a weekend to remember...

I‘m beginning to allow myself to feel better. I pick my language carefully, in that; I do mean ‘allow’. Granted my recent stressors (including a new crash course in sublet laws) have had me out of the aura of positivity I aim to consciously keep around me. I’ve been truly upset with a number of decisions made by others, and myself, recently. I immediately look for lessons, but as he said “They may not show themselves right away.” People only affect you as much as you allow them to. I have allowed it on a number of days during my month back from NYC, yet will not allow it any longer. As long as I stay honest and true to my intentions (both past and present) then the Universe will have my back. More importantly, I know my karma is intact.

The Universe…oh how dope it is. It truly wastes no time in reminding you of your path, as long as you are listening. In the midst of the recent series of unfortunate events, I prayed to not waste any more energy on that which is bringing me negativity, and to refocus on ………

Something is making me stop this mid-blog. See, I wrote this six-page journal entry yesterday while sitting at the river and enjoying a break from the Dance festival. I have been attempting to load video all morning, and was going to transfer my six-page journal entry into a blog to supplement one of the videos. I was just writing verbatim what I prepared yesterday, so excitedly to share. Out of nowhere, something is telling me not to. I don’t know if what I have experienced the last few days, in regards to the Universe, is only for me and those closest to me to know, or maybe the blog equivalent of a six-page entry is too much for you to bear reading. Or maybe its presence is needed in the memoir, rather than this format.

What I will say is that this weekend went from being horrendous, to being simply perfect. It started with my being mentally stuck underneath someone else’s intentions for me, and concluded with me morphing into a phoenix of sorts, soaring above the issues to remember what it is that is truly important.

I enjoyed conversations that rebuilt my tenacity for Goldsmiths, for moving to London, for building Evierobbie, for getting the Fulbright, for love, and for the affect I have on these children, and they in turn have on me.

I feel artistic Evita, my true self, showing herself again. The writing obsession has given way to the film critiquing, and book reading Evita.

There is something to say for needing to adjust to a place, but I remember noticing the loss of artistic connection I felt inside when I moved to Niigata. Now, I am doing things I loved before I came to Japan, films and reading being two of them. It took me five months to get through a book when I got here initially. That’s unheard of.

During my first two weeks, back from NYC, I have finished one and am now nearly half way through my second. This is the woman I remember being. This is the lover I remember being. When I feel good, and produce my art, the Universe speaks to me in ways unimaginable.

With the crew on an island, braving the September weather, I actually connected to where I lived. It was a weekend of dance festivals everywhere from in front of my apartment, to downtown in the city. I knew there were festivals, but had no idea it was dance related. I cheered on students I have, and videotaped them with the pride of a parent. I have so much footage of the crews. Below is one. I will post more as I have time to render footage. As for right now, my laptop and I have a date with Starbucks. Memoir.

1st of a few videos.