Cat-like, in fact

My medium americano tastes like I just rolled out of bed. I've been awake for hours, though, my thoughts drifting, circling. Yet I find myself here, staring across the table at the thing most intangible. Less than an arms reach away, and I find myself restraining. When is it ok to just break all the rules? I'm getting close to breaking mine. It's inevitable that I'll find myself locked in some sort of tango, a dance of course, another one-sided pas de deux. Maybe this time, i'll be lucky. Maybe this time he'll stay.

There are literally two weeks left of school. I am freaking out. I have to write theorizations for a dance concert. They're due like last Sunday. I have to organzie two workshops, write a bunch of stuff, and still do all my other homework on top of that. Plus, finish like 3 long papers. I think I'm going to buy a coffee shop, settle down, and continously work until my mind stops working. It might take a while. With caffeine infusions every other minute, I'll be sure to either have 1. intensified arrythmia, 2. brilliance, 3. the inability to ever sleep again, 4. a heart attack. Honestly, I'm kind of ok with any of those. I'm leaning towards the last. Just let it all go, see what happens from there.

Maybe I'm just afraid to jump. I'm too scared to leave this place that I've found so comfortable since November. I like where I live, being alone; I even like all the free time I have to do whatever I want without having to check with someone else. There might be real prospects. I continue to overlook them. I continue to fall back on a dream.

My plan for the summer is to take the leap. Here's to jumping and landing on two feet.

i just realized I can blog from my phone. I like it. It's weird. The end.

So much has changed since my last blog post. It's far too much for me to go into, but let me just say I've become entangled in an outward spiraling protest surrounding a protest in the dance building. I'm not going to comment on it anymore, or post a link to it on this blog. I'm just commenting on how it's affected me and my life in the past weeks.

I looked back at my old post. The one about time, about the order of things, about love. I sounded so hopeful, so ready. I'm just not sure where I fit in with it all. When is it ok to fall down and not get back up? I'm just tired of always wanting what I'm not allowed to have. It gets old after a while. Very old. I just don't want to want anymore.

I'm almost done with school. I suppose I need to find a real job. I wouldn't mind the security if I could find one. I wouldn't mind Starbucks, actually, but I'm not sure if even they're hiring. It's not the best time to be thrown into the job market. I think I'll just take a vacation and go to France, marry a dignitary, and finally achieve my status as global citizen.

The boy I've had a crush on all year is single. I don't know what to do.

I seriously don't have anything else to say right now. I need Middlebrook brunch with Jeff. It'll be majeriff.

Too much love

I'm never sure about the order of things. Right and wrong ways of making choices, figuring out where I need to be when has sometimes been an issue for me. The past week or so has been quite the roller coaster. I thought I walked off the drama train a year ago. It seems immaturity and selfishness, however, have once again reared their ugly heads. It's pulling me further away from my feelings, my frustration is building as my stress level increases. Is my coffee ready yet?

I have a problem with feeling the need to prove myself. It's not just about proving myself to other people, I really want to prove to myself that I can do something. In dance, in performance, what is there really to prove? After a two hour, emotionally draining meeting with the artistic director or UDT, I've given myself a new charge. I don't have to prove anything, I just have to be present, there. My body can do almost anything I want it to, besides of course being symmetrical. I'm a private person, I keep things in, I bottle them up, I overanalyze to the point of hysteria. When it comes to performing on a stage for thousands of people, I appear insecure, closed off, not quite present. Well, I'm gonna change that. I want this more than I've wanted anything. To be a dancer, for me, is to know my place in the world. It's not about entertainment, artistic fulfillment, or staying in shape; there's something more to it, something deeper inside that makes dance that one thing that can fulfill every craving.

As far as my heart goes, I feel no better off than I was before. When I dream, I see all the posibilities; when I'm awake, I feel the limitations of reality. Why does it seem so hard to know what to do? I don't want a teacher or a mentor to show me the way; I want to figure it out for myself. I want to experience love like I haven't before. I want to know what it is to feel without question. I used to think I deserved a fairty tale; now I think I want something a bit more real. I don't think it's too much to ask for. There's something so simple in the way two hands come together. That's where the magic is. That's what I want.

