A sort of bitchy no-good-very-blah blog entry.

Blah blah blah blah blah.

7 days of sickness and no time to go to the doctor.

There was time, but I procrastinated.  (story of my....)

It's hard to be here (and satisfied) in the grey and cold, when just last week I was on the beach with one of my oldest friends in 85 degree sun.  Fizzy waves and green beach water rushed over our toes as we took a long walk, caught up on life and lost our moms like we were in elementary school.  We hunted for man o'war (none spotted), hated on seagulls, and fell right back in step. Beach days turned into a rehearsal dinner at the golf club, a wedding at a marble-interiored Catholic mega church, and a gorgeous cocktail hour and reception at a different golf resort.  I wore heels for 2.5 days straight, believe it or not, and tried not to wear too much black but probably failed.  It was unbelievably wonderful to reconnect with the other family I grew up with, though I felt a tiny bit like an alien in South Florida, but glad to witness someone wonderful marrying someone else wonderful.  It's also slightly nice to be back to my routine in dark colored clothing with tall leather boots and my huge bag.

Now I'm surrounded by stacks of clean clothes, Christmas stuff asking to be put away (because if not now, then when), snow needing shoveled, dishes needing sold, and a house needing renovation.  Again, it's not quite right.  While I was gone Russell used my office, filled up my trash basket, left my silk kimono on the floor, and rearranged a bit.  I'm a very open person and I love sharing space, but sometimes it's the tiny little things that push my buttons.  I'm trying to be nice and not too sassy, jury is out on whether I am succeeding.  The major problem here is very soon there will be things I consider WAY more satisfying (artistically, mainly) that I can just jump on... likely giving up my dull house work, though if I don't get it done I won't function well because I can't work in mess that isn't my sole creation!

I guess if I had a roller coaster in my backyard it would outgrow its rush, eventually.  I understand 'becoming an adult' in theory, just struggle with it in application.

Currently watching something on the History Channel about the invention of the bra and smirking my face off.  Also awkwardly listening to my neighbor shovel a tiny bit of snow off my sidewalk for the third time this evening.  It's not that bad out, and we were going to wait to shovel until it amounted to more, but he keeps making ninja-shovel-passes, so I can't even really go thank him without searching around and looking like a creeper.

The best news?  I might not have to work until Wednesday.  Technically scheduled for Monday, but there's a nice big chance I won't have to go in.  Sweet.

bye bye, boston

There is no appropriate reason for my suitcase for 5 days in Florida weighing 45 pounds, but... so be it.

It's been a weird two day week, and even weirder month, and I am hoping some warm sunny weather will clear my head.  I thought the last two weeks would be fantastic to refocus, get stupid odds and ends done, do some busy work... of course that didn't happen.  I could blame it on the holidays, current events, adhd, general tiredness, overactive brain, but I won't.  Or maybe I will, but I just can't pick which makes the best scapegoat.

While I know Twyla won't be sleeping much until I get home (seriously, she waits up for me- it's sort of sad and I sort of love it), I am excited to reconnect with my non-related family, the Fays!  It's funny to grow up alongside three girls, have them move away, keep up through serious-business twice a year family vacations, fall out of constant touch and then reunite and fall right back in sync.

The unknown is what happens the day after Christmas.  How do I resume completely normal life, while fitting in the stupid stuff I should've/would've/could've done already?  Jeeeeeeeeeeeeez.

Regardless of someone's psychological state, the nation's opinions on gun laws, the want for revenge, the presence of metal detectors and security systems in schools, 20 little kids being killed is the devastating injustice of right now.  Changes need to be made, sure, but I am so sick of scanning my fb newsfeed to read personal opinions spoken from a soapbox about things that could've prevented this tragedy in their own professional opinions.  Have those opinions, keep them well thought out in your head, maybe share them down the road, but while families are grieving and wondering how to go on with life after they watched their kindergartner walk through classroom doors they'd never come out of again...

It was really hard to today to watch the news for an hour and then go to work.  What do I do, at my job... It basically boils down to keeping my school-age kids safe until they go home.  What happens when some crazily random impossible event happens and takes that ability away from you?  What happens when you can't do the one important task your work demands?  I never think my job is important until I realize what is at stake.  My major task isn't making sure the bottom line shows enough profit...

None of my work-kids knew of the shooting today.  Schools try to isolate the kids from news, nowadays, to let them learn it from their parents and calm down possible chaos.  We weren't supposed to break the news to them unless they asked about it, so I just sat in silence and thought about it.  All of the parents knew, and I made knowing eye contact with everyone picking up their child, wondering how the heck they would go home and break this news and explain it to their kids.  I guess I'll find out on Monday...

Forgot a bit about this song until just now.  Not the hugest REM fan in a bigger picture sense... but that's alright.

12/12/12 concert watching and rambling

12/12/12 Concert... SO good- a treat on a Wednesday.

This concert is also like a fun musical tour of growing up... so here, unfortunately for anyone reading this, is my live thought process while watching and remembering.  

We started with Pink Floyd, and my mind goes back to a 3-hour car ride to Maine with my mom and Jenn where Jenn and I enjoyed yelling the lyrics of Another Brick in the Wall.  Maybe second grade? That led my mom to try some tricky question-posing so we could discover (ourselves) what the song actually meant... not sure Jenn ever got it, but she always loved anything she could hum or yell to as a spunky little kid. Also childhood related was tons and tons of Clapton... When your uncle tours with the fellow, associated conversation is plentiful at family gatherings.  

The Who also falls into this family category.  When we went to London in the middle school years and stayed at the same Uncle's house I remember the answering machine taking a call... "Hi Roddy, this is Pete (townshend)..." and my mom asking me if I knew who that was.  Nope.  After that I educated myself in all thing British rock...

Fast forward to late middle school school, now that The Who is doing Tommy and my heart is hugely warm.  Tommy links into dance memories- we did See Me... in one of my first modern classes and it took me a really really long time to get it (mentally) and what made the show so great.  In middle/high school land I often wrinkled my nose at Bon Jovi- never liked him or his music too much.  I spent many a  school dance vacating the dance floor when Living on a Prayer came on.   Whatever.

High school... the time of Coldplay and also Alicia Keys making it cool to be a lady-pianist.  Also, it's the first time I saw Movin Out'-- which neatly lets me throw Billy Joel into this jumble of thoughts.

Having a hard time working Kanye in, as he has now taken the stage... except for that I was into Daft Punk, and then he covered Harder Better Faster?  I am lying only a tiny bit because I could proudly rap all of Gold Digger at some point... Not embarassing at all.  Don't like his leather kilt with hoodie, leggings and white sneaks ensemble, and neither am I a fan of the sampling of Shirley Bassey in whatever song he is doing now.

Because I'm lazy it's time to wrap this up.

I don't know how they're gonna fit in Paul McCartney, Billy Joel, Chris Martin, Dave Grohl in the next 30 minutes...

a step too far?

I hate having free time on my hands because it forces me to stop and think about things I can usually push to the far corners of my mind.

Mistakes I've made, mistakes I could very easily make, potential mistakes that are really misclassified as mistakes and possibly things that should just be done, courageously.

One blind leap does not a life ruin?

What is one big bold move YOU wish you could let yourself take, that is (at face value) quite possible?

Break-Up PSA

I was putzing around on Jezebel and came across the following video.  Kind of fantastic, kind of overwhelming, in need of a choreographer, not in need of more bass clarinet.

November highlights...

Two jump out at me.  These also aren't art-related, since I could go on for days about all the cool/funny/impressive/awful/ridiculous things that happened in Luminarium-land.

The first highlight was discovered in the greeting card section at Macys.

Apparently, 'just flirting' is a genre of card now (at least at Macy's in NH outside of the bathrooms...).  If you can't read this small pic, it features some naked limbs with the caption: 

"There are 206 bones in the human body..."  (inside) "I'd like to jump every one of yours."

