43 pages

Cluttered desk. 2 Dasani bottles. A choreography book. An empty Starbucks container with sunflower seed shells in it. Nail polish remover. Glue. Wine. Scissors. A pen. And a folder holding the contents of this blog. 43 pages worth of me.

Two lit candles. A comfy chair. The reading nook. My "husband" on the floor - the seat I'll probably choose ultimately, regardless of the floor condition. Pat Monahan singing about a pirate and a gypsy. And 43 pages worth of me.

I've got my night cut out for me. I can't seem to articulate this project into a paper. Written word seems hard to come by recently. But that's the thing, I've already written it all. I just have to find it. So, scissors, glue, a journal and my thoughts in hand, let's cut and paste this thing back together.

He's singing about cowboys and Indians now. I think I'd rather dwell on the pirate and the gypsy though.

Put your life in your left shoe

You're a small town beach girl who's close to her family. With hopes and dreams. Difficult and complex.

I am terrified. I know it's silly. I know you all think I'm overreacting. So many of you have already called me ridiculous or crazy. But it's my family. I will not lose them. I won't even risk it, ever again. Joshua is worried about his legos floating away. I'm worried about him floating away. And they won't listen. They say they can't, but as far as I'm concerned it's a won't. I'm literally fine one minute and in tears the next. I mean, how do you react to your mother calling you and telling you to write down all of your information and your emergency contacts on an index card that should be kept on you at all times, just in case? And knowing that she's already done the same for your siblings. And knowing that they are so much closer to harm than you are. And that he can't even swim yet. And that she could have some kind of seizure or something and be done. So ya, I'm crazy. Everything is fine. You're all right.

And just for the record friends, my life is not here for your entertainment. Not in the respect that you get to sit there and pick at it and make jokes all night because the restaurant is slow and there's nothing better to do. Especially not when I'm already a mess. Because you know what? I'm happy. I am finally happy. Jess even said it in rehearsal, "It's nice to see you happy." Agreed. I was dancing and living the moments. Before you all started in on me, I was beyond content. This is why I second guess things. You guys fill my head with all these doubts, and now it'll be twice as hard as it already was. So thank you for that.

Oh and Mr. I'm-not-gonna-save-your-number-or-acknowledge-your-existence-but-it's-definitely-okay-for-me-to-show-up-at-the-restaurant-you-work-at-that-I-don't-even-like-that-much...NO. That is not okay. You and your family are SO lucky that I didn't see you walk in that door somehow. Try it again. See if you're so lucky again.

Obviously, I'm angry and upset, with a lot of people.

But, then there's still this thing going on in the back of my head. He looked back. He got in that taxi, I walked away and he looked back for me, afraid that I'd gone. Aside from the emotional roller coaster I've been on for the past two days, I look crazy. I'll be sitting there, waiting for the bus and some random tidbit of conversation will come back to me, and before I can conceive controlling it, I'll be smiling ear to ear. Something as simple as "Switch your bag," and something as big as...well...I don't know if I believe he said that.

Again, I swear to you, if it's a game...you know the deal.

And in talking to Michael yesterday, who I've realized has become a huge part of my life. He's this routine person that I need to see and talk to. I want to hear what he has to say and I cannot wait to tell him things. He's quickly becoming a close friend. Anyway, in talking to him, he said he'd read my blog and it made him realize that this isn't where he is anymore (I love when people tell me I've made them think about their own life). It's fine to be where I am, he's just realized that he isn't. He's moved past it - the need for validation. And he told me that it's going to come down to me being able to admit, "This is who I am and I love me for that. That's it." He also said that it isn't about knowing the end result, it's about going through the process and reaching that moment - "Oh, this is me." I think I knew that. And I'm getting there.

It all goes back to our conversations from the weekend. He told me I was coming into my own - more dramatically of course, but that was the gist of it - that in the time lapse since he last saw me (a little over a month?), I'd grown up. I've been trying to figure out why, but I'd noticed the difference in myself too. People had hinted at it, but no one had flat out said it like that before. You're right. All that growing I needed to do in the last year. I did it, just in about 3 weeks. I think it's this, and the responsibilities I've been given, and the people I'm surrounding myself with, and although you hated when I said it, you catapulted me into it. The proof that I was getting somewhere with myself.

And Michael, you called my blog beautiful. I can't tell you how much I couldn't believe that. I would've protested if it was just you and me there. I still don't buy that this is as great as you all say it is.

I'll be seeing you.

