SCOOP THAT BLOOP

And here we are.
I'm far left. Second row.

I've gone a little crazy with looking at my legs today. They were feeling so buff yesterday! Look at all their dancable glory!

White as can be....


I'm having some issues with my hair in this concert. I am dancing in 6 pieces, each of which has a specific hair style. first it's straight, then wavy, then rainstorm-walk wet, then bed-time half up, then pigtails, then low bun. Awesome. I have about ten minutes to do each style. We haven't even opened yet and my poor hair is fried! I have SOOOOOO much hair, and when I treat it well, it is gorgeous. I was looking forward to getting it nice and long and beautiful again, but it doesn't look like this show wants me to do that. I was rocking out to DANCE PARTY 2008 in my room earlier today and did a little chasse past a mirror. I happened to notice that my hair was... unbelievable... Mom, remember those pictures we took of my 'fro after I cut my hair short for the first time and tried to put it in curlers? I think I was 14... You know you remember. You have the picture sitting in a frame on your desk in the office. You stinker. Yeah, my hair was worse than that. I decided to document it while I continued to rock out.

Stupid bangs.

Just so you know, bangs suck for dance. I can't do a thing with them, except pin them if I am lucky enough to be allowed to have them wet.

HI!

Here I am, backstage at the theatre, displaying my only talents when I have a serious case of the jitters: making stupid faces and taking pictures of them.

Hmmm... how big can I make my forehead look?

Oh. Apparently I was busy striking a pose one day this week. Don't remember doing this particular movement... ha!

And if you have ever wondered to yourself, "Hey, what does Laura look like when she's exhausted, craving sushi, and finds out that she tore a ligament in her left shoulder rotator cuff?", I have nicely documented the emotion for you below:

Talk about your pre-performance jitters!

But bring it on! I am so emotionally ready for this show. Let's do it! It's time to finish and move on to more important things in life!

Also, I finally took a picture of the painting Tej brought me from New Dehli, India. I miss him. :(

Apparently, this goddess has several more arms than are shown here. The artist took liberties... lol....

Ok. GOODNIGHT!!!!

If you were so unfortunate as to spend some time alone with me during my mello-dramatic, sordid pubescent years, you certainly heard some talk of one special crush of mine. At an extremely young age, I was devastatingly smitten by one boy I knew only through my sister's dating life. Kelli had a certain boyfriend for one summer or so, and he had brothers (cue heavenly chorus). Being the thirteen-year-old I was and wanting so badly to be just like my super cool big sister (don't laugh. Kelli has always rocked her nerdiness in a very cool, confident way. Ok, now even Kelli is probably laughing), I fell as in love with Kelli's friends as an overly dramatic baby-teen can. I was absolutely nuts about them. Especially the age-appropriate brother. :)

We'll call him Amos. Amos was dazzling in my eyes. Simply gorgeous, brilliant, hilarious, and slightly mysterious. He fed every idealistic movie-matched dream I ever had about what a first love should be. I hung on his every word, though few, and lived my life, for a time, by what I thought would fit to his interest. There was just one problem. Amos didn't know I existed.

Being a talented, fairly attractive young girl who knew darn well that she was talented, smart, and probably had a lot going for her, I was greatly hurt by the lack of attention from Amos and his kin. What was wrong with this kid?! There I was, a fabulous young girl, gloriously geeky, dying for him to look my way, making an absolute idiot of myself just to become friends with him, and he hardly noticed. Or if he did, he laughed quietly and turned his head (which is more than likely the case). Amos took up most of the space in my head most of the time. Silly girl that I am and have always been, I didn't think to change my mind about him. I let it eat away at me, confused at whose opinion was correct, his or mine. Self esteem being chipped away each time he didn't respond to my attempts, I spent far too much energy on this kid. He was polite, asked me to dance at dances, and even asked me on a couple of dates in our later teens, though I am sure that was attributed more to his mother's encouragement than to his interest (she knew me and my affections well through church and violin lessons, as he daughters had the same private teacher I did).

