Exit 1, Posy at the Ballet, and other otherworldly things.

I went into the Orpheum tonight channelling Posy Fossil from Ballet Shoel. Seeing Swan Lake has been a dream for a while, probably ever since the days when every library visit included me bringing home at least one anthology of ballet stories, and one photo-essay day-in-the-life-of-a-ballet company book.
The first ballet I ever went to was the Atlanta Ballet's production of the Nutcracker at the historic Fox Theatre in downtown Atlanta. It had been a treat from my roommates parents to her and I, and I'll never forget the magic of that night, which was perfectly encapsulated by the little girl who started twirling in the aisle the moment Clara entered the forests of the Nutcracker's kingdom and the gentle snowfall began over the audience. I, being too grown up of a girl to join her with out judgement, instead cried with happiness, at her, at the snowfall, at the sheer magic of it all.


This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it

Dear Friend,
First things first, I'll have you know that there are some things that can only be said like this, in a typed epistle, addressed to you, the nonexistant, but somehow very real, construct of my imagination. I remember when I discovered that the words would pour from my fingertips, even as they filled my brain to overflowing, when you were born--slowly becoming and gathering shape of your own even as you borrowed traits from others. You and I are very much the same, which is why I find you a good audience. When I don't know what to say, and yet I want to say things, I say them to you. So, Thank you.

Enough of the prelude. There are Things to say! I've found that I'm classically conditioned to want to write when there is weather other than nice. In all honesty, I hate simply "nice" weather. (Which is why, best beloved, I must move to London) Simply "nice" weather--balmy weather--is weather without spice. It is plain mashed potatoes with no butter and salt. It is emotionless to me. Give me the all day drizzle, the gusting winds, the bedtime thunderstorms, and I'm happy. In fact, it flips this little switch, that plays a little song that goes, "if you're happy and you know it write a post..." Sometimes I actually get about to actually writing. Other times I pretend like I'm gonna and just enjoy the endorphins.