50th Anniversary Gala

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting in the Grand Tier section, row AA (the best row) of Selena Auditorium watching rehearsal for our current show, Dracula. A good chunk of these dancers were at the Country Club last night, where I was also, attending the Corpus Christi Ballet 50th Anniversary Gala, which also celebrated Ms. Munro’s 40th anniversary of being with CCB. I’m, obviously, exhausted so I can’t even begin to imagine how they must feel.

This week has proved long and demanding, with Thursday’s rehearsals lasting late into the night–longer than typical for our spring shows–and Friday’s school show having an early call time. We thankfully didn’t have rehearsals Friday, as the school show acted as a rehearsal since we did the entire show for the school performance, which was a nice break for the girls to have a bit of time off.

Since I’m not in this show, I got to watch the school show performance from the audience. Dracula notoriously doesn’t sell very well in the school shows as it’s a bit darker and most of our attendees are elementary schools. We usually come up on the issue of school standardized testing happening around the same time as our Spring Performances every year, so shows don’t sell as well as Nutcracker regardless, but Dracula has its own extra layers. The show itself is absolutely wonderful story telling, and the dancers this year especially do a great job bringing it to life. Getting to watch from the audience during a performance was a real treat. Particularly, there’s a part where the Wolves come up from the back of the audience, and since the numbers were smaller, they didn’t notice it for longer than usual, and the reaction was absolutely perfect. Hearing the gasps and squeals and, in some instances, screams, was really fun for me. The audience was small, but they were gracious, giving the dancers plenty of reaction to play off. I sat with some of my favorite dance moms, many of whom have daughters I taught when I was still teaching. I don’t often get to see them for longer than answering questions in the office or a passing greeting, making this a really nice reprieve.

I had a few things to do at the studio between school show and the Gala, so it didn’t really make sense for me to drive all the way home, even though I was pretty wiped out at this point. I was grateful to have the ability to just sit during rehearsals, handling things from the auditorium as needed, but not having to climb stairs to dressing rooms and emote on stage, standing on the hard floors, like I usually do. The last few weeks have been particularly trying in my personal life, draining more energy than I’m used to emitting. I noticed I was feeling nauseated by 9pm, and dizzy by 9:30, solely because my body was telling me it was done. A far cry from what it used to be able to do, but that’s no surprise. I got home around midnight, and to bed around 1am, but my body woke up at 6 the next morning regardless.

I figured this would happen, the general anxieties of what goes into a show swirling around my head, trying to remember everything there is to remember, going over lists, all of it circling around and around in ways that don’t truly end until the show is over. I prepare for these things as much is possible, still there will be things you can’t predict or can’t do anything more to help except just take it as it comes and deal with the repercussions.

After school show, I went to lunch with some of my favorite people, then ran a few errands before going over to the studio. My phone was pinging with texts and calls from people about last nights Gala or show tickets or other various things to remember or handle or figure out. (Please appreciate that after I wrote the previous sentence, I had to pause to tell one group they were finished and didn’t have to stay, and then was asked to help rethread elastic in the pant legs of one of our youngest cast members. I was successful. Please hold your applause.) I told myself after I handled all the actual work I had to make myself lay down if I had any hope of surviving the night. After 20 minutes, I gave up the hope of sleep, but still stayed laying down, telling myself that bit of rest was better than nothing. I was nauseous and dizzy (this being 2:30pm) and tried to let myself not think about ballet stuff, but of course that was a hilarious notion. I had plugged my phone in to charge when I pretended to rest, so I grabbed it and had missed texts with people needing various things for the Gala, even just a few hours out. I did have the forethought of picking up ice cream during the errands I had to run before coming to the studio, and I was grateful I had. I sat on my floor, laptop propped up on a pillow, eating ice cream and handling business. An entire mood, really.

I got ready for the Gala at the studio, curling my hair, fully expecting it to fall before I arrived, and somehow managing to zip my dress up myself. It’s the little things, y’all. I was a bit nervous walking into the Gala, as attending an event like this isn’t something I have done in a good long while, the person I was back then being completely different from the person I am now, having to remind myself it is okay that I do not exist in a body now that looks like the body I existed in then. The old, familiar thoughts were ringing loud and clear, but I have the advantage of having been through a lot of therapy these days, and was able to face it all in spite of everything going on in my head. Thankfully, I arrived around the same time as my glorious assistant, Emily James, who walked in with me which gave me a bit more confidence having someone I trust alongside me.

We walked in the door of the Country Club, a place I’d never been, and the dancers who were there in tutus to help seat attendees saw us and almost collectively shouted, “Oh my God, Ms. Emilee!” going on about how much they loved my dress and how pretty I was, etc etc.

Listen. That’s not something I strive to hear from people or hang my hat on or whatever, but–especially in that moment–it was really nice to hear and gave me the extra confidence I needed to endure all the exhaustion and uncertainty of the night. I definitely wasn’t expecting to hear it continuously throughout the event, but it meant a lot, the voices of those I love helping reinforce the positive words I was trying to tell myself and drown out the ugly voices in my head pointing out all the flaws or thinking of opinions certain matriarchs may have if they were there or when I show them pictures, all of this typically more intense when i’m exhausted.

When the tutu-clad girls had changed into their own beautiful dresses for the night, they found me and asked for me to take pictures with them. This always makes me feel so good. So often I have felt I’ve had to really work hard to have a place in the environments I frequented, and most of my life I never quite felt like I found them and if I did it felt like it was just because of how I made the people feel or what I did for them, and not for who I am as a person or for what they also could offer to me in the friendship. Once I started setting boundaries, people began fading into the shadows, some slowly disappearing little by little, some essentially falling off the face of the planet. It felt like nothing was actually as it seemed, and I questioned the authenticity of most everything. Some people from previous seasons in my life have proven to be genuine, making the effort to stay connected even if it’s distantly as we navigate the natural ebbs and flows of life. Some of the girls I used to dance with will visit, making a point to come and see me and catch me up on their lives. I cherish these. Much like the dancers we have now that make sure we get pictures together, hyping me up and making me feel so loved–I am grateful.

One of the girls that was dancing a few levels above me when I first came to Munro was at the Gala last night. She graduated the year that ended up being my last year dancing with the company, and I haven’t seen her since (though her mom is one of my absolute favorite board members). It was so great seeing her, hearing about her life, catching her up on mine, and just spending time with her. A genuine soul, I got to tell her how its the fault of her and her mother that I’m at Munro as a twist of fate put the two of them at the same park I was in with another dancer for a photo shoot years ago, and we struck up a conversation where I told them my studio was closing and her mother told me about the great adult ballet classes at Munro. And here we are, 12 or so years later. Alex is just as kind now as she was when I first arrived on the scene, one of the girls that accepted me into the fold and was considerate of the new girl in town even though most people don’t know what to make of me. A true testament to the fact that what you do in your life, even if it seems small and unassuming, makes a difference in ways you may never even imagine.

Later on in the night, some of the younger-older girls approached me, asking me to come dance with them on the dance floor. There were about six of them in total and even though I am the epitome of an introvert with these things, I couldn’t resist. These girls are basically my nieces, some of them my former students or party girls or both, and having them requesting me to join them in what is arguably a right of passage for girls their age really fills my heart to feel chosen and know that these girls love me as much as I love them.

There was a moment where they were showing the mini documentary that was created in honor of Ms Munro (absolutely wonderfully done) where I looked around and took it all in. I thought about all the things I’ve been through and everything that has brought me to this moment. I thought about how lucky I am to be a part of this Company, surrounded by these people, and get to call this place a home. Ballet has been a big part of shaping me into the human I am, and this Company has played a huge role in that.

