Everybody dance now February 29, 2008

Happy Leap Year everyone! And Happy Birthday to anyone born on such a rare day

If you’re wondering why I haven’t been around to entertain you, it’s because I’ve been stuck in the theater for a minimum of 6 hours (9 yesterday :/), plus classes since I’m a full time student, plus meals, plus about 7 hours of sleep each night… which leaves me with 0 downtime to chat with all of you. Which does make me sad, I assure you, but some things must take priority.

Dance show, as I am sure you are all curious about, is going beautifully. Last night was the very first night all of the apparently highly fussy technical aspects of the show worked, plus a lazy zipper went up during a quick change, all of which I am very grateful for. It’s still sticky and there were quite a few of bad run crew mistakes. The dressers were flawless (hope I haven’t jinxed us, but it’s true! We send those girls and the boy out looking good). The dancers were mostly good. One of them got smacked in the face right before the company piece and she was backstage crying, if not bleeding, and hyperventilating for a few moments before she had to go on, but I’ve never seen her leap higher, so she must be okay

And, I’ve just had exciting news from back home….my family will be going to Italy this summer–Florence, Rome, and other locations in between–and we’re flying through London, which means when we have a stop over in London, we’ll be able to leave the airport and head out to see Queen Mary! I am sooo frickin excited! Have I told you all about Queen Mary yet? Hm. I do not recollect.

But that will have to wait for another day!

<3 <3

Human again, we’ll be human again February 23, 2008

So, my roomie and I just finished watching the Special Edition of Beauty and the Beast on old school VHS, and it happens to have an extended teaser of Beauty and the Beast: Enchanted Christmas, which is actually pretty cute. But there is a serious question that must be answered here, and that is: what the hell?

So, the original Beauty and the Beast ends with the Beast becomes Human, right? Belle cries when he “dies” and does the “I love you”, and then he rises up into the air and there are magical sparks and gold glittery things, and then POW! Beastie is a human (again)! The castle transforms back into its lovely, picturesque state, Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts and Chip and Lumiere and company go back to there pre-magical enchantress-goes-nuts-on-their-asses state. Everyone’s happy and kissing and its spring. Right? We assume Belle and her princey poo get married and everyone is happily ever after?

Well, for those of you who don’t know, in the Enchanted Christmas sequel of sorts, these things remain largely unchanged. Belle and Princey Poo have not married, it seems, but are in love, or at least on the road to love. Lumiere is kissing his French maid (sans Frenchie maid costume, but voiced by Bernadette Peters = fabulousness), Mrs. Potts is telling of Beastie’s heroic rescue of Belle from the wolves. And Beastie boy is, well, a Beast.

That’s right, the Beast is still a beast, even though all of the others have changed back into human form. Hmm. I try and I try to wrap my head around it, but I just don’t get it. Yeah, I know it’s Beauty and the Beast, and I know the Prince is so not attractive, but still, it ruins the continuity of the story!

If you have the answer, inquiring minds would like to know. So do the world a favor and leave a comment.

And I-I-I! Want to thank you… February 21, 2008

Thanks, everyone, for checking out the site! As of right now, the blog is at 125 hits since moving to WordPress, which I think is exciting. Someone, somewhere, beneath that big blue sky is actually interested and hopefully amused by my banter. Goodness knows I amuse myself, so it’s nice to spread the laughter.

Soooo thanks! I send hugs out to all of you, great big bear hugs in a totally non-creepy way from someone you know only through this blog. But still, hugs for all!

<3 <3

Nothin’ left for me to do but DANCE February 21, 2008

I am in awe. I mean, they’re just incredible, these dancers.  I could sit and watch them for ages, leaping about and twirling and spinning and doing the weirdest (and coolest) things with their bodies, and only wish that I had the same–or even just a smidgen–of the control over my body that they have over theirs.

As I’ve said before, dance has always sort of fascinated me. I was a dancer once, actually, for a very brief time during second or third grade. I loved it, I was the best in my class…and then, we started rehearsing for our first recital. And I so did not want to do that recital. So I quit. I really wish I hadn’t, that I had found a studio that just taught classes without the formalities of recitals and itchy tutu’s in cotton candy or neon colors. Isn’t that weird–always pale pinks and blues, or neon yellow and orange. With lots of sequins. Itchy sequins. Bleh. But then you get the gorgeous dresses–you know the ones, empire waisted or form fitting down to the hips, and then it just sort of flows out when you move and follow you about. :sigh:

Now, however, my coordination is minimal, unless I’m actually organizing dancers/dressers. I’m pretty good at that. I’m clumsy, though apparently not as clumsy as my good  roomie, and I frequently trip/stumble/fall over, for no apparent reason. I just do it. It’s quite difficult to make excuses continually when you are standing one moment and the next are on the ground. Yeah. Ouch, most physically and emotionally. Scarring, really.

