SCOOP THAT BLOOP

So it's 3AM and I cannot sleep. There are billions of thoughts zipping through my mind, and I can't calm them to save my life. Today was not a great day. It stunk, as a matter of fact. At the end of my bad days, I have a propencity to look through the happy blogs of those I love. In case you were wondering, this is NOT a healthy practice for me.

I know I'm a downer, but I'm pretty bluesy tonight and need to express it. Maybe I will fall asleep while I write. Hey Wendy, can I borrow some of your sleepiness?

Looking at your blogs is a bitter-sweet experience for me. I miss you all very much. Feel so distant both geographically and practically. Your lives all consist of children, grandchildren, careers, homes, establishment, spouses, and loving families. I often feel very alone when I study your blogs. What different worlds we live in.

Children.

That was my biggest dream until recent years. That's all I really wanted in life. Children of my own, children in a classroom, children everywhere. Sometimes I wonder if 'aunt' is as close as I will get to 'mom'. Yeah, I know. I've "got plenty of time". Of course I do. That doesn't make this easier. From where I'm standing at the moment, that just means I've got plenty of time left to watch the years pass without the family I have always wanted. This is not how I thought things would go for me at this age... I fully expected to have a life similar to Kelli's. I planned on it. Did I make a mistake when I came to Fresno? Where did I go wrong? I feel like such a failure sometimes.

Due to recent events, I have given up on dating in Fresno. Single for a year is my goal. I'm leaving this place in a year anyway. Eugene, Oregon is now at the top of my list, just above Roehampton in London. So here goes another year without any hope of children of my own, which clearly means another year beyond that. A bare minimum of 2-3 years before I can possibly have children. That's about right, I suppose. Even then, I'll still be in an MFA program, so no children then, even if I did manage to establish a relationship good enough for marraige. That puts me at about 29-30 years old before children are an option, if I carry out my goals. So which is more important to me? Children (assuming I get married by the time I'm 30), or a terminal degree? What an awful question, Laura.

Your children are so beautiful. All of them. I love to recall having the chance to live amongst some of them briefly. Amazing experiences. What a glorious thing it must be to be a mother. What a joy.

There are so many women in much more bleak circumstances than I. I shouldn't complain. I'm so young yet. It just hurts. Imagine the couples who discover that they cannot bare children. Imagine the women who have gone through a lifetime single. How lonely. How frustrating.
I've got nothing to worry about. It just hits me when I see your blogs. I'm still alone, and I desparately want a husband and children of my own.

I'm just not ready yet, I guess.

I wonder when I will be.

Treasure your children.

Can I please have a do-over? I am just not getting this life thing right.
What is wrong with me?

I made a new friend through my roommate last month. His name is Chad Hickey. Chad and I recognized one another from "around Fresno", but can't seem to place exactly how we know one another. Tonight, insomnia held my eyelids open late and I stumbled across this precious piece in search of something of interest on facebook. I definitely found what I sought. This is 4 months old, written by Chad himself. I found it inspiring and comforting. I am thankful for my health, but I am even more thankful for the perspective he gives.


