Plans

I’ve been sort of “ghost” from my blog over the past week. Personally there has been a lot going on. I repeat, a lot going on. The novelty of the newly discovered free time, which I acquired as a result of losing my job, wore off after a week and a half. I started feeling really sad about not seeing my co-workers and my kids every day. I felt angry because of the circumstances under which I lost my job. I started to think about all of the emotional things that I hadn’t been giving my time to think about with my schedule that at one time was jam packed, I watched many of my plans for the very near future fail and I was, sad and angry and afraid.

I may be somewhat of a control freak. Not the anal retentive kind who annoys everyone with their lists and schedules, but the kind who has a definite destination in mind and I don’t mind deviating slightly from the plan as long as the end result is right. Well now I have no “end.” For the last five years, it has been graduate, get engaged, grad school, blah blah blah. You get the picture. Now, I have no idea what to do next and I do not like it. I don’t know what I wanna do with my degree, or if I can get into grad school, and all the time in the world to think about it.

When I Grow Up

As graduation rapidly approaches, I find myself bombarded with questions about what’s next.

“What’s your major,” they say, with wide eyes full of expectancy.

“I don’t know,” as I confess my confusion about the near future their faces change from expectant to sympathetic.

I am a Writing Major with a dual minor in Psychology and English. When I came to college, I had dreams of being a dance major. Dreams that were quickly doused by a practical mother. She was convinced that the life of a dancer was not a steady one, and lead me to the more practical occupation of an educator. I love kids, I enjoy developing relationships with them, and helping them be mature and responsible blah blah blah. Long story short, for four semesters  I was an Education major, which I hated. I was so bored, so bored. The classes couldn’t hold my attention, so I skipped them. I thought about transferring and majoring in dance somewhere else, but my mom always encouraged me to be practical. Fast forward past another two semesters of having no major at all, I changed my major. She wasn’t too happy, but at that point I was ready to get out of here.

Now here we are, 38 days away from graduation day and I know what I would like to do. If I had my way, I would teach at a performing arts school, but that has nothing to do with my current major. I love to dance. I’d do it for free, but don’t tell anyone.  I have no idea how to even begin in that field. I’ll start by applying to grad schools. M.F.A in Dance here I come.

Encore! Encore!

After six weeks of rehearsals, and toiling with music and choreo, it is finally time. It is Thursday night and the small performance space is packed. We all peek out from our makeshift dressing room and squeal in unison. Ladies in orange, green, purple, blue, red, brown, and yellow. Seven college students take off themselves in the makeshift dressing room and put on our colors. Nameless, but not voiceless. We slip off shoes and socks and teeter at the door. I’m not sure if we shiver because of the cold tile we stand on or from nerves.

“Five minutes to curtain,” the Director sticks his smiling face in, looking like a proud daddy.

“Thank you five,” we giggle and circle up for a prayer.

Prayers are sent up, nerves are released, house lights are out. The intro music begins and we all make our way to our spots, each of us scattered through the audience.

“Dark phrases of womanhood,” she begins.

It is effortless. The words all flow out, as if they belong to us. On and off, up and down. We twirl and cry and scream. The house stands and claps, we bow.

If you missed For Colored Girls last month, you’ll be able to see it May 4th at the Averitt Center. I had a great time acting in it. If you missed or if you already saw it you should definitely come check it out.

And They Keep on Coming…# 2

An attempt at a poem. No prompts, just random lines from my journal.

The Audition

1 and 2 and point and flex

A number pinned on my back

3 and 4 and flex and point

In a room with 24 other numbers

5 and 6 and  plié and stretch

24 perfect buns

24 pointe shoes with perfect bows

7 and 8

and then there’s me

Memories

The piece I read this week made me wonder about memories. At what age do we begin to develop lasting impressions of what is happening? Can it happen as young as three? This week I read Echo Fever/Birmingham 1964 by Coral Hauck. It was published in Amarillo Bay. I got distracted by my train of thought when she mentioned she was only three at the time of the story. I don’t think I remember anything from when I was three The details she gives are so vivid, that I’m wondering if maybe she is telling a story someone told her about herself. After finishing the piece, I also am not sure how I feel about the beginning. I guess it works to ground us in a time period, but the sit-ins, race wars, and bombings don’t relate in any other way to the piece which is all about a little girl being very sick. I think I was too distracted by the whole “when do we start remembering” thing to really enjoy this piece. I made my head hurt.

There was some great detail included and I’m really going to try not to be so nit-picky when I read it again.

http://www.amarillobay.org/contents/hauck-coral/echo.htm

Spring Cleaning

I fell asleep on the red faux leather couch. Me, my busted HP, and the pink snuggie. An irritating “I’m the police” knock made me snatch my face away from the catch too quickly.

“Who is it?” My voice is raspy, barely a whisper.

The peephole is useless, at 4’11 I’m too short to see out of it. I opened the door and the sunlight that my blinds were attempting to keep out flooded the living-room. Through squinted eyes I saw the over-weight maintenance man.

“I need to get to the water heater, somebody should have told you I was coming.” His eyes half apologized for the 9 a.m. intrusion.

I looked down at my bare legs and then at the closet under the stairs and the boxes that had no where else to go . “I’m going to need about an hour.” I would have to pull everything out of there, the water heater was all the way in the back of the closet.

The Maintenance Man told me I’d only need to clear a path. That I could do. It’d only take five minutes to do that. I ran upstairs sprinted upstairs, slid on some shorts, and went back to the door to invite the man in. He waited by the couch as I pulled 3 suitcases, 2 13-gallon bins, and an Office Depot box. As I was moving the boxes I noticed small dark brown flacks along the edge of the wall. I let the Maintenance Man in and let him do his work.

When he finished, I moved everything out of the closet ad found loads more brown flecks. I Googled mouse droppings and was convinced. At some point in time there had been a mouse or two in my closet.

Out of Commission

For the last week my computer has been plotting against me. It has been just all around moody. No work has gotten done and blog posts Ha! It shuts off when ever it feels like and doesn’t come back on for days at a time. So, instead of getting frustrated with the machine, I slid it under my bed until today. I guess the minor time out worked because it is working–for now. Fingers crossed. Knock on wood. I have several posts that were “under construction” when my computer died so at some point in the very near future, I will do a draft dump.

Here’s the run down. Last week was spring break, I didn’t go anywhere I stayed in Tiny Town, Georgia alone and went to work everyday. I found out I may have a new, unwanted, roommate. I’ll explain in a later post. Overall it was completely uninteresting.

Top 10 Before 26

1. Dance in a company as a principle dancer

2. Publish 8 pieces in various Lit. Mags

3. Choreograph a major show

4. Get accepted into NYU Tisch School of the Arts

5. Intern at Alvin Ailey

6. Sky Dive

7. Leave the country

8. Learn to play the acoustic guitar

9. Meet Debbie Allen

10. To Be Announced…

With graduation sneaking closer, I find myself obsessing over what is next. I know what I want, but the way to get there is a little murky. I figured if I made a list, it’d be easier to remember what I want and to figure out how to get them.