My head rolled off my neck in New York

When I went to New York recently, I promised myself I would take some dance classes again. I haven't danced in a really long time. For someone who was a professional dancer for 13 years, not dancing has been a source of frustration, to say the least. I've been meaning to go to a class for the last five years and just couldn't fit it in my schedule! Actually, every time I tried to go to a dance class, aliens would swoop down, take me to their home planet and beat me senseless, then drop me back home unable to remember what happened.
Really, I'm just using sarcasm as my defense mechanism for feeling vulnerable. Dim lights, cue violins: For the past five years I've been held prisoner in my own body. I went from a professional dance career to an eating disorder and a subsequent neck injury that left me deeply depressed and wondering why I felt so cheated and crippled. It didn't dawn on me that my time dancing was something to be grateful for, not something to expect I deserved unconditionally without appreciating it or like freakin' going to the doctor when I couldn't move my head because it felt like it would just roll right off my neck, across the floor, off a cliff and then I'd really be screwed. No, it took me a while to be a grown up and take care of my aching body after years of neglect. But I finally did! (Thank you Dr. Sibel and the OHSU Pain Center). And the reward was going back to New York to do some dancing.

I left the Hip Hop class options in Anna's hands, but I jumped at her suggestion to go to some guy named Jonte's class. It seemed especially cool because apparently Jonte' was a Jefferson Dancer (I myself am an alum) a looooonnng time after I graduated and has choreographed for Beyonce among other celebs. I have always loved Hip Hop and somehow knowing that I was going to be 20 years older than most if not all of the dancers in the class didn't really bother me. I was going to DANCE! Get my groove on.

The class began...at warp speed...with moves like I've never seen on MTV, BET, SYTYCD...even in a porn movie - let alone gotten my body to do. But, holy flippin' sh*^! This Jonte' can dance. There were about 20 of us crammed into a tiny studio with no air conditioning on a 98 degree, 90% humidity day in Manhattan. You had your serious Hip Hoppers, all buck'd out with their baggy sweats, clunky sneaks and bad attitudes, your "Front Row Hoes" as I call them, just dying to be noticed and the rest of us in between. And in between I was glad to be because after all those head snaps and neck roll moves, the floor soaked with sweat and people flailing to do the choreography, I felt safe knowing that somebody would be there to catch my head when it flew off my neck. I was in PAIN. I remembered this pain. It was mind bending, brain wave scrambling, pulsating pain. And what did I do? Ignore it. Ha! Did I not learn anything after all?! It felt so good to remember what it was like to move my body, to feel like a young dancer rather than the old and crippled me I felt for so long. Then I fast forwarded to the present me, a woman with fibromyalgia, two herniated discs and arthritis in her neck... slapped myself a good one, and stood on the side doing the moves without moving my head. It was....sublime. Besides, after some ice, 26 anti-inflammatory pills, I was just fine.

If you haven't seen Jonte' dance, you are missing out. Check it out below. (He's the one in the striped sweatshirt who moves like no other human can)



If you want to watch more, I recommend the video labeled "Jonte" and "Jonte & Victor."

Sleepless City Productions

Sleepless City Productions Official Blog

I want to introduce Noah Shulman, the phenom behind The Dictator music video for Dan Reed. Director, editor, visual effects...he's the s*@^!

Here's some behind the scenes photos from the video shoot.

The Dictator

I do PR for Dan and I know, you're thinking "Great, just another selfish promotion on a blog." But the catch is, I don't do PR for Dan because I want the work. I do it because he has a purpose with his music. I do it because behind every word he sings is a passion for humans to have peace...from the core of his being he embraces the concept that we all want to be safe, to have love, to have health, to not be scared, to not be abused. Dan is powerful and yet eloquent and I can't see the music world without him. I believe we can make our world better, I believe in the good in all of us. I believe Dan's music is a path to a better way, therefore I share his work.



How can you make a difference?