At this point of writing, I’m in the green room during our evening performance, various dancers coming and going with costume repairs or moral support needed, and I am more than happy to be there for these kids. Even now, some of my favorite people are lacing up costumes, one of them making sure I’m not working and when I explain about the blog and another asks if I’ll dance in other shows and I explain briefly about my health limitations and she says how she’s so glad that I’m here even still which really meant a lot to me. Now another group of my nuggets are here as it’s intermission and being chosen by so many loves makes me feel like maybe I’m doing something right in life.

On that note, I’m going to end this gushy post of sappiness so that I can add pictures and pay attention to my loves.

This is the life ❤

Auld Lang Syne

I had every intention of writing this yesterday, given the context. alas, life had other plans. Still, the second day of the new year isn’t bad.

I’m not sure if it comes across in my posts, mainly because I can’t remember what i’ve written especially after such a long time of having this blog, but i’ve known quite a bit of sadness and tragedy in my life. Grief and I are old friends and i’ve made any therapist i’ve spoken to cry with casual stories. i’m an open book, though I don’t talk about it all too much or too openly, tending to keep to my same hand full of stories in my moments of morbidity (of which there are many).

The new year always makes me feeling some sort of way that I have trouble articulating. i’ve taken to making a habit of journaling into the new year, partially as a way to help distract from the anxiety of change. (it’s just a new day, not that big of a deal. and yet.)

A few years ago I saw a video posted by John Green (of The Fault in Our Stars fame) to the youtube channel he has with his brother. He told a story of how the song Auld Lang Syne was sang during WWI by men in the trenches, but instead of the lyrics were used to, they sang, “We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here”, a sort of acknowledgement that we may not understand why, but we’re all here, in this moment, together. It’s stuck with me since I first heard this 7 ish years ago, and I think of it every new year, even so much as making it a habit to journal the words as the clock strikes midnight on the first of January.

This past December, the darkness I am so familiar with decided to show me a new level of depth. Even amongst such lovely and wonderful moments, I found myself trudging through these mental trenches, wrestling with it all any time the world around me got still or quiet enough, seeking out any moment of distraction and holding on to it as long as I could, even though often it was fleeting. While the Nutcracker and holiday seasons filled my calendar, I had to cancel a month’s worth of violin lessons. I practiced when I could, though that wasn’t often, and when my first lesson back finally approached I found myself nervous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m nervous going in to most any meeting or lesson or session, no matter how much i’m looking forward to it, but this time I was nervous about what he may throw at me, if i’d be prepared, if i’d look like an idiot or have forgotten everything he’d taught me over these six months.

Fifteen minutes before our lesson was to start, he sent me a text with a link to sheet music. I opened the text and my face immediately broke into a smile as I saw the header of the page with the songs name and it was none other than Auld Lang Syne.

Excited, I immediately started trying to figure out the notes, reading music being something I struggle with. Once I found it, I played around with the song, trying to get it as smooth as I could. When we signed on to Zoom for our lesson, he starts speaking of the theory behind certain groups of notes and traditions and calling back to the circle of fifths he’d taught me a while back, quizzing me on different elements of it. about twenty minutes in he said, “I know you probably already figured out the song, but humor me. You’re talented, and you can just find the notes and play it, but I want to teach you what it is you’re doing without knowing you’re doing it so if you ever walk into an orchestra and are asked, you can answer.”

It made me laugh. He tells me how I have natural talent and how I shouldn’t be able to do what i’m doing yet in such a short amount of time, which sort of blows my mind because i’m not used to having a natural talent at anything and also because since my brain works this way, I can’t understand how anyone’s brain could work a different way. (and consequently, I struggle to understand the theory he’s teaching me, hence the emphasis on it.)

We got to the song, and I learned I got one of the notes incorrect in my sight reading. He corrected me then we played through it a few times. at the end he showed me a certain scale, and showed how with those scales you can play nearly any Christmas carol. it was so fun and rewarding.

I have found in my darkness, that the one thing that meets me every time, the thing that sits with me in it and helps hold my hand as I find my way back toward the light is music. Music transcends time and space and will outlive us all, carrying through generations to times we’ll never know. A song that encourages someone 100 years ago can be a song that encourages me now. The same can be said for poetry, at least to me personally, but there’s something special about music.

I’ve been drawn to music my whole life, lamenting the fact that I can’t sing, being so sad when I couldn’t dance and feeling somewhat unfulfilled in my pursuit of learning ballet since I knew I wasn’t a natural for it. Still, I gave my all to it, hoping that time and dedication would get me closer to the thing my heart longed for; giving soul to music through movement. I wanted to take everything I felt and somehow give it a tangibility. Then I had to give up dancing, all hope of it being cemented when I had my back surgery. I make do with what I can do and am grateful for every opportunity I do have, but still something feels incomplete.

Then came violin.

And I was so nervous to try, so nervous when everyone told me how difficult it is to learn, seeing the looks of doubt on their faces, hearing the uncertainty in their tone when I told them I bought the violin outright instead of renting it at first. Still, the same thing that drove me to step into that ballet studio the first time, so scared I was shaking, is the very thing that drove me to reach out about lessons.

Now we’re six months in, and I find when I pick up Beulah (my violin), everything feels right. Making music with her makes me feel like everything inside is able to be made tangible. Of course, i’m only six months in, and I have a long way to go, (i’m pretty sure i’ll never get vibrato down I swear) but even just muddling through the bits i’ve worked on so far feels like each note reaches into my darkness, takes a look around, and makes friends with it. It’s not that it’s taking a broom and clearing out the cobwebs, rather it’s coming in and sitting with the pain and grief and layers, getting to know it, welcoming its company.

Imagine if I never tried. If I stayed scared and didn’t lean into it. If I let the “what if?” of it all dictate everything. I’d never have known that this is something i’m a natural at. Never have known i’m a natural at anything. I would have gone the rest of time feeling nothing more than mediocre at anything i’ve done, and hoping that the feeble attempts would be worth enough to justify continuing to pursue them.

Instead, I feel when I pick up my violin that all my attempts are finally meaning something. This is what i’ve fought for, this is what i’ve been striving for, this is what ive hoped id find in every other moment.

I wish i could learn more, progress faster. I move forward in the hope I don’t suffer any sort of set back that makes me have to give this up to. I continue in the knowledge that if something happens to cause this to become a place of grief like the times before that i’ll look back and be so grateful I did it while I could.

Nutcracker 2024

I feel like writing this post is something for which I have all and none of the words.

I was nervous going into this season. Last season held so many changes and differences that really made it difficult to endure. I was afraid that was the new norm and that Nutcracker would no longer be something I actually enjoyed, but rather something to which I was obligated. The thought of this broke my heart, and I started the season having to put my dog–my best friend–down on audition day. It was already not looking like it was going to be the favorite season of my life.

Now here we are at the end of it. Final bows have been taken, costumes have been hung, props put back into storage. Chapters have been written and signed off in the books of personal history, and here I am, bursting with gratitude.

The difficulty and struggle is not the new norm; it’s simply a blip on the radar of my experiences, something I endured and lived to tell the tale. This year felt redemptive. Of course, it wasn’t perfect, no experience ever is. Honestly, I think if it was, I wouldn’t value it as much. Something about a little struggle makes you really take inventory about how much something means to you. But this year is definitely one I treasure. I know I’m not the only one who feels a bit of redemption, many of the dancers have overcome their own personal challenges for which this year has brought them full circle as well.

