Courtney's Karka Poriah

Such a mess....

2011-08-18T22:41:00.000-07:00

Just learned about the terror attacks on Israel and subsequent retaliation from the IDF on Gaza. It's all so sad, I can't believe it yet I can totally believe it. I read the terrorists were hoping to kidnap a soldier, a thought that brought chills to my bones. And after 8 people died, even poor civilians driving in their cars at the wrong place at the wrong time, how many innocent Palestinians in Gaza are going to die as a result of the terrorists' violence? And after the smoke clears in Gaza, how many Israelis are going to die or get hurt from the thunderstorm of rockets surely coming their way from Gaza? Will it ever end?

When I read this stuff, I'm so glad to be gone from there, from that fucked up place with fucked up people. But it hurts me to think that all my friends in Israel are considered targets and could die at any moment just because of their nationality. And it hurts me to think that so many innocent Palestinians will suffer at the hands of a much stronger army because of terrorist groups they have no control over.

Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't care because I'm not Israeli, I'm not Jewish, I'm not Arab, and I'm not even there anymore, but in the end, Israel will always be a part of me, including my experiences with the Palestinians. So I guess I don't have a choice but to keep caring...

For those of you who know...

2010-06-17T10:40:00.000-07:00

Dear All,

For those of you who know, enjoy. For those of you that don't, I apologize for the vulgarity about to ensue. And to the offended, I say, "Relax, have a drink, take a poo."

I hate the pub so much. There are at least like, a gazillion things in the world better than the pub. They consist of the following:

Being burried alive is better than the pub.

AIDS is better than the pub.

Racism is better than the pub.

Murdering people in the name of god is better than the pub.

Female genital mutilation is better than the pub.

The Holocaust was better than the pub.

Seventh month abortion is better than the pub.

The terrorist attacks on the United States of America on September 11, 2001 were better than the pub.

Saddam Hussein's Iraq was better than the pub.

Rape camps are better than the pub.

The execution of mentally challenged people is better than the pub.

The arranged marriages of 9 year old Afghan girls to 60 year old mullahs are better than the pub.

Bus crashes in India are better than the pub.

Secret assassinations of world leaders are better than the pub.

The capture of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit is better than the pub.

Being anally gang-raped by three black men is better than the pub.

Torture in North Korean prisons is better than the pub.

The US soccer team is better than the pub.

Developing testicular cancer when you are a woman is better than the pub.

Suicide bombings are better than the pub.

Hate crimes against minorities are better than the pub. However, hate crimes against homosexuals are not. Faggots.

Mistaking razor blades for tampons is better than the pub.

The BP Gulf oil spill is better than the pub.

Russian whores are not better than the pub.

An (Informal) List of (Suggestions and) Ideas

2010-06-08T13:29:00.000-07:00

I should...

Write more
Create more
Read more
Dance more
Work more
Love more
Eat more
Photograph more
Listen more
Reflect more
Care more
Respect more
Dare more
Appreciate more
Complain less.

Efshar od echad?

2010-04-15T12:08:00.000-07:00

Life is constantly peppered with questions and decisions about practically everything. No deep epiphany in that sentence, surely.

But for some reason it is now that I find myself thinking hard and asking: What kind of person am I? Is that the kind of person I want to be? Do I even know what kind of person I want to be?

In short...well, there is no short.

Since moving to Kibbutz Gaaton in August '09, I have been able to do a lot of self reflecting. As people have moved in and out of my life (and the kibbutz), I have developed a deeper, though not necessarily clearer understanding of myself and my perceptions on life, art, and social interaction.

In dealing with a diverse range of personalities agreeable and otherwise, I have realized that I can be incredibly difficult, hurtful, selfish, dismissive, resentful, and jealous over the tiniest things. I read a self-summarization by a character in a Philip Roth novel who declared that she could be thrown by a syllable and goes through 80 emotions a minute. Not surprisingly, I related.

But to cut myself some slack, I've also learned that I can be selfless, thoughtful, and giving. I've learned to listen to people when they speak. I've surprised myself by just how much I can care about others. I've made a nearly 180-degree reversal with my artistic intentions. I have new things to say. Things with meaning. At least to myself.

So to answer the first question, what kind of person am I? I am constantly evolving and learning. I am stubborn but willing to compromise. I don't know what I want, but I know what I don't want. Everything is instinctive. I am incredibly and sometimes unreasonably sensitive. But I love and feel deeply. And I am ridiculously self centered, but I'm working on that...

Where I go from here is any one's guess.

******

I spent the last few days in Jerusalem. I drove there by myself, an idea which initially frightened me. As I approached Jerusalem on Highway 1's narrow and twisting roads, I was filled with a mix of giddy excitement and anxiety about the upcoming traffic situation. But no matter, I felt an immediate sense of gratitude for being able to just drive into Jerusalem. A city that people dream of visiting but never do. Or they do, but only once in their lifetime. And yet here I was, driving past the Sonol and Paz petrol stations that signify, at least to me, the entrance into Jerusalem.

I parked as soon as I could and headed to the Machane Yehuda market seeking out my friends. When I asked Sophie where she was, she replied "surrounded by fruits and vegetables and a cheese store." She may as well have added 'nuts' to her sentence, for fruits, vegetables, cheese, and nuts are practically the entire contents of this market. Luckily I found her along with Arianna and Alex within seconds. Nothing short of a miracle in the Machane Yehuda market...

I spent the rest of my day having a goodbye lunch with Arianna who was to return to the US the next day and with Brittain, my former kibbutz neighbor turned reluctant Yerushalmi.

The next day I took some time to wander around the Old City. No matter how many times I go there, I always find something new. I took Sophie and Delphine to the roof of the Austrian Hospice, overlooking the roofs and narrow alleyways of the Old City and boasting a splendid view of the Dome of the Rock at a close distance. Its in moments like these where I can feel the weight and magnitude of everything, the world, and both the triviality and enormity of my own existence.

******

Now I'm feeling only the heaviness of weight on me that I cannot place. I know that everything will be okay.

Yom Ha Zikaron

2010-04-12T01:09:00.001-07:00

This is not about the Holocaust.

This is not about how I feel about the Holocaust.

**

Last night marked the eve of Yom Ha Zikaron, a somber memorial to those who died in the Holocaust. To commemorate the event, my kibbutz held a gathering of kibbutzniks young and old, some even survivors themselves. An elderly survivor played the violin. A young woman held her survivor grandmother's hand as she told her story. A photo slide show was shown. Candles were lit. I danced with my classmates to pay tribute. In the end, everyone stood to sing in Hebrew. I did not know the words. I stood silently and listened to this room full of people singing and was touched by the sight of my friends' tears and emotion.

Today at 11am during ballet class, we stopped as a horn blared for a full 2 minutes where we stood still in silence. Some classmates left the room to stand outside. Those inside looked down reflectively and respectfully. Some were overcome with emotion. How can one not be?

The horn stopped and we slowly ebbed back into the flow of class. Back into the flow of life.

Floating in a Dream-like State

2010-01-02T14:55:00.000-08:00

I don't even know what this is.

I'm just going.

It is amazing how the heart can change. So quickly, so simply, so inexplicably. At a mere 23 years old, I can hardly claim wisdom but I do know that I've learned a lot in the past 2 years, perhaps more new information in the last 2 years than in the previous 20. I have no idea as to why this is. It seems as if I have been living through most of my life in a dreamlike state. As if I were just floating through the day to day.

All my memories of those times are a blur. Life didn't seem to become clear until sometime after turning 21. I know I moved to London. The beginnings were strange. At some point things became clearer and I began to understand myself a little better, but remained mostly uncertain.

Upon turning 22, things became blurry again. I don't even remember much of my last few months in London. I only remember how I felt, but not so much what happened or with whom.

I returned to Los Angeles feeling utterly annihilated. I remember eating a lot, watching TV, reading, and eating some more. Nothing spectacular.

I moved to Israel and turned 23. And now everything is so bitterly clear to me. And by bitter, I mean harsh, uncensored, and painfully obvious.

Through discussions, novels, and self reflection, I've come to numerous revelations about myself, my situation, my immediate surroundings, and the world in which I live.

It's actually slightly unbearable.

I've learned that nothing is permanent. No one is permanent. Everything and everyone comes and goes. I've realized that I don't miss the things or people I thought I couldn't live without. It's as if it never mattered to me. I know that which I most desire at this point will only change in a matter of time and I will have completely changed my mind. I cannot remain the same for too long. Or perhaps I have remained the same all along...

No. I am not the same person I was 2 years ago, or even 2 months ago. Would I even recognize myself now?

Florence, Post-Script; And Some Other Notes on America

2009-12-18T05:50:00.000-08:00

Part I: Trippa al Fiorentina and Holy Land Epiphanies

I have just returned from a week in Florence, Italy with my good friend Anna whom I'd met while studying in London. Originally from Italy, she spent the week sharing her culture with me. The significant difference between this trip and my others is that I didn't travel solo. As a result my memories are shaped around conversations and observances between the two of us and my own inner dialogue.

Besides spending time with Anna, what I really looked forward to was the food. Everyday we ate something fantastic in a range of places. I learned that Anna decides where to eat by taking a peak inside to see if it inspires her. I indulged myself throughout the week with chocolate, Florentine tripe, lampredotto, saltimbocco, rabbit, ham, gnocci, and for some reason, lots of potatoes. Our favorite restaurant by far was 'Marino', an old, oddly decorated little place seemingly meant to detract visitors rather than welcome them. We were served by an old man who looked like Pinocchio's father, Gepetto and who agreed that Spanish and Italian are "practically the same language".

Food aside, Florence is a spectacular city. Its city center is actually smaller than we thought, so we covered a lot of ground and saw many of its splendid sights. I admired the facades of all the buildings each telling a different story and showing a different character despite being attached to one another. I did feel a bit of church overload about midweek, but I must admit how beautiful they are and what amazing propaganda pieces they serve as. I imagined being a 16th century peasant wandering into the enormous chapels and looking around at the masterpiece paintings, gigantic columns and domes, and shiny stuff everywhere. If this is what heaven might look like, why wouldn't I want to be a part of this? Alas, I am not a 16th century peasant.

During our week we visited a couple of museums including the Galleria dell'Accademmia, the Galleria Uffizi, and the Palazzo Pitti Galleria Palatina. I was surprisingly impressed by Michelangelo's David more for its asymmetry than anything. The rest of the paintings at each museum mostly consisted of "Adoration of the Magi" and "Crucifixion" images, themes that were clearly very important at the time in Europe. I think what stood out most to me were the inaccurate depictions of Bethlehem and Jerusalem. This is easily explained by the fact that many, if not all, of these painters had never travelled to the Holy Land thus they had to imagine for themselves what it might have looked like. And since the work revolved around Jesus, they wanted it to appear as magnificent and majestic as possible. Which led me to my next thought, that I'm really truly lucky to live in Israel.

About two weekends ago, I spent some time in Jerusalem and Bethlehem because I felt the need to be somewhere lost in time. I cannot really explain in this post why I love Jerusalem and all its quirks but I will write about how fortunate I feel to live approximately 2 hours away and can pretty much visit whenever I like. I receive a strange joy when riding in a car on the freeway and seeing a sign towards Jerusalem. It could be Silverlake, Kansas City, San Bernardino, Barcelona, or any other city in the world; that it could be that simple to continue along the road and wind up in Jerusalem is exciting. It is something special that I can view a masterpiece painting with Bethlehem or Jerusalem in the background, however inaccurate it may be, and know that I've been there and will continue to visit these wondrous cities.

I discussed kibbutz life with Anna and described in detail the goings-ons of the sedna. I told her about my classmates, our work, our teachers, our schedule, and the way things are generally run. Its a massively different place than what we were used to, whether in London, Venice, or LA. In discussing such differences and their positive and negative points, I came to reach some clarity about my place in the sedna and what I hope to achieve while being there. If my original reasons for coming to Israel were aimed towards one thing, my reasons for staying are aimed at something different. I realized that I am in fact where I need to be.

