Ballet Anxiety

Ballet makes you crazy. Case in point/s:

So now that my substitute acupuncturist has declared my arches horribly fallen and dreadful (thanks, lady) I have gone in to a slight panic about the entire thing. I sit in the bath scrubbing my toes and thinking to myself is that arch looking lower than it used to? Is that right one shallower than the left? WHAT IS GOING ON? And, like many an angsty teenage wannabe ballerina (side note: my spellchecker refuses to admit that "neurotypical" is a word, and yet "wannabe" appears to be in it's dictionary?) I've been looking for arch-improving exercises online. As you might expect the proverbial "they" say that pointing your feet a lot is really the best thing for it. That and, apparently, walking barefoot. I am of the no-shoes-in-the-house persuasion, myself, so that is not really a problem for me. I often don't wear shoes at all for a couple of days straight (which probably means I am not getting out as often as I should but WHATEVER). And ,walking barefoot on the beach is supposed to be especially good for you. While the beach sounds pretty good right about now (we're in the middle of a cold snap that is pretty horrific. I just don't want to leave bed all day. I actually *GASP* wore a sweater for about half of barre on Friday. Today I fished my super gigantic and ridiculous slippers out from under the bed. They are the kind dancers wear for warming up, though they were actually a Xmas gift from my father several years ago. My husband thinks they look like astronaut boots. Damn RIGHT I'm wearing my astronaut boots, dude! It is COLD in here!) my husband insists that a trip to Hawaii is pretty much out of the question right now, so I guess it's back to the old theraband, instead. In any case I refuse to get obsessed about it to the point of buying one of those silly foot-torture devices. 

In class the other day we were doing our port de corps en ronde (I am just going to assume that I spelled that correctly. I usually check but tonight: pbbt!) and the teacher was instructing us on proper technique. She said "make sure your weight is on both feet throughout the entire thing. Shifting your weight from foot to foot is cheating." and then she said something about how it's probably more fun the wrong way but doing it the right way will move your core around, or your body around your core. .. or something to that effect... which is better for your ... something or other... ballet technique. You get the idea. And she finished with "so if you are here because you are serious about improving your ballet technique then do it the right way, and if you're are just here for a fun way to stretch go ahead with however you're doing it"
And I thought Oh dear, she doesn't mean ME does she? Like no, wait, I am serious! Did you see my annoyed posts about pilates on Facebook and so you think I am just poodling around for fitness' sake? NO! I am serious! I only do pilates for ballet! I swear! I love ballet! I am in it to win it... okay maybe that one just sounds dumb but you know what I mean! How do I prove that I am serious? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, WOMAN?
But that is crazy talk. Like crazy people would say. Not normal, well-adjusted, sane people. That would be silly. Right? Right. Okay then.

Looking For Ballerinas in All The Wrong Places

Well, I've done it. I've finished off Nutcracker and Mouseking, the story that the Nutcracker was based on. It was interesting in a few ways. For one, the mouse king was this terrifying 7-headed rodent creature that was obviously inspired by the German folk legend of the rat king. If you've never heard of it before I am terribly sorry to introduce it to you, but it gives you a certain understanding of the story we are working with, here. The little girl (named Marie, not Clara) sort of vaguely helps the nutcracker (Drosselmeyer's bewitched nephew) defeat the mouse king (VERY vaguely) and then she marries him, despite the fact that she is 8 years old. There you go. There is a brief trip through the land of sweets, but they don't stop to talk to anyone on account of the residents all being terribly grumpy (because they all have sore teeth, naturally). Why did we make this story in to a beloved ballet classic, again?

Random write-up in mental_floss magazine this month:

not particularly informative or anything, it just caught my eye.

Well, That Must Have Made a Hell of a Sound

Via the Victoria & Albert Museum

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.

Red Soles and Satin

Dita Von Teese's custom-made Louboutin pointe shoes.
No, really.
I ... I think I need to go lay down for awhile...

So, what did *you* do this weekend?

Oh, you know. Just went for a walk with my pet turkey. En pointe.

Of Pink Satin Slippers

Ballet is extremely tradition-based. Not just the actual dancing part, but everything else as well. The etiquette. The way you address a teacher, the way you end class with a bow and a round of applause (who are we applauding? Our teacher for giving a great class? Our stereo stand-in for a theoretical pianist? Ourselves? Way to go, us! Woo!) and last but not least the way we dress.
Thankfully lycra was invented and we don't have to wear baggy knitted stockings and knee-length dresses to class these days. BUT why wear tights at all? Isn't that a little silly? And the shoes! Now, don't get me wrong, I love the shoes. You all know by now how I feel about the shoes. But why the heck do we insist on wearing pink satin shoes with ribbons? It isn't really all that practical. There are better ways to do these things. Elastic happens, guys. But we still wear pink satin shoes with ribbons. Why, you may ask? Because when ballet really hit its stride as a performance art that is how women dressed. Like, all the time.  Here is what a pair of lady's shoes looked like, circa 1830*:

Remind you of anything?

*the picture of the silk slippers came from this site.

