I just got back from a show. A very surprising contemporary dance performance, at la Maison de la culture Frontenac. It was surprising because I didn't expect to be so deeply moved by it, and I wasn't capable of knowing why at the time.
It was a series entitled Solitudes Solo choreographed by the renowned Québecois choreographer Daniel Léveillé. I guess it was four male dancers and a sole female one, and each performed his or her own sections by him/herself, to the music of Johann Sebastian Bach. Each wore a pair of briefs in various colors, and that was all.
The first piece was jarring and fascinating, because I'd just come off the street and my mind was full of French and people's faces and city scenes. It took me until the third piece to shake off the day and my thoughts and my analyses and just watch in awe.
The fifth dance was the woman's dance. She was fascinating and beautiful and so completely unlike the dolls and cartoons that you see in the fashion magazines. She was strong with broad shoulders, small breasts and a well-muscled abdomen unlikely to sport any wasp-waisted bustier. She struck me as a real woman, an exemplary specimen, completely healthy and without facade. Her dance followed the same style as the guys' pieces, but she somehow made the same movements and transformed them into female movements. Not society's ever-changing [feminine], but timeless female.
And her dance reminded me of so many things in just a few minutes, especially of being scared and alone among impersonal machines, or hopelessly lost in math class, or trapped in a place I don't want to be because of monetary or societal restraints. Yes! She communicated all of that to me without saying a word or making a sound. I guess I saw something of myself in her dance and I vowed right there and then - with my throat closed up and actual tears in my eyes - that I would never, ever settle for something because I had to. Never suffer if I had a choice (and so many people suffer and could choose not to!). Never allow myself to be unhappy if I can do something about it. I know this is all sounding kind of complex, but it was as simple as a blast of fresh air full of as many scents as things the wind had touched. It hits you and you recognize them all without thinking.
Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dance. Show all posts
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
Bizzy Week!
What has happened in the last 9 days:
- Surprise job interview: After applying for a few interesting positions mostly to practice my cover letter writing skills, I was quite shocked to get called in for an interview on Tuesday morning. I am 70% sure that I will get an offer within the next week. Because of Rule #1 (don't talk about work), I can't really reveal the nature of the position or the company (which are both pretty unique), but I'll suffice to say that it's in a sort of unique subsection of marketing and would likely be an excellent experience (even if it doesn't pay as well as I'd like in the beginning, but beggars can't be choosers, I guess). This means that I would complete my current full-time semester on April 13th and then commence work and part-time class... If I get an offer and if I accept it.
- Almost skipped my French level, but decided to stay in it after all. I'm very strong in my level and I'd be quite weak in the next; I'd rather have actual fun in class rather than struggle to keep up.
- Had a couple of beautiful dance lessons: Foxtrot, tango, quickstep and Viennese waltz. It seems that whatever was bothering me about Felix has passed; we are on as good of terms as ever?
- Finished my first week of the next level of intensive French. Met a lot of neat people from Korea, Bangladesh, Japan, China, Brazil and Israel, and I have a beautiful - ahem! - I mean, talented and kind teacher (who is also married with five kids) this time around. I am very excited about this level!
- My husband, Caspian, left for a very important business trip in San Francisco last weekend... And he will return tonight! I've been alone for this entire week and all of its craziness, and it's probably for the better.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
And I want...
To design a night-black standard dress of lace over nude synth, long sleeved and close-backed with a plunging neckline in front and a golden dragon wrapped around the waist. Had a dream about it last night and it was pretty striking.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Stuff and Things
I've been thinking. I find it totally relaxing to read about the minutiae of other people's lives (especially the blogs of authors I like). Maybe I'll do some of that here as well, just for shits and giggles, but first I have to update you regarding recent happenings.
All is well in the land of Shinseiko and Caspian, albeit a bit cold, windy and covered with ice and snow. Don't visit Canada in the wintertime unless you have fondness for these things.
