Thursday, March 1

Just Dance


I've done the whole return-to-ballet thing. It was tough. Super hard on my body and even harder on my schedule. Now that I'm back in school, I don't have 5 nights a week to commit to 2 hour ballet classes ... and if you don't put in the time, you don't progress. Ballet is something you can't do half ass. If you try, you'll be so pissed off at how you can't do your splits, can't grand jete worth a damn, can't fouette, and your feet will hurt and hurt and hurt.

But modern jazz? That's something you can hop in and out of and really enjoy. Your old skills come back and you end the once-a-week hour-long class feeling like you had a fantastic time and actually danced ... (ballet can be a lot of technique, followed by more technique). Plus, my high school chum Becks is back in town for the year so she and I and our partner in crime, Hope, are abandoning our families on Wednesday nights in order to dance, dance, dance.

The other day (post finance class freak-out) I actually thought: what would I be doing if I hadn't stopped dancing? If I hadn't been sensible and chosen a "career"? Once upon a time, I think I was actually pretty damn good. And better at modern than I was at ballet, simply because my body wasn't made for ballet even though my heart was. I could be a teacher, dancing every day. I could be dancing every day with a company. But this is a dream. In reality, I probably couldn't have cut it. I get sick of artsy people. I need boring stability, if only to make my quirkiness seem more original. I like creative people in small doses ... except for myself, of course.

With that dream long gone, it makes me smile that I can still dip my toes in and revisit my old love.

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