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I’ve hardly ever experienced the cliche, romantic celebration of this so-called holiday, but I’ve always looked for interesting activities such as a themed pole dancing choreography class. The workshop was so popular that students doubled up on poles, which suited me just fine because I would have been exhausted had I danced the entire two hours.
As a matter of fact, the woman who I shared with, hadn’t taken classes as long as I had. So, I gave her some basic pointers about hand, shoulder and foot placement. So much of pole dancing is physics.
However, I’ll need more years of practice before I can dance with the emotion and artistry of my teacher:
Hard to believe that I’ve been working on my World’s Sexiest Dictionary for several years now. So long in fact, that a pandemic has come and gone and yet, I’m still working on this project, which was a radical idea at the time and even now, still motivates me to pour energy into on a daily basis.
Computer Paper & Watercolor Crayons
My humble beginnings started off with regular computer paper and watercolor crayons. My logic was since the crayons was a new medium, I’d start practicing with the cheapest paper possible. If I could make that look decent, then I’d spend money on the better materials.
When I was at a social event, I told an art teacher about the illustration project I was working on. Without knowing what assbackwards method I had been using, she asked if I using a digital illustration app. Of course not, but I took her advice.
Rough Draft Digital
A month before the 2020 COVID pandemic shutdown, I bought a tablet and the digital app and started my journey to learn another new medium. Not only was it an easier process, but it was portable and involved no clean up.
One of the many lessons that I learned in having to complete 156 illustrations was that my inner critic had to be OK with leaving an illustration looking “good enough,” whatever that meant at the time. I had faith that my technique would improve over time. All I had to do was keep moving forward.
Final Draft Digital
I’ve called this third rendition of the 156 illustrations the “FINAL” set. I’m not going to stop digital illustrating, but I’ve finally hit a level with this project where I could complete them, publish them, and then move on.
When I signed up for my Sunday hot yoga class, I noted that the class would be taught by a sub. Although I really liked the regular instructor, whose thematic playlists included “spelling bee” (songs that spelled at least one word), and cars/”riding” (songs that mentioned cars or sex), I knew that I’d still get a good workout.
Since I’d attended class at that studio several times, I confidently set up in the front row beside the only other person in that row, a Black man. A few minutes later, one of my dance friends set up in the front row on the other side of me. My attention totally went to talking with her as we did our pre-class warm ups.
After finishing my hip-opening exercises, I laid on my back with my eyes closed for a few minutes.
When I heard the substitute yoga instructor welcoming the class, I didn’t immediately open my eyes, but, I’d hoped that he wasn’t looking at me since I trust that I pulled a face.
The Black guy beside me was the sub. I knew that the sub would be a guy, yet I wasn’t expecting a Black guy. I’d practiced yoga for over 30 years and had white/Asian/Latino/gay/recovering addict male yoga teachers, but NEVER a Black male.
I admonished myself for initially picturing a white sub. I wouldn’t have mentally put myself in the time-out corner if the sub had been in any other demographic.
Throughout class, I processed my assumptions, but not to the point that I didn’t keep up with class. I still got my experience’s worth, especially with one of my exercise friends right beside me, who motivated me to do my best. After all, in the other stretch class that we attended, that instructor would literally call us out if we didn’t take the advanced modifications for certain stretches.
After class, I thanked the sub, just like I did after every other class I’d attended. I also took myself out of the corner, comforting myself that other than my initial reaction to discovering that the yoga teacher was a Black man and possibly his seeing a brief change of my facial expression if he’d happened to be looking at me in that moment when he started class, I hadn’t outwardly acted differently.
Since I believe in being the change I want to see in the world, I openly acknowledge my bias. I also realize that no matter how open-minded I am, assumptions still sneak up on me. My only saving grace was that I still practiced as I would have normally. I even avoided any awkward or microaggression of over-thanking him for being the first Black male yoga teacher I’d ever had after three decades.
I’m going to save that revelation for after I know him for a while.
