Update.
I almost went a week (okay, 4 days) without turning on my computer at home. Weird but good.
I'm running away to New York again for the boy's birthday. Food, a show, maybe pancakes Sunday morning. Life is good.
I will probably come back excited about what a great time I had and sad I'm back in DC again. Boy-proximity-related mood swings best worked out by Wagnering myself to sleep. But it is a little ridiculous to anticipate how I'll feel after the weekend I haven't had yet.
Oh, and for the record, I have seen the octopus's webcam since my last post. You can totally see the people looking into the tank. It's water-blurred and astigmatic, but that's appropriate to an octopus. For the video-craving of you, it means you can't distinguish faces. So anyone who saw me flirting with the octopus didn't see my face. I was just a crazy red blur. I think. I hope.
And other octopus news. I love that fucker. And I love being an octopus. I love the tensile force of my muscles. I love radial motion. I feel stronger ever since I started working with this. My thighs are awesome, and I can't remember the last time I was excited about my thighs. Octopus breathing, octopus strength, octopus motion.
Perhaps I am too octopod for my own good.
I almost went a week (okay, 4 days) without turning on my computer at home. Weird but good.
I'm running away to New York again for the boy's birthday. Food, a show, maybe pancakes Sunday morning. Life is good.
I will probably come back excited about what a great time I had and sad I'm back in DC again. Boy-proximity-related mood swings best worked out by Wagnering myself to sleep. But it is a little ridiculous to anticipate how I'll feel after the weekend I haven't had yet.
Oh, and for the record, I have seen the octopus's webcam since my last post. You can totally see the people looking into the tank. It's water-blurred and astigmatic, but that's appropriate to an octopus. For the video-craving of you, it means you can't distinguish faces. So anyone who saw me flirting with the octopus didn't see my face. I was just a crazy red blur. I think. I hope.
And other octopus news. I love that fucker. And I love being an octopus. I love the tensile force of my muscles. I love radial motion. I feel stronger ever since I started working with this. My thighs are awesome, and I can't remember the last time I was excited about my thighs. Octopus breathing, octopus strength, octopus motion.
Perhaps I am too octopod for my own good.
Back from NYC. Ridiculous brushes with Greyhound newbies, people obviously accustomed to taking the train. It was a wonderful trip. It felt so wonderful to be there.
A wise woman once told me that sometimes it's not how long you're gone but how far you go. That so applies.
How long will it be before DC loses me? This summer? A year? Longer?
I do like that the National Opera's working its way through the Ring cycle--making plans to see Das Rheingold this spring. I'll have to get my dad to mail me the libretto I have at his house so I can study before I go.
In other news...
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, SaintInsomniac.
Happy birthday to you.
And many more.
A wise woman once told me that sometimes it's not how long you're gone but how far you go. That so applies.
How long will it be before DC loses me? This summer? A year? Longer?
I do like that the National Opera's working its way through the Ring cycle--making plans to see Das Rheingold this spring. I'll have to get my dad to mail me the libretto I have at his house so I can study before I go.
In other news...
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, SaintInsomniac.
Happy birthday to you.
And many more.
Going to NYC tomorrow to see the guy and a play. Lemkin's House, for those in the position to see it also. It closes this weekend and a friend assistant-directed it so figured I should haul my ass up there PDQ.
And now for the audience participation segment:
Is it xenophobia, superstition, or healthy self-interest that makes me wary of written words in languages I don't understand? While I pack, discuss.
And now for the audience participation segment:
Is it xenophobia, superstition, or healthy self-interest that makes me wary of written words in languages I don't understand? While I pack, discuss.
I spent about seventy minutes with an octopus today.
I have this assignment for my acting class, where I have to do a pantomime of an animal. I chose an octopus. Everyone keeps telling me I don't have enough arms, but we'll see how it turns out.
I went to the zoo, checked out the octopus, found out its feeding time. Went back 15 minutes before feeding time. He was still curled up in the outside corner of the tank, but at about five till he got a lot more animated, extending arms and contracting them, generally perking up. When the feeding crew (just one feeder and a narrator, really--he only ate 2 shrimp) assembled everyone to watch, he began putting on a show, spreading out so we could see his suckers, balooning the webbing between his tentacles. The first shrimp he took off the skewer with a tentacle; the second he balooned himself around. (For those who don't know, an octopus's mouth is on his underside, at the spoke as it were of his tentacles.) After a while, the show ended, the children left, and everyone was tired of the octopus, having stood in one place for ten whole minutes.
