"The Spanish character has a lot to do with how I dance, very passionate and very extreme."
- Angel Corella
I used to not acknowledge Angel Corella's existence. I get turned off when something is popular and in the dance world, you could say he was quite popular. When I finally paid attention I find out why - this man is not human. He can do tricks that you don't think can be done; in a previous generation, the equivalent would be Mikhail Baryshnikov. Those turns and jumps - all to the left! It's always fantastic to see anyone who can turn and jump well with their left side and Angel doesn't just turn and jump well, that's like MAJOR understatement right there. I kick myself that I had been ignoring him ALL THIS TIME. I super enjoy him now, which is what counts.
I've been enjoying him do the Romeo and Juliet balcony scene pas de deux. Even before I was watching The Leaves Are Fading alternately over and over, I would watch him dance R&J, with Alessandra Ferri and Viviana Durante. He does it differently with each girl, even if it's the same steps. There's so much to say about each performance, I'm reserving my observations for my thesis.
Speaking of thesis, while doing research, I find a review of his R&J with Alessandra that turns him into the absolute perfect man:
"It should no longer be surprising what a confident, capable partner Corella is. He is so much the firebrand virtuoso, happily whipping off the multiple pirouettes, that it would seem that partnering would not also be among his strengths. But he carries off his partnering duties extremely well, giving his ballerinas freedom to let go, assured that he will be there for them."
Drool!!! Very passionate, very extreme Spanish men are my favorite. Sigh.
***review snippet of Romeo and Juliet taken from http://www.danceviewtimes.com/Volume 2, No. 25 - July 5, 2004
Copyright ©2004 by Susan Reiter
Friday, July 30, 2004
ganda naman ng gypsy dyan sa tabi...
I'm having fun with Photoshop. I never thought of this kind of life for when I grow up, but now that I am all grown up, I'm really basically a kid. I dance for a living and in my spare time, I update and decorate my blog. And I love Thursdays because it super rocks that Spike is free of the First in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I'm hungry wanting to know what happens next in Angel. I really feel bad I missed the episodes I missed because I surfed for some transcripts and wish I had seen the episode Lorne tried this spell to get Cordy's memory back and instead stunted everyone's memory to when they were seventeen. I kept laughing each time Fred would look for weed. And I love that Wesley spells his name with three Ys: Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Pogi points that he doesn't need, but pogi points all the same.
And I love my blog. Which makes me grateful that I now have a better relationship with the reason why I killed my last blog. I find it remarkable how mature she is. Or maybe she's just keeping her enemies closer.
I would be great if only I was more mature myself. Otherwise, everything's wonderful. Superb.
Can anyone answer this though: was Charisma Carpenter really pregnant to begin with and they were only hiding her pregnancy until Evil Cordelia could use it to manipulate Connor? Or do I surf for that info myself?
Yea. Life is just peachy.
And I love my blog. Which makes me grateful that I now have a better relationship with the reason why I killed my last blog. I find it remarkable how mature she is. Or maybe she's just keeping her enemies closer.
I would be great if only I was more mature myself. Otherwise, everything's wonderful. Superb.
Can anyone answer this though: was Charisma Carpenter really pregnant to begin with and they were only hiding her pregnancy until Evil Cordelia could use it to manipulate Connor? Or do I surf for that info myself?
Yea. Life is just peachy.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
My favorite TV show
I'm addicted to Couples Fear Factor. I'm not a fan of Fear Factor at all, but I started watching Couples Fear Factor the same reason I watch Race to the Altar and the first season of Temptation Island: to see the couples fight on TV. It's mean, I know, but I thought it was really funny how they disappoint each other in public. After a while, I do feel bad for them, especially if they look like they would have been okay as a couple if only they kept away from Reality TV.
Now, if I started to watch for the fighting, what keeps me there is finding particular couples I like the relationships of and I root for them. I'm serious. If I didn't have such a busy and fulfilling career, I'd start feeling sorry for my single ass, but I do find joy in the relationships of other people. I liked three couples from CFF: Jim and Melissa (which I feel was a default thing because Jim is this big, bemuscled, white - well, okay, pinkish tan - demi-god and Melissa is this hispanic-looking, perky girl, and gee, who would that remind me of?), Adam and Meg, and my favorite couple James and Meghan. Jim and Melissa were a power couple who never fought and weren't bummed with each other when they didn't win an event, though it was nice to watch them celebrate when they did win. I also like them because when they got eliminated, Melissa said she felt more secure about her relationship with Jim because Fear Factor proved that they worked very well together and they could face anything. Lucas likes them because he thinks the boy is "Pogi."
Adam and Meg are the couple that fight the most and yet they win almost every event. They were the power couple you love to hate, and wondered why they were a couple at all, until a girl from another couple said she hated Adam, and Meg frowned at her and said, "Hate's a strong word..." I liked that even if she was arguing with him all the time (she was flipping him the finger after one event - that they won), she would defend him right away.
I realize I don't even like it when the couples fight. It becomes too real, and I feel really bad for them. Like there was this one couple where the girl was actually much stronger than the guy and he would like let go or give up or drop her too early or something and she would be like "I don't know what to say," when he asks her if she's disappointed in him. I'm wondering if they're still together right now.
My favorite Fear Factor couple is James and Meghan. They won only one event and it was just too funny how James was the weak link of the two when Meghan is like the personification of Bubbles the Power Puff Girl. Like, they were trying to finish this milkshake made of maggots and chicken tongues (EEEEW!!!!!) and they lost because at the bottom of the glass he threw up (though Meghan did admit she was only pretending to drink her share, hahahaha). And he had to retrieve ten chicken feet with his mouth from a box where Meghan was comfortably lying with around 400 rats and in a separate interview, he talks about how he hated when Meghan used to have rats for pets and Meghan is beside him, giggling. A lot of the stunts, they were lagging behind because he was swimming too slowly or he would throw up right away. And he does throw up a lot. I only saw them fight once, and it wasn't even a real fight. Anticipating a stunt, James says "I think I'm going to throw up." And Meghan snaps at him to shut up. But that was it.
Even if he does seem like the kulelat one, I can see why she's with him. He says the funniest things, without trying to be funny. I mean, he's kidding, but his face is very deadpan that if you weren't paying attention, you would miss it. He had a real special one while Adam and the girl who hated him were fighting; Adam retaliated to her "I hate Adam because he's so fake" with a potshot at her fake boobs. While Adam and Meg were doing the stunt, the girl was ranting about how Adam said if he won the money for that stunt, which was 25 thousand dollars, he would buy Meg fake boobs. Camera focuses on James, who's busy watching the stunt but says, "If I won 25 thousand dollars, I'd get fake boobs." I couldn't stop laughing.
Meghan is pretty witty, as well. While waiting their turn for a stunt, Joe Rogan is talking to the couples and asking James if he's bummed that he hasn't won anything yet. Meghan butts in and tells James, "Hey, you were a winner when you met me." And everybody is like "Aaaaaw..."
I watch this show every Sunday, even if I know who's going to win the million. Meghan and James, by the way, make it to the final but lose to Jackson and Monica, the girl with the fake boobs who hates Adam. Still, I was so proud, and happy that whatever episode they show, I know that my favorite couple will be on it.
Unlike Race To The Altar, which I will stop watching (not that I watch regularly) because they eliminated my favorite couple on that show, Chris and Cindy. But it ended really nicely for me. They started out to be a couple that was fighting all the time also, but I realized it was only because she was worried about what her parents will think when they're watching them on TV - mostly because they had to share a room and Cindy's parents were rather conservative.
