My Cats Utterly Refuse To Make Me Rich and Famous

Dammit, kitten. I keep you around for photo ops and you-tube-ready shenanigans, and you won't even pose for me with my new pointe shoes? PSSH! Such a ripoff.

In other news: I am still alive, but it's been a rough summer and I am just trying to get through the next three weeks without setting myself on fire in a blind rage. I took a few weeks off dancing, but I'm (mostly) back at it, now. New kitten. New shoes.

Fucking Pointe Shoes, Man...

You know how everything that has the word "wedding" attached to it automatically sells for double the cost of the exact same thing without "wedding" in the name? Like, if you go to a grocery store and say "I need a birthday cake for fifty people" they will charge you $100 for it, but if you say "a wedding cake for fifty people" they will tell you it's $250? Ballet is the same way. If it has the word "ballet" in it or is sold at dancewear stores it is going to cost you SO MUCH more than the same thing at Hardware Hal's or Francine's Fabrics. To wit:
After a few short months of use my latest pointes died ingloriously. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, but it does irk the crap out of me. So I decided to go the jet glue route in hopes of a few more weeks without major damage being done to my bank account.
So, did you know that pointe shoe glue is basically just jet glue? And that jet glue is basically just SUPER GLUE? Instead of paying $15 for shoe glue at the only dance store in town (which is still half an hour from my place and has the WORST parking "lot" I think I have ever seen) or ordering jet glue from Amazon and waiting a week for it to arrive I just raided my husband's glue-and-tape drawer (to be fair I am the one who organized it in to it's own drawer. Look, we have several dozen rolls of packing tape in this house but I can never find an open one when I need to ship something) and found the tubes of super glue we had purchased for attaching the cat's claw caps. TA-DA!
There is just something about disemboweling an $80 pair of shoes with a razor that makes the poor kid in me ("we're not poor, we have each other!") cringe a little bit. But I can highly recommend tearing in to a pair to see what is going on in there. For instance, I discovered that my right shoe is feeling noodly because it has developed a fault-line of near San Andrean proportions right across the arch. Which means that any day now the damn thing will snap right in half while I am trying to do something important. That sounds safe AND comfortable. YAY!
New shoes. New shoes need to happen. SOMEONE please build a new dancewear store in central CA. One that sells plastic shoes and has ten charming young fitters available at all times.

Pointy Business

We got word today that we finally found a new place to live. SO... we'll be farther away from the ballet studio, but at least we'll also be ten blissful miles and 15 beauteous minutes away from our current asshole neighbors (pro tip: spoiled college students who have rich daddies to pay their rent make terrible neighbors)
ANYWAY!

I have solved my worst issues with my new pointe shoes, just about in time for the shanks to get all flubbily. Woot. I think the problem was slightly different sized feet (solved with decapitated socks) and a heel that slipped off perpetually (solved with silicone seam sealant on the insides of the heels).
I went ahead last week and sewed the leather patches the shoes came with on to the platforms. They squeaked dreadfully for an hour or so, but it's worn off (thank god). Dancing with the patches is a very different experience, actually. It's noticeably more difficult to turn/etc with them, but also easier to stick piques instead of hitting the wrong angle once in a while and falling on your ass (I don't think I ever have, but I've been close and I've seen it happen).
I sewed on the patches. It impressed my teacher, but I can't seriously recommend it. Glue that shit on if you know you aren't going to want to take them off again. For one thing the stitches are going to break eventually and I'll be back to square one.
Sigh...

Becoming What You Hate

So. I'm one of those people, now. You know THOSE people. The people I couldn't stand back when I was in beginning ballet class twice a week. The more advanced dancer who is taking the level 1-2 class for unfathomable reasons, taking up valuable space in an overcrowded studio, and the worst is yet to come... wearing pointe shoes. UGH. Four years ago I could NOT understand those people. Those people made no sense to me. They were operating on some set of rules that didn't work in my brain. Now? I am those people. Why? Because, due to scheduling and health restrictions I am stuck taking the most overcrowded 1-2 class once a week just to get my class number up high enough to qualify for the more advanced stuff. And why am I wearing pointes? Because this class goes really freaking slow, guys. I might as well get some of the strength back in my arches while I am doing painfully slow tendus at the barre.

