I like to juggle. I learned when I was about seven, but was (understandably) frustrated with the amount of practice it takes to be good, and so practiced only intermittently through the years. Then, in seventh grade, I got fairly good at juggling so I could do it in a show ('Annie Get Your Gun' at Act Two Performing Arts). I juggled in last year's third-quarter interdisciplinary (the USO Show), and am now practicing constantly to be able to do it in another show ('Pippin' at Imagination Stage). Last Sunday I was at the Renaissance Festival, and I spent at least half an hour at the Juggling Station, just talking to the instructors and learning tricks. I had never before attempted tricks, chiefly because I wasn't confident about my ability to juggle normally (technically called the three-ball cascade), let alone do tricks. However, as one of the instructors pointed out to me, the trick that everyone can do--beginners and masters--is called gravity. No matter what, the balls will fall. If dropping balls makes you a bad juggler, there is no such thing as a good juggler. (This can be construed into a life lesson if you look closely enough). So--with the enthusiastic prompting of the instructor, who, after many minutes had passed and I had not made any progress, looked at me seriously and said, "I believe in you"--I learned how to do an outside throw.
As the guy in the tutorial says, outside throws are the easiest tricks you can do with three balls. The chief difficulty with it is reversing the pattern: by this point, I've developed a lot of muscle memory for the three-ball cascade, and it was initially very hard for me to ignore that. However, after practicing for probably a total of 2 or 3 hours, I'm pretty comfortable with the outside throw (by which I mean that my only flaws with it are my regular juggling flaws, not flaws related to the trick itself. I can't always do it 'cause the balls hit each other mid-air, but that's because I have issues with throwing them high and loose, which is how you're supposed to do it to give yourself maximum room to work). Next time I practice (probably tomorrow afternoon), I'm going to work on doing the outside throw from the other hand; once I can do that, I'll work on tennis, and finally on reverse cascades.
I'm really excited by this new trick: not only because it's cool to be able to do tricks (it used to really irritate me when people asked me to do tricks, because regular juggling is plenty hard enough to learn, but now even I'm bored with the three-ball cascade), but because now I know I can do it. I learned a trick. It took me a while, and a lot of practice, but I did it and I'm proud. Now I can move on to new ones, even cooler ones, even harder ones. I'm excited. Are you? You should be. Because you can do it, too. Juggling is genuinely not as hard as it looks. Well--that's a lie. In the beginning, it is WAY harder than it looks. Then it gets easier, as everything must, if you just practice. Do yourself a favor, and get some juggling balls. Not tennis balls, though those are good to start with--juggling balls are better because they fit in your hand better and they don't bounce when you drop them. (Dropping balls is more frustrating if you have to chase them). Then practice. There are some very good juggling tutorials online, including the one below.
My goal is to master the ones shown below:
Wish me luck.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
A Short Explanation
With my second post comes a confession:
I am obsessed with women's professional soccer.
It started last year with the 2011 FIFA Women's World Cup, and worsened dramatically with the 2012 Olympics. Now, I spend an embarrassing amount of time on www.ussoccer.com, on trying to make Youtube (which is sporadic at best on my computer) play ussoccerdotcom's videos, and on my Tumblr, which I use solely to follow various players' schedules, tweets, and photos (as well as for Andrea Gibson--see previous post). I reference players and particularly exciting games in daily life, usually to people who have no idea what I'm talking about and who could really care less. When I'm bored, I consider upcoming games, the latest roster and training camps, player nicknames, favorite moments, etc. If I am having a bad day, or just need to remember that goodness, beauty, and awesome still exist in the world, I watch soccer.
This might seem a little odd. That's okay. You will understand soon enough.
I am obsessed with women's professional soccer.
