Why haven't I called you back, you ask?

I've been getting complaints about my lack of availability, lack of socialness, lack of visibility, lack of returning calls/emails/texts/carrier pigeons. That has motivated me to write the most boring blog post ever-an overview of my weekly schedule. Now, I'm not making excuses, mind you. Just giving an explanation.

Mondays:

• Mornings are spent working on a project for my mom (archiving and typing up all of my late-great-uncle's poetry. There's a lot of it.)
• 1:30-leave house. Drive to valley
  
• 2:00-4:00- Tutor Shalhevet at Emek.
  
• 4:30-Arrive back at home. Eat something
• 5:15-leave to pick up Shalhevet and her sister from carpool, and take them home.
• 6:00-get back home, do a little more poetry work, or eat some more, or take a nap, or stare at the wall.
• 8:00-9:00- Argentine Tango class

Tuesdays:

• 7:45-Wake up
• 8:30-Leave the house
• 9:00-Arrive at Krystal Savanella Designs (fashion internship). Wake Krystal up. Play with the dog. Sew stuff. Work on google docs. Occasionally buy cans of soup. Sometimes drive to LA with Krystal. Listen to Cassie's stories. Sew some more. Copy some patterns. Chase the dog around the house. Resist the urge to clean Krystal's kitchen. Eat a turkey sandwich. Wish out loud for cookies.
  
• 4:00-leave Krystal's. Drive home.
• 4:45-Get home. Eat something, stare at wall, take a nap.
• 5:15- leave to pick up girls from carpool. Take them home. Tutor Shalhevet until we're done with homework, or we're both crying from frustration. That's usually around 8:00, at which point....
• 8:00- Meet Sarah at Borderline for salsa night. Dance until 10:30ish.
• 11:00-home, shower, go to bed at some point.

Wednesdays:

• 7:45-wake up.
• 8:30-Leave house.
• 9:00-Arrive at Krystal's.
• 12:30-Leave Krystal's. Drive home.
• 1:15-Arrive home.
• 1:30- Leave house. Drive to valley
• 2:00-Arrive at Emek, tutor Shalhevet
• 4:00-Leave Emek.
• 4:30-Arrive home.
  
• 5:15-Leave home. Pick up girls from carpool. Drop them off at home.
• 6:00-Arrive home. Have every intention of working on poetry or doing something else productive. Usually waste the entire night on facebook. Occasionally hang out with someone.
  

Thursdays:

• Morning: Work on poetry, or babysit.
• 1:30-Leave house. Drive to valley.
• 2:00-Arrive at Emek, tutor Shalhevet.
• 4:00-Leave Emek.
• 4:30-Arrive home. Pack.
• 5:50-Leave home. Drive up to Ventura.
• 6:30-Arrive at Sharon's. Babysit Jack. Spend the night.

Fridays:

• 8:00-Wake up at Sharon's.
• 9:00-Arrive at Krystal's. Full day.
• 3:00-Leave Krystal's.
• 3:45-Arrive home. Get ready for Shabbat.
• 5:00ish-Shabbat. RELAX!!!!

Saturdays:

• Shabbat. Go to temple, sometimes. More often, sleep until mid-afternoon.
• 6:00ish-Shabbat ends.
• Spend evening babysitting, staring at the wall, or hanging out with friends. Should do more of the latter.

Sundays:

• 2:15-4:15- West Coast Swing master class with Sonny Watson.
• Use the rest of the day to catch up on stuff for the week, or hang out with people. Or waste time on Facebook.

Salsa Diaries

Salsa night at Borderline. Trying to make it a regular thing. Last time had a BOMB dance night, tonight was medium. Had some good moments, had some awkward moments. I'd like to blame the partners, but I have things to work on as well.

Things to work on/learn:

• Spins. Tighter, faster, more controlled, less traveling.
• Less traveling in general. Need to take smaller steps, not run away from my partner, and end up where he puts me.
• Styling. *sigh* I hate styling. But I need some moves so when my #$%$^&%^ partner throws me out there, I have something to do.
• Dance softer: I don't want them to think they're dancing with a freight train.
  
• Dance harder: Don't be afraid to strut my stuff, and show off what moves I do have.

Pet peeves!

