Ok, that was a geek reference if ever there was one.  However, I couldn’t get it out of my head, so that’s the title.

I did something finally that I hadn’t ever done before, but always had been talking about.  I performed bellydance solo.  Not as a solo in part with other dancers, but as in stepped up and - with the support of my friends - did my own thing, to my own music, with my own costuming.  And it was significantly different from things I’d done before.

It was surprisingly refreshing and frightening at the same time.

It’s amazing how different I feel now.  It is as if doing that changed some wiring inside me. I had been avoiding it for the longest time - not that I couldn’t dance solo on an impromptu basis, at haflas, at gatherings, around bonfires.  But I went to an organized event and danced cabaret-tribal style in a cabaret-tribal costume and made something my own. 

It was NOT perfect, by any means.  But it was not horrific. 

And now I’m scheduled to do it again at the end of August - which frankly freaks me out.

Everytime I have a dance weekend, I contemplate the enigmatic world of bellydance.  I wonder what I am doing here in this corporate world, sitting in front of a desk when I could be drilling, shimmying, choreographing.  Is this how everyone is when they immerse themselves in their art?

This last weekend was very much the same - but also very different.  This weekend marks a change in how I go forward.  I will be dancing with others, but I will also be pursuing a solo existence.  And I’m not sure how necessarily to balance both worlds evenly. 

 Why is it so hard to go solo on a project?  What is it in me that will go to the end of the earth for a group project, but when it is just for me, I end up settling for something that gets me through it without TOO much shame.  Why can I sacrifice my time and put all my creativity into something that is a manifestation of a few people, but not able to do the same for something that comes just from within me?

I don’t know, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out.

Le danseuse est mort.  Viva la danseuse!

I got a ton taken care of this weekend - many things done, bedroom final coat of paint on, artwork framed that I’ve owned for over 6 years, artwork frames that Jason’s owned for a long time too.  Awning fixed, walk taken through the park, breakfast eaten on the balcony, dishes done, aerator replaced in bathroom, visit to the BGB and discussion had there, friends renewed, games purchased and played, sickness overcome, magnetic paint obtained, magnets obtained, light switch fixed.  Good time had in general.

So, at 6pm I sat down to do some work, and I’m finding that the Network is down - or I just can’t connect to the Law Department’s files.  This is what I get for putting it off till Sunday night, but really, who wouldn’t have? 

And today is so sunny, beautiful.  The grill is popping and a chicken is being made for dinner with some homemade pilaf and roasted veggies.  I will try again later tonight, but really - what can I do?  I can work on my impromtu poems.

This is Just To Say

I did not work
from home
this weekend
as I promised 

network’s down
6pm on a sunny
Sunday
evening

Forgive me
the park beckoned
and I was
so happy.

This Is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

There was a bit on This American Life about this poem, and how many offshoots it has inspired.  There are many takes on what this poem really is saying, but most agree that he is not truly apologizing, but instead saying, “I couldn’t help myself, I am not sorry, but I hope you won’t be mad.”  Or does he even care if she is mad?  And is he feigning the uncertainty about her breakfast?

It made me think that there are many things that fall into this category.  It’s like the old joke, “I’m just sayin’”.  The situation where you say, “You’re fat,” to someone and they get upset, and somehow, responding with, “I’m just sayin’” somehow indicates that it just had to be said, and it really isn’t your fault.  Like that statement makes everything cool now.

So, I might, here and there, as inspired by This American Life, occasionally post a This Is Just to Say poem about something I am going to do, or did, that I’m not really sorry about, but I really would like people to not be upset.  They may be real, or they may be figments of my imagination.  Whatever inspires me.

 And they might not even happen…so in that eventuality, I’ll start with one right now.

This is Just to Say

I have not posted
poems mimicing
his style and arrogance

Which I stated
I would post
in earnest.

Forgive me,
But this is my blog
and I change my mind
often.

It isn’t often that I run into two artists in such a short time.  I ran into Kurt Halsey because I was looking into Amy Rice.  They both do work at the Art Star Gallery, and thus I ran into Kurt’s work.  At first, I was sort of ignoring his work because the cartoonish characters seemed so - well, Precious Moments.  But then I clicked on a couple of them and realized I was SO very wrong.  Kurt hails from Racine, Wisconsin and went to MIAD here, which means I’m pretty stoked to have come across him.

The figures in Kurt’s work have natural positions, many of which are very intimate and real - putting you into the emotion.  There’s an emptiness that leaves you to fill in the feeling.  Many of the pieces are collage pieces like the first one below, and the choice of media fits the pieces of thought included. 

Some of them are poignant moments of love and closeness.  Others are powerfully painful (see the next one below).  Others seem to catch a meaningful moment - and not a moment associated with love.  Some even have a wry humor that isn’t easily captured in stasis.  Whatever they are, they are poetry and art.

I ran into the art of Amy Rice at Paper Boat Boutique in Bay View the other weekend.  Something about her work really makes an impact on me.  The stencil style of the figures over the unique backgrounds (reclaimed wood, pages of old books, leaves of musical notation) combined with the symbolism of the pieces made this the first unknown art I’ve run into in a long time that I actually desire to put on my wall.  And not just a print, but an actual piece.  It feels as if there is a thread of innocence that resonates in me when I look at the images.  I think of youth and freshness.

 Two samples below.  The first was the piece I was considering purchasing - but it was not for sale.  It also wouldn’t have been in my budget right now either.