***

Crossing the River Arno one day, we found ourselves on a pleasant walk through labyrinth streets, hillside promenades, and among ancient ramparts devoid of pedestrians. The scenery unfolding before us of the Tuscan landscape was surely a highlight of our trip. No picture or words could properly do it justice so all I'll say is that its ridiculously calming, gorgeous, and endless.

During what seemed to be the coldest day of our trip, we spent some time in the nearby cities of Siena and San Gimignano. Regardless of the weather, we truly enjoyed the new scenery and atmosphere. We found Siena to be a rather sophisticated city with festive Christmas decorations lining every street, storefront, and piazza, and beautiful windows. Yes, I love the windows of Siena. We descended to the main Campo of the city somewhat submerged as if pinned to the center of the earth and enjoyed the emptiness of it, but could easily imagine the place completely filled with thousands during the famous Palio race. Our last activity in Siena was a visit to the Duomo, a church that left us astonished and speechless. It was possibly the most beautiful church we had seen in all our trip and of the most beautiful churches I've seen anywhere.

In the late afternoon we continued to San Gimignano, a city known as the "Manhattan of the Middle Ages" for its distinct towers poking up throughout the city on the hill. When we arrived the sun was setting and only a few minutes later the sky was completely blanketed in a deep, dark blue with black clouds perfectly framing the tall towers. The city took on a magical and timeless quality that Anna and I could not believe our luck in seeing. I felt like I was in a storybook that took place in the Middle Ages, and even found the whole thing to be reminiscent of the first couple of scenes in the 'Pirates of the Caribbean' ride at Disneyland. Furthermore, the place was practically empty. If we wound up on a street with no one in sight and no signs of modernity, it looked as if we had actually stepped back in time. It was magical. Our last stop in San Gimignano was a Romanesque church steeped in silence, save for the old couple bickering over bus fares.

***

Part II: Proud to be an American...or something like that?

Anna and I talked about American culture a lot. It so happens that she is very fascinated by it all and wants to visit those middle states, the ones no one seems to really think about, even Americans. Places such as Idaho, Minnesota, Alabama, Wyoming, etc. But how can one hope to see and experience such places, especially if from another country? Surely no tour company operates trips in America that extend beyond California, New York, Orlando, the Grand Canyon, and/or New England. We concluded that the best way to see and feel the country was by road trip. I truly believe that America (as in, all of the continental US) is best seen on the road, through and through. I think its the roadside cafes, 24 hour diners, mom and pop shops, cheap motels, and all the quirky characters residing in these places that truly personify the country. Because America is so large, American culture is something that cannot be so specifically identified. Sure, there are a number of characteristics and flaws we all tend to share regardless of where we're from, but to really capture the different essences of the country, one has to dig deep and search for the things that don't really stick out. And this means going to places that aren't California, New York, Orlando, the Grand Canyon, and/or New England, though these are great places to visit as well.

***

All this conversation about American culture inevitably led to the discovery of my American complex. Its something I had been thinking about for some time and became more clear when discussed with Anna. Since I began travelling internationally about 3 years ago, I started to really see the stark differences between Americans and everyone else, mainly Europeans. I began to understand anti-Americanism and saw in myself and other Americans abroad this strange sense of self-entitlement, crass and obnoxious behavior, that horrible, nasal voice we have, and the sartorially suicidal tendency to wear sweaters bearing the names of various universities. It wasn't that I was ashamed, it was more that a clear distinction had been made. Throughout my travels I realized that no matter how much you took me out of America, you could never take the American out of me. I became increasingly self-conscious and almost apologetic just for being. As if my innate American-ness could somehow take over any situation and cause for my own ostracism. This is when I realized something else: Upon first look at me, most people immediately assume I'm Japanese or from Asia anyway. This was yet another thing that puzzled me. Sure, I'm half Chinese and look predominantly Asian, but I'm an American dammit! I don't have the fantastically ultra-modern dress sensibility, small strides, gentle mannerisms, or speech habits of most young Japanese women, so I found it hard to imagine why anyone with basic observation skills would mistake me for anything but an American. I found myself clinging to the very American-ness I was apologizing for. Even though I'm Asian, I'm not a continental Asian and have a very different approach to life than they have. If anything, I wish I could spend some time in China or Japan amongst real cultural Asians and experience life as they do.

Its ironic how things work out. When in Europe or the Middle East, I'm quickly assumed for a continental Asian. But in Tokyo, no one ever mistook my sister and I for such. Right away, people asked if we were American, then if we were of Chinese descent. We thought we might blend in better, but this was not the case. In Jerusalem and Istanbul, I'm constantly greeted with konichiwa's and ni hao's. Perhaps even in my own country people aren't really sure anymore.

***

Part III: A Farewell to a Friend

I truly enjoyed my week in Florence with Anna, it was one of the best trips I've ever taken. To experience a country with a local is something I could never take for granted. Mostly, I will miss our conversations. Who knows when I will next see her again? It could be a few months, another year, or perhaps many years. But I am incredibly thankful for the past week and for her immense hospitality and generosity.

***

Part IV: The Balagan that was Thursday

We woke up Thursday morning around 4:30 to go to the airport for my horribly early flight. Anna decided to come along to see me off, which I appreciated. Check-in and security were rather quick and painless so I sat at my gate for quite some time. I wasn't awake enough to read, and my pens ran out of ink while writing, so I opted to sit and stare. I noticed I was completely surrounded by Americans. After eavesdropping on various conversations, I learned they were part of a study-abroad program and were heading home or wherever for the Christmas holidays (this being December 17th and all). I looked at each and every one of them and noticed all the familiarities of being in an American mall, a movie theatre, at school, or even a Starbucks. There were a few Europeans here and there, not many, we definitely outnumbered them. It was sitting here at this gate I could really make out the distinctions between Americans and Europeans: (Note: I might change between we/they, so bear with me)

-Wear what where?
Americans are used to flying long distances. To us, a 5-hour flight is not long. It takes that long just to get from one end of the country to the other. So to fly to and from the European continent always takes a minimum of 10 hours. Thus, we like to be comfortable. This is evident by the our chosen outfits, usually quite unfortunate looking I must confess. Ugg boots, sweat pants, said university sweater, hair up, and ginormous (American lingo for you) handbags. Then you look at the European passengers, especially Italians. No matter how long the flight, they are immaculately dressed. Women in heels, men in fitted trousers, hair styled, makeup applied, jewelry worn, and other fashionable choices. So even though we may look pretty crap, we will ultimately be the ones more comfortable on board.

-Seriously, do I sound like that?
What is with our voices? I can always hear an American (or occasional Canadian, sorry folks) from a mile away. Its that long, nasal, drawn-out inflection we have, the tendency to make every sentence last longer than it should and every story we tell sound oh-so dramatic, as if summarizing last night's episode of Gossip Girl. I cannot complain so much about the loudness, since pretty much everyone from everywhere is loud, too. Except those Scandinavians. I hardly notice them in airports that I often wonder if they're even there. Yes they are, and that's the point.

-Cliques
We are such clique-ish people. Enough said.

-Lets complain and make fun, shall we?
What is with middle-aged and old American men? They're such smart asses and always have to make some kind of snarky comment about everything, whether from the recorded announcements, the poor English of the airport staff (well yeah, its not an English speaking country, genius), and general comparisons to the airports back home. I didn't just hear this stuff in Florence, I've heard it everywhere. Actually, the British are guilty of this, too.

-I'm American, you're American, let's be friends!
When abroad, we become very chummy with one another. There's a chummy camaraderie when you put a bunch of Americans together. Though the same can probably be said for just about any group of people. I remember being stranded at the airport in Malaga (oh, there's that drama) due to a massive delay and finding a group of young American girls similar to my age, mostly exchange students, and sitting, talking, laughing and even singing with them whilst complaining about the situation. It was fun and it made the delay bearable.

***

I eventually boarded the plane and fell asleep right away. I expected to wake up in Vienna, but instead awoke to realize the plane hadn't even taken off. We were 2 hours delayed because the de-icing truck (more like a man with a hose) failed to show up with the adequate supplies (the hose, perhaps?). Consequentially, I missed my connecting flight to Tel Aviv.

When I arrived in Vienna, I spent a most pleasant hour in line at the re booking counter. Too bad you can't sense my sarcasm. I somehow ended up in the slowest line, with the slowest employee, behind a group of British-Iraqis trying to go to Jordan but having trouble due to being a large group. Also in line were two Indian families, very upset and understandably tired being offered what seemed like terrible alternative flights. Fly to Bangkok tomorrow? With a 10 hour layover? Arrive in New Delhi in, what, 2 days? Really? I'll take it! In the next line was a man trying to go to Cairo who kept yelling at the employee in Arabic. She profusely apologized for the inconvenience while adding, "I don't understand you!" The British-Iraqis in front of me listened to the altercation and couldn't help but laugh. Finally an Arabic-speaking man showed up to the rescue.

When I realized my line wasn't moving, I practically begged the man in the next line over to let me go ahead of him, since I had been there long before everyone else but made the mistake of being in the slowest line. He didn't seem pleased but since I was practically crying and a lone female, I think he knew what he had to do. Ah, gender equality my butt. The lady at the counter offered me a flight to Tel Aviv in 12 hours. I would've considered going into the city and whatnot during this time, but it was snowing out, so I needed something sooner. She had a flight leaving in an hour with a 50 minute stopover in Budapest. Oh pleasant, I've been to Budapest. Wait, what? Oh no, she meant Bucharest. As in Bucharest, Romania. Ummm, okay if it'll get me home sooner, I'll go with that.

I headed to the part of the airport with destinations such as Sarajevo, Minsk, Belgrade, Athens, and Istanbul. Ah, Eastern Europe. Which brings me to my next point, Eastern Europeans (minus the Turks, they don't count in this one).

***

Part V: Where the FUCK am I?

Sitting at yet another gate I noticed I was amongst a whole lot of Romanians. Which makes perfect sense since we were flying to Romania. Who were these people? Where have they been? Have they been around all along but I failed to notice? Perhaps. They are very distinct looking, quite beautiful in fact. Tall, skinny, dark-haired folks. A bit grizzled, but years of oppressive Communism can do that to you. I quickly ran through the list of random things I knew about Romania in my head to see if I could somehow understand these people a little better. What did I know about Romania? A lot of famous gymnasts came from there; gigantic Parliament building; the film 4 Months 3 Weeks 2 Days; Dracula aka Vlad the Impaler; and that horrendous tyrant with the unpronounceable name, Ceaucescu. With this information, I couldn't do much I was afraid. All I could think was how these people, even some of the younger ones around my age, knew some form of governmental oppression. It reminded me of my observances of the Hungarian people when I was in Budapest. That's when I felt lucky to have been born in America. I suppose Communism, in theory, wasn't a terrible idea, but in practice it ruined lives and tore people apart. Eastern Europeans view life in a way I could never understand, but that's because of different life experiences and expectations. I've lived way too easily in comparison, and for this, I am thankful.

***

I arrived in Bucharest 2 hours later and ran through the terminal to catch my connection. I was stopped at a security line and shouted at the guard that I had a flight to Tel Aviv leaving in 30 minutes. He told me to wait while he called someone. The next few moments played out like an episode of "I Love Lucy". He picked up a phone, dialed a number, received no response, hung up and shrugged his shoulders. Then he picked up another phone and did the same. Whilst on this phone, the other phone rang. He hung up and picked up the other phone. He began yelling in Romanian (I soon learned that this is just how they talk) when the other phone began to ring. He hung up and picked up the other phone, but I guess no one was on the other end, so he hung up. I asked him if I could move, but he just shrugged and told me "it's not my problem". Just then another Californian showed up also flying to Tel Aviv, so I didn't feel as bad anymore. The three of us stood there staring at each other, confused. Finally someone showed up to help us, and by help I mean some sort of vague action that suggested this man actually had a job. He looked over our documents so many times as if some miracle would reveal itself to him. It turned out that I didn't have a boarding pass. I was told back in Vienna (remember, I was there?) that I would acquire a boarding pass in Bucharest. Well, no one told this to anyone in Bucharest.