"For some time i have been meaning to write. there seems to be an urging within me to address all of those souls that have been in my service and support for the past year of my life. however i regret to say it has been difficult to really be able to compose something that could rightfully depict my current position in the fight against cancer and my battles that have waged. so please forgive me if this for any of you is not fully encompassing or paints a full picture of the great and small things of this year. I must start by saying, wow, what a year. there are not really words to say all of the things that i feel about all of my treatment and care. i could talk for hours about the nights that nurses stayed with my through the vomit, tears, breathing difficulties, codes called, and near death experiences. i could tell you about the doctors that through days weeks and months Never stopped fighting and believing in me and the other patients at the hospitals i lived at. or i could tell you about all of the "wisdom" i have attained in the clutches of death, but i fear it would be a stretch to assume even that. Instead i will say this. one year ago this week i was told i had an expiration date. i watched my biggest dream be ripped away from me and the darkest and most difficult fight of my life beset me. i watched great and terrible things happen to my body and spirit. i felt the fear as you hear and see you heart rate drop. i have held the hand of loved ones as i felt my lungs close in on themselves. i have felt so many drugs come into my system that took from me everything to even sanity. and i have watched in the mirror as i changed in every way. and yet with all of this i stand today. i walk today, not perfect but in remission. i live today knowing that the darkness which has threatened every aspect of my life is at bay, it is not gone but away. i will stay on a treatment regiment which continues to make life hard, but will point out, i am Alive. Through 160 days in the hospital, over 15 insertions into my spine, countless bone marrow biopsies, gallons of chemo, hundreds of opiates, antibiotics, transfusions, and various procedures i remain. I want the doctors and nurses and friends and family that have stayed by me to know, of my deepest gratitude. thank you for making my life mine again. may i live in a way that honors the effort of all of you as well as that of my own. And if i may make mention to a special group. to all those that i have lived with, suffered with and grown with. to all those that are still in the fight and to those that have lost or will to this awful darkness. I am honored to have known and know the great battle that you and i share. the horror of this awful disease is something i could never have understood in any sort of way but in person. i have been so blessed to see so many courageous warriors fight every day in the halls of 11long just to stay alive. please know those memories we share last forever, and you are so brave. i have never seen such strength as those that have fought and still are. and i want those that have lost loved ones and those who have given everything for the research in this fight to know of my personal gratitude for the sacrifice. there is no way for some to live without others to fall and i am so sorry for the loss and want you to know that the memory and love for those that have gone on before is never far from my heart. it is what fuels me these days and always. may God rest the souls of those that have fought till the end. And so what now right? i have asked myself that much as of late and each time the same thing happens. this smile comes to me, from the deepest part of my heart and i shake my head and think to myself, Just Live. i will continue in school and business and life, but everyday i am just so grateful to be alive, to be feeling a bit better daily, and to know of the journey that is still ahead in my life. thank you again, each of you that has helped me and known and shared in the darkness and given to me pieces of light when it seemed impossible for this to happen. i pray for the health and safety for all you and please know even if i don't write, or properly thank you, you are my life. each day the memories of your goodness, of your giving, and sacrifice is what fills my cup. i could never thank each of you for the gifts of life that you share but hope that in my life i may give and live just as so many of you. oh and one last thing..... Chad 1, Cancer 0. C Is STILL for Chad Not Cancer"

Right on, Chad. Cheers.

Add The University of Otago, New Zealand, to the list. Yay! What a great program they have!
The end.

My top seven:
1) Roehampton University - London, England
2) CalArts University - Valencia, CA
3) Bennington University - Bennington, VT
4) University of Utah - SLC, UT
5) Hollins University - Roanoke, VA
6) Brockport University - Suny Brockport, NY
7) Oklahoma City University - Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Still looking for numbers eight, nine, and ten.
Lots of research still ahead. Stay tuned.

Me and Lori-Ann Ames. What a doll she is!

LAURA AND LAURA!!!!! My life-long bosom friend. On this trip, I discovered that Laura Anne's taste in music has progressed exactly as mine has these past 6 years! Go figure. I will always love this woman who never ceases to make me laugh, think, and explore life. Laura is the best of the best.

Paige Heiserman. Long time Girl's Camp buddy and, as it turns out, fellow dancer and violinist! This girl has all the makings of a life-long best friend. So much happiness, beauty, and creativity in her. I love her to itty bitty pieces.

Ben Hopp. Happy to have him as a new friend! He even puts up with my ridiculous ADD behavior while game-playing. What a guy!

MARIAL RISKIN!!! This woman's glory cannot be described in words. I love her dearly.

Melissa Martinez. Good grief, there is some history there. I owe Melissa a huge debt for the better part of my childhood lessons. She is one of my oldest friends and has taught me a great deal about friendship. And what an imagination!

TWINS!

Aren't they funny? Look how cute they are! I have very cute friends. Probably because I'm so cute. Birds of a feather... hehe.

Check out Marial! Even SHE says she looks super fly in this picture. Whatever "super fly" means...

Laura and Lori-Ann being super cute.

Again. So cute.

Ah, game time. And whose hair is that?! It looks like a giant hairy spider!

Ben Wins.

My old play pen. Couldn't get up that stupid step 'til I was a year old or something ridiculous like that. So much for my intelligence! haha!

Mom took me to a thrift shop while we waited for our Chinese food (yes, I TOTALLY broke my meat and dairy free diet that weekend!). Once we realized how many funky hats this store had, it was only a matter of time before we busted out my camera and started making faces. My mom is the best!

