Everyone has a story

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I decided to start a blog. This year I’ve discovered how passionate I am about creating content, and a blog is the perfect platform to share that content with others and inspire others as well. I could go on for ages, discussing my childhood years, but that isn’t my real story. I attribute the person I am today to all the mistakes I have made, that I have learn from and grown from. Growing up has made me realize what life should be about and what is just a waist of my time. So who am I exactly?

See that’s the thing. I want other people to see me as more than my typical description. If anyone ever reads my blog post, I challenge you to look at others with a much greater lense. Instead of magnifying certain parts, we must look at the whole picture.

We often look for parts that are aesthetically pleasing, but how often do we analyze things completely?

Not everything is going to be conventionally beautiful, but everything has meaning, everything and everyone has a purpose. Just because a person looks happy, doesn’t mean their lives are ‘perfect’ (which to begin with, ‘perfection’ is unachievable).  We often do not want to show how we are truly feeling because we are afraid of expressing our genuine, real selves. How else will we get the message across that it is OK to let another person in and share our experiences with other people, the positive ones and the negative ones? We just can’t live our lives trying to constantly  appeal to others. We must live ourselves appealing to our raw selves and embrace the parts of us we may have tried so desperately to hide.

I almost fell, but I don’t think I did

The first time I ever modeled, I was exactly 13 years old and it was an extremely nerve racking experience. I had absolutely no idea how to model, yet I was about to audition for a fashion show. I suppose I thought the opportunity was my calling, a chance for me to gain exposure and further my modeling interest at the time. I remember arriving at the rather small studio that day in a white t-shirt that no matter how hard I tried to pull it down still managed to expose a slither of my stomach, and jeans, having to demonstrate my “catwalk”. To say the least, it was a weird experience as I pranced across the floor, stopping awkwardly at times to pose with my hands on my hips, exposing my teeth which were covered by metallic braces (the colorful ones). I was relieved to get that part of the audition over with, and yes there was a camera filming all of the auditionees right where the judges had been sitting at the other end of the room. The best part was  when the director of the fashion show praised me for demonstrating utmost confidence and energy, despite my lack thereof. Needless to say my “catwalk” needed work and my mother had to pay seventy five dollars for me to travel an hour away for just 2 separate classes. The very first thing we did, and you guessed it, was watch ourselves on TV, then receive critique on our individual walks. My arms were flailing all over the place, I was posing at the wrong times, I seemed to be half thrusting my body while walking, but I nailed my facial expression obviously.The new walk that we had learned was hard for me to grasp my head around at first, and required three different poses at the end. However, it just took practice so I became accustomed to the walk quite quicklyA great deal of emphasis was placed on our hands not exceeding our hips, and just naturally swinging back and forth. However, being the  individual I am, whenever I walked, it was almost as if I had robot like or mechanical arms. There was nothing natural about that, and most of the feedback I received pertained to my “unnatural arm swing.” Having to practice in heels was a horrendous experience because I almost tumbled forward several times. I was so desperate to break the heels in, I would almost throw myself up the jagged stairs in order to practice getting used to wearing them. Let me make it clear, that I am NOT A PRO at all when it comes to wearing heels. And that my friends is why I am never ever auditioning for any fashion show again.



Just breathe-an internal monologue

We as human beings are often caught up in the frenzy that is life that we forget to breathe. Let me demonstrate what I mean to you using spoken words. Breathe in. Then breathe out. If you don’t feel better or somewhat relieved, then you are probably doing it wrong. And the really sad part is that we have become so accustomed to our crazy lives, we deprive ourselves of air. Air, the one thing we need more than anything else. I am pretty sure that for the last few years I have been breathing incorrectly and to tell you the truth, I hate not being able to breathe properly. It’s like I can’t even get myself to relax, even when the sole purpose of what I’m doing is TO RELAX. The craziest part is that I’m not always aware of my breathing, but then as soon as I am aware of it, then I have a full on panic attack. I think something is seriously wrong and then I’m not thinking about my breathing anymore. At least it used to be like that, now I guess i’m doing a better job being able to handle my difficulty breathing. So if you’re ever feeling overcome with sadness, happiness, anger, please just breath. And I don’t mean hyperventilation because then you might pass out. I just mean breathing in slowly and then breathing out, and letting that anxiety go. Let it soar till it reaches the clouds, and let your worries lay on them until they seep through the fluffiness and weightlessness of those clouds, and enter some alternative universe. Never forget to breathe or you’ll end up conducting google searches on how to breathe and why you can’t breathe. And let me tell you, WebMD does a really good job of listing every single possible cause. I’ve spent hours doing that and it’s mentally taxing. I could have been breathing instead.