on ‘the scary thing is…’


I don’t update often because I don’t often think of things I should say. Most of the time I want to make corny lists about the ten most wonderful things about loml, or why I’m in the best graduate program in the world, or seventeen things that I’ve learned about dance in cold war America this week…things I’m not sure that anyone but me is really interested in.

That being said, this thing has been on my mind. That, and I don’t want to post about how wonderful my family is (they are.) and how much I love Christmas (I do.)

A few months ago I wrote something about being injured, and how dancers have a different relationship to their bodies. I’m still channeling my warrior heart as I work through this injury, but this wasn’t the type of thing that stretching and conditioning was going to take care of.

Lord knows I’ve been conditioning.
My leg might be broken (*read: not functioning the way I want it to)
but I’m going to have the core strength of a…of Jeff. 

Anyway, five professional opinions later, I’ve opted for surgery to fix the problem. It’s gross and complicated so I’m not going to go into details but I’ll be in the hopsital for a couple of days, then on crutches for 8 weeks, then rehab for a few more months.

The surgeon said I won’t be in dance class again for a year. Or two.

Oh yeah, there it is. The scary thing.

I know I can sit in a chair and take class while I heal. I know that I continue to use my other “gifts” in the field (other people’s words, not mine). But it’s scary. All I’ve been doing for almost ten years is dance. When I’m sad, I take class. When I’m happy, I dance. When I’m inspired, I create a piece. When I’m discouraged, I take barre. When I’m alone, I dance around like a nutcase. It’s my thing. If not that, then what do I have?

I am nervous about having surgery. I am nervous of letting someone else (or a team of someone elses) be trusted with my body. I am nervous about not being physically capable enough to do everything on my own.

I’m having surgery on the 31st. Happy New Year! I would love and appreciate any of your messages, hellos, prayers, whatever. Because it is scary. 

The P.A. said “This isn’t our first rodeo” when I mentioned my nervousness and trepidation. Well, sir, it is my first ‘rodeo.’

It’s going to be okay, right?

Love, b

rather than malice


First, I want to apologize for how long it’s taken me to write something new. I went on vacation and then school went from zero to ninety in less than twelve seconds. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love it, I’ve just been extremely occupied with class, rehearsals, and work!

Apologies aside, I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness and what it really means to forgive someone. I have to decide if I’m ready to do that. I’ve been wondering a lot about the nature of forgiveness and what it takes in the forgiver to actually do it. Why do we hold on? What are the benefits of holding on (because all I see are the disadvantages)?

“Forgiveness requires a sense that bad behaviour is a sign of suffering rather than malice.” — Alain de Botton

In addition to a sense that poor behaviour is a means of expressing suffering, I think it also takes a realization that forgiveness have more to do with the forgiver than the forgive, or the recipient of the forgiveness.

Bad behaviour isn’t a sign of malice. Bad behaviour isn’t a sign of malice. Is there anyone you’ve been waiting to forgive? What do you think it’ll take?


Love, B



Happy Halloween everyone!

Tonight has been spent in my bed with some candy that my roomie got to give to kids (hey now, I’m a kid at heart) and loads of reading and paper writing. And watching Hocus Pocus over and over again because that’s the only movie ABCFamily feels like playing tonight, and it’s one of my favourites!

Here’s to hoping that all of you are successfully in the sugaryiest sugar high, and continue that through tomorrow when I know you’ll go and get Halloween candy at amazing discounts. (As my darlingest, mle puts it, “Tomorrow is the greatest “holiday” of all. Half-off Halloween candy. Celebrate.”)

Off to write more sections of my project proposal.


optical illusions


Have you ever seen that episode of How I Met Your Mother where they display for each other all of their major flaws?  When each flaw is pointed out,  you hear the sound of glass shattering while the rest of the group realizes that Lily chews like a beast, Ted corrects everyone, Marshall sings everything that he does, Robin over uses the word “literally”, and Barney speaks in falsetto, uses catch phrases annoyingly, and spaces out when his friends are talking to him.

Have your illusions about someone ever been shattered? Did you actually hear glass shattering? Or at least metaphorically hear glass shattering? Perhaps you didn’t realize that it was shattered until a period of time after the fact? Anyone?

I think it’s about time for me to go watch the debate, but I’m interested in hearing about how other peoples illusions have been shattered.

love, b

remember with you.


“This is how it works. I love the people in my life, and I do for my friends whatever they need me to do for them, again and again, as many times as is necessary. For example, in your case you always forgot who you are and how much you’re loved. So what I do for you as your friend is remind you who you are and tell you how much I love you. And this isn’t any kind of burden for me, because I love who you are very much. Every time I remind you, I get to remember with you, which is my pleasure.” — James Lecesne

I think of this often. When I think about this, I wonder about who I feel this for, who I have felt this for, and who I might feel this for. When I think about this, I think about who I don’t feel this for. And for who, I actually feel the opposite. It isn’t my pleasure to remind you of who you are, because you aren’t the kind of person with whom I enjoy remembering attributes.

I feel I should focus on the positive though, and that would be that there are a generous handful of people in my life for whom it is my pleasure to remember how wonderful they are and how much I love them. I would never mind having to remind those people that they are brave, and strong, and beautiful, and bright, and all of those things that they are, all on their own.

I imagine only those people that I think so highly of actually look at my blog, so to all of you, I love you.

love, B



What follows may or may not be a post about the validity of interpretive dance and it’s representation of the female body in contemporary choreography. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not. I’m not blogging as a way to avoid writing a paper. Never.