• MEN. WHO. TRY. TO. TEACH. YOU.
  
• Leaders who don't LEAD, just dance their own little funky dance the whole time and expect you to read their minds.
• Leads who don't even dance the dance you're supposed to be dancing.
• Leads who are doing their own thing to the point of having their own RHYTHM and expect you to follow it.
• Leads who won't dance down. I want to be challenged, but after I fail to follow your poorly led fancy-shmancy-quadruple-turn-twist-flip-thingy FOR THE THIRD TIME, you should PROBABLY not try to lead it again. For heaven's sake, be a courteous lead, find my level, and challenge me APPROPRIATELY. I'm not having fun when I can't keep up with your RIDICULOUS moves to the point that I'm falling over my own feet. I am not that bad of a dancer, not anymore. When you screw me up, I don't feel inferior anymore; I feel mad. And I'm not going to dance with you anymore. Butthead.

Tango Diaries 2, or, Pet Peeves

Notes for tonight:

• When doing forward ochos, knee-toe-heel-step, then move body weight. Don't lead with the head. Lead with the foot. Keeps the center of gravity in the middle.
• Keep knees together, collect feet together at end of ocho.
• When stepping over his leg, don't lift the foot and step. Drag it, knee first, over his foot, then PLACE it. Hold there, wait for the check.
• Before kicking, connect with his thigh. Then you'll know where his leg is. The kick should not connect with his leg-the connection is already there.

And some pet peeves!

• Young, male dance instructors. Who are taking the class as students. Who think they're all that, show off their moves (not very well, I might add) and flirt OUTRAGEOUSLY with all the older women. Oh my gosh, hello Ashton Kutcher. No, you're not attractive. Shoulder length hair looks greasy, not dashing.
• Leads who smile and nod condescendingly at you when you "do something right." Yeah, that step finally worked because I back-led you into doing it right.
• Leads who think they're teaching you and encourage, critique, and advise you through the dance. Pay attention to your own feet, you just stepped on mine, which is why I tripped. Numb nuts.

Tango Diaries

Notes from tonight's lesson.

-Always extend the leg as far as you can when stepping.
-Be grounded. No need to hold upper body so stiff.
-Don't tilt head like in standard. Look forward, balance will be better.
-Knee-toe-heel-body weight.
-Let the left arm rest on his. A little bit of pressure.

I'm taking an Argentine Tango class. Oh yes I am I am!!!!!! And the dance high is GRRRRRRRREAT!

.

I am a dancer

Not a good one.

Not a creative one.

But movement makes me happy, and music, and expression.

I'm not good at dance -yet- but dance is good at me.

Creative Fail

I think I've lost my creative ability.

My whole life I've loved crafting and sewing and creating. And what with the sewing and costume designing I did during high school, it was somewhat expected that I would go into fashion. Even though I chose to go to university rather than FIDM, I never intended to abandon the dream.

But the ugly truth is I just don't think I have it. I don't have what it takes. Oh, the desire is there. I have always wanted to create. I just have never been all that successful. There is an endless supply of books and bobbins and ribbon and fabric and tools in my room. But that's where it stops. I have half-solid ideas that never come to fruition. A few sketches I can't seem to do anything with. And every time I sit down and try to produce, it ends in frustration.

The list of skills I would like to have is endless. Sketching, painting, photography. Yet somehow I do not have what it takes to acquire those skills. That's probably my biggest fault. I am unable to reach out and try for what I want. It's not even a matter of trying and failing. I don't know how to start trying.

I have tried to ignore it, but the fact is that it's been years since I made anything, really. I think a lot about working on one of my many forgotten projects, but I can't remember the last time I actually did work on one. Tonight I finally forced myself (and really, I shouldn't have to force myself at all) to pull something out. I got all set up, spread the materials around me, tried to be excited, and found myself incredibly depressed instead and completely unable to work.

The worst feeling in the world is realizing you are not an artist, when for your whole life you banked on being one. I don't even know that I get any joy from designing anymore, since whenever I try I am so disheartened by the process.

I am not patient and never have been. I don't like things that don't come naturally to me (with the one exception of dance, and even that has its moments). I have not found what brings me peace and pleasure, and that's the real tragedy.

