Shows nine and ten

Shows nine and ten were for the Paris branch of Centre Parcs . They charged 15 euros for the adults and 7 for the kids to attend the shows. People were amazed and since it was one of those stages where there was a stage elevated and a dance floor below, we could really make contact with the audience and see the delight on their faces. The only problem was me having a bad case of nausea during the first show which was likely connected to a large consumption of oysters the night before. Half way through the show I came back stage, dramatically fell on my hand and knees and proceeded to huff and puff like a women in labor, then burst into tears. It was one of those points when you don't know exactly what your crying about but i think it had something to do with the fact that i knew i was performing badly and there was nothing i could do about it. To add insult to my injury the boys seem to pick this particular moment to leave their sound/technical/camera ministries and come backstage and witness my humiliation. Nevertheless everyone showed great concern and after they suggested I sit out the rest of the show, my defiant spirit took over and great speeches started to replay in my mind about, the show must go on, its not over till its over, etc etc. So I made it through the rest of the show and at the end promptly went to the bathroom with a large bottle of water and a determined index finger, ready to discover my bulimic tendencies for the sake of the second show which was due to start in half and hour. The second show went well, one of my best performances. The girls said i smiled so big because i was so relieved to have a empty stomach. The first show had an attendance of 248 and the second of 180

Because it's Christmas

A tear froze, fallen from his eye

The tear shed, not mine nor thine

To the king of the manger cradle it belonged

The king who heavenly choir exalts in song

The purpose of his tear wasn't without reason

Every year, christmas brought near

The birthday stolen, the "X-mas" treason

To wipe away the sorrow we brought

To bring his grievance score to naught

Give him your all, your love in return

Sever him with passion, a fire that burns

shows six and seven

Show six was for six-hundred people inside a huge ten ( think the miami tabernacle ). We repented of praying for our white christmas after the temperatures dropped to minus two in the daytime, which meant it was somewhere near 4 degrees inside the tent. Its the oddest feeling to have your face burning with sweat and your toes still numb with cold. A Romans 8:28 though ( gosh im getting good at this ) was that pointe work couldn't be felt at all, big smiles through the ballet. Three hours after the first show ended we were supposed to be on stage performing again, so rush, pack and on to the theater which thankfully, was of more humane temperatures. I would like to apologize for any strange faces you may come across in this photo collection, apparently a smile doesn't always hide what your neurotransmitters are trying to relay

shows four and five

Shows four and five were in a theater that seated 160 people. At 12:30 on a Wednesday morning we started a dress rehearsal in the theater, stopped at 1:30 and started the show at 2:00. 3:30 the show ended which gave us half an hour to re-powder our noses and try to cool off before our second performance started at 4:00. Muscles have never cried out so much for relief, and it has been proven possible that your muscles get to a point where they just won't obey ( for all you who will use this as an excuse to wet the bed, bladder muscles don't count). Our cheeks were frozen into a permanent plastic barbie smile, so i've been allowing myself some serious frowning to equal out the equation. Here is the poster advertising our show. ( helpful translation hint: invest in a french dictionary )

Show 3

The third show was for a Center Parcs here in France. I would herby officially like to denounce GPS systems as ever being a modern improvement on the AA map book. Any half sane human would naturally rebel against a white Nokia telling you IN FRENCH! ( a warning in itself) to turn left and take that meter wide dirt tract with the sign " 3308.80 km to Timbuktu". But no, caution and common sense, which apparently wasn't so common was thrown to the sugar beet fields and we obeyed and followed. Every now and then we would pass another gasoline depleted car, all sad victims to their GPSs. Their owners lost in the surrounding woods, scavenging for chestnuts and if God granted them the gift of survival, a car charger. Nevertheless we made it there and back in one physical ( note the absence of the word "mental" ) piece

Show 2

Sunday afternoon we performed for all the motorbike police of Paris. The day before, we found out that they only wanted a half hour show. So Michael was locked in the basement for 3 hours with a computer, the original sound tract, and our sincere prayers whilst we girls went out and did what any good estrogen owning creatures would do in such a stressful situation, shopping! As it turned out they had their own light and sound technicians there, not such a romans 8:28 as they free show every costume change.

