Rain and Roses

I've been going out dancing on a once- or twice-weekly basis for some time now, and I've made some interesting observations during the times when I wasn't busy grooving myself.  Given how dance floors are (thanks to the loud music) necessarily a place where body language reigns, I sometimes feel like I get a better feel for social interactions than when I'm listening to conversations, where people can use words to obfuscate their meaning as well as clarify it.

One thing I've noticed is how differently women and men tend to dance, at least at the venues here in this town.  Women tend to congregate in groups and kind of groove in place, sometimes adding in arm movements, whereas men (at least the few who are brave enough to give it a go) tend to go solitary and move around the floor a lot more.  When a mixed-sex couple dances together, a lot of my impression of their relationship comes from how they move - couples who are comfortable with each other tend to move more or less equally, whereas with couples who (I theorize; I admit I don't have much hard data to back this up) are in unhealthy relationships there's a notable imbalance, not to mention a distinct difference in the way that they move.

Something else that puzzles me is how few girls seem to know how to attract male attention.  I know a lot of girls who dance just want to groove by themselves, which is just fine, but more than once I've seen a girl dancing with her friends and sneaking furtive glances towards some dude or other who's oblivious to her.  More than once I've just wanted to take her aside, sit her down and explain to her that male attention isn't hard to get:  Dancing sexy is all well and good, but if you're trying to get someone's specific attention, you have to make eye contact.  Not the furtive glances, but long, lingering looks.  So few girls seem to understand that eye contact is the key to seduction - you can make anything from dancing to eating to twirling your hair look sexy if you hold someone's eye while you do it.  I think a lot of girls/women are uncomfortable with the concept because they see it as too aggressive, and it is - you're issuing a challenge to the person, telling them you're interested, asking them if they have the guts to answer.  It takes a lot of self-confidence, and people might snicker at you, but it's only because they can't handle it themselves.  (One of my favorite memories from high school is from my junior year, when word got around that despite my being the girl all the other girls laughed at, somehow I'd had (gasp!) eight boyfriends!  And suddenly those same girls who laughed started coming to me for advice.)  Some guys will get weirded out by the challenge, but in my experience they've universally been the sort who couldn't handle a real relationship anyway; a dude who's self-confident enough to treat his partner as an equal will be inexorably drawn to the attention.  Guys are just as nervous as girls about rejection, and the sheer fact that you're indicating your interest is enough to instantly make you sexier to him than any number of other girls in the room who are studiously avoiding eye contact.

Now, to be honest, I'm just curious why it is that I seem to have always known this instinctively, when so many girls seem so completely clueless about it.

T minus 6 hours until the Great Karaoke Showdown, and I'm still not certain what to sing for the sad/dramatic round. Pondering "Total Eclipse of the Heart", but I'm not certain if I'm a good enough performer to overcome the audience's collective "oh my god I've heard this so many times" aversion.

Suggestions?

I now have something I can add to the list of "things random dudes have handed me in bars": A $10 bill. I guess he liked my singing/dancing...? Better than plagarized song lyrics, I suppose.

To be fair, I was feeling pretty on top of my game today. There wasn't much of a crowd at the Viking, which might have helped me be less nervous singing, or maybe I was feeling confident due to having (along with Brian) pulled off a successful first radio show. Either way, I was feeling pretty rocking, both on karaoke and the dance floor. I'm just sorry there wasn't more of an audience to see it. Although when we went to the Imperial (which has a better dance floor, but no karaoke), there were a couple of guys sitting by the edge of the dance floor I managed to keep pretty entranced. There's a definite ego boost there, having someone's undivided attention like that.

Monica was there, and a new friend of hers called Ben, who seemed pretty cool; he reminded me of some of the guys I used to hang out with in high school. We had a good time dancing together - I took turns dancing with him, and Monica, and then both at once. I think I intimidated him a bit at first, but he soon got into it and we all had fun.

The show this afternoon went great - thanks to everyone who listened and/or requested! Brian handled most of the technical stuff, although I assisted and did a couple mic breaks. Thanks to the giant KTOO library, we found some good blues-y and jazzy music, including a track called "Dumpster Blues" by a group named Watermelon Slim and the Workers. I may have to track that album down; any dude who does a blues song about a garbage truck driver is probably worth listening to.

I did have a couple other things to write about, but I should really get some sleep. So tomorrow (later today?) I'll tell you all about my new makeup, the yard-sign war going on near our house. For now, adios.

I attended a Master Class last week, taught by a classical soprano, and one of the first things she told me was that, when performing, I needed to ditch the glasses. Apparently a singer's eyes are the most expressive part of her face, and glasses obscure them.