Their biggest fight was when the girls were taken to see the Chippendales and Cindy refused to go in and she freaked out about whether Chris would do the same thing in her position. When she asked him, he told her she was overreacting and she got so angry at that. In that same episode, they were eliminated and they were shot in their room talking about, not their elimination, but about their fight. He tells her she knows he doesn't care about going to strip clubs and she says she does know and she's sorry and he tells her how much she means to him, etc. And he says he can't wait to marry her and she says, well, why don't they, since they were already in Vegas anyway. And they did. The show even took footage of the wedding. I don't think Race to the Altar is the coolest TV show in history, but this is the coolest way to end an episode where they eliminate your favorite couple.
I swear, if I didn't have such a busy and fulfilling career, I'd start feeling sorry for my single ass.
Now, if I started to watch for the fighting, what keeps me there is finding particular couples I like the relationships of and I root for them. I'm serious. If I didn't have such a busy and fulfilling career, I'd start feeling sorry for my single ass, but I do find joy in the relationships of other people. I liked three couples from CFF: Jim and Melissa (which I feel was a default thing because Jim is this big, bemuscled, white - well, okay, pinkish tan - demi-god and Melissa is this hispanic-looking, perky girl, and gee, who would that remind me of?), Adam and Meg, and my favorite couple James and Meghan. Jim and Melissa were a power couple who never fought and weren't bummed with each other when they didn't win an event, though it was nice to watch them celebrate when they did win. I also like them because when they got eliminated, Melissa said she felt more secure about her relationship with Jim because Fear Factor proved that they worked very well together and they could face anything. Lucas likes them because he thinks the boy is "Pogi."
Adam and Meg are the couple that fight the most and yet they win almost every event. They were the power couple you love to hate, and wondered why they were a couple at all, until a girl from another couple said she hated Adam, and Meg frowned at her and said, "Hate's a strong word..." I liked that even if she was arguing with him all the time (she was flipping him the finger after one event - that they won), she would defend him right away.
I realize I don't even like it when the couples fight. It becomes too real, and I feel really bad for them. Like there was this one couple where the girl was actually much stronger than the guy and he would like let go or give up or drop her too early or something and she would be like "I don't know what to say," when he asks her if she's disappointed in him. I'm wondering if they're still together right now.
My favorite Fear Factor couple is James and Meghan. They won only one event and it was just too funny how James was the weak link of the two when Meghan is like the personification of Bubbles the Power Puff Girl. Like, they were trying to finish this milkshake made of maggots and chicken tongues (EEEEW!!!!!) and they lost because at the bottom of the glass he threw up (though Meghan did admit she was only pretending to drink her share, hahahaha). And he had to retrieve ten chicken feet with his mouth from a box where Meghan was comfortably lying with around 400 rats and in a separate interview, he talks about how he hated when Meghan used to have rats for pets and Meghan is beside him, giggling. A lot of the stunts, they were lagging behind because he was swimming too slowly or he would throw up right away. And he does throw up a lot. I only saw them fight once, and it wasn't even a real fight. Anticipating a stunt, James says "I think I'm going to throw up." And Meghan snaps at him to shut up. But that was it.
Even if he does seem like the kulelat one, I can see why she's with him. He says the funniest things, without trying to be funny. I mean, he's kidding, but his face is very deadpan that if you weren't paying attention, you would miss it. He had a real special one while Adam and the girl who hated him were fighting; Adam retaliated to her "I hate Adam because he's so fake" with a potshot at her fake boobs. While Adam and Meg were doing the stunt, the girl was ranting about how Adam said if he won the money for that stunt, which was 25 thousand dollars, he would buy Meg fake boobs. Camera focuses on James, who's busy watching the stunt but says, "If I won 25 thousand dollars, I'd get fake boobs." I couldn't stop laughing.
Meghan is pretty witty, as well. While waiting their turn for a stunt, Joe Rogan is talking to the couples and asking James if he's bummed that he hasn't won anything yet. Meghan butts in and tells James, "Hey, you were a winner when you met me." And everybody is like "Aaaaaw..."
I watch this show every Sunday, even if I know who's going to win the million. Meghan and James, by the way, make it to the final but lose to Jackson and Monica, the girl with the fake boobs who hates Adam. Still, I was so proud, and happy that whatever episode they show, I know that my favorite couple will be on it.
Unlike Race To The Altar, which I will stop watching (not that I watch regularly) because they eliminated my favorite couple on that show, Chris and Cindy. But it ended really nicely for me. They started out to be a couple that was fighting all the time also, but I realized it was only because she was worried about what her parents will think when they're watching them on TV - mostly because they had to share a room and Cindy's parents were rather conservative.
Their biggest fight was when the girls were taken to see the Chippendales and Cindy refused to go in and she freaked out about whether Chris would do the same thing in her position. When she asked him, he told her she was overreacting and she got so angry at that. In that same episode, they were eliminated and they were shot in their room talking about, not their elimination, but about their fight. He tells her she knows he doesn't care about going to strip clubs and she says she does know and she's sorry and he tells her how much she means to him, etc. And he says he can't wait to marry her and she says, well, why don't they, since they were already in Vegas anyway. And they did. The show even took footage of the wedding. I don't think Race to the Altar is the coolest TV show in history, but this is the coolest way to end an episode where they eliminate your favorite couple.
I swear, if I didn't have such a busy and fulfilling career, I'd start feeling sorry for my single ass.
Monday, July 26, 2004
the leaves are fading
That's a ballet by Antony Tudor to utterly beautiful music by Antonin Dvorak. I haven't seen the entire thing yet, but I have videos of two versions of the pas de deux - one danced by the Kirov Ballet's Altynai Asylmuratova and Konstantin Zaklinsky, the other by American Ballet Theatre's Amanda McKerrow and John Gardner. The week of the break, I had been watching each version one after the other. Some time ago, I had first seen the Altynai-Zaklinsky version and was "Oh that's nice," but not terribly impressed when I saw it. Some time later, I saw the McKerrow-Gardner version and was really blown away. Only later later on did I realize it was the same pas de deux. I've been wanting to watch them one after the other since that realization and only got the chance to last week.
In fairness to Altynai and Zaklinsky, I'm pretty sure they wanted it to be a great performance, but there were a lot of things working against them. First of all, I assume they merely learned the dance from a restager while McKerrow had actually rehearsed The Leaves Are Fading with Tudor himself. You could tell that Altynai knew the dance more than Zaklinsky did and he was taking his cues from her. I think they only learned the dance because they were in London and performing for Princess Diana and needed to do a British ballet in that night's repertoire. So it looked impromptu and lacked rehearsal. That's not to say though that it was a terrible mess. It was actually well done, and even beautiful if you have nothing to compare it with.
The McKerrow and Gardner was, in a word, wow. In comparison, these two had everything working for them. Knowing the ballet right from the heart of it was essential, but everything else super clicked, too. They had previously been doing the pas de deux regularly and so rehearsal was adequate. And, guess what, McKerrow and Gardner are married to each other. The most distinctive thing between the two versions though was the quality. McKerrow and Gardner knew exactly what the dance was all about and they danced with that almost ethereal nuance all throughout the pas de deux. McKerrow looked particularly buoyed - for lack of a better word, buoyed with hope perhaps? Contentment? It was so peaceful and every movement done by both of them was fluid and breathtaking.
The Russians seemed to be dancing a wholly different ballet. There was none of that uplifted, ethereal quality as she went through the steps. I guess that was my biggest problem with their version. While Altynai was lyrically beautiful, you could see that she was a technically proficient dancer, instead of seeing the dance. And Zaklinsky was merely waiting to catch her.
During the week of the break, I had also watched the video of our last recital, where I did a sketchy Black Swan pas de deux. Sketchy because there were good moments, there were great moments, and there were, oh-geez,-I -could-have-done -better-than-that moments. The first time I saw that pas de deux and felt disappointed with myself, I was rather surprised because I was in shape when I did that and I thought I would have done better. Well, I thought I was in shape.