Over the first weekend, we had CCB’s very first Clara and Fritz as our Mother Gingers. Mrs. Lori, my first ballet teacher when I came over to Munro, was that first Clara. I haven’t seen her since I took her class ten years ago and was a little worried she wouldn’t remember me. So much can happen in ten years, and she only knew me for that one year of it, leaving me uncertain. I banked on the fact that I look the exact same and got bold enough to say hi when she was talking to Ms. Munro and Mrs. Alex, needing to mention something to Mrs. Alex anyway. When she finished whatever story she was telling and noticed me standing there, she said, “Oh, my glittering girl!” and opened her arms wide to me. I melted like a little kid seeing her favorite teacher; so much of what I learned in her class are still things I apply when I teach students. She was the first teacher to really see me, and the first to point out my hips weren’t square. It was also that year I learned about my leg length discrepancy and the two curves in my spine and started using a shoe lift. Getting to see her backstage, practicing for Mother Ginger, deciding what character she would bring to the role and making sure everything was perfect brought a smile to my face. A professional, through and through.

Party Scene was so much fun. I had all new party boys for the first time this year, as my beloved Michael aged out of the role, which brings in different elements. Having an entirely new set of kids can be a challenge, but in this case it was so much fun. We laughed, made up little jokes throughout the scene, each kid bringing their own personality into it. It never once felt boring or redundant. At one point when John and I are dancing, I said, “This year is so much fun,” and he looked at me and replied, “I know you mean that, because you don’t always say that.” And he’s right. Of course there’s bits I enjoy about every year, and I love my party kids so much, but some years the joy comes more easily, and this was one of those years. From doing the Macarena during the interlude music, to joking that the doll box smoke was Joshua farting, to “this cake doesn’t have nuts”, to Aubrey actually falling asleep in the scene where they’re supposed to pretend, to learning the new kids slang–it’s all been so wonderful.

This is my tenth season with the Corpus Christi Ballet, and I truly believe that it was the best season we’ve had since I’ve been here. Everyone was on their A game, working really hard and dedicating their all to make the show beautiful. It fills my heart with pride to see these dancers rise in their potential. The Clara’s, of course, but also the other roles as well. Many, many of the dancers really seemed to come into their own between last year and this year and it’s excited to watch and speculate where they may go from here. Having been here this many years now, I’ve gotten to see the young ones grow up to be the older ones. Speculations at the beginning have been realized, and getting to see that development is beautiful. There does need to be special compliments paid to the Clara’s, though. All four of those girls really worked their tails off, giving performances that were utter delights to watch each night, supporting and helping each other, and fully embodying the joy of the character. It was like seeing each of their little kid versions living their best lives out there on stage–I’m getting goosebumps just remembering it!

My second season with CCB, I was Rat Queen. Three of my mice are still dancing, two of whom are Seniors this year. I’ve managed to actually let my cold, dead heart thaw a few times the last couple weeks, and one of them was in watching Kaitlyn and Paige dance in Dew Drop (in a trio with Magen), knowing that these nuggets that have been here with me nearly my entire time here are now not only the incredibly talented dancers they are, but are such wonderful people to boot. They are kind and considerate, funny and creative, and positive influences on the younger dancers who watch them with eyes full of wonder. That’s the beautiful thing about the current state of the studio; the older dancers have a grasp of their influence and use their “powers” for good. Seeing them interact with the younger dancers, knowing what it means to them and knowing they know it too, is something that warms my heart.

My absolute favorite thing is the one rehearsal when we don’t have Cherubs, Angels, or Cooks, so the Company girls have started filling in while the music plays so Drosselmeyer and Clara have someone to play off of. It’s hilarious watching them in their various costumes, and adorable now remembering how some of these girls were once these very roles not so long ago. (also hilarious seeing which ones boss the others around on where they’re supposed to be at different parts in the scene.)

I also loved getting to see some of my friends from when I was dancing who came back to visit and/or watch for the 50th anniversary. Moving on is a part of life, but it means so much when they’re able to come back, especially when they take a moment to say hello. I still tell stories of memories we made during our years, and try to keep up on social media, but I’ve become more removed from that in recent days which makes it more difficult to keep up. Just thinking of them makes me so happy.

I can’t tell you how much it meant to me this past weekend to be standing around during party scene, and to have Kaitlyn J, Paige, Alenka, McKenna, and whoever else was there call me over because they wanted pictures with me. Usually I jump in to theirs, or make them take pictures with me (they have yet to protest), but this time they asked me and suddenly I felt way cooler than I ever have any business feeling. These girls we have truly are such wonderful people. Not only the ones I’ve mentioned, either. They’re supportive and kind and helpful and just delights to be around. One of my favorite parts of any show was hearing them cheer for each other, supporting their friends in whatever role they happened to have, giving encouragement, holding each other up. So often people get caught up in competition with each other, but these girls are girls girls. I’m so proud of them.

I teared up at different points every single night, but on the drive in to the last show, one lone, dramatic tear managed to escape my eye at the thought of how special this cast and this experience really is. I have more stories than I could ever truly tell, but each of them have a home in my heart. My life is a pretty dark place on the regular, and it’s easy for me to feel rather consumed by it. But as I told my therapist, “My life is dark, but these kids are the light.” Seeing the wide eyed tiny dancers, hearts full of dreams; the slightly older dancers whose eyes are still wide yet are starting to come into their own, mapping out the stories of their lives; the older dancers whose dreams have now been realized, soaking up every moment of this experience that has been so much of their lives all these years, it’s all enough to melt even the coldest of hearts. I’m so proud of them, of who they’ve grown and are growing to be. I’ve loved getting to know their parents and families and having the privilege of being even the smallest of parts in their stories. Seeing them feel so fulfilled is in turn so extremely fulfilling.

And the greatest gift I could have been given this year is the hope with which I’m left.
This, the kindness and joy, is the norm. This is what I have to look forward to in future seasons. This is why I keep coming back. This is what fills my heart and makes my life feel like it has a greater purpose.

This is the light in my darkness. I’m not foolish enough to think that I’ll always have it, especially since I almost lost it once already, but I’m grateful for every moment and memory that I do have it, and for every person I get to meet along the way.

Jackie and I
Party family from 6 (?) years ago
Lilly and I
Lauren in the wings
Company dancers as Angels
Company dancers as Cooks
snow
snow
Catherine and I
Sallee the saluting Nutcracker
Lilli and I
Madi and I
Amy
Sallee and I
Lola and I
opening scene, always made me laugh
Paige
the dancers in the darkness
empty auditorium
Haeleigh, featuring feet
Khloe and I
Kaitlyn J, Paige, and I
Paige and I
Kaitlyn J and I
Alenka and I
Mckenna and I
Paige and Kaitlyn H
Alenka in the wings
Kaitlyn H
sugar tutu
the face I made to try and make Kaitlyn laugh while we’re supposed to be frozen
Ayla and I
McKenna hugging Lauren
Alenka and I, sad she’s graduating
McKenna and I
Alenka and I
McKenna and Alenka

An ode to Clara

Nutcracker season is upon us once again.

I don’t write as frequently as I did when I began this blog, but I do find there are certain moments or happenings that beg my fingers to dance across the keyboard and memorialize the moments happening before me. Last weekend was one of those times.

