The Break Up I Never Got Over

I was 3 years old at our first introduction. I didn’t understand the relationship or the feelings that came along with it, but as I grew, the love grew. We lost touch when I was about 5, but we reunited once, again in the fourth grade when I joined the chorus. We were together until graduation. My only solace, sometimes, my only friend.
It was the stage, and when I was on it, it was the only time I felt truly at home. Nothing could tear me away from it. The rejection, discouragement, getting picked on, made fun of. Even when I gave up everything else, I had managed to hold on to that part of me.
I didn’t always think very much of myself throughout my school years, and even for a while after. I felt ugly, fat, gross, dirt, worthless, unattractive, stupid, the list goes on and on. Despite all of that, I kept getting on stage every chance I got. I auditioned for everything, hardly ever getting anything, but I kept trying. I was on the colour guard, I was in chorus, show choir, step team, gospel choir, whatever I could get into. I’d be at the school until all hours, and I loved it. As much as I was able to at the time, anyhow. Plus, it was better than being at home, attempting to please my mom’s husband by doing everything I can to keep my existence from him. I was not to be seen or heard. When I was the hatred was too much for me to bear, so it was easier to get lost in movies and TV shows until I could leave, again.
Despite my multiple involvements, I still didn’t fit in, but when it came to being on stage, nothing else really mattered. In high school, I discovered the joy of musical theater. Freshman year, I didn’t make it into the musical, but due to my fascination with it, I ended up at almost every rehearsal just watching. I felt comfortable and at home in the theater. I spent a lot of time there when I wasn’t at other activities. My sophomore year I made it into the chorus line of Bye Bye Birdie. I didn’t care who I played, as long as I was there and a part of it. It changed me, and my obsession with musical theater grew.
After high school, finding as stage wasn’t that easy anymore. Luckily, I was home alone a lot, and at least I was able to sing and practice and play around with songs without bothering anyone. Then it happened, I came across auditions for West Side Story in a South Florida newspaper, went for the audition and left with the role of Consuelo. It was the time of my life. Not only was I doing what I loved, but I was getting paid for it. Unlike my previous experiences, I made friends. Friends that I felt really enjoyed me for who I was then. I felt like this big mess, but to them I was more than fine the way I was. I was surrounded by the brilliant talents, who would compliment my talent. I always used to say that I had way more heart than I had talent, but for the first time, I doubted that. I felt talented, I felt likable, I felt like I actually fit. I was a part of all of the fun, as opposed to just hearing everyone talk about all the fun they had the day after. At the end of the show, I moved back to Georgia and they all threw me a going away karaoke party. It was such a cool feeling.
I moved in 2003, and I never really went back. That was the break up I never recovered from.
Sure, I did a Christmas show, at a church, here and there, sang in a few choirs, but that was more like dating guys that looked just like the guy you can’t get over, but they could never really be him. Something about it, just wasn’t the same.
It still hurts sometimes to not have that in my life, but I’m just not sure if it is something I can get back. I still dream about it, though. That God moment when the curtain goes up, and you are on your way. All the behind the scenes moments. The games you play, the lessons you learn from each other, there’s nothing about it I don’t like. Even the treacherous rehearsals, I enjoy every moment of it. For some reason, maybe a few different reasons, I gave up on myself all those years ago. I gave into the voices telling me to stop. The voices that told me time and time, again, that I shouldn’t be doing it with the way I look.
Fortunately, I have come a long way sense then. I’ve got my confidence back and those voices no longer hold the power. I’ve been working on a few plays this year with the church I attend to get my feet wet, again. I have found a few theater companies in my area. I may even get involved with the musical theater program at the college I am attending. Maybe I can get it back. It’s worth trying for. Apparently, I had what it takes back then (and I look pretty much the same, I guess), who says I don’t still have it. Just because I haven’t tapped into it doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Be Kind to One Another