Oh cheesy title. But it makes me giggle and is precisely what I want it to be.

I can't stop talking today. As miserable as I was at 6am, I can't shake the smiles and need to talk. Her eyes all kinds of softened when I shared my thoughts. The approval there and knowing that I wasn't crazy because that approval never would have existed if there was anything funny in what I was sharing. I am allowed to feel like this. I am allowed to let it affect me. I might even be allowed to give in, which like it or not, I think I already did.

Epic. Interesting.

I kind of have A.D.D. at the moment. I can't focus on a specific thing to talk about. I'm just bouncing around in my head, half wishing I could rewind and half wishing I could fast forward. Maybe it's the coffee. Or the lack of sleep.

Okay, focus. The beginning. That's where I start.

I have not been anywhere near as stressed as I was Sunday in a very, very long time. I woke up in tears, just not able to handle myself or the world. Got myself together, sort of, ran to rehearsal and rebroke down as soon as I got there. My entire body was crawling - restless and helpless. It was a terrible sensation, but just another highlighted display of the physicality of emotions. Out of rehearsal, running home to bake for our party. Thank God my roommate knew exactly what was wrong and got me everything I could have ever hoped for. Baking calmed me down, as it always does, but sadly you wouldn't have known it. I was that bad - the calmer version appeared no less stressed than the actual version. Started setting up, and the hints that all my fears were about to be realized drove me nuts. I made a deal with myself - if you survive until 11, you'll be okay. No one would show up after 11, not even him. And then, as per usual with my life, 11:05, he walks in the door, literally just as my body had calmed down. I have not been so angry and distraught and unsure of myself in a long time. I took so many walks. Lynnia chased me so many times, but I just needed to get the energy out of me, and I couldn't very well dance with over 30 people in my house.

Three serious talks later, split between 2 people, I felt better, assured and back to normal. Oh boy did it look bad though. And with no way to prove that it was harmless, I had to just take the "screw you," attitude and deal with whatever everyone decided to throw at me.

Realizing I'd really messed up, again, at the studio the next day. Verbally announcing how much I needed a punching bag. Talking non-stop until I finally heard what I was saying. Coming to the realization that I could deny it all I wanted, but the truth was still very much alive. Annoying. Soothing. What the hell, life?

Rehearsal with Megan for this piece, and we finished it (!!!!!!!!!). Telling her everything that had happened and not knowing what to do, not out loud anyway. Dancing with her, putting the piece together. The safety there in that space. The openness it allowed me to find. Feeling the answer in my gut, and knowing everything I wanted to say. Just hoping that I would find the courage to say it later, courage I never needed because he beat me to saying all of it and then some.

Going out, nervous as anything. Completely and totally terrified of what I could find. Deep breaths on the bus ride there. Butterflies again. Ready to puke butterflies in fact. The look I was greeted with upon arrival, and seeing the set up. Double date style...except I'm not on a date. I can't be. Catching what he's saying to other people, whether or not that was his intention, and understanding why he looks miserable. Still attempting to keep a distance though, despite everything I'd actually like. Feeling at home and safe with these people. Knowing that this is how we should be. Everyday. And for the most part we are...it's crazy and wonderful and amazing that we can go away and come back and still be this. And I'm really only on the fringes of it. They're a family, and they compliment and torment each other so perfectly, it's beautiful.

Another serious discussion. Well, another serious talking to. I didn't say much. I just listened, if you can believe that. All kinds of confessions that I didn't know what to do with, and then the words I've needed to hear for about two months. Again, maybe it's a dancer thing, but I didn't have words for that moment. All I could do was move from my distant place to the hug we'd waited for.

And then the decision to take the morning off. The longest date of my life. The longest walk I've ever taken in this city. The craziest, most typical and yet so unexpected methods and conversations ever. So safe, comfortable and open. Even in silence.

Pure happiness.

And exhaustion.

One more time, what the hell, life?

I have a video for you all from that first rehearsal where we put it all together. This is us figuring it out...as we always will be.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nn53UXD2M9g

Please stop reading this.

Keep doing what you're doing. Ya, it makes you uncomfortable, it made me uncomfortable, but what you're doing is awesome and that's why everyone is reading it.

I wish I remembered more. There was something about how much this had already changed me too, but I denied it. I'm not sure why. What he said was like hitting the nail on the head kind of good, even though I still don't believe any of it, but I was too shocked by everything else he was saying to hold onto that moment. Memory is such a funny thing. Those words were the ones I told myself to remember. Try to forget everything else that just happened to make it through and get home in one piece. But those words were the ones I didn't wake up with. Everything else is precisely what I dreamed about. Reliving the possibilities endlessly all night. Confused by the lack of distinction between fantasy and reality when I finally woke up.

