existential crises of communication.

Listening to: Modest Mouse — Perpetual Motion Machine

First, something superficial: the #1 taboo of boarding school roommates is to never match. Usually, my roommate and I — two people with completely different styles and different wardrobes — avoid this pretty well. Until yesterday when, having not seen each other until first period math, we realized, horrified that we were both wearing the exact same dress (which I was going to link to, but apparently it’s no longer on forever 21′s website), with gray sweaters and black boots. The boots and sweater part wasn’t so bad, since I wear black boots and/or a gray sweater about 75% of the time, but the situation was rather awkward, and made even more so by the fact that the two of us aren’t really close as in “matching-buddies” close. Or at all, really. Crisis (and English class, God) was averted by my roommate’s decision to get changed between classes, which was only fair because I got dressed first. But what was ironic was that we were talking about probability in class, and we’d just figured out that the probability of one person with three shirts, skirts and pairs of shoes running out of distinct outfits was almost infinitesimal.

Okay. Superficiality out. I guess I’ll have to talk about my spiffy new shoes at some later time.

Something you may or may not have inferred about me is that I have a deep love of modernist architecture, especially of the glass-walled open-spaces neighbor-irritating variety. I’d live in one of said houses if I hadn’t already decided that I’m living in a minimalist loft/studio/penthouse. So recently I’ve been thinking about architecture as my Future Plan, since I’d be able to marry art/design and science and get to Create Stuff. The only snag here is that I can only draw diagonal lines, not horizontal or vertical ones, which might not be such a problem if I’m going to be all modern and such.

Also, the dance troupe has just been alerted that our upcoming performance is going to be black box-style, which is both cool and intimidating. One of the sections of the piece we’re working on is to Yael Naim’s cover of “Toxic”, which is a really good cover of a questionable song except that it ends in pan-fluting. The dance itself is this half-burlesque half-broken doll/clown/ballerina doll clown type thing, which actually looks a lot better than whatever the hell I just described. We practiced it yesterday in tutus, except that my tutu was actually a crinoline so it was rather difficult to roll around the floor in. Today I will have to act fast and take one of the normal tutus, so I don’t spend the entire practice hiking up my skirt.

Speaking of dances, though, this coming lack-of-weekend is going to be party central around here. Friday’s our previously Winter, but postponed until Spring Formal, which is awkward because there’s still school the next day. But Saturday, there’s a GSA-hosted interschool dance somewhere else, so by Sunday I expect that my feet will be quite sore. Last year I was even more socially awkward than I am this year, and so dances of all kinds were rather uncomfortable for me (I was dragged along, nevertheless, by my dear friend the Hungarian), but I’m determined to make them better this time around.

I have so much awkward free time right now that I’m procrastinating my procrastination. I’m actually starting to resent it, it and the uncomfortable rain that hasn’t got the memo to STOP ALREADY.

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  1. Clothing synchronicity!

  2. Now, what were the probabilities that I would read a blog post with architectural references, when part of my day was devoted to distinguish between Carpenter Gothic or Streamline Moderne? Pretty slim, I say!

  3. Modernist architecture… it can be done right and wrong. As an urban planner, I can appreciate it when done nicely.

    I’ve matched dresses with acquaintances before. Unbelievably awkward for me.

    D

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