Deathly Masqerade Teaching Hallows Bash Whirlwind of Activity

or in other words: Why YummyTeece has been MIA in the blogosphere

I'm so tired. Seriously, a body cannot keep up this pace for long, and I'm about at the end of my physical rope. So let me try to catch you up, before I fall into another fog.

LOJ 2007
The annual Labyrinth of Jareth was Friday & Saturday July 13 & 14th. Although I would have loved to go both nights, I simply couldn't prep separate outfits for each night for both Tag and myself. As it is, we only pulled things off as we did because Tag's brilliant assistant offered to make his furry pants (tail included).


I think we did pretty well.


More fairy-folk photo fun can be found here.







Work Party Fun Time
This summer, like last, I headed the committee to throw our annual Employee Bash. Think... you and 5 of your closest friends throw a free-for-all for about 700 people. Only you aren't working with your closest friends. You're hosting the event with the help of a few co-workers who are as bogged down as you are. After weeks of planning, and couple of days just running around like a mad chicken, the event came off without a hitch. The food was well received; we didn't run out of alcohol; the salsa lessons and picture spots were a hit. And after it was all cleaned up, and I had a few drinks with co-workers to chat and make new friends, I collapsed into a heap where I would have stayed for 2 days, if only I didn't have to be up 7 hours later to participate in....

Teaching
I arrive on Saturdays at 9:30, to set up and prep for the 10am class, and once that begins, I'm moving non-stop until 2pm. 4 hours straight of challenging muscle articulations as well as a constant narrative stream, trying to explain the correct posture and what muscles we are currently working. Tag takes the car and goes surfing (just 10 min down the street from the studio). He comes back refreshed and invigorated. I finish feeling renewed, but also like I was just hit by a Mack truck. Needless to say, I let him drive the hour back in traffic to our homestead...

Life at Home
...which by this point in the week, is usually DESPERATE for a cleaning. I begin to sweep and change litter boxes, while Tag may clean the bunny cage, or do dishes. He's also aces with the laundry. This week however, he used the time to forage for a much needed and long overdue AIR CONDITIONER!! Whoo hoo! He spent the rest of the afternoon installing it, while I continued to work on the pigsty we call home. However, once the cool air kicked in, and my legs finally gave out, I fwumped onto our couch and watched an endless supply of CSI.

In fact, it was only once dusk began to fall, and I was sprawled happily did I realize that ...

Deathly Hallows ABSENCE
*GASP* ... my copy of the new HP (with it's "release date delivery" guarantee) was NO WHERE to be found. Already my hard-core Harry Potter compatriots were emailing me with "Let me know when you finish the book. I want to discuss." I began to track furiously, searching Amazon and UPS's website for any details that might help me locate the missing tome. However, twas to no avail. And that's probably best, because it's not like I have anytime to read a 700 page book. *sigh*

Aquarium Member Surf Party
Tag and I are members of the Aquarium of the Pacific, and as such, were invited to their 21+ Adult Surf Party. Alcoholic drinks, a live band with surfy tunes and a gentle child-free stroll around the gorgeous aquarium grounds. Time to pet the bat rays in the touch pond without being interrupted by screaming, crying, or an ice cream being smushed into your side by sticky little fingers who have no attached attention span. Now as tired as I was, I had no urge to go all the way down to Long Beach, but the evening turned out to be well worth it. Peaceful and lovely.

Teece contemplates her margarita by moonlight.

Wrapping Up

With all that behind us now, life can almost return to a normal pace; fraught with work issues and overwhelming schedules. I've still not read Harry Potter. I was over at Amandarin's last night, caring for her cats, and she had left her copy out for me to start. I sat on her couch and opened it... and began dropping off to sleep as I read page 1. I couldn't retain a sentence moments after I'd finished reading it, so I set the book aside and tried not to drool in my semi-comatose state. I hope to begin again this evening and make it at least through the first chapter. However, before that happens I have to pick up dry cleaning and take it to the theatre (oh yes, I'm on 8 weeks of laundry duty for my theatre group. Because I guess had some extra time in my schedule!!! eeek!)

In short:
"please excuse Yummyteece from school/work/blogging/life today as she was tired and not feeling well. Thank you."

Tripping the Night Fantastic

Often I think of how much simpler life would be, in a smaller city, away from all the people, isolated from the masses. And then I have a moment like Saturday.

