Category: dance

Do you ever have those days where you feel defeated and find yourself thinking, “Why do I even do this?”

That was last night for me.

And it wasn’t even that it was necessarily a terrible day, or that rehearsal was horrible. I guess I’m just hard on myself.

It started when I find out the girl I had covered the night before is on crutches. I try not to be super nervous about what’s to come. Company is supposed to be in costume, so I go to put my Act I costume on as we wait to find out who gets to do Swan. Originally, there were upwards of 5 people missing, so we all prepped our swan costumes for Act II just in case.

We didn’t find out until the Act II overture is playing who would be whom. We have so little time to get all the details of the show worked out, including set pieces and props and blocking and spiking and quick change areas and everything that we have to make use of every moment. So we were ready, just in case, and went from there.

Ms. Munro asked who had been doing the spot, then asked who were the girls behind her. (The two behind the four in that one formation.) I told her it was Abarrane and Adrienne. She shouted for Adrienne, found her, and we discussed how we could switch Adrienne and Lauren’s spot for that duet part.

I was absolutely thrilled and relieved. I knew I couldn’t do that part justice. I knew Adrienne is more than capable. She is an absolutely incredible and beautiful dancer, and more than capable of doing the part. This was honestly best case scenario for this situation. We are the back up plan, in case Lauren isn’t able to dance, but we are hopeful that she can get off the crutches in time.

I gave Adrienne a crash course on the duet, confusing her a little on the tour jetes (sorry, boo) and asked her what line she goes to and we went for it.

Adrienne blew it out of the water. I was so beyond incredibly proud. She had never run the part in her life, was just told the combo and a vague explanation of the weird timing. Ms. Munro was very pleased, and I was so so so proud.

I got a correction on the runs again. I’ve tried picking them apart and trying to understand them, but I just can’t seem to do it correctly. I am really frustrated with myself, because they shouldn’t be this difficult, and I don’t think it shows that I’m trying. I’m extra frustrated, because this is one of those details that bother the crap out of me when they’re done wrong. I feel like such a hypocrite, but I don’t know what to do to understand them. A few of the other dancers helped me try to understand them and correct them, but they’re still rough. I don’t know if it’s the fact that my shank is so thick on the part of the shoe I should be running on, or what, but regardless, it doesn’t matter. I should be able to do this.

My arches felt like they were on fire and I was rather stumbly yesterday. I couldn’t seem to get firm footing anywhere. I didn’t fall over, so that’s a plus, but I was once again super mad at myself.

We moved on to Act III, which is where I have the costume with the giant hoop skirt. Mrs. Jane, our fabulous costume lady, suggested I use the quick change area in the green room so it has more space and she can help me get out of the hoop. It worked so well that I was actually one of the first people dressed and ready. I hadn’t done Act IV in a long time, so I was a bit rusty, but managed to get into the right place and figure it all out. This is the Act where we have tons of runs and bourrees, but I love this Act because it’s so pretty. My shoes decided it was the perfect time to die, and my ankle was trying to roll when I tried to push through it, and I could feel the bruise on my big toe and the nail cracking. I decided, “Screw it. I have new shoes I can sew for tomorrow, but this isn’t worth the risk.” Well, Ms. Munro saw me go to demi for those few counts and corrected me on it. I told her my shoes died and I’ll have the new pair sewn for the next rehearsal. She had this look on her face like she was immensely disappointed in me. I felt crushed. I felt like I failed. And like, I don’t blame her for anything or anything; everything she has said is accurate, it’s all things I need to fix and work on. I’m just mad at myself that I’m not better. Why is it that everyone else can get these things and I can’t? Why do I suck at something as simple as running? Why did I decide to come down to demi instead of doing really lame bourrees in releve, even though they were really lame and terrible? I’m proud of how far I’ve come, but disappointed in myself because I should be farther.

I’m YouTube-ing ballet runs to try and figure out how to do this so I can show that I’m not just blowing her off or being disrespectful or not trying or anything. I have to remember to get to my highest demi, and point my toes as I run, but not have my weight too far back or forward. I’m also a little nervous it’ll break my new shoes in the wrong place. The pair I had on last night were completely broken where that demi hits. So much so that when I take them off, they bend the opposite direction. I also separated the shank from the shoe for the first time ever, so that was something. I’m gonna look into a longer shank, and if that would be beneficial at all.

I forgot to eat last night, so I woke up sick this morning. I’m hoping it doesn’t screw me over for rehearsal. I really want to do well. I don’t want to be the clear struggler.

Pray for me, y’all.

Being that I work at a tax office, we are given the day after Tax Season ends off.
That means, this year it was the 19th.
I was able to be productive at home and running around hitting up the bank and post office and places I typically miss simply because I work when they’re open.

I had woken up a smidge panicked because I realized that the girl I had covered this weekend could potentially not yet be up to par. I really didn’t want to mess up her part or any of the placement or the runs or any of the sections I’ve been corrected on a million times. I debated actually marking it since it’s possible I could do all of that as her spot, only to end up being someone entirely different.

Instead, I laid there and envisioned each section I have trouble with. I picked apart the details of it and got the visual in my head of me pushing through and doing it well. If I tell myself I can do it, I’ve won half the battle, right?

