Last night I dreamed that I was in the woods, picking up shiny rocks from a streambed in a place where it cascaded down a little hill. There were some people I knew (you know, that random dream collection of nobody in particular and everybody all at once) a little ways away. I heard a crashing sound and looking downstream, I saw a large bull moose splashing around in the stream. I was quite worried because moose can be dangerous, and this one looked pretty agitated. As I wondered if I could sneak away into the underbrush, the moose charged upstream at me. I curled up into a ball in the water, in the hopes that it wouldn't notice me and hopefully not trample me. When the moose got to me, it lowered its head and sniffed at me. I could feel its hot breath on my face [2]. I started to think it might be okay after all, and then was suddenly swept into the air by a man riding a black horse. There was a boy with the man, and I realized that I was a child too. I think actually I was Lyra, which would make the boy Will and the man probably Lord Asriel, as he had that sort of look to him. I was pretty sure that I had to take the horse and ride off on a mission of some sort, which was very exciting, but the dream got muddled from there. Up to that point, it was extremely vivid.

Then this morning, I read in the paper that a moose had strolled into Wellesley yesterday afternoon around 5:30pm, and was last seen heading into Natick. Biologists speculated that it was a young male moose who had just left his mother and was looking for a territory of his own.

Coincidence? Hmmm...


[1] this was right out of my forest service experience in california. We didn't pick up many things, but we did look for bedrock mortars where native people sat and ground acorns. These mortars were often in or right alongside stream beds so that the water could wash away the bitterness of the acorns as they were being ground.

[2] i don't doubt in the slightest that in the real world, there was a ferret sniffing my face at that moment.
- posted by Regina @ 11:35 AM

 
Two days after my big show my feet still hurt but I am happy with how it went. Some things certainly could have gone better (there was a lot of tension between various personalities in the days leading up to the show, and it hadn't entirely dissipated by Monday, which affected us all), but all in all I'm proud of what we did. Can't wait to see canongrrl's photos!

Saturday night we have a gig in Burlington, MA. It's our first paid gig, which is cool, but I'm a little anxious about the show. It's an African fashion show, which is cool and all, but I hope the promoters understand that we aren't remotely African and that the crowd is cool with this too. Our dresses, should they arrive in time, will be from Egypt and the music is from Egypt but we are about as caucasian as it gets in appearance. I suspect it will all be okay in the end, but I don't know enough about it not to be nervous.

On Tuesday, the day after the show, I went to have an audiogram done. I've been having a strange and often uncomfortable flinching sensation in my right ear, unsettling enough to make me go see the doctor about it. It only affects me if I am in either a very, very quiet place or a very, very loud place and somebody speaks to me or a drum is hit--it's as though my ear is struggling to separate the distinct sound from the silence or the background din. I'll mention here that I have never heard that well out of my right ear, so if you talk at me from my right side in a club, chances are I can't hear you. The audiogram was an interesting experience. You sit in a soundtight (and therefore airtight) room with headphones on and listen to tones and repeat words. If you are in the booth I was in, you are also creeped out by the Donald Duck Halloween mask hanging in the corner; presumably it's there to comfort children in the booth, but it does not at all comfort adults with overactive imaginations who have seen too many horror movies. I will now listen to Matmos' song Spondee very differently now, having done that very exercise in the course of the test. I'll probably listen to that whole album differently.

Anyway, the end result was that I am showing early warning signs of tinnitus, both in that flinching and in the loss of some of my upper range hearing. I am trying not to be too freaked out by this because it is pretty common--Blixa Bargeld speaks of his tinnitus very matter of factly and it obviously hasn't prevented him from following his career in music. My dad has had it for a few years now and he also continues to listen to and enjoy music. And if I become religious about wearing earplugs in noisy situations now, I will be able to stave off my ears' deterioration for longer. There was some good news in all this too, in that I have quite acute hearing in most ranges.

But the fact of the matter is that I am pretty freaked out by this. Music is an integral part of my being. The music of my two subcultures is a crucial part of who I am, and I am a dancer. How can I not hear?

- posted by Regina @ 11:51 AM

 
Too little sleep leaves me in a permanent state of melancholy, it seems. I've been very down on myself for the last several days, and I'm pretty sure a lot of it has to do with sleep deprivation. I went to an excellent workshop with a warm and friendly teacher this weekend and still felt ready to burst into tears of frustration and despair on a few occasions. On the second day of the workshop I did actually end up crying in the bathroom, and I don't even really know why. Well, I guess I do know why: because I will never be a great dancer. I'll be good enough for the amateur scene, but I don't have the time or the strength or the natural talent or the youth to become anything more. That's very saddening. And sometimes it feels like the more I try, the less I can accomplish because I use up my strength and energy too soon and am left flat and struggling.

I also learned a little last week about the way other people sometimes perceive me, and that made me a bit sad as well. Nothing terrible, but something that I'm not sure I like. Or on the other hand, I might be intensely proud of that perception I apparently induce, but then I'm not sure that I like being proud of it. And certainly it has made me rethink many relationships and situations I've had in a different light. I think it's something that has hurt me, but I don't know any other way to be except the person who I am.

I wish I lived in some kind of Xena fantasy land where I could just fight the good fight and be kickass yet kind and know that I was making a difference in the world.

Now I'm even sadder than I was.


