4 - 1 3 / 3 6 5

So many stories are contained in one photograph.

But I leave you with this. I've been trying to discover myself and on the way I went to Delaware where I got alcohol poisoning and continuously threw up from 1 am to 6 pm. It wasn't pretty. But I'm grateful to that experience because it showed me who I'm not. And when I finally came back to being healthy and eating meals again I learned what's important to me.

The two pictures above are of Rachel and I on the eve that she turned 21. It's funny how people come and go in our lives. We were really close and then we didn't talk to each other for a year. By the grace of God we reconnected and I joined her for her birthday festivities as we went bar hopping around Univ. of Delaware.

Did you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone but God had decided your timing for this meeting?  Strange question, huh? Well, I thought that I would never get a chance to meet Rachel's best friend Soraya and I did!  We were both so excited when we met each other. It was like a milestone.

Problem: I don't remember this picture being taken. Afterwards I went straight to the bathroom and yacked all night until the next evening. I was praying to God to take the poisons out of my body and BOY DID HE TAKE OUT WAYYY MORE POISONS THAN I EXPECTED.

Life is a lesson. We just have to be willing to learn.

This is Rachel's gorgeous roommate who pretty much saved my life. I owe her so much because she took such great care of me from bathroom to couch from Sunday night to Saturday night.  Her EMT skills did her sooo well. I'm only sorry and humiliated that I had to give her a surprise pop quiz on them.

The first bit of actual food that I started eating.  A Brazillian style empanada from Empanada Mama. I love spanish foods wayyyy too much.  I was so excited to start eating again that I had to take a picture! Please note, I lost all the nutrients in my body on Saturday night and did not eat a thing on Sunday or Monday.  (All I  had was water and gatorade.)  This picture was taken Tuesday evening. HALLELUJAH! I'm eating again.

The reading area at Bryant Park. I love a good place to read. And a good place to read is always everywhere but Bryant park holds a special place in my heart.  Probably because there's also a coffee stand and a ping pong area.

AHHH... Tango in the Park. Saturdays (like yesterday) are special days where I get to take Dunham dance class and go tango.  The Dunham class is so painful and strenuous that every time class is over I thank my body for working so hard. Sometimes I can't do the exercises that we do in class and I get frustrated but then I go to Tango at Central Park in the evenings and am reminded about how redemptive, joyous and therapeutic dance should be. It should never be harsh.

Farmer's Markets = my favorite way to get nutrition. I get to talk to people (I'm not going to lie, sometimes I flirt), eat great food, over indulge on free samples, and learn more about the glorious powers of a good honey pot.

Priceless. I'm so excited for this movie.

3 / 3 6 5

early morning light. windowsill. very little color adjustment.

Don't worry, those hands are mine.

The sacrum is located at the base of the spine. It is the upper and back part of the pelvic cavity.  The sacrum has an odd triangle shape with two "wings" called the Sacral Ala.  They connect the sacrum and the pelvis in order to stabilize lumbosacral junction.  The sacrum works with our two side hip bones and the front pubic bone to create a diamond shaped bowl.  Therefore, the sacrum is a member of the jewel in our temple. The diamond shaped bowl that is the pelvic cavity holds major organs and the reproductive system, amongst many other things.  When a dancer does a plie (s)he is not supposed to adjust their pelvic bowl (i.e. tuck in their pelvis) because it will disturb the beauty of this diamond in our bodies.  The term sacrum is Latin for "sacred bone" because it is where life is nurtured, infants are cradled, and --according to the ancients-- where our souls lie.

Our bodies are a temple filled with many mysteries.

2 / 3 6 5

I love a grainy picture more than a clear one. 

I guess there's just something about it.

Anyway, this photo is about the rings that I wear. I don't really like to wear jewelry. It gets pretty annoying after a while and sometimes it just gets in the way (I've come close to a few cappuccino accidents).  I met a performer/teacher one day and we had a lovely conversation about art, pedagogy styles, and life.  Our conversation ended when he wrote a note that said "Camilla, find purpose in everything." And there is purpose behind those three rings.