Decision making 101

It's a tricky business dealing with the heart. Physically and emotionally mine's been unquestionably taxed as of late. Last week I spent an entire day in doctor's offices trying to figure out what exactly is causing my palpitations, my irregular beating, my shortness of breath, and my dizziness. With two doctors, one specialist, still what is known? Nothing. I can't say with a definitive answer if I'm ok or not. All I know is I'm breathing, my heart is pumping, but how much and how well? It's scary, actually. The nurse on the phone called it a vicious cycle, the fear of my heart getting worse increases the pain and palpitations. I was called an incredibly anxious young man, maybe that's true. I'd say it's more about stress than anxiety, but I'm not a doctor.

What about the emotional heart? Valentine's Day has come and gone again, and here I am at 24 no closer to finding Mr. Right. I don't even care about a Mr. Right Now. I'm perfectly happy alone, actually. I don't need someone else to complete me or make me whole or happy. There's something about that intimacy, though. That close touch, that companionship, that tenderness. I think we all crave it, and I think our dependence on technology only makes that craving stronger. Again, just an opinion, no well-thought out theory here.

When it comes to love, how far am I willing to go? I'm afraid to really put myself out on the line for someone, I think. I've been hurt many times, humiliated several, and left alone up to this very day. What's to make this one person any different? Just because I feel some sort of connection, a connection I don't even know if it's real or not, should I risk it on a whim? Some would say yes, others would say it's a horrible idea based on the circumstances. Friendship is great, but what about love? What about that fire inside? I'm just to scared to go there. I'm nervous to let it all out. I've never let it all out, I've never put it all out there, but I've always expected it for myself. It's a wicked double standard that now I'm facing the consequences of. I'm thinking of drafting a letter. An old fashioned-one to send like in the day sof Mr. Darcy. If it works, it'd be great, if it doesn't, what do I really have to lose? I don't think the friendship would suffer, my feelings are already exposed. I guess I want to take a chance on this. I guess I want to try. I know I do.

UPS

I shouldn't let my mind wander. Never ever again. I let myself think something, something I wanted to feel. I couldn't help but think it was a possibility. I got a call telling me I had a package waiting for me at home. I couldn't help but think it might be from you, with a note accompanying it. This dream, this nightmare is turning vicious. I can't escape the constant analysis, the constant articulation of a million thoughts and hopes. Then when rush home, each second bringing me closer to what might be, I find myself horribly mistaken. Reality comes crashing back down. I'm alone. I'm not wanted, not in that way. People want me for sex. How many times can you hear the phrase, lust vs. love before you begin to think you're nothing more than eye candy and a tight ass.

I can't keep going back to this. I have to stop. I think I move on, then a dream, a moment of hope ruptures my cool facade. I'm a mess, an internal mess, whose very thoughts disrupt his actions. My heart continues to beat irregularly. I'm still not sure what it all means. I want the love that they write about in books, but I'm just too fucking scared now to try again. I don't know if it's worth it.

On a clear day, you can feel forever.

I can't get anything done lately. I just come home, sit down, veg out and turn off my responsibilities to the outside world. It's not that I don't want to be a good student or a good friend or a good laundry person, I just don't have the energy right now. It's been three days since Dance Revolutions finished and I am completely exhausted. I don't want to think about how far I am behind. Today I'm going to go to my classes and be like, sorry I know I should have this done, but I really don't. I will catch up. I just need a moment to breathe, a day to catch up, a day to rest, a day to remember.

The past has a strange way of making itself extremely visible sometimes. I'm not saying I'm some kind of psychic, but I knew when he came back that he'd feel this way. It doesn't take a love doctor to figure these sorts of patterns out. Long distance is hard enough and sometimes shouldn't be rushed in the first meeting. I just wish I weren't always right about you. So far, I'm batting a 1.00.

I have to get ready, the clock is ticking down. I think I'm going to drive today, since I couldn't for so long. The freedom is nice, but it's odd nonetheless. I suppose that gives me more time. More reflection.

I'm often puzzled by my lack of understanding myself and my emotions. My heart accelerates when I get too frazzled, it starts to faulter, it skips a beat, adds another, quickly becoming irregular. I feel it inside me going out of control; I can't change it, can't slow it down. All I want is my old heartbeat the one that was always perfect. Thoughts of past, present, future make that impossible. When did it change? I remember a day this summer when it started going crazy. I was in apple valley. Maybe it's just had enough turmoil, enough hardship. I'm not whining, but my love life has been sub par. I've been in love a total of three times. I think this hiatus I'm taking is going to help me in the long run. I don't mind being single; I just miss the intimacy. I can't tell you how good a hug feels but something closer would be so nice. Let me back into your world.