I made it through to the gate where I was yelled at (or spoken to) by the Tarom Airlines staff who couldn't understand my position. It began to dawn on me that I might not actually get on this flight and would have to spend the night in this god-awful place. It was snowing out, dark, and unfriendly. Finally after a light shouting match (or conversation), an employee wrote my seat assignment on a piece of paper and this was my boarding pass. Goodbye, Bucharest.

***

Now I'm home at Gaaton. Thankful for the incredible week I've had and for getting through yesterday despite being under a blanket of snow. You're a funny continent, you are, Europe.

And now I'm in the Middle East. Let the balagan continue...

Religion...Spirituality...Faith...Devotion...Blind?

2009-11-23T05:18:00.001-08:00

Opening a can of worms here: Religion. It is a topic which cannot be avoided. I do live in Israel after all, birthplace to 2 major monotheistic religions and significant landmark to a third. However any growing-up-Christian familiarity I may have known in life has been completely overshadowed by the overt Judaism of this country. Islam is the other main religion here (statistics wise) but unfortunately I've not had much contact with it since the religious and cultural divide is quite thick. As a result, I've become more immersed into the Jewish way of living whether I want to or not. For example: kosher laws, Shabbat closures, Passover dietary restrictions, and the big Yom Kippur shutdown amongst others. I have a new found appreciation for having grown up in a country that separates state and religion.

Though raised Christian, I do not consider myself religious and wouldn't even be deemed Christian by fellow Christians. I have not intentionally sat through a church service in over 10 years nor do I wish to ever again. I do not believe in this. It does not comfort me and I do not believe I need to be in a "house of worship" in order to worship. My relationship with God or whomever can take place in my apartment, a park bench, the supermarket, or a bus. I am also deeply skeptical about the bible or any other religious text. I do not choose to follow its teachings but rather to make my own choices based on common sense and my understanding between right and wrong. Do I believe Mary was immaculately impregnated by God? Where logic has no place, faith moves in and I must confess I do not possess the faith to believe such an occurrence happened. Did Jesus ever exist? I believe so. Was he the son of God? Perhaps, I think so but cannot believe so wholeheartedly. Did Jesus die for me and my sins? I haven't found my answer yet but cannot be fed an answer by the Christian faith. But my life experience has shown me that there is a God and that everything happens for a reason, therefore I cannot consider myself an atheist.

I believe that religion as we know it today has been grossly manipulated by man. The intricate procedures and rituals performed by the devoted are merely choreographic works to me. I cannot take seriously a person who devotes their life entirely to a God they cannot prove exists beyond what their holy book tells them. I believe this stunts individuality and personal choice. Performing kind acts or committing harm in the name of God is a cop out. I believe we must take responsibility for our own actions, rather than credit or blame an external source.

**

Israel is without a doubt a Jewish state. In fact, many Jewish and Zionist organizations around the world work very hard to keep it this way. Masa is one such organization with the intention of bringing young Jews to Israel in the hopes of keeping them here. This is no secret. Everyone in the program, Jewish or not, understands and acknowledges this whether they like it or not. When asked why I did not join the Masa program I simply answer "I am not Jewish".

Last night we watched an Israeli film, "Late Marriage" about a Georgian-Israeli man's family's quest to find him a suitable bride, despite already having a girlfriend. Following the film a discussion began about Judaism, marrying outside the religion, and Jewish identity. I remained mostly silent but the responses around me were enlightening. A surprising number of participants admitted they would not marry someone who wasn't Jewish. Many wished to raise their children with a strong connection to the Jewish faith. Though I respect these wishes, I was also surprised to find that as young Americans who live in a culture where people are constantly courting outside their race, religion, or economic class, they would still feel so strongly against marrying a non-Jew.

Although I live in Jewish country, I have found that many of my Israeli classmates are not particularly religious. Most do not keep kosher, observe Shabbat, and only some fast during Yom Kippur. Though they are all Jews, some cannot remember the last time they were in a synagogue. It is true that the foreigners here with Masa are more religious and connected to the Jewish community than the Israelis who were placed in the Jewish world by default.

**

Upon learning that I am not Jewish, people usually respond with a blunt "then why are you here?" The first time I heard this I was taken aback. Now its just old. I'm here to dance. I have no religious or spiritual connection to this land. I do believe Jesus existed and lived here, but to be frank, this had no place in my decision making process to move to Israel. I am in Israel because of its rapidly developing dance scene and to be a part of the work being made. I am fully aware that many people (Jewish, Christian, Muslim, etc.) are here for reasons rooted in religion and though I respect this, I am finding that I choose not to be a part of this close mindedness.

I am officially tired of religion. It has limited place in my life.

Excuse me while I try to make sense of things

2009-11-19T04:40:00.000-08:00

Two days ago in composition class I found myself drawing and writing in my notebook between bits of choreographic showings by my classmates. Okay, I confess some of the doodles happened during the bits as well. Point is, I became suddenly consumed with words and images. I wrote a full page run-on sentence of metaphors where I compared myself to a helicopter caught in a tornado and a monster wondering what to eat and do. This is how I see myself.

People take things personally. Whether they should or shouldn't is a stupid debate. To each his own, one may have developed thick skin whilst another wears his heart on his sleeve.

A good friend and I discussed this idea about "not taking things so personally" and "not being so sensitive". We've concluded that it most likely stems from cultural differences because we realize that people here are more blunt and harsh in their delivery of ideas and perhaps these ways aren't always welcomed by us. Though ironically it is also true that I can be massively blunt and harsh in the delivery of my ideas. Does this make me a hypocrite? I suppose in a sense it can, so I've decided to take a step back to look and listen and to try and make sense of things.

There is a constant debate in my head about how to react and respond to things. But life shouldn't be so calculated. If I was perfectly honest, would things be better? Or worse?

Life is suffering, food is pleasure

2009-11-17T13:02:00.000-08:00

I love everyone and I hate everyone. The ones I love most I hate most. Its just one of those conundrums...

**

Winter has hit northern Israel and I feel the chill to my bones. It was most surprising since I ignorantly assumed that there couldn't possibly be a cold winter in the Middle East. But I was wrong, and I've learned that its only going to get colder from here.

Life in the studio continues as usual, albeit at a much more hectic pace. I'm currently in the process of creating a work using 2 dancers from 2 separate programs here. Its turning out to be a much more rewarding experience than past choreographic projects I've initiated and the connection between myself and the dancers is good. I cannot complain.

**

Three previous visits to Israel could not have prepared me for life here. It is something completely different from anything I've ever known and in this sense, I am very lucky to be experiencing something so unique and challenging at the same time. I can feel myself learning more and more each day, whether a new word in Hebrew or just something about myself and my personality. Living on this kibbutz and surrounding myself mainly with Israelis is proving to be quite the struggle. Sometimes I can put my finger on it, but most times its more a vague feeling of disconnect from the people and situations at hand.

I've also learned to be more discerning about whom I associate with. At this particular point in time, I cannot be spreading myself too thin. But I'm constantly reminded that this is not the kibbutznik way. Sometimes I just want to take off my shoes and slap people across the face.

Or perhaps write a letter along these lines:

Dear [insert Israeli person's name],
I hate you. Please go away. Fuck You.

Thank You.

Hatred,
Courtney

But this is considered anti-social for some reason...

**

I've decided to take up cooking to ease my troubled mind.

London, post script

2009-10-29T13:58:00.000-07:00

How can I put this? I think I'm missing London a little bit. Not immensely, nor do I wish to move back. But I miss it enough to warrant a short visit.

I never truly felt like a local in London. But who does? Nearly everyone in London comes from somewhere else, whether from a small village in the north of England or all the way from a foreign land on the other side of the world, London is home to an assortment of people looking for something different. I think the only time I felt like a local was on the Tube. I knew where I was going, where I needed to switch trains, had my 30% discount Oyster card, and maneuvered around all the slow people. Although occasionally I was one of the slow people. Once above ground however, I returned to being a tourist, albeit a jaded, tired tourist who had spent a little bit too much time in the city.

I remember occasions where I was at the Southbank Centre looking across the Thames to the Houses of Parliament and its crowning feature, Big Ben. In those moments, I truly felt like a tourist in the most positive and happiest of ways.

During weekends where I felt particularly adventurous, I'd venture to areas of London I hadn't seen before. One time I visited some street in Camden and immediately likened it to Old Town Pasadena, near my home in Alhambra. It was a most unexpected comparison, one I knew I wouldn't make again anywhere else in London. This turned out to be true.

I remember my first visit to the Portobello Road Market during my last weeks in London. I found it ironic considering most people make this a must-see during their brief vacations yet it took me nearly 2 years to make the westward trip.

Speaking of markets, I truly miss Borough Market with its numerous food stalls selling venison burgers, jamon serrano, chorizo, and weird smoothies (that I never bought, but enjoyed looking at). Though staunchly independent, I never once visited Borough Market by myself. It was a place where I got to know people better over cheese samples and shots of fruit juices.

I was never a big fan of the DLR. In fact, I felt that TFL ought to have paid US just for using their inconsistent, slow, driver-less pieces of shit. With that said, I do miss the views of the Docklands throughout South East London, especially when nearing Canary Wharf. I also enjoyed emerging from the Canary Wharf Tube station to read the giant stock market ticker wrapped around one of the nearby skyscrapers, not understanding any of it. And of course, passing a pre-disgrace Lehman Bros. building wondering what the hell goes on inside. A good hypothesis would be the burning of American currency?

Food is dear to me and I found much of the inexpensive to mid-range food on offer in London to be overpriced and under-tasty. However there were a few gems that stood out to me such as Tai Won Mein in Greenwich near the Cutty Sark. A crowded, noisy, dirty, ugly place with picnic benches for tables and prison guards for waiters (at least it seemed that way), I constantly asked myself why anyone would consistently subject themselves to such an experience. Then I took one bite of my fried beef with ho fun and knew the answer: Because for an experience worse than your middle school cafeteria, the food was fucking amazing.

During my first year in London I lived in a giant student community. Though many aspects of this drove me crazy, I had the great fortune of living in a flat 6 stories high facing the Thames and the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf. Every sunset I witnessed was special, and the lights shining from the giant buildings were enough to illuminate my room in the darkness.

One of my main hobbies is collecting used and old books. I've amassed quite a collection from my travels around the world, and London certainly housed an impressive number of antiquarian and secondhand bookstores. Even the chain stores selling new books appealed to me. Some highlights include Daunt in Marylebone, Waterstone's in Bloomsbury (with its treasure-chest attic of old books), Stanford's on Longacre, and the various used booksellers along Charing Cross Rd. scattered between the larger chain superstores. An old book a day keeps the doctor away.

There isn't one London. It can't be summed up in a few words. There are many Londons. The London known to tourists. The London known to residents. The London known to the rich. The London known to the poor. The London known to Brits. The London known to foreigners. The London reminisced by the elderly. The London newly explored by the young. The London known to historians. The London known to club-hoppers and ravers. The London known to preps. The London known to chavs. The London containing beautiful squares and parks. The London containing soulless council estates. The London promising a better future full of opportunities. The London showing the face of failure. Maybe I never really got to know London at all. Maybe in an entire lifetime, one cannot grasp the enormity of its splendor and squalor. But its not a competition, is it?

You have the flu. No, not THAT flu....actually, you may have THAT flu

2009-10-11T11:56:00.001-07:00

Q: What do Arabs and Mexicans have in common?

A: They are likely to bring the entire family to the hospital when only one person actually needs treatment.

This weekend I was hit with a ton of bricks of illness. I thought I'd be better today, but after a largely sleepless food-less night, I knew I had taken a turn for the worse.

I stumbled out of my apartment to the studios. Once there, I began shaking and crying because of my overall lack of energy and power. Upon seeing me in such a mess, my director Einav insisted on taking me to the hospital.

The experience at the hospital adds nothing positive to my general feeling towards hospitals. But it wasn't torturous either. Einav warned me not to look at anyone. I wish I had followed her advice since I became physically and verbally squeamish at the mere sight of a number of patients and their ailments. Oops.