I get to rehearsal and get a text from my friend saying she is indeed out again that night. I was really grateful to have the heads up so I could mentally prepare myself for what was ahead of me.

We started with Act I and went through the entire ballet. I’m not sure if it’s the props on stage, or working with where the light falls, or what exactly but the stage felt extremely small. Maybe I had just gotten it in my head that it would be larger than it really is, but we went with it. It works, and we actually did a really great run through without marking it before we started. There were a few kinks to work out, but all in all it was well done.

We moved on to Act II, and Ms. Munro had the girls who had done the parts of the missing girls this weekend be the ones to do them for rehearsal so that it was someone who was familiar with the part. I tried to stuff my panic and tell myself that I had this. That I knew what I was doing and was capable. That I could push through.

The Act started off really strong. I went the right way and stayed behind the correct people. We got to this part where there are three different sections, each with alternating directions of similar steps. The section I was part of this time has four girls in a front line and two in a back line. This whole time I thought that two of the girls in the front line went one way and the other two a different. So I’m going to town, doin’ my thing, when I hear my friend next to me whispering the steps.
Oh.
Oops.
I asked the girl I was filling in for after rehearsal and we laughed about it. Oh well, now I know. If I do this part again, I’ll make sure to go over it with the other girls beforehand so I know the correct thing.

We got to the part where she has a duet with another girl. The steps themselves aren’t excruciatingly difficult, but they are slow and controlled and technical. It’s also loaded with releves, which I struggle with as it is. I told myself I could do this, and I’m giving it my all, when my calf decides it is the perfect time to cramp up and I can’t seem to get onto my box to save my life. I try to press on, try to keep time with the girl next to me, try to tell myself I’ll do better the second time around. It was such a hot mess. Probably the worst I’ve ever done it. And I can tell myself, “It’s okay, you’re a cover” but if something happened and I ended up in this spot for a role, the audience wouldn’t know that. They would think this is what we have to offer. And the girl who’s roll I’m covering is such an insanely gorgeous dancer. Trying to do it justice is nearly impossible in comparison.

I tried to just press on and shake it off. (Hey, Taylor Swift.) I was taking deep breaths as we stood in this line, trying to remain calm. We were standing on the leg that had the cramp, and I knew I couldn’t fidget, so I did my best to just press through. My calf and arch were hurting so badly, it was all I could do to not move. I tried to distract myself like our teacher said on Monday  and started thinking about the details of the stars in the night sky to take my mind off of it. I made it, and when we were in our ending pose and me and the other girl from the duet are standing in releve in back with our arms in first arabesque, we subtly laced our fingers to help support each other to stay en pointe for the entire time.

I also ended up messing up this one part I always seem to screw up. I was disappointed in myself, but just made a mental note to work on it. I tried doing better with the runs, but I don’t know that it came off as any better.

We moved on to Act III where I have more of a character part. We changed a bit of the blocking, which helped us a ton, and went for it. As Mia, that night’s Black Swan, rehearsed, I studied the way she runs. So much so I let my face break out of character cause I was so focused on figuring it out and trying to apply it to my own runs.

They had whoever did Act IV this weekend do it last night as well, so I was out for swans. I was super grateful but at the same time wished I could have done it. There’s this one part I’ve never done en pointe and I really wanted to try it. But it’s okay. I was proud of the girl who did do it, she’s grown so much throughout this show.

I don’t think I have ever actually felt my muscles so much after a show. I planned to take my foam roller to work with me to have at the show, but went off and forgot it. I did, however, remember my nude leotard. So that’s a win.

Thankfully, my boss has a foam roller at work, so I’ve been going to town on my muscles here. I hope I have my foot roller in my bag because my arches are screaming.

Today is another day and another rehearsal. Some of it will be in costume, though I am not sure how much of it. we’ll go with the flow of it and I’m sure it’ll be a great rehearsal.

I’m looking forward to sleeping on Saturday before we have the show. It’s gonna be glorious.

 

Here’s when I realized I was wrong. Hahahahaha

Before my calf cramped up. Like. This leads into the duet thingy.

(Sorry those are sideways. Couldn’t figure out how to flip them. I also didn’t try too hard.)

Standing with my friends. Arch dying. I made it.

Thanks, Maddie, for getting so many great snaps of rehearsal!! I really appreciate it 😊

Yesterday’s class was another small one. I, personally, liked it, but I know some girls prefer there to be more people. 

I was actually able to make it through the entire class without freaking out over or avoiding anything. (I didn’t jump, but only because my knee has been hurting again. Not terribly bad, but I don’t want to make it worse right now.) 

I was nowhere near perfect. I’d hardly even say I was decent. But I attempted things I’d never tried before, and pushed past excuses in my head of what I can and can’t do and just tried. It wasn’t always successful, but sometimes it was. That’s better than before. 

Our teacher gave us a good pep talk about Swan Lake, though I wish more would have been there to hear it. Still, it’s good to hear it from someone new, that we have to push our hardest and try our best even when it feels like we’re dying. We have to be on our A-game, because if you relax in the slightest, the audience can tell. And there are some who have it together the whole time, but they can’t carry the entire ballet. It’s up to everyone to do their best. 

