Independence day

I've got this blog under "Parties and Nightlife" for a reason. I went to the most amazing party yesterday. I'm sure, when one thinks of me--young, piercings, crazy as hell--that one thinks of some sort of lounge mixer shindig; but really that is far from the sort of party I went to.

Last night, I hung out with a friend of my mom's, Suzanne, and her friends. Suzanne is an American citizen, but has deep Irish roots. She is by far one of the sweetest, most giving people I know. She reminds me of a sweet Irish mom or grandmother, always seeking to give and feed and care for. Her house is amazing, and--according to my sister--could easily sell for over a million dollars. It's a beautiful house, tucked away on a hill, hidden from society, cottage-esque. The insides are beautiful, rich, earthy colors: dark green walls, dark cherry wood flooring, white trimm to make the green walls pop, Irish family tree, little Gaelic sayings posted throughout the house. It almost feels like in Hobbiton in a strange way. It's like having Ireland in the United States everytime I go over there. I've decided to make 4th of July at Suzannes' my tradition.

Suzanne is a beautiful lady with childlike innocence. Deeply Irish Catholic, loving as all hell. I have her to thank for my obsession with all things Disney. I told her that we needed to take a trip to Disneyland one of these days, and she smiled. I could not stop hugging her all evening. Thinking about her, and the feeling in that house, brings tears to my eyes, proof of an attachment deeper than words can express.

What I love the most about her parties is that there are classy but laid back people who attend. Her parties consists of few people--about 10 this year, which is HUGE--from all different walks of life, but all well off and/or successful. Last night, I met Bubbleman (http://www.bubbleman.com/). He used to be a breathing therapist, a physical therapist, a teacher; and then he found his true calling making bubbles and smiles and sharing proper breathing techniques throughout. We shared stories, laughs, music, and jokes all evening. He also gave me a beautiful, yet very deep tip: "you're an artist, so find your craft and start living it." He is a big believer in not going with the status quo, finding the true gifts and callings, and living life to the fullest. I'm there.

God has me sitting and resting right now. I really feel as if He is wanting me to sit still, be content in my current situation, and wait for His timing on the dreams he has put inside of me, waiting for direction. I'm doing a lot of self discovery, though some of the discovery I will say is probably not what He's had in mind. I have not been on my best behavior as of late. It's amazing, God still chooses to use me, drawing all people to him through me. Bubbleman was one, another woman at the party sat next to me and we ended up talking about God, religion, and the balance needed when trying to understand both. Another sweet man was there and bonded with me right away. His accent told me that he was from Ireland (and he was). He sat with me too, sharing some stories, making me Pimm's (drink popular in Ireland and England), sharing his wisdom and culture with us. Toward the end of the evening he said "you'll make it over there soon" and winked at me. I smiled.

It was a simple, yet beautiful evening. I shared a beautiful, yet tasteful, nude that I'd taken of myself with the women (including my mother) who all thought it was beautiful. It's a sideview of me, no aereola showing, just side curves. I eventually want to have it painted. The view yeilded at least three different firework shows as we all sat out on the porch, laughing, drinking, talking and eating. Bubbleman and I sat, oo-ing and aaa-ing at all the beautiful colors. He is a man, completely straight, who loves rich, vibrant colors: the reds, pinks, blues, greens and all the in betweens. He is an artist in a different way and a nomad--he's been all over the world--and we vibed because of it. From our corner, all you could hear were high fives, laughter, snickering at the inside jokes, and him joking about how I must have the whole world in my phone with how often I text (lol).

I was the youngest person there, and yet my age was not important. I was around people who were on my level--cultured, globe trotters, adventurers, world conscious--all succesful in their own way, which might be telling of my own future success(?). I was at home. Not a one of them cared for Bush, which I thought was funny due to the fact that most people associate rich white people with ultra-conservative political views. My being the only black dot (at first) was never an issue, due to the fact that I didn't allow it to be. I came in, sat by myself at first--all smiles, peace, and laughter--comfortable in my own skin.

Feelings of inferiority around other races or cultures is in large part due to the individuals problem and not the onlookers. One is only inferior when one allows others to make one feel inferior. I live by this, and where most of my people would come into a place where they are the only black dot and would feel a little "squeemish," I waltz in like I'm right at home and sit in my corner, completely comfortable with myself; which--in turn--draws people in. Suzanne made a comment: "that girl is at home where-ever she rests. She reminds me of my father." What I do owe to my own father is that he never allowed his children to feel inferior around other races of people or my own. He also brought home an international flare, constantly watching cricket and other sports atypical of our own American sports. My not allowing others to make me feel inferior is something I find intrigues even the most racist person, and can make my own people deal with their insecurities and misjudge me as a snob, which I've become comfortable with over the years. At this party, maybe I should have been uncomfortable, being the only black dot for awhile. I wasn't. Where-ever God is, I'm home, and He dwells in me.

Toward the end of the evening, we all said our goodbyes--with a few people telling me that I need to visit their homes, which I will definitely consider--and helped Suzanne clean up. I took one last walk around the house, saying my goodbyes to it, and left, regretfully. I can't wait for next year.

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