While waiting for a nurse to see me I noticed that the majority of patients in the waiting area were Arabs. Though its more likely that only few of them were actual patients and the rest were just waiting family members. I realized I probably saw more Arabs today in the hospital than in all my time here in Nahariya. Northern integration, I think not.

However it is true that the social and professional integration between Arabs and Jews is of a larger number up here in the north of the country than in other places. But the cultural separation is still evident regardless.

Hours later I was sent home with Doctor's Orders not to have contact with anyone for a week, not to do pretty much anything, and to drink lots of water. Welcome to my week of Quarantine.

The flu sucks, y'all.

I am massively grateful to Einav and my classmates who have been more than helpful and supportive.

תודה רבה לכולם

Happiness, more or less...

2009-10-08T10:56:00.001-07:00

Today I came to the realization that bad days can turn into perfect days.

**

Sometime last week I injured myself in class and am still feeling the pain in my foot. As a result, I've been out of commission and spend most of the time observing class rather than taking part. Its a necessary step to getting better but its also quite frustrating.

**

Solitude is a word that keeps rolling around in my head. Since moving to this kibbutz, I seek it constantly. Fortunately I'm in such a place where I can find it. I've been told that constant communal socialization is a part of kibbutz culture. While I understand this assertion, I've also learned that I do not need to be friends with everyone, nor do I need to participate in large groupings. In fact, I prefer individuals to groups. There is undoubtedly a change in dynamic once a person is thrust into a group setting. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. All I know is that I prefer sincerity to masked pretention.

**

This afternoon I found myself by the sea. This shouldn't be a significant event considering I was born and raised in Southern California. However, I never considered myself a "beach person". In fact, I always hated the beach. I hated the litter strewn sand, the brown water, the dirty bathrooms, the overpriced and under-tasty beach food, the crowds and the overall driving distance just to get to the beach. But here in Israel, the beach is totally within reach. And the beaches are quite clean. And even at their most crowded, they are never that crowded. Since moving here I find that I'm at the beach a lot more often than in my 20+ years of living in Southern California. This is a good thing.

**

Whilst walking through Nahariya today I noticed I'm beginning to feel less a tourist and more a local. Which led me to my next thought: How exactly is a local defined? Perhaps if I took the most obvious factors into consideration I'd realize that I'm not a local at all. I wasn't born in this country. I hardly speak the native language. I look like a complete foreigner no matter what. I've not reached the level of innate aggression and assertiveness that Israelis possess. But on the other hand, I live near this city. I'm practically in the city every week. I know where things are, where I like to eat, where I like to shop, where to find a clean bathroom, and various modes of transportation around the country. So I'm not a local. Not even close. But I've left tourist level, as far as Nahariya is concerned. Though why a tourist would wander into Nahariya is beyond me.

**

I am always slightly amused by the irony of seeing an Israeli wearing a "Free Tibet" tee shirt.

**

The intention this weekend is to rest and recover. Should this occur, I can hope to expect a good coming week.

Mourning

2009-10-05T07:41:00.000-07:00

Its days like today that I am sure of my fate.

Its as if I'm mourning the death of someone who hasn't even died--or existed.

Sadly, today is yet another day I'm happy to cross off my calendar.

Really, Just Saying....

2009-10-03T07:12:00.000-07:00

Things that would make life much easier if the Kibbutz had:

-A cash machine
-A cafe
-Food store open 7 days a week!
-Coin operated laundromat
-Vending machines!!!!

Thank you, that is all.

A message to Israelis: The Palestinians are not your problem, its your fucking driving that will destroy you.

2009-10-01T02:49:00.001-07:00

And on that note, I begin this post with a comment on the driving habits of Israelis. And actually, the Palestinians are just as guilty. In Los Angeles people pride themselves on being good drivers, aggressive drivers, assertive drivers. Believe me, LA drivers have nothing on the rest of the world. I always thought European drivers to be quite the daredevils and London drivers specifically to be plain wreckless. But in this region, people drive their cars as if they were operating fighter jets. Maybe at some point in life they did. But the roads are not the skies folks. Let's slow it down a bit, okay?

**

I've returned to the kibbutz after a long holiday weekend in the center of the country. The more I'm here the more I realize its a good place to be. It is true that its a small kibbutz and you cant really hide, but I think there is enough space for everyone if you really look for it. Its very peaceful and quiet up here and I'm learning to truly appreciate this.

**

Occassionally I miss London. I get small reminders everyday in various sensical forms. Sights, smells, tastes, sounds, and textures that invoke memories both specific and atmospheric. Living on a kibbutz in northern Israel is completely different from living in a multi-story flat in London. I think the most obvious differences are the amount of space alotted per person, the street safety, the community feeling, the environment, and the noise levels.

But there are other factors. This kibbutz houses an international community of dancers who all live near each other more or less in different areas that I've dubbed "villages". You are never too far from another dancer whether in Sedna, MASA, or one of the professional companies. This is a nice feeling.

Even though things right now are quite challenging in many ways for me, I think I have made the right decision to be here.

Yom Kippur Weekend: Unintentionally atoning in my own way

2009-09-28T02:48:00.000-07:00

Yom Kippur is the holiest Jewish holiday of the year. It is when religious Jews fast and attend synagogue to atone for the year's worth of sin. For me, it was a time of drunken shouting, wobbly walking, massive sickness, and a lack of memories. What exactly happened? I wish I could remember. But I've been reminded of a few things, many of which I'd rather not have known at all.

The good news is I feel much better today. It is still Yom Kippur until sundown and we plan to ride bicycles to the beach. The streets are empty of cars and all shops closed.

***

More coherent blogs on the way...

Absurdity and Perversity

2009-09-25T09:33:00.000-07:00

I spent the earlier half of the day in Tel Aviv committing much-needed financial damage. Two chamsot later, I found myself thinking about the general lack of manners amongst Israelis, only to be met with kind-hearted generosity the next minute. I swear, I am constantly surprised by people here. Absurdity and perversity definitely go hand-in-hand but one thing is for certain: nothing is predictable.

On our way out of the carpark we found ourselves stuck in a horrendously long line. Inevitably, people started to honk as if it could make a difference. I've concluded that honking here is more an act of cathartic release than efficient communication. We asked ourselves, why is this taking so long? Probably because people don't have their tickets out, their money ready, or are asking directions to the freeway. But naturally, they will honk their brains out at everyone else.

**

"A concept even bigger than yourself"

....Is what is on my mind.

See you later.

When things go wrong, I tell myself: "Welcome to Israel"

2009-09-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

I renamed the blog "Courtney's Karka Poriah" in honor of a song mis-translation. Thus it stays.

**

I left the squalor of Los Angeles for the glamour of Israel. Wait, perhaps its the other way round? No, I was correct the first time. I am currently living in Kibbutz Gaaton, a leafy, breezy community tucked into the Galilean hills of northern Israel, just under the Lebanese border. To remind me of exactly where I'm located, the folks at IDF like to do practice flights with their fighter jets overhead every now and then. Its a noise louder than I care to hear.

After some bouts with bad timing and very bad things in general, I now find myself enrolled in an intense dance program on the kibbutz. Allow me to explain.

The contemporary dance scene in Israel is rapidly progressing into international notoriety and also happens to be one that actually interests me and my 3-second attention span. I've decided to take a leap of faith (pun intended) and head on over to the Holy Land to get myself involved.

It seemed like a good idea at first.

I should explain that my program is entirely conducted in Hebrew, and that I am only one of 2 non-Israeli students. This is problematic. Luckilly, there is another program on the kibbutz consisting of dancers from abroad, mainly Americans and we study Hebrew together. But am I anywhere near fluency? Dear God, no.

Such is life.

***

I live amongst an interesting array of characters and personalities. The difference between living on the kibbutz and in London is the proximity between myself and my classmates. In London, we finished school and returned to our respective flats scattered throughout the city. Perhaps people lived in NW, NE, SE, S, or W? Whereas here in Gaaton its more like "up the hill" or "down the hill". But I'm finding my hiding spots.

I cannot say for certain that the national cultural psyche is influencing me much, but thats likely to change as time goes on.

***

The last two weekends were spent in Tel Aviv with an assortment of Israeli friends and new friends. It is essential to leave the kibbutz each weekend for a different perspective on living in this country, but three days in Tel Aviv is more than enough. By the end of it, I'm happy to return to the kibbutz.

Tel Aviv is an ostentacious mix of trashy, sleezy, tastless, noisy, Russian-mafia, meshugah, drugged out tomfoolery. For this, I love it. It is a city like no other. "Ha Buah", the locals call it, the bubble. Tel Aviv is a bubble within a larger bubble. With all the conflict and tension in this tiny region, Tel Aviv somehow manages to remain unaffected by it all. Religion, race, and politics do not exist here. Tel Avivis are wondering where to get their next meal.

***

I am spending the Yom Kippur weekend with my new friend Ronnie and her family in Nordia, a "moshav" in central Israel. What is a moshav, you ask? Numerous answers have been given, but frankly, I'm still not sure. Its a taste of the 'burbs as I know it.

Little slices of home here and there are most welcome. But a big chunk may not be necessary. With that in mind, I bid thee adieu. Good night and have a pleasant weekend, wherever you are.

2009-04-01T12:35:00.001-07:00

I am currently in Istanbul reading, appropriately enough, "Istanbul" by Orhan Pamuk. I just finished the chapter where Pamuk describes the beauty and poetry that outsiders find in the poor, ruinous areas of northwestern Istanbul, along the old city walls.

I myself ventured out to said area two days ago to visit the Chora Church. When I exited the Metro at Topkapi Ulubatli, I was shocked to find myself walking amidst such complete waste and wreackage. To my left were the ancient wall ruins of Constantinople, and to my right were 20th century ruins, skeletal remains of houses, stores, apartments, and other buildings. Piled around the structures were mountains of trash, old furniture, shoes, clothing, old pictures, and other junk of a personal nature. I had realized earlier on in my trip that Istanbul is a bit run down in many parts, but what I found on this day was unlike anything else I had seen thus far. I immediately thought this is what Gaza or Baghdad must look like, the rubble and ruins of bombed out buildings with everything strewn about. But no, I was not in Gaza or Baghdad, but in north west Istanbul along the old city walls.

I was surprised to find people actually living in the wreackage, and I learned today that the area was once a hub for Gypsie living and the government had to kick them out and tear the buildings down. They are planning to rebuild much of the area, but it will take at least five years to clean everything up before re-building.

Pamuk writes about the "accidental beauty" of these areas, and how only outsiders can appreciate the picturesque nature of a "broken fountain, an old ramshackle mansion...the crumbling wall of an old mosque" and "the old blackened walls of an old house". He emphasizes that to appreciate these things, one must "first and foremost be a stranger to them." I completely agree, since a local sees and lives among these things everyday, whereas I-an outsider-stumbled upon this place for the first time, totally unnacustomed to such surroundings.

While I had gotten used to seeing numerous dogs and cats throughout the city, I was surprised to see a bunch of roosters and chickens pecking through the trash. Where did they come from? Are they wild or does someone actually own them? What do they eat? I looked closer into the trash mountains and saw mementos of peoples lives, more or less forgotten.

***

Istanbul is a massive and dense city, spanning two continents. I cannot hope to see it all in the course of 10 days, but so far I have seen different parts of the city, old and new, rich and poor, and I'm finding this city to be so full of character. I also find myself drawn to and fascinated by the poorer, derelict areas of the city. Even in the more modern parts of the city I am treated to a crumbling building with broken windows, faded billboards, empty shops, and wooden buildings badly burnt and ready to crumble at any moment. Its obvious this city is photogenic, especially these wrecked buildings. They are lived in, worn out, exhausted, and hanging by a thread. I think I like this place.

Inshallah

2009-03-15T20:44:00.000-07:00

Today I took a leap of faith, and all I can do now is hope for the best. I believe everything happens for a reason, so if things seemingly don't turn out the way I'd like, I can still see other options and opportunities.

***

I saw a picture in Sports Illustrated of a baseball player in spring training. He had a small parachute attached to his belt to create wind resistance, thus making it harder for him to run. As soon as I saw that picture, I immediately recalled all my dreams in which I'm running. The feeling of running in my dreams is exactly what it must feel like to run with a parachute attached to my pants.