I wake up early every weekday morning, shower, put my (already selected) lunch together and walk [in arctic temps] about two miles to my university, where I'm in class with some really awesome people from all over the world. We have a doctor from Saudi Arabia, three Canadians from other provinces, two Mexicans, one Venezuelan, one Kenyan, a lawyer from Jordan, one Ukranian, one Chinese, one Thai and one Taiwanese. That's 14 people total, including me, the only American. I think it's hilarious and irritating that I'm considered like the representative of the USA in this class. When people talk about the US, they will address me with the plural "you."
It is a superb program, probably one of the best French language programs in the world. After all McGill University is the 17th best university in the world. I spend my days laughing, acting silly, making up skits, conjugating verbs and babbling in pronunciation lab. I walk home facing west (I despise sunny days, because the light reflects blindingly from the snow and ice on the sidewalk and into my eyes) at 3, get home at 3:30, and start work at 4, working until 7. My clientele has changed a bit with the new hours; I have plenty of Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and Japanese students. French students prefer to take their lessons in the early evenings on weekends, on which I also work, for six hours each day... Which means I don't have a single day off until the semester is over (I have a week of break between them). Hours of homework are completed by candlelight in the evening or on the weekends. I pretty much have no life right now. Luckily, that means that I don't spend much money either.
And yet, Felix (who has been stressed about work recently for reasons I can't disclose) wants to practice twice this week. I... Have been ultra irritated with him. With his simplicity and hyperactivity and unrelenting energy. It is difficult for me at this point in my life to have a friend like him for some reason. I feel like I am a child in his eyes, full of simple emotions and thoughts, in need of repetition, never learning, always making the same mistakes. Maybe it's true and things can be distilled like that, but I'm just not in the mood for it.
We also had a very sick kitty a couple of weeks ago. We came home from our friends' place and found Kiska unable to move on the floor of our bedroom. She had pooped and peed on herself. We rushed her to the emergency veterinarian at midnight on a Saturday, sure that she was going to die. I thought it was neurological and feared that the last memory of my little white cat would be the image of her struggling to move on the floor, crying in fear. Caspian held her to his chest and she just panted between cries, her face smushed up against him.
We discussed euthanasia that night for two hours in a stuffy exam room. I cried the most anguished tears of my life, over a little 8-pound creature. We couldn't afford any treatment, only hospitalization, with me a student again. We agreed that if she did not get better in two or three days, we would say goodbye.
Luckily, it turned out to be ideopathic vestibular disease, an uncommon but not unheard-of inner ear syndrome that strikes with a vengeance and usually corrects itself. Within two days, she was able to stand, eat and drink on her own, and we brought her home, where she joyfully reunited with her housemate. She has been playful, active and friendly ever since. $500 for those three days, which was part of my dance costume money. It looks like competition isn't in the near future.
The schedule above is how it will go for the next year or so, until I finish my Certificate of Proficiency. I've already started the job hunt, sending my CV to my career counselor for editing. Hopefully I will have a well-paying bilingual position lined up as soon as I have my certificate in hand!
All is well in the land of Shinseiko and Caspian, albeit a bit cold, windy and covered with ice and snow. Don't visit Canada in the wintertime unless you have fondness for these things.
I wake up early every weekday morning, shower, put my (already selected) lunch together and walk [in arctic temps] about two miles to my university, where I'm in class with some really awesome people from all over the world. We have a doctor from Saudi Arabia, three Canadians from other provinces, two Mexicans, one Venezuelan, one Kenyan, a lawyer from Jordan, one Ukranian, one Chinese, one Thai and one Taiwanese. That's 14 people total, including me, the only American. I think it's hilarious and irritating that I'm considered like the representative of the USA in this class. When people talk about the US, they will address me with the plural "you."
It is a superb program, probably one of the best French language programs in the world. After all McGill University is the 17th best university in the world. I spend my days laughing, acting silly, making up skits, conjugating verbs and babbling in pronunciation lab. I walk home facing west (I despise sunny days, because the light reflects blindingly from the snow and ice on the sidewalk and into my eyes) at 3, get home at 3:30, and start work at 4, working until 7. My clientele has changed a bit with the new hours; I have plenty of Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and Japanese students. French students prefer to take their lessons in the early evenings on weekends, on which I also work, for six hours each day... Which means I don't have a single day off until the semester is over (I have a week of break between them). Hours of homework are completed by candlelight in the evening or on the weekends. I pretty much have no life right now. Luckily, that means that I don't spend much money either.
