Showtime

New Year's is my least favorite holiday.

It feels forced, ya know?

Like everyone is trying really hard to appear happy, but no one really is, so copious amounts of alcohol is consumed to create a balanced medium.

I, for one, fell off the wagon and drank part of a Mountain Dew. Something I have not done in 39 days. The only reason I know the number of days is because I haven't consumed it since starting my new job. But if you follow me on social media you know how dearly I love it. All nine billion calories. So that is how I personally tried to appear happy on the saddest of all the days in the year.

I'm ready to have moved on by this point in the season. Onward to cold, soulless winter days that stretch into grey weeks. I suppose when painted like that it doesn't sound appealing, but it provides scope. And every writer needs scope. Good writers generally have some depth of character, tortured artist types with a wealth of moods and canvases to design and unravel. Winter is perfect.

I'm presently tortured by the weather. I wonder just why I vetoed Arizona and opted for New York. It's puzzling to me as I sit here, in bed, in socks, double layered PJs, a scarf and three blankets. Seriously. Why New York? It's been quite the journey here but I can name a few specific blessings that tell me I am exactly where God intended.

I took an old co-worker out today. We enjoyed hot chocolate and hit up the movie theater for a movie that I have been so anxious to see. The Greatest Showman. Don't make me start singing, because I will. I'll do it. I really enjoyed it. For two, okay three, reasons.

1) It's a musical with Hugh which I've been waiting for since Les Mis in 2012.

2) I LOVE the Barnum and Bailey Circus. (Animal treatment blah blah aside)

3) I was with someone who was also enjoying a musical, which is very few people that I know.

I have been in love with the circus my entire life. It should not really be a revelation to many of my readers at this point that my childhood was quite different than most; and, two things still stand out in my mind. I was actually permitted to trick-or-treat and attend the circus. My Grandma took me every year. It was such a highlight for me. It was loud. Creative. Beautiful. Inspiring. Scary. Magical. Amazing.

I, of course, was most enamored with elephants and trapeze artists. Do you remember this song? I can still hum a few bars.

He floats through the air
With the greatest of ease
The daring young man
On the flying trapeze
His movements are graceful
He tries hard to please
I know that he must be the best....

I saw those girls up there. Oh my, they were so beautiful. So glittery. And. Ever. So. Graceful. And as the lights went down one by one, it was power ballad time. They floated and weaved through the darkness while the music played and a trillion sparkles lit up the arena. It was a dream come true. I hoped for brief power ballad moments that I could be so beautiful and graceful one day. Then, they floated all the way from the sky to the floor, took their bow, hopped on an elephant, and lit out of there.

I can still see a young Angela sitting there, dressed very unlike a trapeze artist, who frankly wore little clothing. I can see her blond hair in pigtails. I can see her blue eyes reflected in a trillion sparkles. I still know what she is feeling. She is confined, but she is a dreamer. She is a writer. She longs to live outside expectation. She wants to live a dream, one that begs to be written.

Welcome to the greatest show...