I woke up a little panicked about the prospect of one of the swans not being able to dance and getting thrown in. Can I handle it? Will I screw up? That’s the hard part about being a cover. You could work on one part and think you’d get put in for it, and end up being an entirely different person and have to work on a different part. I just don’t want to get put in and completely screw up. I don’t want to not be confident and compromise the quality of dancing because of it. Worse than that, I don’t want to go forward in confidence and be completely wrong and just mess everything up. This isn’t rehearsal anymore. We start on stage today, and this is where the going gets tough. No more room for error, and I don’t want to be the one falling behind. 

Honestly, that’s what I feel like. I mean, I know I’ve improved since rehearsals began, but I still feel like I’m just behind everyone else. I feel like I’m not quite there, even with the improvements. I’m proud of myself, but I want to be able to do more. I want to push harder. I want to understand everything better so I can go at it more confidently and not cause any of the teachers to doubt me. Because, let’s face it, I can be pushing hard and get complimented at barre every rehearsal, but that isn’t necessarily what they’ll remember of me. They could simply remember my faults and where I lack rather than how far I’ve come. And I’ve seen it not be this way for everyone. And I don’t know what goes on in people’s heads. But I’m just afraid that is what would end up happening with me. 

The thought of watching Swans from the wings instead of doing it with everyone stings my heart a little. It’s like when I watched snow this last nutcracker. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful to have been Rat Queen, but there was something about being left out of snow. And I know it’s an intense part and there were so many people and it was a bit complicated this year, but I still couldn’t help but feel that I fell just short again. Although, it’s different this time, because I actually know the choreography of Swans and I don’t for Snow. 

I’m just so nervous. I don’t want to get put in and not be able to do it well enough. I don’t know how to try and prepare in case I do have to go in. I guess we’ll see where there’s are at rehearsal tonight. 

I can’t believe this show is almost over. It seems endless, and here we are staring show day in the face. 

Sometimes I wish I were different. Sometimes I wish I weren’t me. That I were better. That I were stronger. That I had started earlier or didn’t have so many issues or was able to understand things better or whatever. Sometimes I wish a lot of things. 

Recital is coming up, as well, and the dance I was most excited about it starting to make me nervous. I just got the choreography for the parts we were leaving open in case one girl showed up, but we just heard she’s not so I’ve had a class and a half, essentially, to learn it, and I think one run through each of the two classes. And I think there’s only two classes left. And I have to be so on my game with this. Not to mention, I have two entirely other classes I’m in recital for, and one isn’t even finished yet (show up to class, people.) I guess I feel a lot of pressure right now. 

There’s a lot I don’t understand. A lot I don’t think I ever will. But ya know, I think it’s impossible to fully understand anything. There’s always so many factors that you just can’t know. It’s funny because I used to obsess over what people think of me, and I’ve realized recently that I forget to think about it now. But in that I’ve realized that people could have opinions of me I never hear. They could say it to each other and form opinions or what have you and I be none the wiser. And if you know me and are reading this and think you know what I’m referring to, you’re more than likely incorrect so don’t even try. There’s just tons of stuff going on in my head and making a vague attempt of writing it out on a public platform seems to be the only way to process it currently. Yeah, good luck trying to understand that concept, too. 

I am excited for tonight. I’m excited for this week. I’m excited for recital. Especially now that work is going to larglely calm down. Regardless of what happens, it’ll be good. I’ll learn, I’ll grow, and I’ll continue to improve. The one thing that I really like is that even amidst all these nerves and uncertainty, I still largely feel peaceful. I may be trying to understand this that or the other, but in a way that betters me. Like when a good friend tells you a bit of a painful truth. I can’t make excuses and just get bitter or resentful. I need to take the corrected as direction and not rejection. At least I’m still getting corrected, right? 

This weekend is our last weekend of rehearsals. 

Tuesday begins “Selena Week,” the week of rehearsals in the Selena Auditorium theater we perform in. We were off last weekend because of Fesrival, so now it’s crunch time. 

It seems that people are getting hurt and sick now, which is really unfortunate. One girl hurt her quad, another her toe, another her ankle, another her back, and another was just out sick. Three of the girls had to sit out, so covers were in their places. 

I’m not gonna lie, today made me feel on top of the world. Getting to do the swan acts in costume, doing this ballet I’ve worked for weeks on, surrounded by the people I love. It was so fulfilling. Plus, I was able to give my phone to one of the girls who had to sit out and she got the picture I really wanted. So now I have a picture of me in a scene with both of my dear friends. I wish I would have known so I could have told my mom to come watch, but that’s okay. I was able to get a picture of me in the costume for her and she’s pretty happy about it. 

(Okay, I’ll post it here.) 

  
(Thanks Lillian for taking it!)

Some of the girls told us how much respect they have for us covers, cause they realize how difficult it must be to be someone different each week. It’s really nice to hear such compliments from our peers. 

One of them who ended up injured came up to me after we ran Act IV the first time and told me, “okay, I was watching you, and you are such a beautiful swan.” She went on to tell me what it was like for her to get to watch it and how she felt, and she said it with such passion, you knew it wasn’t something she was just telling me to make me feel good. I can’t tell you what that means to me. 

