Lust

I want you.

I fell in love with you the minute, no, the second I saw you.

You and I will be noticed everywhere we go.
What a pair we'll make.
Come join my life (for $72.00 + S&H).
You won't be disappointed.
And neither will I.

@ Etsy, ret-ro-fied shop

Sad/Glad

Sad ...

at the way I look in pictures from the ballet show

that my friend left to work in another office across town

to be apprehensive

Glad ...

for self control as well as the ability to abandon it

we got the garbage cans out to the curb in time

that I love myself even when I seek to change

That Old Bandwagon

I truly wish that I was one of those people. The people that watch what they eat naturally, like breathing. The people that can, within reason, eat whatever they want, because, you see, these people don't ever want to eat an entire FAMILY SIZE bag of salsa Sunchips. They don't ever need to eat an entire box of pasta and sauce. They can stop after, say, a small helping. I am not one of those people. I am the person who has self control -- and only by sheer willpower -- have I not continued to balloon up throughout the passing years.

I almost did, I almost became a hefty girl after my first year of marriage. But since then I have been losing weight every year. Not this year. I've been eating whatever I like. Cafe Rio, Noodles & Company, sugar cookies, donuts, potato salad, pasta salad, pie, funeral potatoes, and on and on. I like to blame it on my transition at work from swing shift (2PM to 10:30PM) to days (a blissful 6AM to 2:30PM). But really. I think I was just sick of trying. I stopped going to the gym, and opted for ballet instead. I stopped being hungry, and opted for indulgence instead. The unfortunate thing is that I'm too vain and too in favor of beautiful clothing and a beautiful body to let it all go truly to hell. And I can't be satisfied with being a bit tubby. To the normal person, I look pretty small, I'll be honest. And I'm not afraid to tell you that I know that the majority of my weight loss is purely superficial. But I have dreams about wearing whatever I want without worrying about bulges/tugs/wrinkles. And I dream about dancing with lovely lines and slender limbs. I want to run and run like the wind is chasing me until the ends of the earth.

So while I've taken a temporary hiatus ... those desires win out and I'm back on the bandwagon again. All the things I hate have resumed a prominent place in my life. Apples for lunch, all day fasts, vegetable dinner. And I don't want to hear anything about how starvation is bad for you, or about how you should eat like this or that. I know what works for me. I just have to start doing it again. As someone who loves to overindulge from time to time, I have to punish myself so that the excess doesn't catch up with my waistline. Stay posted. That elusive goal is still out there. Check out the Going Down page if you want to see my progress. If you don't, I'll try to keep the fatty posts to a minimum. And anyone who wants to join me in my trials, feel free. Misery loves company. Bwahaha.

Doing Nothing

Since the performances last week, I have had a break from ballet and apparently that translates to my brain as a break from everything. I haven't done my hair or put on an ounce of make-up all week. I haven't done any laundry or cleaned up one mess. Yesterday I finally caved and emptied the dishwasher so it could be loaded again. And today I am going to TRY and get the laundry done. And tomorrow I'm going to TRY and do some grocery shopping. I have a ladies luncheon on Sunday, for which I'm making Gourmet Mac and Cheese and I am completely unprepared.

But can I just say ...

There are few things as liberating as giving the finger to society's expecations. I can understand why people become social deviants; it's very freeing. Successful women are expected to do everything; career, school, babies, marriage -- and all the while look fabulous, eat healthy, face smiling. Unfortunately the desire to maintain societal norms plagues even the most open-minded of us. However, this week, I've said, "No thank you" and gone all natural. My face is perfectly clean. My hair has no hair spray, no back combing. When I go to sleep at night I look exactly how I will look in the morning. I've never wanted to be one of those women. You know, the women that can't just pick up and go because they have to put their face on. I mean, I may look less attractive without makeup on, but that's my face; my real, honest-to-goodness face, as nature intended. And I'm not afraid to show it to the world ... or my husband. I'm not saying that I'm not a fan of makeup. I am. I love the stuff. And I enjoy spending hours getting ready and making myself up to the nines. It's just that occasionally I like to feel simple, to live simple, to take 10 more minutes to read instead of primping my hair. I challenge all of you to give it a try. Let your beautiful self out -- uninhibited by colors and concoctions. And say hello to the mirror.

