I love everything to do with dance. My mom and I watch every dance movie we can find. It's sort of our thing; that and romantic comedies are about the only genres we agree on. And since we like to watch movies and we like to agree on what we are watching, we have watched a TON of dance movies. Here are a few of my favorites:
Dirty Dancing
Step Up 2
Strictly Ballroom
Footloose
Save the Last Dance
There are too many wonderful dance movies to mention but my favorite of all is Center Stage: Turn it up
Also, this song rocks my socks. I'm currently dancing to this:
I've been sick the last 24 hours, so that is why I haven't blogged. The previous 72-96 hours I have no excuse for except the usual excuse, namely: Life. This weekend I promise to come up with some brilliant material.
P.S. I am going to give line-dancing a try tomorrow (or today, depending on your viewpoint), wish me luck!
Many days of my life have been spent lamenting the rain. Monday was not one of those days. Monday started like many other days except that my alarm clock was not the increasing volume of a clock radio but a torrential downpour and the howling wind. I cursed inwardly as I contemplated my mile and a half trek to school. As I shampooed my hair, I wondered if this shower was foreshadowing of the day to come. I munched unhappily on my breakfast of reheated yams and garlic chicken while looking out our 6' by 10' massive third story apartment window. The view is beautiful on any given day, the numerous mountains are tremendous and I have climbed them, sunsets are rivaled only in Hawaii.
Monday I saw no beauty in the torrent coming from the clouds who seemed to glare at me from their lofty perches; I glared back. Almost in rebellion to the dreary weather outside, I left with only 20 minutes till my class was to begin (not at all typical of someone who loathes tardiness). I had put on my waterproof pants and massive rain jacket so as to be virtually untouchable by the rain. As I unlocked my mountain bike the thought occurred to me that I WAS invulnerable to the rain. A HUGE smile crossed my face as I picked out my favorite flamenco song and hopped onto my mountain bike. I chose the scenic (read: offroad) route to class and proceeded to seek out every lake-sized puddle I could find. I rode fast, I rode hard, and I nearly got hit by numerous cars. As I sat dripping in my kinesiology class my classmate mentioned to me that I had mud on my face. What she didn't tell me was that I had mud EVERYWHERE: my backpack, pants, shoes, jacket, and bike (still dripping after an 90 minutes of class) were all covered in a brown liquid vaguely reminiscent of that one time I changed my newborn cousin's diaper. I decided monday that I did in fact like the rain because the rain brought the mud and I like mud. It's kind of like that ugly friend of yours named Laura who has that gorgeous sister who you really like. Unfortunately you can't hang out with the ultra attractive sister unless you hang with Laura.
I have a confession to make. I think well placed graffiti is artistic in the most glorious and wonderful way. And when that art has a purpose and makes a statement, well, that is even more beautiful. I think graffiti with these qualities is great because it demonstrates the most raw elements of art. Banksy is a master of this kind of graffiti. His works are satirical and painful in the best way: they tell you something you already knew but wouldn't admit on your own. Here are a few of Banksy's "pieces."
I've only got a minute because I have a motor learning and control lab to finish, but I still want to post more than I have been. So, today I am going to pose a question to my readers.
If you had to choose 7 inanimate objects to describe yourself what would you choose? What would these 7 objects convey about you?
I recently pondered these questions when they randomly popped in my head and I still haven't decided my answers. This is me stalling for time while keeping up the ruse of blogging regularly. Thank you for indulging my curiosity. Post your answers if you dare, if not, then enjoy the infinite pleasure that comes from getting to know yourself better. I think we'll have more of these psychological questions since I am attempting to minor in psychology.
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves." -- 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward were married for 49+ years before death did them part. I constantly wonder why marriages like theirs are so rare. Paul Newman was once questioned about his thoughts on infidelity due to his well known devotion to his wife and family. Newman's answer: "Why go out for hamburger when you have a steak at home?" I want to be that kind of man.
Too many of my friends are artistically gifted. It drives me nuts how they take images from their mind and transform them with brush, pen, pensil, spray paint can, rubber blocks, lego, ........ the list goes on forever. The point is: they make the images in their minds come alive. I am incredibly envious of their gifts, and have so many images in my mind that I would love to be able to put on paper. I dream sometimes about a certain girl, her name for now is Miss Anonymous. In my dreams I see her, but one way or another her face is always obscured. The images I wish I could recreate are of her. Fortunately there are many photographers who must have simular dreams because they seem to capture the gist of what I see in mine.
