I don't even know if I can begin to describe my magical journey-dance weekend, so for now, I won't. Today I traipsed over for breakfast at Tower, walked to work, worked from 1-4, walked to the gym, spent 10 minutes on the elliptical before saying screw it and heading for the dance studio, where I frolicked about for the next hour and a half. The studio has huge windows and I danced to the rising full moon. Then I did some crunches and push-ups and walked to the campus center for dinner- lots of chef salad and half a sandwich and some mango banana frozen yogurt. And later, a luna bar. I've been writing for the past three hours and I don't ever want to stop!

day of the sad clown

It's lonely being a clown. You're always stumbling over things and falling down, and then you get up and dust yourself off only to fall back down again. People laugh, but sometimes they don't, and sometimes they just don't see you.

People don't know what to do with a clown when it's not being entertaining. Maybe that's why so many people are afraid of clowns. Also, clowns don't have many great love affairs, and I'm not sure whether that's a problem on the part of the clown, or the other people.

I'll let you know if I ever have the opportunity to figure it out.

All in all, it's fun being a clown when you're in the center of the ring. But when the lights go down and everybody else goes home together, happy and laughing, that's when you feel dark.

You just had a love affair with the audience- working them, wielding your charms. Now, in their absence, that shadowed, vacant territory of the empty seats presses into your spine, paralyzing you with doubt.

You worry about what will happen when you can no longer pick yourself up. And despite your knowing better, despite your belief that love is tragic, disappointing, a farce, you find yourself hoping that someday, somehow, there just might be another clown who- for some whacky reason- is content to go home happy and laughing with you.

today started off with a delicious breakfast: eggs and chorizo sausage, 2 whole-wheat pancakes with berries on top, and coffee with soy milk. Something I never would have allowed myself before, but was sweet and filling and nurturing. One of the girls in my dorm joined me and it was actually quite pleasant. Then a fruitful session at the psychologist where we discussed my compulsions. Then the gym- they have spinning videos that you can put on the tv in the spinning room, so thats what I did- 45 minutes. I decided not to put myself through anything else since I had been walking everywhere as well, so I sat in the steam room and headed back to Wellesley, feeling good. 

I was so happy to see that they were having beef and chili and vegan rice dish fajitas at my favorite dining hall- it was exactly what my body wanted and I had a feast. I noticed I still wasn't full, and got hungry again an hour later- but I also realized that I ended up having a smaller dinner, just a bowl of chickpea/veggie mix and rice. So maybe when I exercise a lot during the morning, it just means I'll be extra hungry throughout the afternoon... but I'll stabilize in the evening, which might be a good change from exercising a lot in the afternoon, and then being continuously hungry at night (which used to be the case). It's all a learning process. 

So I lay on my floor for a little while in the PM (I can't tell you the satisfaction I get from retreating to my cozy room, taking off my shoes, and just sprawling in front of the computer- and surfing the internet for bits and bytes of fluffy entertainment- it's the opposite of manic mode, when I can't stop drawing and writing and organizing or even reading. Anyway.) and ate a a blueberry muffin leftover from breakfast, and then went to meet with director of Res. life since I'm now the RA... then met with art history advisor (my young hip professor, I can't decide whether she intimidates me with her pulled-together coolness, or whether I feel sorry for her not being able to let her spirit loose), and followed that by going to the art history chair with a form for him to sign. He was so excited to see me that he gave me a hug! Then we chatted for the next forty minutes, which made me exactly thirty minutes late for my guitar lesson. I think I'm officially the slacker of the class. Then I had ten minutes to grab my chickpea dinner before heading back here for my second guitar lesson, which is always quite the brain drain since he quizzes me on all kinds of chords and notes and mathematical sounding things that he seems to think I know something about. And I perpetually feel like an idiot. Anyway, finally I had some time free after that to clean my room, and then we had an all-house meeting where I felt like an idiot some more since I am officially the youngest person by about 10 years, yet am still somehow in charge. And everyone made me feel very aware of that. I hate trying to articulate my thoughts in front of groups! I don't know why it is such a difficulty! But I can do entertaining, of course, so by the end of the meeting everyone was laughing and having a grand old time. We wrapped up our discussion with a word about illegal substances, and I said that if anyone needed a substance-free way to get high, I knew a few good breathing techniques. Which is quite true. I think I might have a workshop. Finally, a few of us sat around having chamomile tea and honey (in the rough) and now I am quite, quite ready for bed. But first I will need to read some Hemingway. Right now, I feel very good about this semester!

I am on my computer past my self-allotted cut-off time but I will try to make it quick. In a nutshell, classes have started again and I am exhausted- doubly exhausted because of the fact that- despite my whole "goddess trusting intuition" spiel, I became conscious of the fact that my clothes are all fitting in that mid-winter way, although the change is definitely not as dramatic as it has been in the past. And that's why I got inspired and thought that this week I would just try to nip it in the bud by doing my usual elliptical/treadmill extensive cardio every morning at the gym. And indeed, it's felt really good to walk to the gym each morning and whirl away on each machine for a long time, listening to music, reading magazines, watching movies, what have you. I think I could spend a whole day on the elliptical. But that, I realize, is the problem- I don't know when to stop and so I go for an hour and a half, then do crunches and push-ups, then walk across town again... both days, surprise, surprise, I have been starving the rest of the day. And finally, FINALLY, today it clicked, that it's NOT an emotional or psychological thing anymore- on days where I was just hanging around, I didn't need to eat that much, and seeing that compared to today and yesterday where I was legitimately drastically hungry and couldn't seem to get full no matter what I ate, showed me just how out of balance I get when I do these... exercise binges. It's like I deplete every last bit of energy from my body on purpose- a guilt, punishment thing. I don't feel worthy, somehow, of having energy to spare. I think I purposely cut myself off from nourishment and love and I don't know why. Anyway, lots of fodder for the psychologist, as always!

food for thought

So, last night I went on a... date.... pretty much the first one I've ever been on in my life, since I assume we're not going to count drunken wee hours of the morning rampages with frat boys and Europeans. God. Anyway, this date was still not even a real one since we met ONLINE, and I'm just proud for making the situation into a tangible reality since, as you can probably tell, I prefer to spend as much time as possible in a solitary fantasy world. I'm perfectly fine being AROUND people as long as I can be anonymous, but it's that whole interaction thing that gets me every time. So, this "date" was a big deal. I'm pretty sure nothing at all is going to come out of it, at least, I'm perfectly fine with moving on, since the most valuable part of it was all that I learned. And I'm going to work on not being offended if he never contacts me again, because I don't think I even want him to! I felt hugely relieved the second I stepped into the subway station and was again by myself, and it had nothing to do with him personally, it's just that- I don't know- I have built up such an... internal empire. Yet there is obviously something crying out for contact, connection, through these blogs, and songs and performances, and youtube videos. It's like I want to be able to control the image that I present to people, and to offer them something and know exactly their reaction to it. I want to know how much applause, how many hits and views and comments, how much attention I warrant. And if there's feed-back, be it positive or negative, I want to know exactly what it is. And maybe the problem is that I then want to mold myself according to this external feedback, rather than what is stirring within. But that's because it's so much scarier to have gray area- last night, I was being myself the entire time. I was even happy with who I was, and confident with my silly jokes and stories and rambling nature. So if he never contacts me again? That's terrifying! I will NEVER have the opportunity to know what exactly it was that failed to pique his interest. And that's why I keep to myself as much as possible, to avoid unexplained rejection.