Last night I had a dream that I was performing street theater in some unknown town that hosted an MFA performance program. A bunch of students were watching. I was invited to give a lecture/demonstration at their school. When I showed up in the corriders of the Art Building a girl who recongnized me from the street came up to greet me.
"You're performance was..." I prepared myself for the accolades. "Three-quarters bullshit."
"It was a whippet of snip-snobbery," she concluded.
Why am I having MFA anxiety dreams? Maybe it's because I've been reading Taken by Surprise: A Dance Improvisation Reader. Should I have gone to UCLA and studied with Simone Forti? And having not committed in full at the exact right moment in life, am I making a mistake digging back into this turf? After all, this was not the plan.
Dance, some days I wish I could quit you. Other days it's like mainlining Prozac directly into my befuddled post-partum brain.
thank god for the prozac moments - i am so glad you're dancing again and that i get to be part of it.
Posted by: rachel | April 30, 2007 at 09:22 PM
Back at you my pet!
Posted by: Selene | May 09, 2007 at 04:01 PM