Less of a travel update, more of a set of opinions.

8:19 Tuesday October 5th,

You can always tell when I have a lot of homework for the night, because I will probably post an update.

Spanish for the day:
“Así es vida Todd, es hermosa, y es difícil.” ~ My Spanish Teacher, Rosana.

One day my Spainish teacher made the mistake of telling the class both her nickname and what her friends call her. Rox, y Roxita. Many members of the class have taken to calling her by these names. I most call her ‘uhhhh… Tengo un pregunto’ [Use google translate folks. I’m not here to teach you.]
Actually Rosana has taken to calling me ‘The Champion’ of the class. You see, I ask questions. I don’t ask questions because I’m a fearless and brave adventurous soul; I ask questions because I really am falling behind in the class and I don’t have time to pussyfoot about not knowing what’s going on.
Lesson? Necessity is the mother of most champions.
Besides this she really is an amazing performer.
I’m always cracking up in her class because (I don’t sleep) she really commits to her examples. They are basic, but for example today, in order to explain Hipótesis (Guessing at stuff, less scientific than the cognate... I think) she pretended there was a knocking on the door, and with a fully committed act of being both excited and surprised she ran through the appropriate tenses increasing her excitement and surprise at each guess.
Commitment and Game.
Thank you Quinn Hatch.

Between Red and Green:
All of the girls ‘Made like they were lost’ for dance today.
(To be fair one was sick and the other had a meeting.)
So it was the boys.
Me, Redshirt, and Greenshirt. (Two guesses what color my shirt was, here’s a hint. It’s one of the many colors that the model T ford came in.)
I, of course, found myself standing between the two.
Red shirt is a particularly irritating young boy who I’ve talked about earlier in this blog. (Loud, Fake, and lacking anything in the sense of Tact.)
Green shirt is the tricky to talk to boy who is afraid of expressing himself, reserved, and overly 'gentlemanly'. [I should send him this Link: Thank you Dawson Howard.]
So between 'afraid and reserved', and 'loud and fake' I found myself.

It was then that I realized two things:
1) I cannot treat my various barriers differently I must, nuturingly, like the skillful butcher, take them down, but only with care and gentle action.
Angry thoughts, self attacking for shortcomings, and the like cannot be expected to work. A good reminder.
2) Red shirt stopped being fake halfway through class. For half an hour I saw real reactions and initiations from him. Why? Because he was upset as hell. Cranky as a baby with a dirty diaper, and no nap. He didn’t have the energy or the care to bring up his walls. (The Director in me squeeed like a little girl given a Gir doll, to see a real human being behind all that façade, the dancer in me wanted to kick him in the face and tell him to go home rather than hold back the class with his sour attitude. [Gir] [To Squee]) As much as I don’t like him, and trust me, its a lot, I must remember that he is not only a living breathing member of my species, but also an intricate part of a universal existence. A gem within the net as it were. [Indras Net: Basically Every Aspect of existence reflects and is connected to every other aspect of existence.]

I’m noticing things more.
Maybe I’m paying closer attention because I can't speak the lingo, maybe I’m getting more sleep, maybe 'I'm a wizard, Harry', but things that seemed obscure, difficult to grasp, or subtle no longer seem as difficult to notice, or at least a lot of things are clearer to see.
Things like the above metaphor for my life.
Maybe it’s the in depth reading of a book about dreams and the physical-mental awareness that they are related to, or maybe its writing out all of my thoughts, or, most likely, it’s the culmination of all these things and more, but I feel more receptive to the world, my mind, my imagination, my opinions, and everything else I can observe.
Oddly enough as well, having graduated from a theatre school the floodgates of my mind have opened up. Everything that I learned is blooming.
I struggled throughout all of University to grasp one scrap of information about art.
Maybe I was trying to hard, but now all the lessons are sweeping down on me like the rain that most certainly falls outside of the plain.

Sorry there wasn’t much anger today. More later, I promise.
Tell you what: I posit that Mallory Anderson is stupid.
She doesn’t understand Lycanthropes at all.
And, my friends, this is no joke.
This is Lycanthrophy we are talking about.
There: Anger.

Kishpike Out.

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