It started last year with the 2011 FIFA Women's World Cup, and worsened dramatically with the 2012 Olympics. Now, I spend an embarrassing amount of time on www.ussoccer.com, on trying to make Youtube (which is sporadic at best on my computer) play ussoccerdotcom's videos, and on my Tumblr, which I use solely to follow various players' schedules, tweets, and photos (as well as for Andrea Gibson--see previous post). I reference players and particularly exciting games in daily life, usually to people who have no idea what I'm talking about and who could really care less. When I'm bored, I consider upcoming games, the latest roster and training camps, player nicknames, favorite moments, etc. If I am having a bad day, or just need to remember that goodness, beauty, and awesome still exist in the world, I watch soccer.
This might seem a little odd. That's okay. You will understand soon enough.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Andrea Gibson
Two Novembers ago, my best friend showed me this video:
"Birthday", by Andrea Gibson
It is not an teenager's overemotional exaggeration to say that it changed me.
Her name is Andrea Gibson. She is a spoken-word artist. She writes about everything from love to earmuffs to war to God to gender to class issues, and it is all amazing. She is powerful and funny and touching and awe-inspiring. Her words give you hope, some sort of belief that things might be okay, but they also hold the truth of the world's brutality up to your face. Her words are always in my head. She is eminently quotable. I'm not sure how much of my brain space she occupies, but it is a sizable amount. For every situation, there is a relevant line, and I've listened to it so many times that I can hear her voice. My writing has changed--for the better, but also for the more emotional, for the longer sentences, for the curious and curiouser. I can't help thinking in poetry--thinking in romantic, thinking in metaphors, thinking in references and adaptations. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I see how many poems I can recite by heart. There's a lot of them. I have her two books ("Pole Dancing to Gospel Hymns" and "The Madness Vase"), as well as her CDs "Yellowbird" and "Flower Boy". She signed both the books and "Flower Boy". I have seen her in person twice, at the University of Mary Washington and the University of Virginia. It was all of the happy words I know.
Part of the reason she has such a grasp on my mind and heart is that she was the first spoken-word artist I ever heard. (Spoken-word is also called slam poetry, but I prefer spoken-word, because it's less violent and less intimidating). Spoken-word has basically revolutionized the way I think about writing. Another spoken-word artist that I like, Sarah Kay, talks about everything and anything being poetry--that people are often stunted by the idea that nothing that they experience or think or feel could be "poetry", Poetry, the Great and Almighty Expression of Deep and Important Things. In reality, poetry is what we experience and think and feel, and you are a poet if you express that. Spoken-word is a lot about that. It can be poetic or blunt, funny or powerful, about love or war or earmuffs or anything in the world, and, oftentimes, the best part of spoken-word is that it is all of those things at once, and it helps you see all of those things in everything. And, if you just want to write about laundry, or hugs, or cupcake-making, that's okay too. That is okay, too. It is okay to be who you are and think what you think and feel what you feel and write what you write. You're okay, too.
I have never tried doing it for myself. (Well, okay, that's not entirely true. I talk constantly when I'm alone--some people refer to it as talking to yourself, but that's not strictly true, as I'm not actually talking to myself. I'm talking out into the open. Some people refer to that as talking just to hear yourself talk, and that may be strictly true, but it's not as narcissistic as it sounds--it helps me organize my thoughts. Anyway, when I talk to the open, I often speak in rhythms and rhymes reminiscent of Andrea Gibson poems, and I vent emotionally and try to make it semi-poetic. If I come up with anything I like, I write it down). However, I'm planning on going to a meeting of Blair's Slam Poetry Club next Thursday, just to see what it's like, experience the people, and maybe--maybe--get inspired. Wish me luck.
Some Poems to Check Out (About One/Millionth of Zoe's Favorites)
Birthday
The Nutritionist
Jellyfish
I Sing the Body Electric, Especially When My Power's Gone Out
How It Ends
Photograph
Maybe I Need You
I Do
Crab-apple Pirates
The Vinegar Club
A Letter to the Playground Bully, from Andrea, Age 8 1/2
Pole Dancer
Asking Too Much
--Okay, I'll stop there. My actual list of favorites is way too long.
www.andreagibson.org
http://andrewgibby.tumblr.com
(Ooh. A short note on Andrea Gibson's tumblr page--she posts not poems, but these absolutely brilliant and incredible and wonderful paragraphs about the smallest things that mean so much. Please please please check them and her out).
