House Rules.

301. It's my apartment number, here at school.  It's also my home, in so many senses of the word.  It's where some of the people I love best in the world are.  It's where I put on sweat pants and a tank top and put my feet on the furniture.  It's where the music is always playing - Thing 1 (as I call one of my roommates) plays the ukelele and the guitar and is rarely found without one of them, Rose (the only other girl in the apartment) likes to teach herself songs on the piano by ear when she's bored or anxious, Thing 2 dabbles in everything and takes voice lessons, I am learning the ukelele and sing at least a hundred times a day and each of us goes through life with our respective iPods turned all the way up.  Here in 301 we have some rules.  They're listed below, and I think they give a pretty accurate summary of why I am in love with my apartment, my roommates, and the life we've built together.  So here they are, in no particular order.

301 House Rules

- We don't do goodbyes, only see ya laters 

- Pinky promises are law

- If it's not yours, don't eat it.

- Be brilliant.

- Courage

- We are the people who don't look away. 

- If it stays in the living room or kitchen for more than a few hours, it gets put on your bed to be put away.

- Friends are always welcome: on the couch, at the table, around the keyboard. 

- Adventures are mandatory.

-No one in the family is ever uncomfortable in their own space.  We stick together.

-Everyone does dishes.  The boys carry out the giant trash barrel since it was their idea.  Bottles and cans get recycled.  The apartment should never smell bad.  It's ok to suggest rearranging if you need a change or the vibe is funny.

-Sometimes you've just gotta flip shit over.  That's cool, just flip it back.  No hurry bro.

-Talk to each other.  Lack of communication kills relationships and families.

-Things that are always allowed on TV: Doctor Who, anything Shakespeare, anything involving ghosts, anything involving space, anything Hugh Jackman has ever done, Star Wars.

-The brita filter is never put back in the fridge empty.

-Don't put on the kettle without offering some to everyone.  Tea (and for the boys coffee as well) is a lifestyle and form of currency.

-Nutella is always welcome.

-Popcorn is made to be shared.

-Phones aren't part of family dinner.

-Naptime is to be respected, exercise is essential and the music corner is sacred.

-Every single day, sing, laugh, fight, dance, and dare.  Every. Single. Day.

*Welcome Home. *

They Came, They Saw, They Kicked Ass.

Last weekend was one of the most Happy-Sad Days of my life.  Happy-Sad Days are exactly what the name implies: days of bittersweetness, where you are laughing with genuine pleasure while tears tug at the corners of your eyes.  Saturday was a perfect example: Graduation Day for the Class of 2012.  It was such an amazing, special graduating class and ceremony.  For one thing, I am proud to announce the first ever students to graduate with a BA in Theatre from our college crossed the stage and collected their diplomas. Without that moment, my own graduation as a Double Major would never be possible.  Additionally, the BA Theatre Class '12 has in its ranks some of my dearest, most beloved friends and the most talented assortment of people you can imagine.  I utterly adore them. 

Then there were the dancers. . . my dancers.  More than any other class (including, in fact, the one I came in with) this group of exceptional, talented people took me in and made me feel at home.  Taught me about love, family, loyalty, courage, self-expression, worth, work, and creativity.  My world is so much better for having them in it and I am genuinely a bit nervous to imagine it without their daily presence.  Below are some pictures of the festivities!

Julia, BA Dance '12 & Colin BA Theatre '12

(aren't they a ridiculously pretty couple?)  

I call this one "Family: You're Doing It Right."

My fierce roommate, all decked out in her honors gear and the fabulous Jenna

(Both BA Dance '12)

 Roommate's glee and awkward arm motions in anticipation of graduating.  Also, note our bare walls and empty looking apartment.  I am just so sad.

The boys.  My boys.  Let me tell you, they are more trouble than you can shake a stick at, more fun than is legal, have less sense than your common household goldfish and better hearts than half the Saints in heaven.  I love them to pieces.

{ I didn't take this picture: it belongs to my friend Em, you can find her here}

Woohoo! We did it! First graduating class! Bye-bye college!

Things That Make Me Feel Better (Even When The-World-Is-Ending-BooHoo-Poor-Me)

Sometimes things get messy.  They go wrong.  Sometimes it is when everything is moving along smoothly, your life is humming at an almost industrial pace and the sun is warm and the future is roses.  Sometimes - most times - it is when things are all ready pretty bad.

Too much to do.  No time.  So many needs.  No money.  Every ounce of me parceled out, weighed and measured and carefully divided, poured lovingly and hectically into the various people/places/things/goals that cry out for my attention.

That, for me, is almost always when the storm comes rolling in.  The last crack of lightning to an already fragile structure that stands no chance and simply bursts into flame.  In case you were wondering which you clearly weren't because I am so dramatic  last night was a lightning-strike kind of moment.  Why it was and the details don't matter.