My inner freak had a party to attend, and as such.... items to purchase. I needed:

• 6 inch platform stilleto pumps that have blue lights inside them that blink when I step
• Striped semi-sheer Thigh-highs in pink
• Turquoise & Pink fairy wings

I went to three different shops, found my 3 items with no problem.... AND never left the corner of Wilcox and Hollywood Blvd. Ahh, Hollywood, how I love your odd charms.

and thus I present to you..... "Studio Fifty-Fairy, the Muse of Disco" & Her Gorgeous Friends. :)

Taking my Lumps

“The more time I spend in my body, the more difficult it is to lie.”

That’s the first line of a hand written journal entry I started last week. I only got down that first line before being distracted, so it is all that exists of that entry. However, last night, as I lay awake with wicked insomnia, it occurred to me again.

I am in the middle of a shift. A shift of body and mind and soul. A shift that is taking frustratingly long. I had a healing sometime last year, because I’d been feeling that “my skin doesn’t fit” itch. The healer spoke of angels and spirit guides, and said that they wanted to let me know that I was preparing for a shift (it was nice to have this verified, without asking about it or bringing it up at all). However, they wanted to let me know that said shift would occur in 3 – 6 years.

Now I know it’s not polite, but I believe I responded with “What the f’k?”

Throughout the healing, he would talk of all the work I’d done and how I was molding into this new soul form and each time, he would begin to hint that perhaps the shift would occur sooner, and then he’d stop mid sentence and say “3 – 6 years”. Eventually, he stopped mid-sentence and laughed and said “NO… they appreciate all the work you’re doing, and you need to keep doing it, but they want to make it very clear…. It’s 3 – 6 years. Stop pushing!”

Ever had your hand slapped by a spirit guide? I had to laugh.

That was a year ago, and the ever-crawling snail's pace of this shift is driving me bonkers. I’m doing some work, and I think the dancing is a large part of that. Dancing has always been a joy for me, but now it’s like life’s blood. I can’t do well without it. My sanity is becoming directly tied to my ability to be in my body and work it as a form of expression. However, this new level of personal intimacy has brought with it greater awareness and less tolerance for bullshit.

The last two weeks, I’ve had a series of health issues. Nothing drastic. A migraine, on top of food poisoning, last night’s insomnia, and now this morning, my throat is swollen so much I’m having trouble swallowing. Throat issues often relate to “not speaking one’s truth”. And that’s certainly the case here, as I am dealing with a great deal of anger towards someone very dear to me. Someone who needed a friend once and I was there, but now… they prefer a fan club, and when I don’t wish to be relegated to just another of the adoring masses, I get shut out.

Insomnia makes sense, as my soul is restless indeed. The anger has also stirred up my ideas on love, friendship, relationships, what it means to be self-sufficient versus self-involved.

...

And here the writing flow just dams up. Grrr. I guess that is to say, I don’t have words of resolution for this issues I am facing. And thus my body is turning on itself and growling and consuming itself. As much as I would like to run, avoid, or pretend that these ugly questions are not staring me in the face, my newly ‘tuned in’ body will not let that deception pass.

I find it fascinating and challenging that I cannot lie to myself- that the shift of living in what is real and what is now is REALLY beginning to manifest physically. Additionally, I would be VERY excited about it… if it weren’t kicking my ass up and down the block.

To Stir the Pot

So much of what I read on the blogs is about being true to oneself, being an artist, being alive. And as of late, I've found that I just haven't had much to put out there along these lines. I'm feeling stuck... Sold to a destiny that may not fit once I get there.

There is a general sense of this in the lives of those around me (both RL and online). Each one, in her own way, has tried to uncork the genie and get things moving once again. For many, the path to this release is writing. For some it's painting, or photography. For others it's cooking delectable foods, gardening with glorious floral audiences, or reading well written literature. All brilliant in their detail and their soul searching, I have soaked up these words and thoughts in hopes that they would dislodge the dammed up stream of things that want to be expressed. Rest assured.... you all do inspire me, enlighten me, and most importantly console me that I am not alone in this journey.

However, I realized that this communion of communication is just one of the paths to soul-speak... and for me, it's not always the most direct or most invigorating. Thus I was reminded of what does work best...

I'm off to dance class, folks. Stretch the body, stir the blood, awaken the goddess within. She hasn't come out to play in a while, and she's aching to shimmy.

