Where will the Bloggers' Inauguration Gathering BE?

I'm definitely going to be in the Nation's Capital during the MLK Holiday/Barack Obama Inauguration weekend! It would be FABULOUS if we could get many bloggers together! I know there will be a "gazillion" inauguration parties - official or not! Who else will be in the Nation's Capital ready to Dance in the Streets & do the Election Slide with the rest of us;-)?

Some one asked if I were having a party for my birthday (two days after the inauguration for those who didn't read the post before this one;-). My response: the NATION will be partying for my b'earthday! I just need to show UP! ;-)

Musing on ... conversations....verbal dances

It's no secret that I love to talk. I'm proud that I've also become a better listener & observer of cues.

According to FreeDictionary.com:
The spoken exchange of thoughts, opinions, and feelings; talk.

According to Wikipedia:
Conversations are the ideal form of communication in some respects, since they allow people with different views of a topic to learn from each other. A speech, on the other hand, is an oral presentation by one person directed at a group.

Those engaging in conversation naturally relate the other speaker's statements to themselves, and insert themselves (or some degree of relation to themselves, ranging from the replier's opinions or points to actual stories about themselves) into their replies. For a successful conversation, the partners must achieve a workable balance of contributions. A successful conversation includes mutually interesting connections between the speakers or things that the speakers know. For this to happen, those engaging in conversation must find a topic on which they both can relate to in some sense.

As I think back on some of my most exciting conversations I've observed the following have kept me engaged & wanting to talk forEVER to the individuals:

We connected in unspoken ways. They read my signals - often better than I could have ever "read" myself. The conversation made me think & ponder on what I am doing with my own life/self. I laughed! I may have even cried. I reminisced and kept thinking forward toward a hopeful future. The individuals were passionate about life! We spoke with respect to each other, not speaking down to the other. We enjoyed the company and the meeting of the minds. We could disagree and keep the flow moving.

Great conversations are like dancing: you move joyfully together. Even if you accidentally step on each others' toes, you apologize and keep it moving!

I have a question to you who are reading this:
How do you keep your conversation engaging? Do you enjoy conversations (I must remember that there are those who prefer not to dance;-)?

As Stephanie says: Don't Be Afraid! Keep on Dancin'! Nonstop, now!


Click on image for source.

Gonna B This Summer's JAM!

Watch Carefully! Then get up outta your seat;-).

We interrupt Wed. Wisdom for a bit of fun: Throwing Caution & "good sense" to the WIND

The answer my friend is blowing in the wind....or so some songwriter said! Here lately, I have been having an AB.So.LUTE. Flirtatious BLAST during most of my weekends! Do I care that I have been "funky blind" during the flirtatious interludes? Do I care that the Brothers did NOT find my inebriated flirtations S.E.X.Y. or Attractive? HELLL to the NAWWW! My actions and pure bliss had NOTHING to DO with THEM (it's ALL about MEE, dammit!!;-)! Do I care that they'll talk about me negatively...maybe a li'l bit, but NOT really. LOLOLOL;-). I won't end up on any YouTube video moments of Girlz Gone Wild or Pole Dancing like the chick in the following clip, so I'm "guit".



But, I must say I feel as if I've been flying. Maybe I was too restrained during my college years and early twenties, so maybe I'm living out some delayed fantasies. Let me clue ya in. Maybe, I'm "too old" to be acting like this but it is TRULY hilarious to me - especially since no one is getting hurt. Here are is one example:

Went to dinner with some girl friends recently (well, a girl friend and her friend). Gentlemen proceeded to buy us drinks. Caution: Free Liquor will get ya EVERY time! LOL!

I knew I needed to "walk it off", so we left that restaurant/bar to head to a lounge/bar four blocks away. The air and walk felt great, but I was still "tipsy" & flirtatious! Flirted w/ the door man at the bar/lounge when he said he needed to frisk us. "Bring it ON! Can I frisk U back?" It must be awful to be a bouncer after midnight. LOL! We go in. My girls find seats. I know I need to keep standing and dancing to gauge my level of intoxication (see? I'm not that drunk afterall. I'm just "nice". Ha Haaaaa!). I dance with two short brothers. I'm 5'5" and one of them I had to look down at, doesn't matter that I was wearing my fly stacked heels (that only takes me up to 5'8")!

