Homesick

I miss ballet today.

I don't miss it all the time,

and I don't miss the aching body

or blistered feet

or the cost of new pointe shoes.

But I do miss the feeling of

making your body do something

absolutely beautiful.

I love the art of ballet.

I love the discipline.

I love being a part of its world.

Fame and Glory

I can't help myself. I am addicted to applause and acclaim. In Judy Garland's biography, "Get Happy," (one of many but the only one I've read) the author talks about how Judy fell in love with performing; her relationship with the audience, their reactions to her performance, the rise of the curtain. I know exactly what she means. I have performed since I was very small. My mom had put me in Sunshine Generation (which I understand is still around) which was a little singing/lip-syncing/dancing group. There is a picture of me in my orange dress complete with yellow apron ensemble at the zoo. My pudgy arms poke out from the colorful dress and I smile in a big CHEESE grin. As I entered elementary school I performed in the yearly talent show, singing my heart out. And then in Junior High I started dancing at the Ballet Centre (the school I also attend now) as well as performing in the school musical. In fact, I sometimes forget this, but I was Audrey in "Little Shop of Horrors" when I was just fourteen. I wore a blonde wig and belted out 'Suddenly Seymour' as best I could. Throughout High School I continued to perform -- school musicals, community theatre, drill team, dance company, summer ballet -- I couldn't get enough. Which led me to earn a full tuition scholarship in musical theatre. Ta da!

Once in college, I continued to enjoy performing in the productions but I wasn't mature enough to focus on my schooling and perform. (My last year in High School had spoiled me: AP English, dance company, drill team, theatre class, seminary, concert choir, and ballroom ... not exactly scholarly.) My grades suffered and I'm sure that if I had stayed (I left to get married) I would have been on the watch list or would have lost the scholarship. After we were married I started focusing on my career, working my way up, and completing my undergraduate in English.

I hadn't been on stage for 8 years ...

Until last night. We performed the Sleeping Beauty waltz in front of a packed amphitheatre. It was grand. The lights, the rise of the music, that moment just before you step into view, the look you affix to your face. I love it all. Even the late rehearsals and stinky costumes and painful mornings, all worth it. I always feel myself drawn towards the arts, whether it be through writing or performing, and that also pulls me towards fame. That strange desire to be famous and world renowned. What's up with that? I don't think I would enjoy being famous AT ALL because, in general, I hate most people. And I really hate drama in my real life -- drama on stage, yes, always. But it ends there. I guess it's a good thing that fame is a non-existent possibility. That way I can just dream about it and enjoy my time on stage, under the lights, in front of an audience, and take a bow.

Summer Goals

My ballet friend Catherine and I have made some specific short-term goals for the summer session of ballet. We have both recently returned from a ten year long break and are now attempting to be ballerinas again. We are frustrated with the limitations of our "older" bodies and are working towards our ballerina bodes. It was especially motivating when we saw fellow "old" dancer (who has four children, by the way) with an absolutely beautiful body; thin, supple, muscular, and graceful.

So. Jealous.
So I'm setting goals. Goals that I WILL achieve by the end of summer session. It's time to get serious.

Goal 1  Both splits, left and right, flat. That means tushy on the floor.
Goal 2  Lose 15 pounds. Period.
Goal 3  Cardio and resistance training two times a week. Ballet is four times a week, two hour classes, so I'm going to do cardio and upper body workouts two other days. I can do it. My aim for weightlifting is toned arms, a ripply chest, and muscular back -- all of which look stunning when you dance. The cardio should help trim up my legs and hopefully aid in the weightloss.

I need to buy a scale. After the pee incident, read more here, I had to throw out the old one ... so it's in with the new. (I haven't weighed myself for a few weeks which feels very strange; not knowing one's weight.) But anyway, get the scale, start weighing myself, and start losing. The hardest goal is #2. That will be my main focus. You know, I think that this return to ballet has brought up a lot of body issues ... but oddly enough, I don't hate my body for not being perfect. Rather, I'm proud of it for all its accomplisments, and further still, its potential.

Two Done

It happened today, my 2nd day in the advanced class.
After we put the barres away, she said, "We're going to do pointe today." She looked at me and said, "Johanna, let's give it a try."

