Immortal Beloved Show, Photo by Alexis Glenn

I honestly can't explain how surreal my life has become in a short amount of time. Back in April, I had just taken a break from the blog because my medication wasn't working and I was struggling just to function. Then I went on a whirlwind road trip to Boston, NYC and Washington, D.C. with my friend Dorothy -- right after getting out of the hospital, of all places, and flung myself right back out into the world, sink or swim.

I have to admit. I'm a little surprised.

More after the jump.

I used to fold sweaters at Macy's. That's what I was doing as I searched for the next break in my life, struggling to find work while I was inbetween jobs as a writer. And then it all just happened. I met the right people. I went to the right places. I finally got the right combination of meds, and like that, a light switch went on in my life and everything was illuminated. Seven years of pain and turmoil were now changed rapidly into "Hey, are you the Black Snob?" while standing in line with KP at a Trader Joe's.

Me and the gigantic afro are confused. It's going to take a minute to digest all this good fortune and hard work and seeing it finally pay off. We're just so used to working our tail off and getting nothing but matted hair and misery. New friends. New city. New neighbors. New exciting life are just things we aren't used to.

For my second weekend in D.C. I have chosen to play it low key. Devessel and I made a failed attempt at trying to go out Saturday night but gave up after a furtive attempt to find parking around 14th and U that proved pointless. I was struggling with anxiety anyway. While emotionally I'm in a much more stable place, I still have my moments of "whatthefuckisgoingon" when I struggle with sensory overload. It's too loud. There are too many lights and colors. There are too many people. I honestly should be sitting in a dark room with the lights off sleeping my way into normality. Instead I'm forcing myself to go out and confront the sounds and sights that I sometimes enjoy and other times loathe. It's just bad, brain chemistry, I tell myself as I sit there tensed up for no real reason. Tomorrow I'll be fine.

And I was.

I faired better last weekend when I went to the opening of Immortal Beloved, where I ran into Dorothy, her sis and Alexis. Here's a brief rundown on the haps from Borderstan:

While walking Lupe last night I happened upon a party at the recently opened Immortal Beloved Salon at 1457 Church Street NW. Young and fashionable hipsters filled the space and sidewalk on the warm Sunday evening. We walked home, got Luis, and he snapped some pics of the “stylistas” as the party as it was winding down.

Kelly Gorsuch is “founder and head designer” at Immortal Beloved, and reviews are already up at Yelp. Readyset DC reported on the salon’s soft opening on September 19.

I remember about a decade ago when Church Street was full of auto body shops before transforming into loft apartments and condos (it’s an attractive metamorphosis).

By going to the show I confronted one of my phobias, driving at night. I took myself and Devessel down to Church Street to check out the Sunday evening showing of fashion photography-based art in ye olde Mazda and I can't stress enough how much I hate driving in unfamiliar places, at night. Let alone just driving in D.C. period, which I find maddening. So the fact that we were able to leave the house, find parking and I didn't either start screaming or panicking was a minor miracle. I rather confrontational with my phobias though because I used to not have them and I refuse to let them boss me around. I mean, I want to go out. I want to meet people. I'm not going to let my occasional need to freak out over people walking in the street while I'm trying to drive bother me.

Unlike last night, I was in a great mood on Sunday. I wanted to go out. I wanted to meet people. I wanted adventure and that's what I got at Immortal Beloved. The art was beautiful (although I wished there were more of it), the place was packed full of people to the point where it was almost impossible to move. And they were likely there because of the free Mojitos and rum n' cokes that everyone was down right mean over the prospect of getting.

Every woman there was rocking every variety of crazy-ass boot that it was a boot-fetishist's dream. And black seemed to be the color du jour (as it is almost everywhere I go in D.C. from work to the nightlife. I feel like a weirdo in my solid color, jewel-toned dresses). I couldn't tell you what I was wearing. I'm almost positive I tried to blend in wearing black and white.

While there I met an overly affectionate and familiar man, who I'm assuming was gay, who thought it was appropriate to end our conversation with slapping me on the ass. I don't get how men think because they're gay they can get away with that. Devessel suggested that I should have told him that would cost him, but I just had a feeling he would enjoy that sort of attention, besides, the only thing I wanted to do was tell him that next time he touched my ass he was going to draw back a nub, but a crowded art show was not the place to curse someone out. Torn between administering a beat down and being coy, I chose to just be pissy and walk away without saying shit. That seemed to be the closest to a happy medium I was getting.

Random ass smackings aside, things are "interesting" here, to say the least. Interesting in a good way. I'm getting to know D.C. and I like it. I even enjoy the morning walk and commute to work everyday. (Especially since I don't have to drive -- hooray for the Metro!)

I'll continue to keep everyone posted on how things are going. But so far, so good!