movement.

Just a guess, but 98.3 per cent of the people at the Air Canada Centre Tuesday night were women screaming for the cast of So You Think You Can Dance (season 5) from the US.

Another guess? Every single person swooned in the most memorable three dances of the summer that dealt with matter of the heart - addiction, cancer and love. There is something so exquisite about dance that when seen is person, is completely different than what it is like on television. For the emotion of these dancers transcended up to our upper balcony seats, and made my heart swell at times.

However, I have to question - what is the direction that dance is going?

We have been through the competition side of dance, in which spinning as much as possible and jumping to the roof was the preferred style of what the public deemed "amazing". Now, we are going through a contemporary movement, where is seems at times, that girls throwing their hair around is the ideal.

Quoi?

Not going to lie, I loved the show last night, but where are we going to go with dance, as what I like to call, the "Art" side of the performing art, is actually that - a piece of work that is to be viewed in the same sense as a painting or a film. Then there is the commercial side which is marketable, makes people want to dance and is accessible. Can they merge? Can we bring the technique, emotion, and raw essence of movement from mother's of modern dance (which is now being warped into this contemporary/lyrical/jazzy mix, which is kinda cool and super fun to dance) Martha Graham and Isadora Duncan into the Mia Michaels realm?

Perhaps we are going through a post-modern movement of dance (no pun intended) in which the commercial and more artistic side will break again or continue to intertwine even more. Does this mean that professional ballet dancers will lose their jobs if companies can take beautifully trained ballerinas, who also can pull off hip hop without a hitch - but they might not be the ideal statuesque height? Will the new dance audience get bored of the flashier dances and demand more training, thus more ballet-like performances? Only time can tell.

rain.

And the rain fell down today,
down into the cold, hard ground.
Summer is really over - but fall is on the way.

define.

+ project runway
+ coffee
+ heels
= perfection.

gah.

Sometimes, I feel like one of the only people who read The Devil Wears Prada before the film came out. Not going to lie, I loved the movie, but the book was so in depth about being the assistant of the mock-Vogue editor, and the pain that this girl went through some days was amazing to read about. That's what intrigues me so much about the documentary The September Issue. Will this be a real-life version of the fictional film, (of course, not word for word or anything in the obvious silly) or will it have taken a note from the public reaction of how fashion is perceived and play a little less-hardened?

Either way, I am super stoked for this to come out and as vain as it is, dying to see the clothes. I have been buying the "September Issue" since I was about 14-years-old. Now that I'm living in the city with all the lights and glamour (at times) this finally feels like it is paying off and I can put all that research to good use.

PS - Charlize Theron of the cover of the Vogue September Issue looks stunning. Once again, love the fashion and obsessing over the pleather legging/pants look that is oh-so-right-now. Oh yeah, I'm wearing my own pair this very moment.

mine.

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me understand
'cause I've been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands.

B&W2.

Boy Is That Girl With You
Yes We're One And The Same
Now I Believe In Miracles
And A Miracle
Has Happened Tonight
But, If
You're Thinkin'
About My Baby

It Don't Matter If You're
Black Or White

je t'aime.

Beatrice: Why then, God forgive me.
Benedick: What offence, sweet Beatrice?
Beatrice: You have stayed me in a happy hour, I was about to protest I loved you.
Benedick: And do it, with all thy heart.
Beatrice: I love you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest.
- William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

bon.

Sometimes things fall completely apart so better things can fall together. I really believe in that.

concept.

here.

There is something so beautiful and calming about Sunday morning. Yes, your ears might be ringing and your eyes are a little puffier than usual from not enough sleep the night before, but this is when you can feel completely yourself, whole and at peace with everything (excuse my run-on sentences, had to get that all out there) Do you ever notice how much better breakfast tastes on a Sunday? Perhaps it is because we are dashing through the week and don't notice how good eggs actually are, and that last sip of coffee is the perfect start of the day (especially with the last touch of sugar at the end of it).

Today is one of those days in Toronto. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, there's not a sound in the apartment but my fingers dancing across the keyboard and not an ambulance has gone screaming by (yet!). I can see the wind, pushing around the drop cloth for the new mural/window-washing building across the street, and that cute little old lady who lives somewhere in the building just walked her dog down the street (I love floor to ceiling windows). I feel like I'm doing and observatory piece for creative writing class.

Excuse all my cliches and sappy moments. But today is one of those days that although things have not worked out completely as I wanted them to, I'm trying to remember, no scratch that, know that everything is going to be okay, today is a new day, the sun is shining, the coffee is hot, and how lucky this life can be. I'm grateful for this gift. :)

this.

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939
by W.H. Auden Newhead News

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
'I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,'
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

speedy.

Holy these past couple of days have been crazy busy. More posts soon. But for now, this whole outfit is amazing - I love Betsey Johnson so much.

yay.

It's Friday. Done class for the week and saw Megan Fox and Adam Brody last night.