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Sometimes in life I think we all get so selfish. We feel like in order to give we must get something in return. When I walk onto a big black marlee floor and leave my heart there unplugged and abandoned, I expect to feel something. I expect the earth to stop for a moment and renew my fire. Truth is, since I left California in August, I can count on one hand the amount of times that dancing has made me feel something. I've gotten really frustrated, and heartbroken. It's like the worst break up of my life. I. Just. Want. To. FEEL. Something, anything. I'm fighting with my dancer self. I can't make eye contact with her in the mirror. I can't set her free like normal. The love of my life (dance) isn't making me feel anything anymore. But isn't that how true love works? If you can fall in love, you can fall out of love. Which is why I don't believe love is something you fall into. Love is something you throw your entire human self at, and choose over and over again every single day. So, regardless of the fact that I don't feel like I'm getting what I need from my dancing self right now, I'm going to continue to throw myself at it, everyday.
This is the perfect generation for dreamers and I'm so blessed to be a part of it. I mean, how many other times in history has the starving artist been as stable as the college graduate. No one expects me to get a degree and be a school teacher, a nurse, a politician or any other really cool grown up job. Turns out those kids are also applying to sell sweet tea at Chic Filet. I live in a generation that gets to go for it, because really, what else can you do? It's not money, or stability you are after, because that's all stupidly unstable these days.-- It's happiness. So for goodness sake go out and do what makes you feel alive. That's what we all really need, to be alive little beings who do more than eat, work, sleep and repeat.
I'm having to make some tough decisions about work next year. It's really been getting me down because once again it seems the universe is being a tid bit stubborn about letting me make everyone happy. I've been all glum and blue, and pouty. Then it hit me, remember when your parents told you that you needed to finish your dinner because there were starving kids in third world countries?...I guess I missed this because I was stuffin those last 2.5 green beans into my very full tummy but Im pretty sure that the real moral of the story is to love what you have. You see, I have people offering me money to do what I love. Woah, somebody smack me! Really Kaitlyn?...Now, don't get too excited but here is the surprise spoiler ending to my book, SHHHH...don't tell. The conclusion to my book is going to be a chapter called "You know you're a blessed mess when..."--and fact of the matter is, it's going to be longer than all of the other chapters combined.
At the end of a very very long, unecessary day, as I sit in my crappy shirt, stuffing York mints in my mouth and counting down the minutes until a new day begins I'm going to realize I am one majorly blessed little mess. I'm thankful for the air I'm breathing right now. The heart that is still pumping blood. The feet I have to dance. The lack of logic I have that allows for HUGE dreams. The possibility of seeing the sunrise again tomorrow. I mean, let's be real...even after all the small defeats I felt today, and all the 'epic fail' kind of days that await me, I am beyond blessed. I get to come home to a man that loves me more than he should. After he hugs me, wipes my tears and brings me back to a healthy non emotional woman perspective...I can walk into a studio with him, say nothing and just dance. For hours. and Hours. and Hours. Until I can't breath anymore. Until the problems that overwhelmed me prior are smaller than ants. Last I checked, that's a pretty big dream all in itself.
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