Basically just talking to myself…and my mom ’cause she’s nice enough to read this.

I just lathered a bunch of “Toasted Praline and Pear” lotion on my hands and now realize that this really is just a fake solution to the problem. Ok, hey. This is my ~*bloggg*~ and I have something very important to tell you.

…well, this morning, I woke up!!!

…and I felt the symptoms of Spring to the faintest degree. I got way too enthusiastic about it…birds singing, sunlight leaking in, you know, the works. It felt very symbolic.

All this nonsense, this colossal shift in the dynamic of our world…I personally was in a period of stagnation before it all came down. I saw the interruption as something of a gift. That sounds supremely selfish, but, well…it was, and with the copious amounts of spare time we acquired, I took the opportunity to live a sort of alternate life.

I had, up to this point, been exercising unhealthy versions of discipline…not saying that I’m disciplined. Also not trying to say that I view sedulousness in a derogatory light. I’m saying I often choose all the wrong ways of disciplining myself. I know I’m not alone in secretly deriving pleasure from being my own nemesis, even if it’s gratifying on a subconscious level only. We complain to ourselves and others, but I think all human beings enjoy having something to be bothered about

(it distracts us)

…I digress. I don’t think there’s anything terribly wrong with that, but as a dancer, I often forgot that the whole thing isn’t meant to be painful. Of course, I know this tendency is not exclusive to ballerinas.

So I started enjoying my life more, I guess sort of rebelling against old habits. I even allowed myself to delve more fully into the parts of me that hate ballet. It was a necessary experiment, because I struggle with how purely-physical being a dancer becomes. We get so tied up in our own self-image. The whole thing can turn into a self-indulgent performance, top to bottom. Also it is still VERY much an aristocracy, but this has all been said, however perpetually-unaddressed…things I continue to inwardly grapple with.

Anyway, I am ready to go beyond the vanities of youth. I’ve been waiting to be old my whole life. I don’t want to witness us in the middle, when we all get sad about how “ugly” we’re becoming. I just want to be there: “ugly”. I’m phrasing it this way because much of our society is still perpetuating these silly standards; it’s just thinly-veiled under some self-care promotion. It’s impossible for us to have No ideal images of beauty, but I think our individual definitions could still afford expansion…better yet?! Don’t establish a definition for yourself, but beauty is subjective and therefore gets inevitably defined and I digress again…beauty matters to people, I get it. Just remember that, to a certain degree, your idea of beauty is being formed for you. I think that my generation and the generations after me like to suppose that we’re advocating for a more “all-encompassing” kind of beauty when, really, sometimes we’re just continuing the commercialized obsession over outward appearances. I’m ready to be passed that. I don’t want to deal with you looking for the light in my eyes. I want us both to be blind and wrinkly AF, but having fantastic conversation.

I’ve distracted myself from the day. I woke up, I distracted myself with appointments, I distracted myself with projects, I distracted myself with the pseudo social life that exists within my phone. I cleaned, I tried to learn things…every single thing we do is some form of distraction from death. I don’t just mean physical death, but the other deaths that happen within life as well (death of a supposed connection…).

I classify certain distractions as healthy and productive while others are detrimental (??!), but the same remains true: they’re all forms of distraction. There’s always that one thing that you, specifically, are trying very hard not to think about…even if it’s not death. So often, we do everything to distract from that one thing…what is it for you? Could be anything, really…it’s interesting to me how some of us are so paralyzed by our fear of death while there are others who desire it. I don’t really fear death at this point in my life, but I’m sure I’m speaking from all sorts of entitled places.

…people who live too carefully to avoid death have basically succumbed to it already, right? You’re allowing yourself to be the victim by believing it has a hold on you. This is where death succeeds: in life. Don’t die before you die!!!!! This has all been said before…

My plans for this weekend are picking up groceries at 4 o’clock on Sunday. My brother bought me a Nintendo switch to distract me from the Devil, but I don’t even play it. It just lies next to me in bed while I read my book or more likely imbibe some sort of virtual, emotional vortex swirling around in my fifth appendage. I don’t think I really came to a conclusion here…I feel that’s probably expected now. Life is grand…maybe I don’t portray that enough when I write.