And yet, Felix (who has been stressed about work recently for reasons I can't disclose) wants to practice twice this week. I... Have been ultra irritated with him. With his simplicity and hyperactivity and unrelenting energy. It is difficult for me at this point in my life to have a friend like him for some reason. I feel like I am a child in his eyes, full of simple emotions and thoughts, in need of repetition, never learning, always making the same mistakes. Maybe it's true and things can be distilled like that, but I'm just not in the mood for it.
We also had a very sick kitty a couple of weeks ago. We came home from our friends' place and found Kiska unable to move on the floor of our bedroom. She had pooped and peed on herself. We rushed her to the emergency veterinarian at midnight on a Saturday, sure that she was going to die. I thought it was neurological and feared that the last memory of my little white cat would be the image of her struggling to move on the floor, crying in fear. Caspian held her to his chest and she just panted between cries, her face smushed up against him.
We discussed euthanasia that night for two hours in a stuffy exam room. I cried the most anguished tears of my life, over a little 8-pound creature. We couldn't afford any treatment, only hospitalization, with me a student again. We agreed that if she did not get better in two or three days, we would say goodbye.
Luckily, it turned out to be ideopathic vestibular disease, an uncommon but not unheard-of inner ear syndrome that strikes with a vengeance and usually corrects itself. Within two days, she was able to stand, eat and drink on her own, and we brought her home, where she joyfully reunited with her housemate. She has been playful, active and friendly ever since. $500 for those three days, which was part of my dance costume money. It looks like competition isn't in the near future.
The schedule above is how it will go for the next year or so, until I finish my Certificate of Proficiency. I've already started the job hunt, sending my CV to my career counselor for editing. Hopefully I will have a well-paying bilingual position lined up as soon as I have my certificate in hand!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Oh...
And that thing I said about dance? Well. Let's just say that our new foxtrot choreography is pretty classy, with a run (that Felix can't seem to ever end), some interestingly-placed fallaway reverse slip pivots and a contra check that Felix hams up with a blithe, aristocratic grin while attempting to bend me in half. Men shouldn't be able to to splits.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Strong Enough?
It's been kind of awhile since I last wrote a real post. I've been having an... Interesting three weeks. Has it really been three weeks?
First, I must confess that Skyward Sword has become an evening pastime more fun than anything else, for now. I've played almost 30 hours of it and Caspian has been my cheerleader through temple and desert, forests and floating sky islands and boss fights that make me stand up and scream obscenities. Wait. I always stand up and scream obscenities during boss fights. And when Link walks off cliffs, which seems to happen a lot with me...?
I have also been on a kind of spiritual journey. Not sitting and asking questions or aimlessly wondering and wandering and moping like usual, but really focusing and exploring a lot of different ideas. Focusing on the things I know I believe. Focusing on making real changes in the way I view myself and life and happiness, and what actually matters to me, and... How to make these changes, beginning with my own perceptions.
I have also come to the conclusion that Facebook, while sometimes fun, occasionally useful, always distracting and mostly arbitrary, is extremely harmful to society. I really think so. Why?
1) It's an extreme time-waster and detracts from our ever-dwindling abilities to be mindful rather than multitask. The more books and articles I read about productiveness and time management, the more I want to move away from tabbed browsing and social media. Not only do we cease to enjoy and focus on each task as it comes, but our minds become like little sparrows, flitting around from twig to twig, bush to bush, maybe even permanently unable to explore anything in depth.
2) We use social media to construct our own alternate realities. It's not even real. It's not even close to a real reflection of face-to-face interaction, or true experiences of the lives of others. We construct our own profiles based on our notions of the perceptions of others, choosing to highlight and omit at will.