Things are about to get interesting kids. Fasten your seat belts.

If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy

She has the innate strength required to overcome obsstacles and the optimism needed to persevere in spite of difficulties. Her love of the art of dance is deeply passionate and she is one of those rare people who can communicate her innermost feelings through performance- more than once I have been moved to tears by her natural and beautifully shown expression of emotions while dancing.

Words found in a letter lost many years ago, written by a ballet teacher who I was absolutely certain hated me. On more than one occasion I was picked up from class in tears, having been called fat or told I would never make it. Twice those occasions fell on my birthday. Yet, her words in this letter are beautiful and full of confidence in me. Those quoted above I simply found inspirational and pertinent to this project in particular. I believe the Cassandra she was speaking of was about 16 at the time.

Such a pleasant surprise 5 years later, to find she was on my side the whole time. Confusing but nice. It makes me second guess a lot of things in my life. Can it be that I really just don't see the bigger picture that much in the moment? Is it going to take 5 years for me to process each relationship and see that nobody was out to get me after all? I sure hope not. That seems like a life of wasted time.

I know what the dance is now. It's me presenting this process to the audience in a 10 minute abstract, if that's possible. I'm taking what I've been doing and what I've gathered from it and turning it into a dance. I'm not trying to present research or something that's pretty, I'm trying to articulate what this has all been like through movement. The first time it will be shown is September 1st and 2nd as part of "Doris Says..." - a Philadelphia Fringe Show by Angela Sigley, Jessica Warchal-King and Michael T. Roberts. You should all be there. It's going to be great.

Still working on that whole jaded thing. I can't seem to dig myself out of this one, as much as I try or would maybe like to. The more time that goes by, the more I seem able to convince myself that love isn't worth it, people aren't worth it, he isn't worth it. Prince Charming doesn't seem to be coming. And if there were a time for him, this is it. Before I'm irrecoverable. Before there's nothing left of that girl looking up at the sky full of wonder and hope. Starting to sound like a whiny middle schooler and I'm stopping myself now.

It's not just that kind of love though. It's any love. I'm not letting people hurt me. I've turned to apathy instead. Maybe it's better. You all wanted me to stop letting it hurt me. You pushed me back to school. You kept secrets so that I would live my life, despite my lashings out, despite me cutting you out of my life, despite me realizing that wouldn't work and instead making the dance no one understood in the hopes that you would finally hear me.

But now, instead of getting angry or upset when I find out horrible details months later like I used to, I just didn't care this time. Whatever. That was all I had left. Is that what you wanted for me? Wish come true.

What a rough note to end on...but I'm not allowed to edit. So here I am.

And I am so uncomfortable with the majority of this post. So many of you will read this and each one will focus on a different issue in it. Please don't call me. I'm not talking to you about it.

Emotional battery

This is a hard one. I'm having trouble even finding my entry into writing...that title is so much.

In briefly discussing a few of my high school experiences with Michael the other day, all he had to say was "Wow, that's emotional battery." Not like Energizer bunny battery, like could be arrested for beating someone up battery. It's been a long time since someone has validated everything I feel about that time in my life, and it's absurd that I still need that validation, but I do. It was a wave a relief to hear someone say that. Little do you all know, what I went through still has me completely twisted. I can't comprehend relationships and how they are supposed to work. It was the beginnings of me learning that I was not enough, but somehow I was everything everyone wanted, but still not enough. And yes, it was emotional battery. Never, have I ever physically been abused, but emotionally, I've been devastated.

I've been very attune to my energy in relation to those around me in the past few days. I find the ability to affect each other without words fascinating and so powerful. Last night was big for this. Working, training the new girl, in a perfectly good mood, giggling and happy and somehow full of energy. Invited to go out with a few of the new guys and a few of the old friends...oh ya, and then the people that hate me too. Weird mix. Creepy guy pulls me aside right away, and the new ones don't know me well enough yet to know when and how I need saving. Creepy guy brought creepy professor along. Awesome. Talking about all kinds of things I am so uncomfortable talking about with that particular group of people. Awesome. Actual friends get there. Better. Leaving, to go nowhere else. Lots and lots of walking. A few stragglers. The offer for a ride home that I couldn't accept. More walking. Worst combination of people possible. My energy had fallen at least an hour earlier. It was noticed by one because I wasn't talking, but by another because what I was sending out was being received. I am so sensitive to energies and can easily overwhelm those around me with my own energy if I am not careful. Last night was one of those nights. I didn't mean it and I tried to reign it in, but it was of no use. It was nice to have a connection with someone at least, despite how off I was.

