I have just been having one adventure after the other lately!
I'm growing up all over the place, it seems. I mean, first I move out, then I start college, and now I'm doing perhaps the most grown-up thing yet:
Dealing with a cold all by myself.
I don't think I ever fully appreciated being sick at home with my family. That sounds so weird, but hear me out: usually at the first sign of illness, I would beeline to the box of essential oils that resides in my parents' bathroom and down some spicy oils that helped me feel better almost instantly. After that, I usually took some Vitamin C, Airborn, and Lysine. All things that were almost always stocked up in our cabinets.
This time around, however, I had to go to WalMart and get the stuff myself (did YOU know Vitamin C cost as much as it did? Ouch). I'm feeling better now, but gosh I hate being sick. I can't taste hardly anything, I've lost my singing voice, and everything is nauseating to me. Oh- and since I've been drinking so much water, I have to pee all the time. TMI? Sorry. Reality bites.
I cannot WAIT to be healthy again.
Let's talk about Shakespeare now.
I'm taking a folk dance class each Tuesday night, and we're learning dances from the Renaissance period, which is actually REALLY cool. I love dancing, and I enjoy this kind of dancing more than I thought. It's really easy, because the steps are generally simple, and in the Renaissance, dances were very clear and repetitive. Plus I get to pretend I'm a dancer from that time, so I stand straighter and glide more than I would in, say, a hip hop class.
Last night was my first time in the class, and I was met by a surprise. I assumed the class would be full of young women in leotards, ready to dance and make me feel like a clumsy elephant, but that is not the case! It's a class of only 8, and they're all completely average people. Including Shakespeare.
Okay, fine. His name is Bob, and he might not be Shakespeare... But I'm pretty much positive he actually IS. He's taking a Renaissance dance class, so obviously he's trying to reconnect with his roots. He's got the right hair for it, and he looks about 400+ years old, so the only logical conclusion is that he is, in fact, Shakespeare.
And Bob. Or should I say SHAKESPEARE?
Obviously, he has aged somewhat, but that's to be expected when you've been alive since the 1500s.
Peeps, this is so perfect. He is taking a Renaissance dance class. Ol' Shakespeare is still developing his skills. I am honored to have him in my class.
Despite his remarkable survival skills, "Bob" still makes me a little nervous. Being centuries old tends to make people fragile, and he is no exception. I kept my eye on him the whole class to make sure he didn't keel over or crumble into dust. Good news- he survived.
I know we've only just met, but I've read so many of his works and loved them all, and I've even performed one of his plays, so we're pretty much BFFs by now. I love him. It's impossible not to- he's so sweet and slightly clueless about what's going on in the class; constantly turning the wrong way and doing the wrong step. He's adorable! But then again, I've always loved elderly folks. They are so fun and you can learn so much from them. I hope Bob and I become friends, because he's awesome.
And how many people can say they're chummy with the Bard himself??