Bedtime

Time for bed.

The cake is made.

The dance is done.

The bed is calling.

The end of a lovely day.

Fame and Glory

I can't help myself. I am addicted to applause and acclaim. In Judy Garland's biography, "Get Happy," (one of many but the only one I've read) the author talks about how Judy fell in love with performing; her relationship with the audience, their reactions to her performance, the rise of the curtain. I know exactly what she means. I have performed since I was very small. My mom had put me in Sunshine Generation (which I understand is still around) which was a little singing/lip-syncing/dancing group. There is a picture of me in my orange dress complete with yellow apron ensemble at the zoo. My pudgy arms poke out from the colorful dress and I smile in a big CHEESE grin. As I entered elementary school I performed in the yearly talent show, singing my heart out. And then in Junior High I started dancing at the Ballet Centre (the school I also attend now) as well as performing in the school musical. In fact, I sometimes forget this, but I was Audrey in "Little Shop of Horrors" when I was just fourteen. I wore a blonde wig and belted out 'Suddenly Seymour' as best I could. Throughout High School I continued to perform -- school musicals, community theatre, drill team, dance company, summer ballet -- I couldn't get enough. Which led me to earn a full tuition scholarship in musical theatre. Ta da!

Once in college, I continued to enjoy performing in the productions but I wasn't mature enough to focus on my schooling and perform. (My last year in High School had spoiled me: AP English, dance company, drill team, theatre class, seminary, concert choir, and ballroom ... not exactly scholarly.) My grades suffered and I'm sure that if I had stayed (I left to get married) I would have been on the watch list or would have lost the scholarship. After we were married I started focusing on my career, working my way up, and completing my undergraduate in English.

I hadn't been on stage for 8 years ...

Until last night. We performed the Sleeping Beauty waltz in front of a packed amphitheatre. It was grand. The lights, the rise of the music, that moment just before you step into view, the look you affix to your face. I love it all. Even the late rehearsals and stinky costumes and painful mornings, all worth it. I always feel myself drawn towards the arts, whether it be through writing or performing, and that also pulls me towards fame. That strange desire to be famous and world renowned. What's up with that? I don't think I would enjoy being famous AT ALL because, in general, I hate most people. And I really hate drama in my real life -- drama on stage, yes, always. But it ends there. I guess it's a good thing that fame is a non-existent possibility. That way I can just dream about it and enjoy my time on stage, under the lights, in front of an audience, and take a bow.

Flames on the Side of My Face

Dear Iongge,

You are a worthless piece of shit. I'm sure you're not even a real person, but I must refer to you as something, so I will use "Iongge," your username on Blogger. Thank you, new stranger-I-loathe, for leaving a spam comment on 80 something posts. I appreciate it no end. Because, really, what my readers need are reminders to purchase Viagra and Louis Vuitton bags. And I absolutely enjoy opening up each individual comment so that I can delete it.

(Note to Blogger: you need a better way to manage comments ... in case this ever happens again.)

But it better not happen again. All fury and hell will break loose, I guarantee. Of course, I have no way of loosing said fury and hell on the offender, so instead my friends and family will get to hear me complain about the wrongs of the internet and the debilitating power of capitalism. Honestly, if a humble blog is not safe from unsolicited solicitations, what is? Next people will be jumping out at me whilst showering or sitting on the loo. There is nothing I hate more than shit littering up my blog. I work hard to make my blog sleek and simple. And comments, yes, bring on the comments; those are fabulous. But this trash, this litter of nonsense, does nothing but cause me a lot of work. Iongge, I will never buy Viagra and now I will never buy Louis Vuitton. Whomever you are working for, please tell them that they have caused the companies a lost customer. And I could have bought a lot of LV in my lifetime.

Event

You are all invited to attend Folio Friday.

Every Friday I will be posting a piece of fiction.

Sometimes a single short story.

Sometimes a piece of something larger that will carry over into next week.

Bring cake for yourself to eat while you read.

Or have a glass of wine.

The best thing about this event is that you don't need to worry about RSVPing,

Or really, attending in general.

I will never know.

So you can save your good excuses for that annoying co-worker party,

Or the neighborhood kiddy birthday.