My mother, the relief society president....

Also, let it be known that Mom KICKED DAD'S BUTT at Chinese Checkers that weekend. For the first time in their marraige. NICE JOB, MOM!

Daddy claims she cheated. Whatever, daddy. I saw it. She kicked both our tails!

Hello all you lovely readers! Sicky McSick-Sick here, relaying the second of what will surely be a long line of my "Good School Hunting" series. Hardy har. Ok, I know. That wasn't the least bit funny. But I had to try.

It has been another week of grueling online searching. My greatest fear at this point is that I will have to spend a year learning to read brail before I head off to grad school because I will have gone blind from all this computer screen use. After chatting with my advisor (Kenneth, the ballet professor and director of University Dance Theatre), I felt somewhat reassured, a sense of renewed confidence in my quest. Roehampton University still remains at the top of my list, though I cannot imagine actually going unless I am able to somehow earn $45,000 in scholarships. I would still have to take out about $20,000 in loans simply to support myself while in London for two years. It's a long shot. But I refuse to give up. Kenneth was awarded enough scholarships to receive a $50,000 education from Arizona State completely free. I am investigating 41 universities around the world. An excel spreadsheet will help me compare key factors such as cost of tuition, cost of living at the university's location, program type, program length, internships, scholarships, distance from family, LDS population, etc. From this list, I will select my top ten choices and apply for every single possible whisper of a scholarship or grant. I plan to take my GRE this fall, which leaves me the summer to prepare. I have several months to read as much scholarly work as possible in order to familiarize myself with standards and styles expected by admissions boards. My GPA does not exactly scream "TAKE ME! I'M THE BEST!", but it passes acceptance levels. I will have to rely on my sample writing (which I should begin any day now in order to accumulate 30 solid pages of valuable text that will best demonstrate my skill), letters of recommendation, experience, and (HOPEFULLY) my GRE score to get me accepted!

....Nervous....

I'm actually a little surprised at how seriously I am taking all of this. It has been a big fat wish in the back of my mind for a long time, but I took the program at CSUF for granted. No question on my acceptance there. Having reviewed my potential admission with the head of the Kinesiology MA department, Dr. Janelle Gilbert, I had become almost lazy in my pursuit of a terminal degree at Fresno State. I am now convinced within myself that CSUF Kinesiology is not where I belong. I felt it the instant I walked into my first class. And now, with this sudden drive to find MY program, I am amazed at my own determination. Something like a real, live, grown-up. Golly.

I can feel the skin of my awareness stretching. Quite literally, I am watching myself adapt and learn. My list of questions and concerns takes me far beyond my comfort zone as an adult. I have learned the basics of independent survival; work hard, brush teeth, be nice, pay bills on time, save money, look both ways before crossing the street, set alarm, eat fruits and veggies, speak up in class, do a little extra at work, etc. Suddenly, I am asking myself to stretch beyond those comfortable daily do's. Network, research, go the EXTRA extra mile, ask LOTS of questions, take initiative, look outside of yourself, interview those who have reached goals similar to yours, set small daily goals to achieve a dream, wash behind your ears! oh.... I mean... I've always done that last one....

Exciting. Exhilarating. There is one part I do not care for. In all my researching, planning, and comparing, I get carried away in my mind and begin to daydream about possibilities for my future. What would life be like in London? Would my personal movement style be accepted or admired as I desire in Virginia? Will I be able to have a social life in Arizona? Where would I work if I lived with Carin in Utah? Would I have enough time to play with Chance, Brandon, and Katie every day? Maybe I could even help them with school! Will I like living in the snow if I move to Brockport University in New York? What are the dorms like at the Pratt Institute in New York?

No, that's not the part I don't care for. I love that part. The part I hate is the falling away from my daydreams when I stumble upon a document that defines tuition for an 8 week, mandatory movement session in the U of U Modern Dance MFA as being $8,000, classes 8AM to 4PM, M-F. Wow. Those details tend to put a blemish or two on my big dreams.

