v is for vertigo

my new toy

it's the quad camera application for my iphone and i'm in love already.




















currently listening to: transfiguration of vincent - m. ward

u, you, ewe

u is for ulrich, the uniquely upbeat but undersized ukulele player, who understands the undeniable usefulness of unleashing unconscious urges in unusual, uncomfortable or uncertain performances.***

***for an explanation of the lenthy title, see here.

currently listening to: nantes - beirut.

t, tea, tee

is for textures.

s is for sunshine...

...silkily stroking my wintery skin.

two words of the day (so far)

mis⋅take 
/mɪˈsteɪk/ noun, verb, -took, -tak⋅en, -tak⋅ing.
–noun
1. an error in action, calculation, opinion, or judgment caused by poor reasoning, carelessness, insufficient knowledge, etc.

and

ne⋅glect
[ni-glekt] –verb (used with object)
1. to be remiss in the care or treatment of: to neglect one's family; to neglect one's appearance.


the first one: not a big deal, but my mind made it bigger than it was and i stood by, powerless in the constructed drama (minor, in the scheme of constructed dramas, but still far bigger than the situation justified).
the second one: i'm trying to move forward without guilt. own my part. and ask to be met half-way.


currently listening to: a be happy mix of songs from the shins, neutral milk hotel, regina, et al.

winter sun pt. 2

meisner

yes.
it's been a long time since i've written about meisner.

this quarter has gotten off to a slow start. we canceled one class a short way in due to snow. i missed another because i was sick. and this past tuesday was canceled for reasons may have had to do with the number of students in dc for the inauguration.

i'll write more about the last two classes tomorrow.
about singing a sunday smile in front of everyone.
of the the experience of prepping for this week's class.
and.
and.
and.
gulp.
the suggestions robin gave me for what i should do for my next activity.


sneak peek: it scares the shittery out of me and it involves a serious amount of exposed flesh on my part.


currently listening to: all your sisters - mazzy star

s is for....

tomorrow is "s" in my photographic alphabet. and i have a friend who tends to help me brainstorm words. we had brunch together today, and here is how the conversation went:

s is for sinuous.
s is for slough.
slake.
slick.
slurp.
slam.
slink.
slosh....hmmm, these are all "sl" words.
(a smile) shear.
shorn.
sabbatical.
ceremony. (chuckles)
s is for saliva.
sanctimonious.
sagittarius.
serial.
sartorial.
survival.
schedule.
sugar.
sweet.
sweat.
swear.
(this continues through the whole meal).
my friend gets up to run to the loo and comes back a minute later with a mouthful of words.
to which i retort: soapy, silverware, spicy, salty, sugary (all things i saw bringing the dishes to the sink....oooooh, i didn't think of sink.)
and the dishes resume to the tune of:
silhouette.
sexy.
sorry.
sad.
silly.
psychology.
slippery.
slinky.
skanky.
servitude.
serviette.
sermon.
etc.
etc.


i love being ssssssssssilly and friends with whom i can share the madness.


currently listening to: for emma, forever ago - bon iver.

r is for red 'round my rooms

winter suns

happiness is:

eating trader joe's banana wheat free waffles at ten thirty at night.
complete with earth balance and organic maple syrup.

bliss is having a chum to chow them down with. :}








currently listening to: blood bank & skinny love - bon iver (thanks for blood bank, michael)

q is for quirky

"it's been a long time, long time now...

since i've seen you smile.

the lyrics of the beirut song nantes that is playing on youtube for me right now. lovely. i do have a crush on that man...but i digress.

it has been a long time since i feel like i've been in regular attendence here, in my blog space. my personal life is spread thin right now: between class, rehearsal, work, commuting, and friends of many shapes and sizes. i haven't had the nathania-putter-time that i need to be able to feel grounded. and that firm foundation is my springboard for creation: writing, acting, dancing, etc. so, i am seeking balance and fighting conflicting desires that wants to do too many things at once. and certain things come around and i just can't say no, and then here i am at the end of the week with nothing left that's just for me. and i need that back.

and i feel like memories are slipping away without the sacred act of recording them in writing. my preservationist self is throwing a fit because the year really took off running pretty much from the moment the clock struck midnight and a month is about to pass and i'm behind on writing down my stories.

i need to take stock and reevaluate. straighten this, tweak that. take up the slack here. but all an all leave things mostly as they are. because i'm having a blast. enjoying myself emensely. and learning a lot despite how little time i have for myself.

a quick review of some of the themes i'm currently working with:
shame.
desire.
self-worth/self-image.
sensuality.


and the crazy thing is that each one is so intricated woven into the next i just keep getting myself further and further into many things at once. it's one part thrilling and one part daunting to see how things are connected.

the last two weeks have been particularly draining because i was first, quite sick right at the time when $1,000 +/- of medical bills appeared unexpectedly in my mailbox. then, i go directly from being sick to having major upper body structural issues: neck, shoulder, back pain. several particular external circumstances aggrivating parts of my body already out of whack because i sport the tall girl slump. yes, still. and the physical and even financial concerns drive right into the heart of my self-worth (standing tall, unmet desire to be taken care of).

life.is.good. even when it's tough.

more soon. in the meantime, here is a song by beirut that's been carrying me along today:






currently listening to: nantes - beirut.

o & p

o is for obfuscation

p is for practical pattern

currently listening to: beirut on youtube.com. i need one, or both, of their albums.

m & n

m is for magnificent man

n is for nicknames: nat, nate, nathy, nut & nut(h)ania

currently listening to: a radiolab program on sperm - currently discussing paternity tests.
http://www.wnyc.org/flashplayer/player.html#/play/%2Fstream%2Fxspf%2F111031

avoidance

a⋅void⋅ance /əˈvɔɪdns/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [uh-void-ns]

1. the act of avoiding or keeping away from: the avoidance of scandal; the avoidance of one's neighbors.

...or oneself?
or one of those painful and "responsible" tasks of adulthood where delay only builds more dread?


guilty as charged.

and my stiff shoulders are singing their counter-harmony of stress and distaste.

grow up, nathania. take care of business.
it will all work itself out.
eventually.

lengthy legs lethargically lounging

today is "l."
can you tell?

i, j, k

i is for i am impishly inverted

j is for juxtaposed juiciness

k is for knob (on a kitchen kupboard)

wolf moon

a week ago today.
a butoh performance. equal parts disturbing and compelling.
afterwards, a simple ceremony to acknowledge the wolf moon. the first full moon of the year.
wolves. dogs. carrion eaters. to eat the discarded and dead.
and to help welcome in the new.

g & h

g is for gratitude.

h is for hero.

thom.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18960914

i finally understand how they could have the liars open for them this summer. too bad they stank in performance, but at least now i don't think thom a complete idiot for choosing them.

just the opening

the first few measures.
drums and a few guitar chords
from a live version to boot,
so a little different.
less recognizable.
but still i knew it for what it was.
my rhythms changed to match.
and i'm left
empty handed
full hearted
wanting the rest.

f

f is for faded, fragile & forgotten.

black & blue

i have several mysterious bruises up and down my left arm. the largest is about 2 inches by 2.5 inches; the smallest about 1 inch square. they hurt all day today, but are just now distinguishing themselves visually with their dark tones glowering from underneath the pale skin and freckles.

i guess i had more adrenaline in my system last night than i previously thought because i have no recollection of hitting anything during my activity in class. another classmate suggested the most likely: i clobbered myself on the door somehow tearing into the room.

hmm....

and

ouch.

alphabet soup

so, my love for the photographic dictionary and ten15am.com has merged and for the next 26 days, this is how it will be progressing:

a is for action figure

{later named arthur ardor avenger by my pal, cameron}

b is for blue

{photographed by cameron so i could participate in humiliation hour - see here}

c is for colorful cloth

{rephotographed for the purposes of 10:15am}

d is for disco ball

e is for emboldening boots

tomorrow is f. for fantastic. finite. furry. feline. future and farce. what will i choose to photograph....

[juhst]

just
[juhst] adverb

1. by a narrow margin; barely: the arrow just missed the mark.
2. only or merely: he was just a clerk until he became ambitious.

.......................................

waiting for the elevator on one of the rare occasions i wanted to ride instead of climb to the 5th floor: you will never be just anything.

thank you.
i want to believe you.
secret: {{{{{{{{{and part of me already does.}}}}}}}}}}}


currently listening to: from the cloudie day mix, 747 - kent.

meisner - day 2.3

two highlights from class.

i want. i need.
it's an exercise where you simply stand, feet not quite shoulder width apart, hands extended gently in front of you. you look out above the heads of the audience, eyes open. you say i want and extend your hands half way forward. then you say i need and extend your hands all the way in front of you.
repeat.
and repeat.
and repeat.
and repeat.
minutes pass.
more pass.
and i wasn't really coming up with anything much. this curious blankness and ambivalence interrupted only by the sudden and vivid image of a set of my grandfather's scales after i said i want. it caught me off guard how unexpected and visceral the desire came to me. but it slipped away fairly quickly as i remembered it goes to an uncle, and the void-like nonresponse resumed.
until.
robin walked up to me, gently guided my back to straighten, my shoulders pulled from their slump, and adjusted my neck to float loosely above my spine. she gave me back the last inches of my six feet and whispered a suggestion in my ear: don't apologize. you deserve what you're asking for. hold your hands like it can be put into them. you can have it. don't apologize.
the shift was immediate as i gave myself permission to tap into my desires. first the grief rushed to the surface. next determination. anger at some point. but the biggest and most constant change was that i was present in my self. sans apologies. i was tall. strong. present. alive. quietly firm.
and despite having a vividly cinematic inner eye, no images came. just a surging and tumultuous connection to my desire. it's a scary place to go, and it's another i've long avoided.

hi desire, my name is nathania. join me and my body. we'll make a lovely trio if we can work in tandem.


second highlight of the night. stole the spotlight actually. the big o {see previous post O}.

it started with my certainty of failure. i was absolutely decided i hadn't prepped enough or it wouldn't work. i had bitten off too much. i could never take on these circumstances...i ran headlong into this wall o' doubt i had built for myself all afternoon, and wallowed further while the first two sets of students went. then i decided to get it over with, reminding myself that whether or not i fail, it will still provide information {robin's words that encourage observation over judgment}.

outside in the hallway, i went through my constant companion of unhelpful thoughts of when i get into the space i will do this, i will feel this, i should be this, or i can't do this.

but.

this time i had a clear moment when i told myself: yes, you can. just do it. and the prep work suddenly started working. my daydream got more vivid. i went to new places. my breathing changed and my heart sped up. and at some point, i just told myself go without trying to wait for an emotional response to manifest.

and go i did.

i started by racing down the stairs at the entrance of freehold and then quickly turned and raced back up three or so at a time. i grasped the rail for extra leverage. i went as fast as i could go. sprinted down the hall, my steps loud in my ears while clutching my clothing to me, and ran into the room.

in my panic i lost a shoe between the door and bed {the other followed it later to the floor}, but i didn't slow as i threw myself on the mattress, wrapped myself in the blankets and started sobbing {perhaps they had started earlier, not quite sure}. they were full body sobs. the kind that start somewhere deeper in your body than even your stomach. and the cries shifted and undulated through a journey of rising and falling terror as i twisted in bed. pulling the blankets this way. wrapping myself up in another way. hiding. protecting. grieving. partly aware of myself and yet completely helpless against the momentum of what i had set in motion.

robin ended the exercise and had us sing i'm a little teapot, complete with hand gestures, to shake the circumstances. it worked until i had to talk about what i had experienced.

i imagined that someone was waiting in the back entrance/fire escape of my building. he struck me from behind as i was coming in and pulled me down to rape me. he covered my mouth. pinned my body. hit my head on the floor several times as i struggled. he got as far as unbuttoning my shirt before a moment's inattention gave me an opening to knee him in the crotch with every once of power in my lengthy quad. and {new to this night's prep work} as i pulled him off me, i grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground several {three?} times as he tried to grab ahold of me again. fin.

as robin had been giving notes to other students, i realized i wasn't specific enough on what this event would mean to me. and as i mused while dreading my turn, i realized part of the core, the heart of what this means to me, is not just the formidable violation of personal space, but also the loss of the safety and security of my home. my

so, i guess i've uncovered one of the things that will drive me to violence. finally.

and, i guess i didn't fail despite all i feared/invested otherwise.


{one note: mom, or whomever, don't worry, my building is in fact quite safe. even the back way is well lit. i double-checked tonight when i used it, and no one could hide in the space i envisioned.}

currently listening to: couldie day mix - lyla, cocorosie; clausterphobe, katie todd; slow dance, ida; etc...

O

today in class, i confessed to an analogy i've found between acting and "real life" (though i ask, when does life get more real for me than through the life that acting brings...).

no men were currently in the little gathering of picnic-ers on the floor of the class space, so, when the topic moved to the experience of forcing an emotional response, i sheepishly {practically in a whisper} said: i feel like trying to force an emotional response is as frustrating and futile as forcing an orgasm. it's either going to happen, or it's not, and sitting there trying to force your body there just makes it less likely and less enjoyable.

there was a wave of agreement from my listeners and {of course} a few off color jokes as the idea was freely distributed among the classmates currently in the room.



on the flip side, the experience of really nailing something, achieving a fully successful response, even the uncomfortable ones of shuddering tears or violent shouts, is as heady and intoxicating as the best orgasm.

and it always takes me a while to come down again–which is why i'm perched in my studio, writing, a mellow mix serenading in the background, instead of doing the pre-sleep, pre-work week tasks.

these happen so infrequently, i have to savor them.

and, of course, i have to preserve them.



{one note: i wasn't able to come down from the restless high until 2am. i had to write. clean. putter. organize. etc.}

currently listening to: a mix called cloudie day mix, featuring radiohead, sigur ros, elliot smith, sufjan stevens, etc.

three thoughts.

procrastination.
certainty of failure.
frustration.

{repeat.}

contact

nathania, this is your body.

body, meet nathania.

it's been a long time.

a friend rented space at a local studio
where i used to dance weekly
at the contact improv jams
(see below for explanation of c.i.).
their dance partner canceled so
i tagged along for a two hour block of
play. body-grounding play. where even
my recently pulled out neck couldn't get
in the way of the pure joy of movement.

it's been a long time since i've been in
this space. two years? perhaps
heading on towards three years.
it was really good to be back.
and while i'm trying to relate to my
body as an instrument of the senses
rather than an object of beauty
(or lack thereof in my paradigm)
i find in the dance space it is helpful
to move away from seeing myself as an
instrument of graceful or beautiful movement
(or lack thereof),
and instead approach my body
as an instrument of joy and impulses
and intuition - sometimes one hits the
zone of the dance floor and feels like
there is telepathic communication between
oneself and one's partner and it's
quite
quite
fun.
and that's just one of many joys of playful movement for me.
just one.


it was good to be back.

contact improv: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contact_improvisation

nathania no shame tenwolde

http://www.ten15am.com/?p=9262#comment-16084

two other images also apart of this story:

http://www.ten15am.com/?p=9411

and

http://www.ten15am.com/?p=9390

meisner - day 2.2

the second day we did an exercise about sleeping on stage via taking yourself through a specific day dream. we were to give ourselves permission to follow wherever it lead. and, of course, we had to start with an extreme direction: intense joy, lust, rage, shame, etc, etc.

i chose rage.

it's one of the hardest places for me to go and an area i particularly want to explore this quarter. and the idea i chose as my entry into the daydream was that of smashing breakables.

it's my turn, and i lie down in the bed on stage and go into this mind space full of breakables and immediately begin smashing with a baseball bat. not a coincidence: i chose a roomful of mirrors.

i destroyed each and every one until the shards congealed together into a nightmare of massive, jittery spiders. but i attacked them too, smashing them to bits that were gracious enough to stay dead on the floor the second time.

when all was still, my bat was no longer i my hands, and i stretched out my arms to deliberately shred my hands on the sharp edges around the room. it was this aggressively self destructive act of defiance. calculated self-inflicted violence.

i was ruthless in my deliberateness. completely ruthless.

i stopped and look down: dispassionately {and painlessly} noticing the blood covering my hands and stretching toward my elbows, knowing that firmly lodged in the cuts were countless glass shards. and this moment lasted for a while, filled with curiosity and stillness. and significantly: judgement was withheld, or rather, was nonexistent.

time stretched out in my purgatory until i lay down and looked up at the one perfect mirror still left in the place. i hadn't realized it was there on the ceiling. as big as the room. generous and expansive. and i looked up at my naked length until a good friend appeared, softly walked up to me, and gently held and kissed each hand. the blood was cleaned. the shards and wounds non existent.

(let it be noted here that the friend is one who has journeyed a long way with me through my story of body image, sensuality, etc)

we lay down, intertwined in naked silence, until it occurred to me that we couldn't be resting so peacefully on shards of glass, and when i looked down to see where we were, a lush, green field, with foot-high grass surged out from our pale bodies. and we cuddled under the sky until the dream ended in a series of quick images: running through the grass, diving into a meandering river and then being carried blissfully along our way. laughter. smiles. cool water. refresh. fin.

needless to say, i find it interesting that rage can also lead back to sensuality. two way street. or perhaps more accurately two way secret door.

landing-place, again.

{my darlings who i have been spending time with, in or away from my home, should not read this as a critique on who/how i've been spending my time. just in case. it caused worry.}



i can always tell when i haven't had enough time at home {alone - as a wise friend recently distinguished} when i find myself on hands and knees at 12:30am scrubbing my kitchen floor.

cleaning is just one of many excuses to putter around my space while slowly and steadily sinking into a groundedness only a home well established can reflect back to me.

thank you, studio.
it was a good night.
{series of nights, actually, but who's counting, really.}

meisner - 2.1

that's version: 2nd quarter, day 1.



the quarter started off uniquely in that i didn't want to be there.

i was sick, my neck was one turn to the right shy of being completely thrown out of whack, and i needed a few extra days of quiet before the onslaught. but then class started and the momentum absorbed me.

not getting sucked in by the work isn't an option i guess.



even though the class ended early due to snow {which, by the way, can be dumped on us till may now that i have waterproof boots}, there was still time for a significant activity we completed that is still sieving through my mind.



we had five prompts. and the object was to take the first thought/idea/emotion/image that strikes us in response to the prompt, live this idea fully in our body and come up with an essential gesture to express this idea. take the idea, absorb it, and live it fully in our body.

the prompts were: that golden time when..., your greatest longing, your greatest joy, your greatest shame, and your source of power.

the one that was most significant was the first thing that came to mind when she said those words "what is your source power? that thing specific to you that is your strength." what came to mind first was:

my body.

my six footness. every inch. even the painful top three inches that are the difference between being a tall woman and a tall woman. even the {poor attempt at shortening myself} slumped shoulders. and perhaps most particularly the sensuality i'm just starting to let free.

the final movement, the essence of the idea and experience of it, was arms extended above the head and fingers flexed and alternating in a powerful motion downward like a bold/strong movement down a lover's back. confident. sultry. present.

later we had to string the different movements together to make a phrase, and pick one of the gestures to repeat several times. she spoke about how, through the repetition, one is able to till further into the depths of an idea, but i still never expected how aggressive the gestures became by doing it once, twice, three, four, five? times. i was able to use the freedom i was living toward my body and tap into the holding space where i put all of my extremes. where i hold myself in. throw down the sand bags so that even the rising waters of can't seep through. but it's there. waiting for me to give it permission.

and i was reminded again about what a friend suggested: that my inability to express my sensuality is linked to my inability to release my rage. my violence. my self to the point of inflicting bodily harm in the name of the people i love.

i still have so much to learn about myself.

daunting/really exciting.

{and for those jumping into my writing, this is in reference to specific acting class assignments that involve imagining life changing circumstances to the farfarfar extreme. so, rest assured, i am still a healthy, well adjusted citizen of the cosmos.}

currently listening to: a mix cd from a friend titled usda grade a nut butter.

~nate the nut.

a year of small travels

roseburg, or
san diego, ca (x2)
eugene, or
estes park, co
vancouver, bc, canada
santa barbara, ca
los angeles, ca


currently listening to: high and dry - radiohead

\KAN-der\

candor \KAN-der\, noun:

1. honesty in giving one's view or opinion; frankness and sincerity
2. fairness; impartiality

c.1637 from earlier senses c. 1398, from latin candor "purity, openness," originally "whiteness," from latin candere "to shine."


i like how it's related to a color. whiteness.
and i like how it's intersected my life:
the dear one(s) who tell me the truth.
and gently guide me forward by illuminating the spaces
i could inhabit.
if i so chose.
and they make the choice so easy. {and fun}.


currently listening to: nothing. work was too stressful 1 1/2 radiohead songs in, so i had to turn it off. sigh.

abstinence

it's been a few days.
maybe a week.
two?

i don't know exactly. but however long it's been, i haven't been listening to radiohead for a significant amount of time in nathania cosmos.

but it's been more than just a choice to listen to something else.
it's been a quiet, deliberate avoidance.

then my ipod went kaput yesterday.
hopefully not permanently dead.
and until i figure it out, it's youtube music for me.

and i paused a few seconds before entering "radiohead" into the search field. not certain if i wanted to enter that space.

but i did.

and after scanning the first few hits, opted for an oldie, no surprises.

and sure enough, the familiar wash of color and constriction released from somewhere in my core - the literal feeling was as though a taut gauzy tape was slowly unwinding from around my heart. and suddenly it can see and hear and breathe again. though moments before hitting the play button, i hadn't even been aware that anything had been holding me in.


and there is

an ache

associated with this return to feeling.
like the pins and needles returning to flesh folded under the body, immobile and useless for too long.


and on top of this all is this driving curiosity that cornered me into my radiohead drought so that i can feel the prickle and ask myself
why?
how?
to what end and purpose?

{yet again}

in the hopes that this time there will be an answer.




currently listening to: radiohead on youtube.

nut.

has officially been added to my list of nicknames.
as always, it's as much a reflection of the giver as it is of their perception of me.
this one makes me smile all the way down to my toes.
and that's a good long distance.

the photographic dictionary

it makes my eyes salivate.
my pleasing-composition bone tingle.
my aesthetic heart swell.





so far i've only made it through "g" but here are just a few of my favorites:

http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/absence.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/breath.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/breeze.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/book.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/connection.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/disarray.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/dream.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/eight.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/fashion.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/field.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/flight.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/game.html

and occasionally i just plain ol' chuckle:

http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/fluff.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/curiosity.html


currently listening to: my neighbor's tv that never bothers me as much as i would think.
photo credit: josh murfitt

xanthous

\ZAN-thuhs\, adjective:

yellow; yellowish

an interesting color word. it slides off the tongue with assonance and flair.

alizarin & viridian are two other favorites. and if i take after my mother and grandmother and produce a set of twins (boy/girl being my wish), i would name them alizarin and viridian. nicknames could be zarin and dian. red/green. i always loved warm/cool color combinations. and it's a complimentary color scheme to boot.

currently listening to: silence. because i don't listen to music really when i'm sick.

finally!

i have internet at home.
more ability to blog. write significant emails. etc. etc.
yipee skippy.


oh, wait.
class starts today.
rehearsal starts tomorrow.
i got it just in time for having no time.
see you around.
perhaps.

turning over the year

it was a quiet night at home. just the way i wanted.

a few spacious hours to clean and shower (though the calm was violently interrupted by the fire alarm that suddenly, after a month of living in my new place, decided to wake the dead because steam -oh dear god, NOT STEAM! - was in my apartment). next, i puttered over to the kitchen to cook before two close friends came over.

a night of home made food. fresh (albeit slightly imperfect) cupcakes. pear cider. laughter. and honest communication of many forms.

it was a quiet night at home. and it held far more then i ever could have imagined.

i am grateful.

happy new year.