I used to advise people to hug a Black person as part of their MLK Day celebration. I’d even ask people who weren’t Black if they had hugged a Black person on this day, and then offer to give them a hug to help them celebrate. Honestly, that may have been the only thing they did or only time they ever celebrated, but it’s better than nothing.
My sister and I were looking for something to do since we both had the day off. Yet, nothing was happening in town. Even the out of town celebrations didn’t quite speak to us. And then it happened: Dad fell out of bed.
More accurately, Dad miscalculated and ended up on the floor. He had arranged the sparse furniture in his room to put himself into his wheelchair. His plan was to exit his bedroom and then place himself into the wheelchair lift to go downstairs.
I heard the thud from the den and raced up two flights of stairs to maneuver him back in bed.
I used to say that Dad has “early dementia,” but that’s a hazy explanation about how Dad thinks. Dad has lost his mental acuity, yet he still remembers who we are. More importantly, he remembers who he is. A tough Vietnam Vet chestnut who’d attempt to rig up an escape route out of his hospital bed just to go downstairs.
Mom said that he’d forgotten that he couldn’t walk. I disagree. I believe that Dad, like most people, can achieve some incredible things when he puts his mind to it. Most days, he has no motivation to exercise even though that would help with maintaining and improving his leg strength, especially when he wants to take himself downstairs without our assistance.
While Mom hopes/wishes/prays for Dad to walk again, I’d had enough. I researched senior living facilities to accommodate Dad. Not just for his sake, but for Mom’s as well. My motivation is to place Dad in a facility before Mom can no longer be independent.
As Dad’s primary caregiver, Mom’s mental and physical health have been compromised from trying too hard to maneuver him, assisting with most daily activities and then restbroken when he calls for her in the middle of the night.
The plan came together. I arranged tours of three local facilities, which all offered memory care, the highest level of assisted living without being a skilled facility. I think. It’s all still very new to me.
Whereas some people perform community service on MLK Day, the service I performed was for my parents. My sister stayed with Dad while I helped Mom navigate to the facilities and take notes during the tours.
As it turned out, the facility that we both liked the best was the furthest away. All three seemed close in price range even though they differed in the level of quality from resort to asylum.
Even before we toured the facilities, Mom found the idea of filling out financial aid paperwork, which detailed their assets to be abhorrent. At least she learned that Dad would probably not qualify for additional VA benefits since he’s 100% disabled.
To say that she clutches the purse strings tightly is an understatement. Yet, she has to make the decision to place Dad in the best place she can afford before her own health deteriorates further. At the same time, Mom continues to hope/wish/pray for Dad’s mobility to dramatically improve.
All I can do is assist her with doing research and keep my sisters informed about what’s going on. We seem to be on the same page, but Mom cannot be rushed. Mom believes that she’s going to “sleep on it.”
Until Dad breaks her sleep in the middle of the night.
Later during the evening on MLK day, I attended a dance class. I offered to give a hug to anyone who hadn’t hugged a Black person. They all rushed in for a group hug.
I’d made the best use of a 10-day vacation, which ended on New Year’s day. Although I’d slept in every day, I was creatively productive, which was the best gift/celebration I could ever ask for.
Mom & Me in Our Xmas Sweaters
While sporting my new Christmas sweater, I made some recipes that I’d been wanting to try out for months, but hadn’t taken the time to make.
First up was making “bacon” out of coconut flakes. I flavored it with liquid smoke, paprika and some other things that I cannot remember, then baked it in the oven for a few minutes. It was one of those tastes that you’d expect you’re not going to like, but it never quite reached the “dissatisfaction” point. Doesn’t mean that it was very tasty either. Yet, for days, I sprinkled some on my pasta and eggs in the morning for breakfast.
