Since my journal is in Austin.

I have a tumblr, and there are a few celebrities I follow.
Not the stereotypical celebrities just because they're famous, but ones whose art forms I enjoy, and also seem to have personalities I can respect. (You know, normal human beings. Those people that see they're people and embrace it. I like these kinds of people.)
There are a few I follow on Twitter and Instagram as well, and one thing I've noticed is how they'll say something completely normal, and people will freak out on it. It won't be anything remotely profound, but it'll have thousands of reblogs/hearts/retweets/favorites/etc.
Sometimes I'll look back on my feed from my perspective social media sites and notice that I say similar things, and no one cares.
So why do I still say them?
If there's no one who follows my blog, why do I continue to post?
If there's no one who sees my Tumblr posts, why do I put them there?
If there's no one who reads my tweets, why do I try so hard to fit it perfectly into 140 characters?

Because I don't write or post for other people. 
I write and post for me.

If other people get something out of it, that's an added bonus.
Sure, I'd love to inspire hundreds or thousands or whatever.
I'd love to know that some little thought I had had an impact on strangers.
I would love to see that my life inspired people, that someone out there related to something I felt.
That they felt it, too.

I've often wondered if sometimes these famous people feel empty from the attention received from these posts; if it's exhausting to have people comment things that are completely irrelevant and beside the point.
I wonder if it makes them feel good to see all the feedback.
If they scan through the pointless and smile at the comments that are proof of that connection; If they risk seeing all the irrelevant just to know that someone out there related to what they felt.

Recently I posted a picture on tumblr that I was rather confident would appeal to a certain group of people.
Tagged accordingly, I figured it would make it's rounds and get a bit of attention.
And it did, and I see my dashboard filled with names I don't recognize liking and reblogging this post.
but then there's something I didn't expect to see.
I see these names of people I don't know reblogging older posts.
Some are pictures I had found and reblogged as well.
Some are random thoughts I had that no one seemed to blink an eye at.
Posts I almost deleted, because I thought they were irrelevant.
Times I thought, "maybe I should just keep these thoughts to myself. Ya know, only post what's expected."
But I left them.
And these strangers connected to it.
They felt something, something similar to what I felt when I wrote it.
That is the greatest hope for a writer; for someone who lets themselves be vulnerable.
To know that the risk you took in that moment made a difference to someone else, even if it was only for a moment.
Our lives are made up of a bunch of little moments. Like little tiny building blocks that make up our lives and who we are. These kind of moments you collect can determine whether your life leaves you feeling happy or sad or angry or hopeless.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes we all feel those things. All of them.
But in those moments, what do you turn to? What fills those moments? What do you put in front of your eyes and what fills your ears to make you get through the moments?
Life isn't perfect; it never will be.
But you have a choice.
You can fill it according to what you think people want to see; what's expected.
Or you can fill it with what makes you feel something.
Feel the pain, cry, let it out.
I've spent hours and hours trying to figure out what it is about those days that I desperately want to pass when I'm in them that also makes me long for them when they're over.
They make me feel alive.
Even if I feel so lost, and alone, and hopeless.
I feel.
Those moments I remind myself of who I am and why. I collect the little moments that make me feel an inner peace and I build on them.

If I feel this thing, and someone else relates to what I feel, then it's worth it.
It's like reaching through to this person I don't even know and holding their hand; reaching out support to them to let them know, "hey, you're not alone."

To me, that is a powerful thing.

I feel like there's more to say, and I could keep rambling to try and get it out, but I think my point was made. At least, the best it can be. Sometimes words just aren't enough.

<3 p="">

End of a journal entry.

What you think matters, what you feel matters, what you want to say matters. You matter.
Oh gosh, how you matter.
So keep thinking, keep feeling, keep wanting. Keep that blood pumping through your veins.
Every bit of you is important.

days

Some days all I want to do is write.

Today is one of those days.

Autumn.

