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Mar. 19th, 2010 07:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeSo, um. Yeah. Will be pretty much hermiting this weekend. I'll check email and maybe do a very few RP tags, but otherwise it's writing, reading, editing, painting, and cleaning.
In addition to all the other various sources of stress, which are, in no particular order: stage fright (oh come ON, self), not knowing whether or not I'm going to the Maryland Sheep and Wool festival with the store, my Grandfather in the early stages of Alzheimer's, trying to arrange a visit home, trying to get a solid answer on IF I'm going to the damn festival and if not then when should I go home, figuring out those travel plans so I can figure out my damn Wisconsin travel plans, boy not having a job, friends not having jobs, needing to do taxes and generally get this damn house in order...
And, you know. All of this pales in comparison to the fact that a friend of mine died.
Mariah Steinwinter Kochavi (I learned she was married osme time ago but neglected to track her down then and yes, now I regret it) was a phenomenal ballet dancer when I was in school. She was gentle, graceful... she was the steel beneath the velvet, and she embodied both equally well. She was one of the sweetest girls in dance class, and I danced with her in class for four years. She was my year. I learn from her memorial sheet that she later joined the army as a veterinarian and assistant to dog handlers and... mostly, from there, it blurs. She was interested in German studies, and Germany. And most of that just blurs because now I'm ... I just miss her. She was one of the friends I thought of every time I got up in the morning to practice my dance exercises, my dance moves. She was always so graceful and so incredibly good at any step she practiced. And I wanted to be a ballet dancer like her. More than the Russians or the Latvian or Twyla bloody Tharp, I wanted to be a ballet dancer like her. And now she's gone. And I don't think I ever told her that. I hope I did, at least once, when we were in class together.
I'm going to go lie down now. We'll see what happens but I probably won't be on chat programs the rest of the weekend; Twitter broadcast of my painting as I paint will probably happen, but. I don't know. I'm exhausted, and that... well. yeah.
In addition to all the other various sources of stress, which are, in no particular order: stage fright (oh come ON, self), not knowing whether or not I'm going to the Maryland Sheep and Wool festival with the store, my Grandfather in the early stages of Alzheimer's, trying to arrange a visit home, trying to get a solid answer on IF I'm going to the damn festival and if not then when should I go home, figuring out those travel plans so I can figure out my damn Wisconsin travel plans, boy not having a job, friends not having jobs, needing to do taxes and generally get this damn house in order...
And, you know. All of this pales in comparison to the fact that a friend of mine died.
Mariah Steinwinter Kochavi (I learned she was married osme time ago but neglected to track her down then and yes, now I regret it) was a phenomenal ballet dancer when I was in school. She was gentle, graceful... she was the steel beneath the velvet, and she embodied both equally well. She was one of the sweetest girls in dance class, and I danced with her in class for four years. She was my year. I learn from her memorial sheet that she later joined the army as a veterinarian and assistant to dog handlers and... mostly, from there, it blurs. She was interested in German studies, and Germany. And most of that just blurs because now I'm ... I just miss her. She was one of the friends I thought of every time I got up in the morning to practice my dance exercises, my dance moves. She was always so graceful and so incredibly good at any step she practiced. And I wanted to be a ballet dancer like her. More than the Russians or the Latvian or Twyla bloody Tharp, I wanted to be a ballet dancer like her. And now she's gone. And I don't think I ever told her that. I hope I did, at least once, when we were in class together.
I'm going to go lie down now. We'll see what happens but I probably won't be on chat programs the rest of the weekend; Twitter broadcast of my painting as I paint will probably happen, but. I don't know. I'm exhausted, and that... well. yeah.