Our cast list came out a couple weeks ago at this point, and when anyone asked me who I thought would get the role of Clara, I gave noncommittal answers, partially because anything can happen, and partially because I had no clue. Sure, I had my personal hopes and assumptions, and maybe part of me didn’t want to jinx anything, but I truly felt they could take it so many different ways that it was impossible to guess what decision they would land on. I can’t imagine how difficult it is to come up with the cast list–it’s a job I definitely don’t envy.

When I saw the cast list, I was stunned into a shocked silence, which didn’t matter considering I was alone in my house watching Mary Tyler Moore therefore no one knowing the difference in my reaction. I was stunned in the best way, each of these girls having such a special place in my heart. So special that I’m dedicating this blog post solely to them.

First up, Lilly S.
Lilly was my party girl the second year I was a party mom. Back then, the loss of dancing was still pretty fresh, but I remember being so excited to have her and Lola as my “children” (Lola’s real dad being my party husband). They were so cute and tiny back then, but even in those early days they showed promise and talent. I taught Lilly’s little sister, who was five-turning-six at the time, and I even attended her birthday that year, her mom now being one of my closest friends.
I’ve had the immense privilege of watching Lilly grow up all these years between. I’ve stayed with her and her sister overnight when their parents go out of town, “stolen” her for different fun days out, and given her rides home. When I was still teaching, she and Lola were my assistants for a few years in a row, becoming vital parts of my ability to get through those times when my health was at its worst. Lilly (likely) would have been Clara two years ago, but unfortunately she suffered a mishap when she dislocated her kneecap during her school’s dance class mere days before auditions. It was a complete unexpected accident and it baffled all of us. I watched Lilly as she recovered, both physically and emotionally, and saw her cheer on her friend’s successes when I knew she must also be grieving her own loss. She was so impressive and admirable to witness her grit and determination, facing her fears in the comeback, and even jumping in to a role she hadn’t done in years when a Polichinelle got sick one weekend (and we have to have 8 Polichinelles!) She dedicated herself to her physical therapy, joining in on our spring show of Cinderella and setting her sights on the next year’s Nutcracker auditions. Surely, this would be her year, right?
As luck would have it, wrong. Lilly made it through auditions beautifully, full of pride and hope, only to have her kneecap dislocate the next day at a rehearsal for our dance festival we attend in the spring. Absolutely gutted, not to mention shocked, she found herself in this position again. Doctors told her she didn’t need surgery, but they got a second opinion–the last thing she wanted was for this to happen a third time. She bravely faced surgery, joined Nutcracker that year as a Maid again, and watched on as her friends fulfilled the dreams she so deeply also hoped to one day fulfill only to have two straight years of setback. When I say I hope to be half the person Lilly is, I mean it. She has such grit and determination and such a love for her friends. She never once complained or lamented her luck, she rolled with the punches and followed doctors orders and now finally this is her year. A redemption story for the books. She is opening night on Gala weekend of the 50th anniversary show and gets to perform a school show. That usually doesn’t happen, since Gala weekend is typically the second weekend of shows, but in a twist of fate, she gets all these wonderful experiences she wouldn’t have had if she had been Clara either of the two years before. I feel for Lilly its a true “absence makes the heart grow fonder” situation where she appreciates being able to bring this role to life in a way most people will never know.

Next, Jackie.

Jackie is my first former student to be cast as Clara. Where Lilly was my former party girl, she’s the second former party girl to be Clara. Jackie is the first former student–someone I will reference for the rest of my days when I speak of Nutcracker much like I do when I tell everyone that Brooke was the first party girl. She joins a rank of my personal story that only so many can reach. I first started teaching Jackie when I subbed her class on a Saturday when she was seven. I tried to go back and see if I blogged about that class since it was such a memorable one, but I wrote so much back then I kept getting distracted and it was difficult to sort through (It was the 2016-2017 dance year, and it would be a Saturday subbed class where she called me “Supergirl”, if you want to take a stab at it). Even back then, I could tell Jackie loved dance and had a decent enough amount of skill. The next dance year, the teacher who usually taught her class had moved and I requested to teach the class in hopes Jackie would enroll in it again. When the year started and she wasn’t on my role sheet, I was so sad. Did she quit dancing? Maybe she just moved to the weekday classes–that would be good for her since she shows promise, I can’t be mad if that’s what happened. I let it go. About a month later, in walks Jackie, After class her mom told me, “We wanted to be in your class but I realized I didn’t know your name, I only knew you as Supergirl! It took me all this time to figure out who you actually are!” I’ll never let Jackie live this one down! Since then, I’ve kept up with her, even after I stopped dancing. I’d find her at recital and backstage of Nutcracker when I could. She joined spring shows my first season back post-covid-shut-down-year, which was the season I almost didn’t come back for (thank you Catherine and Macey for convincing me) and I remember seeing her as the highest level villager and making everyone notice her feet, as if they could ignore how great they are. Last summer, Jackie asked to do private lessons with me, and we worked diligently. I wish I had documented where she was in the beginning versus the end because the difference is impressive. Whereas at the beginning she struggled doing a single pirouette en pointe, by the end she was doing fairly consistent doubles. She improved by leaps and bounds, her dedication evident, the type of student a teacher loves having. At one point last season, Jackie told me, “You’re like the Taylor Swift of CCB” and that is a compliment I will carry the rest of my life. An honor truly. She’s also told me that she doesn’t get nervous having Ms. Munro or Mrs. Alex watching her, but when I do she does, “because I know you’re watching me, not just watching everyone” and she’s right. When I sneak in to a rehearsal, I watch the kids I work with so I know what we need to address or correct next time. If the student is teachable, I give them corrections right then and there because I know they’ll take them and apply them and honestly, when they get older and watch the recordings, I don’t want them to see these simple things we can easily fix. I want them to look back and think, “Wow, I was really good!” That’s the goal. She’s never let me down so far! Jackie is one of those kids you know absolutely loves ballet, one you don’t have to remind to work at home because it’s evident that she does, one who comes the next lesson prepared so we’re able to build instead of revisiting things we’d previously fixed. I was hoping they’d pick her this year, my assumption being that they were watching her considering the specific corrections she had gotten last season. Having her chosen this year is so rewarding, knowing how hard she’s worked and how much it means to her. Truly deserved.

Next up, Lilli G.

