Friday

Now that it's all starting to register in my body, the modern dance class is over.  Last night was fun.  Joyous.  Expansive.  The fall schedule is out and the only drop-in class that works with my schedule is a basic/intermediate class...maybe I'll see how advanced it is.  Kinda' afraid of hurting myself.  Tap doesn't work either, schedule-wise, though I can take it at a different school.

Finally got around to reading the essay that George suggested.  It's actually about not seeing anything in guided "visualizations."  The story is called, "The Dance of the Chicken Feet," by Bailey White from the collection "Mama Makes Up Her Mind."  She talks about how when she was a kid she had a teacher that was into the "power of the imagination" and how the kids would all have to close their eyes and imagine when the teacher would tell stories and how everyone would come up with images except her.  How all she would see was blackness, and how sometimes she would shout something out.  Then one day she saw something: chicken feet.  And later they danced, but never saw anything else.  (Bailey White reminds me a little of Erma Bombeck.)

I thought I'd only mentioned the thing about not recognizing impulses when I had them during acting exercises (and probably on stage as well), but I must've also told him how I decided I wasn't really a visual person, how I never see anything.  I often daydream or fall asleep.  And I often wondered if other people really see things, or if they are just saying they do.  Cynical, I know.  They probably do. I don't.  Anyway, the essays are all relatively short, and I've almost finished half the book.  The clown work this summer helped with the impulse recognition.

Working all weekend to finish off my internship hours.  Trying to figure out if I can afford to take both an auditioning class and a voice class this fall and still be able to eat.  Auditioning, I need.  Voice I could wait on, but I want to work with this instructor. (Voice, Shakespeare, and Solo Performance were the classes I was looking forward to in the conservatory program.  Trying to get them in somehow.) I could cook a lot on Saturdays, I guess.

I'm still feeling pretty blank.  There's nothing I can do about things I have no control over.  I'm not sad.  And I'm still trying to figure out where in my life to push more and where to let things be.  I have a tendency to be overly passive, and I'd like to be more present in the choices I make in my life, rather than let things fall where they please, if ever, all the time.  Just having trouble living out that concept.  And when I look forward, it's a blank slate.  Uncharted.  Hence..."Let go."  At least for now.