Virgo:: Your role model is Tilly Trotter, a blind, 74-year-old grandmother who lives in the UK. She took up archery two years ago despite her handicap. Recently she pulled off a rare feat, shooting her arrow so precisely that it split another arrow already lodged in the target. Among archers, this is called a Robin Hood. According to my analysis of the astrological omens, you now have the power to do something similar, Virgo: overcome a disadvantage in order to accomplish a riveting triumph that would be difficult even for those who don't have to deal with a limitation like yours. You're primed to carry out your personal version of a Robin Hood.

Pleeeeeeease let this be referring to what I think it's referring to. 'Cause I'm nervous! [/cryptic]

So, yesterday I got my hair cut. Nothing big, just a trim. The layers are a bit choppy for my tastes, but enh. I have wavy hair that doesn't get a lot of product in it, and after a week, I won't even notice 'cause it'll all blend anyhow. The split ends are all gone, and that's the important part.

I also went shopping. H&M yielded good hiking shorts, a pair of summer pant/capri convertible pants, and a pretty shirt in carrot orange to replace the beloved one I destroyed. Express's tee-shirts were a letdown. Pretty, but all cut funky. How is it possible for a tee-shirt to look weird? I dunno, but they did. I also got a neat belt ('cause I have no belts), a cool cargo-style bag for the summer, some costume jewelry hoops and bangles, and a cool bellydance-appropriate scarf. Still want to get more basic tees. Victoria's Secret really rocks that way. Lots of styles, colors, not too thin, comfy, tagless, relatively inexpensive. Plus their hipster bootcut jeans rock my world.

I got to hang out with Anna, then with Timmy. I got to OMGWTFPOLARBEAR at Lost. I got to talk to J before bed. He said that the guy he was seated next to at dinner last night apparently has a bellydancer wife. He said that they had a half-hour conversation about tribal bellydance, that it was really cool. Let me explain to you why this made me want to tacklehug him in the worst way: he listens when I talk about things that I love. I got used to a selfish model of partner (last 6 months excluded) that treated my interests as an obligation at best. J actually cares what lights me up, and is interested. He absorbs what I say. I can't tell you how awesome that makes me feel-- that he cares, that it's not always about him and paying the bare minimum of attention before he can go back to talking or doing whatever makes him happy. Like, seriously. It's kind of mind blowing that this was my previous standard. And I am amused that he calls Rachel Brice "the alien-stomach lady." Gah. This boy. He likes me for me-- not just the parts of me that interest him, not just the parts of me that make him feel good about himself, not just on his terms, not only in certain contexts. The whole dorky shebang, he digs it. When I hear him talking about me, there's a note of pride in his voice that totally melts me. He even has a "you're my girlfriend" dance, complete with butt-wiggle, but don't tell him I said so.

Tonight: rehearsal with Flissy, and costume-finishing. We'll be performing at the Kallisti Tribal Printemps Hafla tomorrow along side some of my favorite local dancers. If you're local, consider coming out!

Lyra's House
131 Brightside Ave
Pikesville, MD 21208
1pm - 6pm
(We'll likely go on somewhere between 1:30 - 2:30. Ish.)

Also, thanks to everyone participating in the feminism discussions and hosting your own. I may not respond to every comment, but it's read and considered and valued.