3) Tied with point 2, we compare our real lives to the fictional lives of the Facebook Others. They aren't even real people. And comparison with unreality usually makes us unhappy, because there is no comparison. Current advertising and media for women springs to mind to help illustrate this point. In this case, reality and advertising become increasingly divergent as time passes. How can any of us live up to feminine ideals, when the images we are supposed to emulate are the equivalents of cartoons or computer-generated characters? Likewise, how can we expect to compare our true selves to the sketchy online facades of others?
4) Communication is becoming flatter.
If I were truly courageous, truly focused on the important things, I think I would delete my profile, reject society's little addictions and tend my true friends with care and mindfulness. I'm not strong enough yet to do that.
I've also been working on my book, rewriting a couple chapters and getting back up to 50k words. I estimate 6 chapters to go before I'm done. Manasvi read what I have so far during her flight back home to northern Europe, and tickled me to death when she told me that she'd enjoyed it! She had some great insights, too.
Lots and lots, hours of meditation and visualization exercises over these last few weeks. I feel calm and serene for days after each session, until slowly my negative habits insinuate themselves again into my thoughts and actions and I have to sit down again to reflect and orient myself.
Lastly... I am completely fed up with dance. Completely. We had a couple of good practices last week, before which I had to meditate to focus myself in order to not be completely negative about them. Our coaches want us to compete, but I want to learn. I want to learn new figures every week and not continue to use the same old choreo as the framework for increasingly advanced technique. I mention this, and they say things like, "If you don't enjoy what you're dancing now, you're not going to enjoy any of the other figures." That's not the point at all. I want more diversity. I'm just tired of our choreography, tired of the same old arguments and mistakes.
I don't even have the time or the money to compete. I really don't! Maybe after I finish my French degree, Caspian is in medical school and I have my dream job, I could consider getting serious about it. Where will I find time to dance with 55 - 60 hour weeks of work and class? Where will I find the money for lessons with tuition payments due every 2 months?
Next spring, I'm really going to grow that garden I've always wanted. I'm going to take out all the shit in the backyard (old statues, patio furniture, weeds, leftover remodeling materials, etc.) and create a haven. Find the earth again, because I've lost it. I used to take it for granted, but now I live in the middle of a big city, and likely will for some time. Years.
First, I must confess that Skyward Sword has become an evening pastime more fun than anything else, for now. I've played almost 30 hours of it and Caspian has been my cheerleader through temple and desert, forests and floating sky islands and boss fights that make me stand up and scream obscenities. Wait. I always stand up and scream obscenities during boss fights. And when Link walks off cliffs, which seems to happen a lot with me...?
I have also been on a kind of spiritual journey. Not sitting and asking questions or aimlessly wondering and wandering and moping like usual, but really focusing and exploring a lot of different ideas. Focusing on the things I know I believe. Focusing on making real changes in the way I view myself and life and happiness, and what actually matters to me, and... How to make these changes, beginning with my own perceptions.
I have also come to the conclusion that Facebook, while sometimes fun, occasionally useful, always distracting and mostly arbitrary, is extremely harmful to society. I really think so. Why?
1) It's an extreme time-waster and detracts from our ever-dwindling abilities to be mindful rather than multitask. The more books and articles I read about productiveness and time management, the more I want to move away from tabbed browsing and social media. Not only do we cease to enjoy and focus on each task as it comes, but our minds become like little sparrows, flitting around from twig to twig, bush to bush, maybe even permanently unable to explore anything in depth.
2) We use social media to construct our own alternate realities. It's not even real. It's not even close to a real reflection of face-to-face interaction, or true experiences of the lives of others. We construct our own profiles based on our notions of the perceptions of others, choosing to highlight and omit at will.
3) Tied with point 2, we compare our real lives to the fictional lives of the Facebook Others. They aren't even real people. And comparison with unreality usually makes us unhappy, because there is no comparison. Current advertising and media for women springs to mind to help illustrate this point. In this case, reality and advertising become increasingly divergent as time passes. How can any of us live up to feminine ideals, when the images we are supposed to emulate are the equivalents of cartoons or computer-generated characters? Likewise, how can we expect to compare our true selves to the sketchy online facades of others?