It really makes me panic sometimes, that I don't know what I like to do. Doesn't everyone know what they like to do? Ostensibly, I like to design and sew and knit and crochet, but in actuality, I can't convince myself to actually do it to save my life.

Identity crisis, much?

She without arm, he without leg

This never fails to amaze me. Forget the sheer brilliance of two severely handicapped people dancing-obviously that's amazing. But the level of skill in their performance would be incredible even if they weren't missing crucial dancing body parts. Then add in their handicaps and the amount of compensating they have to do. They have strength and skill beyond most normal dancers. And the raw emotion is heart wrenching. I have yet to see another performance that is so open, so intensely intimate, and so powerful.

In Which I Go Back to College

Ok, not really.

It's 8:40 AM on a Sunday, and I am sitting in a Starbucks somewhere in San Diego. I came into San Diego for Eyal's birthday weekend extravaganza, the first time I have been back in almost 4 months. I have been seeing friends I hadn't seen in even longer. I hadn't realized how much I was missing being with people my own age. Living at home is great. I love my family and I don't mind being there. But for the first time in four years I'm not surrounded by friends. I barely see anyone my own age with a very few exceptions. I don't make time to see anyone much either.

So coming back here has been a very mixed bag (only I would get overly emotional and introspective on a weekend trip to SD. Bugger). I am thrilled beyond reason to be here. I literally got into town on Friday-right before Shabbat-walked into the La Jolla Ralphs, and felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I was suddenly ten times happier. Then I tried to drive out of the Ralphs parking lot and remembered why I HATE IT SO MUCH. But I digress.

I love being here. I love seeing all my friends, and getting up to old shenanigans that I have been sorely missing. I would love being here even if I had no friends here-I just love this city. Within 30 seconds of getting off the freeway I knew I needed to move back here, and soon. But it has also made me sad. I'm not in college anymore, and there's no way of reclaiming that time. It was four precious years and already I feel like an old lady, telling everyone, "in my day...!" Walking through I-house, I felt none of the old anxiety it used to bring me, and realized that I wasted a good amount of my college time being depressed, anxious, or unhappy. I couldn't have changed it-we feel the way we do, when we do, and there's no escaping that. But I wish I could have appreciated where I was more. Hindsight is 20-20.

Without sounding too preachy, the one thing I want to say to my friends who are still in college is that the best part of college, the part that you'll miss the most, is living in an environment where you are constantly surrounded by your friends. Never again will you have so many friends living so near you, and so available to hang out, study together, party together, be there in a pinch, take you to the hospital, and pull all nighters. After college, people go their separate ways. You may still have a group that sticks together but it will be much smaller. And it's easier for life to separate you once you've left the nest of school.

So take the advice of this old lady (haha) and understand why exactly it is that they say these years are the best ones. It's all about friends.

Latkes

My family makes latkes every year, and sometimes they're good and sometimes they're not. They're never great. But I have finally stumbled across a recipe that works.

What made it great, compared to what we've tried before?

• Grate the potatoes raw. None of this cooking the potatoes first. Blech.
• More onion than we used to use. At least it seemed that way to me.
• SAUTE THE ONIONS FIRST!
  
• Saute some minced garlic in with the onions: Mmmmm!!!
• Don't try to make patties out of the latke mix: Drop clumps/balls of the mix into the oil, then press them flat with a spatula (maybe that's common knowledge and I'm just dumb, but I'm still excited by the discovery, so hush.)
• Use olive oil, not vegetable oil. Everyone thought I was crazy for this one, but a) it worked and b) isn't the miracle about olive oil in the first place!?
  

I don't know what else to say: guess the Latke Fairy was with me tonight, because those were some bitchin' latkes. Thank you Aviva Markowitz and father!

And for your enjoyment: The video/song that is sweeping the internet and being played on repeat all night in my house.....



Happy 4th night!

Happy

Hanuka.
Hanukah
Hanukkah.
Hanukka.
Hannukka.
Hannukkah.
Hannuka.
Hannukah.
Chanukkah.
Chanukka.
Channukkah.
Channukka.
Chanukah.
Chanuka.
Channuka.
Chanukah.
Channukah.


Is is just me, or do the letters start looking like Russian after a while?