Besides riding in Critical Mass Friday night (an eleven-mile memorial ride/protest for Nathan, the biker that was hit by a drunk driver last weekend on Perkins) and biking downtown to dog watch with Leif before the annual puppy parade, I spent this weekend watching Downton Abbey. I meant to grade some papers, but come Saturday afternoon, like most weekends, I said fuck it and left my schoolbag zipped. Maybe I should just accept this inclination and work in some more grading time during the week so that I can spend a whole two days not thinking about my job. It seems to be what my body wants. It's not that I feel guilty for not doing work every minute of every day--it's just that I still have a hard time trusting myself when it comes to procrastination. I can tell myself I just need rest, but I can also see that I procrastinate stuff I don't want to do. I feel like it's been worse recently. And I've been running late on school mornings again, which is all part of that way of thinking--of digging in my heels in the face of shit that challenges me.
Part of me is worried that I'll fall out of shape again and gain weight back. I haven't weighed myself, but I feel like I'm out of the game. I've been sick, but I'm finally easing out of it. The last thing I want to do is obssess about it and nag myself, but I do need to treat myself to yoga this week (for the mental benefits as well). If I could add one or two runs in there, or at least one or two walk/runs, that would do me some good as well. I can feel the difference between doing even one or two cardio workouts per week and doing none. I've been working hard and watching a lot of TV shows--swinging between extreme work and extreme rest.
I've fully committed to choreographing for the Spring show. I met with our director on Friday. We sat outside her office at a concrete cafe table. She smoked a cigarette and showed me all of her brainstorming notes for the show. I guess she wanted me to help her make some decisions about the lineup, so I said what I thought. What I know about my role is that I think I'm creating a piece about machinery and treatment. I couldn't tell what I was going to be doing, dance-wise, but I'm pretty sure I have no solo or duet parts since I saw all of her notes about the featured people. I don't think I'll put myself in my own piece, though.
I was feeling pretty sure of myself last week, but now some worry is starting to set it with the excitement. I haven't choreographed anything since 2005--I have no idea what I'm even capable of right now. I'm experiencing the usual fear that I will not have enough inspiration or creative ideas in the next few weeks, and now I'm on a timeline of work. I don't want to turn this creative opportunity into a burden or a chore, and I don't want to fail to produce something I like. I'm supposed to teach class this Thursday so I can start trying out some movement phrases. Something about that is scaring me right now. I guess I'm worried that I'll be able to find the mental and physical energy to do some experimenting with this after teaching all day; I guess this is also the part of me that wants things to be finished and orderly instead of enjoying the process of getting my hands dirty. I always want to skip even the vaguest possibility of failure. I take risks sometimes, but not because I enjoy the thrill.
What I want to do is to write all of these fears out so that I don't get in my own way this week. What I don't want to do is fret, hem and haw, and make opportunities into issues. I don't want to work myself up so much that I can't enjoy myself and access a place of play, wonder, experimentation, and release of control. God, I want to release my grip on the illusion of control so that I just show up and see what happens in school, in dance, and even at home--or even so that I can plan with more inspiration and less anxiety. I know I am capable of responding to whatever situation is in front of me with grace and skill if I let myself merge with it and quit resisting, pulling away, and doubting.
Four shirts are ironed, the laundry is put away, my hair and body are clean, there's carrot-zucchini oatmeal in the slowcooker, and my clothes are lain out. So I guess everything's going to be okay. I'm alive and well, and I will at least be physically ready for tomorrow.
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