Badabim badaboom new year, new everything. Whoop-di-doo. I'm not sure whether I'm using sarcasm or not.
Blood and bruises, and we all know what that means. Yup, 10 points, correctomundo, you're exactly right, this year's dance training has officially begun. After accidentally walking in the wrong classroom, my teacher cheered when I found my way to the right class. Like going home. It's good to be home. When life throws curveballs at you from every fucking angle there is, it's nice to have at least one home. And now I (again) found mine.
The opening night of our theater production is in less than i week. I'm torn between losing my mind and being remotely okay with it. There is a lot to do, and in the real world (the one where I have unwanted responsibilities and compulsions) projects and tasks and frankly everything will suffer. But if that isn't important to me, who gives a shit? I'm beginning not to. I'm actually battling with giving myself the permission to be aloof, careless and, well, detached, really.
I guess everyone has the permission to find their home. I guess home is the place where you've been the happiest. To me it's wherever where there's room to feel. To live to the fullest. To live in the moment. And other very poetic metaphors and thoughts. Hurrah for the artistic poet within me. So proud.
Oh right, Stars. They happen to be, umm, awesome.
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