The Dream

All I can really remember is the end.  I was walking through a forest, and there was something going on, something big and serious, as in globally big and serious.  I stepped into a cabin, and there was a group of indiscernible people sitting around, I think on benches in front of a fireplace.  And, call me crazy, but I think Darth Vadar was there.  He was sort of at the center of everything, and he was focusing on a large, roundish object, and everyone was focusing on him.  It was very much an intriguing yet indifferent "What the hell's going on?" sort of moment.  I don't know if I was really there or just a ghost of a person, or if anyone could see me or knew I was there, but I just was sort of hovering and waiting, like I'd just casually walked in on something out of the blue.  Tension started building, and I think we all knew or at least thought we knew what was happening or going to happen.  The round object was some sort of bomb.  I remember trying to prepare myself for what was going to happen.  I remember I became very aware of how I was breathing, and I was taking very deliberate breaths, like I knew something was coming.  Then suddenly there was an immense, growing, rushing sound and feeling, like all the world and its people was being pulled through me and towards the bomb.  Everything was slowly getting white and brighter.  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to hold myself steady.  The rushing feeling, I can't get over it.  I've never felt anything like it.  I knew the world was going to implode on itself and then explode out.  The rushing kept building and building, and then there was a moment of total awaiting silence, and a catastrophic explosion burst out and through me and everything.  Everything flashed white.  The strange thing here was that it was like everything was gone for just a split second, but I could still see it all; the cabin and the people were gone, but I think I was still somehow in the forest.  Somehow I still existed.  I remember seeing some sort of outline, and someone or something blue.  Then I became aware that I was alone in space, the world was gone, and I looked around for a half a second and could see only black space and stars, and worried how I was going to breathe.  That's when I woke up hyperventilating and whimpering.  And I was only sort of scared.  And something else that was made known to me, was that I was the bomb.

The (Bodily) Truth

I am a stocky, curvy girl.  I am a size 12.  I weigh 165 pounds.  I outweigh most of my girlfriends, and a lot of my guy friends.  I've been FIGHTING against my body my entire life so far.  When I was 15 and I started lifting weights I went from 150 to 138 pounds, and I loved it.  I want to be that weight again, but everyone tells me I would look sickly.  I envy my sister's body.  I envy the fact that my best friend has been doing so well at losing weight (but I am so proud of her).  I dress my body to disguise and smooth it out and try to just be curvy.
I'm a cutter.  I've been doing it since I was a teenager.  I cut myself to punish myself.  To reach out, to ask for help, without vocalizing "help me."  When I am ashamed of my choices.
I can't take compliments.  I can't.  I hear them, and I cringe.  It's like they bounce off my invisible armor.
I'm growing out my hair for everyone else but me.
I secretly (well, not anymore I guess) always want affirmations of myself from others.
I try not to give a shit about what people see me dressed in, but sometimes my lack of self-esteem gets the best of me and I try to look 'normal.'
I feel like my face looks best with eye makeup on.
I'm realizing I don't think I'm as great a dancer as I thought I was.
I wish I could sing.

thankful

This is not a complaint.  Not at all.  In any way.  This is me being so grateful for all the opportunities that I've become a part of.  I have three jobs.  I'm a head bookkeeper that has now successfully trained a new backup bookkeeper.  I'm a receptionist/learning automotive service writer.  I've gone from stage manager to assistant director at a children's theatre.  I'm in two numbers in an absolutely amazing dance show, my third year being involved in it.  And outside of all of that, yet intermixed and intertwined and weaving in and out of all of it, I'm learning, I'm growing, I'm loving, I'm crying, I'm laughing.  I think I'm actually becoming an adult.  I think the only things I'm not doing (at least not doing well) are sleeping and eating.  Those figments, if you will, have sort of left my awareness.  The eating thing, I can handle, because food and diet have always been such problematic areas for me, it's nice not having them on the front burner.  Sleep, on the other hand, is big for me.  When I don't get enough, or the right kind of, sleep, I get delirious, and feel hungover.  The day will just sort of slide by in a haze, and before I know it, I've been working for thirteen hours straight, haven't eaten for half the day, and wonder what happened and where everything went.  But I reiterate... None of these are complaints.  I say that for myself, for my viewers, and for the universe.  I am thankful.  For all of it.  Because I know how much this will teach me and help me grow.

you are beautiful

So here's an actual blog entry for you, as opposed to just random words and emotions.  Well, I guess it is words and emotions, just with more words in between them, ha.  Last Wednesday night I went out dancing, and I realized, I've been going clubbing for over ten years now.  Kind of mildly amazing.  I won't use the word awesome, well, I guess I could.  Not in the sense of the real, true meaning of the word 'awesome,' as in 'sheer awesome power of the universe,' but my little world of awesome.  Back to my thought of train...after walking out of the club last night, I felt like I was slightly drunk on something.  I'd only had two or three sips of a friend's scotch on the rocks, so it wasn't actual drunkenness, or even an alcohol buzz.  It was just a...situational / environmental / dance buzz I guess?  Driving away everything felt sort of fuzzy, and I was compelled to put down my window while I drove, which I almost rarely do, especially when it's nighttime...and about 45 degrees out...and driving faster than 45mph because the sound rippling past an open car window hurts my ears terribly...but I looked up at that moon and thought of Harold and the Purple Crayon and how "the moon went with him." I looked up at Madonna Mountain and so, so badly wanted to go hiking right at that moment, even though I was completely sweat-soaked and tired from just having danced so hard for an hour and half.  The hill was perfectly black and silhouetted so beautifully by moonlight, I just felt like I wanted to be out there and be a part of it.

Something else sort of magical happened Sunday afternoon during my hike.  Firstly, I'll say that I have a very interesting thought process when it comes to running.  I have figured out when I run, that I need to look straight ahead of me, and past my destination and sort of run through it to keep my momentum going.  That's one thing.  Then I also figured out if I focus on my breathing, that I feel like I'm almost floating and that makes running easier.  But what happened yesterday while jogging, was I found myself looking around and turning my head slowly from side to side and admiring the view, and was completely thinking about everything else except running, and it felt so amazing.  I guess that may be my equivalent to when people say they get a 'runner's high.'  It was great though.  I can't wait to get out there and feel it again!