- posted by Regina @ 1:07 PM

 
At the doctor's yesterday I checked out the body mass index chart. The term for a good weight is "desireable." That is a terrible word choice; inevitably the word "undesirable" springs to mind when one's numbers don't match up. Couldn't they have said target or healthy or appropriate or something like that?

My leg is killing me this week but I think that is actually a good thing, because the location of the killingness has shifted from my knee tendons and foot directly into my Achilles tendon and connecting calf muscles. My theory is that this means my tendon is finally stretching as far as it should and it's complaining about it after years of not stretching far enough. So I take this as a positive sign. This weekend it will have been two years since my original injury, so I think I'm due for some real improvement after a year and a half of therapy and exercises. Maybe it will someday be normal. That would be nice.

I should just rename this Z's Leg's Blog, I think...


- posted by Regina @ 12:03 PM

 
recipe for exhaustion:

Help a friend move on saturday afternoon.

Eat a late lunch.

Don't eat dinner.

Go out on saturday night. Drink most of a bottle of red wine, and stay out until 3am.

Go to bed at about quarter to 4.

Get up at 10am on Sunday.

Fight crowds of red sox fans to get to a dance rehearsal. Dance for an hour.

Go home. Don't eat lunch. Go to the plant store and buy a bunch of plants.

Go home and undertake massive weeding operation, then plant the plants. This will take about three hours.

Have a beer.

I'm so drained it feels like a drug. A pretty good drug. But I do wish tomorrow weren't Monday.

- posted by Regina @ 7:12 PM

 
sometimes talking is like pulling my own teeth. the power of speech is rooted that deep far inside me somewhere, reluctant to release itself.

- posted by Regina @ 11:59 AM

 
waiting for the bus this morning, sunglasses, ponytail, wind blowing around my silk scarf in the sunlight--there really ought to have been a jaguar convertible coming to pick me up rather than a big old dielsel bus. And then I get to work and take off my coat, and discover a liberal sprinkling of glitter on my shirt, courtesy of Saturday night's performance. What did those incredibly glamourous women in film noir do for a living? How did they make ends meet? Maybe Leah Callahan knows.

The show on the 24th went very nicely. Of course there were things I wish I had done differently or better, but one should always have room for improvement, otherwise life would be stagnant. The crowd response was great, I had fun, Amber Spyglass had fun, and I got a standing invitation from Leah Callahan to participate in her caberet events, which I think I will take her up on in the future. People started tipping me in my costume, which was a bit unnerving; lesson learned is that if something is making me uncomfortable, stop it before it starts. I let the first person do it because I liked her, but then other people decided that meant everybody could do it. Perhaps I should have been more threatening with the sword ;)

I liked dancing with the sword quite a bit, and it's not as difficult as one would think. I was very happy with how things looked when I rented the studio at the Dance Complex, so I went into it feeling good. Of course the sword slid off my head once and wobbled a couple of times, but I caught it, and I suppose it served to highlight how hard it is to balance a sword on one's head. People were way more impressed with my balancing the sword on my hip and turning in a circle--Mathew heard someone exclaim "That's not human!" On my quite human body it's not difficult to balance the sword there; rounded padded hips can sometimes be an advantage, it seems. I'll have pictures posted somewhere soon, once I get them out of my camera.

Then the next night was Einstuerzende Neubauten, and what a wonderful night that was. I volunteered to check in supporters, give them their buttons, explain the night to them and sell them copies of the live cd. I was glad that I did it. I got to meet some interesting people, and it felt nice to be a part of the team making everything happen. Plus I got to boss around Paradise security a little bit at the meet and greet following the show. The meet and greet was a bit odd--it's such an artificial situation to be in. I feel sure that if I were hanging out at a party with members of Neubauten, we would have great conversations, but

--break for watching the hawk on my balcony. Its feathers are all fluffed out and the wind teases them in all directions. It must feel nice. I can only imagine how soft they are. The hawk watches everything, craning its neck to see the oblivious people walking down the sidewalks underneath. This is what a glamourous raptor does for a living.--

well, anyway the members of Neubauten were gracious and down-to-earth, with patience for fans even after a two hour plus show of amazing intensity and beauty. Blixa Bargeld signed my surrealist lunchbox, a life goal of mine. My intellectual/artistic heroes all in one place. It was also gratifying that he liked the lunchobox very much, and I was happy that he recognized so many of the young surrealists.

The artisitically rewarding weekend was followed by grueling days of illness, just now starting to abate. This is good, because I want to enjoy the Kentucky Derby this weekend with style, which is to say, with plentiful mint juleps.


- posted by Regina @ 11:59 AM

 
too many sweettarts
high voltage wire nerves sing
think I'll have one more


- posted by Regina @ 12:36 PM

 
There's nothing like calling a dance studio to reserve rehearsal time for yourself to make you feel like a real dancer.

I've ambitiously committed myself to a sword dance on the 24th, as well as a veil piece. So over the last few weeks I've dug up my sword, bought a video to practice with, and worn a groove in the top of my skull practicing. It's actually not as difficult as I thought it was--or at least I think it's not. Saturday's rehearsal with mirrors should be a reality check. I'm a little worried that I might be making movements too small. But I'll find out! I'm excited about the event, it's another cabaret deal and I'll be dancing to Siouxsie covers performed by Amber Spyglass.


