Valentine Weekend

There are SO many things I wish to do this Valentines Day weekend, not just because Valentines Day is on Monday, but because there is so much wonderful stuff going on!  Here is my to-do list:
- attend my first weekend rehearsal of Into the Woods, since Jungle Book just closed on Sunday.
- go to the Black and White ball wearing my favorite dress! (prom 2008, for those of you who know what I'm talking about)
- go to see Camelot.  sigh... this sadly may not happen...
- go to see Dracula.  This also may not happen, but I am dying to see this ballet, so I may just buy a single ticket and head out there myself.
- sing in the HCC Chamber Choir Festival on Sunday at 3.
- deliver singing valentines on Monday with fellow fabulous HCCers

Clearly, the Arts are my life. I didn't realize how much so until I formulated this list.  If only I could do nothing but sing and dance and perform all the time...

Addicted?

Ok, I'm dying here.  I haven't West Coast Swing-danced for two days now, and Tuesday feels absolutely forever away!!!  How did this happen to me??  Barely two months ago I was just a normal girl, finishing up fall semester and learning how to swing dance.  Now, I'm a full-blown addict.  Check it out:

Criteria for Addiction

* Symptoms have persisted for at least a month or have occurred repeatedly over a longer period of time.

Check.  It's been two months since West Coast entered my life.

* Taking the drug more often or in larger amounts than intended.

Check.  I dance at least twice a week, and I want to dance way more.

* Unsuccessful attempts to quit; persistent desire, craving.

Check.  Never tried to quit (why would I??), but the desires and cravings are indeed persistent.

* Excessive time spent in drug seeking.

Hmm... not sure if this one applies?  I already know when/where to get my fix... so I don't really seek it out anymore.

* Feeling intoxicated at inappropriate times, or feeling withdrawal symptoms from a drug at such times.

Check.  Definitely felt withdrawal symptoms at inappropriate times.  Like in class.

* Giving up other things for it.

Check, check and CHECK!  Like money, for instance.  And time.  Evenings and evenings of time...

* Continued use, despite knowledge of harm to oneself and others.

This clearly does not apply.  What harm could a little dancing do?

* Marked tolerance in which the amount needed to satisfy increases at first before leveling off.

Check!  Two hours of dance is not enough for me anymore.  

* Characteristic withdrawal symptoms for particular drugs.

I'm not sure which withdrawal symptoms are characteristic for West Coast Swing.  

* Taking the drug to relieve or avoid withdrawal.

Does it count that I sometimes try to West Coast BY MYSELF because I want to go dancing so bad?  

Ok, I realize that I'm probably not ACTUALLY addicted to swing dancing, and that this post could be offensive to someone who's actually struggled with addiction.  I was just trying to illustrate my feelings in a clever way.  Don't judge.  Just take me dancing.

Sleeping

One of the disadvantages to having my bed dismantled and in a pile in the corner of my room is that I didn't get it re-mantled in time to sleep on it last night.  This is due to a string of circumstances including meaningful late-night conversations with my roomies, haircuts, long phone calls with strange men, reading Harry Potter book #7, and perhaps more dancing than was absolutely necessary.  Also due to this string of circumstances, I didn't really go to bed until almost 2am, at which time I arranged my pillows in my papasan chair and snuggled in.  It was comfortable at first, but I realized as the night went on that it wasn't quite as nice as I imagined it would be.  I had strange dreams about making out in dressing rooms and losing my sister's dog in New York City.  And when my alarm went off at 8 for my 10am class, my still-half-asleep brain thought that "I slept in a papasan chair last night" was a good enough reason to cut class this morning to sleep more, a thought which was repudiated by my fully-awake self about an hour and a half later.  But what could I do?  By then I had already missed the bus into campus.  My next class isn't until 1.  It seems fitting that I spend this time putting my bed back together to avoid a repeat performance of last night.  Oy.