Dancin' Fool
From a Frank Zappa tune a friend sent me. Or rather, sent me the link to the Youtube of it. This last weekend was Rustycon and Kennika, wherein
kenscholesturned 40 and had a party at the con. And there were people there. And things. And cake. And dancing. And pictures of it are up in various places, including
mikigarrison's blog, and, um, others. I'm still tired, or I'd be more coherent about it. Well, maybe not. But I'd try.
Last week kicked my ass. This week probably will, too. The new dance schedule is just enough harder on me to make me feel like roadkill. Or maybe I'm fighting off a cold. Or maybe I just need to sleep more. Probably. It was awesome, I loved it. Even with the harder classes, and being that much more sore and tired. I'm really looking forward to the show this year. I hope I can manage everything. I really need to limber up more, a major goal for the next few months. It will be hard, because I've plateaued at this area where I'm fairly comfortable with certain compensations for my tight tendons and lack of turnout. But I want to amend that, at least a little.
I loved all the boogying at Rustycon this weekend, too. The music wasn't always fab, but when it was, it totally made up for it. And I danced a lot. Since my legs were already tired from class, and it was pretty aerobic, I think this makes up for the fact that I drank a lot of Coke over the weekend, too. I hope. Trying to cut down on the sugar. It's so hard for me. I so love the sugar. It helps me boogy harder, too. At least it did this weekend. I don't think I would have been nearly so energetic without it. As it was, I noticed I did a lot of maintenance dancing to catch my breath. (Hip shake right, hip shake left, hip shake right, hip shake left, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe....) I guess I'm out of shape. Need more dancing!
I was going to be really witty and stuff about the fun people and conversations, but I'm dry, folkses. The con was fun. Or rather, the people were fun, since I didn't so much attend the con. I just went to dinner and breakfast and boogy with people. And Ken's 40th bday party. And dancing some more. I got my boogie on pretty hard core, actually. I don't think anyone got pictures of that, which is probably just as well. It's not always pretty. But it always feels good. (Until after, when I realize ow, my neck, ow, my feet.) I didn't add to the conversations much this time around. I always feel as though everyone else is enough smarter than I am, that it's better I just listen and think about things than butt in and sound stupid and derail things. Which was as true this weekend as ever. There were some pretty interesting things being said about the nature of writers and writing (as there generally are whenever a bunch of writers get together. We tend to be a self-referential folk.) And also the business of writing, and of art in general. A lot of extraordinarily bad jokes were told. Always a good time.
I haven't been writing these last few months. My life is in - a weird place right now. I have a lot going on, as some very kind person pointed out to me yesterday, and I have to deal with all of that. Whenever I sit down with the computer or a notebook to do any writing, I just feel exhausted. Dry. I can journal, I can rant about things in my life. I can even sometimes be witty and funny. But I can't fiction right now. It makes me upset to try. And so lately I haven't even tried. Which makes me sad and upset with myself for not trying. I want to write. I have some vague ideas of how to fix the problem I was having with the story where I left it last, oh, whenever that was. But I haven't really gotten to it. I keep thinking I'll just work on some other story and not worry about this one, just to get going again, but it hasn't happened. Listening to people this weekend, writers who are writing and doing the best they can with it, whether they're currently successful or not, made me feel like a big old whiner baby. So my goal this week is to sit down again and just try. Just a little. It can't be any worse than feeling like a fraud for not writing at all.
In other news, there was another dead mouse this morning in the basement. Abby's doing her job. But I need to get traps. A certain person was going to get me some, and also set them up, but did not. So now I'm going to have to do it myself. Probably Wednesday, because I just don't have time before that. Ick. Ew. Bleah. See how stuff just kind of continues, even when you're ignoring it? Yeah, I think that's my lesson for this week. Or my life. Or whatever you wanna call it.
kenscholesturned 40 and had a party at the con. And there were people there. And things. And cake. And dancing. And pictures of it are up in various places, including
mikigarrison's blog, and, um, others. I'm still tired, or I'd be more coherent about it. Well, maybe not. But I'd try.
Last week kicked my ass. This week probably will, too. The new dance schedule is just enough harder on me to make me feel like roadkill. Or maybe I'm fighting off a cold. Or maybe I just need to sleep more. Probably. It was awesome, I loved it. Even with the harder classes, and being that much more sore and tired. I'm really looking forward to the show this year. I hope I can manage everything. I really need to limber up more, a major goal for the next few months. It will be hard, because I've plateaued at this area where I'm fairly comfortable with certain compensations for my tight tendons and lack of turnout. But I want to amend that, at least a little.
I loved all the boogying at Rustycon this weekend, too. The music wasn't always fab, but when it was, it totally made up for it. And I danced a lot. Since my legs were already tired from class, and it was pretty aerobic, I think this makes up for the fact that I drank a lot of Coke over the weekend, too. I hope. Trying to cut down on the sugar. It's so hard for me. I so love the sugar. It helps me boogy harder, too. At least it did this weekend. I don't think I would have been nearly so energetic without it. As it was, I noticed I did a lot of maintenance dancing to catch my breath. (Hip shake right, hip shake left, hip shake right, hip shake left, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe....) I guess I'm out of shape. Need more dancing!
I was going to be really witty and stuff about the fun people and conversations, but I'm dry, folkses. The con was fun. Or rather, the people were fun, since I didn't so much attend the con. I just went to dinner and breakfast and boogy with people. And Ken's 40th bday party. And dancing some more. I got my boogie on pretty hard core, actually. I don't think anyone got pictures of that, which is probably just as well. It's not always pretty. But it always feels good. (Until after, when I realize ow, my neck, ow, my feet.) I didn't add to the conversations much this time around. I always feel as though everyone else is enough smarter than I am, that it's better I just listen and think about things than butt in and sound stupid and derail things. Which was as true this weekend as ever. There were some pretty interesting things being said about the nature of writers and writing (as there generally are whenever a bunch of writers get together. We tend to be a self-referential folk.) And also the business of writing, and of art in general. A lot of extraordinarily bad jokes were told. Always a good time.
I haven't been writing these last few months. My life is in - a weird place right now. I have a lot going on, as some very kind person pointed out to me yesterday, and I have to deal with all of that. Whenever I sit down with the computer or a notebook to do any writing, I just feel exhausted. Dry. I can journal, I can rant about things in my life. I can even sometimes be witty and funny. But I can't fiction right now. It makes me upset to try. And so lately I haven't even tried. Which makes me sad and upset with myself for not trying. I want to write. I have some vague ideas of how to fix the problem I was having with the story where I left it last, oh, whenever that was. But I haven't really gotten to it. I keep thinking I'll just work on some other story and not worry about this one, just to get going again, but it hasn't happened. Listening to people this weekend, writers who are writing and doing the best they can with it, whether they're currently successful or not, made me feel like a big old whiner baby. So my goal this week is to sit down again and just try. Just a little. It can't be any worse than feeling like a fraud for not writing at all.
In other news, there was another dead mouse this morning in the basement. Abby's doing her job. But I need to get traps. A certain person was going to get me some, and also set them up, but did not. So now I'm going to have to do it myself. Probably Wednesday, because I just don't have time before that. Ick. Ew. Bleah. See how stuff just kind of continues, even when you're ignoring it? Yeah, I think that's my lesson for this week. Or my life. Or whatever you wanna call it.