And then it made me think of that episode of "The Simpsons" where Homer eats the bad chili and goes on a trip in the desert. While attempting to run, he instead gets caught in a series of poses that resemble individual photos of someone running, as opposed to running fluidly.

***

I was watching "Hole in the Wall" on tv tonight for the first time. At the end, one contestant had to wear blinding goggles whilst her teammates gave her verbal instructions as to how to 'clear' the wall. The limited descriptive vocabulary people used made me think how much easier it would be to have classically trained dancers on the show. Instead of shouting vague instructions such as, 'Arms out to the side, right leg up', and then watch their teammate get knocked into the pool, a dancer could shout, 'Arms in second, right leg second, 90 degrees', and watch their teammate hit flexed and straightened versions of said directions and 'clear' the wall.

A N Y ways......

Getting back in class tomorrow hopefully. This last week was rather uneventful. I didn't really feel inspired to move much, at least not in the traditional sense, but I am looking forward to mending that this week.

Next week, it's off to Eastern Europe. First, I head to Istanbul for about 12 days, then on to Budapest for another 7 days. Excited!

Schwing

2009-03-15T01:42:00.000-07:00

Wow, I have not used this for over a year. It's not because I don't have anything to say, it's probably just because I am lazy and/or a poor writer.

I could write an update, since the last post was from Christmas 2007. Hmm, let's see....over Christmas break, I travelled to Barcelona, Sevilla, Granada, Madrid, and all over Israel. In a nutshell, I loved Barcelona, especially 'hiking' Tibidabo; I loved the old charm of Seville where I constantly ate jamon serrano; Granada was very cold that particular week but the chocolate con churros warmed (and fattened) me up; Madrid felt like London, but with a much more agreeable language; Israel was nice and warm (yes, even in December and January), I stayed in Jerusalem the first week, then Tel Aviv the second. Using those two cities as bases, I explored the rest of the country, took class, met with old friends and made some new ones.

School resumed in January 2008, the second term at Laban felt like less a blur than the previous, but still blurry nonetheless. I got to participate in the repertory project with choreographer Fleur Darkin's Augustine. It was a very good learning experience and it took a lot out of me.

Spring term break saw trips to Rome, Venice, and Berlin yay! Third term flew past very quickly, I got a bit injured, have since recovered, saw a lot of dancing and formed many opinions.

I got to perform in the end of year show in two pieces, finished the program at Laban and faced my next step.

I made an unlikely decision and stayed in London for the time being.

Summer started and London actually saw a few days of sun (how I missed it). I lounged around, went to Switzerland where I stayed with two friends, one in Baar, the other in Graubunden. I found Switzerland to be an amazingly beautiful albeit ridiculously expensive country. I also spent a week in Berlin for a rehearsal stint that was rather uneventful.

In late August, I returned home to Los Angeles for 2 weeks to take care of paperwork, gorge myself with Hawaiian BBQ, stock up on DVDs, and visit Disneyland for good measure.

I returned to London in mid-September to start at London Contemporary Dance School. As the title of this blog suggests, stranger things have happened and did happen and next thing I know, I'm back home in LA facing the possibility of returning to London in the fall.

In late February, I spontaneously decided to travel to New York City for the first time and see the sites! I found myself dissapointed with the museums there, a total shock to me since I generally love all museums. Not so here, which is a double suck considering the rip off admission fees. Overall, I liked the energy of the city in all its beauty and ugliness but also realized how much I appreciate my space.

Here in LA, I'm going slightly more insane but its probably good to take a step back in order to move forward. Now, I'm planning several more trips-Istanbul, Budapest, and Tokyo- and getting myself to move a bit. Creation is a rough road brothers.

The Festivities are Best Enjoyed Fed

2007-12-05T15:57:00.000-08:00

I have a performance tomorrow for an MA student's assessment. I'm a bit nervous but I think everything will be fine. As our choreographer says, "We'll let it be by chance..."

Tonight the school held it's annual Christmas Showing. The final piece of the evening was my program's repertory piece. It was so fun watching my friends and classmates onstage looking incredible. I was so proud of them and amazed!

After the showing we had our OYP Christmas party. It was tons of fun and nice to talk to people and find out what they're doing over the monthlong term break. I go to school with some truly amazing people and I'm so glad to know them. I will actually miss them over the break.

It was a good time.

"For you, I will put cheese in"

2007-11-25T11:01:00.000-08:00

I just love how it gets dark so early here. Like, where's the sunlight?

Today I hedonistically slept in until about 2. Eew, right? No, it was awesome, but I dreamt that the student village had a swimming pool, gym, and 7-Eleven. Then I woke up to realize that it's freezing cold ALTHOUGH we do have a Costcutter across the street....close enough.

Term break in two weeks. Yes, yes, yes....still putting it all together though.

I cannot, but quite nearly, guarantee......a divorce---so says the song.

Paris Extravaganza

2007-10-27T04:01:00.001-07:00

Alright, I am convinced that Paris is my absolute favorite city in the world, no question about it. I love that Paris is big enough where there is always something new to see and discover, but not so big that it just becomes overwhelming. Furthermore, the trip was met with some really unfortunate weather but it didn't matter to me. In each of my experiences with Paris I've learned that through bad weather, large crowds, language barrier, unpreferable personalities, tired feet, icky food, and smashed toes, Paris is still the greatest city in the world to me.

This time around I travelled with Emily and Kristan, two new friends from the program at Laban. We left early Wednesday morning and arrived in Paris by midday. After some long queues and some Metro hopping, we made it in one piece to our hotel in the Tour Maubourg area. We settled in and left to explore Paris. Well it was pretty cold to be honest and we were quite hungry so we found a cute little eatery tucked away behind some cafes near the Seine. It was a pretty mellow place and I enjoyed my dinner. Or late lunch seeing as the Parisians don't have dinner until late. After eating, we did a lot of walking around and sightseeing. It was so beautifully familiar to me and I felt quite happy to be there amongst the buildings and bridges that I love.

In the late evening we found ourselves at the Louvre. It was closed but we spent our time hanging around the Grand Pyramide. It was so uncrowded, what a rarity! Actually throughout most of our trip it was pretty uncrowded.

On Thursday we woke up early and headed to the Rue Mouffetard market. I had never been to that area before but I'm glad I did this time. I absolutely loved it there! It had a lively food market and tons of nice cafes and restaurants and small boutiques. I picked up some cool things and pretty much enjoyed just walking around having the fattest crepe ever! After that, we headed to the Place Maubert market in the Latin Quarter. It was a food, craft, and clothes market that was pretty nice and right in the middle of the busy Latin Quarter. We had some pastries in the nearby Paul patteserie. I also picked up some old childrens' books at Boulinier that cost only 50cents each. Happy stuff.

Next we headed to Ile St. Louis. I had been there only once before and vowed to return so return I did. I just loved it there and its so old. Actually I think its Paris' first neighborhood, or at least one of the first. We stopped into Berthillon where, despite the cold weather, had our ice cream fix. Good stuff.

For dinner I had the awesome raclette experience. Okay so I had no idea what a raclette was but it's basically a reverse fondue. Melt some cheese on a rack thingie, tilt it and let it pour over some potatoes and ham. It was awesome!!!! I shared with Emily but alas, we could not finish it all. But it was good food I'll tell you that.

In the evening we went to the Maison des Arts in Creteil to see the Emanuel Gat Company perform a repertory program. I went in expecting awesomeness seeing as its an Israeli company, and Israeli companies/choreographers had a 100% success rate with me thus far. Well after seeing Emanul Gat, they still do. The first piece was a male duet that was originally a male/female duet, which would have been interesting to see but I think making it a male duet gave it different qualities that I overall enjoyed. The dancers were neither too masculine nor too feminine. One dancer, Roy, was really good and Emily told me that he started dancing when he was like 20 or something. Amazing. He was an amazing mover.

The second piece was a solo by Emanuel danced to a jazzy version of "My Favorite Things". He did it pretty casually, wearing rehearsal clothes and taking small breaks in between movement phrases. I was blown away by his movement quality. He really uses his arms a lot and so fluidly. His musicality was spot on and I really enjoyed watching him. There's something really neat and distinct about his movement.

The third piece used more company members and it was exciting. It made me smile a lot. It was kind of all over the place with the dancers running around, breaking into smaller groups, doing solos, etc. The music was pretty eclectic and the movement amazing! There were a lot of motifs that I particularly liked and thought looked pretty cool. Dance doesn't always have to be pretty but it can still look cool and quirky without being ugly, which this company exemplified.

On Friday we stuck around the vicinity of the hotel which was actually quite nice. We had breakfast on rue Champs du Mars and discovered yet another outdoor food market. I picked up some more old books and enjoyed seeing this side of Tour Maubourg. We had only 2 hours left so we decided to hit the tourist track and head to the Eiffel Tower. Ironically we did last what most people on a Parisian trip do first. The whole park preceeding the tower was mellow which I appreciated. The surrounding streets, namely rue Emile Deschanel, are on my list on future residences haha. Aaah, that would be great. Anyways we made our way to the tower in all its massiveness and foggy glory. Hey I still take tons of pictures of it so whatever. Then we went up to the Trocadero for more views and pictures. I had a pretty good time up there sitting with my friend just talking and taking tons of silly pictures with the tower in the backdrop. I'd say it was a good last moment in this amazing city.

***

Mission: Desklamp Status: Accomplished!

2007-10-23T12:56:00.001-07:00

Okay reading week, here goes:

Friday I sat and observed classes. One of the classes I observed was a BA2 class with a lovely teacher named Susan Sentler. She had such a dynamic dialogue with her students and was more than gracious to us observers. At the end of the class, they all began to sing. Really now.

On Friday night I watched the school's BA3 performance featuring the work of guest choreographers. One of my friends was performing and I'd never seen her dance before, but she was such a character! I never knew she had that in her and I was pleasantly surprised to see her put on such a performance. The next piece was dull. I can't remember anything about it. Other than it was dull. The third piece was pretty cool. Kind of earthy. It had good dancers. The final piece was the most technically demanding and played with the concept of shapes and geometry. I'll say I liked it.

***

Saturday was the coolest day EVER. Well, not ever, but a really awesome day nonetheless. I started in the morning by attending an open audition for the Jasmin Vardimon Company out in south London. There were soooooo many people there that they had to conduct the audition in groups of 40. Luckilly, I was number 19. I went in pretty much for the experience of auditioning for a professional company and I think I got a lot out of it. Granted, I wasn't there too long, but I had a positive experience and enjoyed being there. But man, to quote my friend Joanne, there were tons of wankers there. I don't get why when it's not their turn to dance, people still insist on standing in the dance space, completely obstructing the dancers who are actually having their turn. This happens everywhere, yes, but still! Lame on them!

Then I went to Laban for another rehearsal with the MA student working on some pieces. It was mellow as usual and we had some interesting tasks. I enjoy all the improv practice I can get. And there's space to move!

In the early evening Emily and I headed over to the King's Cross area in search of a Japanese restaurant. Well we ended up walking in a large asterisk pattern all around the station and wound up in Casa Mamma, an Italian place. Not quite as planned, but good stuff....

After that, we walked up Pentonville Road to get to Sadler's Wells theatre and on the way we found a furniture store called "dwell" still open (!) and went in for our lamp search. And they had cool lamps! And cheap, too! The goal was a cool lamp under 50 pounds. Price of our lamps? 15 pounds each. Mofo yeah! Thank you, dwell! The funny thing is, we're so excited about new lamps. I feel lame but whatever I really needed a lamp! So blah!

***

Evening. Watched 'zero degrees' at Sader's Wells. It was my second time seeing this piece, the first time being in Sydney in January. I loved it so much more the second time around. It's just such an amazing piece and the fact that Akram and Larbi don't just dance makes it even better. They converse, they play, they interact, they joke, they mimic, they fall, they fight, they yell, they sing. It's beautiful. And my friend really enjoyed it which was good because she's such a tough critic. Even she was moved by the piece, so that's got to be a good sign. After the show, did some catching up and got a lot of useful advice. That would be the high point of the day.

