Thursday, February 18, 2016

Big Ang

Last night, Big Ang died. I read the news on Facebook, as bad news often seems to be encountered these days. I don’t know what to say about it but I do feel that something needs to be said, that I need to commemorate in some small ways what this woman meant to me. She was an inspiration to me in her brashness, in her love of life, and in her bigness. Yes, she was a reality tv star, but something human shone through all that and from the first time I saw her on screen, I was captivated by this woman and for a while something close to obsessed with her.

She was so expressive in all of her facial reactions and in her body language. She was so alive and engaged with the world in such a beautiful way. I wanted to be her, to have that same liberated sense of fun she seemed capable of. She was all about the good life and, yes, it’s living that good life too much that caused her to die at an early age. But she was so alive, more alive than most people ever will be, during her time here.

I met her once at her Brass Monkey bar when she had an outpost of it in Dumbo. I went to it opening night, knowing that she would be there. She was and for an hour or so, I watched her and her friends drunkenly party all over the bar, waiting for some moment when I could approach her and tell her how much I loved her. I told her and she was blasted but excited to chat with me briefly, appreciating the love. I took a photo with. She squeezed my cheeks, and that night I was the happiest person on the planet, having finally encountered in person this larger-than-life figure who meant so much to me.

And so last night, her death, while making me insanely sad also reminded me of what it is to be alive, what a short thing this is, our time here on Earth, and how there are innumerable approaches to what to do with that time, but certainly one of the best ways of using that time would be to follow Big Ang’s example and to fucking live loudly.

That’s what I have been trying to do lately - to have fun, to not have shame, to follow my passions where they may lead me unconcerned about what some people may think, to live, and to try to make the most of this time here on Earth.

Last week, I went on a date with this incredibly sexy guy, my first time going on a date with a guy in...honestly, I can’t even remember the last one... a year maybe? It was nice, but when he first got to the bar where I was meeting with him, I got nervous, clammed up, and felt crazy insecure, thought this person was too good for me, too attractive for me, that something about this equation wasn’t right. So despite this person looking at me in a way I could definitely tell meant he was attracted to me, that deep-rooted insecurity of me grew branches and started sprouting all over the place. I did a mental aboutface though. I realized that this person was here because he wanted to be, that he was looking at me because he was attracted to me, and that I needed to get ahold of myself very quickly if I didn’t want this date to go off the rails.

There is a self-sabotaging part of myself that comes out often in my interactions with people that I am attracted to, that for whatever reasons I don’t believe that I am deserving or worthy of affection and so do my best to make that the case. And this was one of those instances, but then I hit the brakes and engaged. I became present. I became alive. It’s so fucking easy to start doing laps in your brain, running through various things and thinking why things won’t work or why this person shouldn’t like you. But I muted that annoying talk show happening and became present in the scene. And from that point, the date went great. We had a lovely dinner, snacked on pig’s tails, and then went back to his place and had amazing sex. He lives behind my favorite burrito place in the world, which I take to be a sign, a very important sign.

I met with a recruiter yesterday about getting a new job. I am serious about living my best life and having the most fun while doing so. Big Ang, I fucking love you!

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