| | just friendsA visually impaired dancer has just made Mia Michaels weep. It's so heart-wrenching, watching eyes too hurt to see but not to cry. She's leaving the door quietly and gracefully, accepting her denial, supposedly "not because of" her visual impairment-- but I don't believe that, as Nigel's only complaint was doubts about choreography. I'm no expert on dance (although quite the enthusiast; I'll poke my head into the studio at school after lunch every day to watch the Modern class), but the passion in this girl's face radiated through her limbs and out of her extremities and stroked the hearts of everyone in the room. (So You Think You Can Dance premiere has just begun.) 
One of my few celebrity encounters that I can brag on has been Cat Deeley  On an apparel trip to NYC last February, one of my many amazing experiences was being part of the sign-waving crowd on an episode of Good Morning America. Unbeknownst to us frozen, scarf-swaddled tourists, Cat was the guest on the show, and as we huddled inside on our off-camera segment, I watched her interview, embarrasingly starstruck. SYTYCD is one of the few television shows that I enjoy (and not just enjoy-- am captivated by). I don't think we were really supposed to get her attention, but I saw that she had sixty seconds offstage, so I mouthed Can I have a picture? and she ran over, made small talk, posed for a picture and complimented my gloves. I just kind of gaped. She was so, so sweet, though, and it makes the show even more enjoyable to watch now. 
The world seems busier in the past several weeks than usual; it's like we've all been drinking too much caffeine and things are running and crashing and breaking. Myanmar, east coast tornadoes (including weekly touchdowns in my area). China's earthquake. Steven Curtis Chapman's daughter. Gas prices skyrocketing. My friend's mother in an accident, crime at school. The three-legged dog next door, our neighborhood hero, died. Handfuls of other events that I can't even recall at this time. iPod's loaded up with news bites of each tragedy that comes rushing in. What is happening to the world? There's something new to mourn each day. I'm waiting for the world to ice or melt, to turn into 1984, to create the next atom bomb. There's an impending and growing fear that I'm picking up on, one that might take minutes or years to fully be born, but it's what I imagine the last days before the Great Depression would feel like, a stomach-turning thickness in the air as things roll towards the edge of the cliff. 
Speaking of caffeine, Starbucks has just produced doubleshot energy+coffee. I used to be a drinker of Monsters and other energy concotions a few years ago, and have since tired of the taste of antifreeze fused with tropical fruits. I do like Java Monsters, though, and the new Doubleshot (not pictured above; that's regular Doubleshot cans. I can't find a picture of the new drink) is excellent. My mum bought me a Vanilla one yesterday, and it's magnificent. Not to mention that it's essentially a liquid multivitamin. On a happier (but perhaps related, whilst thinking on potential crises) note, I was thinking over the things I carry in life. I didn't want to offer up the "island" paradigm, but if I could only take ten things in an empty locked room with me for an indefinite period of time, what would I bring? Reading this month's Reader's Digest issue and an article about surviving in crisis with only household objects made me think more pragmatically about this, but there's bound to be some sentimentality involved no matter how long I ponder it. Here's what I can come up with at this time; I'm sure I'll look back later at this list, if I still have access to it, and laugh at parts of it, hopefully agreeing with other parts. In no priorital order. 1. A bottle of Clinique oil-free moisturizer Like I said, this is not in priorital order, but this is really not related to vanity or looks. Since I was little, my mother has been using Clinique, and although I generally fight anything parentally-advised, my aversion to any skin that isn't velvet-smooth has led me to live off body butters, lotions, scrubs, and this canary-colored moisturizer, a calmly unscented reminder of childhood and trusted remedies. 2. Music Box I don't know if I can count something I bought for someone else. This came from a trinkety shop called Paper Skyscraper near South End, and I bought it for Alex. It's a palm-sized, wind-up music box that plays "You Are My Sunshine," the song that I feel more than any other can express how I feel about a person when I love them. Something just twists my heartstrings when I wind it up and let the song unroll in my palm, every memory of the feelings of love playing out in 15 seconds. 3. Eye Drops In the most unexpected times in my life, my eyes become unbearably irritated and itchy, sometimes to the point where I can't even open them. Often this is provoked by allergies, sometimes it's not-- but I'm sure it would happen if I was in a room alone for an extended period, so being able to self-medicate with these often would be necessary. My eye just hurt thinking about it. 4. Warm Socks My little sister sucked her thumb and had a blanket; I never had conventional "security habits" as a small child, but I have certain things in life that serve as my blanket and somehow instill in me a deep sense of safety, happiness and security in my place in the world. A thick pair of socks, especially to sleep in, feels safer and more familiar than anything in the world; it marks the time when I''m either hidden away in cozy boots or curled up in my bed, living in my head. 5. Diamond Necklace Another Alex gift; he represents three years of my life, and so I won't defend his multiple occupations on my list. He gave me this necklace, two tiny diamonds and a sapphire on a tiny silver chain, our first Christmas together. Like every Christmas, we decorated a gingerbread house, and at that point, I don't think we realized how much we'd change each others' lives. I've hardly taken this off for years, which I've never done with jewelry before. the closest I've ever come to a luck charm or sacred object of any sort-- I look at this when I want to be confident that I am loved. 6. Dario Marianelli's Works on a CD Marianelli composed the scores for Atonement, Pride and Prejudice, and other less famous films, and in my mind, his music essentially created those films and the impact that the stories within them delivered. His compositions are complex, heartbreaking, and nostalgically romantic, and could keep me alive in isolation. One of those music picks I wouldn't tire of. 7. High Heels I've absolutely adored the feeling of dancing around by myself in heels my entire life. I can run in heels, skip in heels, chill in heels; I'm unsually comfortable in crazy-high stilettos, ironic since I'm not unusually girly. I've had a couple of pairs that have carried me through big cities and are close to my heart and feet, but I'll have to go with the tallest pair I currently own, a 5 and-a-half inch heeled white closed-toe pump. I could tell you that I wear them to increase my leg-to-hip ratio, to become more evolutionarily appealing, to attract males and further the species. I won't even theorize. I think we understand the kind of confidence that a solid heel brings. 8. Shiloh I have liked many novels throughout my life, but Shiloh was the first book (or trilogy, in fact) that I have loved. Though I read Shiloh, Shiloh Season and Saving Shiloh for the first time in third grade, I still am in love with the story, the characters, the setting. I can still read them and feel the same feelings. And every once in a while, I have to take a break from Hemingway and Kafka and Faulkner and the complex, renowned works of the greats to come back to this. 9. Notebook This comes into play with No. 10. Scrawling out free verse, poetry, letters, letters not meant to be sent, lists, daydreams, goals, stories, and elaborate works of art made of words is like my self-medication, the only way I can truly soothe and distract and entertain myself. When I write, I truly slip inside my own mind and nothing else around me is significant. A solid, attractive new notebook with hundreds of blank sheets waiting to be inked would be the only friend I'd need. 10. Sharpie If I'm going down in this room, it's going to be with a writing utensil. Or several; I'd pick a fine-point magenta, a standard black and a thick-tip violet. Sharpies are my medium for sketching, listing, and writing letters. I would pass time by writing poetry, journaling, and creating murals on the blank walls, perhaps messages to others, things to remember-- if I ran out of space, I'd write on myself, and if the room became cold, I'd color myself dark to absorb more heat. Writing keeps me sane, so this is likely the most important object I could keep. 
This isn't mine. I know the last photography I published on here was around, uh, January.. yiikes. Haha. I've taken much more since then, I assure you. Will be adding soon.  |