Lilli is a nugget I first met when she was a party girl the year that was supposed to be my last year as party mom. She wasn’t my party girl, but she is one I remember. A cute little thing in the green dress, she’s in the picture I posted with my “last” blog post, looking up at me in the back of a little pack of girls on stage. I love that picture so much. When I started working in the office, she was one I got to know that first season. An absolute bundle of joy, I looked forward to her saying hi to me when she’d get there for rehearsals, her mom a dance mom I looked forward to seeing. Lilli is such an encourager, but also a kid who takes no crap–a beautiful balance. Last spring, after Cinderella, I asked her and her mom if I could work with Lilli in the summer. I could see she had so much potential but felt like she was just getting lost in the fold. I didn’t know if it would help, but I wanted to try. They enthusiastically agreed, and Lilly showed up diligently, eager to work each lesson. The first thing I noticed when we went through barre is she 100% knows what she’s doing. She has the ability, she has the knowledge, but there was some sort of disconnect when we got to center. We worked that summer on finding how to hold her positions and which muscles to use given her hyper mobility and finding the different ways to think about the steps we were doing in a way that leant to what we were trying to accomplish. She worked her butt off, and by the end of summer had shown so much improvement. We also talked through the emotional and mental side of dance, discussing strategies to set ourselves up for success in such a complex environment. I showed her some of the Clara phrases in hopes she’d feel more prepared going into auditions and would have a basis of confidence. Auditions came and went, and she didn’t feel good about it at all. She got her roles, took them gracefully, made the most of it. She enjoyed the year as much as she could while sorting through everything else that comes with disappointment. I stood on the sidelines, watching and correcting mainly because I knew she’d take it. And she did, she’d take it and improve and by the time show day came she looked fantastic. Gone were the days of standing out for quirks in technique and here she was, a proper corps de ballet dancer that blended in as you’re supposed to. No matter the outcome, I was proud of her. I knew she worked hard even when her heart was sad and she made the most of it all to (in my opinion) great success. This summer came and went, auditions happened, and Lilli goes in filled to the brim with confidence. She comes out smiling ear to ear, “I decided I wasn’t going to worry about it and was just gonna have fun!” and you could tell she truly did. Then, my dog died, and I mention that because it wrecked me in ways I never expected or could have prepared for. That first day I was able to drive by the ER vet, I arrived to my location to have a text from Lilli waiting for me. She had written a speech for class and sent me a picture of it. It was about her ballet story, how we worked together last summer, how difficult that season was, and how she decided to take what I had said to heart and went in to this years auditions with a clear mind and a heart full of confidence. I cried. It meant so much to me, and especially in that moment was something that really brought me to a place of grounding. There’s not much more rewarding as an instructor or teacher or mentor or what-have-you than seeing your student put in the work and succeed. Whatever “success” looks like to them, it is the joy of my life seeing their hard work pay off. They do that. They could just as easily take what I say and shove it in the bottom of the depths of their dance bag never to see the light of day again. They can drag their feet and be mad at the world when things don’t go their way. They can let it go in one ear and out the other. Or they can apply it, see what happens, put in the effort, and give it their best shot. Is it a guarantee that things will work in their favor? Not at all. There’s so much of life not in our control, we can only do what we can do. However, if we don’t do what we’re able, it’s a guarantee that it will never happen. Lilli was one I was really hoping would get the role, but I didn’t know if she would. I felt more confident with her confidence after auditions, but still you just never know. When I saw her name, that’s when I was stunned. I wouldn’t say “shocked” because I knew she was capable, but “stunned” because everything she worked so hard for, everything she’d hoped for actually finally happened. She did it. She showed up and showed them and they saw. For most of my life I have been someone who was overlooked, the memories of it still sting even all these years removed. I know much of it was simply school politics, but in a sense knowing I couldn’t control it made it more difficult. This felt redemptive. I knew she was in an environment that is fair. It’s unpredictable, but its fair, and that if she really worked hard she had a chance. Seeing her success is absolutely rewarding.

and finally, Khloe.

Khloe was new to me that first season back after I almost quit. She was cast as a party girl, even though she was one of the older girls (the gift of being shorter, I guess) that year, which was her first Nutcracker. Its easier for me to get to know the new girls if their party girls, and she seemed like such a sweetheart. Always attentive, polite, kind, she definitely made a good impression. She’s one of the quieter girls, but over the last few seasons I’ve gotten to be around her more and get to know her. I started noticing her dancing that spring show after her first Nutcracker, she being in the same group as Jackie. They were two of what I would consider the leaders, although I don’t know how things were officially. I just noticed that they were two who were confident and knew what they were doing and that other dancers looked to them when they were uncertain. I watched her the last two seasons I’ve been working at the studio, seeing her potential. That first season I was backstage for the studio’s recital and remember being absolutely blown away by her in this lyrical piece some of my girls were in. They said their goal was to make me cry, and they succeeded–one solitary tear. Khloe specifically showed so much emotion, making this dance her own, really conveying to the audience what they wanted to drive home. This last season, I watched her a little more closely. During Swan Lake, I got to sit on the throne as the Queen, giving me the best seat in the house for that Act. Khloe was Neapolitan and while the whole group did well, the timing at the end of the dance was something they struggled with. Not Khloe. She and the girl next to her, in my opinion, carried that dance. Her face absolutely beaming, her choreography confident. There was not a moment where she questioned what she was doing and it showed. Even in rehearsals, she retained the steps and was able to help others when they weren’t so sure. I knew Khloe was a good dancer, a great jumper. I knew she had potential, but this was when I really started watching her. As I said in the beginning, I had no clue how this years casting was going to go, but I was hoping Khloe was one they were watching and seeing as well and when I read her name I was so pleased to see it. She absolutely deserves this role and I have not a single doubt whatsoever that she will make everyone proud with her performance.

This past weekend, the Clara’s had their costume fittings. I got to be there for it and though it’s not the first time I’ve been there for a Clara costume fitting, this one was absolutely surreal. These girls I’ve essentially watched grow up, filled with hopes and dream, were now the ones getting to live it. The light in their eyes and the excitement emanating from their every being was a delight. Seeing the moms that were there tearing up was so precious, knowing what this means to them as well.

That evening, they did a rehearsal with just them. I know Jackie says I make her nervous and I didn’t peek in at auditions for that very reason, but now that she has the role I’m gonna watch, hah! All four of them did so well it blew my mind. I don’t know that I’ve watched the Clara rehearsal before to have anything to compare it to, but I was so happy with what I saw. Each of the girls took to the choreography like a fish to water. They all four get along so well and are helpful to each other, making sure each gets a turn in things they share and helping each other understand more complex bits. I popped in and watched a bit of Snow which impressed me on the whole, arguably looking the best this early on possibly of any of the years I’ve watched or been involved and the Clara’s were no exception.

Last year’s season was a difficult one for me personally, and I was a smidge anxious going in to this year not knowing if it would be much the same. So far, however, I’m having the time of my life, absolutely thrilled with how well all the girls are doing and enjoying seeing each of them step into their own and tackle their roles. I’m excited to be excited and hopeful about this year, letting myself dare to not be afraid of the things I can’t predict, reminding myself I’m surrounded by such wonderful people, and reveling in the fact such wonderful things are happening on an anniversary year.

I’m so excited to see what is to come throughout this season, and hopefully will be able to post a blog or two to have to look back on.

Gold Star

Last week I got my first “gold star” after successfully perfecting (to my teacher’s liking) Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. It wasn’t actually gold, instead it was a star that my teacher drew in my book, It wasn’t any ordinary star, either, he drew a ballerina star, with “ballerina hands”, a tutu, and a bun. Absolutely delightful.

In yesterday’s lesson, he taught me the beginnings of understanding how to conduct an orchestra. I find these little details and nuances absolutely fascinating, wanting to know every little thing about this instrument I can manage. He told me his goal is to teach me everything he knows. Bring it.

We also started working on the next song in the book, Lightly Row, which I’m trying to be diligent about actually learning how to read the music rather than just memorizing which notes come when. That can work at these beginning stages, but as I progress it will only become a disadvantage. I guess I was doing well enough on this song, making it more difficult for myself by insisting on using the A string for the E note, rather than using an open E string, but I have been struggling with the A string E note and wanted to take this opportunity to work on it. Apparently, I was getting the E note perfectly, then struggling to get the C#, which usually is opposite for people. Learning and remembering the hand shape and placement for each string and set of notes is something I’m still working on, as is setting my thumb position to have my fingers be where I need them to be, the most difficult being that E note on the A string. Staring the song with it skews the hand shape, which is another reason I wanted to work on it — figuring out all the ins and outs here at the beginning so I have a better foundation to build upon.

