I am ready to go home now.
Erica and I had two possible events for our date tonight. One was tango lessons, and the other was "a politically savvy, Latin-heavy rap orchestra."
But what are we doing? Going to a bar. I mean, yeah, it's nice to see friends, but A RAP ORCHESTRA. Friends schmiends! A rap orchestra is never going to happen to me again.
2004-10-15, -
I believe, quite firmly, that screwing up in romantic terms is not such a bad thing to have happen to you. It doesn't have to mean that you have crippling baggage, or turn into some irritating, bitter Cathy cartoon. Right? Right. I get a little angry sometimes, but I think it's a bad idea to give into habitual bitterness. Even bad relationships have their moments, and eventually teach you something.
I'm a little concerned about one of my friends. As one of my other (non Bryn Mawr) friends pointed out, those of us who went to Bryn Mawr really went to school in a Skinner box. Upon entering the co-ed world (for me, it was boozey North Wales, for her, it's bars in Philadelphia), we're just so clueless and make incredibly bad decisions. On the other hand, I have faith that we can get sorted out, ("sorted" was my Irish friend's favorite word) and that you can figure out what kind of person is best for you.
I have faith in her and yet I still worry.
2004-10-15, -
In addition to playing loud music at 7am (I am the best neighbor ever), I'm playing with hair products this morning. Last night, at 11pm, I made Erica take me to the grocery store so that I could buy stuff for my hair. Nothing like blowing 20 bucks on hair stuff in the middle of the night to make me feel like a reasonable and prudent consumer.
Oh, but my coiffure!
2004-10-15, hair
everything will change
I wake up at seven o'clock every. fucking. morning.
This morning I turned on the lights and danced to music that makes me want to dance on my way to work, but I'm too embarrassed to dance in front of the eccentric Penn professors who wear bolo ties. The song "brand new colony" makes me want to do this.
Last night, Erica called me, and I headed downtown to sit with her in a coffeeshop for a few hours. We had such a good talk, and we agreed to take tango lessons tomorrow. Yea, verily, I'm excited. Erica is my dance buddy.
I've never looked like a dancer. One of my favorite songs, 88 lines about 44 women, says that "Sarah was a modern dancer / lean pristine transparency." No one would ever call me lean, pristine, or transparent - even at my thinnest, my junior year of college. More like, a body that could crush puny humans. But even in my freshman year, when I was very heavy, I took dance classes. I'd be the biggest girl there, but I'm so glad I did it. I love the sensual rush of moving through space. I like the way my spine feels, and the way my posture improves.
I started going to dance performances, and lectures about dance. It was such a good thing for me.
I'd really like to continue with modern, and I keep meaning to look into classes, but I'm convinced that there will be something missing from my life until I get these lessons in.
In other news, my fitness is coming along well. I gained a ton of weight when I was dating Brian (for a number of reasons, but those damn milkshakes didn't help), and have been in the process of removing said weight. I've been lifting weights like nobody's business, but I'm concerned I'm going to outgrow them. I'm afraid I'm really going to need a gym for the winter. It gets so dark so early that, while I walk tons, I don't jog or get really sweaty except on the weekends.
I guess I shouldn't be intimidated by gyms. I worked out at one in Wales where I was the only girl in a weight room full of rugby players. There's one near where I work, but I'm sure it's mobbed at 5pm.
It's amazing to me how rapidly weight lifting affects how I carry myself. I already feel crazy strong and musclebound, although I guess it has been over a month.
2004-10-15, dance
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