First shortie was a well dressed "Rog" from What's Happening who my girls were clowning when we first walked in. But, I don't tend to join in on "joanin'" on brothers and will dance with anyone. So, we get our boogie on. I excuse myself after the songs to go to the ladies. Whew! Finally, this alcohol is working its way out of my system. When I return, well dressed "Rog" offers me a drink, I order water. I'm drunk, not stupid;-). Then the second shorty asks me to dance (this one I should've said NO to). He smells like last week's cigarettes and keeps telling me he's in love and has found his wife in me. I repeatedly tell him: "It's just a dance, Bruh. Enjoy it for what it is." Again, I'm drunk - not stupid -or- blind.

Then, Lo & Behold, Tall, Sexy, Caramel with a chocolate coating strolls in and I ask how much he charges for his body guard services. LOL! I figure: what the hell! He and I flirt, talk smack, kick the willy bobo and what have u. I don't know what the hell led upto his desire to pick me up (Refuse to admit I'm drunk, but I'm not really that sober, either;-). Maybe he needed to flex his musKles and show all that he could lift a "healthy" girl! I indulged his need to flex & thought it hilarious when he attempted to lift me at the bar! My girls were "appalled". "How could u let that man lift you up? U don't even know him!" Exactly, if I knew him he wouldn't be lifting me at a public venue while I'm fully dressed in jeans and all!

Funky Fresh FreeStyle Fridays!

Get yo' boogie ON over at the Rich House - 'Most E'ery Friday!


*click image for its source

Life, Love, Dancing...an excerpt - pt 7

Thank U for your patience. Please enjoy this 7th segment.

Here is the link to part 1 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 2 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 3 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 4 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 5 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 6 of Life, Love and Dancing.


The admiring glances I sensed on my circuitous walk to the ladies' room two levels below our dining station increased the proud sway to my hips. Hispanic and Southern men's affinity for a curvaceous figure is balm for my spirit. This rare treat of abundant veneration in Manhattan can only be found in El Barrio or The Hood. Below 96th street men prefer fragile figured women. I was initially perplexed by the fact that even Black men preferred willowy women when I moved to New York City, but grew numb to it over time.

As I washed my hands there was no way for me to know that I would be washing my hands of a lot more three months after that lovely evening. I would sense more subversive glances along my circuitous tango into Paul's entangled life. But that first night was filled with the stuff that dreams are made of. Let me tell you that I, Cameron James, have enjoyed the attentions of many a charming man in my twenty or so years of dating and interrelating. But, my frustration with their lack of commitment drove me to celibacy two years ago. I took a vow that I would not engage intimately with any man until he proposed marriage. All of those other suggested time lines proved fruitless. I'd waited the prescribed 3 months, sometimes six months. Heck, one pre-intercourse chapter lasted seven years before ending in each other's beds. After that did not lead to the altar, I altered my strategy. I decided it was time I developed a true relationship with myself. Along the way, I stumbled upon God's objective for me. My purpose was to continue the work of my ancestors. It's amazing what revelations one has without the touch of a man for two years.

I knew subconsciously that Paul was a nice diversion from my withdrawn pattern. I reminded myself as I walked back to the table that this should be fun, nothing more, no expectations, just enjoy the moments and remember to breathe. I was here because I could not hide forever from the social interactions between a man and woman by simply hanging out with friends and family. It was time to practice all that I had been studying during my intense self-analysis and Bible courses. God and his betting nemesis, Lucifer were looking down and up at me getting a good laugh, no doubt. Well, I don't think God was laughing because He is always cheering me on. I'm sure the Lord looked on with bated breath. But, Ol' Lu had pulled out his best this time. And Lu knew that despite my protests, an underlying and mounting maternal drive weakened me.

As our dinner progressed I became more comfortable with Paul. I was enthralled by his ability to hold a conversation without the typical first date questions of: "What do you do?" or "How many siblings do you have?" The talk was light but personal enough that we shared glimpses of ourselves. Halfway through the bottle of wine we became cozy enough to feed each other. I noticed some of the women at the table nearest to ours peeping at us with encouraging smiles. I thanked the heavens for this refreshing respite in my parched social program. Paul's eyes sparkled with the victory of a man who had wined and dined a woman to perfection. He practically glowed when he fed me bites of the creamy dessert. While chocolate is my addiction of choice, I will never forget the tantalizing richness of the delicious caramel flan that Paul slid between my lips. I think Lucifer lit a cigarette at that moment. If I were a smoking woman, I am sure I would have needed one. And the night was still young.