Welcome to the 21st Century of Design

Since Jay works in product development and design for a rather large company, he gets exposed to some great...stuff. The above object was a piece in an exhibition at the FUEL Collection in Philadelphia called Scripted by Purpose last September. All participants were restricted to two rules: 1. All entries had to involve a scripting technique (you know like computer programming code) 2. All codes and custom tools must be displayed next to the work as open source. (Yeah, I don't get that part either)

OK, so like, I was good at math, am addicted to NUM3ERS (In my next life, I'm going to be an FBI forensic mathmetician), I can hold my own helping Logue with algebra homework - wait, does that count? Suffice it to say, math is cool and to see design and architecture utilizing mathematics and coding to evolve the design process is even cooler. But, that's as techie as I get. Here's an exerpt of the foreword from Neil Leach, one of the contributors:

"The apparent primacy of these codes opens up the possibility of modeling systems through digital means, and with it the possibility of using digital means to breed structures. An emerging group of young architects is using the technique of ‘scripting’ – the manipulation of digital code – to produce radically innovative architectural environments. A new generation of structures is being created, that recognizes the potential of the computer not just as a sophisticated drafting and rendering tool, but as a potentially powerful tool in the generation of designs themselves."

About the submission:

biot(h)ing is a research-design laboratory whose structure derives from particular linkages between various disciplinary and technological nodes, promoting intra-specific creative relationships which in turn serve as a transformative tissue for the design process itself. An algorithmic articulation of the relation between the corporeal and incorporeal i s biot(h)ing’s attempt to engage with complexity.

Dude, brain freeze. I really just wanted to post this 'cause I likey the picture.

The Best Conversation I've Had Ever

Yesterday, Bean and I were driving to work (my little children's clothing boutique) and we started talking about her hair. Now just remember, this child is 8 years old.



Me: Honey, I think if you're going to grow your hair out we should trim it.

Bean: Yeah, ok.

Me: I could do it, but maybe we should have Bob at the Barber Shop next to our store cut it real quick.

Bean: Bob? BOB?

Me: Yeah, he used to cut ladies hair at the MAC club, you know where Jujube belongs?

Bean: BOB at a BARBERSHOP!?

Me: Yes, honey, I just think it would be quicker than mommy doing it.

Bean: Mama, THIS GIRL IS OF THE AGE WHERE SHE WILL NOT GO INTO A BARBERSHOP TO GET HER HAIRCUT!

Me: Yes Maam.

Social Consciousness Lives!

I was just getting settled in to write my most fabulous and insightful review of Pixar's latest film Wall*e, when I happened to come across my new friend and fellow blogger, PR Mama's similar post. What can I say? She just said it better! (bitch)
Therefore, I humbly stand aside and give you this:
















Must-see moment: Wall*E meets Saturn’s rings (via L.A. Times)


Dispatch from the Edgewater NJ Multiplex

While Professional Me has been exposed lots to the usually unpleasant inner workings of the entertainment industry, Private Me still finds it possible to watch a movie in open-mouthed, awe-struck, teary-eyed wonder. You know what I’m talking about — the burning of Atlanta in “Gone with the Wind.” The massive Imperial Stardestroyer rumbling like some prehistoric beast into the opening frames of “Star Wars: A New Hope.” Dorothy stepping out of her tornado-tossed house into a vivid Technicolor Oz. Hell, I even go ga-ga watching dead Patrick Swayze push that penny towards Demi Moore’s face, as that one impeccable tear wells and spills down her (as-yet surgically unaltered) cheek…

So add “Wall*E” to my list of wonder-inducing, tear-inspiring movie experiences. Visually stunning, funny, sweet, suspenseful — and all without benefit of much dialogue to speak of, mega A-list celebrity voice performances, Disney Channel hyper-promotion, or Happy Meal trinkets. (Although I will say, my son and I hot-footed it right from the movie theater to the nearest Blockbuster to rent the Nintendo DS version of the “Wall*E” game…so am not completely immune to the siren call of tie-in merchandise…)

And the movie happens to have a message. One that I’m sure some jackass right-of-center pundit will jump on as irresponsibly pushing a liberal eco-nazi agenda on the impressionable minds of today’s moviegoing young (remember all the “Happy Feet” brouhaha?)