"A goal without a plan is nothing but a wish." ~Michael Pritchard

"You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don't try." ~ Beverly Sills

"If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way." ~Albert Einstien

Four hours until I'm off and can resume my search while enjoying a nice cup of Chamomile Tea. MMmmmmm...... Stupid cold. My sinuses are killing. But I will feel great when I am well again. Hooray!
Tata.

The past several days have been a blur of thought and activity, and I have wanted to document the entire process here. Unfortunately, time has not permitted this, and here I am actually SLEEPY at 1AM after a glorious weekend in Modesto (pictures and stories will be up on Tuesday night), so I am going to attempt to take full advantage of my unusually early weariness by getting to bed!!!!
But first, I want to talk a little bit about having so much of a plan that I have no plan at all!

On Friday, as I removed my ballet shoes outside my studio, I asked Kenneth (both my ballet professor and academic advisor) if we could meet on Tuesday to go over my progress towards graduation yet again. I am convinced that I am the sole reason that Kenneth has removed the academic advisorship sign-up sheet from the bulletin board outside his office. Several times each semester I pester him with "what if"s, "how about"s, and "do you think that I could"s.... He patiently advises me through every life-altering event and seemingly all too distant dream.

This week, I began my kinesiology preliminary course work.

I HATE IT!

I love kinesiology as applied to dance or movement in general. But the work I would be submerged in over the next three years involves generic sports and very little else. Upon meeting with my professors, I discovered that not only would I not be allowed to apply my practices to my work in dance (at least in the practical application sense for course credit), but I would be forced to prepare lesson plans and TEACH basketball, football, soccer, baseball, etc...
Um..... wow.
If you know me at all, you know that I don't care for the over popularization of American - or any, for that matter - sports. It's a very selfish, closed-minded view, I know. But that's how I feel. I can't stand all the hype, the huge crowds, the mindless betting, the screaming, the fat, lazy viewers yelling at the athletes to "move your arse!"...
It makes me ill. Not to say that these athletes are not phenomenal movers or that there is no merit to their sport of choice. Not at all. I could never dream of being in such shape! I believe what bothers me most is that so many mindless, numbed minds flock by the masses to these sports. The fact that there is so much money in the industry angers me. Millions of people throw money and time into devoting their free attention to watching other people play recreational sports. It's so thoughtless and dull. They would rather whittle away the hours watching something that requires no thought, no energy, no effort whatsoever.

I'm being unfair, I know. I like the occasional baseball game. The athletes are amazing, the crowd is fun! But wow. Some people take it... a little too far. And so it was in my classes. I stumbled into a packed lecture hall filled with 80 kines majors, all of them sports fanatics and at least some form of athlete, even if only in fantasy football. The second I walked in, I felt I was in the wrong class. I checked the board against my schedule and found that I was in the right place, but still I had a persistent feeling of being in the very WRONG place.

Kinesiology was a backup for me because I thought I was going to be marrying Scott and staying in Fresno. Hi. I'm not. But the realization that I am no longer stuck in Fresno did not settle in on me until AFTER I began these classes. I sat through them and talked to my professors afterwards just to give it a chance. Still, that ugly feeling of being in the wrong place. In the actual classes, when my professors began describing plans for the course and giving initial assignments, I felt a heavy weight and discomfort. I thought I was just being a baby and that I needed to snap out of it and prepare myself to work hard. These are heavy courses. But the feelings wouldn't go away. Finally, when I went to talk to my professor about applying my lesson plans to dance, she turned me down and informed me that I would be teaching whatever she assigned me to teach. I was moments away from expressing my distaste and disinterest in most sports when I realized that behind me was a line of about 40 jocks who all apparently dream of becoming high school PE teachers (I really shouldn't knock 'em, but I just don't like 'em, so I'm gonna anyway!!!). I thought it better to shut my mouth and walk away and did so in one piece. I have NEVER been so uncomfortable in any class as I was in these two.

As I walked to my next class, I called mom in frustration at my plans being dashed yet again. She reminded me in that awesome way that she does, "y'know, Laura, you don't HAVE to stay in Fresno".


.....ooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right! I don't! Wow!