Now, seven months later, I know I would do better because I was actually mistaken about being in shape then. This is when I'm at my peak of in-shapeness, right now I mean. I noticed that after taking relentless classes every day since January (which is the month after that Black Swan), I definitely have higher leg extensions, more secure turns, a better quality of moving. And I'm thinner. It boggles the mind how thin I am compared to how I was last December, especially when I thought I was thin then already.
A nice story: this week, we would end ballet class with fouettes (for girls) and tours a la secondes (for boys), do as many as you like to the music. Thursday, the piano music was the coda of the Don Quixote pas de deux and I was trying to hit 32 but I would falter at the last 8. I keep trying and I'm perplexed why I'm unable to finish 32 turns. I sit down and start thinking, oh well, maybe I'm really not that strong. And suddenly, the next music plays and it's the coda of the Black Swan (slightly faster than the Don Q coda) and I get up and do 32 fouettes like it was a piece of cake. This only proves my point about how much more in shape I am. Last December, I was only able to do 16. Maybe I'm not strong enough yet for Don Q but I'm getting somewhere.
My brother watched that video with me (since he was dancing in it as well) and there were moments where he would say, "Wow, that was great!" That scene was in my head when I was watching the Kirov The Leaves Are Fading. There were a lot of "Wow, that was great!" moments, but they were just moments. The next time I dance a pas de deux, I want it to be seamless and I want to dance it beautifully in its entirety, not just in particular moments. And I would demand more rehearsal.
Since I'm not dancing a pas de deux anytime soon, I was thinking that this should go into my thesis, but I can't use The Leaves Are Fading as my main pas de deux because I'm supposed to place it in a Philippine context. And it would be pointless to. I guess I can use it as an example to explain modern pas de deux but it can't be the foundation of my thesis. The bad part is, because of this, I start thinking, why am I writing about the pas de deux at all. Merf. Blogging about all this is waaaay easier than writing my thesis; I don't even have to have a point at all. Long live blogging!
In fairness to Altynai and Zaklinsky, I'm pretty sure they wanted it to be a great performance, but there were a lot of things working against them. First of all, I assume they merely learned the dance from a restager while McKerrow had actually rehearsed The Leaves Are Fading with Tudor himself. You could tell that Altynai knew the dance more than Zaklinsky did and he was taking his cues from her. I think they only learned the dance because they were in London and performing for Princess Diana and needed to do a British ballet in that night's repertoire. So it looked impromptu and lacked rehearsal. That's not to say though that it was a terrible mess. It was actually well done, and even beautiful if you have nothing to compare it with.
The McKerrow and Gardner was, in a word, wow. In comparison, these two had everything working for them. Knowing the ballet right from the heart of it was essential, but everything else super clicked, too. They had previously been doing the pas de deux regularly and so rehearsal was adequate. And, guess what, McKerrow and Gardner are married to each other. The most distinctive thing between the two versions though was the quality. McKerrow and Gardner knew exactly what the dance was all about and they danced with that almost ethereal nuance all throughout the pas de deux. McKerrow looked particularly buoyed - for lack of a better word, buoyed with hope perhaps? Contentment? It was so peaceful and every movement done by both of them was fluid and breathtaking.
The Russians seemed to be dancing a wholly different ballet. There was none of that uplifted, ethereal quality as she went through the steps. I guess that was my biggest problem with their version. While Altynai was lyrically beautiful, you could see that she was a technically proficient dancer, instead of seeing the dance. And Zaklinsky was merely waiting to catch her.
During the week of the break, I had also watched the video of our last recital, where I did a sketchy Black Swan pas de deux. Sketchy because there were good moments, there were great moments, and there were, oh-geez,-I -could-have-done -better-than-that moments. The first time I saw that pas de deux and felt disappointed with myself, I was rather surprised because I was in shape when I did that and I thought I would have done better. Well, I thought I was in shape.
Now, seven months later, I know I would do better because I was actually mistaken about being in shape then. This is when I'm at my peak of in-shapeness, right now I mean. I noticed that after taking relentless classes every day since January (which is the month after that Black Swan), I definitely have higher leg extensions, more secure turns, a better quality of moving. And I'm thinner. It boggles the mind how thin I am compared to how I was last December, especially when I thought I was thin then already.
A nice story: this week, we would end ballet class with fouettes (for girls) and tours a la secondes (for boys), do as many as you like to the music. Thursday, the piano music was the coda of the Don Quixote pas de deux and I was trying to hit 32 but I would falter at the last 8. I keep trying and I'm perplexed why I'm unable to finish 32 turns. I sit down and start thinking, oh well, maybe I'm really not that strong. And suddenly, the next music plays and it's the coda of the Black Swan (slightly faster than the Don Q coda) and I get up and do 32 fouettes like it was a piece of cake. This only proves my point about how much more in shape I am. Last December, I was only able to do 16. Maybe I'm not strong enough yet for Don Q but I'm getting somewhere.
My brother watched that video with me (since he was dancing in it as well) and there were moments where he would say, "Wow, that was great!" That scene was in my head when I was watching the Kirov The Leaves Are Fading. There were a lot of "Wow, that was great!" moments, but they were just moments. The next time I dance a pas de deux, I want it to be seamless and I want to dance it beautifully in its entirety, not just in particular moments. And I would demand more rehearsal.
Since I'm not dancing a pas de deux anytime soon, I was thinking that this should go into my thesis, but I can't use The Leaves Are Fading as my main pas de deux because I'm supposed to place it in a Philippine context. And it would be pointless to. I guess I can use it as an example to explain modern pas de deux but it can't be the foundation of my thesis. The bad part is, because of this, I start thinking, why am I writing about the pas de deux at all. Merf. Blogging about all this is waaaay easier than writing my thesis; I don't even have to have a point at all. Long live blogging!
Sunday, July 25, 2004
man of my dreams
I visited my old office last week and my ex-boss told me she was investing in a little farm in the province and got some news about a former public servant and how it was a shame that he didn't run anymore the last elections as he really did some good. I am really glad that people appreciated his work because that would mean the time he spent away from me would not be in vain.
Of course, he is still far away from me and it still remains to be seen if we will ever come together again. And then, there are a lot of considerations. My mother is worried that I will be too despaired by ballet, that I will never be happy with my place in it, that she's more hopeful about how this aspect of my life will turn out. I'm just waiting to find out what happens next.
While waiting, I had this dream. It's haunted me all day yesterday, replaying in my head, in certain movements of my body, like some dreams do. It is of an old love; specifically, a love I felt right before my wishy washy public servant. He had asked me to go somewhere with him - where, I couldn't tell, but we rode a wheelchair (most commonplace in that dream) to the airport and got plane tickets to go away. I still feel everytime he placed his arm around me, squeezed my shoulder, kissed my temple. I still feel that giddiness from seeing him smile at me. The dream ends as we get to the boarding lounge, which looks like the backstage of the Folk Arts Theatre, and the thought in my head was how happy he made me.
Of all the men I have ever loved, my love for this guy doesn't make any sense at all. I spoke to him only around five or six times all in all and yet I always managed to blow those conversations right out of proportion in my head. It's been a long time since I've actually seen him or spoken to him, and if my friend hadn't texted me about how I was going to die if I watched King Arthur and realized who Lancelot looked like, I wouldn't have thought about him in a long time, either. I had even written him a message, about how knowing him made me glad and I even marvelled at how different our lives were now. He didn't reply and I didn't expect him to. And then I have this dream.
I used to have dreams about this guy all the time, all similar ones where we're super happy not doing much, just being cozy together and content. They were always this lucid, too, like real life. In real life, I'm that easy. I don't need much to be loved, I don't ask for much. The men in my life just don't know it. Or if they do, they take it, they take me, for granted. Story of my life.