*click on image for its source.

Life, Love, Dancing...an excerpt - pt 6

It's Tuesday and I'm still on track!

Here is the link to part 1 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 2 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 3 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 4 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 5 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Now, enjoy part 6:

Dang it! I had hoped that I would have parked and changed out of my clunky, comfy driving shoes before Paul saw me. I wanted to be transformed back into sexy by the time he saw me again. Yes, I'm a firm believer that shoes make the woman. I assumed since we met in a casual setting that we'd continue that way for this first date. I wore black jeans and black fitted v-neck short-sleeved shirt with a collar. My shoes would be the pièce de résistance of my outfit! In addition to being nervous, I felt slightly under dressed when Paul stepped off the curb and flagged me down. He wore black leather square toed slip ons, black slacks and, a cream colored button down short sleeved shirt with black flecked designs that flowed over his broad physique in a flattering way. Oh well! It's Saturday, I just look like a woman who picked her man up from work at his part-time weekend gig. Why do I always need to make up these scenarios in my head, anyway? No one cares that I'm in jeans and he's in slacks. Breathe, Girl! I remind myself. I smile shyly when Paul gets into the car and leans over to kiss me on the cheek.
"How are you, Mama?" I love the endearments of the Latino culture.
I gush in spite of my nerves. "Good. You? How has your day been, so far?"
I pull back into the flow of traffic. My nerves are banging around in full force and I barely hear his reply.
At the light, Paul points "Turn left here. Maybe we can find parking."
Everyone and their abuela is out. I chuckle at my own Spanglish joke in my head but say aloud. "You can tell the Puerto Rican day parade is tomorrow. Every body's out!"
"It's like this the whole week. The celebration is more than the weekend."
I glance quickly at him, "Do you go to the parade?"
"Sometimes."
"I've never been in the five years I've lived here. The few Puerto Rican friends I have say it's more for the youngsters, now. So, I don't know anyone to go with and I don't think it's the place for a single woman." My anxiety causes me to babble on.
Paul has comfortably draped his arm around the back of my bucket seat. Why does he always look at me so intently? "You're right. It would not be a good idea for a beautiful woman to be alone at the parade."
Darn it! We are approaching a red light at the top of a steep hill. You would think I just learned to drive stick shift last week instead of about twenty-five years ago. I give more gas without letting off the clutch enough and rev the engine too high when the light turns green because I am afraid the car will choke out and cut off. For a woman who is proud of her driving skills the embarrassment of that would kill me instantly. As it is, my nervous inability to smoothly pull forward has me rattled and irritated. I really just want to be parked and on solid ground. I really want him to stop observing me so closely. I really just want to be at home, alone, again… but not… really. Breathe. It's okay.
"I rarely drive such steep hills since I moved here." I giggle uneasily. I am so relieved when we turn the corner of a level street where a wonderful, legal parking space opens up.

Paul gets out and walks around to open my door. He waits patiently as I secure the ankle straps of my three-inch wedged heel Nine West peep-toe sandals. Okay, I'm back on top of my game. Sexy shoes work wonders for a girl's sense of confidence! He reaches for my hand as I remotely locked the car doors and we head across the street. Despite the flutter-flies roiling in my gut I suddenly feel … at ease. The flutter-flies take on a playful tickling instead of their earlier pin-prickly tension. Hand in hand with Paul, strolling amongst the Latin rhythms blasting from competing sources, surrounded by the various tones, voices and Spanglish conversations this… feels…good. My soul begins to float and swirl again as my body relaxed into the fluid guidance of Paul.