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.

This is What All Ballet Portraits Should Look Like

I mean... weightless grands jetes and perfectly curved arches are nice and all... but come on:

This is so much better!

Mademoiselle Nelova, 1929

Maybe She's Born With it... Maybe it's Photoshop

From this Huffington Post article: Anna Pavlova in a famous picture you've probably seen before. But now in high enough resolution to see the century-old "photoshop" job on her pointe shoes! She was famous for having her photos retouched to make her feet look extra pointy and small, because she got a certain amount of crap for wearing modern-style shoes. This same crap-flinging tendency still exists in ballet, of course, but now it's mostly aimed at inovations like plastics and anything that reduces your pain level. Because dancers are crazy mofos.
Anyway, I just thought this was great.

Well, she impresses ME, anyway

My 10 year old niece is utterly unimpressed with me. I love her to the moon and back, and she loves me, too. BUT. But she just doesn't think I'm all that exciting, let's be honest. I had always thought that when she found out what I do for a living that she'd be impressed. And two seasons ago when I was working on an incredibly beautiful stage version of her favorite Disney movie was she awestruck? No. And yesterday when I took time out from sewing pointe shoe ribbons to show her how Aunt RPrin can stand on her tip-toes? Totally didn't even bat an eyelash.
KIDS! What the hell, yo?

Like Dancing on the Moon

In my house we love to listen to Stephen Fry. He could basically narrate the phone book (do people still know what those are? It's that big squodgy book full of advertisements that they leave on your doorstep wrapped in a plastic bag. You know the ones. The ones you deposit directly in the recycle bin without even glancing at) and we would listen to it in the car. Anyway. So my husband tracked down a silly little show he hosted a few year ago that featured gadgets and gizmos (aplenty. That song is SO STUCK IN MY HEAD.) and we've been watching it here and there.
Tonight's episode showcased this crazy thing:

it's an "anti-gravity" treadmill. It basically seals your lower body in a big plastic box with increased air pressure, which supports your weight so you "float" up and barely touch the track under your feet. They say it reduces the load on your legs to 20% your normal weight, the equivalent of walking on the moon.
It certainly has all sorts of wonderful uses in physical therapy. I mean... that is surely what it's intended purpose is. I should probably be thinking to myself "wow, that would be an amazing way to work out without causing my knees so much pain and wear".
So, why is it that all I can think is "HOLY CRAP let me at that thing in a pair of pointe shoes"

If you're in the States:

and if you're not then happy Thursday! I know, right? Almost Friday, that counts for something.
But seriously folks, did you think there even was more than one vintage turkey/ballerina pin-up picture in the world? Well, there you go.

Too Legit to Quit

So I have this toenail. And it gives me guff when I forget to trim it really short, but it's usually no problem in regular shoes. It's only when it's squeezed up in ballet slippers that I remember "oh yeah, I should cut that nail". Sometimes I cut it shorter than usual, and then it gives me even MORE guff, and feels like an ingrown toenail just waiting to happen. So I always knew this was going to be a problem when I started pointe. There was never any question of that. I was trying to trim it in various ways, hoping that I would find the right solution and not end up with something nasty and ingrown.
And then yesterday it broke off.
Well. I guess that is one way to solve the problem...
This makes me a super legit ballerina now, right?

PS: it didn't break all the way off, just the end bit. It didn't hurt, and I taped it up for class tonight, which was fine. I certainly won't be wearing any open-toe shoes any time soon. Not that I do, anyway. Blech.

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.

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?

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.

How can they see with SEQUINS in their eyes?

For the past several weeks we've been doing this horrific dégagé combination at the barre. It involves counting and it's ridiculous and no one ever gets it right. Well, last night I freakin' NAILED that son of a bitch. That is right, STONE COLD NAILED IT. Well, on the first side, anyway. The left side will get there in it's own sweet time. Which isn't to say the rest of class went beautifully, but you have to seize your triumphs when they present themselves.