Then today, I met with Megan to work on the piece. Both of us were in a very strange place. I hadn't quite been able to shake the energy drop I'd gone through the night before. I just have too many unanswered questions floating around, cycling endlessly through the exhaustion that is what remains of my brain. She was going through different things but they led to a similar feeling. I am so glad that I had already decided on the two of us improvising together prior to seeing her. It was exactly what we needed and what the piece needed. We have always been able to throw energy between us like crazy. I have never encountered someone so sensitive to me and so able to easily affect me. I remember a rehearsal from last spring where we were instructed to start using our energies more to tie us together. Megan hit me so hard, despite the several feet of space separating us, that I immediately broke into tears and needed to stop for a second to ground myself again. It changed the whole way we approached that dance. And tonight was no different. This improv got it all out. It was therapeutic, beautiful, intense, scary and the silent conversation we needed between us and the world.

Thanks for being my friend, Meg. I really needed you tonight.

First video I have to share in quite some time, and I am so excited for you to see it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjcaTgHaUd0

"We try to protect ourselves from having deep uncomfortable feelings by tightening muscles."

Michael, I totally just did a "the look back" dance in my kitchen...but there wasn't a look back. Gah, I can't wait to tell you. Butterflies, in my chest. Gosh, I was pretty sure that feeling had laid itself to rest for good. It's nice to have it back.

I think, especially recently, that my entire life is one giant research project, but not on just a single subject matter. It's an enriching and though-provoking lifestyle.

Speaking of, back to those god damn shoulders! Seriously, can someone help me shave them off? Grotesque? Maybe. The only solution I have come up with? Definitely.

Another talking to today. The individual attention is fantastic, I cannot complain at all. Not about the help I'm receiving. What I can complain about is my inability to absorb the information. Theoretically, it makes sense. I know what he's saying. I can't feel it though. I don't feel what he's talking about when I'm moving. How can I fix it if I'm unaware of it? He made me close my eyes to feel it. I followed his voice, trying to breathe, trying to expand my right side and legitimately even out my back instead of just making myself look aesthetically "pleasing" by raising my right shoulder. I did it. He encouraged me. It felt awful. Literally, a human tower of Pisa. I can't move like that, not yet. I trust him. I know he's right. I just need to find myself in what he's saying. And I need to stop saying, "I have scoliosis." That doesn't matter. That isn't the point.

I've been given many life lectures lately, and I don't know if he realizes how close to heart I carry them. And yesterday, the one I've waited for, the one I've worked towards for the last five years, and again, I was just so unprepared and had no idea it was happening. The "don't go away, stay here." I'd given up hope that it would happen. I'd convinced myself I would be all but pushed out the door. And he had no idea how much what he was saying meant. He felt he had to justify it all. He could have stopped there and I could have died happy. But he was concerned about my thoughts in relation to his words. So backwards. He called me a smart, technical, soulful dancer. Essentially told me I was grown up enough, I didn't need to go out and experience anything more. I didn't need the stress of Europe. I'm on the right track. I can hang here and figure it out. Go to New York occasionally, see some shows, take some classes, and keep working my butt off. But, I need to figure out those shoulders. No guarantees until I can do that. He thinks I will...I hope he's right.

Anyway, why tell you all of this? I think there's a connection here. So, shoulders - big, bulky, in the way, tense, raised, closed and somewhat concave. By being so, they protect me. They protect my heart. Prior to sophomore year of college, I never received this much shoulder attention. Maybe that's because I had a lot of other things to fix and now this is the noticeable next step for me. Or maybe there's a change here and it didn't exist like this before. That would make sense to me. It's probably a combination of the two though.

Think about it, since my sophomore year, I've been through a lot. A lot. A lot. A lot of people have hurt me. A lot of people have scared me. A lot of people have been taken from me. Hello closing myself off to pain and in the same breath, emotions in general. Hello this entire project. Maybe part of my shoulders is my body reacting to this emotional state I'm in. Maybe it's me protecting what's left to protect. Kun-yang even said that. He didn't feel I had to go away because what I need isn't the experience of London. I need to work out this physical feature that may be purely a body issue, but he thought that it may be something that I'm needing from life. I think he may be right.