I have long ago accepted that I'm never to have anything to do with this man in real life. And I know I'll be happier with the one I'm right now waiting for. But while I'm waiting, I don't mind the dreams. I'm just not really looking forward to seeing King Arthur, though.
Of course, he is still far away from me and it still remains to be seen if we will ever come together again. And then, there are a lot of considerations. My mother is worried that I will be too despaired by ballet, that I will never be happy with my place in it, that she's more hopeful about how this aspect of my life will turn out. I'm just waiting to find out what happens next.
While waiting, I had this dream. It's haunted me all day yesterday, replaying in my head, in certain movements of my body, like some dreams do. It is of an old love; specifically, a love I felt right before my wishy washy public servant. He had asked me to go somewhere with him - where, I couldn't tell, but we rode a wheelchair (most commonplace in that dream) to the airport and got plane tickets to go away. I still feel everytime he placed his arm around me, squeezed my shoulder, kissed my temple. I still feel that giddiness from seeing him smile at me. The dream ends as we get to the boarding lounge, which looks like the backstage of the Folk Arts Theatre, and the thought in my head was how happy he made me.
Of all the men I have ever loved, my love for this guy doesn't make any sense at all. I spoke to him only around five or six times all in all and yet I always managed to blow those conversations right out of proportion in my head. It's been a long time since I've actually seen him or spoken to him, and if my friend hadn't texted me about how I was going to die if I watched King Arthur and realized who Lancelot looked like, I wouldn't have thought about him in a long time, either. I had even written him a message, about how knowing him made me glad and I even marvelled at how different our lives were now. He didn't reply and I didn't expect him to. And then I have this dream.
I used to have dreams about this guy all the time, all similar ones where we're super happy not doing much, just being cozy together and content. They were always this lucid, too, like real life. In real life, I'm that easy. I don't need much to be loved, I don't ask for much. The men in my life just don't know it. Or if they do, they take it, they take me, for granted. Story of my life.
I have long ago accepted that I'm never to have anything to do with this man in real life. And I know I'll be happier with the one I'm right now waiting for. But while I'm waiting, I don't mind the dreams. I'm just not really looking forward to seeing King Arthur, though.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
Like burnt sienna
I copped this from a friend's blog; he copped it from Friendster, but answered everything dutifully (though wittily). I just grabbed a few choice questions as I've already answered a lot of them in past Friendster surveys and most of the surveys from Friendster already look like one another.
Have you ever had a song written about you?
Yes, a couple, both were heartbreaking admissions of love; it was like he was saying, Okay I love you and I know you don't care but here it is, anyway. Actually, the second song was he was admitting it only in the song, but if anyone asks him, he'll pretend he doesn't know what the hell. I still love that song, it has the most staggering lyrics ever ("Falling cathedrals in the mean meantime..." is like WHOA!). The songs didn't go on their album. I guess it was his way of moving on. I super respect that, but I would love to hear them again someday.
What song makes you cry?
Dave Matthews Band's The Space Between, especially when it comes to that part at the end that goes, "The rain that falls, splash in your heart..."
What song makes you happy?
Blind Melon's No Rain and it will always make me happy.
Do you believe there's a difference between "love" and "in love"?
How about "love" is the feeling while "in love" is the state of being? Or something like that?
Favorite place to be touched?
The back of my head and the soft underside of my arms. Most of the other places are neutral territory because my pas de deux partners get to manhandle them daily. Most hated places to be touched would be my pits and my neck. While my friends praise my alarmingly white and hairless pits, I feel self conscious about being touched there. In this dance I'm doing now, my pas de deux partner has to lift me up by my pits. I thought he was going to hold me by the waist to lift me in front of him, so I screamed when he went straight for my underarms. I still jump when they make contact, even when I'm expecting it. He makes a game of it now, when we rehearse, sometimes reaching for them even before he's supposed to, sometimes moving his fingers in a rippling motion while grinning idiotically at me. As for my neck, I don't like anything on my neck - not hands, not high collars or turtlenecks, not chokers or necklaces or any kind of jewellery; it feels suffocating. Notice though, that my most hated places to be touched are right beside my favorite places. I thought that was interesting.
What's in your cd player right now?
A DMB live bootleg. I'm thinking, this man has too many songs about his women (or perhaps one woman in particular?) not staying. I love him but it makes you start to wonder what he does that seem to be driving them away.
If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Brick red.
My friend answered Burnt Sienna. It super fits him, it's uncanny.
Have you ever had a song written about you?
Yes, a couple, both were heartbreaking admissions of love; it was like he was saying, Okay I love you and I know you don't care but here it is, anyway. Actually, the second song was he was admitting it only in the song, but if anyone asks him, he'll pretend he doesn't know what the hell. I still love that song, it has the most staggering lyrics ever ("Falling cathedrals in the mean meantime..." is like WHOA!). The songs didn't go on their album. I guess it was his way of moving on. I super respect that, but I would love to hear them again someday.
What song makes you cry?
Dave Matthews Band's The Space Between, especially when it comes to that part at the end that goes, "The rain that falls, splash in your heart..."
What song makes you happy?
Blind Melon's No Rain and it will always make me happy.
Do you believe there's a difference between "love" and "in love"?
How about "love" is the feeling while "in love" is the state of being? Or something like that?
Favorite place to be touched?
The back of my head and the soft underside of my arms. Most of the other places are neutral territory because my pas de deux partners get to manhandle them daily. Most hated places to be touched would be my pits and my neck. While my friends praise my alarmingly white and hairless pits, I feel self conscious about being touched there. In this dance I'm doing now, my pas de deux partner has to lift me up by my pits. I thought he was going to hold me by the waist to lift me in front of him, so I screamed when he went straight for my underarms. I still jump when they make contact, even when I'm expecting it. He makes a game of it now, when we rehearse, sometimes reaching for them even before he's supposed to, sometimes moving his fingers in a rippling motion while grinning idiotically at me. As for my neck, I don't like anything on my neck - not hands, not high collars or turtlenecks, not chokers or necklaces or any kind of jewellery; it feels suffocating. Notice though, that my most hated places to be touched are right beside my favorite places. I thought that was interesting.
What's in your cd player right now?
A DMB live bootleg. I'm thinking, this man has too many songs about his women (or perhaps one woman in particular?) not staying. I love him but it makes you start to wonder what he does that seem to be driving them away.
If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Brick red.
My friend answered Burnt Sienna. It super fits him, it's uncanny.
Wow, prolific ang lola niyo...
I got a livejournal account. It perplexes me because I'm having enough problems trying to decide whether a blog entry is fit for public consumption; I now also have to decide if it can be a blogger entry or merely a livejournal post. I think I can be more relaxed on LJ, I see it as more frivolous, not exactly a venue to pour your heart out. Some of which I can do here. Well, some.
It may take a while for me to figure out what to blog where, so please bear with me. In case you want to read my LJ, though, email me or send me an SMS. :)
It may take a while for me to figure out what to blog where, so please bear with me. In case you want to read my LJ, though, email me or send me an SMS. :)
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
This is what I was afraid of
And then there was Ashley Tuttle as Juliet. Tuttle has always been an exception among A.B.T.’s women—a pure classicist whose acting is subtle and true in a company that all too often rewards slam-bang power or blatant cuteness. Because she lacks obvious starriness, it took a long time for the powers that be to acknowledge her rare gifts, and now there is a serious question about whether she will be back next season: This performance had all the appearance of a farewell, with all the ovations and flowers and tears that are appropriate to such an occasion. But what a performance it was; what a way to go! From first to last, Tuttle gave us a totally believable and moving Juliet, dramatically convincing, beautifully danced. - from "City Ballet, A.B.T. Surprise: A Pair of Thrilling Finales" by Robert Gottlieb
I like Ashley Tuttle. I first heard about her as Charles Askegard's wife (they're divorced and he is now married to Candace Bushnell, the original Carrie Bradshaw who wrote Sex and The City) when he was still with ABT and he came and guested with our country and how she was this tiny girl who could do wonderful things. That was a long time ago. Later later, I remember reading a review about her, how clean her technique was and what a delight she was to watch. I then wondered why there wasn't hype about her the way there was with Paloma Herrera and Julie Kent.