4) Communication is becoming flatter.
If I were truly courageous, truly focused on the important things, I think I would delete my profile, reject society's little addictions and tend my true friends with care and mindfulness. I'm not strong enough yet to do that.
I've also been working on my book, rewriting a couple chapters and getting back up to 50k words. I estimate 6 chapters to go before I'm done. Manasvi read what I have so far during her flight back home to northern Europe, and tickled me to death when she told me that she'd enjoyed it! She had some great insights, too.
Lots and lots, hours of meditation and visualization exercises over these last few weeks. I feel calm and serene for days after each session, until slowly my negative habits insinuate themselves again into my thoughts and actions and I have to sit down again to reflect and orient myself.
Lastly... I am completely fed up with dance. Completely. We had a couple of good practices last week, before which I had to meditate to focus myself in order to not be completely negative about them. Our coaches want us to compete, but I want to learn. I want to learn new figures every week and not continue to use the same old choreo as the framework for increasingly advanced technique. I mention this, and they say things like, "If you don't enjoy what you're dancing now, you're not going to enjoy any of the other figures." That's not the point at all. I want more diversity. I'm just tired of our choreography, tired of the same old arguments and mistakes.
I don't even have the time or the money to compete. I really don't! Maybe after I finish my French degree, Caspian is in medical school and I have my dream job, I could consider getting serious about it. Where will I find time to dance with 55 - 60 hour weeks of work and class? Where will I find the money for lessons with tuition payments due every 2 months?
Next spring, I'm really going to grow that garden I've always wanted. I'm going to take out all the shit in the backyard (old statues, patio furniture, weeds, leftover remodeling materials, etc.) and create a haven. Find the earth again, because I've lost it. I used to take it for granted, but now I live in the middle of a big city, and likely will for some time. Years.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Something to Learn
I'd wondered when I'd be ready, and today was the day, a year since my first weekly lesson at the studio. I finally danced epic latin in front of Pierre. BAH! Who cares if you can speak Swahili in front of the mirror, or play a perfect Christine Daae in the shower. You have to be able to prove it to the people with the experience to judge.
As you read, last Saturday I had kind of a meltdown, and then a sort of epiphany about the whole feel of latin dances, especially rumba and chacha, because samba is our best dance of both categories simply because we have really, really nice action and movement. Chacha gives me trouble because it is so fast and "punchy," with a lot of not-so-subtle stops thrown in and movements initiated fractionally early to give the observer the illusion that you have time to be languid on the beat, and we have some connection problems. Anyway, I said to Mireille, "I feel like I have something to prove," and she was like, "No, you have something to learn. That's all. No different from any of our other competitive couples."
So, I came home, had my little tantrum with a few tears and plenty of pillow-beating, and then I thought to myself later that day when I was calmer, punch. Ooze. Do all of those things that you thought you'd never be able to do. Just pretend. And I did, and it all became real. And it was so incredibly easy today for the first time ever for me to do it, real/pretend, in front of champ couples and even harder, my coach! He was almost shocked; he hasn't seen us dance latin for months, and today we did complete rounds of entire choreographies, bam bam bam.
First, Pierre said, "If you want to hear something nice, call up your mother. If you want to hear the truth, call me." And then he followed that with most beautiful thing: "You and Felix have such an elegant latin partnership." He praised our hip action, our weight changes, and most of all, our timing and musicality. If there are two things I know I am naturally good at, it's timing and musicality, but it is so gratifying to be told so by my coach.
We all need praise. Critique is helpful, but it's all I've gotten recently. Felix called me not 5 minutes after he dropped me off at my house, and he was like, "I never really get to see you dance when I'm dancing with you, but today I saw you dance. I'm so crazy about latin again." I guess he wasn't so crazy recently, just like me; we were weary of our plateau.
Next week: New jive choreography.
