Yeah, I Know…

Pointe Shoes: Hey dude, what’s the deal, you haven’t worn me in class since like December. Where’s the love, I thought you liked to dance with us.

Me: Well, I did, but the more I wore you the more my ankle hurt.

PS: Hey dude, don’t try to blame that on me, you’ve have had that problem for years.

Me: Yeah, but I’m good at blaming others for my problems (laughing).

PS: You totally threw us under the bus.

Me: Yep, I sure did. But, I discovered something. I had forgotten what it’s like to dance in my soft shoes, it’s a completely different experience that I had nearly forgotten. No offense to you guys, but I felt like I was clomping around with you, like when you try to walk in ski boots, less than graceful. The softies felt like I was dancing on clouds.

PS: Oh yeah, blaming the tools are you? I’d say you should blame the operator.

Me: Easy there, I love ya. I pulled you out and wore you tonight, the first time in months. And do you want to know what? It was great, not even a twinge of pain. Probably not the best idea right now, but what the hell.

PS: Oh, I know, it was fun. It seemed like you knew what you were doing.

Me: I know, it was fun. You can thank a couple of the girls in class one of which also en pointe and were wondering why I wasn’t wearing you lately. We will do more, I promise. As long as the ankle feels good, we will be good. Meanwhile, back in the bag, see you soon.

Me: BTW, you were famous for a few months, your photo was used on an online dance wear site.

PS: Yep, I did know, I’m quite good looking. I can’t believe you made them take that photo of me.

Pointe Shoes and Tutu

I’m thrilled that you have enjoyed my past pieces. As promised here is one more. Enjoy.

I Knew It…

(Tapping on microphone.)
“Hello, is this thing on?”
(Massive amounts of feedback. Squinting due to stage lights in the eyes, holding up hand to see if anyone is still in the audience.)
“Is anybody still here…?”

So yeah, it’s been awhile since I’ve written much here call it equal parts writers block mixed in with adult type responsibilities. I’ve penned several posts in the past few weeks that I’ll probably never finish and will never see the light of day. I’ve read them over and I find them dull and uninteresting, so I’m sure you my faithfully readers would find them even more dull and extremely uninteresting.

In other news, I called it, and knew what it was all along, tendinitis, I finally had it confirmed by my guy in the white jacket. Turns out my LDL is a smidge higher than it should be too. I have no medical training, but I’m pretty sure the two are unrelated.

The doc gave me the fancy name, which I should have written down because I can’t remember jack, basically tendinitis in the ankley areas (pointing at my right foot). Suffice it to say, he thinks I should take it easy, but wasn’t all that specific on how long to stay away from activities which will further aggravate said condition. He suggested using a soft brace, check (I’ve been using that for ages) and wear shoes that offer better support for my ankle.

FYI, the pointes have been on the back burner for awhile now, and probably will stay there for the time being (somewhat long story). I can’t imagine they would help the situation, the ankle not the cholesterol level.

I’m sure my grandmother would give me the old, “I told you so” if she was still around. She was a bit of a shoe snob and hated that I prefer Vans instead of something more professional, you know the kind, the ones that require frequent polishing and only look right with a suit.

“A man of your age should be wearing something that fits your profession.” Yeah whatever Grandma, just ‘cuz I profess for a living doesn’t mean I have to look like a Young Republican. Side note, she once signed me up for the local chapter of the Young Republicans. I had no idea this happened until they started calling me wondering why I never showed up for their meetings. Sorry there little Ronald Regan, I have no interest in your fruity little club. They quit calling.

A Years Worth

Holy crap, what a difference a year can make. It wasn’t all that long ago that taking part in ballet hardly ever crossed my mind, I thought I was done with it. It’s not like I hated it and had no interest in continuing, I was burned out, and sick of nagging injuries, I was done, retired, moved on, donesky…

Ballet was totally off my radar, for years. Then snowpocalypse 2011 struck and canceled classes, with nothing better to do I went to the movies, Black Swan. Something shook awake that long dormant part of my brain where ballet lives. Within a days of seeing the movie I had enrolled myself into the school I once attended years ago. Luckily I still had all my stuff in a old gym bag in the back of the closet.