On my left hand I wear an orange band on my ring finger.  It's pretty simple and not noticeable. I wear it for my grandmother's who provide me with incredible inspiration.  When they both died (my Filipina grandma, Nanai, when I was 9 and my Mississippi grandma, Grandmother Gladys, when I was 18) I cried so hard that I practically wailed. Afterwards I stopped crying and just sat somewhere completely numb and motionless.  My two grandmothers are incredibly strong women.  They both raised 5+ children.  Nanai hid herself, her husband, and her then three sons from Japanese soldiers in various caves of the Philippines during WWII.  Grandmother Gladys was a single parent with diabetes who worked as an elementary school teacher in order to raise her kids in the Mississippi delta during the 40s, 50s, and 60s.  She also made a bit more money by selling candy to the neighbor kids at her house. Every time we visited my Grandma she'd let me sneak in some candies while we watched TV together. And OHHH, could these two women cook! Some of my best memories of childhood are of them cooking breakfast right when I woke up. Nanai's tapa and champarado or Grandmother Gladys' peach cobbler with fried zuccini's on the side.  But anyway, sometime this year I was writing down poem fragments that were in my head and I came up with "I wear a ring because I'm married to the idea to be more like you." Then I thought damn, why don't I just do that? So I did.  But the process for that was a little bit difficult because that's where I used to wear an old promise ring with someone that I was planning on getting married with. (I know... eww) The culmination of me getting the orange band was a pretty big deal because it meant that I was no longer in pain from that past relationship.  It also means that I want to become a strong womyn of color who would be guided by the spirits of her grandmothers instead of be someone who dictates her life based on a lover's.

On my right pinky finger I wear my old chastity ring. My cousin Heather gave it to me when I made the promise. Clearly, I broke it.  You'd probably think that I wear it as a tortuous reminder of a broken promise that I made to myself, my family and God.  It's okay, I'd think the same thing too. Just so you know, I don't wear it for that reason.  This ring used to be wear the orange band is. Then it was replaced by a promise ring given from the ex that I previously mentioned.  Because we were planning on getting married I decided that it'd be alright for me to lose it.  The relationship turned out to be rather painful and abusive.  It had a remarkably clean ending but very sloppy consequences. However, I'm more than grateful that I'm still not with him.  (Many of you know why, but if you don't feel free to ask me.)  The old chastity ring stays on the finger as a symbol of gratitude and reverence.  I'm grateful to the situation (and very thankful that I'm not longer in it!) because it has taught me that although someone tried take away my dignity (in order to make me dependent on him) he never truly succeeded.  I walk tall with a crown on my head (not literally), a radiant spirit, and the knowledge that I am not broken nor will I ever be.

On my right index finger is a Tibetan mantra.  It reads Om mani padme hum. It can either be translated as "Hail the jewel on the lotus," "Behold! The Jewel of the Lotus," or "My heart is the jewel on the lotus." I prefer the second and third readings.  I found out the significance of the lotus flower from a yogi, she wrote:

The lotus flower is symbol of purity of heart and mind, knowledge and enlightenment.  It thrives in muddy waters and rises to the surface to blossom one petal at a time.  The lotus illustrates how we can all grow beautifully, even from sticky situations.

And it stuck with me and the situations I had undergone, especially with being here in NYC.  This observation on the lotus is pretty much universal, no matter what ones lifestyle is. I've dealt with so much insecurity and self-hatred that was debilitating my lifestyle and crippling me.  Now I'm beginning to see the beauty in myself and the beauty of life despite all of the ugly things that are happening, have happened and will happen.  Now, when I'm in a dance class and I feel that I'm going to get hard on myself I take a second to remind myself that I was made in God's image.  Therefore, I am perfect despite my physical imperfections.  Because of that I am able to rise beyond the muddy criticisms that I drown myself in and I can become like the lotus: beautiful, like all the things that He made.  I hope to get the ring blessed by a priest that I usually see on Tuesday nights (though he wasn't at Bible study last night).  This ring is the physical symbol of the beginnings of my spiritual journey.




I don't expect to wear the rings every day or for the duration of my life.  They mean a lot to me right now and when I feel that a new transition is necessary then I'll take it.  But, for now, they are my symbols of salvation.

Project 3 6 5

I spent yesterday hanging out with my NYC cousin Karen, she's a 15/16 year old beauty who's very fun to be around.  As we stumbled through the internet and she showed me her life in websites, fb friends, blogs, posts, and forums. I showed her my life through shopping strategies, dialogue boxes, stories of bff adventures, and affection-needy failures.  She showed me a project that one of her classmates is doing: it's called 365 and she takes a picture for every day of the year and explains how it was done or, sometimes, what it means.  Brilliant! I thought and at that moment decided to do my own project of such.

