Little did she know

Don't shy. Ask me anything.   I am a fierce storyteller.

"There is no such thing as a coincidence in your life, Pammu" -Jammi

twitter.com/MyPam:

    Holds us all together, never apart

    Artie and I developed our own language. We had several looks that mean “Look there!” and then “I know right?” and then “That was stupid” or “Unbelievable.” “Unbelievable” mind you would have different tones of looks in and of itself. Then we’d have our own silly baby talk, which funnily stems from how we talk to animals and/or other people’s pets.

    Whenever talking to cats, he puts on a voice that makes him sound like an old cat lady. This old cat lady would have little southern ping to her consonants and a guarded swing to her vowels.

    He also had his own vocabulary.

    He had terms of endearment for animals by way of describing them. Adam couldn’t have done a better job in the Garden of Eden:

    "Fuzzy butt!"
    "Ferrocious!"
    "She’s a squirmy! She gives me squirmies!"
    "Aaaaah! Look at that silly cat! She’s a silly cat!"
    "Stupid dog."

    "Fudz!" and "Ssup!" all mean food. Or lunch or dinner.

    "Teep Tayneez Fudz" would be our go to for when we are hungry. Another variation would be "Teep Tayneez Ssup!"

    "What ah the wudz" means "So what she text you back with?"

    Most morning’s he’d say he had “Eggies for breakfast.”

    He had a handful of endearments for me, and for some reason, these would be paired what seems to be a silly English accent:

    "Where the little person?"
    "Silly person" for times like when I forget things or misplace things and eventually find them. ALSO, when I say something that one-ups him.
    "Crazy baby" is for times like when I dance with a kid out on Union Square Park on Sunday.
    "Crazy person" is for when he has nothing else to say after I myself say "I love you."

    "Kees!" Is very self explanatory.

    I haven’t spoken this language for a while except when I’m alone and playing with a stray cat. His words and nuance would come out, starting with a gentle hiss to call the neighborhod cats to come out. This works 70% of the time. When I see one, I whisper out to it “Hey!” And she’d look at me in mid-stealth crawl. At that point, she’d either crawl into a car or stop and sit to look at me. If she stops and sits, she will most likely squirm around my ankles and anoint me as her familiar.

    One time, I saw a cat chilling on a stoop a few blocks away from where I live and she saw me as if she had waiting for a human with a cat touch. She squirmed and purred and kissed my nose. She even let me carry her.

    But using our secret “Wuudz” to a cat isn’t enough. Indeed, the kind of connection Artie and I had was unique. Even when I was telling hurricane Arthur to away, it obeyed.

    Last weekend though, I met a kid. His name is Billy. Billy the Kid is my cousin Mellie’s nannying ward. When I met Billy, he himself opened the door for us at Mellie’s encouragements. An only child, his toys were sprawled all over the living room, and it’s apparent that he’s been at it for a few hours. As soon as I sat on the couch, he started showing his little knick knacks to me. I just smiled and let him do his thing - it’s his house.

    Soon, the show and tell was getting a little overwhelming and I walked towards the back of the house where I saw that they have a cat named Puddy. Puddy Tat for short, I’m sure.

    Puddy let himself approach me. Mellie yelled from the living room that the little fuzzy butt is actually 13 years old. He leaned against my legs and pushed his head against the palm of my hand. I went berzerk. One year of being disabled from using Artie’s silly wudz finally came out. I was calling him ferocious and fuzzy butt and he didn’t seem to mind.

    Ten minutes of Puddy Cuddles, the old timer wanted to go back to his spot. Who was I to deny him of that. I went back to Billy. He was showing me an action figure and then he showed me a book.

    Then all of a sudden, all of the things I did playing with my sister when she was little came back. I let him fly as Superman as I lay with my back on the floor and he was floating on my knees and feet. I bounced him on my knees and he would laugh and say he wanted to be Superman again.

    Then It happened again. I tickled Billy and started calling him a Silly Little Person. Then I’d calm down and ask meekly for a Kees. Then he’d run away from me and I’d grab an inflatable toy sword and poke him and go, with an all out Artie play voice:

    "Kees!"
    "Kees!"
    "Kees!"

    For about an hour, I spoke his language. As much as I’d love to create another language, another syntax for love, with someone, I know I’ll be speaking the same silly way Artie spoke with. At least our language is by no means dead.

    — 1 day ago
    #artie  #language  #the look in your eyes 
    zodiacchic:

ZodiacChic Post:Gemini

Why is this so true?My recent voice teacher told me this.Even my acting teachers tell me this.That, and after some seven years, the same cards still reprise their medley of “embrace your power.”Then I recall one of my teachers say: “Stop protecting other people from your own power.”After a year and a half of reinforcement, information overload, and opinions of how things work, things are starting to make sense. And it all made sense when I stopped saying things like:It’s too late to do that now, orMaybe I shouldn’t do that, orNext time.~I should just go and do it.

    zodiacchic:

    ZodiacChic Post:Gemini

    Why is this so true?

    My recent voice teacher told me this.

    Even my acting teachers tell me this.

    That, and after some seven years, the same cards still reprise their medley of “embrace your power.”

    Then I recall one of my teachers say: “Stop protecting other people from your own power.”

    After a year and a half of reinforcement, information overload, and opinions of how things work, things are starting to make sense. And it all made sense when I stopped saying things like:

    It’s too late to do that now, or

    Maybe I shouldn’t do that, or

    Next time.

    ~

    I should just go and do it.