In this docu about the ABT, entitled Variety and Virtuosity, which featured the stars of the company in all the best pas de deuxs of their repertoire, Ashley danced the lead in Clark Tippet's Bruch Violin Concerto, a neo-classical ballet that's very majestic. Unlike the other performers who did leads, though, she doesn't get interviewed. I guess they don't bother to get her interviewed because they're not marketing her as one of their stars. But when you see her dance, wow, she IS truly a delight to watch. My favorite part is her solo - she does all this clever, fancy footwork without making it look difficult (believe me, I could tell without getting up to try them) and her face takes on this coy, look-at-me, piquant expression and then she steps into Ethan Stiefel's able hands and he lifts her up into the air while walking to the center of the room and her face changes along with the music. It's hard to explain; the music swells into its recurring grand motif and she lights up, but not sharp like when you turn on the kitchen light, more like the light of the sunrise. She was so beautiful. It's not always like that when an overhead lift is done, otherwise I wouldn't be so affected. That was a super high point for me.
When I'm depressed about my dancing in this company, I think about Ashley Tuttle, who dances so beautifully but spent five years in the corps de ballet before she was promoted to soloist and another five years before she was promoted to principal dancer. The week after my birthday, I saw in the ABT website calendar that Angel Corrella was partnering Alessandra Ferri in R&J but was also partnering Ashley Tuttle on another day. I was thinking if I got as a birthday gift a chance to see R&J that week at the Met, I would be having a hard time deciding which cast to watch. While I adore Alessandra Ferri, I had already seen her do Juliet (a million times on video) and I think I would have wanted to watch Ashley do it for a change.
I was worrying yesterday about a boy in my company and now I realize I have worse, more important things to worry about. Something was mentioned that was so incredulous, that made me question how the administration valued the work the people in the company do. Was dedication and hard work and clean technique and flawless dancing so not as important as star quality, as a pretty face, as long limbs, as rich parents? When did this become a beauty contest?
My biggest worry about my dancing is that I'm thirty. While I look ten years younger and perhaps dance like I'm five years younger, I can't fight the fact that I'm thirty. My body will give out or give up eventually. My biological clock will start ticking. Having a baby and resuming a dancing career after that ordeal at my age would be impossible. I know it's all my fault that I left, but I keep thinking this punishment isn't worth the crime. I guess I could stick it out and eventually get promoted in five or ten years, but what will become of me in five or ten years? If I somehow defy age and still dance brilliantly at 40 (which I honestly think is a long shot) what waits for me after? Given that I had destroyed any chance to still have kids and lead a normal life?
Isn't that something to worry about? It can't be just me being paranoid, can it?
It is cosmically creepy that I'm bummed about this sucky thing that happened at work today and I find this review of Ashley Tuttle's Juliet and read about how bummed the reviewer was about not being to enjoy Ashley Tuttle for a longer period of time. Talk about opportune.
It's not like the entire day sucked, though. We were doing center exercises and I was super digging myself as I kept doing spectacular things. Remembering that made me think about what I really enjoy about dancing and how stupid political casting decisions don't really matter when I'm forty and telling my children what I used to do. I now look forward to ballet class tomorrow. It may not last forever, but I'm going to enjoy it while it does. Which is what I'm sure Ashley Tuttle is doing.
(Well, actually, I have no idea, but wouldn't that be a nice thought?)
I like Ashley Tuttle. I first heard about her as Charles Askegard's wife (they're divorced and he is now married to Candace Bushnell, the original Carrie Bradshaw who wrote Sex and The City) when he was still with ABT and he came and guested with our country and how she was this tiny girl who could do wonderful things. That was a long time ago. Later later, I remember reading a review about her, how clean her technique was and what a delight she was to watch. I then wondered why there wasn't hype about her the way there was with Paloma Herrera and Julie Kent.
In this docu about the ABT, entitled Variety and Virtuosity, which featured the stars of the company in all the best pas de deuxs of their repertoire, Ashley danced the lead in Clark Tippet's Bruch Violin Concerto, a neo-classical ballet that's very majestic. Unlike the other performers who did leads, though, she doesn't get interviewed. I guess they don't bother to get her interviewed because they're not marketing her as one of their stars. But when you see her dance, wow, she IS truly a delight to watch. My favorite part is her solo - she does all this clever, fancy footwork without making it look difficult (believe me, I could tell without getting up to try them) and her face takes on this coy, look-at-me, piquant expression and then she steps into Ethan Stiefel's able hands and he lifts her up into the air while walking to the center of the room and her face changes along with the music. It's hard to explain; the music swells into its recurring grand motif and she lights up, but not sharp like when you turn on the kitchen light, more like the light of the sunrise. She was so beautiful. It's not always like that when an overhead lift is done, otherwise I wouldn't be so affected. That was a super high point for me.
When I'm depressed about my dancing in this company, I think about Ashley Tuttle, who dances so beautifully but spent five years in the corps de ballet before she was promoted to soloist and another five years before she was promoted to principal dancer. The week after my birthday, I saw in the ABT website calendar that Angel Corrella was partnering Alessandra Ferri in R&J but was also partnering Ashley Tuttle on another day. I was thinking if I got as a birthday gift a chance to see R&J that week at the Met, I would be having a hard time deciding which cast to watch. While I adore Alessandra Ferri, I had already seen her do Juliet (a million times on video) and I think I would have wanted to watch Ashley do it for a change.
I was worrying yesterday about a boy in my company and now I realize I have worse, more important things to worry about. Something was mentioned that was so incredulous, that made me question how the administration valued the work the people in the company do. Was dedication and hard work and clean technique and flawless dancing so not as important as star quality, as a pretty face, as long limbs, as rich parents? When did this become a beauty contest?
My biggest worry about my dancing is that I'm thirty. While I look ten years younger and perhaps dance like I'm five years younger, I can't fight the fact that I'm thirty. My body will give out or give up eventually. My biological clock will start ticking. Having a baby and resuming a dancing career after that ordeal at my age would be impossible. I know it's all my fault that I left, but I keep thinking this punishment isn't worth the crime. I guess I could stick it out and eventually get promoted in five or ten years, but what will become of me in five or ten years? If I somehow defy age and still dance brilliantly at 40 (which I honestly think is a long shot) what waits for me after? Given that I had destroyed any chance to still have kids and lead a normal life?
Isn't that something to worry about? It can't be just me being paranoid, can it?
It is cosmically creepy that I'm bummed about this sucky thing that happened at work today and I find this review of Ashley Tuttle's Juliet and read about how bummed the reviewer was about not being to enjoy Ashley Tuttle for a longer period of time. Talk about opportune.
It's not like the entire day sucked, though. We were doing center exercises and I was super digging myself as I kept doing spectacular things. Remembering that made me think about what I really enjoy about dancing and how stupid political casting decisions don't really matter when I'm forty and telling my children what I used to do. I now look forward to ballet class tomorrow. It may not last forever, but I'm going to enjoy it while it does. Which is what I'm sure Ashley Tuttle is doing.
(Well, actually, I have no idea, but wouldn't that be a nice thought?)
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
It's not like I don't know wrong from right
I need help. Seriously.
