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...

praise in high places

E-mail I got from my teacher this morning:
"You are looking stronger and stronger in class. I'm really impressed by your progress. I keep forgetting to tell you this when you are in class, so now I've done it and you know what I'm seeing."
WHAAAAT?
Girl, you know I am one of the worst people in class, but thank you anyway.
It all went to my head a little bit and I found myself volunteering to alter and hem four slippy-slimy satin circle skirts by Tuesday. That's right, people, the way to make me volunteer to do gross chores for you is to say nice things about me. As a particularly ill-contrived* ex of mine used to say "flattery will get you everywhere".

* the relationship was ill-contrived, not him. I mean, maybe he was, I don't know. I didn't feel comfortable asking his mom those kind of questions.

Alliterative Reflections After Class

You know you're an adult ballet student/arthritic old lady when... you find yourself saying "you know what I'd really like for an anniversary present, honey? Compression socks"

After class last night a couple of people told me that I had improved a lot in the last couple of months. One of the compliment fairies (like tooth fairies? Only they bring you compliments instead of taking teeth?) was our perpetually perfect, pretty, and perky (puhpuhpuhpuh) teenager who always kicks all our old asses out there on the floor. It was nice but seemed really strange. I always feel a bit like the class I am in is the hardest class I have ever taken, you know? Like... maybe I'm getting worse. Or more tired. Or for some reason I just haven't got the mojo working this time. But then the next class comes along and I feel the EXACT SAME WAY. I think the rush of endorphins dulls your memory.

Promotion!

Who just got promoted?
That's right.
ME!
Level THREE like it ain't no thang!
WOOOOO!

On Friday I will ask about schedules and such. With luck I can start going to one level 1-2 and one level 3 class next week. If I am not so lucky it will have to wait until September, but I am feeling pretty chuffed one way or the other.
Also SCARED TO DEATH!
NOOOOOOOoooooo! I still feel like the world is out to get me when I hit a particularly long stretch of fondues and I can't hook chaînés turns together quickly while still being able to spot my way out of a hole. And what about balancing? I feel like I am total rubbish at balancing. So I will give this a shot but I MIGHT DIE, GUYS.

In reality, when I look at where I started last September (in the very worst physical condition of my life) I am pretty impressed with myself in spite of everything.

The future is here, it's bright, it's now.
(That was a Regina Spektor reference. In case you were lost, there. Sorry. That is what happens in my brain, sometimes.)

Hey, guess who's competent?

That's right! Me! Tonight my teacher was all "hey, Rheumatic Princess, why didn't you sign up for the recital?" And I was like "dude I am shy" and she said aww, that was too bad because I was totally competent.
THAT'S RIGHT, I AM MOTHER F*CKING COMPETENT!
WOO!
In related news I have been able to go in for extra classes on a fairly regular basis lately and I am feeling a lot more confident in the "harder" class. In truth, due to the way the classes are set up to "graduate" students in to the more advanced classes as they reach a level of (dare I say it?) competence, I think that it is quite possible that they are just doing less advanced stuff now. But, anyway, I will TAKE IT. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, girl.
Anyway, we are still learning new and interesting stuff! It's always exciting when something new comes up. Tonight we were doing combinations of bourées with a graceful turn and some fancy swooshing port de bras, and it was darn near dancing, though obviously painfully slow. We hadn't done bourée before, and it's one of those things that the internet assures you will feel like flying across the stage someday when you are wearing slippery satin shoes. What it fails to mention is that OW that is some serious calf exercise. It was stupidly fun and exciting, though, and so I will probably be bourée-ing across my kitchen floor in fuzzy socks for the next few days.
ALSO, are you a person who likes to know where our silly dance terms come from? I am. So that is what the internet is for. And a bourrée, an actual bourée, is a French folk dance. Here are some people rockin' it. I am sure I have witnessed this at a rennaisance faire or something of the sort (yes, yes, I do that, too. It's all about making up excuses to wear pretty dresses) and it has very little to do with bourrée and pas de bourrée as we do them in ballet, but I guess it all had to come from somewhere, right?:

It looks fun! I might go so far as to say "hella" fun. 

That's right, I just said "hella" like it ain't no thang!

Bam!