But back to Dance Show, which is what it is unofficially called. It’s really called “Leap”, but it’s much more fun to say Dance Show, because that’s what it is. It’s Dance Show, with fun little dancers. Dance Show will be great because the dances are incredible–much more technical than last year, I think–and even though they’re much more modern than classical (and I heartily prefer classical), it’s just incredible to see what these women can do. The company is bigger than last year, 12 vs. 18 I think. And there’s only four blonds! Isn’t that odd? There are a couple dancers that I’m not wild about, a few that just don’t seem quite as good, but some of the new girls are great.

Mwahaha. I’m so excited! If you’re in the Richmond area, please come check it out! It will be a great time, I guarantee you.

<3

p.s. the costumes are GORGEOUS too!

They don’t know / They’re working with an artist February 20, 2008

Thoroughly Modern Millie <3

Sorry it’s been so long, but somehow, all of my free time just disappeared! It’s been crazy-busy around here, but hopefully that will slow down for a few days before it resumes over the weekend into next week with DANCE SHOW! Dance show, for those that don’t know, is the annual dance recital for the University Dancers. And it’s fabulous. I’ve always loved watching people dance, but working behind the scenes has been incredible. I feel like a little fly on the wall that gets to witness the inner workings of the dance company. Ooooh yes. So, if I disappear against from here until the dawn of March, that’s where I’ll be!

—

So, let’s talk about today. And yesterday, and all the days before that. Let’s talk about college and about how things never ever EVER change.

This semester, I’m taking HIST 321–The History of Work, with a fabulous professor. It’s a tiny seminar, and just about everyone else in the class is a history major. Me, I’m an English  major, so I’m kind of the black sheep in this cozy little family. Except this family is a family of moronic idiots who, in my opinion, can’t wrap their heads around simple concepts, make clear divisions, or analyze text properly. And, oh, they can’t use the English language–let’s not forget that. Besides all that, it seems that I, the English major, am the only one who truly reads all of the assigned work, does the assigned papers thoroughly, and actively participates in a discussion that is supposed to be a meaningful debate for the entire CLASS. Hello, history majors, I’m an English major. What does this say about your work ethic? You need this to graduate. I am taking it possibly for a second, interdisciplinary major, i.e. for  fun.

I’ve always been a good student, but it’s really only in since I’ve been in college that I haven’t been afraid of embodying the teacher’s pet stigma. In high school, I would raise my hand once or twice each class to get in my necessary daily participation, but other than that, I would sit on just about any comment or contribution just so that I wouldn’t seem like a smarty pants. But now, I think it’s time for everyone else to grow up and realize that this is  college. This is where you get an education, where you learn about things that you want to learn about. And you’re paying $40,000+ a year to drink your ass off, sleep through class, and not do any of the work? Geez. What a waste of everyone’s time and money. I could have a much better discussion with the professor by myself, thanks very much, if you would just admit that you’re not into this whole schooling, higher education thing, and go away so that she wouldn’t feel like she has to spread the discussion around to everyone.

Ugh.

I am the champion my friends… February 15, 2008

“Congratulations!  The Office of International Education has accepted your application to study abroad at the program listed below. “

 

/pissed-ness.

It’s my life, it’s now or never February 15, 2008

Today is the due date for study abroad decisions, meaning, today is the day that the Office of International Education should tell me whether or not I get to go abroad this coming fall. And I have anxiously anticipated today, the day of days. I have checked all week to see if maybe I would get my decision early.

That looks supremely unlikely. No, now I will probably have to wait until “well into next week” to find out the next six months of my life because the silly OIE has a “record number of applicants”.

I am so pissed. So pissed. I turned my application in early. Before the original deadline. Before the extended deadline. And people who have turned their applications in after me have heard. People whose applications are complicated have heard. In my supremely pissed off state of being, it seems like everyone else has heard, except for me. That’s profoundly not true as one of my best friends here on campus has yet to hear, but still. I’m pissed. Watch out, OIE, because if that decision is anything other than “have a good plane ride, Brittany! We’ll see in January ‘09″ I am going to flip a major shit. Heads will roll. My roommates will want to hospitalize me. And most of all, I will be pissed. Really pissed. Super pissed.

Consider this a warning.

It’s the hard knock life February 13, 2008

Today, I fell. Like a five year old. On a slippery hill. Well, it’s more like I slipped, and fell on my bum, but somehow, my left knee got all scraped up. And now it looks kind of fake, like a fax waxy wound you would make in a make-up class. Except it’s real, and it’s on my knee. And it kind of hurts, more so when I bang it on my desk like I did a minute ago (accidentally…).

side note: my room mate has just now discovered the gaping wound on my leg. sevenish hours later. after I sat on the rug and fixed it up, right in front of her. wow.

Okay, so it’s not gaping. But it’s pretty messy and creepy looking, and it makes life very miserable, probably because I feel like a five year old except mommy isn’t here to coddle me. I did call her though and she sounded worried. Which made me feel better, of course.

Anyway, here is the grand and ever-growing list of thing-that-are-hard-to-do-with-bloody-knee:

1. Change pants.

2. Wear pants.

3. Walk around in pants with bandage over wound and pants over wound. Always screws up the bandage.

4. Run about.

5. Frolic, largely because when one feels like a five year old who has just scraped aforementioned knee, one does not desire to frolic. Especially when it’s raining.