Suddenly, liberation! I discussed possibilities with mom for a bit (thank you, mom, for being so amazingly supportive!) and then immediately went into day dream mode and have remained so since. I have found several universities that offer fantastic MA programs that suit my dreams in places such as Chicago, Virginia, Utah, Texas, Arizona, Southern CA, ALL over New York of course, and Australia. But my favorite would be ROEHAMPTON UNIVERSITY in London!!!!!! When I finish my BA in December, I will be an independent, debt-free graduate! I think I deserve a little appropriate school debt for my MA now, don't you? Well, I really don't care if you agree. I do. So there.

The question now is "how much debt is 'appropriate' debt?". The cost of grad school is sky-rocketing, according to my research over the past week. Even over the past five years, many programs have DOUBLED their fees! Money is a huge problem now. But I am dead determined to earn my MA in the field that I can't get enough of, and apply it to earn money afterwards.

How? Where? When? What will I do? How do I know there will be jobs for my field? What if I can't make any money at all? Will I get into ANY grad schools? How will I support myself as I do?

I have absolutely no idea.

Clueless.

No idea what I'm doing, and I'm ok with that. My plans have never really worked out for me. So I'm going to try something new. NOT planning.

I'm going to go where my body and heart and mind and God take me.
I'll just have to trust that it will be enough to survive on. I believe it is. And maybe I won't be as successful in some eyes. But I will be happy.

So.... London. That's my first choice. Oh man, I'm shaking just thinking about it. Have been for a week. All alive inside and excited to see more of the world. I'm going to do everything I can to get there! Just ignore the fact that it will cost about $40,000... I'll figure that out..... somehow....

Mom and I joked about how we each have a new "favorite quote" every week. She had printed this one out and let me take it with me as I left Modesto. I find that it captures my feelings and carries my hopes on its back. Any quote that can do that is worth saving, at least to me.

"The greater danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it." ~ Michelangelo Buonarroti

Ok, ten points to anyone who knew that Michelangelo's surname was "Buonarroti", except Wendy. That's exactly the kind of information I would expect her to have stockpiled in an easy-access compartment of her brain.

Here I go, off to attempt to reach an extremely high aim. Wish me luck, and don't cringe at my seeking heavy debt. I'll do that enough for everyone.

My hair is getting longer these days (or longer than it has been the past two years). When it comes to my hair, I'm "going for distance. ...Going for speed". I get slightly impatient these days, checking my hair every few minutes rather than every few weeks... Irritating, I know. Still, do a little jig in my honor! Yay for long-ish hair!
This past summer, I attended "Vintage Days" at Fresno State University, a huge blowout bash full of vendors and artists, games and noise, contests and music, blah blah blah. At one small booth, I noticed a collection of wooden hair forks that I found particularly attractive. I purchased the one designated for hair that might come close to the thickness of mine - not an easy feat - and took it home without trying it on. Hahahaa..... Yeah, my hair was too short to use said fork until last month. So the fork sat in my drawer until Christmas time when I found it during one of my "look at me, I'm just like my clean-freak mother" moments, tearing through every nook and cranny in my allotted sector of the condo armed to the teeth with sponges and disinfectant.



The fork came with a diagram of a few fancy shmancy ways to "shrew" the "do". Unfortunately, on the day I brought the fork home, I was once again in that "motherly cleaning" mode, in which it is my immovable policy to get rid of every single item that could possibly be deemed unnecessary. I promply fulfilled my duty as a Black daughter by tossing the purchase baggy, the receipt, and the instructional diagrams into the trash bin. Hmmm... do I do this every time I shop? Something environmental is stirring within me. I think Daughter-Laura and Grown-Up-Attempting-Environmentalist-Laura need to sit down to have a little chat.

All that aside, I am now a proud owner of a hair fork, finding myself instruction..less...
So I have done some research and playing on my own, and have found a lovely way to tie up the 'do' for work in such a way as to conceal the nasty crease I get from wearing a bun on my sweaty head through hours of ballet. Because every pilot loves a sweaty bun-head, right? Ugh. Yeah, it was not attractive for work. I'm loving the new 'do'. I'm pretty boring, though. I've only found this one way to use the fork. I twist my hair into sort of a frenchy-twisty-thingy, brush the teeth of my fork from behind my right ear to the crest of the twist of hair, then pierce the twist of locks like so:






The result is simple, elegant, and easy to fix should it ever fall out. It works for now.

"What has this got to do with lobes talking, Laura?"
Gosh, you're impatient.

