The Heffers All Call Him Amigo

I heard Lisa singing that line in a song about Ferdinand the Bull, and I promised myself it would be a blog title soon. If only you could picture my grandma singing that song (she's the one who first sang it to Lisa!), you would fully appreciate how happy it makes me. In other news, I have just (like 2 minutes ago) finished reading the terrible obsession-inducing menace that is the Twilight series. Now another, much healthier, obsession is on the way: in approximately 30 minutes it will be June 23 on the East Coast, and then (I'm guessing then) Regina Spektor's new album, Far, will be released. I've already listened to the whole thing here (thank you to Lisa, and also NPR!), but then I will be able to listen to it any and everywhere! Yipeeee! The dances are quickly forming in my head, as are the questions about whether you should move on after you have choreographed almost 10 dances to songs by the same artist. But that's the way I enjoy music. I'm realizing that it's hard for me to like a song if I can't see the dancers. And it's hard for me to not go crazy if I can see the dancers, and can't make them come to life. Most of the dances that form in my head, however, aren't quite right for my main choreographic venue, classes full of 8-year-olds eager to dance to the Camp Rock soundtrack (seriously- my dance to Hasta La Vista was a big hit). So I'm feeling a little restless lately. Danielle seems open to letting me set something on a few of the members of Borealis, but I'm really nervous about that. Not sure why; maybe because everything Danielle choreographs is so beautiful and intellectual and artistic, and when I choreograph it comes out more like a hug than a work of art.

I guess what I love about Regina Spektor is that her music is sweet and playful and sincere and comforting, like a hug, but also innovative and complex and fascinating. It's everything I want my art to be. And I definitely want to keep at it, but now that I'm out of college I feel like my experiments on the way are much more out in the open. In college, my audiences knew me and my "big hug" kind of choreography. In college, my dances were projects. I was learning. Suzanne Ostersmith, my dance professor, friend, and kindred spirit, once told me that a mentor of hers once told her that your first 50 dances don't really count, so there's no need to stress over them. It was a truth that set her free at the beginning of her long career as a director and choreographer.

I haven't kept count of how many dances I've choreographed, but I'm pretty sure my hours are marked, if not up. I really wish it was the first 100 that didn't count . . . Why did I have to be so darn prolific in college?
Oh well. Next time I choreograph, I'm resolved to make it really spectacular, or at least to make a spectacularly wholehearted effort.

Hmm . . . the word spectacular just got me thinking about a conversation Lisa, mom, Travis and I had last Thursday night at Kerby Lane re: words that don't really mean what we think they do, or didn't originally mean what they do now.

Did you know that decimate means "reduce by 10%?" That's it. Only 10%! I was flabbergasted. I feel like my life changed in a small, but also big, way when I learned that.

Listening to new music by Regina Spektor makes blogging feel so epic! I hope it will continue making things feel epic and exciting, at least until Friday night when Travis comes home. Until then, I am stranded here with no Travis, no Borealis rehearsals (Danielle and Travis really need to better coordinate their vacations), and not even any crazy work schedule to distract me. Darn you, summer break at Austin Dance Company!