Because less face it. . .  when shit hits the fan, it hits the fan.  The clean up is what matters.  I am still in the defecation-spreading-all-over-the-walls-in-blatant-disregard-of-my-orderly-life phase. . . but even still I realized as I sat here, stomach in more knots than a badly done cat's cradle, I have comfort.

In a Boyfriend who stops his entire world every time my silly fragile world comes unraveled.

A friend who knows from a three word text that something is wrong.  And quietly shows up in my kitchen, arms open to catch my crazy in a bear hug so tight I couldn't squirm away, forcing me to actually let go and . . . cry.

Comfort in jamming my headphones in to study the rest of the night away (no sleep was forseen) and being unable to ignore the ding of Facebook as another friend firmly instigated a totally asinine conversation.  I don't think I was supposed to know I was being checked up on, so. . . sshhhhh, ok?

A roomie who looked me in the eye and informed me of how strong and brave I am in her eyes, and demanded that I try seeing myself that way for a few seconds. I'm trying.

Opening my mailbox, where I have been collecting soft white envelope after soft white envelope, some traced with silver, others tied with dark ribbon, each containing a message of condolence for yet another friend who has lost a parent.  Everyday for two weeks I have gone down and placed my key in the lock, listening to the cool metal click open and expose the sadness neatly packaged in the gaping maw of a metal mouth my mailbox becomes.  Everyday I place my hand inside and offer a silent prayer thanking God for such a supportive community. I place donations in a small envelope and stack the sympathy on the edge of my counter, trying not to let my fingers linger on someone else's sorrow.  Today when I opened the mailbox, a bright yellow envelope greeted me, with cheerful, looping hand writing.  A note from a friend, who thought my mailbox (and heart) might need some cheer.

I find peace in the gently prying questions of my pseudo brother, who is maybe the only person alive who has found the right tone between soothing, insistent, and compassionate that will instantly make me open up.  Sometimes a lot of crazy comes out when I do.

There is the friend who saw me walking and knew from the set of my shoulders that my smile was lying.  There is such a strength in being transparent - the strength of being an Us and not an I.

Finding myself, instead of running my scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream, being squeezed in the papa-bear hug of one of my favorite faculty.  60 seconds - no more, no less - of being hugged and being me and breathing, were required before I was allowed to say a single line.

Joy in the sly smile shared when the last ballet class of the semester holds a mini-rebellion in ballet and the accompanist is a willing cohort!

A sense of hope when I round the corner from work and see beautiful lilacs (my favorite flowers) blooming in the rain, their perfume all the sweeter in the cool damp air.

The pure exhilaration only dancers and athletes know when your body suddenly obeys you.  We're talking a triple pirouette here people!  To the left.  In jeans!


Perhaps most excitingly, my big source of comfort is finding out I have a Cassie Care Package on the way!  I wish there was a way to convey to you the excitement this encompasses for me.  Imagine a a beautiful and female Mad Hatter.  Now imagine her as a former competitive diver.  Now set this imagining loose in SoHo.  This is who is creating my care package.

And that, ladies and gents, is a beautiful thing.

Geek Girl Swag

It's 2:45 am.  On a Monday night, no less - well, actually it's technically a Tuesday Morning.  I have to work tomorrow.  My temperature is currently nestled comfortably at 100 degrees, the same place it's been since Friday night at about 9:30.  I should be sleeping.

Nestled into a big, warm, comfy bed with a bottle of water and a thermometer sharing nightstand space with my nook.  But I'm not.  I'm tired, yes - that very special kind of tired you only get when you are or have been ill.  The thing is, I can't stand the thought of staying totally still anymore.  It's been days now.  Days of the most exercise I'm able to being some light stretching and taking the stairs to and from the kitchen.  No outside, no walking around just to burn off some of my constant excess energy.  No adventures.  No dance or Yoga (and I've been wanting to start yoga for ages now!).

For someone who majors in dance and has been an athlete their whole lives, this is quite the change of pace.  Some of it has been nice, of course - I've actually done some reading.  Of something other than a textbook or script!  I've started playing around with the formatting and image of A Space for Inspiration again (I apologize for it's messy, half-done state).  I even started watching Doctor Who, something I've wanted to do for ages and not had the time.  I also spent a few minutes on Boyfriend's computer, playing a new multiplayer video game called Star Wars: The Old Republic.  The combination of this (totally awesome, by the way) video game and beginning Doctor Who have made me realize I something.

I'm a geek.

No really, I am.  I've said it before, joked that I am a "geek girl," or have "geek girl swag," with one of my friends from school.  I use awkward hashtags like that on Twitter all the time, in fact.  But I really realized it today, just how much of a geek I am.  And not nerdy girl chic, like Zoey Deschanel on the New Girl.  Not sexy geeky, the kind where you know just enough about "lame" topics like Star Wars to be able to contribute to a conversation about them while playing with your cute hipster glasses.  Oh no boys - this girl is all geek.  Observe:

* I will gladly duel you with Light Sabers.  My character on SWTOR is a Miralan Jedi Counselor.

