The silence between the notes

Just three hours ago, I got my first tattoo! A symbolic image of a dancer and a cross blended together. Actually, I’m surprised at how much of a jerk the tattoo artist was about my so-called “abstract” design. And if I weren’t so determined to have it done today, I probably would have taken my “anatomically impossible” design to someone who was more open-minded…But that hasn’t dissuaded me from planning out my second tat! My next idea is inspired by the organization called “To Write Love on her Arms.” Like my first tattoo (Yay!), this one will also be a blended image: a cross with the word “love” scrolling down the center beam. I love the symbolism of my new design. I love that it references TWOLA organization and the victims my heart goes out to. And I love that the word “love” can mean so much more than just caring for others in need. A quick Internet search showed these common connotations of the word “love”: adoration, brotherly love, compassion, deep appreciation, i

I’ve recently decided that this is one of my favorite holiday phrases: it provides the cliché ambiguity I need to communicate a variety of ideas and that same ambiguity allows the recipients of the phrase to interpret my ideas however they see fit. After someone (No names, please!) has eaten too many pieces of mint fudge, “’tis the season” acknowledges the humor of gorging ourselves on holiday treats. After an act of kindness to a hurting stranger, “’tis the season” serves as a word of encouragement. But I often find myself trapped behind my favorite holiday phrase: in my attempt to be politically correct, I allow people to interpret “’tis the season” as they wish, not as I fully intend. I wish I could emphasize to everyone that “the season” is really THE season. I wish I could use it to declare the Love of the CHRISTmas season! Sure, the winter holidays each have their advantages (Thanksgiving turkey and potatoes, Christmas fudge and Rudolph, New Year’s resolutions made

Curvy women may be a clever bet                                                                                                 Women with curvy figures are likely to be brighter than waif-like counterparts and may well produce more intelligent offspring, a US study suggests. (Posted by our friends at the BBC: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7090300.stm)                                             Researchers studied 16,000 women and girls and found the more voluptuous performed better on cognitive tests - as did their children. The bigger the difference between a woman's waist and hips the better. Researchers writing in Evolution and Human Behaviour speculated this was to do with fatty acids found on the hips. In this area, the fat is likely to be the much touted Omega-3, which could improve the woman's own mental abilities as well as those of her child during pregnancy. Men respond to the double enticement of both an intelligent partner and an intelligent child, the re

Despite some very insightful discussions with my seniors and a rather productive choreography session with my dance team officers, my day also produced some very unusual and alarming statements. How did this happen to me all in one day? 1. A text message with choreography notes from one of my officers: "The first part of the song is at 0:36 but that has making love to something innocent so we'll have to edit." 2. After apparently observing my facial expressions for several days, an officer said, "You always stick your tongue out when you get excited. You do it when you're teaching too." Her re-enactments followed. Seriously??? 3. After teasing about my tongue/facial expressions and how I sometimes say :P when texting, that same student joked, "Mrs. Hein, why do you keep licking me?" 4. When trying to recall a new dance move, one of my choreographers asked, "We stepped on the waitress, right?" 5. A joke told by a senior at the start of

I've already admitted my own impatience but there is a time and a place, people! On my way back from Bellevue this weekend, signs started directing cars to prepare for the upcoming construction by merging into a single lane. About a mile after people started merging, I became frustrated that the second lane was still open and people were still zipping past those who were respecting the merge. After at least 2 dozen cheaters blazed by, my co-pilot gave me a brilliant suggestion: we could take one for the team. So taking advantage of my new dominance as a BadAss SUV driver, I pulled my bright red Equinox in front of the cheaters and slowed back down to 10 mph. The Honda next to me nodded and kept a space open for my return as I drove the next mile in front of all the would-be speeders! I laughed aloud as one by one the speedsters zipped up to me then resigned themselves back to the slow lane. Only once did a selfish little sports car have the nerve to pass me on the shoulder; everyo

I've been informed that most "normal" people don't listen to the same song on repeat for days BUT since I'm clearly "normal" in every other way, I'll admit this unusual little quirk. My musical obsessions usually take one of two forms: "some'in' you can dance to" (Missy quote, case in point) or emotional undertow. Since the former provides less fodder for discussion (and makes me sound less smart), I'll request suggestions for the latter. My emotive repeats usually have a billowing melody line and gentle but pulling rhythm, highly connotative lyrics, and vivid images. (And no, that's not due to my degrees. I'm pretty sure these preferences caused my interest in teaching music/English.) Their content varies though. Some are encouraging, others are melancholy, and several are quite spiritual. They don't necessarily have to parallel my current situations; they just have to pull me in. Some of my recent repeats: Wra

When I wrote my first (and otherwise only) blog, I stated that I did not intend to be a real blogger, and so far I have been true to my word. Thus the name of my humble page: The Silence between the Notes. I hope you’ve enjoyed my silence but here comes another note. Lately, I’ve really been pondering our society’s struggle with silence and absence and patience. For example, several friends have teased me about the absence of my blogs. But why is a long absence such a bad thing? Does silence, absence, or patience decrease our quality of life in some way? Why are we so impatient with such silly things in life? I want to enjoy the silence around me and to become more patient and yet I still… Stop the microwave with 1 second left because I just can’t wait any longer. Start my DVR-ed programs 15 minutes late just so that I can fast forward through commercials. Grunt when my computer can’t keep up with how fast I want to type. Anxiously stare at my cell phone as if it will sp

Let me start by saying (and since this is my blog, I guess you can’t stop me…) that I did not, and sort of still don’t, plan to actually consider myself a blogger. I really only signed up for an account so I could comment on friends’ blogs. But then Megan suggested I post something, and I thought this was fitting. Questions from a beginning blogger 1) Who ever decided that every goober with a keypad (Me included, I suppose.) should be able to share their thoughts with a blog? 2) Why are people so fascinated with reading other peoples’ thoughts on myspace/facebook/blogs despite the fact that they rarely, if ever, actually COMMENT on them? What good is it to know what your friends are thinking if you never do anything with it, folks? Communication should go both ways! 3) And most importantly: Why do bloggers think it’s OK to stretch a quick little anecdote into a 12-page autobiography? Is there some minimum word count that I’m yet unaware of? Am I going