Monday, December 24, 2007

The Holy Burnination

Our tree already set on fire. Again. It is officially Christmas Eve in the Ellis Home.

Friday, December 14, 2007


The newest Ellis and my second nephew!

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

devastated optimism, indeed!

What's Your 19th-Century Horror Character?
created with
You scored as Frankenstein's Monster

You are Victor Frankenstein's hideous creation in Mary Shelley's classic novel. A grotesque conglomeration of disembodied organs, you ravage the countryside in search of your maker. Although you have a gentle and curious soul, civilization refuses to accept you as one of their own, driving you to acts of bestial wrath. Yours is a life of loneliness and devastated optimism.

Frankenstein's Monster


Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde


Dorian Gray


The Invisible Man


Count Dracula


The Headless Horseman


Sunday, December 2, 2007


Your body doesn't discriminate between dreams and waking reality. If someone says they're sorry in your sleep, your body may forgive them before your brain catches up. If you dream that they beat the royal hell out of you, and you wake up in the midst of said beating, your body will keep pumping adrenaline through your body until dream finally dissolves into daylight.

I've got the wrong guards up.

(Strangle by Sina Grace. Check out his blog to the right.)

Thursday, November 29, 2007


My older brother Sam is working on a graphic family album. Neat!

Monday, November 19, 2007

Free Peltier

“You are about to perform an act which will close one more chapter in the history of the failure of the United States Courts and the failure of the people of the United States to do justice in the case of a native American. After centuries of murder, of murder of millions of my people, brothers and sisters, by the white race of America could I have been wise in thinking that you would break that tradition and, commit an act of Justice?” Leonard Peltier, 1977

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Do the D-A-N-C-E

1 2 3 4 5!

Synapse Dance Theater
Contemporary Dance Ensemble at Santa Monica College

Saturday October 27 at 2pm and 8pm
Sunday October 28 at 2pm

Main Stage, SMC Campus; 1900 Pico Blvd, Santa Monica,
CA 90405
General Admission $15; students and seniors $12
For Ticket Information call the SMC Event Box Office

Synapse usually sells out, especially the Saturday
night performance!

Artistic Director: Linda Gold

Guest Artists: Linda Gold, Joy Hewitt, Tae Rin Kim,
Jae Lee, Rachel Lopez, Vivian Rankin-Scales, Karen

Synapse Choreographers: SARA ELLIS! Andre Lackner,
Sarah Reich, Daniel Silva

Monday, October 15, 2007


...go to sleep with food in your mouth.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Saturday, September 22, 2007

You move me...

I am choreographing a solo (that I will be performing) for Santa Monica College's dance concert, Synapse (October 27&28). My piece comes from a vulnerable place, and has been giving me trouble. I just keep getting stuck. I think this has something to do with the fact that for the past two months I have oscillated between two emotions: exhausted, and ironic.

I even tried running into one of my ex-boyfriends in hopes of dredging some semblance of an emotion that would remind me of what it felt like to, well, have feelings. My plan was foiled, and later that night I found a most unbecoming photograph of him online that imbued me with something quite the opposite of longing. I fancied I might kiss him to remember what hurt tasted like, but I think it would have been breakfast I'd be tasting. Again. I should be happy to have moved on so thoroughly!

I guess there's still that dull ache I feel most days simply because existence is taxing in general, but I thrive on details. There was a boy I had a lingering crush on, and Emily suggested I ask him out, so that when rejected me I could use it as artistic fuel. Unfortunate that it was obvious I would be rejected, but not unfortunate enough to cry about. And if I did go and get rejected it would be too relevant.

I ended up making a digital makeout mixtape. There's always that song you end up making out to. It's awfully powerful stuff. Full of promises; and promises are like glasses of water. The more empty, the more resonant the sound. Those songs were fat with good memories gone bad. I was laying alone in my bed with my feet pressed against the wall. Sitting in the passenger seat, being sung about. Watching in the bathroom mirror as he kissed me. Holding still in the dark while he read Neruda into my spanish.

I felt sad. Hooray.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

More insulin, please.

The denouement of a crush feels a lot like coming down from a bad sugar rush. It's sort of depressing, but you half-heartedly admit that it wasn't very good for you, anyway.


Thursday, August 23, 2007

It's not death that scares me...'s the time that lingers on in the meanwhile, when death is certain.

Whether or not you survive death is defined in that twilight moment. Surviving doesn't mean keeping a pulse so much as it means keeping your humanity in tact.

