Dancing Through Awkwardness: Thoughts on Being 26

My life up until now has been so defined by awkward moments, one of my friends jokes that I should have my own hashtag: Julie**** ‘sAwkwardLife. When she wanted to make a single girl at the bank feel better about her Valentine’s Day, she couldn’t even tell the full story of the one that awaited me, because she thought it would sound too exaggerated to be true. I have always been like the clumsy leading heroine in a tale, but where it feels far less endearing in real life.

 I used to let that fear of embarrassment constrict me, a coiled serpent wrapped around my neck. 

I used to be someone who stayed within the restrictions of the page, never allowing myself to spill out beyond the corners. 

Something transformed within me, like a chemical reaction of chutzpah, ablaze at the pit of my stomach, when it dawned on me I didn’t have to relegate myself to stepped-on wallflower anymore. I let go of the life I had thought I wanted for four years, and let myself timidly step off the pages at last, into a world of unseen discovery. 

I transitioned slowly. I remember the first time I kissed someone new. My thoughts were racing. I felt myself changing already, even with just one simple, physical moment of truly letting go. I had met him the day after the most difficult breakup of my life- when I ended not just a long-term relationship, but an emotionally abusive one, I had to learn to rebuild the essence of who I was; who I could be. I had to change. I had to adapt so I would never feel imprisoned inside the pages of a controlled life again.

When I first met up with a new boy after four years of being emotionally beaten with the sense that could never be a possibility, I borrowed a friend’s clothes. I wanted to feel brand new. Every item of clothing reminded me of the life I no longer wanted. I dove into recklessness. I invited this boy out to the bar where I used to go with my ex all the time, but this girl convinced me not to let that stop me from doing what I wanted. 

I had just finished saying, “Do you want to move away from the dance floor so we can talk some more?” when all of a sudden, there I see my ex entering with his friends, in a sea of plaid flannel. Of course the weekend after ending things, I would run into him while talking to my first new boy. Seconds after asking to leave the dance floor, I then awkwardly was forced to say, “Actually, let’s dance!” We ended up leaving in a hailstorm of regret. He wanted to kiss me that night, but I knew I wasn’t ready. When he finally did, all I could think was how strange it was to be brushing my lips against the unfamiliar. Like wading into a pool of confusing intrigue. 

When you live in Louisville, you run into people all the time. When I dated Mr. Darcy, he was perfect on paper, but the chemistry was palpably missing. I wanted both. I sought real emotion paired with undeniable passion. I also wanted the rush of breakup hair. In chopping off all those thick, spiral, endless curls, I was daring to become someone different. And I relished how it felt. 

The night after I attended one of my favorite foodie events for the first time,  just around this time last year, my emotionally abusive ex had posted a tirade, ranting, insulting, indirectly disparaging me to the internet world. Because as anyone who knows any kind of abuse knows, the abuser portrays themselves as the victim. You’re just the terrible person that one day gulped the necessary courage to leave. And never looked back. 

When he thought he could use his same tactics to shame me back into his submission, as infuriating as it was, it was the exact breaking moment I needed to block him from my life forever. And that was the match under the firecracker of my year that burgeoned into beautiful, wild, full-hearted abandon. 

When I went to New Orleans, I had not traveled on my own since before my nerve condition. I was ready to embrace every exciting challenge, every unknown discovery. It was a Jewish convention, in the middle of Purim and St. Patrick’s Day. When i was hesitant, retreating into my old pages of bashful reserve, my friend put it rather succinctly: “Julie. New Orleans on St. Patrick’s Day. And you’re legitimately questioning this, because…?!” I booked my plane ticket. I packed my bags for four days. I braved to explore two days before the convention even began. I flew to the city of scintillating jazz and decadent baked beignets, powdered and crumbling deliciousness. I met my adventurous match via a Hurricane, a NOLA drink that rivals any LIT.

In a Hurricane haze, I felt invincible. With jazz thumping in the background and the tropical alcohol shimmying down my throat, I could feel adventure like a kite escaping in my lungs and a sparking billowing in my heart. I felt like my most audacious self; a hotheaded daredevil. The kind of girl who could charm even the charismatic boy from California, with a Grammy’s t-shirt and coffee-colored hair falling like the shadow of a sunset over his face. I had laser-minded focus as I coyly peered through my fuchsia French Quarter-detailed mask; in my most James Bond lacy dress, I had never felt so ready to gamble with careless revelry. I sipped on my Hurricane at the Black and White Purim ball before we ventured down Bourbon Street. I thought to myself, “What Would Carrie Bradshaw Do?” I thought, “Remember that Carrie Underwood song.” I asked, “What’s your last name?” Little did I know that I was getting myself into the most embarrassing of Meet the Focker circumstances.

