Feels like there's never enough hours in the day.
ZEN FOR THOSE WHO TAKE LIFE TOO SERIOUSLY: EAGLES MAY SOAR, BUT WEASELS DO NOT GET SUCKED INTO JET ENGINES.
Well, it's been awhile. Between moving and my recital I've been terribly busy. Chris and I still have a bunch of boxes to unpack, but I've been trying to breathe and tell myself one thing at a time. I've realized I have this problem where I see things as a whole and not the pieces that make up that whole. I think that's why I get overwhelmed so easily. But, on a good note, our new place is great and I am acclimating to being a New Londonite.
My dance recital started out in the seventh circle of hell. I should have anticipated that coming as, those of you that know show biz, we had a good dress rehearsal. Those of you that don't know the rule it goes bad rehearsal=good show and vice versa. SO, it's time for the curtain to go up and we realize the stage lights aren't working. After 10 minutes of trying to figure it out we say fuck it and the first quarter of the show is performed with fluorescent lights on over the stage and the house lights on. I cracked a joke saying "Welcome to National Lampoon's Dance Recital" but really I felt like....
We did eventually fix the problem and the rest of the show went on without a hitch. You know, Lamaze breathing isn't strictly for childbirth purposes.
I got to accompany Stressbomb to a show on Wednesday. It was a goodbye party for some friends of ours form Massivetwoshits that are moving to Florida. A bittersweet night as they will be terribly missed, but it was a good time. I found a sticker of this band and paraded around the show with it on my chest after peeling it off the bathroom door.
Doesn't get any better than that! I had pics of me with it but I was drunk and silly looking so those shall remain in my personal archives and taken to my grave.
Those who hear not the music think the dancer's mad. Cellar door.
ZEN FOR THOSE WHO TAKE LIFE TOO SERIOUSLY: EAGLES MAY SOAR, BUT WEASELS DO NOT GET SUCKED INTO JET ENGINES.
Well, it's been awhile. Between moving and my recital I've been terribly busy. Chris and I still have a bunch of boxes to unpack, but I've been trying to breathe and tell myself one thing at a time. I've realized I have this problem where I see things as a whole and not the pieces that make up that whole. I think that's why I get overwhelmed so easily. But, on a good note, our new place is great and I am acclimating to being a New Londonite.
My dance recital started out in the seventh circle of hell. I should have anticipated that coming as, those of you that know show biz, we had a good dress rehearsal. Those of you that don't know the rule it goes bad rehearsal=good show and vice versa. SO, it's time for the curtain to go up and we realize the stage lights aren't working. After 10 minutes of trying to figure it out we say fuck it and the first quarter of the show is performed with fluorescent lights on over the stage and the house lights on. I cracked a joke saying "Welcome to National Lampoon's Dance Recital" but really I felt like....
We did eventually fix the problem and the rest of the show went on without a hitch. You know, Lamaze breathing isn't strictly for childbirth purposes.
I got to accompany Stressbomb to a show on Wednesday. It was a goodbye party for some friends of ours form Massivetwoshits that are moving to Florida. A bittersweet night as they will be terribly missed, but it was a good time. I found a sticker of this band and paraded around the show with it on my chest after peeling it off the bathroom door.
Doesn't get any better than that! I had pics of me with it but I was drunk and silly looking so those shall remain in my personal archives and taken to my grave.
Those who hear not the music think the dancer's mad. Cellar door.