So that being said, HOLY McHOLY, Sunshine was an AMAZING film. It was the best sci fi story I've ever read, except I didn't read it. This movie takes its time, but still delivers story and visuals that are both beautiful and terrifying. Space hits the same spot for me that robots do, so this sci fi thriller kept me emotionally charged.

I hate people that scoff at sci fi and fantasy, justifying their bias with "but it's not real." Puting humanity in a new or unfamilar context can reveal more truth about us, both individually and as a whole, than any stupid hyped up suburban drama. Not that those aren't good, but a lot of sci fi and fantasy is like taking a really fascinating chunk out of your anthropology textbook and laying it out on a platter with brilliant concept design, hot visuals, and a side of really good acting.

I adore Cillian Murphy (28 days Later, Intermission), but I was also pleasantly surprised to see Chris Evans (Fantastic Four; Cellular, hahahaha) playing an interesting character. And he did it very well. I thought everyone did really well.

I need to see this movie again. Go see it! Never before have I been so terrified of sunlight. And the dark. You just can't win, we are delicate flowers.

Also, read these awesome sci fi stories/books:

Ender's Game; Speaker for the Death; Pastwatch; The Worthing Chronicle; Flux, by Orson Scott Card.
Inconstant Moon, by Larry Niven
I, Robot, by Isaac Asimov
A Fisherman of the Inland Sea, by Ursula K. LeGuin
Masterpieces: The Best Science Fiction of the 20th Century, edited by Orson Scott Card.

This is a very short list, but if you aren't familiar with sci fi lit, it is a good place to start.

Speaking of OSC, if you like short fiction, you should check out the link i have to IGMS, a.k.a. Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show. Super cheap, great original content.

After watching Sunshine, Mike Warner and I buzzed around Mulholland Drive on his BMW motorcycle. So awesome. Now I know why people are obsessed with their bikes. If I can't get my own bike, I would at least like to have my own flip-visor helmet. So astronautical! Then my street cred would completely max out for good.

Overall it might have been one of the best afternoons ever, despite my calling a woman a rich bitch (to her back, no less) for throwing her paper towel on the ground outside of the Arclight's bathroom because there wasn't a trash can RIGHT THERE. I picked it up and threw it away back in the bathroom. I just hate that kind of mess. Those people aren't paid to pick up after you and your self-centered, mini-skirted, fake-tanned ho-tail! But I suppose that doesn't excuse my seaworthy tongue. Sorry mom, I will one day stop calling people b-i-t-c-h's and d-bags... Outloud.

i like your band.

You may not know about Cougar Delicious. We do not, afterall, even have our MySpace page up yet. But just so you know, our music kinda sounds like this:

Amazing. Thanks to Aaron Alexis for being completely smokin', and thanks to Larissa Underwood for being a great photog.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Over and Out

Apologies to all my friends and family that fielded all the superfluous texting and redundant phone calls yesterday-- I am just so enthusiastic about finally having a cellphone. I have unlimited texting and always need love, so please, hit me up.

Today was also my last day in a professional capacity at the comic shop. I will try to keep somewhat in the know on what is hot, and add more reviews to the blog. I will also add updates about the comic project I am working on with Meghan Kinder. I'll be going to school full time and writing/dancing my butt off. But not completely off. Butts are too awesome. Never have I spoken wiser words.

In celebration, here is that short dance film, if you haven't caught it elsewhere.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Dear Darling Theodosia,

Things have been going alright here, how are you ? Thanks for letting me borrow the cream colored dress you made out of the lace curtains we stole from that mansion. It was a bit long, I had to wear very high shoes. But I'm afraid you were right-- it does smell a bit too much like widow and forgetting. I had to use a citrus shampoo to mask the scent. I hope that doesn't make you gag. I know how you feel about citrus.

Did you start a garden this spring? I couldn't be bothered with it as I was consumed with the post. Some wicked person keeps leaving antique babies in our mailbox, and I still haven't caught them. But today I've left out the perambulator, full of skeleton heads. Mouse and bird skeleton heads. That will stop them, I'm sure. In any case, please send me an aubergine. We are severely lacking elegant vegetables, thanks to the baby villainry.

I saw Little Aaron yesterday! He has grown so tall, and is finally allowed to sit at the dinner table. I must admit I will miss watching him stand, so perfectly straight in his little bowtie and spats. He looks very handsome, though, in the sweatervest you sent him for Bastille Day. Not at all bouregoise. I can't remember, is that a good thing, or a bad thing?