I tried to play it cool and act like I couldn't have cared less about Amos' opinion (or the opinions of anyone I associated with him). I wasn't fooling anyone. Certainly not myself. To this day, I still feel twinges of romance and butterflies in the tummy and "oh my gosh, he's here!" moments and magical, heart skipping a beat feelings whenever I think of him. Silly, yes, but enjoyable to have those memories, fruitless though they may have been. It was something of a music video in my mind, and everything fell perfectly into sync when I saw him or even thought of him... execpt for me. I became ridiculous. I fumbled over every word, I spit little embarrassing droplets of saliva when I spoke, I tripped on everything, I turned red no matter what, I made stupid faces, never said the right thing, and all the while I could see him losing what little interest he said he had when we were 13 (oh yes, we have discussed it since... More embarrassment...).

My final attempt at forming even a simple friendship with this wonderful young man (yes, he is still wonderful in my eyes... I am well aware of his flaws, but he is still my magical first "love") was over two years ago at a very low point of my life. You all probably remember this guy I dated named Nick. Yeah, I sort of had the blues, and was addicted to vicaden. So was Amos, as it turned out, though his was prescribed and mine was stolen. We spoke on the phone about twice per week for a bit. I enjoyed this very much. Apparently he didn't. He stopped answering and returning my calls after a few weeks. Got bored, I suppose. Irritated. Tired. Who knows? Who cares? It hurt. How stupid that it hurt after all these years of rejection, but it did.

Over the last few years, I have spent a great deal of time reminding myself to decide who I will be for ME, and nobody else. I like the person I've become. I didn't for a good long time, so this is significant. I truly do like the person I am, and I think I'm terribly interesting and great to be around. Some days I even think I am pretty dang cute.

Ever heard the phrase "chasing the skeleton"? Drug addicts "chase a skeleton" when they continue to use their drug of choice for years and years, though they can never achieve that same high as on their first use. They attempt to get that high every time they use. This is where overdosing can be dangerously easy. Some are so desperate for that "first time" feeling that they use way too much or way too often and end up dead.

Meet Laura, admitted romance addict.

I have always dated. Never stopped, really. Since my first boyfriend at age 13, just a few months before I met Amos. All kinds of boys. Every shape, size, and color. I just give off a really strong "single" radar, and they show up every time I'm not dating someone exclusively. Or perhaps I find them... Very rarely have I been "single" for consecutive months since I was a young teen. Talk about a romance junkie. Is my self-esteem that low, really?

Anyway, I have tried not to chase my Amos "skeleton", but it keeps happening. I keep searching for someone that I can go absolutely gaga over, rarely finding it and knowing full well that's not what a good relationship is founded on. It has happened once since Amos. That person turned out to be insane, and the whole thing ended rather sloppily. Laura apparently loves insane people. I was pretty crazy about Scott, but it took some work to get me there. I wasn't instantly nuts about him, nor him for me. We had to decide. Is it so bad that I don't want to have to decide? Can I pretty please have movie mushy first moment romance?

No, Laura. Grow up.

I love the ones that don't love me. I hate that about myself, but I just always seem to go crazy for the guys that aren't interested in me the least bit. But only the ones who SHOULD be interested in me. The smart, funny, slightly odd, colorful characters I meet once a year or so. The Amoses. Typically, the musicians.

Silly Laura. Stop doing that.

Well it's happening again. I'm doing it right this stupid second. I get those "favorite song swelling in the background", "feels like I could fly" feelings for NO GOOD REASON! Snap out of it, Laura. It's just a boy. And, quite clearly, "He's Just Not That Into You" (great book). Moving on.

I know what appropriate dating is. I'm constantly preaching it. It's time I learned to do it.



Well there you have it. Those are the things dwelling in the background of my mind this week. It has been an insane week! The show is fast approaching, and finals are close behind. It will all be worth it! The show is looking good! Come see it!