I was watching an episode of The Office today and weeping because I had totally forgotten the complete and utter heartbreak I feel whenever I watch this episode because what follows this scene makes me giddy. And I choose to bask in the happiness.

In the season 2 episode, Casino Night, after losing a lot of money, but flirting with Pam all evening, Jim finally says to her, while standing in the parking lot, that he is in love with her. She denies him, even though she (as we all know) is enamored with him. Okay, not so bad. People get turned down all the time.

Then he says the one line that I think is the most heartbreaking moment written into the show.

I’m sorry I misinterpreted our friendship.

Seriously, I’m sitting in my grad office, tearing up because it breaks my heart. It hurts as much as it does because I’ve felt that way before: apologetic because I had misunderstood something that I thought I understood perfectly. Apologetic because I’m embarrassed.

It’s heartbreaking to think that you have this wonderfully playful, honest, open relationship with someone and it turns out that either you don’t, or they’re telling you that you don’t. I can’t get over the chills I feel when he walks away after apologizing. While his guilt is unjustified (why should he apologize for being a human with feelings?) it’s completely relatable. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t felt guilt or sadness for having feelings that are discarded, even though it’s not their fault that they feel. I, too, am mortal sometimes and do sometimes feel things, like being hurt, when realizing that I was completely wrong in thinking something about someone.

Jim, you’re not alone: check this out, you do get the girl.

And, by the way, I am sorry.

Love, b



I was at work this morning, having gotten a mere three hours of sleep, scanning files into pdf and because I didn’t know the words of the song that was on the radio, my brain started drifting away from me.

This happens to me quite often. It’s not funny, in a Scrubs kind of way. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes it just makes me sad. But most annoyingly, it makes it challenging to focus on things — most notably this week, sleep.

Sometimes I think about other school work. Sometimes it’s social interactions that I’m not sure were acceptable or not. Sometimes it’s the details.

I have a problem with falling in love with the details of people, and running over them in my head, loving them more and more with each realization of the small things that make that person perfect in their own way.

I remember being in rehearsal last year, saying to my dancers “God is in the details,” trying to get them to, while exhausted and overwhelmed, remember the small things that make a dance beautiful. I couldn’t think of any other way to phrase what I was trying to say, but now it feels like “love is in the details,” or maybe “exquisiteness is in the details.” I’m not sure which is most poignant to my earlier point, but what I’m saying is that I get lost in the details sometimes. And I did this morning.

In my head, for the hour and a half that I was working on this project, I compiled a list of details about people that just give me goosebumps with adoration for them. I thought I’d share a list, by no means exhaustive, of the things I love. (For matters of privacy I won’t use names, just their preferred pronoun)

The way when she laughs when we’re silly together, she bites the tip of her tongue and hiccups a little

The vertical crease in her forehead when she’s looking at me like I’m completely nuts, or completely amazing

When she’s driving with her left leg propped up on the seat, she taps just her toes to the beat of whatever is on the radio

He flips his right hand repetitively when telling stories, and sometimes does it when doing work and is trying to work something out in his head

She sticks her chin out slightly whenever she begins a sentence with “Well…”

She pushes her hips forward slightly and hunches a little when she’s looking at something she loves, like puppies or cheese, that is lower than eye level

She squints her eyes really tightly and leans to her right when she’s laughing so hard she can’t make any noise.

Whenever we hug, she rubs her chin into my shoulder, almost like a puppy that’s trying to get as close as humanly possible

She clicks her tongue whenever she’s going to say something witty or something very sarcastic

When she’s being a smartass and someone doesn’t get that, she purses her lips with the corners of her mouth turned up, then presses her face into her left shoulder to keep from laughing out loud

The way that anytime he hands me a drink that’s in a can, he pops it open with the one hand with which he’s holding the can

What details do you love?

I’ve forgotten how to spell. (and other adventures)


I’ve forgotten how to spell because my computer/cell phone/mini me robot does it for me. I actually spent a solid three minutes contemplating the spelling of the world “aerial” while working on a presentation today.

It makes people really uncomfortable when they joke about me selling them my first born and I respond me, “I’m never having kids.” Awkward, B, awkward. When your boss asks you to sign a confidentiality waiver and jokes that it’s about selling your first born, don’t ever respond “I’m not having kids.” again. Thanks.

When I order textbooks on Amazon, I usually throw in an inexpensive book from my wish list so that there’s actual joy in my heart when I open that box from Amazon…instead of the sheer terror I feel. (This is the same terror that comes with being handed a semesters syllabus.)

There are a total of 3 human beings who have so far told me that they think my next tat idea is cool. (I haven’t told many people) Other responses have been, “I don’t get it.” and “Why?” followed by “No offense.” A classmate (in grad school, are we colleagues?) spent the better part of ten minutes before class convincing me to get a tat with him this weekend. I’ll keep you posted.

My bed is unmade and this blog entry is no where near complete. I definitely can’t start my homework yet.

While I was sitting at a traffic light with my windows rolled down today, I noticed that I was not sweating profoundly. Fall is coming.

I think that if you haven’t heard the Of Monsters and Men album, you should definitely listen to it. This is a personal opinion, because I’ve been listening to them non-stop and I’m really enjoying it. “Dirty Paws” is especially enjoyable.

I walked into the lab in the dance building today because the Macs have giant screens and it’s easier to open all the things if I use a huge monitor, and I was humming to myself. I didn’t realize that there was another person in there. She finally said hello after about two minutes of my humming.

According to this article, you should (not) date a writer. hmm. I don’t know what he’s getting at, but it’s probably true.

If I were an iPod cord, where would I be?

love, B