I've been spending more time with the Dandelions this fall, an experience which often leaves me in a slightly awe-struck space, gently shaking my head in with a weird twisted up half-grin on my face, with one phrase going through my head, "What has become of my life?"
Lately, I have seen: two grown men playing dress-up with a matronly pair of glitter gowns, a man teaching the circle of fifths in his underwear, a man lifting another man in a wheelchair over his head. And lately, I have: sung the circle of descending fourths in arpeggiated scales, been top and bottom on a Balkan melody, wrestled until ten o'clock at night, and had several conversations over the course of 2 days about how to get a unicycle to a man who needs it immediately.
Not that I object to any of it, I just wonder where it all came from, and how it stemmed so naturally out of practicing pointing my toes for so many years.
I've been reflecting on that my life feels 10 steps ahead of me, as if it's taking its own direction, and I'm left struggling to keep up. I feel as if all of my choices are made by the course of events, and all I have to do is work. This is the circumstance of living that has gotten me to creating dance installations in an art gallery, pursuing teaching basic ballet to adults, and bonding with the program manager of a major foundation about the craziness of a day in arts administration.
For example, and then I'll close this entry, at 8pm last night I told a friend, "I'm not planning on doing any more of my own work anytime soon."
By 10pm life had told me differently, and I think more is coming.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
All I want to do
is practice things that are art-like. Such as take dance classes, sing, play music, move in a giant room all by myself, and sit around drinking coffee and ruminating about things I'd like to create. That's all I want to do.
That is why I am sitting at my office computer writing a blog and leaving that stack of emails and paperwork for later.
That is why I am sitting at my office computer writing a blog and leaving that stack of emails and paperwork for later.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
things that happened this weekend
I performed for a total of 12 hours in an installation as a part of CELLspace Open Studios... well... we took breaks, and we spent some time setting up, but STILL! I feel like a super woman! A very bruised and battered super woman, but all the same.
The week before the show, I wrote down stories that I didn't necessarily want to tell anyone... embarrassing moments and awkward social interactions (mostly about boys... gah). I then crumbled up the pieces of paper and put them in a big plastic pitcher. In my improv in my living exhibition area, I would occasionally knock over the pitcher accidentally on purpose and the paper would spill out on the floor. Embarrassing moments and awkward memories out in the world! I would stare at all the surprised art viewers in my vicinity (Did she mean to do that? Was that my fault?), scurry to the floor, and begin picking up the pieces of paper and shoving them back in the pitcher. Occasionally I would read one and look mortified.
My idea was that this was an inner motivating factor for movement and character development, and I didn't necessarily care that people knew what the papers meant. I had meant at some point to make up stories that related to my character, but I ran out of time. Oh well, I figured, they're not to be read anyway, so as long as the intention is there it will probably work.
This weekend, I learned: Do not write down anything and put it in an interactive art gallery if you do not want it read. The visual artists with their art on the walls kept asking me, "Can I take one?" "Is this a choose your own adventure?" "Can I take one NOW?" To which I responded, always, "NO!" (Dana heard me do this once and burst out laughing, because as one of my bestestes girlfriends she knew what the papers meant.) Then, when I was running sound for Dana's solo, I looked down from the sound booth to discover a group of girls going through the papers in the pitcher, reading them one by one. It was torturous. It was probably good for me.
So, in the spirit of this past weekend, here are those stories (save one that I'm really not prepared to share). They are all separate instances with different people and are represented here with no regard to chronological order. As I look through them... I realize they may not be that embarrassing. Perhaps even in writing them down I didn't reveal all of the memories I think of when I read them... ones that make them really actually a bit painful to think about.
After we'd stopped seeing each other, he told me that I was the weirdest/most artistic person he'd ever met. To which I'm pretty sure I responded with the incredibly creative, "Oh."
"Have you ever seen the backs of your knees?" I hadn't. I stood there for awhile, twisting backwards to see them in the mirror. They were awkwardly beautiful.
The best flirtatious conversation I ever had was the one in which a boy working at the corner market explained how to make peanut butter with a food processor.
I had a pantomime conversation on the train with an old Chinese woman who laughed with me when the train started and I stumbled. Together, we practiced how to hold on so that wouldn't happen.
We went for a walk in the rain and he told me he thought we'd be great together. I mumbled something about still being with but not really with my high school boyfriend who was visiting next week. Honestly, though, I'd was really in to him.
I got over my ex by having a relentless crush on a coworker much older than I. I wonder if he has any idea of the role he played in my love life. While I probably barely scrapped the surface of his consciousness, he played a huge part in my head.
I think the moment that cemented it was when the cab lurched and I grabbed his knee. Later, I read on the internet that that's one of the ways to tell that a girl is in to you: she grabs your leg. Oops.
The week before the show, I wrote down stories that I didn't necessarily want to tell anyone... embarrassing moments and awkward social interactions (mostly about boys... gah). I then crumbled up the pieces of paper and put them in a big plastic pitcher. In my improv in my living exhibition area, I would occasionally knock over the pitcher accidentally on purpose and the paper would spill out on the floor. Embarrassing moments and awkward memories out in the world! I would stare at all the surprised art viewers in my vicinity (Did she mean to do that? Was that my fault?), scurry to the floor, and begin picking up the pieces of paper and shoving them back in the pitcher. Occasionally I would read one and look mortified.
My idea was that this was an inner motivating factor for movement and character development, and I didn't necessarily care that people knew what the papers meant. I had meant at some point to make up stories that related to my character, but I ran out of time. Oh well, I figured, they're not to be read anyway, so as long as the intention is there it will probably work.
This weekend, I learned: Do not write down anything and put it in an interactive art gallery if you do not want it read. The visual artists with their art on the walls kept asking me, "Can I take one?" "Is this a choose your own adventure?" "Can I take one NOW?" To which I responded, always, "NO!" (Dana heard me do this once and burst out laughing, because as one of my bestestes girlfriends she knew what the papers meant.) Then, when I was running sound for Dana's solo, I looked down from the sound booth to discover a group of girls going through the papers in the pitcher, reading them one by one. It was torturous. It was probably good for me.
So, in the spirit of this past weekend, here are those stories (save one that I'm really not prepared to share). They are all separate instances with different people and are represented here with no regard to chronological order. As I look through them... I realize they may not be that embarrassing. Perhaps even in writing them down I didn't reveal all of the memories I think of when I read them... ones that make them really actually a bit painful to think about.
After we'd stopped seeing each other, he told me that I was the weirdest/most artistic person he'd ever met. To which I'm pretty sure I responded with the incredibly creative, "Oh."
"Have you ever seen the backs of your knees?" I hadn't. I stood there for awhile, twisting backwards to see them in the mirror. They were awkwardly beautiful.
The best flirtatious conversation I ever had was the one in which a boy working at the corner market explained how to make peanut butter with a food processor.
I had a pantomime conversation on the train with an old Chinese woman who laughed with me when the train started and I stumbled. Together, we practiced how to hold on so that wouldn't happen.
We went for a walk in the rain and he told me he thought we'd be great together. I mumbled something about still being with but not really with my high school boyfriend who was visiting next week. Honestly, though, I'd was really in to him.
I got over my ex by having a relentless crush on a coworker much older than I. I wonder if he has any idea of the role he played in my love life. While I probably barely scrapped the surface of his consciousness, he played a huge part in my head.
I think the moment that cemented it was when the cab lurched and I grabbed his knee. Later, I read on the internet that that's one of the ways to tell that a girl is in to you: she grabs your leg. Oops.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
the internet is a place for me to grumble
Things I currently CANNOT STAND!!!
a) the improper use of the "reply to all" function of email
b) the way I chew pens
c) the ratio of office work to dance work in my life
d) persistent and ineffective feelings of attraction
e) the itch for change, unaccompanied by the motivation to do anything
I'm trying to figure it all out.
a) the improper use of the "reply to all" function of email
b) the way I chew pens
c) the ratio of office work to dance work in my life
d) persistent and ineffective feelings of attraction
e) the itch for change, unaccompanied by the motivation to do anything
I'm trying to figure it all out.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
11pm and a bit of catharsis
Today, I had the pleasure of two cathartic experiences.
First: I went to El Torro and got a burrito with spicy salsa, and it was really spicy. At the end of my burrito I was sweating and my nose was running and there were napkins all over the table. It was, as my friend Dana noted, not much unlike the feeling of a really good cry.
Secondly, and later, I came home from a cafe where I go when I have work to do at night - where they have excellent chocolate chip cookies. There was a pair of scissors laying on my bed, an obvious signal that this was the moment to cut my hair.
I really like doing this myself. I don't care that it's uneven and choppy and funny looking at certain angles, there's just something to be said for picking up a pair of scissors and going at it.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
come, come
I love the performing, I really do, after all these years of stage fright. And I think that what I love most about it is the state it puts me in before, during, and after... there is this heightened sensitivity, an openness to beauty and possibility that exists, not down the line, but in the current state of things. In a totally honest new-aged Buddha way, it puts me fully in the present moment.
There is also the sense of creating something deeply meaningful, something that can touch and move others into new arenas of thought or understanding. Last night was that.
Here's to two more: Dandelion Dancetheater's MUTT - www.odcdance.org/buytickets
There is also the sense of creating something deeply meaningful, something that can touch and move others into new arenas of thought or understanding. Last night was that.
Here's to two more: Dandelion Dancetheater's MUTT - www.odcdance.org/buytickets
Thursday, September 17, 2009
moderate grumble, followed by a request
If I were to teach a completely useless class, it would be in email etiquette. Such as: I do not know you. We have never met. Why are you asking favors from me in such a familiar manner? The only other people I can think of who don't know me and ask favors of me are homeless people - and they are at least beseeching, or funny, they don't assume that because I have walked across their path they have a personal in to be familiar.
For those of you who may be reading this and who may know me, I'm performing this weekend with Dandelion Dancetheater at ODC Dance Commons. It's a heart-wrenching, thought-provoking piece. I do a dance, I sing a few notes, I say a few words.