The way my life plays out, my wildest weekend to date would blossom into a fiery long distance romance, turned unexpectedly serious after I decided to brave traveling alone again. I thought to myself, “You will always wonder if you don’t visit him in LA.” On another weekend Jewish convention trip, this time to San Diego (and followed later with LA), I still remember after the beach, after the coconut rum, just wanting to feel brash, impassioned, and alive. When he said, “Julie, I think I love you,” I remember thinking back to the two times before boys had sprung the “L” word on me, all in the same chaotic mindset, taking me off guard with the whiplash switch from caress-turned-confession of love. 

Of course this boy’s mother would turn out to be a very specific kind of therapist… And I don’t mean the fun-loving, hilarious kind like Barbra Streisand in a film. This one-time-future-potential-mother-in-law was no Barbra. Let me tell you: There is nothing quite as emotionally scarring as watching your face react to a mortifying iPhone FaceTime while simultaneously enduring it. My face froze in a flustered grin, as if a clown had painted it on; a real-life Picasso. All I could stammer over and over: “It was so nice meeting your son!” I prepped for Thanksgiving. I thought, “What pie from the kitchen will redraft my story back to girl-next-door?” Dutch Caramel Apple, I decided.

Something miraculous happens when you survive dismay’s shrapnel flurry. Almost like a chagrin-induced-rejuvenation. There is nothing quite as freeing as knowing any embarrassing moment you face in the future is downhill from that point forward.

I ended my LA romance at the exact right moment, when the long distance fantasy turned into a reality with harsh lines in the clarifying daylight. I let go of California dreams, just in time to elude the most awkward would-have-been Thanksgiving of my life. My parents encouraged me to venture back into the (Jewish) dating field of prospective future husbands; preferably surgeons, if my mother would have her own fairy godmother Yenta at hand. “Are you really going to turn down free bourbon, Julie?” They know my kryptonite. I’m a Kentucky girl at heart- and I have grown to love me some bourbon. 

When I walked into the Evan Williams Bourbon Distillery in total retail therapy attire, as fate would have it, my path crossed for the second time with Sir Bourbon. The first time had been a year ago at the first Jewish bourbon tasting I had attended. I entered with Mr. Darcy, but when I was clearly just a social prop for status, I ended up chatting the entire time with this mystery boy who I never saw again. It was coincidentally my last date with Mr. Darcy. One year later, even with freshly straightened locks, Sir Bourbon instantly recognized me, and we reconnected after all that time later. He remembered every detail: writer, foodie, and of course the one that prevented him from calling me- that I was seemingly with Mr. Darcy at the time. “Let’s just say he took me home early one too many times,” I explained, impish and saucy. 

Sir Bourbon was to be a groomsman in the wedding my whole family was attending on Valentine’s Day a.k.a. my birthday. He proudly told his father: “She’s going to be at the wedding! *Independently* of me!!” I chose Sir Bourbon for his age. I thought, whiskey tastes better aged. Maybe men are the same. Maybe that was my problem with LA boy, who at the end of the day, proved to be no more than a Peter Pan with Wizard of Oz pizzazz; his grip on reality was all too loose, never making solid stance on the ground. 

"What do you want? What are your dreams?" "To work in a climate-controlled office, like you!" I began to sour on Sir Bourbon pretty quickly after that. I need someone who’s ambition and passion for life matches mine. Who complements my optimism and worldview. Three things to know about me, I said. I’m a feminist. I may be Jewish, but I have a love affair with bacon. And also, my guilty pleasure lies in knowing every Christmas carol classic. The feminism seemed to throw him the most.

I want someone who will kiss me like I’m walking in the middle of the streets of Paris, so full of fearlessness; raring to take on the next adventure. Someone who doesn’t expect me to know my order at a restaurant while we are still in the car, 15 minutes away. Someone bold; someone who savors; someone with fire. 

It might sound foolish, but there are those little moments that define perspective in the clearest of ways, and Sir Bourbon’s time with me expired when he sent me a picture of his favorite ice cream, the infantile rainbow concoction all too glaringly bright for a 33 year-old who would never be able to get over high school taunts. And half-eaten, no less, when it was supposedly purchased for me. 