Puh-lease. How about this message? Earth is a pretty great place to live. Litter really stinks. It’s easy not to litter, which is one way to keep Earth a pretty great place to live. Easy soundbite for the 5-year old in my house to digest, and pretty non-partisan at that.
For more on “Wall*E” and the marketing (or non-marketing) genius of Disney/Pixar, check out this terrific post from Seth Godin. (Thanks to Jon Cronin for the heads-up.)

Thank you Stephanie!

The neurotic, evil, spaz of a dog, Chloe

I was reminded yesterday of why I call our dog, Chloe, the neurotic, evil spaz.
For one, it came to my attention that in the thesaurus, "black" is a synomym for evil (OK, that's WRONG and is a whole other discussion for another time - believe me I will get to it...BUT, I didn't write the thesaurus and I am ONLY applying this to my dog...so no racist accusations necessary) - and Chloe is a BLACK Doodleman. Note to self: off our other black dog before it's too late.

B. Chloe was sitting on the couch on the floor with half of her body on me, as usual, chewing on a sock, when holy SHIT! Read: sharp stabbing pain. She bit my leg! I turned to her in horror and disbelief looking for answers. Her eyes just said "dude, I seriously thought that was the sock."
I can see the similarities completely--sock: black & fuzzy...leg: peaches, cream & fuzzy perfectly smooth. Don't think you fool me for one second you devil child of a dog.

III. Later, I heard that all too familiar grunting and snarfing sound that always makes me jump to attention and beeline for the kitchen--and there she was, with a whole stick of butter in her mouth, drool rapidly pooling under her, looking at me like "Whaddya gonna do now? He he."
The following slapstick routine ensued: She ran, I chased her, slipped in her drool, fell, regained my composure, tried to act all bad-ass, caught up to her and...
cowered as she growled and I watched her eat the butter. CRAP! Literally.

Then I remembered Caesar Milan. We love his show because it reminds us we're not the only neurotic dog owners, I mean owners of a neurotic dog. Being the quick witted, eloquent gal I am, I'm all, "Chloe! You're such a....a...ffff...Baaad dog! Baaad Baaaaaad Dog!" At least for the moment I felt like I was taking control (I know Caesar, I know, I suck).
Trying to draw from all the obedience training I'd been taught, I got down to her level and told her that what she's done is not only sick and wrong but I won't be smelling her farts later when she's in her time-out, NOT enjoying the evening fun and games. Oh, shoot, isn't that a parenting technique from Supernanny? Whatever.

I blame this all on my husband myself. As Caesar Milan says, "A bad dog is the reflection of the owner, not the dog." Well I say, she looks nothing like me!

Thank You. Kind of.

This card, from Pretty Bitter Cards, took the words right out of my mouth. The sarcasm is so right up my ally, it's like the writers said "Here Claire, take a load off. We know just what you want to say." I'll be buying of few of their Dirty Doilies Cards too! Here's an excerpt from the Thank You card:

Wow. I can't believe you. Most of the time when people do something nice for me, I just brush it off, but this time, it was different. You really surprised me--like that time I walked in on my parents doing it. That was awkward...This was better than that. It was, you know, special. And I guess that really is a reflection on you. I mean, not that you're special or anything. You're kind of a pill.

See, now you know, I'm not that nice of a person...

ok, okAY HERE I AM!

Sorry it has taken me so long i know i'm lame. SORRY!

i'm on my roof laying in the sun i'm sweating because it's so sunny, luckily not humid, yet. it's my day off and i'm going to a ballet class in a bit. (i'm saying all this to make Claire jealous and then she WILL come visit.) i'm listening to Adele, you should listen to her if you don't already.

So as Claire mentioned i have been crazy busy. Yes, i know everyone is but i HAVE been.

i had five college girls come visit me, so counting Grace and i there were seven nineteen year old girls in an apartment in New York City. it was crazy. i didn't really sleep...at all. it was kind of hard to balance what everyone wanted to do/ hard to spend time with everyone/ hard to stay focused at dance/ hard to stay focused at work/ hard and impossible to have alone time (which is something i've gotten used to having since i moved here) it was ALSO hard to not spend money when we went shopping (i think i spent the most...shoot) which is partly why i'm broke
BUT i got a lot of super cute things and they were ALL good deals...i have a serious problem...i blame my mom.