Right now I'm too tired to say more.
For those of you who may be reading this and who may know me, I'm performing this weekend with Dandelion Dancetheater at ODC Dance Commons. It's a heart-wrenching, thought-provoking piece. I do a dance, I sing a few notes, I say a few words.
Right now I'm too tired to say more.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
3, 2, 1 (a, f, e)
Today I took the long way home. Hot days make for really pleasant nights to bike in, and since it was only 9pm I got to feel like I was going home early.
Once at home, I figured out a new way to carry my bike up the stairs. It involves hoisting it over my shoulder and charging the obstacle course of metal gate, door, flight of stairs, 'nother door head on. I saw the neighbor boy doing this with his bike and his entry way yesterday.
Then I took a walk around my neighborhood. I went up to the grocery mart two blocks away, but it was already closed, so I walked around the block, peaked in at the schedule of the Bikram Yoga studio, and ended up at a grocery mart a block and a half away from my place. There, I bought yogurt, bananas, chocolate chips, and these things called Zebra bars which, after enjoying far too many of them, I discovered that just one has far too much saturated fat in it.
I cooked a quick stir-fry in the kitchen and put it in three different tuber wear containers - meals for this weekend's rehearsal schedule.
I finished folding my laundry! If you know me and laundry, you know that this is a bit of a monumental occasion. I hate laundry. HATE HATE HATE HATE it. There are some tasks I avoid but actually kind of enjoy, like washing the dishes and sweeping the floor, but there is nothing about laundry that gets me excited to be productive about it. In order to make myself fold it, I have to pile it on top of my bed so that I have to deal with it before I fall asleep. Or sleep on top of it, which has happened.
I'm listening to some music to calm my mind and quiet the constant repetition of numbers and beats that this tonight's rehearsal has stirred inside me.
I LOVE DANCING.
I had a brief and impromptu talk with someone I admire much today, and he talked about feeling like he is in a transition time, about not knowing exactly what he's doing - and he talked as if that's the most natural thing in the world. He's totally right.
I want to dance much more than I am. There are certain ways I could do that:
1) Audition for places that rehearse regularly and a lot
2) Network and audition for and build up smaller projects until I'm doing a lot at once and am always busy
3) Create my own initiatives and reasons for dancing
Number 3 interests me a great deal, but I feel like it would be utterly cocky of myself to only invest in that. Who the hell am I to assume I know anything? And at my age!
Number 2 sounds absolutely exhausting and discombobulating. It's kind of what I'm doing, except I'd want to add more on top.
Number 1 is terrifying.
There's also the possibility of combination, if I'm going to get technical about it.
Once at home, I figured out a new way to carry my bike up the stairs. It involves hoisting it over my shoulder and charging the obstacle course of metal gate, door, flight of stairs, 'nother door head on. I saw the neighbor boy doing this with his bike and his entry way yesterday.
Then I took a walk around my neighborhood. I went up to the grocery mart two blocks away, but it was already closed, so I walked around the block, peaked in at the schedule of the Bikram Yoga studio, and ended up at a grocery mart a block and a half away from my place. There, I bought yogurt, bananas, chocolate chips, and these things called Zebra bars which, after enjoying far too many of them, I discovered that just one has far too much saturated fat in it.
I cooked a quick stir-fry in the kitchen and put it in three different tuber wear containers - meals for this weekend's rehearsal schedule.
I finished folding my laundry! If you know me and laundry, you know that this is a bit of a monumental occasion. I hate laundry. HATE HATE HATE HATE it. There are some tasks I avoid but actually kind of enjoy, like washing the dishes and sweeping the floor, but there is nothing about laundry that gets me excited to be productive about it. In order to make myself fold it, I have to pile it on top of my bed so that I have to deal with it before I fall asleep. Or sleep on top of it, which has happened.
I'm listening to some music to calm my mind and quiet the constant repetition of numbers and beats that this tonight's rehearsal has stirred inside me.
I LOVE DANCING.
I had a brief and impromptu talk with someone I admire much today, and he talked about feeling like he is in a transition time, about not knowing exactly what he's doing - and he talked as if that's the most natural thing in the world. He's totally right.
I want to dance much more than I am. There are certain ways I could do that:
1) Audition for places that rehearse regularly and a lot
2) Network and audition for and build up smaller projects until I'm doing a lot at once and am always busy
3) Create my own initiatives and reasons for dancing
Number 3 interests me a great deal, but I feel like it would be utterly cocky of myself to only invest in that. Who the hell am I to assume I know anything? And at my age!
Number 2 sounds absolutely exhausting and discombobulating. It's kind of what I'm doing, except I'd want to add more on top.
Number 1 is terrifying.
There's also the possibility of combination, if I'm going to get technical about it.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
complete chaos
I came home and my roommate had cleaned up quite a bit. On top of my foam roller, which I keep in the living room, he had placed some printed instructions, "MULTIPLE USES OF BIOFOAM ROLLERS," with subtitles, "SELF MYOFASCIAL RELEASE TECHNIQUES," "GENERAL TECHNIQUE," etc.
Organization.
Next to my door was my mail, a free CD sample, and a news article, "Inflammatory Statements Trip up 'Green Jobs' Adviser." I put it next to the news article he had given me that morning to read, "Firms Racing to End Texting and Driving."
I stumbled in to the bathroom, a little tipsy from one glass of wine. I was wearing a leotard, but only because I'd run out of clean underwear. "Dancing is a lifestyle" is something I say to people I meet like computer programmers who have no idea what I do. Apparently, a lifestyle in which I have collected a drawer full of leotards to wear when I run out of clean underwear.
There are things in my life which I question the meaning of. This drawer is not one of them.
I have fallen head over heals in love with the faults of those I admire.
Organization.
Next to my door was my mail, a free CD sample, and a news article, "Inflammatory Statements Trip up 'Green Jobs' Adviser." I put it next to the news article he had given me that morning to read, "Firms Racing to End Texting and Driving."
I stumbled in to the bathroom, a little tipsy from one glass of wine. I was wearing a leotard, but only because I'd run out of clean underwear. "Dancing is a lifestyle" is something I say to people I meet like computer programmers who have no idea what I do. Apparently, a lifestyle in which I have collected a drawer full of leotards to wear when I run out of clean underwear.
There are things in my life which I question the meaning of. This drawer is not one of them.
I have fallen head over heals in love with the faults of those I admire.
Friday, September 4, 2009
beanbags for your fingertips
I am still kind of searching.
I found a few things:
- the need to by physical, interspersed with the desire to investigate the meanings of things that are small and intricate
- the joy in being usefully productive
- the ability to ignore it all, for once
The trouble with ignoring it all is that it also feels a bit like not caring. However, I need to recognize that I have in fact done all that I am supposed to, and attempting to care past my capacity just ends up being unhealthy.
Perhaps.
Many thanks to my friends who have made this week mean more than just drudgery.
I found a few things:
- the need to by physical, interspersed with the desire to investigate the meanings of things that are small and intricate
- the joy in being usefully productive
- the ability to ignore it all, for once
The trouble with ignoring it all is that it also feels a bit like not caring. However, I need to recognize that I have in fact done all that I am supposed to, and attempting to care past my capacity just ends up being unhealthy.
Perhaps.
Many thanks to my friends who have made this week mean more than just drudgery.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
I've been working on my Teva Tan, but it's done nothing for my sense of accomplishment.
Sometimes, when I'm lonely, I read Craigslist's missed connections. These do nothing to stop me from being lonely, but in the amount of time I spend getting annoyed that most of them are written poorly and only a few clever enough to spark any dorkish sort of imaginative romance story, I get sleepy enough to konk out, and when I wake up in the morning I'm generally not lonely.
Sometimes, when there are too many unorganized thoughts going on in my brain to konk out, I just take three melatonin and wait about half an hour. Sometimes I read a book during that time.
I don't have any melatonin with me tonight!
I just finished reading a book and am too much drenched in the feeling of it to start another one. This was a FANTASTIC book. I have not read a book this good in a long time, a book that had me living with the characters for awhile. I cried three times during the course of this book! Oh, release, to feel and cry at something wholly imaginary and completely true.
Craigslist, Facebook, and Twitter are all boring.
Today, for a little bit, I began to feel actually excited at the prospect of getting back to a schedule of working hard. I started to appreciate what that means in my life, and the portions of myself that thrive under those conditions. But right now it is a little later in the day. The parts of me that produce enthusiasm have gotten tired, and I am back in the condition of overwhelmed, exhausted, and burnt.
How does one get back? I want to feel the wonder of things again, the belief that what I do has an impact, that I am able to be fully alive, that I live in a web of connectedness where things matter, if only for brief moments.
I feel stuck in an odd complex: I am doing exactly what I want, and yet it is all so much that I don't want any of it. I want to lay in bed for half the day, and yet if I stay here past 8am I feel guilty. I want to spend all morning drinking coffee and reading comics, but after 20 minutes I get antsy. I want to do yoga every morning, but it takes so damn long. All I want to do is relax, and I'm really really really bad at it.
How do I come to joyfully inhabit this life that has sprung up around me? Do I make goals and track their progress? Do I relax and enjoy the ride? Do I tell myself, I will work for so long today, and then after that I can eat a cookie? All three of these things have worked for me during various portions of my life. I have no idea what the hell is appropriate now.
Sometimes, when there are too many unorganized thoughts going on in my brain to konk out, I just take three melatonin and wait about half an hour. Sometimes I read a book during that time.
I don't have any melatonin with me tonight!
I just finished reading a book and am too much drenched in the feeling of it to start another one. This was a FANTASTIC book. I have not read a book this good in a long time, a book that had me living with the characters for awhile. I cried three times during the course of this book! Oh, release, to feel and cry at something wholly imaginary and completely true.
Craigslist, Facebook, and Twitter are all boring.
