An Open Letter To Another

10/21/12

This is not the conclusion I anticipated. It wasn’t the kind of conclusion I wanted but realizing that this is how it is always going to end makes me realize that I can’t keep holding on, hoping impulse would turn into action that actually would project us further.

This is not meant to be spiteful, nor difficult. This is me reclaiming my worth and realizing you were never going to treat me the way I know I deserve to be treated.

This is not meant to be complex. Though we both know this has been complex for a while now. The way we’re going is going to lead us further down the road, where one of us continues to get hurt while the other is living by the flow, afraid to show how they really feel.

This is not easy for me to write. To admit that though I care about you, though I know there’s a part of you that wants to cherish me, you won’t or can’t or simply don’t know how too. But I can’t teach you, can’t make you, and won’t force this on you. I have to move on and this means leaving you behind.

This is not about revenge; this is about letting go of the part of you that you’ve given me access to and recognizing that you aren’t ready to give me all of you. I can’t continue to let you have such access to me, the ability to come and go as you please, leaving me feeling like a fool.

This is not about being in denial; in fact, the truth is, I am getting past that. Which is why I am able to write this and truly mean every single word I am writing. Letting go of false hope, letting go of the ideal vision I had for the two of us.

This is not easy for me to accept either. Knowing that somewhere, deep down, there’s a part of you being restricted by fear. I stared into your dark brown eyes and knew that the energy that was flowing between us was not insincere.

“We live with what we miss, we learn to build another wall until it falls.”

This is goodbye. Despite how I feel, despite all the potential that lies between us and how much I care, this is goodbye.

This is me facing the truth. No more flip flopping, no more lying to myself. No more pretending to smile in front of you because there was a piece of me that wanted you in this capacity than not at all; having you at half capacity isn’t enough for me because my feelings for you are at full capacity, it is overflowing.

This is me departing. I am leaving with no intention of returning.

This is me wishing you the best, hoping you continue to grow.

This is me telling you that I’m finally letting go.  

-mark (@markingthepath)

In The Midst of Darkness (Talk About It)

In The Midst of Darkness   -- 8/14/12

In the last eight weeks, my life has been turned upside down. I would consider it hitting rock bottom, having my life unravel before my eyes, and discovering the ultimate strength that lies within me.

Yes, tiny but mighty. Loud and proud, in the face of failure, disappointment and shame—I stand before you, in the midst of darkness to simply tell you that I will not give up. This is not the end of me nor will I allow the past eight weeks to distract me from my ultimate goal.

The truth is, we all fail at some point, in some way, what matters is not why we failed but why we decided to keep trying, to keep going even when the rest of the world around us would understand why we gave up, give in, and simply walked away. I am not a quitter and although I’ve realized in the last eight weeks that I have my fair share of doubters, haters, and those who relish in my misery, I have a greater responsibility to myself, to those who believe in me, and to my dreams and aspirations.

I may not be where I thought I would be but I know I am heading down the path I am meant to travel. So no, I won’t be the resident assistant I thought I would be in the fall, yes, I epically fucked up and lost out on an opportunity.  Yes, this experience has been a black eye to my image, a cause of disappointment in many but I will not tremble in the midst of darkness and give up.

The inner voice inside of me keeps me going. The pain, agony, and frustrations I’ve dealt with in the last eight weeks has been some of the worse I’ve had to deal with. I thought about giving up on life, on giving in to all the negative energy but something kept me here, something told me that this too shall pass and that every night there is darkness so we may greet the light with greater appreciation.

We always hear about suicide, about those who have died or those who failed when they tried but rarely do we hear about those who were haunted with the thoughts but never attempted. Thoughts so pervasive, so intense, the line of reality was so blurred you could imagine your demise in a variety of ways. Yet, even through that experience, even when I felt at my lowest, there was a faint voice telling me that this darkness is temporary; this feeling of despair would pass.

I guess I am sharing this because I know I am not alone, I know I am not the only one who kept fighting the thoughts, who almost lost sight because of the darkness. We all face difficult times in our lives, what makes our lives memorable are the defining moments when we decide we will not give up, that we will live to fight another day.

Every day since the blackout, I think about how one bad night could change my life in such a drastic way and I think about the fact that I’ll never remember all that transpired that night or how I ended up where I did. Yet somehow, being found the way I was, forced me to find myself and reconnect with the side of me I had been ignoring.