I sent my tailored break-up text. I really did value the time we spent together. But no more could we continue. I wished him all the best. He responded by emailing me with “Re: ‘Sir Bourbon’” as the subject line. 

Cue awkward 26th Valentine Birthday wedding, with my whole family there, eager to see who the newest fallen conquest turned out to be. This time, the groomsman, who was the stepbrother of the groom, with his whole family in tow as well.

Thus, I made a plan to celebrate my birthday on my own terms the weekend before, with all of my favorite people, hair shining full-chestnut with my first Keratin treatment, and glam jewelry to feel as fierce as Beyonce. I had my dancing leather boots on, and I was ready to let loose.

But in the sitcom-that-is-my-life, in the middle of the dance floor at Nowhere, who should I glance out of the corner of my eye but my first ex’s best friend’s cousin. It’s like the first ant you see under a lovely picnic blanket. The one that lets you know that as soon as you lay eyes on that glinting exoskeleton, brief panic sets in: How many else to follow? I loudly exclaimed, FML! to my gorgeous posse, and promptly exited the dance party. On my way into the next room, who else should I see but my ex’s best friend; who I had not seen since the bitter breakup a year and a half ago. 

If there was ever time for an emergency drink, it was at that moment. In the midst of downing my emergency drink, all of a sudden, Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk” started blaring from the DJ’s speakers. If you know me at all, you know that that song is my ultimate jam. It’s everyone’s! I thought, “This is my birthday celebration.” I gritted my teeth. “This is the year you face your awkward moments.” From zero to hero, I jettisoned from awkward dad-dancing at a barbecue to provocative gypsy taking over the dance floor. The kind of dancing where you feel every guy’s eyes on you, and you don’t even care. UPTOWN FUNK YOU UP. 

Relishing the moment in stride, I high-kicked awkwardness in the face and shimmied right past it. So with that in mind, I carried some mini-Woodford Reserve (mailed courtesy from my friend specifically for wedding reinforcements) in my black and white polka dot Kate Spade purse to Awkward Valentine’s Day Birthday Wedding, preparing to become best friends for the evening with the first bartender in sight. 

One instant Sir Bourbon’s sister conversation (my mother asks, “Oh Julie, who’s that?” I of course just looked away with my Picasso smile, and she knew) and two wines in, I was committed to having a grand time at this wedding. I had my new formal black dress that hugs my chest in all the right places (much to my older brother’s dismay), my new gold Cinderella wedges, and Princess Diaries hair for the evening.

Lesson learned: When life launches plot twists in your path, dance the night away. (Preferably with a stellar drink in hand.)

While sitting with my whole family, Sir Bourbon actually had the courage to approach the table just to wish me a happy birthday. I admired his momentary flash of mettle. I smiled to my mom afterwards and said, “That is why I dated him.” When I thanked him in a text to say how much I appreciated the gallant kindness he demonstrated, he responded with the bumbling, “I’m just trying to be nice here,” etc. I muttered to my mom, “And *that* is why I broke up with him.” 

The band was playing all the greats. I shook off the topsy turvy sandstorm vibe of the evening with more white wine, moving my legs in shimmering gold hose to the front of the band, as I twisted to Tina Turner’s “Proud Mary.” My dad said, “Julie, you’re a better dancer when you’re drunk!” I was drunk with restored gusto, and never felt so sprightly at 26.

I knew in that moment that I was tackling my new year’s resolution to be graceful in spite of adversity; to be fully immersed in the moment instead of timidly escaping; to be the girl who sways with vivaciousness- and never lets anyone or anything take away from her desire to live with absolute resolve. 

26: You have been eventful. You have been a whirlwind. But I love you already.

story time, once in the 5th grade i was waiting after school by myself for my dad to show up in the car line and his car pulled up so i opened the door and got inside right? well there was this baby sitting in the carseat and i was like “dad whose baby is this” and

it wasn’t my dad

this man had the same car as my dad and i, a strange child, got inside uninvited and insulted his child

The Time I Fell Down a Volcano

(TL;DR version at the bottom, the very long full version of the story follows for  those who want all the details.)


I had to make a simple, yet crucial, choice: left or right?

To my left was part of the trail I thought I had been on before, but didn’t have any trail markers on it. To my right was part of the trail I didn’t remember going on, but that had multiple trail markers on it.

What do you do? The clock is ticking – you need to make a decision fast. Do you trust your instincts or believe what the trail tells you?