    — 1 month ago with 599 notes
    Tough

    Losing a partner is devastating. It warps reality, stretches time, and opens up your perceptions to a million other things to think about.

    Tonight, as I think about the fortunate fellow who will eventually be called my husband, I also think about the face palming, finger wagging, joy riding, third wheel of this future relationship: God. I figured out that with a relationship with a Force who knows all and is in all and is around all, I don’t have much to worry about fishing for fish. So, whoever you are out there, Jesus and I will have to talk about you, because that’s what’s people do when they’re still out waiting for the rest of the party.

    I’ve been thinking out loud to God about loss. About the future husband. About losing said future husband if not future husband losing me and grieving me. It’s a tough thought to swallow, but because I had been there before, I’d rather not go through all that again.

    Artie and I had this conversation before.

    I told him that I’d want to have his babies one day.

    Then he said “Wow, how’d I get so lucky.”

    "I’m serious." Which was doubly serious with a serious face.

    "Why."

    "Because I’ll need a part of you to remember you by."

    He nearly cried. He kissed me to hide his tears aka his pride and then walked me home.

    If it were a choice, I don’t want to go through loss again. Tough thing to ask for, immortality for everyone until I finally die. On the other hand, I might be better at grief by then unless I go numb or stoic, or unless I slip into a stasis of shock.

    I’d imagine this is a conversation that couples have when their relationship has reached a solidifying point. It’s a brave conversation to have if not a truthful and honest one. For Artie and me though, it was pretty obvious but death is inevitable either way.

    Either way, it’ll be like leaving one party to walk into the next one.

    — 1 month ago
    #Death  #Artie  #hey future husband 
    I’m sure Rumi has a poem about looking and gazing and love. I just can’t access that to put on this title right now.

    My friend on the other line talked about his wife.

    "She’s look at me and I’d be like, freaked out."

    I asked him what he meant by that, that it sounds like she stares at him with a Death ray.

    "No no no," he said. "She just looks at me and she just, you know, loves me."

    I know what he meant. Artie would look at me while I’m texting, or when I’m rummaging through my bag, or even when I’m walking away to grab a water at a deli while Scottish Octopus play at Union Square.

    I look at him that way too. As soon as he’d realize that I’m watching him, what follows next is akin to a Meisner exercise.

    "What?"

    "What?"

    "What."

    "What?!"

    "You were looking at me."

    "I was looking at you."

    "Stop looking at me."

    "I am loving you, you idiot."

    Sometime’s he’d be more of a sap about it that I would normally be.

    He’ll be looking at me and I’d catch him in his stare. His eyes were their own shade of a loving blue.

    "What?"
    He wouldn’t say anything then he would be startled at the fact that he as staring at me for a long time and had lost his mind for a few seconds. Then he recollects himself.

    "I just love you so much."

    I smile back at him, waiting for the next thing he’ll say.

    "Baby, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I just love you so much."

    He shed a tear, or at least I heard his voice shimmer at the sentiment.

    There is so much loving in the act of looking.

    Just because he’s gone, it doesn’t mean I won’t practice this.

    — 2 months ago
    #Artie  #love  #Rumi  #Meisner 
    It’s just a year

    Without a shadow of a doubt, I am convinced that I am one of those people who have figured out quite much. I am also convinced that I am special. I know that I am special because of how things fall into place, or even hit my face.

    These are the things currently happening or about to happen in my life::

    1. Shooting the final scene of our film project, in which I hold the ashes of our dead drama teacher. In the course of that, I’ll be singing. Whew.

    2. Graduation.

    3. My birthday.

    In a nutshell: death and rebirth.

    Last year, I dreaded May 2014 because every year, for three years, I lost someone dear to me on that month: Edgardo my voice teacher in 2011, Elvie the favorite aunt in 2012, and then Artie.

    On that day, I remember how harsh it was to live. How could the leaves be this green when he’s gone? How can the sun shine that way? Why is the moon still full? As if beauty is the rudest thing ever. But there is nothing you can do to make the world stop for you. You can either chase it or slowly move on.

    For what it’s worth, grief is a wonderful thing if you let it happen to you, if you let it run through your body just as it would your mind. Grief is when spirit tugs at your body and your mind stands still. Grief is the worth of your love. Grief is when all your forces try to bring everything back together and the impossibility of it yields despair as a byproduct. Memory will never be enough but it’s all you will ever have, as cruel and bittersweet that is. Grief is only real when you deal with it. You cannot always say “I’m okay” because often, this is a lie you tell yourself. It’s always better to deal with it rather than pretend it didn’t happen.

    Grief is also when time and space and your existence stretches. It feels like yesterday when Ann called me and told me he had died. It also feels like forever to not have had him to hold, call or kiss. I feel expanded and enlarged because someone who has never known me the way anyone else will, is watching over me from a different plane of existence. I’d like to think that of all the riches in the world, he has a piece of me with him.

    ~~~

    If anything, not only did I gain wonderful friends from Forest Hills, Glendale and Miami, I also gained a legit Queens accent. Just as much as I have a crazy angel watching over me, I have the chops to be legit in the city.

    — 2 months ago
    #artie 

    Spring. Wheeeeee.

    Me:hey, so how warm is it out there?
    Roommate:it's sooo nice!
    Me:it is?!?!
    Roommate:yeah! I had to come back because my jacket is too warm and I want to put on a skirt
    Me:You can wear a skirt?
    Roommate:you can put on a skirt!
    Me:I'm putting on a skirt and heading out!!!!
    — 4 months ago