I was the cover for one of the more advanced girls, including her more advanced part. I had done it before as her partner, so having to invert it was a bit difficult. But the girl covering her partner and I kept timing pretty well together, even if we were off the music. Hehe. I felt like I was doing a pretty rough job of it, but at least I knew the direction of where she was supposed to be and could make it easier on everyone else that way; having someone in the space. 

But even though I felt like I looked really rough, that’s not what my friend saw. She didn’t see “Emilee, the cover.” She saw, “Emilee, the swan.” 

After we finished Act I, we were putting on our shoes for Act II while Ms Munro was talking to the younger ones. I saw one of them watching me from a sort of side glance as I wrapped my toes in tape, got my toe pads situated, put on my shoes, and tied my ribbons. She’s a sweet little one who works her hardest in every class and rehearsal. To her, I wasn’t the cover. I wasn’t the reject. I wasn’t lesser. I was the big kid, the girl in the pointe shoes that she aspires to be. I was something. I was a swan. 

Moments like these are what make all of these rough and exhausting days worth it. I cherish them. 

When I was standing in the back during one of the Acts, I was able to watch one of the “older girls” during one of the roles she has. She was smiling and working her very hardest. She was nearly glowing. It didn’t look like she had done this day after day, enough to be sick of it. It looked so natural to her. 

On top of that, you’d never know the pain she was actually in. You would never know about all the different things she has to push through. 

So many times, people will sit out at the slightest things. Now this is clearly conditionally, and I’m not talking about the people who know to listen to their bodies and not push too hard to make things worse. But there’s those few that will push through, come to rehearsal, show up and show out. And I have the utmost respect for them. Along with the ones who are hurt and do have to sit out, but still come to rehearsal to be present, to be aware of changes, to help whoever is in their spot, to still be involved. 

As I stood there, watching this one girl dance her little heart out, I loved knowing that she was the first person to talk to me when I came to this studio. That the sweet heart I saw that day is the true person she is deep down inside. I also believe it shows in her dancing. 

Today left me feeling satisfied. I’m exhausted and it feels so good. The costume wasn’t a waste and if I never get to dance the role of swans again, I am okay with that. 

Here are some more pictures. 

   
    
 

I have missed quite a few classes lately, though not as many as I originally expected. 

Most of the girls were at RDA festival over the weekend and a few days in the week, so we didn’t have rehearsals.  I missed last Tuesday, didn’t get to teach Friday, and missed this Monday and Tuesday. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go today, but since the class starts later, I was able to make it, even after having to stay late at work. Thankfully I got everything done in time. 

It was weird being surrounded by people who have been essentially dancing non stop for the last week and I haven’t had pointe shoes on for a week and a half. The classes I did make, I had to skip pointe because of the blister I got from last rehearsal. I was really hoping I’d get to make class tonight simply to be able to do pointe and a really good barre, so I was grateful to have that. The good thing about being surrounded by a load of girls fresh from festival was all the little tips and tricks they come back with. Cheyanne really helped me to know how to tell if your leg is directly behind you in tendu (your thighs should still be touching at the top) and same for front. I even got a compliment from Mrs. Alex on it when we did the right side after Cheyanne pointed that out. So it works 😂

Mrs Alex also had loads of good advice which I really appreciated. She also corrected my head placement for arabesque, which is one of the things I really want to learn and know this year. (Along with the arms and different positions. I find as an adult coming in to this, there’s certain things that you just miss by not having all the years rising up the ranks.) 

It felt good to be in class today. I was a bit nervous, since I’d hit a sort of stand still here recently, that I would have a rough night of it, but it all seemed to go really well. I have loads to work on, but I was able to do more and better than I expected. 

It’s a sort of trend I’ve noticed with all the different times I’ve had to sit out for a week or so for this injury or that sickness or whatever reason I was out of town. When I come back, everything I had been cramming into my brain before seems to click. 

I held my core. I kept my back straight. I stayed on top of my hips. I pulled up from the knee caps. My legs were straight. I maintained turnout. 

Obviously there are moments when I didn’t, but I seemed to notice it more. I tried harder. I worked harder. 

It’s almost like we don’t know what we have until it’s gone. We find ourselves in this routine and rhythm and forget to think about these things we know and are reminded that we need to do. But once we’re away from it, once we have to take a step back and then return and remember to think about the things that were becoming second nature, you remember how important these things are. How vital to proper technique and execution it is to work on the fundamentals and challenge yourself. 

I need to find a way to get my grand battement higher. I know you’re supposed to think of using the muscles underneath instead of strictly the quads, but even in doing so it still doesn’t go as high as I’d like. I probably need to roll out those muscles more, but even so it seems like somethings missing, or there’s something I just can’t reach. 

It’s good to have moments where you take a step back. Give your body a moment to breathe so you can come back and take it to the next level. 

I remember when I was only able to take one class a week. I dreamed of one day taking classes more days than not. This notion seemed so impossible, and I cherished every day I was able to come to the studio. I was a hot mess and pretty terrible, but I felt like I could breathe. Even when it was a really rough day and I couldn’t seem to get anything right, I loved it. 

