My head has not hurt this badly in a very, very long time. Just pounding. From trying to figure out this whole dance thing.
Art is not only fulfilling, but it also can kill an individual piece by piece. And oh-so-slowly too. Just to add to the torment.
It’s a ridiculous life I lead.
Other than that, it’s the same old, same old for the day. Except for one class today, I was given a half hour to find 5 things. Just 5 random things. Not necessarily connected to myself, to describe myself, represent time, or anything like that. Simply 5 things. Since it was such a beautiful day, I took a stroll out to my car. In the middle of the day, and really for no reason other than I wanted to see sunlight before locking myself away in the dungeon to slaaaaaave over my art.
No, you know what’s a headache? Replacing one of my dancers in 10 minutes, and then coming *thisclose* to dropping another and finding a replacement for them. Such is the life of an artisan.
Another reason to love theater? The clothes. One reason I love becoming other characters? The wardrobe. Literally putting on their clothes and transforming into this new person. Sometimes, that new person ignites something inside the real you. I have never played a character I haven’t pulled a piece of myself into. Bits and pieces of me, scattered about pages of different theatrical shows, written by dozens of different people whom I’ve never meant.
Whoever says theater isn’t universal is wrong.
I have been bitten by the shopping bug again lately, and it’s taking every once of my being to say no. Especially to two stores in particular: Maurice’s and Victoria’s Secret. This unusual warm weather isn’t helping matters either.
You know what else isn’t helping my sudden urge to take on other people’s persona’s? I read an article today about woman working for the CIA, and it’s easier to becoming involved with the Central Intelligence Agency than they lead you to believe. It’s always been a dream of mine to work as a field operative. Shows like Alias doesn’t help matters. I just want to kick ass….especially the ass of those threatening my peaceful existence in this universe. Jedi’s need to have the skill to go undercover, and it’s something I would quite good at. According to the credentials placed in the article, I’d be a good fit for the FBI. It also stated the recruiters tend to bring good-looking men and women onboard. Real reasoning behind the matter? Not too clear, but I’m not hard on the eyes, so I have that in my favor.
“Woman usually love what they buy, yet hate two-thirds of what is in their closets.”
This is believed by Mignon McLaughlin, author of the naughty Neurotic’s Notebook.
For a lady who’s named after a cut of meat, she’s dead on with her assessment. Although, I have also come to the conclusion recently that I need to narrow down my clothes selection. Time for a deep clean. Everything is starting to burst at the seams, and it’s not good for the clothes! Although, there are a few things I just can’t part with. My little black dress for example. Used to look terrible on me. Then, I lost 25 pounds and now I look drop dead gorgeous in it.
You wouldn’t know. You haven’t seen me in it 🙂
A woman’s closet should be considered a sacred thing. Walk-in types are the only kind of closet. I don’t possess one right now, but in my dream house, it’s going to happen. If my soul mate happens to be on good behavior, I’ll let him in to view my new lingerie purchases on occasion.
There’s something about the hunt. Finding the perfect blouse, skirt, evening cocktail dress, or ever the perfect morning tea pinkie ring…you get a rush from finding that perfect something, and the satisfaction of knowing your outfit is complete. It’s become a new habit of mine…taking different clothing items and putting them together in a new way. The other day at work, I had everyone convinced I was wearing an entirely new 70s style dress. When, really, it was a three-quarter length sweater layered over a thin summer dress.
Finding new things to wear is a short cut to the glamorous life. For me, anyways. I can transform myself with a switch of my skirt. Or a pair of shoes. Really, today when I was wearing my perfect-fitting jeans and brown Hunger Games boots (that’s what I’ve come to call them…they make me feel like Katniss Everdeen every single time), I felt tough all day. It doesn’t hurt that I know I looked good.
And no, I’m not saying to be conceited.
There are a few more things that can help with that glamorous life feeling. I like to think of them as Hey, It;s Okay’s. (I may have had a little help from Glamour magazine, too.)
Hey, it’s okay…
1.) … if you’d rather have the cocktail than actual sex on the beach. All that sand…everywhere!
2.) … to constantly asses each new pop song this month, wondering which will be your summer anthem. “California Girls”, where art thou?
3.) … if being brought a bagel in bed seems like pretty much the most romantic thing ever.
4.) … to feel ever so slightly awkward clapping along to the beat — even if the 39,999 other fans at the stadium are doing it, too.
5.) … to be totally over all the sequels. Are there no ideas left in the world?
6.) … to still think of Foursquare as that game you played during recess in elementary school.
7.) … to spend most of the six-hour flight debating whether to ask your neighbor if you can get out to pee.
8.) … if you kind of like carnations.
If you found yourself agreeing with any of these things, do not for one single second feel ashamed. There’s no reason to. Live the life you want to, and don’t apologize for a minute of it.
More choreography to do in the morning…like I’m an actual dancer or something. Gotta get up bright and early, and be able to focus on what I’m telling the others. I can’t be a hot mess when I get there. It’s another long day tomorrow, but with concentration and faith, the Force will get me through.
Whatever outfit I throw on will help, no doubt. Probably my Hunger Game boots. They are by far my favorites.