60 MPH Winds

60 MPH winds.  That is what is screeching through my bedroom windows (my beautiful, picture windows, larger that my armspan.  That are set in the wall of my second story room, on this three-story-plus-finished-basement colonial house.).  Whipping the trees all around campus into a frenzy.  Pounding into the speaker of my phone, so Mum asks if I am standing outside in the rain as I walk back from rehearsal.  It was 50 MPH winds earlier, tugging whisps of my hair from my neat bun.  Blowing against my bag-o-books and making it strain against my shoulder.  Driving autumn-gilded leaves and menacing clouds across the sky.

It's beautiful.  And loud.  And it feels so perfect tonight.  Because this is exactly how my life has been lately. . . gale force winds.  Everything blowing everywhere, and pressurepressurepressure.  Tonight I had rehearsal at 7.  And rehearsal at 7.  Two different choreographers, two different pieces, styles, and rehearsal locations. . . then I had rehearsal at 8, for a third somebody.  And rehearsal at 9. . .

Exams, tests, quizzes, journal entries, homework, reading, notes, notes, NOTES.  choreography, new choreography, dance journal.  Gym. Trainers.  Creating blogs, giving tours, maintaing websites, attending club meetings, sending club-and-business emails.  office work.  memorizing lines.

A whirlwind life.  But I like whirlwinds.  I like the music they make.  I suppose tonight could be described as having "howling winds."  Howling seems negative and frightening, though.  Though it is loud and tumultuous it's also natural, carry-you-away music.  And  I find it so intriguing, what a windy day does to people. . . who hunches their shoulders and tucks their head and scuttles along.  Who marches purposefully, scarf fluttering behind them, rain boots briskly chewing up sidewalk.  The ballerina's bun pulled piece-by-piece apart, until strands of hair tumble loose around her face.  The couples where one person walks slightly ahead, his body shielding hers as she presses to her side, neither of them cognizant of their positioning.

So to I find a melodic feel to this hasty, crazy life.  Rehearsal-to-rehearsal, meals hastily grabbed in between.  Showering while reviewing history dates, stretching with a script in my lap, always having my cell phone, id/room key, a pencil, and a highlighter before starting the day.  A few quite minutes, stolen in a corner of the kitchen as my roommate sleeps floors above, a phone held close to my ear, a stillness finally letting my tight shoulder lower.

For now I will dance in the wind.

Dandelion Wishes

Dandelions.  That insufferable weed that ruins the finest lawns, forces it's way between sidewalk seamsand causes merriment in children everywhere.  Do you remember what it's like to blow the seeds off of a puffy white dandelion ball?

No, seriously.  Do you?  The excitement when you see the flower?  The careful way you have to pick it, so you don't disturb a single seed in that magical orb?  Squeezing your eyes shut because, of course, 

thats the way you make wishes, silly.  Everyone knows wishes only work if you squeeze your eyes as 

tight as you can and wish them with all your might!  Then how deeply you have to breathe: apparently 

it takes as much oxygen as would fuel a small camp fire to drive the tiny seeds from their dried up 

cushion.  

Now, I'll ask again. . . do you remember what it's like to wish on a dandelion?  

I've always thought dandelions were fascinating: as a girl, my favorite part was the way the seeds would spin away, like tiny fairies in ballerina's long diaphanous skirts.  I loved the way my puff of breath would wisk them away. . . to the sky, the horizon, neverland.  

When I got older and understood that my fairies were really tiny seed pods, and that they probably didn't fly further than my yard, they became no less beautiful to me.  Think about it: my tiny breath would send a hundred seeds swirling into the air, coated in my wishes.  They would land, somewhere new.  Here they split apart, nestling into the soil like my toddler self nestled against my mother.  The seeds, carried to their new home by my wish, would grow into a tender sprout and then blossom. . . only to die again in a few short weeks.  The milky-white, orbital dandelion ghost quivers, between life and death, waiting for another chubby child's fingers to grab a hold and pull it up. . . another wish to send it spinning.  

Today was a dandelion wish kind of day. I woke up super tired, with a few pages left of reading to get done. . . before my 8 am class. Sigh. But I knew today would be ok - it was going to be 73 degrees! At the end of September! In New England!

To make a long story short, today was full of good things. Passed exams. Job opportunities. . . learn-ing new things. And creativity. I was on my leg during pirouettes. I danced my heart out during 

grande allegro. I was inspired and wrote a short story: I got an opportunity to have other writing published. And meet international dignitaries. And in rehearsal, I was sexy and fun and loving the Cabaret.

Each of these opportunities has been set free now. . . they're out there, spinning in the universe on the gust of wishes. Who knows which ones will find somewhere to root? Will grow and turn into something new?

