future.

Here I sit, my back to the white-washed wall at the back of my dance studio, barely even 10:00am and already an hour of dance squeezed out of my body (bones). I’m seeking winter solace in a double tall skim no-whip peppermint mocha, beautifully warm in its post-consumber recycled red festive cup. I’m not even sure I like the drink itself; it simply means Christmas to me and so I chug on. I love the fact taht I had to wake up early on a Saturday morning to strap on my tights to come dance and rehearse. It makes me feel so professional – it feels so right. I love thinking that I will be doing this all next year. I am so PROUD of myself!!! Being accepted into VCU’s dance program makes all the pain, the jealousy, the muscle spasms, the eye twitches, miss candra’s centers, planches, the late nights, the early mornings, the skipped meals, the stress binges, the thousands of releves, the uncontrollable crying, the extra situp, that extra 10 seconds of stretching, the personal earthquakes, the nights in my LOST shirt scratching at my wrist, the missed parties, the movie invitation rejections, the self-hatred – all that… all that makes it worth it. My dream is coming true. I get to study dance, and what’s more – choreography. I really hope I can learn how to channel my emotions and thoughts into movement and onto people’s bodies, onto a stage under lights moving and glowing by my personal direction, with music, my music, or no musica at all, seeping into the eyes of those in the audience so that they may get something out of it for themselves. My thoughts, my ideas, my desires, my knowledge, my beliefs, my wishes, my dreams, my spirit – physical, tangible, visual. I can’t wait to be a part of that group I saw taking class in the upstairs room – sweating in the heat of the non-air-conditioned room, pulsating and moving to the beats and whacks of live bongos, the slow trickling of chimes, the rhythmic scratching of a cymbal, the deep vibratto of an African wooden flute.

I have a future.

I have a place to go. Something is waiting for me. A thing undone is out there weiting to be done by only me. I can feel it. I won’t be here forever. I can break free; I will break free.

10:30am. Back to rehearsal.