From there, my teacher decided to throw me a curve ball. He told me to play the open G string, open D string, then B, A, B, A, B on the A string, back to D, then G. Then he transcribed Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G for the cello to the violin and had me muddle through it. He showed me what it’s supposed to sound like when you get it down perfectly, which of course I don’t have the timing or inflection yet, but when he handed me back Beulah (my violin) I was able to at least hit each of the notes properly and from there can build to the proper inflection. It blew his mind. He commented to the fact that if I see him do it, I’m able to copy it really well. I’ve always assumed I was a visual learner, as I took to American Sign Language really well (and had circumstances allowed, would have been a deaf interpreter) even using the language to study for tests as I was better able to remember the signs and interpret them than I was to remember words on a page. Having that translate to violin certainly is interesting.

He explained that if I sing the notes to myself, do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do, that I’ll have better success in finding the note on the violin, knowing what it’s supposed to sound like. “Good singers make good violinists, and you’re a good singer.” This blew my mind. I’m definitely not the singer in the family, my sister has always had a natural talent for that. I remember being told I wasn’t a good singer, even having friends laugh at me when I would go flat and have no clue that I had. I became extremely embarrassed to even try, having no clue what I was supposed to sound like or afraid I’d go flat and not know it again. However, I was able to run a sound board by ear with no training, so there was a spark of hope that maybe I just needed to be shown or have things explained to me. I’ve been too timid to seek this out yet, though my violin instructor also teaches voice, so we’re sort of addressing it inadvertently. Having him say, so nonchalantly, “you’re a good singer” healed something in me.

I’m already still shocked, and sort of expecting that surely any day now he’s gonna take it back, being told I’m a natural at violin. I’ve watched shows and movies and seen the protagonist be naturally good at something and all these doors casually open for her and always thought that was completely unrealistic. However, now I find myself in a situation where it actually is real and it just still seems so fake to me. There’s no way that I have found something I’m actually a natural at. There’s no way.

Even so, this doesn’t mean I have an excuse not to work hard.

Of course, I’ll have less time to work on violin as much as I want with Nutcracker season starting up, but any little bit I can do is better than nothing through this season, and will fuel the fire of the love I have for this instrument. Progress is progress, no matter how small, and I’m grateful to have found this creative endeavor and am hoping I’m able to continue in it for years to come.

Highs and lows.

In light of keeping things real here, today was a rough day. I’ve been having some health stuff going on that’s making me nervous, seeing new doctors, could be nothing or could be big somethings and all of this is veiled in a healthy dose of past medical trauma (literally someone did a magazine write up on one of my “horror stories” a couple years back) which just sets me on edge.

With violin, i’ve had a bit of an underlying fear that i’d eventually get to a point where something doesn’t quite click and I form a mental block I can’t get past like I did with math in fourth grade. I have a brain for math, but there’s a few things that had a disconnect that I couldn’t quite communicate well enough to find a way past. (Queue the stereotype of “some of yall didn’t have your dad yelling, “WHATS SEVEN TIMES EIGHT” at the kitchen table while helping you with your math homework and it show” in all its glory, multiply it by most math teachers, it’s a good time.) So far, though, we’ve been able to work through any little hiccups we have come across and i’ve been able to carry on in my learning of this beautiful instrument. Today we got down to more theory nitty-gritty and approached another disconnect.

At first I felt it — that knot in your throat and the weight in your chest where you can feel panic on the brink. If i’m not careful, it’ll make my brain completely shut down, which is where I find I struggle to explain any disconnect in a way that helps us find a way past it. But today I was determined to not let it get the best of me. I was able to recognize it was there, take a moment to gather my thoughts in how to express what my brain was processing and where I wasn’t connecting the dots, and David was able to perfectly interpret everything into something I could understand.

Crisis averted.

What’s more, the knowledge that came out of it on the other side is what I feel to be a huge step in my growth as a violinist. Big things that are essentially stepping stones in your progress with this instrument were laid today and the possibilities from here were opened up for me like a dog going through a door that was opened and running full pelt through a meadow of wildflowers to its hearts content.

We worked more on the Interstellar main theme that we have been playing around with since the beginning, but now we’ve gone to the next step where things get faster and include more strings. It’s a huge challenge, one that is definitely above my current skill set, but one that I feel I can begin attempting. I told David, “once I get this i’m going to feel like such a badass” and I know it to be fact.

Safe to say i’m riding a violin high — one I am extremely grateful to be able to experience, especially with so many challenges in life currently. Violin has given me something even ballet wasn’t fully able to offer. Ballet filled so many holes I had in my life, and effectively losing that was a huge blow, but violin is giving me the fulfillment I have so deeply craved and then some as it’s a whole other world experiencing something to which you are naturally inclined. It’s a beautiful thing when what you’re good at and what you love doing collide, and i’m going to chase this high for the rest of my life.

Emilee and the Davettes

i’ve been meaning to post an update here for a bit, but have been a smidge nervous about it. Which, is ridiculous, I know.

I guess with most of my experience coming from beginning ballet, where my heart was in it but I had to work very hard for any single bit of progress and fight to keep it, coming into violin has been one where I apparently have natural ability.

And, putting it bluntly, that feels fake.

Surely I really don’t and we just haven’t exposed how terrible I actually am, right?

It feels as though writing too many blog posts about how wonderful this experience is and the progress I’m making, and all the lovely compliments my teacher gives me (hi, David!) will somehow jinx me and i’ll find out I was a fraud all along.

Yet, here I am, lesson…five? I think? maybe six. And i’m learning vibrato, successfully achieved it, and each time David brings me something to challenge me, I somehow rise to it and give a decent effort to it.

I keep expecting me to hit a point where I have to remind myself why I want this, that I actually love it, and that all the hard work will eventually pay off. With ballet, that was basically immediate. I struggled so much, went home and found tutors and any scrap of instruction online that could be found and muddled my way through, supported by the encouragement of my teacher and peers and sheer stubborn determination. I was never great. I would say I was mediocre, at best, but my heart was in it. And when that was taken from me with all my health stuff, the loss had an added layer since it was something I fought so hard for.

Now, i’m beginning, again, something i’d always wanted to try from childhood. The lesson started with David calling me…a word neither of us could remember by the end of the lesson. He’s going to try and look it up—adept? Accomplished? an a word basically calling me a natural. (the word was adept!) Instinct is that there’s no way he’s saying these things about me, but then when he explained what this old book he dug up told him to do in regards to students like me, it made complete sense, and by the end of the lesson he was telling me how he can see such a difference just between last lesson to this one.

I told him how I had access to my friend, Angel’s, piano, and how finding the notes on there helped me translate it to violin. I’ve never had a piano lesson. my friends took piano growing up and showed me some basics like where C is, otherwise I used what David had shown me with violin to figure out where the notes are and help me process the progression for the song we’re working on. Then, I noticed the first note sounded like the first note from Hedwig’s Theme, so I picked it out as best I could by ear, getting all but the last two notes or so of the first phrase. Apparently that’s not normal.

My dad came by the studio today to help me figure out how to get our office phone moved over since we switched which room my office is in, and after I persuaded him to pick up the guitar and play what I was learning. He obliged, and David watched as dad picked out the notes by ear of what I was playing to find it and play with me. He said, “I see where you get it from!” to which my dad quickly said, “nah, she gets it from her grandmother, my mother”. so I guess imposter syndrome runs in the family as well, haha!

it was really special having my dad play with me, even for such a small amount of time. He’s been supportive with me learning violin, even if he may have had his doubts not necessarily in me but knowing how difficult the instrument is and hoping I wouldn’t be disappointed. I think it’s a fair reaction, and one i’ve been met with from many people when I told them I was going to start learning. My dad has been supportive of my ballet, as well, coming to any show even though it’s not something he has any sort of interest in beyond the fact i’m interested in it. I really appreciate it.

