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.

Wherein I Complain a Lot

So. How's the ol' dance world going? Over here I've just been overwhelmed and stressed out for a few solid months, but my part in the recital preparation is complete, so I feel a little lighter emotionally. Of course... now the people I have turned it over to are doing strange things like sewing hot pink trim on to my carefully constructed flame orange dress and trimming meticulously created white skirts in wrinkly grey ribbons... but you just have to learn to let it go. I guess.
I can damn near see the whole floor in my sewing room, now! So many bedraggled old tutus have finally left my presence. It's sublime.
While struggling through this year's miasma of sewing, design, and actual dancing, I stopped attending my regular pointe classes. It was just too much to deal with all at once. I have decided, I think, that I just can't do two and a half solid hours of intense cardio. It's exhausting, and not in a good way. There are not enough spoons in my proverbial drawer. There is a problem, though. I mean aside from the feeling of defeat at not being able to do this incredible thing I busted my ass to achieve. I know I am the first person in the entire history of the world to say this but... I am pretty sure my poor feet would feel 100% less awful right now if I was taking pointe again. Isn't that ridiculous? But it's true! My arches aren't getting stretched the right way, my muscles aren't as strong so they don't support me as well. The whole thing is infuriating, to be honest. I WANT to do pointe. I ENJOY it (for some reason?). But it also makes me feel better. Dancing, in general, helps my pain levels and joint mobility so much. I never notice how much until I don't do it for a while.

In other dance related news: I have just discovered these crazy floating Russian dalek dancers, and while they are the least exciting dance troupe you have ever seen they are mesmerizing and amazing and put one in mind of beautifully creepy automata like the Schloss Hellbrunn mechanical theater. I imagine there are lots of interesting steampunk possibilities, here. Also, I want to know how they do that, because I totes want to pull off that little party trick:

skip ahead to about 1:30 to check that madness at the door.

 

terrifying, honestly

BAM! And she's doing piqué turns en pointe, everybody.
'Betta recognize, mothafuckas.*

*EVERY single time I try to type "mothafucka" it comes out as "mothfucka". I don't even know.

Halcyon days of yore, balletversary!

This week is my three year balletversary! And my one year pointeversary (even though I have spent so much time out with injuries that it's more like month 9 or 10)! In celebration I executed my first real, full, honest-to-god pirouette en pointe last night! In truth, I am pretty sure I did it backwards. But, we were ALL doing them backwards (it's easier because the momentum of pushing off your working leg automatically pulls you around toward your center) so I am not going to complain too much. 
I am now going to be out of class for a couple of weeks while I take a well-earned vacation with my hubby and then have (not earned at all!) oral surgery about which I have been having panic attacks (two hours awake with people in my mouth! ARGH!) so they prescribed me an anti-anxiety drug called (I am not kidding) "Halcion". Ah ha ha. I see what you did there.

Pas de Neuf

Well, it's that time again. That time when, like it or not (in it or not), everyone has to learn the choreography for the Summer recital. Tonight in pointe class we attempted the pas de quatre from Swan Lake (AKA "four little swans"). Except that there were 9 of us and we kept alternately squooshing one another and drifting perilously backwards.
Oh wait, no. I mean that we looked amazing. In fact, here is a video of us:

HAHAHAHAHA! What do you mean you don't believe me?

PS: looking at this video I see that our arms were all wrong, which explains the sqooshing to a certain extent.

Turning. Brain party.

Last night my pirouette from fifth at the barre (that is at least two awful things strung together. Pirouettes at the barre, AKA: smashing your knee in to a stationary hard object with force. AKA: if you had a REAL partner you would have just kneed him in the balls, way to go! PLUS pirouettes from fifth, which just suck.) was declared "awesome!"
Of course, it was only one out of six of the damn things, but I threw a little brain party, anyway. There was confetti raining down, and sparklers. I am pretty sure I heard a few noisemakers in the background, you know, along with all that cheering like the ball just dropped on New Year's Eve.

In the next class I discovered that it's not hard to turn en pointe. It's hard to STOP turning en pointe. If you use any force whatsoever you just... keep on going...

Level 1-2 visit

Since I have missed so much class I have a ton of make ups on the books that need to get used up before Summer starts and my life dissolves in the face of work. Last Friday I took the level 1-2 class that was my regular thing not so long ago. It's interesting, barre didn't seem as grueling as it did when I was in that class. It may be an actual change in the exercises, but perhaps I shall just seize this opportunity to say "oh wow, look at how far I have progressed".
They are doing different things, now. For example: I never did a pirouette until I started level 3, but they are working on them in 1-2 now. Probably wise, as I still struggle with them some days. Then again... would they have felt over-the-top difficult and insane and defeating two years ago? I think it's a strong possibility. I mean, it took a long time to nail down a lot of the things I take for granted now. When I started taking that class I basically had no foundation to build on, yet. Sure, I don't even have to think about how to do balancé (or pas de bourrée, or where to put my arm when I tendu to second... etc) these days, but it has been an uphill battle for those little victories (I'm not complaining, that is what ballet is all about). Pirouettes would maybe have killed me a little. Or I would now be amazing at them. You know. Either/or.
PS: in the past two months I have taken pointe twice, I think. And does it show? OH YES it does. I have lost so much strength in my legs that I'm shaking as soon as I get going. I guess this means I should get back on the old theraband and calf lifts train... blergh.

Wrecked

ARGH. My calves hurt! ARGH ARGH ARGH!
Thursday's classes, like any class directly after a big travel-oriented holiday, were short on students. As a result technique class was abnormally exhausting (very little if any down time while waiting for your turn across the floor) so I was already panting and Over It by the time pointe class started. There were even fewer pointe students, and those of us that were there are all fairly new at it. So we got serious one-on-one attention and lots of corrections that otherwise would have been lost in the shuffle. The good news is that I now have a much clearer idea of what I have been doing wrong (which has been annoying the bejeebus out of me whenever I have to look at myself in a mirror) and how to correct it (I finally understand what she means by "push against your ribbons"). The bad news is that I am now so totally wrecked physically that there is no way in hell I can use those corrections and get in some practice at home (which has now been officially sanctioned). The transition back to a regular schedule after my month of bruise-induced confinement has been tough on me physically. I basically spend every weekend cursing and whining every time I have to walk downstairs.
Remind me why I do this to myself? Ballet, guys. It hurts.

Back en Pointe and it Feels So... uhm...

This has been my first full week of honest-to-goodness classes since my foot bruise incident. I even did a full two and a half hours of class last night, including an hour en pointe. It wasn't as bad as I had feared! The bruise feels fine, astoundingly. The end of my big toe is still sore the next day, and I can still feel my calves, that's for sure. But I think I owned it pretty hard, all things considered. I was just exhausted by the end of the day.
My teacher was amazed I made it through, and I have to admit that I am pretty amazed, as well.

Several times now my nearest and dearest friends and relations have grumped at me pensively "I've never even seen you dance!" as if for some reason they would actually like to witness such a thing. I was reminded of these comments last night. While attempting a ridiculous (everything is ridiculous in pointe shoes. It's like wearing cinder blocks on your feet) waltz turn combination across the floor, my teacher announced that she was giving us tougher combinations because she wanted to get us to actually dance. And I thought "Pssh! Woman! If I wanted to dance I wouldn't be in ballet class!" 

Defiance

I don't have a lot to say right now because, let's face it, at the moment the whole ballet part of my brain is still excited about my acceptance to MIT (the Moose Institute of Toe-dancing. It's a Rocky and Bullwinkle joke, and I am terribly sorry if you are too young and/or not cool enough to get it. Netflix streaming, guys.) and my slow and steady progression in class. Two classes in I could already feel the difference in strength during technique class and three classes in I am starting to find my balance, though it is still pretty shaky business. I am also pretty sure I will NEVER get tired of hearing my teacher say "RPrin! You look so god en pointe! I just can't get over it!". I wanna hear it, babe! Don't get over it on my account! Flattery and compliments are a very strong motivating influence in my life, so keep it coming.

I shall now change the subject, because I know you are tired of hearing about pointe class, pointe shoes, and pointe EVERYTHING. Geeze, girl, get over your silly satin shoes and talk about something else for a while! Okay, okay! You don't have to be so grumpy about it, sheesh.

It occurs to me that it has been a bit over a year, now, since my last disastrous appointment with my rheumatologist. It took months to work up the nerve to file the complaint about it. It has taken me this long to even contemplate calling Kaiser for another appointment. I sometimes wonder if that is their goal: to make you so angry, depressed, and otherwise emotionally exhausted that you just give up and leave them alone.
Anyway, I am trying to psych myself in to it, but I think it's going to take me a little while.

My new goal is to combine these two topics by having someone photograph me standing en pointe and holding my cane. Ballet is my defiance.

Are You There, Taglioni? It's Me, RPrin...

So. Before I had taken my pointe test one of my classmates (who had recently started pointe) was asking me about my plans in that direction. She was very encouraging but also assured me that I would probably wonder what I had been thinking as soon as I actually got up there. And I said "oh yeah. Like when you're 11 and you can't wait for your period to start, right?" and she said "EXACTLY"
You see, if you are a dude you totally don't get this. If you are of a certain age (say, 55+) and your mother was tight-lipped about that sort of thing you don't get it, either. But for women of my generation there were secret girls-only classes once a year in 5th and 6th grade. And there was "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret" and as soon as we hit ten we were standing around like "OH MY GOD I SO WANT MY PERIOD TO START IT'S GOING TO BE SO FREAKING COOL". And you talked about it with your friends, and you thought about it constantly, and it was this major obsession (I think we have purposefully moved in this direction, culturally, because so many women pre-1950s never talked about it AT ALL and were kind of confused when it hit). And then it happened. Like, say, while you were walking home from school in the rain after a completely dismal day that included chocolate cravings so intense you spent all your lunch money on See's candy bars. You know, just as an example. And suddenly it was like "Oh. Crap. Well. You mean I have to do this, now? For, like... ever? Fuck."
And while I wouldn't say anything ballet-related (and therefore fun) is exactly like that, let's say I do see the similarities.

Pointe Class!

Pardon me if I use a lot of exclamation points!* Because I had my first pointe class tonight! Woo! It was... exciting. When I was told to take my shoes off after half an hour I was THRILLED. My left foot is slightly longer than the right one, and HELLO I became aware of that left big toe in all new and exciting ways. Next time I guess I will cram some lamb's wool down in there. Or, you know, just amputate my toe like the ugly stepsisters after the ball.
I have been informed, though, that I am better on pointe than on flat. The teacher sat on the floor directly behind me at the barre and asked "are you sure you've never taken pointe before?"
Nope! I'm pretty sure I would remember that.
Anyway. I am glad it's over, and I never want to take my fuzzy socks off again.
But dude. Achievement unlocked (as the whippersnappers are saying these days. I assume it's some sort of video game reference but I don't know because I only play Katamari Damacy and Tetris.)

* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Second Balletversary (+ pointy business)

So. Today is my official two year balletversary. Two years! And I haven't given up, yet. That is pretty astounding. I get frustrated sometimes. Hell, even my teacher gets frustrated with me sometimes. My posture is horrifying, because I have scoliosis and arthritis and I-was-raised-after-parents-stopped-telling-you-to-stand-up-straight-itis. And for some reason I could pirouette four months ago, but now I cannot. It's like you hit a plateau... except sometimes you don't just hit a plateau. You hit a downhill slope. And suddenly you are over-thinking everything and things that used to work out okay are now a hot mess. Like chaînés turns. CURSES upon chaînés turns right now, guys. In fact turns in general can basically bite my shiny metal you-know-what right now.
Oh god, that was a Futurama reference. I apologize. I swear that I have never said that before in my life.

Anyway.

So, it's been two years. And there are things that I can do today that I could not do a year ago. There are sure as hell things I can do today that I couldn't do two years ago. I was in much worse shape, back then. While I often regret not getting around to it sooner, the fact is that I am just happy to have gotten around to it at all. With the body I have been given, and the questions that I have to live with every day (what's going to be the next part that catastrophically fails? When am I going to deteriorate to the point that I am confined to a wheelchair? This all sounds very fatalistic and silly and you have my permission to ignore it) I am just proud of myself for not folding up and calling it quits. I'm going to use this body, as awkward and clumsy and ill-suited to dance as it is, as much as I can while I've still got control over it.

To that end I took the pointe test on Thursday. My teacher had said "in a couple of weeks" but then a few days later she said "this week". Which was unexpected and alarming. I hadn't even had a chance to buckle down to the relevés and duck-walking I had intended to! But, once I knew it was coming I just wanted to get it over with because I HATE TESTS. So when she forgot about it I timidly said "hey, let's do this thing so I can get it over with and go spend the rest of the night sitting in a small dark corner of the room and shaking slightly." Well, okay. Maybe I didn't say exactly that.
Anyway.
And so then this happened:

You are asking yourself how comfortable they are. The answer is "not" as in "not even at all comfortable what the hell was I even thinking oh crap now I guess I am stuck with it"

But aren't they pretty?

Shit Just Got Real

For the past few weeks I have been failing horribly to keep up with the relevés/calf lifts/basically anything at all with any potential to increase strength. I've been going up to brush my teeth at night and just feeling so exhausted that the entire concept of doing anything more demanding than sitting on the toilet lid while my electric toothbrush magically cleans my teeth for me is just TOO much. But there is no choice, now, dudes. I had better double down or GTFO.
Because tonight my teacher looked at me pointedly and told me she wanted to test me in to pointe within the next few weeks.
To which I say: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Basically.

Well, this is Terrifying...

I can't get this video to embed properly, but I will link y'all to it, anyway.

Click here for mega-super-scary-ballerina times.

Pros, Toes, and the F-Bomb

Ballet season will be starting soon, and professionals will be heading back to their studios. So, where are they now? They are taking class with the variously challenged adult ballet students at my studio. What is it like taking class with a real dancer? Well, humbling. I certainly won't be dropping down in to those perfect splits anytime soon, or kicking in to a high and strong faille* with total grace and ease. On the other hand, watching some of our more advanced girls alongside the pro gives you a real appreciation for how far you actually can go as an adult recreational dancer.
I also felt good about doing my fondues on flat rather than demi-pointe because she was doing it as well.

PS: we spent our full hour of pre-pointe last night at the barre. You might think that doing a whole class of relevés would be easier than normal, but you'd be wrong. In fact, I think my feet hurt more than they ever have. Apparently my teacher recently brought home a copy of the Pointe Book and now she's all excited about trying out the exercises it recommends. I can't imagine how the girls on pointe are feeling today, I was on demi-pointe and I feel like a train wreck!



* this word is usually pronounced "fye-ee" in ballet but "file" in most fabric situations. I bet in France they don't say it either way! In fact, I just looked it up! I was right! Check it.

Doom and Gloom While Things Go Boom

Oh GEEZE, internet! Is nothing sacred? Must there be an active fetish community for EVERY cartoon character ever created? Yeesh. It's gonna take a month of eyeball scrubbing to get over it.

Anyway. The point. I had one, I swear!

Uhmm... back when I first started taking ballet class I told my husband that if I ever went en pointe I would walk around the house like that all day. And he said okay, as long as you dress like Mom from the cartoon Dexter's Laboratory. Because she perpetually walks en pointe, you see. Another character, the annoying sister Dee Dee, always dresses in a pink tutu and ballet slippers, and is known for being a ditz and dancing around at all times. It's possible that back in college my boyfriend used to call me Dee Dee.

Anyway, I was just trying to find a little video of Mom walking around on tiptoes to post here. I was NOT looking for creepy-ass cartoon porn.

 At least not today *wink*

I Feel Like I Am Perpetually Starting New Classes

So, guess what I am going to do this week? Take the level 3-5 class instead of my 1-2 class on Thursday. I'm a little nervous about it. My shin splints are still bothering me, and I overdid it a little tonight in an attempt to do a few gentle jumps that turned out to be a terrible idea. They are getting better, sloooooowly, but it will probably be a while before I'm back up to speed. I was going to wait until I hit that magical and halcyon day when I felt competent in level 3, but that day, sadly, will probably never arrive. Because I never really felt competent in level 1-2, either. I begin to believe there is no such thing as feeling competent.
Anyway, so I asked my teacher if I should wait for a while or if I should just go ahead and advance. And she said I should go ahead and advance because "you want to do pointe, right?" at which point (ha) I thought to myself oh geeze, do I? I mean for realios? Like... do all the hard work and suffer through the stupid painful parts for the sake of looking a little like I have GOAT HOOVES? 
This is not a new line of thought. In fact, I am often seized by this exact same feeling when presented with any opportunity that looks like it's going to require work. You know. Effort and time and inconvenience. I'm nearly convinced that I would be a famous runway designer right now if I had any ambition whatsoever. But, I don't, and so I neglect opportunities when they knock. They've been trying for YEARS to get me to advance at the theater to a more interesting position. But... then I would have to work six days a week, and wouldn't even earn overtime when I have to put in 11 hour days?
Sigh...
Anyway, the answer is yes. Yes I do want to prance around with goat feet for a while, just to see what it's like. Five-year-old Me would never forgive me if I didn't. It might suck, who knows. And yes, I will even go to the extreme of feeling like the clumsy new girl for the rest of my life in order to continue doing something I enjoy. I will advance much faster and nail the tricky stuff with much less flailing about if I can focus on it more than once a week.

Also, just FYI: tonight's level 3 class wasn't half bad ( "it ain't half good, either" as I always think to myself when I feel like quoting Pinky and the Brain) I actually managed to not get all that lost on the funny barre combinations we always seem to do. The ones where instead of doing everything en croix we do some crazy switcheroo and start using our inside leg at what appears to be a totally random point. I think it was explained better this time, to be honest. But, I claim this victory in the name of getting my lazy ass to Thursday class, anyway.

You and me and LEVEL THREE!

Last night I took my first level III class! Woo! There were a couple of things I tanked on, but it was SO nice to do some different stuff. Everyone was complimentary in such a way that I figure they were pegging my absence on nerves, rather than my stupid work schedule. But no! I would have been there months ago if I had had the chance! But, I had to earn money! To pay for class! It just works out that way, sometimes.
Before class I got to observe the children's level II class, I have never actually seen a kid's class at this studio before. There were only three girls, which seems amazing because our adult level II classes are running 12-14 right now. At the end of class my teacher talked to the girls about pointework, and getting themselves ready for it. HEY! I am in level three! And I already have a theraband! Let's get to the talking, woman!

I actually only decided to go to class about ten minutes before I had to leave. I had a bit of a tummy woggle all day and felt terribly dizzy most of the evening. I accomplished precisely nothing all day (finishing off the first season of Downton Abbey does not count as an accomplishment, more's the pity) But, I couldn't miss my first level III class! So I went, and managed to not fall over (my balances at the barre were even pretty good, I would say) but the trip home was dreadful and I thought I was going to lose it when I got home. I had Indian for lunch, though, and I would be darned if I was going to throw it up. I wouldn't have been able to eat Indian again for at least a year, and that is not acceptable.

In light of the robbery on my last train ride I have started leaving everything of value that I usually carry at home while on my way to class. I don't even bring my license or ipod, just my dance clothes and a bus pass. It makes for a boring trip, but I would rather be safe than sorry. Now, if someone steals my dance bag and makes off with my perfectly broken in Grishko slippers I will probably be pretty incensed.

Oh Dear, I Discovered Another Thing to do With Polyvore...

Princess Grace: flower fairy by iwillfly

You may as well just hook me up to an IV, because I don't think I am ever going to get up from in front of the computer again...