Dancin' Machine

I've been known to break it down. From Ida Noyes to Myrtle Beach to Heartland to the Ministry of Sound to the Egyptian room, I've had my moments where I shook what my mama gave me. But as of this past Saturday, I have officially been schooled.

Two nights ago my friend SP and I attend the launch party of "30 Seconds to Dance" at my favorite place in Chicago - the Alliance Francaise. Co-commenced by a former Paris Opera dancer (now a principal at Joffrey), this amazing project features the ridiculously talented dancers of Chicago. All styles are showcased, and SP and I got to witness the mad skillz for ourselves as the launch featured live performances of some of the dancers seen in the videos.

The goal of this website is to promote both the art of dance and the dancers themselves. I think this is a great addition to the rich cultural sector of which Chicago can boast. I know I'll be checking in often to see what new clips are posted. I can always use some new moves...

My TV and I have broken up

Whoever said sleep is supposed to heal, I say they're full of crap and I'm quietly judging them right now.

You see, yesterday, I stayed home from work and cursed anything and everyone from my futon while I wallowed in kleenex, Advil, and cranberry juice. That said, lacking the cure for the common cold, I COUNTED on my TV coming through for me. And, like the CTA on a weekend, it let me down. I turned it on in the morning in anticipation of a day of bad (but oh so good) daytime television, and you know what I got...heartache and disappointment. In other words - black and white snow. I attempted to mess with the wires on the cable box and TV, but fatigued and sweaty thanks to my overtaxed white blood cells, I gave up after 15 minutes and switched to DVDs. I watched a couple of my favorite action films, but then switched to my other film love - French films. I finished out with The Triplets of Belleville, which is brilliant by the way, and went to bed to attempt to recover from both my cold and my disappointment in my cable.

My this morning, it only got worse...I went to watch The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and got...sound, but no picture. What?!?! How am I supposed to heal without my Mathieu Amalric fix? I messed with some wires again, to no avail, and then did the only thing I could think of...called my parents to whine.

Long story short, my dad passed on some sage advice, and this evening after switching my cable boxes around, I discovered that the fault lies not with my cable or my DVD player, but with my TV. Sad face...

Now granted, the TV is oh, about 5 or so years old, and has been moved from Indianapolis to DC to Chicago and has now been owned by both Hall sisters, but I have expectations!! My 15 year old tiny 13 inch TV is still in fine form, and I have taken that thing everywhere and played it constantly...that is love and devotion, and for that I applaud Sharp. In fact, I give that company mad props. But my other TV, nothing - it's a sad monument to failed electronics everywhere.

So what's a girl to do? Well, actually, I called my parents again to whine. And now I'm looking for a new TV. If anyone knows where I can get a 1080p, 72-inch, LCD for $400 - let me know...because that would be a happy magical place where I would like to shop.

Rewind (my life in bulletpoints)

Since Thanksgiving I've...

• had three close friends become engaged in one weekend (add those to the two that were engaged in the few weeks before - yes, that totals 5!)
• made one trip to the Chicago Emergency Veterinary Services (but Sugar's all better now)
• seen one performance of The Nutcracker with me Dad (keeping the tradition alive)
• read 8 great books (which means I haven't been getting much sleep)
• burned through 23 tealight candles (mmm...apple cinnamon for the holidays)
• decorated one apartment for Christmas (my tree changes colors)
• signed over 60 Christmas cards (not all have been mailed)
• written one essay in French (know how to say "gold fever" en francais? I do.)
• seen the the temperature dip to 9 degrees more than 3 times
• spent one hour sitting on the Megabus on the Indiana Toll Road (after waiting for it for an hour when it was late)
• downloaded two albums on iTunes (and rediscovered my love of Enya)
• thought about blogging every day (but just now got around to it)

Bisoux

~K

Miraculous Manon

Whoops!! A little late on my opera blog post...my sincerest apologies dear readers. One week ago, I once again graced the Lyric Opera with my presence in order to witness the brilliancy that was Jules Massenet's Manon. The Chicago Tribune had the following to say about this production:

"She came, she saw, she conquered...the ovation Dessay received was one of the longest and loudest in recent Lyric history."

