My Space

So I got bored and accidentally made a tiny dance film in my bedroom.

 

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#MakeDentonGreatAgain

My roommate and I caught a little spare time and an empty studio during the last week of camp. Here are a few moves that happened:

And with that we’ve wrapped up the program, put together a performance with two weeks of rehearsal, ran a show and move-outs in a thunderstorm, said bye to some awesome kiddos, and got very far out of Denton.

It’s been real, Texas.

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Things I Did In Paris

The Shmoop version:

  • Spent time wandering through parks and sitting on benches and lingering in cafes not feeling bad about not being productive like I do in New York.
  • Improv-ed a lot.
  • Found my groove. Forgot where I left it and lost it again. Found it. It ran away. Chased it around.
  • Krumped.
  • Choreographed in a park.
  • Learned to like journaling.
  • Wine.
  • Had some late night w(h)ine and feelings conversations that dug deep.
  • Needed friends. Found them.
  • Cried in public.
  • Cried in private.
  • Had about four and a half identity crises.
  • Ate snails. Didn’t hate them.

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    Garlic can fix anything.

  • Almond croissants.
  • Macarons.
  • Monoprix brand chocolate mousse.
  • Saw seven performances, which I loved, hated, and felt meh about, sometimes all at once.
  • Noticed which moments from those performances (whether love, hate, or meh) still stuck with me after a few weeks.
  • Was impressed at the size, diversity, and casual-ness of theater audiences. Realized that subsidized tickets probably have something to do with it.
  • Developed an appreciation for NYC’s 24-hour subway service after 2am.
  • Dealt with some transportation strikes.
  • Learned to get around using actual maps instead of just Google Maps.
  • Took dance classes in French. Was thankful for ballet terms and body language.
  • Was an open class junky as usual.
  • Really felt like I was hitting a wall with my performance (in that I literally ran into the wall during a performance).
  • Got good at saying “je voudrais”” and “pardon” and “Je ne parle pas français.”
  • Gave directions in Arabic once (which is a big deal for me given that I rarely have competent directional knowledge or language skills, let alone both at the same time).
  • Got lost in museums.
  • Wondered why I was in museums and theaters when the world is a mess.
  • Went to more museums.
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Posture jungement.

  • Spent a long time looking at art and an equally long time looking at graffiti. Tried to figure out the difference.13494989_10208692991714392_1993365495488247232_n
  • Wandered around cemeteries looking for famous dead people. Wondered about the non-famous dead people I saw along the way. Tried to Google their names. Found nothing.

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    Nijinsky though…

  • Decided that I should to make a resume section for every airport security additional screening test I pass (It’s senior year–gotta pad that resume with something).
  • Realized how quickly I can get comfortable in new cities.
  • Didn’t necessarily leave with the feeling that I need to move to Paris, but with the feeling that I could move there, or a whole lot of other places, and find bits of home-ish.

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Thoughts on Journaling

As my month is Paris is winding down, I thought I’d post some bits from the journal I’ve been keeping here, starting with some feelings about journaling itself (so #meta, right?)


It’s weird for me writing on paper. Usually I like to write on my laptop so I that I can start at the middle, if I need to, then work to the beginning, then shuffle it all up until it makes sense. So I can leave blanks when I don’t know how to say it and come back to it when I find the right word. So I can iterate over a sentence, making little tweaks until it finally says what I mean.

I’ve heard that journaling is supposed to be more “raw and authentic,” “stream of consciousness,” and I see how there’s something in in getting thoughts down as they come out, with minimal editing. But usually, my consciousness doesn’t work like a stream, flowing constantly and unidirectionally down one line (as meandering as that line may be). It jumps around and disappears and stops and runs backwards and circles back on itself and sometimes flies away.

Maybe that’s why I have an easier time choreographing than I do with improv. I like to return and reorder and readjust, but it’s something else to make movement flow out on the spot in order. I guess I just have to get used to the fact that things don’t always come out just “right,” and get on with it.

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