# # #

I reveled in Paul's "old school" mannerisms and gestures. It has been years since a man has walked on the curbside of the sidewalk intentionally. Each time we crossed a street Paul put his hand gently at the base of my spine as he stepped around behind me. His understanding of maintaining physical contact damn near made me swoon. I literally saw very little around us because I was caught up in the rapture of being treated as a real lady should be. Paul guided my steps like an expert dance partner. Anyone watching us would have thought we were in sync and had communicated where we were going in advance. His fingers on my waist pressed almost imperceptibly indicating for me to turn into the restaurant of choice. The maître d' smiled brightly and greeted us in Spanish as he slid two menus from the host's station.
"Solamente Dos?" He asked holding up two fingers.
I simply smiled and through my body language deferred to Paul who kept his hand at my waist as we followed the maître d' through the restaurant and up a flight of stairs. We entered one grand room and he turned to us to determine if this were fine. Paul voiced his desire to be in the next chamber.
Once seated, a waitress who gave off a sincerely warm vibe came to introduce herself and take our drink orders. She also spoke entirely in Spanish and I listened carefully, but did very little responding verbally. Although my undeveloped Spanish caught the gist of her spiel, I was grateful for Paul's gracious interpretation. He ordered a bottle of wine, which she quickly returned with before we could get a good look at the menu.
As we sat sipping on the smooth red wine Paul asked if I saw anything that caught my eye on the menu.
It was too soon for the wine to take effect but I suddenly felt absolutely relaxed.
"Hmmmm…what do you suggest? What have you had that you like best?"
Paul went on to describe a few dishes, but I found myself distracted again by the sultry setting and there wasn't even any rain involved. What the heck was going on? Is it possible that I was caught up in the whole sexy, Latino experience that's overly hyped? No, can't be; I certainly am not easily influenced by stereotypical propaganda. Besides, Paul was not the first Hispanic Brother that I'd dated. But he certainly was the smoothest Brother I'd dated in quite some time, Hispanic or not.
When he finished explaining the menu I asked him to make the decision.
"You know what I won't eat, so you surprise me while I go wash my hands."
A look crossed Paul's face that I had not noticed before. I looked at him closely and had to smile as I realized he was actually … unsure of himself at this moment.
I slid my hand over his as I stood up, "I'm sure I'll love what ever you choose."


*Click on photo for its source.

A "quiet" Birthday Shout to my heart & eldest nephew. I love U dearly & pray that The Creator continues to watch over U!

Life, Love, Dancing...an excerpt - pt 5

Here is the link to part 1 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 2 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 3 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 4 of Life, Love and Dancing.

So, It's TUESDAY and I am back on schedule!
Enjoy part 5!

Time takes on a weird elasticity when most of your life is lived singularly. Workdays seem to drag out endlessly. Free days fly quickly, especially those beautiful, summer days without humidity when you want to be awake from sun up to sun up. You know, those brightly sunny days with fat, fluffy clouds in the sky and low-humidity when you wish that your home had a retractable roof, because there's much to be done, but you don't want to be dressed to do it and much of it requires you be inside to complete it anyway. Thanks to the wonderful weather, I actually lost track of time after exchanging information with Paul. I don't even know if he waited the suggested time frame of three days to call me. Maybe I even forgot that he was real. It was such a dreamy, almost scripted meeting, that just maybe my memory thought I had seen a movie instead of actually met an intriguing man. I went about the business of tending to my life of putting off chores that I hated, writing lists of things I needed to do because writing the list felt better than completing the necessary tasks. Finally disgusted with myself, I tackled what I thought would be the most difficult thing on the list and I was right.

My head was sticking in the oven when my phone rang. Always glad to have an excuse to stop a chore I thought, "I'll just check the caller ID then return the call later."
It wasn't a movie. I really had met a guy and he was calling me, now.

"Hello?"
"Hey, Cameron. How are you?"
"Fine."
"Did I catch you at a bad time?"
I didn't mean to sound robotic, but I am a strange mix of out going and shy. "Uh, no, not really."
"Not really? What does that mean?"
"Well, I'm in the middle of cleaning my oven. But, I can take a break to talk."
"Cool. I was wondering when you would have some time for us to meet up again."
Dammit, here's the end of the fairytale. Now, I'll get to know all the things I don't want to know about him and he'll start to see me for who I really am…not. I'm not that sexy party girl who flirted on the dance floor and floated romantically in the rain with you, Paul.
"Uh, I'm pretty flexible. What works for you?" I wonder if he can hear how nonchalant I'm not feeling.
"Well, how about lunch in the city? Tomorrow work for you?"
"Yea, tomorrow would be perfect for lunch. I hope a late lunch is good, like 2pm?"
"I can make that work. What do you like to eat?"
"I don't eat meat, but do eat seafood from time to time. So, any place is good as long as I can get veggies and seafood." And a strong alcoholic beverage is always good, but I kept that to myself.
"That shouldn't be too hard." Paul chuckled and my paranoia kicked in and wondered if he could hear my nervousness. "Well, I'm not going to keep you from your oven any longer. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
"Me, too! I look forward to seeing you again." I am relieved that the conversation is over and hope my enthusiasm didn't sound too forced.
I climb back into the oven and let out curses that it's more difficult to clean than even I'd imagined. Crap! I need to take the bottom shelf out, so I get one of the few tools I own and unscrew the bottom of the oven and pull it out. Am I making this more difficult than it needs to be? I wonder as I expose the heat coil - or the thing that looks like it should be called a heat coil because that's where the flames shoot out when the oven is turned on.