What are your dandelion wishes, my friends? Whatever they are, I hope they come true.

Autumn

I've never been a fan of "Favorite Questions."  What is your favorite book?  movie? food?  memory?  board game?  insert-right-here? What if you don't have one favorite?  If you're an equal opportunity-enjoyer?  Or you have a small list of favorites?  Not just one?  I, in case you cannot tell, am not a single-favorite-haver in most cases.  This applies to movies, tv, colors, gemstones, memories, and seasons.  I think the closest thing to a very favorite season I have is Winter. . . but I love them all and have favorite parts of each.  Being indecisive enough to feel that way, I have a little ritual.  At the beginning of every season, I like to think about what I love about that particular time of year.  It's a gratitude exercise that makes me feel more connected: connected to nature/the season, to everyone who has ever experienced these same joys, to my own inner person.  I promise way down deep inner me is a very positive person!  This gratitude exercise reminds me to slow down, something I don't do often enough.  And it makes me smile. Honestly, some days, thats reason enough to do (almost) anything!


While it's not officially Fall yet, the temperatures and books and sweaters tell my poor little heart otherwise. . . so here is what I love about Autumn.

*Scarves!*

They're so warm and cozy and instantly make me feel somehow more fashionable.  I mean, who looks bad in a scarf?!?

*The way the air smells.  When you're walking as briskly as you can towards your car/class/job/grocery store and you take a quick inhale.  That sweet, clear, frost-is-in-the-air smell, without the sharpness and sting of winter air.  It's more moist, more earthy.  

It instantly calms me and elevates my mood. . . don't you just want to take a deep breath of that beauty?

*Mornings.  Ok, so I'm definitely not a morning person.  I'm more like a mid-day person, really.  But there is something about Autumn mornings that make me feel very alive and yet soothed at the same time.  That morning light, softer than at any other time of year.  The way it filters through the changing leaves, so they almost glow.  It's stiller, more isolated, less electric than a summer morning.  You can almost hear the tress breathing, if you listen hard enough. . .

*Books.  This is sort of the opposite of mornings, because I am a book person all the way!  I love turning pages in the sun during the Summer, skimming chapters in a window during Spring, snuggling with a book under the blankets in Winter.  But the fall is the very best time for  books!  Even if they are not textbooks/mandatory I love to purchase books in the fall, so I can enjoy the feel and the familiarity of a new book.  The joy of inhaling that beautiful air and turning the page, knowing there is something fascinating waiting for me when I do.  Honestly, I can't often afford non-mandatory textbooks.  Thank goodness the library is the next best thing!  If I get everything done I need to this week, that is how I am rewarding myself this weekend. . . a quick trip to the Library.

*The Foliage.  This is one of the greatest joys of living in New England!

Woah.

I've only been here one week?  Not half the semester?  Not six years?  Not even, well. . . it hasn't even been seven days, has it?  Holy cow.  In the past week I've been withdrawn from, added to, withdrawn from again and REadmitted to Pointe & Partnering.  I have been in three different History classes . . . only one of them the one I signed up for.  I moved from Anatomy for Dancers to Anatomy & Physiology 1.  Which means I now only have Anatomy once a week. . . for four hours. . . starting at six at night. . . not coming back to my dorm until 10:30ish. . . I was moved up a level in ballet (yay! yipee!  woohoo!  six out of seven! yes! i don't totally suck!)  I have met with both of my bosses twice.  I filled out a scary looking tax form that made me realize being a grown up (even in pseudo form) is terrifying.

(basically my face all week/weekend)

I tore through my ballet slippers.  I realized in order to take Pointe and pass, I'd need to be able to afford Pointe shoes.  Dang.  I met a freshmen who I used to dance with.  I started rehearsals.  I've been in three dance department meetings.  I joined a Greek Chorus for the play Medea.  I've iced.  I've held someone's hair while they threw up.  I told a rude freshmen EXACTLY what I thought of his, erm, advances.  I got dressed up and went out.

I felt the heavy strain long distance puts on a relationship.  The way the miles tear at the fibers of the heart as it stretches to cover the distance.  The way doubts slide in like a knife into a sheath, smooth and natural and sharp.

I've given thanks that the person I love and the network that supports us is stronger than the miles are long and steadier than doubts are sharp.

It has been a long first week.  And there have been a couple times when the stress and the pain in my shoulder and the emotions felt overwhelming. . . but in the end, this is who I am.  This is where I flourish, where I'm meant to be.  Dancing, every day.  Working, learning, striving, creating.  I'm most alive when I dance.  I'm a better person because here, in this world, there are people that rely on me.  Count on me.  I have to rise to that.  I never know my own heart better than when it is stretched out before me to see.