"Birthday", by Andrea Gibson
It is not an teenager's overemotional exaggeration to say that it changed me.
Her name is Andrea Gibson. She is a spoken-word artist. She writes about everything from love to earmuffs to war to God to gender to class issues, and it is all amazing. She is powerful and funny and touching and awe-inspiring. Her words give you hope, some sort of belief that things might be okay, but they also hold the truth of the world's brutality up to your face. Her words are always in my head. She is eminently quotable. I'm not sure how much of my brain space she occupies, but it is a sizable amount. For every situation, there is a relevant line, and I've listened to it so many times that I can hear her voice. My writing has changed--for the better, but also for the more emotional, for the longer sentences, for the curious and curiouser. I can't help thinking in poetry--thinking in romantic, thinking in metaphors, thinking in references and adaptations. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I see how many poems I can recite by heart. There's a lot of them. I have her two books ("Pole Dancing to Gospel Hymns" and "The Madness Vase"), as well as her CDs "Yellowbird" and "Flower Boy". She signed both the books and "Flower Boy". I have seen her in person twice, at the University of Mary Washington and the University of Virginia. It was all of the happy words I know.
Part of the reason she has such a grasp on my mind and heart is that she was the first spoken-word artist I ever heard. (Spoken-word is also called slam poetry, but I prefer spoken-word, because it's less violent and less intimidating). Spoken-word has basically revolutionized the way I think about writing. Another spoken-word artist that I like, Sarah Kay, talks about everything and anything being poetry--that people are often stunted by the idea that nothing that they experience or think or feel could be "poetry", Poetry, the Great and Almighty Expression of Deep and Important Things. In reality, poetry is what we experience and think and feel, and you are a poet if you express that. Spoken-word is a lot about that. It can be poetic or blunt, funny or powerful, about love or war or earmuffs or anything in the world, and, oftentimes, the best part of spoken-word is that it is all of those things at once, and it helps you see all of those things in everything. And, if you just want to write about laundry, or hugs, or cupcake-making, that's okay too. That is okay, too. It is okay to be who you are and think what you think and feel what you feel and write what you write. You're okay, too.
I have never tried doing it for myself. (Well, okay, that's not entirely true. I talk constantly when I'm alone--some people refer to it as talking to yourself, but that's not strictly true, as I'm not actually talking to myself. I'm talking out into the open. Some people refer to that as talking just to hear yourself talk, and that may be strictly true, but it's not as narcissistic as it sounds--it helps me organize my thoughts. Anyway, when I talk to the open, I often speak in rhythms and rhymes reminiscent of Andrea Gibson poems, and I vent emotionally and try to make it semi-poetic. If I come up with anything I like, I write it down). However, I'm planning on going to a meeting of Blair's Slam Poetry Club next Thursday, just to see what it's like, experience the people, and maybe--maybe--get inspired. Wish me luck.
Some Poems to Check Out (About One/Millionth of Zoe's Favorites)
Birthday
The Nutritionist
Jellyfish
I Sing the Body Electric, Especially When My Power's Gone Out
How It Ends
Photograph
Maybe I Need You
I Do
Crab-apple Pirates
The Vinegar Club
A Letter to the Playground Bully, from Andrea, Age 8 1/2
Pole Dancer
Asking Too Much
--Okay, I'll stop there. My actual list of favorites is way too long.
www.andreagibson.org
http://andrewgibby.tumblr.com
(Ooh. A short note on Andrea Gibson's tumblr page--she posts not poems, but these absolutely brilliant and incredible and wonderful paragraphs about the smallest things that mean so much. Please please please check them and her out).
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