So apparently yesterday’s blog post was boring. What is it with you people? I give and I give, and what do I get in return? Huh? Don’t tell me about your “needs.” Your needs? Your needs?! YOUR NEEDS?!! What about MY needs?!!!!!
Yeah, well, whatever. I have some more boring stuff to get out of the way here at the outset.
I’m now the author of yet another blog, one considerably less colorful than this one. Actually, it’s a mite too colorful, and the white on blue motif is a little hard on the eyes. But visit theprosceniumsandy.com’s blog and you’ll find your humble blogger as the anonymous voice of a vast, corporate empire. Cool, no?
No? Well, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!!!
Anyway, my daughter Cleta won the regional history fair for her documentary on Susan B. Anthony. I’m sure all of you want to watch it, so here it is.
Well, what do you think?
LOOK, CUT SOME SLACK. I’m stressed out here. You can tell when I TYPE IN CAPITAL LETTERS. That’s online yelling, you know.
Foodleking wanted me to tell you about stage sleeping, because he thought that would be interesting. I actually can’t think of anything less interesting. When I was a freshman at USC in the theatre program, I had only one class on Fridays. The name of it was “the Feldenkrais Method,” but we called it “stage sleeping,” because you spent the entire hour on the floor, lying down, doing nothing. The goal was to be “self aware” and “feel the points of contact of your body with the floor.” Usually, that involved sleeping, as the class was at 9:00 AM. According to our Feldenkrais instructor, that was OK, because that was what our bodies needed. I could have gotten a much better experience feeling the points of contact of my body with my own bed, but attendance at Feldenkrais was mandatory. Because, really, how else are they going to grade you other than whether you show up or not? By how well you sleep?
We had another equally pointless class in the “Alexander Technique,” which involved lengthening the distance from the middle of your back to the top of your spine. This, too, was stupid, but the instructor actually insisted, after we came back from Spring Break, that we each take a moment to explain how the Alexander Technique had improved our lives. The problem was that the Alexander Technique hadn’t, in fact, improved our lives, so we each made something up. The stories began simply enough – I had less back pain, I felt more “in command” of my body – but they got sillier and sillier as all the simple stuff was taken. Finally, one student described how he had unwrapped a Snickers bar and was about to eat it, and then he suddenly remembered the Alexander Technique, and the “Snickers bar tasted ten times better.”
Well, that’s all I got. If you didn’t like it, try feeling the points of contact of your body with the floor.
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