6. Go to bathroom, largely because one must be very careful when pulling down one’s pants so as to leave band aid/wound untouched.

7. Climbing onto my big fluffy pink bed. The pink bed of despair.

8. Kneeling.

Owwie, no?

Addendum: I also forgot to mention that I tore a huge whole through my favorite jeans when I fell and totally scuffed up the toe of my left boot, which had been unscuffed prior to The Incident. I will now have to find brown shoe polish. And new jeans.

It won’t help if the sunshine should start… February 13, 2008

(from Dames at Sea)

Posts like these (from craigslist) make me sad.

Starving writer needed.

I want to tell my story and want someone to write it. If you have what it takes email me.

Location: NJ

• it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
• Compensation: no pay

Why would a starving writer want to help you to write your story, for free? When they’re starving? Just because they are already starving doesn’t mean they want to continue in that state.

At least they used punctuation.

/sigh

Everything’s different, nothing’s changed./Only maybe slightly rearranged… February 12, 2008

Today’s NYT online features a column (part of the blog, Think Again) by Stanley Fish, which I found quite sad/depressing, entitled “A Calumny a Day to Keep Hillary Away”. It’s pretty much a summary/response to a past post, in which he comments on the responses made by his readers. Here’s an excerpt:

These Clintonphobes said things like “there’s nothing to like about her”(394) and wrote at length about her clothing, her voice, her laugh, her arrogance, her “countless plastic surgeries” (an inference it would seem from the fact that at 60 she still looks good), her insincerity, her stridency, her ambition, her love of power, and her husband. In their view, the hatred they expressed was not irrational at all, but was provoked by a record of crimes and character flaws they are happy to rehearse. Their mirror image on the left objected to my saying that President Bush fills the same role for liberals that Clinton fills for her detractors. No, no came the protest. However free-floating hatred of Clinton may be, hatred of Bush is firmly grounded in the record of a disastrous presidency that has left us at war, in debt, and in bad odor throughout the world. The two groups differed only in the bad qualities they attributed to their nemesis. Bush haters derided him as stupid. Clinton haters complained that she is too smart (the word “brilliant” is used as a pejorative), seems to know it all, and makes those who hear her speak feel they are less intelligent than she is.

Comments like these would seem to lend support to the view (voiced by many respondents) that sexism is what ultimately motivates the Clinton bashers. “A woman who doesn’t apologize for who she is. What’s not to hate?” (79). “Any woman who is anything more than a wallflower will always be attacked” (105). “People just can’t tolerate a woman in power” (111). “Why not get right to heart of the matter? It’s sexism. Most women on this planet face it every day” (168). If so, they face it from women as well as from men, at least on the evidence provided here. Carol Maloney (158) reports that many of her intelligent women friends are unable “to discuss Hillary in a logical manner.” Kat (23) wonders why “women seem to be on the Hillary hatred bandwagon.” Carol (359) says “What I find most disturbing is the amount of hatred spewed at Hillary by those who are so much like her … It is very odd. Is it really self-hate?”

If you hadn’t noticed, I like doing excerpts. Anyway, like I said, I think this is quite sad, and it brings me back to Suzanne Pharr’s “Homophobia”, which I discussed quite a few posts back. I think that if you have an issue with Hillary–a legit political issue, as in you don’t agree with her stance on things–or you simply prefer another candidate, fine. But to go tearing her apart, because she is a woman as it would seem, without any rationale behind it aside from the woman factor…well, I think that’s sick and incredibly depressing. Nations across the world have had female presidents and leaders, and here we are in the U.S., supposed leader of the “free” world, and there’s a huge group of people who can’t just fathom a female president, they have to make sure that they rip our first viable candidate to pieces? For nothing? For sexism?

Ouch.

=====

The title of the post is a song lyric, “Sorry Grateful”, from Company by Stephen Sondheim. I found them particularly relevant, so I am including them here. It’s a song about marriage in a musical about marriage…
HARRY

You’re always sorry,
You’re always grateful,
You’re always wondering
What might have been–
Then she walks in.

And still you’re sorry,
And still you’re grateful,
And still you wonder
And still you doubt–
And she goes out.

Everything’s different, nothing’s changed.
Only maybe slightly rearranged.

You’re sorry-grateful,
Regretful-happy.
Why look for answers
When none occur?
You always are what you always were,
Which has nothing to do with, all to do with her.

DAVID:
You’re always sorry,
You’re always grateful,
You hold her, thinking:
“I’m not alone.”
You’re still alone.

You don’t live for her,
You do live with her,
You’re scared she’s starting
To drift away,
And scared she’ll stay.

LARRY:
Good things get better, bad get worse.
Wait, I think I meant that in reverse.

HARRY, DAVID, LARRY:
You’re sorry-grateful,
Regretful-happy.
Why look for answers
When none occur?
You’ll always be what you always were,
Which has nothing to do with, all to do with her.

HARRY:
Nothing to do with, all to do with her.