Leya 99 #3 | my kind of freedom

a raw piece about the experience of 1999

I hate to admit Stan was right. I like this internet thing and here I am again writing another article. It’s like I always have something to say, something to think about. I do. That’s why he suggested making a website for me. Stan is still responsible for the design. All I do is write, like it’s nothing, but he’s happy I do. It gives him the chance to explore the internet and he gives me the chance to explore the freedom of writing.

image by Verawaty

It still feels weird to write and publish on screen. Not knowing whether people will read it. Stan is still figuring out how to discover the amount of readers and visitors of his, or our, website. Somehow I don’t want to know. The thought of people reading my words does scare me. It’s the same feeling I experienced for my dance shows. I enjoy dancing, I enjoy performing, but I was always afraid the audience wouldn’t show up. That never happened. It was just a thought in my mind. 

Living the luxury of freedom

So when there actually was an audience, I wondered what they would think of the performance. Would it be enough? It was always enough. But will my words be enough? According to me it never will be, but it should be for me. When I finish an article, or a blogpost, I decide that’s how I finish it. 

That’s one of the concepts of the freedom of writing. Deciding what to write about, deciding how to write about it and deciding when you’ve written enough about the subject you have in mind. Do I have a subject in mind right now?

Yes, the freedom of writing. The freedom of living. Freedom. A lot of people exist living like this. Living the freedom of art. It sounds like a dream, but it isn’t. Most of them don’t live in luxury with fancy cars and houses, but most of them don’t live with the obligation of mortgages, contracts, employers and daily traffic jams. 

The first steps while running

This year I made a few steps in my own world of freedom. Taking a job as a gogo dancer to dance in the main clubs of Utrecht. Finding a room in the city where I can sleep after my nights dancing. My rent is low and easy to afford with my student loan and my work as a dancer and bar shifts in the clubs. Now I have this writing gig for which Stan pays me per article of 500 words. It’s great, it’s lovely, and still I know I am captivated by my choices of all this party and freedom. Realizing I am running from my real thoughts, emotions and doubts of my existence. Not knowing who I am or where I am from.

Survive the silent questions

Thoughts and questions that should remain silent and unspoken. So to keep those questions in my safe place, I will continue this life. Let me dance, live my life in the greatest clubs of this decade and escape from what I don’t know. As long as I find a way to live my kind of freedom, I will find a way to make those questions alive in a safe way one day. They will be told when the time is right. That time is not in 1999. First we have to survive the party of Y2K and after that who knows where I’ll be if the world doesn't end. Tomorrow this post will be online and next year my readers will be questioning my questions. What is she talking about? Who is she? Who is Leya? Let’s find out together, shall we.