Sorry I haven't been on here at all in the past week or so. I've been away on my much-talked about spring break, out of the country. Yes, it's been wonderful. Yes, there are pictures. Yes I have stories and memories and all sorts of things to blog about. I promise I will be back soon! Today is my last day in this tropical paradise, however, and I'm going to enjoy all the warmth, sunlight, and tropical breezes I can before I return to my beloved New England's dreary late winter.
I hope you beautiful people who read have had an excellent week, and I apologize for any comments I haven't replied to!
Last thought before I head off - please, please, please keep praying for the people of Japan, and their families/friends abroad. This natural disaster struck home for me in a handful of ways, and I can only imagine what it must be like to really be in the thick of it.
Happy Saturday everyone.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
I Guess I Just Thought. . .
that I would be walking - no, running - away. That I would have that mysterious thing called "closure." That the day I moved, I'd be there to carry my own suitcase. That I wouldn't want to make blueberry pancakes with berries from the bush in the yard one more time.
That I wouldn't be struggling with tears 200 miles away. Maybe in the yard. Maybe in the car. Maybe, even, in the old clubhouse where we traced our names in ballpoint pen every summertime. Not in a dorm room, alone, and unsure.
I miss the lilacs already.
Summer will come again, as it always does, everywhere in the world. I knew this day would come, as in some form it does for us all. For now, it's time to forget what I thought would happen and realize this is what IS happening.
There is no shame in crying, even if there is confusion.
That I wouldn't be struggling with tears 200 miles away. Maybe in the yard. Maybe in the car. Maybe, even, in the old clubhouse where we traced our names in ballpoint pen every summertime. Not in a dorm room, alone, and unsure.
I miss the lilacs already.
Summer will come again, as it always does, everywhere in the world. I knew this day would come, as in some form it does for us all. For now, it's time to forget what I thought would happen and realize this is what IS happening.
There is no shame in crying, even if there is confusion.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Two Days In A Row.
Most people get Valentine's Day as their chance to be cheesy/romantic/have PDAs without being judged. I'm a lucky girl because I don't get one day to celebrate love: I get two in a row. Today is the accepted day of love in the Western Hemisphere: tomorrow, however, is our own special day. Last year it marked six months together. This year, it will be 18. I know these are relatively small moments, insignificant amounts of time, when compared to what I call great loves: then years of courtship. Married fifty years. Raised three children. Lived on four continents. Etc, etc, etc. . . however, I believe fortunes are amassed penny by penny. I believe in a "forever" that is built moment by moment. . . therefore I can't help but feel pleasure in marking these little passings of time.
Of course, I don't get to "celebrate" either of these things today/tomorrow because I'm away at school and Boyfriend is home: but soon enough we're having our OWN Valentine's day, and we'll mark these holidays of the heart in our own quiet way. . . which is sort of how I like things. My life is big enough, loud enough, messy enough, complicated enough, razzle dazzle and intrigue filled enough, for a hundred novels and at least a musical or two. I like a quiet, simple, steady love. . . and I get to celebrate mine soon.
So grateful.
Of course, I don't get to "celebrate" either of these things today/tomorrow because I'm away at school and Boyfriend is home: but soon enough we're having our OWN Valentine's day, and we'll mark these holidays of the heart in our own quiet way. . . which is sort of how I like things. My life is big enough, loud enough, messy enough, complicated enough, razzle dazzle and intrigue filled enough, for a hundred novels and at least a musical or two. I like a quiet, simple, steady love. . . and I get to celebrate mine soon.
So grateful.
Friday, February 11, 2011
It's Kind of Romantic, Right?