GENIUS. 

For real, card makers, you've outdone yourself this time.   I did try, in fact, to think of someone to buy this card for.  Unfortunately, everyone I know that I would send this to understands how much of a joker I am.  Everyone I could maybe send this to that's on the fringe is a potential freak-out risk.  

---

The second non-art highlight is the following video.  

It's great because it features my obnoxious voice, and ranges in subject from dog-porn to Christmas present-giveaways and so much more in the background commentary.  It also features Theo, who is fabulous, if not a bit dopey and enthusiastic.

---

November also featured going to see Chicago (ouchhhhhh), recovering from sleepless Ithaca, buying a new couch, having a (still fun) non-party, and SO many things Luminarium. There were lots of boring things too, but they don't merit a mention.

constants

Sometimes when I don't know how to say something, I just don't say it at all.

One of these days I'll figure that out.

On a satisfying note, the very last Mythos:Pathos went so so well.  More on that later, I think, because this was such a whirlwind of a show, but I am still sitting here hours after the lights went out with beautiful final images of Prometheus in my head... and I am so pleased.

Maybe this is why I have so many swedish readers on my blog. The missing connection...

ADHD medication may help curb crime: ADHD medication may help curb crime

I'm big in Sweden.

Not that I track the traffic from this blog often, but apparently only people from Russia and Sweden read this sucker.

Dear Boston friends... weigh in, anytime. (At the very least just creep on my wordage from a discreet anonymous location!)

girl toys, boy toys.

As a little girl that had and LOVED Legos, KNex, Erector Sets, Lincoln Logs, Playmobile, and many many science kits and things to mush together, explode, and dirtify, I didn't give a lot of childhood thought about gender stereotypes and toys.

Some of us, however, need a bit of nudging, and that's why this is AWESOME.

Good Books, Good Words.

Books I've Read in the last 2ish Weeks:

Gone Girl (mindfuck.  a good one, though.)
The Replacement Wife
Losing It (Admittedly not the best purchase... thought it was theater fiction, turns out its about sex.  Close enough?)
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
The Master of Disguise (gosh, a CIA nonfic before the CIA was so popular this week- ahead of the trend?)

Books I am Reading Currently (bad choice at the same time but too late to turn back... variety is the spice of life??):

Cloud Atlas
The Art of War (why not?)

Words I Love. (only a small small sample)

Salacious
Notorious
Pedantic
Erroneous
Flaccid

Words I Hate.

Onus.

Picture 5 naked men in towels, minus steam, surrounded by books.

My new couch is here and I don't know where to sit on it.  It's a beautiful L-shaped couch, beautiful cream Italian leather that still smells like leather.  Each offshoot is the same length, meaning 3 people could probably sleep on it at the same time (I was trying to make this into something ridiculous but just left myself giggling instead).  The end of one side turns into a chaise which Twyla has laid claim to.

I'm currently sprawled out in the corner of it, and I feel like a kid in a fort.  A very expensive fort, but solid all the same.  I was the fort master as a kid.  Especially at my Adie and Pop-Pop's house.  They had a big downstairs room that had 2 doors- one led to a cedar sauna that had been converted into a library (picture 5 naked men in towels, minus steam, surrounded by books.... that's what I always pictured!), and another door that had a bottom half and top half that opened separately that turned into a sort of plant-growing room with grow lights.  We would try to make a big enough fort with blankets and pillows and couches and other things to make a fort that connected the sauna to the tricky half-door.  Tunnels, passageways, sub-fort living space... our forts were never lacking :)

Anyways, back to the current problem.  I feel like we are in the formative couch days.  Eventually I will have a 'spot' on this couch, one that isn't easily changeable because other couch users will find their own spots.  I need to pick wisely.  I could pick normal couch sections, where I could sit upright, do all of my work-from-home in a ergonomic way, spread out.  I'm sorry have we met?  I could pick the chaise, but that might be too free-form, and Twyla already has kind of taken ownership of it.  I am leaning to the corner (literally and otherwise), since there is lots of stability with not one side but two, and extra area so I can lay upside down and put my legs just about anywhere.

Development:  Enough space to do 2 backwards rolls, more if I could turn a corner while rolling.

Important Career Decisions.

Or, Why Not Becoming a News Anchor was the Best Decision of My Life. 

 #autobiographytitles

 

JJ shared this with me...

... and I will share it with you!

KICKSTARTER!

Hey any random person that might actually read my blog.  Luminarium is doing it's yearly Kickstarter.  This year it's especially important to me!  Two of my dear friends (that are over-the-top supportive of what I do) wish to sustain Luminarium by making a generous donation to the company.  Their challenge was to raise matching funds.  Boom.  Done.  I didn't even have to beg or plead or whine that you help.  Now that we have 14 entire days to go, I ask that you perhaps give the video a watch or share it on your own site or through social media.  2012 Presidential candidates (and local candidates too) can raise millions and millions just to advertise themselves, so let's raise some money for an organization that actual does some good in and for its community.  Watch the video, I did some voice recording just for you.  I will love you forever.

There is never enough time for anything!

One more...

I love the groan of active snow and the white noise of wind. I like sitting by the window to watch the snowflakes furiously and dizzily race down from the skies, and I like the sky itself. On the dark New Hampshire street I grew up on the plum snow-sky was eerie, night was slightly lighter than the norm and it more often than not felt like the preshow act for a scarier fantasy movie. In my current Boston neighborhood the snowy night sky is still purple but closer to grey than an actual color. Since streetlights never allow complete darkness the muted sky feels more like another old worn blanket on top of my bed- comfortable. I can still see flakes spiraling down, but the main difference is the quiet that is also falling. No rushing cars, buses, pedestrians. It is same time of quiet I sat in many times as a kid on the night after Christmas well beyond my bedtime sneakily and steadily assembling a new LEGO set in the dark in my bedroom, satisfied smirk on my face since the moon most always illuminated our backyard through the pine trees. I could build, listen, and play sentry over the snowflakes that ensured a snow day whenever tomorrow struck.

Poem medicating.

...and on such a night, progressing from the last post, it's best to wear multiple pairs of socks, listen to impressively howling wind, and wistfully read poems.  I often get made fun of for keeping my books in my office, but select favorite poetry books in my nightstand drawers... I counter that only the most important stuff gets stored in nightstand drawers ;)

Poetry safety words = mandated stop before reading too much Sylvia Plath or going the other direction and drowning in Shakespeare sonnets. For now, though, as I haven't got that far, a few easy favorites.

i love you much(most beautiful darling) more than anyone on the earth and i like you better than everything in the sky -sunlight and singing welcome your coming although winter may be everywhere with such a silence and such a darkness noone can quite begin to guess (except my life)the true time of year- and if what calls itself a world should have the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such sunlight as will leap higher than high through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each nearness)everyone certainly would(my most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love  -e.e. cummings If you can keep your head when all about you  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,  If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,  But make allowance for their doubting too;  If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,  Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,  Or being hated, don't give way to hating,  And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;  If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;  If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster  And treat those two impostors just the same;  If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,  Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,  And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,  And lose, and start again at your beginnings  And never breathe a word about your loss;  If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew  To serve your turn long after they are gone,  And so hold on when there is nothing in you  Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,  ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,  if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,  If all men count with you, but none too much;  If you can fill the unforgiving minute  With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,  Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,  And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! -Rudyard Kipling And finally a link to some Keats, to make the faintest of faint connections to the cursed Urns piece, at http://www.bartleby.com/101/625.html, because that's where my head should be at.   And/and an end to this blog post because I cannot figure out how to switch the formatting out of columns.

