Haters Gonna Hate

You know what really gets my goat? Besides the fact that I said "get my goat" on a public blog... 

The people who use my choice to not go to college as reason to believe that I am not intelligent, "actually working", nor am I ambitious. They honestly makes me want to punch a wall. Or said person. In the throat. With a brick. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a violent person at all. But UGH. Just UGH. 

I am intelligent. In high school, I was in the top 40 of my class of 300 people. I greaduated with a GPA of 3.89, which is pretty great considering I was dancing 27 hours a week outside of school. I don't want to sound braggy, that's not my intent. But I don't know how I can explain the trait of intelligence to you guys. I think being smart is not only doing well in school, but also how you live your life. It's knowing when to say something and when to walk away. It's being a friend to someone not because you'll get something out of it, but because you know that they need you at that present moment. I'm not sure how "book smart" I am, but you can bet that college isn't going to teach me how to be an intelligent member of society. 

I am "actually working". I'm not going to lie, it's hard to make a case against the college student who studies and going to class when I am fortunate enough to sleep in most days and just gets to dance as much as she wants. It's hard to convince most people that being a dance teacher and a nanny is hard work. Being a nanny is hard. It's dealing with kids that you learn to love while following a set of rules their parents made while also having your own rules. I run after a 2 year old all day. I establish the mannerisms that she develops. She is around me more than she is around her parents. I set the foundation for the rest of her life. It's a lot of pressure and stress to deal with. Is it rewarding? Yes. Is it hard? Absolutely. Would I trade it for anything? No way. 

For the dance teacher job, it's multiple hours of planning. From the music to the actually choreography, planning for a teaching job is fricking exhausting. Then there's the studio job. As rewarding as it is to see growth in a student, it takes effort to get there. It's repeating "sharper arms" or "point your toes" over 30 times per class just to have them forget the next week. It's fighting against limitations that a dancer was born with to make them try to be at the same playing field as other dancers their age. Most of all, it's doing a crap ton of work for a small paycheck and a simple "thank you" at the end of class. I mean, I absolutely love what I do, but dance teachers aren't millionaires. So while I sleep in and go to a job I love with all my heart, you can go to a 9-5 job that you can barely tolerate. 

I am ambitious. I have so many goals in my life. Some are simple and shallow: I want to get 100 likes on a selfie (judge me all you want). Some are going to be difficult: I want to publish a book, I want to open a studio. Just because college wasn't part of my plan doesn't mean that I am not going to do great things with my life. I have people all the time tell me that I could be so much better and do so much more if I go to college. Why can't I still do great things with my life? One stupid piece of paper isn't going to get me a job nor will it make me do anything that I can't do on my own. A piece of paper isn't going to make me a better dance teacher. It's not. I am beyond sick of people telling me that I have so much potential that could be better used in a collegiate program. That's cool, but it's not happening so, sorry. 

Long story short, let people make their own decisions. If you are in a position similar to mine, stay strong. Haters gonna hate. Prove them wrong. You are entirely capable of being awesome without having to waste your life sitting in a classroom and then an office. You do you babe. 

Plus, I don't have any college debt so who is the real winner here? 

The big one-nine

So today was my 19th birthday. It's not a spectacular age, nor was it an ideal day to have a birthday on. It's a Wednesday. Who honestly wants to party on a Wednesday? Besides my autocorrect which decided that "to party" in my last sentence was better worded as "yo partayyy", I don't know of anyone. 

But today was a great day nonetheless. 

Last year at this time, I was struggling. It was around my birthday last year when I started to truly feel abandoned and alone due to the fact that all of the friends that I wanted to celebrate my adulthood with were gone at college. It seems naive, but I truly felt like I was abandoned. This year has been much better. It wasn't because more people wished me a happy birthday on social media or called me to say it because that wasn't the case. I had fewer people actually wish me happy birthday this year than I did last, but that's okay. This year was more sincere. It wasn't just a whole lot of fake comments from people I didn't know simply because a notification told them about it. It was from people who reminded me that I play a role in his or her life no matter how small. I don't know, that seems a lot more meaningful than people blowing smoke up my ass (for lack of a better phrase) just because an app told them to. 

So this is what my day consisted of: work (which I love), a birthday donut, a really long nap, and a small party with my family and close friends. For how simplistic my day ended up being, it was one of the greatest birthdays I have had in a really long time. I guess as you get older you don't care as much about the extravagance or the presents; it's more about the laughter and fun and how loved you feel at the end of the day that's the biggest gift. 

And boy, do I feel blessed right now. 

19 is going to be a great year. 

Falling Back in Love

So. Yesterday was a dream. I'm convinced it was a dream. Know why? Because this happened.

Yesterday I took class with THE Sonya Tayeh. The phenomenal, brilliant, inspiring, truly wonderful creature herself. Yep. The one from TV; the Emmy nominated choreographer who does AH-MAZING work for SYTYCD. I was in her presence. I stood 6 inches away from her at one point.

SHE TOLD ME I HAD PRETTY EXTENSION. I'M ONE HUNDRED PERCENT POSITIVE THAT I DREAMT THE ENTIRE EXPERIENCE. It was unreal.

Her combination that she taught us was awesome. It had a lot of adagio (which I appreciated immensely) but it also had a lot of crisp and intricate movements that were really cool. The combo was about internal struggle which was absolutely relevant to my life so I was able to connect with it. I fell back in love with my craft. I'm inspired by dance again. I forgot what it felt like just to dance without being judged or critiqued. Even though there was 49 other people in the class with me, it felt like I was alone in a dimly lit studio putting my heart and soul on the floor. And it wasn't just because of Sonya either. While she is insanely brilliant and pushes for perfection at a quick pace, the students in the class with me had so much that I admired. I learned so much just from watching their interpretation of the choreography that was inspiring and I want to experiment with when I create routines in the future. It was unreal. That's the only word I can use to describe it.