To be human is to live through error, learn, and hope to improve with each passing day. In the midst of darkness, I find my inner light, now it is your turn to find the inner light and guide yourself home.

-mark 

When My Words Aren’t Enough

7/24/12

I think we all have that one person in our lives that no matter how much we tell them we love them or how beautiful they are to us, they will doubt us and themselves. It is what happens when an individual is insecure and refuses to believe that they are loved and beautiful beyond measure.

I find myself growing restless with him, trying so hard to save him, to rid him of his insecurities but the truth is, he is fighting a war I cannot participate in, he is at war with himself. As I watch him build his walls, his barriers, as I watch him shut down and keep me out, I grieved for him. I grieve for the beautiful person he hates, I feel hurt because I can’t stop the self-inflicting misery he is causing himself.

As he lashes out, acts out of character, and continues to put distance between us, I am realizing that my words aren’t enough and when they aren’t enough, I simply must accept the fact that nothing I say or do will change his perception. He will still look in the mirror and believe he is not beautiful. He still will look in the mirror and believe he is not loved. He will still look in the mirror and believe that he cannot trust anyone because he has been hurt.

This puts me in a situation I cannot control and while it hurts me to see him this way, I won’t be his emotional punching bag. I won’t put my life on hold anymore, and I won’t allow him to drain me in his process of self-destruction.

When my words aren’t enough, I hope the love I have for him is enough—maybe one day he will wake up and realize that he was loved and admired all along. That he will wake up and look into the mirror and see himself the way I view him, one day.

Living For Today

Living For Today   -- 7/14/12

I am a forward thinker—meaning I think about the end before getting through the beginning and sometimes in life, you can’t live for tomorrow, but you have to live for today.

I am learning to do just that—living for today and enjoying every moment of it. Life is a constant cycle of growth and development, when one aspect of who we were dies, another aspect of who we will become arises.

Every day I have the opportunity to do something productive with my time, the freedom to do as I please and I don’t take my good fortunate for granted. Regardless of any hardships I am currently facing, I know I was not built to break and I know I was built to live for today.

I use to let the unknown stress me, struggled to go with the flow but I am learning that sometimes going with the flow is the only option—life is fluid and I cannot resist it any longer.

So if you are worried about tomorrow, pending issues, circumstances you can not seem to get through—just live for today and remember that every passing day puts you one step closer to overcoming your obstacles.

Thanking the universe for inspiring me, allowing me to live the life I live, and for helping me realize that there’s no day but today, so I am going to enjoy it and you should to.

-mark 

Rejection, Deflection, and A Moment of Reflection  -- 7/4/12

            Rejection of who you once were in order to accept the person you have become is the first step in embracing every aspect of who you are today. It is expected to deflect, to be in denial of the fact that who you once were is no longer in existence. So often we focus our energy in preserving ourselves rather than using that energy to embrace change and our own evolution. Now is the right time to reflect on everything—a moment of reflection is needed, especially during times of discomfort.

            In the past week I saw my life, as I once knew it, crumble right before my eyes. I had to fall on my face to realize how fortunate I am to live the life I live, to have the people I have in it, and for all the lessons.  During this moment, I also realized that I was being unfair to myself—putting myself in a situation where I would be self-destructive because for so long I rejected the truth that I can not please everyone, that I will not be able to change the perceptions people have of me, and while I was deflecting the truth, I lost sight of who I really was.

     

       Until a week ago, I had forgotten what it felt like to be human—to feel vulnerable, weak, imperfect, and flawed. Somewhere along the way, I developed this coping mechanism that would allow me to maintain my persona [the part of me everyone always saw—the smiling, the laughter, the joyous side] while turning the other side of me into a robot—routines, schedules, and expectations were maintained because I had shut down every aspect of myself that would prevent me from being able to do so.

            

         I wanted to so desperately reject the fact that I can’t always fit in, that I will always be an outsider in some areas of my life, and while this past week may have been a wake up call, it was also a reminder of who I really am. While I was trying to “fit the mold, and the more I tried, the less it was working”, I had to remember and hold onto the person I am—the evolved version of myself. No longer could I deflect the reality of the situation I was in, I was a ticking bomb waiting to explode and once I did—it caused a lot of damage, not only to my “image”, my spirit, but also to those who have believed in me from the start of my journey.

