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Archive for October, 2012

Flashback Friday! (Ballet for Boys)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 12:43 PM
Friday, October 19, 2012

Most Fridays, I post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memory, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Ballet for Boys – the BLOG

I have an ex who, as a young boy, was a champion Ti Kwon Do competitor. What gave him his edge? Was it his long legs? His competitive spirit? His can-do attitude?

Or was it… ballet. My ex told me that someone advised him to take ballet in order to up his ‘Ti Kwon Do’ game, and that all it took was one look at all the hot girls in the classes (and lack of straight male competition) to seal the deal. One or two years later, he was tour jeté-ing with the best of them. Core muscles strengthened, balance and total-body synergy tuned, and ability to jump to an astounding height fined-tuned thanks to ballet, my ex went on to kick major Ti Kwon Do Ass on the mats.

Go, ballet boy!

One year ago, as we watched his younger sister dance around in her first ever 3-year old ballet class, I tried to convince my then 5 yr old son that ballet was cool for boys, too. I found a trove of videos on YouTube featuring Baryshnikov. I showed my son scene after scene of Mikhail plié-ing and relevé-ing better than any of the girls, still coming off like a hotter and more manly stud than Clint Eastwood in a western.

My son wasn’t buying it. One glance through the lobby glass at all the tutu-clad petite princesses told him all he needed to know about what gender ballet was intended for.

Later, I made sure to bring him along when his just-turned 4 year old sister was given discount tickets to see a professional ballet company at the Ahmanson Theatre. He saw firsthand the beauty, grace and strength of the male ballet dancers. He thoroughly enjoyed the show, and stopped watching only once or twice, just long enough to kick the person in the seat in front of him. Hmmm, perhaps Ti Kwon Do would also be a good fit?

(And, ahhh, the joys of being yelled at by a stuffy queen who can’t take a few ‘back taps’ during a lively pas-de-deux.)

So I asked him point blank after the show, “Wasn’t that amazing? Don’t you want to take a dance class now?”

His unhesitating answer: “No way! Ballet is for girls!”

Cut to, three months ago when my son asked to come with me to see his sister’s new dance studio. The class she takes could not be more “girlie” – I think it’s called “Princess Ballet” and they take a princess tale each class, read it, then ‘dance it out’ with scarves, stuffed animals, wands and other sparkly accessories.

So imagine my shock when I turned around and my son was asking the receptionist if there were any dance classes for boys! And… my shock turned to nervous excitement when she answered, there was one class with four boys and a couple girls that was ballet/jazz.

He wanted to try it!

We now go every Wednesday. I bring the girls sometimes along to watch him, along with the other boys, dancing their little boy hearts out… awkward, clunky, loping, and sooooo soooooo cute.

Hooray for ballet!

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

This is SO my son in 10 years.

Marketing Shmarketing. I wish.

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 12:00 PM
Tuesday, October 16, 2012

I completely suck at marketing myself (she writes to the handful+ of readers she has managed to “amass” via blogging sans marketing).

Well, okay, there was that ONE BLOG where I attempted to market myself.

Sorry, folks. Just fell off my chair laughing. Oh yeah, that worked AMAZING.

Not too long ago, I tried to hire a friend at a dismally low fee to do some marketing on my behalf. She immediately took the job, exclaiming she would do it for free! (But I insisted on paying) – and then even more immediately did nothing, for an entire month, until she admitted she had no time to help me.

Everyone has time. What we don’t always have are priorities. Specifically, marketing BatSheva’s creative endeavors don’t ever seem to be mine or anyone’s priority, even if I try to throw some money at the problem.

Back when I had a band, “marketing” meant sending flyers via postcard, and later, emails, every time I had an upcoming gig. (Pre-YouTube/Facebook/Twitter/Modern Word Years)

It was exhausting.

I gave it up – the marketing & the band – when I just couldn’t do it anymore. The marketing, of course, I would have loved to continue playing. Just not to the same audience of 20 friends plus random stragglers.

I worked for five years on a novel that I was SOOO proud of. Until 45 or so agents rejected me, some after asking me to just ‘rewrite the ending’ or whatever, tantalizing me then slamming the door in my face.

Yesterday, my sister urged me (yet again) to self-publish. “It’s easier than ever now to do it!” she promised. “Everyone is doing it!

I have no doubt.

No doubt, that is, that I could do it, in a heart beat. And then…

… it would languish there, on the digital/metaphysical shelves, for eternity, as yet again, its author neglected to do the one thing that would prompt people to buy & read it – market it.

Sigh….

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

PS: Here’s one of my songs that COULD have been a hit… right? If only I knew how to – come on, all together now - MARKET MYSELF!
BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Cradle you – the SONG

 

...Me, pretending I'm "Someone"

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That Little Motherf***er

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 2:23 PM
Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Get ready to be completely grossed out.

Ready?

Check out this picture (and ignore the fact that my dismal photoshop skills prevented me from turning it right-side-up):

That’s right.

A motherfucking mouse is living in our house.

Oh, I’ve seen the motherfucker. He’s fast. I screamed a little last night when I came across him in our laundry room – you see, I thought he was gone/dead already, since we first saw him over 2 weeks ago, immediately had the exterminator company come, and hadn’t seen him since.

What I didn’t realize is that that little motherfucker is an avocado addict.

You see, each of the other 2 times we saw him scamper down the hallway (I TOLD you that you’d be grossed out!) I walked around the house to look for any damage he may have done, and each time, found one of my recently purchased organic avocados gnawed into, its gaping hole staring at me from the fruit plate atop our dining room table – all the other fruit untouched.

I moved the avocados into the fridge and covered the bowl of fruit, and kept it covered for the week following the exterminator’s visit. When I uncovered the fruit, I was relieved to see no sign of the mouse for the next five days.

Then… yesterday… I put my newly purchased & not quite ripe avocados where I always put them to ripen – in the fruit bowl.

That little motherfucker.

Apparently, he managed to completely avoid the poison and traps set for him around the house for the past 2 weeks… and he – THANKFULLY – did not touch any of our grains, fruits, or other snack items that we carelessly left around the house and on the counters over the past few days.

But I guess our guy has a thing for avocados.

My Kabbalah teacher suggested that mice in the house can also symbolize a spiritual problem – specifically, that there may be a “leak in our money” – which is completely frightening because the LAST time we had mice (yeah, I know, you now never want to come over, right?) – it was 3 years ago & we found out after we got rid of the mice that OUR MOTHERFUCKING ASSISTANT HAD BEEN STEALING ABOUT $90,000 FROM OUR COMPANY.

Wish me luck that we can plug these holes fast, kill the little motherfucker (or run him out of town), and that the worst of the damage was just my beloved avocados. :(

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

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