As you read, last Saturday I had kind of a meltdown, and then a sort of epiphany about the whole feel of latin dances, especially rumba and chacha, because samba is our best dance of both categories simply because we have really, really nice action and movement. Chacha gives me trouble because it is so fast and "punchy," with a lot of not-so-subtle stops thrown in and movements initiated fractionally early to give the observer the illusion that you have time to be languid on the beat, and we have some connection problems. Anyway, I said to Mireille, "I feel like I have something to prove," and she was like, "No, you have something to learn. That's all. No different from any of our other competitive couples."
So, I came home, had my little tantrum with a few tears and plenty of pillow-beating, and then I thought to myself later that day when I was calmer, punch. Ooze. Do all of those things that you thought you'd never be able to do. Just pretend. And I did, and it all became real. And it was so incredibly easy today for the first time ever for me to do it, real/pretend, in front of champ couples and even harder, my coach! He was almost shocked; he hasn't seen us dance latin for months, and today we did complete rounds of entire choreographies, bam bam bam.
First, Pierre said, "If you want to hear something nice, call up your mother. If you want to hear the truth, call me." And then he followed that with most beautiful thing: "You and Felix have such an elegant latin partnership." He praised our hip action, our weight changes, and most of all, our timing and musicality. If there are two things I know I am naturally good at, it's timing and musicality, but it is so gratifying to be told so by my coach.
We all need praise. Critique is helpful, but it's all I've gotten recently. Felix called me not 5 minutes after he dropped me off at my house, and he was like, "I never really get to see you dance when I'm dancing with you, but today I saw you dance. I'm so crazy about latin again." I guess he wasn't so crazy recently, just like me; we were weary of our plateau.
Next week: New jive choreography.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
::SCREAMS OF RAGE AND FRUSTRATION::
Know what's hard? When your dance partner is better than you. Watching him succeed while you fail and fall apart... It's so hard. No matter how hard you try, you can't do it as easily, fluidly or as beautifully as him. It feels like you're letting him down every time, no matter how many times he tells you he loves you or how patient he assures you he is.
It's impossible to do anything right unless you are taught how first, unless you do it by accident.
It's so hard to accept that fact. Why can't I just download this shit into my brain?
It's impossible to do anything right unless you are taught how first, unless you do it by accident.
It's so hard to accept that fact. Why can't I just download this shit into my brain?
- Heels on the floor on weight-bearing leg in all latin dances, heel clonking IS allowed.
- Arms and body from the waist up extended in the direction you are progressing, esp. rib cage and shoulder blade engaged: Voltas
- Feet fucking turned out! C'mon, girl.
- BIG BIG BIG BIG arms with back engaged!
- Elbow always faces back, never down or in. Looks weak.
- BLAARGGH! Now I feel better.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Mmm, yummy cello noises; like meat taffy!
Also became aware relatively recently that I have mild synesthesia (at least, I think it's mild). I never thought about it until I asked Caspian about it, and he says that no, he doesn't experience the world like that.
When I hear sounds or music, I have a sort of ghost sensation/sight in my brain. Not against my skin or in my field of vision, but I perceive different noises and sounds as 3-dimensional objects in space and time that I can touch and handle with my "mental fingers," if that makes sense at all. Sometimes sounds can be like prickly sea urchins, heavy, cool, extruded blocks of various sizes and lengths or spiky, sharp stars (with light, heat and cold!), or they can even be like different viscosities of liquids and gases streaming through my fingers or over my face. Extrusions and emissions of different shapes and textures of materials are the most common. Still weirder, other sounds I perceive as... Objects or materials that I can chew, explore and understand with my teeth!
Flashing lights or lights that change in brilliance also have tangibility in space and time in my mental horizon, and are even accompanied by a brief, ringing tone or high, sweet sigh - not mental, but actually audible.
Strange, no?
In other news, Felix and I are going tonight to that ballroom dance club we visited with Caspian and his parents in Laval. The place where we got yelled at for taking up to much space and/or being too flashy or having choreography, etc. I wonder if it will happen again?