# # #

It is noon on Saturday and I have not begun to prepare for the day ahead with Paul. I have spent the morning doing other things on the list because I abandoned the oven project and left its guts hanging out. Thirty minutes into it the grime only seemed to move from one side of the oven to the opposite side. I'd get back to it. I wasn't expecting anyone else to come here anyway. There were clothes to be sorted and washed, papers to be sorted, filed or shredded, books to be read and stories to be written. I had plenty to keep me busy. I didn't need nor have time for the drama of a man in my life right now. What was I thinking when I told Paul that I could meet him today?

"Did I catch you before you left?" Paul sounded out of breathe on the other end of the line.
"Yea, what's up? Everything okay?" I tried to sound concerned as I prayed he was backing out, and then it wouldn't be my fault this time.
"I'm fine, but unfortunately can't make it at 2, like I thought I could."
"Well, that's okay. We can reschedule for another day." Whew!
"If you don't mind can we make it later today, like at 4:30 or 5? Does that work for you?"
Dang IT! I have to get dressed and come out into the world after all? "Oh, yea. Okay. Where should I meet you?"
"Is the West Side okay? Like, around 110th and Broadway? There are plenty of restaurants there for us to choose from."

# # #

It's my turn to make the 'I'm running late phone call.' What is it about first dates that give me more dread than exciting anticipation like they used to? Have I been disappointed that often? Technically, I've had a storybook life of relationships. Sure they all ended, hence my need to continue dating. But, storybooks all end while the getting's good, right? Most of my relationships ended on high notes, even if the fact that they ended did leave a sour taste in my heart. I can proudly say, if I run into any of my exes I can be cordial when I say, "Hello." Well, except for the one sexy bastard whose memory continues to sting a bit, when I see him from a distance I cross the street or pretend I don't see him, Fucker!

As I drive cross-town through Central Park, I realize I could have taken a more direct route to the West Side of The City. In addition to enjoying the ride through the park, I'm "dragging my feet." I'll get there when I get there. Maybe he'll have an attitude and this meeting can end quickly, in a huff! Then, I can return to my safe world as an independent woman.

"Hi? Paul?" I speak loudly into my cell's speaker phone.
"Yea?" He responds.
"Traffic's worse than I thought. So, I'm running a li'l later than planned." That's the beauty of New York's senseless traffic. It makes for a great excuse and who knows if it's true or not. I could very well turn a corner and be stuck in a deadlock, regardless of the fact that I am flowing smoothly, now.
"That's cool because I'm still stuck Uptown, myself. Would you mind coming up to Washington Heights? I know a great place to eat, here."
Oh, Lord. What now? See? This is how they do; get you to set out for one place and then end up luring you elsewhere. What is his deal, anyway?
"Sure! No problem."
I make a mental note of the cross streets he gives and turn north onto Broadway.

*click on image to enlarge and get its source.

Life, Love, Dancing...an excerpt - pt 4

Here is the link to part 1 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 2 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 3 of Life, Love and Dancing.
I stated that I would try to post on Tuesdays, and today's Thursday. I'll get it right soon - but until then ... Enjoy part 4:

Paul reached in front of me to push out the entrance door. The door was huge and ornately carved dark wood, which reached to the top of the cathedral ceiling. It gave me the feeling of being a very little girl leaving a cavern and the air felt delicious. It was drizzling outside, but I didn't worry about getting drenched since my car was only about twenty or thirty paces away from the door. And though my hair was blown straight, I wasn't too concerned about the effects of rain because it was pulled tightly back into a high ponytail. My hair would remain straight as long as we didn't get caught in a downpour.

