Another night of free food at Parramatta’s better joints. It was a night to end all bullshit and to clean up unnecessary mess made by third parties. It was a night to tie up loose ends and turn the last pages of that chapter. I have one less plaguing my mind.
I WANT TO CUDDLE YOU BUT I ALSO WANT TO FUCK YOU HARD I AM CONFLICTED
I swear to god the degradation of my writing in one lengthy post is blindingly apparent.
Learning one single dance style from different people is difficult sometimes. When you think you’ve understood a single move, you get this feeling of satisfaction and perhaps relief, but when you face someone new it’s as if you had previously learned nothing; you start from from the bottom. Again. It’s not a bad thing, it’s confusing but it’s not bad.
A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to have a locker from the society give me a couple pointers. I’ve always thought he harbored some sort of negativity towards me but thoughts of that pretty much dispersed once our half-an-hour-or-so session started.
It was really good to receive someone else’s criticism and input in terms of how I danced and how I was going about things. I didn’t really have a plan or anything, I’d just do whatever. This would leave me free to do whatever I wanted but also left me stuck on what I should start on. I’m usually drilling my foundations, or trying to do something… away… from foundations… ALL THE GROOVES!
See, I don’t know how to bloody train!
How did I get so… Hurrr anyway, new things I can work on: levels, ideas on how to utilise the space I’m given rather than dancing in the same spot, and my walk/attitude/intro/first impressions. I was also given a lesson on mentality in terms of doing battle and doing the jam, some history stories, as well as small exercises I could do to warm myself up.
It was refreshing to learn from someone outside of the classroom. I felt very honoured to have the privilege of dancing with higher-level dancers who deem me capable enough to be taught what they know. It’s a nice feeling.
I wish I wasn’t grounded and Sydney skies were clear enough so I could participate in the syzygy watching.
I wish I could be pretty like those Korean and Japanese girls I see everywhere.
I also wish I could play BattleBlock Theater and Cloudberry Kingdom right about now.
THAT THEY’RE NOT TRYING
BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW IF THEY’RE TRYING OR NOT
JUST BECAUSE IT DOESN’T LIVE UP TO YOUR STANDARDS DOESN’T MEAN THEY’RE NOT TRYING
Rather than upsetting me or angering me, I’m strangely motivated by my mothers break down. Sounds a little odd doesn’t it? This is not uncommon for me, it happens… more often than not. The late night, the usual ride home, the yelling, the tears. I’v’e learned to just let people scream til their throats are raw and every ounce of energy has been well spent on releasing all the feels. I quite enjoy it when my mother shouts at me for the one reason that she swears. It’s amusing to have parents like mine swear; you really don’t get to hear it as often as you’d like.
But back to the motivation part. Why and how does it motivate me? Motivates me because it let’s me know that I seriously gotta get my ass out of the house. The only thing in my way is not having enough dough on me to do so. And so I am trapped in the constraints of reality.
If y’all don’t know already, my mother worries a great deal about me. Most of the time it’s great, I mean who wouldn’t want loving parents right? However other times I wish she’d just stop; it kills her and it kills me too. It hurts her to the extent of wanting to smash her own head so she wouldn’t be able to worry about me any more. Quote, unquote.
-ugh turning on dem waterworks just remembering that line jcf-
Lastly, what does this all motivate me to do? Move out of course. Once I move out, they won’t have to worry about me coming home or not. Whether or not they decide to continue worrying will no longer be my problem, and they’ll know this too. Once I make the move, no one will be relying on anyone for anything. Sounds hella childish and whiny, I know. No need for dem eye-rollin’-rude-sighin’-face-palmin’ attitude. Don’t you dare give me that!
I’m sure I’ve already mentioned this before in one of my other posts but eh, it’s the only thing running through my head right now. I will probably try and find someone who would want to share rent with me, save my money properly this time (good time to pick up the good habits again seeing as I’m on holiday), maybe lay off the dance for a bit (I did my back in on Saturday… hurrr), and just get my head in the game with my studies.
Everything sounds like a pretty good plan. I will only admit to it being a good plan when the plan is a success. Until then, gotta get down and do.
Why do dudes always wanna know your bra size tho, what are they gonna do, buy you bras?? Cause that would be very helpful bras cost a lot of money i would save a fortune