Later we found a Japanese restaurant (still open!) near Angel station and I finally had my first Japanese meal since moving to London. It was good, too, so that just added to the already cool day.

Then on the way home we came across some volunteers from a local church who were passing out free coffee and tea, so we helped ourselves to some. We were like, 'it just gets better and better' and then I feared we'd jinx it and then some drunken person would come barf on our shoes. That never happened, thankfully.

***

Sunday morning, had shakshuka. Went to central London with Emily and Sophie. Actually made it past the ground floor of Harrod's. Ooohed and aahed at the amazing displays of food there! Had Wagamama's. Walked all over the place. Made it to Hyde Park. Split up. Took tons of pictures. Planned to go to Buckingham Palace but got distratced by the Serpentine at Hyde Park. Reunited. Had hot chocolate. Took more pictures. Yeah. Then watched "Save the Last Dance 2". Terrible fucking movie.

***

Monday, went to Legoland Windsor, which fucking rocked. Miniland alone was worth the admission price. 'Nuff said. Oh and I scored a free annual pass.

Then hung out around Windsor and Eton, bought some awesome old books, and I do mean awesome, and a fishing hat. Hmmm....saw Eton College. Eton looked like a ghost town more than anything. It was so deserted....but I liked that.

***

Today, shopping on Oxford Street with the rest of the cattle. But I bought tons of cool shit. So hell yeah. Tomorrow, Paris. Okay bye.

"""

2007-10-17T16:24:00.000-07:00

Well what can I say? I'm keeping track of most of it here. But not all of it, no, just a bit.

I interrupted one too many thought processes today. For this, I apologize.

Tonight I went to the Barbican and saw Shen Wei Dance Art's "Connect Transfer". To me, it looked mostly like an improv/contact improv class, only with really amazing dancers. They truly were. They were some of the most fluid, weightless, bendy creatures I've seen and they just seemed to float across the stage in such an effortless way. I really liked when they painted the floor, a large canvas, with their hands and feet while doing some insane floorwork. Floorwork. They absolutely ruled at that. And just about everything else as well. The music was beautiful, the set design simple, and the costumes non-distracting. The dancers were truly amazing, I cannot stress this enough. Like unhuman. The best dancers usually are.

Otherwise it's been a slow week. What makes a week slow anyway? What makes a week go by quickly? I don't necessarilly connect good times and bad with that stuff. Time flies when you're having fun? Not always. Sometimes we're lucky and time will fly when we really want it to. And sometimes good times can last long. I think I'm somewhere in the middle, not quite sure where, but somewhere. An uppety-downety week, but slow moving either way.

Research. Lots and lots of research. Really, it's the only thing I can do at this point. What else is under my control? That's something....

Graaaph Paper

2007-10-16T14:45:00.000-07:00

It's amazing to go to school with classmates and teachers from all over the world. I hear so many languages and accents every day that I'm starting to pick a lot of them up. As a newly-arrived American in England, I only knew of a few different types of British accents. Over time I started to notice the numerous regional British accents of my classmates. And it's mutual. A lot of the non-Americans in the program have been telling me and other Americans/Canadians that they are starting to be able to tell the difference between our accents. One of the girls in my program is from Calgary, Canada and I didn't even know she was Canadian right away. We were talking with a girl from Switzerland who said that we sound the same to her. Immediately the Canadian said, "We do NOT sound the same at all! She's from LA!" It's true, I have this weird drawn-out LA accent that's not typical valley girl in any way, luckilly, but it does sound funny now that it's been brought to my attention.

Like today for instance, a guy from Austria presented a project and didn't know 'graph paper' in English. So I said "graph paper" aloud, only it sounded more like 'gray-yaph paper' and my teacher, who is British, mimicked me and laughed. She then said "graahf paper".

There are a number of other Americans in the program, but they are from all over. The closest to me geographically would be a girl from Northern California, but we sound nothing alike. There are a few students from the midwest and their accents are more distinctive but overall it's one big jumble of accents.

On a similar note, we presented our self-portraits in choreography class today. Every person had the opportunity to discuss their creative process and the substance of their piece. It amazes me how fast the non-English speakers learn and how they can so eloquently present themselves to others. I constantly wonder how I would feel if I had to make an oral presentation in another language to a random group of people. I'd be so scared.

***

I stayed at the school late tonight. After an impromptu audition for someone's project, I found an empty studio and decided to try and come up with some material for a solo based on my self-portrait. I wasn't expecting to come up with anything but I surpirisingly did. I'm working with the theme of travelling and seeing the world, and the feelings that come with it. Tonight I explored the open-mindedness and expectation of arriving in a new world followed by the sudden frustration and confusion that comes with it. Once I feel I can convey that coherently I want to move on to the realizations, lessons, epiphanies, and eye-openers that inevitably follow. From there I'd probably explore the.....happiness I suppose, of the gaining of new knowledge and new experiences.

Fortunately I worked with two amazing partners in class today devising movement based on their interpretation of my self-potrait. They were very inquisitive about my want and need to travel and how it could be translated into movement.

One girl asked if I found a commonality in all the places I've been. The first thing I thought of was immigration. Being from the United States, I'm used to the diversity around me. My older family members are immigrants as well. But everywhere I travel, there are immigrants, too. In Australia, France, Italy, Austria, Israel, and England. Excluding Australia and England, I always wondered how tough it is for foreigners in these countries to learn English. They know their home languages, then learn the language of their new homeland. English is just another language to add to all that and it must be a bit frustrating. I wonder why they moved to where they moved and if they like being there, or would they go back home if they had the chance. I wonder how they adapt to the new language and culture while preserving their own culture for themselves and their children. I know so little of my Chinese and Mexican heritage, speak no other languages fluently, and currently live in another English-speaking country. But how would I adjust to living in say, Brazil? Thailand? Kuwait? Nigeria? Of course it's easy to assume "everyone" will speak English anyway, but what if they don't? And even if they do, why shouldn't I speak their language? I'm in their country afterall. I'd probably struggle and constantly worry that I sound stupid no matter what I say. How much of my "American-ness" would I retain? Lose? How much of the new culture would I gain? Miss out on?

***

After leaving the studio late at night, I walked out to an empty, beautifully lit, curved pathway between the giant grass pyramids. I turned around and looked at the building, my school. With it's multi-colored windows--some opaque, some transparent--situated between the grass pyramids and preceeded by a beaitifully lit pathway, I thought to myself, "I go to a pretty fucking amazing school." Yes, the architecture and landscape of the place initiated the feeling, but the overall appreciation for the training and people involved came rushing to me and I suddenly felt more grateful than I ever had before.

Yellow Europa as the shirt says...

2007-10-15T11:55:00.000-07:00

I had a rather restful weekend, I'd say. And deservedly so.

On Friday night I went to Sadler's Wells to see Birmingham Royal Ballet's "Edward II". What drew me to this performance was purely my curiosity to see how they would portray Edward's rather gruesome death. Historically, Edward II was not a particularly great king. Not good, even. He is known for being fickle, childlike, and oblivious to his responsibilities, placing a higher priority on his personal pleasure than on the wellbeing of his kingdom. It also doesn't help that he was the son and father of great kings. Yet BRB artistic director David Bintley chose to create a ballet about this king and I was instantly drawn to the notion. The ballet itself was pretty cool. It was a classical ballet through and through, but the costumes and sets were completely contemporary and unconventional in every way. The choreography was dynamic and powerful. The dancers were amazing actors so much so that I was more amazed with their character portrayal than their dancing--which almost never happens. The only time I can reacall feeling that way was in watching Marcelo Gomes of ABT as Othello. This ballet succeeded in putting a real face and personality on Edward II who otherwise remained just a figure from a text book with a gross ending.

Speaking of his grisly end, the ballet portrayed it very interestingly and with the right tone. What I want to know now is, how dificult was it to come up with that, or was it super easy?

***

On Saturday I went to this informal rehearsal for an MA student choreographing random projects as part of her course. It was a mellow ordeal with me and three other girls, one of whom is in my program (sort of). It was nice to actually just move around in the space and not worry about bumping into anyone or worry about technical stuff. We pretty much did improv for an hour and a half then learned a short sequence. It was cool.

Saturday night I went to the Barbican to see Sidi Goma and Omar Faruk as part of the center's Ramadan Nights festival. It was long....

***

Sunday was a restful day and I worked on my self-portrait for my choreography class. Following a visit to the National Portrait Gallery, our assignment was to create a self portrait in any way--not through dance though. I figured with a group of dancers who don't really draw, the self portraits are going to be pretty abstract and I'm quite excited to see what everyone came up with :)

525,600

2007-10-10T16:24:00.000-07:00

Tonight is not one of those nights where I'll be sleeping much, though I know I should. But I can't. I'm completely out of order and I need some repairing. My brain needs repairing. Maybe resuscitation. I feel a storm coming...

Shaken and Stirred

2007-10-08T16:19:00.001-07:00

Tonight I went to the Southbank Centre to see Inbal Pinto and Avshallom Pollak Dance Company's "Shaker". I went in with high expectations having heard a lot of positive things about the company and its dancers and I was not disappointed. The piece comprised of 8 dancers and 2 actors. It was a very theatrical piece with a really cool set. There were tiny styrofoam (sic?) balls all over the stage creating a snowy atmosphere. Upstage were three small cabins where dancers would appear and disappear throughout. The imagery and set design, combined with eclectic music and frenetic dancing created an encased, snowglobe-like world--hence the title. I loved every moment of it. The dancers were amazing with athletic and graceful movement qualities that they mixed well while portraying a range of characters and personalities. I really enjoyed the theatrical feel of the piece because it gave it a whole new dimension and tone. It ended on a slightly discomforting note, which I loved. Finally, a really awesome dance show that delivered.

After the show there was a Q&A with Inbal and Avshallom. There were some good questions regarding the musical selection and set design, a funny question from a BA student wanting advice for her choreographic project, and words of appreciation from an Israeli woman living in London who had never seen Inbal's work before tonight. But of course came the "Israeli" and "Jewish" questions, which I knew were inevitable. As I'm sure Inbal and Avshallom did as well. First, a woman commented that the set deisgn and costume of one performer reminded her of Auschwitz, and asked if that was intentional. The answer: No. Avshallom said it's not what they thought of when creating, realized it later but decided not to change it due to different interpretations, and said if people saw it that way then so be it. My opinion is that it could have been intentional but they chose not to elaborate on it, for it would turn the piece into something far more profound than it needed to be...but honestly, if the weren't an Israeli company, would anyone have made that connection in the first place? Later, another man mentioned that he's "half-Jewish" and couldn't make a "Jewish" or "Israeli" connection in the piece then asked if they consider these things when creating. The answer: No. Why should they? Yes, they're Israeli. Yes, they're Jewish. But why must these things become the central theme of their work? Avshallom said they do what they do because they love it. Simple as that, regardless of their religion and nationality. If they wanted to make a comment about being Israeli or Jewish, fine, but it dosn't need to dominate their work in any way. Why must this man need to find a Jewish or Israeli connection in this work? Can he not enjoy the piece for what it is--pure dancing and theatre? Once again, if they weren't an Israeli company, would anyone want such a religious/patriotic commentary? It reminds me a bit of the questions Ohad Naharin would constantly get asked in interviews in the US and Australia and who knows where else. Political questions and the sort. Why does it matter? Not all American choreographers create with American politics and society in mind---sure, they can be inspired, but why would they choose an artistic vision that relies heavily on such things? It would get very old, very fast.

Fucking awesome show.

1,729

2007-10-07T13:46:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm watching a show about the plastic surgery phenomenon in Los Angeles. This is not news to me but its still interesting to hear these peoples reasons for wanting to go under the knife and remove/inject all sorts of crap. Right now there's a 50years+ man who got pec implants and now he looks like he has women's breasts. They also documented a woman in search of happiness and self-esteem who hired a $2,000/day image consultant. If that doesn't work (which I'm sure it won't), she's going to feel like a dork (which she probably won't either). The show just proves the constant self-absortion that exists in everyone and how people can only feel complete when they feel they look their absolute "best". I'm not against plastic surgery at all, but I hate when people resort to it to "change their lives". To be honest, I'd rather if people just did it out of total vanity, not to change themselves on the inside. But that's so cliche.