Your Shoes Are Killing My Spirit

So... what is the thing with wearing pointe shoes to beginning ballet class? There are three ladies (out of about 14-15 some nights) in my class that are wearing pointe shoes, now. One has them deshanked that I know of, and says she is wearing them to build up foot strength without going up in them. One girl is definitely wearing those things as is, because she is Showing Off before class (I am not saying that in a snarky way. If you've got it, babe, flaunt it). The other... I am not sure because I don't pay much attention to what other people are doing in class to be honest (I just always notice that they are Super Candy Pink). It's all focusing on keeping my own sorry butt from falling over.
Anyway. I was just wondering what is up with that.
I think, if I had pointe shoes that were fully functional I would probably be too careful of them in a regular class. Not want to go in to demi pointe too much because I would not want the shanks to get broken before their time had come.
Also, I want my future first pointe shoe purchase to be The Event Of The Season. With maybe a glass of (pink!) champagne afterward and blurry iphone photos posted to facebook with comments like "HOLY SH*T LOOK AT WHAT I JUST BOUGHT GUYS I AM A SUPER TWIRLY BALLERINA NOW OMG"
But, anyway. That is just me.

Just Goes To Show

I am SO BAD about exercises. Especially foot exercises. Which I really need to be doing so that my feet don't ALWAYS cramp up just as we are doing reverence. Nothing looks better than a dancer bowing with her foot all bent up in front of her, am I right? Anyway.
And there are all these things I should be doing, but I get a good week or so in to a routine and then I hit the weekend, forget about it, and never go back to it again. For example I was trying to do these toe lifting exercises every time I took a bath (I don't take showers, because I have a claw foot tub. Also, I hate showers.). And It was going along just fine for a couple of weeks. And then... yeah. Therabanding my feet when I do stretches lasted a little longer. But then...
So yesterday I was reading up online about stuff I Should Be Doing to work my feet a bit more, and I ran across this article by a podiatrist recommending exercises to dancers. There was one specific move* that he recommended that cracked me up. Because, you see, it seemed like a natural thing to do so I had been doing it now and then. But it felt HORRIBLE so I assumed it was doing terrible things to me and that I should knock it the heck off! But no! It's a thing! And you are supposed to do it! OMG!
Anyway. There you go. You learn something new every day.

* the move goes like this: You sit in a chair (which I am doing 70% of the time anyway) and put your (bare or slippered) feet in demi-pointe on the floor. Then you point your toes against the floor, which pushes your feet up in to full pointe. Rinse and repeat.

The Single Most Dangerous Thing You Will See All Day

I admit, I have a soft spot for technical drawings and off-beat inventions. Which is why google patents is like, the new love of my life. You can literally kill hours and hours there, just popping random junk in the search bar and seeing what comes up. I love finding stuff that I then see for sale. Stuff that I thought WHAT THE WHAT when I saw the patent.
Anyway, "ballet" is always a fun search term to use. Or "pointe". Because so much of this stuff is soooooo crazy. Here is the single most dangerous thing I have seen all day:

That is right, it's a crazy-ass pointe shoe with metal spikes on. You know, so you can do POINTE ON THE ICE. Because... uhm... because you haven't been in traction any time recently and it sounds like a great way to pass some time? Anyway, the full patent is here, so you can see the full-on insanity for yourself. I am LOOKING AT YOU Leo's!

Whatever, yo!

I had a dream last night that I was dancing, en pointe, in new shoes, with no padding, all day long. At the end of the day I took my shoes off and all my toes were squished and stuck together.
What.
I mean, other stuff was going on in the dream. There was a play or a parade or something. There was the Queen of England. There were people I was interacting with. But all I remember is my squished little toesies!
Maybe it's my subconscious way of dealing with the anxiety of the upcoming holidays. OR NOT.

Edited to add:
Oh yeah! Now I remember some more! I had to somehow produce 9 princess gowns (which were really more like over-dresses) for a show that started in an hour or something insane like that. TOTALLY an anxiety dream!

Thoughts at 2 AM

A few days ago over at the Adult Beginner blog (which you should read!) there was a post that has inspired a pretty interesting conversation in the comments.
I, also, get a twinge of sadness when I think back about how I totally missed the dancing boat when I was young and healthy. I can understand, intellectually, why I didn't study ballet as a child, but my heart wishes it was different. Also, I started ballet ten years ago! When I was younger and hardier and didn't have rheumatoid freakin' arthritis that floors me so effin' bad! I mean, what is my excuse? Why did I stop? What did I do in the last ten years that I couldn't have done better and stronger and happier if I had been dancing? It feels like such a waste.
There is also a comment from another rheumy, who explicitly states pointe as a goal. I know that I shouldn't feel weird about admitting it, but pointe is absolutely a goal for me. I don't need to be a frolicking ballerina, I just want to try it out. I want to cross it off my bucket list. If I give it a shot and decide it is sucky and painful and I feel no connection with it, no big deal. At least I gave it a try. But I hate to think of spending the rest of my life wondering why I never tried at all.

changin' it up

I got to go back to class last night, which was pretty fabulous. I spent most of last week hobbling around with a cane and taking copious amounts of vicodin (and crying) so I wasn't able to go up to two classes a week. But I had vowed that I was going to Monday class even if I had to be rolled in to the damn studio.

With my knees all but out of commission there was no way in heck I was going to do any 32 changements at the end of class (What is the magic about the number 32 in ballet? No one should be subjected to 32 changements unless it is some kind of punishment for crimes against society) so my instructor had me do 32 relevés with pliés instead. That was interesting because it was super fast and my feet did not want to stop when I hit demi pointe, so they sort of kept going until I whammed 'em back down. It might be fascinating, feet, that you can go to full pointe in soft shoes, but it isn't doing me any favors. Also, holy crap my calves hurt.