Someone asked me once what my vice was, drinking, smoking, drugs? I shook my head and nonchalantly replied, "Boys." I could still be considered an ingenue at the time so it did come out funny when I said it. Most recently, a different group of friends were talking about drinking, getting drunk, the taste of liquor and asked me if I liked to drink. I shook my head no and said, "But I like little boys..." Now, it's still funny, in fact it's funnier because I'm presenting myself as the older, insatiable woman of the world. Sometimes I wonder if it's funny only because I fit the mold. And sometimes I should stop saying that, which I say so automatically and don't even mean anymore, because it's becoming less and less funny as the events in my life unfold.
What I hate about little boys is they don't know what they want. They have a girlfriend and yet they can't keep their hands off you. They have a girlfriend and get extremely jealous when you fawn over another boy in a store display window. They have a girlfriend and give you the silent treatment when somebody more important to you is mentioned. They have a girlfriend but they've got their arm around you as you walk through a noisy mall and everybody who sees the two of you would think that you're together. You ask about the girlfriend and he replies very straightforwardly before nuzzling your ear.
What I hate about myself is, while I very diplomatically push him away and he very diplomatically lets me, I find myself gravitating towards him anyway and he puts his arm around me again. I still contend that I do not really like this guy that way or want to have anything to do with him, more than a friendship and a good pas de deux partnership.
I seriously, seriously need help.
Someone asked me once what my vice was, drinking, smoking, drugs? I shook my head and nonchalantly replied, "Boys." I could still be considered an ingenue at the time so it did come out funny when I said it. Most recently, a different group of friends were talking about drinking, getting drunk, the taste of liquor and asked me if I liked to drink. I shook my head no and said, "But I like little boys..." Now, it's still funny, in fact it's funnier because I'm presenting myself as the older, insatiable woman of the world. Sometimes I wonder if it's funny only because I fit the mold. And sometimes I should stop saying that, which I say so automatically and don't even mean anymore, because it's becoming less and less funny as the events in my life unfold.
What I hate about little boys is they don't know what they want. They have a girlfriend and yet they can't keep their hands off you. They have a girlfriend and get extremely jealous when you fawn over another boy in a store display window. They have a girlfriend and give you the silent treatment when somebody more important to you is mentioned. They have a girlfriend but they've got their arm around you as you walk through a noisy mall and everybody who sees the two of you would think that you're together. You ask about the girlfriend and he replies very straightforwardly before nuzzling your ear.
What I hate about myself is, while I very diplomatically push him away and he very diplomatically lets me, I find myself gravitating towards him anyway and he puts his arm around me again. I still contend that I do not really like this guy that way or want to have anything to do with him, more than a friendship and a good pas de deux partnership.
I seriously, seriously need help.
Saturday, July 17, 2004
from the dust shelf
Back when my friend's live journal was still "live" (because it's not anymore, haha), she posted an entry of a list of books that have been going around blogs and live journals (so they say; I've only seen it so far on hers. Then again, I don't normally bloghop). You copy/paste the list on your own blog then mark with an asterisk the books you've read, bold the books you haven't finished yet, italicize the books you bought and never read and just keep on your shelf to collect dust, then add three more books that aren't on the list. It's a super long list, I tell you.
Anyway, I started to comply and realized I had a lot of books I bought, haven't finished and are just on the shelf, collecting dust. So instead of completing that list for my blog, I started a different list, entirely for myself, of all the books in my possession that I have yet to complete. I also made a list of books I should read again because I don't remember what's in them anymore. Then I made a separate list of books I would like to read again, because I'm that kind of bookworm, an avid reader with favoritism haha.
I'm posting the lists here, mainly to shame myself into reading them. I was also thinking you guys can help: if there's any book you highly recommend I read (or chuck out altogether), let me know so I can arrange the order in which I read them.
And, by the way, did I lend any of you my copy of Kundera's Unbearable Lightness of Being? I can't seem to find it and, wouldn't you know it, I haven't finished reading that yet. Yes, I may have attention deficit disorder. Especially when you consider I'm still trying to finish The Return of the King. But it will happen, mark my words.
Books I have to read before I buy another book, so help me God:
(in the order I'm reading them right now):
1. The Return of the King by JRR Tolkien
2. Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami
(in the order I found them on my shelf)
3. The Fourteen Sisters of Emilio Montez O'Brien by Oscar Hijuelos
4. The Woman Who Lived in a Prologue by Nina Schneider
5. In Every Sense Like Love by Simona Vinci
6. Music, In A Foreign Language by Andrew Crumey
7. Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
8. Trouble by Fay Weldon
9. When She Was Good by Philip Roth
10. Gulliver's Travels by Johnathan Swift (but this is my sister's not mine)
11. Dragon Song by Anne McCaffrey
12. The Copper Beech by Maeve Binchy
13. Setting Free The Bears by John Irving
14. Lilac and Flag by John Berger
15. The Winged Seed by Li-Young Lee
16. Deception by Philip Roth (some people think I've finished this already, because I was bringing this around for such a long time. ADD rearing its ugly head)
17. Tara Road by Maeve Binchy
18. The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje (I borrowed this from my friend I think 7 years ago and I should be ashamed of myself)
19. Ain't Gonna Take Nothing For My Journey Now by Maya Angelou
20. The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles
21. the other stories in Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth
22. Little Men by Louisa May Alcott
23. The Plains of Passage by Jean Auel
24. Animal Farm by George Orwell (also my sister's; she only reads fiction for school)
25. A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving (which they made into the movie Simon Birch)
26. The Return Journey by Maeve Binchy (which Appleby lent me around 4 years ago, so super sorry)
27. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
28. The Group by Mary McCarthy
29. Caramelo by Sandra Cisneros
30. Hong Kong Rose by Xu Xi
31. Taltos by Anne Rice
32. Sabbath's Theatre by Philip Roth
33. The Sound of Waves by Yukio Mishima
34. Bulletproof Diva by Lisa Jones
35. Our Gang by Philip Roth
Books I should and want to read again (but only after I read all 35 aforementioned books):
1. Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth
2. Slaves of New York by Tama Janowitz
3. So Far From God by Ana Castillo
4. The Cider House Rules by John Irving
5. I'll Take Manhattan by Judith Krantz
6. The Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston
7. Vision Quest by Terry Davis
8. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean Auel
9. The Valley of the Horses by Jean Auel
10. The Mammoth Hunters by Jean Auel
11. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
12. Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
13. Dancing On My Grave by Gelsey Kirkland
14. Interview With A Vampire by Anne Rice
15. The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice
16. The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice
17. Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Oooh, wish me luck.
Anyway, I started to comply and realized I had a lot of books I bought, haven't finished and are just on the shelf, collecting dust. So instead of completing that list for my blog, I started a different list, entirely for myself, of all the books in my possession that I have yet to complete. I also made a list of books I should read again because I don't remember what's in them anymore. Then I made a separate list of books I would like to read again, because I'm that kind of bookworm, an avid reader with favoritism haha.
I'm posting the lists here, mainly to shame myself into reading them. I was also thinking you guys can help: if there's any book you highly recommend I read (or chuck out altogether), let me know so I can arrange the order in which I read them.
And, by the way, did I lend any of you my copy of Kundera's Unbearable Lightness of Being? I can't seem to find it and, wouldn't you know it, I haven't finished reading that yet. Yes, I may have attention deficit disorder. Especially when you consider I'm still trying to finish The Return of the King. But it will happen, mark my words.
