Today, of all days
I saw a butterfly
Living.
It amazed me.
For I had not knowticed the fact
that all the butterflies had died.
The winter had set in for their demize.
But this butterfly
Lived.
This butterfly
was born and refused to die.
It was not my black butterfly.
It did not die.
She struggled, and complained.
But refused to put cut marks into her wings.
She refused to stop flying.
Proud butterfly
see the happiness in the air
and fly.
this is for we feel fine - I feel like butterflies have saved her life. Thank you Butterflies.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Hindsight's Reflection Ends Up Being Just Like What Happens When You Hold Two Mirrors Up To Each Other
So, dance competition season is over.
What shall I do?
I have made such wonderful friends who I can never forget. Chanelle, Sarah, Kristina, Anika, Merriah. I have delved more deeply into this craft, worked harder, longer, and against greater adversity than ever before. I have cried tears of both despair and joy for dance. I have worked, sacrificed, fought for this. I have lived this to the fullest.
A picture:
I get off the ferry and lugg my huge book/dance bag and portfolio along the sidewalk in a fever of anticipation to get to the studio two hours early. My schoolwork is sacrificed for me to make myself a cup of tea in the closed cafe, change into my dance clothes (which I may or may not have spent more time picking out in the morning than what I actually wore), put a CD into the player, take out my charcoal and paper, and begin to stretch. I pull at my tendons until I feel sufficiently limber and freestyle a bit in the front window studio to Pink Floyd. I transition between breathless dance and black and grey artwork. Just then, Anika drags her self through the door that I entered about a half hour ago and I wait a few minutes for her to change and join me in the window room. We stretch, and talk a little. We dance, and wait for the third party; Merriah. Cause when Merriah gets here, then the party can start. The door opens and here she is! More often than not in an uncomfortably stylish work-outfit and heels, she'll mark through her choriography for the day and we'll mimick to the best of our ability. The best dance classes are impromptu.
A memory:
It's christmas time, I stayed late for nutcracker dance class. I've been droped from the duet, I cried all night over that one. But took my anger and resentment at myself and her out on the page before me. Pouding out those tutus and ribbons in black chalky lines. Now I've decided to bring my stuff with me to the gallery. I'm not sure this will work. Chanelle agreeably poses for a picture that may or may not be a complete failure on my part. That funny yellow tutu over her casual tank top and leggings. Pointe shoes thrown on for style. Marking marking marking marking. People are starting to knowtice and Chanelle is released. I stayed and drew for ages it seemed, till it was almost done. Ohhhhhs and Ahhhhhhhs from children behind me and their parents tell me that oh my freaking gosh I'm actually doing a good job. Thank you God. Pics on FB later of me, and now I'm the artist of the bunch.
A flashback:
1st competition. Spotlight. We have no idea what to expect. What do we do? Why are we here again? FUCK! (oh no sorry I didn't mean that, it's just that I dropped the bobby pins on the motel bathroom floor and we're supposed to be there for call time in fifteen minutes) Curling, primping trying to get everything just so because anything could happen today. Call time and the Gang's all here. Oh dear. Trying to stretch and keep our cool. Let's practice the lift, remember the hands on the sote. Ancient chinese breathing excercises looked up on Google last night. Backstage and we're actually doing this. Heart absolutely POUNDING and ther are the judges, and all our teachers, and what? it's over? But I can't even remember it happening!!!!!! Damn adrenaline. A ruby? That's all? After all our hard work? What????
An Experience:
VIBE. Three days of Dance, Relaxation, and Dance, and Dance, and Dance. Three best days ever ever ever no words to explain
A tragedy:
Encore. The last time. The last competition. The last car ride. The last award. The last redbull and ibuprofen combo. The last time. And I BIFF it !!!!!!!!!!! Tears like armegeten. Hugs and a round that never existed. Oh well. Katie: such a bright future, you were really beautiful. And I can't seem to shut off the waterworks. Everythings gonna be ok, till we have to sit there and watch Chanelle tear up that dance floor like she was born on it. Ending with a profession of love. You're incredible Anika, thanks for the extra dose of salt and H2O. I absolutely RUN to give you a Hug. I can't belive it's over. Lots of oil tonight. ANd the birth of beauty.
