Maybe you didn’t know, but I am a dancer, not a pole dancer or a strip club dancer, a real hip-hop/ballet/tap/jazz/contemporary, dancer. I dance because its an emotional devotion. I use it as emotional stress relief and a work out. I get to be joyous while I dance, or I get to show my deepest, darkest, inner most, secretest pain ever. The stuff no one talks about, the stuff that is indescribable with words, and only with movements can people truly see how I feel. This past week was “peek week” at the dance studio. The classes instead of being closed doors, are open to parental and friend viewing. Usually this is a great time to show how hard I work to my parents to stay healthy, strong and capable to perform. My mother who dance for her whole youth loves to watch me and my class mates dance, she understands each movements strain and power, she sees each muscle flex and tighten then spring to jump or coil to turn. I love that she knows this. On the depressing side of this phenomenon, my father, who couldn’t be more blind, only sees the mistakes, the miss comings, or the constraints that I have. I might be a dancer, but I have always been naturally inflexible, although I am much better than I was 3 years ago, I am still not jumping into the air with my feet to my ears. Obviously, because I am physically impaired, this means I am not good enough for him. I am just not pretty, perfect, barbie like enough to be a good leaping, bounding dancer for him.
At the beginning of the week, Monday, I gave him a schedule of performances, days, dates, times, places, and details of my life until January. This was to prepare him to know what time to be where and how to be ready. I new it was just my pathetic way of crying to attention from him but I didn’t care. He took the hint (after many arguments). Wednesday was the first class of the week. I have Ballet Contemporary, and Hip hop after. Ballet started at 6. We warmed up or arms, legs, torso, back, neck, hands, feet, knees, ancles, toes, shoulders, and waist. We strengthened our thighs, calves, and abs. Then we danced across the floor. Back and forth, back and forth, spinning, traveling, jumping, twirling. Then we did our actual combination of a song, that at the end of the year, we will perform on stage. It was great. My dad wasn’t there. Finally it was 5 minutes till the end of class, and my dad walks in, I totally mess up my shene, and cant even rande-son and porta-bras. He sits down, and my teacher tells us we are going to do leaps. This is my least perfected dance movement. As you already know, I cant do a split, not like I don’t try or anything, I just havent had the capability to do one yet. I can try to do a leap but it doesn’t look the way it should. So, I leap and I can see my dad head shaking, and he puts his head in his hands, then after I try for the third time he tries to correct me by yelling some type of mangled french words he stole for my teacher. We ignore him.. and class ends.
After that, I went to hiphop and I could tell he hated it, because he just sat there with a disaproving look, and I am actually a really good hip-hop dancer. I learn fast, and can do all the moves properly without falling on my butt. Dance finished and I was angry. I went home disapointed with myself and my dad.
Thursday, is the class I am the best at, Tap dancing. I can do a tap off with anyone. I am super good. We jumped for 2 minutes, thats our warm up, jumping without touching our heals down at different speeds. Then we did out excercizes across the floor, draw back, Cincinati, Buffalo, filaps, shuffles, pull backs.. etc. Then we did time steps and then hop shuffle jump toe turns, which are my favorite. We did our combination to As long as You love me by JB (yeah yeah tease me all you want, its a good song…to tap too.) and then we were done. My dad praised my a lot about this stuff, which is nice he noticed finally how hard I work.
I have a choral performance Monday, its every year, twice a year, once for Christmas, once for spring. He wont be coming, but I don’t care, because it gives me more leeway bring a friend.
Welcome to my bitter sweet suburban life. I am just content I don’t live in a poor aids infested place like Sudan or Libia, better pray for them… It’s horrible to be a woman there.
I don’t know what it means but I do know that it has absolutely nothing to do with my blog post, just like my other blog titles relations to my previous blog posts.
I don’t have much to say about today, other than its been uneventful, and full of facebook messaging to my friends. I read for 2 hours in and under a tree out side, so I some out door time, and I have accomplished unloading and reloading the dishwasher. I have had more than 4 transactions in life with human beings outside of facebook today.
I left this blog post sitting here for a very long time. I think I might have some thoughts now.
In my other post, I talked about my obsession with being a geek. Well, I evolved that obsession a little more and now I’ve been watching wed series. Like TV on the web. Really funny. So I watched this one call “The Guild”. It’s about a bunch of geeks that play an RPG (role-playing game) that is online, they use microphones to communicate and later web-cams. Only four episodes long, and I’m not sure they have continued it. I guess I’ll google it later.
My mother keeps asking me if I can touch type. If I couldn’t why would I be blogging this much?
Got to go to bed now. Too bad blog, I’ll talk to you later .