Books I have to read before I buy another book, so help me God:
(in the order I'm reading them right now):
1. The Return of the King by JRR Tolkien
2. Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami
(in the order I found them on my shelf)
3. The Fourteen Sisters of Emilio Montez O'Brien by Oscar Hijuelos
4. The Woman Who Lived in a Prologue by Nina Schneider
5. In Every Sense Like Love by Simona Vinci
6. Music, In A Foreign Language by Andrew Crumey
7. Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
8. Trouble by Fay Weldon
9. When She Was Good by Philip Roth
10. Gulliver's Travels by Johnathan Swift (but this is my sister's not mine)
11. Dragon Song by Anne McCaffrey
12. The Copper Beech by Maeve Binchy
13. Setting Free The Bears by John Irving
14. Lilac and Flag by John Berger
15. The Winged Seed by Li-Young Lee
16. Deception by Philip Roth (some people think I've finished this already, because I was bringing this around for such a long time. ADD rearing its ugly head)
17. Tara Road by Maeve Binchy
18. The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje (I borrowed this from my friend I think 7 years ago and I should be ashamed of myself)
19. Ain't Gonna Take Nothing For My Journey Now by Maya Angelou
20. The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles
21. the other stories in Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth
22. Little Men by Louisa May Alcott
23. The Plains of Passage by Jean Auel
24. Animal Farm by George Orwell (also my sister's; she only reads fiction for school)
25. A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving (which they made into the movie Simon Birch)
26. The Return Journey by Maeve Binchy (which Appleby lent me around 4 years ago, so super sorry)
27. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
28. The Group by Mary McCarthy
29. Caramelo by Sandra Cisneros
30. Hong Kong Rose by Xu Xi
31. Taltos by Anne Rice
32. Sabbath's Theatre by Philip Roth
33. The Sound of Waves by Yukio Mishima
34. Bulletproof Diva by Lisa Jones
35. Our Gang by Philip Roth
Books I should and want to read again (but only after I read all 35 aforementioned books):
1. Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth
2. Slaves of New York by Tama Janowitz
3. So Far From God by Ana Castillo
4. The Cider House Rules by John Irving
5. I'll Take Manhattan by Judith Krantz
6. The Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston
7. Vision Quest by Terry Davis
8. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean Auel
9. The Valley of the Horses by Jean Auel
10. The Mammoth Hunters by Jean Auel
11. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
12. Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
13. Dancing On My Grave by Gelsey Kirkland
14. Interview With A Vampire by Anne Rice
15. The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice
16. The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice
17. Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Oooh, wish me luck.
Friday, July 16, 2004
my future flashing before my eyes
This week at home (or as my sister says, at our summer house) has been very relaxing and somewhat productive. The word "leisurely" comes to mind. I realized today that this is what my mom does all day. She lounges around at home. At particular points in the day, she cooks meals, she cleans parts of the house, she watches TV, she takes naps. Especially now that Daddy went to the states to visit our brother, she relaxes more than she normally does, which isn't really such a far stretch from normal.
Now, compare to me. This week, I wake up without fail at lunchtime, watch TV, watch videos of ballets, rearrange my room, do my laundry and pack the clothes I'm bringing to Manda next week, read the two books I'm currently reading, go online to kill my blog and build a new one, go to sleep at around three or four in the morning and do everything over (except for the laundry part, that only took two days). Sometimes, I wake up at 5 or 6 to use my free internet hours (my prepaid connection has this promo that gives me free internet from 3 to 7am, whee) and since I'm still sleepy at 7 and 8 in the morning, I go to sleep to be roused at 12 for lunch.
What a life.
Productivity has been hounding me all week. I have to be productive, I have to be productive, I keep telling myself. It's a new mantra. That's why I watch videos, it's like homework. Sort of. I have put writing my thesis on hold and watching ballet videos is a feeble attempt to get back to work. All I do is watch, though. I form ideas in my head while watching, but it's mostly a confusing mass in my brain that refuses to make sense, so I'm not really getting anywhere.
Watching ballet videos is also my preparing for the weekend. Like my mom, who is right now sewing a uniform for a new girl who enrolled last week. My dad will be gone two weeks or so and in his absence, I'm calling all the shots in the studio. I'm supposed to try to start weaving the dances together for the full length ballet we're putting out as our recital this December and I can actually say I'm ready.
I don't think I'm used to the non-hectic lifestyle. It's going to be super different when we go back to work next week, but this thought has actually reiterated how this must be how life would be like if ever I do get married and move to the universe of leisurely lifestyles. I haven't given this possible marriage thing much thought in the past months, but taking a dry run of a possible reality really makes you think.
I've also let that thought enter my head because I have been reading my old blog archives (no, I did not delete them, I just made them inaccessible to the public). I started, well, from the start. At that start, I explain why I started my blog - to make sense of my life and to keep me from going nuts about getting married and moving to that different universe. Although it was driving me nuts, it seems like it was easier then than it is now to confront that entire marriage issue. The question I was asking then had become monstrously humongous now: What will I do there all day?
It's the sense of purpose. Without ballet class and rehearsals, I sought productivity like the holy grail. I found a substitute sense of purpose with my VCR and VCD player, my dearly departed blog and this brand new replacement, laundry and dishwashing, the books I'm currently reading. And today, I looked at my mom and wondered how she can be so peacefully happy with her life, without the same sense of purpose that I so obviously burn for.
Yesterday, we took our mom out to see Kill Bill vol 2. It was the perfect movie to take her to because no way was she going to be able to see it in a moviehouse unless Dad was otherwise indisposed (and in this case, he so conveniently was). Dad walked out on the video of Kill Bill vol 1 and when you ask him why, he'll say, "Saan ka nakakita ng may cartoons pa?" or "Isang daang Yakuza, natalo niya? Kalokohan." Sometimes, he'll say both.
The highlight of the movie for me (besides the training with Pai Mai) was the Bride discovering her daughter was alive. She basically tells Bill she may always be a killer, but everything changes when you have a child. Even the thought of having the child changes everything. After the movie, we walked home and Ma made us dinner. Today, after diligently waking me up at noon, she asks me, "What time did you sleep last night?" I told her around 3, then added that I woke at 6 and thought, Hey, I have free internet hours! This made her laugh and she asked me if I wanted some coffee.
I watched her grind the beans and saw it: a sense of purpose. She was only grinding beans to make coffee for her daughter, but when you think about it, it had as much purpose as the Bride did when she killed Vernita Green, O-Ren Ishii, Elle Driver and Bill. Then I thought, leaving this universe for the next one doesn't seem all that bad.
Of course, time has yet to tell whether I am or not. Either way, I don't think I'm getting such a bum deal. Either way. I'm very zen.
Now, compare to me. This week, I wake up without fail at lunchtime, watch TV, watch videos of ballets, rearrange my room, do my laundry and pack the clothes I'm bringing to Manda next week, read the two books I'm currently reading, go online to kill my blog and build a new one, go to sleep at around three or four in the morning and do everything over (except for the laundry part, that only took two days). Sometimes, I wake up at 5 or 6 to use my free internet hours (my prepaid connection has this promo that gives me free internet from 3 to 7am, whee) and since I'm still sleepy at 7 and 8 in the morning, I go to sleep to be roused at 12 for lunch.
What a life.
Productivity has been hounding me all week. I have to be productive, I have to be productive, I keep telling myself. It's a new mantra. That's why I watch videos, it's like homework. Sort of. I have put writing my thesis on hold and watching ballet videos is a feeble attempt to get back to work. All I do is watch, though. I form ideas in my head while watching, but it's mostly a confusing mass in my brain that refuses to make sense, so I'm not really getting anywhere.
Watching ballet videos is also my preparing for the weekend. Like my mom, who is right now sewing a uniform for a new girl who enrolled last week. My dad will be gone two weeks or so and in his absence, I'm calling all the shots in the studio. I'm supposed to try to start weaving the dances together for the full length ballet we're putting out as our recital this December and I can actually say I'm ready.
I don't think I'm used to the non-hectic lifestyle. It's going to be super different when we go back to work next week, but this thought has actually reiterated how this must be how life would be like if ever I do get married and move to the universe of leisurely lifestyles. I haven't given this possible marriage thing much thought in the past months, but taking a dry run of a possible reality really makes you think.