Last night I actually saw my teacher wearing pointe shoes! It was pretty astounding. Usually you won't catch ballet teachers within a mile of a pointe shoe, regardless of the class they are teaching. In fact, I could have sworn I once heard her say she wouldn't be caught dead in them (I believe the exact words were "wild horses could not drag me back in to pointe shoes") but there she was! Also: girlfriend straight up uses scotch tape on her toes. That ranks up there with folded up cheap paper towels, which I have also seen.
While she and the pointe students (I am the only person on flat in that class, now. Don't I just feel special) were all sitting on the lobby floor putting on their shoes I was standing alertly in the corner, absorbing their ribbon-tying instructions on the not-even-at-all sly. She looked at me and said "aw, RPrin. Do you feel left out?" and I was like "naw, naw. It's all good. I am learning from you guys" and she mentioned that she did not want to put me en pointe while I am still working at the theater (the season ends next month, and I go back to maybe-sorta earning a living from home for the next nine months) because it would be "a recipe for disaster". I wonder, do I really seem that harried and out of it right now? I mean, I AM harried and out of it, because I have to tube feed a cat at 6am and midnight every day. But STILL. I like to think I present an image of having my shit together.
It makes me think of one of my favorite songs (which, holy crap, we are staging at work this Summer. I am pretty excited.) I try to live the dream, man:

Obviously I am not doing such a great job of it.

Pre-pointe!

So, I am going to take pre-pointe on Thursday. I've decided. I asked and it was okay. I think 3 solid hours of class will probably kill me but I am going to give it a go.
On Tuesday I got to witness the pointe "test" for a couple of my classmates. 32 relevés on each individual foot, one at a time. 32! No barre. And balance/placement count. I died just watching it. Four people took the test, two passed it. I think I will go sit down with my compression socks for a while and just pretend I don't know what is in store for me.
I have a bunch of make up classes that will carry me through the next two months+ without paying extra tuition for the pre-pointe class. Because FO SHO our vet bills right now are STUPID expensive. This cat can start eating on her own again any old time. I found myself working overtime today and thinking "hmm. Well. Two hours of overtime equals three pointe classes." which probably says something.
Also, I guess I am going to be doing relevés every time I go to the bathroom for a while.

So, what did you do at work today?

I did this:

I have the best job.

That is what a classical tutu looks like from underneath, in case you didn't recognize it. It's also EXACTLY as much of a pain in the ass to wrangle through a sewing machine as you would think. I also made little white leotards with sparkly business to go along with it. I am going to rehearsal tonight specifically to see what the heck is going on with these things.

I also shared a nice conversation with one of my coworkers about starting ballet as an adult. She started pointe at 38! That is my goal: pointe before I'm 40. At first my goal was "pointe before Jenny" Jenny being my young niece-in-law who was taking ballet lessons (name changed to protect the innocent), but I'm not sure she's stuck with 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*

Best. Holiday. Ever.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

tres mal

I talked to my teacher tonight and told her about the shin splints and we agreed that I am not allowed to jump until I'm feeling better. The bad news is that it means no sauté arabesques or grands jetés. But, let's not be choosy. The good news is that I have a legit reason not to do assemblés. HA! Take THAT assemblé!
The things I've read about shin splints seem to indicate that I should be stretching my calves (moo) and hamstrings more often, so I've been really trying to work on that this week. I even stopped doing the calf exercises I've been working on lately, just in case that is aggravating things. And I took the insoles my acupuncturist insisted I use OUT of my favorite shoes. Because obviously they aren't helping, and I never had shin problems until I started using the silly things. Oh, and because they are uncomfortable and make me grumpy. Okay, maybe the whole thing is making me grumpy.

So. What I'm saying, basically, is pretty please Universe, I really am trying very hard to listen to my body and to work with it's limitations. But, please please with a cherry on top could you please leave me alone for a while so I can get on with it?
  

On an entirely different note I am posting this photo I found on Pinterest because... well... because it's awesome and I don't know what on Earth is going on, here.