I'm going to have to cut this letter a little shorter than usual, my dearest Theo. Some people just arrived. They might want to know what I am doing in their house. Don't worry, they will be gone again for a full fortnight, and we can sit on their furniture for hours. I've saved all the best cabinets for you. What discoveries you shall make, friend. I tremble at the thought. Take care; I hope you dream about killing someone dreadful!


P.S. Of course I remembered it was your birthday, that is why I used the green pen.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Cancel All Your Plans

So this morning I went to the doctor, and after a bizarre and highly improbable three month battle, my thrush infection is officially gone. That's right, I had a BABY DISEASE in my MOUTH. But it's all good now, so anyway. Yeah.

Bring on the gratuitous make outs.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007


Yesterday I went to Staples, and there was a ridiculous little pink convertible in the parking lot. I thought to myself, "Who drives that silly little pink car?"

When I walked in there was a woman standing in line at the register, wearing a pink tee shirt, pink skirt, pink sequined flip flops...and pink hair. Well, obviously.

I love this show.

Emily and I have already divied them up into our respective prospective lovers for life boxes. Don't act like you don't have boxes.

Friday, August 10, 2007

It was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times

I'm officially never getting my hair done again by someone I don't know. Even when they lure me in with "free!" It's not even worth free. After getting a royally screwed up color job at the salon next door to the 'Ho, I scheduled a second appointment (not for free) to get it fixed. It's still not the way I wanted it, but at least it's not shameful like it was before. Then they charged me more than they said they were going to, and when I asked them about that they were really defensive. So ridiculous. So yeah, don't go to Forme on SM Blvd. If for no other reason than to support my bitter annoyance.

But then I spent several hours hanging out with my boss's wife. She is awesome. She has three miniature chickens that she lets outside, and we released them. Then we went to the Salvation Army with her daughter, and she bought me these really cool brown boots that were made in Spain. I have He-Man calves inherited from my father, so boots don't work all that well for me, but these were just too cool and so cheap. We talked about art and our synchronized moods that are possibly being affected by the pole shifting going on. Then I showed her some of my mom's art, and she saw a little bit of my art and was so so complimentary, it made me feel awesome.

Almost as awesome as this song. Screw lame salons and and bad days. This song will make you feel great.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

I <3 Trashy Novels

This morning I woke up wanting to read a book that I had ordered a couple months ago. As I searched my room I started to get the vague notion that I had probably left it in the bottom of of the original box it shipped in, obscured under the bubble wrap. Then I suddenly realized that I had filled that box with my random room trash and threw it out in the bottom of a much larger back of trash Saturday morning.

I spent the next twenty minutes frantically (and pointlessly) searching the apartment so as to accrue anti-jackass insurance. (This policy insures that you don't do something incredibly gross and stupid, and then realize it was unnecessary. "Ah, here it was, under my bed the whole time. Silly me, where's that tetnus shot?") I stood in the middle of the room and psyched myself up to go digging through our dumpster (which is almost taller than me). The only thing worse than digging through your trash is digging through OTHER PEOPLE'S trash. Okay, Okay, I can do this. I CAN DO THIS!

I ran down the stairs before I could lose my nerve and-- oh.

Today was trash day. The dumpster was at the end of the block. Empty.

I'm still not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved.

In other book news, is anyone a part of ? I just registered today. It is a social networking site centered around books. You post the books you have read, and review them, and then get your friends reviews. An accquaintance on a forum I frequent presented the notion that it could be even cooler if they had a function like .
I concur. Hooray literacy.

Friday, August 3, 2007

Forcing Nature

I have learned a few things this summer.

Thank you thousands of years of evolution, culturally inflicted gender identity, and transgenerational shared group consciousness; I am a Gatherer afterall. I picked a lot of berries with my mom when I was in Virginia, and was so at ease. I could have stayed weeks longer just to pick blueberries. I wish their was somewhere close by where I could wander out with my women friends and gather tiny produce while we verbally organized our feelings. Le Sigh. So lady-like, so accomplished.