Keep reading

The one D&D session, our group decided to stay the night at an inn.  Our rogue places some traps at the door and everyone goes to sleep.

My character, the warrior of the group, decides she’s had enough of sleeping in armor and takes it off— deciding the group has traps at the door, there’s no windows, so they’re safe.  She also managed to take the bedroom room of the spot they booked after an intimidation check.

During the night, our DM has us make listen checks.  My character fails all of them.  She’s sleeping like a log.

Our cleric lands one and is woken up to the sight of “basically ninjas” (as our DM described them) in the main room where he slept.  He shouts for everyone else to wake up— everyone passes the listen check to do so… except my character.

The group rolls initiative and I have to keep rolling listen checks which I CRIT FAIL twice.  TWICE.

Finally my character is woken up (after about 5 turns).

Not bothering to throw on armor, I make a strength check and land an 18, kicking the door off its hinges.

There’s a ninja on the other side of the door ready to take down my character (who’s still basically in underwear).

I roll an intimidation check.

Nat 20.

I roll to confirm— another 20.

My character gives the biggest death glare at the ninja and yells “WHO WOKE ME UP??”

He pees himself and crumples to the floor, the other ninjas surrender.

My DM LOST it, she was laughing so hard.

anonymous asked:

How long did It take you to get into shape when you first started?

I was always a chubby kid. Look

It was cute then but then over my mcdonalds and candy induced high school years I turned into fat Buddha my sophmore year. 

I kinda lost some fat inbetween there from gym and got to this.. AND I WARN YOU THIS IS THE WORST PICTURE OF ME IN EXISTANCE

oh my god i’m really doing this

ok ok.. um After highschool I was tired of never having a girlfriend and was tired of my current image of just a big headed nobody bootleg john legend.. I wanted to look like a god. so within’ about a year I gain some muscle and got to

My extremely tight shirt phase.. anyways, after rigerous research and changing my diet and lifting sleeping and chugging protein as if the whole thing was a religion, over the course of 2 years I had gotten to

I wasn’t quite where I wanted to be, I wanted to be bigger. I was 190 then, and after one more year I had gotten to

Low some more fat but kept the muscle so my cheeks had sunken a bit. and a few months of bulking I turned into the Hulk

Yeah.. I wanted to dial it down a little I was over 200lbs here and 12% fat. I wanted to be a solid 200lbs and 8% so I started doin’ a bit more cardio and slowing down on heavy weights over the next few months working on my abs and such til

and now I’m down to

So in about 3 years of hard work and learning I got from nothing to a somewhat decent body shape and phisique, I still won’t stop until i’m perfect. 

#storytime…..I remember when I first ever started working out. There was this woman who was the same size as me doing lat pull downs in the corner of the gym. I was watching her and it seemed pretty straight forward at the time …so when she got up, I got on.
I held the bar in both hands, pulled down ..and the bar didn’t move an inch. I could have sworn the machine was broken. I waited until no one was watching and hung off the bar to see if my entire body weight would pull the bar down… and it didn’t. I walked away and waited until the girl came back and sure enough, she pulled that bar down with ease.
I felt so weak.
BUT. Instead of giving up, I tried again, this time on a lighter weight. The next time I did it a little heavy.. then a bit more and a little bit more each and every time.
I’ll never forget this lady’s face. 1 year later and she got on straight after me. I remember her reaching forward to adjust the weight and it was one above what she normally did. She looked confused but pulled down anyway. She did one rep, turn her around, looked and me and smiled as if to say “well done”. I smiled back and kept working out.
I was so proud of myself for not giving up and I was even happier that my hard work didn’t go unnoticed.
It may have taken 1 whole year but I got there.
Slow progress is still progress.
Keep trying and never give up because you never know who you might be inspiring.

It all started so innocently...a SwanQueen story

once upon a time I was on tumblr (shipping things like Downton Abbey and old hollywood actresses) when I started noticing things like this on my dash from people I followed…

After awhile, the level of sass could not be ignored. I had to know more about her.

so, I started with the pilot.

Oh ho. what a great show (see disbelief: am I really into a show about fairytales? oops.). I’m intrigued. 

Then I started to notice something…………

and by “notice” I mean I was hit over the head by it. Holy ship. These two women had enough chemistry to start a forest fire.

 Wait. Isn’t this a disney show?

Also may have become slightly obsessed with Regina Mills at this point. but i digress.

