My Pleasure

Shakey-Hands Capture the Moment Before the Usher Catches Me With a Camera

I make my return to The Ground of My Heart still reeling from a nap that lasted too long, and the loss of the Crimson Tide. I’ve been so committed to posting every 2-3 days, and truly apologize for the delay. I went from being unbelievably un-busy to having a full schedule in one day, and the adjustment took some getting used to. The truth is that even now I’m rushing, but the rest of the week I plan to take it slow. To take it very slow. And to enjoy the many blessings that have come my way.

I had the pleasure of going to a remarkable dance show on Friday night. The show opened with beautiful brown men dancing to Afro-Cuban rhythms, and I knew it was time for me to get back into yoga. Their bodies stretched into positions that I used to be able to copy. They swayed with an easiness that reminded me of pure youth. Only youth gets so loose with it. I let some people talk me out of going to yoga classes earlier this year, and to be fair, I understand their concerns. However, I think a once weekly class and some ample time focusing on the Truth is exactly what I need. I need an outlet that allows me to stretch these long limbs I was born with. And once I’m limber, I can fulfill my cardio requirements by taking dance classes. Can’t you see? I’m ready to break up with the treadmill.

I had the pleasure of relaxing most of the day. But at this moment, I’m risking being late for what is sure to be the most talked about event of my week: the Jay-Z and Kanye West concert. I elected to do a play-by-play re-cap of the evening as my next post, so please check back tomorrow night if you want to know how I did at the first rap concert I’ve been to in years after having my first Red Bull in over two weeks.

I had the pleasure of fasting this week, only consuming vegetables and fruits. It’s tough, but I have a soldier mentality when it comes to challenges. I wasn’t as irritable as I had expected to be, and I proved that by answering the 1-800 number that called my phone on Thursday night. For some reason, my student loan collection agency opts to call me the week after I’ve paid my bill, every single month. The same agent, Brandy Something, tells me how my account is coming along and how I’m almost and oh-so-close to getting off of the ‘We Have the Right To Harass You List’ by making however many more payments on time. The fact that they call me to tell me that they won’t be calling me anymore in a matter of months is ridiculous. And it angers me.

I had the pleasure– no, that’s a lie already. I had the opportunity to talk to Brandy Something earlier in the week. She announced her company, and then said, “This is an attempt to collect a debt. All calls will be monitored.” I yelled at her last winter, and I still feel terribly about it. I can hear her use caution when she talks to me, unsure of why it is I’m suddenly so nice. I’m nice because I’m stable and responsible and I believe that my student loans will be fully paid within the next year. I have been blessed to have all the things that I need at all times, and I abound in the good works that I take on. To me, that mean there’s no longer a reason to stress out and blame her for simply doing her job. Instead of avoiding her calls, I now try to be as nice as I possibly can.

And that is why I’m going to write her a recommendation letter. She asked for it just seconds before hanging up, after letting me know that her yearly review was coming up and it would be helpful to her when her superiors determine her pay rate. In the letter, I described how helpful she’s been, omitting that she has a tone that makes me want to pour glue down my ear tubes. Or a voice that coud never be on radio. I talked about how she’s been my agent for some time now, and we have a good ‘relationship’  with one another. I omitted that she’s about as nice as wiping your behind with sandpaper would be.

I had the pleasure of seeing the sun set a few moments ago, though it’s only a few minutes past five o’clock. Nobody asked me if I wanted it to get dark so early. But I’m happy to oblige. My pleasure. My pleasure.

Written to: Sunday Night Football (Tom Brady and the Patriots versus somebody)

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