My stomach is making noises exactly like the ones my cat Boris makes when Jon kicks him across the room. Why now? Why am I so sick during tech week? Tonight was our last real rehearsal, my last chance to improve my dancing instead of just running it onstage. I couldn't dance. I could barely mark. I feel like I'm going to die because of the minimal amount of physical exertion I just, um, exerted.

It doesn't help that I realized today that I will have no one next year. Jon will get a job and go away. Olivia will leave to God knows where. Ilana will be in Russia. And of course, I have no other friends because I am all pathetic like that. Fuck, I don't even have a place to live as of June 15th. I'm fucked.

Sorry. Self-pity over.

Labels: corsaire, friends, sick

I have gone the entire day without coffee. Bad idea. Thankfully, I have not gotten a migraine, but it has resulted in me being awake for a grand total of seven hours today, and not even in a row. Also, it has made doing my homework completely impossible. It's 11pm. I'm going to bed.

Labels: coffee

Around 4:30 this morning I woke up and sat bolt upright in bed. I've been having nightmares every night pretty consistently for the past few weeks, so I've gotten used to waking up at odd hours. Still, when I wake up from dreams, I always remember them. Last night, though, I could not for the life of me figure out what made me wake up. But it was 4:30 in the morning, so I did what any normal person would do. I went back to bed.

Turns out, I am not completely insane, and that most of Chicago (and surrounding areas) had a similar experience.

I'm very proud to say I've lived through my first earthquake!

Labels: chicago, earthquake

It's amazing how doing something like writing that linguistics assignment can cheer me up. I mean, I was vaguely interested in what I was writing about, so that didn't suck so much. But really, to have it finished, even if it sucks, is such a relief. I still have shit tons of reading to do, and that's only one of three that I should have done by Friday (though it's so long he might count it as two), but I feel better. I'm not in tears anymore. I'm not a completely worthless person.

Now I go read some Kant.

Fuck Kant.

Labels: school

The more I consider the English guy, the more certain I am that it cannot exist ubiquitously. Maybe eventually it will develop into some universal word that can be applied to any noun, animal, vegetable, or mineral. At present, however, it exists in the language under strict, though admittedly broad, grammatical boundaries. Though the data provided seem to imply that "guy" may reference a male, female, animal, or inanimate object, in reality, such liberal usage would be absurd and convoluted, if not completely incomprehensible.

It seems the most common usage of guy fits nicely into the gender package for human reference words of most romance languages. The Spanish amigo, for instance, operates under the same conditions. The terms of use for amigo(s) offer it a certain amount of flexibility of gender, seeing as under certain circumstances it can apply to females. The same is true of many other person referencing nouns, such as Spanish padre(s) and hermano(s), and the French ami(s) and cousin(s). Amigo in its singular form will refer to one male friend. If the friend were female, it would of course take the feminine singular amiga. Describing groups of friends is slightly more complicated, but still follows strict rules. A group of male friends is amigos, a group of female friends is amigas, but as soon as one male enters the group of females, the feminine plural is unacceptable. Equally unacceptable is referring to a purely male group as amigas. It would be nonsensical, and probably insulting.

In casual speech - though it's not terribly common to come across guy anywhere but casual speech - guy functions in a parallel manner. One male can be called a "guy", and a group of males or a mixed gender group can be called "guys" with no objections from the parties involved. Calling any of the aforementioned by a strictly feminine reference would, like in the case of amigas, be nonsensical and insulting, except under very specific circumstances where the male prefers to consider himself a member of the opposite gender. Equally, to address a single female as a "guy" or a group of females as some "guys" would be very irregular. Though it is possible and even likely that the desired message would be communicated, it is certain that the listener's cognition would stumble momentarily.

Of course, there exist what appear to be contradictions to these conditions, as evidenced by the data set. While you could never say "este coche es un amigo" logically, one could easily say "Watch this guy on your left (31)," referencing a car, and be perfectly understood. Similarly, one can refer to molecules as "these guys" (35) and a gun (29) or a galaxy (27) as "this guy." These genderless (in English, at least) objects can adopt the guy reference, but require a demonstrative modifier. If one were to say, "There's a guy in there between the carbon and oxygen," the mind jumps to an image of a tiny man squeezed between two atoms, instead of the intended idea of an unknown or unnamed molecule.