Anyway i LOVED having the girls here. i miss them all a lot! We went out and a great time.

One of the True Joys

Logues's school has a phenomenal dance program (thank you Sara, for all your hard work, dedication and for inspiring these kids to move). In fact, during middle school, all the students have to take dance and tap. The philosophy is that it taps into different creative AND critical thinking parts of the brain. I love that! Being a former dancer myself, the hairs on my neck stood up when I watched my first born perform in his first dance piece. I admit, I was nervous. Would he trip over his own feet? Does he know how to keep time to the music? Would he decide he was too scared and sit out?

This is a child who wouldn't do team sports, or sports at all for that matter. So, no packing up all the rain gear into the suburban, standing in the freezing cold to watch the weekend soccer tournament. And I admit I'm not feeling the deprivation one bit. Nope, no soccer mom here and no Suburban either. BTW, I like my Prius in all it's 48 MPG fabulousness, snub snub. But, every mom wants to see their child in the spotlight of some sort...whether it's a science fair, spelling bee, piano recital or Karate promotion. Something where you can say, "See there, that's MY kid." But Logue just never wanted to venture into that spotlight much. We had to bribe him with Legos to perform in his first grade play as a bug in "A Bug's Life." What is it about us parents needing to dress up our children and put them on display? I think that'll be another post.

The wait seemed like the checkout line at Costco on a Saturday. I was breaking into a sweat with anxiety, (oh wait, that's my normal everyday occurrence) when finally, after some deep breathing, I calmed down, looked up, and there he was, in all his glory, dancing his heart out!
Look out, another stage mom has been born.

There is Another Author Here...Somewhere

I've been bugging Anna to write more. I felt the world needed to get to know her better, read more posts from her--as she is my co-author here on Agent Zoey. I totally understand she's still getting settled in the big city, getting all SJP on me (minus the Manolos) and with her dance classes, acting classes and work, it's all very hectic. So, I conjured up a little interview to get her creative mind whirring (and to get some dish on her life in NY as it's been 19 years since I lived there, I have to live vicariously through her). Here's how the interview went:
Me: Yo Chica! What's the down low on the NYC foshizzle?
Anna: ------
Me: Ahem...So, what's your favorite thing about New York?
Anna: ------
Me: Ok, um, what's your least favorite thing about New York?
Anna: ------
Me: Did I lose ya somewhere back at hello? Was it the slang? 'Cause I can tone it down. Chillax and all.
Anna: ------
Me: Do we have a bad connection?
Anna: ------
Me: Uh, are you there? Anna?
--New phone call--
Anna: I have three friends visiting and the apartment all to ourselves. At 3am in the morning we turn all the lights off, crank the music and dance.
Me: (To myself) I gotta get my ass to New York.

Logue is a Writing Genius

I love the fact that Logue's end of the year self reflection essay at school was full of snarcastical (combination: snarky, sarcastic, fantastical) quips that even I nor Jay knew he had in him. We are so proud of our son snubbing his school...

OK we're not normally this jaded BUT when your kid's school suspends your 7th grade kid for a bogus plagiarism charge for a WEEK, doesn't talk to the kid first about the "crime", doesn't talk to the parents at all, threatens expulsion to an otherwise extremely compliant, rule-following, A and B student and questions the kid's entire body of work because the kid copied and pasted some facts (not opinion or fiction) and left it in a different font and font color so the passage sticks out like a sore thumb as if to say "here, look! Over here is where I plagiarized! Make sure you don't miss it!" --breathe, mom, breathe--
IT IS ASININE! -- to say the least.
But whenever I get that anger bubbling up, working it's way to my fingers that want to type a really nasty email to the school (like the "You Suck" short and sweet version of an earlier post), I read Logue's essay and all is right with the world.