I don’t want to lose sight of that now that I’m in the studio 4 days a week without rehearsal and 6 days a week with. I don’t want my privilege to overshadow the point of everything. I want to take a step back, and come to it again with new eyes and remember the things I forget when it becomes routine. 

I want to remember that any class has the potential to be my last, and I shouldn’t waste it. 

I missed my girls. I missed being in the studio. I missed being in pointe shoes, even though they were a little off today for some reason. 

It was good to be back. 

I was able to make class again yesterday, which was the one I really wanted to make considering I missed it last week, will probably miss next week, and then the week after is the first day of “Selena week” (The Selena Auditorium is the theatre we perform in.) 

There were a few sections I was able to catch up on, and she was able to give us a new part for those of us that were still waiting to be given a part of this section. I’m not sure if it’s simple because I’m in the section or what. I appreciate it though. Id rather have something simple and clean than something complex and messy. I wrote it all down after class so I can have something to jog my memory after I’m finally back in class again. 

Most of the dancers will be gone for Festival starting on Thursday. This means we don’t have rehearsals this weekend, which is a blessing and a curse. It’s nice to have some (quickly filled) time, but sucks to be missing those precious days we could be rehearsing. 

The girls helped me with bits of swan I’ve been struggling with while we waiting for our section of recital to be worked on. I appreciated it. Even if I don’t get to perform it, I don’t want to look a hot mess if I have to jump into another rehearsal. We have one more weekend before theatre week and it’s long past time of looking a fool and time got serious and make sure I for sure know it. 

After class I went into the smaller studio to work on the pirouette prep Ms Munro had helped me with in Monday’s class. Going into it, I wondered why i wasn’t doing this more. When I got into the studio, I realized why. 

I don’t look in the mirror. Rarely, at least. Sometimes it’s simply because there are people in the way of my line of sight, and sometimes I’ll catch glances when I can to see where my turn out is or how my line looks. But typically, I avoid it. When I’m working on something like this where I need to make sure I’m not leaning one way or the other, and that I don’t lose my turn out as I releve and every other thing I need to be thinking of as I execute this, I have to look at myself to make sure I’m doing it right–there’s no one else around to see it for me. 

And it was hard. Because when I saw my reflection, I struggled to get past the fact that I’m double the size of the other girls in class. My eyes went to the bits of me that jiggled as I sprung from the floor rather than how I got there. Regardless of how good I may or may not be, it draws away from the art of the movement. 

And I know I largely can’t help it. I know my health is still just an issue that I’m trying to avoid and pacify until I have the time and money to look into it more, after the last time lead to another dead end; albeit a closer end than before. I know that my build is just one that’s stockier rather than my lean classmates. I know that walking every day could help some with this, but I also know that I don’t have the time to spare to do more than I’m doing right now and even that is a stretch. 

I know all these things, but I still couldn’t fight off that feeling that I’m seen as nothing more than just a cute little thing with a dream that we humor because we’d be terrible to shoot her down when she wants this so badly. 

Or whatever. 

I know I’m working against some difficult obsticals. That there are people out there who would have given up long ago. I know that there are certain things that are impossible. I know that my passion will make up for most of what I lack. But, I know too that I just have to play the cards in dealt. 

But if I don’t face this reality, if I just ignore this, then I for sure won’t go anywhere. I’ll be nothing more than the image I avoid. If I face the music and look at my reflection, I can see where I lack and try to work hard to improve to be what I want to be. I have to work harder to make them see past the things I can’t change. 

And I will. 

It’ll take work. It’ll take vulnerability. But it will happen. 

Once upon a time, I was in college, and I had some really wonderful mentor-friends in my life. (Shout out, they still are, but then they lived a stones throw away) and these mentor-friends had limitless wisdom. 

One of the friends told me something that has stuck with me ever since. A quote of sorts, to help you stay centered and realistic in circumstances when you really don’t want or feel like or things don’t seem to be that way. 

Anyway. 

“Correction is not rejection but direction.”

So often it can seem like a correction is targeted at us. That it’s a fault seen and held against us. But really, it’s simply a bit of direction. A piece of advice to help us become better; a bit of confirmation that we show enough promise to invest time and energy into. 

We had a sub in class today. I was halfway bummed I couldn’t do pointe today due to a gnarly blister that popped, but secretly a little happy cause it would have been hard. Though, I would have liked that challenge. Especially in this class. 

She went back to the basics of technique. So often I think this is overlooked at our level, when in reality it should be focused on that much more. I got a correction that my second position wasn’t wide enough. Previously I had been told it was too wide so I would have gone on the rest of my “career” thinking this smaller second was correct when really it was too small. Now I know. And it makes sense. 

Ms Munro popped her head in here and there which made me feel a bit of pressure. Especially since I wasn’t in pointe shoes and she had brought up before how I didn’t wear them. (She had seen me in the advanced class, which I don’t wear them for.) I tried to make my movements clean and intentional and still managed to flub up here and there. 

After class she came up to me and said, “you’re not even on pointe!” I thought she meant my shoes, so I started to explain. She said, “no, in your turns!” And had me go to passé and explained how I don’t get all the way over my leg so it throws me off. “You’re never going to have clean turns if you can’t do that!” She asked me why I wasn’t and I said I probably wasn’t thinking about it in the right way, which proved true, because when I did it when she asked, I did it correctly. 