Why? You ask, Why do such a project? You can't be that bored in NYC.  Of course I'm not. But, aforementioned in previous blogs, I'm trying to get back to myself. And, sometimes, visual guidance is necessary. So this is my visual guidance. Photographs of things and routines that make me feel more like Camille instead of a fabricated version of her.  (Plus, I complain too much)  365 photos. 365 things to be grateful for. 365 reasons to be. But, of course, I won't be able to go on my blog every day to post photos.  Expect a photo a day, but not a blog a day.

And thus is the first. Soft [ good morning ] light. Tussled bed. Jammies.  NYC library. The tallest book of the stack is titled Brida, it's the one that is changing my life.

Addition to the Day:
Hello again! It's about 11 pm right now so it's been almost 12--maybe 13--hours since my last post. WOWEE. And I really want to mention how amazing God is and what He's done for my day.

It started off with my daily yoga practice (a warm up that was inspired by the company class that I took with Elisa Monte Dance!).  Something wasn't going right with the routine so I stopped it--halfway through--sat in lotus position and contemplated what was going on. I realized that I hadn't given my practice to God.  At that instance I prayed and I gave the practice up to Him so that this practice will tighten the bond I have with my faith.  I started the routine all over again and kept on reminding myself that I don't do yoga to better my body but I do yoga to strengthen my faith.

Afterwards I went to physical therapy in Manhattan then called Ash and we spoke for what felt like an hour and a half. It may have just been an hour, I don't know. But BOY do I miss her! I feel like I might cry and tell her that I'm never living on my own again. What can I say? She's my best friend. We get off the phone and I head towards St. Marks square, but I took the wrong train (the N instead of the 6) and end up going to Brooklyn.  But, to my surprise, the N train gave me a gorgeous view of the Brooklyn bridge at (almost) midday. It was so beautiful, I wish I could have taken a picture of it. But there'll be more days for that.

I found an R train and returned to 8th Street so that I could go to St. Marks Square and buy a ring that I think is appropriate for who I am now.  The ring cost $6 and I had only $1 so I went to 2 Bros Pizza and got a slice for a buck.  (2 Bros proves that eating cheap can be delicious too) I had about an hour to kill before I could head off to Brooklyn for Bible study.  Because I was in St. Marks (which is where NYU is) I thought that I would just go to a bar and get a drink or two to pass the time, instead I found a Yoga studio that offers free community classes... and it began in an hour. Dressed in my usual spandex, tank, and peacoat I took the opportunity and yoga'd my way through the hour.  I must admit, although the class was free it was super packed and it's kind of difficult to practice when the instructor can't correct you or share some wisdom.  Either way, yoga is good, it's much better than getting drinks at a bar. I absolutely love it.

After yoga I'm completely gross and sweaty and am on my way to Bible study.  Some guy starts yelling "Hey sexy!" at me and I ignore him which makes him continue to do it.  At that point I realized that the guys that gave me their number (because I don't give out mine) were not as bad as this fool and I should really give them a chance.  So I decided that I'll call them tomorrow and schedule a date for the following week. If I can still get one.

Went to Bible study in Brooklyn.  But instead of Bible study it was actual mass... in Spanish.  I was thoroughly confused.  But my soul was swinging the song "Speak to My Heart Lord" and I was able to understand the general idea of tonight's sermon.  It was about the Virgin Mary, mostly because yesterday was her birthday.  And then I started thinking about how God plans things out so well: the virgin Mary is a virgo. Coincidence? I think not!

I rode back to Queens with a friend from Bible study who is an excellent listener and a very wise and supportive being.  He blessed me with his knowledge of business and the "real world." And I got to tell him my hopes and dreams.  Since we met, last week, he's been concerned with how my back is and is constantly telling me to not give up the dream and that I should continue dancing so that he can see me performing on the big stage.  I told him that that wouldn't happen and he calmly replied by saying that if I'm a child of God then there's no need to worry about the future because it's all in His hands. We proceeded to have great conversations: about martial arts and it's resemblance with dance, about my heritage, about nutrition, etc.  I felt comfortable enough to tell him my dancey-project for when I return to SC and he expressed his excitement to see it.  He said that I shouldn't give up my gift because what I told him about the project is very beautiful and he'd love to see it.  Unfortunately, I told him, it'll be on the West Coast. He told me that I shouldn't stop with the show there... I should bring it to NYC! It'll be off Broadway but it'll be worthwhile.  It's funny how you give up your dream and then God sends you someone with an encouraging heart who's persistently telling you not to stop.