- posted by Regina @ 11:49 AM

 
Also, the news that Tobasco Cat passed away has made me very sad. I will forever maintain that he could have won the Kentucky Derby and gone on to win the Triple Crown had he only felt like it that first Saturday in May. You could argue that winning the Derby might have taken too much out of him to then go on and win the Preakness and Belmont as he did, but he must have spent at least as much energy fighting with his jockey as he would have if he had run all out. He just didn't feel like it that day, sitting down on his haunches like a dog in the starting gate. I hope he went out happy though--they say he died of a stroke in the breeding shed. Not a bad way for a big red stallion with a mind of his own to go.

- posted by Regina @ 6:14 PM

 
Objectively, I know that having the PA and monitors and mic stands and lead singer at the Scissorkiss show in Providence is more important and necessary than having me at the show in Providence. There is not room for all of that stuff and me in the car. The show can't happen without those other things. It can happen without me.

Subjectively, that didn't stop me from crying myself to sleep last night. And it hasn't stopped me from feeling sick and numb today. Part of me is hoping I can catch a ride with somebody else, but a bigger part of me is telling me not to get my hopes up and besides I'm not needed anyway so I should just stay home and forget about my stupid vacation, which was prompted by the show in Providence in the first place.

I'm supposed to go out dancing tonight but mostly I just want to throw up. I think I'm hungover from all the crying.




- posted by Regina @ 1:33 PM

 
Sedna was the most beautiful girl in her village and the daughter of the best hunter. In those days there were no large game animals, so it took a lot of hunting for a man to feed his family on small animals and fish. She never wanted for food, and everybody constantly praised her, remarking especially on her long, lustrous hair. "That woman," the people said, "will marry a fine man, and our village will be all the better for building bonds from such a man, the kind of man that Sedna will marry!" And so of course, Sedna believed that the man she would marry must be the finest man alive. She would have none of any of the men in her village. After all, if her father was the best hunter, then they were all inferior sorts of men. The young men strove to outdo each other, competing for Sedna's favor, but nothing they did was ever enough for her. Nobody would say so to her face, of course, but it began to seem odd to the villagers that Sedna would not marry, and her father pleaded with her to no avail to accept the best of the young men as a husband.

Then one day a fine young stranger arrived in a large boat, laden with rich furs and all manner of meat. He was a very handsome man, and after an evening of watching him, Sedna declared, "This is the man I will marry!" The village rejoiced at her fine catch, although it did seem odd to everyone that the handsome stranger covered his mouth whenever he smiled, so that you could not see his teeth. Sedna's father gave his blessing to the union, and Sedna set off with the stranger in his boat, sitting proud and tall on a pile of furs.

When they came to the shore of his land, he smiled for the first time without hiding his teeth, and Sedna was surprised to see how sharp and pointed they were. "My husband," she began, but before she could finish he had leapt from the boat to the shore and as his feet touched ground they became paws, and there stood a husky dog. A fine dog, to be sure, but certainly not a handsome man. "What's the matter," barked the dog, "am I not the best hunter you have ever seen?" Sedna screamed, and the sound of her cry carried back to her father in his sleep. He followed the echos until he found her sitting on the shore under the upturned boat, looking miserable. "well," he said, we all make mistakes. now maybe you'll marry a nice village boy." "Maybe," said Sedna, and they set off for home.

Once they were home the women of the village combed out Sedna's beautiful hair and welcomed her back, each woman whispering into Sedna's ear who they thought the best catch in the village would be. Sedna was non-committal, and as the days and weeks went on, it was clear that she was as set in her determination as always that none of the village men were good enough for her.

And one day a handsome stranger arrived in a boat laden with shells and all kinds of fish and delicacies from the sea. He was a little pale and his eyes were very round, but still, he was handsome and there was no question that he was a good hunter, better than any of the young men of the village. Sedna was again smitten, and her father once again, although a little reluctantly this time, gave the union his blessing. Sedna set off to sea with her new husband. But rather than following the shore, he set a course straight out into the sea. "My husband," said Sedna, "where are we going? And what is that horrendous noise and stench?" He smiled at her as a giant rock covered with gulls and terns came into view. "That is my village," said Sedna's new husband, and with that he leapt into the air, spreading long white wings and looking back down at Sedna over his gull's beak. And Sedna screamed.

Her father sighed, and got back into his boat. He paddled until he found the great rock of squwaking birds, Sedna hunched miserably just above the tide line. The gulls and terns had been picking at her hair for nesting materials and she looked a fright. Yet no sooner had they put out to sea than Sedna began talking about how to look for her next husband, "because those village boys are no good, they never will be." Sedna's father thought about this for a moment, turned to Sedna, said "Good luck finding him, then." And he pushed her overboard.

She clung to the side of the boat pleading with her father to pull her back in and started to pull herself up with her strong hands. Her father took out his knife and cut her fingers off so that she could not climb up. As the fingers fell into the water, they became seals, something never before seen. Other fingers became caribou, striking out for shore, and others became great salmon and small whales, leaping away over the waters. Sedna sank to the deeps, hair swirling in tendrils around her, still crying "the best hunter will be mine!"

So now Sedna lives at the bottom of the sea, controlling the spirits of those animals that came from her flesh. She gave the gift of being great hunters to people, but when she is cranky, she keeps her animals close to her and doesn't let them out to meet people. In those times the shaman has to fall deep into the sea through trance and cheer her up by combing her hair free of snarls, reminding her that all the great hunters belong to her now. Then if she feels mollified, she will let the animal spirits travel up to meet the hunters so that the people may eat. All the hunters may have human wives, but she knows that she is the one to whom they are truly married.

