I PRANCE.

My grandparents have the most wonderful apartment to dance in. I am so grateful for that.

Aug 10, 2015

I PRANCE.

All around the rooms of this spacious and out of my league apartment. The walls hold in their barriers the silent cries of my loneliness. You are near. You seem to be close at least. You are not physically here. You are not near. But but but but but but I know you still care. I get the feeling you want to talk to me but get discouraged because I am travelling. Am I crazy to think that? Am I the one who is discouraged. Nate Ruess was right: we are “nothing without love”.

New York vs Toronto

 

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First New York trip by myself.

July 5, 2015

THE STREETS.

I am wondering alone in the streets of New York. There are people but I feel lonely. There are groups of girls in dresses on a girls night. There are men with their dogs or food take-out. There are tourists with sweet hearts. There are tourists with accents. There are tourists with complete disgust for other tourists. There are tourists who look confident with their maps but are actually clueless. UNHELPFUL. Still I am here and making my presence in New York City. At 9:31 pm. I am here. Smelling it. Feeling it. Pushing through it. I helped a lady find her way, feeling like a real resident. I watched as a Muslim, a photographer and a post-yoga class lady walked within 5 minutes of each other. They could one day meet again. Their paths inter crossing. I think I just saw Giovani from ADA riding a horse carriage. There’s horses around me.


First trip to Toronto where it felt like home.

Aug 8, 2015

I HAVE BECOME.

People and dancers and tourists and children seem to look to me for advice. Is it the hat? Is it the new found confidence? I have become a local. I love this place. It’s safe. It’s filled of art and gorgeous scenes from the subway bustle to the quiet night time skyline. Many moments of calmness in a big town is not what I am used to but I love it. I wish I could understand my choice for next year. I want to live in New York because…? I need to have a reason. I want to live in Toronto because of the connections, the friends, the familiarity, the art. But NY is dangerous and witty and dirty and spontaneous… And cooler.

WITNESS

I wrote this during rehearsals for Emma Portner‘s first company (FLOCK’dance) full length show. It was and continues to be one of the best production experiences I have ever had.

July 28, 2015

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WITNESS

I’ve been present for so much in the past 4 days. I don’t know if my body is receiving it or if my mind is processing it but I feel completely immersed. It’s exciting to put so much into one thing. To be fulfilled by only one thing entirely. Having those moments of awe and transformation. I’m a new person. I feel like I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel lost, though I am not happy nor sad about it. I am reincarnated and it’s inevitable.

I slept on your side today

First draft.

Apr 15, 2015

I SLEPT ON YOUR SIDE TODAY

I slept on the emptiness that replaces you. You are invisible but awake in my bed. I wanted to feel even a small crease in the sheets that you are assigned to sleep on. I wanted to know that your inexistent presence could be touched by my desperate body. Does the world stop when you sleep in your bed? Given that the comfort of my own side of this bed is all that I have left, I made the choice to find out what lies beside me. I made the courage happen. I made YOU happen again. Night after tearful night. The world stops when I close the lights and work my way into a calming sleep. Did you even sense me? I suppose your feeling is opposing, meaning that your side of your bed holds your infinite body. Meanwhile, the other side of your bed holds a creation that seeks love for you. I only seek your soul. Did you grab the sheets in loneliness? I did, that night, that I slept on your side.

Second draft.

Sept 12, 2017

I SLEPT ON YOUR SIDE TODAY.

I slept on the emptiness that replaces you. You are invisible, but awake in my bed. I wanted to feel even a small crease in the sheets that was assigned for you to sleep on. Only you. I wanted to know that your inexistent presence could be touched by my desperate body. Without it hurting you.

Does the world stop when you sleep in your bed? Does my smell ever seep into your sheets? Given that my own side of this bed is all I have left, I made the choice to find out what lies beside me.

I made the courage happen.

I made YOU happen again.

Night after tearful night.

The world stops when I close the lights and work my way into a calming sleep. I mean, do you even think about the way the mattress used to feel like a boat? We used to swim together. Across the sheets that felt like waves, clutching to the head board that felt like a life jacket.

I suppose I shouldn’t expect so much of you. When did it become necessary for lovers to care for each other?