Maybe it was the romance I associated with rainy nights and shiny slick streets in the city. Maybe it was the fact that it had been too long since time with a man made me swirl delightfully. Maybe it was the fact that it had been over six months since I'd had a man focused on me. Maybe it was because it had been over a year since I'd been intimate, really intimate with a man. I'm not sure what the reason, but I no longer really heard what Paul was saying. I know he spoke and I responded. I know at some point our cell phones came out and numbers were entered. But I was embraced by the sensuality of it all: his smooth voice, his caramel skin tone, the depths of his gaze as he stared into my eyes, the drizzling rain, my awareness of the fact that Paul would be seeing all the junk in my car, the fact that he opened my door for me once I remotely unlocked the door. We didn't want to part immediately, so I stood outside in the drizzle looking up at him while smooth bass sounds flowed from his lips to my soul. He placed his hand at the small of my back to lead me out of the rain that started to increase. We stood under the overhang of the office building that my car was parked in front of. I smiled up at him and my face begin to tire because it wasn't used to this workout of yearning. He grinned down at me easily. I was pretty sure this was Paul's usual ending to most evenings. Paul looked like the type of man who always "got the girl". At this moment, I did not care. I simply relished in the fact that I was the girl of choice right here right now and I think I began to hear string filled theme music. Okay, I really do need to get out more, but for now I pulled myself back into the reality at hand. I had a thirty-minute drive ahead of me northward to The Bronx then I had to find parking. I began my prayers to the parking gods as Paul shut my door behind me and waved as he ran out of the rain and back to the lounge. If I never heard from him again, I have trained myself to completely appreciate each tender morsel of life, love and the dance. I pulled away from the curb without one ounce of regret or that familiar painful longing. But the memory of our time rode home with me, as did his lingering scented hug. And my smile kept me company on this ride to The Bronx.

Life, Love, Dancing...an excerpt - pt 3

Here is the link to part 1 of Life, Love and Dancing.
Here is the link to part 2 of Life, Love and Dancing.
I will try to post sections each Tuesday - last week's holiday threw my schedule off a bit, so forgive me and Enjoy part 3:


"Want a drink?" He looked down at me with those intoxicating eyes.
I stopped swirling enough to answer, "No thanks. I've reached my limit. I could use a glass of water, though."
He smiled, nodded, got up and stepped to the bar.
I leaned my head back against the leather and scanned the crowd. My vanilla skin toned friend walked around to help clear tables. He was always considerate and professional. I have watched many give similar types of parties and they could careless that empty glasses stacked up. I guess that most reasoned that it was the wait-staff's responsibility.

Paul returned with my water and his own glass of brown liquid. We tapped glasses before we took sips.
"So, I carry myself like someone from the Bible?" He referred back to my earlier comment.
"Yea, something about you. Some would say you have an old soul."
He chuckled, "I've heard that before. I wanted to say something to you earlier but didn't want to disrespect your people."
I glanced around at "my people". My chocolate friend was bopping his head to the grooves with his eyes closed and a beer bottle in his hand. My vanilla toned friend was talking to the female bartender.
"They're cool. Malcolm, the light skinned one and I have known each other for over ten years from back in DC. I just met his cousin, Tre when we bumped into each other again here two years ago." I decided not to tell him that Malcolm is married. If Paul is in my life long enough, he'll find out all the specifics he needs to know.
"Huh, a DC girl. How you like New York?"
"I love it. I have the best of both worlds now."
"How's that?"
"I was raised in the best city to grow up Black, now I live in the best city to be creative. What about you, where you from?"
"Right here, baby." Paul's dark eyes sparkled. Because of his soft inflection, I wasn't sure if Paul meant baby as an endearing term for me already or if he was simply ending that sentence as most native New Yorkers do.
"Where's your family from?" I have learned in my few years as a New Yorker that most New York residents have strong ties to other countries, no matter how many generations have lived on The New York soil. Paul was clearly a Latino Brother. I also have learned to never assume which Hispanic region one is from if you detect Hispanic origin.
"Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. And your family?"
"DC and Virginia. No, I'm not Puerto Rican, as most think I am."
"Yes, I also thought that. What is your family's cultural background?"
I smiled as I wondered if he spoke so proper and formal sounding all of the time, "Negras Americanas." I attempted in my bit of rusty Spanish. I have trained myself to say Black American or African American proudly. Here in the city of a million cultures I initially would answer "Just African American." or "Just Black." Surrounded by so many cultures I felt as if I were not exotic enough. Paul's smile widened and I further explained. "Yep, I'm a descendant of the great American slave. I have the same mix as you, but my European ancestors didn't speak Spanish."
Malcolm walked by and I seized the opportunity to introduce them. Paul half-way stood as they slapped palms and entwisted fingers then he returned to his sitting position as their hands slid apart.

