A world of hurt; or, it’s amazing what the human body can do

Had been planning to go to Lines’ Dance Center’s all-you-can-dance ($5 for 4 1/2 hours!) with Lisa for a few weeks now. Sunday was the big day. Unfortunately, Saturday, I made the poor decision to down a 6 oz. serving of chai at about 4PM (I am extremely caffeine-sensitive), which resulted in me staying up for pretty much the ENTIRE NIGHT. I mentioned it to her as we were headed to Lines on Sunday that I had stayed up all night–oh, was it a hot date? No, I didn’t have a hot date. But my intestines had a hot date with my toilet.

So, on two hours of sleep, I barted over to SF with Lisa and stepped into class.

1. Hip hop. I am not hip, and I do not hop. It was really enjoyable, though, despite the fact that the sight of myself in the mirror attempting to “look cool” was horrifying. Am soooo not a hip hop dancer, but it was super fun!
2. Modern. Well, supposedly the day was geared towards beginning dancers, but this class was definitely much more a fast, fast, complicated intermediate, replete with slides and falls. It confirmed my hatred of floor work and therefore my firm commitment to ballet.
3. Absolute beginning ballet. Not quite a real ballet class–no barres etc. Fine.
4. Break! We actually munched on our sandwiches and bran muffins and chocolate in the conference room…it was kind of neat to try and imagine what kind of amazing, famous choreographers and dancers may have once graced that room…
5. Musical theater. Fun!! Easy, not terribly strenuous except for the butt and thigh-murdering warm up routine, but cheesy. Very cute instructor with a beautiful tush.
6. Flamenco cancelled…boo. But instead, a 45 min Chinese folk dancing class, which was really interesting. Not much in the way of explaining the steps…it was very much a follow-the-teacher-monkey-see-monkey-do class, which I suppose is quite right for these sorts of short, sampling type classes. Low impact, except for when I (accidentally) punched myself in the left leg.
7. Jazz. I did maybe half this class, but was finally feeling the effects of no sleep and minimal food. So I sat down with Lisa and stretched for the second half.

After class we had a fabulously starchy dinner at a Chinese restaurant–three different kinds of noodles! Mine had roasted duck skin in it! Decadent and wholly satisfactory. I was flexing my legs under the table and thinking, gee, if I’m sore now, I’m going to be hurting tomorrow.

Today I feel like I have been run over by a garbage truck. Everything hurts. Still, I went to ballet this morning and am planning to go to class Tuesday and Thursday as well. I can’t even imagine how professional dancers do it…they do more than twice the hours we did, at a much much higher level. That, my friends, is why a few of my ballet teachers are still dancing and teaching class in their 80s.

Men of the world, watch out! pt. 2: Chemistry.com survey

After my dismaying encounter with eharmony, I went to chemistry.com, which I understand to be an offshoot of match.com. I have heard mixed things about match.com itself; I do know at least one couple that met on that site, but it seems rather meat market-ish. I understand it’s more inclined towards casual dating than serious relationships per se, and so chemistry.com is match.com’s bid to take over some of eharmony’s share of that “serious relationship” market. So I gave chemistry.com a shot.

Watch out, men of the world! Also: eharmony fail

I have always been a climb-back-on-the-horse person. (Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So says Einstein.)

So: at the urging of two of my closest, oldest friends–one of whom is in a happy relationship because of this–I am giving online dating a shot. My expectations are actually quite low. Non-existent, really, in terms of real romance and a real relationship. At this point in time, I still can’t imagine anyone but you-know-who in my life. On the other hand, I am still hesitant about accepting his overtures of restarting the relationship. So my mental interest in finding a new boyfriend or man-love is…low. To nil. But, as my friend and advisor (let’s call her Belle) suggests, it’s a good way to make friends, and it’s better to go into it hoping to make friends than to find a soulmate.

Two nights ago I gave eharmony a spin. I had given a gift membership to my mother a year ago, and she did not care for it at all (“too many ugly people”). But I liked their whole compatibility business, and it seems like a very earnestly put together enterprise, although I find their model couples in their commercials kind of annoying. So I sat down and with the help of my roomie finished their hour-long survey. And out of 12 million members? I had seven. Seven matches. Seriously? I had heard that if you are a highly educated woman, eharmony can be rough on you. Very rough. But…seven! Deleted my trial run account. Stat.

