State of the RPrin

My folks gave me a nice big gift certificate for my birthday (thanks, guys!), so I now have new tights, technique shoes, and even a fancy leotard that I have been eyeballing for three straight years (for the record it makes me feel a bit naked, but oh well.) Mmm... new dance clothes. So good.
I had to order stuff using my husband's Amazon Prime account (I am not going to pay for shipping, guys) and just told him not to look at the invoice because he would be horrified to see what ballet clothes and women's underwear (which I also bought) actually cost. I swear. He can go down to Target and buy a pack of boxers for $5, but I buy one bra and it's practically the event of the season. Sheesh.
I am out of class today because my something-or-other has folded in on itself (I have no idea. It was badly diagnosed as a kidney stone 9 years ago, but it sure as heck ain't) so I am in just enough pain to be slightly delusional. Shoot. I'd much rather be dancing.

I'm looking for a new job. A big-girl job doing boring office work. I have precisely zero experience and I won't give up dancing in the evenings unless you physically threaten my family, so I am running up against a few obstacles. Something will work out. It has to. Because if not, and I am stuck living in this apartment with these asshole neighbors? I will probably snap and kill someone. You will see me on the news. It won't be pretty. I'm fairly certain pointe shoes with rice bags in the toes count as deadly weapons.

Moolah

I really try to keep expenses related to ballet (and other silly and/or stupid things like paper doll collecting) limited to what I can afford to spend out of my own private bank account, which is filled via Etsy and Ebay sales. It works out pretty well, at least for the majority of the year. And then all of a sudden I need another pair of pointe shoes and it all goes to hell. Thankfully my dear husband is the type that doesn't require asking permission to buy things. Not that I would hang out with that kind of guy, anyway. It always amazed me when I worked retail and would ring up a woman's purchases and she looked at me nervously and declared "my husband is going to kill me!" Really? Is your husband a jerk-face control freak or are you just really really bad at understanding budgets? Because for realios, guys. It's just weird.
Also: buying new pointe shoes all the bloody time? Pretty unappealing. Get with the program, ballet! Embrace plastics!

Out With the Old, In With the New

Goodbye, old slippers. You were trusty and strong but your time has come. I won't throw you away because I have something of a weird sentimental attachment to you (at least not until the next time I am moving and going through my possessions with ruthless determination.)
And let this be a lesson to all of you out there: my old slippers were tight to the point of being painful two years ago, but the exact same brand, model, and size is now slightly larger than I would like. Either Grishko has changed it's sizing or my feet really have shrunk by about half a size+ since I started dancing. Either way: caveat emptor.  

Also: I would say that "that is just what my feet look like in the winter" but come on, let's be honest. I don't tan, my skin goes from translucent to lobster-red in ten seconds flat so I just don't tend to flaunt my lizard-belly whiteness in public. Tights are awesome. Tights are my best friends.

Catting Around

I've been a bit scarce lately because life has been stressful to the point of overwhelming. Along with my ulcer, my Summer work schedule starting, and moving to a new apartment (which has neighbors that party loudly until about 5am on work nights. So great.) one of our cats has been deathly (not exaggerating) ill. She was our big fatty fat pants, but as soon as we moved she promptly stopped eating and dropped a third of her body weight within a few weeks. After many MANY trips to several different vets (and a whole damn lot of money. But whatever, we totally didn't want to buy a car anyway, right?) she finally came home with a feeding tube (temporary, thank god) and a diagnoses:
SHE HAS RHEUMATISM.
I will now give you a moment to let that sink in.

Done? Okay.
So, the good news is that it's totally treatable and when she starts a course of medication (to treat the inflammation in her digestive system) she should start feeling better pretty quickly. And this explains a lot. For example, she has always been slightly bulimic and has a pretty obvious lack of flexibility that we have often wondered about (cat rheumatoid arthritis?).
Now. Can we talk about how it took five thousand dollars and a team of five dedicated veterinary specialists two weeks to diagnose my cat's rheumatism... but after 8 or 9 years and countless visits to my human doctors Kaiser still refuses to even perform the tests necessary to properly diagnose my own rheumatism?
Ahem.
Yeah.
You would think that being a human being who can talk and describe symptoms and provide family history would make it easier, not harder.
You'd think.

(on a totally tangential ballet note: we were discussing grande pas de chat in class on Tuesday and someone translated it as "really big cat". So. Uhmm... there you go.)

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!

This is Halloween

Okay! So Halloween is coming up. And that means women in far too skimpy "sexy" costumes getting rat-faced all weekend. And we all know (or SHOULD know) that I am kind of a clothing construction and costume geek. It's what I do, darlings (read that "DAHlings" and remember to sound as snooty as possible. Or at least like Edina from Absolutely Fabulous). Anyway... so last year I was expecting mountains of ladies in their gigantic "Black Swan" costumes to be hogging the club floor, but in reality Halloween was on a Monday so the evening's entertainment largely consisted of my husband and I, and about half a dozen other working slobs dressed in comfortable shoes and drinking conservatively while watching bands play and checking our watches every few minutes because duh we have to get up in the morning. I saw pictures from other people's Halloween nights, though, so I know the skanky Black Swans were out there (I was a fully clothed white rabbit from Alice. Very very clothed. Not even a little bit sexy). I think there will be more this year, though, because companies have had an entire year to get their designs sorted and their stuff produced. Out of curiosity (okay, because I felt like making fun of something) I checked out Trashy.com's ballerina costumes. Because Trashy (despite it's awful name) is known for it's elaborate and fist-clenchingly expensive "sexy whatever" costumes that are then ripped off by everyone else in the industry. Wait, wait, wait... is this a sexy storm trooper costume? Sigh...
Anyway, here is their "Black Swan" costume:

All things considered, aside from the unfortunate amount of visible butt cheek and a certain wobbly shapelessness to the skirt (and the stripper heels), it's not that bad. At least, considering some of the things that are out there. Of course, since this getup tops the charts at about $600, the fact is that you could buy a REAL tutu for less money. Not that it would be the crème de la crème or anything, but sheesh, it would at least be shaped properly, and probably cover your butt cheeks. You could even wear stripper heels if you want, though really if you're going for ballerina you need to go all the way. Heels do not equal ballerina. At least get some flats and tie a ribbon around 'em.
On a different, ranting note: am I the only one who thought it was seriously annoying that the movie refused to used the names Odette and Odile and dumbed it down to "black swan" and "white swan"? Any real dancer would already know those names. But then, real dancers have lives, and real ballet directors live in one bedroom apartments with cockroaches, so what am I doing splitting hairs?

Curiouser and Curiouser

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!
The most amazing ballet ever in the world is coming to my state the DAY AFTER MY BIRTHDAY. But it's a 6+ hour drive! So, it's not exactly feasible.
But OH.
Oh.
OH OH OH.
I think I will go sit in a closet and rock mournfully for a few hours.

Ballet Before Basketball!

So I live in a city. It's... not really a major city. Okay, no, it's a major political and historical kind of city. But it has zero culture and very little by way of... you know... fun. Anyway. So the city is BROKE (which can be said of many -if not most-cities right now) and is laying off teachers, emergency personnel, grounds keepers and park rangers... you get the idea. But right now, like right now as I am typing, the city is attempting to spend MILLIONS of dollars in public funds to build a new basketball arena for our local team. I won't give it away, but suffice it to say that our team is one of the very lowest ranked teams in the NBA. Uh... let me go google it so I can see how low... okay ready? SECOND FROM THE LAST. That is how crappy these dudes are.
ANYWAY.
And today our local professional ballet company posted a facebook plea for $5 donations. I mean, seriously, people. What the EFF YOU SEE KAY is wrong with this city? Where are the millions in public funds for the ballet? The orchestra? The theater company? It's not like this struggling nonprofit ballet company is being at ALL extravagant with it's money. I think it has about 4 shows this year. And it's not pouring masses of money in to salaries for it's dancers or it's directors. Trust me, I know how they live.
So, I guess the point is that I feel a little self-righteous and grumpy about all this so I am trying to spread the word. Donate to a good cause HERE.

Craving For Creativity

Okay, someone needs to tell me that I don't need a rehearsal tutu. Come on, guys. Tell me that I don't have the room to store it because it is huge and awkward and I live in a one bedroom apartment. Tell me that I should be focusing my creative energy on projects that will earn money. Tell me that I would never wear the silly thing anyway so I shouldn't bother. Or that my funds are limited because I have two sick cats.
Please.
Or else this lady right here (*gesture*) is buying 14 yards of diamond net on Tuesday.

Some Of You Will Think This Post Is Creepy

Okay. So when I decided that I needed to take ballet lessons or I would die inside I had to cut a certain amount of chaff from my budget. Especially because last year I had a real job, and now I quotey-quote "work from home" which is sort of like saying "I am unemployed" only I have to feel guilty about sleeping in. Anyways. That $500 I spent on shoes last year was not going to be repeated this year (for the record, though, I got some REALLY AWESOME shoes last year) and the ridiculously expensive dolls were just going to have to wait.
Okay, okay, I admit it. There. Are you happy now? I admit it freely. I am a dolly addict. I don't mean creepy porcelain dolls or collector barbies or anything else that accrues any sort of value over the years. I mean gorgeous and stupidly expensive resin ball jointed dolls from Asia. If you aren't already familiar with them, you need to go look at this site. You will have a heart attack. Especially when you look at the prices and realize that those $600 dolls are BASE prices. Hair, eyes, and wardrobe sold separately. *Siiiiiiiiiigh* (It's not as silly as it sounds, I actually earn a pretty significant percentage of my living by making and selling teeny tiny 1/6 scale corsets and underwear. No, I am not joking.)
Anyway, like I said, ballet is expensive. So, sorry Too and Bee-A, but you will have to wait.
And just as I had finally made this decision and was feeling very secure about it?
I discovered these:

Do you hear that sound? It's the sound of my soul crying.

That's right, kids. Those are specially made pointed feet. For those ridiculously expensive dollies. So that they can wear Intensely Adorable pointe shoes. Just go and look at this picture and tell me that they aren't awesome.

Well, never mind, because I won't believe you anyway. Ballet. Shoes. Dolls. Spending money I don't have. My buttons. Consider them pushed.