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My front facing camera broke on my phone, making my already limited picture taking even MORE limited. Have a throw back from last spring. I have a blog post in the works. Life has been kinda nutty, my laptop *also* bit the dirt, and things have been kind of overwhelming. Y’all are always on my mind, though! You’ll be hearing from me soon. 💕
Classes yesterday brought to you in part by @leakycon (I don’t usually dress up for costume week, but i do try and incorporate Harry Potter to some degree 🤷🏼‍♀️)
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My friend Bailey and her company @companythreesixty made this and I have no more words to add. It’s perfect. #Repost @catchingbreaths with @get_repost ・・・ Why didn’t I report? I didn’t report because I thought that if I’m in a relationship with someone, it meant it was equally my fault. I thought the years of unhealthy feelings towards myself which ensued, were still invalid since it could have been worse. I thought I shouldn’t tell my Momma until a couple of years later on a beautiful mountain walk together, and even then, I softened the story from shame for how I’d appear to the person I love the most. I didn’t report because we live in a world where men use sentences like “it can always be worse” as psychological shrapnel. A world that tells us we should have done more to stop it. A world that, even when I remember the attempts to push away as clearly as consciousness cinema, I was scared to push too hard because I didn’t want to make someone mad. A world that makes me worry at sharing, because I have young students and ‘should be a role-model’: with a role model being pure, respectable, elite, undamaged. Now, a mother, wife, champion, boss... I still worry to report as innocuously as through a #WhyIDidntReport hashtag, lest I somehow appear less for having shared. But as someone who’s survived a darkness far worse than that described, and Shawshanked her way to a life of light- save for second glances over shoulders- I can say that the hardest person to report to is actually... yourself. It’s the you that you had once hoped to be. The you that you’ll never be again. The you that you wish you could go back and protect. The you you wish you had been (louder, less in shock, less weak). The you that once was but was taken. To all the Yous you once were reading this (and the You in me who still feels cemented by shame)... this should never have happened. It doesn’t matter how loud, quiet, forceful... how well you knew them.... You didn’t deserve to lose You because your body wasn’t left as yours. None of us do. None of us ever will. There is no good way to end this bit of writing, because the truth is: it hasn’t ended. A perfect sentence will not wrap this up. Y
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Teaching on my birthday is my favorite thing. Hi, I’m 30, and I gave full sized cupcakes to three year olds and I’m sure their parents hate me

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Post Swan Lake feels. 

Day after Swan Lake and it already feels worlds away, yet I’m still basking in it. 

I also left work early because I was so nauseous I couldn’t stand. So that was cute. I went home, laid in bed, watched the newest Grey’s Anatomy, and fell asleep. 

I had to go to dance tonight, since it was one of two recital practice classes we have left and I’ve only run it with all the choreography twice. I was glad I did. It helped solidify it a bit more. 

I went to the ballet class before also. It was great being around some of the girls again. The class was small, which was also nice. 

I remembered how Ms Munro complimented Hannah and I backstage during intermission. She said we did a great job and it really meant a lot to hear. 

I remembered the feeling of finally getting everything correct. I remembered all my friends celebrating with me. I remembered seeing the show from side stage. I remembered being on stage in Act III, watching the Princesses in front of me, realizing this was real. I was on this stage, in this production, in front of an audience, helping set the scene to make them feel things. How cool is that? 

Class went really well, I think. I was a hot mess in some things, but surprised myself with others. Ms Catherine also made a comment about pique turns that clicked and I was able to do them in the quick tempo required. It was nice. (Still a hot mess, but, ya know, little victories.) 

We got our costumes in Jazz 5, except, ya know, mine wasn’t there. No one really knows why, and our teacher was livid and frantically searching all the boxes, determined to figure out why it wasn’t there. I was actually pretty calm about it, though it was odd. There was a costume for a girl not in our piece that is my size, so they told me to go ahead and take that one. It’s a size smaller than I usually get, which is good for everything except for the torso. It’s not all that bad except it’s a little funny in the arm pits. But it’s really not that bad. I’m just glad to have a costume. How sad would that be? 

We ran the piece in costume, which was really cool. I feel like once I’m confident in what I’m doing it’ll feel really good. I’m still excited for this piece, and I’m really grateful to be a part of it. 

I’m pretty exhausted. And really wish I could have a few more days of nothing. But that’s okay. I’m grateful to have had the afternoon to rest and to have my weekends again. Sleeping on Saturday will be nice. 

My friend sent me a picture I forgot I took on her phone this weekend. 

It reminded me of those moments that you take in but rarely get to capture. Where the lights shine on to the darkness of the side stage, eager dancers watching and waiting for their turn. Taking in the fullness of the production. 

It’s a beauty all its own. 

One of the girls in the company, Alexis, her mom was backstage taking pictures and she captured some really great side stage moments. All her pictures were great, really, but I was particularly fond of the side stage shots she got. It’s those moments that you really remember. Because it’s you in your truest form. On stage, you’re someone else. Side stage, you’re still yourself. 

It seems quite a few of the cast members ended up sick today. One even has a pretty gnarly fever. I’m hoping we all kick this, especially since we have recital to think about now. 

On that note, I’m off to try and sleep. Tomorrow is a full day. 

This entry was posted in dance.
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