every day it's as if i play a part.

today i cried.
i cried because i love music and dance and theater so much, and i teach it to kids who don't love it at all.
i cried because my students won't spit out their gum when i ask them nicely. or they pretend to spit it out but then keep chewing when they think i can't see.
i cried because i've never been so aware of my cultural identity.
my intolerance.
my failures. they keep happening.

so mom tells me that maybe i've been placed in this job not to teach me more about theater, but maybe because i need to learn some lessons. about relationships. because apparently, i have been habitually bad at relationships. funny. i've never considered myself an un-relatable person. in fact, in the past few years i have prided myself on being open-minded, accepting, and outgoing. i can't believe it can be so hard to learn tolerance. patience. absolute compassion. i'm not sure i'm capable. if i want to be capable...

so, ok.

i am not going to be sixteen and be all "shut up, you guys" when we talk about talent. i am mature enough to admit that i know i have some rocking potential in the music-dance-theater department, yet i am humble enough to admit that i am definitely not the best. however, all of my life i have felt different. like maybe i know how it feels to be an exceptional learner. except, instead of being slower than everyone else, i'm faster. and i seriously can't help it. can't say i'd choose it if i could do it all again. my brain thinks thinks thinks, all day. i analyze everything and sort out everything around me. name colors. count tiles. make shapes. and when it comes to the fine arts, well...to me, there is just no other way of life. i went to this arts academy when i was in 4-6th grade. i must have known what it felt like for a blind person to read braille for the first time. ohmygosh. this is learning. this is challenging. this is fun.

my teachers would give me a poem to recite and i'd memorize it, dress in costume, and perform it in a british accent. they'd tell me to write my vocabulary words in a sentence and i'd write them into a novel complete with full-page, full-color illustrations. my barbies didn't wear pink and go to the mall with ken. they were involved in theatrical productions with elaborate sets and costumes. bikes were horses. trees were mountains. my imaginary dog sat under my desk all day and i drew all the disney princesses nonstop.

i don't know any other way to be. i am an exceptional learner.
why does that change now that i'm a grown up? why can't i go above and beyond any more without being made fun of? all of that imagination and talent has settled into writing with lots of different colored dry-erase markers when i teach, color coding everything, matching my eyeshadow to my outfit, and singing in the car. i mean, except for the starlight show here and there, that's all that i have amounted to.

i feel like i've let myself down. i had so much more planned for myself than this.

call me a horrible person, but i just cannot accept that i have to lower my standards to fit into this monotonous society. why should i accept mumbled monologues and slouchy posture when i can imagine an orchestra of lights, key changes, kicklines, and character shoes? why do i have to put on black pants and a button down everyday when i'd far prefer scarves, jewels, slips, and tunics? why do i keep watching the days blend together when i could be living each one to the fullest?

makes me wonder if the lessons this job is teaching me are worth it. i've been waiting 25 years for life to begin.

i refuse to believe that this is what i have to settle for.