The other night, I sat around with a few friends playing games and watching movies at my place. After an hour or so, one friend accused me of being a chronic hair-player. He pointed out that I had taken my hair down and put it back up in that fork at least a dozen times. He proudly keeps count now. Grrr...
Still don't see the connection to lobes? that's probably because there isn't one. I just felt like telling the story of my lovely hair and new/old hair fork. Hooray.

But seriously, Lobes Talk.
I have always had this bump on the back of my head. Always a lump. Perhaps the remains of the dead fetus twin I resorbed in the womb? hehehe..... (hopefully you "Office" and "bigfatgreekwedding" fans caught that). Seriously, though. I always thought I was a freak. I was convinced that I had been dropped on my head as a child, or that my soft spot had never hardened properly. Immediately above the big beak-like lump on the back of my head, there is a flat, sensitive surface that slants upward at something like a terribly unattractive 45 degree angle, rather that a nice, rounded "back of skull" as found on non-freaks. About 4 years ago, I began to realize that I am kinda sorta a little bit maybe smart. In my brilliance, the thought crossed my mind that perhaps this lump was the result of my brain growing incredibly fast in one direction, too large for an average skull. Accompanied by irregular sleep positions, this could be a rudimentary explanation for my abnormal skull shape. Seriously. I thought this. With all my anthropological fascination and study, this is what I came up with. So much for smart. Ha!

Oh look, a relationship to the first half of this post!

When my friend pointed out my hair-playing fetish, I began thinking about why I engage in that habit. I realized that the fork sits exactly above the lump, against the sloping surface, and that it HURTS! After a day of holding my heavy hair up, pulling against my sensitive "slope", it actually hurts my head! I'm accustomed to hair ties and clips becoming irritating after a day of wear, but this was different. This week has been dominated by constant headaches, asleep or awake, and I wonder if it could be due to this fork's position. After fiddling with my head lump for a few minutes, feeling where the sensitivity dulled away, I suddenly recalled the image of the little girl in the movie "My Girl" playing with some sort of labeled skull in her basement, then feeling her friend's head to find similarities... or something...

After an HOUR of online-searching for every lumpy-head-study phrase I could think of, I FINALLY found a wikipedia (oh so reliable...) entry on PHRENOLOGY!

Phrenology- long since labeled a "defunct" field of study- was the psuedo-science in which the "reading" of the bumps on one's skull was used to discover one's personality traits. Not quite fortune-telling. Not quite a real science. But enough correlations were found between certain characteristics of skull forms and personality traits that charts were drawn, sculptures made, and careful instructions laid out.

More for my anthropological fascination than anything else, I began a phrenological study of my own head. Here were my findings, which, might I add, make me feel all goose-bumpy:


The lump on the back of my head is not as rare and found-only-in-freaks as I originally thought. It is simply an over-developed Occipital Lobe. The Occiput is the hole in the base of the primate skull in which the peak of the spine is held, allowing the skull to rest balanced atop the control post of the body, manipulated and held by muscle and tissue. Guess where I learned this. Guess.

Dance Class. Oh yeah. Dance class, baby.

In Modern, Balance of Body and Mind, and Pilates, I learn all sorts of crazy junk about the human body that one would never expect to encounter in a dance class. Dancers are smart! ;P Coupled with my many anthropology classes, I've got a cache of information to begin all sorts of ridiculously drawn-out studies when curiosity strikes. Something like this post...

As I was saying...
The occipital lobe is the visual processing portion of the brain, also known to control and contribute to spatial processing, color discrimination, and motion perception. Hello. If most of that didn't sound like pure dance terminology to you, read it again and take a dance class. ANY dance class. I was totally engineered to be a dancer, dudes! hahahahahahaaa..... Well, that's the story I'll stick to, anyway. Back to Phrenology.



In Phrenology, an enlarged occipital lobe or bump in such an area signifies strength in Philoprogenitivness. .....? My sentiments exactly.
Apparently, it means prolific. This can be easily miscontrued for something completely different than what the pseudo-science inteded. It is simply meant as the natural love of one's biological children. I am often referred to in school by professors and my associates alike as an extremely
"prolific" writer. Whether they are referring to my obvious thirst for learning as I write and explore or to my lengthy delivery of copious amounts of unnecessary and nearly irrelevant information, I have not yet decided. But the correllation is interesting, no?

