck up your coffee, flat soda, poop on the sidewalks, crowded trains, when a weird smell from an NYC street gets in your mouth, extreme superficiality, the term "pet peeves", waking up earlier than 10am, being woken up [although that hasn't happened in forever - thank godness for living alone!], shiftless people, ignorance... is there a cap on this question?

Who is your hero?
...I am my own damn hero!!! Coke Talk says "heroes are for children and idiots". Now I can say this instead of pausing awkwardly for an extended period of time after being asked who my hero is. 

What do you like to do in your spare time?
Well I don't know, it really depends on the weather, and who I'm with and what they like to do, and what I want to wear and what mood I'm in. But usually you can find me sitting on my bed in little to no clothing, engrossed in some new reading material or marveling at my own precious penmanship and witty conjectures.

What are you going to be like when you reach the pinnacle of success?
The fact that I'm not there yet and I already receive much unwanted attention makes me think that it will only multiply once my name is really known. I will always be the same girl whether in the limelight or out: smart, put-together, and just a teeny bit snobby.

What makes you different than all the other bloggers out there?
I've concluded that not only am I a unique and rare flavor in the blogosphere but I'm one of the few non-white women doing it and doing it rather well. Most of the "famous" bloggers are white, pretty and thin with blogs focusing on either fashion or celebrities. My blog focuses on everything but. Not only that, but I can string together a dope paragraph and spark my readers interest better than most of these chicks. I would put money on that in a heartbeat. There's a reason why most of them stick to surefire topics and posting endless photos of themselves.

What are some of your favorite things?
Since I'm indecisive/a Gemini/a rule breaker, I have two answers for most things... except favorite color, because, duh.

Favorite color: Guess!
Favorite song: That's the way love goes by Janet Jackson
Favorite type of music: R&B
Favorite movie: 25th Hour
Favorite genre: Dramas & Thrillers
Favorite food: Anything Italian & Latin
Favorite drink: Anything brown and caffeinated, or lemonade
Favorite drank: Caipirinha or mojito & Champagne
Favorite flower: the red rose & the vanilla orchid
Favorite animal: Elephant
Favorite city: New York & Paris
Favorite philosophy: Live and let live & Be the best you can be!
Favorite cause: Anything to do with the betterment of children's lives & anything that focuses on knowledge of self.

*I think I just broke the number one blogging rule: Never admit that you've run out of material.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Missed Connections

Seeking Sexy Man spotted at The Cove:

I'm looking for the fine specimen of a man I saw at The Cove tonight in Williamsburg. It was a little after midnight.

The sides of your head were shaved, and the hair that was left in the middle was pulled back into these cool dreads/twists. I think.

You were wearing a gray blazer and you had like a, Puerto Rican face. You were alone, standing near the bar.

I was the girl in flannel with friend clumsily heading towards the bar who stared at you creepily [as you smiled] and then laughed in your face as I walked past. I don't know why I did that.

Anyways you are fucking omg gorgeous.

Before I had a chance to compliment you on your interesting style, you disappeared. I was pretty bummed about that.

P.S. - If this guy is your boyfriend... Bitch, I don't care.

Please email me sexy man, I love you.

[Edit: Believe it or not, he found me and emailed me! He even went as far as sending a picture for proof. But unfortunately, the sexy man ended up just wanting sex, so I gave him a thumbs down and kept it movin.]

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Now or Later

Cue "Sittin on the dock of the bay" by Sara Bareilles

An American tourist was at the pier of a small coastal Belizean village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked.

Inside the small boat were several large fish. The tourist complimented the Belizean on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Belizean replied, "Only a little while."

The tourist then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"

The Belizean said, "With this I have more than enough to support my family's needs."

The tourist then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Belizean fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life."

The tourist scoffed, "I can help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat: With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor; eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You could leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Belize City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York where you could run your ever-expanding enterprise."

The Belizean fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?"

The tourist replied, "Oh, 15 to 20 years."

"But what then?" asked the Belizean.

The tourist laughed and said, "That's the best part. When the time is right you would sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."

"Millions?...Then what?"

The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your friends."

-Author Unknown

Just Dance

Poetry in Motion - JaxeNL

So... I'm moving to LA. Not right now and only for a few months, but yes. I'm going to do it. Why? Because I'm secure enough in New York City to leave and return with no issues, because I want to live somewhere entirely different for a little while, because I'm only young [and carefree] once. And, oh yeah, because I want to try my hand at becoming a back-up dancer.


