Self Reflection and Dance

Most of you have heard me say it a thousand times before: “I’m quitting dance. No!! I mean I’m REAALLY quitting” only to see me back in my stage makeup and bells by the following week complaining about how much “I hate this” (never specifying what “this” is). Well, here’s my confession. I am an addict and dance is my crack. I can justify doing it even better than a junkie on a bender. Then in those painfully sober moments (that come few and far between) I look down at my crack pipe (in this case my grossly deformed dance feet) and realize how much of a disservice I’m doing myself by clinging on to dance as if it is the only thing that will ever be fulfilling. I miss life while within the four walls of the dance studio. The lack of windows and time pieces is like a strange parallel of my existence while at dance: I’m cut off from the rest of the world and I can’t tell how much time passes between the beginning and the end of rehearsal.

A Self Hating Indian

Yesterday afternoon I performed for a senior citizen’s get together. Unfortunately it was an Indian get together. As PC as I am, I must say, I hate Indians. I know, people say that after a certain age you can’t change your habits, but why do Indians make it a habit to be as discourteous and rude as possible? While trying to put on my makeup in a crowded change room, I saw a group of old Indian ladies force an even older lady to leave the change room because they didn’t want to share the bathroom or the sink with her. She finally haggled with them enough for them to allow her to use the bathroom but forbade her from using the sink because they felt they were important than any of the other performers. At this point I got so annoyed that I picked up my makeup, pushed the lady using the sink out of the way and let the lady in the bathroom wash her hands. At which point the formerly sink using lady turned around and yelled at me (in Punjabi no less) presumably about how I had let the lady use the sink. She then jabbed me with her elbows till I moved back to my spot on the far side of the change room (where another set of ladies had pushed my things over to the end of the bench I was sitting on) and where jabbering away loudly.

Home Sweet Home?

Usually when you return home after a trip, aside from the regular whining about having to get back to the grind, you’re supposed to be happy about being home yes? Isn’t there supposed to be something comforting about coming back? As the plane descended over Toronto, I looked out the window to see the lights, and all I could think of was how it looked like a splat of incandescent vomit–a sprawling body of lights with spindly arms in the form of the streetlights that line the highways leaving the city. I don’t like this city and I think being here for such a long time blinded me to the possibilities. Did you know that you can build a city while still maintaining the city’s original buildings? Did you know that it’s possible to have a waterfront that doesn’t look like an extension of the concrete jungle that is most North American cities? And best of all, did you know that you can be friendly with other people without it having any negative effects on your own day?

Anyway, I had a pretty incredible trip. For the first time in my life, I went out site seeing by myself which was nice because my plans didn’t rely on anyone else’s schedule. I saw all of downtown Halifax pausing only to speak to a really friendly hobo named David who told me he would show me the downtown area if I didn’t like the guide book I was using. It seemed like every building in the downtown core had a history to it. Take for instance the town’s city hall.

She Couldn’t Tell

Mum: What did you bake?

Me: Pound cake.

Mum: That was cake? I thought it was bread…I made a sandwich out of it…

This is the first of many reasons that explain why my baking skills need some serious improvement. Number two? Lumps in my “pound cake” batter left me with my hand in the mixing bowl for half an hour trying to pinch the lumps into oblivion. Suffice it to say this is not the way to make a smooth cake batter.

I’m Just So Awesome When I Have Nothing Else To Do

This is the longest I’ve ever gone without blogging. Seeing as how I intended to do this for fun, I only wanted to write when I really felt like it and as of late I haven’t felt like doing much of anything. So for the last week I’ve been sorting through papers, going out with friends, and making to-do lists about everything from home improvement, to books to read. Anyway, I’m now done with vegetating and planning so I’m doing! Today, the doing includes preparing flowerbeds (top soil, black soil and then fertilizer), planting flowers, returning library books, driving nails into walls and hanging pictures, and sorting through old clothes.  It doesn’t sound like too much fun but it’s so satisfying to get the house in order. Even though we’ve lived here for  three years, it seems that we never really settled in.

So far, the bottom floor of our house looks outstanding…I wish I had the camera here to document it. By the end of today I plan to be done with the garden and most of the top floor. I don’t know if this is too ambitious seeing as how upstairs looks like the Serengeti after a stampede (I’m assuming that means bad), but if I don’t get this done it means I’ll have to do the same thing tomorrow when what I really should be doing tomorrow is packing for an exciting trip to Canada’s east coast! Any suggestions for what I can do in Halifax?

P.S: You will undoubtedly see pictures of the garden soon, because I’m so incredibly proud of how it looks!

Deflated Expectations

Today was my last exam. I didn’t get that euphoric rush that normally comes along with the last day of school. Mostly because it feels like I’m carrying litres of water in my head. It just seems heinously unfair that I’m sick again. I swear it hasn’t been that long since I was complaining about bad instant soup and now I’m back on the soup and toast diet. I blame it on my mom’s school. They aren’t children…they’re just cute enlarged germs! Anyway, I’ll hopefully be better by Wednesday when I plan to have bonfire extravaganza fuelled by my own blood, sweat, and tears (read: all the papers I’ve accumulated during my undergraduate career). But tonight I have no idea what to do. I haven’t slept much in the last two days because I can’t breathe lying down but for some reason I’m still not tired. So I have all this time, with nothing imperative to do and nothing on Monday night television except for four back to back episodes of Jon and Kate plus Eight…man I wish I had eight kids!

When the Dogs Bite, When the Bees Sting

For those of you who don’t live in Toronto, we’ve had grey skies and drizzle for the last few days. Global warming’s making us change our colloquialisms! Whatever happened to April showers bring May flowers? Anyway, people tend to feel down when the weather is bad so I simply remember my favourite things and then I don’t feel so bad:

1. Writing on banana peels with a ballpoint pen. Don’t knock it till you try it. It’s a delightful feeling. I wish they had banana peel paper!

2. Studying Canadian history for a final that I’ll forget about in a year. (I’m required to say that because I’ve been doing it all day.)

3. Children who say things that are wonderfully ditsy. “Isn’t that pink sand just too much? It’s so beautiful that we just can’t handle it. Us girls just can’t handle it.”–a four year old girl who felt the need to tell me how amazing the pink sand in her classroom is.