         

      As I reflect on this past week, I remind myself just how human I am, how imperfect I will always be, the reality that people would rather hate me, misunderstand me, then to take the time to get to know me—that isn’t my problem to hoard anymore. I can never forget who I am and why I am the person I am today, I can never forget that I will, without doubt, disappoint those I care for the most.

   

      All I can do is hope that time will heal the hurt, that every step I take forward will be one step further from that dark space that invaded me for a while. Today marks America’s independence, but today also marks the first day in the past week that I feel like myself again—I am accepting who I am today and rejecting who I was then because I have to continue to grow, learn, and evolve to new heights.

      

    Remember there is nothing wrong with who you are or who you will become in time…smile knowing that in life, with every fall, there’s a rise, continue to reach for higher ground.  To those who have been hurt or impacted some way by my recent actions—know that my heart weights heavy, my regret is profound, and as much as I said sorry to those people in the past week, the truth is—I can’t say sorry for messing up, for being human, and having to endure this growing pain—but I will say sorry that my actions and inactions caused all of this negative energy and hurt.

     That was never my intention.

-mark 

An Open Letter To A Former Lover  -- 7/4/12

            I remember the first day I saw you like it was yesterday. Froze with uncertainty, not sure if who I saw in the profile photo was really the person standing across from me. I reached out to you later that week, and then the rest of it was history. 

            I remember the first day I met you, it was the second annual Silk City Arts Festival at Eastside Park, I remember thinking to myself, “wow, this dude is tall, or I am just super short.” I remember taking a walk around the park as we saw the artists perform, meeting your friend, sitting at the park bench. I remember that day, how impressed I was with the fact that you walked a great distance in the heat to meet me.

            I remember the first time I met your mom, the fear I felt that she would think I was not worthy of her son’s attention or his affection. That day marked an important one; I met your mom and gained her approval.  

            I remember the first time I gave up on us, scared, immature, and finding every reason to walk away from you. I remember the disappointment in your eyes; I remember the guilt I felt. 

            I remember the first time I realized I had lost you for good; you started talking to a guy who went to my school. Rumors were spreading, I was angry with you, but even more upset with myself because I gave up on you, I was to blame for losing you.

            I remember the first time we hung out since our break-up. It was Valentine’s Day; you were the first guy to ever ask me to be their Valentine. We traveled into the City, ate at the bar of this Italian place, you gave me a card, wrote a sweet message inside, then you took me to see Bryant Park for the first time. There was a bitterness felt in the cold but such warmth knowing you were near, that we were here, sharing this experience.

            I remember the first time we decided we wanted to make this work, that we really liked one another. You and I decided to give it another try.

            I remember the first time I met the rest of your immediate family. Your mom invited me to have dinner with you, your little sister, and your stepfather. We went to BBQ’s and you were terrified, this was the first time any guy had dinner with your family. I wondered if you knew just how terrified I was as well.

            I remember the first time you and I went back to the Silk City Arts Festival but this time you were helping us out. I had volunteered you on your day off to work for free, I remember taking your phone and making us Facebook official.

            I remember the first time we said we loved one another, butterflies were fluttering around my stomach; I looked into your eyes and knew it wasn’t a lie.            

            I remember the first time I realized our lives were heading down two different paths. As we endured the ups and downs, the good, the bad, and the ugly shouting matches we would have. I remember being in my first semester of college and crying because I felt the distance forming.

            I remember the first time we both knew it was really over, as we sat in your car and said goodbye—Adele had just performed “Someone Like You” for the first time, and I cried for days.

            I remember the first time we hooked up after our break-up because there was still comfort found when we were together.

            I remember the first time we talked about the guys you’d hooked up with, I remember listening because I wanted to be a supportive friend.

            I remember the first time I slept over your place, how I was the first guy to ever do so. I remember the last time I slept over your place, it was the night before my first major company show, you were being cold but told me you would come to the show. I didn’t know then that I would not see you again until eight months later, that the day you dropped me off marked the beginning of the end, the finale, this was it.

            I remember the first time we spoke since I saw you last, it was a month later and your words cut me like a sword, through your texts you were telling me how you really felt, I felt a part of my heart break that day.

