Day Damn 1:

Day 1:

December 19, 2010

So, this is it.

No one will know about this, just you and I. I will start attempting to dance again. I feel like no one really understands—and maybe this is the emo phase I just never went through in high school.

But I miss it....not the emo phase, dance. I more than miss it, I need it. I cannot go a day without walking on my toes or wanting to turn or imagining me being able to do the splits or get a triple pirouette without getting dizzy.

But to do that, I have to make sacrifices. By that, I mean, I need to lose some weight. Not that I think I'm fat but I could use a smaller waist for several reasons. A) It gets in the way of my stretching and B) It gets in the way of my mindset.

I found my dance shoes the other day, they're beautiful. I found my tap shoes too, and I miss them just as much. The sound they make is wonderful against my hardwood floor.

I started stretching after that, and doing bad turns and believing in myself and all that, and I guess that's a good thing. But it's time for the rubber to hit the road now, it's time for me to actually try.

Usually I cop out on everything.

I try for a few days, but I give up, because I have no discipline. I'm terrible. I guess it's because my life's a little more cushiony lately. Having dated my boyfriend for almost 3 years, he's been good (and sensible) enough to squelch the things I love most. He doesn't mean to, mind you, me just....just looks out for me I suppose. Wanting to be a dancer isn't exactly the most stable career choice in the world, but hey, it's mine.

But it's not like I'm not successful now. I mean, I've been accepted onto an internship with the most prestigious newspaper in Evansville, and they like me. I'm only 20....

God, I'm 20.

That's so old to me.

It's crazy.

I'm 20, and I can already feel the weight of gravity on my skin, and my boobs, and my scalp. God I'm a mess.

I do not desire to be pretty, I just desire to be a dancer. If I can dance, I will feel beautiful. This may sound insane, but perhaps it is.

Tomorrow, I will get up at 7 a.m. And stretch. Stretching needs to be done so I can do the things I want. Then I will go to church with Jon and his family, then to lunch at his grandmother's house, which I will either A) Politely decline or B) Go to, but nibble on the mashed potatoes that would make Paula Dean's arteries beg for mercy.

Then, it's back to my house for some reading and possibly a few turn practices....I just wish I knew I was doing this right. I mean, I've been watching youtube tutorials, but that's not enough to know whether or not my leg's at the right angle in proportion to my kneecap when I turn.

Then, I'll eat dinner and stretch some more. Hopefully Jon will understand when I tell him that I need sleep, if only I could tell him I want sleep. I feel as though I cannot sleep now, but I need to try.

I don't want to cop out this time, I want to do this more than anything.

I want this so much.

So here we go.