This post was inspired by the fact that I am cranky and my hair needs washing and I am wearing my Sedna necklace. The river flows by me and I can imagine being underneath it, moping around with seals and caribou until somebody comes to comb out my hair and tell me it's all okay.

- posted by Regina @ 12:41 PM

 
I really need to lock myself away and cry for a while. Just too much piled up too fast. I try to improve things, I get slapped down for it. I get yelled at for things I wasn't responsible for. I take it out on the wrong people and despise myself for it. In all situations, I have to keep my mouth shut. I am not making enough effort in any part of my life. I am squished into a tight little box and I think my skin is starting to crack and implode.

And my foot hurts. What else is new.


- posted by Regina @ 12:48 PM

 
The river is frozen over and for a moment today I felt that my life had frozen as well. Just as I did as a research assistant in grad school, I went to the library (the law library, as it were and as I often did then) to photocopy articles for a professor. The old familiar rituals of explore the stacks, find the book (or not), photocopy pages, checking to make sure all the text fits, starting with the last page and copying my way back to the first, looking at the law students and feeling more than vaguely alien--it all felt so familiar. What city would I step out into when I left the library?

When I did step outside, the river before me was the Charles, not the St. Laurence. The bridge over Storrow Drive to the river's bank beckoned, so I crossed over to the riverside, walking back to my office surrounded by the strange silence of a city--a silence that really isn't, with the noise of the cars and the wind, but a silence made of the absence of human noise. The cars don't count, because on the highway they take on the character of being part of a river of their own. So I walked back in this silence-that-isn't, feeling the sunlight warm on my black jacket and the wind creating arabesques in my hair. I see the river all day long from my office, but it takes on a different character up close, more real somehow and a reminder of the natural world, muddy banks with animal tracks, twisted stumps sending up new shoots, the evidence of little lives that we know nothing about, and me passing by with my thoughts of places and people and who I might be.

Time froze for a moment today.
- posted by Regina @ 12:41 PM

 
so overwhelmingly tired... I was actually happy to hear that the red line was experiencing delays this morning, as it meant I could sleep longer.

The show went really well on Friday. Moon Colony started with some technical difficulties, which I think maybe I should just expect with that song unless I'm performing it with the band. This is now the second time I've been stranded on the stage with no music. So I smiled and shrugged prettily at the audience, because really what else can you do once you're on the stage? Unfortunately most of the choreography flew out of my head, but by all accounts I covered well. The second song, Habbeza, went very, very well. There are times when you are dancing when the music flies by, you are at the end of the song before you know it, and you just feel so incredibly *on*--and this was one of those times. I love the song and I had a blast dancing to it and got tons of great feedback afterwards. The event organizer remarked that this was probably the first time a lot of the people in the audience had ever seen a real live bellydancer, so I'm glad they got it. I could certainly tell that I wasn't dancing for a regular dance audience though--the lack of clapping and yelling during my performance threw me off a bit until I realized that they just didn't know that it was okay to do that kind of thing. Certainly they clapped and yelled when I was done!

The whole event was very enjoyable--I heard some bands that I'd heard of but hadn't actually heard before and met a bunch of new people and had some good conversations with both friends and strangers. The Zeitgeist is a nice little venue. The owner is interested in having bellydance events, and I'm thinking it might be a nice venue for an experimental bellydance show for people to come and do works in progress, pieces to unconventional music, the sort of thing that doesn't fit at regular venues. Not that I have any time to plan anything right now, but if I can get some co-conspirators perhaps this could happen in the spring or summer.

I'm feeling good about dancing in general right now--when I did Habbeza for class, Seyyide commented on how much progress I've made with posture and expression, which made me feel quite proud. I know I have a ways to go when it comes to a lifted posture, but I feel like I'm starting to feel internally how it should be done and that my muscles are finally starting to cooperate with my intentions. When I look at the posed photos I did back in early November, I know that I could pose better now. I do have a lot of work to do over the next few months, what with a teacher showcase at the end of February and our annual show sometime after that, but I'm looking forward to it. That's how you improve! I'm still very thankful for the whole contest experience back in September, because I showed myself that I could do a lot more than I thought I could if I only worked at it. Now if only my stupid foot and achilles tendon would get better...

In the meanwhile, this day will never end. I slept poorly all weekend and was already feeling asthma symptoms before spending a chunk of Sunday in a smoky room, so I'm somewhat oxygen deprived in general. I used Ventolin at work on Monday which I hate doing, because then my hands shake too much to type. Better than ceasing to breathe, I guess. The last seven days have taken a lot out of me. I am so looking forward to plunking my bottom on the couch tonight and watching mediocre scifi (Enterprise) and fabulous fantasy-horror (Angel) and not doing anything remotely productive except maybe brushing my teeth before slouching off to bed. Yeah.
- posted by Regina @ 12:39 PM

 
Pan came through so well--he was pretty chipper when we brought him home, and isn't picking at his tail at all. They did a good job in closing it up, and his hair is even growing back already. When he finally does grow all the hair back, it won't even be obvious that he lost any of his tail. Happy Pan! Happy us! He's on a few days' worth of painkillers, but fortunately he thinks they taste good (that or he can make the connection that it makes him feel better, he is a smart weasel). It is all a huge weight off my shoulders. Even paying for it all won't be that bad--the surgery came in under the estimate, and I have three months without interest to pay it off. So all's well that ends well.