God is good, all the time.
All the time, God is good.

an excerpt from Paulo Coelho's Warrior of Light

If you'd like to read more, click here.

In the flower shop

The woman was strolling through a shopping mall when she noticed a poster announcing a new flower shop. When she went in, she got a shock; she saw no vases, no arrangements, and it was God in person who stood behind the counter.

“You can ask for whatever you want,” said God.

“I want to be happy. I want peace, money, the capacity to be understood. I want to go to heaven when I die. And I want all this to be granted to my friends too.”

God opened a few pots that were on the shelf behind him, removed some grains from inside, and handed them to the woman.

“Here you have the seeds,” He said. “Begin to plant them, because here we don’t sell the fruits.”

fall cleaning

I just wiped my closet wardrobe free of the clothes that I don't wear. It's quite amazing how much I don't wear or outfits that I'm hesitant about wearing.  And it makes me wonder why I bought everything... I'm not the 17 year old fashion addict that I was and I bought most of this last year.  What shall I do... what shall I do...

• I keep on toying with the idea of having a bargain-bin-free-for-all when I return to SC so that my friends can get the clothes I don't wear... buuuuut that means I'll have to ship my clothes back to SC and that's too expensive. 
•  I could take it to a consignment store and get a little bit of money for it. But I might end up feeling unsettled with what I'll be getting for what I spent on it (does that make any sense?)
  
• I'm looking into donating my clothes to thrift shops that are sending their proceeds to special causes (AIDs relief, Cancer research, homeless shelters, etc).  It's amazing how many there are in NYC but I feel as if I need to do research on these places.  Some of them seem so bourgie (pronunciation: bu-zhee; meaning: bourgeoisie); for instance, there's a consignment shop that requests "designer women's clothing" uhhh... the only thing that's designer in my closet are a couple of dresses from Macy's.  I didn't know that the art of donating is so selective.
• OH! I just realized that I think my church does donations. Plus, it's down the street and 24/7. UMM, yeah, I'm going do that.

I'm also looking through the books that I have with me here in NYC.  I love my books; albeit, I haven't finished all of them. I should donate those too. But I love my books so much and I want to add them to my library (which, once I actually get my own space that I can decorate, will be my favorite place to be ever).  But these books aren't mine (as in, they, like everything else, belong to God) and it's troubling to keep them and know that they're not helping me in any sort of way.  I think these mixed emotions are a product of my feelings for Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance... The book is very interesting and it's an easy read.  But it's not helping me with my life. In any way. At all.  It's pretty unsettling to stop reading the poor book halfway through but I need something that'll help me grow emotionally and spiritually.  Philosophy vis-a-vis motorcycle maintenance isn't doing that.

A coworker of mine told me about an artist that she saw in concert and how beautiful her voice is. Her name is Sharon von Etten and she's residing in Brooklyn.  I've pretty much been listening to her nonstop too.  Her voice is so hauntingly beautiful.  She looks so frail but has this weird/mysterious sense of strength.  I'm very intrigued. Below is a video of her singing a la secret garden in Manhattan.

ehh... more time to kill

Cassie and I just pushed back our Lower East Side romp to 10 pm. More time to write!

I just uncovered the The Best of the Doors album on my laptop.

I don't know where it came from. Or how it got here.

But Spanish Caravan is pleasing me very much.

I just finished a fantastic book by Paulo Coelho entitled Brida. It was wonderful. I loved every word and was sad when it was finished. I learned so much from that story and now I want to explore the world more.  That story is where I learned that all roads lead to Rome, and I'm very grateful that I did because I'm now stepping more confidently as I journey on this road.

Currently, I'm reading Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance. I'm mostly reading it because other people loved it so much. I don't. I'm about halfway through and want to discard it.  I tell myself that once I finish it then I'll gain some sort of wisdom.  But I don't think I am. I'm learning philosophy and how to write a great philosophical argument/text but I have trouble with it.  I read because I want to gain a piece of the One Great Truth.  There's this thing that I'd like to refer to as the One Great Truth.  It's like... well... the best way I can describe it is that the OGT is like the ice cream truck.  It travels to all possible places it can and only gives a piece of knowledge so that we come back to it.  When I was little I would look for the ice cream truck, sometimes I would wait for it, and other times it would magically appear in my Grandma's neighborhood.  The ice cream truck was like this magical wandering being, never in one place for too long and it works on its own time.  That's how the OGT is.  We get the OGT anywhere: books, movies, plays, music, strangers, the grocery store, church, etc.  I find it best in books.  Sometimes I choose the right books and sometimes it finds its way to me.  Either way, God is bringing me a piece of the OGT.  Anyway, the OGT isn't just ONE INFINITE PIECE OF WISDOM. Nope, in my opinion it's a web of wisdoms that lead to... something. I just don't know what... umm... let's call it Rome.