I’m excited to keep practicing on the tasks David has given me. It’s most fun when we’re working together, especially because he can call me out in real time on the small things i’m not doing properly that are messing me up, so i’m able to fix them right away. I have yet to leave a violin lesson where I felt anything but on top of the world. I’m so glad I was brave enough to begin this adventure, and I can’t wait to see where it takes me.

David and I joked about getting my nephew to play cello and my sister piano so we could form a band, which he suggested we name Emilee and the Davettes.

Perfection!

stay tuned for an update if David and I remember the word.

Dad and me, while he and David were figuring out the notes on guitar.

Learning to Read (Music)

I was a bit nervous going into this week’s lesson. As I was practicing at home, the “dying cat” was let out of the bag and the sounds I was making weren’t my favorite. I still worked on it, though I wasn’t sure which notes were in the scale that I was meant to be aiming for. I knew the practice was good for my hands, building the muscle and getting used to the motions necessary for violin.

However, when my violin instructor showed up, he had these red things around his neck, and things in his pocket resembling painters sticks.

“We’re going to teach you how to read music today.”

When I tell you I was thrilled, i’m not exaggerating. I had looked ahead in my violin book and realized I was lacking in that area. This book can tell me this is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star all day long, but I couldn’t tell you how it was that song. I was also nervous to show him my dying cat skills I had seemed to develop in the last week, but knew I needed to come clean if I wanted to improve.

The red things around his neck were specialized felt used for tuning pianos. He set them out like a giant Staff. He taught me how to properly draw a treble clef, and used golf balls to teach me how to read music.

Truly, it was genius. I’m completely a visual learner, so having these little cues to guide me proved vital. I have a mathematical brain but struggled with math growing up. I could get the answers, but couldn’t tell you how I did it, because I didn’t know, and then would doubt myself or think too hard about it and mess it up. I was afraid this would happen in music as well, but when he said, “i’m going to speak to you like I do my seven year olds” and put a golf ball where the D note would be and said “this is a dog named Daryl”, I knew I would be okay.

We worked together, placing golf balls and writing out the notes on paper as well, helping me to understand note placement and effectively how to read music. I’m so excited to have the first steps of this skill and to continue to practice with it!

Once that was accomplished, we got out my violin. I confessed the dying cat had found me, and we figured out it was in my placement and also that I hold tension in my hands. Anyone who knows me will not be surprised I hold tension, as I am a tense person. He showed me the scales on the violin and I practiced a little bit, all the pieces starting to click into place.

I just finished practicing with the scales on my own and was beyond thrilled to realize I was finding the correct note first time on my own, and getting the hang of how to adjust to find it when I was a little off. The dying cat seems to be out on an adventure elsewhere, and i’m not mad about it.

I’m so happy to be learning this instrument. My heart is swelling in happiness, making this childhood dream come true. I know i’ll get frustrated and things will be hard and this will take a lot of work, but taking these first steps fill me with such unspeakable joy. These moments are few and far between these days, and i’m grateful to find any moment of it I can.

Excited to see what next week brings!

The first violin lesson.

Today was my very first violin lesson

I’d been tempted before to watch youtube videos about learning violin, or other such introductions, but always felt a little funny doing that. I felt like I needed something more hands on—needed someone to teach me in person and tell me if i’m doing something wrong rather than guess. I felt the same about ballet when I began. I could have figured out stuff on my own, but I didn’t want bad habits. I wanted to be taught proper from the start; same with violin.

I got permission to use the studio space, since David, my teacher, usually does private lessons in the homes of his students or rents studio space from a local music shop, and I live out in the sticks. It was a bit surreal, and i’d say encouraging, to be starting this thing in the building where the other thing I once began lead me. It was comforting to be surrounded by tutus and pointe shoes, putting rosin onto a bow instead of a shoe.

David walked me through the very beginner basics of the instrument. He showed me the bow, walked me through all the different parts, and gave me homework to memorize the names of all the different parts. He did the same for the violin itself, explaining the subtle differences between a violin and a viola, giving little tips here and there. He showed me how to properly store my bow, as well as how to tighten it to play. He then showed me how to apply rosin to the bow strings, and then how to hold the bow. I learned how to tune the violin, how to properly place the violin, how to hold my hands on both the violin and bow—all the fundamentals.

I was eating up every second of it, finding all of it extremely fascinating. I looked at how he described how to hold his thumb for this, how to set his pinkie for that. He was very good at breaking it down to the finest detail, which is exactly my cup of tea.

The first thing he had me do myself was to scrape up the new rosin. It has a bit of film on it when it’s brand new, and to get it to apply properly, you want to scruff it up a bit. He showed me, then handed it over for me to do. No sooner he did, he looks over and says, “oh, you’re doing really well with that”, a little surprised at how quickly and efficiently I was doing it, asking me to show him how I was holding the scissors to do it that way. I laughed a bit.

When he showed me how to tighten my bow for playing and loosen it for storage, he had me do it myself without help or suggestions. I got it right first try. I can’t lie, it felt good to impress him on something brand new to me.

Next came holding the bow. He told me how he explains it to his kids as your hand being a cajun chicken (hilarious) and where to place the fingers, starting with the thumb. I placed my thumb and he said, “oh. You got that right first try. Like, that’s perfect, okay, keep going.” and I placed the rest of my fingers to which he said, “perfect” and then we carried on.

Next he walked me through the optical illusion of the angle of the violin in relation to your body. He explained that the violin needs to tip “like the Titanic” which i’ll for sure never forget. He showed how to place my left hand, and how to place my violin and my chin in relation to the violin. He handed it to me to try, telling me not to have too much tension in my left hand (i’m super good at being tense, yall), and then said “now if you can let go and the violin stays, you know you’ve done it right, but it’s tricky and no one gets it first try. I placed the violin, and let go.

It stayed. His jaw dropped a little.

At this point, i’m thinking, “surely these things aren’t that difficult, right? Surely he’s just being kind. Surely, if someone pays attention, they can get all this first try.”

We carry on. he shows me the wrist movement needed in the right hand, guides me through a few exercises to work on for the movement, and is shocked at how naturally my wrist moves in the way it’s supposed to. I’d like to thank Ehlers Danlos Syndrome for this, as the hyper mobility definitely comes in handy for my wrist dexterity.

Then he says, “well, want to learn your first song? This is where the dying cats comes in, so don’t get discouraged if it sounds a bit off at first. I’m just giving this to you to see if I can stump you since I haven’t so far.” He shows me how to hold my left hand, which apparently its natural shape is exactly where it needs to be for this sort of movement.

The first song is simple. It just had the strings open, and you basically attempt to draw the bow across one string at a time in a syncopated movement. bum-bum-bum-bum-buuum-buuum. He shows me, then hands me back the violin and I try it out with the A string.

bum-bum-bum-bum-buuum-buuum.

He doesn’t say anything, and for a moment i’m worried I completely messed it up and he’s trying to figure out how to nicely correct my mistake because it’s probably a really weird way of messing things up. That’s what usually happens. I’m really good at doing things wrong in ways that stump instructors (and typically it’s due to thinking backwards when processing information).

When David does speak, he says, “wow, okay, so, that was great. Um, I need to find a way to stump you. Okay, I’m gonna go get my guitar out of the guitar. feel free to try that with all the strings while i’m gone.”