Other formations on my head suggest that I am prone to destructiveness, have low self-esteem and little sense of continuity (the slope in the back of my head should be a nice, hefty curved compartment where apparenlty all my self-esteem and continuity WOULD have been stored! haha!), a serious affinity for conjugal love... no comment... prone to develop close friendships, have a hefty appetite, a gift for musical tune, a good understanding of language in general, No sense of time or proportion, strong senses of ideality and sublimity, hope, spirituality, and imitation, just about a complete lack of all things suave, and a pretty decent memory. Anything I left out of that ugly sentence was left out because I simply didn't understand what my head bumps were telling me, pro or con.
The funny thing is, if you know me well, that is... ME. It really does describe me exactly, with the exception of maybe the continuity part. I disagree with that whole-heartedly. Hmmmm. Interesting.
Those of you who made it through this insanely lengthy post now have the joy of trying it on for size!!!! Let's all play the phrenology game! Click on the mapped head images above, enlarge them, and give yourself a good head massage. Tell me what Phrenologists would say of you!

Here I reference Irmgard Bartinieff's 7th fundamental of movement. Her argument was that one cannot find mobility until they achieve stability. Clear, intentional movement comes only from the capacity to be stable in stillness. This makes perfect sense, from a dancer's view. A triple pirrouette cannot be satisfactorily executed until one is able to balance in retire-releve for at least the two seconds it takes to peform the turn. Further, landing a turn smoothly comes from being on center throughout the turn, including the descent back from releve to the floor which, though only inches of difference, can seem miles of a journey if one is not stable. A sturdy, stable supporting leg allows for the rest of the body to move freely with ease. But if stability has not been established in the supporting structure of the body -be it an arm, a leg, the back, or even the head - desired mobility is lost and the laws of physics will disagree and inevitably defeat any struggles to return to stability. Stability must be established prior to mobility. I experience this daily in movement. A mobile body struggling to establish stability in the legs, pelvis, hips, torso, or whatever structure is offering the support of the moment, will only cheat itself of good training and, at best, false support. All those thousands of little girls in competition dance have been forced to torque their knees and ankles for years, encouraged to "turn out!" and "get that leg up!". These poor girls have no basis of stability in any of their movement. They simply have been taught to cheat well. Rare is the dancer who can exhibit clear, correct allignment, a stable core and pelvis, and clean technique.

I can see the fall coming every time, in my own body and in others. I can feel it about to happen. In that split second prior to the stumble, my mind is racing over all possible solutions, knowing that there is none other than to fake. I know exactly why I stumbled, where the stumble initiated in my body, and how I could have avoided it. To the untrained viewer, it may look like I stumbled due to an unstable ankle, perhaps an inconveniently placed piece of tape on the floor, a bump, or a bad shoe. But I know what happened in my body, and I am the one to blame for over rotation in one hip, causing inward rotation in the other, causing my femur to turn in, casuing my lower leg to rotate inward against my foot which was desparately struggling to remain outwardly rotated in the turn, which eventually had to give in to physics, breaking line at the ankle or in the metatarsels where the rotation can no longer be faked. At that point, my releve is depleted. I land hard on a flat foot and the turn is anything but successful. Any efforts to continue in a turn beyond that point are moot and considered world-wide as a major cheat, ugly, tacky, and just over all bad form and technique. Kenneth has carefully trained me to recognize where these mistakes came from and how to avoid them. This is kinesiology. Luckily, I find it fascinating.

All this thought and concern just to twirl a little onstage. Please consider that, while I am an avid dancer, desparately interested in all things dance related, I am not a small-minded idiot. If I am to put so much energy into my thought processes on a single turn, consider how much thought I put into the rest of life. As with everything in dance, I find that this fundamental applies to every aspect of life.

"Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising every time we fall".

Kenneth puts great emphasis on being "on center". Any time he corrects anyone in class for anything, he offers them a chance to voice their opinion on how they may have avoided the mistake. 90% of the time, the answer has something to do with being centered. Of course, he expects us to define each circumstance in much greater detail, but inevitably, it all leads back to how centered our weight is. "Any other way is madness". Oh, the correlations. Oh, the parallels.