I've spent most of my life wearing glasses, with only occasional breaks (until I got tired of futzing with contacts), so I was at first hesitant to imagine doing so regularly. But I took a couple of quick pictures with my MacBook webcam to compare, and I think I see what she means. After thinking about it a bit, I realized that that's probably why I like my glasses so much - they give me a sense of being one step removed from other people, and without them I look more vulnerable.

But I'm not the best person to judge, so I'm asking you fine folk: Imagine I'm dressed up for a performance here (instead of just going to the Viking), and tell me which picture makes more of a connection with you, the audience member.






or

I auditioned this morning for Juneau Lyric Opera, a local group who've done some pretty impressive productions in the past. I didn't feel like I was at my best - I'm still getting over this cold, and that combined with having been out late last night wasn't doing good things for my voice - but I felt like I finished strongly, which is the most important bit. Anyway, it was a fairly brief affair; they didn't seem like incredibly chatty folk (most likely they were trying to get through the roster without keeping people waiting), but they were friendly enough. Given that I don't know any of the folk there, and that they're not even starting rehearsals until early next year, I'd figured that I wouldn't hear from them for a month or two, if at all.

So imagine my surprise when I get a call from the director roughly eight hours later asking me if I wanted to be in the chorus for The Mikado. He seemed excited about offering me the part, too, which added to my general sense of taken-abackedness - admittedly, he might just be a generally enthusiastic person, but he said that it was good to see new people who wanted to join up. I guess I can see that; the Juneau labor pool has been slowly drying up over the past couple years, and while there's always been a high percentage of talented and artistic people in town, that pool has to have been shrinking as well. So, hurray, I guess. I'm looking forward to it.

Brian and I went to visit kitties at the shelter today, partly to spend time with them and also partly to see if any of them seemed like they'd be a good friend for Dexter. We didn't find any who seemed exactly right, but it was fun meeting some new ones. They had a very sweet Himalayan named Sierra who'd unfortunately been back there a few times; she was lovely, but rather timid, and Dexter's rambunctious enough that we were concerned she wouldn't be happy with us. Which is really too bad, 'cos I'd have loved to give her a good home.

The 80s dance last night was most excellent. I got several compliments on my outfit, and Lydia and I quite literally danced the night away, until our feet hurt too much to continue and we were both starving (yay late-night Pel'Menis). Plus I got a lapdance! And gave her one too, to David Bowie and Queen singing "Under Pressure". So it was pretty sweet altogether. Also, the midnight screening of "Thriller" was awesome. (Although in hindsight, during the transformation sequences, the Michael Jackson/plastic surgery jokes sort of write themselves.) If my apocalypse has zombie-Michael-Jackson leading a troupe of dancing zombies, I won't be too upset, because it will have been greatly entertaining.

You know, during our vacation, I did almost nothing but bitch about how there's nothing to do in Juneau to everyone who asked what it's like to live here. So it absolutely figures that as soon as I get back, there's about sixteen things that I want to do, including an 80s costume dance KXLL is throwing tonight to finish their pledge drive, and auditions for Juneau Lyric Opera, who are apparently doing The Marriage of Figaro and The Mikado this year.

Given that I only got back Wednesday, I didn't have much time to find a costume, but thanks to Alaska Dames and Fred Meyer (and the fact that giant chunky 80s jewelry is apparently back in fashion) I managed to put together a pretty awe-inspiringly awful outfit. Tight black satin pants with silver pinstripes, a bright pink sheer top (to be worn with my newly-acquired black Victoria's Secret bra beneath), and a black satin blazer with shoulder pads - which, at Brian's advice, I put extra padding into. (Silliness of the style aside, I can sort of see how it caught on with women's clothing - broadening the shoulders makes the waist look smaller and creates a rather flattering silhouette. Aside from, y'know, the whole linebacker-shoulders thing.) Plus, of course, a metric assload of beads, hoops, chunky heart earrings, and bracelets. How did Like Totally 80s put it? "We didn't accessorize...we excessorized." And I'm probably going to spend the entire evening teasing my hair and doing makeup. Wish me luck.

(And before everyone starts asking, yes, Brian's already promised to take pictures. Hopefully I can get him to process them quickly enough to have them up this weekend.)

I'm a bit apprehensive about auditions, 'cos they're tomorrow morning and I only found out about them today - not exactly a lot of time to learn a song. But I'll see what I can do...JLO's done some pretty stellar productions in the past, and I've always wanted to do Gilbert & Sullivan.

