Priorities and how I got to think about it

Just a girl trying, once again, too hard to be good at everything I do. I go left, go right, go back, but never ever get anywhere in particular, and nowhere near where I truly wanted to be. But how to get there? How to choose one single thing to follow? How to choose a dream, one of a thousand I'd dream every night.

Today, in this special crappy day, I'd realized something, as I went to one of my favourite places in the world and it crossed my mind "what the f*ck am I doing here?"; and how could I think anything else? Everyone there is so good. It never crossed my mind that it was because that is all they ever do. It is their priority. They gave everything up, well, maybe they didn't give anything up, for it was their dream. Maybe they never had a chance to dream other dreams. Maybe they did. But they made a choice and never looked back. I could never give anything up. Perhaps I should start. 

Adrian told me, and he is (or was?) just like me. Had to do everything, and do it perfectly. It is so stressful, he said. And once he chose what he was going to do, it made it all easier. He knew exactly what he had to do to get where he wanted, and it was in one point of focus. Easy. All he had to do is give up everything else. I can do it. Right. 

Moving... to another country. Easy, right? Maybe easier because Tim is going to be there with me, helping me anyway he can, not to be miserable. And I could never be miserable when I am with him. At least I don't think so. Not right now. Not ever.

Maybe all I need is in fact this change... this going away, getting away from all that influences me to make certain choices, certain random things I usually do out of habit. If I get out of my natural habitat, I can no longer be a creature of habit, can I? Of course, I will develop new habits, new hobbies, but it won't be the same, will it? 

Somehow I feel a tinge of hope, a small sliver of something oddly coming true, something new happening. I want to go to college again, audition, follow a dream. My dream. If only money wasn't an issue, if only I won the frikkin lottery. That would be sweet. But that is a dream with, I want to think less chance, but maybe it's the same chance, of coming true. 

And regardless of where I end up, if I aim high, I've got to land high as well, so says Charles. He is one of the people with the best insights on my life, but one that never ever tried to influence me towards something I did not desire to begin with. Even when I chose to take the chance at Wushu, and I know (as everyone else does) that he hates it. Completely. He still said "Well, if that's what you want...". Suddenly it is not what I want. I am getting tired of the injuries and the hits I take on my self esteem every time someone else does something amazing that I am years away from. It somehow was different with Shaolin. I used to fit in, even though I was right in the middle of the age groups. Everyone else that does it is either much younger or much older than me. But they all look my age, the older ones. I guess Kung Fu has that effect on people. It keeps you from aging. 

Thursday was the most amazing training day... Charles, Apu and Jaime were all helping me at the same time, hilarious! Well, I guess you could say Apu was just nodding and watching, but he is a judge, and he will be a judge in the competition April 11th. A competition I will have to forfeit due to my Wisdom Surgery. F*uck, I am scared sh*tless of this. Plus, I never ever wanted to have my face swollen like a basketball again! It was bad enough when I had the mumps last year and was in bed for 20 f*cking days. Enough is 'nough. 

And so, I guess the overall message is that, even if training is my priority now -- I am well aware of the fact that the club where I am moving sucks, so I will have to open my own or something -- it may not be my priority later, neither it should be. But I know that, some way or the other, it will always be a part of my life. It keeps me sane. And if I somehow lose the tiny bit of sanity left in me, I will end up in a padded room. Seriously.

Immortality?

Seems I am rather influenced by things I read. I get aggravated and anxious and hyper. Reading Twilight made me thing a lot about aging and death, obviously because the vampires are immortal. And since it is only a book, there is no point for me to be grasping at the idea. 

SO, as I was laying in my bed, trying desperately to fall asleep, it came to me. How to be immortal, in a way at least, and it came through the form of Audrey Hepburn, who, unfortunately died some years ago, but is forever young and beautiful in Breakfast at Tiffany's. That's it! It hit me so unexpectedly that I almost didn't believe how easy it was, and how convenient. It is already my dream to be in movies, theatre, and such artistic things, this will make my will my strength to succeed even more unshakeable, more fierce. As if I needed more inspiration. Now I will be unstoppable, believe me, I will make it. I have to. There are few things in the world I want as much as this, and I can't wait to get started. I know that for now I am but an amateur, I've never really focused much on being good at one thing, I always tried to do everything and more, but no one can be good at everything. All I've had to do all along is focus. I never knew on what, and I've never considered giving somethings up, but for this, well, I can make some sacrifices.

