You've Never Worn Pointe Shoes, Have You?

Saw this posted by a "friend"* on facebook today:

Which was obviously created by someone who had never worn ballet "slippers" in their life. These particular ballet shoes basically ARE steel toed boots, but with the added bonus of requiring serious effort, skill, and training to function in. Pointe shoes are NOT for sissies.




*"friend" here meaning person I went to high school with who maybe had a brother I dated and so I like to keep up with her dreadfulness online, yes I am terrible.

On a Scale of 1 to 10...

So nothing much is happening in my ballet world this week because A) I am on vacation celebrating my sixth wedding anniversary and B) I totally jacked up my wrist by slipping on the beach and planting my self face-first on to a granite boulder. In related news: "on an anemone" is a terrible tongue twister! Especially when you have to say it like fifty times in a row while sitting in the ER of an unfamiliar hospital. Try it! "I was trying not to step onananemone!" AWFUL!
I'm fine, it's been X-rayed and they think it's not broken, just sprained all to heck. I just have to keep it in my night-time brace 24/7 for a while. Anyhow, I don't feel like driving and I hurt and I am tired and I want to sit around and snuggle tonight. So. There. By next week I will be desperate to get back to the studio, and it will be great. Right now, though, I could probably use a bit of a break. Har har. I DIDN'T MEAN THAT LITERALLY, UNIVERSE!
Actually, it's darn-near miraculous that I didn't screw myself up any worse than I did. I could have broken an ankle so easily. As it was I got a couple little dings and scrapes, but I didn't even break my glasses. Thank heavens. Because (since starting ballet) breaking an ankle has become nearly as terrifying to me as breaking a wrist, which would keep me from working.
What I actually came here to write about was the horrible "how bad is your pain on a scale of 1 to 10" question that medical professionals always ask. It means NOTHING. It is totally arbitrary. My pain tolerance and your pain tolerance are not the same. My medical history and attendant experience with pain is a total unknown to them. Maybe you think something is a 3 and I think it's a 7. Or vice versa. I've had kidney stones, an IUD, and optical migraines. I've never given birth, broken a bone larger than my toes (though I have done that twice), or been hit by a car. What are you even asking me to tell you? If I am in terrible agony? Because couldn't you just say "are you in terrible agony?"
I said "background pain is about a 3-4, but when I touch or jar it it's maybe an 8?" so they kept wanting to give me painkillers. For a background pain of about 3? Really? I have a chronic pain condition. I have a background pain a hell of a lot worse than that constantly. Chill out. My 8 is when I start to cry. I don't think I have found my 10 yet. I'm sort of keeping it in reserve for some terrible thing that may happen to me someday. Maybe I'll be burned at the stake. You never know!

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.

Is There a Doctor In The House?

Okay so I don't watch TV much.  I mean, I have a TV. I watch Netflix streaming. I watch reruns of Star Trek TNG and Princess Tutu and the like. I have lots of TV shows on DVD. And my husband might conceivably arrange to acquire in a perfectly legal and aboveboard way the latest episodes of Doctor Who and Sherlock.
But as for modern American television programming, I am a little in the dark. I don't want or need cable or a mini dish, so I basically have to take your word for it if you say some new show is great.
But ANYWAY.
So everyone has been talking, for years now, about House. And how I ought to watch it because it's AMAZING OMG. So. Fine. I tried it out. I was at my parent's house doing laundry and there was a House marathon running, so why not?
UGH.
First and foremost. Hugh Laurie. I have nothing against Hugh Laurie per se. Hugh Laurie + Stephen Fry is a joy to behold. But his American accent is Deeply Annoying. Also, I am sorry, but to me he will always be George:

And so taking him seriously just isn't going to happen. I know, I know, House is supposed to be funny. And he's a good actor with great comedic sense. But. That doesn't make his character at all likable. He's just a mildly amusing SON OF A BISCUIT. You know what I mean?
But the point of this whole post was that during the House marathon that I forced myself to watch while using mom's exercise bike there was an episode with lots of discussion about autoimmune disorders.
And OH BOY. I am SO GLAD to learn via the medium of vastly intelligent medical procedural televison that autoimmune diseases can be instantly diagnosed by these two fabulous methods:
1) put some blood in a test tube. Then plop a paper clip in the tube. Shake. You have now diagnosed your disease. And,
2) Go outside on a cold day. If you have an autoimmune disease you will instantly feel better.
Wow. Thanks House! I am so glad to know that it is easy and amazingly fast like that! I don't know why my own doctors have spent the last five years pooking around with blood tests and x rays and experimental treatment when it is actually SO EASY.
Thanks, TV! You are amazing!
/sarcasm

Pink is Not That Hard

So I used to work at a fabric store. And you always knew who the dancers were, because they would come in and ask for pink elastic. And we were like "sorry, lady dudes. We've got black, white, and beige sometimes if you are lucky." but I felt their pain.
And then several months ago I was at a (different) fabric store with my mother and I was grumping about how I didn't like the single pre-attached strip of elastic on my leather slippers and wanted to replace it with criss-crossed elastic like my canvas slippers have. And I happened to be standing next to a Dritz (it's a brand of sewing supplies) display board and I looked it over and.... holy crow! It said they made ballet elastic! It said "pink specialty elastic for ballet shoes and slippers". I was THRILLED! But then I looked at the actual item on the rack. And it was beige. Not pink. Not ballet pink. Just... beige.
I thought maybe it was just this store's shipment, or this particular batch, but NO. Everywhere I looked it was BEIGE.
 You can buy this Freed elastic or some Bloch elastic in bulk online, but what the razzafrackin' heck would I do with that much pink elastic?
*sigh*
I think the elastic manufacturers of the world are missing out on a sure bet.

The Single Most Dangerous Thing You Will See All Day

I admit, I have a soft spot for technical drawings and off-beat inventions. Which is why google patents is like, the new love of my life. You can literally kill hours and hours there, just popping random junk in the search bar and seeing what comes up. I love finding stuff that I then see for sale. Stuff that I thought WHAT THE WHAT when I saw the patent.
Anyway, "ballet" is always a fun search term to use. Or "pointe". Because so much of this stuff is soooooo crazy. Here is the single most dangerous thing I have seen all day:

That is right, it's a crazy-ass pointe shoe with metal spikes on. You know, so you can do POINTE ON THE ICE. Because... uhm... because you haven't been in traction any time recently and it sounds like a great way to pass some time? Anyway, the full patent is here, so you can see the full-on insanity for yourself. I am LOOKING AT YOU Leo's!

Of Gray Tights

Nylon. It is an interesting fiber. It is man made, synthetic, and has a unique property whereby it attracts and absorbs dye readily. Which is great, because that means it is one of the only synthetic fibers that can be dyed at home. BUT, it also means that if you wash a nylon garment, let's say two pairs of pink tights, in a washer which also contains dark colored garments, let's say two black leotards, then your nylon will suck up as much of the dye the dark colored items shed as possible.
Which I know, because I was the first person in something like five years to graduate from Textiles class with an A. And also because I was a total idiot yesterday and washed all my delicates in the same load. And now I have peachy-gray tights to wear to class.
:-/

The Art of Distraction

I was browsing through neatorama.com when I came upon a link to this story. It's about a guy with rheumatoid arthritis so advanced that he has to type his novels with a chopstick. I couldn't even get through it. I just skimmed. I am sure it is supposed to sound like an inspiring triumph, but to me it is utterly terrifying. I already know my time may be more than a bit limited. It's why I quit my retail job and took up dancing again. If I only have five years (ten years, two years, six months...) to live the way I do, then I will be damned if I am living it not dancing and stuck behind the wrap desk at a craft store.

I just try to distract myself. So I was thinking tonight, as I drove home from class, about the myriad ways ballet is a lot like sex.
You work up a sweat and get out of breath
You might think that make up will help, but you will just sweat it off anyway
If you haven't done it for a long time you are worried you'll be rubbish at it
Sometimes, no matter how much you like it, you just wish it was over
It's a little hard to pee afterward (TMI but you know it's true)
If the people you usually do it with aren't there you feel a little awkward
If you only do it once a week it's still better than not doing it at all.
the list could go on!