Changing Changes Changing Me

So once again, too much time has passed since I wrote anything about anything. But my life is considerably different now than last time I wrote. I moved into town. Miracle Mile. My address has a half in it, which is already making my year a better memory. In foresight. Ha. I have something of a job. I'm a personal assistant to three real estate agents. Three different ones. What else would they be? The same? And even though I'm earning a little and closer to the things I love like school and friends and the energy of bigger cities, I still have moments of panic that I'll starve and things won't work out and I'll have to go home. And at times, the most desperate ones, I think I'd rather be homeless. Not to say anything about home, but to say something about me and what I've been doing. When you haven't been doing something that lights your fire for too long, that hiatus can make you forget why you exist. Then once you get to do it again, the rush, the passion, the joy, the burden of wanting to do it right, the obsessiveness, the love, the anger at work not completed, the pain and frustration of being stuck, the exhilaration of getting something right, it reminds you of why you were ever put on this earth in the first place and suddenly you realize that there really is nothing else. You could physically do something else and be in another place going through the motions of another life. Maybe even working hard and putting in a lot of effort, but it will never be the same. There will never be another thing like the first to keep your clock ticking and the hands chiming. And that in itself becomes enough to take over, so all the panicky nights and tears over negative numbers and checks that came too small, are not really about the money anymore. They're about what you would be losing if the money ran out, which is so much bigger than dollars and cents. I guess I am both lucky and cursed that I have had the opportunity in my life to have experienced the gain and the loss of this reason to exist twice. I remember the days when the movement would never stop going in my head. And to this day, if there is music on, there is still movement. I don't think that will ever stop. But I remember missing questions in school because someone was making a rhythm with their pen on the desk that brought out a new shape in my head of a movement I hadn't gotten to try yet. I remember is my darkest days as a kid finding the comfort in the fact that anything I wanted to say appropriate or otherwise could be said in a movement without openly insulting or accusing anyone. And even though the movement may never leave, my mind has now shifted slightly to be obsessed with moments. I can't take my eyes off of people who are going through something. Whether it is happy or sad or somewhere on the whole gamut of everything in-between and beyond, the moments captured in every day life are like the tapping on the desk. Enormous possibilities, whole scripts, a good camera shot, all of it just comes up from a facial expression or a few seconds of perceived privacy in a dark corner. And this is what I'm realizing I can't give up. Dance was my life purpose until it couldn't be. Then I spent a few years grieving over it and trying to find closure. Which I now realize will never happen. And that's okay. Maybe I shouldn't really want closure, maybe it is just going to be a path that will always be there despite how overgrown the intruding forest around it becomes. And the when that grieving and loss eventually began to show colors of discontent, I turned to find a distraction to keep my mind off things. And acting became the new reason to be here on this planet. It still gave me the chance to have something to say. Which I believe at the end of the day is why we are all still here. To keep trying to say it.