Today, for a little bit, I began to feel actually excited at the prospect of getting back to a schedule of working hard. I started to appreciate what that means in my life, and the portions of myself that thrive under those conditions. But right now it is a little later in the day. The parts of me that produce enthusiasm have gotten tired, and I am back in the condition of overwhelmed, exhausted, and burnt.
How does one get back? I want to feel the wonder of things again, the belief that what I do has an impact, that I am able to be fully alive, that I live in a web of connectedness where things matter, if only for brief moments.
I feel stuck in an odd complex: I am doing exactly what I want, and yet it is all so much that I don't want any of it. I want to lay in bed for half the day, and yet if I stay here past 8am I feel guilty. I want to spend all morning drinking coffee and reading comics, but after 20 minutes I get antsy. I want to do yoga every morning, but it takes so damn long. All I want to do is relax, and I'm really really really bad at it.
How do I come to joyfully inhabit this life that has sprung up around me? Do I make goals and track their progress? Do I relax and enjoy the ride? Do I tell myself, I will work for so long today, and then after that I can eat a cookie? All three of these things have worked for me during various portions of my life. I have no idea what the hell is appropriate now.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
stab in the dark
I would like to post on the internet that today I went swimming for the first of what I hope will be a good jaunt of consistent cross-training. I went to the Embarcadero YMCA, which has a nice hot tub right next to the swimming pool.
I think it will be hard to make myself go consistently, but I am hoping that by posting on the internet that my body feels amazing and alive and physically tired but not banged about that I will remember why I think I should go swimming.
OK.
I think it will be hard to make myself go consistently, but I am hoping that by posting on the internet that my body feels amazing and alive and physically tired but not banged about that I will remember why I think I should go swimming.
OK.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
today
I ate a brownie for breakfast (along with coffee and vitamins)
I emailed for awhile
I didn't want to go anywhere, but I made myself go to dance class
I was completely, wonderfully exhausted, thank god
I bought a latte in the smallest cafe ever, and stopped in but didn't see my friend at the hair salon
I sent one long, serious email
I wrote a press release
I organized grant materials
I got a promotion
Things are not any slower than they have been, but they will be different
I emailed for awhile
I didn't want to go anywhere, but I made myself go to dance class
I was completely, wonderfully exhausted, thank god
I bought a latte in the smallest cafe ever, and stopped in but didn't see my friend at the hair salon
I sent one long, serious email
I wrote a press release
I organized grant materials
I got a promotion
Things are not any slower than they have been, but they will be different
Monday, August 3, 2009
fantastical
Eleven PM on the N Judah, I sat with my head against the window, half asleep. I closed my eyes, and startled myself alert, wondering where I was. I closed my eyes again and rested. I opened them again and a boy sitting lopsided in the sideways facing seats was blowing bubbles.
The couple in front of me batted them out of their faces. The man next to me was smirking. The bubbles grew thinner as they floated backwards in the train, getting sucked in to the ventilation system, popping in to a million tiny pieces of soap that fell on everyone's clothes.
The boy's bubble bottle ran out. He pulled a jug of water and another of dish soap out of his backpack and proceeded to pour, mix, and refill his bubble bottle. Right there on the N Judah.
He had tattoos on his arms, gauged ears, and was wearing a brass key on a neon pink cord around his neck.
How does this happen in real life? And how does it happen that it feels so fantastically odd and inspiring?
I once danced as part of a bubble fountain outside the De Young museum, which maybe others found just as wonderfully bizarre.
The couple in front of me batted them out of their faces. The man next to me was smirking. The bubbles grew thinner as they floated backwards in the train, getting sucked in to the ventilation system, popping in to a million tiny pieces of soap that fell on everyone's clothes.
The boy's bubble bottle ran out. He pulled a jug of water and another of dish soap out of his backpack and proceeded to pour, mix, and refill his bubble bottle. Right there on the N Judah.
He had tattoos on his arms, gauged ears, and was wearing a brass key on a neon pink cord around his neck.
How does this happen in real life? And how does it happen that it feels so fantastically odd and inspiring?
I once danced as part of a bubble fountain outside the De Young museum, which maybe others found just as wonderfully bizarre.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Getting Out of Dodge
Dear readers,
Not surprising based on my last post, but I got sick this past weekend. I spent all of yesterday in bed and just awoke this morning with a clear enough head to realize that there were old take-out soup containers all over my room, pens in my bed, work papers strewn across the floor, and I needed to pack for a flight for New York I'm getting on later today.
I've been trying for the past week to prep things with my job at the Conservatory and get things settled enough so that I can leave. Things are never prepped or settled to my liking, so my resort has been to do the best I can and then tell people, "I'm going out of town. I won't be able to respond to phone or email quickly." Hopefully they will be able to rely on what I have left them and their own resourcefulness.
It feels a bit like fleeing responsibility. Like if I were to cook a massive feast right now and then leave my roommate with all the dishes? Kind of like that, but this job is not my feast, I'm just paid to be responsible for some of it.
I love it, I do. My summers stress me out, I'm not going to lie. I get burnt out, I get a bit jaded, I get tired and I start to be annoyed by everybody. And, side-by-side with that, I see so many life changing experiences for so many young people. I see dancers' when they first meet Summer at an audition, I see them fall in love with her teaching, I see them arrive at our summer program scared and excited, I see their worlds open up, I see them make friends, I see them struggle, I see them learn, I see them cry when they leave, and often, many times, I get to see them come back. I would not be dancing right now if it were not for the Conservatory, and I believe wholeheartedly in the lessons that are taught here.
When I think of all that happens, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. But I am glad to be able to set it all aside for a week - this coming week I will be in New York City, assisting Dandelion Dancetheater during their performance run at Joyce SoHo, and performing a bit part with them. Performance debut in New York!
I wish I weren't recovering from this horrible bout of whatever that was, but there are always many things I wish for.
OK, I think I'm done with this diversion. I'm not yet packed completely, and the fridge company is annoyed with us. Time to straighten things out.
-J
Not surprising based on my last post, but I got sick this past weekend. I spent all of yesterday in bed and just awoke this morning with a clear enough head to realize that there were old take-out soup containers all over my room, pens in my bed, work papers strewn across the floor, and I needed to pack for a flight for New York I'm getting on later today.
I've been trying for the past week to prep things with my job at the Conservatory and get things settled enough so that I can leave. Things are never prepped or settled to my liking, so my resort has been to do the best I can and then tell people, "I'm going out of town. I won't be able to respond to phone or email quickly." Hopefully they will be able to rely on what I have left them and their own resourcefulness.
It feels a bit like fleeing responsibility. Like if I were to cook a massive feast right now and then leave my roommate with all the dishes? Kind of like that, but this job is not my feast, I'm just paid to be responsible for some of it.
I love it, I do. My summers stress me out, I'm not going to lie. I get burnt out, I get a bit jaded, I get tired and I start to be annoyed by everybody. And, side-by-side with that, I see so many life changing experiences for so many young people. I see dancers' when they first meet Summer at an audition, I see them fall in love with her teaching, I see them arrive at our summer program scared and excited, I see their worlds open up, I see them make friends, I see them struggle, I see them learn, I see them cry when they leave, and often, many times, I get to see them come back. I would not be dancing right now if it were not for the Conservatory, and I believe wholeheartedly in the lessons that are taught here.
When I think of all that happens, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. But I am glad to be able to set it all aside for a week - this coming week I will be in New York City, assisting Dandelion Dancetheater during their performance run at Joyce SoHo, and performing a bit part with them. Performance debut in New York!
I wish I weren't recovering from this horrible bout of whatever that was, but there are always many things I wish for.
OK, I think I'm done with this diversion. I'm not yet packed completely, and the fridge company is annoyed with us. Time to straighten things out.
-J
Saturday, July 4, 2009
thirty seconds to speak clearly
I am not quite sure of any points in all of this.
I was overly inspired by art this week. I am running a bit on empty. I've forgotten how to eat well, and have truly given in to a cookie addiction.
I drink quite a lot of coffee every day and have no plans of quitting.
It has felt more like work and less like art lately, although... I cannot complain, really, my life has too much wonder in it.
I don't know what a weekend is supposed to feel like. Socializing takes work, having fun is hard, and when I get home there is always more to do. I could make time to relax, this is like relaxing.
I was overly inspired by art this week. I am running a bit on empty. I've forgotten how to eat well, and have truly given in to a cookie addiction.
I drink quite a lot of coffee every day and have no plans of quitting.
It has felt more like work and less like art lately, although... I cannot complain, really, my life has too much wonder in it.
I don't know what a weekend is supposed to feel like. Socializing takes work, having fun is hard, and when I get home there is always more to do. I could make time to relax, this is like relaxing.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
fishy
Today I looked in my notebook and I saw this note to self:
I'm in charge of tuna fish sandwich.
That is true. I've got to remember that. I'll tell you more about it later.
I'm in charge of tuna fish sandwich.
That is true. I've got to remember that. I'll tell you more about it later.
Friday, June 26, 2009
unfinished sketch #1
These are things that are in my body.
Cartoon containers of leftovers.
Sensations caused by summer grass on my skin.
Ghosts of flying, made up while unconscious.
Organs.
Shit.
Some sort of fluid mass, which travels.
There is a little bit of everything I have eaten.
And everything I have felt.
And everyone I have know.
My first boyfriend, it's the feel of his hand.
My second, his smell.
The third, the weight of him.
These are in the container of myself, my body.
I discovered, recently, what happens when someone goes away.
There is a small burst.
A spreading of debris.
A heaviness and the resulting black matter consolidates.
Ashley, I found, was held midway between my heart and my gut.
Deep.
Bloody.
Real.
Cartoon containers of leftovers.
Sensations caused by summer grass on my skin.
Ghosts of flying, made up while unconscious.
Organs.
Shit.
Some sort of fluid mass, which travels.
There is a little bit of everything I have eaten.