A side note; I hate it when my body doesn't do what I tell it to. This week, however, it has behaved quite nicely. Thank you, body.

November 2005, 6:45 PM, backstage at Fresno City College's main Theatre, Jana Griffin and I were excitedly applying our "beat" (stage makeup) prior to the start of the show. Jana's phone rings in, no doubt, some incredibly indie-band song (Jana is amazing, but the biggest "indie and obscure" music snob on earth). We peek at the text message with curiosity. Leon. Old boyfriend and current best friend of Jana Griffin. The text simply says "Scoop That Bloop! And I'll see you after the show!". Jana and I fall into a fit of giggles as we attempt to keep lipstick from smearing on our teeth and our mascara from running. What the heck?! Scoop that what?! What does that mean?!

Jana, oh Jana. How I miss you, my dear. "Scoop that Bloop" became a common phrase between us, often placed in conversation where nobody knew quite what to say.

I have left this phrase undefined for years, simply allowing it to be whatever I have needed it to be at the moment. Today, however, the meaning found me.

First of all, let me just say that I am feeling splendid today! Yesterday was much of the same, until I lost my patience with life and did something stupid. Something very, very stupid. Normal Laura would sit around regretting that stupid action for days, maybe even weeks, and never focus on the good. I read this yesterday, and loved it:
"You only see the bad in yourself. All people see mostly the bad in themselves. They become attenuated to the good, because it causes them no concern. - Truth." -Matt Burr.


I have been asked to let go of the bad, forget it, and focus only on the good. Let go of my mistakes. Yikes. . .
Am I allowed to do that? I have always felt and intrinsic sort of obligation to not only recognize my mistakes, but to make verbal note of how abhorish they are, and how I will avoid them in the future. I attributed my lack of success in these attempts to the fact that I am human, rather than to the fact that it is simply a really really stupid and self-degrading method. When I trouble another, I want to tell them that I am aware of my mistakes, why I made them, and how I will avoid them further. I just want to, ok?! Even if it doesn't help...

That is not forgiving oneself. That is holding on to the negative. Unless I were to go around equally noting my successes, and... well I just don't have time for that.

To increase the mount of responsibility and improbability, I was asked to let go of a mistake... no, several mistakes... I had made only MOMENTS before. My tears and red face were fresh and still coming, and I was asked to stop and forget about it. Uh.... huh?

This is something I have never attempted. Even when I miss a class, I spend all day justifying it to myself. And when that doesn't work and guilt overcomes me, I find a day to miss class for no reason just so that I can tell myself that I deserve a freaking day off now and then. You don't need to be perfect, Laura. Chill out.

All of this on my mind, we began another fantastic modern class today (after a kick-trash ballet class! Athank you! Yes! I'll be here all week! Tip your waitresses!). Ruth is so rejuvenating! She allows us to begin class on the floor daily, laying on our backs so that we can relate our weight and structure to the floor in order to be more stable in standing. We go through constructive rest, a bit of meditation, somatic discussion, pilates, then bits of yoga before standing. The second half of class is a wild ride of movement in standing. Occasionally, she will teach us some Tai Chi. I LOVE this study!

Back to my point... Focus, Laura!

At the start of class, Ruth likes to share what she has been reading that week. She spends most of her time outside of school reading up on... oh... EVERY STUDY IMAGINABLE! This woman is nuts! Seriously! I don't know how a person can read so much, but I thought I had the curiosity bug... HA! Ruth takes the cake. Today, it was psychology. Her suggestion to us was that we are beings who seek negative correction. Perhaps it is our culture as Americans or as dancers. Who knows? The difficulty is maintaining a powerful presence and an understanding of the possibility of improvement. In a dance studio, when an instructor calls out one correction for one particular person, it is understood that every student applies that correction to themselves as well. In this way, we as dancers are constantly correcting ourselves, always hearing a voice of criticism, never of celebration or affirmation. We are NEVER good enough. Never. Yet we carry this image of our perfect selves, as if we just have to save enough money so that we can run down to the local "Flawless-R-Us" and buy the latest edition of ourselves. And people wonder why I have a hard time taking compliments. . .