And it also helps immensely that the love of my life, Tim, believes in me and is willing to go through this with me. Looks to me like since he strolled in my life, everything started falling into place, finally. I was broken, somehow, and deep down I knew it. Making wrong choices was sort of my favourite sport. But now, he is the voice of reason in my head. He is the right choice. I wouldn't have it any other way. Now I can see clearly, I have no reason to be afraid.

And if I cry a little, die a little, at least I'll know I've lived. 

Escape

I am getting so tired, and it certainly is not because I have been barely sleeping. Somehow, I seem like I am frail, weak. Tired is certainly not the worst part, then. I am sick of this. All the arguing, suffering, demand. I truly hate the way my family always seems to be arguing... maybe it's something in the atmosphere? My house, I suppose, always had this gloom about it. It is hard to feel at home here. Very hard. Perhaps it is the very reason I fall asleep better at the gym, on it's cold, hard, stone floors. The cold there seems warmer than most nights in my bed. 

I hear the arguments building up right now. Right next door to my room. I want to mute it, make it go away, but I can't. It seems that I don't really care anymore. It doesn't touch me as it should, as it did the beginning. All the pressure, to be a family. To be close. It is probably the reason why it fails. Instead of waiting for us to be genuine about it, closeness is forced upon us, and it takes the opposite direction. At least I know that I long for my own time, my space.

I didn't sleep yesterday. I couldn't. I was reading. The story seemed more interesting than my life at the moment, a life I would like to live, someday. I have always been a dreamer. I looked up at the alarm clock on the nightstand, counting as the hours passed, wondering when it'd be okay to wake up. I did not feel tired. Not tonight. I furiously flipped through the pages, wanting to know more, and yet afraid of the end. I knew it was approaching with every chapter that I eagerly read through, but I didn't stop myself. I couldn't. Then it was the end. 

It was now nine in the morning, and I still was not tired. I got up, stretched a little. My bed usually makes my back hurt. Headed to the kitchen, then mum and dad where there. I tried to sound gleeful. I thought I'd failed, but they bought it. I was eager to talk to someone about the book, and I took the misstep of telling them what I'd been up to. Bad move. The scolding came, from dad, obviously, as always. He glared and said I was obsessed with that book. That is not true at all. Im obsessed with escaping the boring reality that surrounds me when Tim is away. 

Tim, I knew all to well, would probably laugh it off, but feel kind of like that. Like he did yesterday when he came back from his run, and found I was still awake when I answered his lovely little note in skype with a call. He always worried about me too much. Maybe I gave him reason to. When we are away, I am often not my cheerful, silly, bubbly self. I tend to be glum and depressed, crying easily. Crying a lot. Easy. 

It is amazing to think that only a few days ago, I was sobbing against his chest, shaking and scared. Another departure. Why did I always have to be the one that left, the one that had to get on that stupid plane? I decided, I hate airports. Unless I am on my way to seeing him again. Then they're my favourite place in the world. 

But it is impossible to stalk from memory that before I was sobbing helplessly, trying to get a last glimpse at his lovely face waving me farewell, I was genuinely happy. All those days I've recently spent in Dekalb could not have gone by faster, but it seemes like longer than it actually had been, we were getting so much stuff done. 

Unlike the other times we were together, this time I did not cry everyday weeks before I left with anticipation of the pain that would certainly be in my heart. "I may be getting used at leaving" I told him, one day, my face dry, still. "It's because you know this is the last time you have to leave" he replied to me, tentatively. I gave in to his sweet little smile and pecked him on the lips, as we lay on the couch in my hotel room. It was a moment I did not want to let go of.

Now, I am waiting. Waiting for my real life to begin again. Sure, I love training. More than most things I have ever done, but I don't love it more than I love him. So, seventy three days doesn't seem like long, to most, but it feels like an eternity to me right now. All that I really have to look forward to these couple of months before he gets here is training, training and training. The gym always seems to numb any pain I feel - is it because it saved my live, or because of the people there that know me better than most, I don't know - but I can only stay there so long, and surely enough, as I hear that song, that I stubbornly keep in my ipod  - maybe I am masochistic? - the tears will stream down my face.

But I know, I hope, that when we are finally truly together, forever, things will fall into place. I will feel better, whole. I will fulfill my purpose. In 73 days?