Today

I attempted to curl my hair today.
That is all. 

Crotches and the general viewing public or "BALLET!"

I watched ballet last night... AND I HAVE OPINIONS! (uninformed, uneducated opinions).. 

Went to big fancy schmancy ballet lats night. The theater was beautiful. There were, like, 25 ushers for a house of maybe 75 people. 


We had second row seats.. the closest people to us were the dancers, two cute little girls, and A STRING QUARTET! I could watch the cellist's sheet music! WE ARE WINNING! 


First act: The amazing Parker Quartet played Beethoven's Opus 131 string quartet. I didn't really know this piece of music. It was beautiful. The string quartet WAS SO GOOD. Good god. Go see them. And good heavens, look at them! Aren't they beautiful? Not only are they a handsome bunch, but passionate and precise and just perfect.

To me, Beethoven is as accessible and powerful as dirt and air and the ocean. Putting people in formal ballet outfits dancing to it kind of killed me. Frustrated me. Beethoven was paid by rich people; however, I think he wrote some of the most populist (at least accessible) music. And here were some amazing, strong and charismatic performers dancing mock peasant dances in royal looking gear. Blah. Blah blah blah. Was that the joke? The music is all nature, the performers were stuck playing catch up. AGH. 

And - - there were crotch jokes. Unnecessary, weird shapes shown to the audience so that they know it's funny. And a crotch pointedly framed and pointed at the audience for a good 15 seconds. And the audience politely giggled at this crotch. And I got so frustrated at these fancy educated people and this choreographer. Dumb and easy. Judd Apatow easy. Not organic. And not funny. 

The choreographer was smart enough to know there's humor written into the piece. However, he was very committed to pointing out every joke in the music to the audience with the poor dancers, i.e. he was COMMENTING on the music vs. playing with the music. 


They weren't dancing with it. They were dancing to it.  And that made me sad. Guh. 

So I spent most of the time happily watching four amazing musicians, so close I could hear the first violinist count off in a whisper. So lucky. :) 

Second act: Tango! hey! You know what's fun? TANGO! 

You know what's terrible? Starting the second act with a mock up of the opening of "2001", making your dancers beat their chests in strange dreadlocked wigs, and waiting for the audience to giggle. Sounds clever, right? Gross. It was so.. icky. Demeaning? Terrible. 

What followed was lovely! The dancers relaxed. If there was humor, it came from discovery within the piece and not a joke throw on top. It came from patterns and broken patterns and relationships.. 

WHY IS THIS CHOREOGRAPHER TRYING TO BE FUNNY???

I think he could be funny. If he just stops trying. His performers are too lovely. Why doesn't he trust them and their personalities and what's there? 

I have decided that I and the man behind last night's performance have different aesthetics. And different senses of humor. 

... I wish he'd take an improv class. 

What I learned from last night:

- Less words, more funny.

- Get your audience on board. Don't assume they're already there.

- Take your time and enjoy yourself. You choose to do this.

- Laugh with them. They won't laugh at you without your permission (unless they're dicks).

That being said, last night was lovely fun. More practice please.

Unrelated: I have heard so much spitting today.

Youngest one in the room

At the Jane Brittain Breast Center, I feel like a tourist. As I am often the youngest one in the room, and the woman who ushers me into the changing area gives me the look of "You're new here, aren't you?"

Yes, I am. I am not scared of breast cancer. I know it would suck to get it. I am taking precautions (as I am super high risk). A benign lump was found last year, and utterly DESTROYED on camera by a tiny needle injection and a thwack-sound. I was given little chicken cutlet ice packs to put in my bra and told to come back in six months for a follow up. Now, every six months, I put on a old lady gown, and look INSIDE MY BOOB. The nice thing is that almost all of the staff are nice, most of them are women (which is honestly kind of cool), and they pre-warm the ultrasound jelly stuff.

All of these motions make up a life. Going to a breast clinic, having a credit card, shopping for calcium chews - - these all feel like "not my life". These are the trappings of what-I'm-supposed-to-do. What is good to do. What I would like adults to do, if we're able and lucky enough to do so. And so, as an adult, I am doing this.

However, I still feel like a tourist. And that's okay.