Thursday, December 09, 2004
High art versus the low underachiever
I rolled out of bed after hitting snooze sixteen times this morning, at about twelve. It was just that difficult to convince the carcass it didn't just want to stay under the soft warm covers of my piles of duvets and pretend the day wasn't happening.
Remembering that I have an essay due tomorrow is what really got me up, and I figured I'd have enough time to get it started before my mother swooped in and picked me up for le Ballet (The Nutcracker). She picked me up two readings later, at three o'clock- Tony Roma's (Tony Revolting's!) followed with some carb friendly chicken caesar salad. The dressing was blue cheese, and my mother told me I was allergic to penicillin halfway through. First of all- I was not aware of this, and second of all...sure, there's "mold" in my dressing, but come on...
The ballet was hilarious. There were very homoerotic undertones throughout that I figured I must have been imagining, as well as some other fairly - ok, ballet is just erotic, period. However, the etiquette required for such things slipped fairly badly when I realized that the snowflake fairy dance was being danced by nine fairies, one be-tutued fairy of which who happened to have a package. I was fairly certain I must have hallucinated the whole thing- until a friend of my mom's commented on the "strapping" qualities of one of the dancers during intermission.
Overall, the production itself was suprisingly informal. There was a fair amount of humor injected into the thing (slapstick- as much as one could stick into a ukrainian ballet troupe I suppose) which sort of suprised me. Not that the Nutcracker is the most serious dramatic story ever to begin with, but it is considered a formal performance art. I've never seen a live performance before, but I do remember watching my tape of NB on Ice over and over when I was a kid. That had to do with my burgeoning desire to be a professional figure skater more then anything though. I'm being serious- stop laughing assholes. I memorized all the solo routines in it, and the music just stuck. I realize later that this has a lot to do with how I feel about music now, especially choreography in dance and event.
Notes of interest:
I should have went to Raving Poets on my own anyways on Tuesday- Mingus Tourette was there, thus I could have gotten drunk and puked in his lap. Been one of "the blond hair empty eyed young." Just kidding.
Male ballet performers have the most amazing bottoms. I've never been an ass observer, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the white lycra. Bottoms that are begging to be plucked like fruit.
I have always had an itch (grade eight on) to be in ballet. I heard once that Van Vliet offers a class, and I think I may go investigate, since no one wants to bowl with me. The idea of doing that on my own though is massively appealing. I mean, I love dancing anyways, and if it's something I could do and be in shape too- double rad.
I registered yesterday. Marginal lit (nice!) , intro to counselling (awesome!), teaching english as a second language (rad! think 'overseas with no return'), edit 202 (yuck), and postcolonial literature and culture: Irish writing in English (I'm dying (dying!) of excitement for this course!!). And coincidently (through amazing powers) I still have lunch opportunity with those rotten lads I hang around.
Someone brought up "convocation" in Chapters yesterday, and I thought I was going to cry. I don't want to be by myself again next year after having it so good this year avec mes amis. Everyone is so close to just scattering, and that depresses me.
I got a really pleasing orange sweater from Value Village today. It's a little big, but it's just 'pleasing'. That's the only word I could come up with.
I was supposed to phone mr. pink yesterday and I totally forgot. I also totally forgot to phone him tonight and make up for it. I hope he's pissed off. Better yet, I hope he's so pissed off that he drives down here to tell me, and to tell me that he's desperately in love with me, and that he will move to the city promptly and get a job with the new re-opening of CanWest theatre. And we'll move in together- I'll forget that I'm not in love with him- and all will be good.
¶ 10:49 PM
Remembering that I have an essay due tomorrow is what really got me up, and I figured I'd have enough time to get it started before my mother swooped in and picked me up for le Ballet (The Nutcracker). She picked me up two readings later, at three o'clock- Tony Roma's (Tony Revolting's!) followed with some carb friendly chicken caesar salad. The dressing was blue cheese, and my mother told me I was allergic to penicillin halfway through. First of all- I was not aware of this, and second of all...sure, there's "mold" in my dressing, but come on...
The ballet was hilarious. There were very homoerotic undertones throughout that I figured I must have been imagining, as well as some other fairly - ok, ballet is just erotic, period. However, the etiquette required for such things slipped fairly badly when I realized that the snowflake fairy dance was being danced by nine fairies, one be-tutued fairy of which who happened to have a package. I was fairly certain I must have hallucinated the whole thing- until a friend of my mom's commented on the "strapping" qualities of one of the dancers during intermission.
Overall, the production itself was suprisingly informal. There was a fair amount of humor injected into the thing (slapstick- as much as one could stick into a ukrainian ballet troupe I suppose) which sort of suprised me. Not that the Nutcracker is the most serious dramatic story ever to begin with, but it is considered a formal performance art. I've never seen a live performance before, but I do remember watching my tape of NB on Ice over and over when I was a kid. That had to do with my burgeoning desire to be a professional figure skater more then anything though. I'm being serious- stop laughing assholes. I memorized all the solo routines in it, and the music just stuck. I realize later that this has a lot to do with how I feel about music now, especially choreography in dance and event.
Notes of interest:
I should have went to Raving Poets on my own anyways on Tuesday- Mingus Tourette was there, thus I could have gotten drunk and puked in his lap. Been one of "the blond hair empty eyed young." Just kidding.
Male ballet performers have the most amazing bottoms. I've never been an ass observer, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the white lycra. Bottoms that are begging to be plucked like fruit.
I have always had an itch (grade eight on) to be in ballet. I heard once that Van Vliet offers a class, and I think I may go investigate, since no one wants to bowl with me. The idea of doing that on my own though is massively appealing. I mean, I love dancing anyways, and if it's something I could do and be in shape too- double rad.
I registered yesterday. Marginal lit (nice!) , intro to counselling (awesome!), teaching english as a second language (rad! think 'overseas with no return'), edit 202 (yuck), and postcolonial literature and culture: Irish writing in English (I'm dying (dying!) of excitement for this course!!). And coincidently (through amazing powers) I still have lunch opportunity with those rotten lads I hang around.
Someone brought up "convocation" in Chapters yesterday, and I thought I was going to cry. I don't want to be by myself again next year after having it so good this year avec mes amis. Everyone is so close to just scattering, and that depresses me.
I got a really pleasing orange sweater from Value Village today. It's a little big, but it's just 'pleasing'. That's the only word I could come up with.
I was supposed to phone mr. pink yesterday and I totally forgot. I also totally forgot to phone him tonight and make up for it. I hope he's pissed off. Better yet, I hope he's so pissed off that he drives down here to tell me, and to tell me that he's desperately in love with me, and that he will move to the city promptly and get a job with the new re-opening of CanWest theatre. And we'll move in together- I'll forget that I'm not in love with him- and all will be good.
¶ 10:49 PM