Yesterday marked the first day of Autumn in the US, and it seems as though the grackles and morning air have a calendar and abide solely by what it says.
I must admit, it is a very welcome change; even if it is ever so slight.

So I've got my fall scented burner going, my favorite Autumn tunes and a comfy (light) sweater on as I try to convey what it is I want to say.

Let me preface with a few thoughts about this post.
At first, the realization happened and a smile was brought to my face. I felt light and pleasant--like all my enduring and pain was finally starting to let up and things are getting better. I kinda already talked about this a bit before, but this was a moment for me.
Then I started thinking about writing the blog post, and how this might be one I put out there. Not many people read this blog, and certain points I'll post about publicly.
Then I started to think about if this will get backlash. What would I do if someone chewed me out over it or got their feelings hurt?
Then I thought something momentous: This is my story, I'm entitled to tell it. I don't care what they think.

So, here we go.

Today is my co worker's birthday. I woke up early so I could buy her flowers and a balloon before work because "every birthday girl needs a balloon!" That's when I noticed the cooler air, crisp against my skin. Autumn is here.
In Texas, it takes a bit longer for the full effects to happen, so we relish in the 79 degrees that is the first sign of Fall. I felt happier, more alive.
I felt hopeful.
My boss's wife had made a breakfast casserole for my co worker since breakfast is her favorite and asked me to bake it in the morning. I get here before anyone else, so I'm bustling about, getting everything ready, putting the flowers and balloons on Gail's desk just right and making sure everything is good to go for breakfast.
About the time Gail walked in the door, you could smell the goodness coming from the oven. The timer went off and I pulled the dish out and smiled.
It felt like fall, the air smelled of fall. I was reminded of days of open window, lit candles, curled up on the couch, cup of coffee roommate living and it made me smile.
So I took these pictures when I realized what was happening.

Smells of Autumn.

So I'm there, happy. Even in knowing that I can't eat ham and I will surely be feeling the pain of this temporary pleasure later. The memories were sweet and I wanted to run with it.

That's when I realized how hopeful I felt. 

I used to be friends with this girl, and my experiences with her had overrun my view of fall. By "overrun" I mean that they had replaced the old memories and became the new thing with which I associated Fall. This was good at the time, but became painful as the days passed. 

I'll admit, I was a bit nervous coming to the end of this summer, knowing that I could potentially be overwhelmed by the memories of years before. That Autumn and Winter could become a darkness that settles over my heart rather than a freshness that wakes me up. I had finally moved past the connotation of death and near death that had laced the seasons before, only to have it replaced with pain and betrayal to learn to move past.

I was very fortunate last year to be living where I was. My roommates were wonderful and helped give me something positive to hold to and a great example to follow in my own life. I think this was a detrimental step in the process to coming to an Autumn and eventually Winter that I can enjoy, and for that I am forever grateful.

There are still moments that past people say things that hurt. They may think they are doing the righteous thing, but it's actually twisting the knife around and can make for a painful day. But I am glad to know that I am on the ascending end of this issue, and that next year the Autumn season will be laced with happy feelings.

I hope the house is finished before the cool weather goes away, so I can spend a Saturday with open windows, comfy pants, lit candles, and favorite movies. 

It's these simple things that remind you that life is good. These kind of days where you can step back and know you like the person you are.

Thanks, Autumn. 

Unmasked.

I hate new things,
but I love new things.
Yes, I realize this is an oxymoron, I have just accepted the fact that my life is laced with them.

I'm at a new dance studio.
It sucked leaving my old one.
It sucked starting the new one.
But as I start to find my footing, make a fool of myself, and face these gargantuan fears no one else even realizes are there, I find myself in one of my favorite times of meeting new people.

You can never take back a first impression.
With some people, first impressions are only the first layer of beauty the person possesses.
With others, it's about the only beautiful thing you'll see.
Nonetheless, these are my favorites, because you get can learn so much.

