Thursday, February 09, 2006

So, it's late. I'm up because I've been making my new email account (news@tangohouston.net) work, but my gmail is now screwed up. At least the page won't load [sighs]. Hopefully it will work tomorrow. But, I need to send a business email before I go to bed, with my new account. After creating the mailing lists. [sighs and shrugs]

The dancing was good tonight. at Swing, the lesson was musicality. Anna, the teacher, again asked for a critique of the lesson. Having never had a musicality class, being a musician first and a dancer second, my critique felt to me as helpful as my critique last week of her jazz moves, which I also have never learned. [sighs] I wish people would stop seeing me as a pro or something, since I still consider myself a dance student, especially faced most dance days with things that I don't know. Then, at tango, my connection was good with all the people I danced with. I need to remember Cynthia's name, since I've already forgotten it two weeks in a row now. I'm typing this so I'll see it and hopefully remember it. [laughs and shrugs] And Stacey invited a creative writer friend, Ruth I believe it was. The only reason I know that Ruth was a creative writer friend was because Ruth told me; it is frustrating that Stacey (and Ashley) refuse to talk about their lives outside tango (if they aren't outright lying). Vanessa showed up, despite her busy schedule, because tango is her favorite thing to prevent her from going insane with all the work [laughs]. This week, Amy came on her own because she had band until 7, and I wanted to be at the lesson at 7, but Michelle came along because she wants to see this tango thing I like so much. She learned a little, I don't know how much she liked it, since she was too asleep to comment on the drive home. None of that really matters. I'm just talking about it to dodge the reason I got on to blog tonight in the first place. I depressed myself thinking again. I don't know how to value the important things (people, abilities, opportunities, events, etc.) in my life. I don't know how to treat them as though they're important, much less special. I stretch myself thin trying to cover everything, and it's like coating a wall in a thin watered-down paint. It may cover the wall, but it doesn't cover any designs underneath, which show through clearly. I do a slap-dash job that misses the corners, because I'm so eager to make sure I get to it all. I think it's a travesty that Troy, who makes 35,000 after taxes on military disability and so doesn't work, sleeps 10-12 hours a day. Do you know what I would do with all that time?(I'm not adding extra question marks, but the emphasis I would give is about three question marks worth). I miss my cello. I miss my books. I miss dance classes. I miss writing things and being proud of them, of having time to edit them. I miss talking to people on time that isn't borrowed from something else. The simple answer is to give up a lot of things, but that's not the answer that I can be satisfied with. I would come right along and fill it up again. I need to learn to value the time I have, to value the things that I do in that time, to make sure I fill that time with things that I value. I don't like feeling discontented at things because they "take up too much of my time". Sleep, Work, Driving are the big three that are unavoidable, and I doubt I could dispel the way their existence offends me. But I get irritable when people call, when family stick their heads in, when I am trapped in committments to go here and do this, pay attention to this person or that, sleep particular hours because I won't get a chance later...and I don't like feeling this way. I mean, I don't like the feeling of being Gulliver tied down by the Lilliputins (don't quote me on spelling), but I like even less my reactions and feelings to things that ought to be filling me with joy, happiness, things like friends, good music, good dancing, good food, eye candy even. All I can feel right now is the rope cutting into my skin, and my heart aches in sorrow that my soul should be so stupid.

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