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My friend Bailey and her company @companythreesixty made this and I have no more words to add. It’s perfect. #Repost @catchingbreaths with @get_repost ・・・ Why didn’t I report? I didn’t report because I thought that if I’m in a relationship with someone, it meant it was equally my fault. I thought the years of unhealthy feelings towards myself which ensued, were still invalid since it could have been worse. I thought I shouldn’t tell my Momma until a couple of years later on a beautiful mountain walk together, and even then, I softened the story from shame for how I’d appear to the person I love the most. I didn’t report because we live in a world where men use sentences like “it can always be worse” as psychological shrapnel. A world that tells us we should have done more to stop it. A world that, even when I remember the attempts to push away as clearly as consciousness cinema, I was scared to push too hard because I didn’t want to make someone mad. A world that makes me worry at sharing, because I have young students and ‘should be a role-model’: with a role model being pure, respectable, elite, undamaged. Now, a mother, wife, champion, boss... I still worry to report as innocuously as through a #WhyIDidntReport hashtag, lest I somehow appear less for having shared. But as someone who’s survived a darkness far worse than that described, and Shawshanked her way to a life of light- save for second glances over shoulders- I can say that the hardest person to report to is actually... yourself. It’s the you that you had once hoped to be. The you that you’ll never be again. The you that you wish you could go back and protect. The you you wish you had been (louder, less in shock, less weak). The you that once was but was taken. To all the Yous you once were reading this (and the You in me who still feels cemented by shame)... this should never have happened. It doesn’t matter how loud, quiet, forceful... how well you knew them.... You didn’t deserve to lose You because your body wasn’t left as yours. None of us do. None of us ever will. There is no good way to end this bit of writing, because the truth is: it hasn’t ended. A perfect sentence will not wrap this up. Y
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Teaching on my birthday is my favorite thing. Hi, I’m 30, and I gave full sized cupcakes to three year olds and I’m sure their parents hate me
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Gotta get back to Hogwarts Gotta get back to school Gotta get myself to Hogwarts Where everything is magicooooool
Mischief Managed.

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The Wizard of Oz

They posted the cast list for The Wizard of Oz yesterday. Being that I didn’t have class yesterday I wasn’t sure if I was going to get to see it or have to wait until today. My friend was sent pictures of the list, which she passed on to me.
I was cast.
As a Winkie Guard (I have no idea what this entails, but I was cast, so I’m rather excited.) which predominately consists of girls from my class, so I know I’m at least on the same level. My eye caught on one of my friend’s names who is a 4/5 with me, and I saw that she and a few other girls on that level had two roles, which was pretty cool. I just kinda figured that maybe I’m just not on that level and that’s okay. It’s a character part anyway, and I haven’t taken a jazz class in years, so they’re way better anyway. I scanned it over kind of quickly, and just kind of carried on texting, not really paying attention.
Then my friend said, “You’re a winkie guard and cover crow!” I said, “What?” And then connected that the girl’s extra role was a crow, and that “cover” was what they were calling understudies. I pulled up the picture that listed understudies and looked at it more clearly.
There is one understudy for the Crow role, and that one is me.

Honestly, I can’t even explain the emotion of euphoria that came over me. It was equivalent to that of my friend who got the cover of Wicked Witch of the West which is a principal role and she’s 15. (Pretty big deal.) My heart exploded. I almost cried.

I felt I bombed that audition. I left and my heart was so heavy. I’ve never experienced that after an audition before. Not even in high school theater or that time I went to a casting call for a movie (hah.) I went in to that audition and wanted to prove myself; to prove that I was better than how I did at the Nutcracker audition with my bum shoes. I wanted to show them that I work hard and can do what they throw at me and that I have potential.
I wanted so badly to have potential.
To be something, to not just be another dancer to fill numbers.
The girls who are the crows are really good. They deserve to have that extra role. They will rock this. They work hard. And as I see them in classes, they’re the ones that I size up to be close to where I am in level. And when you think these things, you hope against all hope that you’re not just kidding yourself. That you really are at least at that level, and not just making yourself out to better in your head than what you really are. So they are this role. And there is one cover. And that cover is me.
I am the next best thing to them. I am the one they trust to fill in should anything happen. They looked at me and thought I could do this.
They saw potential.

Maybe all of this is cheesy. Maybe I’m pathetic.
And if I am, I don’t care.
This really meant more to me than I could put into words. It makes me want to try harder to figure out what the issue is with my shoes. It makes me want to work harder to improve on these things I’m struggling in. It makes me want to put in extra effort to get this right and be better.
It makes me want to do everything I can to show them that they made the right choice.

Plus now I have to get character shoes for this so I’m prepared in case I have to dance it which is kind of exciting.

I’ll have posts and updates on rehearsals and shows.
And Pictures, I’m sure.

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