I quartered Brussel sprouts, coated them with coconut oil, seasoned them and baked them in the oven. While the sprouts baked, I made a cheese sauce. The part that apparently only I liked about this dish was that I’d boiled the fettuccine only to al dente. When my sister tried my pasta, she told me that the pasta wasn’t cooked all the way. I told her that it was the texture that Italians ate their pasta. She glared at me, saying, “We ain’t Italian.” Mom didn’t bother trying it, which means I had most of my delicious pasta for myself.
Brussel Sprout Fett w Coconut “Bacon” Flakes
The next morning, I tried my hand at baking bagels in the air fryer. Not that I’m a big bagel fan, but more out of curiosity of making bagels with Greek yogurt. Now, this was a recipe that I’d try again. I underestimated how much the dough would fluff up, making those tiny holes that I’d pierced in the middle were useless. Had there remained a hole throughout the baking process, then the bagels may have been cooked all the way through due to the increased surface area. The easy fix was to slice them in half and microwave for a few seconds. Still delicious.
PreCooked Greek Yogurt Bagels
On New Year’s Day, I wanted to start the year off right by dressing up. To honor the leap year, I put on my colorful socks that have wings at the top. Any excuse to dress up, really. The picture has too much going on in the background to clearly see the wings–or the chopping knife! I’ll just try to maintain the fun energy in this picture throughout the year.
I knew one of the tasks I was going to accomplish during my 10-day Kwanzaa break was to conquer the cable monster lurking in the corner of my bedroom. I’d battled with it periodically and felt defeated every time I spent far longer than I cared to to liberate whichever cord I needed.
Multi-Legged Cable Beast
Apparently, that was my foreshadowing of things to come. I spent, what felt like over two hours, detangling and wrapping up cords. I hadn’t bothered to take note of the start time because I’d underestimated how long organizing that mess of outdated technology would take.
Tamed Beast
I did myself the favor of using the different compartments in the bag to sort out the type of cords, plugs and other stuff that I had amassed over the years.
The only reason I didn’t completely lose my mind/temper was thanks to the audiobooks I’d downloaded from the Austin Public Library. (Yes, I pay to still have access to that wonderfully, rich virtual library!) I finished one audiobook and nearly completed another. Granted, I’d listened to each of them in rotation, so I wasn’t starting from scratch.
Fortunately for me, my sister had invited me to go to the movies. I’d gotten out of the habit of going to the movies since the pandemic, but given how I’d resolved an organizational nightmare, I’d earned something special.
Leading up to Christmas, I started wearing my Santa hat and other Christmasy clothing out everywhere I went. I had a few different outfits, depending on the event. For exercise class, my leggings did the trick, but I saved the showiest Christmas attire for the upcoming show.
Prior to Stretch/Flex Class
I’d written a Christmas show for my family as their gift. The first challenge was personalizing the event. I came up with five different sets of Candy Cane awards for each of my family members, based on either funny/traditional things that happened during past Christmases or things that were uniquely funny to the individual.
Dad’s Entrance
The second challenge was choosing a secular Christmas song that paired with the award. Yes, I’m well-aware that on the surface, “secular Christmas song” appears to be an oxymoron, but thanks to the internet, I had absolutely no problem finding nonreligious, Christmastime songs that paired with each award.
Getting Settled in
Next, I collaborated with the pole fitness studio where I’ve taken a variety of classes. They had never done an event like this. Outside of their regular classes, the studio hosted student-instructor showcases and private parties.
The two past showcases that I attended had Halloween and Christmas themes. Those free events allowed pole students to practice performing in front of an all-woman audience of family and friends while instructors used the opportunity to entice students to their classes.
Taking in the Ambiance
Private parties, on the other hand, are 60 to 90-minute private pole fitness (pole/chair/floor/aerial) class where an instructor teaches a group of people who booked the event outside of the regular class schedule.
PreShow Pose
I knew for a fact that the private party was out. I could only envision one sister and one nephew being even remotely interested in taking a pole class. Yet, I knew all of them would enjoy being audience members.
The first pair of Candy Cane Awards went to the best Nana-Grandson dance. After showing the clip of those two dancing last Christmas, the first dancer performed to that classic hiphop tune, “Christmas in Hollis” by Run DMC.
Floorography Dancer
The second pair of Candy Cane Awards went to the wordsmiths of the family, so the next performance was to Jasmine Rae’s “Christmas Alphabet.”
Liquid Motion Dancer
The third pair of Candy Cane Awards was for the Christmas chefs in the family. Fittingly, the next performance was to Snoop Dogg’s “Just Eat.”
Static Pole Dancer
The fourth pair of Candy Cane Awards was for the songstresses in the family. As an inside joke, the next performance was danced to Shonen Knife’s “Space Christmas.”
Spin Pole Dancer
The last Candy Cane Award was dedicated to my 85 year-old father, a Vietnam Vet and real-live Superman. His song was danced to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
Lyra Dancer
Another moment I knew that everyone was waiting for…pictures with the dancers.
Final Bow
I started off the picture parade with the dancers, all of whom were my instructors.
Dancers & Host
When I first started planning for this event, I predicted that one of my sisters and a nephew would probably be the only two who would want to learn a simple pole trick. My brother-in-law disproved that hypothesis.
Brother-in-law Boogie
We also had a few traditional Christmas pictures since there was a decorated tree, albeit topped with Hedwig from the Harry Potter series.
Hedwig Christmas Tree Pose
I directed my parents to take their traditional picture in front of the tree since we didn’t have one set up at home.
Parents Christmas Pose
The very next group picture featured Dad. The most effort had been made to accommodate him.
Dad & Dancers
As I explained to everyone, this was the first time Dad had been out of the house since mid April and it not be a doctor’s appointment.
Dad Showing Off Candy Cane Award
I encouraged my nephew to take his group picture because this would be one of the rare times he’d be surrounded by women he’s not related to.
Nephew & Dancers
My brother-in-law, for all his initial spontaneous pole enthusiasm, took a straight pose with shades–as if he’d be disguised.
Brother-in-Law & Dancers
My nieces and nephew took a group picture together, warming up to the idea of posing solo with the dancers.
Siblings & Dancers
However, their mother was raring to go. She took a pose suggestion and then latched on.
Sister & Dancers
Not to be outdone…
Sister & Dancers
Now, the niece, who had modeling experience, finally warmed up to striking a pose.
Niece & Dancers
I let it slip that my nephew did parkour, so the dancers stood back to check out his skills.
Nephew & Dancers
The pole was more of a challenge. The dancers helped a brother out.
Assisted Parkour Pose
Since her younger sister and brother had struck a pose, my other niece took her turn.
Niece & Dancers
Last, but certainly not least, Mom wrapped her leg around the pole.
Mom & Dancers
I don’t know who made the request, but I should have known better not to grab that pole. I’d written, produced and hosted the show. I had officially done enough at this point. The last thing I needed to do was climb the pole with those “teflon” stockings I was wearing, preventing me from climbing.
Surrounded by My Instructors
Now this was the only pose I should have attempted in the first place:
Sisters’ Pose
This was my first event with my new digital camera. With its blurry images and wonky cinematography, I call my first attempt “so bad it’s humorously good.” Enjoy!
Originally, I wanted to gift everyone in my family a deluxe pedicure. Too many didn’t care to try a different nail salon or get a pedicure at all. Besides, that was only the first among many different ideas that crossed my mind for a nonmaterialistic family Christmas gift experience.
Nonetheless, I continued getting my monthly mani-pedi. This time around, I took one of my nephews with me.
He wasn’t exactly thrilled to go since he had never been before. Besides, in his mind, it wasn’t a manly thing to do. Manly or not, his toenails looked horrible. Moreover, it’s never a bad thing to help this nephew out with his grooming/hygiene.
He took it all in, watching the nail tech prep my feet since his nail tech didn’t arrive until about 15 minutes after mine had started. As much as I wanted to witness the look on his face while he was went through the process of getting a pedicure, I was done before he was and left the area to get my manicure.