And everything I have felt.
And everyone I have know.
My first boyfriend, it's the feel of his hand.
My second, his smell.
The third, the weight of him.
These are in the container of myself, my body.
I discovered, recently, what happens when someone goes away.
There is a small burst.
A spreading of debris.
A heaviness and the resulting black matter consolidates.
Ashley, I found, was held midway between my heart and my gut.
Deep.
Bloody.
Real.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
days of the week as they pass through my system
This is an actual conversation that I had today, around 8am:
"It's Tuesday."
"No... I think it's Wednesday."
"Wait... no... it's Tuesday."
"No... it's Wednesday. Yeah, um, it's Wednesday."
"Wednesday?!?!"
"Yes."
"What?!"
You can decide which half of that I was.
My back figgin' hurts. I've been taking Cunnningham classes, and all that tilting and shifting and curving is way more than my poor spine is used to. But it's super duper good for the body, I feel. I almost want to seek out Cunningham classes, but I don't know if anyone teaches them regularly in the Bay Area.
I'm on the edge of really really wanting something very specific, and that is scary. I don't know the last time I let myself want something specific. Wanting in a general sense is much easier, such as: I want to dance. There are multiple ways to fufill that, and it would be odd if I didn't find a way to do so. Wanting to dance for someone in particular though, that allows the person to say no. Or we don't have room. Or not now. There are as many ways to be denied something specific that there are to fufill something general.
I am on the edge of letting myself want, held back by the fear of what it would feel like to be denied.
I had a low-confidence day today. And I was tired.
"It's Tuesday."
"No... I think it's Wednesday."
"Wait... no... it's Tuesday."
"No... it's Wednesday. Yeah, um, it's Wednesday."
"Wednesday?!?!"
"Yes."
"What?!"
You can decide which half of that I was.
My back figgin' hurts. I've been taking Cunnningham classes, and all that tilting and shifting and curving is way more than my poor spine is used to. But it's super duper good for the body, I feel. I almost want to seek out Cunningham classes, but I don't know if anyone teaches them regularly in the Bay Area.
I'm on the edge of really really wanting something very specific, and that is scary. I don't know the last time I let myself want something specific. Wanting in a general sense is much easier, such as: I want to dance. There are multiple ways to fufill that, and it would be odd if I didn't find a way to do so. Wanting to dance for someone in particular though, that allows the person to say no. Or we don't have room. Or not now. There are as many ways to be denied something specific that there are to fufill something general.
I am on the edge of letting myself want, held back by the fear of what it would feel like to be denied.
I had a low-confidence day today. And I was tired.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
I am probably in SoMa, the Mission, or the Sunset. Guess! Guess!
I am not nearly cool enough to be in this cafe, and yet here I am, drinking all your ice water and inhaling a pastry.
These are things that I have wanted to write about lately:
- "These are things that are inside my body"
- "Memoirs of pre-show"
I'm tired, guys! The coffee stopped helping a couple of hours ago! And my to do list for next week just exploded! And I want to take more ballet classes! And I want to spend all day dancing! And I want to be there for you, and everyone else! And I just want to retreat into myself and realize where I am!
These are things that I have wanted to write about lately:
- "These are things that are inside my body"
- "Memoirs of pre-show"
I'm tired, guys! The coffee stopped helping a couple of hours ago! And my to do list for next week just exploded! And I want to take more ballet classes! And I want to spend all day dancing! And I want to be there for you, and everyone else! And I just want to retreat into myself and realize where I am!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
in the middle of the night (like a sleepwalker)
Just had to post that today, over email (because anything interesting that happens to me happens over email), somebody told me:
"Julia,
You are better than a valium!!!!! "
Now, that is something I have never been told before, but I suppose it is a compliment.
Now, that is something I have never been told before, but I suppose it is a compliment.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
let's make a circle
I put all my stuff in boxes, moved them 26 blocks directly eastward and up a flight of stairs, and then disassembled them all. This new room looks a lot like my old room. In fact, these are the same things in it that I have used since college or, in some cases, for as long as I can remember. The blankets on my double bed are for the twin bed I grew up with, and even though I read these books years ago I continue to schlep them around with me, move after move after move.
This move was precipitated by the motive: I want some sunlight to call my own. Really, that's all. My old landlord didn't believe me. "Come on, Julia! You knew the room didn't have a window when you moved in!" he said. Which is true. I had also never lived in a room without a window, and so I resolved to call it cozy and secluded and did so for 2 years. Now feeling that enough is enough, I have some natural light to call my own.
An amazing thing happened this morning. Despite the fog and general dreariness at 7am, after getting dressed I opened my blinds, and turned off the overhead light. Packed my bag through the gray light coming through, yes, my window.
I have come to accept the fact that anything within my price range will come with at least one quirk. The ones from my old place: no window, no closet, small space below ground. The most noticeable of this place: street noise, unusual flatmate, small space.
Small, well, I do live in San Francisco. We pay a lot for the atmosphere, I suppose, not how much space we can claim to shove full of stuff we can claim.
Street noise: I live in the hub of the Sunset District - on 9th Avenue in between Irving and Judah. The N Judah train goes by my window, so does a bus. So do many pedestrians, coming and going from the various cafes, restaurants, and bars all within half a block of where I am.
There are times in the past that I would see someone going in to an apartment on a busy street and dream about the romanticism of it, of having a private space in the middle of a public meeting ground. And here I am.
Also, my desk is under my window and I can look out at everyone and wonder about their lives. My flatmate says that when the brewery across the street was open you could wave at the people drinking on the second floor. (Much to what would be my father's disappointment, the brewery across the street is now closed.)
Quirk 2: unusual flatmate. A writer/artist/activist/athiest/vegetarian (fish ok), 40ish year-old man who I really enjoy being around. I don't think everyone would get along with this eccentric character, but I'm enjoying the San Franciscianity of him. My new living room is full of his art, books, and... well... other stuff. Books on food, books on graphic design, books on religion, books on travel - some of which he's written.
So, this is me now. Tonight I unpacked a few more boxes, pumped up my exercise ball, and drank wine out of my watter bottle. Tomorrow I'm moving my kitchen and the few remaining other things from my old place, then I will asses what if any dishes I need - maybe I'll buy a wine glass. Maybe I'll buy 2 wine glasses and plan for visitors!
This move was precipitated by the motive: I want some sunlight to call my own. Really, that's all. My old landlord didn't believe me. "Come on, Julia! You knew the room didn't have a window when you moved in!" he said. Which is true. I had also never lived in a room without a window, and so I resolved to call it cozy and secluded and did so for 2 years. Now feeling that enough is enough, I have some natural light to call my own.
An amazing thing happened this morning. Despite the fog and general dreariness at 7am, after getting dressed I opened my blinds, and turned off the overhead light. Packed my bag through the gray light coming through, yes, my window.
I have come to accept the fact that anything within my price range will come with at least one quirk. The ones from my old place: no window, no closet, small space below ground. The most noticeable of this place: street noise, unusual flatmate, small space.
Small, well, I do live in San Francisco. We pay a lot for the atmosphere, I suppose, not how much space we can claim to shove full of stuff we can claim.
Street noise: I live in the hub of the Sunset District - on 9th Avenue in between Irving and Judah. The N Judah train goes by my window, so does a bus. So do many pedestrians, coming and going from the various cafes, restaurants, and bars all within half a block of where I am.
There are times in the past that I would see someone going in to an apartment on a busy street and dream about the romanticism of it, of having a private space in the middle of a public meeting ground. And here I am.
Also, my desk is under my window and I can look out at everyone and wonder about their lives. My flatmate says that when the brewery across the street was open you could wave at the people drinking on the second floor. (Much to what would be my father's disappointment, the brewery across the street is now closed.)
Quirk 2: unusual flatmate. A writer/artist/activist/athiest/vegetarian (fish ok), 40ish year-old man who I really enjoy being around. I don't think everyone would get along with this eccentric character, but I'm enjoying the San Franciscianity of him. My new living room is full of his art, books, and... well... other stuff. Books on food, books on graphic design, books on religion, books on travel - some of which he's written.
So, this is me now. Tonight I unpacked a few more boxes, pumped up my exercise ball, and drank wine out of my watter bottle. Tomorrow I'm moving my kitchen and the few remaining other things from my old place, then I will asses what if any dishes I need - maybe I'll buy a wine glass. Maybe I'll buy 2 wine glasses and plan for visitors!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
time: compressed, shifted, shown
I could say, right now, honestly:
- I am happy with life
- I am uncertain
- I spend a good portion of my time dreaming
- I am often anxious, and just as often joyful
- I want many more things than I can have
- I am eternally grateful for what I have
- and for what I have had
Do you know, do you? How often I think of you? Memories are bittersweet washes. They stick in the fabric of my skin and muscle tissue and will forever. You did that to me, (I am grateful).
I have come to a point where I want to say, "I am an artist." And I feel the budding of such, I feel my experiences rising through the tissues that have been processing them for years, coming out as expressions, as ideas, as the desire to create.
I will always want to learn. I will never know anything, and I will always want to learn. But, as I get a little bit older, some things have grown. I have had more years on the planet, and I trust my body to understand the gravity of that. Of what it means to be alive on this planet. I trust my flesh, it knows how much that means.
I trust what will come out of seeking. I believe that I will never arrive.
- I am happy with life
- I am uncertain
- I spend a good portion of my time dreaming
- I am often anxious, and just as often joyful
- I want many more things than I can have
- I am eternally grateful for what I have
- and for what I have had
Do you know, do you? How often I think of you? Memories are bittersweet washes. They stick in the fabric of my skin and muscle tissue and will forever. You did that to me, (I am grateful).
I have come to a point where I want to say, "I am an artist." And I feel the budding of such, I feel my experiences rising through the tissues that have been processing them for years, coming out as expressions, as ideas, as the desire to create.
