Some days I think -- stop the world, I want to get off!
Except I don't, and I'd probably be bored.
My life in Cambodia has descended down the rabbit hole, and down there is a Wonderland -- but I do not mean in the sense of Disneyland. I mean, in the words of Alice herself, "Curiouser and curiouser." Things move in waves here, separated by periods of still water, but when they come they come like tsunamis.
This is abstract, because as usual I don't have the words to begin, wouldn't even know where to begin. I rarely write on this blog exactly what I'm doing or working on, and the backstory alone would take me longer than I care to spend. Writing is stupid anyway when life is so full, but with the waves of Wonderland literally driving me to distraction, I'll give it a go.
I'll try to put it as simply as possible: Somehow, some weeks ago, the world of fashion/film/glitz and glamour in Cambodia decided to notice I exist.
I couldn't say why and I'm not even going to pretend I had anything to do with it. A meeting here, a recommendation there, the collective unconscious suddenly getting the idea at the same time and transmitting it to several different people.
It's not substantial right now -- a few discussion, a few requests, a shoot here, the waffling possibility of a commercial and a movie dancing in the background. In fact, I'm quite convinced I shouldn't even be talking about it, because tomorrow everyone might get distracted by the next set of pretty lights and all these doors will slam, and I'll quietly go back about my business. If people say "you'll be famous," my first instinct is to be skeptical. Promises and prophecies are nothing until life makes them real, and only then.
Of course it's not just that, because that alone would be enough to deal with. CTN has opened another door for me which leads into a whole other house (I don't know what to say about that except that it involves branding my team and building it into "something"), and in the meantime I'm still attempting to pretend I'm a professional choreographer and trying to build something that looks like career in that regard.
It means -- to use yet another metaphor -- that I seem to be carrying three separate trees, all of which are growing like time-lapse videos and branching off in a million directions, while I am the gardener trying to water them, choose which branches to cut and which to keep, which to follow.
Enough metaphors -- but in the end they're the best I can do. To return to Wonderland, I find myself in a world somewhere beyond the looking glass where things are curious and lovely, mad and uncertain, and I'm not sure at all what of it really exists when the dreams all fade.
I suppose I'll just have to follow the White Rabbit to find out.
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