With My Very Own Hands!

I believe in recognizing and accepting one’s limitations.  Obviously, progress can and will be made with hard work.  A lot of the time though, it’s just not enough.  Sometimes you have to face the fact that your dream is not something you are actually any good at.  This kind of self-awareness can save you a lot of heartache and, often, money.

I'm not this good.

Luckily, I figured out the things I wasn’t good at pretty early.  Otherwise, I would now be a frustrated artist.  I love the idea of being an artist.  I love beautiful things.  I am capable of being moved by really good art.  I have all these fantastic pictures in my head that I would love to replicate on paper.  (Or canvas, or whatever.)  But I lack talent.  More than that, I would go so far as to say my artistic skills are below average.  This isn’t modesty here; I know bad when I see it.

Really? Must We?

Because sometimes it is good to go see something other than a movie, on Thursday night we decided to give local theatre another go and went to Stanley Park to see Bye Bye Birdie, which is part of their Theatre Under the Stars program.

There actually is a movie [fair warning – this link is pretty irritating] of this show, and apparently once upon a time, a Broadway version.  The movie was made in 1963 and starred Janet Leigh, Dick Van Dyke, and Ann-Margret.  I’ve never seen it, and was going into this with no knowledge of what to expect besides that it was a musical.

It Don’t Mean a Thing

Happy days!  The disastrous hip hop classes are over!  But my dancing dreams have been revived!  (Oooh, I’m feeling the exclamation marks today.)

That’s right.  Despite my usual philosophy that if at first you don’t succeed, might as well give up, this seems to be an area where I have a limitless willingness to keep trying.  Go figure.

Stephanie’s Infinite Playlist

I watch a lot of movies.  I don’t have a TV, so mostly it’s going to the cinema.  I probably go to the movies five or six times a month.  I almost always see things on the opening weekend because I’ve already seen everything else.  I have (many times) walked out at the end of a movie, turned around at the box office, and bought a ticket for whatever else was showing next.

Music, music, music.

I adore music.  I love its power to make me happy or studious or motivated to kick ass at the gym.  I love that it can occasionally make me cry. I love that you can listen to music with people who don’t speak your language and share an experience with them.