Inspired-by-but-not-actually-ballet

Last week was a bugger. Thursday class was once again conducted by a substitute, and (while the sort of bizarrely loud Enya soundtrack for barre was amusing) by the time we were ready for center work (an hour in to class) I had been shrieked at enough that I was done for the evening. It was not a proud ballet moment, but sometimes you just have to quit while you're ahead. So I left early and spent the remainder of the evening talking to my mom on the phone and ordering new books on Amazon.
After the week had run it's course and I spent some time looking through all the "OMG NEWS BLOTTER" posts on Facebook Friday evening I decided that what I needed, what I really needed? Was a break from the media. So I went the entire weekend without radio, internet, TV news, or even reading the newspaper while I spent some time at my parent's house (I know, right? They are probably the last people on the planet who actually get the paper delivered. The entire print newspaper industry is relying on those guys!)
While I would like to say I spent my two days of distraction-free life practicing pirouettes and working my core, the fact is that I spent a lot of time playing computer games, reading a book I don't care much for, touring and applying for new apartments (and stressing/fretting over the entire proposition) and eating sugar. I did spend about half an hour on an exercise bike. The display told me I had burned a whopping 35 calories at the end of it. I checked the back of the package of chocolates I had just eaten 5 of and learned that a 5 piece serving contains 210 calories. So I ate another one for good measure.
Today I attempted to do a 30 minute "ballet-inspired" workout video. I got 6 minutes in to it before I started sweating so much I had to take my glasses off (and chuckling under my breath about how ridiculous the entire workout video phenomenon is), and alllllllmost 20 minutes in before I gave up and declared that I had had just about enough cardio for one day, thank you. All those constant, pulsing pliés! I about died. Which probably means I should keep doing it. Ugggggh. I look at it this way: I hate pilates. Something needs to break up the pilates, right?