Sometimes it's a why bother kind of night... not even the dog wanted to hang out with me tonight.  At least the snow is (kind of) pretty.  I give it a one day grace period, then it needs to hurry up and melt.  Ugly snow is the most miserable thing I can think of.

Barbara Walters just quoted something I can't place on abc election coverage...

Adversity introduces us to ourselves

Usually I'm not into overly deep quotes, but I took a minute or two to self-reflect and this is solid.

Election innuendos 2012...

Do I even need to mention exit poll?

Twyla is running as part of the bone party. Everyone deserves a good bone.

The last 20 minutes of my life...

This weekend's recent happenings just turned into the biggest snake of thoughts and video cravings.  If you'd like to spy on the goings on of my tired-Sunday-night-musical-theatre-deprived brain, follow along below.

11:44pm.

Apply a new red lipstick, for kicks.

Start off by thinking about Saturday night- a spur of the moment decision to go see the touring production of Chicago at the Wang (hahaha).  A fun night with friends, but a very tepid production featuring an awkwardly disappointing Christie Brinkley.  Find and read a review online, here,  that is very gracious to the production.

11:46pm.

Get sad about the lack of awesomely perfect musical theatre in my life, get nervous about upcoming theatre prospects, get more sad about the injustice done to Hot Honey Rag in the show last night, find favorite version of the number from FOSSE... watch here, jump to 3:30 if you're lazy.

Debate with Ariane about Fosse logistics, think about what I love about Fosse in general, pin it on some serious committed embodiment of movement by decent Fosse-performers.

11:49pm.

Think about current piece at the College, no it's not plot-based, but how do I get my dancers that aren't making a career of dance to discover embodiment of movement/character, even when not playing a defined role... Think think think. 

11:51pm. 

Get bored of thinking, find favorite Fosse stuff from Damn Yankees, Pajama Game, Kiss Me Kate (laugh about how many times they sing the names Harry and Dick back to back).... find Fosse DVD and fire it up while thinking that it's a better time to watch than to sleep.  

Fall in love with these musicals and numbers all over again... back to thinking about embodiment.  I take for granted I work with a few wonderful dancers in Luminarium that are beyond proficient in finding their character within the work and channeling the movement inside and out.  How to bring this to an amateur level... Moment of proudness for being picky in rehearsal tonight and attempting to coach theatrical moments and movement specifics out of the 8 college ladies I am working with.  I don't like spellings things out, way more into discovery, but...

11:57pm.

Serious commitment to silly roles.  Where else can we find it? Always with Gene!  Is it too late to watch both Fosse and Singing in the Rain?  Probably.  Time for youtube substitutes to get my Singing in the Rain and American in Paris fixes.  Urgh.  Silly 2012. We take ourselves and some of our movement too seriously, sometimes. 

11:59pm.

Have a laugh about the amount of pelvis in my own choreo.  Sneaky sneaky jazz... who needs labels/genres anyways? No time for Slaughter on 10th to catch some video evidence of crazy pelvis action.

Mental note.  I should return the box of Rogers/Astaire DVDs I borrowed from my mom.  Other mental note, who has my copy of Anchorman? Other-other mental note... WHY can't Movin' Out revive itself?  That show was way too short-lived. Third mental note, not really a note, more of a thought... why on earth can't my day job involve choreographing musicals?  How amazing would that be?  Day job = fun theatre candy, night job/real work = Luminarium.  Wowza.  That'd oddly similar to the days where I take a Ritalin and drink coffee and green juice all day and then go out for a cocktail with a friend. Woooooooooooo.  Maybe that would be bad for me.  Eh.

12:03am.

Moon some more over Gene Kelly (this is never confined to a specific amount of time), think about logistics of making a time machine and jumping in for Leslie Caron, here, so I can be serenaded.

12:06am.  

Have a GREAT idea to chronicle the last 20 minutes.  Write it all out.  Find myself in the present (12:25) having wasted another 20 minutes by doing this.  Still watching Fosse.  I'd really like an apple.

Pointless.

I'm a bit sick of rules, society-established norms, preconceived notions, etc. Limiting. People would be happier if they didn't have to check their thoughts at their mouths and hold back actions. I am also going a bit nuts stuck on my street in this rain, wind and hype storm and it is a bit of a downer after a fun weekend. Weather isolation leads me to stew in what's currently bopping around in my head... Apologies to my blog. Self-imposed bedtime. Bam!

fail.

That unfortunate moment when you pop a midnight Ritalin instead of a birth control pill...

Sigh.  It's always something.

real life.

While I am fortunate and lucky, see below post, I can't help but feel like I need more.  Non-things, not material things.

procrastinating writing with writing?

This has been a weird week, some parts great, some parts gloomy.  All parts freezing cold.  Very Luminarium focused.

It's grant writing season again, and this has made me think about the company a lot (partially cause it's inevitable when writing pages and pages about your work).  2012 was our second full-year, our first real year after the first year.  It by far had our highest highs, our lowest lows, but SO much success.  I've learned about my process, learned about myself as a teacher, and learned even more about running a company.  Maybe most importantly I've been enjoying growing a community of dancers (and collaborators) I love and value for different reasons, and that can work with how I work.  I can realize now that I don't have to settle in who I work with (performers and otherwise), and that it's a disservice to me and my work if I settle.

Integrity.  I spoke on this in the text/conText lecture we did a few weeks back.  In that specific setting I was discussing it solely in reference to creating work.  Unless it's a commission, or you just really owe someone a favor, I feel like work should only be created when there is a reason to create.  I really dislike projects that serve to be purely self-gratifying, abstract for the sole sake of being weird, and also those that are tepid and half-hearted.  I try very hard, if it isn't the root of my motivation already, to find a seed of something human in everything I make.  I like to adopt the stories I explore, connect choreographic story lines with bits and pieces of my life experience, and hope what I make relates equally to whoever views it, in whatever way they find.  I love criticism and discussion about my work, as long as the criticism is rooted in integrity... Constructive comments, if honest, are great because they mean people are watching and taking some interest.

Trust. My process is... well, my process.  It's sometimes very roundabout, sometimes very tough to participate in as a performer.  I know this, but I also know it doesn't work if the people I am working with have no trust in my work.  A lot of my stuff comes together at the last minute, with a lighting idea, with a sound atmosphere, with some other magic... Anyways, I care about the pieces I make and wouldn't put my dancers onstage looking stupid or subpar and it doesn't work if the dancers I am intimately involved with don't believe it.

Future.  Really, if Luminarium keeps going with equal upwards momentum I'll be pleased.  I meaaaaaan, I had my picture on a full page of the Globe this year. Shazaam (yes, being an ass for the sake of being an ass here). Next year (2013) will bring about necessary changes based on what we've learned.  We want bigger shows, more epic venues, more name recognition, and more collaboration.  We want to pay our dancers more to further sustain performing arts in this community (and because they are awesome), and eventually to make a paying career out of what we do.  Through all of this my ultimate goal is to not lose focus or personal integrity, and only make decisions for reasons I value.

Not too hard, right?

For now... back to writing small grants to sustain year 3!  I already want to brag about this season so so so much, but no spoilers yet :(

Sleep is overrated.

Somehow I thought it would be a great idea to take a quick bubble bath before bed and here it is, 2:37. Whoops. The plus side is the smell of spearmint and eucalyptus is lingering in my nose, and i have brand new sheets since destroying my third fitted sheet in the last year. Seriously, I somehow end up tearing holes in each one... I've thought to film myself sleeping to get to the bottom of this but how could I find the attention span to watch that footage??

non-verbose.

So often I keep my thoughts in my head.  Usually it's a strategy move, I wait and watch and observe until I get a handle on the situation and then swoop in to make it work for me. I learn a lot from watching, more people should shut up and tune in. Other times, though, it's not intentional and I hate feeling like I can't get the right words out of my mouth at the right time.

