The Occasional Musings of Ana

Hi peeps!

First week of school always does a number on me. I haven't forgotten you though, fear not!

<3

( Look, Ana can use email )

Is so boring.

I don't see the point of any commercial holiday that doesn't result in a sale at Barney's.

What a waste.

So I got a call yesterday evening to go do a shoot in Manhattan this weekend. It's the second time I'll have made the drive in two weeks, but the money is good and my 'agent' (one of Number Four's employees) seemed to think that it would be good for the portfolio. It means that once again I will be out of town for the weekend, and unable to partake of the brimming social scene in Bartleby. But one of these days...


(OOC: Out of town until Tuesday, see you all then!)

So this weekend I drove back into the city for ballet lessons, and to see my mother. The first went very well, and the second not so much. I am trying to remain in good enough form that when school is out I can find a summer troupe to perform with. It is not the Boston Ballet, but it is something. All of this will wear off in time, and then I can do what I have always been meant to do.

Maman is still cross with me, and I still think she is ridiculous. What I do with my body is for me to decide, the same as it has always been for her. She sat there, smoking and glaring, off on tangents in French about how while she raised her daughter to be a free thinker she did not raise her to be 'classless' Who is she to talk about classless?  As lost as I feel in Bartleby, I am pleased to be starting the drive home.

Maybe I will stay in town next weekend though. This driving for hours on end to go to lessons does not do much in helping me to make friends.

I thought that if I'm to do this journal business I may as well do it properly, and so looked around for a way to make it a bit more aesthetically appealing. I'm not really sure that I succeeded, the black and red seemed like a lovely idea at first but like many things seems to fall somewhat short upon execution.

Perhaps if or when I make some proper friends, one of them will have either skill with graphic design or a good eye for searching the internet, and I can put out a call for someone to find the layout that most reminds them of me. That would prove to be educational on several levels, as well as a possible improvement.

Does anyone know where I go to finalize my class schedule? As expected, the one I received is filled with errors. I've no interest in taking an introductory computer class.

I've always kept a diary, so I suppose this assignment isn't really as terrible as it seems at this particular moment. Mine though, I have kept on paper. There is something comforting about the pen scrawling across the page, about seeing one's own thoughts and dreams and ideas swirl before one in inky splendor. I look at each of my words as if it is a child, born and sent out into the world. A tiny piece of me. And though perhaps words are not the best way I have to express who I am, they will do.

I suppose I could consider beginning this entry with honesty, and explaining why it is I am here, and not training with the Boston Ballet for the summer season. It was to be my debut, after one year of long practice. But I suppose that though the real world moves on, the world of dance does not. You'd think the publicity would have helped them, that perhaps a few young and horny boys might have bought tickets after seeing the tape. Of course they do not listen to such arguments, and so I am removed without much in the way of fanfare.

To college I suppose, like everyone else. Why mother decided on this one I'll never know.

 

( Under the Cut )