I can’t explain what happened in those early classes in January, it was no different than all of the classes I had taken years ago, but there was just something that made me feel completely different. I fell in love with ballet, it quickly consumed my life and imagination. I couldn’t get enough, one class wasn’t doing it for me. That one class became two, it would have became more, but honestly I was too afraid/ intimated to even look into classes that would easily fit into my schedule at Big City Fancy Pants Company School. I thought it was for people who knew what they were doing, girls in buns and point shoes, and guys who could touch the ceiling with every jump. Eventually BCFPCS would become my favorite place to be. Sure there are plenty of girls with buns and pointe shoes and guys who can jump higer than anyone should be able to, but there are plenty of others who are there for no other reason other than they love ballet regardless of how well they dance.

Now, I enjoyed my time taking ballet throughout college, but it didn’t seem to be that important, of course I was working my ass off to finish my degrees and the other assorted priorities a red-blooded college student has, mostly seeing how many brain cells one can kill in a good weekend or finding new ways to sneak booze into the Kentucky Derby (that is a story of it’s own). I had fun, but I could take it or leave it, if I missed a class I didn’t think much of it, there would be another seven days later.

I was astonished how much I still remembered. Sure there was much to relearn but at times it felt like I was on auto-pilot. I’d hear French French French, and my arms and legs would somehow end up in the right place, without thought. Muscle memory is incredible thing, now I understand why we do the same thing over and over, in every class for years on end, it had become ingrained into my thick head.

Possibly the biggest thing I have learned has nothing really to do with ballet at all. I’ve learned that my time is more valuable than almost anything else which I posses. I can’t wait around hoping a situation might change, I have to take control and make the changes myself. If that means changing schools, ok I’ll change schools. If I want to try pointe, and The ‘Teach says it’s OK, hell yeah I’ll give it a shot. If I find myself not enjoying a class, why should I continue to throw my hard earned money at it hoping that if I keep going the teachers personality might change (that term ended and I haven’t taken another class with Ms Leggy Blonde). I only wish that I had learned this earlier, but I suppose you have to make these mistakes to eventually learn these lessons.

So yeah, it’s been quite a year, a year that I never could have imagined before buying that ticket to see Black Swan. Things have changed, eyes have been opened, yadda yadda yadda…

Video Time

Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it. There it is, now you see why I posted it.

Delays and the Unexpected

It’s been a roller coaster of dance my last few days. Normal classes last week, a missed class in Chicago, serious talks about ballet with friends who think what I’ve been doing is great, a bit funny, but still supportive, wedding reception dancing sprinkled with pirouttes, fancy turns, and assorted Frenchyness upon request.  That in itself would be good enough, but the awesomenss came just a few hours ago.

I’ve been in Chicago for the last several days and unfortunately grown-up responsibilities had me back upon a jet flying back to Big City. Much like plans I had for Saturday morning (taking classes at Joffery) plans for hitting up the Monday class at Big City Fancy Pants Company School on my way home from Big City International. I’m not sure what was the reason we got in late head winds, tale winds, had to take the long way… Of course I’m the last one off the plane. I nearly missed the flight out of Chicago in the first place thanks to traffic on Cicero Ave. Anyway, we landed around six, class starts at seven, I have to find the shuttle to long term parking, then find my car in a parking lot the size of Rhode Island. I thank dog I didn’t check my bags, by now it’s six-thirty.  Long story short, I severely disregarded most traffic rules getting to class, I’m not proud, but sometimes things just need to get done, I rolled into school with ten minutes to spare. I needed that class in a bad way. On a side note, why is it so hard getting tights on when your a hurry, it just never seems to work, anyway…

Thanks to more grown-up responsibilities keep me from taking this class, occasionally I can fit it into my schedule. It’s a beginner class but I really like it and Mrs Perky Blond Company Member is a great teacher. So I ask if it would be ok with her if I took class en pointe, thinking of just doing barre. She says sure, no biggie, you seem to know what your doing. After a quick secret celebratory fist pump I tie my bad boys on and find a spot at the barre when she tells the class if anyone who wants to take the class in pointe shoes it’s ok with her. It’s a mixed class several of us have a few years under our belt and others fresh off the street.

