I called my mom later after some mournful sleeping in. We had little to say about it. We were sad. But he was old and diabetic. He had been overweight, then underweight, then overweight for a long time. What could we do?
So it goes.
We moved on to catch up on our lives.
"You look smile so much in your Facebook photos these days. I don't even recognize you." My mom said.
I gathered the things from the storage unit and decided to have a garage sale in partnership with my Uncle, who I was staying with. They just redid their kitchen and kid's old bedrooms and had a lot of junk to get rid of too. I watched at my Uncle sold all his $1 random kitchen crap, while my more expensive large pieces of furniture sat unmentioned in the driveway. No one was ready to haul away desks, dressers, and couches that Saturday. Ultimately I sold most of the furniture for dirt cheap prices, barely making forty dollars total. The couch, my amazing, most favorite couch in the world, did not find a home. We put it on the curb with a sign that said "free."
By the time I left, it was still untouched. It broke my heart. I'd had the couch as long as I'd had Bubba, and we spent many an afternoon lounging on it. I remember watching Gilmore Girls and eating s'mores pop-tarts every afternoon in junior year there. I had my first relationship and love blossom on that couch. I'd hauled it with me to California. It was so comfortable, it'd suck you in and you'd never want to get up. And now, it's gone. To who knows where. I shudder to think of it in a dump somewhere. I like to pretend some needy college kids found it, picked it up, and took it to a good home where it was just as appreciated. Although probably not.
|All good things must come to an end|
Anyway...What could I do?
The point of all this being that my life is turning. Times are changing. A new chapter is beginning. Two weeks ago I was accepted into the professional training program at Frequent Flyers Productions, an aerial company that has been around for over 25 years, internationally acclaimed, rigorous with technique, and has a focus on modern dance. To dream that I'd ever end up in aerial dance school is wild beyond my imagination. I couldn't be more excited.
A combination of therapy, anti-depressants, life rearranging, a caring boyfriend, and more have turned me into a much, much happier person than I was when I started this blog. Even though I've had to let many things go involuntarily, I will choose to look ahead to a bright future. I am starting a blog called "The Lives of the Aerialists," inspired by Giorgio Vasari's The Lives of the Artists written in the 1500s. It is the basis for a lot of art history as we know it today, as it documents many well known renaissance names and their artistic processes and journeys. My hope is to do the same with aerial, and hopefully it will be a collaborative blog with other pole and aerial dancers, sharing stories, advice, and more with the community. Because blogging is so time consuming as it is, and I am also in 16 credits of college courses, working, and doing this 30 hour a week training program, this blog is going to have to fall to the wayside. I hope to revisit and rekindle this blog some day, but for now it will be on hiatus. Perhaps there will be some intermittent posts, as I still have some things in the works, but I simply don't have the time or energy to make it regular, as you may have noticed recently.
Thank you all for coming and reading this blog. Even though you are few, I am appreciative of your appreciation! Make sure to check out The Lives of the Aerialists (I will be working on getting some posts up very soon!) My snarky-ness will not be gone, only away on vacation on the other page.
And now, here are some of my favorite-ist pictures I drew for the page. Just for fun.
|Artistic rendition of my butt hole|
|Typical day of blogging|
|True love. Also know are "fearts"|
|Me on a regular basis|
|My preferred method of protesting|
|I don't really know|
|How to make friends|
|How I practiced making out well into my adult years|
|A childhood long forgotten|
|Me bike riding|
|"Angry Greens" memories|
|Also how I make friends|
|How I campaign|
|Also me on a regular basis|
|When I discovered the joy of running shirtless|
|Possible career that I decided against|