Four Guys

OMG dear readers, we were one guy short of being a hamburger chain last night. (For those who don’t know there is a hamburger chain called Five Guys, I don’t know just who the five guys are, but there are five of them. Oh, and they are damn good too.)

I’ve never been in any ballet class with that many guys before. This isn’t my first rodeo either, I’ve taken class for awhile even a few advanced classes that I mistakenly took in the past. You might think you would find more guys in those classes, but no. I’ve never been a part of a class with more than two other male dancers. It would have been perfect if this was a partnering class, we were totally even-steven, four guys and four girls.

The normal vibe was way different too, I’m not sure if I could enplane just how it was different, it just was. You will have to trust me on this.

I’d like to go back next week to see how the numbers shake out and see how many of them return but I don’t normally have my Monday nights open and I won’t be able to go again until May. The other guys were all beginner types, two were there for the first time ever. Despite your skill level it’s amazing to see just how much you have learned when you see people taking class for the first time ever. Was I ever that clueless? Was I stumbling around with steps you now can do with your eyes closed and one hand tied behind your back?

Have Tights, Will Travel

I love to travel and I try to travel as much as I can. This time out, Portland and the San Francisco Bay Area, hellz yeah motha’ trucka!! This trip was loosely scheduled, I had a few airline reservations to meet but aside from those it was completely unscheduled. Go ride the bike (which came with me) ok, hang out in seedy bars, all right, find an open ballet class, okey dokey… I f’ed up in Chicago several month ago, missed a train and missed my class. I was hell bent to not let this happen again, fingers crossed, knock on wood, whatever it takes.

Luckily enough, I found an Int/ Adv class in Portland, and I was able to take the class and still make my train to San Francisco. It was fun, but strange. First off it was at 9:30 am, never seen any class that early. The strangeness crept in when we began doing barre work with our right hand on the barre, that was enough to really throw me. I know there isn’t that much difference between hands, but when you do something for years the same way everyday and then you switch things up it might mess with your head, I can say it did for me. She was so casual about it that I didn’t catch it at first, then it just was really odd and slightly disconcerting.

Then I had all the time in the world in San Francisco, (btw dear readers, don’t call it “Frisco,” they will loose their shit.) however I was never in the right part of town when I needed to be or if I was I didn’t have my magic bag o’ tights.

Not having what you need can really put a cramp in your plans, I suppose I could have just shown up in my jeans. Sure they are tight and stretchy but I can’t imagine wearing them in class, but more importantly I didn’t have a dance belt which means no class regardless of jeans style. There was a girl in a class a year or so ago who wore jeggings to class for quite awhile. And yeah yeah, I know my jeans are snug, some say tight, that’s the way I like them, and I rock the shit out of ‘em, but that’s beside the pointe.

Even if i had made it to a class my legs were already cooked. I had been riding hills (super serial steep grades, crazy steep, like nearly straight up steep) it’s hard not to in San Francisco. I can’t image how awful a class would be with legs that were completely dead and all noodle like. I’ll never bitch about steep streets again for I have met and bested the steepest of streets.

Plans were kinda made to meet up with some fellow ballet bloggers but that didn’t quite workout. It would have been fun, but that’s how things work some days. I will be back to the City soon enough, and hopefully our schedules will work out better next time.

If you should ever find yourself in Portland you have to visit Powell’s Books, it fan-fucking-tastic! It had the biggest dance section I’ve ever seen. The whole aisle, not just a shelf.

I apologize for the less than stellar photography here today, both of my cameras died days into my vacation and I ended up having to rely on my cell phone to record my journeys. Not happy about this at all. All I see are $$$$$ in my future to hopefully get them back up and running. Plus both have been with me more than half way around the globe and are there for me 24/7, pretty bummed.

Please, a moment of silence for my seemingly dead cameras.

Thank you.

 

Putting Yourself Out There

You ever get something stuck in your head and it just sticks, sometimes good other times bad, and often times ballet? Not to bad right? I find ballet creaping into all sorts of places. I’m sure my convo with my friend and teammate on Super Awesome Cycling Team Not Named After Cable Television Networks about how she finds ballet influences her racing. I was like, jeeze why didn’t I think of that earlier, it made perfect sense to me. Not sure what I’m talking about, just read my last post.

Teammate “Some Girl” executing a beautiful cyclocross dismount pirouette.