I will always want to learn. I will never know anything, and I will always want to learn. But, as I get a little bit older, some things have grown. I have had more years on the planet, and I trust my body to understand the gravity of that. Of what it means to be alive on this planet. I trust my flesh, it knows how much that means.
I trust what will come out of seeking. I believe that I will never arrive.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
unlike myself, i engage in yet another atypical version of events
Come on, sweetheart. You know what happens one hour from now. You know what happens 20 minutes from now. You know what that shift meant. Did you notice it? There's a point, past which, as you know yourself, you won't go back.
I have long stopped regretting anything, I tell myself. And it's true, I feel no regret. A little bit of disbelief, confusion, maybe shock, but no regret. The world is, as it always is, as it is. And here I am, in it.
It's funny how little I know after so much proximity.
Despite any appearances, this is on an entirely different subject than my last post.
I have long stopped regretting anything, I tell myself. And it's true, I feel no regret. A little bit of disbelief, confusion, maybe shock, but no regret. The world is, as it always is, as it is. And here I am, in it.
It's funny how little I know after so much proximity.
Despite any appearances, this is on an entirely different subject than my last post.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
wherein i find the definition of my favorite phrase, "in a little while"
In another version of myself: I am done. Past this. In this version, I'm barely scraping past the point where I've just accepted it. Acceptance can be dangerous. I wish I could stop accepting this one. I wish I insisted. I wish I'd be damned if I let myself. I wish I'd do anything but.
I have discovered that most things I can wait out two years:
- University of Utah Ballet Department: 2 years
- Living in a windowless room: 2 years
- The length of my 2 major relationships: about 2 years (give or take)
- Recovering from ACL surgery: luckily not more than 2 years
I wonder what I'll decide to change two years from now.
But what I was speaking of above, that hasn't changed. It just hasn't, and I've tried lots of things. It's been better, it's been worse, and maybe right now it's worse and so I just wish it would go away.
Over the next three weeks, I will be trying the same things all over again. And in addition, maybe: meditation?
I've been looking at new rooms to live in. I saw one Monday, one today, and have an appointment to see a third tomorrow. If the one I saw on Monday will take me, then I definitely want it. And if the one I saw today will take me, but the one I saw on Monday won't, then I could see myself happily living there (for at least 2 years). I don't know about the one tomorrow, but I hope that I can at least rank it and not rule it out.
It's funny how some things seem so hard until you decide to do them. And this relates to my previous post about how I am a PRO procrastinator. This evening I decided to wallow in the sadness of my two-year decision (it involves leaving roommates I love for a little sunlight) instead of being productive. What the crap, girl? Didn't you just write a blog about how you weren't going to do that?
Anyway, I digress, I ramble. Nice bit of email exchanging happened last night. And a PHONE call last Sunday, but it was not - officially - about anything other than collaborative art making and presenting. Apparently I am making an art piece because I have a crush on a boy, and not because I have an inner motivating need to be an artist. OH DEAR! This long-running crush is getting the best of me and, for better or worse, I am enjoying every minute of it. Perhaps in two years I will give up on it! Ahahaha, I crack myself up.
I have discovered that most things I can wait out two years:
- University of Utah Ballet Department: 2 years
- Living in a windowless room: 2 years
- The length of my 2 major relationships: about 2 years (give or take)
- Recovering from ACL surgery: luckily not more than 2 years
I wonder what I'll decide to change two years from now.
But what I was speaking of above, that hasn't changed. It just hasn't, and I've tried lots of things. It's been better, it's been worse, and maybe right now it's worse and so I just wish it would go away.
Over the next three weeks, I will be trying the same things all over again. And in addition, maybe: meditation?
I've been looking at new rooms to live in. I saw one Monday, one today, and have an appointment to see a third tomorrow. If the one I saw on Monday will take me, then I definitely want it. And if the one I saw today will take me, but the one I saw on Monday won't, then I could see myself happily living there (for at least 2 years). I don't know about the one tomorrow, but I hope that I can at least rank it and not rule it out.
It's funny how some things seem so hard until you decide to do them. And this relates to my previous post about how I am a PRO procrastinator. This evening I decided to wallow in the sadness of my two-year decision (it involves leaving roommates I love for a little sunlight) instead of being productive. What the crap, girl? Didn't you just write a blog about how you weren't going to do that?
Anyway, I digress, I ramble. Nice bit of email exchanging happened last night. And a PHONE call last Sunday, but it was not - officially - about anything other than collaborative art making and presenting. Apparently I am making an art piece because I have a crush on a boy, and not because I have an inner motivating need to be an artist. OH DEAR! This long-running crush is getting the best of me and, for better or worse, I am enjoying every minute of it. Perhaps in two years I will give up on it! Ahahaha, I crack myself up.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
sometimes i am a pro procrastinator
I performed in a completely new dance space yesterday, and it has left me feeling like I want more. I really really really want to go out dancing right now. But is it 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon, hardly appropriate.
The ankle is doing well. I'm anticipating being able to start jumping this week and am looking forward to it.
I can motivate myself for about 3 hours of work. After that I will do anything to avoid starting again, including considering biking somewhere I don't need to be to see if someone I don't know is there, starting 3 instant messaging conversations, thinking that in order to do anything I'm going to need at least one cookie, doing push ups and sit ups, and writing a blog.
I need to get better at self-motivating my work during the week so that my Sundays don't have to be completely set aside for my to-do list. How wonderful if I could be outside right now, guilt-free.
The ankle is doing well. I'm anticipating being able to start jumping this week and am looking forward to it.
I can motivate myself for about 3 hours of work. After that I will do anything to avoid starting again, including considering biking somewhere I don't need to be to see if someone I don't know is there, starting 3 instant messaging conversations, thinking that in order to do anything I'm going to need at least one cookie, doing push ups and sit ups, and writing a blog.
I need to get better at self-motivating my work during the week so that my Sundays don't have to be completely set aside for my to-do list. How wonderful if I could be outside right now, guilt-free.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
king of the horshradishes, came through the window, out the door, trapeez artist
I am interested in the moment of initiation. In the impulse that starts action.
Ok, I KNOW! Ok, Ok, fine, I know that EVERYOne talks about this, that it's something that, as a dancer, you kind of have to be interested in. But give me a break - 98% of the population is interested in "movies," and just because everyone is interested in initiation, doesn't mean that I don't have a genuine desire to think about, explore, and gain knowedge on what exactly it is that comes before momementum, movement, or just plain work.
Like tonight, I have been procrastinating for hours. And finally decided that I needed to sit down and do some work, and it feels like all I need to do to make that happen is to plug in my external drive and turn it on. An action which will then start me openning the file I need, clicking here, clicking there, and getting the job done.
What is it that kick starts the beginning? What is it that I have to get past?
Is it possible to procrastinate physical movement? (Yes! I know someone who does this. And also, like my old roommate who procrastinated for months and then wrote brilliant papers, she is actually quite brilliant when she moves.)
And I'm actually not interested in movies. I like movies, sure, I'll go out to the movies and enjoy myself and talk about them afterwards, but I am not intested in them. They don't make my eyes widen when I think about them, or my brain go into a slightly spacey but only because it's ever so engaged state.
Also, as my waitress at the Thai restaurant said a few weekends back, I am a dreamer. I think I've been day-dreaming too much.
Ok, I KNOW! Ok, Ok, fine, I know that EVERYOne talks about this, that it's something that, as a dancer, you kind of have to be interested in. But give me a break - 98% of the population is interested in "movies," and just because everyone is interested in initiation, doesn't mean that I don't have a genuine desire to think about, explore, and gain knowedge on what exactly it is that comes before momementum, movement, or just plain work.
Like tonight, I have been procrastinating for hours. And finally decided that I needed to sit down and do some work, and it feels like all I need to do to make that happen is to plug in my external drive and turn it on. An action which will then start me openning the file I need, clicking here, clicking there, and getting the job done.
What is it that kick starts the beginning? What is it that I have to get past?
Is it possible to procrastinate physical movement? (Yes! I know someone who does this. And also, like my old roommate who procrastinated for months and then wrote brilliant papers, she is actually quite brilliant when she moves.)
And I'm actually not interested in movies. I like movies, sure, I'll go out to the movies and enjoy myself and talk about them afterwards, but I am not intested in them. They don't make my eyes widen when I think about them, or my brain go into a slightly spacey but only because it's ever so engaged state.
Also, as my waitress at the Thai restaurant said a few weekends back, I am a dreamer. I think I've been day-dreaming too much.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
results of a manic brain, spurred on by coffee, chocolate, and joy
Ba da, ding, I'm performing on Saturday. Woo! The thing being that it's Alex Ketley's work which, since it encourages a good deal of personal investigation - to the point of changing the material - it's perfectly possible to do on a bum ankle. PLUS! The piece is funny. So I'm dancing on Saturday, and I get to be funny. Yay!
The ankle really is doing much better, though, and continues to feel better after each day of working it in class. I anticipate being fully up and running within a week or so.
Also, just becuase you now have a blackberry does not mean you should start writing run-on-sentance emails. There's really no need.
I want to read a book on Chinese medicine, because accupuncture is saving my life.
I think that's all. Time for my day to get its official start, I suppose.
The ankle really is doing much better, though, and continues to feel better after each day of working it in class. I anticipate being fully up and running within a week or so.
Also, just becuase you now have a blackberry does not mean you should start writing run-on-sentance emails. There's really no need.
I want to read a book on Chinese medicine, because accupuncture is saving my life.
I think that's all. Time for my day to get its official start, I suppose.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
notes from the unabashed middle ground
I felt like I should post a few highlights of conversation from an out-of-character weekend.
First off, on Friday night my friends and I went to the Red Devil Lounge on Polk St. to celebrate our friend's birthday. I'd never been there, but when I walked in the door someone came up to me and said, "Is your name Julia by chance?"
Why yes, yes, you are correct. We had grown up dancing together and are now both out in San Francisco. Fancy that.