I especially wanted to see the look on his face when the woman rubbed hot flat stones all over his legs and when he submerged his feet into a gel-like substance. The latter threw me off the first time I’d experienced it.
Although he gave a lackluster confirmation that he enjoyed the experience, he took a business card once I finished paying. When I asked him why he needed a business card, he sheepishly smiled and told me “to look at it.” Time will tell what silly reason he thinks he needs the nail salon’s contact information.
After reading the PDF manual for my new (outdated) digital camera over the course of a few weeks, taking all the accessories out of the box, and charging the battery on Saturday morning, I shot a 2.5 minute clip, starring Dad, on Sunday morning. Despite him being lethargic, I was very excited to take that baby step, which was psychologically a very huge step. After all, I’d done just about everything else under the guise of preparing myself to practice shooting video.
The last thing I wanted to do was wait until the day of the event and use the equipment for the first time. So, I’ve avoided that much. Now the next step was to figure out postproduction.
I didn’t buy the latest version of this camera, which would have cost far more and not come with any accessories. Besides, since I’m an emerging filmmaker with a very modest budget, I stayed in my financial lane.
One thing that I overlooked was that the manual was written at the time that this particular camera was top of the line, rather than antiquated. Once I got toward the end of the manual, I saw that I could connect the camera to the laptop with a cable, use a card reader with the SD card, or import the images/videos via Wi-Fi.
I suspected that I already had a cable to connect the camera to the computer attachment (since newer laptops no longer have all the fancy ports like the ol’ school laptops used to have!) somewhere in the bowels of my large bag full of such cables. I was in no mood to detangle all those cables. After I finally sorted and filed all the loose important papers over the Thanksgiving long weekend, organizing the electronic cable bag became my new thing to cringe over. And put off organizing until Christmas break.
Corner of Tangled Cables
So, yes, I ended up buying a cable only to discover the very next day when I braved the cable bag for something else, that I DID already have that damn cable because it was old tech. I comforted myself thinking that it only costed $10 with tax, so lesson learned!
Now that I had twice as many cables needed to connect my laptop to the camera, I then had to download the appropriate version of the software. Here’s how I knew I was in trouble: none of the versions were as current as my brand-new laptop. I tried anyway. Of course it didn’t work. Whatever I installed, never acknowledged that my camera was connected to the laptop even after disabling the Wi-Fi on the camera, which was apparently a step I had to take.
I just took a deep breath, disconnected everything and researched the other two ways.
The next thing I tried was to connect the camera to Wi-Fi. At least I didn’t have to buy anything. I enabled the Wi-Fi, selected the correct Wi-Fi name, but instead of asking for the password, it asked for some other computer geek thing that I didn’t know how to answer and never got passed that step.
Finally, I tried using the SD card. I’d resisted using this method because I was determined not to buy anything else if I could help it. Turned out, the multiple port attachment I’d bought since my new laptop had only two USB-C ports, had both an SD and an SD card adapter ports. I popped the SD card adapter out of the camera and slid it into the port, where it appeared in Finder.
Just to recap: not only did I NOT need any cable, but I didn’t need the new cable that I’d bought, which was redundant in the first place! In time, I won’t dwell on it.
After moving the MOV folder, which contained two MOV clips, to the “Movie” category in Finder, I then labelled both the folders and the clips. May have seemed a little bit overkill, but I wanted to start off as organized as possible, especially since one day, that humble beginnings folder will be the first of many.
When I received the invitation from a friend to enter a writing contest about “On Being Different,” especially when it came to some aspect of the medical field and/or studying, I immediately thought about my brief stint of selling health insurance over the phone. Since nothing happens in a vacuum, I began my piece on my first day of kindergarten. That was the day I learned that I was Black.
The consequences of that racial designation has influenced my experiences, which I summarized in my essay, published by On Pulse:
