Words

I was going to write about this in one of my earlier posts, but I thought the meaning perhaps a bit too esoteric at the time. Reaching.

However, the thought is recurring: one of the things I'm thankful for is something I was taught as a small child - that our words have meaning.

I'm most immediately thankful for this as it relates to singing. I am thankful that ever since I was old enough to sing songs, the songs I sung were ones that had a direct relationship to something higher than me.

Because I learned to sing in church.

I sang at the Thanksgiving Eve service at the church I grew up in tonight and it brought me back to a simpler time when all that was on my mind when I prepared to step on stage was how to effectively bring a message to a congregation and glorify God.

Preparing to step on stage, and stepping on stage with a message has become my whole life, but recently it's been easy to get wrapped up in the goal of making myself relevant through a performance versus delivering any sort of message at all.

Tonight I was reminded that life really can be as simple as being the vessel - singing your song and relinquishing the glory, and knowing that the words mean something. It's just my job to show up and deliver them, and hope that a small part of their purpose might be achieved.

I am thankful for this because it takes such a weight off my shoulders.

I am thankful that this is a part of my history because now it's so natural for me to find meaning in the words that I sing and say. Why sing without a message? Text and music are inseparable in what I do. And music and connection to some higher, common human emotion are inseparable.



So was that too esoteric? I talk about singing a lot. But tonight I realized that my life is about so much more and, in a way, so much less than singing. Life is simple: we've been given a message, and we must deliver it. It's just figuring out what that message is and how we are to deliver it that gets us stuck sometimes.

I am thankful for the generosity of my parents. 

Effusive Thanks.

Oops. I’m getting worse and worse at keeping up on my thankfulness. It’s been how many days since my last post? And November is almost over and I have so much to be thankful for; I don’t even know where to begin!

So I guess I’ll start by saying that as the World Traveler, I am thankful for a weekend of traveling: Baltimore to NYC to Boston and back.

One of the reasons I love traveling is that I feel that it is the thing, in that I don’t have to be doing anything other than being when I travel. When I’m stationary, I feel desperate to make myself busy, which is admittedly part of the motivation behind this Thankfulness project. I just wanted to feel good about myself by committing to doing something every day and then doing it, and crossing it off of my to-do list.

But one of the greatest life lessons any of us can learn, I’ve discovered, is that the past does not exist--it is past--and the future does not exist, it is yet to come. All that matters is this moment. And I’ve been eager to change my mindset from “life will be better when…” to “life is exactly what it should be now.”

I’m forgetful. And also hopeful and ambitious. So this lesson is difficult for me.

And thus, I am thankful for travel. For busses, and trains and planes, and destinations and the in between spaces, where I do not feel the need to do anything but sit and soak in the present. I am slowly learning contentment in all moments, and travel is the teacher. 

I’m thankful that I’ve had the opportunity to travel so much over the course of my life; I know this is not something everyone is able to experience. I am grateful for the resources that allow me to travel as much as I do, and for the support of friends and family, which keeps me traveling. Perhaps I’m alone in this, but I love the faint feeling of displacement when it is accompanied by welcome arms and tea and warm, new places.

I’m also thankful for what I do; I don’t know if I’ve articulated this amply as of yet. I’m thankful that opera found me and I’m thankful that I get a chance, however large or small it may be, to contribute to the perpetuation of something that means a lot to me. I know I more frequently express my affinity for pop culture than I speak out on behalf of my love for classical music; I feel cliché and over the top when in admitting how much this art has opened me up to new things and taught about history and culture and love in all languages. Opera is rich; it has a lot to give. I’m thankful that as I receive, my capacity to learn and appreciate only expands.

Which brings me to my next, and perhaps most important item of thankfulness: the people. I know I’ve mentioned this. I feel like I’m writing a personal statement or cover letter for some application in saying so over and over again, but the connections and lifelong friends I’ve made, many as a result of opera doings, are what it’s all about for me. These people give me so much; not only floors to sleep on and respite from the cold. We share something deep and I’m not going to be very good at articulating it. It is support, and encouragement, yes. It is solidarity and a willingness to listen. It is most of all, vulnerability on and off stage. And it makes my cry when I catch a glimpse of it because I am emotional and cry of joy often.

As the ever-wise Randall Bills says, happiness breeds happiness. I am thankful for happy people. I am thankful that I am one of those happy people and I am thankful for the opportunity to share parts of myself with those around me, and maybe make the world a little happier.

*Sun*

I've been slacking on the thankfulness blogging. Started feeling too much like work. I love and hate obligation. I create obligation so that I can feel productive by completing my self-made obligations. Silly, isn't it? And then, eventually, I start to hate the obligation. I just want to be free.

Maybe the obligation here is to write something witty and prolific all the time.

But I don't need to do that.

Have I been thankful for the sun yet? It is my favorite, favorite thing. Today it was sunny and in the 60's. In November. In Maryland. It was lovely. The sun always makes me remember that life is good. More sun, please :)

thanksss

Yup. Pinterest, The Tudors, pumpkin pie. Enough said. 

The Weekend

Funnily enough, when I'm traveling, I frequently fail to blog.

This does not mean I haven't been thankful. I have been keeping tabs on the things I'm thankful for every day that I do not write about them.

So let's look back on this wonderful weekend:

Thursday, November 14th I was thankful for my tenacity: the stubbornness I was born with combined with the thick skin I've developed these past few years has resulted in perseverance being one of my greatest assets. In not losing heart, I pray also to not lose heart. I know it will be a lifelong struggle to maintain vulnerability and openness while cultivating stick-to-it-iveness, but it can be done; I am confident! And thankful for already being this far along the path.

Friday, November 15th I was thankful for the wonder that is a friendship birthed from music. I am fortunate to have many of these friendships, and fortunate that whenever I see these friends after a long period away from them, we are able to pick up right where we left off. Because as Brent said last night, we don't have time for silly formalities and politeness in this world. It seems like our time with the people we care about is never enough, so we have to make that time count! And so we just jump right back in. And that is happiness.

And finally today, Saturday, November 16th I am thankful for 5 days straight without an audition!

I don't hate auditions, I just love guilt-free coffee, late nights, and The Tudors. 

Tori Christian

Today, I am thankful for my sister. Because she keeps bugging me to post about her.

No, no that's not why I'm thankful for her.

I'm thankful for her because she sends me things like this:

https://vine.co/v/h7dqVgpaw2z

I'm thankful for her because she is my sister and she is a constant in my crazy life. We even got matching tattoos. (For anyone who's been wondering, Rodrick loosely translated, means glory or fame in the Old Germanic. When we were deciding on a tattoo, we wanted to get something that would hold meaning for us through our lifetimes, but that wasn't just Rodrick or some generic word. And we Rodricks as a whole tend to struggle and triumph as a result of the two sides of the coin pride. Glory is a reminder that when we seek our own glory, we fall, but when we place our glory in something higher, we will be glorified):

I'm thankful for my sister because she is funny, and I think when she's around, my mother doesn't try so hard to be funny because she knows she can't be funnier than Tori.

I'm thankful for my sister because she is working hard at something she really loves and really wants to do, that seems nigh impossible to me (becoming a doctor). It helps to know that we Rodricks are alike in engaging in difficult, pain-staking career processes. It helps me press on when I know she is pressing on too. And it helps me know I will succeed because I know without a doubt that she will succeed and achieve her dreams.

I'm thankful for my sister because there is no fight too big. Or too small. I once called her a bitch over a t-shirt we'd been fighting about for 5 years. She told on me. We were 21 and 17, respectively. Normally, we only fight about the small things. Sometimes the small things turn into big things but it doesn't matter either way, tomorrow we will forget and bond over making fun of our parental figures and watching Parks and Recreation.

I'm running out of catchy titles

Today, I am thankful for changes of heart. I am thankful that I am no longer the kind of person rigid enough to form an opinion and hold on to it forever and let myself be defined by it and ostracize or overlook others because of it and miss out on opportunities because of it.

I am thankful that New York City is now a place I want to be – a city I love to be in and even belong. Heavens knows I’m there often enough; it would be miserable if I hated it like I thought I did 2 years ago when I said, “I will never live in New York City. I hate this city.”

(Don't get me wrong - schlepping bags through Times Square or fighting your way through the lugubrious Christmas crowd to make your train on time can be blood boiling. There are many reasons to hate New York City.)

But there is also that big city feel: the excitement of seeing something new on every corner, being alone but not at all alone in a sea of humanity, the leaves in Central Park in November and life happening everywhere.

I am a city girl. And though I’m not planning on moving to the Big Apple anytime in the immediate future, I have and will continue to enjoy each and every trip there over the next few weeks.

I'm thankful that I've had the good sense to lighten up a bit and let go of past prejudices over a whole entire city. And I hope this change of heart is indicative of a greater openness of spirit. I surely feel as though that is one of the things I’ve been cultivating in my life recently and it is so much better than dismissing things on principle – everything becomes a possibility. Being set in one's ways gets boring! At the end of the day, maybe meatloaf tastes the same as it did 10 years ago when I decided I hated it, but I won't know until I try. 

And did I mention the bagels? Of course I love NYC.

You may be thinking, "She forgot to be thankful for something yesterday." I didn't; I was very thankful yesterday. I even wrote about it. Ask me what I was thankful about, and you'll hear about it. 

Catch Up

Wow, it's been a crazy weekend! I did some traveling! Down to Virginia Beach for the wedding of the resplendent Shannon Jennings.

Here's what I've been thankful for the past 3 days:


Friday, November 8th:

Central heating. Plain and simple; no explanation necessary. It cold.


Saturday, November 9th:

Road tripping! Obviously, as road trips fall into the "travel" category, I tend to love them - especially when they are shared with joyous friends. Brian Vu is a joyous conversationalist AND has great taste in music. Having my own personal DJ along for the ride makes 4 hours seem like nothing.

I'm particularly thankful for travel in the form of the road trip because you can bring whatever. you. want.

I mostly travel by plane, train or bus these days and am limited to my one little carry-on and a personal item, so I've gotten very good at whittling things down. Shoes, toothbrush, music, dress. That's my checklist and I can survive pretty much anywhere with those four things.

THUS, when your suitcase transforms from a 45-linear inch carry on to YOUR WHOLE CAR. Things get exciting. This weekend, I travelled with scissors, cheese, bagels, tape, wrapping paper, a heavy winter coat, a jacket, a light sweater, 3 pairs of shoes, 4 different hair brushes, 5 books (I read 3 pages of one), an assortment of fruit, and MORE. It was splendid.

I was thankful for where this particular road trip led: a beautiful wedding of a dear, dear friend, and an old home to HEAR a dear, dear friend rock the shit out of some Rossini. #blessed
(If you find the cursing and hashtags offensive, I will refer you to the fact that I spent the weekend with Mr. Vu. Nothing to be done for it).


And finally TODAY, November 10th:

I am thankful for the artist Katy Perry.

Katy Perry's lyrics are not exactly...intelligent and her music is simplistic (but catchy) at best. I'm not going to go into a full theoretical analysis of it or anything because I think you'd all mostly agree.

Nevertheless - as I love all, no, most pop music - I love Katy Perry. I love Katy Perry more than a lot of artists though because she is true to herself. Her lyrics may not be life altering. They're mostly cheesy, in fact. But I'm pretty sure she doesn't care. And I'm pretty sure she's still rich anyways. I'm also pretty sure she gets criticized. A lot. How could she not be? But she just keeps on writing her music about girl power and young love and mistakes and she keeps preaching her message of empowerment and people listen to it.

The world needs these kinds of messages in the most simplistic terms, after all.

So no, Katy, I have never felt like a plastic bag drifting through the wind. But thank you for reminding me that I'm a firework. Because...I mean, duh. 

Cream Cheese

I was thankful for a lot of things today. I was thankful for Central Park in the fall. I was thankful for Justin Timberlake's music making (every day of my life). I was thankful for my umbrella, cream cheese, and coffee.

This is where I had my coffee and bagel this morning. You think to yourself, "I couldn't possibly want ALL the cream cheese on this New York bagel." But you do. You really do. 

Also, I'm thankful for TED talks. They are awesome. I am an input person; I've said this. I love facts and I love them fed to me in interesting and insightful ways.

There are a lot of things I don't love about the internet and the way some days, it seems to suck out all of my life blood. What did people do with all their hours before the internet?

But I love when the internet can provide us with access to things we may never have thought we even wanted to learn about. And then we can learn about those things! I go down the rabbit hole of TED talks on a regular basis because I just love learning new stuff and being inspired by others who are passionate about what they do. It reignites my own passions. And it's cheaper than therapy.

The human race is incredible. One of my other mantras is that everyone I come in contact with has something to teach me. But not everyone I come in contact with can teach me that thing in a succinct, upbeat and witty 20 minute session. Which is why TED talks exist. So I can learn even more things from members of the human race I may never have the pleasure of meeting in person.