In a discussion, again, about this project the other day, I told a secret that I've never been able to say before. I'd always just hoped that someone would catch on to what I was doing and help take me away from my insanity. So, after the last straw nearly a year ago, I started going to the gym religiously, on top of all the dancing I do. The free time I had was devoted to making myself even more physically exhausted. I had a "take no prisoners," attitude in that gym and worked myself hard. My hope wasn't just for a better body. My hope was that I could trick myself into thinking I was strong. I couldn't be strong emotionally. I'd let everyone rip me apart. But if I could be strong physically, if I could convince myself that I could hold my own in a fight if I needed to, then maybe, just maybe I'd grow a backbone and stop being so emotionally weak. Well, I got my wish.

And you want to know what? It really wasn't a good wish. It left me empty and overdeveloped. I see that now.

That's not to say I'm going to stop doing my pushups. But, maybe I'll do them for a different reason. And I'm certainly not trying to close myself off anymore. Maybe yoga should be my new thing. Open my heart. Open up those shoulders.

Guys, you gotta believe me, I'm trying here, but I can't even take myself seriously. I'm grinning at how cheesy I sound. Baby steps.

Someday soon, I won't be a cynic. That's our mission.

"Let yourself explain whatever's weird."

Thank you, Megan. I needed to hear that.

What's weird is coming to terms with where I am, where I'm not and where I'm going.

And also dealing with the fact that I'm only human and evidently on the verge of breaking down...

This cup of coffee could never be big enough for today

So far this summer, I have made over a handful of radical choices for my life, and been handed over a handful of amazing opportunities. Each one of them has come fully accompanied by their own list of issues and concerns were that to be the path I took. However, better than the baggage these choices carry are the hopes and dreams that carry them. Even as amazing as it all is, it doesn't stop me from being afraid. It doesn't stop me from sitting down and thinking about every tiny detail and how it could all blow up in my face. Somehow, preparing myself for the worst makes me feel safer. Almost as though if I acquaint myself with the terrible possibilities, they won't be so hard to deal with if they happen, which I doubt is true.

But that still doesn't mean I regret any of it.

And I forgot to mention that alongside that part of my brain screaming at me from my last entry is a part of my brain sitting back in awe, quiet, watching, anticipating and beaming.

The response I've been getting from this thing I'm doing has me in a place of continuous amazement. Last week, a girl I mentored sent me a message thanking me for being so open and for saying all of the things she thought and felt but couldn't quite say. My question for you is - why can't you say them? Then, the ex-boyfriends, who read and love to talk to me about it. People who should want nothing to do with me anymore, or maybe that's not true, are still reading my words and interested in this journey I'm taking. Again - why? Then, the Diamond Scholars day, where I had the entire room lit up into laughter, and engaged when I talked about moments that really moved me, and asking all the right questions about what I'd forgotten to mention. Never in my entire life have I felt so connected to such a large group of people I know so very little about. Me describing my project to my manager and her responding with -"That's so mature of you." Are you sure? I'm not. This boy everyone has been asking me about because of my last entry, which by God I'd love to take down at this point but I'm sticking to the rules and trying to revel in the attention, sitting me down to say we needed to have a discussion. If you could have seen my face. The "Oh God, I already screwed up." The panic in that moment. I HATE discussions, of that general sort anyway, because I need to talk emotions - irony. And this leftover hemming and hawing because we never had said discussion, but the clarity that moment of sheer panic brought me. And then last night, being approached by the most unlikely of people about my blog, about my last entry, about how great it is that I am doing this and being so open and being myself. Again, the respect in the word choice and tone...why?

I've come to the conclusion that what I am doing should not be so respected. It should be mundane. It should be what everyone does. Commonplace. This is the way it is, this is who I am, this is what I think and feel, I am going to tell you all about it and best of all, you are going to have to listen. I'm highly alarmed that all of this is taking place online as well. When I was in middle school was the same time that all of this internet social-networking crap started. At that point, it was the cool thing to go online and whine about your miserable little life. Looking back - not cool. Not even a little bit. And here I am, ten years later (I can't stand that I can say that) doing the SAME THING, and the over-arching reaction I'm getting is one of deep rooted respect and almost an, "I wish I could do that too," feeling. I still don't think that's deserved. The one and only reason I'm using internet for this is because I don't know how else to reach out. I can't call everyone I know all the time to tell them all of this. We don't live in a world conducive to such a time commitment. But, if I do this, some of you will read it at 2am, when your day is finally over.