Immeasurable Differences

There's a difference in me. I'm not really sure what it is or when it started. I can't trace back the change, but it's pretty significant. Early in the morning, when I'm responding to my how are you texts, I'm able to say pretty good or good without lying. If I'm not good, it's only because I'm too tired to be that way. With the right amount of sleep, rest, destressing mechanisms, I can be extremely happy. I'm single, confident, I don't need nobody to make me happy, as they say. Maybe they don't. I'm in no way implying that I'd be less happy with someone; it's just nice to remember that I can feel this way by myself. In fact, a good deal of the time I'm with someone, I feel rather similarly to this. The difference, of course, is that you have someone to go home to, sometimes; someone to hold you when you need it.

I have one week left of UDT, and then it's over! Last year I wrote a blog about the entire process. A dumbed-down version of course, but this year has been quite different. I just can't believe how much time it's eating from my life. I shouldn't complain, though. I'm able to do things that people only dream of. I dance for a living, I live my life through expressing my body. I'm supposed to love it, and most of the time I do, but I need to stop complaining so much and just start enjoying the way it makes me feel. I'm alive when I dance, I'm sore as hell and usually tired, but nothing beats moving like that. Nothing.

By the end of this post, Teddy should be here. Lights camera action here we go. I like him. Probably more than I should, probably more than is healthy. Probably I should not write about it online. Probably I like the word probably. It's a good day to be alive, I think.

I get to finally go ice skating! It'll be on Valentine's Day, no less. Screw lame, semi-douchey ex boyfriends who treat you as though you don't exist, I'm going with Jeff on V-day. I couldn't be happier. We're going on a faux date, out to dinner, ice skating, and maybe a movie. I am so excitied. That's really all I have to say right now. I thought there was more, maybe not. Finally done teching Missa Brevis tonight. 4:30-6. Then on with the show!

Morning glow

I'm slowly moving toward a level of happiness. I don't miss him as much anymore, and I can see him and talk to him without getting overwhelmed. This morning, though, I woke up wishing someone was there. I'm just so exhausted I wish someone could help me take care of my apt, take care of me, take care of the things I don't really have time for because I'm just so busy with school right now. I think the best thing is I can imagine someone else there, someone close, someone real. I still won't forget but I won't get stuck on it.

Today's one hell of a rehearsal day. I'm going to be at the barker/rarig from 11 to 8 p.m. or so. It's just so much, and my body is really not handling it very well. Yesterday I caved and bought some tiger balm in hopes that I can get through the week without feeling too much pain. Just get through and then rest rest rest rest rest. Plus, you know, 5 hours a day of dance. :)

I need to shower so I can get to rehearsal, but I know I will continue writing later.

too little time

School has once again sucked me into a routine. I wake up at 6:15, make coffee, shower, dress, get a ride to ballet, then start my onslaught of classes. Each day I find myself getting more and more tired, feeling less and less rested. This whole University Dance Theatre thing doesn't help much. In a week and a half, I will be done with it, done with my last UDT. It's weird, really, I've been fortunate enough to do three and it's all ending so soon.

For the most part, I enjoy my classes. I inadvertently signed up for the Biology 1001 class which focuses on sex and reproduction. Hooray! We watch squirrels having sex, humans having sex, giraffes mating, it's really exciting. The readings for the course are a bit weird, though. I don't think I've read a text book like that since high school and the "essay" we're reading called The Red Queen is wrought with problematic, heteronormative discourse. Oh well, I'll just keep my mouth shut and pass the class to graduate.

The more and more I get to know him, the more and more I want to know. Rarely have I felt so equaled, so engaged, so titillated by mere conversation. We're not even so much alike. I mean, in some ways we are; both wanting PhDs, but nerds who love Harry Potter, both like cupcakes and Chipotle. I'm cautious, though, cautious of letting go too much, falling in again, making myself too vulnerable. I've done a good job of that so far, of being vulnerable. It's not such a hard thing sometimes, if you're in the right hands.

I'm finally getting over my ex, maybe not completely, though. I don't think we ever really get over someone. We just have to keep going with our lives. The feelings don't change, they just have to move, they have to relocate to the non-feeling part of the body...wherether that is. Just last night, I was able to have a conversation. Granted, it wasn't in person but it was a step, hopefully in the right direction. Maybe we both just need a little more time to make things easier.

There's always just too little time to get it all done.