However, if you want to attend (meaning: read), I will be taking suggestions.

For example: write about divorce/family/mothers/giraffes.

Stuff like that.

I love having a jumping off point from which my mind can wander.

Summer Goals

My ballet friend Catherine and I have made some specific short-term goals for the summer session of ballet. We have both recently returned from a ten year long break and are now attempting to be ballerinas again. We are frustrated with the limitations of our "older" bodies and are working towards our ballerina bodes. It was especially motivating when we saw fellow "old" dancer (who has four children, by the way) with an absolutely beautiful body; thin, supple, muscular, and graceful.

So. Jealous.
So I'm setting goals. Goals that I WILL achieve by the end of summer session. It's time to get serious.

Goal 1  Both splits, left and right, flat. That means tushy on the floor.
Goal 2  Lose 15 pounds. Period.
Goal 3  Cardio and resistance training two times a week. Ballet is four times a week, two hour classes, so I'm going to do cardio and upper body workouts two other days. I can do it. My aim for weightlifting is toned arms, a ripply chest, and muscular back -- all of which look stunning when you dance. The cardio should help trim up my legs and hopefully aid in the weightloss.

I need to buy a scale. After the pee incident, read more here, I had to throw out the old one ... so it's in with the new. (I haven't weighed myself for a few weeks which feels very strange; not knowing one's weight.) But anyway, get the scale, start weighing myself, and start losing. The hardest goal is #2. That will be my main focus. You know, I think that this return to ballet has brought up a lot of body issues ... but oddly enough, I don't hate my body for not being perfect. Rather, I'm proud of it for all its accomplisments, and further still, its potential.

Reasons Not to Get Drunk with Friends at Your Own House

1. Your husband and friend will try to "keep up" with each other, leading to the intake of copious amounts of alcohol.
2. Your friend will pee in the bathroom -- but misses the toilet and hits the surrounding floor instead.
3. You yell and make your husband and friend clean up the mess.
4. But they're too drunk to clean up pee; they just keep trying to put paper towels in the toilet bowl, or yelling that you're being a bitch, or claiming that they didn't pee all over the floor, or your husband will yell out your name when the friend gets pee on his arm -- because said friend is gesturing his hand, which is holding pee-paper-towels, angrily at you.
5. You end up cleaning the pee, removing the rug, and the scale.
6. You come out of the bathroom and find them attempting to wrestle in the teeny living room.
7. You yell (again) and ban them to the backyard if they want to "fucking wrestle."
8. The dog will keep barking and growling so you head out to bring her inside ... and to find out if they are dead. No, they are not dead. Instead, they both have dog shit on their pants. And your husband has a grass burn on his forehead from his friend shoving his face into the lawn.
9. You clap your hands to get their attention, and then yell (again), "Get the fuck up. You both have dog shit on your fucking pants" or something like that. And as they slowly come to this realization, they wander up to the house where you ask them to remove their pants. And the friend leaves on his bicycle; he probably hates you. And your husband takes a nap, apologizing and promising never to do that again.

Disclaimer: I know this story makes me sound semi-trashy.
I promise, I am not; hence all the yelling and saying of "fuck."
This was a random World Cup rumpus that will not occur again in my lifetime.
At least let's hope not.

Puppy Party Planning

The puppy will be turning ONE on July 17th.

And, of course, we're throwing a birthday party.

The only problem with throwing a party is that it requires me to plan it.

I have yet to pick a park,

pick a time, 

invite people,

choose food,

and get a dog-friendly birthday cake.

But at least her one year old pictures are taken care of.

Photo by J&J Wright

(My very good friends)

Isn't she a little love bug?

Holds and Holding

I feel like reading for an entire weekend. I feel like I should take a long flight just for some good book time. I placed too many books on hold at the library -- no one can read six novels in three weeks and work. Even though I know I will inevitably have to return the book and then check it out again, I don't mind. I cannot wait for them to arrive. Some haven't even been published but they sound fascinating. I have a memoir, a historical fiction, a British mystery, a story about a mental institution, stories about the south, and more.