Yes, Tribune, I concur.

Manon was amazing...I had heard others raving about it before I went, and that always makes me suspect. But alas, true to their word, I was entranced from the moment the curtain went up. Natalie Dessay was truly spectacular, and even a last minute tenor swap didn't alter the soring beauty of the opera. The set was multi-faceted and with the movement of just a few props, the mood was completely altered.

While this probably won't end up in my Top 5, I definitely enjoyed it and will continue to. Favorite part? Understanding the French that was being sung WITHOUT the surtitles...oh, yeeeahhh...

I Dream of Paris in Black and White

I've been told that a person can tell they are truly learning a foreign language when the begin to dream in that language.

That last several days, I've been dreaming in French...in black & white.

I start my French classes at the Alliance Francaise again in a week. I will be in a Level 14 class - my 11th at the Alliance. The classes have become a huge part of my life. I count my classmates as dear friends, and wonder what I would do without being able to see them twice a week.

Granted, sometimes I wonder what I'm doing - the classes are very expensive and can be time consuming and in this economy I should probably be saving my money.

But I can't bring myself to say au revoir. I have an ongoing passionate love affair with French language and culture, and hold the hope that one day I will live in the City of Lights.

And whenever I'm frustrated trying to master the subjonctif, or can't remember the words that I want to say, I remember how beautiful the language is, even though I may be messing it up.

So when I started dreaming in French, I was thrilled - still am. In my dreams I can speak it perfectly and understand all, and I'm always in Paris. I'm not sure why in black & white - maybe too many French art films and still photography.

Regardless, in a week, I will pack up my workbooks and dictionary, welcome back my witty and intelligent classmates, follow the guidance of my brilliant instructor, and wonder when my real life will catch up to my dreams.

Bizet's Beefcake...

...or how I learned to stop worrying and love Nathan Gunn's bare chest.

Kidding.

Sort of.

This year, a friend and I have season subscriptions to the Lyric Opera of Chicago. While I know that we're currently in an economic downturn and I should be cutting back on spending, I see opera has a "need," not a "want." So, last night, off we went to see Les Pecheurs de Perles, or The Pearl Fishers.

Admittingly, the only thing I knew about LPP before going to see it last night was the famous Act One duet between Zurga and Nadir (two of the main characters).

What I also didn't know was that Zurga, played by baritone Nathan Gunn, is required to remain half-dressed for the duration of the opera. At first, I could see right through the obvious staging that resulted in his stripping - does he really need to offer his shirt to the other fisherman in order to confirm his leadership? But then, cursing my lack of opera glasses, I decided to sit back, and just enjoy the view from my upper balcony seats.

I know the woman sitting next to me was also enjoying the half-nekkid Zurga as she made the brilliant decision to wear approximately 82 bangles on her arms, so every time she lifted up her opera glasses for a better view, I got to hear my own petite percussion section.

The other thing I noticed was that while there is much gnashing of teeth over keeping one's vow, in practice, I'm not sure any of the characters fully understood the concept. Or, in the words of the brilliant Inigo Montoya, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Let me explain further: Zurga and Nadir had vowed several years before to never act on their love for Leila so as not to ruin their friendship - Oops, Nadir lied and went back to woo and love Leila; Leila took a vow to stay a virgin and pray for protection day and night for all of the fishermen - Oops, she has sexy times with Nadir instead. And then out of nowhere Zurga has some other vow in Act Three that hasn't been mentioned, but I'm pretty sure that he broke it, so in the end he saves the lovers Nadir and Leila to keep a vow that was really a hazy one in the first place. Good times.

Up until now, I might be giving the highly critical impression that I did not enjoy the opera.

Au contraire mes amis!!