***

Yesterday I went to the Barbican Centre to see a show called "A Disappearning Number". I knew nothing about it, assumed it was a dance show, knew the tickets had been completely sold out for some time, and heard it was "brilliant". Turns out it wasn't a dance show at all, but a play about mathematicians and the significance of numbers. Right off the bat I panicked and instantly regretted buying a ticket without doing my research. I thought, 'is this whole show going to be about fucking equations?' but NO!!! It was really interesting!! I really enjoyed it and was even moved by the significance of numbers and what they mean to different people and of their relationships with and around life. Who would have thought? It was beautifully acted, lit, designed, and scored. "Brilliant"? Quite possibly, but you don't have to be brilliant to enjoy it....obviously.

***

I went to Covent Garden for the first time last night and I enjoyed it a lot. It was a bit crowded and I was grateful that it wasn't summertime. But the whole area around the markets is really nice and I liked the live musicians all over.

***

Today I discovered Spitalfield's Market and its vicinity. The main market area itself was under renovation so the stalls were relocated to a nearby shopping area. The whole place was really clean and nice and it was refreshing to find a market that was actually selling nice, pretty things, rather than crap. Okay, well there was a good share of crap, too. It was a fun day. Only complaint, I can't seem to find a damn desklamp! Well I can, but not ones that I like or want to pay for. Emily and I are both on the search for the perfect desk lamp and we don't want to resort to buying a plain, boring one from some chain store. No, we want a cool, crafty, funky lamp from an independent seller. Problem with independent sellers? They're really expensive!! I don't want to pay 50pounds for a lamp base and 40 pounds for a lamp shade. That's like $180!! Hell no....but I am determined to find a cool desklamp for under 50 pounds. In London, this may be a BIT challenging.

***

Two nights ago I went to the Southbank Centre to see a performance by Rosie Kay followed by a performance by Siobhan Davies Dance Company. Rosie Kay's duet was pretty awesome. It was a really physical piece with a lot of jumping and falling. The kind of stuff that makes my knees cry in horror. They danced like the stage couldn't contain them, and I loved that. It was exciting. The main event, "Two Quartets" by Siobhan Davies..........was laaaaaaaaaame. I completely zoned out and thought about what tube lines I needed to get home and what I was going to eat for dinner. Lame lame lame. The first quartet consisted of running in circles while wearing costumes that made the dancers look like playing cards to music that seemed to not exist! All I remember is a woman's voice saying, "Tchaikovsky" every few minutes. I was sooooo bored. The second quartet started out pretty promising, with a solo by this awesome dancer who woke me up. The next three solos? Not so much, back to sleep. So that closes the lid on that company for me.

***

Inbal Pinto tomorrow night. I'm hoping for goodness, if not fucking awesome-ness.

Inevitable

2007-10-03T16:55:00.001-07:00

I got sick last night. It had to happen eventually, and now I feel miserable and mad. But it'll pass soon and I'll be fine, so why complain? I had no energy this morning and I couldn't make it to class. I did, however, make it to my choreological studies class so that I could at least sit and take notes. I was notified a number of times that I didn't "look so well". It was fun to sit and watch and I learned a lot.

A while later I headed to Sadler's Wells to see "Cast No Shadow". I didn't really want to go, but the tickets had already been paid for so that was that. I figured, it could be good to just sit for two hours and enjoy the movement........not so much.

Okay well the show was a collaboration between Russell Maliphant and filmmaker Isaan Julien. Usually I don't enjoy film or video installations in dance, it's never really rubbed me the right way. But tonight I was drawn to it, more than the dancing even. The show opened with a film that took place in Morocco. It was colorful, vibrant, loud, and energetic. There was a man dancing in it who was amazing. He was just moving in such an honest, intense way.

The next piece featured three dancers performing to a video background of Antarctica? Alaska? Some cold, snowy place. The images were breathtaking and I immediately wanted to be there in my own little world. I wasn't as drawn to the dancers, but more to the video. Who would have thought? The final piece of the evening didn't really capture me. I was making a market list in my head and thinking about what I wanted to eat for dinner. But once again, the video images were awesome, depicting delapidated boats and an abandoned seaside. The dancers made good use of some sticks, but not so much with rope.

After the show I ran into my new friend Alexis and we took the train home together. I didn't really know him so well before tonight, but I'm glad we got the chance to talk and get to know each other better. He's a really smart guy and we shared our opinions on London, LA, Cyprus (where he's from), dance, the program, and other random stuff. What would have been a long, boring tube ride home became an interesting, thought-provoking experience, and I'm glad for that. It took my mind off of my looming sickness.

***

Right now, "Where the Heart Is" is on tv. I remember seeing it in the theatre when it first came out, and loving it. I still do, to be honest.

***

I did a lot of thinking today. Strange, I know. But my friend Emily choreographed a short solo yesterday based on the theme of cynicism and religion. I think it was an interesting idea, whether I agree with it or not, and it obviously came from an honest opinion from someone who has a lot to say and express on the matter. So the basis of her idea got me thinking about the amount of violence and suffering that exists in a place deemed so holy and sacred. Why would God allow this? For such misfortune to fall upon people fighting in his name of all things? Or are they really? So many thoughts came and went, mostly regarding intentions and ideas. Good intentions, wrong intentions, genuine intentions, pure intentions, impure intentions. Who can judge which is which? What may be a good intention to one person can be a horrible, evil intention to another. These conflicts are manmade if anything, and why would God allow them to continue on? Because these people so will it, is why, I think. There are so many different agendas from so many different people, and they use religion as their platform to acheive these agendas using good and bad intentions. Although I have not seen or experienced first hand the loss and suffering that my friend has, I can understand where the cynicism comes from. Perhaps were I in the same situation, I'd feel the same way. There's no way of knowing for sure, but her feeling of cynicism is not unfounded or unjustifiable in any way. It's really dificult for me to write on such a subject as this, as I'm never really sure what to say.

mangled

2007-10-02T14:33:00.000-07:00

Is it even possible. Is it really possible to...I can't even make sense of my own thoughts. They seem to exist in my head, but they never make their way to....half sentences.....are about the only thing i can manage at this point.

I dont listen. I never listen. I hear. I hear. I dont comprehend, I dont know.

Suddenly the car made a turn and I just went along with it. What else could I do?

Comes and goes......

It's written all over my face.

I put the fun in funeral.

You put the fun in funeral.

2007-09-30T05:30:00.000-07:00

Last night rocked, I'd say.

I went to Sadler's Wells to see Hofesh Shechter's "Uprising/In Your Rooms". It was unofficially Laban night over there, as practically everyone from the school attended. Seeing my classmates in human clothes, hair down, and "scrubbed up" is like seeing a dog walk on it's hind legs. Okay so I so stole that from 'Mean Girls'.

The show was pretty fucking awesome. The first piece, 'Uprising' featured seven men throwing themselves around stage, flying across the floor, appearing out of nowhere, and sharing intense energy. There were moments of complete male aggression followed by moments of tenderness and calm. I loved the intense physicality of the piece.

The second piece, 'In Your Rooms' was even cooler. It featured most of the company whose dancers have such amazing movement qualities. The live music was so energetic and percussive, with the choreography perfectly matching. I loved the choreography, I loved the music, and I loved the dancers for their physical daring and insanity!

Later on, my friend and I made our way to King's Cross to see some live music at a pub. The first musician we saw, Fiona Bevan, kind of reminded us of Joss Stone. She was really quirky vocally and had some interesting lyrics, my favorite being "you put the fun in funeral".

***

I need to think about my term schedule and who knows how long that will take.

drag

2007-09-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

today leaving the tube station, a man referred to me as an "ignorant, chinese immigrant". i've never even been to china in my life.

**

Why do we all get so happy when we buy the most ridiculout things?

Kettles, socks, tee shirts, desk lamps, etc. Strangeness....

I love the kids I assist in the morning. They're so honest and straightforward in their behavior, their dancing.

Really, we lose this quality.

shtuyot

2007-09-27T14:33:00.000-07:00

I'm learning to speak Hebrew. I think this was inevitable.

My feet are so scabby, it's disgusting. Classes are fun and challenging. It's all new to me so that keeps everything exciting. Today after class a group of us asked our teacher some questions for our teaching class. We asked her about her influences as a mover and teacher. Long story short, she told us to grab the bull by the horns and make things happen. Yup.

I love my new jazz teacher. She has this insane energy that seems to rub off on everyone in the studio. Which is so great because no matter how tired I am, I always find the energy to "do it again".

Of all the performances I've seen so far, there have been some where I've felt like falling asleep. Tonight I actually did fall asleep only to be awakened by an elbow to the arm. I miss music in dance. My opinion on dancing in silence is that the dancers onstage have to be really amazing to manipulate my attention into believing the music they're making. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. There comes a point in a piece where I just want to scream, "Just use some fucking music, really!" Like the idea of dancing to music is so unbearable or something.

Tonight I saw a really great fucking piece at my school's MA Dance Showcase. It was about Haiti and it was fucking amazing. The dancers in it were so powerful and dynamic. The choreography was exciting. It was an inspiring piece for sure. We all left freaking out about it. It was so cool.

'Without A Trace' is on TV right now.

Going to see Hofesh Shechter Saturday night. Looking forward to it....

lame lame lame-o

2007-09-19T12:21:00.000-07:00

The week at Laban has been pretty cool so far. Tonight I had the greatest jazz class ever with this amazing teacher Hagit, who just let us have so much fun. It was a much needed class after a full day of seriousness. I wish I could take her class every night, no matter how tired I am from everything else, it would be great to end the day with a class like that.

Last night my neighbor performed in a tap jam in Soho, so the other neighbors and I went to go see him, and it was such a fun night. The vibe in that place was so positive and all the tappers were just improvising and having fun, in turn giving us a good time. It's nice to see tap dancing every now and then, I don't see it nearly as often as I should.

Tonday I took a Pilates class for the first time ever. It was a basic class, yet I still struggled, which shows me just how out of shape I really am, eeew.

I love my new ballet teacher.

Choreography yesterday was fun. I partnered with this one girl and we had to learn as much as we could about each other and choreograph solos based on the information. Then we had to present them to the whole class. It was actually more fun than I thought it would be. Yay, that's a good start.

Okay well that's it for now.

step inside and then outside of yourself

2007-09-15T18:16:00.000-07:00

The past week has been a fun one I'd say. Everyday we had class and seminars to introduce us to more and more of what Laban has to offer, and it's quite a lot. Unfortunately I can't do everything and will eventually have to make choices over what I'll be doing, but whatever it is, it'll be what's best for me even if I don't know it. That makes no sense. But what ever does with me?

On Monday night I went to see 'The Sound of Music' at the London Palladium. It was a grand performance and I got goosebumps throughout. I really enjoyed it a lot. My first West End musical, yay. On Tuesday I went to the Place to see 'Touch Wood', the first of a series of works in progress and other random stuff. For the most part, it was an enjoyable evening, but there was this one piece I could have lived without and really wouldn't hold in a high regard.

On Thursday night, I went to see 'Touch Wood' again with a different lineup and this show was far more exciting. There was this awesome duet with two women dancing to separate sections of the same music. The music was energetic, the choreography was interesting, and the dancers themselves were really good. They did this one part in silhouette against white curtains, and the shapes they made with their bodies was really neat. Next was a solo by a teacher at my school that was more profound in its message than anything. The third piece was a duet featuring Jin Yeob Cha and Fernando Martins that blew me away!! Everything about it was so exciting, I swear that even people who don't like to watch dance in general would have liked this one. It was just all over the place, the dancers fully giving themselves to everything and just throwing themselves all over the stage with an energy thats enviable. I wished the dance would have gone on and on. After the show I met Fernando and told him how cool I thought the piece was, and he said that's just the shortened version and they want to add to it and 'improve it'. Oh. My. God. When and where is all I need to know. Next was a piece by a classmate of mine, Harriett Macauley, about Speaker's Corner and freedom of speech. I was so impressed with her piece and the choreography and idea altogether. She went so far as to have an American flag in one dancer's mouth, as if to stifle her. Then the flag came out and she began to dance. It was a great piece, really. The final piece of the night was something I hadn't seen before. It was a trio with two deaf women and a wheelchair bound man. Without use of his legs, he was very expressive with his upper body and arms and the three of them would speak and sign their movements as they did them simultaneously. It was really awesome.

