Hey there

You have no idea how many post drafts I start punching out angrily. And then after a while of furiously attacking the keyboard, I start re-reading myself and I make no sense.

I read a great interview today of the author of SSB. (Ok, it's not Nobel-prize stuff, but it was fun to read) It made me think about my own blogging. I tend to not write about the really negative stuff, because there are some angry, bitter emotions down there that I don't think it would do any good to publish. Those things that hit too close to home. Ballroom is one. Some of the others will most likely never see the light of day because as therapeutic as it may be to talk about them, it's not up to me to put it out there. (How's that for a cryptic sentence that tells you nothing?)

So that's the reason I try to blog about positive things. I think a lot of people only show the positive not nearly as much to convince others they're happy but more to convince themselves. If they write it down, it puts it in black and white, it's official. You can go back and look at your posts or journal entries or photo albums and say "hey, look how happy we were!" It's terrifying to say something is wrong! That makes it all too real.

And I'm not saying my life is awful. Far from there. I really do have a great husband. I love my major. I even have a calling that I enjoy. But that doesn't mean life doesn't go on and it's all bliss all the time either. It's not fun to have to work at a job that has nothing to do with the career field you want and keep turning down internship opportunities because, well, internship pays $0, job pays lot$. Hm, to pay bills or not to pay? But again, who am I to complain? I have a job. It's a really good job. Shoot, I even get benefits! (Well, some, I'm not full-time either) But when you have the choice between sitting at a desk looking at patents and computer manuals or going up to Salt Lake City working for a TV program with local celebrities and building up your portfolio...

Which brings me to another point: I think it's time to let go of the illusion that I'll ever make tour. I love dance. I love to dance. I love to watch dance. I love to perform. I LOVE concert. But it may just be time to make the grown-up decision now, and let it go. See, just writing about it now makes me want to cry. Maybe it's so frustrating because ballroom is really the first thing to stand up to me and say "No. You don't get in." It's entirely a question of pride: I keep hitting the wall and all I get is bloodied fists.

And speaking of cutting out depressing things from my life... I find myself enjoying "happy" (some would say sappy) songs more and more. I can appreciate the beauty of a sorrowful, powerful piece. One of my all-time favorite poems is Sylvia Plath's Daddy. And I assure you, this does not in any way reflect my own feelings towards my father or husband. I feel very keenly the hurt in writing like this, I get very worked up about injustice and pain, but sometimes I get so sucked in that it begins to affect me personally. So my favorite song of the moment is "Beautiful Life" by Fisher (look it up, it's a good song). And it may not be terribly creative musically, the lyrics aren't terribly original, but wow. It makes me smile. Sometimes that's just what you need.

That's a load isn't it?