"I don’t know what inspiration is, but if and when it comes, I hope it finds me working…”

-- Pablo Picasso

Hard to do

I've not been jounalling really, here or anywhere these past few days. I've had a few abortive attempts, but nothing that produced any real release (or even made much sense for that matter.)

It's because I'm angry. Processing disappointment and betrayal. Trying not to turn it on myself, such that it become suicidal thoughts or self abuse. But that's hard, because it's been a pattern for me for so long.

Anger was never my jurisdiction. Emotions were regulated in my house. We each had one that specialized in. My Mother was "Happy".... ala "Nothing wrong here, don't look over here, nope, there's nothing wrong ... we're HAPPY." My Father was (is) a Vietnam Vet, so he was the "Angry" young man, deserted by his country, with a lot of dead friends to show for it. Angry with reason, no doubt, so he had the corner market on that part of the household

And me... I specialized in sad. Grief. Despair. Morose self-indulgent sadness. I still do it pretty well too. Not that I want to, but old habits die hard.

So trying to be angry is challenging for me. When I feel anger rising up in me, my body starts to quiver. I get hives across my chest. My heart hurts, and my breathing is labored, and then I have the uncontrollable urge to vomit. After which I begin to cry, and suddenly the anger is not anger, but morose self-indulgent sadness, disabilitating in its conuming grief.

I want to find some way for it just to be anger. Just angry. I'm looking for some places, classes, physical moments in which to let it out, as anger. Last night at dance class, I kicked some dancing ASS to a very hard rock song. When i finished, i lay bruised on the floor, breathing heavily but feeling so much lighter in spirit. The teacher asked "Wow... when did you last dance?" I said "Yesterday", and then laughed... because i got, she was asking "How long has that been in there, eating at you, needing release?" and the answer is that its been in there so long, it's like an imaginary friend I grew up with. I could dance every day and not run out, I've got such a collection of rages.

Anyway... I'm looking into things. Things that both distract me and provide me safe outlet. But until I manage to untie this knot of fury that's been sitting in my belly.... I might be intermittant with this blogging thing.

Thinking Out Loud

Today is a day of "i'm supposed to be where, when??" , an endless game of catch-up.

After the work debacle of last week, i find myself once again seeking more permanant work. Second interview at Dreamworks today... i think 3:30. Unfortunately, i was in the car driving when they called me about that, so I'm trying to read the post-it i hastily wrote.

Then there's my spiritual group tonight. I'm supposed to host the coven meeting... but i have little to no idea what I"m going to do for tonight's ritual.

additionally, people come by and ask "how's the acting going?" , to which i find myself thinking..."Acting? oh right.. i came to LA to act... HAHAHAHAHA... yeah, like i have any fucking time for that. " I realize.. if i were passionate about it, i would find that time. So what is it that so distracts me from passion? I've noticed a lighter step to me lately. More, if not joy, at least an even keeled flowing of energy.

it's a little scary that the flow of "passion" and "theatre/acting" also seems to run in synchronous step with the "misery" and "dark moods"... while the happy light times in my life are these moments where i'm just so busy putting one foot in front of the either that i have no time worry about the future, i can only find the energy to be in the now. Course that also means i don't have goals and i don't move forward.

Could it be we are happiest when NOT pursuing our dreams? that's not to say we are living in a rut... but just... oh i don't know. This thought is not completely formulated. It's just pouring out thru typing fingertips.

As long as i keep dancing, i have fun.

Acting as hobby feels wonderful. Acting as profession drags me down. Acting and despair seem to go hand in hand.

Dancing is joy to me. Dancing is release. There is defiantely an upswing of my moods since the dancing Wedensday began, and since I got back to SFactor.

Perhaps "following my bliss" means walking away from that thing I always thought i was headed towards.

While for some... "the rest is silence"....

for me, "the rest" has a groovin dance beat.

Dance like no one is Watching

Or like you are an otherworldly creature, exploring a Labyrith of excitement and joy.

Photo 1- CK and The TC Cat, as a leafy sea-dragon and an "AmyBrown-esque" faerie (a little goth i know... but somehow, that's how it always turns out.)

Dancing with a Pirate and Glamourous Kitty.

Captain Jack and the Lovely Baisleac continue to dance, while in the background The Leafy Sea-Dragon and I look like we're about to kiss. This amuses me greatly!

Question of the evening: Who is capturing who around here? (In truth, i didn't much speak to the good Captain Hook, but spent a lot of time with his good friend Captain Jack Sparrow. Can you Blame me??)