So when I say "Scoop That Bloop" to myself or anyone else from now on, in my mind it will mean that I am giving permission to let go of flaws and celebrate strengths. You have permission to roll your eyes after this next statement: I will be, quite literally, scooping out my bloopers. Roll eyes... now. Ok, stop. That's all you get.

So SCOOP THAT BLOOP, Y'ALL!!!!

Also, I need another root canal.... Joy.

I have choreographer's block. I've spent 5 hours in the studio today alone, and I can't get more than 30 seconds worth of movement solidified.

How does one cultivate creativity?

This has been a common topic of discussion throughout my college career. In recent semesters, my professors have been pushing the issue, wanting more directed answers than "just wait" or "clear your mind" or "you can't force creativity". The new question has been added: "What if you HAVE to create immediately? What if you have a deadline?" Silly professors. That will never happen.... We would find answers to appease them and ditch the subject.

Hello....

I am performing my solo tomorrow night. Regina Spektor's "Lady" is 4 1/2 minutes long. I have already cut 30 seconds, making it only 4 minutes. As of right now, I have 2 1/2 on my body. Nice. 8PM the night before tech rehearsal and I can't think. All I want to do is go play and enjoy my night of freedom. All I can think about is other music, other pieces I'm in, my costumes, what my friends are doing on my night off... Not my dance. Not "Sink" (title of my piece).

I have recently made a great new friend. He is extremely uplifting, well spoken, creative, and candid. I must admit, my favorite passtime as of late is chatting with him. Of course, our schedules do not permit much of this. Still... Good things.
Anyway, this friend produces music, and has been pursuing this art for about 11 years of his life. I've heard bits of his work. Talented man. The other night, he mentioned that he often gets bored with his style, gets in a rut, etcetera, and has difficulty breaking out of it and starting fresh. I asked him his methods of finding his creativity. We talked briefly about that; I'd like to interview him further on the matter. He seems an intelligent person, able to clearly express himself, and it would be interesting to hear what a person with no formal "creativity" training has to say. How do people force creativity when they need to? The anthropologist in me gets so excited at this subject. Creativity is adaptation. It is how mankind evolved to the point of Adam. In order to survive, we adapted. Ever so slowly, we began to make tools that would allow for distanced kills of large, meaty animals. The meat provided necessary protiens for our human brains to develop fine-tuned skills such as communication, which allowed us to begin working as families, teams, units. The rest is history. Once we established that "no man is an island", things began to progress rather rapidly, all thanks to creativity and eating meat. Vegetarians. Ha.... (my apologies to all my vegetarian and vegan friends... no offense).

So creativity...

Oh! Wait!!!! I have ideas!!!! GOTTA GO!

In fact, I love myself today. I am so happy to be me, to be able to learn and grow... I love my life. It is perfectly flawed. Brilliantly designed. I am completely, peacefully happy right now. I want to feel this way more often. This is how I used to feel all the time as a kid. Let's get that back, Laura.

I feel beautiful and talented and loved and eager to share it all! And it didn't come from anyone telling me so!

Hey you. I love you! :)

I'ma go dance now!

"Boa Noite Mundo Triste, Para Sempre."

Behold the one-legged Laurabelle!

Upstairs at Corporate Aircraft is a flight school called Mazzei's Flying Service. This well-known school has contracts with both Air China and India Airlines. As such, students are sent to Fresno from across the world to spend a year or two learning to fly. Being the girl who received all fuel requests, directs the line techs, and either allows or refuses access to the ramp and to aircraft, the students see me on a dialy basis. Because I work at night, I have had the privilage of getting to know these students well over the quiet hours. I became very good friends with one of these students by chance, and since then have been privy to several wonderful international friendships with students from all across the Middle East, China, Jamaica, and the UK. Until about three months ago, they mostly knew me as "The nice CSR who doesn't drink". I have recently established a Facebook account, and have been able to keep in touch with all of these students, whever they are.

