Yes, I should be doing work. But instead I was "surfing the net."

And I found this: http://www.irondequoit.com/EastRidge/DENICE'S%20DANCE%20STUDIO/homepage.html
Yes, Denise entered the computer age. This, for those of you who haven't heard me talk about it or who aren't from Rochester, is my old dance studio. I took classes here for just about 10 years, and I taught there for 2. It was weird to see pictures of all these girls I used to dance with. They are still young enough to be there because they were maybe 12-14 when I left back in 1999...yes, because I was short (insert the rolling eyes of sarcaism here) I was in the performance group with the younger girls. Well anyway, I wish I could just redo the studio's website, because I don't like the font. It's too big. I always had ideas for a website for the studio (as I also always had ideas about everything for that studio--I think Denise hated me by the end there because I was always coming up with something), and, well, this website doesn't fit my vision. Not that it matters, though.

Yes, most of you reading probably don't know the whole bitter story surrounding my departure and tenure at the good ol' DDC. And I would tell you all, but it's hard. Most of it doesn't even have to do with the studio as much as myself.

But anyway, this also reminded me of my father's dream for me: to open up my own studio to directly compete with Denise's. Now, that's never going to happen, because I can't teach (trust me, I can't, I tried--I mean, I wasn't bad, but I'm not at all good enough at anything but tap to teach, so yeah, I could teach tap, but that's it), but I always entertain my father when he brings it up. And to say that I have no desire to do that is a lie: it's what I thought I was going to do with my life for years. I mean, when I was little, that's what I planned on doing when I grew up. I remember making a life outline in Miss Fisher's class in 4th grade, and this is what it said:
1) I was going to go to Edison Tech for high school (like my dad) or School of the Arts.
2) I was going to keep dancing.
3) I was going to teach dance.
4) I was going to open my own dance studio.
5) My bathroom in my house was going to be light blue, and everything was going to match. (That was a weird dream of mine--I always wanted a put together bathroom, I don't really know why.)

Then in 5th grade, I was going to open my own day care center (so, and I am not lying, I could have more than one bathroom to decorate) and dance studio. So Katherine's career asperations have gone like this:
ages 4-7- firefighter, singer, or President of the United States
ages 7-13- dance teacher, studio owner, day care center operator, just overall entrepurner (I know I spelled that wrong, sorry)
ages 13-18- sports journalist, sports agent, sports public relations (I can tell you the exact date I got this career tangent started: January 29, 1995)
age 18-20- Latin, history, or creative writing teacher, director of arts instruction/curriculum at SOTA
age 20-now and in the future- Student Affairs Administration, Higher Education Admin. (because essentially, all I've ever wanted to do is just be in charge, advertise, and plan events and programs--from the studios to the bathrooms, to representing greedy, non-derserving professional athletes, so this works)

See, I was able to connect all that. It's not like they're all completely different careers. I mean, they all follow that "I must plan everything in the world" tangent. But I think 4th grade me would of looked at what has happened to me in horror and surprise. I was never going to go to college. I was never going to stop dancing. And I was never going to grow out my bangs! But 4 year old me would of been happy--I'm a president. Not of the country, but of 1,000 people, which is enough for me.

So yeah, visit that website. Laugh at it's bad layout. See where I spent a lot of my youth. And laugh when you read the "professionally trained instructors and trained assistants" sentance. (Ooh, bitterness coming through, should stop.)

I should really do more work. Really.

Music: My lovely iTunes playlist, which ranges from the new Eminem song (guilty pleasure, trust me) to Billy Joel and the Chicago soundtrack.

Okay, where is the warm weather that was promised? Yes, 30 is warm, but only to jaded Rochestarians who think if it's 90, we must be in Hell.

So Megan started her own LiveJournal (why not a blog, I don't know), so I guess I don't need to update this anymore. She now has her own to keep her company. So who knows what I'll do with this. I'm really not at all interesting.

The most hystarical thing--okay, not the most, but it was very funny at the time--was Marsha and I looking at a list of "Love Songs" online. Now, besides the fact that we were trying to sing as much as we knew of each song karioke style, we also realised that a good portion of those songs were not "love songs." In fact, they were very bitter breakup songs. So yes, breakups are a part of romance, but don't put them under the label of "Love Songs" because they are not. Like "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morrisette is NOT a love song. Not at all. It's a scary scary bitter obsessive song. But it was there, along with, inexplicably, "Bye Bye Bye" by N'Sync. Huh? What? I'm confused--not only about the love song question, but that that song is even considered a song. I consider it attempted murder to my ears.

Yes, Marsha and I were bored. This is what we do when we're two of the only people in the Holiday Inn and we're procrastinating from doing any semblence of work.

Well, I must go over to campus to pick up my InterLibrary Loan books and my mail (which should contain a letter or two from Tricia over in London, I hope--she only sent them 16 years ago).

Music: Goodnight Sweetheart by Rufus Wainwright

I just realised how disconnected I am from everyone from high school. Whose fault that is, I have no idea. However, if one remembers and really studies how I was (physically and personality wise) in high school, it's no wonder that I only talk to two, maybe three people from high school. That's okay, I'm fine with that. A bit saddened, but fine.

I was home for four days and did not see anyone beyond my immediate family (well, and Alex and Becky, but they're around so much that I consider them immediate family). And so, since I have more work to do than who knows what, and because I had no point in being in Rochester because there is absolutely no one but my family (who rock, don't get me wrong) to hang out with, I came back to Binghamton and my cozy Holiday room. I mean, Tricia is in London (she's officially engaged by the way, which makes me extremely happy--Olivier is a fantastic guy who really knows how to propose! Congratulations again!), Laura and Candace are in school, and Marsha decided to stay in good ol' Holiday for break.

I wish I had stayed in better contact with everyone, and I wish I would of visited school on Monday. I miss the teachers--they were some of my best friends in high school. I will just have to go back at some point and say hi to them. But then again, as much as I wish I still had my high school friends, I have two great groups of friends who I wouldn't give up for the world. And that makes up for my social awkwardness and bangs in high school. (I blame my social awkwardness on my bangs--there is a direct correlation between my growing out my bangs and my establishing good relationships, especially dating relationships). It's funny--people here usually don't believe that I was an extreme pudgy geek in high school. I have to drag out pictures to convince them. They also don't believe I hadn't had a date until spring semester freshman year. Then I drag out the pictures again. I was, as Caitlin, Tracy, and I used to put it, "a super geek, super geek, I'm super geeky now!"

Well enough about my "phase". Like in my favourite movie: "Well, I was kind of going through a phase until...right now. I was frump girl."
"I don't remember frump girl, but I remember you."
Sigh...it scares me how I can recite lines upon lines from that movie. I did get my mother saying the "bi-a, bi-op-bi-a, bi-bobsy, bi-bopsy" line though. And I must say, as much as I found that scene with the bundt cake funny before watching it with Matt, Marsha, Dan and Steve, I now have a serious laughing fit when I watch it. "It's a cake!"

Okay, I need to make the rest of my study sheets for Carolingians...they look awful nice so far. I refuse to sleep until they are done.

I promise to update this more often. I promise! (even if the only person who reads this is Megan)

Music: Cell Block Tango and Hot Honey Rag/Nowadays from the Chicago movie soundtrack