The child, North Korea.

Does it count that I am blogging in a sort of forced manner? If I was in shackles and tied to this desk and "urged" to write, would it matter to you out there? ha ha In a manner that is what is happening, minus the shackling and various forcible treatment. Truth is my wife is having a girl party downstairs and with no tv upstairs, I find myself looking you all squarely in your computer monitor-like eye and saying .. hmmm what should I blog about?

Some people bolg everyday. Doesn't that seem like a bit much? Who has that sort of time? And even if you did, what are you writing about? Was your day that exciting? hmmm Maybe it was. Maybe my days aren't exciting enough. Is that some sort of modern day measurement of our days' excitement level? If you have nothing to blog about, your life is boring. Or what I prefer to think is that people blog about just anything, and maybe more than the average public wants to know. You think, well it's just my friends reading this but in the wide open world of this crazy internet life, people can wander in from anywhere.

Looking at my hits the other day I notice I have people from the US viewing my page which, ok, I do know a few people down there. But I have a few hits from the UK and from Germany. Who do I know there? My point is that you never know who will wander in unannounced and with no door to knock at, they are walking right in. At least have a bathrobe on ok?

So ultimately I guess I just don't blog about everything. Sometimes when I feel creative or otherwise sectioned off into an area of the house, I sit down and just type. See what happens. Instead of a show about nothing, I have a blog.

Crazy.

You want to know more about crazy? North Korea. They fired on a South Korean island. Really? They thought that might be a good idea? Who did? Who is runnning that country? Seriously though, they do what they want to do and nobody hardly says boo. Well, they say don't do that or else. It's like dealing with a child.

"Don't kick the cat or you will get a spank." Child turns and kicks the cat.

"That was wrong. Don't do it again." Child nods, turns and kicks the cat repeatedly.

"Do we need to talk about this?" Child says, if you are allowed to kick things and express your way of life then so am I. This body is independent of yours and will continue to act as such and as it sees fit.

"But." Child calls his friends, Iran and Russia come over. Iran uses the UN to inform everyone of the injustice you have served upon said child and warn against any further provocation. They repeatedly call for your destruction and for the destruction of the friend you are in the progress of distancing yourself from; Israel. Child snickers. Russia meanwhile soothingly placates you with big words in a language you mostly don't even understand even while they are buying new steel toed boots for the child. Actually they sold the boots to another friend, Libya, who in turn leant them to China, who then just happened to forget them at the child's house one day. Russia would never condone the child's actions. No. Never.

Your neighbour watched the whole thing happen and they express their disgust for what the child and his friends are doing. As usual though, you ignore your neighbour to the north. Instead you continue to try and have a conversation with the child.

That poor cat.

And after the cat? What then? Who gets kicked next?

Repeated threats with no action only empower the enemy as they become more comfortable in the idea that nobody will actually do anything to stop them. They will commit small acts at first and slowly become bolder and bolder. If you were never going to do anything a bout it, then you should never have opened your mouth.

So there it is.
Until next time.

It is the dance.

Ok, I am going to come clean here. Oh, by the way it's me, you're friendly neighbourhood blogger here. Where have I been you ask? What have I been up to? Wow twenty questions or what. Relax already. Give me some room to breathe. You wonder why I haven't been around? So smothering.

Anyways, coming clean ... I attended ... the ballet. I know. So without a doubt you can now consider me ... someone who has seen the ballet. I mean really is it that big of a deal? I'm still a man. I can still punch you in the face. Nothing changed. Well, something changed. I actually thought it was ok. I wasn't sure I'd even have given it that at the start. But it was good. I probably just lost half my audience in that statement. Hopefully I had an even number of fans or that half a person is just feeling awful right now.

At first I was completely lost in the ballet. Not lost as in, wow I'm overwhelmed by the majestic ... no, lost as in what the heck is going on here? I don't understand what the story is supposed to be. Luckily, the story was provided for us at the start and thus I kept clinging to the few words I had. "I know his mom, the queen, is trying to find him a wife but all I see is people leaping and jumping. Stand still and just talk already."

But as it went on, I found it easier to follow and I was "getting" it. And as I relaxed in it, I began to appreciate what they were actually doing. These people are strong. They move in ways, and on toes that seems unnatural. Really, toes weren't meant to be walked on like that. Were they? And while their bodies seem flexed and stressed and strained, they are at the same time totally relaxed in what they do. At once strained and graceful. Much like me in my every day life. ha ha If there is one word that's never been used to describe me, it is graceful.

And then there is the aspect that this troup is from Russia. I find Russia fascinating. Some day I should like to travel and explore Russia; such history. This is a ballet, composed by Tchaikovsky in 1876. Did you hear me? 1876. Tell this is not a cultural event. Here is a group of Russina performers travelling Canada performing this piece of history and there is something magical in it to me. I think they might have some amazing stories to tell.

So yes, I attended a ballet. The Moscow Ballet. And it was pretty darn good.


Here is a cool ballet quote I found in an effort to form you all into more well rounded individuals:

”Ballet technique is arbitrary and very difficult. 

It never becomes easy... it becomes possible.”

- Agnes de Mille