Uber excited about our latin, but dismayed at our standard. Felix was a professional dancer in Les Grands Ballets Canadiens for like a decade and a half, and he is just too flexible. He can twist above the waist like a human owl or something and splay his feet beyond 180 degrees. I bet he could jump rope with his arms if he clasped his hands. Not a good thing for frame, I decided. Too much range of motion.
My CAQ was accepted by the gouvernement du Québec, and all I have to do is complete a quick transaction at "the nearest terrestrial border," and I will be able to study at McGill all I want.
When I hear sounds or music, I have a sort of ghost sensation/sight in my brain. Not against my skin or in my field of vision, but I perceive different noises and sounds as 3-dimensional objects in space and time that I can touch and handle with my "mental fingers," if that makes sense at all. Sometimes sounds can be like prickly sea urchins, heavy, cool, extruded blocks of various sizes and lengths or spiky, sharp stars (with light, heat and cold!), or they can even be like different viscosities of liquids and gases streaming through my fingers or over my face. Extrusions and emissions of different shapes and textures of materials are the most common. Still weirder, other sounds I perceive as... Objects or materials that I can chew, explore and understand with my teeth!
Flashing lights or lights that change in brilliance also have tangibility in space and time in my mental horizon, and are even accompanied by a brief, ringing tone or high, sweet sigh - not mental, but actually audible.
Strange, no?
In other news, Felix and I are going tonight to that ballroom dance club we visited with Caspian and his parents in Laval. The place where we got yelled at for taking up to much space and/or being too flashy or having choreography, etc. I wonder if it will happen again?
Uber excited about our latin, but dismayed at our standard. Felix was a professional dancer in Les Grands Ballets Canadiens for like a decade and a half, and he is just too flexible. He can twist above the waist like a human owl or something and splay his feet beyond 180 degrees. I bet he could jump rope with his arms if he clasped his hands. Not a good thing for frame, I decided. Too much range of motion.
My CAQ was accepted by the gouvernement du Québec, and all I have to do is complete a quick transaction at "the nearest terrestrial border," and I will be able to study at McGill all I want.
Monday, August 22, 2011
We All Break the Same
I'm depressed.
It's been like this for the last 4 or 5 weeks. I'm just disillusioned with myself and my goals and dance and all sorts of things. I don't have enough money, my career is paused due to language constraints until I spend money I don't have to study French to get my certificate.
Because we practice and practice and practice and have lessons every week at the the same times over and over, there is this illusion that Felix and I keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again and that the same things challenge me no matter how many times I face them. I need some inspiration. I realized in my saturnine, weird, intermittent dreams last night that we are not going to dance at La Relance in September. We haven't admitted it or planned not to dance at it, but we won't.
The first time I brought it up a few weeks ago, Felix was like, "It's such a small competition, not worth our time." The second time, he seemed disinterested and wasn't excited by the costumes that I picked out, so I didn't commit to any of them. The third time he said that he wanted to utterly sweep the floor wherever we competed so that we could compete in the next tier and get new advanced choreo. The fourth time, he told me that our latin wasn't good enough, and that we could compete in standard only, which really befuddled me because I think our standard is lacking and that we should only do latin. Fuck, we've been practicing together hours every week for the last... year. A YEAR. I have probably jumped entire levels in this single year, and yet, it doesn't seem like nearly enough.
He's one of my best friends. His boyfriend has called me up to thank me for finding my way into Felix's life. But sometimes I don't get him and I'm puzzled by his flighty scheduling and vacillations between love of dance with me vs. his reluctance to dance with me in competition. I wish we could just go and have fun. I wish he didn't have ex-partners calling him up and telling him that they'd be in the front row to see how I stack up. I wish costumes were banned like they are in the US in gold and under. The dance milieu is just so hostile in Montréal. I just want to stand on the floor in all of my glory and dance with him.
You know what? Who cares about all of this! Why not keep this simple routine of practicing and partying and enjoying each other's company? Why should I feel so pressured to compete? It doesn't matter. Sure, I want to be a competitive dancer, but every week something improves. Which means every week I practice and don't compete is one less screwup caught on camera or by a judge's eye.
