How would you feel if we all lived in black and white? The grayscale experience I can honestly say would probably be relatively boring despite the movie "shadow" effect that we all love.
I personally like my color and variety. Pastels, neons, anything!
Why can't we make our lives the same?
How would you feel doing everything in a boring monotone manner? Only doing everything you're told that you may not love but may not mind. Everyone acts the same as they always have, dates the same people, eats the same food, takes the same classes, walks the same streets, sings the same songs. Everything.
Why can't we explore the dense horizons and adventure through the possibilities? We can! We just choose not to. We do what we've been expected to do throughout our whole life, and wonder in the end why we have no stories to tell. Nothing interesting to reflect on and encourage in the children we will have that will carry on in our future.
Go on that vacation, eat that odd looking place of food, take that random class, date that unusual classmate or acquaintance. Be spontaneous!
Color your world with different colors, hues, tints, and textures.
Be YOU.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The Stage
Some people love the rush of adrenaline that pumps through one’s veins as the opposing sports team rushes to score that goal, make that touchdown, or shoot that hoop. Some yearn for the butterflies that fill their stomach as they illustrate the feelings and emotions that overcome their mind and soul during a session of artistic insight when their brush first touches their paper. But then there are some, not many but few, whose addiction leads them to the stage where nerves and excitement take over the senses and drown out all sense of being that trickles through the mind.
This experience is incomprehensible, even to those who have lived it. The lights glow and the audience drowns in a black abyss as the performer takes their first steps onto a vacant rosin covered stage. The music slips into existence and calls one’s body to a repetition of the same memorized steps practiced over and over for hours and hours. This time though, not only are the steps incorporated but one begins to feel the music’s emotion press hard into one’s conscious self, and the song becomes a story, many times before told but never actually heard.
Time doesn’t exist. Only movement and performance is running through one’s mind as one is joined on stage by a fellow dancer. The eyes of the partners meet and the undefined smile from each individual towards the other is completely understood. Being is only an abstract idea while the music is playing, the skirts are twirling, and the lights are flashing.
Chemistry proves important between one artist and the other. Each turn must be in sync, each lift perfectly balance, each attitude completely mutual, each feeling conveyed harmoniously towards an uninformed audience. Trust is imperative to overcome the fear of failure, the partner must be trusted; the floor, the shoes, the costume, and the lights must all be consciously confided in.
The heart pumps without being noticed, the sweat drips yet the dancer doesn’t mind, the body aches but the pain is exalting, the nerves send thrills and one can only beg for more. Unending the time spent feels as the song nears the last played chord. The tempo slows as the dancers emanate their last burst of energy, their stamina running out. The breathing is fast and seemingly uncontrollable as the end draws nearer and nearer to their grasp.
Finally, in a moments stillness, the performers glance to the audience, their eyes adjusting to the darkness filling the room, and find member after member of a never-ending audience smiling, clapping, and once in a while tossing a flower or two, whether rose, carnation, or daisy, to the rosin covered stage. The expectations of the audience hopefully reached and surpassed the female dancer curtsies low and gracefully and the male performer bows deeply to address the audience with the highest respect. The performers remember how important their audience is and how dependent they, the performers, are on the assembly’s honest attendance.
The lights fade but one second of remaining on the stage is hoped for after every stage opportunity. The floor seems to reach the dancers’ feet again and the extent of the stage is brought back to a more comprehensible size. The performers understand that their job is fulfilled.
Some may enjoy the thrill of the taste buds as their first savor of flavor reaches their tongue after a long spent afternoon in their kitchen. Some may dream of teaching a vast population of their newfound knowledge gained through months and months of studying and researching one specific topic that could one day be profitable to the world. But for me and my type, the warmth of the spotlight, the cheering of the crowds, the detached feeling, the sweat and aching, and the extreme emotion, is what I want to experience day by day.
This experience is incomprehensible, even to those who have lived it. The lights glow and the audience drowns in a black abyss as the performer takes their first steps onto a vacant rosin covered stage. The music slips into existence and calls one’s body to a repetition of the same memorized steps practiced over and over for hours and hours. This time though, not only are the steps incorporated but one begins to feel the music’s emotion press hard into one’s conscious self, and the song becomes a story, many times before told but never actually heard.
Time doesn’t exist. Only movement and performance is running through one’s mind as one is joined on stage by a fellow dancer. The eyes of the partners meet and the undefined smile from each individual towards the other is completely understood. Being is only an abstract idea while the music is playing, the skirts are twirling, and the lights are flashing.
Chemistry proves important between one artist and the other. Each turn must be in sync, each lift perfectly balance, each attitude completely mutual, each feeling conveyed harmoniously towards an uninformed audience. Trust is imperative to overcome the fear of failure, the partner must be trusted; the floor, the shoes, the costume, and the lights must all be consciously confided in.
The heart pumps without being noticed, the sweat drips yet the dancer doesn’t mind, the body aches but the pain is exalting, the nerves send thrills and one can only beg for more. Unending the time spent feels as the song nears the last played chord. The tempo slows as the dancers emanate their last burst of energy, their stamina running out. The breathing is fast and seemingly uncontrollable as the end draws nearer and nearer to their grasp.
Finally, in a moments stillness, the performers glance to the audience, their eyes adjusting to the darkness filling the room, and find member after member of a never-ending audience smiling, clapping, and once in a while tossing a flower or two, whether rose, carnation, or daisy, to the rosin covered stage. The expectations of the audience hopefully reached and surpassed the female dancer curtsies low and gracefully and the male performer bows deeply to address the audience with the highest respect. The performers remember how important their audience is and how dependent they, the performers, are on the assembly’s honest attendance.
The lights fade but one second of remaining on the stage is hoped for after every stage opportunity. The floor seems to reach the dancers’ feet again and the extent of the stage is brought back to a more comprehensible size. The performers understand that their job is fulfilled.
Some may enjoy the thrill of the taste buds as their first savor of flavor reaches their tongue after a long spent afternoon in their kitchen. Some may dream of teaching a vast population of their newfound knowledge gained through months and months of studying and researching one specific topic that could one day be profitable to the world. But for me and my type, the warmth of the spotlight, the cheering of the crowds, the detached feeling, the sweat and aching, and the extreme emotion, is what I want to experience day by day.
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