The coolest thing (I think) about TED talks is the underlying sense that all of these smart people are kind of saying the same things about the meaning of life and happiness and fulfillment. (Or maybe it's just that I gravitate towards those kinds of TED talks...) TED talks remind me of what I was just speaking about a few days ago: connectedness. But on a broader, global scale. I love that! We are supposed to be connected and united and I think that is our great purpose in life - to get back to that. [My mom HATES the word "unpack" when it's used exactly as I'm going to use it right now in reference to the preceding sentence: I'll unpack my thoughts on that at a later date.]

But for now, I'll just direct you to some of my favorite TED talks, should you find the time for a bit of self-edification:

Elizabeth Gilbert: Genius 

Amy Webb: How I Hacked Online Dating

Kelly Mcgonigal: How to Make Stress Your Friend

Amy Cuddy: Your Body Language Shapes Who You Are








Also, if you were wondering: the meaning of life is obviously cream cheese.

No Thanx, Spanx

Yesterday, I was thankful for Spanx.

Oh wait. That's not right.

Yesterday, I was thankful that I don't live in the south where apparently it is a thing to wear Spanx everyday. To keep that slim look, ya'll!

Yesterday, I was thankful that I only ever have to wear Spanx for 20 minutes at a time--during an audition (you wouldn't believe how much your gut can expand when taking a nice full, singer's breath--and that I could take them off immediately following my audition and go get FroYo.

It's the little things.

Connection

I just looked at a preview of my blog and realized the redundancy of posting today's date at the top of every entry. That happens automatically. I'm gonna do it today anyways, for day number 5 of Thankfully November.

November 5th:

I think, the biggest thing I forget to be thankful for in this life is connectedness.

Malcolm Gladwell is (newly) one of my favorite authors, because I love facts presented in an interesting way and I love when facts teach us things and this is essentially what his books are all about. In The Tipping Point, he discusses the following concept: each of us as individual humans really only have the capacity to be deeply, interpersonally connected with about 12 people at a time at any point in our personal histories. Connected in a way that the death of one of these people would be life-altering, devastating. You know the kind of people I'm talking about? We can only have about 12 at once because interaction is complex, and the more people we know intimately, the more complex things get--not only do we have to manage our own interactions and relationships with each individual, but also the interactions and relationships of all of our 12 with each other; thus, complexity increases exponentially with every individual added to this framework. And our brains can only manage so much.

I'm saying all this because I think it's interesting and also because reading about this concept inspired me to map out MY twelve or so people. And this is what I discovered: of the 11 or 12 people that I consider my closest mentors, confidants and friends, only 2 sets of 2 live within even a 2 hour radius of each other. 12 people, in 9 different cities across this country and beyond. This is a consequence of my chosen career; I'm always meeting different people in different places and then leaving and going on to meet new people in different places. I'm a traveler after all; it is my great passion and the results are not surprising.

Now I'm saying all this because I must confess to a certain tendency I have to feel lonely and a little bit sorry for myself every now and again. Being separated from your people is not easy; I want to be with all of them always, to feel a prime level of connectedness. It doesn't help that, according to the ever-faithful personality profiling tool, StrengthsQuest, one of my greatest strengths is relator. Simply, I am comfortable with intimacy, find value in genuine relationship, and derive a great deal of pleasure and strength from being around close friends. But usually, I have to settle with one or two at a time, because teleportation still hasn't been perfected.

It doesn't help matters that the world is trying so hard to tell me that I am not special or connected. This seems counterintuitive; I have 881 friends on Facebook and some hundred odd other friends and followers on other social networking aps. But in this age of overpowering virtual interaction, human interaction seems to shrink. Loneliness is a big thing for a lot of people. Seeing photos of others interacting with people that are not you and looking happy and selecting what input about themselves to export for the digital world to see can make the world itself seem like a huge party that you weren't invited to. I try not to let this cultural message get to me, but it's there, and it makes me forget my blessings sometimes.

And so, I just want to go back and articulate my thankfulness for the incredible amount of connectedness I experience on a day to day basis, even on the occasions when I fool myself into believing that I am alone and hopeless. Not only do I have 12 people that I feel so closely connected to I would give up my life for theirs, but a wide network beyond that of people who care about me and who I love!

I have never, ever been truly alone in this world and I will never be homeless or hungry or without a friend. I will never even not have a place to crash in over half of the major cities in America. I am beyond taken care of. I try not to toss around the word "blessed" too often - but I am that! I have joyous people in my life that care not only about what I am doing, where I'm doing it, and my mental and spiritual well-being but also, the state of my earring collection on any given day and how many times I ate froyo in one week. I have done nothing to deserve this; I have just been in the right place at the right time and have been uncannily fortunate enough to meet people that connect to others and the world in the same way I do. Or in different ways, about which we can talk, and teach each other!

