DESTROY to Create
The first thing I wanted to be when I grew up (that I could remember) was a teacher. & it wasn't to teach. It was to write on the chalkboard, lol. Then I had went to space camp (yay NASA) & I low-key wanted to be in the mission control room so I can guide the astronauts out in that atmosphere. Then in third grade, I was in my first play.
Fell in love w/theatre. In sixth grade, Selena came out & kids were still too stupid to begin teasing me for my name (Jennifer Lopez), but I knew. I knew that if I wanted to pursue a career in acting, I'd have to have a different name. In middle school, it began. The jeers. Esp from teachers. Reminding me I WASN'T her, as if I was trying to be. I had friends that used to come over or I'd visit & we'd sing. They were all such sweet liars. Telling me I could sing & should pursue that. Moving right along. High-school friends & teachers started calling me J-Lo. At that point I just stopped caring. I continued acting & even told my dad one night during dinner that this was something I really wanted to do. He told me it was too late for me to become an actress & to just give up. At that moment, I followed his advice. Probably the only time I did listen to him, lol. Was no longer going to pursue such a fantasy.
However, that didn't make me stop participating in Drama. It was an area in which I could escape reality. I didn't have to be myself. There weren't any worries. I was a different character so having to feel the negativity that would crush me years later was out of mind. I was in a variety of productions every year until I graduated high school.
Another thing I picked up, during high-school was writing. Thoughts, poems, words. In ninth grade, I wrote my first script. I would act them out in my room, smile & put them away in a shoebox in my closet. I wrote so many plays. Short stories. Mostly about travel, tragedy & love. I had pages, notebooks & journals FULL of gold. I would doodle w/some of my writing. A few random drawings expressing how I felt at the time. But I never picked up drawing/painting as a habit. I wasn't very good at it & I didn't have the patience for it.
I was also heavy into photography. Admiring others' work, being intrigued by the art itself. To be able to capture a feeling into a photograph. An important moment in their time. Wow. My ninth grade science teacher had a darkroom & I spent countless hours developing pictures. I wanted a camera badly. I took many pictures w/my Polaroid & that other device that would print pictures on stickers (help me out here). Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to be a photographer for a living but that it would definitely be a hobby of mine & a special part in my life.
My senior year of high-school, I met the "love of my life" & he destroyed so many of my dreams. I remember we got in a HUGE fight & he BURNED my work. All my tales, my words. Perished. I remember watching the flames rise & as soon as I felt tears coming down my face, I instantly came at peace w/that part of my life dying. I didn't want to write anymore. For what? Foolish of me. That's what I allowed him to convince me to think. That it was a waste of time. Even w/photography. He'd ridicule me for looking through my albums. He tried though. Bought me a few cameras & my own little set to print my own pictures. Then he'd take them away on one of my "not acting right" moments & give it back when he was ready to make up (everything at his convenience). I would be happy again 'cause you know how that tainted love works. Little did I know that everything in the memory card was deleted.
One thing he didn't destroy were my scrapbooks. I got very crafty w/this picture stuff. [Also w/cards (in order to avoid his wrath, I'd finish a anytime/birthday/thank you card & give them away)]. But I wouldn't show it off. I would finish a scrapbook then put it in the shelf. I just didn't want to hear him chuckling. Asking me why I'm reminiscing on such things. "Are you not happy now? What's wrong now?" It was very scary to get back into this. I'm still not completely back to be honest. I mean. I used to let others read my work & loved their criticism. Would be so proud of my pictures. Now though? You won't catch me sending anyone anything. I have a lot of my vision on a few websites but no promo here. I go to it on my own. I write here, sure. But half of it is fantasy & half of it is my life. A lot of it is so close in similarity that unless you ask, you'd think it was all non-fiction. My other writing is actually on paper. I'm proud of it. But very intimidated to share it. I don't trust people w/that. Same w/my photo albums. I TRY to share. But if for one second I feel they are thinking negative or will tell "a joke" I put everything away. Won't share. I allowed one person to change me completely & I'm still gathering the pieces. Why would I allow someone else to tear me down again? It's just. Fear. It's become a fear of mine.
