story of my life...

Indecision.

I danced for the first time in nearly a month, and I feel high. I’m sore, burned out, and slightly euphoric. 

It’s a shame that due to finances and personal differences with my choreographer, I may not continue my time with this dance studio. 

I respect my choreographer for her skills as a dancer, and I haven’t found one I connect with so seamlessly. She picks out songs I’ve never heard of before, but ones that resonate with me immediately, both rhythmically and lyrically. They always end up on my iPod filed under the “Favorites” playlist. In dance, I understand exactly what she’s looking for as far as expressions and movement is concerned. Oftentimes, it takes me a while to execute the move precisely, but I always feel the urge to keep practicing in front of the mirror until I get it right. I feel passionate and invested in each routine, especially the more emotionally demanding ones.

The routine we are currently working on is about a divine love. It isn’t theatrical, it’s subtle. It consists of sharp turns, expressive, piercing eye expression, lots of floor work based on the “release and recovery” technique. The choreography is an amalgam of ballet and contemporary dance performed to Indian Classical, Kathak music, with Kathak hand gestures. Kathak music is soothing, punctuated by fast-paced classical beats which are accompanied by complicated routines of very quick and subtle footsteps. Therefore, the dance is performed with bells (ghungroos) around the feet to mark the rhythm.

It’s all gorgeous, and I’m definitely staying until we learn and perform this particular routine. However, there aren’t many paid shows to look forward to in the near future, and more importantly, I no longer feel personally connected with my choreographer. The inner politics and certain policies of the studio have come to hurt me and those around me deeply, and I find myself at a weird crossroads. 

So I suppose I have to ask myself how much I want this.

Tried to articulate my emotions. Failed. Writers just write better than they speak.

To disassociate, for a while.

Not to gain perspective on this,

but to see other things. Things I haven’t seen, haven’t

satisfyingly

delved in yet. 

A lot of space, a lot of time.

A lot of roads to chase, trains (of thought)

and planes to board. 

Lately.

Draw, erase, re-draw, erase, crumple paper, toss into trash can, obtain new sheet, draw. Repeat. 

Aware of my moods. Sensitive to/perceptive of my surroundings, of my present. Being aware of the flow of time, not stubbornly swimming against the current. A humble acceptance, like growing up. Not jaded, no.

(May be jaded).

Unabashed. 

Optimistic & Excited!

Today I turned in my final paper for this semester. I am genuinely proud of each paper I turned in this semester, and that in itself is as rewarding as this seeming end.

Switching majors from International Business to English with an emphasis in Creative Writing was a difficult decision. Till now I face repercussions, ones I know that I will continue to face for all of my career. Every person I meet challenges me with questions about the practicality and usefulness of my degree. But at the end of the day, I know that it is my opinion that matters, and therefore it is crucial that I acknowledge that till today, I continue to feel wholeheartedly wonderful about the choice I made.

I find myself increasingly more sincere about my education ever since I started studying what I want to. The education I have received in the last three semesters as a Creative Writing major has been both though-provoking and applicable to my life beyond the classroom. It has broadened my perspective on a lot of things. For example, it has made me aware of the community of local poets and writers in the area. I have frequented my attendance at poetry and fiction/non-fiction readings. This has opened up opportunities for me to network and publish my own works. On a philosophical level, too, the knowledge I have acquired in my coursework has helped me grow. I have seen my writing mature, and I have become less self-conscious and more decisive in my work.

The material is great, and the faculty in the Liberal Arts Department also seems refreshingly passionate about their subjects. They are generally less rigid and more understanding mentors. Their evaluation techniques are also more organic than mere scantron midterms. Granted, I’ve had my fair share of incompetent, insincere professors, but on the whole I find myself able to better connect with and respect the faculty of the English Department. 

Now I’m all set to enjoy the last summer of my undergraduate career. I have no plans this summer, and I am actually really excited about that. It is very unlike me, but lately I’ve had a very “wing it” mindset, and it has done me well. I anticipate lots of road trips, art, and the mental space I need to plan the direction in which I want to head. 

“Tired of being on the heights I deliberately went to the depths in the search for new sensations.”

“Tired of being on the heights I deliberately went to the depths in the search for new sensations.” - Oscar Wilde wrote in a book length letter to his former lover Alfred Douglas from prison. 

I am writing a final paper on Wilde and comparing his two lives - the heights (the flamboyant celebrity, the seeker of pleasure, the lover of physical beauty) and the depths (the artist, the Aesthete, the writer who did not come across validation from critics for years in his career, the lover). 

I am thinking about the transition from one to the other, the perhaps multiple transitions during his lifetime or even at times the coexistence of the two philosophies. I find that that the debate between these two philosophies resonates with me. It has seeped into several discussions I’ve had lately. I have drawn no conclusion I would like to publicly advocate just yet, but I find myself infatuated with this thought of Wilde’s leaving heights to explore depths for new sensations. 

Maddeningly.