dance

If you are a dancer, then you know thaat some dances stay with you forever. In social dance, they come completely randomly when to people who dance with eachother occasionally suddenly click and for the duration of a song enter into their own world where two near strangers fuse into one consciousness. I hope that in their lives everyone would have the delight to experience such intimacy, such ecstasy. For me there have been three such dances, and I will tell you of them.

The first one actually happened at my old high school, at the swing dance club. During that time the leadership had started introducing more slow tunes to the usual repertoire in order to force the little ones to actually feel what they were doing in detail, thus making them realize that they kinda suck. This dance was to the tune of the Pink Panther theme by Henri Mancini. It started with a funny sort of invitation. None of that "May I have this dance?" nonsense. No. He lassoed me. We caught eachothers eye, and he started swinging a pretend lasso rope above his head, and then lassoed me. I played along. And the dance that followed was very extraordinary. He had become a decent lead by that time, and knowing nothing of blues, we danced blues. It was very musical, mostly to the melody of the saxophones, with dips, and long turns during which I was in control. He was indeed one of those leads who were not afraid to look me in the eye. I'm quite certain our gazes were very intense. It was free form dance, stepping with the melody rather than the beat, imaginative in the tiny nuances that you usually never notice, tense, filled with subdued energy. Masses of it. Beautiful. And saturated with joy. After it ended, we broke our stare, and the most gigantic smiles spread across our faces, and the tension found an outlet. We celebrated that moment. That song. That dance. From that moment on, whenever pink panther played we sought each other out every time, hoping to repeat that dance. But you can never repeat a moment once it's passed, only cherish its memory.

The second one happened towards the end of a PSU swing dance club meeting. It was one of those rare occasions when the great god of SCAHS swing (and by that I mean the founder of the cswing dance club at my high school) visited. And as luck would have it, one of SCAHS favorite songs, bu our favorite artist started playing. Michael Buble's Fever. This dance is one of the best I've ever danced with, and one of the most forceful ones. When he gives a lead, you have no choice but to be led wherever he desires. He has the ability to bend you down during a side by side Charleston and you'll actually do it, and it'll look good, even if you have no idea what in the world you're doing. I distinctly remember an instance when he led a jump, and I realized that I had jumped by the impact of landing. That's how awesome he is. The song is one of those where you know every single note, and the precise timing of every accent and drum beat. Where you know every melody of every instrument, and you've danced to it a thousand times a thousand different ways. And you can do a thousand more and never get bored, or repeat the feeling you get. This dance was extraordinary. It was so very dynamic. He clearly experimented with moves. A dip where I free fall backward only to be caught by him, and deep standard dips, jumps that were perfectly in time with the music. So perfect that it sends currents of exhilaration down your spine.Anyone looking at us from the side would not have believed that it wasn't choreographed. Such ease and complexity and variation. Infinite variation. I doubt that we repeated any moves for the duration of the song. There were many subtle style changes as the music changed. Perfect. It was indeed perfect.

The third dance also happened at PSU swing. This was my last dance at PSU swing. And as it later turned out my second to last dance with this particular lead. We met again at an Arts Fest concert, and danced a few times. But they didn't compare. Nothing compares to that dance.I walked up to him and asked him for a dance, and he spent quite some time choosing a song. He picked a very smooth blues tune with many variations. you know, the kinds of blues tune that is slow and quiet, yet holds within itself infinite energy. Quite frankly I remember very little of the song, neither the melody, language, or anything else. That was the intensity of our dance, it was all consuming. I danced with my eyes closed as had by then become my custom. I could only hear the music, and feel his leads, and my own motion. His style is heavy set, but clear, and his leads insistent, though never forceful. I could almost feel his fascination during the dance. It was amazing. At one point he completely broke contact. I was blind, and he had sent me spinning away from him quite quickly. I had no idea where the walls were. I spun. And spun. And spun, added flourishes. Then when my mind began to regain its bearings, to wonder where my guide was, and thoughts of smashing into a wall flashed though my mind, he returned with a lindy swing out. Ah! Brilliance! Complete freedom in total submission and trust. Unique. Eventually, the music ended, leaving us both breathless and reluctant, for we were both leaving the swing dance club forever. But we smiled, knowing that our dance was one we'll always remember not only because it was the last, but because it was one of the best.

