Believe you me...

Oh the stories I could tell you; the scandal, the gossip, the lives. The random nights that became epic and the outfits that made us legendary. I seem to live by the phrase, "it's the flash flashy eyes that make it worth while." It would be Mercy Mercedes who wrote my mantra. The scene is predictably unpredictable and through some tears I just can't get enough of it's poison. "You are the taste of something sweet and I'm tangled in the sheets." I would be All Time Low that makes sense this morning. The kind of love I know doesn't adhere to the quote at the bottom of my page; "Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. -Aristotle" ...Maybe of a single song inflating two hearts. Or a single glance burning two memories. The love I know is acceptably temporary, "because attention's like a fire." Fires don't last so much as they are brilliant mid-life. I see great things in the ashes; things I cannot touch, but can still feel the warmth of.

The mornings after always seem to house themselves in ballet class, a realization that brings a nauseous smile to my face. Somebody needs to re-invent the word 'bittersweet' because dance just emanates above and beyond it's current definition. Dance is a different kind of love: "Dedication takes a lifetime, but dreams only last for a night." Dance is my life, these boys with guitars are my nights.

Taylor Swift said in her AMCA acceptance speech that if she's spent more than 5 minutes with you, she's written a song about you. Well...if I've spent more than an evening with you, I've loved you. Such a sleeve-worn heart, so complicated in its simplicity.

When I was a toddler I firmly believed my name was Cindy. So much so in fact, that my poor mother was questioned by a Toys 'R Us security guard on the terms of abduction since she was trying to hush an Erica and I was screaming and crying that my name was Cindy. What an imaginative little monster. Now they call me Ricky, and I think that's just another one of my many outfits that I like to parade around in. My life is like one fabulous game of dress up and I really don't mind that one bit.

I like catching the music in people; one dancer in a room of 18 taps her fingers to the beat. I disagree with the way our dance teachers are asking for energy within the music- they're wanting us to give it the way they hear it, rather than accepting an alternate interpretation. That's not art, it's mimicking. They are not people I'd like to see us mimick. And who wants to be copied? I read the cover of All Time Low's So Wrong It's Right album and at the bottom in slight lettering it assertively states, "Unauthorized duplicators will have their homes burned to the ground by the band." I laughed out loud in the middle of dance class and got a sharp look from the instructor. Maybe he just needs to get over his life and have a night.

"So Wrong It's Right"- what an excellent statement. My other relevant line is, "This scene ain't picture perfect, but picture this; a thousand photographs we'll miss." I probably don't know what is wrong and right anymore, not in the real world at least. But for me in mine, there can be right in the wrong and almost every wrong feels right. Temporary love. If I have spent more than one evening with you, I have loved you. I have loved your stupid taste in style, and your uneven haircut. I've loved your brutal honesty and the effort behind your 'cute smile.' I've loved how wrong it is to love all of you and how flammable I feel around us. "And that should be enough."

We are shameless. And you really should be jealous that we're young and in love. I lead a life of behind the scene acoustic versions and terribly cute lies. And I can honestly say that I am completely infected.


"Hips sway and lips lie,
like clockwork she's in control
of all the right guys and I'm still waiting!
Fitted hats and a car alarm,
her high tops with her favorite song,
she's showing off the way she walks.
It's on...."



...Ricky.
"Stay Awake" by All Time Low