My Hero.

I was walking down the hall of the Jr. High I am teaching at the other morning, and someone was instructing my students of a new assignment: research, and write about your hero... I remember having a such an assignment proposed to me.

I was 6 and sitting in the 5th row from the back of Ms. Gianninni's first grade classroom. Wiggling anxiously in my desk, we were instructed to draw someone we admired. I remember pulling out my Crayola 12-pack of colored pencils and putting my head on the desk with a pink eraser, nervous to capture the essence of my hero. about half-way through the assignment, I remember looking at the desks around me, and seeing caped crusaders and hollywood starlets. I scratched nervously at my eczema on the back of my leg as I colored in the last line of what might have otherwise been an unorthodox type of hero. He had no cape, glamourous mike stand, or even an interesting Mask or Hat. I never thought twice as my juvenile hand created an oval shaped head, big ears, squares glasses, a red plaid print shirt with two pockets, two mechanical pencils, blue pants, and big brown shoes.

Upon first glance, one might HARDLY peg my grandfather as a super hero. A soft-spoken man in his late 70's, has done more with a soft-spoken demeanor, bachelor's degree, firm handshake, and can-do attitude than anyone else I can think of (and trust me, I have been asked to think of better... I just can't do it).

This is a big year for my hero. He turns 80. He will be knighted into a Service group, and he is receiving a character award from the boy scouts, another organization he has held very near and dear to him. And not only is he receiving this award, but he has asked me to speak for him on his behalf. At first, this was no big deal, I do public speaking and entertaining all the time, but when I learned he only selected 3 people to speak and I was one, I suddenly got very nervous. My first thought was "why me?" What about one of the SCU alums? ya know, the business/engineer school, in and out in 4 year one's? Why on earth are you choosing the State school, liberal artist, hardly-made-it-out-in-6 year grandkids? I felt like the Queen of England had invited me to tea. Twyla Tharp had called and asked me to choreograph a piece with her... Batman was calling to tell me the comissioner had been laid off and I needed to step in....

And now with the interview less than a week away I am starting to get nervous... How do I sum up the awesomeness to Gramps into a clean, 20-30 minute Q & A? In a way I feel words are very contradictory for my grandfather? As a man of action, he hardly said goodbye when he hung up the phone. My grandfather never sat me on his knee and TOLD me about what to do and not do, say and not say (that was grandma's department), be or not be. Instead he sat me next to him and showed me what I believe to be the most important lesson of them all: compassion. He showed me how to treat people, modeled respect, & was always consistent.

In my generation, our society and internet age has given us an "instant gratification" complex. Well, as I won't draw any caped super heros, I will try also to exercise my patients (impatience is a trait that my grandfather DID hand me down) and I strive everyday when I see my peers getting awards and affirmations for things they do now not to be jealous. I remember it is not yet my time. I think of Papa and how he never settled for 15 minutes of fame. He was holding out for those lifetime achievements. And if I could get HALF as far as he did, I will be lucky.

And I hope that I don't say anything wrong next week in interview....

Dreams of Clean

I USED to keep my room clean.

No, really. When I first moved to college, I had a tidy room. IT was decorated and happy, and everything had a place. It was really nice.

Now, instead of having clean, I have a roommate who is clean. What he defines as clean is throwing away things that aren't his, hiding the mess in the couch cushions, and delegating people to do chores. Once, I spent two weeks looking for a paycheck that had come in the mail. I didn't even know it had COME until I found it, buried in a pile on the kitchen counter, with mail that is supposed to go to our landlord.

They say that the house is a clue to the soul. I believe this to be truth. I.... COULD clean my room, but my roommate Jolie and I have been talking about moving out for the past 3 months, and my dresser has been broken since we moved in 18 months ago (crappy swedish furniture...) So now all I can think of is boxes. I LONG to purge my room of textbooks, organize my clothes so that they are not crammed into a drawer and wrinkled... but everytime I move something out of my cluttered sanctuary, in a flash it is gone thanks to my nervous roommate and his obsessive "cleaning". His Nervous energy reminds me of the squirrel from the ICE AGE Series, and while he is my friend, I want nothing more than to take MY playstation two from HIS room, pack it into an organized box in the back of my car, and never have to worry that another paycheck will ever go missing. And my playstation can go in MY room, my OWN ROOM since 5 years ago, where everything can have a home again.