And I cannot believe how many of you are reading it. It's terrifying. I never thought you would.

But, as for audience participation and reaction, I am so going somewhere with this piece and with this project. This has been a rewarding, horrifying and wonderful thing to force myself to do. This definitely doesn't die in December. This thing I've been doing, this follows me for a while I think.

One margarita pitcher and two days later

I. Just. Spent. 3. Hours. On. A. Poster. I. Had. Already. Spent. 8+. Hours. Creating. And. The. One. I. Just. Spent. 3. Hours. On. Is. Stupid. Looking. And. I. Am. Really. Really. Angry.

But whatever. It looks like crap, but it's what they wanted me to do. Artistic license thrown out the window and I have something that meets the requirements. Fine.

Tomorrow is our last Diamond Scholars Day for a very long time. I'm nervous. I'm not quite sure I have enough to talk about. I have a phrase. I have another dancer. She has a phrase. We've kind of put them together and so far, it's beautiful, but it's not complete. I don't have music. I don't have a video. I still have hopes and dreams and ideas. I have a show to put together. This is getting overwhelming.

Deep breaths.

Let me lay out the scene for you. If you were to open the door to my house right now, you would be greeted by the dark, and if you could peer into that dark, you would find a pair of sneakers in the middle of the floor. Behind them, you would see the light from a laptop illuminating my face as I lay behind it typing. Ya, I'm laying on the floor. My purse is on the table, half unpacked, another pair of shoes beneath it. One light from the stove in the kitchen is on, only because I neglected to turn it off. Were you to travel upstairs, you would find the third bedroom, with a picture of a famous MMA fighter guarding its door, still empty. Still packed. Still undecided. Then, my room to the right, with pointe shoes on the door, still recovering from the other night. I haven't gained control of my life in the last few days. It's been too nonstop, and I think part of me wants the proof that Tuesday was real. I need to know that he was here, and the small changes he made to the space need to remain. I need to remember to figure out what happens next in this whirlwind adventure I've been gliding through.

And then there's the part of me that's just screaming, "Seriously? You're that dumb? Oh, okay, great. What now idiot?" Maybe straightening my stuff will help me straighten my life. Somehow, I doubt it.

But, answering the questions I've been having, and giving me the direction I needed someone to just hand me so I could come to the conclusion I knew was going to be inevitable, no matter what, Tuesday was great. Another chance when I could have shut down. I could have been the person I've been wrestling to get away from, and I wasn't. I was me. I talked way too much. I laughed way too much. I told way too many secrets. I put everything out there. I was far too honest. I said a lot of really stupid stuff, and ultimately regretted some of it, especially how he walked out the door because of what I said, but I was me. And it was wonderful. And so entirely unexpected. I think at least half the reason I was as open as I was can be traced back to the fact that I had no time to prepare myself for what was happening (hello real life improvisation exercise). I didn't have time to come up with my plan and to push him away. Ya, hints were dropped, but I didn't believe them initially. And I was relaxed the entire night. No tension in my body, not until I realized that I'd potentially made a humungous mess. Once he'd gone, I realized what I'd done, but even more so what I hadn't done. I hadn't given us a chance to fess up. And why shouldn't we? It's my life. It's his life. That's it. I'll talk to the necessary people involved, and otherwise, stay out of it. The only thing making it a mess is what everyone will have to say, and I'm so over caring. I have every right to do what I want and not to feel like I need to hide it. Done.

Ha...if only it was that simple...

Okay, time to figure out what I'm going to say to a room full of people tomorrow about what I've been doing with this project. "Hi, my name's Cassandra. I live and I dance and I let people watch me do these things." Think that will cut it?

And he hands me my answer

"'Oprah, watching you be yourself makes me want to be more myself'...what Carrie felt is what I wanted for every single one of you. I wanted to encourage you to be more of yourself just as you all encouraged me and you cheered me on."

"That is what a calling is. It lights you up and it lets you know that you are exactly where you're supposed to be doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. And that is what I want for all of you...live from the heart of yourself. You have to make a living, I understand that, but you also have to know what sparks the light in you so that you in your own way can illuminate the world."

If I've learned nothing else this summer, it's that I have an amazing group of people in my life and that I owe this life to all of you. Thanks for the clip Michael, and sorry for rolling my eyes when I first saw Oprah's name...glad I trusted you and watched it anyway.