Night In - Soliloquy

A man dies as often as he loses his friends.

Francis Bacon(1561-1626)

I've gotten to do plenty of thinking lately... thinking about choices I've made in life. How the outcomes work themselves into intriguing shapes and important lessons. For example: I'm dancing at the Mormon Tabernacle Christmas Concert this year. I randomly saw an audition posting in September and decided to give it a shot, not having a clue where I would really be come December. (I did figure that I'd still be in Utah.) It went great! I made it, got to add some rehearsals to my weeks, and started meeting people in the area. It's been a very rewarding experience so far, even if it makes for extremely long days now that I have a job. That was a good choice. Even more interesting to me, though, is the choice my mom made about 21 years ago. She put me in my first ballet class. Over two decades later, I've danced all over the world in all sorts of venues doing all types of dance. In a few weeks I will add to my resume the massively huge Conference Center, where I will end up dead front and center in front of everyone.
Wow. I'm glad I had Folk Dance and the Marriott Center performances to prep me for big audiences. And to teach me to perform to the top row in the way back, not the illustrious figures in the front rows. It's the ones in the back that really deserve your absolute best: it takes the most effort to get your energy to reach all the way to them. 

An interesting tangent to that thought and my staging (which was mostly a happenstance thing) is that the girls dancing around me are several years younger than me. As in, I've danced longer than they have been alive and breathing on this beautiful earth. Sure, they started dancing at age 3. But I was dancing before they even made it through the veil. Sometimes I truly relish those thoughts, acknowledging the dedication and work that has gone into my dancing. A lot of those choices have been mine. But I'm forever indebted to my mom for making the first brilliant decision that started my feet dancing. 

Well, I've definitely strayed from the original quote by Sir Francis Bacon. But I wanted to do a positive thought first. His quote points out the importance of friends in ones life. Having moved recently in a bigger way than the past 7 years of moving, I have become acutely aware of the dynamics of friendships. They truly do so much in making a place feel like a home. In making life feel full. In promoting mental and emotional stability. Looking back over my college years, there are thankfully few times that I can say I literally "lost" friends. There was one watershed event before my senior year that did a lot towards unearthing those who were my real friends and those who were acquaintances. That was a rough time. But other than that, I have been blessed to have many wonderful friendships grow and develop. A lot of them I left in Provo when I moved away. And it's just not the same in Salt Lake. Probably the biggest reason is because I'm not in school anymore, which significantly changes the social dynamics. I've wondered lately if I really made the right choice in leaving Provo. I think I did need a break, but sometimes I very much miss my dear friends there. 

I sometimes wonder if I made the best choice when I decided to be a 1st grade teacher. Well, not that I even decided! I merely accepted the offer that was almost thrust upon me. Is it going to be a fulfilling career? It's definitely not one where I'll make major social connections and potentially find a spouse. (Not that marriage should be a consideration in work, but I work, yet again, primarily with females. That's all I'm saying.) I often feel like I have to verbalize my significance, qualify the statement that I teach 1st grade, as if that makes me not good enough. Who gets a Masters in Humanities to teach 6 year olds?? I always felt like being a teacher was more of a calling than a career and I admired those who went into that profession. But I just don't see myself as being all that special now that it's me being the teacher. 

I sometimes wonder if it was even right to move out of my grandparents' basement! I truly enjoyed living with them. I talked to them more than I talk to my roommates now, probably. It felt so homey with them. The spirit was always present, and when that's in a home it makes it extremely comforting. Most places I've lived I've felt the spirit there, but it's different when you're with a married couple. Visiting married friends, family of course... it seems more tangible. Probably because the household is extremely united, not a temporary fixture of disparate parts. (I know, waxing loquacious here with big words.) As long as my room feels comfortable, I know I'm doing what I need to to have a spiritual tone. But it's so much nicer when it pervades the house. I feel like I should have done more to show my grandparents how much I appreciated living with them. I left while they were out of town and then I was very busy getting re-settled and with school.... 

Well, you can't live a life of regrets. That's not living at all. I'm not sure where these choices will lead me: leaving Provo, being an elementary school teacher, moving out with roommates again. Moving to south Salt Lake rather than downtown like I had envisioned. Changing wards right when I had started getting into my last one. Moving away from an area where some boys were interested in me. I'm not sure if it was me or the new location that deterred them so efficiently. Now I wonder again if I'll ever meet anyone that fits the basic bill, let alone could be considered "great." The older I get, the more I realize that the great guys figured out they should marry a few years ago. The ones that are left.... in fairness some great guys exist in the older ages. But they are a rare find. It's like panning for gold in a river full of pyrite. 

Well, I meant to post pictures of the furniture I built. But apparently I needed to type. I miss writing papers. I miss typing words and saying important things for people to care about. Granted, only my teachers really cared about those essays, but... it was something. It was intellectual. And I really enjoy typing. And writing. Expressing myself through the written word and being intelligent in the process. I was one of those students that generally enjoyed writing research papers. I don't think I'll ever want to stop learning more. 

I do imagine though, dear reader, that you are ready to stop reading. I'm sure this is quite lengthy by now, and it really is just my own personal musings. I suppose I'll stop there and get ready for my big long day of rehearsals tomorrow. It starts at 8:30am and probably won't end until 11-12 hours later. And at least 6-8 of those hours will be full-on dancing. I think I'll pull a bath-n-book tonight to help prepare. Sleep might be more useful, but it's less of a sensory experience; and while my body may be tired, my brain is quite awake still. 

And there you have it. You made it to the end!!