trilliumgrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trilliumgrl) wrote2003-03-06 06:29 pm
trilliumgrl) wrote2003-03-06 06:29 pm
Yesterday - busy, busy day
Yesterday started out so crappy, that it just had to get better. I left the house with high hopes and headed over to Tower Hill to pick up a bus pass and grab a 15 to school. The plan worked fine until the first bus was too full and the second one was late. So I’m already late for class, but not by much. I hope off early, because traffic is so bad I’ll make better time walking and then I can cut through Clement’s Inn. I’m not happy about this, but it’s still okay. That is until my contact starts bugging me and decided to fall out, leaving me half blind. When I finally make it to class (amazingly having not run into anything) I’m 15 minutes late, practically crying, and I have a headache starting. To top it off I have about an hour to get home and back to replace my contact with an emergency spare I have from when I lost my left contact at Les Mis. I made it, but I had to give up getting any errands done.
After that almost anything was an improvement. Trying to sell dance tickets wasn’t the most productive thing I could be doing, especially as it’s LSE election time and we’re competing with student politicians for space and attention on Houghton St. At least I got to eat some lunch though.
At two, I headed over to the Prince Charles, where I am now I member (took me long enough). I saw Pedro Almodóvar’s Talk to Her, which I really enjoyed. Near the end was a line I’m going to hold closes to my heart because it so true “I’m a ballet mistress. Nothing is simple.” Really though, it was a beautiful movie and I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, the only plot summary I can give without telling you the whole story is incredibly lame. Instead go read a nice
After that almost anything was an improvement. Trying to sell dance tickets wasn’t the most productive thing I could be doing, especially as it’s LSE election time and we’re competing with student politicians for space and attention on Houghton St. At least I got to eat some lunch though.
At two, I headed over to the Prince Charles, where I am now I member (took me long enough). I saw Pedro Almodóvar’s Talk to Her, which I really enjoyed. Near the end was a line I’m going to hold closes to my heart because it so true “I’m a ballet mistress. Nothing is simple.” Really though, it was a beautiful movie and I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, the only plot summary I can give without telling you the whole story is incredibly lame. Instead go read a nice
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Yesterday started out so crappy, that it just had to get better. I left the house with high hopes and headed over to Tower Hill to pick up a bus pass and grab a 15 to school. The plan worked fine until the first bus was too full and the second one was late. So I’m already late for class, but not by much. I hope off early, because traffic is so bad I’ll make better time walking and then I can cut through Clement’s Inn. I’m not happy about this, but it’s still okay. That is until my contact starts bugging me and decided to fall out, leaving me half blind. When I finally make it to class (amazingly having not run into anything) I’m 15 minutes late, practically crying, and I have a headache starting. To top it off I have about an hour to get home and back to replace my contact with an emergency spare I have from when I lost my left contact at Les Mis. I made it, but I had to give up getting any errands done.
After that almost anything was an improvement. Trying to sell dance tickets wasn’t the most productive thing I could be doing, especially as it’s LSE election time and we’re competing with student politicians for space and attention on Houghton St. At least I got to eat some lunch though.
At two, I headed over to the Prince Charles, where I am now I member (took me long enough). I saw Pedro Almodóvar’s <u>Talk to Her</u>, which I really enjoyed. Near the end was a line I’m going to hold closes to my heart because it so true “I’m a ballet mistress. Nothing is simple.” Really though, it was a beautiful movie and I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, the only plot summary I can give without telling you the whole story is incredibly lame. Instead go read a nice <a href=” http://www.nytimes.com/2002/10/12/movies/12TALK.html”>review</a> (this one from the NYT) .
After the movie I headed over to Islington to go see the Garth Fagan Dance Company Note to self: next time eat in Soho or else you end up eating chicken and chips because there isn’t much that isn’t a posh pub/restaurant near Sadler’s Wells besides a Chicken Spot. The show was good. It was three pieces, all blending modern, afro-Caribbean, and ballet. Technically the dancers were amazing to watch, lots of control, even with at high speed, almost random movement. I like the first and last pieces (“Mix 25 and “Translation Transition”) the best. The middle piece (“Moth Dreams”) nearly put me to sleep. This may have had to do with the music, which was by Wynton Marsalis and Theolonius Monk. Wynton can usually put me to sleep and Theolonius was just too mellow for a girl who was exhausted. Visually as well, I wasn’t as captivated by that piece, so the combo was nearly deadly. An enjoyable evening though, especially as my ticket was free and I had a good seat. I was on the floor about 20 rows back (same as the first balcony) almost dead centre. Not bad at all :)
Got out of the theatre at about 10 and was home by 10:30, which was not bad seeing as that required two bus rides. I was defiantly tired and cranky by that time though, so I growled at bit at the student politicians in the basement of Butler’s Wharf. I had nicely put up with them at school all day, but if they are going to bug me at home, they deserve the Glare of Death ™. Such is the life of a politico.
Well enough of that. I’m horridly behind on my email and I need to eat before going the <big><big> Dance Show at 9:00 in the Old Theatre for £2</big></big>, and I need dinner. More later, as I’ve been ruminating on lots of stuff.
After that almost anything was an improvement. Trying to sell dance tickets wasn’t the most productive thing I could be doing, especially as it’s LSE election time and we’re competing with student politicians for space and attention on Houghton St. At least I got to eat some lunch though.
At two, I headed over to the Prince Charles, where I am now I member (took me long enough). I saw Pedro Almodóvar’s <u>Talk to Her</u>, which I really enjoyed. Near the end was a line I’m going to hold closes to my heart because it so true “I’m a ballet mistress. Nothing is simple.” Really though, it was a beautiful movie and I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, the only plot summary I can give without telling you the whole story is incredibly lame. Instead go read a nice <a href=” http://www.nytimes.com/2002/10/12/movies/12TALK.html”>review</a> (this one from the NYT) .
After the movie I headed over to Islington to go see the Garth Fagan Dance Company Note to self: next time eat in Soho or else you end up eating chicken and chips because there isn’t much that isn’t a posh pub/restaurant near Sadler’s Wells besides a Chicken Spot. The show was good. It was three pieces, all blending modern, afro-Caribbean, and ballet. Technically the dancers were amazing to watch, lots of control, even with at high speed, almost random movement. I like the first and last pieces (“Mix 25 and “Translation Transition”) the best. The middle piece (“Moth Dreams”) nearly put me to sleep. This may have had to do with the music, which was by Wynton Marsalis and Theolonius Monk. Wynton can usually put me to sleep and Theolonius was just too mellow for a girl who was exhausted. Visually as well, I wasn’t as captivated by that piece, so the combo was nearly deadly. An enjoyable evening though, especially as my ticket was free and I had a good seat. I was on the floor about 20 rows back (same as the first balcony) almost dead centre. Not bad at all :)
Got out of the theatre at about 10 and was home by 10:30, which was not bad seeing as that required two bus rides. I was defiantly tired and cranky by that time though, so I growled at bit at the student politicians in the basement of Butler’s Wharf. I had nicely put up with them at school all day, but if they are going to bug me at home, they deserve the Glare of Death ™. Such is the life of a politico.
Well enough of that. I’m horridly behind on my email and I need to eat before going the <big><big> Dance Show at 9:00 in the Old Theatre for £2</big></big>, and I need dinner. More later, as I’ve been ruminating on lots of stuff.