There is something about the weight of a book in your hand. When you read in bed you get a crick in your neck from trying to hold the book as little as possible and still be able to see the words. When you read in the bathtub the corners of the pages get pruney and crisp. Your purse is always bulging with a book, ready to be taken out while waiting in line, waiting to pick up your kids, bored at a party. There is always the anticipation of turning the page in the midst of action. The anticipation of opening a brand new book. The final closing after reading something beautiful.

When I get my new iPhone 4 (!!) I will have access to iBooks -- but will I use it? Any book that I bought in e-version that I liked would just have to be repurchased in physical form for my library. I suppose e-books would be all right for a just-okay novel, but you have to pay for it, and if that's the case you may as well partake in the richness that is the library. Ah, the library. We have a complicated relationship -- mostly because I go through bouts where I am furious at them for losing items I return, only to find them sitting on my bookshelf. (In my defense, we had just moved and they were at the very tippy top of the bookshelf completely out of sight.) But mostly we are constant lovers. For no other place in the world offers up the entire, or very near to entire, collection of literature. At no cost. Unless you turn the items in late, and even then it's a pittance, pennies on the day. And all for the joy of reading and reading to your heart's content.

What Happened?

Life is strange.

I haven't written and haven't written. What have I been spending all my time on?!? Not much. Just a lot of dancing and eating. Work is good; busy and fulfilling. Life is good -- although I must admit that I have a total flaw: when transitions happen, I throw all my good habits out the window. If I held on to said habits (like daily writing and running and eating healthy) the stress levels in my life would probably be much much lower. But I'm human and destined to be flawed.

And a couple weeks ago I started receiving emails from my blog. From people commenting. And I mean people that I don't know in real life. Say what? Yes, strangers are reading this blog now. Of course, they've probably stopped because I haven't written word one for nearly two months. But get this: I have 15 followers. How exciting. And can I just say -- thank you, new readers. I don't know where you came from or how you found me but I think you're all lovely. And I hope you keep reading because you've encouraged me to keep writing. I've pulled myself from the new-house, new-job, new-everything slump (if you can even call that a slump ...) and I'm here; pouring out heart and soul again.

My mind is filled with all the things I haven't told you.
Allow me to regurgitate a bit:

• I am a tubby ballerina right now. I keep trying to lose weight -- well, half-ass trying. Must try harder.
• I have performances coming up at the end of next week. We're doing the Sleeping Beauty waltz (just beautiful) and Alice in Wonderland, in which I wear a pink dress and an anteater head. Don't ask, you must come and see for yourself.
• I love my new house. I just bought an as-is changing table @ Toys R Us for $30 smackers. We don't have a baby; it's for the kitchen. Lacking shelves, I needed a quick, cheap fix. Hooray for innovation.
• I need to read more. I've been meaning to buy "Ship of Brides" because I hear it's fantastic but no such luck yet. Also, my most favorite person in the world has sent me her latest installment in her novel and I haven't had a chance to read it to pieces.
• I need to finish up my mom's blanket. I believe this has been on my "to do" list every month for a couple years. Must try harder.
• I need to straighten out the following things: our change of address (which is still not processing), Tom's auto-payment for his student loan, the Comcast bill (those fuckers are trying to charge me WAY too much money), and I need to find out how to make a fabric strip shag rug for the kitchen. Anyone?
• I need more time. I rush home from work at 2:30 PM, take the puppy for a walk, if it's not too hot, then go to ballet, home by 7:00 and then I just veg out. I've got to max out my time-potential. Right now I'm spending far too much time in front of the television and not enough doing stuff. Although I must say, television is very good right now. Hell's Kitchen is on, as well as So You Think You Can Dance, Big Brother starting any day now, brand new season of Entourage ... well, when I say "good" I mean entertaining.
• Speaking of TV, I've been wanting to watch this HBO Documentary series called "The Alzheimer's Project" but haven't gotten around to it (story of my life). But I happened to catch a section of it today and it almost makes me glad for my laziness. It was incredibly sad. This particular piece covered the caretakers of Alzheimer's patients and it made me cry several times.
• Before I forget, does anyone know if it is bad for a dog to eat bamboo sticks? We have a large bamboo plant in the backyard and the puppy gnaws on them all the time! I'm afraid she'll ruin her teeth or block her digestive system. 

More to come. And thank you for reading.