*I first read the Lord of the Rings when I was 11 years old.  From the age of 11 until about 15, one of my best friends (and pen pal!) could write her name in Elvish.  I was basically convinced this was the coolest trick ever, slash the most important lifeskill one could wish for.

*I'm a total and unashamed Potterhead.  I'm in Ravenclaw, in case you were wondering!  I think my Boyfriend might be a Gryffindor though. . .

*In an attempt to recapture some of the magic and escapist joy both The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter brought me as a kid, I went through a phase of reading Dragonlance books.  I was 12 or 13.  If you don't know what those are, it may be because you're a socially well adjusted adult. . .

*I like classic Disney movies, particularly of the Princess variety (and well yes, I know she is the very first Disney Princess I cannot stand Snow White.  Blech!).

*I've begun watching Doctor Who, am an avid fan of both Grimm and Once Upon A Time, and have every intention of adding Sherlock and Game Of Thrones to my geek tv viewing pleasure.

*Comic.  Books.

There are lots of other examples of my geekiness that I could point too. . . but I'm a little worried I may have scared you away by now.  The funny thing is, people are always surprised by this part of me, as though only awkward high schoolers and overweight dudes who work at Newbury Comics are allowed to have moments of super fandom.  It's a silly stereotype, no?  I'm a mature, emotionally stable adult.  I'm neither sun deprived nor Dorritos indulged.  I don't wear primarily black.  I've never dyed my hair a color only found in a crayola crayon box, my ears don't have gauges, and I'm not socially inept.

What other silly stereotypes are there out there, that bother you?  Any in particular that apply to you?  I think I might like to devote an entire post to some of the things I should be, based on stereotypes, and I'd love to hear what mold you don't quite fit in!

Camelot Academy

Some of you guys have heard a lot about Camelot Academy.  Some of you may have heard nothing about it.  In a nutshell, it's one of my biggest dreams. . . and this whole post is going to be devoted to it!

I'm a dancer.  It's what I do, it's who I am.  I also have taught  - dance, martial arts, Vacation Bible School - for years and years.  I have a love of performance in all it's forms: theater, singing, gymnastics, etc.  And I've always liked the idea of healing people, which lead me to want to pursue a Doctorate of Physical Therapy.  I want to combine these things somehow, and Camelot is how I'm going to do it.

Camelot Academy (this is sort of like the project codename.  I'm not sure if I'll actually be calling it that or not) is my dream program, incorporating dance, gymnastics, theater, voice lessons, martial arts, and fitness together.  Here is how it will work:

The main center will be a high-caliber dance facility.  True classical ballet will be offered, as well as Jazz, Modern, Hip Hop, Tap, Contemporary, Pointe, Partnering, and Ballroom courses.  Supplemental programs will include seminars in Bellydancing, Indian Classical Dance, African Dance, Mime, Irish Step Dancing, etc.  And all of the teachers will be exceptionally qualified: professional and former professional dancers, well versed in their fields, with a call to teaching and knack for choreography.  The emphasis will not be on competition - it will be on refinement and performance.  An end of the year performance will be held every spring.

So far, all I've described is a Dance Studio.  But Camelot is something much more: it's a center for well rounded performing artists.  Also available at the main center, the dance studio, will be voice lessons - private and group - from qualified teachers.  Acting, Theater, Improv, Shakespeare courses will all be available as well, in this same facility.

Camelot Academy will be housed in more than one location.  The second branch will be a Gymnastics Academy: not just someplace where kids learn tumbling and gymnastic basics.  Someplace where true competitive gymnasts can train, under experienced coaches.

Also available - although I'm not yet sure at which location or if it will be it's own facility - will be a Martial Arts dojo.  High quality, safe instruction.

Each program will have set syllabuses, cross-referenced with each other an with courses designed specifically for Camelot Academy.  Tumbling and Acrobatics for Dancers: Intro to Movement for Gymnasts.  Movement II for Gymnasts. Fosse Jazz, Tap for Musical Theater, Self-Defense classes for performing artists.

Other classes will be offered by term (there will be three term a year, fall/winter, winter/spring, and summer) such as day long workshops about stage makeup, eating disorders, hair styling, weight training, etc.  The syllabuses and various programs will all be over seen by a physical therapist (thats me!) and physician.  This will reduce stress fractures, tendonitis, and incidents of other training-related injuries.

The final piece of the puzzle  is the gym.  Whether it is housed in one of the Camelot facilities or will be a partnership, there will be a full sized gym - offering all of the basic equipment, pool, and classes such as Pilates, Zumba, and Yoga.  Camelot students will have access to the gym and it's classes at discount rates, just as they have access to dance, theater, voice, gymnastics, and martial arts through cross training.

Can't you just imagine the artists and athletes this environment would produce?

This is my dream. . . this is my Camelot.