I am waking well before my alarm lately. Perhaps due to the turbo speed my dial of life is perpetually set to. Wake up. Shower. Sigh.
No pity here. Just truth, of things that have passed that I cannot change--be it to correct, alter, or eliminate. There is a drop of cherry juice on my white dress. My hair is unwashed. I missed the audition.
No pity. Truth. Reality. I feel anxious and then eased, not ever comfortable--just the measure of more or less tense. I babble all day long about this dream of mine and how I'm working toward it, and fill scripts with words I could have said to make the work move along.
I have fought and am still fighting. I have accepted that my life will never be one of rest. Seeds are planted in me that I have chosen to nurture. I have chosen this path for myself.
I cannot turn around. There is not a fork in my sight, not an option any longer for retreat to ease or quick fix, or even any other path of equal difficulty. My emotions fizz and bubble and surge me forward, hurling me at turbo speed down this path I have wanted, well before my alarm rings.
My fitful sleeping dreams are filled with men writing me off and labeling me arrogant in their minds, women with turquoise spectacles and bright red hair being polite and contradictory. I do not know how they feel about me really. Are they testing me? The harshness and the stark, seeming distaste just makes me cry.
Am I all alone in my dream, I wonder. My alive, awake dream. Why doesn't anyone believe in this stuff; it is just as real as going flat and forgetting words and miscommunication and lower-than-expected GPAs.
I tried hard not to regret. I made a list of blessings and smelled the air and looked at the majestic panoramic of the sky. I am so blessed, I remind myself through red eyes--just red from confusion, that's all.
There have been times of discouragement, but never of uncertainty, I wrote. Still true. There have been times of being unfair and snippy and of oversight, but never of failure, I should rephrase.
I didn't even think I would get this chance now. I didn't even think I'd be in the practice rooms of the HFAC imitating opera on my lunch breaks. I do not doubt the possibility that it is still going to happen now for me.
In the blank after GUT FEELING, I think she put a Y. I think he put a question mark. Perhaps that is too generous, perhaps me and my non-mold-fitting ways are too cocky to realize truth.
I have had frustration, not fear. I have had uncertainty in circumstance, but surety of outcome. I know what I have learned. And it is not to never trust anyone, or to fight people when it's your word against theirs. It is that I might never wake up to my alarm again. That I feel too much to be still in fitful dreams of
I left this post in midsentence, anxious to get home to bffls and boyfriends and pink plastic tablecloths for utensil-less spaghetti. I left my overspoken dream hovering in midsentence, cursor blinking, mascara smudged off. Days have passed--whatever pressing insight might have finished that sentence is lost in translation of all the discoveries and events and more FEELINGS...but not a minute goes by that I don't think about my stupid powerLESS heels, aural skills, smiling compliments of the best essays ever read punctured by after-questioning do-I-have-a-practical-side.
Okay, I just backspaced the start of a torrent of smart aleck comments. Backspace again. Blinking cursor again.
Starting and stopping, again--stopping, for now.