This morning I woke up and found out Chyna, the WWE female wrestler from the 90s had died. Then sometime during the morning, news broke that Prince had also died. Two completely different people in opposite worlds, yet figures that I’ve grown up with. I remember back when I was young I though Chyna was so cool, kicking all the asses she could in those rings. I was late to the game on Prince because I discovered him when I was in college (in Minnesota). I once dated a guy who went to school with his son! I blame my ultra conservative upbringing for denying me of years of listening to Prince songs. Or maybe it was because I lived on the other side of the world? I’m sure one compounded the other to make it so that I’ve only really known of Prince for half of my life. But you can be certain that every time I go to karaoke I sing a Prince song.
Somehow Chyna the WWE wrestler takes precedence over Prince in my upbringing. Strange. Also because Prince died the same day Chyna died, I feel like not much attention has been given to the pioneer of female wrestlers. Poor Chyna. Apparently she spent some recent years teaching English in Japan?!?! Can you imagine that?? This big ass American woman teaching you English. I’m sure her students were really motivated.
I’ve been very involved in my diet program this past week or so. I cringe every time I say it. But it seems that I am indeed on a legit hardcore diet. The first few days were fucking awful and I really hated what my life had become. But now, my body has adjusted and I’ve resigned myself to being on a fucking diet. I feel like my brain is trying to trick me into thinking I’m getting smaller. Until I weigh and measure myself I won’t know. I promised myself I wouldn’t weigh or measure myself until I was half way through.
I’m trying not to think about my imminent move. Because when I do start thinking about leaving a city that I love, a job that I like, an apartment that I love, a neighborhood that I love, food and restaurants that I love, laundry places that do my laundry I start freaking out a little. It also is irritating the hell out of me because people keep reminding me of the move with questions like “have you started thinking about how you’re moving out?” or “are you going to miss this?” or “how are you feeling about the move?” Ugh.
It’s finally getting warm in NYC. The best time of year here. I want to start going out again. Of course I may run into the e in time. I mentioned to B that I may go to this weekly party since I haven’t been to the new venue tomorrow. I’ve told her before I’ve wanted to go, but then never have. B said this was the first time that when I told her that she wasn’t worried about anything. I know she’s worried that if I see the e, I’ll want to continue to talk to her and then she will continue to be a thorn in our relationship. Her fears are very valid, which is why I have avoided going to such places. But I think now with my imminent move, her fears can be put to rest.
Rest in peace, Chyna and Prince. Wherever you may be.