Then, when high-tailing it to the bus stop after wards, I passed a couple of skinny jeaned, black t-shirt wearing hipsters, and one said to the other, "No, man! We came to San Francisco for a reason!" Which struck me as disastrously funny. Oh really? I'd be intrigued to learn what that is, because all I see you guys doing is loitering around the Mission in funny clothes and getting in my way on fixed gear bikes.
Perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh. Perhaps if I got to know a hipster, I would really enjoy him. And I actually think they're more my crowd than the crowd at the Marina club last night. Although that whole evening was disastrously funny as well - all I can say is that ballroom dancing engineers are sweet people, high rollers, and HOT on the dance floor.
First off, on Friday night my friends and I went to the Red Devil Lounge on Polk St. to celebrate our friend's birthday. I'd never been there, but when I walked in the door someone came up to me and said, "Is your name Julia by chance?"
Why yes, yes, you are correct. We had grown up dancing together and are now both out in San Francisco. Fancy that.
Then, when high-tailing it to the bus stop after wards, I passed a couple of skinny jeaned, black t-shirt wearing hipsters, and one said to the other, "No, man! We came to San Francisco for a reason!" Which struck me as disastrously funny. Oh really? I'd be intrigued to learn what that is, because all I see you guys doing is loitering around the Mission in funny clothes and getting in my way on fixed gear bikes.
Perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh. Perhaps if I got to know a hipster, I would really enjoy him. And I actually think they're more my crowd than the crowd at the Marina club last night. Although that whole evening was disastrously funny as well - all I can say is that ballroom dancing engineers are sweet people, high rollers, and HOT on the dance floor.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
in a little while, take 2
Apparently all my writing has digressed to list-making. Oh well. Here are another couple of 'em.
Things I can now do that I couldn't do a week ago:
1) point
2) flex
3) stand on one foot
4) walk quickly
5) ride a bike
6) climb stairs/walk down stairs
7) walk around in socks
8) tendue
9) pivot (in socks) both on carpet and wood flooring
Things I can't do now that I could a week and 8 hours ago:
1) releve
2) plie
3) pointe work
4) turn
5) jump
6) run
7) dance for 5+ hours in a day
8) mount my bike from the left side without thinking about it
9) wear flip flops, high heels, and other ridiculous shoes
10) contact improv
Really? That quick, eh? Injuries suck. I'm not that depressed about this one - it's minor - but I am super duper grumpy about it.
I can think of all the things that lead up to this one, in hindsight they make a clear path. I wish I could see a clear path the other way, one in which I could predict when I'd be done with the healing process, and where that would leave me today and tomorrow. I'd like to know when I could dance again.
Watching class is hard. Sometimes I know what it would feel like to do what my peers are doing, and I believe that I could. This is when my body remembers that it was just dancing, and the realization that it is not capable right now comes like cold water. Other times I get frightened watching the other dancers, sure that they will hurt themselves. This is when my body is with itself in its present injured state, and, understanding that it couldn't accomplish the movements, projects that feeling on to the other bodies.
Having a minor injury after having a major injury is only slightly easier having gone through that big thing. Comparatively, this one is nothing, so that's easier. But there also resides in my muscle tissue and emotional cognizance all the crappiness I felt during that time. So, even though I know that I'm only going to be out for a week or so, when I watch class suddenly I'm back in that place where I was watching for a year plus, and all I wanted to be doing was dancing.
All I want to be doing is dancing. Seriously. Like this:cc--------/{..:;`'||
Things I can now do that I couldn't do a week ago:
1) point
2) flex
3) stand on one foot
4) walk quickly
5) ride a bike
6) climb stairs/walk down stairs
7) walk around in socks
8) tendue
9) pivot (in socks) both on carpet and wood flooring
Things I can't do now that I could a week and 8 hours ago:
1) releve
2) plie
3) pointe work
4) turn
5) jump
6) run
7) dance for 5+ hours in a day
8) mount my bike from the left side without thinking about it
9) wear flip flops, high heels, and other ridiculous shoes
10) contact improv
Really? That quick, eh? Injuries suck. I'm not that depressed about this one - it's minor - but I am super duper grumpy about it.
I can think of all the things that lead up to this one, in hindsight they make a clear path. I wish I could see a clear path the other way, one in which I could predict when I'd be done with the healing process, and where that would leave me today and tomorrow. I'd like to know when I could dance again.
Watching class is hard. Sometimes I know what it would feel like to do what my peers are doing, and I believe that I could. This is when my body remembers that it was just dancing, and the realization that it is not capable right now comes like cold water. Other times I get frightened watching the other dancers, sure that they will hurt themselves. This is when my body is with itself in its present injured state, and, understanding that it couldn't accomplish the movements, projects that feeling on to the other bodies.
Having a minor injury after having a major injury is only slightly easier having gone through that big thing. Comparatively, this one is nothing, so that's easier. But there also resides in my muscle tissue and emotional cognizance all the crappiness I felt during that time. So, even though I know that I'm only going to be out for a week or so, when I watch class suddenly I'm back in that place where I was watching for a year plus, and all I wanted to be doing was dancing.
All I want to be doing is dancing. Seriously. Like this:cc--------/{..:;`'||
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
wherein i realize that this bench is on wheels and this feels the same no matter where i am
I write, receive, and send lots of emails. When initiating e-mail conversation, often I agonize about what to put in the subject line. I can't title them like my blogs, oh no, and by the amount of bad email subjects I get I know that there's a definite skill to it. Oh, it is so much easier when someone else starts the email thread, and then all you have to do is hit reply and make up stuff that makes communicative sense in the body of the email. Incidentally, this is also how I feel about contact improvisation. And flirting.
These are some of my favorite subject lines I have received lately:
These are some of my favorite subject lines I have received lately:
- "An idea" Because it was from a person who, considering my relationship with him, could have meant absolutely anything. And I was completely surprised by the idea.
- "Are you here?" Sent from an iPhone to my computer. Tried not to get too metaphysical about it.
- "Enclosed is a big hug..." I like it when people I don't know send me e-hugs for doing my job.
Monday, April 27, 2009
in my own way, i got under the influence
This is from a year ago. I was updating my resume (the dance one!) and I guess I was feeling nostalgic.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/celinet/2446840467/in/set-72157604763355136/
I liked it because of the De Young Museum in the background. Seeing this photo was one of the things that brought home to me: you live in San Francisco. Yes, LIVE here. Another: seeing the Golden Gate Bridge from the window of my surgeon's office. Working out in the YMCA and seeing the Bay Bridge. Coming and going though City Hall on work. Riding the bus past the Painted Ladies. As landmarks became a daily part of my life, yes, I realized that I live here.
It still strikes me at times. I have a big-time crush on San Francisco.
There's also a host of things I've never done in this city, and I'm starting to feel the need to make a list and methodically cross them off. Summer project?
Sunday, April 26, 2009
grump grump frump grump
I'm getting grumpy, so I thought I would try three things to get out of it.
1) Coffee
- done awhile ago
- helped momentarily
- tasted good
- unfortunately too late to repeat
2) Headstands
- fun to do
- easy on the ankle
- work momentarily
- easy to repeat
- people might look at you strangely
- luckily I am at CELLspace
3) Writing a blog
- yes.
To update the bit of vagueness from my last blog, I will be performing with Dandelion Dancetheater at Joyce SoHo this July. I am so excited and thrilled about this that I don't believe it. At all.
I also sprained my ankle last Wednesday, but it looks like it should heal well and I will miss very little.
I have no money and should be working right now, on the subject of grumpiness.
1) Coffee
- done awhile ago
- helped momentarily
- tasted good
- unfortunately too late to repeat
2) Headstands
- fun to do
- easy on the ankle
- work momentarily
- easy to repeat
- people might look at you strangely
- luckily I am at CELLspace
3) Writing a blog
- yes.
To update the bit of vagueness from my last blog, I will be performing with Dandelion Dancetheater at Joyce SoHo this July. I am so excited and thrilled about this that I don't believe it. At all.
I also sprained my ankle last Wednesday, but it looks like it should heal well and I will miss very little.
I have no money and should be working right now, on the subject of grumpiness.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
into unkown, gushy waters
What kind of subject line do you use for an email that's full of unexpected bad news? I don't know. I think I'm going to send this one blank.
Through this process of writing an email full of bad news, I have learned that it's not just when writing emails to silly boys that I'll spend 5 minutes trying to decide between ending a sentence with a period or an exclamation point. It's when writing about something I care about, and feel unsure about expressing. How to be forthright in your own uncertainty without coming across as needing another to clarify your world for you - it's difficult.
So, bad news aside, email boy thinks I'm younger than dishwater (ha), which incidentally I don't care about because someone I deeply admire has asked me to join something that deeply inspires me. It almost mitigates the bad news, despite the ongoing presence of fear that this is worse than it seems. But I'm meeting with this person tonight to discuss this offer and other things, so perhaps more later.
xoxo, dear blog!
-J
Through this process of writing an email full of bad news, I have learned that it's not just when writing emails to silly boys that I'll spend 5 minutes trying to decide between ending a sentence with a period or an exclamation point. It's when writing about something I care about, and feel unsure about expressing. How to be forthright in your own uncertainty without coming across as needing another to clarify your world for you - it's difficult.
So, bad news aside, email boy thinks I'm younger than dishwater (ha), which incidentally I don't care about because someone I deeply admire has asked me to join something that deeply inspires me. It almost mitigates the bad news, despite the ongoing presence of fear that this is worse than it seems. But I'm meeting with this person tonight to discuss this offer and other things, so perhaps more later.
xoxo, dear blog!
-J
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
tomorrow i am taking a day off and this is what i was thinking the night before
Last night my entire body ached. I came home at6:30pm, showered, crawled in bed, sent some emails, and was asleep by 8pm. I slept until 8:20am. Tonight, I am high on life. I saw art which made me cry and laugh all within 1 hour and 20 minutes, and left thinking that art can be very healing. Then on the bike ride home I realized that I get high on life a lot, and I got worried about what the withdrawals from that would be like. Like the period of time right after death might be really painful, because I will physically miss life.
