Questions, memories, and thread

Words of the day:

obdurate, fluid, perspicacious

I love that the straps on ballet slippers must be sewn down. I imagine that each person’s ballet slipper is a reflection of him or herself. Each pair has a personal fit, a unique stitch, and just a bit of homemade charm. I must admit that I spent a goodly amount of time twirling around on the wooden floors in The Tumwater Tower after securing the straps on my very own split-sole leather/canvas ballet shoes, possibly frightening the canine and avian occupants. The felines, being natural born ballerinas, were unfazed. Judgemental, but unfazed.


I drove past a fireworks stand today and had a moment of incredulity. Why had it been erected so early in the summer? After some puzzled driving I realized that Monday is the 4th of July. Which makes Friday the 1st of July. Which makes Thursday payday. Which means that the summer is almost over and I need to get a move on finding a job.


I’m ‘twitterpated’ over my new blog layout, I hope you are too. K-Cool was the only person to say she wanted to be on my mailing list. I must admit I am disappointed, but this will not mitigate my enthusiasm for the “Emilie Update Letter”. It will just have to be one really good, really long, read by only one person letter.

Also, thanks to the THREE people who voted in my poll. (I was the fourth). I am writing a script for a youtube movie that will be using the (scant) results. Everyone else–I hate you.


I changed the rating on my blog from “G” to “PG”.


Do you ever wonder things like:

1) How far would I fly before crashing if I drove off this embankment?

2) Am I dying, or is it just my multivitamin turning my pee yellow? (Google this, you will feel much better.)

3) Why would anyone want to own more than one pet?

4) Can lightly sniffing glue, scented markers, acetone, and rubber cement really kill brain cells? And if so, should I be concerned?

5) Why can’t I do without all of these bags? And, more importantly, why do other people care?

Because I do…all the time.


I spent some time drawing last night before venturing out for ballet shoes, and I remembered just how much I love it. I also remember taking art my senior year in high school with A, K-Cool, and R. I would listen intently everyday for our teacher to answer the telephone–he always spoke his name so quickly that it came out as “Raphael” (even though that was not his name.) He would constantly shout at me, “don’t lose your white space!” as I haphazardly, and loosely, shaded away. I still have the magazine page that I drew and titled “hooded” intending to do a whole series of drawings based on that picture. I think I still will.

The main point here is that I had forgotten how much I absolutely love drawing.

Now that I remember, I will try to do it more often.


I’ve nothing more to say today

my mind has drawn a blank

I’d like to share some more with you

but I simply cannot think


It’s been a while since I’ve graced you with an awful poem.

Aren’t you pleased I did?



an almost-beginning ballerina


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