What shall I do?
I have made such wonderful friends who I can never forget. Chanelle, Sarah, Kristina, Anika, Merriah. I have delved more deeply into this craft, worked harder, longer, and against greater adversity than ever before. I have cried tears of both despair and joy for dance. I have worked, sacrificed, fought for this. I have lived this to the fullest.
A picture:
I get off the ferry and lugg my huge book/dance bag and portfolio along the sidewalk in a fever of anticipation to get to the studio two hours early. My schoolwork is sacrificed for me to make myself a cup of tea in the closed cafe, change into my dance clothes (which I may or may not have spent more time picking out in the morning than what I actually wore), put a CD into the player, take out my charcoal and paper, and begin to stretch. I pull at my tendons until I feel sufficiently limber and freestyle a bit in the front window studio to Pink Floyd. I transition between breathless dance and black and grey artwork. Just then, Anika drags her self through the door that I entered about a half hour ago and I wait a few minutes for her to change and join me in the window room. We stretch, and talk a little. We dance, and wait for the third party; Merriah. Cause when Merriah gets here, then the party can start. The door opens and here she is! More often than not in an uncomfortably stylish work-outfit and heels, she'll mark through her choriography for the day and we'll mimick to the best of our ability. The best dance classes are impromptu.
A memory:
It's christmas time, I stayed late for nutcracker dance class. I've been droped from the duet, I cried all night over that one. But took my anger and resentment at myself and her out on the page before me. Pouding out those tutus and ribbons in black chalky lines. Now I've decided to bring my stuff with me to the gallery. I'm not sure this will work. Chanelle agreeably poses for a picture that may or may not be a complete failure on my part. That funny yellow tutu over her casual tank top and leggings. Pointe shoes thrown on for style. Marking marking marking marking. People are starting to knowtice and Chanelle is released. I stayed and drew for ages it seemed, till it was almost done. Ohhhhhs and Ahhhhhhhs from children behind me and their parents tell me that oh my freaking gosh I'm actually doing a good job. Thank you God. Pics on FB later of me, and now I'm the artist of the bunch.
A flashback:
1st competition. Spotlight. We have no idea what to expect. What do we do? Why are we here again? FUCK! (oh no sorry I didn't mean that, it's just that I dropped the bobby pins on the motel bathroom floor and we're supposed to be there for call time in fifteen minutes) Curling, primping trying to get everything just so because anything could happen today. Call time and the Gang's all here. Oh dear. Trying to stretch and keep our cool. Let's practice the lift, remember the hands on the sote. Ancient chinese breathing excercises looked up on Google last night. Backstage and we're actually doing this. Heart absolutely POUNDING and ther are the judges, and all our teachers, and what? it's over? But I can't even remember it happening!!!!!! Damn adrenaline. A ruby? That's all? After all our hard work? What????
An Experience:
VIBE. Three days of Dance, Relaxation, and Dance, and Dance, and Dance. Three best days ever ever ever no words to explain
A tragedy:
Encore. The last time. The last competition. The last car ride. The last award. The last redbull and ibuprofen combo. The last time. And I BIFF it !!!!!!!!!!! Tears like armegeten. Hugs and a round that never existed. Oh well. Katie: such a bright future, you were really beautiful. And I can't seem to shut off the waterworks. Everythings gonna be ok, till we have to sit there and watch Chanelle tear up that dance floor like she was born on it. Ending with a profession of love. You're incredible Anika, thanks for the extra dose of salt and H2O. I absolutely RUN to give you a Hug. I can't belive it's over. Lots of oil tonight. ANd the birth of beauty.
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