I performed all last weekend, and today got an email from a colleague at CELLspace, the place where Dandelion has an office and I go to type, send emails, print things, and file things. He saw my show and wanted to share something that he had written years ago on grace and movement. Because I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind, and I'm also pretty sure no one reads this self-centered dump of a blog, here it is:
I am thinking of how I feel grace of movement
Standing near a heavy train as it approaches and passes. You can feel its weight and the strength that drives it. So full even the earth shakes with a slow rhythm.
Fully loaded A10 jet makes a screeching fast hard bank turn. You can feel its weight pressing impossibly on the air. Yet their movements are full of grace and with an undeniable purpose. Both push so much strength yet they are held in grace by just the slightest touch. Hit that curve in any thing less than curve of grace and risk it all.
You can feel it...
rock and the mountain are in a moving grace with each other.
The rock must move down the slope.
It matters not how long or the process, it will happen.
Rolling, falling, cracking and splitting on late frosty nights, pushed around by roots and menaced by moss. It must happen.
I like how he talks about the power behind grace. Or that grace exists within power. Grace is never something that I think about while dancing. I think about strength, I think about movement, I think about energy, I think about feeling and sensation and momentum. If grace emerges, it is a byproduct of fully engaging these other things. Like big moving iron things aren't build for grace, but for power, strength, and functionality.
I also like that the things he talks about are big things, because I've been noticing that I'm big lately. Not necessarily too big (although it is easy to go down that path), just comparatively to those who are built with skeletons half the size of my own, I am big. And I move large. Rarw, watch out.
Also, I always question whether it is only dancers that have this kinesthetic sense of movement, or a visceral connection to the feeling of how things move. It's validating to see that it's not just us, that's more of a human thing.
All weekend, when I was performing, I would drink a cup of coffee and listen to the Mountain Goats beforehand to calm down. Odd things to lean on? I don't give a damn. Works for me, and I love both of these things.
My roommate was listening to the Mountain Goats this morning, which is cool, because I didn't know that anyone else knew of them. So we had a mini bonding moment over the Mountain Goats and swapped CDs. Now I am listening to "No Children" on repeat.
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
Yeah I hope I never get sober
I wrote to Jeremy today in a stern yet diplomatic attempt to get what I need to be friends. Whether on not the approach will work, I don't know another way. If there's not a way for both of us to find and get what we need out of a friendship together, than I suppose the other option is nothing. Which I am actually okay with. It would be more than a little sad, because he is a spectacular human, and we were best friends for a long period, but if there is not a way for us to just be without the passive aggressive quibbling, than there's not a way. I can not and will not put in the amount of effort that dealing with that requires.
Both my roommies spend all their nights with their boyfriends. Which leaves me plenty of time to do annoying things like listen to one Mountain Goats song over and over and over and over again.
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
Anyway. Email boy isn't emailing me back, which is potentially leading me to move on and spend less energy composing emails. I haven't quite given up on it yet, but if no emails come in the next week, ah well, it was a good run of uncalled for giddiness and daydreams without potential.
There's something in an Anne of Green Gables book where she talks about how she'd rather get super duper excited about things and then be super duper disappointed when they didn't pull through than not feel super duper excited ever. I'm pretty sure Anne said it much more elegantly, and with more big words. I'm pretty sure I agree with her.
But Anne, my acupuncturist would say, that's hard on your adrenals. And stop drinking so much coffee.
Shut up, push play, and let it ride.
I performed all last weekend, and today got an email from a colleague at CELLspace, the place where Dandelion has an office and I go to type, send emails, print things, and file things. He saw my show and wanted to share something that he had written years ago on grace and movement. Because I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind, and I'm also pretty sure no one reads this self-centered dump of a blog, here it is:
I am thinking of how I feel grace of movement
Standing near a heavy train as it approaches and passes. You can feel its weight and the strength that drives it. So full even the earth shakes with a slow rhythm.
Fully loaded A10 jet makes a screeching fast hard bank turn. You can feel its weight pressing impossibly on the air. Yet their movements are full of grace and with an undeniable purpose. Both push so much strength yet they are held in grace by just the slightest touch. Hit that curve in any thing less than curve of grace and risk it all.
You can feel it...
rock and the mountain are in a moving grace with each other.
The rock must move down the slope.
It matters not how long or the process, it will happen.
Rolling, falling, cracking and splitting on late frosty nights, pushed around by roots and menaced by moss. It must happen.
I like how he talks about the power behind grace. Or that grace exists within power. Grace is never something that I think about while dancing. I think about strength, I think about movement, I think about energy, I think about feeling and sensation and momentum. If grace emerges, it is a byproduct of fully engaging these other things. Like big moving iron things aren't build for grace, but for power, strength, and functionality.
I also like that the things he talks about are big things, because I've been noticing that I'm big lately. Not necessarily too big (although it is easy to go down that path), just comparatively to those who are built with skeletons half the size of my own, I am big. And I move large. Rarw, watch out.
Also, I always question whether it is only dancers that have this kinesthetic sense of movement, or a visceral connection to the feeling of how things move. It's validating to see that it's not just us, that's more of a human thing.
All weekend, when I was performing, I would drink a cup of coffee and listen to the Mountain Goats beforehand to calm down. Odd things to lean on? I don't give a damn. Works for me, and I love both of these things.
My roommate was listening to the Mountain Goats this morning, which is cool, because I didn't know that anyone else knew of them. So we had a mini bonding moment over the Mountain Goats and swapped CDs. Now I am listening to "No Children" on repeat.
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
Yeah I hope I never get sober
I wrote to Jeremy today in a stern yet diplomatic attempt to get what I need to be friends. Whether on not the approach will work, I don't know another way. If there's not a way for both of us to find and get what we need out of a friendship together, than I suppose the other option is nothing. Which I am actually okay with. It would be more than a little sad, because he is a spectacular human, and we were best friends for a long period, but if there is not a way for us to just be without the passive aggressive quibbling, than there's not a way. I can not and will not put in the amount of effort that dealing with that requires.
Both my roommies spend all their nights with their boyfriends. Which leaves me plenty of time to do annoying things like listen to one Mountain Goats song over and over and over and over again.
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
Anyway. Email boy isn't emailing me back, which is potentially leading me to move on and spend less energy composing emails. I haven't quite given up on it yet, but if no emails come in the next week, ah well, it was a good run of uncalled for giddiness and daydreams without potential.
There's something in an Anne of Green Gables book where she talks about how she'd rather get super duper excited about things and then be super duper disappointed when they didn't pull through than not feel super duper excited ever. I'm pretty sure Anne said it much more elegantly, and with more big words. I'm pretty sure I agree with her.
But Anne, my acupuncturist would say, that's hard on your adrenals. And stop drinking so much coffee.
Shut up, push play, and let it ride.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
in the interest of time
I have gotten NOTHING done lately. I've noticed that I go through these phases, but I don't remember one ever being this bad. As in I've missed deadlines, skipped out, and generally blown off any commitments that didn't have to do with dancing.
I'm tired.
At the end of the day of dancing, I want to dance more, and I want to be less tired. And I don't want to do anything else.
I'd also like a window. Every once in awhile my lack of one depresses me, and now is one of those times. Please, just some sunlight, the ability to wake up and watch it for a little while, a chance to sit and glance out at something other than my living room.
I'd like to leave the City for a little while. Go somewhere with more space in it, less people, and more plants. In two weeks I'm planning to visit my friend in the Headlands! Maybe that will work. But if today really was the start of a long weekend for me, I would have gone somewhere for all of it. But I have commitments tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday. Followed by a Monday-Friday, and then commitments on a Saturday and Sunday, which will just start again on a Monday.
I'd also like a boy to kiss a little. Or maybe just watch movies with and sit close.
I'm performing tomorrow? My parents will be here the day after, for a whole week? I'm performing the next weekend? Seems unreal. I am excited, however, somewhere. I think that my eyes are tired, my stomach is nervous, my legs are heavy, and the bottoms of my feet are excited.
I'm tired.
At the end of the day of dancing, I want to dance more, and I want to be less tired. And I don't want to do anything else.
I'd also like a window. Every once in awhile my lack of one depresses me, and now is one of those times. Please, just some sunlight, the ability to wake up and watch it for a little while, a chance to sit and glance out at something other than my living room.
I'd like to leave the City for a little while. Go somewhere with more space in it, less people, and more plants. In two weeks I'm planning to visit my friend in the Headlands! Maybe that will work. But if today really was the start of a long weekend for me, I would have gone somewhere for all of it. But I have commitments tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday. Followed by a Monday-Friday, and then commitments on a Saturday and Sunday, which will just start again on a Monday.
I'd also like a boy to kiss a little. Or maybe just watch movies with and sit close.
I'm performing tomorrow? My parents will be here the day after, for a whole week? I'm performing the next weekend? Seems unreal. I am excited, however, somewhere. I think that my eyes are tired, my stomach is nervous, my legs are heavy, and the bottoms of my feet are excited.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Going Nowhere
There are some things out of my daily routine that I'm currently enjoying:
a) my current oatmeal combination: oatmeal, raisins, coconut, cinnamon, and soy milk
b) how SUNNY it is when i bike from dance to CELLspace
c) seeing the shards of sunset over the ocean when I bike home
d) Thai soup in a can. I can buy it at the grocery store up the street.
Right now I'm listening to Beatles music on Youtube, and remembering when it was the only music I ever listened to. I suppose it's not a bad place to start...
The next time I have class with Alex Ketley, which I suppose will be Sunday, my goal is to not giggle once the whole time. To take my art seriously! I do believe it is possible to laugh and be completely serious, to laugh and be completely crushed, to laugh and to feel complete totality and complexity. But I think I've been giggling too much.