The music was absolutely gorgeous. Plus bonus points for this girl!! I totes recognized the reoccurring musical theme that was initiated during the aforementioned Act One duet. All thanks to the extremely demanding professor I had in grad school for the hysterically difficult 500-level opera literature course.

Plus more bonus points for all of the French classes paying off. I didn't understand everything, and the surtitles definitely came in handy, but I actually could follow the opera pretty well. It only became a real problem when I started thinking things like, "Ooh, that verb was the plus-que-parfait tense, " or "Huh, that translation isn't really close to what he's singing."

But overall, I have to say I was pleased with a) remembering some importants things from a class I had three years ago and b) remembering some important things from a class I had three days ago. Alas, high-fives all around were not appropriate...plus bangle-woman might have injured me during the course of said high-five.


Lastly, I have to mention that LPP was the fourth opera I have seen at the Lyric since moving to Chicago, and for every single one I have had a tiny 3-hour love affair with the stage design: the richness of La traviata, the ingenuity of Falstaff, the starkness of Eugene Onegin, and this year's incredible use of space for LLP.

And yes, in case you all are wondering, you will be subjected after each of the seven more operas, to my slightly erratic "reviews" of each one.

Bon chance!

It's a teeny tiny world

Bonjour tout le monde! Hier soir, j'ai mangé avec mes amis de mon classe francaise. Nous sommes allés au bon restaurant Lebanese...

Oh, uh, excuse-moi, I didn't mean to start in la langue francaise, but I've been speaking so much of it lately!! Très bon, n'est-ce pas?

So, on Tuesday, my French class met up at an amazing Lebanese restaurant on the near north side to speak French outside of class, so we wouldn't lose our skills by the time class gears up again at the end of June.

And really, I don't have anything wildly interesting to say about that night aside from two things that stand out:

1) We managed to speak nothing but French for over an hour - pretty exciting!

2) We chatted with our waiter for a bit (in English) and it turns out he was born in Baghdad, lived for awhile in Tehran, moved here several years ago, hasn't seen is family (still in Iraq) since 1982, and his sister was 5 when he left and he's only spoken to her one the phone since then. Oh, and he speaks Arabic, Assyrian, Persian, English, a little French, and understands Greek. I am continuously amazed by the people I meet in Chicago, from those I know well, to those I meet purely on accident. Our waiter was incredibly nice - he mentioned that he hopes things are changing now, and how he hopes to see his family eventually in the next few years. For the most part, aside from reading the news, I feel very separated from what happens in the Middle East, but everyone once in awhile, thanks to events like this, the magnitude of what is going on is brought home to me.

This ain't your high school French

I decided several weeks ago that I wanted to whip my waning French skills back into shape. So, I went to the Alliance Francais de Chicago (part of a worldwide system of alliances dedicated to sharing the French language and culture) and took a verbal/written test. Shockingly, I remembered more than I thought I had from high school and one year of college French. I signed up for level 4 twice a week. And has it been hilarious/nervewracking/really great. In school, French class revolved around workbooks, pop quizzes, bad French-Canadian music videos ("Bonjour la police!" anyone?), sing La Marseillaise in front of the class, and cultural videos where everyone wore clothes made popular sometime in 1983. Now, everyone, for the most part, are working adults with very different goals - we've voluntarily signed up and paid for classes. Some come just to enjoy another language or to improve their business skills, and for myself, I'm working for my French language certification. As a result, the classes are smaller, students seem more creative and open to making mistakes, and the conversation varies wildly. In the last three weeks, in various tenses, we have discussed prostituting oneself to pay for vacation, the lack of attractiveness of Madeleine Albright, and how Coco Chanel was a Nazi symphathizer. I sincerely don't remember these topics coming up before. And covering major questions like "Qui est le chacal?" during our movie discussions. And, while some of my friends can't fathom why I want to return to the classroom twice a week on top of a full time job, for me these few hours a week are a respite from reality and a chance to delve into a beautiful culture and language and to bond with my fellow students who otherwise would have been strangers. Viva la difference!