So. What do I want to be when I grow up? I don't know. I have choices. Always have. But I must figure it out. The revolution in my head wants out & needs to bring the insanity back in.
Fell in love w/theatre. In sixth grade, Selena came out & kids were still too stupid to begin teasing me for my name (Jennifer Lopez), but I knew. I knew that if I wanted to pursue a career in acting, I'd have to have a different name. In middle school, it began. The jeers. Esp from teachers. Reminding me I WASN'T her, as if I was trying to be. I had friends that used to come over or I'd visit & we'd sing. They were all such sweet liars. Telling me I could sing & should pursue that. Moving right along. High-school friends & teachers started calling me J-Lo. At that point I just stopped caring. I continued acting & even told my dad one night during dinner that this was something I really wanted to do. He told me it was too late for me to become an actress & to just give up. At that moment, I followed his advice. Probably the only time I did listen to him, lol. Was no longer going to pursue such a fantasy.
However, that didn't make me stop participating in Drama. It was an area in which I could escape reality. I didn't have to be myself. There weren't any worries. I was a different character so having to feel the negativity that would crush me years later was out of mind. I was in a variety of productions every year until I graduated high school.
Another thing I picked up, during high-school was writing. Thoughts, poems, words. In ninth grade, I wrote my first script. I would act them out in my room, smile & put them away in a shoebox in my closet. I wrote so many plays. Short stories. Mostly about travel, tragedy & love. I had pages, notebooks & journals FULL of gold. I would doodle w/some of my writing. A few random drawings expressing how I felt at the time. But I never picked up drawing/painting as a habit. I wasn't very good at it & I didn't have the patience for it.
I was also heavy into photography. Admiring others' work, being intrigued by the art itself. To be able to capture a feeling into a photograph. An important moment in their time. Wow. My ninth grade science teacher had a darkroom & I spent countless hours developing pictures. I wanted a camera badly. I took many pictures w/my Polaroid & that other device that would print pictures on stickers (help me out here). Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to be a photographer for a living but that it would definitely be a hobby of mine & a special part in my life.
My senior year of high-school, I met the "love of my life" & he destroyed so many of my dreams. I remember we got in a HUGE fight & he BURNED my work. All my tales, my words. Perished. I remember watching the flames rise & as soon as I felt tears coming down my face, I instantly came at peace w/that part of my life dying. I didn't want to write anymore. For what? Foolish of me. That's what I allowed him to convince me to think. That it was a waste of time. Even w/photography. He'd ridicule me for looking through my albums. He tried though. Bought me a few cameras & my own little set to print my own pictures. Then he'd take them away on one of my "not acting right" moments & give it back when he was ready to make up (everything at his convenience). I would be happy again 'cause you know how that tainted love works. Little did I know that everything in the memory card was deleted.
One thing he didn't destroy were my scrapbooks. I got very crafty w/this picture stuff. [Also w/cards (in order to avoid his wrath, I'd finish a anytime/birthday/thank you card & give them away)]. But I wouldn't show it off. I would finish a scrapbook then put it in the shelf. I just didn't want to hear him chuckling. Asking me why I'm reminiscing on such things. "Are you not happy now? What's wrong now?" It was very scary to get back into this. I'm still not completely back to be honest. I mean. I used to let others read my work & loved their criticism. Would be so proud of my pictures. Now though? You won't catch me sending anyone anything. I have a lot of my vision on a few websites but no promo here. I go to it on my own. I write here, sure. But half of it is fantasy & half of it is my life. A lot of it is so close in similarity that unless you ask, you'd think it was all non-fiction. My other writing is actually on paper. I'm proud of it. But very intimidated to share it. I don't trust people w/that. Same w/my photo albums. I TRY to share. But if for one second I feel they are thinking negative or will tell "a joke" I put everything away. Won't share. I allowed one person to change me completely & I'm still gathering the pieces. Why would I allow someone else to tear me down again? It's just. Fear. It's become a fear of mine.
So. What do I want to be when I grow up? I don't know. I have choices. Always have. But I must figure it out. The revolution in my head wants out & needs to bring the insanity back in.