With reference to females, guy functions similarly. If it is perfectly definitive who is being reference, as well as their gender, guy is an acceptable replacement. For instance, saying “Olivia and Rachel are at my apartment, so I’m going to hang out with those guys,” is understood to mean that the speaker will visit with two females, Olivia and Rachel. On the other hand, if the speaker were not to specify the guests and say simply, “I’m going to hang out with the guys at my apartment,” the listener would likely assume the speaker to be visiting with a group of males or a group of mixed gender. In the data provided, “We’ve got our two little guys going in first” (32) is only a clear statement because a specific group of people is being discussed, and it is assumed that the listener understands exactly who the speaker is referring to and what gender they are, since they are “our…guys” and not just some guys.

One additional oddity in the use of guy is when using it to address the listener. “Hi guys,” is perfectly acceptable is casual conversation, regardless of the gender of the audience. So long as one is addressing a group informally, you guys is appropriate, and is generally preferred to addressing both the males and females separately, and in certain circumstances be preferred to addressing a group of females by a specifically females title. Saying “Girls! Girls! Wait for me!” just does not sound right unless the speaker is chasing after a couple of six-year old girls.

In the politically correct world we live in, language is definitely being targeted by the idea that everyone should be treated equally. This is reflected in the data where a speaker refers to a woman as “a guy” and declares that she ignores gender when using the word (22). This is clearly an active effort on the part of the speaker to neutralize gender in the word. Though she may attempt to remove the gender boundaries surrounding the word, it is apparent that the effort is not widespread, as her listener does not merely question her wording, but corrects her memory, insisting it was a woman. Because of these presuppositions we currently ascribe to guy, I am sure that it cannot be used to refer to just anything, and to the best of my understanding of its use, I see it conforming to wide but firm rules of everyday speech.

Labels: college, linguistics, writing

Thank God. It is over. That was a horribly hellish week. I would love to do it again though if it wasn't for that horrible stage mother. I did get to be fabulous with Michael, though. And I got a picture with my one true love, Angel. He is so beautiful. Ignore his homosexuality.

Labels: abt, ballet, corsaire, school

I'm pretty sure Aurora is the one who is supposed to fall over at the end of the first act. Maybe I was just getting a little too into the story. In any case, prologue goes by, everything's fine. I do my quick change, get onstage fine for the first act, chill through rose adagio, and then start to feel a little funny. Aurora's friends dance and I wiggle my feet around, trying to get the circulation going again. Aurora comes on the do her variation, and suddenly, I cannot see her anymore. I cannot see anything anymore. Everything is black and I can't feel my legs. I grab Michael and tell him through my teeth (because I am smiling like a crazy person), "I can't see anything, I can't feel my legs, and I'm going to fall over." Michael, being a saint, grabs me and holds me up until Aurora's variation is over, and during the applause he drags me offstage, where I am grabbed by three or four people I cannot see and dragged over to the quick change area. I'm shoved in a chair and people are ripping off my clothes and wig and handing me ice packs. These ABT people may be crazy, but they sure are organized. They get shit done. There was even a woman who just didn't leave my side until I decided to go home. She just tried to keep my alert and laughing and hydrated. Everyone was perfectly nice. There wasn't even a hint of frustration or annoyance. Still, I am really embarrassed. It's not like I was dancing or anything. I was just standing there. And then, like a moron, I started to faint. What the hell? Now I'm home, trying to eat as much as I can, and my cover is going to do the show tonight. Hopefully I'll be alright by tomorrow. I'm sure I will be. I just don't want to miss Julie Kent's performance. Plus everyone from UB will be there tomorrow, so I have to be particularly ridiculous.

Labels: abt, ballet, fainting

I am considering murdering you, woman. I hate stage mothers. Woman, your daughter is not even dancing. She is onstage for approximately three minutes, and for half of that she is pretending to be asleep. Stop trying to get her “special shoes” and a “principal’s costume.” And I hate to break it to you, but you are not in the show at all. Stop trying to get onto the stage, stop harassing the costume people, and stop, please stop, telling stories about how it used to be. I don’t care how many times you have been a super. I am really not impressed. This is not exactly a difficult job. Plus, you are too fat to fit any of ABT’s costumes. You’re freaking out all the dancers just by being in the same building with them. I feel a little like vomiting just sitting next to you.

Labels: abt, hatred

qwantz.com - dinosaur comics - April 09 2008

If there is a god...yep.

My brain is tired. My body is not that tired, but my brain is tired. I slept in till eleven this morning, and I am still so so tired at only 3:45pm. Well, I guess there was that rather abrupt wake-up call around 8:30 from Nick and Erfurt. Though hilarious, it was earlier than I anticipated waking up, since Tuesdays are happy sleep in day.

ABT is eating my life. Upward of 30 hours between now and Sunday. Olivia isn't doing it anymore. She needs to take care of herself. I am very happy, because she was so super stressed out, something had to go. I wanted to suggest it earlier, but I didn't want to seem even bitchier than I already have been recently. Still, I am really glad she's not going to die. I like her a lot. I would probably not be as happy if she was dead.

I really had something funny to say, but my brain is too tired. I want to take a nap, but I have to leave for the Civic Center in half an hour, and I need food before then.

Labels: abt, ballet, olivia

After nights like last night, I really need a reality check. No matter how badly I may want to be six years old, I'm not. I need to grow up. Grow up.

In the spirit of not growing up, though, I'm going to be a super in ABT's Chicago production of Sleeping Beauty. So, you know, I am going to stand around onstage for two hours or so in a ridiculous dress, and it will be awesome. Olivia, Michael, and I will pretend that we are members of ABT, we will meet Angel and Julie and Ethan and Gillian, and we will call them by their first names. Rumor has it we will get paid to do all of this.

Also, a bunch of UB kids are coming to see the show on Friday night, so they will see us. That is pretty cool. There isn't any dancing involved, obviously, but still. Pretty fun.

Labels: ballet, chicago

I've put the children to bed. Can I go to bed now? I am so sleepy. They have a dinner time cookie time on Fridays and a song for bathroom time and a special rhyme that keeps them safe in their bubble all night long. I want that. I wish somebody would tuck me in.

Lincoln, the four year old, declared before going to bed, "I like you. You are allowed to come back." I thanked him and told him I would love to come back, but Maggie, the two (almost three) year old said, "No. She can't come back because I don't like her." I said, "I'm sorry you don't like me, Maggie. I won't come back if you don't want me to. But why don't you like me?" "Because," she said, "your earring is all bent and why are you wearing earrings but not a necklace?"

Also, Maggie is under the impression that she does not have to wear a diaper at night because she is a girl and has a China but Lincoln has to because he is a boy and has an eenis. I told her I didn't realize that's how it worked, and she told me that from now on I don't have to wear my diaper to bed if I have a China. Thanks, Maggie. I'll keep that in mind.

Labels: amusing, children

So, this is the new nattily. It is better. It is not perfect. Also, it is not yet applied to most pages, so if you happen to wander around the site you will probably end up in a world full of errors.

Meanwhile, I want to blog about a million different things, but I feel like I can't legitimately do so until I finish the update.

So, things I hope to talk about soon:

1. Use of the word "guy" in English.
2. Being in classes again.
3. Having a new home.
4. Candy.

Hopefully I will get to those sometime in the near future.

Labels: nattily

Chuck Norris - Google Search

Sometimes when I am in the shower and have just washed my hair, I set the shampoo and conditioner down on the rim of the bathtub. Moments later, I stare at the bottles, trying to figure out if I have washed my hair already or not.

This takes lather, rinse, repeat to a whole new level.

The level of complete circular retardation.

Labels: daily grind, dumb

Today is my first day back in Chicago after spring break. Thursday will be my last. We were going to wait until summer for this, but after last week, it's not worth it. I need to be gone. Completely gone. Jon and I are leaving for France. We decided a few days ago, but we wanted to come back to Chicago to deal with a few things first. I have to formally withdraw from school and he needs to work out a way to get his diploma now so he doesn't have to come back in June to graduate. Jon has a friend from home who is going to meet us in Paris. He says Jon should have no trouble getting a job bartending, and I'm hoping to get a job dancing. That probably won't happen, so I might end up bartending, too. We'll figure something out.

Also, because I know a few of you will care, Jon and I got married. Nothing huge, it's just easier to travel that way. We got off the plane and went to the chapel in the airport. There was not a soul there besides the priest. (I think it was a priest, I'm not really sure. Religious people confuse me.) Apparently hop-off/on-the-plane-and-get-married weddings are not as rare as you might think. Everything we needed to do to make it official was there. I even pulled the white summer dress I got at Ross a few days ago out of my suitcase just for good measure. I mean, it (the marriage thing) was no big deal, it was just for simplicity's sake.

So, yeah. I guess that's it. Tonight I'm packing up all my stuff, tomorrow I'm shipping most of it to Paris's 19th arrondissement, and then Thursday evening we catch a redeye flight to meet up with it.

Labels: france, jon, paris, wedding