Impending Bloom...

As I sit here, I am excited to write. Maybe because I stand dangerously close to that line dividing those of us who are members of a couple, and those of us labeled single. Maybe because I have no choice but to put words down concerning my self, and that self's current state of being.

Sure, part of me will stay up wondering if he will decide to break up with me. But I can't control that decision. I pitched my best argument for why I want to try to make it work, and that's all I can do.

Codependency is the worse kind of prison one could imagine. It's pink and fluffy and stinks of love. But I'm not talk about a vagina here, folks... I'm talking about the comfortable state of stagnancy long-term couples can nestle into. We build boxes for our selves and our counter parts and then we sit in them, staring at each other. It's cool for a while, until one or both of you start to feel claustrophobic, and notice the other trying to get out of their box. Then you get paranoid and want to get out of your box.

The prospect of being able to learn from him again— that thought alone is enough to carry me through whatever decision is made. If we need to stop being intimate in order to get back to the real connection between us, then I am prepared to give that up. If the only way he will really find out who is and what he wants involves me not being in the picture, then I have to get ready to paint my own.

There are some things that need to be addressed:

I need to stop taking dance gigs. While I do enjoy working with the kids, and like generating designs and ideas for songs, I do not get off on making up the actual choreography. Sure, my interest and talent involving dance has grown immensely these last few months, but I know, without a doubt, that I enjoy participating in the group over leading it. And this is not the direction I want to take my career at all, so there is no reason to stick with it.

I need a break from colorguard. The magic is gone. I cannot spend any more time right now telling people to point their toes and to spin at their belly button level. The only way I would be satisfied in this arena would be to perform or work with an advanced skill-level group... and that just ain't gonna happen right now. So after this fall season ends... I HAVE to be done, at least for the winterguard season. To Dawn, Laura and Patricia: I am sorry, but this is what's best for me.

The bottom line in both of these cases is that I am in a rut with teaching. I'm excited to get back to learning.

I need to write more. Every day. All the time. My thoughts, my feelings, and most importantly all those love poems to myself. I miss studying how I move and what I say and putting it down on paper. This writing class I am taking and working with the college newspaper are teaching me so much and making me so hungry. Hungry for grad school. Hungry for song writing. Hungry for the mother fucking black and white.

It's time to trim the fat. Not literally, because I lost 10 lbs 2 months ago and have kept them off with great success. I love the gym, I love sweating and I love eating healthier. Lifestyle switch has been completed and shows only hormonal signs of regression (sometimes a girl just has to have chocolate).

I need to get one job. ONE. That I work at least 35 hours a week, and get benefits with. The reason for this is so I can save enough money to pay for school and my new apartment and all of the lavish gifts I intend to buy myself incase I end up without boyfriend. This job needs to help me advance within the field of artistic, written expression... or at least facilitate it being done in my spare time.

YES. Spare time. I need some of it. So I can do the aforementioned writing, AND exploring and adventuring and dates with my boyfriend (hopefully) or men who will never compare to him but who I will settle for.

I had forgotten that my favorite fix-it project has always been, and always will be ME... rather than those close to me. So here I am: once again making the commitment to myself. To my words. To my dreams. I think you should start a pool for which day I flake out again.