Dear brain:

Glad you're inspired, but I need to wake up at 6 am. I'm going to request that you stop spitting out funny images and phrase ideas for new pieces. That's why we are laying here, in the dark, sometimes with our eyes closed (present moment excluded). It's really frustrating to take choreographic notes on an iPhone, since the bedside notebook has been temporarily relocated, and I'll be really frustrated tomorrow when I can't remember exactly what it was that you spat out and I loved so much. Also, brain, your sense of choreographic reality can sometimes be pretty warped when we are in horizontal mode, so this could all be a waste of time. I appreciate all you do in your efforts to maximize our creative flow, but really, its ok to give me a night off.

Thanks for considering,

Kim

I wrote this when I was 25, I swear...

I've been thinking about animals a lot this week.  Partly because when you co-habitate with someone, you apparently have to compromise on pet intake.  Suckage.

At one point in my childhood we had 2 dogs, 2 rabbits (that had lots of babies), 2 hamsters (that also had lots of babies), 2 guinea pigs (that had just a couple of babies), hermit crabs, anoles, a parakeet (dumb pet), 2 turtles, and a 50 gallon aquarium.  It was awesome.  At one point I also had a squirrel, it died pretty soon after I rescued it from a cat, and we had a couple of very sociable rats later on.  We also babysat my gramma's 160 pound Newfoundland.  

I don't mean for this to sound at all negative towards Twyla.  Seriously, I have the best dog in the world (in my eyes anyways).  Who would have guessed 15lbs of sassy longhaired Dachshund could be so fabulous? This is, however, a minor complaint at adulthood.  Two problems, one being I can't beg and plead with the adult of the house to get a new pet and win because I am the adult of the house, and my vote is canceled out by the other adult of the house.  This vote is also canceled by aforementioned dog that likes to be the spoiled only child.  The other problem is being an adult means any non-portable pet needs serious consideration when embarking on a trip or working long hours which I do at my various jobs. 

In any case, here is a fantasy list of pets I want:

-Octopus - No justification needed. Have you seen Octopussy (the Bond movie, pervs)? http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/2251544.stm

-Gordon Setter - A big version of Twyla!!  Matching dogs!

-House rabbit - Used to have a bunny named Domino until we got Twy.  It was litter box trained, had free access to hop about the house, amazing.  

-Iguana - A green sassy scale-y pal.  Have a tendency to whip their tails, and you can walk one on a leash.

iliopsoas

I'm in the funny place of my hip feeling semi-ok, it has been on the up and up for awhile!  Good PT, various helpful forms of needles, taking care of myself has done wonders.

Strangely I find myself still cautious of movement, only because it has been the way I've lived for the last like 6 years!  My body is babying my hip by default, and I need to figure out how to responsibly let myself test the waters.

Even more strange is feeling normal, temporary hip pain.  I got great new sneaks and since I am feeling ok I'm slowly slowly starting to run again.  Most of the night running adventure felt the same as it always has.... nice brain freedom and focus on breathing lets me find a rare moment of zone-out.  Since it was also super cold out recently and my warm up wasn't as good as it could have been, my hip flexors were both uniformly a bit sore the next day.  For two seconds I freaked out (hip pain! my nemesis!), before realizing it was obviously temporary and somewhat normal.

So mindset shift.  Whatever.

Here's hoping Battle: Osteoarthritis/Snapping Hip/no cartilage + labral tear is at least held at bay for a good long time to come.

Fall.

I'm in denial, I think, about fall.

I've been badmouthing it right and left, where honestly I don't harbor that many bad feeling towards fall, I'm just not ready to have summer fade out.  Weirdly, summer felt long.  I was outside months ago, reading in the sun, beautifying the back yard (poor front yard, still neglected), playing with the dog, enjoying hot sun on my face.  I think my gipped feeling comes from having a busy show schedule at the end of summer.  I got literally two beach days, one where I didn't get to swim or surf or really do much water interaction, and the other was nice but cloudy.  Now it's cold, it's time to switch up the clothing options, cover up the skin, get pale.  I'm not usually this superficial, feeling shafted brings out the worst.

Another cause of this fall animosity is having spent four years in Western MA.  Boston fall is lovely and crisp and smells delightful, but Five College area/Amherst/So Hadley fall blows it so far out of the water.  I mean, combine the private liberal arts college town vibe (times 4) with New England fall.  Damn.  It's hard to tell where cardigans end and cider doughnuts begin.

Anyways, this revelation has made me determined to cram getting my fall fix into performing at the Mass Dance Festival in 2 weekends.  It will be a bit too early for apple picking and fall-air breathing, maybe, but I am determined to soak myself in fall and change this attitude up!

Weird= The things we know and feel but will never ever say aloud. Why does this happen? Afraid to expose oneself, scared to lose someone, embarrassed? Not excluding myself, I feel like everyone has multiple examples of this somewhere inside.

the parts i love about performance...

Mythos:Pathos went up last weekend... one sold out show, one over-sold show, one mostly filled show.

Let downs:  Severly injured dancer days before the show, only being able to watch from the wings.  The first of these things is unavoidable, worsened when your understudy is already filling in, but not worth extra stress animosity.  Make it work, fix it, or pull the piece.  While I made it work by simple revisions (yes, after building a giant metal urn to also put in silhouette when I thought the dancer could actually just be still in space for the 10 mins), I didn't end up loving the piece this time around, which was a bummer.  Between the last show and this one I had really wanted to revise and improve, tweak lighting and add cohesive ideas, but losing two dancers meant just reteaching and running the piece in the two hours of rehearsal I had between shows.  Oh well, there's time left.

Awesome stuff: Hubris through Icarus through Prometheus. I am really really pleased with the way this chunk has been starting to gel.  There are a few images that are perfect overlays with those that have been stored in my head for months, and some moments where I just find myself watching in the dark with goosebumps.  I could go on and on and on... but I won't.

Anyways, the last paragraph helps illustrate what I love about performance.  I hate performing, most of the time, myself.  Watching dancers that I know as normal people become/embody/give their own life to the characters and such onstage in a piece I have created is so damn rewarding, though.

I'm not in the mood to go on and on... another time!

Gross.

Your hot button issue, or not...

... this is a wonderfully written letter/blog entry.  So simply stated, but powerful words.  Sometimes I wish I wasn't such a wordy writer, just in case I ever have the impetus to write something like this.

Eve Ensler to Todd Akin...

There is a good chance I talk aloud to the dog too much when I'm home alone...

Famous?

So, my Q&A with the Globe was circulating on the internet this morning... and I decided to go out and get a paper copy.  Flipped to the Arts Section, it obviously wasn't in the first page or two, but then I noticed this GINORMOUS photo of myself on the last forward-facing page, with a full-page article.  I had to close it almost immediately, like groundhog-seeing-shadow reaction.  But, then I opened it again, and read it wide-eyed.

Article here...

Obviously none of this was a surprise, I obviously sat with the reporter and spoke those words, but it is always funny to see yourself in print.

Every weekday of my years in college, I'd carve out 20 minutes to run to the Campus Center for lunch, crossing my fingers that there would still be a free copy of the NYT and the Globe.  I'd discard the bulk of the paper, yank the Arts section, and try to devour as much as I could before sprinting back to class.  Theatre reviews, lack of dance articles, full page ads for new stuff on Broadway... I read it all.  I was so familiar with this routine, the Arts sections of each paper, and there was always a familiar anonymity-- as I could spout off on Broadway-s who's-who, ground-breaking new performance art... obviously there was a great divide between these people, and me!

But today, there I was... running my mouth about ChoreoFest, and this Luminarium Dance that I love so much.  The interview isn't really about me, at all, but the words were just so familiar (duh, I said them..) and the way she punctuated and included a laugh or awkward wording was just me-- the text version!