So, I do. I do the D string, then G, then try the E. Then I go back to A, trying to get the syncopation correct. When he walks back in he says, “I thought I was listening to a recording of the violin, listening to that.”

At this point, it feels super fake. Surely everyone, at least adults, can take to it like this. Right? Although, anyone who knows about violin that i’ve told i’m going to learn violin has told me it’s one of the hardest instruments to learn. Even the music degree guy at the shop told me he had quite a bit of time in the dying cat phase. Where are the cats?

David comes back in, and he sits with his guitar and plays while I play each string. then has me go out of order, picking whatever string I want without telling him, and holding out the last note for a 4 count and making it last to the end of the bow. I do that. Then he shows me some finger placements for the string. he sort of says which note is which, but walks me through it. “Surely this will stump you and if it doesn’t I quit. I’ll throw my hands up and just be shocked.”

I try it, and the first time he cues me a bit to which way I need to adjust my finger placement to get the note exactly correct. Lots of “a smidge, there. perfect”’s were said. He had me do it again, this time the only cue being the lead in with the guitar, to see if I could find it on my own. I got three of the four right, and the fourth one I knew it wasn’t right but just need to work on which way to adjust it to fix it. (That darn pinkie is difficult to reach sometimes!)

Overall, he was delighted. He told me to work on that movement so I can do each string, without pausing, and faster by next week.

To current Emilee, that seems like a pipe dream. But I feel with practice, I might actually be able to do okay.

David said he’d never done a two hour lesson with someone. He’ll go over, but never this long, but he kept wanting to see what else I could do. He said, “this is the equivalent of having a 6’6” person walk in the first day of basketball practice”, and at one point asked if someone was playing a prank on him. “There’s no way you’ve never held a bow before”.

I’ve never been a natural at something before. everything i’ve done has taken hard work—not just to learn whatever it was, but to prove I belonged there. I’ve gone my whole life having to work so much harder just to be mediocre when everyone else was good at the off. The only exception perhaps being theater at my private school. That was a very tiny school, I often got the leads in Christmas plays, and also I had all the confidence of a person who didn’t yet know what it meant to not be confident in something.

It almost feels fake. Only at that last bit did I start to show a smidge of struggle and by that point my arms were tired and I was taking in so much new information, the fundamentals were tweaking a bit. I just haven’t had the time and practice to get the muscle memory. He even asked if I wanted to learn more difficult things yet but I told him I wanted to work on the simpler first so I can get the motion down first and be confident in what i’m doing.

I’m over the moon.

My right shoulder had a lot of opinions about what I was doing, so that’s something i’m going to have to watch. It hasn’t bothered me too much in recent days, which is nice, but this will be a lot of aggravation on it so I want to be as wise with it as possible.

I want nothing more than to practice right now, but I don’t want to over do it first day. I was already pretty run down going into today, then a two hour lesson learning a new thing —it’s a toll on my body. But i’m so thrilled, and look forward to picking up Beulah tomorrow and seeing what I can manage on my own, and how much i’m able to work up to for next week.

Stay tuned!

Cat to Canary

When I was a kid, i’d always wanted to learn ballet and earn pointe shoes. I was taken out of ballet class two years before I could get my pointe shoes, and thus at 23 decided it was now or never. I began classes with the goal of earning pointe shoes within two years, so by my 25th birthday. One week before, I got my permission slip.

My other childhood dream was to learn violin. I’m not entirely sure what about the violin drew me to it, but I do enjoy listening to stringed instruments and asked my parents if I could take lessons. Our neighbor was notorious for playing anything with a string, yet the lessons never happened.

At 23, when I was living on my own, making my own decisions with my life, I considered my two unfulfilled dreams. I decided to go with attempting ballet first, made a facebook post (el oh el) asking if anyone knew somewhere that taught adult beginners, and was given the name of Jilissa Cotten and her studio, Instep Dance Studios. If you’ve been around, you know the story.

At 35, i’m glad I went with ballet first, especially considering i’m no longer physically able to dance like before. I was given so many opportunities through ballet and in the dance world that little Emilee never even would have dared to dream, and had I waited I may never have been able to accomplish those.

But now, at 35, I have found someone who will teach a completely beginner adult violin.

Friends, today I bought my first violin.

I’ve had it in the back of my mind for a while, and even recently began telling my dream to some of the dance moms at the studios. Many of them homeschool and told me that the people who taught their kids also taught adults as many of the moms joined in their kids music classes. Still, I struggled to find someone who could teach me. That is, until I was at work at the courthouse one day.

There’s an office on the same floor as mine that has a lovely lady working in the office, Sylvia. I popped by one day to say hello and we got to talking and catching up when somehow violin was mentioned and she said her husband used to be a music professor. She also mentioned he teaches violin private lessons. I asked if he taught completely new beginners and she said, “all the time” and told me of a new navy pilot student he took on two years ago that’s thriving with the instrument now.

My eyes got as big as saucers as I realized, this was it. This was the opportunity i’d been hoping for. This was my chance. I told her i’d come back by after Swan Lake and talk to her again and that moment came last week. I got David’s number and gave him a rang on Tuesday, and starting this upcoming Wednesday, i’ll be learning the violin.

Today, I went to South Texas Music Mart, per David’s suggestion, and got my very first violin. I have yet to name her, but she’s beautiful and it still doesn’t quite feel real that she’s mine and this is all actually happening.

As I got ready to leave the house, I found myself incredibly nervous about going to buy the violin. I have no reason to be, of course, but new things tend to scare me. As I sat on the bed trying to hype myself up, going over in my head what David told me to get and ask for, I reminded myself of how much I wanted this. I also felt nervous calling David, but as soon as he answered I felt completely at ease, he just as excited as I am. “If I could do that”, I told myself, “I can buy this violin. I want this more than i’m afraid of it”.

I also reminded myself of that day back in 2011, when I was so nervous to email Instep Dance Studios about classes. I remember the reply I got from Leslie, and going in that first day, scared as scared could be, but doing it anyway. I wanted that more than I was afraid of it, too.

The person who helped me (I don’t know his name, but do know he has a sister named Emilee) was extremely kind and made me feel at ease about everything. He was honest and direct with the options, not pressuring me into buying something more expensive just for funsies. The other person working told me his wife is 34 and just got her first violin as well. He said his advice, as he had to learn violin for his degree, is to push down hard enough with the bow, play closer to the top, and to not be afraid of sounding like a dying cat at first. It’s part of the process. I replied with, “I guess you have to sound like a dying cat before you can sound like a canary”.

And you do. Beginning is so hard. Starting something and daring to not be good at it is difficult, especially when we’re older. I feel we’re expected to know what we’re doing with age, unlike childhood where people make room for mistakes as you’re learning literally everything in life for the first time. (Though some could due to remember this about children more than they do). We have to give ourselves permission to be beginners; to make mistakes, to play around, to figure things out, to ask questions when we don’t know the answer, to not be a natural at things.

I’m extremely excited today, the day I bought my first violin, but i’m sure there will be days when I want to throw it. Those days I have to remember how ballet was hard too, and the moments I panicked in corners because I didn’t understand, but that asking for help and continuing will get you out of those corners. You have to be brave enough to begin, and then remember that learning is downs as well as ups. The down days remind you why you want to be there and make the up days that much sweeter.

So, here’s to new beginnings. Here’s to childhood dreams being realized. Here’s to daring to try something new and be bad at it until you’re okay at it, and then be that until you’re good at it. Here’s to the hope of one day being great.

Here’s to sounding like a dying cat, so we can one day sound like a canary.