(no subject)
Right now I'm bitterly envying anyone who gets to go to bellydancing classes. I need to work something out, where I can come up once every few weekends to take classes, before i slaughter myself on my own.
things are going well down here, well enough. I've been moody, as is wont to happen; as always, more so when he's not around. coinciding with the increasingly haphazard sleep schedule. It holds remnants of five, six summers ago, which interests me in some angles and worries me in others. I'm tired of circles; repetition; i've gotten through this far and have little interest in sitting through it again. humans are too base and predictable. I don't think I'm that lucky.
Jazz class has become a constant source of bruising; my legs are actually worse off than when i was sparring. Hypersensitivity of skin, skinned knees, no bruise lighter than black- i wonder what vitamens i'm missing. I've found what my problem is with that teacher; he's a choreographer, rather than an instructor. He's a good choreographer, even if i don't necessarily agree with the style; but tend to have the same dominant-authority personality traits that I can't stand, and tend to say, "well, do this now, because i say so" instead of teaching per se, which i also have a hard time with. So it's not necessarily that he's bad. Just not a good personality match. It'll take some work.
I alternate between wanting to find more people and being too callous to bother. I, as usual, live like a hermit. but conversations of more than passing fluff (let alone anything intelligent) are hard to come by and are generally remarkable the few instances I do find them. And I'm realising how much i miss having men around, living with women, and seeing by chance mostly women, and not finding any guy who's not a drunken idiot that'll actually open his mouth. A sad state of affairs.
things are going well down here, well enough. I've been moody, as is wont to happen; as always, more so when he's not around. coinciding with the increasingly haphazard sleep schedule. It holds remnants of five, six summers ago, which interests me in some angles and worries me in others. I'm tired of circles; repetition; i've gotten through this far and have little interest in sitting through it again. humans are too base and predictable. I don't think I'm that lucky.
Jazz class has become a constant source of bruising; my legs are actually worse off than when i was sparring. Hypersensitivity of skin, skinned knees, no bruise lighter than black- i wonder what vitamens i'm missing. I've found what my problem is with that teacher; he's a choreographer, rather than an instructor. He's a good choreographer, even if i don't necessarily agree with the style; but tend to have the same dominant-authority personality traits that I can't stand, and tend to say, "well, do this now, because i say so" instead of teaching per se, which i also have a hard time with. So it's not necessarily that he's bad. Just not a good personality match. It'll take some work.
I alternate between wanting to find more people and being too callous to bother. I, as usual, live like a hermit. but conversations of more than passing fluff (let alone anything intelligent) are hard to come by and are generally remarkable the few instances I do find them. And I'm realising how much i miss having men around, living with women, and seeing by chance mostly women, and not finding any guy who's not a drunken idiot that'll actually open his mouth. A sad state of affairs.