And that's why I'm thankful today, sitting alone in a Panera in The Big Apple, surrounded by a gazillion people that I do not know, with the prospect of connecting with a special few that make my world bright in the next hours. Life is good. 

Boot Season

November 4th:

Today I am thankful for boots.

When it's 45 degrees outside and dark at 5 pm, the only thing that keeps me from making a burrow in the down comforter on my bed and hibernating until March is the knowledge that I can finally wear one of my favorite pairs of boots.

Okay, maybe not the ONLY thing. My leather jacket also contributes.

But seriously, I love them. Yes, it's materialistic. No, I do not care. Obviously, you do not know happiness if you do not own the necessary winter footwear of a pair of fierce boots.

Also, I do wear boots in the non-winter months sometimes and am just as grateful for them when paired with a cute sundress as I am when they're over a pair of wooly socks, keeping my toes warm.

First Man

November 3rd:

When I decided, less than 24 hours ago, that I was going to list one thing that I'm thankful for, every day this month, I said to myself "No people, though. There are just too many people in my life and I'm thankful for them all. I'd have to write every day for a year to cover my thankfulness for my people.

Maybe I'm going to have to write for a year.

Because I'm breaking my rule already because today I am thankful for Brian Vu. AND it's his birthday. So I am thankful for his birth, which I guess ISN'T a person, but an event.

I'm not just thankful for Brian because it's his birthday--this isn't like, some kitschy birthday tribute--or because when I texted him "Happy Birthday" this morning, he texted me back to inform me that he actually reads this blog (though he gets bonus points for that); I'm thankful for Brian because we are on the same page. I can call him when I'm terrified, or joyous, or envious, or self-righteously angry, or just in need of some gossip and he's just right there with me and it feels good because I know that, even if I'm crazy, at least I'm not the only one.

That's another reason I'm thankful for Brian: together, we have developed the idea of delusional confidence, which says that to get anywhere in this life, you have to be a little bit delusional. You just have to believe you're the best, and do the best work you can do as your way of giving something to this world, and be confident that it is the best work out there. And then it is. And it's as simple as that. Until terror hits, at which point, you call Brian and revisit the rule.

Look at Brian Vu and his decency. Isn't he the most
handsome thing? (Equally as decent and attractive,
Vanessa Becerra, Lee Anne Myslewski and Miles
Mykkanen, seen here).

If you don't know Brian, don't let this rule put you off; I know it sounds a little egotistical, but it's not. Perhaps in a future blog, I will hash out this rule in its entirety for the enjoyment and edification of all readers. (However, the article of said hashing entitled "Ignore the Haters" will reveal that Brian and I ultimately don't care what you think of our rule). I was just thinking of Brian today, in fact, because I was thinking about my gas tank. And then I was thinking about every time I got into my car this past summer after Brian had borrowed it, and how the gas tank was always full. People just don't have that decency these days.

I could keep writing about Brian for days--(I could write about any of my people for days--essays worth of writing!--but at a certain point, it's just self-indulgence...which I suppose hipster blogging is by default)--but I'll leave this where it is for now and end with a simple reiteration of my thankfulness for being sent Brian Vu, off a plane from Los Angeles with his tanks and great hair to show up the rest of the Wolf Trap Studio in dance class that fateful June morning.

#sweatandglitter 

Thankfully, November

I took that! On a run! Fall :) :) 

My bff Elisa Jordan and I did something this year: we decided to name an "intention" for every month, for the simple fact that we wanted to be more intentional about our lives. We gave up meat and dairy and all sorts of I don't even remember what in the beginning of the year. And then we had to start getting creative because we were running out of things to simply give up, and so we starting coming up with things "European August" and "Joyous June" and we had different intentions for different reasons and we kind of forgot we were making intentions and just kept living and fitting our intentions into our lives or our lives into our intentions in whatever ways made sense.

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor at the moment, and I was sulking a little because I'm prone to sulking. And I found my journal from last year and the very beginning of the intention-setting and I thought to myself, "Oh my goodness! It's November 2nd and I have no intention!!"

Elisa's intention this month is No-Netflix November. I think that's very noble.

My intention, decided in the past 10 minutes, is Thankfulness (let me know if you can think of anything that's alliterative with November, that's also a synonym for thankfulness).

