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Caresst
Notre Dame
Monday. 8.2.04 12:31 am
listening to: the hum of my computer
mood: thoughtful
I wonder if I'm being too hard on Victor Hugo. After all, he was a great help to French literature and a savior of Gothic architecture. But even so. The man goes off on so many tangents while in the middle of an undoubtedly great story. I refuse to read about the street layout in old Paris when I want to know more about Esmeralda. Exciting moments, climax, and then---lecture time! Learn about the gothic styling that no longer exists, that you cannot see, and has been destroyed! Lament with Hugo! *sigh* I am being harsh. I don't know why. Currently he irritates me while his stories intrigue me.

I bring this up because I had a dream reminiscent of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. In the dream I had a constant limp, an infirmity. I was on university grounds, and there were so many healthy, smug students. They wouldn't look at me, or if they did they hated me for my handicap. I was something to laugh at, scorn, or fear. Sometimes all of the above. I did have a friend who seemed kind, but I felt separated from her. In my inferiority I created a superiority. Everyone had left me out, thus I believed myself completely different, almost a different breed of person. I hated it. I wanted to be like the cool and confident kids. There was a boy in the dream. He had seemed to be attracted to me, which made me curious. As he came to sit with my friend and me I saw him experimenting with a different kind of crutch. That's when I noticed he had to use a cane to get around. There was a moment of comradeship. Here was another person who was impaired, another person who was left out! Then I thought, 'Wait, I can walk without a cane. I can carry myself and he cannot. I'm actually better than he is.' The comradeship ended in that moment, although I made it clear I was interested in him as well. ((Omits the sexual innuendo.)) There was a commotion. My friend and I turned to see that the cool kids had found a ledge on the university building to sit and study. They were all thrilled with themselves and energized. I knew that if I were found up there I'd be scolded, but that they'd be able to charm their way out of any trouble. More than likely it would become an accepted study spot. I wanted to join them, high above the ground in the night air. I knew it was silly, for they'd never let me. I talked instead to my friend. "Let's climb the stairs all the way to the belfry!" I told her, imagining the empty space, the complete isolation. Perhaps we would feel the cool air just as well as the healthy ones. "We can climb all the way to the top, all the way to the bells." The rickety wooden beams were in my mind and I knew we could make it. What if they struck, though? Surely that would hurt our ears, perhaps destroy them. "We'd better not," I smiled at her.

I suppose that was the end of the dream. At one point in it I wondered if I were the Hunchback with all his deformities, but then I realized I only had a limp. I wasn't him. The feeling of the dream was what was so strange. I felt so inferior, so completely different and despised. Even when no one was making fun of me or staring at me I felt--something. If I can figure out what I felt I'll be happy. At the moment I cannot. I wrote a poem to try to capture it, but I'm not getting the right words. I wrote the poem anyway.

I had another dream a couple nights ago that had Mike Nesmith of the Monkees, a real monkey, church, and a Samurai movie all intertwined. I liked it, but I'm not sure why.

I've written another poem. It's not a very good poem, no great literary merit foreseen or anything of the sort. It was based off two dreams I had, the one I just described and another that was greatly unsettling in my race to be at the theater on time. I doubt the poem even makes much sense as far as narrative goes, for since when are dreams clear story-tellers?

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New writing and Korean fun
Saturday. 6.5.04 12:52 am
watching: Dangerous Beauty, I think. I might put it on, or I might go to bed.
listening to: the hum of the air conditioner and my dorm neighbors
mood: tired but whirring

I just wrote a vignette. I'm quite excited about it, mostly because nearly all the dialogue was taken from a bonding experience quite similar to the one described. The conversations with Death were improvised, but the rest is nigh word for word. Speaking of which, the new writing [posted in the section labeled Writing *wink*] contains breasts and Death. Just giving you fair warning.

Truly, most of my inspiration comes from real life. I like to take what I hear around me and spin a philosophy or a fantasy. It makes me wonder if it is an abstracted form of plagiarism. You can take people's words and actions without them knowing, reacting, or contesting. I doubt I'd ever be able to accurately paint a true-to-life image of one person. Ha, they'll never know.

I'm performing in the Oaks Ballet's production of Little Red Riding Hood. I am a Villager and a Blue Flower. You must suffer through adorable bunniness and bees around the age of 5 or so to see me, but it's worth it. *laugh* I hope.

Dressing room conversations are some of the most entertaining, intriguing, and enjoyable experiences one can have. For a couple hours you are shut up in a tiny room with girls you may or may not know very well and required to dress, fuss, eat, and think in their presence. Whether you maintain the relationship or not, it is hard to escape the day without being friends. Always interesting.

I think I'll talk about my Korean fun another time. Toodles!

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My inspiration this week
Friday. 5.21.04 1:01 am
listening to: Spiral mood: energetically sleepy The dance workshop with Ami Lengre has been so wonderful. She takes us through very difficult, complex movements, teaching and guiding us with such ease that we don't notice the pain or the discomforts. Instead we find the experience entirely pleasurable and the ride exhilirating. Well, okay, we do notice the pain. But we have so much fun while we're learning that we pleasantly ignore it. I almost wish I could absorb part of her, have a piece to remember and use. This strange desire has caused me to remember the cannibals who would eat defeated warriors to absorb their life energy and knowledge. It also reminded me of people who have sex with someone to feel more beautiful or special, through some sort of selfish twisted admiration. Personally I do not want to eat Ami Lengre any more than I want to have sex with her, but I've had trouble finding a positive parallel to my desire to absorb her. If you have any suggestions I'd appreciate it. She has so many interesting philosophies in dance that transfer well to life. "We're trained in society to be polite. It's good that our culture wants us to have responsibilities towards how we treat one another. However, being gentle isn't always the most polite thing to do. The body likes being treated roughly, firmly, given deep contact. Sometimes giving someone all your weight is the most polite thing you can do." Or about taking solos. "I don't like to call it selfish. I say self-full. Taking the focus can be extremely generous to the audience. When you take a solo, or check in with your body and do just what it needs for pleasure, many times you are being very generous." Or most recently, "Practice courage. Whatever you are afraid of, whatever you most want but consider too taboo, whatever you will regret not doing--don't allow it. Don't be remiss with yourself. Take the opportunity and allow no chance of regret." It's so self-focused--but it feels very freeing. Not selfish, I guess, but self-full.

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poll
Tuesday. 5.18.04 11:39 pm
This was originally posted by friend, Critterbug, out in Oregon. For the fun of it I have posted it as well. Have fun!

1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me?
5. Would you kiss me?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Are you going to put this on your LiveJournal and see what I say about you?

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attempting photo insertion
Friday. 4.23.04 4:29 pm
mood: very curious


okay, that worked. now I try something else.
hmm. not working.



and we try something else.

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Grand opening
Friday. 4.23.04 4:21 pm
listening to: Shakira mood: wandering attention I confess to have given up, at least at this point, my dreams of originality for my weblog. I had beautiful visions of incorporating all my favorite anime characters with Russian script sentimitizing their place in my life and Japanese lattice underlying my beautiful worl. But alas. Until I have the motivation and the time (simultaneously!) to learn HTML coding I will use ready templates and let the computer-savvy individuals be creative. In other words, for any and all who look at this page on occasion I warn you beforehand of experiments I will be carrying out in an effort to become a virtually creative person. Thanks! Experiment #1--inserting a photo...

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