I stifled a yawn. Paul noticed, "Tired?"
I grinned at him sheepishly, "Yes, it's way past my bedtime. I need to head home."
"Well, let me go to the men's room then I'll walk you out."
"Gracia-" I smiled up at him as he rose from his seat.

I leaned over to Malcolm who had returned to our corner vantage point, "What time is it?"
He checked his PDA, "Almost Three."
"Good Lawd. I need to get home."
"You gonna be alright?"
"Yea, Paul's gonna walk me to my car. I'll text you as soon as I get home safely, alone."
Malcolm laughed, "You're grown. Full grown."
"Yea, I know and this is still New York. Land of the crazies."
I noticed Paul standing near the bar waiting as I said my good byes. I waved into the smoker's room to the regulars, hugged the DJ, Tre and Malcolm before joining Paul to exit.

*click on image for its source.

Life, Love, Dancing: an excerpt in progress, pt. 2

Last week I was moved to post part 1 of Life, Love and Dancing. I will try to post sections each Tuesday.
Here is Part 2, Enjoy:

After dancing that set, I went to the ladies room. Sometimes, I simply need to step away from the noise and look closely in a mirror, so as not to lose myself in the seduction of the night. I returned and was surprised to find him standing next to his seat, dancing. He chose to dance without a partner. I walked to rejoin my friends in our corner spot where we could watch everyone who came and went. I glanced his way periodically, wondering to myself what I found fascinating about him. Maybe I was intrigued by the fact that he seemed to simply appear. His caramel skin tone was inviting, but he was thicker than most men I engaged with. He moved moderately, in what some would describe as a two-step, but I could see that his two-step was anything but simple. I sensed that the brother could work it on the dance floor.

I didn't ponder it for long when the DJ changed gears, mixed in old school hip-hop and kicked the party up a notch. Almost everyone squeeze onto the dance floor. I turned toward him in hopes that he would accept my nonverbal invitation to join me on the dance floor. He complied teasingly; he smiled and took a couple of steps toward me then hesitated. I took a step toward him, but did not want to leave the dance area away from the safe energy of the group. He slid smoothly into place beside me. It was clear he had perfected B-Boy moves, but he was adaptable enough to temper them in this setting. I love a man who has the ability to "break" or lock, along with the discernment of when not to take it "over the top". I smiled inside and out. We sensed each other's rhythms and moved in sync. He smiled down at me and my eyes glowed back at him.

We danced closer.
"What's your name?"
"Cameron. Yours? Wait, let me guess. I bet it's biblical."
He smiled and nodded, "How did you guess?"
"I don't know. Just something about the way you carry yourself. You look like an Emmanuel."
He shook his head, "Paul."
"Paul? Hmm, that sounds too simple for you. You look like your name would be more exciting."
He chuckled and his eyes sparkled down at me.
There was something about his dark eyes surrounded by those long lashes looking down at me that made my insides swirl with delight.

One of the party regulars came out of the smoker's room and proceeded to take it "over the top". I love the fact that in New York City one can never ever tell by looking at an individual, what to expect. The party regular is a non-descript white guy, who is probably in his mid-twenties and approximately 5'10". He always comes to the parties in fairly conservative, possibly tailored attire of slacks and a buttoned down shirt. We all moved to encircle him as he began to break dance in full force. Laughing, my dance partner and I moved back to sit on the leather bench and enjoy the rest of the show, while the crowd hooted, howled and encouraged the regular to work it. The dancer took all of his spectators by surprise when he hopped up, did a complete and true B-boy flip that ended with the loud slam of his feet and him on his back. He popped back up; the crowd cheered and went nuts over the fact that he was able to pull that off in such a tiny space. As the dancer bopped around the lounge smacking the hands of encouragers, the rest of us raised brows, laughed and slapped fives over his incredible antics, as well.

