Fierce Heart Of Jelly

When I look at myself, I think I am complicated. Or, better, simple, but not explainable. I find my thoughts, approaches, opinions, are fairly uncommon.

This season of my life has been about redefining myself. It has been harsh. And raw. All the safe, soft, jelly places in my heart have had a once, twice over, meeting with a meat tenderizing tool. Time after relentless time I offer myself and my heart for consideration, and the result is less than the fairy tale ending for which I had hoped.

As a writer. Endings are my whole purpose. You put pen to paper and pour out the words of your soul ever so passionately, delicately weaving pieces of your heart into a story that ends. Just so. With perfection. With flourish. With closure. With a sense of benediction being meted, you send it on its way.

Endings are hoped for with happiness and pleasure. I ALWAYS want the guy to get the girl. I don't want anyone being eaten by the clown. I am beyond certain that the bomb did not kill my favorite character. And above all else, I do not get left behind.

Seasons are timely. They begin and end with flourish and without. I can romanticize all I want, and I will, but it is just a passage of time.

If you read some of my original postings you will see one of my most admired Broadway characters is Elphaba. She is humble, meek, caring and alongtheway becomes fierce. I want to be her.

And. Somewhere, dear readers, alongthewaywithyou, I have become her. This period in time where I have struggled the most in my life with finding interpersonal connections, with finding my trusts misplaced, with feelings of ostracization, with raw emotion coating my days, weeks and months.

This New York season. Made me Elphaba without losing what is the heart of Angela. Fierce with a pile of feelings.

I have used my influence for as much positive as I could. I encouraged. I helped. And when push came to shove I waged battle. I stood my ground. I stood for my principles. I stood for what was right. History may tell a different story. Stories are always open to individual interpretation; it is what makes the written word powerful. I'm okay with that.

I was there. I saw it from the front row. And I am satisfied that I defied gravity.

"Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's what's in the middle that counts."