There's this girl in my Ballet V class that has to be the sweetest person I've ever met.
But she's not so shallow as to just remain there.
She's one of the first of the girls I didn't know to talk to me, and that has meant so much.
More than that, she's real.
People say that I'm sweet, but they don't seem to leave me room to be anything other than sweet.
She was late one day and clearly frazzled, and when someone asked her, she didn't mask it.
The thought of not masking to some people is unheard of to me.
With more thought, I can recognize that there are times that I can be unmasked, and others where it's easier to not be.
I guess the hardest part is encountering those people who knew me when I was younger; ya know, before the world took it's beating, before I had to fight my way to survival. Who they knew me then, although the same person, functions a bit differently now. Some can accept it, but others aren't as open. It tends to be the ones that are just takers that have the hardest time. Sadly, some takers are a necessary evil.

Anyway.
Seeing her reaction and her honesty in life really showed me it's possible. That you should have a place that's safe to be yourself and not have to put up a front, and you should strive to life an unmasked life. (Given that you're a decent human being and not just using that as an excuse to be a jerk.)

So, thanks for being sunshine, Eloise, and for not being afraid to show that sometimes rain happens.

Please, be. ©

I have you but a moment
A fleeting breath slips through my lips
As you slip through my fingers

You're gone as quickly as you came
My eyes are open
Searching, waiting.
Hoping to see you
walk through that door.

I'll slip back into your arms
Next to your heart
Your hand in mine
Where we belong.

Birthday.

Tomorrow is the first of the birthday/year of awesome celebrations.
I've just decided that everything awesome will be in attribute to my birthday.

Birthday shopping weekend
Birthday pointe shoe fitting
Birthday SYTYCD Tour
Birthday Europe trip

Why not?

Now, I don't know if I'll stick with this, but it's a fun thought.

'Bout to go buy new windshield wiper blades.
Because it's my birthday. And it's supposed to rain.
As it should :)

Winter.

I have yet to figure out why, but it seems that winter always seems to weigh heavier than most seasons.
I'm not sure if it's because the cold is here such a short amount of time in comparison to the warmth, thus having a far narrower spectrum of time to place into this category.
It could just be because tragedy seems to strike more in the fall and winter months.
*shrug*

I tend to dread it. So much so, that I was exceptionally panicky one October. A good friend caught on and thus got with my roommate to fill my hallway with balloons.
FILLED. WITH. BALLOONS.
And at the end of the hallway was two stuffed elephants and my favorite candy.
It was amazing, unlike anything ever.
It definitely helped combat those winter blues, especially for that year, and thankfully that October went down as one laced with moments of happiness, rather than the notorious years of pain.
The thing about painful winters is that you not only feel them when they happen,
But also the next year; when the air is crisp and memories stare you blankly in the face.
It's heavy, like a blanket of snow on your shoulders, stitched together and never melting.Then you reluctantly face the cheery summer that mocks you. How can you possibly think of going into a summer that's supposed to be happy with this blanket suffocating you?
And it's the first year without Instep, which is gonna be hard, since such happy winter memories were made there.

But, you know what?
This year is different.
This year, no one is going to dictate my winter but me.*
This year, I'm calling the shots.
This year, I'm not going to feel guilty over things that aren't in my control.
This year, I'm gonna appreciate what's around me to the fullest.
This year, I'm taking winter back.
I'm gonna fill it with memories that leave me smiling.
I'm going to surround myself with people I love.
I'm going to talk about things that make me feel happy.
And next year, when I look back, I may feel sad, because I'll miss it so much.
But then I'll feel inspired to make that next approaching year even better than this one.
Simply. It doesn't take much. Just some good people, a couple good books, a few adventures, and lots of laughs.

This year is different.
And I'm looking forward to it.



*I would hope that when I say "No one but me" that it is assumed that "me" is synonymous with God. Of course, He has the final say. But I do what He says. It's not necessarily a big, impressive prayer, just a gentle nudging and knowing.
Anywho. Just to clarify.
Carry on.