*Click photo for its source.

Life, Love, Dancing...an excerpt of a new peice in progress

*Additonal excerpts to be posted each Tuesday (thanx for keeping me writing:-)...

I was the lone dancer on the tiny dance floor of the hotel's bar. I was enjoying the flirtatious interaction with the DJ: he behind his equipment, me dancing, our eyes flirting and laughing, as our bodies moved in similar patterns across the space. I have been coming here just about every week for the past two months to support my friends who are throwing these parties.

As I spun, I noticed him sitting on the far end of the long leather high backed bench to my left, closest to the bar. He was sitting alone with a drink in front of him, watching me. He had on cream colored sweat pants and a dark tee. I was feeling sexy in my cuffed, fitted jeans, baby tee with funky design and two inch high wedged heel sneakers. I turned back to the DJ and resumed our flirtatious play.

When I felt the need for a break I went to sit with my friends on the end of the leather bench closest to the DJ. It's a jazzy little lounge spot in the heart of New York's Theater District. There are high backed leather benches along three walls with low tables lined up in front of them and sleek, padded arm chairs in front of each table. You walk past a tiny bar as you enter the space and diagonally across from the bar there is a glass-enclosed smoker's room. The DJ is set up next to the glass enclosure.

My friends are both men who are cousins. I have known one of them for over a decade from back home in DC. He and I used to flirt with each other back then, but he's married now and we have drawn a truce. There continues to be an attraction, but we both respect the committed vows greatly. I met his cousin when my friend and I rediscovered each other two years ago here in The Big Apple. They have introduced me to all of their industry friends and I have been having a great time partying with them, being pampered and treated royally without the pressures of dating any of them. I love partying with male friends. I am protected without competing for the attentions of prospective suitors.

The DJ started another song that got a few of the new comers to the party onto the dance floor and it was one of my favorites, too! I joined the other three females on the dance floor. I noticed him in the smoker's room. Was he watching me or was I imagining things? There were several of us on the dance floor, but I felt his eyes on me, despite the shadowy darkness of the lounge.

*Click on image of this High Heeled sneaker for its source.

No Virgin

I'm no Virgin...
but I've never been explored...

I am virgin territories of unexplored depths.

I've been touched.
But, rarely connected.

I've been held.
But, rarely sheltered.

I've been in conversations.
But, rarely conferred with.

I've been looked at.
But, rarely looked into.

I've been listened to.
But, rarely heard.

I've been kissed.
But, rarely distinguished.

I've danced with.
But, rarely worked through steps.

I've partied with.
But, rarely been party to the collaboration of committed partnership.

And Now,
I am being regenerated
By The Creator ... for the Brother
... who I will fight for...not with.
... who will be the first... to be my last.

C.A. Paige©April 2007

The relationship dance.

I LOVE to dance: Hip Hop, salsa, merengue, the electric slide, the bump, you name it, I will give it a shot! But, the relationship dance...well, I feel as if I have two left feet when I get on that "dance floor".

When I came into womanhood, I was blessed. My first boyfriend followed me home from school (this was pre-stalker age:-) and he was the love of my life for a good two years during my junior and senior years in high school. There was a magic that I couldn't put a finger on, and back then I didn't care what it was I just couldn't get enough of it! He and I were each other's "end all and be all". During our second year together he began to seem too serious to me. He was a cutie, smart, a quarterback at an all boy Catholic school and I did love him to no end, but I don't recall him going to dances or doing other social events very often. Our time was primarily spent alone away from our friends, at movies, dinner and each other's homes. We both had siblings, so we weren't home alone, too much;-).

Maybe he was ahead of his time and I was just a silly teenage girl. I was flattered by his attention and the nice places that he took me, but I felt awkward and often frustrated by our isolation. As we went off to separate colleges I told him that we should not burden each other with long distance commitment. If what we had was strong, and was meant to be we would come back together. Twenty or so years and several relationships later - that first love I experienced will always hold a special place in my heart. We even tried to get back together as adults, but we have grown into very different people.

After experiencing several missteps, some bumps and bruises as I attempt to understand the choreography, I have decided to sit out and watch other dancers. My hope is that I will successfully learn the steps, so the next time I get into the rhythm, the love-dance will last always and forever! Hot cha cha!!!!