Friday night I went to a Caileidh. What a fun Scottish night it was, though I suspect that if I were liquored up a bit, it might have been funner. I learned a few basic traditional Scottish dances. Yay something cultural!

Tonight I went to see 'Touch Wood' for the third time, with a different lineup of course. I also enjoyed tonight's performances. The first piece had 6 dancers who danced to spoken directions and "fragments". The second piece was one of my favorites of the series thus far. It had this one section with floor choreography that amazed me. One of the dancers had the most amazing movements qualities I have ever seen. I was really inspired by the way she danced, and I'm so glad when I go see a show and find a dancer whose movement just grabs me completely. The final piece was actually created from scratch by Hofesh Shechter and his company. It was a long (but very quick) process that culminated in an energetic and humorous dance.

At the show I ran into a lot of classmates of mine at Laban and realize how young I actually am. I always have this feeling that I'm so "old" and started dancing "so late". Maybe in LA terms, this is true, but maybe not so much the case for Europeans and elsewhere. People who love to dance will dance, regardless of their age or experience. It puts things into perspective for me and reminds me that although I might be a relatively late-starter to this crazy world of dance, it doesn't mean that I want it any less than anyone who has been dancing since they were a baby. If anything, it makes me hungrier and push more.

On a completely different note, I learned I have this "reading week" coming up in October, and I'm super psyched because I plan to travel around England. Legoland Windsor, hell yeah!

Untitled

2007-09-12T13:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday while on the Tube, I overheard two men talking. One of them is preparing to move to Hebron to work as a peace activist for the Swiss government. He has never been to Israel before and is quite nervous because of the political tension there, rightfully so. I admire what he is going to do, what he is going to be apart of. God bless him....

dawson's feet

2007-09-11T04:39:00.000-07:00

On lunch break right now from class so I'm in my flat watching 'Dawson's Creek'. Seriously. It's funny how I used to be so obssessed with that show when it first came out and then I hated it and stopped watching. And now it's on.

So I don't live next to an asshole. Just a loud person.

I have cool neighbors.

I got to go now.

All this hubbub.....

2007-09-08T16:59:00.000-07:00

I live next to an asshole. On my way to reception, I ran into two new classmates and one of them suggested I stick a note under the neighbor's door that says "YOURE A CUNT!" I'm seriously considering it......

I wound up in a Mexican restaurant and a Spanish tapas bar in the course of 2 hours tonight. Maybe my Southern California-ness is innately leading me to these places. All I can say so far is that the Mexican food in Greenwich is better than the Mexican food I've had in central London, but that was half expected.

I made my way down to Oxford Street and Charing Cross Road today for the first time. I love how there are so many used book stores on Charing Cross. I ventured into the massive Virgin Megastore and got lost finding all sorts of random music...on sale, too! I was originally planning to go to Urban Outfitters, but never quite made it. Next time...

Tonight I learned that I like art, but I don't like art. I like obvious art. Classical art. I don't want to have to think. I want the answers to just jump out at me. Like a math test or something. Which is funny considering I don't feel the same way about dance. Or I used to. Prior to seeing Batsheva for the first time, I liked obvious stuff when it came to dance. Technical tricks impressed me and storylines were clearly mapped out. Everything looked somewhat contrived and planned and I didn't really care, it was all visually pleasing. Then I saw Batsheva's "Three" and that all changed. Now I guess I'm waiting for that same thing to happen with art. Because honestly, I just don't get it. I can't stand in front of a painting or a piece and "find its meaning". Actually, I really liked Egon Schiele's work I saw in Vienna. Prior to seeing his paintings, I'd never even heard of him, and now I love them.

Tomorrow is Sunday and my TV is still not working, and my mom took all the paperwork back home. I really want to watch TV!!

Fireworks happened over the Thames tonight outside my window. It was a pleasant surprise.

But my night was made by hearing a little boy say "fuckin'" twice in one sentence.

9 crimes, is that alright?

2007-09-07T17:49:00.000-07:00

I'm so loving Damien Rice's "9 Crimes". I just bought the CD yesterday (I know how late am I?) but it's really good.

The Hungarian waiter gave me his number......after my mother insulted his English and referred to him as Russian.

My new cable connection is awesome! I've been on youtube nonstop, and I really like Jiri Kylian's "Sleepless" pas de deux. I watched it over and over and kept thinking, "I want to be in that!!" and I also liked stuff I found from Yasmeen Godder, Inbal Pinto, and Siobhan Davies, whose name I horribly mispronounce all the time.

There's this dance festival coming to London that's going to have all this cool stuff and I'm really excited about it. Gosh, I'm such a dork. Actually it's more the fact that being from LA, we don't get too much in European contemporary dance so it's nice to have access to all these companies all throughout the year at all these venues.

Starting this program is like starting high school again. I've known pretty much all the same people throughout the end of high school and into college, mainly through dance, and I haven't had to make much of an effort to meet new people, but now all of a sudden, I know no one and have to go through the socializing process all over again. Overall, people have been super friendly and one of my neighbors help me set up my tv.

I went over to Camden and Piccadilly Circus yesterday for the first time. Camden completely reminded me of San Francisco, minus the giant hills. It was such an eclectic place with all these market stalls selling the randomest shit. And there was a canal, too. Upon reaching Piccadilly Circus I turned into a total tourist and took all these pictures of those electronic billboards and the Eros statue, while oooh-ing and aaah-ing the whole time.

Sleepy now, goodnite.

Allo Allo

2007-09-06T16:24:00.000-07:00

I am in London. It's quite nice, I like it here.

Today I had my induction day at Laban. It was only for the 1 year program-ers, but there were still a lot of us and I haven't even seen all the BAs and MAs. It's a huge, international student body, though my induction group comprised of pretty much all the Americans.

I'm really excited to start my program next week.

My civic duty is also to say no....

2007-08-15T16:54:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I managed to get myself kicked out of jury duty, thankfully, though it did come with quite the temper from the judge.

I googled 'how to get out of jury duty' and found tons of web sites dedicated to tips on getting out of jury duty. I realized I hadn't been in a similar situation that the defendant was being charged with (a rather humorous thing, though gross and pervy), nor was I willing to make something up. I didn't want to go in with some instant radical belief (religion, racism, homophobia, etc.) that I do not personally possess, so what could I do? Be honest. And so I was. Said a few magical words that made me toxic to any prosecutor and legal aide in their right mind. Interrupting the judge a few times didn't hurt either. And in the grand scape of things, I was completely honest and straightforward with my disdain for the situation. Though I did have to receive an earfull from the unsatisfied judge who was unsuccessful at forcing his opinions on me or getting me to change mine. I had to sit there and take it, all the while thinking, 'Good, he's pissed, I'm getting myself the fuck out of here.' A few minutes and a sidebar later, I was dismissed--with a lecture of course. I walked out of the courtroom rather happy for being able to talk my way out of jury duty by being completely honest.

Ouchie

2007-08-09T23:56:00.000-07:00

While getting ready for tonight's performance, I stood up too quickly at the makeup table and hit my thigh really hard against it, resulting in a beautiful, huge bruise that appeared in mere seconds. Now it just hurt-hurts.

Standing in the wings was like lost in translation. What was going on? Who knows.

People annoy the shit out of me and I annoy the shit out of people. It's just how it is. Table poachings, ridiculous food searches, ridiculous food in general, and thigh bruises. My day comprised of all this. And a performance.

I think tomorrow will be my last day of work. My goal was to make $160 to make up for the stupid shit I bought. Employee discount my ass. Which reminds me, today I asked Sierra, "you know how I know the people I work with are lame?" and she responded, without delay, "because you work at Abercrombie & Fitch?" Which wasn't going to be my answer at all, but heck, why argue that one?

We were talking about our funerals. Well, we designed each other's funeral should one of us outlive the other. Here's how I planned hers: AHS DT members past and present show up in uniform and have a drill down. Instead of pictures of her around the coffin, there would be pictures of Panic! At the Disco, her favorite band. And for music, bagpipes playing 'Scotty Doesn't Know', the themesong from 'Eurotrip'. Oh, and her sister riding a unicycle whilst juggling chickens. My funeral? A mime re-enacting my death, a balloon artist, circus music, and what all funerals need, a bouncer. Which is where my 'shit list' comes in handy.

I can't stand Pasadena anymore. It seems like there is construction going on EVERYWHERE. Just yesterday I was watching the news, and one of the construction sites on Delacey collapsed into the street. Guess I'm not driving myself to work tomorrow.

This weekend marks parties. On Saturday, I agreed to attend a family reunion on my father's side, which consists of pretty much no one I know. But there will be food. I keep telling myself, I shall be gorgeously fed. I'm not sure if they're from Mexico or not....? Then the weekend follows with Petra and Lucia's birthdays. I don't feel like buying gifts, as I'm feeling incredibly stingy these days. Well, I'm moving to London in about two weeks, and my dollar is worth only half a pound, which explains the stinginess. And then there's that bitch thing that could explain it, too.

Haha, Carlye had a good one. She asked Sierra, 'Is my hair messed up? If it is, will you be mean?' Sierra said, 'No, if it's messed up, I'll help you fix it.' I said, 'If it's messed up, I'd be mean.' Carlye said, 'I know. That's why I didn't ask you', to which I responded, 'Nicely executed.'

My general lack of compassion for humanity is becoming all the more apparent now. Or maybe I really just can't stand Pasadena.

Counting down the days

2007-08-08T23:29:00.000-07:00

Three more weeks until I head out to London for a year. I'm obviously very excited to go, but a bit scared, too. I think it should be good. Fortunately, dance has given me the opportunity to travel, and this is another one of them.

My days in Southern California are winding down.

Tomorrow is my last performance with the company, though I'm not actually in the company anymore, but it's a piece I know well and have been asked to be apart of, which I am happy to be. Last Southern California performance, for a while at least. Who knows.

I guess I could comment on the two reality tv shows I watch. 'Hell's Kitchen' and 'So You Think You Can Dance'. Talent competitions at opposite ends---one, a world I know, the other, a world I know nothing about but love to see.

It seems I can't get enough of HK. Mostly because Gordon Ramsay refers to contestants as 'right bitches', 'cows', and 'fuckers'. I love it. I have no idea what the hell is going on half the time, or what any of the terminology means. Heck, I don't even care what they're cooking. It's just pure entertainment I can watch with little or no scrutiny at all, because I really know nothing about the culinary world, except that I love to eat. Mindless entertainment.

'So You Think You Can Dance' on the other hand, I can't watch without scrutiny or opinion. The show just drives me insane. It's a guilty pleasure for me and most people I know. We can't stand it, but we love it. To me, the show is a stylized version of one of those dance team/studio team competitions I used to *gasp* go to. I do respect the dancers though, for the amount of choreography they have to learn each week, and for admirably taking on different styles of dance they've never done before. I know I could never pull off most of that stuff. I think what irks me most is the way they portray the dancers. Each dancer is assigned a style, i.e. 'contemporary dancer', 'ballroom dancer', 'hip hop dancer', etc. when clearly some contestants defy catergorization. And others, well, they don't seem to look all that great in their given catergory. Moving along, I hate the way they're making Danny look. I've seen him dance before with ABT and have met him and he's quite nice. Though I don't know him personally, I think it's unfair for him to be branded as 'arrogant' or anything of the sort. He just exudes more discipline than obnoxiousness and carries himself professionally. He probably won't win though, since personality seems to dominate more than talent. Which is why we are constantly reminded it's a competition to find America's 'favorite' dancer.