white chai...
...in the percolator, la blue boy working overtime next to me in his princess mononoke t-shirt, i (in folded down white socks, a tank top featuring emily the strange as a mermaid and her cat as a squid, and baby blue and pink hello kittie panties) skipping work and sore from copoeira. that is this moment.
the beauteous bianca convinced me to take capoeira and belly dancing with her. not that it took a whole lot of convincing; i think the conversation went something like, "hey, rose, you wanna take capoeira and belly dancing with me?" "fuck, yeah!"
miss bianca, you see, besides being one of the three or four people who always makes me think, "gosh, i wish i looked like her," consistently strikes me as a damn cool chiquita. she's one of the most honest people i know, (which is why it trills me to the core when she says things like, "you look amazing." i know she's saying exactly what she thinks) completely unapologetic about anything she's done, and a fierce motivator at work. when we work the same shifts, i want to do better because she's there.
so we've completed two capoeira classes. bellydancing starts next week. now, luminous bianca and i? we're dancers, right? we move for a living. we're in decent physical shape. but capoeira kicks both our butts. we're sore in places decent women should not be sore in. and the dance studio is essentially an open garage, so by the end of class we're sweaty from exposure, sweaty from exertion, riddled with mosquito bites, and smelling like something that spent years fermenting in the locker room of the new york rangers.
my "computers for business majors" class ends in roughly three weeks. i plan on celebrating my A grade (how's that for jumping the gun?) by surprising my mother with a visit to jersey. so shhhhh! don't tell her. i want to give her a birthday present she actually likes instead of something that makes her go, "why did you do that?" as she's done so often. so i'm arranging with tulip to pop up unexpectedly after she and me mum come back from england. while i'm there... i don't know. maybe we'll do that spa thing.
next semester will be hell. i want three classes, and i want one of them to be chinese. hah. daunting, think i. idiotic, think i. am i changing my mind, though? not likely. next semester is also when i'll be in my new house. i've gotten spoiled enough that my half-hour commute wears on my nerves (and on my gas budget; i drove 120 miles yesterday. that's half a bloody tank of gas, also known as twenty dollars down the colloquial tubes), so i'm moving a mere five minutes away from my place of employment. four, if it's three a.m. and i'm speeding. that also puts it within fifteen minutes of both school and la blue boy and... well, and everything else i do.
and that's i in a nutshell.
the beauteous bianca convinced me to take capoeira and belly dancing with her. not that it took a whole lot of convincing; i think the conversation went something like, "hey, rose, you wanna take capoeira and belly dancing with me?" "fuck, yeah!"
miss bianca, you see, besides being one of the three or four people who always makes me think, "gosh, i wish i looked like her," consistently strikes me as a damn cool chiquita. she's one of the most honest people i know, (which is why it trills me to the core when she says things like, "you look amazing." i know she's saying exactly what she thinks) completely unapologetic about anything she's done, and a fierce motivator at work. when we work the same shifts, i want to do better because she's there.
so we've completed two capoeira classes. bellydancing starts next week. now, luminous bianca and i? we're dancers, right? we move for a living. we're in decent physical shape. but capoeira kicks both our butts. we're sore in places decent women should not be sore in. and the dance studio is essentially an open garage, so by the end of class we're sweaty from exposure, sweaty from exertion, riddled with mosquito bites, and smelling like something that spent years fermenting in the locker room of the new york rangers.
my "computers for business majors" class ends in roughly three weeks. i plan on celebrating my A grade (how's that for jumping the gun?) by surprising my mother with a visit to jersey. so shhhhh! don't tell her. i want to give her a birthday present she actually likes instead of something that makes her go, "why did you do that?" as she's done so often. so i'm arranging with tulip to pop up unexpectedly after she and me mum come back from england. while i'm there... i don't know. maybe we'll do that spa thing.
next semester will be hell. i want three classes, and i want one of them to be chinese. hah. daunting, think i. idiotic, think i. am i changing my mind, though? not likely. next semester is also when i'll be in my new house. i've gotten spoiled enough that my half-hour commute wears on my nerves (and on my gas budget; i drove 120 miles yesterday. that's half a bloody tank of gas, also known as twenty dollars down the colloquial tubes), so i'm moving a mere five minutes away from my place of employment. four, if it's three a.m. and i'm speeding. that also puts it within fifteen minutes of both school and la blue boy and... well, and everything else i do.
and that's i in a nutshell.