Anyway, I’m out riding, preparing for a race I which I did horribly on, and more importantly getting ready for cyclocross season in the fall. It just hits me, to be even moderately successfully at both cycling and ballet, you need to just trust yourself and just put yourself out there. You know there is a good chance of failure of some degree and an equal chance of success, as is life. Both will have you eventually in the eyes of everyone, with very few places to hide (most of the time anyway). This can difficult to accept this especially at first. It can run the scale from; what evez (complete with a shoulder shrug and eye roll) to intimidating beyond belief, especially for those who are new.

I know in both situations I started out doing my best to hide and blend in with everyone in the field or studio. I’d get my work in and then fade away. I literally once tried to hide behind anyone and anything while avoiding any eye contact with my teacher because I felt totally overwhelmed in class once because I was afraid of failing a combination yet again. I eventually figured it out a week or so later. But, you know what? I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve learned that I don’t really care about all of those eyes. They may or may not be on me as I race or dance, but you know for sure they will be on you for sure instant you slip up and miss a step or clip another’s wheel and end up at the bottom of a pile of bikes. It’s a bit unfair, but that seems to be the way it is. No one ever sees that double you just nailed or finally getting by you nemesis with one lap to go, but like I said, that’s just how it is, accept it and keep moving on.

I’m out there doing something that I dearly love and I’m doing it for no one else but me. I know I’m far from the best, I know my technique is a bit rough around the edges to put it mildly, I’m not as fast as I could or should be, but so what, right? I know that I’m not going pro with either, but I want to be the best that I can be, and I’m the judge of my success, even if the actual judges and teachers are grounded in reality and all that craziness.

So dear readers, it’s a bit of a cliché, but ride hard, ride for yourself and dance like nobody is watching!

Four more pirouettes with great extensions.

BTW, as of today we have three riders on the team with a background in ballet. I have a feeling that number might rise, haven’t heard back from everyone yet.

A little attitude for you, from me!

My adidas

My adidas
walked through concert doors
and roamed all over coliseum floors
I stepped on stage, at Live Aid
All the people gave and the poor got paid
And out of speakers I did speak
I wore my sneakers but I’m not a sneak
My adidas cuts the sand of a foreign land
with mic in hand I cold took command
my adidas and me, close as can be
we make a mean team, my adidas and me
we get around together, rhyme forever
and we won’t be mad when worn in bad weather
My adidas..
My adidas…
My adidas…

So, let me interrupt RUN-DMC here. So like most everything I find on the internets your never quite sure just why or how you come across things you weren’t quite looking for but find anyway. So, I’m surfing about the tubes and stumble across the photos of these adidas ballet shoes.

These look to be more realistic than the Nike Air point shoes making the rounds for the last several months. I mean they actually exist, those others were just drawings. Now if they ever are mass produced we will wait and see. It looks like a marketing exercise right now though.

The Google and I did a half assed investigation on the topic but found jack squat. We did find a Faceebook page for Alessandra Pasquali, adidas’s “Ballet Ambassador” what ever that means. Anyway, we kept digging, which means we scrolled all the way to the bottom of the page, whew! Anyway when she’s not busy with her ambassadorship she dances for the Staatsballet Ballet in Berlin.

I neary typed West Berlin, realizing it hasn’t been West Berlin in twenty-two years. I did the same thing when the Oakland Raiders played in Los Angeles for 12 years (They will always be the Oakland Raiders, regardless of how much I can’t stand them). Some things just stick in your mind, you know like when you first mark something and you have it stone cold locked down then they throw something else into the mix and you proceed to royally screw everything else up. Maybe it’s just me?

Here’s hoping that this shoe is actually produced, it looks pretty boss. I’d love to get some in wild colors and maybe a cap toe too, it might make poine easier.

So, now back to RUN-DMC.

BTW, did you know adidas is not capitalized? No? Well it’s not. Now, if my auto correct would quit changing it to “Adidas”!

standin on 2 Fifth St.
funky fresh and yes cold on my feet
with no shoe string in em, I did not win em
I bought em off the Ave with the black Lee denim
I like to sport em that’s why I bought em
a sucker tried to steal em so I caught em and I fought em
and I walk down the street and I bop to the beat
with Lee on my legs and adidas on my feet
and now I just standin here shooting the gif
me and D and my adidas standing on 2 Fifth
My adidas..
My adidas…

Now
me and my Adidas do the illest things
we like to stomp out pimps with diamond rings
we slay all suckers who perpetrate
and lay down law from state to state
we travel on gravel, dirt road or street
I wear my adidas when I rock the beat
on stage front page every show I go
it’s adidas on my feet high top or low
My adidas..
My adidas…

Now the adidas I possess for one man is rare
myself homeboy got 50 pair
got blue and black cause I like to chill
and yellow and green when it’s time to get ill
got a pair that I wear when I’m playin ball
with the heal inside make me 10 feet tall
my adidas only bring good news
and they are not used as selling shoes
they’re black and white, white with black stripe
the ones I like to wear when I rock the mic
on the strength of our famous university
we took the beat from the street and put it on TV
my Adidas are seen on the movie screen
Hollywood knows we’re good if you know what I mean
we started in the alley, now we chill in Cali
and I won’t trade my adidas for no beat up Bally’s
My adidas..