How did I come to such a crazy idea? Well first, I'm a hell of a good dancer. Anyone who has seen me dance can tell you that. And at this point in my life, I've decided that I just wanna make money doing things I'm already good at, instead of learning a whole new talent or skill for pay. And being miles away from home won't interfere with my blogging or my social life [which will undoubtedly go on without me]. I have no technical training, so for now I plan on sticking to hip-hop and contemporary dance, which I know I can realistically ace. And I'm not at all worried about the vanity of the industry because even though I'll be "old" by the time I venture out there, I'm fortunate enough to have a young, attractive "look" and a naturally thin body.

So many things have been pointing me to Los Angeles/California in the past few months. I have friends who already live in LA, NY friends who have talked about moving there, and even a dancer friend or two. One of whom inspired me to take the same risk he took just a few years ago. He moved to LA from Michigan after a near death experience, gave himself three months to land a gig, and the rest [dancing with Lady Gaga and Beyonce to name a few] is history. Now he spends his days doing things he loves: sky diving, working out and doing crazy stunts on his bike.

This video is a choreographed routine to Aaliyah's “One in a million” by Luam [the girl in the bandanna]. I'm dying to take one of her classes at BDC.

I have a lot of work to do... including tons of research, attending a few dance classes here in New York [Broadway Dance Center, here I come!], saving hundred of dollars, and getting my motorcycle license [I plan on driving a vespa - or something like it - all over LA]; so the next few months should be rather interesting. I've always been a dreamer, but this is one of the few times I feel I'm really dreaming BIG.

At worst, I'll have had a short change of pace in the sunny and breezy state of California. And at best, you'll have seen me shaking my ass on TV.

...Also, rhythm is a dancer. [I'm sorry,  I just wanted to throw that in here somewhere.]

P.S. - If anyone wants to say something discouraging... don't... and instead, click here.

Thursday, September 1, 2011


I quietly crept down the stairs trying to get a peek at the couch without making it too obvious why I was even looking. I tiptoed across the creaky hardwood floors of the living room and made it to the kitchen undetected. I flicked on the kitchen light and took a quick look at my surroundings. Without realizing, I swiped a glass sitting at the edge of the counter top clean onto the floor. I crossed my fingers that it hadn't broken into a million pieces - it had, and I hoped that it hadn't woken my host up - it hadn’t. I filled another glass with water and bent down beneath the sink, searching for something to clean up. I navigated around bottles of cleaning solution, various sponges, and paper towels, but found nothing to sweep up. Just as I went to reach for my glass, I spied him leaning against the open doorway of the kitchen. I felt a lump rise in my throat. “Oh, hey,” I gulped. “Sorry, did I wake you?” I asked, although I was more curious about how long he'd been watching me. “Yep, you did,” he nodded, taking a few steps closer to me. 

He was outfitted in black sweats, shirtless, his chest bare and muscular, with biceps and washboard abs that were beautifully defined. He looked adorably sexy, his hair slightly mussy from his short, interrupted slumber. 

I looked down self-consciously at my bare thighs and pulled my nightie down. I didn't look too bad myself, I guessed. As I waited for his next words, I clenched my glass so tightly I thought it might break. “I just came down to get a drink,” I said, hoisting my glass into the air, splashing a little of it onto the ground. “But I kind of made a mess,” I said looking down at the broken glass. I took a gulp of water and looked at him, trying not to ramble. “It was hot up there,” I finished. He moved closer, pushing the chunks of glass aside with his feet. “Are you hot right now?” he asked, his eyes suddenly looking serious. His chest was now pressed against my upper body. My little heart was surging out of my chest and I avoided his glare.“You look like you're burning up,” he smiled. I let my glass of water dump into the sink and wiped my forehead with my cool hand. “A little,” I replied, with a small head nod. My voice was low and nervous. I had a feeling I knew where he was going with this, but I wasn't making the first move. Not in his house, not in his kitchen. Before I could figure out what to do next, he slipped one arm around my waist, plucked my chin up with a finger, and tilted his head to meet my lips. He kissed me lightly and gently at first, and then incorporated his tongue into the kiss. 

And whatever he did, I obediently followed.

Out of nowhere, and what seemed like the result of an adrenaline rush, he picked me up and placed me on a bare spot on the counter. I squealed and giggled like a little girl. He continued to kiss me, and I pressed myself closer, as a warmth began to completely envelope my body. I ran my fingers over his head, on the back of his neck, over his shoulders, all over his back. The kisses felt more intense now, he even began to kiss my cheek and nibble on my neck. I wrapped one of my slim legs around his waist, and then, the other. He moved his hands up and down my thighs, around my hips and butt, up my back and over my waist. Soon enough, he picked me up again, and laid me on the couch he was previously sleeping on. I was on my back and he knelt over me, stopping to look into my eyes for a moment. He smiled a huge know-it-all smile, and I laughed in response, giving him a little shove on the shoulder. He kissed me on the forehead, and I rested my head against his chest. I feel asleep in his arms, and in the morning when I awoke, I found I was alone.