My balances at the barre were declared "fierce" tonight, though I'm not sure if it's because they were amazingly sturdy or because my latest method of attack is "goddammit I am gonna balance up here if it kills me" and it was showing on my face as a ferocious growling snarl.
I think I've decided that the real trick to mastering a step you can't seem to get in class is to think about it all the time. Like math. I have occasional bouts of sleep paralysis and while stuck in one over the weekend for some reason all I could think about was how dancing is like math. It all made so much sense at the time, but let's face it, vividly hallucinating will make all manner of things seem logical (this is why I have never done drugs. Why would I want to induce that shit? I can just ride the crazy train all on my own, thanks, and since it's usually accompanied by awful and terrible lurking creatures at the edge of your vision, all teeth and claws... NO THANKS.)
Uhmm... Where was I going with this?
Oh yeah. So. Thinking about it. Which seems counter-intuitive, because doing it is the important part, right? And doing is important, don't get me wrong. I've been hopping around my apartment all week attempting to Do, but let's face it I have a tiny apartment filled with too much stuff and so sauté arabesques ain't really happenin' up in here. I've also found that when I trip myself up it's because I get mentally confused or forget my place in a combination, it's a lot less the execution that foils you and a lot more that Thinking thing. In a way I wish I had a long driveway like the house where I grew up. I spent hours out there rollerskating in perpetual figure eights in a desperate attempt to learn how to skate. That is what I need now, a big chunk of space without obstacles (like, you know, my oven and sofa.) I could rock some dance sneakers and tra-la-la out there to my heart's content.
On a tangential note: check out the cutest sauté arabesques ever, dudes: