Tap tap tappin' those toes

These both fascinate and horrify me. When I ran across them on Etsy today it took me a few seconds to realize that the terrifying industrial-zombie steel craziness going on here is for toe tap. Not too many people pull off that little party trick these days.
All for the best, really.

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.

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.

Complaining in Black and White

Well. I submitted my formal complaint against my rheumatologist tonight. I had been putting it off for months, now, because I just couldn't even put it in to words, but I am running out of time. I tried submitting it a couple of weeks ago but their website is so crummy that I had trouble with it and ended up having the entire thing erased without a trace before I could hit the send button. The new one has been saved to my hard drive, which is what I should have done in the first place but OH WELL.
The complaint is written with my usual brevity and clarity of purpose. Which is to say that the main complaint text pulls in at almost 800 words, almost all of which is back story. I did not use any words my granny would have been scandalized by. I tried to keep my snark down to a reasonable level, but you can still tell that I'm writing hot, and sadly unless I am given a few more YEARS to get over the problem then my anger is just going to keep coming in to the equation. I really did try.
Anyway, writing the complaint was really freakin' taxing, emotionally, and now I just dread getting a call from Kaiser's customer service reps telling me that it's all my fault and I should shut up. Honestly, I am considering responding to any phone calls by telling them I will only correspond in writing. Aside from making it easier for me to deal with because I won't be put on the spot it will leave a more absolute paper trail.

Now, I'm going to go nurse this stress headache and finish reading Pride and Prejudice. It's my first Jane Austen and I have got to say, this Mr. Darcy might be the thinking woman's lust object of the century (or, you know, last couple of centuries) but a douchebag by any other name is still a douchebag.

He Wasn't Even Wearing a Bandana and Spurs

So, a few weeks ago my husband started a new job. It's good in that it pays (very) slightly more but sucks because he now gets home forty minutes later than he used to which means I can't have the car to drive to ballet class. Yeah, I am not excited, either. So I am taking the train to class these days. My husband picks me up afterward because there is no safe way for me to take the train home after dark (besides, I am gross after class). It's been a sore point, but there really aren't any better options right now.
The point is that today on the train to class I witnessed a robbery. There wasn't a weapon involved, thank goodness, but still. It's been a few years since I took public transportation with any regularity, so maybe I am just not used to it anymore. In my sheltered world of moving within the automotive bubble created by modern society I've quite forgotten how terribly real the rest of life can be.
On a brighter note I guess? The universe kindly did not present me with any assemblés tonight. Thank heavens for small favors, yes? Though I have been attempting to get my mind around the reverse combination that threw me so badly on Monday. Through a lot of surreptitious jumping around in the bathroom at work and LOTS of running it over in my mind whenever I have a spare moment I think that maybe I might possibly have a slightly better concept of what I was doing wrong. Sort of.