I want to live in a place where people are honestly and truly different, not knock-off copies of what they call originality.
I change my opinions and thoughts every five seconds. Something new always pops up and makes me reevaluate the situation and my current stance. Is it wrong to one day believe something, but after acquiring new information, start to consider other possibilities? I don’t think it should, why not promote a world of constant change, conversation and personal growth?
To be honest, I’m not overly concerned with this turn of events. If it was meant to be, then so be it. However, I am scared to death of this indication. Change is powerful, and did I ever think I would end up where I am? No. That really scares me.
This was part of a longer text post I made back in July. Interesting that I still hold true to every word.
Auditions are shitty. This was a rough weekend. I’m still processing. Plz just let me get in somewhere.
Honestly do yourself a favor and watch this, even just a minute of it. It’s too beautiful not to appreciate.
I was born at Stanford Hospital, which is about as close as I’ll ever get to that university. I’ve lived in the same yellow house my whole life. My next-door neighbor is practically my aunt.
I live in Menlo Park, but go to school in Palo Alto. Whenever someone new comes to my house, they ask if I’m an illegal student. I look them straight in the eye and say yes.
It’s only slightly more interesting than explaining my mom is a teacher.
I spend every evening except Wednesday in a dance studio. I dance onstage in front of hundreds wearing nothing but a bra and spandex. I can make a face so seductive it’ll make you look away in discomfort.
I was a quiet freshman, unusually good at blending into the background. I hated school as a sophomore, everything and everyone sucked. As a junior, I suddenly found my voice, and it’s never been the same since.
I write stories for a newspaper. It took me until the night before the application was due to decide to run for Editor-in-Chief. I found out I got the job at midnight, May 5 in the middle of a dance convention.
I’ve had a different boyfriend every year of high school and yet I still complain to my friends about not having love. I lost the $50 earrings Boyfriend #2 bought for me. I’m also pretty sure that #4 is way out of my league.
I can’t bring myself to spend more than $20 on anything. My prom dress was $17. Consequently, every pair of pointe shoes is $80, which don’t last more than a month.
I cried three times at the movie Up, although I don’t think that makes me unique. I cried looking into the red spotting light of Spangenberg Theater for the last time. I cried for an entire night listening to a Modest Mouse song on repeat; even though the first time I heard it, it sounded dumb.
I love watching performers who are passionate. The lights of a city at night astound me. Nothing excites me more than the promise of the future.
Nothing scares me more than the future either.
Words are just words. Stars are just stars. Music is just music. A pancake is still a pancake, unless you put it in a waffle iron.
Man I just want to get up everyday, eat a piece of toast, spend the day in a studio, take the subway home, drink tea and write, go out and get shitfaced, come home and be loved by some beautiful boy and then fall asleep in the city that doesn’t. Is that too much to ask?