Wednesday, January 28, 2015
I've heard the song a a billion times, but this time I had a revelation.
With rollers in my hair, and half-way through my mascara application, I thought to myself...
I only live.
For the Applause.
My inner attention whore was having a moment.
Because like Tinker Bell, I will die unless you clap for me and tell me you believe in me.
I will be your number 1 fairy.
But if you don't believe in fairies, the light in my soul will go out and I'll DIE.
I just need a little spark of magic to help get me through the day. Maybe I do things like cover my face in glitter, talk about unicorns, rainbows, and precious little dandelions because it's a way for me to cope with the fact that the real world really isn't as magical as I project it to be? Every day, I can feel the enchantment diminishing. And without the magic of my own little world, I am nothing.
Rose tints my world
Keeps me safe from my trouble and pain.
And if I want to live over the rainbow, I'll have to dance right through rain.
Because I have had the power all along, my dear.
And how fucking weak of me to ever doubt that.
No matter how much I try and seek validation from others, I am the only one who can truly validate the rainbow in my soul.
And maybe it doesn't even matter if anyone believes in fairies. As long as I believe in them, shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't I be able to find my own strength and light my own soul, without Peter Pan?
I wish it were that easy. And maybe one day it will be.
I had that power once.
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away from here, I used to be Queen.
The authenticity of my soul was strong, and I ruled my own world so effortlessly.
Because I truly believed in myself. I believed in all the wonderful things, and I executed mass amounts of fabulousity every single day. I was a superstar. Because deep inside, I believed I had something special.
And then one day the cruel world gets into your head and you realize that maybe none of it's true.
So you lose all sense of yourself.
I used to be Queen.
But I just can't seem to find my crown. It's like I'm left stranded-- deep within the darkness of the forest, in a constant state of vulnerability.
And I just have no fucking clue where I am.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
I spend a lot of time attempting to analyze the way in which my mind operates. And I don't think I'll ever truly know. Like the vast mystery that lies within the depths of outer space, my mind will always and forever be; a never ending tunnel of darkness that only becomes more complicated as you travel further through it.
Sometimes I wish I was simpler. That I found joy in the little things in life, and that I was content with the normality of simply being. But instead I create imaginary problems and imaginary enemies because I live in an imaginary world.
And then one day my friend told me that one of the only ways to truly know yourself is to have your heart broken by someone.
And I never really understood that.
But now I do.
Sometimes you don't fully understand that your heart is broken until you try to listen to it beat one day, only to realize that the life and energy that was once there is gone, and you're left with tiny shattered pieces that are too weak to attach themselves back together.
And then you're a chaotic mess, constantly trying to pick up the pieces before you just give up and accept the fact that the pain in your heart is only getting worse.
When I was growing up, I would wake up in the middle of the night and look into the night sky to gaze at the stars. I memorized the arrangements, and there was one star in particular I would always look at. It was the brightest and most beautiful one, and as soon as darkness would fall, it was there waiting for me. I would imagine that star was my true home. The only way I could make sense of my life is if I lived in the delusion that I came from a giant ball of glitter in space. Each star in the sky is a sun in someone else's galaxy, so maybe God just mixed me up with the real Earth girl and gave me life in the wrong cosmic atmosphere?
As I would gaze into the glistening universe, I would pray that maybe there would be someone out there in this world who was looking up at the same stars as I was. Someone who belonged to the same glittery galaxy as I did. Someone just as strange as me. Who's heart beat to the same weird little drum as mine. And that made me feel less alone. And less sad.
But I think the biggest tragedy of life is that these are not always the people you end up with.
They can be the sun and you can be the moon. The two most powerful forces of day and night.
But they can never be together.
Because that's not the way the universe intended them to be.
And that's ok.
Because as long as my heart
....Is as red as fiery Mars.
God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
I like your nails, they sparkle and shine
Thank you my darling, you’re so very kind.
Wanna have some fun, a night out on the town?
Just let me pick flowers and wear pretty crowns.
Of course we’ll do that, I just wanted to see…
…If we could swim to the bottom of the deep blue sea?
I hadn't thought of that, but I’d love nothing more!
We’ll swim ‘till we’re mermaids and our bodies are sore.
I like your ideas. I like them a lot. You’re just as exciting as red polka dots.
You look like a rainbow, so eccentric and free.
It's because this world revolves around me.
You look like a rainbow, so eccentric and free.
It's because this world revolves around me.
Maybe one day I’ll see you again.
I hope so. We’re perfect—like Barbie and Ken.
Goodbye for now, don’t forget about the time..
...When we bonded over nails that sparkle and shine.
Monday, January 12, 2015
I wasn't quite sure what to say. I hesitated for a moment, but before I was able to answer she continued on.
"I am a dancer." She said. "I used to dance professionally in New York City. I lived the dream. And I can tell from the way you stand-- the way you carry yourself, that you too are a dancer."
"Thank you." I told her, humbled by the observation. "I used to dance. But work and life have kept me busy over the past few years, so I'm not a dancer anymore."
Instead of carrying on and accepting the vague answer I had given, she looked me sternly in the eye and said "You are always a dancer. It's something that never leaves you."
Her words struck a chord in me that hadn't been played in a long time. Dazed and confused; I looked back into her Louis Vuitton sunglasses, unsure what to say. But before I was able to formulate my thoughts into words, her family arrived--as well as a rush of other strangers. So we casually said our goodbyes and went on our separate ways.
What a random encounter. It amazed me how some strangers are so fearless in their approach and can spontaneously speak from their heart to someone they'll never see again.
I went about my day, but I had mixed feelings when she left. I had thought about her words and I believed them. But at the same time, a layer of doubt was rolling into my head, just as the fog rolled over the bridge early that morning. Could I really consider myself a dancer, even after all the time that's gone by in which I haven't danced? A dancer is what I once was. The past is over.
Most people would just take it as a compliment and move on, but I was being dramatic (as usual). However, I am allowed to be. Because a life without aspects of theatrics is not one I'd ever want to live.
I thought about that encounter for the rest of the day. Although what she said made perfect sense, I had a difficult time allowing it to be true. How can "it never leave me" when its something I reluctantly left?
After shutting off my over-thinking piece of a brain, I destroyed the doubt, and finally allowed the words of this stranger to liberate me.
I realized that the phases and stages of our lives evolve us into the people we become. I may not dance anymore, but the almost 20 years I spent in dance class have shaped me into the weird little girl I am today. From the way I walk to the kitchen, to the way I walk down the street-- I always feel that rhythm in my soul, and it will always be there. Even if I don't realize it.
I don't have to dance professionally to be a dancer.
I don't have to write professionally to be a writer.
And don't have to be famous to have a spotlight. I'll just create my own.
It's not a false sense of reality, but an artistic way in which I view my life. And nothing can be more authentic.
The parts of ourselves that we once were-- the parts that we loved, but have drifted apart from, will never leave us. We are, and will forever be, all the great things we've ever been. From dancers to baseball players. Musicians to painters. Old talents never die.
A few months after the encounter with this woman, I found myself standing on the same porch admiring the city skyline, as I often did, when an older man approached me.
"You look like a dancer. You stand like one." He said. "I'm from New York, and go to a lot of various dance shows."
I was completely caught off guard. Confused. Was someone playing a joke on me? Is that lady back, and did she set this whole thing up to see how I'd respond? I awkwardly looked around, before I remembered that he was awaiting a response.
I pulled myself together, and simply replied:
"Yes, I am a dancer."
And in that moment, the rhythm in my heart was reset to the new beat of the universe.
That is all.