This is when I moved in for a closer look. He was back in his corner, pretending not to watch the world go by, curling and unfurling and waving his tentacles at a rather leisurely pace. So I started matching my breath to his, as his gills flared and mantle inflared and deflated. Then I started copying his tentacle motions, first with my hands and then with my arms as well. He became much more active when I did this. After a while I was doing this strange octopus-motion around the outside of his tank and he was following me. We were totally improv-ing off each others' movements. Somewhere along the way he turned from his previous tan shade to red, matching my coat. He began showing off after a while, as if trying to figure me out, see who I was and what I could do. I saw the way he moved along vertical surfaces, walked along the bottom, swam by propulsion, perched on an outcropping. I took the coat off, and the texture of his skin changed from slightly bumpy to ridged, matching the texture of my sweater. The coolest thing of all was that so much of the time I had eye contact with him as we watched each other, trying to figure each other out. And even though we were not true peers (because I could leave and he was secured in his aquarium) we related to each other as one very different being to another, totally fascinated.
I love his sense of play. He's at least as intelligent as a greyhound. His problem-solving and curiosity were totally in action. I had so much fun playing with him, as much fun as I have playing with a dog.
After an hour of dancing like an octopus in full view of other zoo patrons, I felt ready to leave. The hard thing about bringing it into acting class (aside from that whole skeleton issue) is getting over the fact that I'm performing. I am totally cool with exhibitionism (as anyone who has seen me dance in any sort of club or zoo setting might have inferred) but getting up in front of people and saying "now is the time when you watch me" scares the shit out of me. Weird, huh? I guess it's a control issue. Exhibitionism is more like, "I'm going to do this and don't care if you see. I'll even dare you to watch." But performing is like someone daring me to meet some idea in their head. At least that how it feels when I'm nervous.
I am the active one. I am the one acting. That puts me in control. I am in control. I own that time. And I rock that octopus pantomime I have the pleasure of doing on Monday. And I'm not going to break that leg (no bones, remember). I'm going to fucking sever and regrow it.
I have this assignment for my acting class, where I have to do a pantomime of an animal. I chose an octopus. Everyone keeps telling me I don't have enough arms, but we'll see how it turns out.
I went to the zoo, checked out the octopus, found out its feeding time. Went back 15 minutes before feeding time. He was still curled up in the outside corner of the tank, but at about five till he got a lot more animated, extending arms and contracting them, generally perking up. When the feeding crew (just one feeder and a narrator, really--he only ate 2 shrimp) assembled everyone to watch, he began putting on a show, spreading out so we could see his suckers, balooning the webbing between his tentacles. The first shrimp he took off the skewer with a tentacle; the second he balooned himself around. (For those who don't know, an octopus's mouth is on his underside, at the spoke as it were of his tentacles.) After a while, the show ended, the children left, and everyone was tired of the octopus, having stood in one place for ten whole minutes.
This is when I moved in for a closer look. He was back in his corner, pretending not to watch the world go by, curling and unfurling and waving his tentacles at a rather leisurely pace. So I started matching my breath to his, as his gills flared and mantle inflared and deflated. Then I started copying his tentacle motions, first with my hands and then with my arms as well. He became much more active when I did this. After a while I was doing this strange octopus-motion around the outside of his tank and he was following me. We were totally improv-ing off each others' movements. Somewhere along the way he turned from his previous tan shade to red, matching my coat. He began showing off after a while, as if trying to figure me out, see who I was and what I could do. I saw the way he moved along vertical surfaces, walked along the bottom, swam by propulsion, perched on an outcropping. I took the coat off, and the texture of his skin changed from slightly bumpy to ridged, matching the texture of my sweater. The coolest thing of all was that so much of the time I had eye contact with him as we watched each other, trying to figure each other out. And even though we were not true peers (because I could leave and he was secured in his aquarium) we related to each other as one very different being to another, totally fascinated.
I love his sense of play. He's at least as intelligent as a greyhound. His problem-solving and curiosity were totally in action. I had so much fun playing with him, as much fun as I have playing with a dog.
After an hour of dancing like an octopus in full view of other zoo patrons, I felt ready to leave. The hard thing about bringing it into acting class (aside from that whole skeleton issue) is getting over the fact that I'm performing. I am totally cool with exhibitionism (as anyone who has seen me dance in any sort of club or zoo setting might have inferred) but getting up in front of people and saying "now is the time when you watch me" scares the shit out of me. Weird, huh? I guess it's a control issue. Exhibitionism is more like, "I'm going to do this and don't care if you see. I'll even dare you to watch." But performing is like someone daring me to meet some idea in their head. At least that how it feels when I'm nervous.
I am the active one. I am the one acting. That puts me in control. I am in control. I own that time. And I rock that octopus pantomime I have the pleasure of doing on Monday. And I'm not going to break that leg (no bones, remember). I'm going to fucking sever and regrow it.
Despite being sick and in a daze (or maybe because of it), I have had some wonderful moments today. People I met on the street today were so happy in the warm weather. I can't remember the last time so many people said hi to me as I walked to work. And I saw a really beautiful bluejay guarding his territory.
But, best of all, I got to pet a puppy. A 10-week-old Samoyed. And she was so friendly! And her fur was so soft. She was waiting for me, even though her owner wanted to walk, and then I said, "hi, puppy!" And she stood up on her hind legs and reached for me and she had the best belly ever. She wanted to eat the strings on my scarf, but I was able to get them away from her.