Just saw this post and on this “You Know You Are From Fer-syth County if?” Facebook group. The only reason I even decided to check it out was due to the cute comments being posted by a family friend. I went on there expecting to see other people posting cute things about how Cumming used to be. I guess I didn’t even remember how Cumming used to be and how there are still many today that reject change and are stuck in really old thinking patterns. It saddens me that people still think this way. I guess it’s hard for me to understand prejudice thinking being born and raised in the melting pot of the world (South Florida) as a half hispanic/ half white little girl. In my world you loved everyone until they give you a reason not to. Race, shape, color, nationality, it only mattered to me as a part of who a person was and I was more anxious to learn about it, than quick to judge it. People’s differences have always intrigued me. I was that girl in school that didn’t have a clique, I intermingled with everyone, and enjoyed every moment of it. I had friends and boyfriends (if you use the term lightly) or every shape, color, ethnicity, etc. In the Cuban culture (which would be my dad’s side of the family) nationality and color are openly used as discriptives, often in the same sentence as hair color, height or eye color. Abuela was kind of bad at remembering names and keeping up with who was who, so my friends would have nicknames or descriptives that would help her keep up with who I was talking about over Cafe con Leche. I had heard certain family members make racist jokes, as much as I didn’t really like the jokes, I figured they were just jokes. I didn’t think people truly felt that way. Until I moved to Cumming for the first time in 1998. Even then, I could tell the culture was behind the rest of the world. I had “Backstreet Chica” (I was a total BSB nerd...haha) on the back of my car and was warned that the KKK could see that and would know that I was “non-white” and might do something to my car. I was advised to remove it. I can see the question marks popping up over my head as I look back on that moment. I was so confused. It was very hard for me to wrap my head around. Discrimination is something I have never understood, and have always been against. So when I see posts like this:

AL - when the entire county consisted of nothin but white people & blacks were scared to come into our neck of the woods.. **Those were the good ol days** ♥

Followed by these comments:

JE - I'm sorry, cause I know some are going to get me on this. But going to Wallie World now is like going to another country. I'm not sure if it's India or Mexico.

LT -  This is such a disgusting, disrespectful post. I don't believe the days when people were too ignorant to understand that they were no better than anyone else because of the color of their skin, were the 'good ole days'. I believe the 'good ole days' are those when everyone woke up and realized God created us all equal. Such a disgrace.

PB - GOD created us all equal and as brothers and sisters, no matter what race, color, etc.

D -  yeah, and just look at how wonderful our county is now that we have "woke up" we're all talking about how good everything was back then. It isn't a disgrace for her to post this. It is her opinion and I happen to agree and applaud her for having the gumption to put it on here. Yes, God has created us all and I am no better than another. we all have the right to say how we feel....even when it isn't "politically correct" Oh and we are not ignorant and our forefathers weren't either.

LT - Im sick of being politically correct....I agree with Ashley!!! It's still odd to see them in Walmart or anywhere else!!! I am glad we don't have section 8, or hoods, or a crime rate!

TB -  I agree with Ashley freedom of speech I was thinking it,. If you cant handle the posts maybe you should leave this group!!!

LT -  I was thinking it too....just ask the security guards at the outlet mall and who does most of the shoplifting!! I used to work there, and I know!

L -  Racism=Ignorance. God=Love. Period.

D -  I look around our county and see alot of trash where there used to be beautiful acres of woods, hayfields, and farms. I miss the way it used to be before everyone decided to move in on us and change our way of life.

L - Let's just see how much ya love em when they break into your car, or, carjack you, or worse!

E - totally agree with you D

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(I left all of the typos in)

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To this I say, your “good ol’ days” that you speak of are in the 1990’s, to the rest of the country it was in the 1950’s and 1960’s. 

Secondly, even back when you were “segregated” (mind you it was still in the late 1990’s when I first moved here and had to hide who I was) there was plenty of crime and drugs, all by the only race you allowed in your county. You may not have seen, but I did, it was there (and no I was not one of them)

Thirdly, Cumming does have section 8 housing. Do some research before you comment, and use spell check. If there is a red dotted line under it, just click on it and the correct spelling will appear. By the way, there are, also, neighborhoods, even back in the 90’s that even pizza men wouldn’t go to. Just because you’ve never seen it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. 

Number Four, I don’t give a crap about being politically correct, however I try do do what is morally and spiritually correct and hate is definitely not it. Hate is not a productive emotion, it only hurts the hater. The person being hated on doesn’t always care all that much. They never care as much as the person doing the hating. It’s wasted energy. 

There is something good about everyday. I know there are a lot of opportunities and blessings and wonderful friends and extended family that I would have missed out on had I discriminated. I thank God that I am wired the way that I am. I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

To all of you old school thinkers, I challenge you to embrace the changes that have been happening around you and give the newer residence in your county an open hearted, open-minded chance. Show them what true southern hospitality is. 

With that, I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite people, Ellen Degeneres.

“Be kind to one another.”