These are the moments that make a long distance relationship so special. In a few minutes, this awful, smelly, cramped, crying-baby-and-possible-hobo filled bus will arrive back home. I will grab my things and head out to the platform, where I will look for Boyfriend who is coming to pick me up. You know the cheesy movies? The ones wit big dramatic reunion scenes at trains and buses and stepping out of cabs? They sort of get it right. There is no feeling that can compare to having finished a long trip, your body stiff from the uncomfortable seats, your stomach in knots and your eyes scanning the crowd. Then you see him/her, and it's like a weight lifted off of your shoulders: a cliche expression, I know, but if you've ever spent more than a few days (or even a few weeks) away from the one you love, you know what I mean. You walk lighter than air to where they're standing, and there is nothing like that first hug or kiss hello.
It can last forever. It can last a second. It will last all through your reunion, your next departure, your next absence, until you come home again. It's a wonderful thing, but just like you can't appreciate the light without the dark or a good meal without being hungry, you can't really feel it unless you've felt the weeks apart first.
27 more minutes until I can exhale again.
It can last forever. It can last a second. It will last all through your reunion, your next departure, your next absence, until you come home again. It's a wonderful thing, but just like you can't appreciate the light without the dark or a good meal without being hungry, you can't really feel it unless you've felt the weeks apart first.
27 more minutes until I can exhale again.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Insecurities.
Let me just preface this by saying this past week was one of the most glorious things I've ever experienced. I love the actions, people, and places. There will be a blogpost full of all the wonderful things I got to see and do and the awesome people I met and grew closer too. But tonight's post is a little different. Tonight's post is about exactly what the title says: insecurities. Let me explain myself.
This past week was so amazing because I was at Festival (a nickname for a weeklong series of workshops, classes, competitions, and parties for regional college/university theater programs). Because our campus is so small, we will never be able to host Festival on our own. . . which means we were all off campus for a (marvelous) week. A week which I didn't have as much money as I hoped for, to buy food. At one point, I lasted two days on nothing but a bag of beef jerky and a bottle of rootbeer, both from a vending machine. So tonight, back on campus, tired after rehearsal, I was standing waiting for my dinner when a strange thought hit me.
I could just not eat.
No really - I could. Yes, my stomach was full of pain and gurgling. Yes, it had been hours since I'd had anything and I'd been virtually fasting for the past week, but so what? How many nights had I just fallen asleep, my stomach clenched and empty? How many hours of workshops, work, rehearsing, and exercising had I done on half a power bar (generously offered by a friend) and an apple? I've been working so hard on my body: it was so tempting to find another way. To maybe be thin. To just. . . not eat. All I had to do was walk away without my order. . . who would say anything? Maybe I'd be thin this way. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. And then the rational part of my brain kicked in: the part that knew I needed sustenance or I'd get sick. That I never wanted a THIN body, I wanted a lean, healthy, strong body. The part of my brain that pulled up the image of Boyfriend's face if he ever found out I had an eating disorder. The dance teacher's who told me I was fat, whose hard words were never enough to make me starve. The friends I'd just walked away from, who had tried to keep me fed this week when my money ran out. I waited for my order, and I ate. . . just like I'll continue to eat, because I know it's what my body needs. But it was so hard to do, as I stood there running my hand on my hip bone, noting how much more bone and less hip there was. . .
As I ate, I realized something: I've made lots of progress over the past year and a half. I really have, as I grapple with my demons. But insecurity is a slippery thing. On a bad day, it slides in on the air I breathe as I walk to class. It's as easy to slip on as a favorite worn t-shirt, and heavier than a thousand pounds of chainmail. I thought back to the week I had, already consigned to memory and realized it had even slipped in there. It was my companion on my dance floor, the last night of festival: everyone dressed to kill, dancing and singing their hearts out. I was wearing a brand new dress, and had done my hair and my makeup. Then someone leaned over to me, and opened their mouth: "holy crap, is that you?!?!? You look great! I didn't even recognize you. . . "
And for a second I was three feet tall, a little girl in her big sister's clothing. Why didn't you recognize me? We've gone to school together for almost two years. . . I'm pretty to you, now, behind a dark dance floor and shimmering make up. So you weren't sure who I was. Ouch.