Roomie also observed that it seems like eharmony is trying to find a match who is as much like me as possible. This is bad, very bad.

Moreover, one thing that I thought was interesting was that eharmony matched me with all Asian men; I like Asian men well enough, but…really? ALL of them were Asian? Weird.

Next post: tentative success, in finding a decent dating site.

p.s. I found a good ballet teacher! Huzzah!

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the cheap life

In view of these lean times, I have been trying to modify my spending. I went to the local 99 cent store yesterday and nearly fainted with joy. I had gone for one pack of flashcards…and left instead with 6 multicolored packs of flashcards, raisins, a notebook, sour straws, and 3 cups of organic vegetarian chili. Organic vegetarian chili! A hefty $2.50 at Whole Foods, but a negligible 99.9999 cents here. I didn’t touch the meats…the knock offs of spam (“luncheon meat”) were especially questionable. But you can’t go wrong with Health Valley organic chili and split pea soup.

I guess being thrifty at the 99 cent store doesn’t really work if one ends up spending more than was intended. But the frenzied spending was substantially more pleasurable than agonizing over the purchase of a $5 thimbleful of cheese at WF (or even Ralphs for that matter) for 15 minutes.

Aside from day to day expenses, I’ve also adjusted my banking and investing; I’ve decided to delay contributing to my retirement IRA for this year until I see what the stock market decides to do. I have contacted a credit union to discuss my options. By the way, this is a fabulous explanation of the subprime crisis.

It’s frustrating that so much of the financial advice out there really does not apply to grad students; no one is setting up nice little 401ks or 403bs for us. And we basically loose half a million dollars in delaying retirement savings for, I think, 5 years. I created my own retirement account before starting grad school, and have been trying to add to it, but ultimately, it’s only a half measure. I can only hope that the big bucks I’ll make as a professor will make up the difference. Ho ho.

In the meantime: 99 cent stores, no car (love pubtrans!), shopping Gap sales only, limiting eating out to once or twice a week, packed lunches, no movies, and save save save. In the words of the immortal Sandra Tsing Loh, a true “dumpie”–downwardly mobile professional.

To tell the truth, it’s actually a bit fun. I’ve taken to tabulating the numbers of bus rides I take, so that I might have a moment of financial triumph at the end of the term when I realize how much money I’ve saved by using a bus pass. And using the heck out of it–lately I’ve been up to 6 rides a day! Moreover, this is a fun–and deceptively productive–activity to do during lectures.

Someday, I will be a crazy miserly recluse, who saws off her own gangrenous foot rather than go to the free clinic and risk the cost of antibiotics.

Name my nephew!

Not my nephew exactly, but my cousin’s baby; she and her husband asked me to pick out an English first name for their son (who will arrive in mid-October up in Nor Cal).

So! I need as many suggestions as possible.

Limitations: name must be easy for Mandarin speakers to pronounce, as the baby’s mom, dad, and paternal grandparents do not speak English. Therefore it should not end with a consonant, and if possible, it should not have F, L, R, or V sounds. (worst possible name I can think of: Roland)

My mother impressed upon me the importance of picking out an auspicious name, with strong, prosperous connotations. So the name’s meaning should have something to do with wealth, intelligence, strength, good luck, etc.

Woohoo I’m excited!

Crafty question

I have finished shoving most of my earthly belongings into the new bedroom (pictures up soon!) and am pretty pleased with the arrangement of furniture, and how surprisingly neat everything looks, despite the usual chaos of moving. I anticipate being very productive in this room, as I have evicted my television, and the HD-TiVo-Guitar Hero-Wii-plasma screen tv getup in the living room is far too complicated for my poor humanities brain to handle.

My only problem is that my work desk faces the window, and in the afternoon, the window floods the room with eye-piercing sunshine. I tend to do a lot of work in the afternoon (truly: a lot of time wasting on facebook), and although there are blinds, there are still blinding slits of light that still slide through. So I have decided that I must have curtains.

There are some cutesy things on the target and urban outfitter websites, but they tend to be either too sheer to fend off the afternoon sun or way too hideously stiff/faux rococo for my tastes. Or too expensive. Therefore I am contemplating the construction of my own curtains. My question is: how would I go about accomplishing such a task? My sewing skills are decent if rusty, having worked at the college costume shop sewing corsets and lace for 2 years. But I am not sure about where I can find the supplies and if I wouldn’t be better off just spending $40 on some beige curtain kit at target. 

I have 2 weeks, so time is not really an issue (I think). Any crafties out there? help!

Pregnancy and childbirth are terrifying

A friend of mine gave birth this weekend: after 12 hours of labor, she delivered an almost-10 pound baby. Good gracious. The baby is adorable; downright magical, really. So cute. It’ll be amazing to see her grow, and to see how her parents keep up!

But honestly, having known a few details from pregnancy–and fleshing out these tidbits with what I’ve heard from other older women–I have to say that pregnancy and childbirth are pretty much the scariest things that women do. Did you know that you lose a lot of hair after birth? Or that you bleed for weeks and weeks afterwards? Or that you can poop during labor? Or that pooping after birth is excruciating? Or that you will pee every time you sneeze after giving birth? Or that your sex life will never be the same again? And of course, your boobs suffer. And you get nasty rashes before and after birth. Also: varicose veins, excessive facial hair, back pain, hemorrhoids, anal tearing, heartburn, constipation, and vomiting. All this is enough to make me doubt the existence of a kind and loving deity.

Kudos to the women who do it, but count me OUT.

Holiday aftermath

1. A slightly achy jaw from all the crunchy food. I never suspected that one could eat too much crunchy food, but there ya go. In the last week or two, I have gorged on: carrots, cashews, peanuts, broccoli, tortilla chips.

2. A deep reluctance to do anything at all productive for school, short of purchasing some new pens and notepads.

3. A habit of sleeping in until 10AM.

4. When I was a wee one, during holidays, I would peek out from under the avalanche of new toys to watch my parents happily receive shoes, planners, jackets, and other shockingly boring items from Santa. I marveled at how terrible adults’ gifts were, and vowed never to request anything dull. Well; this Christmas, I asked for and received such gifts as a salad spinner, a desk chair, and a file cabinet. I am become adult, destroyer of fun.

5. On the other hand, Mr. P finagled his way into finding me a Nintendo Wii! I am becoming rather expert at bowling and tennis, although baseball still escapes me. He purchased Resident Evil 4 for himself; while he slashes and hacks away at Spanish-speaking, scythe-wielding zombies, I cower at the computer reading the walkthrough aloud. I prefer tennis.

6. A most hearty love of napping.

hyperextension, and notes on ballet

***More detailed information in this more recent post!!!***

My ballet teacher told me yesterday that I have hyperextended legs, which makes it difficult for me to close my feet in fifth position.

See how their legs bend back at the knee? This is good and bad. It’s good in that hyperextension is considered aesthetically pleasing in that it elongates the line of the leg, and like having beautifully arched insteps (which I sadly do not also possess), it’s part of what gives ballet dancers that ballet “look.” It’s hard to find a professional ballerina who is not hyperextended. However, it also means that it’s much easier for me to injure my joints because they’re naturally extra-stretchy.

It’s good to know also because it explains why it’s so damn difficult for me to keep my feet in fifth position. And I thought it was leg chub this whole time.

Must be more diligent about warmups now. A girl snapped her achilles in class the week before last. You could hear the loud pop! and then a heavy thud as she crashed to the ground. Once you snap your achilles, that means surgery and 8-9 months of no dancing. And no walking without crutches, for that matter.

Overall, though, I am very pleased with my progress so far. Most people at the studio now assume that I had danced intensively as a child or teenager. But the greatest pleasure I’ve been getting out of ballet lately is the fact that it’s not academia. In reflecting on my what–3rd full year? in ballet, I realize what a relief it’s been as a stress reliever. Dancing is a wholly separate system of thought; it uses completely unfamiliar parts of the ole noggin. I can focus solely on breathing, movement, muscles, and music; there’s none of the achey immobile processing that rules most of my day.

It usually takes 3 hours for me to get to ballet, dance, and go home. I enjoy every second of the process, from the moment I climb onto the bus to my teacher’s corrections (“do it again”) to climbing off the bus a few hours later. Next term, I hope to up classes to 4 a week, with pointe preparation classes.

I realize that I will never be “good enough” at ballet. To some degree, I will always suck. But it’s a refreshing reality check, because I don’t have to worry about perfection, as I do in my writing and academic work. Since I’ll never be good enough to be a professional, I can really just enjoy the challenge without the massive expectations of my adolescence (which hover now over my graduate studies).

Vive la danse!