Re: SwanQueen. I must be crazy. this isn’t intentional sexual tension, right? 

so I took to social media….

and it turns out I was part of an extremely large fandom (i.e. people with eyes).

And also, found this:

Even the actresses acknowledge it.

Oh my God.

So basically, this is me ever since:

Yet another D&D story

Our group was on a ship owned by the swashbuckler in our group when we see an enemy ship in the distance— it’s the long-time rival and enemy of our swashbuckler.

We have some time to prepare before they are close enough to attack, so we start to make preparations and discuss strategy.

All of a sudden, our mage says “Wait.  I have an idea.”

She casts grease on the main deck of the ship and we wait.

When the enemy pirates start to swing over, they land on the grease.

Our DM grabs a fistful of dice to roll and see who keeps their balance.

The dice hit the table and there’s a pause as she stares at them.

"….Hang on a second, I’m gonna have to make some adjustments because of THESE GODDAMN DICE."

Only two guys made it— the rest fell into the sea.

She ended up making the enemy swashbuckler have a ton of high-level shit and a more powerful familiar to compensate because, goddammit, she “worked very hard and was excited about this fight and she wasn’t going to have it end in two turns because of a grease spell!”.


Now for Storytime with dashingicecream. Find out about a few things. SPOILER ALERT: Animals.


So, earlier today, I went to the thrift store and I found what may be the most amazing book ever.

Look at this shit. The title alone intrigued me. A grammar book for the doomed? Finally. I’ve been waiting to be marketed to for years.

But is this even really a grammar book?

Apparently so. But not only are the sentences majestic, but look at these pictures.

Holy shit, that is fantastic. And they’re all like that.

I’m thinking about cutting out and framing some of these pictures and their captions.

Best $1.50 I’ve ever spent.

^best picture

story time y'all

so basically the thing that happened was i had the most casual coming-out ever

to my friend, anyway.

we were talking about dating and i not-so-subtly said that “oh ye i don’t only like boys like what if i meet a cute girl and we cosplay as fem winchesters” (which, btw, is still on my bucket list, so, if there are any lonely lesbian/bi/pan girls out there…. hit me up.)

and he was like “wat?? i beg your pardon”

so i just said “sophia= bi”

he was super supportive and the moral of the story is friends are amazing and if someone ever, ever, evertries to tell you what you are and what your aren’t and/or treats you differently after coming out, ditch their ass and go find a cool bean.

now onto the parents as soon as i’m ready! 

Our DM always loved to give our group a chance item in every session— a rod of wonder, a deck of many things, etc.

In a playthrough with a rod of wonder, my fighter had it in her stuff when the group was fighting a gelatinous cube in the basement of a mansion.

She only had one arm free, so she couldn’t use her halberd to attack it and she could just reach her pack on the floor.

Now in-game, the rod had only produced good outcomes when used— so the group (in-game) thought it was a “good-things-happen” rod.  My character uses it and everyone cringes— my DM rolls.

My character is instantly teleported to the last major area the group was in… which happened to be upstairs in the ballroom.

The group freaks out for a moment, until my fighter runs downstairs shouting “I’m back!!”

Later, after the cube was defeated, the party runs upstairs to see a demigod attacking the guards.

My DM never planned on it being interacted with, knowing that even in-game the characters would know it was a death wish to fight it.

Our cleric grabs the rod of wonder and waves it at the demigod and my DM is like WHAT ARE YOU DOING THAT IS A DEMIGOD and the cleric’s player is like HE WOULD MAKE THE ASSUMPTION THAT THE ROD COULD DO SOMETHING.

She rolls to see what the rod does— it summons ANOTHER demigod (we had adjusted the rod’s powers to be more hilarious) and the two start duking it out.  My DM was so mad.


Множество прекрасных легенд передаются из поколения в поколение жителями волшебной страны Эквестрии. Безусловно, большая их часть связана со временем правления двух сестер-Аликорнов, Смиренной Луны и Светлой Селестии, но есть и такие, которые на сотни лет древнее самой первой, затронувшей век Принцесс.

Они повествуют о тех временах, когда Единорогам приходилось самостоятельно поднимать на небо луну и солнце, чередуя день и ночь, следуя составленным тремя племенами законом. Этот закон соблюдался веками, и святила сменяли друг-друга на небесах каждый день точно в один и тот же час. За этим тщательно следили четыре Единорога (Двое для Луны, Двое для Солнца), которых назначали на Общем Совете Племен.
Эту должность занимали они до конца своих дней, и звались с момента назначения Хранителями Времени. Пост Хранителя Времени считался очень почетным, но и очень ответственным. Наказание за отступление от правил было ужасным, и добровольцев считали полными безумцами. Но риск всегда был оправдан.