Or when my friend/Festival roommate choreographed a dance: it was fun and we all sang along to the song, laughing until 2 am. There was a little part of me that was scared to laugh too hard, in case I made it all disappear. . . the way a strong wind rips smoke apart. They would turn around and realize I'm here. And I'm no fun. I'll go back to my room and everyone else will stay together, all night. . .
Silly thing, insecurity. I laughed and no one sent me home. I'll eat and still stay fit. I can dance and be beautiful and go to class and be plain, as long as I am myself.
Hopefully, in another 18 months, it will be easier to remember that.
This past week was so amazing because I was at Festival (a nickname for a weeklong series of workshops, classes, competitions, and parties for regional college/university theater programs). Because our campus is so small, we will never be able to host Festival on our own. . . which means we were all off campus for a (marvelous) week. A week which I didn't have as much money as I hoped for, to buy food. At one point, I lasted two days on nothing but a bag of beef jerky and a bottle of rootbeer, both from a vending machine. So tonight, back on campus, tired after rehearsal, I was standing waiting for my dinner when a strange thought hit me.
I could just not eat.
No really - I could. Yes, my stomach was full of pain and gurgling. Yes, it had been hours since I'd had anything and I'd been virtually fasting for the past week, but so what? How many nights had I just fallen asleep, my stomach clenched and empty? How many hours of workshops, work, rehearsing, and exercising had I done on half a power bar (generously offered by a friend) and an apple? I've been working so hard on my body: it was so tempting to find another way. To maybe be thin. To just. . . not eat. All I had to do was walk away without my order. . . who would say anything? Maybe I'd be thin this way. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. And then the rational part of my brain kicked in: the part that knew I needed sustenance or I'd get sick. That I never wanted a THIN body, I wanted a lean, healthy, strong body. The part of my brain that pulled up the image of Boyfriend's face if he ever found out I had an eating disorder. The dance teacher's who told me I was fat, whose hard words were never enough to make me starve. The friends I'd just walked away from, who had tried to keep me fed this week when my money ran out. I waited for my order, and I ate. . . just like I'll continue to eat, because I know it's what my body needs. But it was so hard to do, as I stood there running my hand on my hip bone, noting how much more bone and less hip there was. . .
As I ate, I realized something: I've made lots of progress over the past year and a half. I really have, as I grapple with my demons. But insecurity is a slippery thing. On a bad day, it slides in on the air I breathe as I walk to class. It's as easy to slip on as a favorite worn t-shirt, and heavier than a thousand pounds of chainmail. I thought back to the week I had, already consigned to memory and realized it had even slipped in there. It was my companion on my dance floor, the last night of festival: everyone dressed to kill, dancing and singing their hearts out. I was wearing a brand new dress, and had done my hair and my makeup. Then someone leaned over to me, and opened their mouth: "holy crap, is that you?!?!? You look great! I didn't even recognize you. . . "
And for a second I was three feet tall, a little girl in her big sister's clothing. Why didn't you recognize me? We've gone to school together for almost two years. . . I'm pretty to you, now, behind a dark dance floor and shimmering make up. So you weren't sure who I was. Ouch.
Or when my friend/Festival roommate choreographed a dance: it was fun and we all sang along to the song, laughing until 2 am. There was a little part of me that was scared to laugh too hard, in case I made it all disappear. . . the way a strong wind rips smoke apart. They would turn around and realize I'm here. And I'm no fun. I'll go back to my room and everyone else will stay together, all night. . .
Silly thing, insecurity. I laughed and no one sent me home. I'll eat and still stay fit. I can dance and be beautiful and go to class and be plain, as long as I am myself.
Hopefully, in another 18 months, it will be easier to remember that.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Super Fast, Super Important Weekly Gratitude
Hello Blogosphere!
I'm so happy it's Weekly Gratitude time! I'm very tired, so this will be quick. . . but I truly have so much to be grateful for this week.