Now I just have my performance on Friday to stress about. Although I'm probably more stressed about doing a run-through of the new choreography in class tomorrow than I am about the actual show. And I'm way more stressed about how I am going to get to the show in time than I am about the actual performance. But it will all fall together, and if I'm late getting there, then I'll just go on later. I have the choreography pretty much finished; there's a weak part in the middle in a part of the music that I think just goes on too long, but at least I can move all the way through. I really like what I've done, and as I rehearse this piece and Moon Colony I realise that I am a more sophisticated choreographer than I was 18 months ago.

I finished sewing my "spider belly" pants as well and am very happy with how they turned out. I sewed beads and coins along the ends of the spider straps, sort of the equivalent of a techno tassel. God help me, I'm going to end up in tribal costuming yet. I suppose what I am doing might fall into the triberet category, except that my movements are more Egyptian. All quibbles that most likely nobody but me will be aware of on Friday, but I do try to be aware of what I'm doing and not just wildly mix and match. Ah well. Sometimes you just go with what works.

- posted by Regina @ 1:23 PM

 
YAY!!! My little Pan-fried noodle came through surgery just fine and he's awake and now I'm just waiting for Mathew to come pick me up so we can go bring the noodle home!!!
- posted by Regina @ 4:18 PM

 
My eyes close because I am so tired and then I think maybe Pan's eyes are closed right now too as he lies on the operating table and then I am too anxious to be tired.


- posted by Regina @ 2:21 PM

 
I think of that day in April 2002 and suddenly I am fighting back tears. I don't think the pain will ever dull. I took all the pain she was living with and made it mine.

- posted by Regina @ 2:03 PM

 
lots of time gone by--the holidays went by in a blur. Much gift-giving and receiving and attending social events (as well as hosting one) and all was well. Honestly, I think this was one of my best holiday seasons ever, helped along by my creative frenzy over the last six weeks or so--marble magnets and cabinet handles, glass bead magnets, the belts for our December performance, a recreation of Bjork's swan dress in black velvet and organza for New Year's eve (really!), building a headboard, cooking, and probably more stuff that I'm forgetting. It feels very good to have the opportunity to do something creative, especially when many of these are projects I easily completed in a couple of hours. So often I start projects and then they lie around for days-weeks-months-years and never quite get completed. What I've been doing makes me very happy.

For my next projects I am going to stain a small table grey and do a mosaic on the top, rework a pair of spider pants into technobellyharempants for an upcoming performance and hopefully do _something_ about that ugly, ugly living room ceiling light. Both Mathew and I have been on a real push to get the apartment decorated, especially our bedroom. In the last two places we've lived, the bedrooms never really felt finished, as though we ran out of steam by the time we hit the end of the apartment. Doing the headboard in the bedroom has already made a big difference in its coziness quotient and inspired us to do more.

Another area for creativity is an upcoming dance performance in February with a group exploring the relationship between artists and technology, or something like that. At first I wasn't that sure how I fit in, but now I feel confident in myself as an artist exploring technology in the form of technobelly through a more traditional medium, that of dance. This week in class we learned some great combinations that will fit one of my songs excellently. So I'm all fired up for that--just have to make the time to practice!

The only really negative thing going on right now, apart from Mathew having the flu, is that Pan has a lump growing on the end of his tail. I am sure it is chordoma, but we have a vet visit scheduled soon to find out for sure. If it is chordoma (a bone tumor), curing it means chopping off the last inch or so of his tail, which isn't too bad, but I worry about his ability to deal with the stress of the experience, that I'll bring him in for minor surgery and he'll come home with bleeding ulcers. I feel so protective of poor little Pan. I'm almost tempted to try Bach's rescue remedies or various other forms of snake oil that are reputed to have calming effects on ferrets--if the vet says it can't hurt, it may be worth giving it a try. We'll see. I keep reminding myself that the surgery is totally curative and what the heck, it's only money :-/

back to work, I suppose...
- posted by Regina @ 1:43 PM

 
Over the last couple of weeks I have sewed four dance belts, attended rehearsals and class and practiced at home, all the while trying to maintain those regular things like work, laundry, grocery shopping, time with Mathew, etc. Yesterday our troupe had our special holiday performance, a very entertaining cane number to a Saidi version of Deck the Halls. I thought it went well from my perspective, but as my teacher noted, I haven't seen the tape yet. Oh well. Following our performance I watched some lovely dancing, participated in some group dancing, went home, shovelled yet another 4-6 inches of snow, walked in the house, and was hit by a lethargy so powerful it actually felt good, because for the first time in I don't know how long I could give in to my exhaustion, just sit and do nothing except feel my muscles relaxing. No feeling that I ought to be practicing some move or sewing something or shoveling or fulfilling any number of obligations--I could do whatever I wanted, just exist for me.

A little sherry, the couch, a warm blanket, Mathew, the sound of the snow and sleet and wind blustering outside, and the pleasantly surprising new Battlestar Galactica miniseries in its entirety--sometimes life just doesn't get any better than that.

- posted by Regina @ 11:34 AM

 
dreamed last night about either being a hawk or watching a hawk, or perhaps both. There was also some glistening raw meat, which either I wanted to eat if I were the hawk or I wanted the hawk to eat if I were not the hawk. I really couldn't tell what the situation was.

