Tag Archive: Melancholy

Le Sigh….

I am tired.
I am worn.
There is no place on my body that doesn’t hurt.

And I am hurt.

It’s no secret that I am a dancer.
I make it pretty damn clear that dance is important to me.
I feel like I make it clear that I would love for my friends and family to see me dance.

It’s a rare occasion that someone from outside of my dance circle comes to a show.
My in-laws have been to two performances.
My mother has seen one.
I made my husband come to my first recital.

I was part of a variety show that some friends *happened* to be at, so they got to see me dance.
I am not entirely sure that people watch the videos I post.
It’s not that I want them to love dance like I do. I don’t want them all to come to my classes (more on that in a bit).

I am standing here, waiving my arms, jumping up and down, yelling, “HEY GUYS; LOOK OVER HERE! I’M DOING SOMETHING COOL!”

Is it so bad that I want acknowledgement and encouragement?!

Apparently… yes.
Somehow that makes me selfish and needy.

Am I?

See?! I do cool shit!
Donna sword


I’m feeling off.
Part of me is genuinely happy with how life is right now. I’m comfortable, surrounded by people who love and respect me. I’ve found a whole mess of people who support me.

But there’s another part of me that wants to curl up and hide in a corner.

The scared little girl that wonders if she’ll ever be good enough, strong enough, pretty enough.
If she’ll ever be enough.

There are occasions – not as many as there used to be, mind you – where I feel so down on myself.
I have so many wonderful people around me, and sometimes I feel like I could never be as wonderful as they are.

I see these beautiful, healthy, smart women in my life.
Photos pop up on social media sites, hanging out at the malls, at dance events, at the bar, wherever.
I feel so… ugly.

All over, I feel ugly.
It’s like nothing I could ever say, or do, or be, will ever be meaningful or beautiful.

I don’t like to compare myself to others, and I try very hard not to.
I cannot ever compare to anyone else because we are not the same. Apples and oranges, you know?
There are times, though, that it gets the better of me.

So, today is one of those days.
I feel unattractive, lazy, and impossibly stupid.

It will pass; I know that.
Right now, though, I feel awful.

Say Something

I really don’t know which version I like better. They both have so much emotion and intention.
Christina adds quite a lot with the harmony, but the solo version seems that much more… desperate.

I enjoy them both, quite a lot.



The Muse & Her Demons

I am an incredibly selfish woman; of that, I am completely aware.
And you know what? I’m okay with it.

I want…

I want things and stuff, and stuff and things.
I want shiny and sparkly, soft and smooth, savory and sweet.
I want passion and romance and pleasure.

But beyond those, I want you to be happy.

I want nothing more than to see you smile.
I want to hold your face in my hands and see that spark of joy in your eyes as I lean in to kiss you.
I want to feel your heart beat faster as I press myself against your chest.

I want to see you happy.
I want to know that a little bit of your sadness, your hurt, is gone because of me.

I want to be a light.
I don’t need to be a very bright one… just a light that makes…

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It seems so long ago…

I can hear my heart beating.
I feel it throbbing at the side of my neck.

There are days that I just want to be able to sleep through the night without worrying about the monsters that hide in the corner of my brain.
The little sounds that usually comfort me to sleep have suddenty become deafening.

I miss the sound of Peanut snoring her cute little snores at the foot of the bed.
And her little nose against mine in the morning. And all the tiny, obnoxious things she insisted on doing to wake me up.

I miss the confidence I used to have.
Some of it has come back. I have some really amazing people in my life that kick me out of my self-pity funks. But there’s a part of me that left a long time ago, and I’m not sure if it’ll come back.

I miss barbeque sauce.
And wheat beer. Bell’s Oberon was freakin’ fantastic.

I miss long trips to the lake. And fishing with Grandpa.Weekends just never feel long enough.

I miss Grandma’s rose garden.
She had so many pretty colors growing, and she almost always let me take one home.

I want new ink.
I told myself that I wouldn’t want more, but I do. I find things that remind me of the person I want to be.
Things that tell the story of me (not that anyone would necessarily want to read it, but I often write for my own sake anyway).

I miss that period between high school and college, when the groupd of us partied like rock stars.
Waking up in the morning to find someone passed out on the bathroom floors.

I really, really miss D&D.
Miranda was a badass. Do NOT mess with Battle Banshee.
No, you cannot shoot lighting out of your butt.
What the hell are ice arrows?
Never get into a drinking competition with a dwarf.
Tiles was the greatest game EVER.

Reminiscing is easy; isn’t it?