It was a pretty laid-back night at the Viking. Brian came along, so we didn't stay too late, but I at least got a little dancing in as well as a couple games of pool. Monica and Eric were there too, but no Lydia. Also, the Viking makes a horrendous vodka and cranberry - even when you ask for the good vodka, the cranberry juice is so watered down and over-sugared that it's frankly hardly worthy of the term; I guess Brian will have to find a new favorite drink if he comes again. But we had a decent time anyway.

Now for a bit of an admission. Earlier this week, I was having a conversation with a coworker of mine who's a very conservative thinker in some ways. I was telling him a bit about my completely passive-aggressive nonconfrontational aunt who can't deal with problems directly, and he started insisting that that was normal female behavior. I challenged that assumption by saying that it had far less to do with chromosomal aberrations than it did with a society that reinforced and encouraged such behavior in women, and he said something along the lines of "But most women just can't deal with things directly. That's why you're not really feminine, more some kind of hybrid..."

I realize he didn't intend it as an insult, but I ended up feeling rather offended. It wasn't a big enough deal to really bring up again, especially since I'm certain I'm not going to convince him otherwise, but I'll admit it bugged me.

So tonight, I related a shortened version of the event to the audience, asked them to be the judge, and sang Shania Twain's "Man, I Feel Like A Woman", dedicated to my coworker. It was...cathartic. Didn't hurt that there was a good audience, too - even though technically it wasn't my best job, I dare say I did pretty damn well on the performance aspect. I got a fair amount of applause, too, and a comment from the karaoke host: "You know, Rose, I saw you walking down the street the other day, and from a mile away I could tell that you were a woman." That made me laugh.

I went to the Viking tonight as usual, but unfortunately I was mostly alone - Monica was tired and stayed home, and Lydia wasn't feeling great so she holed up early. I had a pretty decent time on my own, though, and returned home with some amusing stories to relate.

After I was done dancing, I headed back to the karaoke area, to find that I was being followed by one of the women who'd been out there. She'd obviously had a bit to drink, but was still speaking clearly (something I couldn't say for all the singers). She approached me, and the conversation went something like this:

"Hey, why're you leaving?"

"I'm done dancing for now."

"Oh. *pause* You're really beautiful, you know."

"Thank you!"

"No, I mean really. You looked so good out there dancing...are you a stripper?"

"Nah. Thought about it, but my mother would kill me."

"That's really too bad. You're so beautiful...I'm straight, and I've never had a woman turn me on as much as you."

*trying not to laugh, since that would be impolitic* "Well, thank you."

"I'm going to go dance more. See you."

I also had one dude tell me he liked my dancing. He invited me to join his table (it was his family reunion week) but I've never been too fond of hanging out with large groups of people I don't know, so I gracefully declined. Fortunately he was a good sport about it. Persistent, though - he must've come back and talked to me three different times. But he was respectful, so I didn't mind.

I sang "Centerfold" the first time around, then went and did some (apparently lust-inducing, and hopefully calorie-burning) dancing. When I got back, I was going to do "Hit Me Baby One More Time" for the irony value (I was dressed pretty far away from Britney's infamous schoolgirl outfit), but apparently that song didn't make it through the migration to their new system, so I ended up singing "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" since that's what came up. It was pretty fun - it's hard to go wrong with Pat Benatar, and I got some good feedback from the crowd.

Earlier today, I went to Alaska Dames to look for some fun clothes I could wear out, since I only had two or three before. I found some good tops, including an underwired tank that does nice things for my cleavage (worn tonight, which might've had something to do with the number of encounters), and a cute 80s-style wide-neck shirt that I could probably also wear to work. And in a fit of optimism, I dropped $5 on a way-cute little belly shirt - it's a sleeveless v-neck that comes down to just under the ribcage, and will really look quite flattering if I can lose a bit of weight around the midsection. So my goal is to be able to wear it by spring.

Wow, and I thought last Saturday at the Viking was fun. I'm starting to see why it is some people hang out at bars frequently - the more people you know who're there, the more fun it is.

To be fair, it didn't start out super-promising. I got there at 10:00, which is usually when things are in pretty full swing on a Saturday night, but it was near-dead. I met up with Lydia and her boyfriend Zack; we chatted for a bit until Monica and Eric got there. Then, since the line wasn't super-long, I went up to sing.

Related aside: I realize that this is Juneau, and we don't have all the nifty-awesome things that other places have because we're so out of the way. I'm cool with that, really. But - not having "My Sharona" available as a karaoke track? The #1 hit of 1979? What is wrong with you, people?? End of aside.