I thanked her, and really was glad she said something because I had no idea. I thought my turns felt decent today. But imagine how much better and more secure they’ll be if I can implement this correction and improve. Now I want to try and work on getting all the way over my leg properly so that it becomes a habit and my muscles are worked the correct way. 

It was a different day, but really a beneficial one for me. I’m grateful I was able to make class at all, especially since there’s so few days left til tax season is up. Next week is our last full week to get it all done. Lots to do and tensions are high. 

We’re gonna make it. 

It seemed that a lot of the girls were gone today. It made jazz relatively difficult, which was unfortunate since it may be my last recital rehearsal for a while. But ms Heidi was able to give me a bit of choreography in a section we were leaving open to see what the number of dancers was gonna do. Today a decision was made and how my part has kind of gone for a few weeks now is gonna stay. I’m excited because I really like the feel of it. 

I only got to do the new bit once before we ran it for Ms Munro, and I spaced out at one part. But Ms Heidi helped me out and I made it work. I got out paper after class and wrote it down in case I’m not back again until after tax season (missing two classes.) there’s a good amount of things I need to work on and perfect that are just a bit out of my reach of what I know, but that’s what I like about this class. It sets the bar right out of my reach and challenges me to find a way to reach it. And reach it I will. 

All the girls really like this dance, myself included, and I think it’s part of what makes it great. It’s different, but we each take ownership of our separate parts and it comes together to make an interesting piece. 

I’m proud of it. 

   
    
 

Today marks a year since I found out about all of this mess. 

Turns out my hips are crooked because my legs are uneven, which curves the vertebrae in my back. Also, the vertebrae in my neck are inverted, and there is also calcified whiplash from a car wreck 4 1/2 years ago that makes it bigger than the other side. 

Initially the chiropractor said that it was fixable, but now we know it is not. One of the bones in my right leg is bigger than my left which causes the shift. 

It can make things complicated. It can make things entertaining. Like when I felt like I missed a step doing chaines because I forgot to compensate for the shorter side. 

Today I had a really bad tension headache at rehearsal. I don’t think it was from my wonky legs, but I’m sure it didn’t help. 

Today’s rehearsal was filled with a lot of things that make me grateful. Like the fact that I was able to make my ticket sales quota right on time, and the fact that I have so many great friends. 

8 girls were missing, two of them being covers, so the three of us there all got to dance. That was really nice. It helps keep up the intensity and stamina just in case. And even if not, it puts us that much farther looking ahead to next year. For that I am truly grateful. I could have just as easily been left behind in the dirt. I’ve learned new things, I’ve grown as a dancer, I’ve become closer to some girls, I’ve met new people–all in all its been wonderful. 

I had a rough week so I was a bit nervous that I would just be sort of emotionally drained going into today. But it actually went really well. I was a new part (well, I’d been her once, but really early on) for second act, and a familiar one for fourth act, which I think was really good to kinda keep myself well rounded and well versed in case I’d have to go in for a different part than I was used to. My left big toe ended up getting a blister that popped, so it was open and rubbing against my tights and toe of the greater part of rehearsal. I did my best despite but dang it hurt. 

There was a during corrections when I noticed Mrs Alex subtly standing up for me in a moment I decided not to say something, it that makes sense. Anyway. It was really nice. It felt really good to know that she saw that I knew what I was doing when what ms Munro saw was that we didn’t know what we were doing. (Half of our people were missing for that part, and one of the ones there has missed a lot of rehearsals so it was rough. Plus it was the new part.) then ms Munro complimented the covers on how well they were doing on jumping in to so many different parts and doing them well. She commented on how even though we won’t all be able to dance it, that we’ve been able to grow and learn and be able to become better dancers through this experience. I really appreciated her kind words and totally agree. I’m so grateful to be a part. It really meant a lot to hear it from her. 

There was also a moment when they were clarifying how to do this chug step. I wasn’t covering when they taught it, so I struggled to understand the fundementals of it. Mrs Alex took the time to break it down for me until I understood it, and the other girls were helpful as well so that I could do it correctly. And it may not even matter in the long run for the show, but for me as a person it matters. It makes me feel a sense of peace and takes away underlying frustrations being able to understand it. I really appreciate their time. 

Then after rehearsal she made a comment to me in passing, “you’ll have been just about every part by the end of this!” I was caugh of guard and didn’t know what to say, so I just said, “it’s fun!” As she walked by. And it so is! Even when it’s hard or painful or exhausting. It’s still fun. I still love this. I’m grateful for the experience. 

I think making my ticket quota was a huge weight off my shoulders. We know there’s a set amount we are required to sell, and it’s really not an unreasonable amount, but I was struggling to sell them this time around. So knowing that it happened really helped me relax about everything. One less thing to have to worry about! I think it makes me more excited, too, to have people that love me in the audience.