I want to be Robin Hood. While visiting my mom, I helped her go pick up a bunch of free bread from a Bakery, at seven in the AM. Seven in the AM is a big deal for me. But so is poverty. My mom and I filled her VW with all kinds of whole wheat bread, bagels, buns, and muffins. Apparently this bakery does this once every two weeks, giving away all the bread they aren't allowed to sell because it is a day old. It is also, ironically, located off of Robin Hood Road in Norfolk. We had already sent out a notice at church that we would be picking it up, and that anyone could come by our house and get as much as they needed. We gave some to our neighbors, stopped the missionaries on their way home, and called my mom's friends that were financially struggling. We drove around passing it out to anyone we could think of. Best of all I called my best friend Eugene who lives in the Hood and he came over and took a whole palette to give out to all the single mothers on his street. This was really expensive bread that these ladies probably can't afford for their kids, and I made sure to pick out the kinds with the most whole grains and highest nutritional value. It was so great to see Eugene. He put his personal goals on hold while he pushed his little brother through the last two years of high school. His little brother graduated at the top of his class, and got 47,000 dollars in scholarships for college. Eugene is "a young black man that doesn't have any kids and has never been in prison; an endangered species, Liz." He is an endangered species-- a selfless human being, and a true friend. He also wears the best kicks. I told him if he gets his butt in college at VCU I just might have to go back there to finally finish my Anthropology degree. I felt so good all day, making sure everyone had something to eat. I would like to find an institution here in LA that does something similar. I would gladly drive around every weekend, green tights and all.

You get what you pay for. A new salon moved in next door to Hi De Ho a while ago, and they kept trying to get me to come in. I resisted until one day the owner offered to do my color for free. I had told her I wanted to go from my red to a platinum blonde. Well, that's not exactly what I got. My hair is a now a tacky, stripey mess. The parts they actually bleached turned a lovely platinum blonde, but the rest meandered between various shades of rootbeer brown and muddied red. It will cost me approximately one hundred dollars to fix. What bad karma did I have built up that had to be expressed so aggressively? What bothers me the most is that someone might think I actually WANTED this, and obviously am devoid of aesthetic awareness. At least I have my limbs. So far. So anyway, hopefully next Friday we will have a blonde Sara, for better or for worse.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Highlights from the Vizzay

My mom and my second eldest brother Samuel picked me up from the Norfolk airport at 12:45 am. We drove home in my mom's new VW rocking out to Don't Stop Me Now by Queen. Driving through my old neighborhood and to the house of my childhood felt like driving into a snowglobe, or one of my dreams. Everytime I dream about being "home" it is in that house. Upon our arrival, my mom made belgian waffles with homemade peach jam for me, Sam, and my oldest brother, John.

I'm sharing a bed with my mom, and was awakened by my four year old nephew that shares the room. His name is Ezekiel, and he happens to be the coolest kid ever. This was evident by his Spider-man pajamas and his desire to lay on my head until I got out of bed.

One of the best things about visiting home is my mother's cooking. In short, she is the best. For lunch she made potato-leek soup with fresh summer squash, followed by fresh peaches she had canned in their own juice. I believe that must have been what Lehi ate from the Tree of Life in his vision outlined in First Nephi. She, Ezekiel, and I drove out to Pungo to pick blackberries. (Watch out for future entries concerning the Witch of Pungo.) With these blackberries we concocted my late grandmother, Bessie's, favorite dessert. Fresh berries with warm shortcake, sprinkled with sugar, covered in fresh heavy cream. Holy smokes.

Kinesthetic, spatial, and muscular memory are funny things. Even though I have not lived in this house for five years, my hands still remembered that the upstairs light switches were wired backwards. Everytime I need to throw something away I walk to pantry door where we used to hang a trash bag-- even though the pantry has been missing its door for some time now.

Despite interloping felines, my allergies have been totally under control, Allah be praised.

I get to swim almost every day in the neighborhood pool I grew up breaking in to.

After church my ex boyfriend of yore rang my doorbell. Weird! My mom gave him one of the free loaves of bread we keep getting from some people at church. Some how they have access to truckloads of free bread. I'm going to go feed the ghetto.

I am taking dance class all week with the teacher of all teachers, Elbert Watson. It's wonderful.

Transformers was awesome, and I will probably have to see it twice, so as to experience it with the present four of my five brothers.

Everyone keeps telling me how skinny I look. Thank the good Lord for the South.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007


I keep forgetting that Chris is dead. Maybe that's because it's only the Living that can really leave us; the Dead have much less of a choice. It's up to us to keep them and carry them, and give them some place to go. It's nice, the feeling of having all these people tied to me like balloons, hovering just out of mortal perceptions. But then there's a feeling of grave responsibility, to make sure nothing happens to them, that they don't fly loose, abandonded to a lack of dimensions. I hope I am doing alright. I can be a fitful anchor.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Squirrely Goblin

Crave Online came to Hi De Ho for one of their review bits, and they asked me to add my picks for the upcoming week.
I'm so obviously uncomfortable, and didn't know where to look. AWKWARD!