I watched 28 Days Later, which wasn't anywhere near as scary as I thought it would be (despite watching the first half of it alone and in the dark). I think that the speedy grainy camera work infiltrated my dreams, and maybe that's where the raw meat came from, but honestly the scariest part of the movie was a car alarm. I thought it was pretty good sci fi with a dash of horror, rather than a horror film per se. I do think the soldiers were a bit of a cop out as a plot element though--it's too easy to make soldiers look bad, though they did look bad indeed. And there were some other things I wish were explored a bit more--I was okay with no real explanation for how the rage virus worked or why the experiments were happening in the first place, but it seemed to me at one point one caught a glimpse of the human being trapped behind the rage when the camera was focused on one of the infected, and that would have been interesting to pursue. All in all, though, I'm glad I saw it, because it's always heartening to see sci fi genre stuff and quality movie-making at the same time. Some of the filmwork was gorgeous, especially the sort of portraits of people's faces.


- posted by Regina @ 3:07 PM

 
I left my house sort of on time this morning and ran to catch
the bus. I arrived at the bus stop as the same time as
the bus, but that was because traffic was moving approximately two car lengths every few minutes. Even though it snows here every single year, still, the first time it happens people forget how to drive and traffic is a nightmare. I stared at the bus, already full to the brim
with people, and thought about standing in my winter coat on the bus, hemmed in by humanity as it crawled through traffic. I turned on my heel and walked to the train station, and I'm pretty sure I beat the bus.

But I was glad that I did walk, because as I walked along a bicycle path all overhung with trees (my shortcut to the train station), I was listening to "Cassiel's Song" on my "new" mix cd. The sun made the icy path glow so bright white it was hard to see even through my sunglasses, the occasional wind blew clouds of glittering snow into the air around me, and the clouds above were masses of silver flame
stretching across the sky, and for a moment I could believe that I was Cassiel walking back into heaven leaving all human suffering behind, led by those who loved me and wanted me safe, and my heart ached with the music.

Then the sun went behind a cloud and I could see that I was not walking into the light but rather the train station, and I realized that human suffering awaited me still this morning. It was a glorious moment while it lasted.

We've come to bring you home
Haven't we, Cassiel?

To cast aside your loss and all your sadness
And shuffle off that mortal coil and mortal madness
For we're here to pick you up and bring you home
Aren't we, Cassiel?

It's a place where you did not belong
Were time itself was mad and far too strong
Where life leapt up laughing and hit you head on
and hurt you, didn't it hurt you, Cassiel?

While time outran you and trouble flew toward you,
and you were there to greet it,
weren't you, foolish Cassiel?

But here we are, we've come to call you home
and here you'll stay never more to stray
Where you can kick off your boots of clay
can't you, Cassiel?

For death and you did recklessly collide
and time ran out of you
and you ran out of time,
didn't you, Cassiel?

and all the clocks, in all the world
may this once just skip a beat in memory of you
then again those damn clocks, they probably won't
will they, Cassiel?

One moment you are there and then strangely you are gone,
but on behalf of all of us here we are glad to have you home
Aren't we, dear Cassiel?



- posted by Regina @ 11:31 AM

 
I want a drink. A really fucking big drink.


- posted by Regina @ 1:07 PM

 
I wrote this to a mailing list after a dancer expressed frustration with the growing number of fusion dance forms that call themselves belly dance. She was set off by the announcement of the Gothic Belly Dance Resource, a site which I happen to like quite a bit and plan to contribute to in the future. I put a lot of thought into what I wrote in response and so I thought I would record it here for posterity, and also perhaps to get myself motivated to write an article that I promised a while back :-)

I send this not to cause waves but in a spirit of education.

I have been a goth for my entire adult life (when I reached
my early 30s, my mom looked at me and said "I guess it wasn't
a phase after all. well, at least you look good in
black!"). A definition of goth would be an entire essay in
itself, but some loosely defining characteristics are a
passionate love for a particular genre of music which often
incorporates melancholy themes, minor keys and plenty of
ornamentation, a flair for the dramatic in clothing style,
and an abiding interest in the unusual. Many gothic
musicians have incorporated middle eastern elements into
their songwriting; the Changelings are one example. Peter
Murphy, a former member of goth band par excellance Bauhaus,
collaborated with Turkish musicians (the Mercan Dede
Ensemble) on his last album, and he is also married to a
Turkish modern dancer and has converted to Islam. I am sure
that many people on this list enjoy the music of Dead Can
Dance; while they are not a goth band per se, they are
tremendously popular with goths. There is a lot of goth
music that has rhythms and melodies in common with middle
eastern music.

So it should not come as a surprise that goth women (and some
men) are attracted to belly dance. If you teach in a good-
sized city, I would be surprised if you did not have at least
one goth in your classes, and have probably had several goth
students over the years. And we goth women, realizing that
there are plenty of us out there learning belly dance, want
to connect with each other and have our own community within
the larger dance community, have people to talk with who
share our own tastes.

Being a goth is an important part of my identity. It is who
I am. Being a belly dancer has become an important part of
my identity over the last five years and has also become a
part of who I am. So naturally I integrate the two parts of
my identity when I dance. When I perform in a belly dance
event, the goth part of me is in the background. I tend
toward more Arabic and Egyptian music when I dance for belly
dance audiences (I do raqs sharqi/caberet, not tribal), and
while my costuming reflects my color preferences, I don't
look like Morticia up on stage. But the goth element is
there, supplementing my feelings for the music and my
interpretation of many of the Arabic lyrics, which can be
more melancholy than a lot of goth stuff!