My family said that if for some reason I get to fill in for someone for a show, they’ll come. Which, if y’all have been a part of my blog for a while, you’ll know how much that means to me. They want to see what I’ve been working so hard on. They understand it might not happen and they’re okay with that too, maybe even relieved 😉 but just knowing that they are proud of me in this thing I love so much really means more than I have words for. And honestly, I don’t know if it would have gone that way had I been cast as a swan. 

So really, being a cover has been a gift. And I’m really starting to see that more now. And in thankful. 

I’ll be sad when it’s over. I won’t know what to do with myself when it’s over. But these last few weekends I have it i will cherish. 

Thanks to those of you reading this that are part of this experience. Y’all make it great! 

Yesterday’s barre was wonderful. We did simple,repetitive combinations that were easy on the mind, but required real work to execute properly. Those are my favorite kind. It does us well to remember the basics.  

We worked on finishing recital, which I was excited about since I probably won’t be there the next couple weeks due to work. (I had to miss Tuesday to meet a deadline, so I’m sure the next two weeks are doomed. Yay overtime?) 

There was one point that kind of shot me in the heart. I haven’t quite figured out why I was made to feel that way and what to do about it yet, so I’m not gonna go into detail about it. There’s also details I can’t really divulge that factor into it. I don’t hold it against anyone, I just don’t know what I should do in myself and how I should respond moving forward. 

In essence, I feel foolish. And embarrassed. 

Whatever. 

Sometimes I forget that people actually read this blog. I mean, I’ve been writing on it since 2012, I think, and back then no one read it really. Maybe one person here and there, but not really. I think it’s absolutely amazing that people from all over the world find themselves reading my words and my stories, even if I think no one would really find them interesting. But they do. And that’s amazing. 

It really blows my mind that people I know read it. Especially this one guy in class. He is the cockiest know it all i have ever met, not to mention he likes to throw in your face the fact he’s been a vegetarian for three whole days. 

(Okay, real talk, he told me he wanted a shout out in my blog and wanted me to talk bad about him, but really there’s not a mean bone in his body. So. Sorry Matthew, I can’t seriously talk ill of you, but here’s your shout out) 

Life is weird and funny and ironic and takes you places you could never dream or imagine and can also leave you feeling pretty hopeless. It’s all part of the ride and you have to take it as it comes; play the cards you’re dealt. (Quoting a wise man I once knew there at the end.) but I believe, when you look back, even on the days it’s hard as hell to keep going, you’ll see the beautiful things around you if you let yourself remember them. 

Ps. Here is my current view at the chiropractors office. 

  
Rolly bed for the win. 

(Stay tuned Saturday for a one year recap of my back struggles.)

If you’re been to my house, you’ve undoubtedly noticed what I refer to as my “ballet wall.”

It’s covered in dance-related things that each have a story of their own, which brings me such joy to look at.

Since it’s garnered such interest, I figured I would make a post with the story of each of these things.

First, let’s start top left.
This is actually first mentioned in this post. It may be pictured previously, but only coincidentally. It’s a picture that hung on the wall in the hallway of my old studio. When we would wait for our class to start, we would sit in the hall that was covered in pictures–most from past recitals. But between two doors hung this picture. It was my dance teacher’s from when she was young, and when the studio closed she gave this to me and signed it. My cherished reminder of my humble beginnings.

Below that is a signed picture of Diana Vishneva.
When I first started dancing, I would soak up any and everything ballet related that I could get my hands on. (Who am I kidding, I still do.)I would hear the “older” dancers in class talk about this ballerina and that brand of shoe and this ballet showing and that theatre and I had no clue what any of it meant. I couldn’t tell Baryshnikov from a beagle, and marveled at how these people were able to retain so much information about all these people. Like baseball fanatics spouting off facts about the players records like they’re quoting their favorite poem. Diana Vishneva was the first I remembered, and it was right away. I saw her in a magazine and was taken by her seemingly effortless charisma and grace. Fast forward to having followed her on Instagram and seeing they were doing a kickstarter campaign to fund a documentary featuring her. One of the perks was this picture, and considering a pair of her signed pointe shoes was going for $500+, the donation amount seemed like nothing to me. (The only other ballerina specific I’ve done this for is Misty Copeland. Because queen is queen, obviously. So much respect.) It reminds me of where I want to go and why I love this so much. I know I’ll never get to that level–that’s impossible–but I owe it to myself to strive to be my best every day.

The three to the right are my newest additions.
My best friend and I met almost five years ago. When they got the house they’re now selling, she had these. Ever since I fist saw them hanging in her guest bedroom (“my room.”) I fell in love with them. Of course I wanted them, but it made me feel like a piece of me was with her having them there. Now that they’re packing up their three bedroom house and having to drive 7 hours to an apartment they’ll be living in until they can really get settled, they’re selling as much stuff as they can. She text me asking if I wanted these. Obviously I said yes in a heartbeat. Probably in all caps, let’s be real. Now I feel like a piece of her is with me even though we’ll be hundreds of miles apart.

Bottom right is a signed program by *almost* the entire cast of Season 10 of So You Think You Can Dance.
The story to how I got to see them on tour in San Antonio, and how we happened to meet them can be found here, complete with why it was almost the entire cast and how incredible that experience was. I’m pretty sure I was shaking with excitement the entire night. Sometimes I still can’t believe it happened.