I ate an amazing pear at lunch. It was just ripe enough and buttery-sweet.
Thinking about all this is making me want dinner. And a puppy. And to say hi to people. Hi! I'm going to make dinner now. Two out of three is not so bad at all.
But, best of all, I got to pet a puppy. A 10-week-old Samoyed. And she was so friendly! And her fur was so soft. She was waiting for me, even though her owner wanted to walk, and then I said, "hi, puppy!" And she stood up on her hind legs and reached for me and she had the best belly ever. She wanted to eat the strings on my scarf, but I was able to get them away from her.
I ate an amazing pear at lunch. It was just ripe enough and buttery-sweet.
Thinking about all this is making me want dinner. And a puppy. And to say hi to people. Hi! I'm going to make dinner now. Two out of three is not so bad at all.
My show ended on Friday. I don't know if anyone else feels this way, but I get really tired of wearing black all the time.* And most of the work for my other job is winding down to normal pace. That means I have to come in on Saturdays but not stay late. And maybe I'll post more often.
The fancy event SaintInsomniac and I went to on Saturday was fun. I drank a little much, so much that there are things I don't remember, which is odd for me. But I got to wear my pink dress and my guy wore his tux. Yes, his tux, bow tie that ties and all. Didn't get any pictures, totally forgot the camera. I had to work about four hours of the nine I was there, but working a party is not the same as working in the office. I got to dance, drink, schmooze, admire my guy holding a martini glass and looking very Bond.
Had some adventures in Virginia. The Drunken Noodle at Mai Thai in Old Town Alexandria is to die for. Saw a couple guys fishing a tree by the Potomac. Went to a mall and was not amused with the inept service I received there. Saw dogs.
But most of all I got to see my guy. That's the best part. And here is where I rave about him. Because it's coming up--Valentine's Day--whether you choose to ignore it or not. And I won't ignore it. Because 7 years ago on Valentine's Day I met him. And I love the time I spend with him, whether it happens often or not. And if we make a big deal out of Valentine's Day we don't have to remember any other anniversaries. I even remember what I was doing seven years ago to this hour: trying unsuccessfully to get into a sold-out concert, and then going to see She's All That. And then I wore that same burgundy polyester skirt the next week to a dance and met a guy and before I knew it he was my guy and I couldn't spend enough time with him. And it's still like that, even though we're usually 4 hours apart. And I could do this for hours but really should stop.
I won't get to see him on the day itself, which is a little bit of a bummer, but I had so much fun with him when he was here. I laughed so much harder watching those stupid guys with their line caught in a tree with him than I would have on my own. And he looked so good in his tux.
*These two thoughts are related. I was running sound for a play and had to wear black. I rarely wear black by choice. You can ask my costumer SaintInsomniac about that one.
The fancy event SaintInsomniac and I went to on Saturday was fun. I drank a little much, so much that there are things I don't remember, which is odd for me. But I got to wear my pink dress and my guy wore his tux. Yes, his tux, bow tie that ties and all. Didn't get any pictures, totally forgot the camera. I had to work about four hours of the nine I was there, but working a party is not the same as working in the office. I got to dance, drink, schmooze, admire my guy holding a martini glass and looking very Bond.
Had some adventures in Virginia. The Drunken Noodle at Mai Thai in Old Town Alexandria is to die for. Saw a couple guys fishing a tree by the Potomac. Went to a mall and was not amused with the inept service I received there. Saw dogs.
But most of all I got to see my guy. That's the best part. And here is where I rave about him. Because it's coming up--Valentine's Day--whether you choose to ignore it or not. And I won't ignore it. Because 7 years ago on Valentine's Day I met him. And I love the time I spend with him, whether it happens often or not. And if we make a big deal out of Valentine's Day we don't have to remember any other anniversaries. I even remember what I was doing seven years ago to this hour: trying unsuccessfully to get into a sold-out concert, and then going to see She's All That. And then I wore that same burgundy polyester skirt the next week to a dance and met a guy and before I knew it he was my guy and I couldn't spend enough time with him. And it's still like that, even though we're usually 4 hours apart. And I could do this for hours but really should stop.
I won't get to see him on the day itself, which is a little bit of a bummer, but I had so much fun with him when he was here. I laughed so much harder watching those stupid guys with their line caught in a tree with him than I would have on my own. And he looked so good in his tux.
*These two thoughts are related. I was running sound for a play and had to wear black. I rarely wear black by choice. You can ask my costumer SaintInsomniac about that one.
Anyone else seen the Valentine's Day window display at Pulp on 14th? Feathered heart mirrors, handcuffs, and galvanized chains. Hallmark can kiss my ass. I know where I'm buying my valentines this year.
Hello there. I do exist. Nice to see so many people at SaintInsomniac's event yesterday. This is a quickie but I'll be back soon (probably the next time I do laundry, which should be tomorrow...)
