summer '99

after taking dance class tonight i hugged my teacher and thanked her and she looked at me and said, "you are looking so great--so much passion." there are many times after class when the endorphines are flowing that i feel great, i want to talk to everyone, my overall disposition about life in general is optomistic. but there is a crash, and for some reason, when my teacher said that to me; i crashed. the dance we did had history. it was the dance she choreographed for the scholarship show my year, the year i was on scholarship. we had to audition for all the pieces we were in. i didn't make it in her piece. i remember the talk we had after the audition and she told me my technique just wasted there (this is when i realized that if it wasn't there then after nine months of doing nothing but dancing it was never going to be there). i cried, and she cried too (she is a real sweetie). so when doing the dance tonight i wanted it to be good--it was almost as if i were auditioning all over again. and most people would tell me that, "hey, she said you looked great, that you had passion." but dancers are never happy with themselves, their bodies, their performance, nothing. and i felt like her telling me i had passion was like a consolation prize. so when i got home i called my brother and i asked, "dane, am i a good dancer?" he said, "yeah. i love to watch you dance. i can't give an inspirational speech right now, i'm eating a hamburger." i cried when i got off the phone. i wasn't sure why. maybe i have regrets, maybe i wished that dance was still the huge, overwhelming part of my life that it was when i was in high school and when i first moved here. i know though that i have moved so far from that place that it would be nearly impossible to get back, to get back and have it be what it was. i was struck with such a strong, happy memory tonight of me and tara before we got on scholarship, before we moved in together. we are sitting on the balcony of our friends apartment that we are both staying at on the corner of colfax and burbank. its just a week before the scholarship audition. a warm, summer night where the sky is purple and the air is fragrant, like hawaii. and we are drinking mountain dew and vodka, getting drunk and i love it here so much and i can see myself living here and my future so wide and open but i know what i want so much that i'm not overwhelmed or scared, but just happy.

1, 2, 3..

i am just returning from a week long journey up to oregon. i drove with my brother, dane, and my friend, billy hot chocolate. this is one thing i learned on my trip:

1. i shouldn't take road trips because i can't stand letting other people drive, so i just end up driving the whole time.

i spent a lot of the week either drunk or hungover. it felt good. sometimes being hungover is better than being drunk, when you're still drunk enough that everything is funny and magical, but not so drunk that you are losing control. and everything tastes great when you're hungover. this is something i learned about being drunk:

2. if you act similar to the way you act when you are drunk at all times, no one can tell you're drunk.

my sister's boyfriend, mark, responded to billy saying, "oh my god she was so drunk," with, "i just thought she was acting like kaitlyn." i feel like i accomplished something by being able to be that drunk and not have mark know. thats about all i accomplished over the week. i brought some information about film festivals that i was supposed to email for the magazine requesting info about "sponsorship". i also wanted to email some job possibilities that i found on craigslist. that didn't happen. now that i am back i have looked into a few but haven't turned up much. i also returned to la with a cold though. i didn't sleep much, drank a lot, and smoked too much, which basically equals immune system breakdown. i am recovering now, but my spirit isn't. something i learned about summer:

3.it sucks to spend summer in the city. i know i can't move back to oregon now but i could, at least, at least, live in the valley. its hotter, but there is more quiet, more pools, it feels more like summer and less like hell.

but i have to rot here in la for the summer. and i have to find a job. and i have to deal with all the noise outside my window--the shouts, the yells, the cars without mufflers, that make it impossible to enjoy a cool summer breeze coming through.

daniel once described the fact that he has to get his hair cut as a "vicious cycle".

friday is a good day...TO ROCK OUT!

hey faithful readers-

TWO WHITE CATS @ MR. T'S BOWL
FIG AND AVE 66
IN HIGHLAND PARK
FRIDAY, MAY 2OTH
AROUND 9PMISH


BE THERE OR BE TOTALLY STUPID

nutrition

i hate hearing my mom say things like, "its not fair". i find some comfort that with the wisdom acquired through age one stops complaining about what it fair and what is not. but i think i know that no matter how old you are, some things seem so horrible and awful, and they really are just unfair.