A Collection of Problems

I get frustrated pretty easily. Not angry, but frustrated.Things that frustrate me:

People who can’t take a joke.

Pro-choice advocates.

“Gay Christians” (You are not actively following Christ if you choose to be gay.)

People who get offended at everything. (Guess who the Biblical example of getting offended easily was? Not Jesus! The Pharisees. Just saying.)

Raisin cookies that look like chocolate chip. Seriously. That’s just not cool.

Not being able to do petite allegro. Ugh.

Pro-choice advocates (yes, again)

FEMININAZIS ( x 3,000,000,000,000. Aghhhhhh. Ok, I’ll be honest, feminists legitimately make me angry sometimes, just because they are so ridiculous.)

Racism from anyone. Not just white to black. Blacks are racist towards whites too. All ethnicities are capable of being racist towards a different ethnicity. It’s really, really, really dumb.

There are more random things that frustrate and/or annoy me, but there’s some. And most of them are not just because of personal preference or whatever, they’re because the Bible clearly says they are not good things.

Please read your Bible.

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“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

What if you could fly for just a couple seconds? What if you could experience that airborne feeling every week? What if you knew what it felt like to be weightless?

Well, then, I guess you would be a dancer.

When I was 11, the last thing I ever wanted to be was a ballerina. I mean, come on, pink tights and frilly tutus? Not my style. At. All. But then, my mom signed me up for a ballet class. It changed my life.

At first I was like, ‘yeah, okay, this isn’t as girly as I thought. This is actually kind of hard.’ My teacher, Ms. Rebecca, is a truly remarkable woman and helped me to appreciate the fine art that is dance.

After about three years in ballet, I fell completely in love with it. I loved the work it took, the strength it required, the elegant way it allowed your body to move. It’s all I wanted to do, all the time. My former dreams of becoming an archaeologist/missionary fell into the dust left by the rosin on my ballet flat. I just wanted to dance.

Two and a half years ago, I got my pointe shoes, or toe shoes as some of you may know them. Imagine little plastic bricks strapped to your feet by tight pink ribbon… and then dancing on your toes. Yes, it’s painful, well at least it can be. And yes, it is so worth it. As if ballet wasn’t elegant and graceful enough, being en pointe adds a whole new level.

The best part of dance is seeing it all pay off; dancing on a stage. The lights, the hushed voices of the audience falling into quiet awe as the first dancer takes center stage. The click of pointe shoes against the stage and the heavy breathing through shimmering red lips. Then as the lights fade for the final time, the insistent roar of the appreciative audience. It is overwhelming in the most beautiful ways.

Sometimes I don’t know why I dance. On days when my extension is terrible and my feet are cramping, I forget why I love it so much. Why do I work this hard every day for two hours in the spotlight? Why do I put myself through this?

But then I remember.

Dance gives me wings.

Image

Me at my last performance. I was a dove 🙂