When the knot begins to fray, that’s when it all falls apart. The tension that was there has suddenly become too much to bear and the knot begins to fray. All of the smaller strings that create both side one and side two of the knot, the tiniest cores that give purpose to this intricate source of strength begin to slowly give out; one by one they each individually are subdued and convinced that their place in the string isn’t valuable, isn’t making a difference, doesn’t matter. Almost like they just give up. And the knot begins to fray. The chaos and confusion that the stability that the knot once contained is once again feared, and has a newborn life when the knot begins to fray. What was once a source of security, freedom, joy and purpose has slowly taken on the weathering and tension of time and trials— it has become a new thing; a source of insecurity, instability, and fear. When the knot begins to fray, I begin to fray, too.
perform. If I’ve ever known anything for certain, its that I was born to perform. Sold out arenas? Local gigs? Dance? Broadway? You get the gist. I cried during Adele’s Live at Albert Hall DVD, and nearly sobbed during Katy Perry’s Part of Me (in 3D). I just want people to be happy. I am such a people pleaser, I want music to transform them. I want people to forget about their past or present sufferings and get lost. I want them to know that the future is right now, and they are in full control of choosing to be happy. Music does that. Keep lookin’ out, I’ve never been this inspired.
I am a very jealous person.
However, lately I have been learning to love who I am, for all that I am worth.
I must say, my new job is absolutely a blessing in disguise. Luckily, I have been blessed with not only one, but two jobs: one being extremely part-time at a bathing suit store, and the other being part-time/pushing full time at an athletic clothing store.
As you can already tell, the differences are uncountable.
So much negativity radiates from customers shopping for a bathing suit. I’ll be the first to admit - I absolutely hate trying on bathing suits. The day of swimwear shopping generally starts with eating a light (or no) breakfast, doing crunches praying they will make up for some amount of exercise left neglected. Dragging feet into the dressing room to undergo endless amount of self scrutiny. Simply stated, bathing suit shopping sucks.
On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, I get to work in a store where our motto has recently been: “Start a revolution; stop hating your body!”
These two worlds of self-loating and self-loving are waging some kind of war in my heart and deep in my soul.
I know which one I’d rather be.
I like this guy.