bo-doh-doh-dee-oh

What are the weirdest "ballet-ified" musical numbers you have ever had to work with in class? Recently we have run the gamut from "All That Jazz" (really amusing to watch 8 year olds dance to) to "Rubber Ducky" (really amusing to watch grown women in pointe shoes wobble across the floor to). Other fine selections include "If I Only Had a Brain" and "We are Siamese (if You Please)"
It's actually really hard to concentrate on what you are doing when you know the lyrics to a song (which is really unfortunate , because I have intimately known far more musicals than the average bear AND I like opera. Horrible combination. Also: too much Muppet Show in my life).

What What, in the Butt?

My level three class has a batch of new students, so the complexity of combinations has been stepped down a bit. Like, to the point that I actually feel competent. But my mixed-level class has only gotten harder and harder, so now I am stuck either feeling unchallenged or overly challenged. For cryin' out loud, can I get a level four class, please? These dead-dull en croix degages aren't doing it for me any more, and no matter how many times you tell me the sequence of a 13-step grand allegro combination it ain't gonna happen right now.
Sigh...

Sorry, I am feeling a bit shouty, tonight.
Because I... pulled my butt muscle? Or... something. Class was fuller than usual tonight so I got stuck at a portable barre which is a good foot or more higher than the lowest rung on the regular barre. So, when we were all supposed to hike our legs up on the barre... something went terribly wrong. I got through the rest of class but begged off pointe and came home early. If anything, it hurts worse NOW than it did in class.
Effing ballet, guys. What the hell?

PS: this has been a really butt-centric day for me. First thing in the morning I had to take one of my cats to the vet because she has a ruptured booty gland. Well, at least I don't have THAT.

PPS: Look. I am REALLY REALLY SORRY, this is in terrible taste, but I seriously have this song stuck in my head now, and I am sharing it with you because I am basically a bad person and I'm going to hell (and I want you to share in my pain):

How can they see with SEQUINS in their eyes?

For the past several weeks we've been doing this horrific dégagé combination at the barre. It involves counting and it's ridiculous and no one ever gets it right. Well, last night I freakin' NAILED that son of a bitch. That is right, STONE COLD NAILED IT. Well, on the first side, anyway. The left side will get there in it's own sweet time. Which isn't to say the rest of class went beautifully, but you have to seize your triumphs when they present themselves.

Last night I actually saw my teacher wearing pointe shoes! It was pretty astounding. Usually you won't catch ballet teachers within a mile of a pointe shoe, regardless of the class they are teaching. In fact, I could have sworn I once heard her say she wouldn't be caught dead in them (I believe the exact words were "wild horses could not drag me back in to pointe shoes") but there she was! Also: girlfriend straight up uses scotch tape on her toes. That ranks up there with folded up cheap paper towels, which I have also seen.
While she and the pointe students (I am the only person on flat in that class, now. Don't I just feel special) were all sitting on the lobby floor putting on their shoes I was standing alertly in the corner, absorbing their ribbon-tying instructions on the not-even-at-all sly. She looked at me and said "aw, RPrin. Do you feel left out?" and I was like "naw, naw. It's all good. I am learning from you guys" and she mentioned that she did not want to put me en pointe while I am still working at the theater (the season ends next month, and I go back to maybe-sorta earning a living from home for the next nine months) because it would be "a recipe for disaster". I wonder, do I really seem that harried and out of it right now? I mean, I AM harried and out of it, because I have to tube feed a cat at 6am and midnight every day. But STILL. I like to think I present an image of having my shit together.
It makes me think of one of my favorite songs (which, holy crap, we are staging at work this Summer. I am pretty excited.) I try to live the dream, man:

Obviously I am not doing such a great job of it.

Shut Up and Dance

Sometimes, invariably at the barre, the teacher will show a combination and it all looks simple enough. UNTIL. Until someone has a question about it, and the answer confuses someone else, and the explanation of the answer confuses the first person again plus four or five other people. And the teacher says "okay, enough! Let's just do it and see what happens!" and someone who is More Serious Than You argues that without understanding the proper choreography the entire thing is wasted... and by the time we actually get around to attempting the silly thing no one has any idea what is going on. EVEN THE TEACHER. And now everyone at the barre is doing something different and all you can hope for is a quick transition to the next exercise. Because DAMN.

Also: PMS

To Ze Lumber Yard!

A couple of times now (pretty sure it's going to be in the recital) we've done this combination across the floor. It starts with a standard set of chassé-sauté arabesques and then all hell breaks loose and you bring one foot in to coupé derriere and then some piqué craziness happens and... well god only knows.
But today, in the lumber aisle at the hardware store (we're moving. I spend like ten hours a week at the hardware store, these days.) while I was waiting for my husband and the wood-cutting dude to finish their tête-à-tête, I sort of veeeerrrrrry slooooooooowly cranked it out. No one was watching me, I feel like I should mention that. Then I did it on the other side. You know, so I would be even.

State of the (very small ballet-related) Union Address

In level 3 tonight I didn't have my posture corrected at the barre. Not even once! I am trying really hard, maybe my anguish is just making my teacher feel bad. And then we were doing a combination across the floor. Waltz turns and balancés with appropriate port de bras. And, amazingly, I managed to surprise myself by actually pulling it off. BAM! I'm sure it didn't look so great to an outsider, but I was doing it! Anyway, I was pretty chuffed with myself. But then we were supposed to do this crazy glissade-assemblé-glissade-assemblé-pas de bourée-pas de bourée-glissade-assemblé-glissade-assemblé-tombé pas de bourée-pas de chat-pas de chat craziness. So, my winning streak ended abruptly and with a whimper of protest rather than a cheer of triumph.
BUT OH WELL.

I am supposed to be working on stretching and strengthening my calves, ankles, feet, toes, hamstrings, whatevers.  For this shin splint business. 4Dancers and Gaynor Minden both posted this link on Facebook today, which looks like a lot of stuff I should probably be getting off my ass and doing. Maybe tomorrow after pilates. Sigh... this whole stretching/working out/practicing at home thing just isn't working out for me. Okay, it NEVER works out for me. It's the self-discipline thing. You know, the fact that I don't have any. I really enjoy the structure of my dance classes. Should I be taking the stretch and floor exercise class at the ballet studio? Probably. But then again, that's another $11 per week and... well... to be honest I would like to waste some money on something else right now.
Speaking of which, I have been covetously eying this leotard for months now:

Oooooooh! Isn't it pretty! And so perfect!

Decent coverage AND cool meshy parts!

But the fact is that I have four leotards already. And what I need, what I really need, is a cat fur colored leotard. Because I stand there and pick fur off of myself ALL DAY and in the end I am STILL covered in fur! Argh!