People should try hard to think of better conversation starters than pointing out someone’s weight.
Recently, I posted a photo on my Instagram account. It is a photo of myself in front of the stage where one of my favorite bands will be performing later that day the photo was taken. The post was a simple gratitude post for my experience, which I will cherish for a lifetime.
I don’t usually post a lot on my social media, but love using Instagram, although my account is kept hidden as I don’t put my name on it so no one will be able to find it unless people ask for my handle. My account was set to public then.
A day after I posted said photo, one of my high school classmates commented on my post. (You see, I don’t follow him, but I think he follows me and probably found my account when I cross-posted an Instagram photo on my Facebook feed a long-time ago.)
There are three things that can be deciphered from his short but sweet comment. He was in 1) surprise/shock that I gained weight 2) that he couldn’t help but point it out to me, and 3) he thought it was funny.
A table lies at the center of the stage. The spotlight illuminates the piece that plays a vital role in the telling of the night’s story. On the table sits a lamp, a pile of papers for drawing, stacks of pencils, a box, among other things. The whole stage was surrounded by chairs- lots of real wooden chairs, somersaulted, stacked up as ceilings and walls. I knew we were in for a treat that night, and I wasn’t disappointed. I don’t think anyone was.
First-day-of-class introductions were my biggest nightmare in school. I only hoped I could skip it, or that my teachers would forget that I was even present…or existed. I would practice how I’d state my name in my head over and over and over until it was my turn to speak. I remember stuttering, or speaking too loud or too soft but never doing it the right way. It was an additional discomfort when teachers ask students to “Describe yourself!” as that would mean I had to talk for five more seconds.
How does it feel to venture into the unknown? I wonder. I wonder how it is to be in the struggling end, and to choose to stay there when you have a choice to be in a secure place, a place where your future is clearly laid down for you.
I have always had huge dreams. I wanted to become a writer, a musician, a lyricist, a storyteller. Almost impossible to achieve as I am so far from being any of those things.
Placing my dreams aside to pursue things I thought would fulfill me just the same, but never did, I have ran out of excuses on why I am not yet a writer or a musician or a lyricist or a storyteller. Maybe I’m just too scared; too scared of failing, of being called foolish.
I watched La La Land and it felt like the movie was written specifically for me.
The sound of guitar strings sophisticatedly plucked gives a calming feeling and refreshes my brain. This is the reason I listen to acoustic playlists on Spotify. One afternoon, I discovered this magical treasure hidden beneath songs that are nothing short of wonderful.
Aoife O’Donovan’s Porch Light, a song about a complicated love, will transport you to a place where pain is a beautiful feeling. O’Donovan is a clear storyteller, with her admirable song writing, unique plucking style, and her soft and pure voice that complements her music.
Music is everything to me. I live and breathe to listen to great music. And concerts are my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
This year, I have so far been to six international concerts, which is a great number considering I hardly get to go to even one concert in the past years. I have been “deprived” of going to concerts when I was younger due to a lack of funding. That slight deprivation turned out to be a good thing after all. I get to experience my favorite artists now, watch and listen to them perform my favorite songs LIVE, and honestly, it doesn’t get any sweeter than being able to live in moments I have only dreamed of when I was little.