Normally I switch shoes after barre, but cute girl keeps her pointe shoes on so I’m thinking hey, If she’s rocking hers all the way through class I’ll give it a shot too, something I’ve never done. We are roughly at the same level. Maybe a good idea, maybe a bad one, you’ll never know if you never try.

We do a few center exercises pointe free, then along come a mother load of pointy opportunities. I’m secretly scared out of my tights dear readers, but I’m here to learn and Mrs Perky Blond Company Member told me that she would help the two of us through anything we wern’t comfortable doing.

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat while standing in B plus waiting for the pianist to start. Cute girl and I begin our way across the floor and I somehow find myself doing what was just shown to me, for the most part. It wasn’t what you would call pretty, but it was a start. I was so caught up in our situation that I don’t even remember just what we did. I’m sure there were some piqué turns, pirouettes, relevés, arabesques were there somewhere too. Too much unexpected Frenchy French for this dude to recall my dear readers.

I think I pulled off a pirouette en point a couple of times, I’m sure they were pretty sketchy, but hey, let’s see you do one.

While this probably isn’t the most common or accepted method of learning pointe it’s still something, and something is better than nothing! My teachers are not going to let us go and do something stupid and hurt ourselves. Big City Fancy Pants Company School isn’t some fly-by night institution, I trust my teachers, I can’t imagine they would allow me or anyone else to do anything that could cause us harm.

Now, I need to find a way to get myself into this class more often, hmmm, when does my semester end again?

Feet

Let’s face it we’re pretty obsessed with our feet. We’re always: stretching, strengthening, preening, pampering… Let’s face it ballet would be pretty damned hard without them. Having good ones’ is a goal we strive and dream of even when we are doing all types of unspeakable things to them, pointe shoes, I’m looking at you.

So it was much to my surprise before class while we were waiting in the lobby for the beginning class to finish when a classmate, a long time dancer / former professional told me that I had great feet. I was all, whach ya talkin’ ’bout, these things gangly things?

Yeah, nice arches she added, perfect looking feet for pointe. Not that pointe would make them look any better.

Let me tell you dear readers, this dude was shocked and completely taken aback. You see I’ve had issues with these two appendages most of my life, and hearing this made me feel good about them for probably the first time ever.

Peace out, dear readers.

P.S. You asked for it, here they are. You decide. Personally I don’t think it’s anything special, what do I know.

left

right

It’s Just Blood

“Girls dig scars on boys who wear tights” Bead 109.

I keep hearing that the most graceful of ballet dancers can be completely clumsy. I just hope that this holds true for all, fingers crossed. It seems that many of my ballet tweeps have been falling to all sorts of  injuries of late, me included. I’m not saying they’re clumsy. Maybe I’m clumsy, or do I just make bad choices, a mystery for the ages I suppose.

Long story short, I’ve got nine stitches (now removed) just below my left knee cap from a stupid bike related incident. It’s now more ugly than anything, it’s not healing as fast as I hoped. Oh well, it’s not like I have much to say in the matter, I keep it clean and such. Yelling at it “Heal you stupid mother f’ing gash, heal!! Don’t make me pull this car over!” Didn’t work, go figure.

Ok, so it doesn’t hurt much anymore nor is it gushing blood. Since I’m not in pain, nor bleeding profusely I’m thinking to myself. “Self, why don’t we go to our favorite ballet class? The one where The ‘Teach lets us take barre en pointe.”

