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For some reason, even though class was only a couple of hours ago, it feels like a complete blur. I can vividly recall the first class, but today just feels like a big muddle of movement and noise.

I am writing this in the middle of a class entitled "Operating System Design" with a professor who is as boring as paint drying slowly. It always feels weird to go from very physical and liberating Theatre classes, which feel almost like play, to the CS classes, which are all analytical and mathematical. It's almost as bad as when I had Scenography followed immediately by Design and Analysis of Algorithms. That was a thorough mindfuck.

I thoroughly enjoy soft focus. However, if you walk around during the day in soft focus, people usually think you're either angry or crazy.

Something new I learned: the reasoning behind the whole Joshua exercise. I knew it was a vocal warm-up, but I guess I never made the connection of the forward motion of the sounds' origin. That's why I keep getting up every day: to go to bed with more information than I had when I got out of it.

After our breathing exercises, I wished I could spend more time breathing. Not really doing anything, just checking in with the instrument and feeling the expansion and contraction of the lungs and diaphragm. I guess that's why arriving early was invented.

Tossing the ball was fun. At one point it really made me miss playing baseball, until I threw one too hard at Evil Katie and my hand went numb. Take-home lesson: control.

The body contact game was thoroughly enjoyable. I feel like the game requires a certain connection among the participants, and it was fun to see how the various group minds formed, finding different ways to connect five hips or four feet or two elbows. It was awesome during one moment when someone had the exact same idea as I did, and we just connected immediately without all the hurried fumbling and limb-counting.

I resolved today to start working out again, what with the body being the instrument and my body being a guitar that just got smashed through an amplifier.

I found it challenging to reflect on what groups and styles other people think I belong to. I generally don't get into the whole practice of labeling people, because I feel like complete individuals aren't binary entities; we aren't one way or not that way. I don't get mad when other people want to categorize, but I feel like all labels are right and wrong.

Since I couldn't remember the resolution to the Three Little Pigs, I did some hard-hitting research (a minute and a half of browsing Wikipedia). After the wolf fails to blow down the third pig's house (the wolf apparently has smoker's lung, because I know I have enough lung power to knock down brick and mortar), he tries to outsmart the pig and fails. Finally, the wolf climbs to the roof and attempts to go in through the chimney. The pig, being a crafty mofo, puts a pot of boiling water in his fireplace. The wolf summarily falls into said pot, the pig slams down the lid, and cooks the wolf and eats him. Wonderful.

On a gloriously unrelated note, once class got out, I put some Portuguese hip hop on my iPod, and it was glorious. Some languages just seem to lend themselves well to certain genres of music.

I'm off in search of food...