When I perform in a goth venue, _then_ Morticia throws on her
bedleh and cuts loose, because then I am in a context where
that will be understood and appreciated. And it also becomes
an opportunity for education about middle eastern dance--
people always ask me about the dance after I perform. I make
it clear that what I just showed them was fusion and
not "pure" belly dance. We gothic bellydancers do know the
difference; we are exploring points of commonality between
our two different communities. I do my best to respect the
standards and traditions of each community while I am
standing in it, and I'm sure a lot of or most other goth
bellydancers conduct themselves in a similar manner. Apart
perhaps from Halloween haflis, I wouldn't mix my two modes of
dancing. Nobody should take the existence of gothic belly
dance as any kind of threat to the "integrity of the dance"
or whathaveyou. It's just a bunch of goth women celebrating
the best of both of the worlds they live in.

That was my several cents' worth :)



- posted by Regina @ 11:12 AM

 
I was going to write a really whiny post about being sick and how nobody likes me, they just tolerate me, and how miserable and pathetic I am, but then I read, as I often do, Baghdad Burning, Riverbend's blog, and I realized that really I ought not to be whining as nobody is dropping bombs on me or my family and I don't have to have a gun to feel safe and I almost always have electricity and enough food and potable water and the right to wear more or less what clothes I want in public. So this over-privileged American will shut up now.


- posted by Regina @ 4:16 PM

 
I am quite sure that the volume of snot that has come out of my head in the last 24 hours is far greater than the actual cranial capacity of my entire skull. Where the hell does all this stuff come from? There must be some transdimensional portal somewhere up my nose bringing this stuff in from another galaxy. That's the only explanation I can think of, plus it would explain the splitting headaches too.

I should probably still be at home, but I feel like sitting around is making me sicker. Though I bet everyone in the office is wishing I'd stayed at home as I cough and hack and snort and snuffle in their midst. I was starting to feel like my bones were melting as I lay on the couch. They still feel pretty wobbly but at least I'm moving them around. I've been so sick I can't even make myself feel bad about not working out or dancing this week--I didn't even make it to class, and that for me is quite ill indeed. I haven't even wanted any alcohol since Saturday, and again, that is an indication of a substantial illness.

Apart from this plague crashing down on me in the last hour or so of the day, I had a wonderful time at a benefit at the Athenian Corner in Lowell on Sunday for an area dancer who has had some serious medical problems. She is one of the very few to be able to make a living from dancing alone, but the flip side of that is that whatever health insurance she may have had didn't cover the costs of the expensive procedures she needed. So the community pulled together to hold a day of classes and various raffles, photo ops and so on to raise money. I got a lot out of the day as a dancer. The first thing I did was a tribal workshop with Amira Jamal--I'm not that enthralled by _watching_ tribal, but I have to admit that it was a lot of fun to _do_. It's very much a social dance, I think, which may be why it doesn't always carry over so well as a performance dance. Then came a great workshop with Melina on balancing props. I used my cane as my prop and learned some very useful tricks and tips for getting the thing to stay on one's head and how to really impress an audience while doing things that aren't necessarily that difficult. I happened to be wearing a velvety headband, and that cane did not slide off my head once--I was very proud of me and will never dance cane without a headband from now on! I also managed a fairly respectable backbend with the cane on my head. The trick it seems is to take your time going into it. After the balancing workshop, it was my turn to have posed photos taken under the direction of Amina Delal*, an experienced professional dancer/makeup artist. This was also extremely valuable, because not only do I now have some very nice photos of myself but I also learned quite a bit about stage makeup and costuming for my body type while Ms. Delal* worked on me and directed my posing. Then it was time for lunch, yummy Greek food. I had a souvlaki sandwich--not as good as Villa Souvlaki in Montreal, but pretty good nonetheless.

After lunch came a makeup workshop by Amina Delal* (why the asterisk? I do not know, but that's how she writes it), which was good because that gave my stomach a chance to digest the yummy Greek food. Again, I learned lots of good stuff, and it was fascinating to see the chosen model's face really transform before our eyes. Then it was up on our feet for drum solo technique with Phaedra. The workshop was a little disorganized--I couldn't tell whether we were supposed to be following her or doing our own thing most of the time--but it was still fun and substantially augmented by a live drummer, and without a doubt Phaedra has excellent drum solo technique. Last but certainly not least came Lebanese movements with Shadia. I would love to take more classes with her--she came across as tough and no-nonsense but really enthusiastic about her knowledge and happy to share it. The Lebanese stuff is very hoppy and bouncy and made a great finale to the day. I think I took to it pretty quickly--I know I enjoyed the movements, except maybe for the back-and-forward head slides which make me feel like a chicken, plus as I mentioned earlier on this was when I realized I was getting sick and so head slides just weren't that fun. But anyway, I tremendously enjoyed the day, and it was all the more rewarding to know that we were all doing this together to help out a fellow dancer.

Having had the stamina to get through that day makes me feel a little better about the blob of snot that I've been this week--if I could do all those pretty rigorous classes from 10-5 and still be keeping up at the end of the day, I'm in okay shape. Once I've figured out how to seal off this snot-dimension portal in my head, I am so energized to start dancing again...

