home alone

Just ate myself into misery via mexican food. So cheap, so yummy. I've put on a lot of weight and I don't feel healthy about it at all. But I'm starting to think, who the hell cares. I'd rather eat than work out because for some odd reason I feel like food is an art; people were put on earth to eat. Nothing beats biting into a deep fried oreo. Naive, maybe, but at least I'm happy with small things like that. I also like to drink, another reason I've lost all respect for my body, but god damn do I have fun.

I do wish I could dance as much as I did in high school. I don't think I'll ever get on a treadmill for as long as I live (and I have never so far) but damn if I don't miss dancing 25+ hours a week. 12 hour dance days on Saturday were incredible. I actually miss saying, "I can't. I have dance." I hated it so much in high school to give up my Saturdays, but in all honesty those were my best memories. I made best friends. For as obnoxious and snooty as dancers can be, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I only hope that I can remotely recreate it at my new studio (teaching, for those who didn't know), but I know it can never come close to how happy I really was to be on stage competing, surrounded by everyone else who was having just as much of a great time. I still cry when I watch old videos or hear songs that I used to dance to. I can only hope that I have a daughter who feels that passionate about something. I don't care what as long as it isn't teen pregnancy.

I've also spent the last few days obsessing over tattoos and what I want. I'm thinking of dipping into savings and going for it. Consider it a miniature form of a mid-life crisis.

I can't wait to see good people this weekend. I can't fucking wait.