Lou, Lou, skip tomylou
{Pizzeria, here I go again}

Went to the PNB last night with Sjet, Daniel, and Molly. I wasn’t sure whether they liked dance or not, but it’s something I love, so I wanted them to come along. Sjet thought the lights weren’t bright enough, and Daniel fell asleep during one piece. (Also, at one point I heard some giggling … I can’t be sure, but I think this might be why. Here is a brief explanation of that phenomenon.) However, for the most part everyone seemed to enjoy it, which made me happy. Dance is the one thing that I can really just let myself be swept away by - I don’t sit and micromanage it the way I do theatre. I don’t overanalyze and criticize and think about how I would have done it. I just sit back, take a deep breath, and forget about my life for a little while.

For some reason, I was in a terrible mood at the beginning of the night. It had been a really long week, I was exhausted, I was cranky, and I had had just about enough war. Everywhere I looked, there were slideshows of Baghdad blowing up, or pictures of dead soldiers, or heart-wrenching stories about homeless refugees, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I get to a certain point, and my brain just shuts off. On the way from Daniel’s place to the Mercer Arts Arena, the conversation in the car turned to protests. The inside of my brain started screaming “Shut up, Shut up, Shut up!” but of course that’s not something that would ever reach my mouth. I had no right to tell my friends, whom I adore, what they can and cannot talk about - but my mind just switched into sleep mode and I probably didn’t say anything for about fifteen minutes. There just wasn’t anything there.

Then, the ballet. Ah, the ballet. I won’t talk about it, but here’s what Joe Boling had to say. It was just exactly what my brain needed… escape.

Afterwards, we tried to go to McMenamin’s. We tried to go to some other place whose name I forget. They were both full, so we briefly contemplated drinking beer in my car in the parking lot, but I wasn’t such a fan of that idea. Finally, we ended up at T.S. McHugh’s, sipping and shooting everything from beer to Jager to scotch. Discussing smoking methods. Discovering the glory of the C.T. and demonstrating certain practices for each other. Chasing boys for phone numbers. Receiving some world-class back-rub love. Getting our punch on. We befriended a guy named Marshall, who knows someone I know. We were so pretty.

On our way back to the car, we skipped and sang songs and jumped in puddles. When I got home I was drenched and my bones were jello, and it was glorious.

{Confidential to the Fat Boy Posse - I will see you soon. Hoods up!}