From rising until a little past noon
The buzz of the black alarm clock woke me before the melody of my cell phone. I remembered to temporary disable my work alarm and activate a new one for the next three days. I have learned that sans alarm, my body naturally rises somewhere between 7 and 8:30. It feels "off" if I rise too late in the day. Before 7 can be a bit finicky, depending on my mood. Unfortunately, I am the type who is unable to go back to sleep once my eyes are open.
I couldn't pinpoint when sleep overtook me. All I remember is the banter Chris Hayes had with Elizabeth Warren. That woman speaks so much truth, yet she will have the same struggle as Bernie Sanders: the lack of resonance with ethnicities, particularly African Americans. I fear that this thirst of "anyone but Trump" will do one of two things: either keep that Master of Chaos in for four more years or put someone in who isn't battle tested enough to put this country in the right trajectory. Our underestimating those who loved "celebrity Trump" is what got him elected in the first place, along with the thirst to make history with Hillary. Although honestly, I thought Bernie was the better selection. Anything Clinton had too much taint, despite how much a lot of people gave her husband an honorary black card.
My sleep was deep. I rose only once to pee, then went right back to sleep.
I kept with ritual: the Apple Cider Vinegar with water. Still full from last night's meal, I drank the Glucerna and popped my medication. I wrapped my hair, threw on the clothes I'd be working out in, then went to get some Dunkin Donuts coffee. I didn't have to add anything extra, which is always good. It is actually how I judge the excellence of the establishment. I wandered into a beach store. They didn't have the $9.99 beach chairs, so I settled for getting a more durable beach towel.
By the time I left the store, it was raining. Not hard enough to have an umbrella. I went to my room, grabbed my workout belt, gloves, and headphones, before heading to the fitness room. It wasn't locked. I may try my luck tomorrow to see if I can work out a bit earlier. I did upper body on the machines and thirty minutes on the treadmill. I have not pinpointed the reason why my lower back/hip area is still in agony. Maybe my cardio regiment before the trip was too vigorous, and I didn't give myself enough time to recover. Luckily, I am treating myself to a thirty minute massage this afternoon.
Also, the rain has stopped, so I may be able to go to the beach after all.
Early afternoon to early evening
I finally put the one hundred dollars Grandma gave me a year ago to good use. At least some of it. I treated myself to a 30 minute massage at the local massage parlor. It was in this expansive area with a mix of businesses. The smell of Madagascar vanilla hit my hose right away, detectable but not overpowering. It was great I did the reservation in advance. A man came in but the receptionist said they were all booked for the day. He sounded like he needed some relief. I felt bad for him ... not bad enough to cancel my appointment though.
After the massage experience (better than Massage Envy but not as spectacular as going to Marco at The Face & Body Spa in PA), I got some food to snack on at the local supermarket. I was delighted to see some Krispy Kreme doughnuts and will stop by before I leave to take some back to NJ. It helps that the Food Lion is open 24 hours.
Once I returned, I decided to break in the black swimsuit and pair it with the sheer black long jacket. I was going to wear my contacts but my right eye was acting ornery, so I took them out. It was for the best because of the wind gust at the beach. I took some pictures but I was battling against the elements. It was the first time in many years since I had worn a swimsuit. The last time I did, Mike and I were together. It was the first time ever not having a sarong or T-shirts and shorts to cover the swimsuit.
I retired to the pool at the hotel to get a break from the hefty wind. I read more of Michelle Obama's book Becoming, admiring Michelle's grit and determination, seeing bits of myself in her. The ongoing question,"Am I enough?" It was an unspoken pressure I put on myself, wanting the answer to be a resounding yes, without hesitation or rebuttal. To rebel against adversity, naysayers, and a toxic history enmeshed within my family. I had to become ... beyond.
Beyond is a lonesome road, a path less traveled for those who want to conform and belong. That wasn't my destiny. It is why all my attempts at "fitting in" resulted in a chaos that poisoned my DNA on the very notion of normalcy.
Maybe it is madness to expect a romantic relationship: the meeting of minds and principles that is more on joint growth and/or shared completeness than me being the cement to another's brokenness.
|Perhaps that mate is a unicorn.
It bears repeating. Perhaps that mate is a unicorn. I have discovered that I myself am a unicorn, for most men in my past tout me as "too well put together" as if it is a liability to their egos and usefulness. There most be more Tyrones than Baracks these days, along with more Nikkis than Michelles.
Even as romance eludes me, where is that expanse of testosterone that can speak on a world outside of what's going on in his universe? How much can one speak on food, weather, traffic, movies, music, and work? Just damn!
In these moments, I miss my old college friend H. I miss my closest high school friend Z (Rest in Peace). I miss MC before bitterness consumed him. The "beyond" conversations ... about life, dreams, current events, future goals.
When I want to push topics in that direction, the response is mostly silence or an answer so vague I can tell not much thought was put into it.
I want the surge of intellectual connectivity. I crave it more than any stimulation of my lady parts. I desire the touch of comfort, reassurance, and understanding more than anything leading to sex. A male platonic companion. I know there's such a thing because I've had him.
If only I can have one where it doesn't get complicated, or if it's headed in a different direction, at least have the mature conversation: for clarity and to prevent as much heartache as possible.
Until then, a toast. To chasing unicorns.