I am, by the way, feeling extremely silly. Like a 15-year old. Or a six-year old in a candy store.
And I don't know why I wrote this blog.
a) my current oatmeal combination: oatmeal, raisins, coconut, cinnamon, and soy milk
b) how SUNNY it is when i bike from dance to CELLspace
c) seeing the shards of sunset over the ocean when I bike home
d) Thai soup in a can. I can buy it at the grocery store up the street.
Right now I'm listening to Beatles music on Youtube, and remembering when it was the only music I ever listened to. I suppose it's not a bad place to start...
The next time I have class with Alex Ketley, which I suppose will be Sunday, my goal is to not giggle once the whole time. To take my art seriously! I do believe it is possible to laugh and be completely serious, to laugh and be completely crushed, to laugh and to feel complete totality and complexity. But I think I've been giggling too much.
I am, by the way, feeling extremely silly. Like a 15-year old. Or a six-year old in a candy store.
And I don't know why I wrote this blog.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I'd like to tell you absolutely nothing
Tonight, I traveled to the East Bay, rolled sushi, drank sake, and discovered three amazing things:
1. eel
2. plum wine
3. an engineering ballroom dancing sect of society
Yesterday, I dealt with the topics of my previous blog while drinking beer and eating pizza. Then Dana came over and we split a bottle of wine and talked about life until 2am. There are SO many topics you can instantly cover with someone you lived with for three years. And whether it was the pizza, beer, wine, or good conversation, my persistent bad mood that had spanned the past two days went away.
I wonder, am I beginning to sound a little alcoholic? I have been drinking more than I used to. But I also am older than I used to be, and I'm not drinking excessively. So in closing, I'd like to give whatever readers there may be a couple of quotes from my dad:
1. "I like beer." (said in relation to why he was going to continue to drink as much beer as he wanted while dieting)
2. "Wine isn't drinking, wine is eating." (said while drinking scotch)
1. eel
2. plum wine
3. an engineering ballroom dancing sect of society
Yesterday, I dealt with the topics of my previous blog while drinking beer and eating pizza. Then Dana came over and we split a bottle of wine and talked about life until 2am. There are SO many topics you can instantly cover with someone you lived with for three years. And whether it was the pizza, beer, wine, or good conversation, my persistent bad mood that had spanned the past two days went away.
I wonder, am I beginning to sound a little alcoholic? I have been drinking more than I used to. But I also am older than I used to be, and I'm not drinking excessively. So in closing, I'd like to give whatever readers there may be a couple of quotes from my dad:
1. "I like beer." (said in relation to why he was going to continue to drink as much beer as he wanted while dieting)
2. "Wine isn't drinking, wine is eating." (said while drinking scotch)
Friday, March 13, 2009
NO.
I've gotten through my to-do list this morning! Wow!
Well, not all the way through. I still have left:
10) taxes
11) health insurance
NO. I don't wanna deal.
Well, not all the way through. I still have left:
10) taxes
11) health insurance
NO. I don't wanna deal.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
medicinal to do list
things i want to write about:
the way the body remembers and forgets thing, the interplay between sensation and memory and surreality, the emotional attachment to physical habits
like when i drop the tension out of the front of my ribcage i sometimes feel like crying.
and how when i look at a bike i can feel what it's like to ride one. (you too?)
and the way the pit of my stomach was tight for a month, and i didn't know what it meant i was feeling.
i think that sometimes still, sometimes still, sometimes still, i react to the remaining ghosts of sensations that are in my body. very little to do with the present.
that time they were gone for a month and no one knew if both would come back. and i didn't really feel known by anyone i was staying with, and i couldn't admit that things were really really bad.
i got sick.
everyone said i dealt really well.
my stomach was tight and empty for a month. i know that's how some things started.
the way the body remembers and forgets thing, the interplay between sensation and memory and surreality, the emotional attachment to physical habits
like when i drop the tension out of the front of my ribcage i sometimes feel like crying.
and how when i look at a bike i can feel what it's like to ride one. (you too?)
and the way the pit of my stomach was tight for a month, and i didn't know what it meant i was feeling.
i think that sometimes still, sometimes still, sometimes still, i react to the remaining ghosts of sensations that are in my body. very little to do with the present.
that time they were gone for a month and no one knew if both would come back. and i didn't really feel known by anyone i was staying with, and i couldn't admit that things were really really bad.
i got sick.
everyone said i dealt really well.
my stomach was tight and empty for a month. i know that's how some things started.
Monday, March 9, 2009
perks of the position
This time of year, I do a lot of database entry with my job. The SF Conservatory of Dance is conducting auditions for our summer program, and in addition to attending most of them and assisting in evaluating students, I also get to type ALL the data from their registration forms into a giant database.
It's tedious and boring, but there are perks. Such as the address that included this street:
Suburbia Ave.
No kidding. Why would anyone want to live there.
In contrast, my good old friend, the one who introduced me to goddess cards, is now living on Smiley Street. I think things will go well for her.
It's tedious and boring, but there are perks. Such as the address that included this street:
Suburbia Ave.
No kidding. Why would anyone want to live there.
In contrast, my good old friend, the one who introduced me to goddess cards, is now living on Smiley Street. I think things will go well for her.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
i've been asking too many questions
These things would improve my life:
1. A really sensitive smoke detector with a pager.
2. A never-ending bin of coffee beans.
3. Some better pillows.
4. More purple pants.
That's about it, I think. Or I'm too tired to think of more. What a weekend! I'm twitterpated!
1. A really sensitive smoke detector with a pager.
2. A never-ending bin of coffee beans.
3. Some better pillows.
4. More purple pants.
That's about it, I think. Or I'm too tired to think of more. What a weekend! I'm twitterpated!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
in a little while
I heard a phrase or two on the train, some things that entered my brain like marshmallows. Then later they came out like the ones that are in lucky charms, less meaningful. In a hard sort of chalky way.
I listened to that voicemail again, the one you guys left on my birthday. I mean, you're ridiculously cute, and so I have to listen to it every once in awhile. Last year, it helped me through fights with my boyfriend, when he'd leave five angry and stressed out and whiny voicemails, then after hearing all those I'd listen to that ridiculously cute one from you. It helped a lot. This year's voicemail just makes my day better. Today, I ate Mexican food with a good friend - an old friend - then I listened to your voicemail! What could get better?
I'm not sure what else to blog about tonight, except perhaps that my good friend - my old friend - introduced me to goddess cards tonight, and they told me that wine is my true love, my relationship with wine is blossoming, and I should trust my instincts about drinking wine. Why, oh why, was this not the answer to the question before that, which had more to do with a crush? I think that perhaps the goddesses got confused?
I listened to that voicemail again, the one you guys left on my birthday. I mean, you're ridiculously cute, and so I have to listen to it every once in awhile. Last year, it helped me through fights with my boyfriend, when he'd leave five angry and stressed out and whiny voicemails, then after hearing all those I'd listen to that ridiculously cute one from you. It helped a lot. This year's voicemail just makes my day better. Today, I ate Mexican food with a good friend - an old friend - then I listened to your voicemail! What could get better?
I'm not sure what else to blog about tonight, except perhaps that my good friend - my old friend - introduced me to goddess cards tonight, and they told me that wine is my true love, my relationship with wine is blossoming, and I should trust my instincts about drinking wine. Why, oh why, was this not the answer to the question before that, which had more to do with a crush? I think that perhaps the goddesses got confused?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
ego boost, curtesy of urbandictionary.com
| Julia | ||
| a name for girls. Most julia's are artistic, smart, romantic, beautiful and also very charming. Julia's can get whatever they want if they try. They can be very sexy so watch out! They are romantics and love old movies, art and books. they love old stuff! They usually aren't very athletic but if a julia is athletic she's kick butt! they have great fashion sense and usually look smokin'. A julia will most likely become a mother because they love kids. They are very successful in life and there is just something about them that draws people in. Also they are ah-mazing dancers! | ||
Sunday, February 22, 2009
this one's short because my eyes are half closed
I wanted to write something about traveling. I would have something to do with memory, losing bits of it, focusing on others. The modifications that become so meaningful.
I wanted to write about... wanting to be known, in the personal sense. But that feels so middle school, I just can't do it.
I wanted to write about... wanting to be known, in the personal sense. But that feels so middle school, I just can't do it.
Monday, February 16, 2009
"do you have a paperclip?" "ha! no. what would I do with a paperclip?"
And thus it seems, this is my life now. I'm drinking wine tonight, wine following margaritas (Sunday), which followed more wine (Saturday). But, really, I'm doing well. Life like sandpaper, that's all. I'm getting smoother? cleaner? more refined? through the process.
I like it. The way things seem to be hitting me in the face, good and bad, lately. Gotten so I'm a little mixed up, and I laugh at the bad ones. Splash! Experiences like waves, and me, soaked - in, under, tossed, riding. Through it all, I've been thinking.
Tonight I realized that nothing has changed. It has been four months since we even said hello, and NOTHING HAS CHANGED. And I guess that's good to know, that nothing's changed.
It was good, no? We loved each other. I'm sorry I fell out of love sooner. I'm sorry my fuse is longer, I'm sorry I dreamt in directions that took me away from what you dreamt of for us. I'm selfish. You said it. (In the car, no? It was raining?)
I like it. The way things seem to be hitting me in the face, good and bad, lately. Gotten so I'm a little mixed up, and I laugh at the bad ones. Splash! Experiences like waves, and me, soaked - in, under, tossed, riding. Through it all, I've been thinking.
Tonight I realized that nothing has changed. It has been four months since we even said hello, and NOTHING HAS CHANGED. And I guess that's good to know, that nothing's changed.
It was good, no? We loved each other. I'm sorry I fell out of love sooner. I'm sorry my fuse is longer, I'm sorry I dreamt in directions that took me away from what you dreamt of for us. I'm selfish. You said it. (In the car, no? It was raining?)
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