Anyway, back to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The book is a pretty good read, but in the end it's just observational theory.  And in my opinion, that's not wisdom. Wisdom is something more... it's the application of knowledge to your life. It's a memory that you can look at in retrospect and know that you've learned something about life from the experience.  I learn a lot of great theory from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, as I do with all philosophical texts that I read. But it feels pointless to ponder and argue these theories if I'm not gaining more from the OGT.  

Actually, when reading this, I feel like I'm learning how to be an elitist smartass instead of being Camille.

I enjoy being Camille, thank you very much.

hello, stranger.

Goodnight day. Hello night. 

I've got an hour to kill. 

Sunflowers in my face. 

And the Rob Pattinson Pandora station. 

Let's go!

Hello blog, 

it's been a while.

For those of you stalker people who have been inquiring as to why I deleted all of my posts on my blog here's the explanation: I found out that my blog was on one of the press clippings for work. When I found out that someone from work was reading what I wrote I freaked out and deleted everything. Over reaction, I know. I'll never get those lovely blogs back. *TEAR* Buuut it's alright. We just move on.

I'm still having my blueberry nights here in NYC. (I'm light-weight upset that I deleted that entry. I liked that one a lot)  The insecurities got really intense during the last month. Hm. I always seem to have shitty birthdays... turning 21 was no exception. But I learned the beauty of a birth-week and made the most of August 3-8th!  What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right? And I'm certainly not dead.  

Last month I was all in an upset because of my [still] injured back. I was told that it'll always be hurting in some way or another and that I need to make the most of it... and consider not being a full-time professional dancer.  It's difficult to have your dream tarnished.  I tried to be positive and keep on keeping on but the pain always came back... so at the end of the month I decided that I'm really going to take a few weeks off intensively dancing. I'm still in this dance vacation.  But it doesn't suck as much as I thought it would because I'm getting back to things I loved before I started dancing.  (err... for those of you who don't know I began about 3.5 years ago) I go to concerts, art museums, shows, gardens, eating at amazing restaurants, the public library (oh geeee, I can't tell you enough how much I love libraries), and happy hour with friends.  Okay, since my birthday I'm discovering how much I love happy hour so that qualifies as a new love.  This New York life isn't all that bad. But I know that I don't quite belong here. These city lights are just a distraction.

I'm surprised that I am not taking the upset more seriously.  I excel at masochism.  But something else is telling me that I'm supposed to do more. Alright, by "something" I really mean my spirit is telling me this.  Or, at least, something in my spirit. It's my soul. My soul is telling me.  I wish I could explain it to you. I know that I can't. It just is. And I'm pretty appreciative.

I'm so glad that I'm reading again.  My mother raised me in libraries, I'd finish books in a day and then get excited to begin another story right away.  (In fact, one of the reasons why Beauty and the Beast is my favorite movie is because Beast gave Belle an incredibly ridiculous library. Plus, and I identify with Belle more so than any other story figure I watched/read/heard about. Oh, and I love chip.)  It was really the only escape I had from myself and the life that my parents predetermined for me.  Somewhere when college started I stopped reading and lost a lot of myself... As many of us do, I'm sure. I became a language studies major because I wanted to translate books.  The linguistics aspect seemed pointless and that was all I was doing so I stopped.  During the time that I stopped, these 3.5 years, I began dancing.  And it was wonderful. Literature people tend to be so... stuck up. Or maybe it was just me. I knew that I was a snob and I was so proud of it.  Oye.  Once I got into Community Studies, performance and dance I met angels. I learned the importance of being humble, staying rooted, and doing things with purpose.  When I started reading again I realized that there were times when I wish that I remained a language studies major so that I would have a set career path.  I have no idea what direction I'm going in, but it's alright.  I gave myself the opportunity to be amongst angels (in Santa Cruz and NYC) and learned how to be rooted in the same tree of knowledge. 

There's a proverb, "All roads lead to Rome," and this is mine.