Ever since I left State College the dances have been at best satisfactory, but usually somewhat disappointing. There is no blues dance, here nor swing. Only a few lovers of hustle which is way too latino for my taste. I haven't felt that magical connection with my partner, where you lay your souls bare and are free for a short while, and true.

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So, I went to the Pushkin museum on Sunday and Tuesday (bought a two day ticket to the two buildings, and they don't work on Mondays.). It's delightfully cheap for college students 200 Rubles to both buildings, which is something like 6 or 7 dollars. I want to the main building today which has lots of Greek sculptures (including a ginormous David, which I found to be slightly disproportional) but the thing that surprised me most was in one of the rooms with paintings there. These were some of the really old masters, and I don't even remember who made it, but it caught my eye because it was rather large, and also It was a city scene with carriages and beautiful old buildings in a room full of portraits, and most of all I though it looked a terribly German kind of town, so I went up to it to see if my guess was right. And I was. It was a scene of the old market in Dresden, and at that moment I recognized the church towers at the edges and almost started to cry. I guess it was just a bit of a shock to have been confronted with a place that I've been really missing during the past few days so completely out of the blue. *sigh* stupid mood swings...

!?

Ok, so now I'll get to the actual good part! Or I guess it would be the good part, if you're a sucker for these things. But I'll start out a bit more obscurely. Imagine this scene.
It's early evening by a lake. And a dark wood, with many tall bushes and small alcoves within them. In one of these alcoves is a sort of camping ground for three tents, though only one was set up, and in the center - a fire pit with a flame crackling. Next to the fire stands a tree stump - a makeshift table of sorts and on it: a candle burns and there are two wine glasses with a bottle of red wine. In the background - a swing. You know, it's one of those things that you usually only see in those horrible chick flicks, where this random guy prepares this ridiculously elaborate surprise for the main heroine. You know the ones that make you want to either kill the screenwriter, or be in them, and you can't decide which it is you want more. And that actually happened. Like in real life. and it was awesome. But yeah, as you can guess by now,I got a new boy. and you'll laugh when I tell you about our first date: first we went to this random playground, then went on a very long walk and finished by watching the European championship in soccer! (I really really wanted to watch! If you didn't know, I become a soccer nut for a month every 24 months.)but yeah, since It's summer break, he's home and I'm home, so we don't see each other at all, (except when he's coming to Moscow just to visit me next Monday. But that's all we'll get to see of one another till the semester starts.) But he's awesome, very thoughtful, and cuter than a kitten if that's possible. So yeah. I'm happy. =)

the big secret to pms

Ok. So, on a completely random and unrelated tangent, I'll tell any and all of you guys (and girls) why it is that girls get pissy when mother nature knocks on the door.
Aside from the weird slush of hormones that make you feel happy in the morning, then exhausted by noon, then angry st the world by 5pm and completely depressed by 9pm, there's the little detail of what it's actually good for. Basically it's a whole loot of disgusting, and you're sitting in it. All day. All night. For several days. for you boys, just imagine continuously shitting yourselves a little. It's pretty much the same, only the smell and color are a bit different. but that's not all, usually this nice portable puddle is accompanied by aches and pains, that make it impossible to walk around for a long time, or even worse stand. (and remember that sitting also has its hazards, as stuff could leak, and that is all kinds of embarrassing.) So the next time you want to accuse a girl of pms, just put yourself in her position. You'd be pissy as well.