I've also let that thought enter my head because I have been reading my old blog archives (no, I did not delete them, I just made them inaccessible to the public). I started, well, from the start. At that start, I explain why I started my blog - to make sense of my life and to keep me from going nuts about getting married and moving to that different universe. Although it was driving me nuts, it seems like it was easier then than it is now to confront that entire marriage issue. The question I was asking then had become monstrously humongous now: What will I do there all day?
It's the sense of purpose. Without ballet class and rehearsals, I sought productivity like the holy grail. I found a substitute sense of purpose with my VCR and VCD player, my dearly departed blog and this brand new replacement, laundry and dishwashing, the books I'm currently reading. And today, I looked at my mom and wondered how she can be so peacefully happy with her life, without the same sense of purpose that I so obviously burn for.
Yesterday, we took our mom out to see Kill Bill vol 2. It was the perfect movie to take her to because no way was she going to be able to see it in a moviehouse unless Dad was otherwise indisposed (and in this case, he so conveniently was). Dad walked out on the video of Kill Bill vol 1 and when you ask him why, he'll say, "Saan ka nakakita ng may cartoons pa?" or "Isang daang Yakuza, natalo niya? Kalokohan." Sometimes, he'll say both.
The highlight of the movie for me (besides the training with Pai Mai) was the Bride discovering her daughter was alive. She basically tells Bill she may always be a killer, but everything changes when you have a child. Even the thought of having the child changes everything. After the movie, we walked home and Ma made us dinner. Today, after diligently waking me up at noon, she asks me, "What time did you sleep last night?" I told her around 3, then added that I woke at 6 and thought, Hey, I have free internet hours! This made her laugh and she asked me if I wanted some coffee.
I watched her grind the beans and saw it: a sense of purpose. She was only grinding beans to make coffee for her daughter, but when you think about it, it had as much purpose as the Bride did when she killed Vernita Green, O-Ren Ishii, Elle Driver and Bill. Then I thought, leaving this universe for the next one doesn't seem all that bad.
Of course, time has yet to tell whether I am or not. Either way, I don't think I'm getting such a bum deal. Either way. I'm very zen.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Who said TV made you stupid?
Although I could have been more productive this vacation week (hey, collapsing an old blog and creating a new one from scratch should be considered productive...), I feel that all those hours spent in front of the TV this week was time well spent. I got to see Daphne finally fall in love with Niles on Frasier (my, that was a moment). I was thrilled upon discovering that AXN is replaying the entire 2nd season of Alias and so I can catch up on all the episodes I missed. I daydreamed I was with Padma (oh, so gorgeous, sigh) in Spain and Megan in Somalia in Discovery Travel and Adventure. I whooped with joy discovering that I was right in my guess that Cordelia was the big bad invincible demon in Angel (now I'm dying to look for the episodes I missed, argh...). The problem about watching all that TV, I would get hungry watching everybody eating.
My favorite hour of TV this week so far has been Discovery Channel's docu on Cleopatra, shattering all these myths about her being merely an irresponsible seductress. First of all, she wasn't drop dead gorgeous; she was the third daughter of Ptolemy the 12th and so inherited the Ptolemaic schnozz. But, man, she had presence. She was the original magnetic personality. Secondly, she didn't seduce Caesar just so she can be said to be sleeping with the most powerful man in the world, she did it for her own political purposes - to secure her throne in Egypt and to hold conquering Rome at bay. As scholars have discovered, it wasn't essentially a seduction, it was more a meeting of two ambitious political minds and although the sex must have been great, it was only secondary. She had successfully raised her country from the debt that plagued her father's reign and she won the love of a people who were originally against her (because she was Greek, not Egyptian, and because she was a woman).
I love that they discovered all this about Cleopatra. It only reiterates how women have always had a bad rep all throughout history; the great thing though is that while the general view of Cleopatra has always been the Roman view of her, which was necessarily-for-the-Romans negative, the Egyptians loved her and to this day believe she was one of the greatest rulers of her country.
Another useful thing I found on TV was this band composed of Slash, Duff and that rather healthy drummer from Guns N' Roses and Scott Weiland (who strangely looks nothing like himself - must be the drugs. Or the withdrawal from drugs). I know it must be redundant for me to like their music, but I do. I'm going to sniff around for the CD next time I find myself near a record store. I guess quitting my record label job was all I needed to rediscover music again.
One thing I wonder about TV - when is this reality TV thing going to end? It boggles the mind why they would rather come up with more and more and more of that crap instead of prolonging seasons of Roswell and Angel.
My favorite hour of TV this week so far has been Discovery Channel's docu on Cleopatra, shattering all these myths about her being merely an irresponsible seductress. First of all, she wasn't drop dead gorgeous; she was the third daughter of Ptolemy the 12th and so inherited the Ptolemaic schnozz. But, man, she had presence. She was the original magnetic personality. Secondly, she didn't seduce Caesar just so she can be said to be sleeping with the most powerful man in the world, she did it for her own political purposes - to secure her throne in Egypt and to hold conquering Rome at bay. As scholars have discovered, it wasn't essentially a seduction, it was more a meeting of two ambitious political minds and although the sex must have been great, it was only secondary. She had successfully raised her country from the debt that plagued her father's reign and she won the love of a people who were originally against her (because she was Greek, not Egyptian, and because she was a woman).
I love that they discovered all this about Cleopatra. It only reiterates how women have always had a bad rep all throughout history; the great thing though is that while the general view of Cleopatra has always been the Roman view of her, which was necessarily-for-the-Romans negative, the Egyptians loved her and to this day believe she was one of the greatest rulers of her country.
Another useful thing I found on TV was this band composed of Slash, Duff and that rather healthy drummer from Guns N' Roses and Scott Weiland (who strangely looks nothing like himself - must be the drugs. Or the withdrawal from drugs). I know it must be redundant for me to like their music, but I do. I'm going to sniff around for the CD next time I find myself near a record store. I guess quitting my record label job was all I needed to rediscover music again.
One thing I wonder about TV - when is this reality TV thing going to end? It boggles the mind why they would rather come up with more and more and more of that crap instead of prolonging seasons of Roswell and Angel.
Speaking of deleting entire blogs...
My good good friend used to have a live journal and she would make these short and incredibly witty entries about the strangest things (she once wrote about how her friend or boyfriend - don't remember who exactly - asking her to the Black Eyed Peas concert and she was like, should she go even if the music is "mejo le snore?" Hahaha). I discovered it by accident and I loved reading her entries; we haven't been seing much of each other lately so reading her LJ was a treat. Then, one day, her LJ suddenly disappeared. I haven't asked her why because I'm so into the respecting online privacy jazz. I figure I can ask her when I see her next.
While I'm being all cowardly lion here in my sleepyhouse, I have to admit that I did the right thing. That old blog of mine was too loaded with stuff. I'm making a commitment to blog more responsibly from now on. Which means the entries will be more fun to read, no more high drama and whining from me. At least, I hope not.
I miss my old blog. I miss how blue it was. Ack, withdrawal symptoms.
While I'm being all cowardly lion here in my sleepyhouse, I have to admit that I did the right thing. That old blog of mine was too loaded with stuff. I'm making a commitment to blog more responsibly from now on. Which means the entries will be more fun to read, no more high drama and whining from me. At least, I hope not.
I miss my old blog. I miss how blue it was. Ack, withdrawal symptoms.
Now my blog looks like everybody else's...
Hi friends.
That's all for now. I'm still emotional over what I did to the last blog. Sigh.
Here's to a new way of seeing. :)
That's all for now. I'm still emotional over what I did to the last blog. Sigh.
Here's to a new way of seeing. :)
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