the_literary_spider: (Default)
 Hello dears,

So today I went to see Recipe for life, at the West Yorkshire playhouse. My sister was in it, as were several of my friends; this proved to me that Quarry Hill is indeed the cradle of culture. I myself was not involved, and I bitterly regret it, but I had an amazing time.

The entire night was in support of Space 2, a small but big-impact charity that focused on bringing health to communities through the arts and creative outlets. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it was amazing. There were appearances from Northern Contemporary Dance, (Close to my heart, as I attend there) Phoenix Dance (also close to my heart, as that's where the Better half attends) Yorkshire Dance (Also close, as my sister was performing there) and First Floors shake the Dust poets (Where my friends performed, and were amazing)

I adored every minute of it. NSCD did a harrowing piece on the 7 ages of man. It was based on the experiences of the members of an old man club started by space two. It was confusing, painful to watch, and awkward, but all in a deliberate way that meant you couldn't tear yourself away for a moment. Akin to a car crash or the eyes of a python, I was a entranced. To open it, one member of the club said he was going to recite two poems. one about getting old but getting through, and one about having arthritis in his hands and overcoming it. I thought it would be good. 

Then he began to sing, and from him pored the richest, jazziest voices I've ever heard. It was like velvet, it was gorgeous,he finished to rapturous applause, and there was electricity then more than ever. It was amazing also.

The yorkshire dance was adorable. What could be better then loads of tiny little people with so much "swag" you were caught between creasing with laughter and actually ducking in submission. Their space-age soundtrack was cute, their miming was cuter, and my sister did excellent. I was, so to speak, like a proud parent.

My first floor friends were amazing. Their poetry was moving, and they captured the emotion perfectly. Knowing them as well as I do, I knew EXACTLY what the poems were about, and that made it all the better for me. I nearly cried, and didn't refrain from screaming in a most barbarian manner. Ah well.

There is so much more I could say about tonight, and I have no doubt I will, but I have been dancing all day, have just got home and sleep seems like a damn good idea.

Eight-Leggedly Yours
The Literary Spider
the_literary_spider: (Default)
 Hello All,

So, you know that small indie *cough*worldwide*cough* dance/theatrical competition that is Rock Challenge? Well my school competed yesterday, and we won! This means we now are the bearers of the oh-so-modest title "Open Northern Champions". Hear that? I'm a CHAMPION! All that aside, it's not the winning I remember, as that was bittersweet, but the dancing and the meeting people.

The rehearsals were glory. In between running to the dressing room for hair and make-up, and our own practicing, all we did was watch the other schools. One did a awe-inspiring Disney with a twist piece, with an amazing gymnast and a tear-jerking soundtrack, while what must have been the most adorable primary school ever did a whimsical take on the "Art gallery at midnight" concept. Their was also a beautiful dance called Postcards From Heaven, which hovered between wistful and melancholy in a way that tore at the soul. Cancer Research was credited in the most harrowing thing I've ever seen, a piece about a promising young dancer thrown into uncertainty by cancer, who fought (and won) her mental demons as well as her illness in a teary but life-affirming climax. There were many other schools, I could go on forever, and all of them were absolutely wonderful performers, as well as people. 

Dancers are such characters. Just like Youtubers, Theatre-Kids and Fandom members, they're like an entirely different species. You can accidentally use someones can of glitter hairspray, and then the next minute you'll be leaning on them discussing your fave musicals like old friends. Or you can tell a group to "break a leg" and then after the show you can all cluster around the speakers in the dark, sprawled on the floor next to complete strangers who feel like family, holding hands and chanting and screaming like nothing else exists. You can meet people, compliment their accent and then feel genuinely upset when you have to leave the hugging, laughing and singing behind, because you felt so caught up in the lovely vibes, That's what happened to me.

Our school won, but when we were all sat in that circle in the dark we exchanged hopes and assurances that the other would win. When it was announced, they didn't cheer for us, they cheered WITH us, and hugged us and said how much we deserved it. In truth, we were upset they didn't win, as we thought they did. They were all such lovely people, bound to us by a love of the last minute "Hairspray and bobby pins fix everything" atmosphere and the will to keep dancing. I remember winning, but THAT I will cherish forever. Its times like that that make all the aching and bleeding and fatigue worth it...

Eight-Leggedly Yours,
The Literary Spider
the_literary_spider: (Default)
 Hello all,

I apologize my hiatus, I had multiple dance shows to attend to. The first was the Bradford heat of Rock Challege, which, incidentally, we won! This was good, though  it does mean we have a tough time in the final ahead of us...but no matter, I am happy beyond belief about it!
The second was my own dance show. This went beautifully. It was utter bliss, and though I won't bore you with details, I won best contemporary AND best cheer, which is amazing. I won other awards too, but I do not wish to sound vain...

Now, onto the problem which prompted me to name this post as I did. I am currently locked in a battle with myself, trying to force myself to be the better person. So far, I am succeeding. However, I think what I think of as the better person, may be different to other peoples, so:

Being the BETTER person: Suffering in silence so as not to upset her. Because her not being nice is no excuse to hurt her feelings, and she may be doing it accidentally. It could just be me, being over sensitive.

Being the WORSE person: Telling her she's upset me and/or severing any  commitments I have to her. ((Doing her work for her, sitting with her, being in her band))

So, I am in great duress. I do not want to hurt her feelings, but why does she do it? I don't care if she carries on, I just wish to know why. There are times when I wish I could be that quiet kid who doesn't talk to people and is just left alone to get good grades and not be talked to.

/endrant. Here is a cool song, on me.


Eight-Leggedly Yours
The Literary Spider

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