Popped Ballon

Right now petite allegro and I are not getting along. Okay. No. I should say "Petite allegro is killing me."
It is sucking the very soul from my tiny, withered husk.
I see my little improvements in other things. I can do double frappes, now. I have mostly figured out the front, back, side, front (whatever the hell that is called) pattern for barre work. I try to keep my spirits up with this stuff. But petite allegro. Man. It's so defeating.
Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with the component parts. I can do glissades and assemblés (patooie!). Pas de chats and jetés. But... at the kind of tempo I am being asked for I can basically just trip over myself repeatedly. I just sort of flail around randomly and try not to run in to anyone until the music is over and I get to stop. Apparently we are supposed to be aiming for "ballon" which is basically a fancy French way of saying "you don't hit the ground like an elephant" but right now I can't even get myself OFF the ground in the first place. I kind of look like I'm doing a very confused tap dance for a minute or two. A little soft shoe routine.
Ra-ta-ta-ta-TA!

Dear Ballet People,

I just saw this on Pinterest, but it is only one of MANY examples:

Don't do this. Do not allow your personal quest for perfection (and the innate competition and voyeurism of your art) to become an excuse for publicly being a total douche nozzle. Just... just don't do it.
Because you know what? No one is perfect. No one. Not ever. That is the great irony of ballet. She isn't perfect, but she's a lot closer to the mark than I will ever be. And probably closer or just as close as YOU will be. So just knock it the hell off!
I've said it before and I will say it again: if you want society to treat dancers and dance people like SANE HUMAN BEINGS then all y'all are going to have to stop acting like neurotic pains in the ass.
Keep calm (as they say) and don't go all Black Swan.

Challenge Accepted

If nothing else the adult ballet blogging community keeps me motivated (this blog included). I am wretched at self-discipline. I basically have none. I have to trick myself in to keeping up with classes twice a week by paying in advance when I am not thinking about it. Oops! Nope! I already paid! I have to go! So, keeping up with doing pilates once a week and convincing myself to get down on the floor and stretch once a day has been ... well. I won't say it's been a challenge, because that would imply that I've been winning or overcoming or something. Honestly I've been pretty dreadful about it all.
One of the blogs I keep up with is written by an adult dancer who keeps making me feel awfully lazy about not getting my self-improvement on. I'm feeling terribly inspired by her 30 day challenges to herself and so I think I will steal the concept for the next month and attempt to work seriously and with focus on the little and annoying things I really need to improve. Balances and building up strength in my core/ab muscles, feet, and legs. I have been working on it here and there, but I forget about it more often than not. Perhaps having a goal and deadline in sight will encourage me to actually get on with it. There is nothing harder for me than trying to self-motivate for an inarticulate and foggy future purpose.

In ballet class news: we started doing cabrioles. Which is the name of a small model car from the 80s or something, isn't it? My spell checker informs me that, no, it was cabriolet. Well, fine then. Never mind. Cabrioles, on the other hand, are not anything like as easy as you would think. Also: stupidly painful with shin splints! There are days when I just can't figure out why I took up ballet. There is so much jumping! I should have taken a country line dancing class or something...

OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT? NEVER MIND. BALLET IS BEAUTIFUL.

Sigh...

Just Do It, I Guess

So I've decided that the secret to life is just ... doing it. I mean... not in a Nike commercial from the 90s kinda way. At least, I hope not. But if you want to try a harder class or a new step or... whatever... you just have to do it. Go for it. Take the leap of faith.
I was looking at my bucket list (there is that term again. Hate hate hate!) and thinking to myself I did this one, and this one. And this one was easy because it was reading a book and I have that pretty much covered. But! Then there are all these other ones. Like walking over the Golden Gate bridge (I'm sure I've driven over it, but, like most Californians, walking it seemed like a distant option for maybe if you some day need to off yourself, otherwise: too touristy.) and dancing en pointe and visiting the Smithsonian. And some of those are little things that I'm not doing because I'm not doing them. And that is silly, so I am trying to be more proactive about crossing some of those things off the list.
And then are are the nervous things. The things we aren't doing because we are a little afraid of them. Because they are easier to ignore, and possibly fret about until they look like a bigger risk than they actually are. Now, all the best things in my life have come from small, nervous, terribly brave bursts of uncharacteristic plunge-taking. That's how I met my husband, got my motorcycle license, started taking ballet class, etc.
So, this is just a note of encouragement for people hovering on the edge of a tiny risk that seems more daunting than it really is. Just go for it, guys. If you belly flop ain't no one gonna judge ya. We'll just be impressed you gave it a shot.

Of Swans and Needles

So, my latest acupuncture appointment was canceled (usually at the last second) THREE times. I finally got in yesterday, for the first time in two months. So, basically, everything good that we had accomplished through regular treatment was completely thrown out the window and we started again from square one. And now I just hurt everywhere. She did work on my shins, though, but it remains to be seen whether or not it does anything useful for me. Annoyingly (because of the whole holistic approach to medicine that acupuncture encourages) the woman kept insisting that I have shin splints because I must have some horrible digestive issue. No. I have shin splints because I have an overwhelming and badly-controlled inflammatory response to, basically, life.

In totally unrelated news:
I finally got the ballerina mechanism for this ugly music box reworked and ready for the box. I refuse to admit how many hours of work went in to repainting this silly creature. She still needs a coat of varnish, and the lighting is bad so you can't see the iridescent finish on her costume, but here she is:

Now I just need to finish the BOX. Hahahahaha. 

Why do I get myself in to these things?

ice ice baby

It was a stunning nearly-80 degree day and I had to take the train to class. So I was wearing a camisole-type top thing and my tights and stuff under jeans. I have mentioned before that I walk to class through the ghetto, yes? And as I was walking I not only got a honk and a whistle but the dude stuck his head out the window to check me out as he drove away. Now, don't feel flattered. These guys out here would honk at any woman that had the qualities they really like in a girl (two X chromosomes and a heartbeat. In fact, that second one might be optional).
But as he stuck his head out all I could think was "that dude looks like Vanilla Ice".
Which is also, very much, not a compliment.
It just cracked me up.

Not a real blog post

Just a video. Because I was compelled to watch it three times in a row yesterday...