BROKEN

I feel like my shirts are very reflective of my moods...

This next one I count as a band shirt because 1) I can't wear it without thinking of music and 2) while it doesn't reflect a band, the lyrics are on the inside.

TWLOHA (To write love on her arms) is an organization started for awareness of teenagers who cut themselves, have suicidal thoughts, etc. If you want my opinion, I think its pretty messed up that our society even NEEDS an organization like this, but I have also been working in customer service for long enough to see parent/child relationships recently, and I have definitely seen a few interactions go down where I thought to myself, "your giving your child a complex"....

In short, there need to be lessons on how to parent... My parents couldn't teach it, but I bet my Grandparents could.

Back to my shirt. TWLOHA pops up at most emo-culture shows, Warped tour to name the biggest. The shirt I own was sponsored by Paramore, and It is 1 of the 2 paramore shirts I own. Having said that, let me tell you about Paramore. They wail. Sure they could be your run-of-the-mill pop punk, but there is one thing that sets them above the rest: their 19/20 years old singer, can sing. I remember seeing them before they were on MTV, when Hailey (singer) was only 18, with her bright orange micraphone, and thinking that this is what I had been looking for from punk rock. Avril started down this road and sold out... and Hailey's voice is far superior for such a peanut of a girl.

So the Lyrics to their song "We are broken" are on the inside of the TWLOHA shirt, which i thought was a very interesting choice. The song I think might have been written for the cause, but if it wasn't it was written perfectly for it. The Teenage angsty lyrics talk about how broken the singer is, it asks how do your restore innocence, etc. etc. And I appreciate the choice of it going inside the shirt because i'm sure if it weren't people would be trying to read them all day off my back and I would never get anything done. I wore it friday for one pretty simple reason: Dancing recently has been grueling, and I personally, Physically and egotistically speaking, have been feeling a little broken myself recently.

Half of my Heart

I was born in the arms of imaginary friends...

No, I wasn't. But I started my Project with my most current Purchase of John Mayer's "Battle studies" T-shirt, and those lyrics are some of the most poetic I think on the album. I didn't want to wear it first because it is my new favorite (as it is the newest to the collection), but something in my recent past has been drawing me to wear it first. Maybe its the subdued navy blue that has reflected my mood recently, or maybe its the fact that his melancholy lyrics have reflected some of my own feelings about this part of my life. Either way, I wear it with pride, normally under my red wool sweater I got 2 years ago as a christmas gift from my mother.

I especially like this t-shirt because I have a total of 4 john mayer t-shirts in my collection, all of which have special meaning. What I like about Mayer is that his albums tend to parallel my life (as any good musician makes his followers think... that he is speaking straight to them). I recently read his most current article in Rolling stone about him where he admits that this newer album is not his best work, which made me like him as an artist even more. Mayer is real. He is a work in progress; HUMAN, which i think many celebrities forget about. And while his job is to make sales, he has just admitted to his product being sub-par, and I think this makes him even more sellable.

But it isn't even ABOUT that! Its about he wrote an album, another poetically twisted novel like piece of work, and he is calling it sub-par and I still listen to it whenever I have 45 minutes to spare, because I believe it is one of those albums that needs to be listened to beginning to end.

And my FAVORITE song right now, "Half of my heart" (The lyrics I opened with), Mayer is telling someone that he cannot only function with half of his heart, which I relate to. I have worked several jobs at the same time, gone to school, and tried to remain a good Daughter, granddaughter, cousin, student, girlfriend, and burned out, & I feel myself doing this again. Growing up on a team has taught me to do everything with 100%, and when you work 6 jobs, XYZ, its damned near impossible to do that... My fuse has been lit, and Jobs, "I can't keep loving you/ with half of my heart..."

Failure is Not an option

Winners don't quit, they rest.

So after a week of "resting" (read: crying into my pillow silently everynight), I have decided on a few things for February:

1) No more 'what if's' about failure. It is just not happening

2) No moving back into your parentals. You're a big girl now.

3) No filing for unemployment: the ULTIMATE act of failure if you want MY opinion. (this was not even an option, but some people think it is, so I will dismiss it now)

I also have a to do list for February:

1) Sign up for my personal Trainer license

2) Think about the Zumba Certification (barf)

3) Wear my Band shirts.