Recruitment Effort

Long story short, I discovered that one of my students was quite a dancer in her pre-college years. She picked up on something I was saying, and looked me and asked if I was a ballet dancer.

Um, yeah… I’m like the best ever (heavy on the sarcasm). Why do you ask?

I then look down and I’m standing in fifth. I forget what I originally said for her to question me. It may have been something in unnecessary French. I really should ask her just what it was.

Anyway, she says it’s been years since she last she was in leotard and tights but had an urge to at least give a class a shot, or take the plunge and buy a class card. She threw in the towel in high school when she discovered that it was nice to have a social life. Nearly her entire life was wrapped up in ballet, with seven of those years en pointe. (Maybe I should ask her for some pointe tips.)

I’m all like, that’s f-ing cool, I like Big City Fancy Pants Company School.. yardda, yadda yadda, you should do it. Come to the Monday or Thursday night class, you’ll like them. Plus your first class is free. You know, the same way crack dealers get people hooked.

Sure enough dear readers she did show, no point shoes, but hey at least she came. It went well for not doing anything in years. Hopefully she will come to ballet tomorrow.

I Want You...

Adult Beginner, No Not The Person, The Short Film

I really wish I could get this to embed into this blog, I’ve been trying for hours, with no luck. Anyway, click the link, the movie is great. It’s a school I dream about, classes just for us types who found ballet way later than most. They even get choreographed pieces given to them and dance in front of real people with tickets not a wall full of mirrors.

I’ve seen the trialer on Youtube, but this was the first time I got to see the entire film. It runs about one hour.
Trailer

http://science.kqed.org/quest/files/jw-player-plugin-for-wordpress/player/player.swf

Michelle Ortega, KQED in SF CA, and North Beach Digital.

Video Time

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

Responsibilities Suck

Damn I hate being the responsible one, it really pisses me off. I have a dilemma every Monday evening, I can be the grown-up, the responsible one in charge of broadening my students minds fulfilling my job as an educator. Or I can blow off the students who roll in a few minutes late for class so I can sneak away early and head to a newfound and really great ballet class.

I give my students options. I figure they are smart and mature enough by now to make choices and live with what comes of them. The option is simple, they don’t have to come to every class as long as they stay on top of their obligations and turn their projects in when they are due, and attend lectures when scheduled. It seems to work well for all involved. There are days in which nobody will show, and then days when everyone is here.

Today for example I had several who came early to meet with me. Nothing out of the ordinary, issues with projects, problems with some of the equipment. Anyway, they came and went, satisfied customers one and all. I figure I’d wait around to see if anyone would show, fingers crossed that they wouldn’t. Excited, I was about to pack it in, hit the lights and bolt downtown for class when Kangaroo Jack (I’m not good with names, so when I can’t remember one I make one up, he’s Australian so it was that or Crocodile Dundee) strolls in. Damn, I’ve got to be fucking responsible and not blow him off, his last project tanked and really needs help.

With one eye on the clock I help Kangaroo Jack out knowing just how long it takes me to get downtown. And wouldn’t you know it, it him just long enough for me not to be able to get to class. Oh well, I needed the night off after all, my legs are dead thanks to the last few weeks of racing. I think beer and maybe some ice-cream might be in my future, since I’m a “grown-up” I can eat whatever I want. At least I’ve got that going for me.

No Free Lunches + S&H

I’m not sure when I first came across the Tweet with a link to the Capezio site, lets say six weeks ago, offering free Capezio ballet shoes. I’m like all sweet, this is either the best deal ever or a total scam. I half expected Visa to call me to ask about the excessive activity on my account. Did I just charge sixteen first class tickets from Chicago to Micronesia? All the while destroying my already questionable credit history.

Get your free shoes quick, this can’t last long.

So with fingers crossed I order. A week or so later a package comes. Revealed that I wasn’t scammed I fail to tear open the bag which seems to be made of some type of space-age plastic impervious to only the sharpest of scissors and knives.  Someone screwed up and sent me two sets of shoes. So let me take a moment to thank whom ever it was that sent me two sets of shoes that don’t quite fit my missized feet. The left one kinda fit, much like my current pair of slippers, they fit, but then again they kinda don’t.  Needless to say, buying any shoes of any kind is a huge pain in my ass.