I know this is not a new idea, this one I'm about to present, which is naming one thing that I'm thankful for every day in November. I was originally thinking I'd only say the thing aloud to myself every morning, but there is not enough intention in that and this is Intentional, No-Plan 2013 (if you weren't already aware, my New Year's resolution was to make no plans for this year. I'm driving my parents crazy).

So, I must share my thankfulness with the interwebs, naturally. EVERY DAY. THIS MONTH.

Now I have two days to make up for, so here we go:


November 1st (yesterday):

Yesterday (and still!), I was thankful for Handel's Messiah. Believe what you want, but that is some inspired stuff right there. And the alto solos are LAME. No high notes. But I love them because they're actually not lame at all and I like to sing them. Yesterday I found joy singing alto solos from the Messiah. Who knew?


November 2nd:

Today I am thankful for my obsession with chronicling my own life. It is so easy to forget the reasons to be thankful, I think, when life is just a bombardment of stimuli and a race to get through to the next day. But when I read things that I wrote months ago, I remember what there is to be thankful for. And I remember I am not, nor have I ever been hopeless or unloved or entirely dejected or rejected. I am thankful, because I can see the differences between me now and me last year. I am thankful because stagnation is not a thing, and I would think it was a thing if I didn't have these reminders that I have done some of the things I set out to do a year ago, and that I am better for it. And am I thankful because sometimes, I'm actually pretty smart. Sometimes my own words have more meaning now than they did when I wrote them. May I continue to chronicle, and continue to meet myself again when I look back on the things I thought forgotten. 

Soap Box

My good friend Michelle and I were talking about hipsters. We don't have anything against hipsters; we graduated from Point Loma Nazarene University; we love hipsters. (Also...I'm blogging right now. Hipster.)

We were thinking about our vanity and Michelle proposed that a compliment from a hipster--since saying something mainstream and cliche is obviously unacceptable--might go like this:

"Your image is not of the common sort, and it haunts my dreams during the day at odd hours. I don't mind it." 

This compliment would not go unaccepted, but it leads to a higher question: what's so wrong with being direct?

This actually only has anything to do with hipsters inasmuch as hipsters are a part of our culture and are being fed the same story the rest of us "adults" are being fed: "It is not cool to be passionate. It is not cool to want something too much, because you're probably not going to get it. Best be practical. Win the girl with your indie albums and your Volvo 240 Wagon, not with the articulation of your undying affection and genuine awe of her."

Getting the girl is the example I use here because it is accessible and relatable. But it's not the main reason I'm currently writing this (with full intentions of publishing it for ALL of Facebook to see). And I wouldn't have written or published this a week ago because yes, I like to write, but not "passionately" enough to write something that someone might actually want to read. Even if writing IS a passion of mine, it's stupid for me to go at it wholeheartedly because the odds are just stacked against me. No one will acknowledge me as a writer. I didn't study writing. I'm not Shakespeare or Keats or Plath. I misspelled "judge" in my second grade spelling bee. And I misspelled "mispel" just now before technology corrected me.

In this consumerist society of ours, so much of what we do is based on what we can get in return for doing it. It isn't "valuable" to spend so much time doing something that won't yield a return greater than our own satisfaction and, heaven forbid, our own happiness! Even if the career we are pursuing has anything to do with something we love, we have to be a little careful. We have to put our voices in a box and listen to everyone's advice about how things should or shouldn't be done and mold our product so that we are marketable. We have to be passionate, but only to a degree that sells. Or at least we think we have to do these things.

I don't know a lot about life yet, but success is not the child of safety.

I don't know a lot about life yet, but I do see these oppositional forces at work in my own life: the voices telling me: "Have a back up plan; Find some stability; Think of your obligations." And the other side of the coin: "When you have something meaningful to contribute to the world, contribute; Do what makes you happy; It's all about you."

These forces need to get married and have an obstinate child that will question everything they ever believed about sanity and that says: "Figure out what you love and love it a lot and don't let anyone tell you that it is stupid and don't listen when they make fun of you for your unbound enthusiasm. Work your ass off and take advice but own what you do and who you are, and make what you love your reality, whether it gives you money and stability and acknowledgment or not. What you give is worth receiving, so give it. It is selfish for you not to give it."

And that is the end of my soap box. And that is why I wrote this. I like to write. I LOVE to write. It's not going to make me money. I'm not going to win a Pulitzer. But I'm a little bit more joyous than I was about twenty minutes ago. What's so wrong with pursuing joy?

And what's so wrong with offering a genuine "you're the most beautiful person I've seen today or maybe ever" compliment? Nothing. No one will complain about that.