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Mar. 30th, 2005 02:05 pmI woke up this morning to a bright, sunny room and immediately panicked, thinking I must have overslept most dreadfully. Peering at the clock, it took me a while to figure out that it was actually about 5:45 and that all of this light was the actual sunrise. I think it's been rainy and overcast for so long, basically since the end of winter, that this was the first time it's been bright out before my alarm goes off.
Dance class last night provided all the worst things for my poor aching foot. We worked on arabesques, in which one goes up on the ball of the foot and lifts, channelling all one's weight through the arch of the foot, and also some saidi hopping stuff, in which the weight of your entire body is bounced into the ground on the ball of the foot, again putting a lot of stress on the arch and forcing the calf muscles to absorb the impact. I had to give up on the hops. It was the first time in a while that my foot has completely prevented me from doing something :-( I suppose that's what I get for dancing barefoot for two hours on a cold linoleum floor the night before, though.
This morning my bus to Alewife broke down three times. It was annoying, but the thing that made it tolerable was that the guy who narrates everything out loud* was on my bus, and as he narrated about the bus being stopped he said "We're all waiting for the bus to start. Yep, we're just a bunch of old biddies waiting to die."
*I forget whether I've written about him here or not. He gets on the bus at my stop some mornings. He has some sort of mental illness in which there appears to be no difference between inner and outer voice. He also has a rather pessimistic outlook on life; as we wait for the bus he tends to say that it will take an hour for it to come, or that it might never come at all. One morning he spoke about how we were all going to work to perform mindless repetitive tasks (spoken in a soft southern accent, so it was mindless repetitive tay-asks). I shouldn't be finding surrealistic entertainment value in somebody's illness, especially since he does sometimes come across as rather creepy, but I do.
Dance class last night provided all the worst things for my poor aching foot. We worked on arabesques, in which one goes up on the ball of the foot and lifts, channelling all one's weight through the arch of the foot, and also some saidi hopping stuff, in which the weight of your entire body is bounced into the ground on the ball of the foot, again putting a lot of stress on the arch and forcing the calf muscles to absorb the impact. I had to give up on the hops. It was the first time in a while that my foot has completely prevented me from doing something :-( I suppose that's what I get for dancing barefoot for two hours on a cold linoleum floor the night before, though.
This morning my bus to Alewife broke down three times. It was annoying, but the thing that made it tolerable was that the guy who narrates everything out loud* was on my bus, and as he narrated about the bus being stopped he said "We're all waiting for the bus to start. Yep, we're just a bunch of old biddies waiting to die."
*I forget whether I've written about him here or not. He gets on the bus at my stop some mornings. He has some sort of mental illness in which there appears to be no difference between inner and outer voice. He also has a rather pessimistic outlook on life; as we wait for the bus he tends to say that it will take an hour for it to come, or that it might never come at all. One morning he spoke about how we were all going to work to perform mindless repetitive tasks (spoken in a soft southern accent, so it was mindless repetitive tay-asks). I shouldn't be finding surrealistic entertainment value in somebody's illness, especially since he does sometimes come across as rather creepy, but I do.
