Perhaps I'm actually blogging as an act of defiance. That's right, apparently blogging is about as lowlifeloser as you can get around these parts...these parts being my parent's home and to do it is the equivalent of sneaking out past curfew to make out with a dude named Jet (age 29 to my 16) in the back of his van while we drink peppermint schnapps. Yes, it's that bad. I know! I had no idea. You can't even catch an STD or a broken heart from it but at least now I'm wiser, huh? It's awful. Bad Ashley. Bad bad, 'you're wasting your time, dummy' Ashley.
I know you sympathize with me. The lowlifeloser thing at your parents house is a little different but still exists. Perhaps it was your ambition to be a Nascar driver as a young lad until your father pointed out that you wouldn't get far in your GeoMetro in the ways of a racetrack. Maybe it was your idea that hiphop dance was your ticket to New York until your mother or an aunt reminded you that to be a dancer you had to be built like a willow in the breeze and you looked more like a North African cactus in a thunderstorm with those thighs.
Whatever it is, whatever your dream might have been, I know you still remember those words. I know you still hold onto that feeling of a sinking heart and wiped away those hot tears of a shame you never knew could exist. The day they told you it just wasn't going to happen and to stop wasting your time. The day you stopped believing in the bigger dreams and found out that four years at a decent college could get you a 50k a year behind a desk and your favorite coffee mug and that perhaps, that just might be good enough for you.
But because we're being defiant today, I say....put that coffee cup down. Er, rather, set it down slowly and don't forget to show up to work tomorrow so that you can keep on not...being...homeless. (I'm so bad at being bad!). I say, keep that desk job! Keep on being the great and educated you who can bring home the bacon. Don't get me wrong, it's a great place to be. It's a great thing to do!
Just, don't cheat yourself out of what it once was you truly wanted. Pick the drum sticks back up. Tie those dance shoes back on. Run around with a Matchbox car on the floor of the kitchen with your kid and imagine, just one more time, what it might have been like if you never gave it up. If you were the first thunder-thighed hip hop dancer and they absolutely loved your attitude. If you really were capable of performing at the Super Bowl. What that movie poster would like with your face on it. What naming the cure for cancer after yourself would REALLY look like on the prescription bottle ("I'm taking AshleyEarpacillin and it's great!").
How a book signing might feel.
A house decorated completely in your designs.
Your own art show at the Met.
A new coffee and yoga house chain completely of your making.
I believe in you. I believe in everything you want to do. Don't be afraid to believe in yourself despite the lowlifeloser whispering in your ear.
And whatever you do, you can always remind yourself:
"At least it's not as bad as blogging."
YAYA!
1 comment:
YA YA!!!!!
love you bebe!!!
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