I’ve only had a few pair of shoes successfully ordered online that has actually fit, my new kick ass black and blue Van’s for one. Nearly every other shoes have had to be returned. Oh well, shipping for the new Capezio’s was like four bucks, a gamble I was willing to take.

Online order success. Dope ass kicks!

Thought I’d try my luck to see if I could score another pair, hoping they might actually fit.  Yet, again what I received wasn’t quite the right size, they are pink, almost a Pepto-Bismol pink. Now with an ever growing pile of ballet shoes I’m left with several decisions. Do I try again, and try my luck with a third order? Do I call it good with what I’ve got now? Do I pack them up and take them to school and see if I can unload them on someone there? Or do I just give up and rock the mismatched slippers? If I were to roll the dice and order another I’ll have spent almost the same amount of money on these free shoes as I would on a new pair that I know would fit.

Can't a brotha catch a break? The pile continues to grow.

Upon closer inspection the first two pairs of shoes that arrived fit my left foot well enough, and the second order fits my right foot well enough, the only problem, they are different colors, white and pink. I’m tired of ballet slippers that almost fit, I’ve put up with them long enough. The only ballet shoes that fit me right are my pointe shoes, I made damn sure those fuckers fit.

Hmmm, maybe I can dye them.

I guess I could dye them, I don’t think I can pull off the different color shoe look. They are slightly roomier than I like, I guess I’ll hold onto the pile of shoes I’ve collected here, I’m sure I might come up with a good idea one of these days. Who knows?

Plans Are Made To Be Broken

So, I’ve been planning this trip to Chicago for months and months to see my friends finally get married. It was also about this time I had this great idea to squeeze in an early Saturday morning ballet class at the Joffrey Ballet before all the festivities commence. Great idea, eh?

I chose Joffrey based in part that the studios looked cool, overlooking the Loop and the river, plus it’s early enough that I can do it early and not have it take up my entire day.

I’m thinking, hey you get yourself out of bed early Saturday mornings anyway for ballet, why should this morning be any different. Well, I forget to factor into this grand equation several factors: I don’t normally close out bars much anymore, I don’t normally have to walk 20 minutes just to catch the subway, el, train, giant silver rectangles on metal wheels that smell like pee and despair, or whatever you want to call it.

So yeah, my friends like to drink, and stay out. I’d gotten soft since they had all abandoned me in Big City and moved up here in the last few years. Leaving me out of practice in the fine art of staying out all night and making it to ballet first thing in the morning.

Somehow I get up on time, no idea how that happened. So I’m showered, got my tights and stuff on and it just kinda hits me, I have no energy but to lay back down and watch Arrested Development on my fruit phone. I’m still thinking I’ve got time to make it to the loop to get my dance on.

Nope, that ain’t happening dear readers. I desperately want to go, it’s such an awesome opportunity, but I can’t find the energy to put my pants on and walk down to the el station.

Several hours later everyone is asking how was ballet, what did you do in class, are you any good, really genuine questions and all and I’m embarrassed to tell them I didn’t make it at all. I guess that’s all I was talking about last night. Plus they are all super supportive of my ballet habit. Actually one friends mom was a professional ballerina.

I’m sure I didn’t miss anything to incredible, plies in Chicago are probably quite similar to those I’ve done at home, which are remarkably similar to the ones I did in college. This is what I have to keep telling myself. I’m sure it would have changed my life, the experience making me into a ballet god.

Look out Chicago, I’m in the mother fuckin house!!

Random observations about travel and other shit:
• United Airlines looks strange with the Continental livery and logo, it just looks wrong.
• I passed on the full body scan, and ended getting the full body TSA grope search instead. If I get felt up like that I should get a dinner out of it.
• I’d forgotten how much I dislike Southwest Airlines.
• There’s nothing more rediculis than the SkyMall catalog. Light up Star of David Christmas tree topper, really? Uh, hello, Jews don’t celebrate Christmas or have Christmas trees.
• My friend has great wooden floors, perfect for pirouettes. So I at least I’ve got that.
• If your under 12 you don’t have to take your shoes off at the security screening at the airport, this makes no sense.
• A short list of airlines I’ve flown on that no longer exist: TWA, Brannif, Northwest Orient, Northwest, Eastern, Pan Am, Vanguard, Continental, Midwest…
• Security screening in other countries is much easier and less obtrusive. Don’t get me started.
• If there are no delays on my return flight I can make the Monday night class at Big City Fancy Pants Company School.