Звезды не вечны, как и все в мире Эквестрии. Они сгорают и падают, срываясь с головокружительной высоты вниз, оставляя за собой длинный шлейф сапфирового пламени, рассекая напополам темный холст ночного неба. Но даже когда одна звезда умирает, ее место занимает другая, и ночью они продолжают все так же освещать жителям Эквестрии путь.
Но легенды повествуют о тех временах, когда все звезды в небе внезапно потухли, и странствующим пони приходилось искать путь в темноте только при помощи света луны. Говорят, что тогда и появились ночные компасы, которые работали благодаря зачарованным Лунным камням.
Согласно легенде, звезды были потушены волей странствующего волшебника, который, разгневавшись на двух тщеславный Хранителей Времени, задержавших восход луны, заставил своим заклинанием сгореть все звезды на небе. Это заклинание было просто неслыханной мощи, такое не под силу и Аликорну. Сам маг исчез, и после этого о нем никто никогда не слышал. Многие были уверены, что этим пони был злой дух.
Так или иначе, но еще в истории до основания Эквестрии есть период, в котором описываются ночи Темной Поры, когда тьма окутывает все вокруг, а растения успевают завянуть всего за несколько часов без солнечного света. И этот период включает в себя почти четыреста лет. Именно оттуда до нас доносятся первые отголоски страшных историй, ведь тогда у пони и появился страх темноты.
Первая звезда зажглась только за двести лет до прихода Принцесс, и за сто лет до основания самой Эквестрии.
Когда принцесса Луна и принцесса Селестия взошли на пристол, ночное небо Эквестрии было холодным и темным, как пустой холст. Пони очень боялись ночи и не любили ее.
Тогда Принцесса Луна поднялась так высоко, как только ее могли поднять крылья Аликорна, и при помощи сложнейшего заклинания создала сверхновую Звезду, которая своим светом осветила все небо. Это была древняя и мощная магия, которой не пользовались уже несколько тысячелетий. В созданной звезде эта магия пробудилась, и засияла так ярко, как не светит и солнце. Небо вокруг нее раскололось, и из трещин пролился на темный холст ослепительный свет. Звезда, сиявшая на кончике рога Аликорна взмыла вверх и оказалась словно в центре огромного упала, окруженная слепящим светом. Луна использовала всю свою магию, окружив звезду светящейся сферой и отправив ее вертикальный полет.

Достигнув самой верхней точки купола, сфера застыла на месте, и Принцесса обратила свой рог в сторону луны. Она засияло так ярко, что пони, столпившееся внизу, чтобы посмотреть как творится история, были ослеплены ее светом. Никто так и не узнал, что случилось потом, но когда все снова смогли видеть, их глазам предстало удивительное зрелище. Небо над ними переливалось оттенками синего и фиолетового, словно грань гигантского сапфира. И по всему небосклону были разбросаны россыпи звезд, сияющих как драгоценные камни.
Самая яркая звезда горела рядом с огромной луной (кстати, такой огромной луны еще никто никогда не видел). Звезда эта была названа Остерой, и именно от нее были начерчены все известные ныне созвездия. Остера является самой древней Эквестрийской звездой.
Эта ночь была воспета в легендах, как Самая Светлая Ночь за всю историю мира, и после этого было создано несколько Звездных Культов.
Но звезды не вечны. И с этих пор, раз в несколько сотен лет Принцесса Луна исчезает на всю ночь, чтобы зажечь на небе новые звезды и снять с него умирающие, чтобы падая те не сожгли другие.

Возможно, это всего лишь легенда. И небо всегда было таким ярким, просто в какой-то период звезды стали чаще умирать, вот и все.
Или нет.
После изгнания Найтмэр Мун на луну звезды снова стали гаснуть…

Кстати, есть поверье, что Принцесса Луну до сих пор зажигает звезды раз в несколько веков, и если вам повезет увидеть ее за этим занятием, то может в следующую ночь она явится к вам во сне. Ну, или вы сможете загадать желание. Или это принесет вам удачу…Или завтра утром к вам в гости придет Пинкамина.
Хех, не стоит верить всяким там незнакомцам, да еще и странствующим с такими большими мешками, правда?

- Рисователь Табличек