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

A Fall From Grace

“Grace is the absence of everything that indicates pain or difficulty, hesitation or incongruity.” --William Hazlitt

According to Hazlitt, grace is the absence of everything that indicates pain or difficulty, hesitation or incongruity. Then I am sad to come to the realization that one of my dearest friends has fallen from grace.

For the last four years I have invested so much love, care and myself into a friendship that up to today, I valued more than anything else. But after writing about my newfound perspective, I would be remised if I didn’t listen to my mind, heart and spirit. This is why I find it so difficult, to admit to myself that my friend has fallen from grace, and that she needs to grow up.

As much as it hurts me to separate myself from her, as much as it pains me to see a friendship diminish, I know that I cannot keep someone around me who is going to be toxic. I find myself crying as I am writing this sentence, and my heart breaks because I know that a part of me just wants to pretend like words weren’t shared, that none of this is happening. Sadly, friendships end—but I refuse to call this the end, I just think she needs to lose me, in order to appreciate the friendship we had.

I however, could be wrong. Perhaps losing our friendship will do nothing to her; if she keeps up with her childish and selfish tendencies, I am afraid my absence will mean nothing. Yet, if I think like that, it will only hurt me more. The truth is, life happens and people grow apart.

Relationships, whether they be romantic or not take work, and it takes sincere effort. If you invest all of yourself but get nothing in return then you have no choice but to reconsider whether or not it is an investment you should make.

For tonight, my will is not to catch her before she hits the ground, but my hope is that she will be able to fall and rise again. For the last several months I’ve sensed that she’s been losing herself and while I’ve tried to poke and pry it out of her, sometimes no amount of concern or love can save someone. Sometimes a person just needs to fall, wipe him or herself off and stand on their own.

Perhaps it is immature of me to vent via my blog, but when I am at a lost for words and unable to reply—I find it therapeutic and helpful to write it out in a blog. While my dear friend may never read this, I hope she understands my reasons for distancing myself, that she may read this and understand my sadness, hurt and frustration.

Maybe all it takes is a fall to make sense of it all.

It will take effort and time in order to regain the grace you have lost my friend, but I wish you well as you continue on this journey.

Eat, Believe, Love

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master..."
— Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)


Here I thought I was missing something in my life, that there was this black hole draining all of the happiness from me. I was so preoccupied in trying to find someone that I lost myself and didn’t even realize it. I was the black hole, and I was destroying all of the positive aspects of my life by only focusing on the negative.

I retreated to bad habits; trying to find comfort in the arms of anyone, thinking that lust would turn into love, that my belief that there is good in everyone was false, and I would eat my sorrows away, only to later self-loathe over the weight gained.
But yesterday right before I started watching most of the Eat, Pray, Love film, I had an epiphany, and it stemmed from a passionate moment I shared with someone from my past. I’ll call that person, “John”- John came to see me after a year passed us by. John was someone that I liked a lot and was always in the back of my mind. Yet, I knew then and now that John and I would never end up together because our lives are on two different paths; that, plus he has a boyfriend.

Although I knew that, seeing John again caused me to have butterflies, as I examined how much his face matured, of how his body changed shape, and the roughness of his hands. We were catching up, and the connection between us as we played around and goofed off was evident. When I leaned in for the kiss, it was like we were no longer fighting against gravity and finally allowing nature to have its way.

It should have felt wrong, but it felt so right. While I had hooked up with others before, none compared to the moment I shared with John. The way his lips made me tingle as he kissed my neck, the security I felt as he held me, and a level of intimacy I hadn’t felt since my break-up.

All the tension and stress I had been holding onto within my physical body suddenly lifted. There was this sense of calmness, and then it struck me! I realized how much I have to offer, and that there will come a time when someone will hold me the way John did, and that it is possible to love yourself, find you and wait for that someone else to be that “mirror”- Liz spoke about in the above quote.

As I re-heated some leftover pasta I cooked the day before, I realized “Eat, Pray, Love” was playing and I began to watch it. Ironically she was eating in Italy, as I was eating pasta. I went on the journey the film takes you on, which I was told, differs from the impact that book has. But, this isn’t a blog about Eat, Pray, Love- although it was inspired by it.

This is about enjoying life, eating the food you enjoy and loving your body despite its imperfections. It is about believing in yourself, and whatever your spiritual guide may be. It is about not giving up on love, and learning to love yourself regardless of how lost life has made you feel.

After John left, and I began to watch the film I had a realization that has kept me in a good mood for the last thirty-six hours. Since the end of May, the insecurities that were driving me mad, and the sadness I felt was suddenly lifted. I ate the pasta (which by the way, tasted even better the second day), I reconnected with my core beliefs, and I made the choice that I was no longer going to have random hook ups with guys, just to feel lust. I am going to wait until I can feel the love, until my soul mate makes his stop on my path, and reveals more about me.

The beauty of life lies in our ability to alter how we perceive it and the actions we take in order to live it. So rather focusing on what I want but don’t have, I will enjoy all that I do have and relish in the idea that one day, I will find someone who will knock me off my balance, while restoring the balance so that two individuals (the two of us) can share our lives together.

