...these are a few of my favorite things...

I'm exhausted. It's been an exhausting week. And looking at my previous posts, I seem to lack the talent of brevity. So here's a poem on one of my favorite things. I'm sure I'll blog about them later but this does a pretty good job of saying what I feel, without saying it... you know, me saying it.




"Trees" by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
and lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
a nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are make by fools like me.
But only God can make a tree.

The "Mondays."

Well I've had a serious case of the "Mondays" today.
Try as I might, everything seemed to go wrong. Well maybe "wrong" is the wrong word. I guess a better way of describing it would be like a fly or a bee trying to escape from inside a car.

"Bzzzz... Smack! Bzzzz... Smack!" Over and over again.

My body just wasn't doing what I wanted it to. In my mind I'd see what I wanted - I'd picture myself doing a step or variation a certain way, like that bug looking out the window, but then SMACK. I'd hit the invisible barrier. Nope. Fail. Attempt denied. Trying to stay optimistic and not downward spiral into the land of negativity, I just shake it off. That phrase my dad would always say to my brother and I as kids popped into my mind: "If at first you don't succeed, try try again!" Was that in a Disney movie? It sounds like it could've been. And so like that bug, I'd go at it again, or I'd go at something else.
SMACK.
And then another thing. SMACK.
Like the bug the irritable buzzing grew louder and louder with each failed attempt to reach the desired, only in my case it wasn't buzzing, but loud annoyed sighs and frustrated "ahhh"s. I couldn't decide if I needed a punching bag or a box of tissues.
Thankfully neither was required.

I had BSF tonight - Bible Study Fellowship, to those who have not experienced its amazingness - and what a good kick in the behind that was for me! Work went late so I arrived just in time for the lecture. And while the message wasn't poignantly on "dealing with frustrations" or "having grace for yourself," it was centered around the sacrificial work of Jesus and His followers. Let's just say it brought things into perspective. Today is Monday. Waiting for me is Eternity. Jesus knows my frustrations... He experienced it daily! Shoot... He is the Good Shepherd. What could be more frustrating than dealing with stupid, wandering and unbelieving sheep! He wants me to take these things to Him first and then to rest in His grace, keeping my eyes fixed not on what's outside that window, and trying over and over again, failing over and over again, but fixed on Him. He's the One who'll guide me out the open window just to my right.

Well it was definitely a Monday. But praise God Monday always ends with a good dose of reality... or should I say eternity.

Man's Best Friend

So a co-worker of mine went with her boyfriend to pick up their new dog today... a Border Collie to be exact.
And I am jealous.
For a long time I've wanted a dog(s). Practically speaking, it doesn't make sense for me right now. There are things that need to come first... like a house with a yard. Or at least a place of my own that is close enough to work so I can go on my lunch and let him out. But still... that doesn't keep me from dreaming. And dream I have! Not only do I know exactly what kind of dogs I want - I even know their names! Yes... I'm a little crazy.
I want a blue merle Border Collie boy, preferably with blue eyes.
And he shall be called Zebedee... or Zeb, Zebby, Zebedudah... really any permutation of this amazing Biblical name. For a dog.
The other I have not fully decided upon a breed. I know I want it to be kind of mangy and fairer haired, and ENORMOUS. I would love an Irish Wolfhound, but can you say expensive? Other considerations are blonde labradoodles, although it would have to be on the larger side with a wavy not curly coat, and let's be honest, those are just about as expensive as the Wolfhounds...
But he shall be called Nebo - as in the mountain Moses died on. Big name for the little dog, little name for the big dog.

Well one of these days I'll find you Zebedee. Someday I'll find you too Nebo.

You could be a Zebedee -

http://www.flickr.com/photos/nickobec/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

You could be a Nebo -


photo taken by me'nthedogs' found here on Flickr

Pushing toward the starting line

Well it's official... I suck at blogging. But it's not my fault! Honestly it's not!
This week, last week, next week - they all are, have been and are going to be an absolute blur of cabrioles, ballonnes, ice-baths and Tchaikovsky. Did I forget to mention ballet pantomime? Yes. Sleeping Beauty has arrived.
And I hurt.
You would think that since I am a professional ballerina, having trained since I was five years old to do this it would be a cinch - you know, piece of cake, right? Not to mention the fact that I just came off a grueling Nutcracker season... I mean what else are 43 shows of "holiday magic" good for than to get my butt in shape? Well it would appear that Nutcracker just didn't cut it.