Fading back to reality though, I am lying here on your side. The smell of

love and sex and no clothing and late nights and laughter and ruffled sheets and confusing motivation

weaves through the gases of this air. While my fan blows my hair out of my face, you brush into the hallowed walls of my brain. It always seems to be night time for me to be conscious of you. I can feel you more in darkness. Does that mean you are a dark and twisted soul, unfit for a romance?

Do you grab the sheets in loneliness? I did, last night, when I slept on your side.

Video and final project.

 

Half-filled?

I remember writing this one night when I first connected with the moon. I have a very close relationship with this natural satellite because when ever I can’t sleep I always look through my window without my glasses and bask in the blurry image of a white light shining on me.

Oct 2, 2014

HALF-FILLED?

You gaze under a half-moon. You get the feeling that the shape is yet to be completed, like the empty light longs to be reflected. My glasses are pulled off in the most aggressive way. Clarity isn’t an option at the moment. Gazing back, that lunar light has found its time. Yes, you squint and your headache increases, but you make the choice for you. Because even when the particles of your Ora blend in with you surroundings, you still shed energy. You still have filled the capacity you could at that moment.

When duck lips became popular.

Another piece from my archives. I felt lost at this time because I didn’t want to take selfies or push out my hips (I mean lips). I still don’t but now, I can admit it.

Jan 01, 2013

THOUGHT #3

Looking panoramically at the different social circles I visit on a daily basis, I see people who are comfortable with how they act and the choices they decide. They search for normality and feel okay; they never want to feel like an outcast or like people are judging them. And I blame the media. For sure. As promised, proof that I have a world-changing idea is as follows:

Selfies: Like c’mon, I see you almost everyday. Do I need to see you wearing the lips of a duck or looking like an idiot. There is also absolutely no reason to see your arms or your room in the background. NO ONE CARES.

A love story from simpler times

This was one of the first pieces I ever wrote. It came from my mind during a creative writing course I was taking back in seventh grade. Enjoy a giddy version of me.

Aug 6, 2012

THOUGHT #2

I’m in drama class with all my close friends. Perched in the middle of our acting circle is Mrs. Acting Teacher, the fun-est teacher I’ve ever had. She is explaining our new topic for this week, acting the feeling of LOVE. As usual, I’m trying to listen but I find myself thinking about him, who is on the other side of the room. The best relief I had was that faithful first day of freshmen year and the knowing that he is in my drama class. I heard Mrs. Acting Teacher trying to get my attention and snap back from my day-dream. She asks me what I think the meaning of love is and instead of laying low and joking about it, the words come out of my mouth like vomit. Eww gross. I tell her, “It’s like you’re shook up from the way someone makes you feel. You’re vulnerable, but everything always fits together when you’re with him.” The whole time, my bug-out eyes are still and focused. Mrs. Acting Teacher smirks at me and goes back to her desk demanding I tell her if I’m in love because that was just beautiful and completely exact. I know right away my cheeks are burning up and I can’t stop smiling. I mumble a very slippery “No” and hug my knees with my head hidden. Why do these things keep happening? But it’s not like I don’t enjoy a little attention. 🙂 Everyone else around me obviously doesn’t believe my excuse of a “no” and I hear scrambled dialogue of “Oh sure,” “That’s a lie!” and “She’s so in love.” And finally, the three words I hate to be present for. “SHE LIKES HIM!” Now my lunch has been ruined and I feel actual vomit coming up. He knows how to handle these moments colloquially and he speaks up for himself by saying “Aw. Do you like me, Brianna?” I’m not looking at him of course. Who would? I’m trying to defend myself but an alibi is not leaving my mouth. My best friend’s eyes and my eyes meet and I beam my thought. Help! She takes control and lawyers with “That’s not true, she told me herself.” “Then why is she blushing?” some idiot asks. Probably Dumb Kid #1. Then, my best friend, the genius, says “Who wouldn’t?” and everyone shuts up. Mrs. Acting Teacher, who realizes she made a mistake of saying that, changes the subject back to our acting assignment of the week and I go back to silently fantasizing about him. Him. He. Me. His. Mine. Someday ours.