Was stressed

Ok. Well idk if I even want to tell you about the ever constant homework serenades. You've all already heard them multiple times, and aside from minor deviations, they're always the same. Therefore, I'll keep it short. The most noteworthy instance was that I ended up turning in the last of my math hw in front of the new building at about midnight when there were a number of drunk students on all the other benches. Makes you kinda feel hardcore. Everyone's partying, and you're studying equations of mathematical physics. We totally rock. NOT!
Well so that was over and exams went as usual. Got a 5/10 on economy, which wasn't hard. Then barely passed those equation thingumses. And gave the final blow with the state exam on mathematics. So, aside from the exam I'll have to take to get into the masters program, I'm finally done with math!
Another interesting instance was how I passed my elective course. Here elective is meant in such a way: we got to pic between molecular biology, or 2 weird craps, that are not only boring as hell, but also a pain in the behind. So, needless to say I picked molecular biology, which as so many things not math or physics were a simple repetition of the SCAHS curriculum. I think went to 5-6 lectures of like 16, so I slept though almost half of them on location, which is quite the accomplishment. But the fun was how the final happened. The teachers gave us the option of doing a 5 minute presentation on a virus instead of actually having to answer questions pertaining to the material. Everyone, including myself jumped at the opportunity, of course. Now, for the epic story:
The night before the due date. I'm of course making the presentation. Once done at around 1 am, I find it's twice as long as it should be. Must. Not. Sleep. Must. Sift. Through. Hep. A. Virus. Info. Shorten. Pres.... well, you get the idea. I went to bed around 5 probably, and at 8 I had to get up. Lucky fro me, the window was open, and some workers decided that 10 am was a great time to make a hellish noise dragging metal stuff over asphalt. that woke me up. My first thought. @#!$##$%#!$#$%!#@#~#@$%&*&**%$##$%^(*&^%$##@~~#$%!!! My second thought: action! I got dressed in record time, and almost rand to the lecture hall, where I arrived at the very very end of my group. a minute later, and I'd have had to learn stuff! Think of the peril! I rattled off the presentation extremely quickly, (I made the 5 min limit although I had more like 7 mins of material) and even better got a full mark on it, and the whole course. Basically this was an exercise in awesome. For once in my life!


Now to bigger and better things. but first, I'll tell you the sad sad story of failure and idiotism, that killed much fun-ness. 'T was before the computational mathematics test. As you may or may not guess, I know nothing of computational mathematics, and thought that it would be good not to fail the test. To do that I supposedly need to study. (note the conditional clauses.) Unfortunately, just before the test there was this field trip thing. kind of like a sports/competition festival sort of deal. And, if you know me, then you know that I'm a sucker for these things. I love them to death! but, being the studious, good girl I am, I decided not to go in favor of cramming some more. Well, how do you think that turned out for me? Well, like 80% of the people who bothered showing up, i also totally failed it. Ergo: not only did I miss something I would have remembered for the rest of my life, but also totally f***ed up the test. yay me...

NOW, on to bigger and better things. Namely, the circus!!! I'm sure I haven't written about this yet! Winter (it was March 14th, but I say winter because it was still cold as f***.) Well, as you can see on the picture, I went to see Cirque Du Soleil. I went with my mom and dad. Dad didn't like it of course, because he's way to conservative to appreciate showmanship, but my mom and I liked it a lot. Very spectacular, to say the least! The music was interesting, and the costumes were the very best part. They had these weird white people in the most bizarre guises running around everywhere all the time. Their clothes were often wildly exaggerated, and each one was completely different and totally silly.


I'll stop here for today, since I'm tired of writing. (And I haven't even gotten to the most interesting part yet!!!) but more is soon to follow!! 

Issues

I know it's horrible to say you hate someone, but don't they also say that there's a very fine line between love and hate, and one that's far too easy to cross at that. It's not always true, I think. But sometimes there's no other way to describe what's there.

I hate that he's the one person in my life that can make me cry with a single phrase.
I hate that everything I do, I do with thought to what he will think of it.
I hate that almost every conversation, even about the most common an seemingly unrelated topics ends with me being inadequate in some form.
I hate that he would do anything for me without regard for himself.
I hate that he's planned out my life for me.
I hate that I actually think that it's a good one.
I hate that I have no idea how to talk to him about things that really matter.
I hate that he doesn't know how to do that either.
I hate that I am afraid to tell him the truth.
I hate that I'm afraid to disappoint him.
I hate that I need him.
I hate that he feels he can't rely on me.
I hate that he's always right.
I hate that there is nothing I can do about any of this.
And most of all I hate that he's never angry with me.