I am officially suffering from PMDD - post melodrama depression.
Speaking of melodrama, I have a fan. That's right, a loyal following (in real life, even!) - and it is the coolest thing in the world. It has been a number of years since I was on stage with screaming, adoring fans and it is good.to.be.back.
Okay, so there was no screaming this time.
But seriously, evidently there was a girl who was lucky enough to be in the audience for the melodrama performance (if you weren't, you really missed out and have to wait for the next one now) and who also decided that I was handsome (or at least cute, I was so taken aback at the story that I must have blocked part of it). You never know whose type you might be, right? Well this particular girl let it be known that she thought the beautiful southern belle (my melodrama love interest) was extremely lucky to be on stage with me and especially to kiss me. (gasp) Somebody pointed out that it wasn't a real kiss, that we were acting (killjoy), but that she could probably get a hug from me if she wanted...
Evidently she wanted, because after the last performance an adorable young lady timidly made her way through the crowd (the crowd was leaving, not huddling around me) to where I was. I had the inside information enough to know that someone would be looking for me, so I asked said young lady her name (to make sure I wasn't hugging random kids - I'm not that kind of creepy) and told her how cute she was. And then I got my hug. And it was fantastic. (did I mention the cuteness?) Totally thrilled me - and I hope it worked for her as well.
So that started the ol' blogging wheels a turnin'.... And why, you ask, do I always have to tie some theme, moral or summary into my posts? Because that's the difference between this and a diary. That and you're reading this... (somebody is actually reading this, right?)
For a lot of people, this is going to require a way-back machine. Youth is fantastic for this; growing-up - not so much.
Do you remember what it's like when somebody has a crush on you? I don't believe for a moment that you don't! It is such a lift - there is just that emotional high that comes from knowing another person cares about you, for whatever reason (unless it's really creepy - then that ain't right). Flattery, appreciation, ego- it goes way beyond any of that (so don't start!) if you recognize it as genuine. Especially if they care enough to tell you. (I hate that we lose that, I had no problem telling my kindergarten girlfriend that I loved her!) Of course I'm not talking about full-out love here or the baggage that seems to come with that, but that spinning of the head and heart just from knowing that they see the value in you.
And just as importantly (maybe more so), do you remember what it's like to have a crush on someone? I certainly hope that you do. (c'mon, you know you do) It is wonderful, exciting, scary, tingly, heart-healthy living. So full of possibilities! The rapture and jubilation (I was just in the melodrama, you know) at the thought that maybe they like you too, tinged with the panic that maybe they don't or, even worse, you will get ignored. THAT is feeling alive. (even when you're pretty sure it will kill you) Shoot, I can feel it just writing this post!
Now think about both of those combined and imagine what a better place our lives would be if we would allow ourselves to feel that way more and let the people who are the crushers/crushees know about it! Go ahead! You'll thank me later.
Oh, and if I haven't told you... I've got a crush on you.