            I remember the first time we ever crossed the line—the first time we yelled at one another and called one another out of our names. It was a dark day, we had grown apart, changed, and in the years we’ve known one another, that day marked the first time we had ever disrespected one another.

            I remember the first time we had a heart to heart conversation after the huge argument. You apologized for hurting me; I apologized for not being able to understand that you needed your space to grow. You had been drinking and your words broke me down—saying how much you missed me, how much you missed the person you were when you were with me. How you wish you could hold me, and make the hurt go away.

            I remember the first time I saw you since September; eight months had gone by. That day, a vibrant rainbow appeared in the sky, I thought for sure it was the universe showing me a sign. I got into the car and I was nervous as hell. I kept staring at you, trying to see if I would recognize you, despite all the changes. I grabbed your hand to see if touching you would give me the same spark it use to give me, instead your moved your hand away from mine. I remember sitting across from you as we ate, catching up with you and feeling as if the person I fell in love with had disappeared, checked out, and wouldn’t be returning. You accused me of over thinking everything, I defended myself by saying this is who I’ve always been, and I process things differently.

            I remember the first time I came to grips with the reality that you and I would never go back to where we were, that things between us would never be the same. I had been in denial. I realized that our love was not enough. I called you drunk, while watching the Adele concert, we spoke for almost an hour, sobbing, screaming, and just simply hurting. I remember apologizing the next day for my outburst and reflecting on the fact that for the first time since all of this unfolded, I had heard concern in your voice. For the first time, I heard you fighting for us; I heard a glimpse of the person you were before.

            I remember all of this and I wonder if you do as well—“I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness, and I wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head. But don’t you remember, don’t you remember the reason you loved me before, baby please remember me, once more.”

            When time begins to weaken our memory, we can read this letter and remember forever: the memories, regrets, mistakes, difficulties, passion, and love we once shared. I hope that someday, you’ll find someone who makes you truly happy, that you continue to discover yourself and grow. I hope one day, I’ll be lucky enough to find someone like you, and someone who will love me despite the flaws I have. Adele said sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead, I don’t want us to last in hurt but to reflect and smile because these were some amazing and special moments in our lives. Some of my best moments in life were shared with you. I wish you nothing but the best, happiness, and continued success.

 
-mark

The Cause Is Not The Solution: Trayvon Martin's Death

The death of Florida teen Trayvon Martin has sparked a national debate, marches, and also has brought racism to the forefront of our discussion as a nation. Despite my anger toward the situation and how much it reminds me of the progress that needs to be done, I don’t believe in fighting hatred with hatred.

As hard as it may be to admit that racism still plays a major role in American society, despite decades of progress and the election of the first African-American president, racism is alive and thriving. I, like many Americans, felt disheartened by the tragedy of Martin’s death. George Zimmerman, the admitted shooter, has yet to be brought to justice because of the “Stand Your Ground” law that Florida has in place. The law allows individuals to defend themselves using deadly force. However, I don’t think we are helping to change perceptions or dispel stereotypes when we begin to use racial slurs against white people.

Many people are using Twitter and Facebook to post and refer to Zimmerman as a “cracker,” adding fuel to an already heated racial discussion. As a Latino, I have to wonder what harm occurs when we only hold white people accountable for what is considered politically correct. The truth is that it is not considered politically or socially correct for a white person to use the “N” word, yet in the midst of arguing about racism in America, blacks and Latinos are spewing hatred and bigotry.

This is a sad story ignited by what many believe to be racism but the truth is that only Zimmerman knows exactly what caused him to pull the trigger. While I believe racism played the indicating factor, I don’t think we are helping our community or anyone else by continuing the cycle of prejudice. We need to stop feeding into perceptions, change our cultural language and make racism a thing of the past. Change starts with all of us taking responsibility for the hatred we put out.

Bigotry was the cause of Martin’s death, but it won’t be the solution to the greater issue at hand—to put an end to racism, we need to end the hate within ourselves and help educate others to do the same.

