Eight Not at All Bitter Days A Week

I MISSED LAST WEEK AGAIN. Boo. I promise once musical is over I'll have time to blog again. For now, you get this.



Hahaha. I'm so funny.
(It's not really that funny.)

Eight Debates a Week

I'm watching the South Carolina debate... and they're talking about taxes... So this is what you get. (Yeah, I did miss last week. My bad.)

Here There Be Dragons

I have known those who lock up their love
In ventricular vaults, watch it glisten and gleam
Against blood-covered walls in their four chambered hearts.
They become dragons,
Clutching their gems in shivering claws
While lusting after love,
Still more love,
More jewels to fester blindly
In the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I originally intended for this poem to be about why it's worth it to invest in people even though there's a risk factor. If you don't, all the love you have isn't worth a thing in the world. Now I think it can mean several things, though, so feel free to form your own opinion!

Misadventures in Choreography

Some people are endowed with incredible grace. They radiate elegance. They're effortlessly beautiful. They float instead of walk.

Today was my first real day of choreography. My dancing generally consists of cabbage-patching and head bobs and other such awkward movements. Alone. In my room. Where no one can see me.

Needless to say, I am not one of "those people."

This is my first and only year of being in musical, and as such I have never done choreography before in my life. Sometimes it's kinda cool to be the rookie who got the lead. Other times... it's not! (Haha.) I don't imagine it would be that bad if I was somewhere in the back, but when you have very little rhythm, next to no coordination, and zero experience, the front is not the place to be. Surrounded by twirling angels in oh-so-professional-looking jazz shoes who can plie and chinae and sashay, I'm struggling to even pivot on one foot in my trusty grey Cons. (Or spell those words, for that matter.)

I'M OUT OF MY LEAGUE, MAN.

It turns out that I don't know the first thing about being graceful. Apparently it's incredibly feminine to keep your feet together whenever possible. There is a massive difference between pointing your foot and pointing your toes. Swaying with the balls of your feet is far more elegant than swaying with your hips. Who knew? Not me.

All my life I've been blessed (or maybe burdened?) with being naturally good at stuff. I've never had to work very hard at academics to make the grade. I memorize things easily. Writing has always come somewhat naturally to me. As a general rule I don't have to work exceptionally hard at much of anything. At the risk of sounding incredibly vain, I'm a pretty talented person.

I'm entering a whole new world here. I'm gonna have to work really hard to accomplish something this time. It's kind of awesome. It's gonna take energy and sweat and coming home with muscle aches. It's gonna take practice and practice and more practice. But by the end, I think it'll go down as one of my greatest accomplishments. At least in my head.

I kept apologizing to Linda (our marvelous choreographer) today for messing up constantly. She wouldn't hear it. "Don't you even worry about it. You're gonna get it. You're gonna look fabulous."

Feet together. Point your toes. Smile.