The Hardest Thing

Last night's 2.5 hour block of class was taught by a substitute instructor. She's a nice gal, one that often attends those classes herself, but is obviously a ballerina extraordinaire. Like, seriously ass-rockin'ly good. Does those one-footed relevés en pointe without so much as a twitch of difficulty while I laboriously haul myself up there using 10% muscle power and 90% barre. That sort of thing.
It's okay to have subs, but they do throw off your groove. You learn to expect a certain type of combination with a certain type of port de bras to a certain type of music and then BAM! Suddenly you are trying to figure out what the hell is going on and you haven't even made it past tendus at the barre, yet. And you spend the next hour+ sort of shaking your head and guessing and/or flailing around hoping you hit a ballet position of some sort by blind luck.
Anyway.
When we would universally botch the hell out of an entire combination this teacher would give us another shot at it (or torture us by making us repeat something we obviously can't figure out? You be the judge.) which meant we ended up doing quite a few things over and over again. After watching us glide gracelessly across the floor for the requisite bourées en pointe she stopped us with a question. "So. Who here loves doing bourées?" and everyone just sort of stood there, listening to the crickets chirp (honestly, I enjoy them more than most things en pointe, but after two hours of class there are few things in the world that I like). SO! "Okay, you are doing them again. AND I want to see those happy faces and softened arms. You're performing, guys! You can do this! Smile!"
I suppose we smiled. Or perhaps we just grimaced in a convincing approximation. 
I think smiling is probably the hardest thing about ballet.

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?

Men in Tights. TIGHT tights!

Tonight we had a substitute teacher, and it was interesting to see the contrast in teaching styles. The sub was definitely of the "if you did it badly you have to do it six more times" school of instruction. And the "reach up up up, ladies!" school, as well.
Interestingly, she set us to our first bit of partnering, which was a little awkward. Not because we are all chicks (though it wouldn't kill us to get a few dudes in there, that's for sure) but because the class had an uneven number of students and, like any shy person knows, that means the one person left in the lurch is... ME. So I had to partner the sub. It was kind of interesting, actually! It would be awesome if some guys would power through their testosterone long enough to give it a whirl! We had a couple of male students for my first year or so, but it looks like the higher the level the fewer male opportunities present themselves. Which makes it a good thing I'm already married and therefore not on the prowl.
Back when I was devastatingly and unhappily single my mother used to regale me with advice like "well, your sister met her husband at work!" (I work in a costume shop. I will give you two guesses how many straight dudes I work with) and "go out and do the things you enjoy! That way you are sure to meet someone with similar interests!" Mmm hmm. Because sewing and dance class are super great ways to meet men, right?
Moms. Gotta love 'em, I suppose.