Thursday, September 24, 2015

back en pointe and it feels s̶o̶ ̶g̶o̶o̶d̶ like I'm dying

No, actually, it was fine. My ankles are in need of some serious work, and I have to figure out how to move my feet while they are encased in cinder blocks again, but it went better than I expected. I even kept my shoes on for the entire hour. I talked to my teacher about changing my schedule around, and while it'll mean more evenings of commuting/washing tights it will also mean I have a little extra energy for pointe. I also got the go-ahead to wear pointes at barre in any class I take. I may try that eventually, but for now I am just trying to get back in to the swing of things.
So, here I am, after five months off pointe and a summer spent mostly working with very few dancing interludes. After a solid vacation, a bit of perspective shifting (you know the Butte fire? I have family up there) and a wretched RA flare (over now) I am feeling positive about ballet again and am ready to feel graceful again (as much as I ever do...)
You know what the best part is? I now get to watch one of my regular classes as an outsider. It's really remarkable how lovely and beautiful everyone looks when they're moving, something you rarely get to experience while taking the class yourself. No one has a perfect body, or flawless technique, or 180* turnout, but they all looked so pretty anyway, turning across the floor.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

The Closest I Get to Dancing on Vacation

A lot of people go on a vacation or other road trips and consider it a perfect time to try out the local dance studio class offerings. I ... do not. This is as close as I get to dancing on vacation:
It's a frappé. The kind that doesn't involve kicking yourself
repeatedly in the ankle and getting called out for your crap timing.

Drawing in the wet sand with rond de jambes.
While carrying a bucket and froggy umbrella.
Shut up.

Monday, September 7, 2015

This is What All Ballet Portraits Should Look Like

I mean... weightless grands jetes and perfectly curved arches are nice and all... but come on:
This is so much better!
Mademoiselle Nelova, 1929

Sunday, August 30, 2015

F this S

I'm in such a ballet funk. I really just don't want to go at all, right now. It has been a few months since work and life permitted regular twice-a-week class attendance, and I haven't taken pointe since May. And now that time is opening up? I just don't wanna! I am doing it because without ballet I am considerably less mobile and in a whole lot more pain. I'm just not enjoying myself at all.
One of the issues is that a new teacher has taken over two of my regular classes. And he's great, don't get me wrong. But it's different. Every teacher has a different style, and he isn't giving me the same experience that I have grown to expect and find comforting. He's teaching pointe, now, too, which makes me really hesitate to get back in to it. He really is a nice guy, and a good teacher, but...

PS: trying to apply steroids directly to my scalp is not my favorite part of rheumatism. Wait, RPrin, you have a favorite part? Hell yes. All the best people have rheumatism. Me, my sister... my cat... uh... Lady Gaga...

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

'We feel dancey'

“...fairies never say 'We feel happy': what they say is, 'We feel dancey'.”
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens *

 illustration by Arthur Rackham (hittin' it out of the park, as always)

*this is such a weird story. The prototype for what eventually became the play and then novel Peter Pan, this novella is both a little morbid and desperately tragic. As if the story wasn't already messed up enough, now you get the first hand experience of Peter discovering his mother has "replaced" him, and the little naked boy running around in the snow burying the children that have died after getting locked into the park at night. So. Weird. 

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Hardly Workin'

I just worked eleven days in a row, mostly 11 hour per day. Because apparently it was someone's bright idea to build an entire show out of flimsy silken nothingness and no one planned on... you know... hiring people to put it together. My joints no longer function, but that's okay; my brain doesn't either.
An incredible amount of the past two weeks of my life is in this picture:
 just click on the damn thing for the attribution, I have 
no brain nor patience left for that shit

and even though I pretty much despise every single one of these dresses, now, at least it is over and done with and my life can spiral slowly back to normal. Which apparently means binge-watching the entire fifth season of Downton Abbey in two days, but whatever.
I took class last night. Apparently I have forgotten how my feet work.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Life Happens

Where have you been, RPrin? I have been either working 11 hours shifts on my days off or dealing with my poor cat (not the same one as last time), who had to have her eyeball removed this week after several weeks of vet visits, ultrasounds, x-rays, and other tests. Tonight I got to take class for the first time in a few weeks. It felt great! Whew! Got to get back on the ballet train, girl.

Often, in class, a song will remind me of nothing so strongly as the ancient computer game (which I played for hours and hours on my Dad's then state of the art Atari ST, so you know we are talking more than a few years ago) Lemmings. You can still play this ridiculousness online, but without the tinny practically-arranged-for-ballet-class classical music accompaniment. So it hardly counts. 
Which probably leads to the question "why are class arrangements so bloody awful and plunky?" the answer to which is "because it's way easier to hear the timing that way"
I suppose...