From The Moment I Could Talk I Was Ordered to Listen

Why can’t I remember our conversations? Did I never talk?

I’m Just So Awesome (Part ?)

(As we stood holding hands in the wings before her very first performance)

One of my five year old dance students:
Pari didi, is it scary on stage?

Me: No! It’s going to be so much fun!

Five year old: But it’s still a little scary right?

Me: Maybe a little bit, but I promise once you’re done, you’ll wish you could do it all over again because everyone’s going to clap for you and say wow, she danced so well!

Five year old: But then that means we can’t make any mistakes right?

Me: Well, we have to try our best not to, but if we make a mistake by accident it’s okay!

Five year old: But did you practise? Because last time we did it you made some mistakes…

Me: (mortified) I promise I’ll try my best.

So much for setting a good example.

Kismet, Fate and Other Such Improbabilities

Finding books at the library always makes me think. Can you imagine, with 22, 999 other undergraduates and only 1 holding for the book, not one other person wants to read what I’m reading?

Le sigh.

P.S: Why do I feel this post will curse me to an afternoon of looking for books that have been stolen or misplaced?

Grown Up Sentiments

Is it just me or do kids just not feel the cold like us old folk do? I’m getting ready for yard duty at my mom’s school and my body is physically rejecting the idea of an hour outside in this weather. Maybe I can do some hard cardio…apparently I need to lose the weight anyway.

IMMIGANTS!…

Even when it was the bears, I knew it was them!–Moe Szyslak

Here’s to my favourite new Canadian! May you have many years of Timbits, outdoor ice skating and no entering visas for Commonwealth nations!

Fromage

I wish I could write about how the beauty of the fall colours against today’s blue October sky took my breath away, made me wish I had my camera and then made me wonder if any picture could actually capture the feeling I got when I saw it without sounding cheesy.

There…I said it, cheese and all.

An Unceremonious Thanksgiving

Some things to be thankful for:

1. The beauty of October mornings. Is it just me or is the sky really bluer, the air really crisper and the contrast between the colours sharper in October?

2. Watching the sun rise from the back window of a bus on my way to a ten hour day.

3. Bus drivers who wait for you while you run for the bus

4. A mom who’s willing to drive over to where I am to bring me things that I forgot.

Also, thanks to Martin Forbisher for celebrating the first Canadian thanksgiving because even though I know you shouldn’t wait for a specific day to be thankful, this time of year tends to remind me to stop complaining and blog about all the lovely things I’m happy about on an everyday basis (which I often forget about by the weekend).

VOGUE!

I have a pretty mundane sense of style. Plain tees and jeans every day of the week. While this has served me well until now, it has occurred to me that maybe I should start putting some effort in to looking presentable when I leave the house in the morning, not because I particularly care what I look like, but it’s becoming painfully obvious that I can’t hide behind being young anymore. And yes kids, it’s not just the inside that counts. I hate that I’m saying this. It totally runs contrary to my philosophy de vetements! What was my philosophy? If it covers all the important areas, doesn’t make me feel huge and isn’t a matching velour sweat pant set, it’s good enough for me. This relatively low maintenance philosophy was helped by my ridiculously cheap sense of style; $20 for pants and probably a little less for tops. In my defense, I only got paid a paltry sum once a year. No money plus no style equals:

Who Am I To Break Down?

I’m finally ready to admit I pissed the last year of my life away (please pardon my language but I don’t think I could be more emphatic without the vulgarity). A large part of my action (read: inaction) had to do with fear. I think everyone has the kind of fear that prevents them from moving in any direction but down and out some time in their life. Mine stemmed from losing my dad. All year, I didn’t want to say that I acted the way I did because I was lost and without a security blanket in a world that suddenly seemed to be all about making decisions that I felt were bigger than me. The grey scale in which I see the world only let me see the events that occurred in a relative manner. I didn’t have the right to cry with all that I’ve been blessed with. Most of all, I didn’t want to admit that my difficulty getting out of bed, in motivating myself to read, to study, or to even talk to people around me had anything to do with my dad because he wouldn’t have wanted to be “credited” with that kind of weakness. I struggled through the large part of this year, reminding myself to do all the basic things in life: to breathe, to eat, to make it to class. I guess it worked, it just cost me my sanity! In hindsight, perhaps if I had admitted this to myself earlier it wouldn’t have taken me this long to feel as strong as I do now, but I have to believe that things happen for a reason. There’s no lesson at the end of this long sentenced confession about the crap factory that was last year. It’s just a verbal victory dance because I feel like I’ve finally caught the reins between my hands. Unlike last year, even if things do go sour, I’ve promised myself that I’d go to the mattresses fighting them. I know I’ll always feel the loss of my dad even more when I make a life altering decision (which seems to be happening more and more often now) but I think I’m just a bit more grown up and perhaps a bit more ready to handle it now.

Only A Hundred and Sixty-Eight Hours a Week

This summer has been an incredible experience as far as dance goes. I worked with a teacher whose dance I can only describe as moving poetry. I was really skeptical when rehearsals began. A month of kalari payat had made me really tired and I couldn’t imagine going to rehearsal every day of the week for another month but in that first two hour class, I actually improved after years of stagnation and rust! Now, a month later, and a couple fewer working joints I’m so glad that I had this experience. (But I’ll tell you all about that later.) The reason for this particular dance related diatribe is the intense schedule proposed by a certain artistic director that I know and love. In addition to presenting the piece we just rehearsed at the end of January, we have to choreograph a new piece for a festival the following weekend. We also have a week residency in Banff, a tour of the maritime provinces, a performance for the Banff Arts Centre and a tour of India in the summer. If I had nothing else to do with my life, this would be great, but unfortunately I have to be responsible (for once) when it comes to dance. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if my life allowed me to do whatever I felt like doing. I think I would just end up dancing in the same company for the rest of my life because it’s safe and I’m terribly afraid of change and rejection. I wonder if that’s what fuels my desire to continue on with this company. Anyway, this new information necessitates the fourth conversation (this summer alone) with my teacher about my involvement in the company this year. I’m far less angry now than I was when I began writing this post, so I won’t go into details about how the amount of disorganization in this company physically frightens and infuriates me but it’s always all or nothing, which makes the decision so difficult to make (especially for someone like me who uses it as a crutch…although I would like to believe it’s just because I love it THAT much). On the drive home from the studio after learning about all these things that the powers that be assume I’m participating in, all I could think was that there isn’t enough time in the day to do all the things I want to do so it’s time for me to start prioritizing. What is life other than whittling away at your to-do list till you get to what you really want?