I am going to focus on me in the meantime, and reconnect with the parts of myself I have lost in the last year. While growing up is a constant process of loss and gain, I know I have to try to retain myself again. I don’t want to live life angrily. I don’t want to be bitter. Instead, I want to eat, believe and love every day of my life, until my very last breath.

17 & marked

Gail Devers once said

"Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe."
Every dream begins with its dreamer, and what is produced out of that dream, is the result of the dreamer’s ability to take action. So here’s my story, I was 17 and marked by an idea that seemed to come out of nowhere, far fetched and unexpected.

In March of 2009, I was working the first show I ever managed for Erin Pride (the lovely mentor of mine), for the first Mix It Up. We were at La Bella Epoque, a beautiful raw space where the show was being held. Erin had originally had someone else scheduled to stage-manage the show, but when he couldn’t do it last minute, she asked me to do it. But here’s the thing, I never stage-managed a show before, so I was scarred of messing up and ruining the whole production. Yet, in classic EP style, she made me do it, and taught me how.

It was only in August that I had my very first dance performance, and still had very little formal training under my belt. Yet, as I was mingling among dancers, choreographers, and art lovers I suddenly felt inspired. I was talking to my friend Jennifer (who would later become one of my best friends) and it was through my dialogue with her that I decided I wanted to start a dance company for disabled and non-disabled dancers.

At that point, I had very little dance experience and absolutely no clue what managing a dance company entailed, but I didn’t care. I had this idea, and I was determined to move forward with it. So I did just that. After speaking to EP, and gathering a small group of people to brainstorm with (Elly, Crystal, Jennifer and the owners of La Bella Epoque), I was ready to give birth to Hand-Cap Dance.

It was a slow start, a few meetings about possible ideas, mission, purpose, and such. Within the first couple of months, the company had 4 dancers including myself, Jennifer, Crystal and Michelle. We booked our first company performance at my sister’s job, and it was our first paid gig, “50” bucks for a new company was a lot.
Soon after I was ready to hold auditions for the company, and had a handful of people show up. This was great since we weren’t offering to pay anyone. They wanted to grow with the company; sadly I couldn't pay them, but what an experience it would be. Once we had some dancers, I was able to get some talented guest choreographers from the Tri-State to set work on the company.

This isn’t as detailed as I would like, for the interest of time but keep reading…
I was young and still had a lot to learn. Luckily, I had a handful of people who had my best interest at heart and they helped me grow. After losing the space at La Bella, I was connected with Liz Grossman, a woman who would lend her space to become the official rehearsal studio for HCD. This grant was a true blessing and allowed the dream to keep reaching new levels.

A few bumps along the way, lost some dancers, and ran into some resistance regarding the name, but I was determined to have the company’s first show, and so a year and two months after the idea came to mind, we had our first informal show, “Breaking Barriers”.

Thinking back, the show wasn’t the greatest, or as great as I would have liked, but I can tell you now—it meant the world to me. To see people there in the audience, and all of those who help make Breaking Barriers a success, I truly appreciate it. They say it takes a village to raise a child, well same holds true for a dream. While a dreamer is all it takes to form the dream, it takes a team to make the team a reality.

After the show, we were underfunds and owed the space money for hosting the event of course I got panicked. I was a young artist with zero funds; making ends meat with what we had. Luckily, my best friend Crystal’s father, Frank donated the missing funds and supported my cause in such a fabulous way.

This is where the team for the dream comes into play.

So what was I left with after the show? I put the company on hiatus and I took several months to reflect on myself, the dream that began to take shape and my future at William Paterson University.

What I forgot to mention earlier in this blog, is that I was sacrificing a lot, rehearsing 7 days a week for my high school dance department and company rehearsal. The stress on my body was intense, and the toll it began to take on my personal life was no easy hardship. I would go into the studio early afternoon, and wouldn’t leave until well after sundown.
I thought about giving up, when things got especially difficult. I began to doubt my dream and myself. Then I was reminded why dance is so important to me. Once my chapter at WPU began, I started to re-visit my company’s mission and purpose.

What was once called Hand-Cap Dance became marked dance project. I made it an SGA Chartered club, and made MDP Company in residency at my university. Once that process was completed, the company began to grow and the dreamer that felt weary was revived and re-focused.

Since March of 2009, the company has doubled in size, and includes to wheelchair dancers and we’ve performed all over New Jersey and three consecutive years in Philadelphia.

We are currently working on our premiere full-length company show called, “Spectrum” a benefit dance show, which will raise money for an Autism organization entitled MyGoal. It will feature guest performances by some of the best companies and dancers in the Tri-State area. For more information, visit www.markeddanceproject.com for all the details on the show in September and the company.

I was 17 and marked by a dream, an idea many doubted but I stayed true to my heart’s desire and myself. I chased after the dream, with the help of some amazing people. Hopefully, my story will inspire others to follow suite in their dreams, and know that anything is possible. I know, because I went from the crippled kid who always fell, to who I am today- a dancer.