*I'm grateful for the way my list day at home went. I'm grateful for moving in to my warm, beautiful dorm room with my mom's help, the cheerful sounds of my C.A.'s music in the hallway. I'm grateful for dinner at Rick's with mom, and chatting online with my bestfriend in the world as I settled my things.
*I'm grateful for the most amazing assortment of classes EVER. Every single day, I have dance and theater. My only two non-performing arts based classes are Comparative Religions and Honors Colloquium. Both of which are awesome classes that I have been looking forward to for a long time.
*I'm grateful for dance.
*I'm grateful for how smashingly well Ballet 6 went. Just as our class size doubled I was able to distinguish myself from the pack. And it simply felt amazing. . . the whole class.
*I'm grateful for Modern 6. It's the most advanced modern we have until senior year (with very, very, very rare exception) and it was so inspiring. I didn't realize how much more I could push, but now I do!
*Festival. This is going to be one of the most awesome weeks of my life.
*My girls: saturday we spent hours in the mall (something I've never done before. I know. weird.) and then went to Dev's house and soaked in her hot tub. . . in January. At nine o'clock at night. Meanwhile, one of the wonderful girls I live with took my laundry (which in my hurry that morning I forgot) and air dried it in my room for me. . . so all I had left to do this morning was fold and pack for Festival. And my wonderful C.A., who is also President of the club I'm Secretary for took over one of my duties, so I could concentrate on getting ready to go.
*Cell phones. I understand the concept of letters: I think there is something beautiful and romantic about them. But I truly don't know how I would manage a long distance relationship without at least hearing his voice. I guess I'm a true child of my generation. . .
*Pretty, fun accessories that I can purchase on gift cards and not have to spend money on new outfits.
*Lovely readers.
*The chance to explore my craft(s).
*My faith.
*Falling asleep with my cellphone still in my hand. . . and actually sleeping all the way through the night.
What are you thankful for, my friends?
I'm so happy it's Weekly Gratitude time! I'm very tired, so this will be quick. . . but I truly have so much to be grateful for this week.
*I'm grateful for the way my list day at home went. I'm grateful for moving in to my warm, beautiful dorm room with my mom's help, the cheerful sounds of my C.A.'s music in the hallway. I'm grateful for dinner at Rick's with mom, and chatting online with my bestfriend in the world as I settled my things.
*I'm grateful for the most amazing assortment of classes EVER. Every single day, I have dance and theater. My only two non-performing arts based classes are Comparative Religions and Honors Colloquium. Both of which are awesome classes that I have been looking forward to for a long time.
*I'm grateful for dance.
*I'm grateful for how smashingly well Ballet 6 went. Just as our class size doubled I was able to distinguish myself from the pack. And it simply felt amazing. . . the whole class.
*I'm grateful for Modern 6. It's the most advanced modern we have until senior year (with very, very, very rare exception) and it was so inspiring. I didn't realize how much more I could push, but now I do!
*Festival. This is going to be one of the most awesome weeks of my life.
*My girls: saturday we spent hours in the mall (something I've never done before. I know. weird.) and then went to Dev's house and soaked in her hot tub. . . in January. At nine o'clock at night. Meanwhile, one of the wonderful girls I live with took my laundry (which in my hurry that morning I forgot) and air dried it in my room for me. . . so all I had left to do this morning was fold and pack for Festival. And my wonderful C.A., who is also President of the club I'm Secretary for took over one of my duties, so I could concentrate on getting ready to go.
*Cell phones. I understand the concept of letters: I think there is something beautiful and romantic about them. But I truly don't know how I would manage a long distance relationship without at least hearing his voice. I guess I'm a true child of my generation. . .
*Pretty, fun accessories that I can purchase on gift cards and not have to spend money on new outfits.
*Lovely readers.
*The chance to explore my craft(s).
*My faith.
*Falling asleep with my cellphone still in my hand. . . and actually sleeping all the way through the night.
What are you thankful for, my friends?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)