This post is dedicated to my dear friend, Tejeshwar Sighn, or "Pebbles" as he is referred to at home. Pebbles was my first friend at Corporate Aircraft, whose conversation spared me many hours of boredom on slow nights. Tej has recently completed his Intrument rating for twin engine aircraft, and has returned to New Dehli to train on the Airbus. He and I enjoyed many nights of Thai food, Chipotle, movies, and talk of adventuring through the world. If I ever ditch town and go backpacking across Europe, you can bet I'm with this guy. He is one of my favorite people and I miss him like crazy! Hopefully he will be returning to CA soon to fly a King Air 300, and when he does, we plan to go sky diving!

Tejeshwar returned to India in the middle of his training once last year for a celebration of Dwahli. While at home, he purchased a special painting for me. It is a godess whose name I will not try to spell.... She is handpainted on a hand made paper, and if you hang her over your door, it is said that she will bring you luck and keep you from harm. It is a beautiful paining, and such a sweet gift. Thank you, Pebbles!

These pictures were taken on Pebbles' last night in Fresno. It was a very sad goodbye, but we hope to see eachother again soon. Miss you, Pebbles!!!!
(the dates on the photos are WRONG! These were taken about two weeks ago.)

This has nothing to do with anything.

I just found it and thought I looked like Carin in it, which I like. Tada.

The End.

University Dance Theatre
"PULSE"
CSU Fresno Lab School Theatre (Room 101)
November 20, 21, 22 @ 8pm.
& November 22 @ 2pm
Tickets: $5 each
To order (IT WILL SELL OUT, IT ALWAYS DOES)
call 559-278-2216
or order online at:
www.csufresno.edu/theatrearts

4 Things I love about my husband: I love that I am constantly being reminded that I have no husband, and probably will not for many years, in little places like this. I love that the last several boys I have dated never came close to becoming my husband (no sarcasm there, except with the last boyfriend...). I love that when I look around, I do not see anyone that even remotely resembles the kind of person I want to marry but one, and he changed his mind. I love that I have no idea what else to write here that is, in any way, relevant.

4 movies that I would watch more than once: Benny and Joon, Singin' in the Rain, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Ultimate Gift.

4 Places I've Been: Top of Glass Mountain, 18,000 feet high in a gulfstream 450, Carmel beach at sunset, Rock climbing in Mammoth.

4 Places I would like to go: Through the Oakland Temple, Prince Edward Island, Ireland, Thailand.

4 People who email me regularly: Mom, dad, Elder Blue Star, and, um, mom.

4 things I look forward to in the next year: Graduation, entering a Master's program, possibly moving away from CA, buying a car.

4 people I tag: Helena, Annette, Michele Cabiness, and Tiffany Staley.

Good morning, world. I am writing from my favorite corner of the main dance studio at CSU Fresno. Great facility, part of it shown above. These days are going by at the speed of light. 6am rehearsals almost daily followed by long days of school and work. I am just about worn out. This week, in particular, has been the week from Haites. Were Baz Luhermann to knock on my door tomorrow to request the making of a film of my life to this point, sure as sunshine, the final scene would be a montage of me breaking into hysterical laughter and sobbs back and forth all week.
It's midterm week. It also happens to be the week my big term paper is due in Gerontology (like an idiot with no foresight, I selected the subject: "The Burden of the Care-Giver". Can we say "most depressing ten pages EVER"?!). The coup de grace, a weekend performance in The Central Valley Dance Festival, presenting a piece that my choreographer cannot make up her mind about. We have learned this piece four times over, she has changed it so much (even in the rehearsal that ended an hour ago... We Are Performing This TOMORROW)! Kill me now.