Take Your Skin Off
I love to dance in the worst way.
I dance in my room, in professional classes, and pretty much anywhere I can find a beat. And I love my school dances. Well, kinda. I enjoy it while I’m there, acting a fool and sweating up a storm, but something kind of dies in me at the end.
It’s like being on drugs. It feels like light and life when you’re flying high, but the landing can be a little rough. When I dance, I don’t care. I just move. I don’t think about how I look and I laugh at the girls being man-handled by boys who think they got swag. In that moment I don’t need or want a boy, because I don’t really care. Nothing matters. Not even me. Just the moving and just the music.
But every free bird’s gotta land, right? And it’s on my way down that I realize people were watching and whatever it is they think they saw wasn’t appealing. It’s not that I want some pubescent punk’s paws on me, but hey, wouldn’t it be nice if someone wanted to?
It sounds stupid even as I write it, but I think a lot of girls feel the same. In English class we talked about letting go and taking risks. We came to the conclusion that it’s all about what people perceive as authentic and how you feel about your audience. People have all sorts of ways of putting us in the box labeled “authentic”. But the problem is that people often confuse “authentic” with “normal”. Authentic is being who you are, unadulterated. Normal is what the general public and your peers perceive as the most likely of traits and reactions. By expecting people to be both authentic and normal, it’s almost impossible not to expect a lie somewhere. In order to fit the definition, some things must be rearranged.
I hate that. Why can’t I just dance whenever I feel like it? Is it wrong to be happy, to be in love with the music? Why can’t I dance without inhibition?
Because people judgmental by nature. And maybe I’m intimidating or insane-looking, but what does it matter to you? You don’t even know me. And you sure as hell don’t seem to want to. So what’s the problem?
Let me take my skin off. The animal needs to play.
WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?|
Somewhere hot and maybe a little wet, too. Some place spicy. Morocco? Or maybe Greece? Itlay? Or the Middle East. Some place like that.
It’s Business Time, Baby
Okay. So, clearly I’m not exactly the most frequent blogger. I’m hoping to change this quite soon. In order to do that, I think I should give you a little heads-up about who I am. Or who I’d like to be. Whatever.
I’m India Rae, a student at a really posh boarding school in the anals of America. I don’t pay for school, because I’m not rich. So, I guess I’m pretty lucky. I can’t tell you the name of my school, because I might say something embarrassing and then…well then I wouldn’t be so lucky.
I think I confuse a lot of people. One, because I go to boarding school and enjoy it. Two, because I’m black and I go to boarding school. Contrary to popular belief, people do not send their children to boarding schools because the kid is unruly and they can’t control them. Boarding schools don’t want those kids, at least not the boarding schools I know. Sure, you get bad eggs. But for the most part we’re all their to do two things: learn and get ahead.
I’ll be frank with you: my aspirations in life aren’t exactly safe, secure, or smart. I love entertainment, art, and words. Acting, writing, and directing are big passions of mine. It’s almost stupid really, considering the people who go hungry trying to “make it”. I should know. Growing up in Los Angeles you meet plenty waiter/actor/models. People often poke fun at the “Hollywood mentality”, claiming that everyone in LA has a script or two in the works or is really just temping til they get their big break. But so what? They make it sound like a bad thing. You can’t help creativity. When you feel it, you live it. It pumps through your veins like red hot sunshine. And sometimes it burns you up inside so that you can’t even think. It’s not you anymore, it’s this flaming thing inside you pinning and penning itself to a page or stage and using your body to do it.
I guess that sound silly, stupid. But it’s my reality. And that’s why I’m at this school. Opportunity in fiction and stage and screen is so rare, the good ones anyway. But this school? It has opportunity written in big red letters all over it. I never would have been interested in directing if not for this place.
So yes, my plans are not exactly stable, but I am planning which is more than I can say for a lot aspiring artists. But that’s enough business for now, I think. You get the gist of who I am, what this blog is about. And a gist is all you’ll get.
What fun would it be if I just told you everything?
Figure it out.
It is good taste, and good taste alone, that possesses the power to sterilize and is always the first handicap to any creative functioning.
Oh, no. Another blog.
I made this at two in the morning, in the throes of back-to-school anxiety.
Do not expect too much.
I might write more about myself tomorrow. Or might sleep too late and then go to a movie. Seeing as how we’ve never met and I’m not so sure you’re listening…well, let’s just say I’m not really inclined to save the date.