Crave Online: Funny Videos, Sexy Videos, Music Videos, Movie Trailers, and More!

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

The Best Thing

This week...blows. But! This morning the best thing happened. I was riding the 7 to work, listening to Summer Love by Justin Timberlake. While that song is the hotness, it was not the Best Thing. A woman and her little boy were sitting behind and across from me. When they got off at the Third Street stop I noticed the boy trying to get back to the bus, but the driver didn't see him and the mom pulled him back away from the street. I glanced back to where they had been sitting and noticed a tiny man laying between the seats.

I scooped him up, yanked the yellow cord, and asked the driver to let me off. I ran back towards Third Street, and saw the mom through the crowd on the sidewalk. I ran up to them, pulling out my headphones, and held out the action figure to the little boy.

"Does he belong to you?!" His eyes lit up with recognition, and I saw that he was crying. The mom thanked me profusely and said that his best friend had given him the figure. I told her son that I had five brothers and knew how important those little guys could be. He looked at me as if I'd raised his little plastic Lazarus from the dead.

Not even a million cupcakes could have made me feel that great. There are few things more rewarding than rediscovering your humanity in Los Angeles.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Sky Keeps Falling

Saw an awesome blazing meteorite on the way back home this evening. Have you ever seen a falling star and wished for something OTHER than a makeout?

Me neither.

Had pancakes at Fred62 (the new Swingers, which was the new Cafe 50s) with Emily and Aaron Alexis. Here is Aaron, offending me with his hotness:

Emily and I had just got out of the rehearsal for the great play reading she is in, Funeral Wedding, written by the _genius_ Emily Schwartz, and directed here in Los Angeles by my often-girl-crush, Kelly Lohman. I wasn't rehearsing, I was just observing. I did minor assisting with the movement and blocking for Lucy and Mary in Act One.
Supremely talented cast; the funniest play about murder and pedophilia you'll ever see.

The Funeral Wedding
by Emily Schwartz

June 22nd at 8pm and June 23rd at 5pm

Reservations: (818) 765-8732
Suggested Donation $10

A staged and rehearsed play reading.

Performances at:
6128 Yucca Street, Hollywood
Theatre at St. Stephen's Church between Franklin and Hollywood
Free parking lot accessible from Carlos Street

From the writer of "The Dastardly Ficus and Other Comedic Tales of Woe and Misery" comes an original murder mystery directed by Kelly Lohman. After Alvin Fisher witnesses the murder of two little girls, he hides in the family attic and withdraws into an imaginary world. But when the ghosts of the children appear to him and beg him to find their killer, he is forced to face the real world -- and the reality is that the killer may be closer than he thinks.

Alvin ……………..…..………….. James Immekus
Anne ……………..…………….. Emily Janice Card
Sylvester ………..…….… Robert Briscoe Evans
Myrna ……………..……………………….Susan Hull
Dr. Elliot …………..…………………James Calvert
Lucy …………………………….. Vanessa Whitney
Mary …………………..……………… Aimee Parker
Accordion Player …….…………………Bob Rokos

Monday, June 18, 2007

Underrated, Rediscovered, or Just Cool Regardless.

These are Rather Awesome (in case you hadn't noticed).

Hellboy works for the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense (B.P.R.D.). When Hellboy leaves the Bureau to take care of some Hellboy stuff, the team makes due without him. This book is brilliant. I love Mike Mignola's artwork, and so was reluctant to read a spinoff drawn by someone else. Tut tut! How lame that I went so long without it. The artwork is very effective for the story, but that's the thing --the stories are amazing. The stakes are real, and they are high. I'd always been a huge fan of Abe Sapien, but in BPRD everyone is masterfully developed. Roger the Humunculus is definitely one of the best characters in any comic, ever. I would suggest getting through the first five volumes of Hellboy so you can truly appreciate the where the Bureau is coming from, plus the origin story of Roger and most of the other agents. The first collected volume of of BPRD is called Hollow Earth and Other Stories. It's fantastic, but volume two is kinda all over the place. By volume three things are more cohesive and volume four and five will just knock your socks off. Unless of course you're lame. If all you know of Mignola is that tragically mediocre Hellboy movie, please, don't make any hasty judgments. Both Hellboy and BPRD (and The Amazing Screw-on Head!) should be available at a comic shop near you, Hi De Ho if you're in Los Angeles, or Amazon if you're bedridden. If anyone ever wants to come over and have a big comic potluck reading party just let me know.

