So, okay. I’m not an undergrad. That’s fine. I shouldn’t want to relive those years because I sure had fun when I did live them out (woooo)
BUT…. I don’t remember aspiring to be like the video hoes NOR was I trying to look like, if a person placed a pole in front of me, my dancing style would be right at home. And I know I’m not an old fuddy duddy. But TARNATIONS!!!! These UGs today are out of control. Please don’t get me wrong. In my former life (and in places where folks don’t know who I am or what I try to represent) I am THE MOST scrub-the-groundingnest, backing-it-upingest, booty-shakingest, pop-that-thangingnest, shake-dem-tittiesest female you may come across. I love it because dancing is such a release from sex for me. HOWEVER… I’m not OVERsexed to the point where I can’t control myself when restraint needs to be shown. For instance, when I’m attempting to represent my organization… I put the best foot I have forward. These girls, rocking the handkerchiefs they called skirts were doing so much suggestive movements, it was UNREAL. So unreal that one of my neos came to me and said “are those Deltas?” And I said… no, dear… those are our sorors. No direct disrespect to the Deltas, but they are a little free-er than AKAs are SUPPOSED to allow themselves to be. We are “ladies”. Prissy, Pretty, Stuck Up, Tightly woven ladies (in public). So all of this Freak-a-leek stuff we’re doing in public is BLOWING my mind. And I really feel like… is it ME? or is it THEM? My prophytes would have had NO problem pulling me aside and saying, “If you don’t go put some clothes on…” or “If you don’t stop acting like a hoar on this dance floor, I’ll yoke you up.” Is it me because I WON’T do that? But sit and brood in a corner about them for the remainder of the party wondering, Where is my sisterhood going??? Straight down the toilet. But then I spoke to another soror about it and she said to my commentary, “Well… once upon a time if your prophytes were to do that at all, you would have respected what they said and stopped acting out. These “young ladies” wouldn’t care… probably tell you to go f’ your self and keep it moving.” Is that what we’ve gotten to? A completely out of control youth with no hopes of steering them in the right direction or trying to guide them along? What kind of hope is that?
On another note, I dreamt of Cary last night. It was tumultuous, as it should be. There was yelling and angst and I woke up crying and vexed. I’ve been watching the old seasons of Sex & the City lately and I guess I’ve awoken that part of my mind again to the crap I used to go through. One of the episodes was talking about Drama. Do we really need drama to feel fulfilled? There was CERTAINLY enough of that in my life when he was a part. And the dramatic part of me loved that. But the stable part of me (which now is most of me) hated it.
And today is the same kind of strange day where we would escape the rest of the known world and retreat to the only place where we did get along well (his old apt). Can’t deny that his presence is missed today… but tomorrow I will forget having missed it.