There she sat, ever watchful over the gardens. The birds came to her, almost weightless on her shoulders, and sang to her. Squirrels and rabbits and the occasional tabby played at her feet. Children stared at her, wondering if she might move.


That’s what they called her, though she didn’t know why. She wasn’t even sure what it meant.

Her dress did not sway in the breeze. Her hair stayed neat and tidy. Never was she cold nor was she ever hungry. But she always seemed so sad.

Her arm outstretched, reaching for something in the distance; she couldn’t quite remember what is was, though, it had been so long.


She felt a longing; and melancholy wave crashed over her like the many thunderstorms that ravaged the gardens. Her roses had suffered terribly this year.

This year.
What year was it?
How long had she been frozen in time and hidden away from the world?

She looked out over the garden, her garden. Were the others like her? Did they wince at winter’s sting or yearn for shelter from summer’s heat? Were they stuck, just as she was?

Oh, yes, spring and fall were lovely. There were so many beautiful flowers and animals scurrying about.
And visitors! Yes, so many wonderful people to tell her how beautiful she is and how lovely the gardens are.

She missed the warmth of a caress on her cheek and the sweetness of a kiss. She missed the taste of berries and wine. There were so many things that she missed.


On the lips of a stranger that she could not see, she heard the words, “She is Erato. She is a muse.”
She felt it. Something – a spark, a warmth; something,
She focused on the word, straining to remember something that seemed just out of reach.


“Mommy, why is that lady crying?”
“Honey, that’s not a lady; that’s a statue.”
“But Mommy, look!”
“Sweetie, it’s time to go.”


“My Muse.” He whispered to her. “MY Muse.”
And he touched her face, as if wiping a tear from her cheek. His hand felt warm and soft.

They could feel the stone fall away. He recoiled, amazed at what he saw before him: Porcelain skin where his fingers had been. He reached again and brushed the side of her neck. Again, the stone wiped away, as dirt in the rain. He held her hand to find that she could hold his in return.

“You there! Don’t touch the statues!”

When he turned back to meet her gaze, he found only the statue, streaks running down her face, and rain gently falling down around them.



There are days, especially this time of year, that I feel absolutely overwhelmed with things to do and people to see. Then I see all the things I missed out on and wonder how I missed them. I see my friends having a great time with everyone else and think “Why wasn’t I there, too?”
I feel hurt.

I mean, yeah, I’m busy and all.
But then again, I’m keeping myself busy because I don’t get invited or just miss invites and whatnot.

I end up staying busy with projects that I make up for myself.

And THEN I find out that my pals were out doing cool stuff, or hanging out, or whatever. Just… without me.
Am I really that person?
Am I the one that people avoid?

Oh. My Gawd.
It really is me.



I don’t feel bad or anything… I just don’t feel good.

It’s not even a melancholy feeling.
I just feel, I don’t know, tired.

For the past few days, I haven’t been able to get warm. I have been constantly hungry.
I haven’t had much of a drive to do anything.

I mean, I have things I want to do. I even started some stuff.
But I just can’t seem to finish anything.

I think I just need to nap. I would totally sleep in tomorrow, too, except that we got a few inches of snow and I need to move my car off the front street and move it around the side so I don’t get towed.
I was actually really surprised that St. Paul declared a snow emergency – until I saw the residential streets. Ugh, what a friggin’ mess! Icy ruts and mounds of packed snow. I couldn’t even get into the garage from the last bit of plowing.


Well… I get to rest up tomorrow. Nothing big until the evening.
I go out, move cars, and go right back to bed.

That’s not true, though, is it? We don’t really change who we are.
People. Don’t. Change.

I tell myself that I’m not the same girl I used to be, but I really am.
I try to rationalize that I can’t be hurt, that I won’t let myself feel anymore.
I don’t want to believe in romantic love anymore. It feels so far away, so false.

I love my husband, don’t get me wrong. But he’s just a man.
Much like I am just a woman.
We are flawed and prone to hurting one another on occassion.

I don’t want to believe in rainbows and unicorns and pots of gold.
I don’t want to believe in higher beings holding power over my life.
I don’t want to believe in anything bigger than me.

But I do.
Somewhere, deep down, I belive in the happy endings and meant-to-bes.

And those beliefs lead to disappointment, saddness and a general melancholy outlook on life.
But they can also lead to wonder, joy, and amazement.

Today, though, I’m feeling the melancholy.
No, that’s a lie. It’s not just today. It’s been the last few days.
I’m not sure why it started, or when. I just know that things have made me edgy, sad, pissed off, and overall unhappy.

Seeing other people happy makes me frustrated.
Why can’t I have that?!


Time to go find a quiet corner and meditate.