Dad

I'm late saying "Happy Father's Day" to my Dad. Not because I forgot, but because he was in France, mad cycling with Erickson Cycle Tours in Dordogne. He rode 600 miles with 40,000 feet of climbing, for two weeks. Yep, my Dad rocks! I won't give away his age (let's just say he was of the average parental age when I was born, and I'm celebrating the first anniversary of my 36th birthday soon) but while most men are on the couch watching Tiger score another birdie, my Dad is on his bike.



This isn't the only reason Dad rocks. He is my real life Superman. Graduated from Stanford and Stanford Law, Dad is my encyclopedia, dictionary and thesaurus of life. I never went through the phase where you find out your Dad doesn't know EVERYTHING. He does. He won't admit it...but he does. Dad is more intelligent than I can comprehend, speaks several languages, cooks fabulous food, knows about great wines and restaurants, the ins and outs of all things technological and if I need to buy a car...he's the man.
He's probably hating that I'm saying all this...Hi Dad.

My Dad has always been my champion. When my career path was going the polar opposite of what most father's hope, Dad cheered me on. Becoming a professional dancer was not a lucrative dream and yet Dad always gave me positive reinforcement. I will never forget the time I was scared to death to tell him I was getting married at 23. He was half asleep when I went to tell him and when I did, he said, "Cool, let's go celebrate!" Dad proves his unconditional love that way over and over again. You'd think he'd get exhausted with a nut like me! Dad has always been generous with his time, advice, encouragement and accolades. He's kind, diplomatic, practical and has a fantastic, dry sense of humor. He's there when I need him, or when Jay needs him, or when my Bean and Logue need their Papa. Sniff.

I love you Dad....Happy Father's Day.

Correspondence

The adult version of me and the 10 year old version (who's still stuck in me) are at war. It's not so much a multiple personality thing...which might be better since then I could score a ticket to a little vaca in arts and crafts and green jello heaven.
Not so much... It seems to happen when the chips are down and there is so much floating up there in the vast configuration that is my brain and BOOM! I digress. My somewhat witty, articulate thoughts burrow deeper into my cerebral cortex and all that's left are the ingrained thoughts of my much, much younger self. And it's funny, those childish thoughts, emotions and urges just seem to take over. I can't be held responsible for things like calling the neighbor, "grumpy-pants-meanie-old-man" or telling Jay (husband) he's not my BFF anymore.

Of course this started happening after many years of being passionate about my Highly Gifted, teenage son, Logue's education and running into many administrative road blocks. I have read a trazillion books, consulted for countless hours with child psychologists and education specialists and done enough research to have earned myself a degree in child psychology. I have written enough letters, emails, dissertations and education plans to put together a Master's Thesis on how to educate children.

Sidebar: Children should be treated as individuals in school-- not cows in a herd.

So, maybe it's the exhaustion of beating my head against the wall that's pushing the intelligent, grown up me aside when I try to complete an arduous task such as writing a thoughtfully composed letter to Logue's school.

I've started...It goes something like this:


Dear Logue's School Administration, (Names have been withheld from me to protect their wellbeing privacy)
First and foremost, I would like to impress how many wonderful aspects of the school Logue has experienced. The school has many passionate educators who have conquered the arduous task of disseminating a quite challenging curriculum.
However, I am writing to present my dismay with the arbitrary use or misuse of policies and procedures. I expect a school where the philosophy is: "...based on the research of noted educators, especially Howard Gardner, whose work on multiple intelligences revealed the importance of arts-infused curriculum for the benefit of all students," to be apprised of the multiple needs of those types of students.
A private school that touts accepting "bright and highly creative students" with one of the most exorbitant tuition rates in our area is not above criticism. It is a school's responsibility to take the emotional welfare and individual educational experience...

That's about where my brain said SCREW IT and the ten-year-old-me wrote this one:

Dear Logue's School Administration,
You suck.
Most Sincerely,
Claire

At least I didn't swear.

(No Anna, I didn't REALLY send it)

One Girl...

Admit it. You have said to yourself at one time or another, "One person cannot change the world." Some even say it's hopeless, there's too much to change...
Put those notions aside for a moment and visualize the possibility of hope.




This is a challenge. Go to Girl Effect and donate something, anything--for one girl.