Every stressful day after too little sleep and with too much to do, I wake up and thank God for it.

To dance.
To serve the Lord.
To create.
To love a good man, and be loved in return.
To touch someone's heart.

This is what I ask for. . . and in every day of this past crazy week, this is what I've received.  Life is crazy tiring stressful awe inspiring scary  Good.

Clark House, the Tour.

This is my housing for Sophomore year.  Can you believe it?  I've lived in three story converted houses every semester so far.  Man, adjusting to regular college housing will probably be tough!

The Front of My Home for Sophomore Year.

A shot of the side, from our drive way.

Right inside the front door.

Detail on the pillars

Some more detail on some more pillars

Living Room

Up the stairs . . .

Don't miss the window between levels!

As you enter the room, if you turn your head towards the left.

My side of the room

From the window towards the door.

My drawer + Pillows + Good luck kitty + Jewelry box + ihome +Bible

There are lots and lots and lots more pictures - like this one of our ceiling fan!

and of our kitchen, yard, wrap around porch, elegant trees, etc.  But I figure this is a good sample, yes?

Wait, You Want Me To Live Here?

                                                                                    Hi!
My original plan was to write this blog post as soon as I arrived on campus.  As in the very same night. As in I thought I could get my butt out the dang door on time, and then not hit major labor day traffic on the way, and simply proceed straight to my room with my things, only pausing to hug my wonderful CA.  And then when I got to my room, clearly I figured I would have exactly the same storage space as last year, with hopefully a real closet (unlike last year, when I had a "half-closet" which was also the support beam for the house.  I had 18 in. of closet.  Seriously).  Yeah. Right.

So as I'm sure you've now figured out, none of those beautiful things happened.  BUT.  But but but but I was only five minutes late.  And while the drawers are beautiful looking, they're evilly deceptively cruelly surprisingly small on the inside, the closet is huge.  I can walk into it.  It isn't a true walk-in closet, but I literally do not have enough dresses and nice blouses to fill it with.  All my sweaters, plus my reusable shopping bags, plus my exercise/thera bands fit on the wall mounted hooks.  Wow!  I am so lucky.

But what about the room?  You ask.  But what does it look like?  You wonder.  Can the house truly be as nice as it appeared last year?  You question.



Dear readers, no.  It is not as nice as it looks.  It is about four hundred times nicer.  My room is almost triple the size of my old dorm, and the walls are sunshine yellow.  There is a sealed up fireplace in my room, which means I have a mantel piece.  To go with my shiny brown hardwood floors, and ceiling fan, and ginormous windows.  Three of them, bigger than any windows I ever imagined a dorm could have.  They're gorgeous.  Have I used that word yet?!?! Gorgeous.  Gorgeous.  Gorgeous.

And my roommate is great!  We lived in the same house last year (which was also amazing, and not at all a building I should've even been aloud in as a freshmen!)  but we weren't really friends.  Circumstance through us together, and so far we're getting along great.  I hope it continues!

My next blog post will be all sorts of pictures!

Love you all, thank you for reading.  Please leave a comment!

I Know.

I should be blogging more.  If I don't, than I am not holding up my end up the bargain.  To myself or to you lovely people who are crazy enough to follow me.  So here you go - an update on my life!

I am moving back to school in five days.  I am excited.  Here is one good reason why:

Clark House aka my home for the next 9 months.

Isn't it beautiful?  Hardly a typical dorm!  Yay for upper classmen who get you into good housing.  It's so lovely on the inside, too.  Wait until I do a moving-in-post!

Then there is the part where I'll be dancing everyday.  And be back in classes.  Learning.  With books and notes and debates.  (i know i know i'm a geek.  it's ok.)

And my friends.  They're so awesome.

And my wonderful, busy jobs. . . that pay.  Unlike my current fist-fight of an arrangement!

And being mommy.  I don't quite know how I end up filling this role, but I always do.  And weirdly, I missed it this summer.  Can't wait to hug my "Deanie Babies."

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

In other news:  I bought a new camera, after destroying my old one.  It takes great pictures.  And thanks to squirreling away a Gift Cheque from Auntie J, it only cost me $60 dollars out of pocket.  Yay!

Boyfriend started college.  He's loving it.  I'm loving that.

People keep joining the dang military on me.  Proud of and love you all . . . now you better come home.

Weddings!  I know three engaged couples. . . my head is spinning.  Can't we all just stay babies?

Mom started college.  wha-?  GO MOMMY!

I have to go to bed before I pass out.  

Love to everyone reading!