The past 4 days I have not wanted to dance.
I have not wanted to stretch.
I have not wanted to move.
The debate that usually happens in my head of deciding whether or not to go to class didn't even happen. The reminder alarm in my phone that goes off an hour before each class was given no attention whatsoever.
This may sound as though I'm being overly-dramatic (which is almost certainly the case). But of all the reasons to decide to pass up an opportunity to dance (injury, illness, schedule conflict, exhaustion, flat tire, zombie attack, etc.), simply having no desire to is rarely the case.
Tonight I ended up going to the open gym practice at Mpact Gymnastics and worked on the fabric for a while, and after a little over an hour, the world was again as it should be.
Now obviously, I was just feeling a little burnt out (which is totally normal...tomorrow is the end of the 4 week dance camp I've been teaching for). But it makes me happy that after all this time (22 years to be exact), and all the various occurrences of burnout over the years, still all I need is 4 days off from the burning drive to pursue it in order to fall in love with it all over again.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Rome
Rome is burning down in my mind.
Finding every excuse that traces the lines
left behind by smoking remains that glimmer
and reduce all my reasoning to whines and a simper.
Feeling sorry for myself, and abashed to admit
that I may have indulged when I thought I had quit.
Fell off of the wagon and bounced down the road,
rolled under the wheels, then stood up. I suppose
that I'm being too hard on myself once again,
that it's not even necessarily the end.
But when will I learn not to strive and to strain
and to push so damn hard that I nigh burst a vein?
To just chill the fuck out and to just let things go
goes against every inch of all that I know
how to act, how to be, in my head and in life.
So obviously, I need a release...or a knife
to cut out all the crazy, controlling compulsions
that try to create/avoid the revoltion
that inevitably occurs whether I like it or not,
so I might as well get out of my head and my thoughts.
Finding every excuse that traces the lines
left behind by smoking remains that glimmer
and reduce all my reasoning to whines and a simper.
Feeling sorry for myself, and abashed to admit
that I may have indulged when I thought I had quit.
Fell off of the wagon and bounced down the road,
rolled under the wheels, then stood up. I suppose
that I'm being too hard on myself once again,
that it's not even necessarily the end.
But when will I learn not to strive and to strain
and to push so damn hard that I nigh burst a vein?
To just chill the fuck out and to just let things go
goes against every inch of all that I know
how to act, how to be, in my head and in life.
So obviously, I need a release...or a knife
to cut out all the crazy, controlling compulsions
that try to create/avoid the revoltion
that inevitably occurs whether I like it or not,
so I might as well get out of my head and my thoughts.
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