I found myself singing "Hand In My Pocket" sort of on the spur of the moment (hooray for my high-school obsession with Alanis Morrisette; I memorized that entire album in high school so I can always fall back on it). It was pretty fun. Obviously there weren't too many people there, but most of them were paying at least partial attention, and I think I did a pretty good rendition.

Afterward we went upstairs to play some pool. Monica and Eric beat Lydia and me three times in a row, but it was okay - we had a lot of fun anyway. (It helped that whoever was in charge of the music upstairs had much better taste than the usual hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop, and more hip-hop.) And midway through the game, Alfie (a mostly online/work friend that I'd invited along) showed up, so there were lots of people to chat with, which was pretty awesome. Zack bought me something called a Jamaican 10-Speed to try. I had about five sips of it and decided it was way too dangerous for me; it tasted good, but there was a pretty serious amount of booze in there. So the rest got split up between Monica and Lydia and Alfie. Which is probably the safest way to drink something like that.

Eric ended up leaving after the last game, while the rest of us went downstairs to dance. I'm not sure what happened this time around - I usually only have the stamina for one or two songs at most, but I was really grooving and having just a fantastic time out on the floor. (Maybe there's Red Bull in a Jamaican 10-Speed?) Lydia and Monica and Alfie all danced with me, and if the music wasn't more varied than the usual hip-hop, it was at least decent hip-hop. After about an hour of dancing on and off (mostly on), though, I was starting to figure that maybe I should have a break. We all went to check out the karaoke section again.

Things had picked up in the meantime, and I was impressed; there were some truly good singers going. Just for the heck of it, I put my name in for Madonna's "Beautiful Stranger". It's not exactly musically challenging, but it's a lot of fun to perform nonetheless; I actually managed to get a few folks' attention while I was singing, which I took to be a good sign. (Amusing story: When the MC called my name, some other dude was up there with me asking what he was supposed to be singing; I guess his name sounded like mine. The MC explained to him that I was the one he'd called, which seemed to relieve the other guy. He turned around, caught sight of me, and looked taken aback; I quirked an eyebrow at him and he said, "You're beautiful!" before heading back to his friends. It made me laugh, partly because of his seeming wonderment but mostly because it seemed genuinely sweet [not to mention much classier than the usual cadre of "compliments" girls hear from drunk dudes in bars]. It was probably due in part to him I sang as well as I did.)

Shortly afterward, Alfie sang "Basket Case"; quite courageously, I thought, since the woman who was on before him was one of the aforementioned excellent singers. But he obviously had fun with it, and he managed to charm a decent segment of the crowd, so he got some cheers and applause. I have to admit, it was a lot of fun seeing someone else I knew have fun performing. He didn't do a half-bad job, either. I guess Green Day's one of those bands that practically anyone can sing.

After that, I was about ready to go; I went back to the dance floor to go find Monica and tell her I was leaving, but ending up dancing to another couple songs. Go figure. :) I did get out eventually, and was making my way through the karaoke section when a young-looking dude shoved a slip of paper in my hand. I didn't really get a good look at him, just an impression of longish brown hair and black clothing. But once we all got outside, I looked at the paper (it was a karaoke request slip) and found this scrawled on the back:

STAB ME,
DIRECTLY IN
MY HEART.
LIVING WATCH
ME BLEED, LYING
AT YOUR FEET.
DYING, LIVING
FOR JUST ONE
LAST BREATH
WITH YOU.

...I guess I *would* attract the goth/emo fans, wouldn't I?

For all the OMG! DARK!ness, it was sort of sweet, even if the only emotion it really evoked in me was laughter at its absurdity. Alfie thought it was hilarious, too - apparently he also used to write poems for random girls in bars when he was younger. (Although to be fair, I don't have any way of knowing whether he wrote it for me or just wrote it offhand and was looking for some cute girl to foist it onto. But Alfie said it was definitely for me specifically, so I'll trust his judgment.) I think I'll put a date on it and save it in my memento box. My first fan letter. :D

Going home, I had a bit of a scare; as I turned onto our street out here in North Douglas, I saw a black-and-white cat by the side of the road with markings very similar to Dexter's. I stopped the car and got out to make sure, of course; fortunately, I could tell from the pitch of her Miaouing that it wasn't him. I coaxed her to come up for some skritchings; she was definitely a well-fed house cat, so I figured she wasn't lost or a stray. Hopefully she enjoyed her nighttime sojourn.

That was pretty much it. I'm still a touch worked up, so I might have a bath before bed. Hooray for not having to worry about waking up the neighbors!