It's an almost full-circle moment.  My freshman year at MHC I loaded up on both dance courses, and journalism/anthro (also bio/chem, but that's another story for another day).  My Women's Public Voices class was immensely enjoyable, slightly discouraging (journalists need to be concise?!), and eye-opening.  I remember touring through Time Magazine in New York City with Priscilla Painton (MHC alum- then deputy managing editor, now editor in chief at Simon & Schuster) wandering the halls of the high-rise building and wondering if journalism was something I could do- little bit different than being the copy editor of the high school paper... How much dance would I have to compromise, how would I get to report on what I wanted to... so many questions.  I never considered trying to be on the other side of the situation- the subject!  Still, there are days where I'd love to be able to balance what I do with reviewing local art, but I'd never want to take time away from/compromise all that I've worked for.

This is always what I've wanted to do, recognized for it or not... I've always wanted to be a creator. Always!  I am SO lucky to have reached my 'end-goal' so early in life, and now look how much time I have to better what I do, to learn, to grow, to expand with a partner that is equally inspired and motivated.  To be recognized for this, though, and to be gaining press and steam like we have been this entire summer?  Amazing.

late night rambling pt 3

One of these days I'll find someone who can get away with bossing me around.  I'll most likely be amused, only if this person can get away with it without being thwarted by my sneaky tactics.

I'm not sure if I am quiet (!) enough to fly off the radar, or am just low key, but no one tells me what to do. This is mostly good, because I'm very subtly anti-authority.  Maybe you've noticed.  I hate the unnecessary (often workplace) over-delegation of simple tasks, and if someone gives me a nice/slow/easy to-do list, I'm most likely thinking inside that they're a total moron and now I have to find a way to do it out of order to prove a point.  I think I get this from my grampa, he would always semi listen with a laugh in his eyes, and innocently take your request and do it in his own silly way.  Maybe it would be more efficient, maybe it would be downright ridiculous, but he would always do it his way.

Anyways, one day, maybe YOU, friend, will get all bossy in ordering me around, and I will probably snicker (out of appreciation)... but then do as you request, if you're persuasive or sassy enough.

---

Also (because where else am I going to lump this in) I hate when people don't trust me, and I hate people that simply cannot be trusted on the basics.  I might come across as a blonde zoned-out ridiculous human being, but I am very smart and very capable, and if it's important I will absolutely get it done under whatever means necessary.  If it's not important or if it's boring and non-vital that's another story...  Everything I care about will always come together, there's no alternative.  Last weekend = case in point... even pissed off and rather furious, I will damn well get done what needs to get done.

There are three levels (probably many more) of trust in my eyes...  there's a contingent of people I just deal with, no trust for follow through, no trust for opinion/ideas, and that's fine as long as they are classified as such.  Next level up are those either I work/interact with in some capacity, I trust that they will do things they say they will (basic accountability)... or lastly, you are someone in my life where I trust not only that you will follow through, but I trust your thoughts/opinions/words.  Not many people are in the upper level of trust in my life, but when someone I trust to do basic tasks falls out of their category... it's upsetting.

I ramble at night.  Oh well!  Trust has just been on my mind, recently, since I don't grow it easily, yet provide it to all of my colleagues and friends.

Exploring Icarus and Learning How to Fly...

ORIGINALLY published on Luminarium's blog, here!

One of many pieces of Icarus art...

When I was younger (I would say much younger, but it would be a lie) I used to search for walls, tree stumps, large rocks… anything I could test myself on by jumping off of.   I loved everything about my strange habit, the nervousness leading up to leaping off an eight-foot retaining wall at my grandmother’s condo complex, the excitement of doing something any reasonable adult would probably not approve, and that crystal clear moment of free-fall before scrambling to land.  Now that I am an adult, and one without a great deal of free time/living in an urban neighborhood (parkour, anyone?), I’ve been remarkably grounded.  I’ve come to terms with this, there are plenty of other ways to get an adrenaline fix, but I think it is a valid link to my interest in the myth of Icarus, and translating that story into a new work for Mythos:Pathos.

Icarus, to seriously summarize, was the son of Daedalus, a craftsman.  Trapped on the island of Crete by King Minos, Daedalus constructed wings of wax and feathers so the two could fly to freedom.  Despite his father’s warnings to follow him and not fly too close to the sun, Icarus breaks from the plan, inevitably flies too close to the sun, and falls to the sea.  Most retellings and discussions of this tale attribute Icarus’ fall to over-ambition or hubris, but I don’t think I agree, at least not with the connotation behind ‘hubris’, or being overly ambitious!  As a storyteller it is my responsibility to represent the myth accurately, but in relating to this character I am opting to present the story (especially causes of Icarus’ extended flight) from my own perspective.  I am very lucky to approach this work as a choreographer, since the tale is indeed movement-based, but more on my movement research in a bit.

Adrenaline Amnesia.  I’m sure this isn’t an original phrase, so I won’t take credit for it, however, it is catchy and concisely sums up my thoughts on and personal connections to Icarus.  It is something, I would hope, most everyone has experienced at one point or another, and often as the result of unheeded advice.  A physical action or not, one does something contrary to advice or a mandate from an authority-figure, experiences the rush, and is much more apt to continue the action and have the advice vanish from the mind.  The obvious examples; sneaking out of high school to do [non-academic activity of choice about town] against parent/teacher rules, a taboo relationship, or physical examples; driving too fast, swimming too deep in the ocean, jumping off high objects (!), various other semi-risky and addictive activities.   It is possible that flight just feels so wonderful and freeing that Icarus keeps flying and flying, not to prove that he can, but because that authoritarian warning has simply dissolved from his mind in the euphoria of the moment?  My dislike of authority decrees is simply a coincidence here, since while I approve of the disregard, it wouldn’t be a conscious choice in this situation, now would it?

I was fortunate enough to get to experiment with both adrenaline amnesia and the physical feel of flying in an indoor skydiving session at SkyVenture NH.  Mark (Icarus performer/fellow adrenaline connoisseur) and I suited up, complete with kneepads, goggles, earplugs and of course a one-piece flight suit and made our way to the flight chamber.  My personal goals were to see if, in fact, I would fall into the 100 mph winds and experience some sort of thought-erasing euphoria, and also to experience how a body suspended in the air actually feels as movement research.  The results varied.  I was very interested to discover how whole-body the physical flying experience was.  As movers, I can say we approached learning how to fly from a different perspective and understanding than the others in our group.  Every slight shift in working muscle groups had the potential to shoot you high into the air, or bring you plummeting down to the metal grid below.  If it was allowed, I could have easily spent an hour playing with the varying effects of slight body movements in the vertical space, I could probably write an entirely separate blog post on this topic. 

Mentally, while there was no magically activated euphoria, there was a huge sense of calm.  As an individual with a mind that’s typically thinking about 5+ different things at once, and also probably 3 irrelevant distracting things in addition to that (attention defi-what?) I found this strange peaceful nothingness that was really quite lovely.  Perhaps it was caused by serious wind rushing past my ears, but also it was the first occurrence in an indefinite amount of time that I was completely separate from the rest of the world.  No verbal communication was possible in the wind tunnel, no iPhones or electronics to use, the wind blocked my ears… I wasn’t even connected to the ground.  For 6 minutes, I was a completely independent-free-floating body suspended in air, and while I didn’t have that stomach-twisting, blood-pumping, heart-racing thrill, I found a sort of break from the world.

Phew!  Does this prove anything I set out to investigate?  Not fully.  However, I’m satisfied with my own Icarus story, as we approach performance, and I am completely content to think about this myth for months to come.  I hope my artistic liberty with Icarus serves to let viewers feel free enough to question the myth, my retelling, and of course to enjoy the piece as a whole.

birthday musings.

Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I didn't make some of the life choices I've already made.  Where would I be, who would I be, what would I be, and would I be happier or basically the same or kicking myself for not doing something? Sometimes I do kick myself for not doing/saying something or jumping on something anyways, so who the hell knows.

No one winks enough these days... Maybe it's a lost skill.

I think tomorrow I might run away to be a Lost Boy.  25 is ok so far, but it's also basically thirty, though I know lots of timeless 28 year olds which leads me to think time goes by slower in your upper twenties.  Wishful thinking?  I did have a fairly mature weekend... I cut back on my caffeine consumption, I planned to wear bike shorts under a very short dress (planned is the key word, I brought them in my bag and never put them on...), I ran the dishwasher and unloaded it multiple times like a boss, I'm sure there were more examples.   Unfortunately, these adult-ly things were negated by other actions in the past week.  I went braless on multiple occasions, sometimes for an entire day and/or to work or out in public.  One day I simply forgot to wear deodorant (let me tell you it's a REALLY good thing I'm not a stinky person).  I made copious amounts of innuendos, often forgot to wear sunscreen, flooded the bathtub, and had several solo dance parties (this is actually something everyone should do all the time, often in ridiculous clothing or underwear or a costume). Today I had green vegetable juice for breakfast,  and a kombucha and a peppermint patty for lunch.. healthy things plus candy. Hmm.  

It's nice to be flawed.  It's also nice to make mistakes.  I know a handful of people who play very much by the rules, to the extent of not even daring to imagine living outside the lines.  Great, if you are happy, not great if you are muted/mediocre/grey.

It would be nice to have one endless night, or a time-sink hole, where I could travel wherever I wanted and have a marvelous/ridiculous time doing whatever I pleased, being silly/crazy/laughing lots... but completely free of day to day life and it's demands.  Almost like when you go to a packed bar with your friends and it's dark and loud and full of distractions, and then you lose your friends.  Since you know you'll find them at some point later, you just kind of freely wander around.  You can interact with other people and draw attention to yourself or just slip about unnoticed.  It's a nice balance of invisibility cloak vs  making one-night-temporary best friends/fending off attention from undesirable individuals.  At the end of the night you stumble upon your friends, no harm done, and you can tell them of your adventures or simply not share at all.

This is tough since I feel like everyone is growing up and completely fine with it, and while I like all that I'm accomplishing I don't want to lose the freedom you get in your early/mid twenties as well.  No one seems to want to/have time for adventures and hijinks and pointless things you do just for the hell of it.


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Coda:

How the heck is it basically 1am?  I promised myself I'd go to bed nice and early at midnight (25=responsibility!)  since my bed time averaged 2:30 last week.  I remember staying up crazy late each night in college thinking 'wow, after I graduate I won't be able to do this anymore'... but, surprise.  Guess that's not true.

Cowardly people annoy me.

This doesn't even begin to describe twylas love for tennis balls...

Yes, I've spent 5 quality minutes searching for answers on the following topic.

Some of the descriptions/answers are real gems.

http://www.ask.com/questions-about/How-Do-You-Make-an-Armpit-Fart

Chuckling... just a tiny bit.

http://jezebel.com/5657391/the-good-ol-days-of-advertising-when-subtext-was-for-sissies/gallery/1

AHH almost 25....

Today I went indoor skydiving.

Tomorrow maybe I'll do one of the things on the list below, because, you know, I am turning 25 in only 20 days, and I've only done about half of these things (if I am being honest with myself)!

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/25-things-to-do-before-you-turn-25/

For those of you still awaiting being a quarter century (and there are still a solid handful of us left...), better start plugging away!

play it like frank.

I've almost always been into Sinatra.

It started very young, watching Anchors Aweigh countless times as a young kid (though I'm a Gene Kelly gal all the way, sigh), and also other musicals I'd watched and rewatched . It intensified with a foray into jazz (safe-jazz, as I like to call the earlier stuff) at a music camp over the summer, 6th grade?, where Steph and I played in a jazz band as an elective to the core music classes/ensembles.  We had a fiery instructor with a bit of a wonky eye, and he'd just snap 'play it like Frank!' all the time, which didn't have a ton of meaning to the youngsters more concerned with the faction of awkward boy trombone players.  Steph and I, years later, got to see 'Come Fly Away', the full-length Tharp set purely to Sinatra, soon before it closed in NYC.  We are very lucky to have caught it, I think it was so beautiful for just enjoyable/easy to watch (but not simple) dance... Anyways, not in the mood to go on and on, but between music, movies and notoriety, I've always been intrigued.

So, I think because I am reading this (it's REALLY well-written- if anyone wants to borrow) and my allotted recreational brain think-space is therefore currently fascinated by all things life-of-Frank, I did a short combo to some Sinatra tonight. It wasn't really difficult or elaborate, but instead it was just fun and let me toe the line somewhere in the vast greyspace between mod/contemp and jazz/musical theatre.  I didn't even get to the good parts and it felt goooooooood.  So good that I took the long way home, shuffling through the Sinatra selection on my iPod quite loud, with the car windows open, scaring the homeless people scattered along my route.

I rediscovered this guy, forgetting how much I love the song.  I think it's the 'don't you know, you fool' line that does it, I embarrassingly and yet consistently wish I could jump back in time to be serenaded with it... the whole mentality/reality use is fun.

Singers in the past used to really sing their song to you, instead of just the 'i'm checked out and singing through auto-tune cause I'm going to get millions' singers of today.   Tangent, yes, but that's ok because I'm happy with my awkward iPod mixes of Tom Waits, Sinatra, Queen, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Jack White, Hendrix and the Beach Boys (uh huh, all in one playlist)... even though most people I know refuse to listen to my crazy mixes because they can't stand the random variety.  Sometimes I throw in the Beatles, the Faint, and Gil Scott-Heron... it's like the black hole of playlists.

Semi-pointless entry, but it was a gorgeous sunny day, I've been outside a ton playing in the sun, we got three great new dancers for Mythos:Pathos, I am embarking upon new work, and I have done nothing but what I wanted to do for the past two days.

recording time

I've really been wanting to go swimming lately. Ocean, or a really deep pool.  No lakes, no shallow water, please.

I miss spending summers in Ogunquit ME for this reason, and more.  From second grade through late high school my mom would rent a house or condo and we would go wreck havoc, get too much sun, dig up too many poor unsuspecting sea creatures, have too much ice cream, etc.

My favorite part of an annual 2 weeks at the beach was waiting all day long for tide that's weak enough to cross where the Ogunquit River dumps into the Atlantic. The photo below is the same beach, so it would be swimming from the background, where all the people are, to the rocky area in the foreground (except there was never a lifeguard).  If you were lucky enough to make it all the way across without chickening out or getting pushed back by the strong current, and if memory served you right, you could find the one big rock to climb to the tip of, and dive really deep into the water! Only one of the rocks led to a huge deep spot worthy of a dive, the other rocks were only jump or cannonball deep.  I can remember standing at the edge of the slippery rock, with barnacles cutting my toes and making them bleed, totally exhilarated and ready to plummet off the edge.  Once you closed your eyes and hit the water you could tell you did it right because it seemed so dark, behind your eyelids, and you could smell (sense? why would I be sniffing under water...) a strong tide pool smell.  You could dive and dive and dive into the salty water until you realized that you were almost screwed to get back to the other side of the ocean and had to swim with every bit of strength you had left to do so.  Yes, this is the beach where I got sucked out to sea many years ago.

I think the best part of the above water activity was returning to the rented house, and feeling wonderfully physically exhausted.  Arms, legs, core, and best of all lungs. I remember laying in the dark, waiting for sleep, but feeling that great internal rocking you can only experience after a day in the waves.