Mark is a gay activist who works with young African-Americans and Latinos who are a part of the LGBT to educate them about a variety of social issues. He majors in Communication and Women's & Gender Studies at William Paterson University of New Jersey. You can email him your comments at markedblogs@gmail.com

A Series of Fortunate Events

About five years ago I started dancing; a disabled, chubby, and socially awkward young boy who never saw dance as an option. My mentor Erin Pride took a moment to believe in me when no one else did and that sparked a series of fortunate events.

Since starting my dance company in March of 2009, marked dance project, a dance company for disabled and nondisabled dancers, which has given me the opportunity to perform all over the Tri-State area and has introduced me to some of the most fantastic people I know in my life.

About a year ago I came across a video of a dance routine using the song “It Doesn’t Hurt” by Katie Thompson, I instantly fell in love with the choreography but didn’t bother to look up the choreographer or any other piece they may have choreographed. A few weeks went by and a friend shared the “It Doesn’t Hurt” piece again and once again I was blown away and decided to look for more routines from the choreographer.

Suddenly I caught myself watching more and more videos and realized the choreographer was a woman named Marinda Davis. Being the social media stalker that I am, I decided I would reach out to Marinda and ask her to teach a master class for marked dance project. A complete stranger yet she replied to me and ever since we’ve been connected.

After a few master classes with Marinda, I was hooked and became a fan! When marInspired was preparing for the show, “breakable”, I knew I wanted to support Marinda and the Kickstarter fundraiser because I believe in supporting local artists, but more so because she had taken the time to teach people who aren’t the typical dancers she interacts with on an every day basis.

She was working with dancers who were in wheelchairs and while some instructors might be turned off by that, Marinda made every dancer feel as if they were part of the class. Her willingness to help all dancers grow, despite abilities or disabilities really touched my heart.

Well a year later, “breakable” is scheduled to happen in the summer and then unfortunately Hurricane Irene happened. I felt so bad for Marinda, having just produced “Spectrum” which marInspired was a part of, I know how much hard work, love, passion, sweat, tears and time goes into a production and for nature to just undo all of that work—left me devastated for her.
Yet, this is where I think the title of the blog comes into play—I think the show getting postponed was what the universe wanted to occur. Due to the postponement, a matinee show was added (which allowed me to go see the show with my best friend Crystal), and I am sure it allowed for more time to perfect the routines, production and any other detail.

“breakable” was thought provoking, raw, moving, and an experience of a lifetime. I felt as if I were reading Marinda’s diary, reading some of her most private pages, seeing it all come alive on the stage through dance—suddenly, I felt as if I learned a lot about a person the universe put in my path, someone I’ve come to love and admire as an artist. The thematic nature of the show made me feel as if I was sitting in on a production of “dance-drama”—it was not your typical dance show. I appreciated her unique style of commercialized and concert dance but what I appreciated most of all was the honesty in the work. The dancers brought the stories to life, giving of their physical bodies in their attempt to allow the audience to experience everything Marinda was going through.

The multimedia usage gave “breakable” a modern-futuristic feel without taking away from the dance performances. The lighting, costuming and use of props truly elevated the choreography, as it should in any well-produced production.

Marinda’s story is one that I will remember forever…through a series of fortunate events, I was able to witness what I saw in the videos on Youtube in person and it made me appreciate her work even more. It was an honor to be mentioned in the program and for my dance company to be included in her biography. That was a surreal moment for me, I even got emotional. I realize how fortunate I am that my dance company has given me so many opportunities I would have missed out on had my mentor not take me under her wing. For someone like Marinda who is established, highly respected and admired in the dance community to include me and MDP made me feel like I was no longer a "wannabe" but that I was an artist with a company that was worthy of mention. That truly touched my heart!

It is an even greater honor to say that I have been marInspired!

Thank you Marinda*

A Selfish Road

Sometimes when we walk down the path...we must walk it alone.

A selfish journey, one that forces an individual to focus solely on them and no one else. In that lies the isolation, the loneliness that is incomprehensible, and the time needed to self-reflect.

As I travel down this selfish road, I am left to wonder what it is all worth. All that I've given up and lost in the many attempts to get to this point, the detours, roadblocks, potholes and stop signs.

Traveling down the road because I am marking the path in the hopes that others may one day follow in my footsteps, learn from my failures and experience my success with the same feeling of accomplishment that I have felt.

--mark

Writer's Note:

I am so sorry I haven't published since July but I am back. Going to make time to post at least once a week.

xo