Above that is a signed program by the entire cast of Season 11 of So You Think You Can Dance.
Notice this one doesn’t have the *almost*. I wrote about that experience here which completely blew my mind. It was also really interesting to experience it without knowing who this season’s dancers were (except for the ones I had followed from their auditions the season before when they got cut earlier than hoped.) Such top notch people, really.

Last but not least, the center piece.
This is Baby. She’s from Paris. I don’t think I wrote about her before, or maybe I did and just didn’t tag it. Regardless, the story goes that once upon a time, I was in Paris last summer. (hehe) It was the middle section of an almost two week trip to Europe that also involved Amsterdam and London. I had been to Paris before, but before I began ballet again. I also had broken my toe just shortly after arriving last time, so most of my memories are spotty. (Except for sitting in the park with a view of the Eiffel Tower, and a French couple letting me hold their baby. Really neat memory there.) This time I really wanted to explore the art that vendors at the Green Boxes that line the River Seine sell and hope that there was something ballet related I could bring home. (Can you believe I didn’t see a Degas while I was there?! How does one even miss that opportunity?!) We got there right before they all really start closing up, and walked the line of green box vendors that were still around. I found an interesting one that was done using shadowing with spray paint. (I snuck a picture of it illegally. oops.) I made a mental note and kept walking, trying to not give in to my spontaneous nature. (Ya know, the one that called up my friend and said, “Hey, let’s go to Europe!”) (No regrets.) A few boxes down a man had these paintings. Most were city scenes in various color schemes, but hanging in the back was this giant painting of a ballerina. I swear I had seen it somewhere before, but I couldn’t put my finger on where. I checked all the various website I have things like this saved to, but couldn’t find it. (Did I dream it? Who knows. Surely I saw it somewhere…) The other larger pictures he had hanging had smaller versions also for sale, so I looked through to see if there was a smaller version of the ballerina painting. When I couldn’t find anything, I even broke my normal fear of questions and asked the man. He said the big one was the only one. I asked how much it was, he told me 90 euro. Ouch. That was almost all of what I had budgeted for Paris, and we still had a day left and souvenir shopping to do. We continued on through the rest of the green boxes (how I managed to not come home with a million of the books this one vendor had is beyond me) and I gave myself time to think it over. But the more I thought, the more I knew if I walked away from that painting, I would regret it. After all, this trip was about letting go of the voice in my head trying to reason me out of things that make me happy for whatever reason it presented; fear, logic, “adult.” I went back and after he finished helping a family, I told him I wanted her. He looked at me and said, “Are you sure? You know the price?” I told him I had to have her. He took her down and wrapped her up in paper and she was mine. I can’t tell you the sense of euphoria that came over me. I’m pretty sure my friends were sick of me being completely giddy over it, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t remember feeling that happy in a long time. There I was, twenty-six, buying a piece of art on the streets of Paris that I would frame in my home. A piece of art of my favorite ballet picture that I still don’t know where I saw it from before then. I asked the man if he was the artist, he said no. He is the art teacher, and these are his student’s paintings. I was completely floored. And elated.
Forever elated.
I got her framed and my Dad helped me hang her once I moved into my house. I still can’t get over that memory and that it was real and that I managed to get her through baggage claim and home unharmed. (And not lost.) I have a picture of her in my carry on somewhere, but it’s not on my phone like I thought. I’ll check my laptop and see if it’s there. If so, I’ll post it here later.

The ballet barre was given to me by an old family friend. Her daughter used to do Irish Dance, but quit a while ago. She was cleaning out her house and found it and remembered I did ballet so nonchalantly offered it to me like she was offering to drop a letting in the mailbox or something. I don’t think it hit me that she was giving me a real ballet barre until I got home. I was so excited.

On the barre is what I call my pointe shoe grave yard. You can kind of tell some of the shoes aren’t dead just by the state of their shanks while hanging, but some of them didn’t even get to be worn all that much before I had to move on. The trial and error of shoes can be found in blog posts from 2014, leading up to the pointe shoe fitting that changed my life. (Shout out to Amanda at Capezio in Austin for ordering my shoes for me all the time and for introducing me to the new shanks from heaven.)

This wall is full of wonderful memories for me. It makes me feel like life is something worth living, something I enjoy. Full of experiences and stories that make remembering sweet.

I have more ballet things that aren’t on the wall for aesthetic sake. Most are on the wall right next to my bed in their own collage of sorts, complete with ornaments, (especially Mrs. Jane ornaments [these are super special, hand made ornaments to match your Nutcracker character. Mrs. Jane made me a Rat Queen this last year and it’s the best.]) pictures, paintings, posters, and just about anything else you can think of. The wall by my closet has a collage of different things pinned to yarn strung about, including the newspaper article I was in (the background of) from this last year’s Nutcracker (fever and all) as well as notes from younger dancers, gift tags, and little things from the season that remind me of those I love. (Santa Mickey Mouse ears, anyone?)

Life may be really difficult sometimes. It may not be fair. It may not make sense. But if you fill it with the things you love, simply because you love them–no excuse or guilt or repercussions holding you back–you’ll find them to be the warm blanket on those cold, lonely nights.