hello, again.

It's been awhile since I've posted in this blog. The end of my senior year of college made normal things in my life hectic. My boyfriend living two states away from me makes things hectic. The "normal things" in my life are hectic.

Dancers have this uncanny ability to change emotions in rapid-fire succession. Angry. Concerned. Mournful.  Playful. Confused. Relaxed. Pensive.

When "dance" is entered, a popular image search engine produces rhinestones. A ponche in little-to-no clothing. Hair wrapped in buns. Stagelights. Mirrors.

A "visual" art is easily defined by photos. Dance, though, is not a "visual" art. It engages your senses, five and otherwise' on a scale that ranges from "very gently, causes you to slightly tilt chin to left side and show a small smile" to "very much forward on edge of seat, mouth agape, knuckles (of hands and feet, mind you) white with tension, chest working fiercely to contain the violent beating that is your own heart."  This art is not simply visual. It is heard, seen, felt, breathed, swallowed, sweat, eaten, slept and nurtured.

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I've always liked writing. Writing about dance has always felt like trying to walk, right after your legs fall asleep, before they're fully ready. It's a struggle that can sometimes be funny, but is usually frustrating and many time painful. It's like trying to talk on the phone to a loved one when you're conscious is see-sawing between dimness and darkness.
"I love you" 
"I....love you................too." 
"Goodnight" 
".....................................goodnight"

It's still there, though. The need to write about this "art," (how can my life be contained in three letters? Three small letters. I suppose I don't argue with 'love,' which is only four). I feel, as a person, as a "dancer" that loves to write, I should attempt to open a window into the Dance World for the lucky sane people that haven't had an opportunity to get a closer look. A small window, as I'm sure my words aren't profound or eloquent enough to portray the oxymoron ridden universe that is the Dance World. I also feel I should write because I have a hard time with conversations. I yell and cry often. I lose my points in arguments about grammar and I muddle my thought process with tangents and confusion. Paper and pencils (with thick erasers) are forgiving and accepting. Spell check is comforting. As an organizing fiend, copy/paste is my one true love.
I know about the memoirs of past and present dancers. I've seen the self-help books-on-tapes about eating disorders. I've found the psychologists opinionated articles on athletes. I read the Horton books written by Ms. Forsythe.

This will not be like those books.

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I need your help, as always, in my process. I need you to tell me about dance. I need stories, memories, thoughts and pictures. I need your definition of dance. I need your take, even if this is the first time you've seen the word, on 'DANCE.' It may be that you don't like the order of vowels and consonants in the spelling, or that you don't think this is a worthwhile project. I need you to tell me. Leave a comment here, or send me an email: alivia_cram@yahoo.com

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