- posted by Regina @ 1:18 PM

 
You know love is still as strong as ever when you have spent nearly every waking hour in the last day and a half with that certain someone, yet when they leave the house it feels strange and empty.


- posted by Regina @ 9:36 PM

 
Also, it's really hard to leave your house in the morning when it is warm and smells like apple pie, as I indeed baked an apple pie this morning. I can still catch the lingering scent of it on my taste buds. Want pie.
- posted by Regina @ 11:28 AM

 
Missing the bus made me cry this morning. It's going to be a long day...

- posted by Regina @ 10:34 AM

 
I have new insight into how many of my friends must have felt when I publicized my intended separation/divorce from my ex-husband. So many people said over the years "oh, you're so perfect for each other, different yet so complimentary" and then I told them that it was all based on my living out some version of myself that I didn't want to be. I now have some sense that I must have shaken their worlds a bit, because mine feels shaken a bit. I wonder if people mourned the way that I mourn now. I don't want to think that they did, because the situations are so different and I can't bear to think that anybody could have thought that my separation was anything less than a fiercely positive step for me. But if anyone reading this did mourn the dissolution of my former marriage, then I thank you for being my supportive friend as you felt your own loss.

This is an intense week for many reasons. I am tired today but I'm glad I went out dancing last night and that the music was so good and the friendships were so palpable.



- posted by Regina @ 2:11 PM

 
Last night I dreamed that foxes and ravens were watching me, popping up in unexpected places and keeping an eye on where I was going and what I was doing. That must mean something, tricksters hanging on my every move like that...




- posted by Regina @ 1:08 PM

 
sleepy, sleepy, sleepy. Do antibiotics make one extra drowsy? I know they do make one pee like a rhinoceros*. I scratched my eyeball with my own powder brush, fully laden with powder, while preparing for the contest last weekend and went on antibiotics after my eyelid swelled up to about three times normal size.

*I use this simile because once at the Brookfield Zoo in Chicago I walked into the large mammal house. A rhinoceros was peeing copiously. I stayed in the large mammal house for about fifteen minutes or so, watching a charming baby elephant cavorting. As I left the large mammal house, the rhinoceros was still peeing with great vigor and force. Amazing.

I could also be drowsy from an action-packed weekend. Friday night was calm enough; I spent it watching a documentary on Max Ernst. It wasn't a superbly well-made documentary--I was glad that I had read Dorothea Tanning's memoirs beforehand to fill in some gaps--but the filming of the artworks was impressive, particularly the cement sculptures that Max Ernst placed on his various houses. I am in full agreement with Ernst that if one is covering a wall in concrete or plaster then one ought to do something creative with it. There was a lot of interesting historical detail about Paris and the Surrealists and the art world of the early to mid 20th century in general. So I would actually recommend the documentary, available through netflix, even though the narration was a bit bland and also they made Peggy Guggenheim sound like a whiny bitch (which maybe she was or maybe she wasn't, but the woman did support Ernst and surrealist endeavors for at least a couple of years, they could show her some charity). I think it was simply titled Max Ernst.

Then Saturday it was off to the wilds of East Providence for jhimm and Liz's wedding. It really was a beautiful event. The two of them looked positively radiant and wonderfully happy, and it was a pleasure to help them celebrate. The venue was a private club right on the water's edge, with a dance floor extending over the water. It got so warm in the hall that we had all the windows open and it was a wonderfully sensual experience to dance with the ocean winds rising off the waters. A lovely moment was when an old fashioned schooner set sail off into the harbor, cutting through the mists. We joked that it was a pirate ship, and a little girl ran to the window to watch it sail away. We hoped that she was singing under her breath that the life of a pirate was the life for her. After the wedding, my carpooling crew and I went over to Providence to see the Riverfires and get some falafel. Mathew and I waltzed to music by Satie on a cobblestone bridge, bonfires floating on the water around us. Quite romantic, really. Then I thoroughly conked out on the ride home in the lovely hybrid Prius, which Kevin obtained from Zipcar. That was a really cool car. if I were buying a car and had lots of money, that's what I'd get.

Then I had a performance on Sunday afternoon at the annual big hafli, this time held in far-away Melrose. I never knew where Melrose was before Sunday. I resolutely refrained from buying stuff, but it is a good thing that the stunning beaded leopard dress over at Anatolia Imports was so far out of my price range, otherwise I'd have been in trouble. It was gorgeous. The dancing went quite well--new troupemates had a great debut, the audience was enthusiastic, I had friends there to see me, and the atmosphere was a lot of fun. I ran into a few of the women from the contest and it's nice to see that our little bonding experience is holding over--I don't know if that's part of the reason why Za-Beth holds the contests, but a nice effect of them is that community is formed and strengthened in the newer dancers. Also I was rather pleased to discover that my Shakira pants are a little too big now, although it did mean that I had to keep hauling them up all afternoon.

The only negative thing I would have to say about the entire weekend is--wait for it--you'll never guess--my foot hurts! I wore shoes that I shouldn't have to the wedding (though I was doing okay until we tromped around Providence later on) and then I stood for a few hours before performing on Sunday, as I didn't want to sit in my costume. Last night it hurt more than it has since we moved. Stretch, stretch, stretch, ice, ice, ice (baby). Brr.
- posted by Regina @ 12:05 PM