I started listening to music again. I have missed being able to listen to simple lyrics without immediately attributing them to every possible aspect of my life. Lately I have found that I can just sing without thought and enjoy the play of words over my tongue rather than their hidden meaning in the grand scheme of things.
I had a birthday. I didn't die. Hallelujah. Seemingly humorous, but not really. I've had bad luck with birthdays since I was about seven. There was never a year without drama or hurt or too much to drink. Last year was on the road to recovery, this year had some difficulties but is probably the best one since I was six. And the good times haven't stopped yet; I still have a few celebrations left to go.
Yesterday I was getting my legs waxed and a song came on the speakers while we were talking about my birthday. It's called 'birthday sex' or something equally as stupid. Lyrics that didn't touch me all over again, and that touched me.
Maybe I'm not making a lot of sense, but I'm growing accustomed to living within my own world and ignoring whether or not others can keep up. That probably isn't the best scenario to be blogging within, as I'm sure those who read would much rather understand than not, but this is the turnings of my mind. I find fault in everything except myself because, whenever I get the chance to realize it, I am my own definition of fault.
Santa Barbara in summer, yeah, she feels like that.
I went to see two plays tonight. I cannot remember the last play I went to see...at first, because I was fearfully jealous, and then because I was fearfully afraid. Tonight I broke the cycle of hearing, maybe-ing, pretending to think, and finally, though apparently reluctantly, declining.
In high school, I had a lot of doors opened to me academically. Without lifting a finger (sometimes literally), I could pull off stellar marks and still have time to go on a date, do my nails, write a novel and consume a butt-load of junk food and alcohol, all in one night. I prided myself on never having to try to get the grades I desired, but where I did put my extra effort was acting. Although it always came easy, I found that I could throw myself headlong into it and not regret one moment of practicing and memorizing for endlessly monotonous hours.
When I graduated, my plans all revolved around drama in some way: run off to LA (original) and somehow launch a professional acting career; finally learn to sing and go off to Broadway; college for performing arts. I'd been in several plays already, two with the theatre company I went to see tonight, and was confident in my future. Until God told me He had other ideas.
So tonight I faced my fears. I was still overwhelmingly jealous of every person on that stage, but a small part of me could still feel The Fear: the tiny nagging part of myself that wonders if I lost "it." But something else surfaced as well. As I watched the actors, I felt my body and my mind reacting in a way that has become foreign, but still feels like home. I knew what my actions would be for every line, I could see the lines on the page and replaced their ideas with my own inflections, and I felt my heart beat stronger with exhilaration.
Honesty time. I miss it desperately! Somehow, I need to find the time. Probably not this summer because I will be crazy busy, and school already seems too much to handle...but I have to. I feel compelled and I can't ignore it.
I am beyond passionate about this, and there is only one way I know to express it.
