Dance Log 14

Today was bittersweet.

It was the last day of class, and just as I anticipated I was full of sentimental emotions.

I kept thinking things like, "I absolutely hate this barre exercise and this is the last time I get to do it." There was one part of class when I thought, "I sure won't miss feeling this awkward doing this arabesque." Then I thought, "Actually, I hope I get the opportunity to feel awkward in an arabesque someday in the near future."

By the end of class, I was out of breath, and trying to calm my furiously beating heart. Our 'final' was basically boot camp with pink tights. I think our teacher wanted us to remember her. By the end, I was exhausted, but a little sad. Just as we were out the door, one of the dancers from a professional company in town came in and started warming up. Her movement was unmistakeably modern, and I inwardly beamed as I thought about how in just a few weeks I'll be in a contemporary class.

 (sigh)

I can not wait.

For me, dance is like a feast. Ballet is like a lovely appetizer; something fancy and expensive. Hors d'oeuvres are lovely, and I enjoy them as much as the next person, but I'm also looking forward to the entrees to come. Contemporary movement is my main course. The most delicious one you can imagine. Choreography is the fine dessert, and improvisation is the drizzling topping.

Are you guys thinking, "For a girl who just took ballet, you're sure talking a lot about food"?

Maybe I like food more than a ballerina should,
but I'm forever grateful for the last months of class.

I'm grateful for the patient reminders from my instructor. I'm grateful for the lovely swans who have been mesmerising examples to me. I'm so very grateful for a husband who allows me to take ballet, even though we're poor newlyweds, and me taking ballet costs us money.

As I was walking out of the morrison center today, I had a flash back to the  first day of class. A lot has changed since then. The tree leaves so crisp and red on the first day have been replaced by a thin layer of ice and snow, and the sky is the most delicious shade of gray with a sprinkle of deep blue here and there. Since the first day my hair is over 16 inches shorter, and I must wear warm boots instead of flats. The beautiful girls who terrified me in class know my name and give me friendly smiles when I run into them on campus or at dance events. My instructor smiles brightly at me, and encourages me to pursue more dance education from her. (At the beginning of the semester I'd of thought she'd be delighted to get rid of me.) I've learned countless new things about classical technique, and slowly but surely, I think I'm getting better.

So much can change in a semester of ballet.

Thanks for your much needed support and love cherished readers.
I'm so blessed to have such lovely friends.
This is the end of my dance log.



Until class starts again.


(dramatic music)
"Introducing...

Dance Log: The Modern Series!

Are you sick of me yet? No?! How about now? Ok.

Night.

Happy Thursday Friends,