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.

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 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.

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.

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

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.

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.