“That’s a great idea Self, you’re so smart and handsome, let’s do it.”

“Word.”

Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, so we do barre, which was super simple, I’d forgotten that it was the first day of fall term and everything gets reset to super easy level, ugh! But since I’m attempting this en tippy toe it’s not too bad, so it’s not quite Groundhogs Day all over again, again.

We finish barre and I look down and see a big red spot on my knee, my damn blood has soaked through both the dressing I had just applied before class and my grey tights. Looks like I should have gone with the black pair, hind sight is 20/20. You can’t see blood in black tights. Oh well, it’s not like I’m about to bleed out. It’s just a little blood, I mean really.

The ‘Teach somehow spots the spot and has a petite freak out, and shoots me the look like I have lost my mind and is no doubt questioning my better judgement.  I attempted to put her at ease, reassuring her that there is little if no pain and it’s just a little blood. It’s not like I’m leaving a trail of blood across the floor, it’s well contained and if I was truly injured I’d stay at home and attend to my wounds.  She still thinks I’ve lost my mind, she’s not the first and will not be the last. It will take more than a bit of blood loss to keep me at home.

Keep Calm…

I know it’s been bouncing around the internets, but I thought it was great so I’m reposting it.

Via Bead_109 via theballetbag, via everybody else on the internet…

Wowzers

Wow, I don’t remember ever feeling this good coming out of class before. It wasn’t like class was extraordinarily special, I did well enough, but by no means was I killing it. Maybe I was just happy to be back in class after our long ass break. Or maybe I should just be happy to be happy and not try to look for any deep and profound meaning.

I have come to realize that this is my favorite class out of my three, possibly soon to be two classes a week (stupid adult responsibilities). The ‘Teach is one of the best instructors I have ever had, it’s hard to say why she is so good, she just is. Again, do I really need to analyze just why she is so good, or should I just be happy I found her class and make the most of this opportunity.

She is the one who has incouraged me to try pointe, and has gone beyond what is expected of a ballet teacher to help me with this exciting aspect of my ballet experience. In many ways I feel the same excitement I did when I first found ballet all those years ago when I was was just barely old enough to be called an adult beginner, I guess technically twenty-five counts as an adult. Every class was new and exciting, there was something new to learn every week, and there was something new and exciting to screw up every week as well.

So what I’m doing now isn’t quite Ballerina Class©, but it is close enough for me right now. Barre today en tippy toes wasn’t quite as challenging as it was before the break. The wobbly leg syndrome with occasional bouts of death grip of the barre seems less pronounced. 10cc’s of practice seems to have helped.

I have also developed an overwhelming urge to quit slacking and focus in hopes of improving my dancing. No more half-assed attempts at things I’m iffy about. I’ll ask for corrections and explanations if I’m unsure, I will stretch and work on my splits, I will work on my ankles, I will use the Theraband, I’ll work on my extension, arabesques and pirouettes. I won’t just follow the girl in front of me, I’ll go across the floor first so I won’t be tempted to follow Ms Hot Shot Dance Major… Basically do what I need to do to be the best ballet dancer I can be!!

I ♥ jumps!

So, did we settle on the secret ballet gang sign yet? I’d like to know. While on my way to class and stuck in traffic I spotted a girl from my school in her pink tights and a bun actually walking to class, gasp someone actually walking, weird eh? I wanted to roll the window down and let her know that I too was heading to ballet. But I quickly came to the realization that she has no idea who I was (she’s in a different non adult class) and I’d probably come off as a complete perv. Yelling across two lanes of traffic “You have tights and a bun, I know where your going!” would probably get me dirty looks for sure and probably thrown in jail too. Instead of risking embarrassment and probable criminal charges, I’d could just throw down our sign, she would give me a knowing nod and all would be good.

OK guys, let’s get on this!!