I stole the photos in this entry from this blog post I randomly found.  The pictures are great, a very clear representation of the town.

I HAD to include the following photo... because it reminded me of one of my first awkward/awesome life experiences.

If you ever visit OGT you will, doubtlessly, walk the Marginal Way- a walkable stretch of the Maine coast.  You can walk on the paved parts, or you can be badass and take the rocks! Anyways, one nice summer evening we decided to do a second Marginal Way walk in one day... I was sulking because I wasn't allowed to go crazy on the rocks and cliffs, nor was I allowed to run the crushed stone paths barefoot, per order of various adults that didn't want to waste time/prolong the walk/have a kid fall in the ocean.  In an attempt to make my evening more exciting and to really prove my sulky point, I ventured into each little outlet of the main path.  It was here, on this EXACT bench, that 9-year-old me (literally) stumbled upon a mid-twenties couple ridiculously going at it in the almost-dark.  Of course I muttered some jack-ass 'good-evening-kind-sir' remark, and ran away laughing entirely too loud.  Not much has changed.

I really wish I got to experience Ogunquit at my current age/place in life (really, I was going to say adult and then stopped myself...yikes!).  It is such a little peaceful seaside village, with so much low key art... it would have been the best place to spend some time gathering and putting together my thoughts.

If anyone actually reads this entry you get 10 points.  Really it was intended just to capture a few moments I love to look back on, before they flitted out of my mind again.  However, if you are still reading, you have no excuse not to want to go visit.  I'd be happy to provide you a list of things to check out!

My non-problem is that I don't want to say no to anything, because everything is a new experience!

Life isn't a video game, though, and so one doesn't have to beat the game by trying everything.  At the same time, once you beat the real life game you don't get to come back for the unlocked free/adventure mode.  SO, I feel ok about doing what I please/investigating my curiosities as long as they fall short of murder, major theft, or something extra-destructive.

Someday, when all of my time is up, I feel like I'll have a decently full autobiography (even if unwritten) and such a high total score from all of the points I've accumulated from playing the hell out of the life game.

it's all good...

Idealists, as a temperament, are passionately concerned with personal growth and development. Idealists strive to discover who they are and how they can become their best possible self -- always this quest for self-knowledge and self-improvement drives their imagination. And they want to help others make the journey. Idealists are naturally drawn to working with people, and whether in education or counseling, in social services or personnel work, in journalism or the ministry, they are gifted at helping others find their way in life, often inspiring them to grow as individuals and to fulfill their potentials. Idealists are sure that friendly cooperation is the best way for people to achieve their goals. Conflict and confrontation upset them because they seem to put up angry barriers between people. Idealists dream of creating harmonious, even caring personal relations, and they have a unique talent for helping people get along with each other and work together for the good of all. Such interpersonal harmony might be a romantic ideal, but then Idealists are incurable romantics who prefer to focus on what might be, rather than what is. The real, practical world is only a starting place for Idealists; they believe that life is filled with possibilities waiting to be realized, rich with meanings calling out to be understood. This idea of a mystical or spiritual dimension to life, the "not visible" or the "not yet" that can only be known through intuition or by a leap of faith, is far more important to Idealists than the world of material things. Idealists are relatively rare, making up no more than 15 to 20 percent of the population. But their ability to inspire people with their enthusiasm and their idealism has given them influence far beyond their numbers.

hodge podge of thoughts.

Finally watching the season finale of Mad Men... bahhhhhhhhhhh! What is it with AMC shows-  I'm so obsessed with Breaking Bad for its fabulously subtle and intelligent layering and foreshadowing of plot and it's downright amazing sound creations.

This was the first weekend in awhile that didn't feel short (too short), and I am so grateful for that.  Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights all started or ended with gin and solid conversation/discussion from a variety of locations including my backyard, Oberon/Harv Sq, and a chilly rooftop bar in South Boston overlooking the harbor.  Usually sitting and talking and enjoying the moment doesn't happen often enough...

Unfortunately things phase out and shut down too quickly/early in this city.  In new york it's easy to lose track of time until it's morning, but when closing time taps you on the shoulder in boston I always feel a bit let down and also out of options; there are no fields to go lay in with your friends and be silly about made-up constellations, no one's parents' hot tubs to mischievously skinny dip in, no unnecessary trips to one of only 2 stores open 24-hours a day just for hijinxs. OR, maybe this is all just an attempt to not become a 25-year old adult in just one month.

I am having blooming choreographic/concept ideas vault around my head.  I'm seriously wishing I didn't have to work at all this summer and I could just dive into creating and thinking and researching and thinking and so on.  I'm finding myself working wonderfully backwards- my brain picked a few stories I wanted to dive into months ago, but only now am I finding myself making connections and filling in the gaps and falling in love with each story.   Maybe sometime I will share thoughts on my new projects here, but for now I don't want to write about them.  I AM currently eager to share my thoughts and ideas, I just don't like to do so in this kind of format.  Whoever is listening can't ask questions or share their thoughts/counter ideas, and it's too passive for me.

I feel bad for anyone stuck in their own minds and preconceptions.  I've been encountering this all over the place, recently.  I used to think I would be a horrible lawyer because I have the ability to see and understand anyone else's reasoning.  Now I realize that I am safely rooted in my own ideas/morals/opinions, but able to try on other ideas/opinions- like a floaty piece of ocean-floor seaweed.  I've come to love people being blatantly honest with me through their words, life is too short for games.

Time for a mango, because, you know, 12:32 is officially international mango time.

Ok!  Two confusing and weird and rainy weeks behind me, and I'm feeling pretty good.

There have been way too many nontypical/frustrating/preventable(?)/work-inducing events in the past half months in so many facets of my life (luminarium/family/work), but all have been dealt with, thought over and settled and I feel like I am past them all.

I have a week or so left of work before a mini-vacation and change of pace for the summer.  I feel slightly irresponsible because my body and brain are totally checked out, but it's not worth mental refocus and effort.  Instead, I have new choreography to focus on!  It feels great to read and research and jump on a new challenge...

pointless entry but I didn't want to leave my thoughts in such a grouchy place!

life got twist-turned upside down

Note: 2 am post after a draining week means run-on/repetitive sentences, grammar awfulness and typos.  Since this is obviously my blog, I don't really give a crap.


Silly me, last October, thinking that despite sadness it would be nice not spending weekends in hospitals/rehab centers for many more years.  My mistake, life.

Now I get to learn alllllll about strokes and symptoms of damage, and enlarged hearts, and so many fun things that can take someone's life and make it unrecognizable in less than an hour.  I also get to jump into the fun game of finding balance between built up years of hurt/frustration/anger/blame, more contemporary years of neutral disregard, and then the most recent renegade feelings of fright/sympathy/caring, and then applying them to this situation.  I don't really think anyone deserves getting such a demotion from functional human being to weak broken dependent... and yet I've observed a 20 year old college student at MHC go through a stroke, two octogenarians go through it (one surviving two strokes, one not so lucky),  and now my 57 year old dad, who was a menacing 6 foot plus strong guy with a brash loud voice with a twinge of Bahston accent (brought out more in large male-heavy groups).  Now he is limply hanging out in a hospital bed making baby-sentences and looking bleary eyed.  What the fuck. I'm a firm believer in OT/PT working some magic, but let's be honest, no one ever gets back to 100% from this low point.  At the same time, this is obviously not a death sentence.  It's just seeming to be a quality of life sentence, and that freaks me out as someone who makes an effort to take advantage of the many ridiculous adventurous and enjoyable things I can do in a day (week/month/year).

What is very weird is watching my mom bravely commandeer the situation, whatever personal feelings she has set aside, to try to figure out the future before it's too late to hold on to the everyday life she has created and enjoys.   My dad makes a lot of money but his union job, wildly enough, doesn't give him any sick or vacation days- meaning it's a good thing he has a very specialized skill set without a lot of competition, otherwise he could easily be let go/laid off.  However, while his job is fairly safe in the present, he doesn't get paid while he recovers, and he needs to hit a certain number of hours per year to keep his (my mom's/jenn's) health insurance. Now my mom needs to figure out how to take the lifestyle of $xxxk, and make it work on just her income, until my dad can magically go back to work.  No wonder you see all those ridiculous commercials with old people griping about how they broke a hip, lost their house, and now are thousands of dollars in debt and have no way to finance their funeral expenses (this is a bit of an infomercial merge, sure).  The strange part of this is that financially, with the threat of job loss/health insurance loss/crazy medical bills, this major life event doesn't affect me.  I am an independent adult with my own mortgage and job and bills, and yet the empathy I am feeling translates to me wanting to shoulder some of this scary impending crisis, to be a part of whatever awful medical/financial snafu lands upon my parents.  Who wishes for this?!

Through my late teen/young adult years I found (and still find) myself making mental note of everything my parents have done for me; from shouldering the majority of my 200k college education, to helping renovate my house weekend after weekend, bailing me out of sticky situations...the list goes on. I've constantly recognized how lucky/fortunate I am, and how some day, way down the road, I would have the opportunity to pay these favors back.  Who would have guessed that time would come so soon...

let's pretend that it never happened, until it happens again...

Every now and then I find myself beaten at my own game; shy, quiet, withholding things I feel, think or want to say.  Timid. It amuses me because it's infrequent and atypical and I don't get flustered very often.


I feel like writing a dance/choreography related post, but there is SO much bouncing about in my head right now that I feel like it would be the biggest explosion of word vomit ever.  I'll organize my thoughts and get back to you, blog.

static or stagnant

Think of something you want to do more than anything else in the whole world, even if it is indulgent, selfish or destructive, and DO it. If not now, at this point in life, when well you ever try?  You don't have to try this form of impulsive decision making more than once, but it's bound to either be fantastic and exhilarating, or a total disaster/life lesson.

I guess this is semi-contradictory to my 'try-everything-twice-no-exceptions' philosophy.  Then again, I firmly believe in that, too. If you are a try-everything-once person how do you know that the one time you experienced something wasn't out of the norm? Also, yes, you should try EVERYTHING.  Minus murder, or a serious crime, I suppose.

So many people are living sedentary, routine, by-the-schedule lives.  It freaks me out.  Maybe people can be happy living the exact same day or exact same weekend for their entire adult lives, but how is this satisfying?  One of my friends (condensed version) once stated life was basically work hard, make money, retire and travel and live out the rest of your days. Whaaaat?  What about right now, what about tomorrow? What did you do this very day that was fun or new or exciting?  Everyday should contain something novel, some little nugget of great.  It's not too late for today, FYI.  Go lie outside in the rain until you are soaked, or moon your neighbor, or smash an egg with your bare hands, or put on great music and dance ridiculously.  Extra points for all of the above.

I like to think my life experience is like an amoeba, and everyday i make it grow/expand outwards a tiny bit more.  Who is going to die someday with the biggest amoeba?

Thennnnnn because it's rainy and I'm feeling a bit contemplative, maybe there are people that just want to have a little amoeba and are happy and comfortable with the limited amount of whatever it is in their tiny collection of experience.  Same breakfast, same job, same tv shows, same bed time.  Huh.  If YOU, reader (or lack of reader haha) are one of these little bubble people I would like to question you relentlessly, sign up now, or run away quick!

time traveling

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rARN6agiW7o&feature=share

Exciting.  It looks a little bit glitzy, but I have faith in Baz Luhrmann.

I'd love to find the magic balance between being the lady-version of Gatsby and a productive/successful/innovative/happy individual.

Time to face the HIP-issues...

SO!

I've been dealing with a shitty hip situation since halfway through college.  To summarize, there are three happily coexisting problems; osteoarthritis (I've worn through a lot of my cartilage), snapping hip syndrome (have an extra tiny little bony process on the bone that is catching a tendon that should ideally glide across the hip surface), and a labral tear (soph. year jazz class induced, sore subject.. no puns intended), which is best described here.

It's been sucky and painful and limited, and sort of depressing.  I saw an orthopedic doctor 4 or 5 years ago who half-heartedly conducted an arthrogram and MRI and said I could do PT or just go for a hip replacement, but also I should really stop using the joint as much as I was in an attempt to heal. Uh... ok.  I did the PT, it sort of helped for a bit before I plateau-ed which happened about the same time as I got kicked off my parent's health insurance and had to do the exercises from home.  For the past couple of years I've just been trying to cope/deal with it... either working through hip pain and sleeping with an ice pack, or just not moving at all.  I know what I need to stretch, what needs to keep strengthening, but there is never enough improvement to feel great.

Anyways, I am happy that after waiting for way too long, I am going to see a new specialist and get this stupid injury fixed!  I've been annoyed with my hip way too much lately, and have come to the conclusion that you shouldn't have to live with or accept day-to-day pain (if I do anything more than normal-people movement, which is obviously going to happen) and limited mobility!

It's probably going to take awhile to solve the problem/heal the injury, since I would rather not go invasive right away, but hopefully there is a fix out there for me.  I don't remember what it feel like to have two normal/functioning/pain-free hip joints!

party trumpet...

Also... everytime I see this commercial (bacardi 1957 party) it makes me smirk thinking about the last time I brought a trumpet to a party. The party was an informal basement gathering in NH that progressed into the back of a minivan, and I'm pretty sure I composed an original song with no formal trumpet training.

Came straight home after rehearsal, had big plans, can't stop watching Mythbusters and playing with the dog.

It seems that I can completely incapable of reading signals these days, I guess I need a big old metaphorical slap in the face or one of those guns with the little POW flags to understand anything.  I've also been way more gullible than usual.  Distracteddddddd. Point being, anything anyone says to me from this point on should either be written by one of those planes that writes things in the sky, communicated in sign language/interpretative dance, or spoken through a megaphone pointed at my ear.  

the process heats up!

We are finally getting to that magic point where I can sit on the couch, cross-legged, eyes-closed, Bose headphones on, and listen and listen and listen to music in attempt to score the new piece of choreography. Merli and I toss things around, we speak in really random descriptive non-English to figure out what we both have in our separate heads and how we merge it, and then I sit and layer and tweak, repeat repeat repeat.  Sometimes I get to go make awkward vocal percussion on the mic in my office or rock the midi keyboard and its affiliated noises, sometimes I go record the washer machine, sometimes I have to dig through sound websites to find what I need. I love creating sound!

Backtracking.

Of course it is nice to be motivated enough by a piece of music or something auditory to create choreography off of it.  I did this for my big senior piece in college, and for my more recent Luminarium work everything but blue, but there is something so satisfying about being able to score the choreography and make the sound in your head accompany the established movement.  On a technical level sound is nice because it is stable.  It stays right where you leave it, you can always undo what you did, and you can close your eyes and listen to it a thousand times on repeat to determine whether or not it works. (At the same time, I love choreographing because the process is the exact opposite of all of these reasons!)

Perhaps the happy compromise is to find an auditory seed of motivation (pre-movement) or at least a general sound/feel/song to put on your mental cork-board, and then go about your merry way creating movement, and then fill in the gaps and score it all out.  Hmm...

greygreygreygrey

It's a boring grey day.  I could be doing important things.  Instead, I am watching this and looking through these.  Genius.

Dear Kelsey O'Brien...

... I love you. Hope time passes quickly until you come home from llama-land, but until you do...

My bed feels huge when it is just me and the pup sleeping in it... Distractingly huge, even for a starfish-er like myself. I sort of wish I was still in NY where it's somewhat ok to wander at all hours of the night.