I know it was real though because today I feel like I was run over repeatedly with a freight train. Every vertebrae aches, muscles I didn't know I had have decided to just throb in pain with the slightest movement. Typing this now is causing pain in my arms. And you should see my knees (I'll see if I understand this site enough to post a picture of them because they are beautiful). But, I'm okay with the pain. It's a sign that I worked my butt off. It reminds me that yesterday actually happened. This pain is my participation trophy and I couldn't be more proud of it.

See: 

Yeah, so morals of the story: Sonya is brilliant. Pain is good. Who needs boys when I am hopelessly in love with dance?

Letter to Me

I've been wanting to post this for a while, but I think tonight is a good time for it.

Dear High School me,

I know it's hard to wake up every morning and feel like you're inadequate. It's the worst feeling ever. I know that you think that you are beautiful, but you are so insecure that you can't go to school unless you look your very best so that maybe, just maybe, you won't be entirely invisible. I know that you spend a lot of nights wondering if your friends are really your friends and wondering if any of them would be willing to hear your troubled thoughts at 2am.

It's hard being the shy one, the one in the back of the room who won't participate in conversation because you are so terrified to say the wrong thing. You are so afraid of being made fun of that you annihilate any remote chance of people becoming your friend. I know that you blame dance for this. As much as you love it, you have been trained to believe that being wrong is the worst thing on the planet. Being wrong means that you aren't the best. And while being the best isn't important to you, being good means that for a fleeting eight count you could be in the spotlight for once in your life. If you do something wrong, that spotlight turns off. You know, being wrong isn't a bad thing. It's a chance to learn from your mistakes, to get better. I wish you could have realized that.

Most of all, I know it's hard to be the only one in your friend group without a boyfriend. I know you wonder if anyone is secretly crushing on you or if someone will ask you to dance at homecoming. I know you only slow danced with one guy throughout your high school career. But then again, you were only asked to dance twice... I know that you think that your world will crumble if you don't get asked to prom, but believe me prom will still be fun just hanging out with your friends. When you do develop a crush, don't overanalyse it. Liking someone shouldn't make your life complicated or unbearable. I know, shocker. But, you'll find someone who cares about you and only wants to make you the happiest you can be. You haven't met him yet, but he's out there.

I'm writing you a year after graduation to tell you that you are a totally different person than who you were in high school. You are confident. You wear whatever you feel comfortable in, and you don't care as much about what people perceive of you. You suffered some hardships, I'm not gonna lie. Your absolute favorite dance teacher and childhood idol is going to tell you that she doesn't want to teach you anymore and that you aren't going to succeed at teaching, but you are going to cry for a couple days and then prove her wrong by choreographing some pretty bad-ass routines that every dancer wants to be in. You aren't going to expect how successful you are, but you'll feel overwhelmed with gratitude because of it. A seemingly good opportunity is going to turn horribly wrong to the point where you stop eating. Luckily you quit before you get too sick. Remember how much you love food, because that's never going to change. You're going to be depressed for a while stemming from these things, but you'll surround yourself with friends who'll become family. And who really cares if they're either moms or elementary aged kids? They will put so much joy, wisdom, and love into your life that you'll wonder how you lived without them. Guys will start noticing your confidence and success in your career. And while none of them have amounted to anything of significance so far, it's nice to be called beautiful every once in a while. You'll realize that guys are pretty dumb and you'll thank your lucky stars that you didn't have the added weight of their stupidity during high school. But trust me, you'll overlook their idiocy (to an extent) and you'll have some of the best conversations of your life.

The best nights are yet to come, my dear. Keep reading romantic novels and crying your eyes out watching A Walk To Remember because it means that you know what you want and what you are looking for. You are so determined, talented, and intelligent. Don't lose those qualities. You are beyond amazing and you'll find people who appreciate it, in fact you have. And you are so incredibly lucky to have the life you do.


Keep dreaming.

Love, your future self.

The Big ONE-EIGHT

Late again. Sue me later it was my eighteenth birthday for crying out loud.

Well I found out three things today.
1) the DMV sucks butt. A lot.
2) birthdays aren't as fun when your friends are all at college.
3) you know you're getting old when you ask for a vacuum for a gift and actually get one.


I guess I'll start with the DMV. They suck. I was supposed to take the written exam to get my permit today and they wouldn't let me because they close at 5 and I got there at 4:40, but you have to be there at least a half hour before they close. Mind you, there were at least 15 people still waiting to be helped. You can't tell me that they kick all the people out right at 5... So I didn't get my permit. Which really REALLY sucked because that is really the only thing I wanted badly for my birthday.

When you turn 18 and you've already graduated, it really sucks that you can't celebrate with the people (besides your family) that you love most. I would have killed to have my best friends Cam and Mel and Julia with me while I was blowing out the candle on my fried ice cream (don't deny, you're jealous of my awesome). But no, I couldn't have my friends with me to make fun of what a baby I am in terms of age. Eighteen is such a big deal, you know? You're legally an adult. You can buy lottery tickets and ice cream trucks and useless junk off of infomercials that you really don't need. My friends would have encouraged me to embrace the adult life. You never truly understand how much your friends mean to you until you can't see them everyday. Cherish every second you have with your friends.  Seriously.

And yes, I did ask for a pink handheld vacuum and yes, my grandma did get it for me. Is that weird? I am going to have so many issues later in life.....

Pray for me?