The Sleeping Beauty is an entirely different kind of monster.

This ballet brings a whole new meaning to the word "production." Complete with wigs and heels in all four - yes, I did say four - acts, the costumes alone are works of art. And I haven't even mentioned the sets and scenery. It's quite a sight to behold! And I must admit this lavish extravagance was never more necessary as this enduring classic endures for two and a quarter hours - three if you include intermissions...
So 135 minutes - and I'm onstage and in character for probably 120 of those. To be fair, I'm not dancing full-out that entire time, but generally speaking I don't stop for very long before I start again. Off-stage isn't much different either. Intermission's consumed by changing costumes, hair, hair pieces, shoes... you get the picture.
In other words it's a marathon.
The question is will I make it to the starting line?
Classical ballet is really hard on the body, and The Sleeping Beauty is really as classical as it gets. The movements and steps are technical, precise and utterly unforgiving. It utilizes every muscle in your body - muscles you didn't even know existed, until the next morning they make their cranky, tight and pulsing presence known.
This week my best friend has been the ice bath. The ice bath and I, we have a love-hate relationship.
Imagine submerging your leg in a bucket of slushy ice-water, heavy on the ice. Painful? Well let's just say it's not all sunshine, rainbows and lollipops. But after a couple minutes when your leg goes completely numb, it's actually quite nice, in a sick masochistic sort of way... This week I have done this every day, multiple times a day in order to make it to that starting line. Not only have my feet been suffering the wrath of Sleeping Beauty - they look like they went through a belt sander - but my left calf muscle has as well. Like a stubborn cranky child it decided it had had enough. I believe the technical diagnosis is "strained." At any rate, I've managed to coax it out of it's tantrum through rest, prayer and of course, ice baths. Praise the Lord for that!

Wow... I sound pretty insane to put myself through all of this. And I probably am. But even with all the pain, oh man is there ever gain!

And just in case you'd like to come and see me not only make it to the starting line, but victoriously run this marathon, you can buy tickets here.

And so it begins...

I can't believe I have a blog.
I feel like I just have to say that for the record. It's not that I don't like writing. I do. And it's not that I don't have things say or express. Boy if you only knew... So what's the problem you might ask? The "you" is precisely the problem! Who are "you"? Are "you" even out there? And why would "you" want to read all the randomness that spills out of my brain and onto this blog?
A dear friend of mine started a blog what seems like eons ago... you know, before blogging was all the rage... I used to tease him about it, to which he would counter my objections to his "exhibitionistic journaling" by saying that he had such-and-such number of people reading his blog daily. Proudly, he stated that they were interested in his daily life and found his often dramatic accounts thrilling, humorous or just plain entertaining. I can't disagree. He is, after all, a very good writer.
You see he and I are alike and yet completely opposite. We both are creative people, with a flair for the dramatic, and enjoy writing. But while his instrument of choice is a computer keyboard, mine is a pen or pencil. My thoughts, dreams, desires and miscellaneous musings are recorded where they should be - in a journal! For my eyes only. Besides, a) who would want to know these things anyway and b) some things are just too embarrassing for me to even re-read let alone allow someone else's eyes to see.
And yet there are so many things I do long to share; so many strange insights the Lord's blessed me with. Why wouldn't I want to share these gifts I've so graciously received?
Well it is now past midnight and I have a busy work-day ahead of me. Needless to say this internal struggle has been going on for a while... And over what? A stupid blog?!!! I think I must be going crazy. Once again Jessika my dear, you over-think things...
At any rate, "you," whomever you may be, can expect to enjoy many other delightful installments to what I can promise will be, if anything, an odd-ball blog. And you can thank my Creative Non-Fiction class for that!
Who knows... Maybe, as one incredible actor once said "this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Time will tell.