I have been an avid lover of poetry since my mom first introduced me to it when I was very young. For a long while there has been a poetry drought in my life with most of my time being consumed with sport and school. Recently though due to a sports injury that has left me devoid of sport for the time being, I have turned my mind back to the intrinsic arts that used to consume me. I decided to no longer allow myself the excuse of school taking all my time and leaving me with no creative outlets: I joined a poetry class. So now if I choose not to access my right brain and form poetic and beautiful works with words then I will hurt myself academically. A recent assignment was to write a pantoum. Here are two that I made:
Vulgar Love
Never Late This tangible desire To satiate My carnal fire
This tangible desire A thing to fear My carnal fire It’s always here
A thing to fear To satiate It’s always here Never late
The words, they’ll outlive
It’s all in the spelling The letters, they flow There’s no telling The places they’ll go
The letters they flow It’s words they give The places they’ll go The people they’ll outlive
It’s words they give There’s no telling The people they’ll outlive It’s all in the spelling
Tonight in my english class we discussed the book we are reading. We are currently reading Plato's Symposium. One character (who was a real person) named Aristophanes revealed his theory on love (Eros as they referred to it). According to Aristophanes many many many years ago humanity existed in a far different manner than they do today. We were 8 limbed creatures with four arms and four legs and two complete sets of genitalia both male and female in addition to two heads each with its unique and sovereign personality. We cartwheeled around gayly and were so blissfully content that it upset the gods. They saw our joy and felt compelled to end it. Their solution was to separate us from our partner and make us walk instead of roll. In doing so, they cut us apart "like one cuts an egg with a hair." Zeus and the other gods were quite pleased with the results of their tampering, and watched happily as we wandered though life feeling empty and incomplete because well......we were. You see according to Aristophanes each of us was part of a "token" human and separate we were not really human.
A Token as it was understood in 5th century greece, was a bone from an animal that was broken in half and each half given to a separate party who was to meet for the first time. You see back then there weren't picture ids and facebook to help us conduct a virtual meeting or know beforehand what the person we were to meet looked like. The two pieces of bone would form a puzzle that only the two people possessing the correct pieces could solve. In this way two complete strangers would know that they were destined to meet and likewise two strangers could see that they were not meant to meet.
Like the Tokens of the 5th century each half of a "human" consisted of a male and a female who were a perfect fit and could complete the puzzle of humanity. You see in Aristophanean math 1+1=1 if you are talking about a male and a female. And like the token metaphor we each have only 1 possible match who will make us whole again.
I love this theory for many reasons but before I delve into them let me first state that I don't actually believe in the greek gods or any of that mythic nonsense. They are simply stories to me, and like any good story, they reveal an underlying truth about us. Ok, so back to what I like about the theory. I am a "helpless" romantic and as a helpless romantic I see the world as being an elaborate love story between me and miss anonymous. I love the idea that we are each incomplete without our perfect match. I love the idea that there is only really one true match. I love also love the whole deja vu aspect of this idea. I fantasize about meeting my "better half" (quite appropriate don't you think) and feeling as though we have met before. I have my own theories on these things but I will save that for another time.
For now, here is quite possibly the lousiest trailer to the movie that best demonstrates this theory in a modern day world: Serendipity (one of my personal favorite love stories)
My best friend loves poetry that rhymes. He was kind enough to give me a list of tips for how one should run a blog. One of the tips was to post daily. So today I am posting for the second consecutive day. This poem is dedicated to WCR, I rhymed for your entertainment. Thank you for the good advice. This took me 40 minutes, so go easy on me I rushed before class.
They're as high as the sky powerful and so full of pride the sounds they make and the long legged stride
I'm obsessed you see with the sound of your gait the stilettos shine and the sounds they create
I think it might be the pretty painted ten or maybe the way your footsteps are zen
down the hallway I hear them come I dare not look I will surely succumb
but look I did and succumb I will but its soo worth it for that glorious thrill
for what is man but a admirer of you at least that's me with that perfect shoe
your heels pay you its homage they give for the privilege to reside in the place where they live
those stems so pretty would be nothing without the flower at the end and its delicious clout
I'd travel the world kiss my momma goodbye to reside in a place down the street from your thigh
I'm not a creep I swear its the truth I don't mean to be crass certainly not uncouth
but I lose control when I hear the sound of heels tapping pleasantly on the solid ground
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