More people, women especially, need to be selfish.

Now wait a minute, before you jump to conclusions, hear me out. I’m sure you’ll end up agreeing.

There are two kinds of selfishness and I’m not talking about the egocentric selfishness that disregards others indiscriminately, has no respect and is just plain mean and rude. I mean the selfishness that puts self first.

It saddens me deeply to see people (unfortunately mostly women) living for others – putting others desires, needs and opinions before their own. If people could just see how damaging that is, if they could be a little more selfish, I believe they’d be happier.

I remember living my life for another. I remember a time when I put other’s needs and desires before my own. And I remember being miserable. It felt like I was walking on eggshells and not being true to myself. It wasn’t a good feeling at all. I think that perhaps for some people it becomes the norm and they don’t even feel uncomfortable about it, but I’ve always been very strong, quite opinionated (if you get to know me a little, at first I’m shy!), and I’ve never allowed others to control me, either by their views or opinions.

I’ve been thinking about how people (read: women) need to be more selfish lately – and then last night lo and behold I got a very interesting email from a model I had a scheduled shoot with for this Sunday. She wrote to tell me that she had to cancel our shoot. She wanted to go down to LA to try out for America’s Next Top Model because they’re accepting models under 5’7” for the first time and she, being shorter, wanted to try out. She said that her boyfriend had a big problem with this, and a huge problem with her modeling in general. She said that she, being the type of person she is, is going to stop modeling altogether because he’s not ok with it. She said that she’s devastated that she “has” to give up modeling, but she’s going to, to appease her boyfriend.

My jaw literally dropped. I honestly could not believe that this girl laid it out like that. Usually when people give up something they love for someone else, they aren’t so clearly aware of it, or they make excuses in their head and don’t admit it publically. Of course I wrote her back and expressed my deep disappointment, not because she had to cancel our shoot (honestly I could care less about that, the issue of her bending to her boyfriends insecurities is far more important!) but because she is living for someone else. I let her know that she would regret deeply not pursuing her dreams and she should never let anyone, especially a pigheaded jealous insecure BOY, stand in the way of what she wanted and what made her happy. If he really cared about her and loved her he would encourage her to pursue her dreams and make herself happy!

I don’t expect a response but I hope that she thinks about what I wrote. It makes me wonder: how do people get this way? Is it socialization? Or is it something inherent? It’s become clear to me that some people are weak, and some are strong, but are either of these a learned behavior? I believe everyone can make themselves strong. Someone very important to me used to say “If you notice weakness in yourself, MAKE yourself strong.” Those words are with me always, and I am forever working on making myself stronger.

I am selfish and proud of it. I put myself and my own happiness first. I will never live my life for another, I will only live for me (reason number 48,950,860,480 that I’m not having children). I will never allow the opinions or insecurities of another to affect my personal life or pursuing my desires. I will work hard to be strong, to make myself happy and to put myself first. What else is there?

A few weeks ago I opened up a Dove dark chocolate heart here at my desk at work. The message on the inside of the wrapper says “Keep the promises you make to yourself.” That wrapper has been sitting on my desk every day to remind me to keep the promises I’ve made to myself. I’ve tried complacency and it just doesn’t work for me. So I’m working hard on keeping my promises and I’m working even harder on not disappointing myself with broken promises – it’s time for live for me. It’s time to LIVE.

~

Last week as I was walking home from work I slowed down my usually perky gait and noticed the huge puddles of water in the streets along ....Fruitvale Avenue..... Reflected in the puddles were the heavens and clouds above. It was such a beautiful thing. I stood there a moment, letting the traffic pass me by as I gazed down into the clouds. Peace washed over me and I remembered how intrinsically important it is to notice the simplicity of the moment and to cherish the beauty of every day.

~

Every weekend I open my home to beautiful women that let me take their photograph. This past Saturday, as I walked around my neighborhood with a gorgeous woman beside me and my Canon over my shoulder, I felt so happy. I looked around my funky neighborhood for interesting places for her to pose and took beautiful shots. We talked and laughed as we worked together rand I realized that I am happiest when I’m taking photos of people. Photography makes me so happy and so very content.  