So I did. Not 100% perfect. But I would say I succeeded in surprising myself and my teacher.
At the end of class, as I walked by Michelle to go home, she said, "Good job."
I really love myself for not being afraid to try.

Please cross off "become a ballerina again" from my list.

Adventures of the Advanced Class

The Advanced class is described as: "The sixth year we have learned how to do everything on Pointe and have learned how to execute all of the steps. Classes are now four to five days per week (2 hour classes). This year we start to really learn how to perform and must remember lengthy combinations. We also learn to dance with pain if necessary."

I was very nervous. It always helps when you have a friend there, though, and I did. I had two: Kathryn (another returnee like me) and Brittany (a brand new dancer, only 2 years in). But I was still nervous. Brittany had already been to the class once; we were supposed to go together Tuesday, but I missed it because I had to sign the lease. So it was my first time in. As we're sitting on the floor stretching, Kathryn sees my nude fishnet tights and starts to laugh. She says, "You remember Michelle, right?"

Michelle. The toughest teacher you will ever have. She pushes you hard and isn't afraid to tell you exactly what you're doing wrong. In front of the whole class. In a loud and clear voice. For example: she walks in, sees me, and says, "Hi." But not with a smiley face at the end, with a question, like, why the fuck are you in my class. Then, when we're doing plies, she says, "Those are the only tights you could find?" And I blush and say, "My pink ones were dirty." (A lie. They weren't dirty, I just like to look different from everyone else.) Or what about this: I overhear her asking Brittany very pointedly, and loudly, "What are you going to do about pointe? Who's going to give you the beginning pointe lessons? Because I'm not." Michelle is slim on the compliments, but I like it because when she actually says "good" you know she isn't blowing smoke up your ass.

Considering I had to learn all the combinations on the spot, I didn't do too badly. We didn't do any pointe. When she asked me about my dancing experience, I said, "I've danced on pointe for about 4 years, but that was almost a decade ago." I'm not sure she believed me about the decade thing. I'm not sure what I'll do when that day comes. By the end of class I was sweating hard and my calves and feet were exhausted. But I felt accomplished. I felt challenged. I felt like I had something to work for, something I didn't feel in the other classes. Part of that, I'm sure, is because of Michelle. I am so excited to improve my dancing because I am in love with ballet. I think I enjoy it more now than I did before.

On my way out, Michelle asked me not to wear my tights again, "They should be pink."

Not Old

I'm not old, but I am the oldest person in my ballet class.
The girls range from ages 13 to 18.
I have only one classmate who is of drinking age.
I always tell myself that age is nothing,
but every once in a while I start to feel silly and out of place.
Then I remember what I felt like at that age:
Silly and out of place.

See? Age is nothing.

Can I Just Say ...

I love ballet.

I can't believe that it has been out of my life for so long.

I was tired tonight and didn't really feel like going.

So.

Glad.

I.

Did.

So glad.

Ballet fulfills me.

I hope everyone in the world is lucky enough to find a hobby that fills them with joy.

Super Sucky

Diets suck.

I am hungry and would really enjoy a HUGE cinnamon roll.

One as big as my head.

(It just about killed me to find this picture.)

Sigh...

But when I think about that I have to remember how much I hate my

tubby belly and

flabby thighs and

mushy arms and

cellulite bottom and

fatty back.

Here's my eating schedule for the day. Please, share in my pain.

9:30 am: Apple

@ Noon: Noodle Soup

2:30 pm: Strawberry and Banana Crisps

5:00 pm: Veggie Sushi Roll

And I have ballet tonight and a weigh-in Friday morning so no more eating after that.

This sucks; I'm already hungry.

It's worth it, though, right?

Right?

Getting What You Want

Yeah, let's talk about being happy. Let's talk about what it means to "get what you want" and the struggle to get. Let's talk about materialism, in all its glory, and let's talk about the meaning of life.

I will open the discussion.

