Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Drag the writing on the wall.

Bosom friends,

I do hope you will take 5 minutes of your time and read today's thoughts from my bosom to yours.

I won't post pretty pictures to capture your attention.
I will write about me and what is going on in my head, perhaps in the process I will manage to get more clarity over the state of things.

I am well aware that I have nothing to complain about. My life has been very fulfilling and I am fortunate to have found love without having to jump through hoops.
I live in a wonderful city, in a wonderful apartment with my wonderful husband. I don't need to rush to get a job (still waiting for work permit) and I am not counting pennies to buy the bare necessities.
I've traveled the world and I have been smart enough to remain curios and to keep learning new things.
I have a lot to be grateful for and I truly understand how good I have it.

That being said...

I find myself at a point in my life where I don't feel I belong to myself anymore.
Let me explain.

I used to be a dancer and an aerialist and that has always defined me. I embraced my whole career and the life style that came with it. I've always said that I was never gonna quit performing unless that choice was going to be taken because of reasons beyond my control.
You know what they say, be careful what you wish for.
Indeed I didn't have to choose to quit performing, a work related injury did it for me.
I was very well taken care of by the company I worked for but even though the medical referral says that I am as good as new, my injured limb begs to differ. But it is all good, a document is a document is a document. No amount of lawyers is going to give me my career back and frankly I juts want that whole ordeal to be in the past.
Moving on.

The tricky part came in when I begun to redefine myself.
Moving to a new country. Getting all sort of paper works. Waiting to get a work permit. Trying not to loose my mind and myself all together.
I thought I had the skills, have been there many times before, piece of cake.
Was I wrong?!

I found myself so convoluted in planning this whole new me that I lost sight of what really counts in ones life or at least what counts in my own life.
The thing is it is difficult to be in no-man's-land and still remain grounded.
It's not pleasant finding myself at 33 with no real degree but a whole lot of experience. Unfortunately experience is not tangible and it is difficult to materialize it on a CV. When you have been on a stage shaking your booty for over a decade the transition to the next chapter can be as awkward as Bambi trying to walk for the first time. Being an opinionated Italian does not help either.

As a child I have always loved dressing up to transform myself into my own creation. Subconsciously I was elevating myself to the ultimate level of self-awareness. I didn't know that at the time but I have come to this realization years later. It's amazing what children's unconstrained candour can do. It's way easier to be transcendental at a young age mainly because we are still following our instincts rather than our reason.
Unfortunately we have to grow up and take responsibilities for our actions and how they could influence our loved ones.
I spent a whole lot of money to prepare for this silly dream of mine and I feel so bad about it that even finding the courage to tell you what the whole saga entitles is rather hard.
The thing is that I love dressing up in drag but I am fairly sure I am not cut out for that life style. I know I could do great but I am not about to bump and grind wearing little more than some sequins and holing tips in my hands. I am not saying I am better than that. That is simply not what I want to achieve by wearing wigs and heels.
My performing is my writing. The way I look (when in full regalia) is just an attractive package to lure an audience in.

I am well aware that I have an amazing support system but life happens and sometimes nobody has the time or the patience to spare a few words of encouragement or simply take two minutes to tell you to pull your head out of your ass and to yank you back to reality.

There is such a thing as a pipe dream but when is it wise to flush it down together with your last poop?

I have always found great comfort in my writing because it's the only thing that does not require me to warm up or to put make-up on for. I can do it from wherever I find myself at and I don't need to be away from the love of my life while I paint my stories. I can type away and through the words I can transform myself into whatever I want to, with the added bonus of letting my readers into the process too. Writing comes alive only when it is read. The user is as important as the maker, it's our imagination that brings to life a written page.

Imagination brings to life our existence.

The difficult part is to learn how to read the compass that will point us in the right direction.

Ciao for now.

1 comment: