Sunday, January 22, 2006

Blogging/meme-ing in 3s. Or maybe 4s. Whatever's lucky.

I am inexplicably sad today. So, instead:
2 Stolen Memes from Steve.
Notes to Self

Do's and Don'ts for my 10-Year-Old Self

  • Do listen to your mother and don't snap at her when she insists that you continue to take dance class. She knows something you don't.
  • Do sharpen your pencils and clean your desk. Otherwise, your teacher will dump all of your stuff all over the floor. She'll do it because she wants to help you, but you'll be mortified.
  • Don't be so mean to boys. P.S. You're in love with Gordon Kiewiet. Face up to the facts.
  • Don't bring your Sea-wees to church. They'll disappear.

Do's and Dont's for my 16-Year-Old Self

  • Listen, and this is important: Don't date any smokers.
  • Do go to more school dances. You'll confuse the heck out of everybody because, suddenly, you're awesome and you can shake your thing.
  • Come on. Do your hair now and then. Try a little hairspray.

Do's and Don'ts for my 20-Year-Old Self

  • Do spend as much time as you possibly can with your cats. They'll be gone within the year.
  • Do get used to needles--Your body's pretty wacky right now and no one will figure out why, including you. Eat a lot of starch and maybe throw some vitamins in there because God knows you won't be eating much this summer.
  • Do spend as much time as you can with your parents. One of them will be in the hospital soon and one of them will be unraveling dishcloths from fretting.
  • Don't give the Jaybird the satisfaction of bothering you, and for heaven's sake don't call him. Ever. He's full of it, he'll give you a cold, and he doesn't give a damn about you. But he will be useful for practicing back massage techniques.
  • Don't snap at your best girlfriends, because they miss you and you've been a jerk lately.
Five Weird Habits

The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits" and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly.

  • I used to set my alarm clock exactly 28 minutes fast. All other clocks were as close to time as I could make them. (I have this year suspended this practice, because it was...dumb.)
  • I have a sick addiction to fabric. No matter how many projects I have stockpiled, I cannot resist buying yard after yard of satin, cottons,brocades, and patterns. I will not buy overly similiar patterns, generally, but I can feel myself starting to slip on that note.
  • I schedule out the time it will take me to do things to the nearest minute. Not the nearest five minutes, but the nearest minute. Example: It will take me another 36 minutes to get out of here, then four minutes to get home. It will then take me about 11 minutes to finish turning out the bustier strap I was working on, and 8 minutes to get them attached to my velvet bustier. If I finish that, I should read the rest of the summaries I have to read for school, which will take 43 minutes.
  • I enjoy walking around my apartment with as much skin showing as possible while still being "clothed." With the blinds up.
  • Dancer's favorite: No matter where I am, I will lift my leg up to stretch if it feels kinked up. If I do it in the middle of a conversation with you, please stop me.

Ok, those aren't very revealing. I'll try to observe myself and come up with something juicier.

I Remembered!

So, here's what happened the other day that made me want to blog. The other day I was watching the Classic Arts Channel and there was a ballet on, a rendition of the Waltz of the Flowers. I started remembering things, the good old days when I could count on each year bringing a few moments in which I, too, would be lifted by handsome boys into delicate positions that impressed all the mothers and fathers in the audience.
I'm so sad for those days.
it's not like I don't get picked up now and then by boys who seem to enjoy hugging me and simultaneously showing off their pipes by lifting me into the air. And I like it.
But it's not the same as striking a dramatic shape in the air with strong hands underneath you like you were just a little apple blossom being stretched into the breeze, and possibly grabbing your bum as a little something extra. It was totally worth being dropped a couple of times to come up with something really amazing. I wish I'd worked more at partnering in dance school, and worked more on my extensions so that my legs would look better in photographs of such moments. I also wish we'd been a little more adventurous when we had the choreographic reins...we did interesting stuff, but it wasn't always chosen with what would make us look awesome in mind.
One of my favorite dance moments ever was during Evita, when I got picked up by not one but five or six boys, who twirled me around in a circle before dropping me into the arms of the cutest one. How can you go wrong with that?

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