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I’m currently working on a plan of attack to get my work out there, make some money with my photography and get more paying clientele. This plan of attack is both exciting and terrifying, as I am not sure where to start, or if it will be lucrative. However, I’m moving forward and feeling very positive about the plan as it takes shape, albeit slowly. I have a strong desire and I know my passion linked with the desire will bring my dreams to fruition.

~

Taking a moment each day to focus intent is so important. I focus my intent in the mornings as the sun rises over the eastern hills, gently warming me with its rays.

As the seasons change my mind brings this memory to the forefront; for days now recollections have flooded my senses and I'm brought back to Winter 2002, in New York City….

I met him through the boy I scored pot from; they were best friends. When they delivered to my neighborhood, I'd invite them up to my apartment at the bottom of Brooklyn, overlooking the water. We would laugh, joke, roll blunts, eat snacks and listen to music. The boys were good people, real good people, I could just tell; there was something special about them. I was lonely, starved for warm company and easy laughs.

One evening, as we sat around laughing and joking, I mentioned I could use a good pipe-laying. (That is ghetto-speak for fucking, for those that aren't in the Know.) His ears perked up; he eagerly caught the bait and that's how the game started. What was initially innocent flirting banter quickly moved along to making plans.

It was a cold night and I was on my way back home from a club in Manhattan when I paged him; he called right back and said he'd be over shortly. I got home, cleaned up, got into bed. It was a freezing cold night; autumn turning to winter. I snuggled under down comforter, curled up for warmth. The boy silently entered the apartment and we crawled into bed. Curled around each other, breathing the same air; sharing space. There were no jokes this time; this was no laughing matter.

He brought his lips to my skin; soft kisses like petals all over my body. My skin came alive under his gentle caresses; I sunk into a cloud of pleasure, bit my lip, and sighed. The boy was ever so gentle and very slow. He took his time. I would not have expected someone like him to be like this; not to say I was disappointed; quite the opposite. He honored my body with respect and soft kisses. His lips so tender, delicate tongue sweeping over my skin... I allowed myself to be lost in it.

In the morning, when I reached out for him, he was gone, his spot empty, cold. I curled around his pillow and replayed the events of the night before with a content smile on my lips.

I saw him next when I met with the dealer out in Park Slope; as usual best friend was in the passenger seat. We smiled and exchanged pleasantries. Nothing out of the ordinary; no betrayal of the newfound intimacy. I was sure his friend knew about us, but of course, there was no indication of any special familiarity between us.

We met every so often during those cold autumn months and exchanged beautiful moments wrapped in exposed skin and feathery kisses. The time we shared was singularly precious. We did not speak very much, words were not necessary, our bodies communicated with each other beautifully.

As winter blew over the city, freezing the streets and subways, he stopped coming by and did not answer my calls. I wondered aloud to his friend what I did wrong. His response – he did not know, this boy keeps to himself in regards to girls, and he could not say what was going on in his head. I understood; our time together had been very tender; we had shared a gentle bond and the boy was afraid of getting in too deep. He was simply protecting himself. I, being older, had a tacit knowledge of this, and let it be.

~

A year later, when I read of his murder in the paper, I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me. I stared, shocked, at the words in front of me. Could this be? And his best friend, wanted for questioning in the murder. He'd been fatally shot in Prospect Park on a chilly night, his body left to be blown over with the leftover, dead leaves of autumn. He was but a child; so young, with barely enough time to live and experience life.

I felt a huge sense of loss; never before had death affected me in this way. I had lived through friends and family dying with no emotional response to their deaths; but when this boy died, I felt the blow hard. My womb cried out and a small piece of me seemed to die. Why should his death affect me so? I realized we were not particularly close; honestly we did not know each other well. But the way our bodies communicated with each other, my skin tattooed with his kisses; I knew we had shared a part of each other that had never been shared with another in the past.

Now, many years later, I continue to reminisce upon these memories with warm reflections and sad smiles. The feeling of loss remains, yet I am grateful for time spent lovingly sharing with another tender soul.