I need to get my personal trainer license, so I can start working (like, more non-stressful hours). I decided I have some time to allot for studying, so long as I knuckle down, I could potentially have it by the middle of April, early May.

Zumba is not something I want to succumb to, but if i get desperate it will happen, it is a good gig and people like it. I just am having a hard time justifying that right now because I feel like you need to be a special breed of person to make that stuff happen, and I don't know if that's the person I want to be...

I have often joked that I have enough band shirts to wear them all twice in the month of February and not wash. I pride myself on this because they were all bought at concerts. This is another artistic exercise. Everyday I wear one I will remember why I got it (for some of these shirts it will be hard), but I always say that I am continually inspired by music, and so, there you are. I am not starting today, and Tuesdays in life right now are HELLISH!, so I will start the exercise on wednesday.

While I am here, I must thank everyone who has been supporting me through this. My sister has listened to me cry every monday in anticipation of tuesday, My grandmother who I often call to let her know I am still working, and Jolie, my bestfriend/roommate who has dealt and given advice about my mood swings from the beginning, and all three of them continually reminding me that God has a plan.

... But seeing as its february, I feel like I need to make a public affirmation to Dave. Dave and I have been unofficially dating for a year now. And a lot has changed in a year. A year ago I was fearless, with an ego and a vision and I thought I was invincible. I know that is the girl he fell in love with. The fearless, sassy, egotistical me who could do anything she wanted, and that's that. And today I stand before him, and God and Everyone else, a scared, tearful, roller-coaster basket-case who can't seem to get it together. And he could leave my one ring circus if he wanted, but he doesn't. And that has shown me that he really cares about me, because if I were him I probably would have been out by now (did I mention I can't STAND myself right now?)

Lucky for me, Dave doesn't read my blog. He despises public displays of affection, and I have been good to keep it to a minimum, but Dave has his own things to worry about, that I believe to be FAR bigger than my issues, and he has been a solid, patient, unwaivering presence in my life, who every time I want to throw my hands up, cry in hysterics and run away from this life, lovingly grabs me by the hands and leads me back to my goal. He reminds me that I can do whatever I put my mind to, and I am grateful to him for that.

Super Heros

I have been thinking about it for a while... and... I have decided that most artists are like super heros.

How? Well, think about it, most super heros have ordinary lives... and than, magically, at the end of the day, they transform and suddenly can do what they love to do: save the world.

I have been graduated for a whole month... and it is hard being a full time super hero. I have tried on numerous occasions to update, and failed because I was too busy crying to myself how hard life was. and that's not what I want to be sharing with everyone. I don't want to tell the internet that I have lost 12 pounds because I can't afford food. I don't want to share I can't sleep because I am counting the dollars and cents in my wallet... And I definitely don't want to share that I am having second thoughts about my Certification to be an exercise teacher. But the balance is exactly that: It's hard to be a full time super hero... EXTREMELY HARD. I never liked spiderman for this reason... I always wished I could be a bruce wayne...

So these next couple weeks... perhaps months... will be a test... A test of strength. Of sanity. Of dedication. Because every week I commit, and by the time sunday rolls around, I get an awful sinking feeling and start second guessing.

The options:

To struggle. To grin and bare it. To starve so I can put gas in my tank to make it to the city. To Work 4 jobs on opposite sides of the city. To be poor and happy teaching young kids Why dance is important.

OR

To assimilate. To get the desk job. To be stable. To be stable and die inside making paper shipments and other people's dreams your biggest concern....

I keep saying that option one is what I want, but I can slowly feel the sand sliding out from under me with no foot hold. And now that I am starting a company, and dancing in the city... I am thinking that maybe.... JUST maybe... I could assimilate to civilian life. To walk among them. To talk and act and dress like a true 9-5er. And I look at super heros before me, other artists, my cousin, who did find a 9-5 until they could do what they wanted.

And I ask myself... COULD I be happy with that???

I totally cheated...

I would normally update here, but I am so dissatisfied with everything I have tried to write recently, the large block has been cast on my brain as to how to reflect on my own life...

HOWEVER, for the last couple months, My friends and I have embarked on a new endeavor, to which needed some attention. I am directing you to that site NOW... it is not a "instead of" for this blog, only an excuse to let my creative juices take over, because I think if you are reading this blog, you probably want to know about the other one too...

http://inspiredsouldancewear.tumblr.com

Happy reading!