Why is it that, as humans, we only miss things when they’re gone?

We push them away, and then realize too late that it may have actually worked. 

We never notice what’s right in front of us.

But that’s who we are. We want what we can’t have, and don’t want what we get. We live in a place where there’s always a new version of whatever gadget we already have coming in next Christmas, and we’ve just gotta have it.

Why?

Why can we never just be content? 

Why can’t I just be content?

I’m alone.

I can’t quite balance

because the foundation below me is shifting.

I look around and see

everything

and nothing.

My dreams are endless

but my ambition is lost.

I see an island in the distance.

I just don’t know how long it will take me to get there.

Spontaneous is…

  Kissing a stranger…

    Watching the sunrise…

       Pulling an all-nighter in a parked car…

                                          …And exactly what I needed.

Remember how, in my last post, I feared losing my anchor?

Well, I believe I’m drifting. Drifting away as I always tend to do. But for some reason, this drifting almost feels…good. Right, even. It doesn’t feel so much like a loss of stability but more like a shot at adventure. The tides may be turning for me, and although I’m not sure where I’ll drift to in the near future, I know that, no matter what, I will keep going. Rather than fearing the loss of an anchor, I should be joyful at the thought of not having to steer for once. I think I may be ready to let go. Or maybe I’m just too tired to hang on.

Either way, I know that, eventually, I will hit the shore. Only then will I be able to look back and appreciate the waves. 

Have you ever suddenly felt like all is right in the world? This earth spins so fast and life happens so quickly that most of the time, I feel half-panicked, stumbling blindly trying to find my way.

But now I don’t feel that way.

Yes, the earth continues to move beneath my feet. Life has not stopped. A magic spell has not been cast to make everything perfect, without flaws. 

It is simply that now I feel anchored. I feel like I’m home.

Yet, why am I so frightened to hit that humble button marked with a green check?

It is because, as content and as strong as I feel about this, I fear losing this. I fear that I could not face the sea without my anchor.

So everyday I bask in the glory of it and bemoan its departure. And everyday I feel this fear bear down on me.

But so far, my fear is belittled and proven false. And everything is okay.

And I am content.

The Fourth Wall. It’s a cardinal rule in theatre not to break it. That imaginary wall is what separates actors from the audience - the show from real life.

But even offstage, people still carry their own Fourth Wall. In order to keep control of their life, they act, but never actually connect with their audience. They maintain a safe distance so that when a scene gets too tough, too off-script, they can quickly close the curtain and cut the lights, all on their own command. There is safety in the Fourth Wall - not for the audience, but for the actors themselves.

But sometimes, in certain shows, it is okay - necessary even - to break the Fourth Wall. There is something vulnerable and yet so strong in an actor who can do this successfully. Although this is a rule, some rules are meant to be broken - at least in the right circumstance.

There is a reason that the audience is separated from the actors, that the curtain closes at the end of the show and everyone leaves the theatre after it’s over. A play is a piece of art, a thought or feeling expressed in a few scenes, songs, or dialogue. But a show is only a snapshot of life seen through a very specific lens - one that blurs the edges and transforms the colors. This alters its appearance all together, making it still recognizable and relatable and yet, more vivid, more extreme, more outlandish than real life. That is the point of theatre - to take a moment of time and stretch it in order to fit onto the larger stage, warping it in the process.

So how can we who spend so much time focusing on learning to see through this lens untrain ourselves, break the habits that we put so much time into forming? It is only natural that those who live out so much of their lives onstage have a different view on reality, one slightly blurred and contorted from the brightness of spotlights.

But we must break our Wall. Tear it down, destroy it, for all it’s worth. There’s a Fourth Wall onstage for a reason: because the stage is only that - a stage. Shakespeare was wrong. Although yes, many men and women today are “merely players”, this world is not a stage. This is reality. And if this is not a stage, then there is no need for that Wall, no need for protection, because we are not actors, we are living, breathing, imperfect humans who must feel, must love, must live. And we can only do that by breaking the Fourth Wall.

So go ahead. Take a hammer. Use your fists. Scream that damned Wall down until each brick crumbles.

We are not actors. This is not a stage. This is the vast, uncontained reality.

My goal for this term: prioritize.

How long that goal worked: through week two.

When I realized that I actually need to plan rather than procrastinate: today.

Why I realized this: i looked at my very full planner.

What I’m doing instead of what’s actually on my to do list: tumblr.

The fact that it’s midnight and I’m still on the interwebs: priceless.