I ate expired soup today. Why was it expired? I have no idea -- apparently when you stuff your face with anything and everything for a two month period you skip over 100 calorie soup. Then it just sits in your pantry and goes bad. But I ate the soup, and I ate it with the looming date of November 29th 2009 heavy in my belly, and I started thinking about my life. I have so much food in my house that we literally NEVER run out. Even when we have "nothing to eat" there is PLENTY to eat. Plenty. This abundance of food makes me ponder the relevance of being on a diet, because to me, being on a diet is essentially waste. I eat smaller portions, true, but I also have to let rampant amounts of food go bad because I just didn't have the caloric allowance to eat that cantaloupe or eggplant or cheese pizza. And apparently, 100 calorie soup.

What is the point of dieting, anyway? I'm a small person. I look fairly decent clothed and not too scary naked. But to our current society "being on a diet" is like saying "I'm cool." Because it means you have self control and a life good enough that you can complain about eating TOO much. And in my mind dieting is synonymous with materialism. Even though you're doing the exact opposite (saying "no more" as opposed to gathering more and more objects) you are showing a certain lavishness, a certain type of fabulosity that only translates to being thin=more clothes=fashionable. It's a strange cycle that in a natural world could not exist but we live in a world with 9 year old twinkies and cheese from a can and diabolical corn breakdowns.

I'll tell you why I diet. Because I want to be thin and because I want to be healthy. Way healthier than is really necessary for my desk job, but nevertheless, I strive towards seeing a beautiful model-thin self in the mirror. This is not to say that I'm not happy with myself; I am. I'm truly thrilled with the way I turned out. I was a very insecure tween but somehow I blossomed and never looked back. I learned at a young age that mistakes were forgivable and that changes could be made and you could rise triumphant as whatever you wanted. I accept my flaws as challenges -- something to continuously strive to make better. And also, something to laugh about with my friends and commiserate with them. Flaws, after all, make us human and not divine. Who wants to be perfect? It's probably dreadfully boring. What do you DO each day if you can't work towards a better life and a better self? And it's fun to use your inner-eye and speculate on the future; the future can't be different or better if everything is already Utopian.

But when does the "fun" striving-for-change switch to "my life isn't good enough" and crushing waves of inadequacy? I'm not really sure. I'll be sure to let you all know when I get there. But I can see how it is easy to start thinking more about the getting and not about the here and now. Life, to me, is a two act play happening simultaneously. Act One is now, Act Two is the future. You can't enjoy the story, the journey, the plot, unless you watch Act One -- because otherwise you won't know what the fuck is going on. You won't know the characters, you won't understand their development, you won't, basically, like the show. And if the show is YOUR LIFE ... don't you want to like it? So in order to like it you've got to watch Act One.

My Act One consists of struggling with my weight and my puppy and my marriage and ballet and my career and my family and my mind and my writing and ... so many things. But. The point is -- I'm enjoying the NOW and looking forward to the future, the impossibly bright and hopeful future that will be everything it's supposed to be if I can just sit still through Act One. So I'm not going to become too bogged down by my inadequacies, and I'm not going to obsess too much about the sugar cookie I ate for breakfast yesterday, and I'm not going to worry about the job I don't have and the money I don't make, and I'm not going to stress about the people that don't like me.

Scarlett said it best: "I'll think about that tomorrow."

And today I'll think about all the good things in my life:

A family I love,

My husband and best friend rolled into one,

A puppy to cuddle,

Friends I can rely on,

New challenges,

And a full pantry.

Back to the Barre

As of tomorrow, I will become a ballerina again -- or at least on the long road back to being one. Class starts @ 7 PM. It's going to be a challenge but I am really excited. Ballet is my old flame, my first love, the first thing I committed to completely, completely surrendered to. It taught me discipline. Most of the girls I danced with in high school thought ballet was boring and old. To me, ballet is learning your body and controlling your body in a beautiful way. You learn how to hold your balance on two toes, how to slide your foot across the floor, how to hold your arm so everyone wants to look at it, how to twist your head just so, and you do all these things in a single graceful movement. I was born in the wrong body. My mind is the mind of a ballerina, but my body is only 5 feet tall and I tend towards chubbiness. So many times I have hated my body; for it has the power to be great if only it could change. But part of growing older is becoming more comfortable with your self. I know I'm not, and don't have to worry about, being the best. I can simply enjoy the process. My hand on the barre and a perfect port de bras.