More Rather Awesome things one might want to check out, coming soon.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Classified Information and Private Catastrophes

As organisms we are definable. We are male, female, humankind; Homo sapien. But how do you define a being? Of all the parts and minutiae that make up Sara Elizabeth Ellis, what can be eliminated and leave a whole and true Sara behind?
You could argue that adding or subtracting anything to myself would change this Sara into a completely new Sara, and that moment by nanomoment there are parallel Saras born into a mirror universe ad infinitum. You could also argue that nothing short of complete and total destruction could reveal my true Self – but that isn’t what I’m talking about here. I’m thinking in simpler terms.
There are a lot of ways we define ourselves. Most of this is left out in the open for public consumption, As a species we are nigh obsessed with broadcasting self definition: band t-shirts, netflix queues, throw pillows, preferred personal frangrances, and Phds. There are some things, however, that are so crucial to our existence, so inextricably "I" that we shy from saying it aloud. To name it might sully, or worse, destroy it; a single wayward breath and we might wink out of existence.
These characteristic tend to fall under the artistic and religious. They pin the mortal to the divine. They turn earthbound faces ever skyward. They are expressed urgently, tenderly; with precision, and with abandon. They are witnessed by thousands at forty dollars a seat, but they are sometimes witnessed only by the most peripheral members of society that keep the nightwatch over park benches and bus stops. They alone might hear something flutter between parked cars, or dart across an empty intersection.
I'm a pretty good storyteller. I like my poetry. Some other people like it, too. Several members of my family are good if not great at the visual arts. I am the assistant editor for a fiction magazine and I take pleasure in measuring up a story, diagnosing any problems, and sometimes even prescribing possible remedies. I work part time in a comic book store, have good communication skills, give great amateur massages, pre and post breakup counsel, dream interpretations, and slightly cockeyed but ultimately passable haircuts. But I'm a dancer, yo.
I am never happy if I am not dancing. Too many days without it and I get physically and psychologically muffed up. Dancing is the most pure and effective way I can put the inside on the outside. It stirs my blood, soothes my heart, blows my mind, and articulates my soul.
I don't shout it around. A lot of my every- day- people don't know it. The majority of my graduating class certainly didn't know it, and neither did one (or all?) of my ex-boyfriends. Of course that has more to do with their being self-absorbed and bad listeners than with my shyness. However, this could be the first and only PSA to disclose the most crucial of Sara ingredients, excluding resum├ęs.
If you know me well this isn't surprising. I fear putting the truest and most precious parts of myself out in the open except in those inevitable showdowns between Good and Evil. And I don't believe in Dance Competitions, except socially. Most of all, I don't believe in this:

I often wear my heart on my sleeve, but never on my ass.

I know I'm not alone. A lot of us sneak around, being awesome in the dark. Did you know CompTron was an amazing dancer? Her body sings poetry. Seriously. She empathizes with my passion, but also shares my anxiety with performing in front of a few accqaintances, as opposed to a nameless throng or a few tried and true souls. It's just too important. Too true, too real, too raw.
In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints we get are accustomed to public prayers. Before dinner, after meetings, etc. But have you ever prayed your most personal prayers aloud? What if someone other than God was listening?

It is as terrifying as it is beautiful. It just makes you cautious, is all. You don't have to cast your pearls before swine to feel like the only naked body in the room-- well meaning people are scary enough.
Even more terrifying is the thought of losing your means of expression.
Thursday morning I went to my first ballet class after six months of exclusively dancing West African and Flamenco. I hit four triple pirouettes in a row. Awesome. I couldn't extend my right leg when raised higher than 45 degrees. Holy crap. That's not good.
It might be tendonitis, but the terrible click/snapping sensation would indicate that I've probably torn a ligament behind my knee. I called my long time friend and teacher Elbert Watson back in Norfolk, Virginia, 10 'o clock at night his time, and he gave me some good advice,therapeutic exercises, and optimism that it would heal before visiting him in July.
Frozen aspargus now under my knee, I feel better. But there was a moment, a long unravelling moment, where I couldn't stop crying because I couldn't move my legs. I couldn't express my feelings, I couldn't dance to my own pulse, I couldn't touch the divine.
We are so fragile. Such fragile creatures should have more courage. Courage to take off our clothes, pray out loud, dance in the daylight. Crash. Burn. Brilliant.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Sharing is Caring.

I enjoy reading my friend CompTron's blog entries, and am always grateful that she takes the time to share her thoughts and experiences. I mentioned this during our tandem lunch break today, and agreed to be less selfish and share as well. The experiment begins. Huzzah.