March 2015
Sometimes I envision obsessively and hopefully what I want to happen that never would.
My latest vision has been about the band trip to Disneyland that the Sequim High Band will go on soon (the marching band marches in the parade there). This was triggered when I stayed in a hotel for the Dupree Dance Convention when I competed there, and Eden brought face masks and I brought pink and gold nail polish that matched our group number costumes. Eden, Allie, Joie and I painted each other's nails and did facials. I even talked with Eden about boys. We were whispering because her mom was right there in the room (but she's part deaf and can't hear well). It was a typical slumber-party experience. I love that kind of thing!
So at Disneyland I'm thinking of bringing face masks and nail polish and doing the same thing. I would invite all the girls into my hotel room. We'll do each other's hair and talk about the boy band members. But once I got to be thinking about it, I realized that it would probably be a huge flop because I tried to do that kind of thing at the Lional Hampton Jazz Festival last year. I offered Devyn, Carmen and Olivia lotion but none of them would take it. I also tried to get them to talk about boys, but of course Olivia went and sat in the corner (she's a lesbian), and Devyn said of her boyfriend James "it's between us," and the most I could get out of Carmen was speculating the possibility of her with Seth or someone else, I forgot who.
I have also pictured myself bringing tea, my diary, my planner, my Evergreen Geoducks t-shirt that I use for sleeping in, and a playlist of sexy yet classy songs. Things that represent me. I want to keep up my perfectly organized (ha), healthy life by having my morning lemon water ritual, taking tea every evening, meditating upon rising in the morning and before retiring to bed (I just started doing that), and finish off the day by writing in my diary or art journaling in my planner while listening to Broods, Meg and Dia, or Lorde, Banks, or classical piano music. I can picture my roommates walking in on me meditating, or hanging upside-down off of the bed and my shirt comes up (I like to do that to stretch). I can also picture myself dancing around the airport or hotel or something, to my sexy-yet-classy playlist. Think Melanie Martinez, or Abracadabra by The Steve Miller Band. I do a combination of sexy, technical, and hair-brush-microphone moves. In my hopeful visions, I am always dancing at some point or another. I love to dance.
I just recently noticed how special and hippie and beautifully gypsy, free-spirit soul wonderful I am. I want to be this person, but there is a gnawing feeling that I am not and I merely want to be. Can I decide my own destiny? After all, what dictates who I am? Can I become who I want to be? Does wanting to be someone make me that person? These are the scary thoughts in the back of my mind. I usually dismiss them while I immerse myself in the life I create for myself.