An oranger shade of pale
Thanks to fake tan I've been a whiter shade of orange since Saturday night, in preparation for the dance competition yesterday. We made it to the quarter finals in cha and waltz, got knocked out after third round in quickstep and jive, and have resolved to practice more before the competition two weeks from now. I got kicked in the shins once and my feet are very bruised.

The adrenaline was great, though.

I need some to carry me through the rest of this week. Having just tuned up my c.v. in English, I need to rewrite it in French by Thursday so that I can attend a career fair in Paris in a few weeks. And there are many assignments and frameworks of essays to be written as well, plus dance practice.

This article by Rex Murphy on Mel Gibson's Passion provided a mild jolt of pleasure that might keep me awake for a few hours of class. Murphy on the radio frequently seems pretentious and overly fond of himself (bienvenido a La Casa de Vidrio, desayuno served from 7 to 9 AM, stone throwing daily at 10 AM), and I'm too tired to come up with a logical response to his arguments, but dude can write like a mofo. The friend who sent the link had this line as a favourite, as do I:

I don't know much about Mr. Gibson. And only the longest of waits in the cruellest of airports, bereft of all other print, will make me lift a People magazine where I might learn - if the strain on the verb will be forgiven - something more.

I was also pleased by

That snapped the frail charm of dystopia with dune buggies forever.

and

Any movie that has so many people so furious for so many different reasons is easily worth the trivial martyrdom of lineup, insanely loud Dolby previews, and group popcorn inhale.

- posted by Christina @ 10:13 am