Show 1

We just performed our first show yesterday afternoon. Despite the group nausea we all partook of five minutes before the opening song, the show ran rather smoothly. The only problems encountered was me getting severe and sudden cases of dance dyslexia (doing all the right motions but just the wrong way around )through half the song, and the stage lights having a mind of their own to turn themselves off whenever they felt like it. There is however, a romans 8:28 as the lights tended to dim as soon as a spasm of dance dyslexia would take over, thus hiding my mistakes and letting me keep what is left of my dignity. So I will be working on my dancing, and Michael will be working on disciplining the lights so that by the time our next show rolls around on sunday, we will both be in somewhat working order.

unity day + a french connection

As usual the duties of a non cyber life have kept me from posting for a rude period of time. Nevertheless I am back with full force and a large backlog of photos. The organization of a unity day and 12 days of dance practice/choreographing in France have occupied my time but also supplied me with photos to post ... enjoy

Ballet/ a disguised form of vanity

Warming up before practice

Paris

The Can Can

football fights

potato spoon races ( very irish )

tug of war

Angielina..... here we go again

As per tradition I must do a birthday post for her since she so sweetly did one for me. It would be unoriginal to write a whole bunch of sweet and loving nothings about her so instead I'll write about activities that bonded us.
I loved watching Cranford with you and gorging on our 1 Euro ice cream. I loved our 2 hour long walks into the Spanish countryside taking turns pushing that squeaky buggy and talking about the meaning of life. I loved having you in our room with your destructive kamikaze and helping you hobble from place to place. I loved writing that poem for your birthday even if you were as miserable as sin on the day, refusing to be cheered up by our pizza, beer, and Danny Kay. All in all I miss those good times and I miss you. Have yourself a groovy day Rachel xxxxx

An Educated Fool

Since completing most of my school and just occupying myself with some electives, I've begun to wonder; what has 12 years of education actually done for me. Please don't mistake my inquisitive intentions. I am beyond grateful for the opportunity of higher education that has been granted me, a privilege many other SGAs had to once forgo. Nevertheless, it does seem that a good portion of the latter years are directed at making you nothing more than a cynical old maid, which may explain my behavior of late. When conversing with people, no longer can I enjoy normal friendly conversation as my brain automatically starts diagramming their sentences. Wrong pronunciations (i.e. American) or wrong grammar seems to start an uncontrollable reflex starting in my shoulder, traveling down to my hand and ending on their cheek. I reminisce on the days when children were seen as curly balls of love and fun. Now blinking red lights flash "financial liability" when one comes running to give me a hug in the morning ( a rarity ). Food has even lost some of its pleasure when mid mouth long chains of symbols and numbers representing cardiac arrest or cancer within the next 20 years rises with the sweet smell of chips and cheesecake. Believe me, numerous signals of complaint have been sent to my temporal and parietal lobes, but to no avail. The only response given me is the continual tune of " They gave them their request but sent leanness unto their souls" floating around in my sub conscience. I take this as either a sign from God, or my brain having a black sense of humour. The famous phrase "ignorance is true bliss" seems rather applicable here.

Disclaimer: This paragraph was written purely for self amusement and as a warm up for a 5000 word research paper coming up. The basis on which it was written has actually very little factual evidence

road trips, salsa night, birthday

Being away on a road trip for four days of consecutive rain is not a good excuse for ignoring your blog for a month. But combine that with school, major home improvements, home manager duties, celebrating 19 years closer to the grave, and a temporary kitchen deacon position, and I almost have enough evidence to plead the case " guilty, but through no fault of her own."

Our hopeful Link front cover

As we found

out Caleb had

some non-FD

habits

Don Juan and

Don Juanita

80's music

Recently I've been rediscovering my love for 80's music. Actually, it's not so much the music I'm in love with, as much as the drum beats.

A musician reasoned that this love was due to the fact that they(the drumbeats) were reliable and as a cancer that appealed to me , but I beg to differ. I think it's the sheer power of the rhythm they produce in a song, a refusal to take a back seat and blend into oblivion musically. All that to say, pray for the sanity of my room mates as any love they once possessed for Bonnie Tyler is currently turning to sever distain every time" total eclipse of the heart " awakens us to the rain of a new day. Suffice to say, a platinum bleach and a perm are starting to look a little more appealing to me :p

Lord help the Mister who comes between me and my sister

Apparently Sara and I are starting to looking more similar these days than the twin sisters everyone thought Amber and I once were. The fact that Amber is not a midget anymore (a.k.a three inches taller than me), has normal sized breasts, and boy short blonde hair is now making everyone believe that she is my older sister, or in some cases, my mother ( anti-wrinkle cream was bought after that comment ). So here is a picture of Sara and Me..... to let you decide for yourselves

Everything skit

We did the "Everything" Mime this Saturday in Galway, which was hosting the Volvo Ocean Races. Phoenix home member, please try not to be jealous if our costumes and face-painting are better than yours, (j.k. thanks for the inspiration ).

Death

The witnessing afterwards

and this one is dedicated to Michael ( p.s. I know your conscience is still heavy with the weight of that unsent CD )

Emo Lover Boy

The Drunks (a.k.a reenacting our new years )