I want to dance a fucking showdance with props and open figures and tons of flashy stuff not allowed in syllabus, in front of a non-dancer audience. Champ dancers from all over the US and Canada come to my studio and I am so weary of being the baby, the rookie. I'm always impressed and never impressive.
It's been like this for the last 4 or 5 weeks. I'm just disillusioned with myself and my goals and dance and all sorts of things. I don't have enough money, my career is paused due to language constraints until I spend money I don't have to study French to get my certificate.
Because we practice and practice and practice and have lessons every week at the the same times over and over, there is this illusion that Felix and I keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again and that the same things challenge me no matter how many times I face them. I need some inspiration. I realized in my saturnine, weird, intermittent dreams last night that we are not going to dance at La Relance in September. We haven't admitted it or planned not to dance at it, but we won't.
The first time I brought it up a few weeks ago, Felix was like, "It's such a small competition, not worth our time." The second time, he seemed disinterested and wasn't excited by the costumes that I picked out, so I didn't commit to any of them. The third time he said that he wanted to utterly sweep the floor wherever we competed so that we could compete in the next tier and get new advanced choreo. The fourth time, he told me that our latin wasn't good enough, and that we could compete in standard only, which really befuddled me because I think our standard is lacking and that we should only do latin. Fuck, we've been practicing together hours every week for the last... year. A YEAR. I have probably jumped entire levels in this single year, and yet, it doesn't seem like nearly enough.
He's one of my best friends. His boyfriend has called me up to thank me for finding my way into Felix's life. But sometimes I don't get him and I'm puzzled by his flighty scheduling and vacillations between love of dance with me vs. his reluctance to dance with me in competition. I wish we could just go and have fun. I wish he didn't have ex-partners calling him up and telling him that they'd be in the front row to see how I stack up. I wish costumes were banned like they are in the US in gold and under. The dance milieu is just so hostile in Montréal. I just want to stand on the floor in all of my glory and dance with him.
You know what? Who cares about all of this! Why not keep this simple routine of practicing and partying and enjoying each other's company? Why should I feel so pressured to compete? It doesn't matter. Sure, I want to be a competitive dancer, but every week something improves. Which means every week I practice and don't compete is one less screwup caught on camera or by a judge's eye.
I want to dance a fucking showdance with props and open figures and tons of flashy stuff not allowed in syllabus, in front of a non-dancer audience. Champ dancers from all over the US and Canada come to my studio and I am so weary of being the baby, the rookie. I'm always impressed and never impressive.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Patience is a Virtue
Four hours of dancing behind us today, and we're still stumped by our second quickstep long wall. Hesitation, double reverse spin turn (or something), quick outside reverse, reverse pivot, quick outside reverse, four quick run. Well. I'm not stumped... Felix is. It's the outside reverse - pivot - outside reverse combo, it is giving him hell for unknown reasons, he can't keep his feet on their two separate tracks and we've been working on these figures for months now. I stood aside for most of our lesson today, watching him work with Mireille. During our two hours, we only did two sets of figures; a corner set for slow waltz (natural spin, reverse pivot to a whisk, wing) and the quickstep grouping described above.
I'm frustrated. I shouldn't be. I should be more patient.
The main focus was alignment. Making sure we're not over-rotating anything, since Felix has a tendency to do this with his upper body while his lower body is on the right vector. He is just too damn flexible for his own good. God, it was so hard today, but I think we prevented our artistic flair from carrying us away for the first time. We tend to develop our own alignments if we aren't supervised and our choreography becomes warped. When our coaches see it again, they say, "What the fuck [sic] are you dancing? I didn't teach you that!" Mireille accuses us of "latinizing" our standard figures. Urgh.
At least our rumba walks are totally kickass. You should see them.
I'm frustrated. I shouldn't be. I should be more patient.
The main focus was alignment. Making sure we're not over-rotating anything, since Felix has a tendency to do this with his upper body while his lower body is on the right vector. He is just too damn flexible for his own good. God, it was so hard today, but I think we prevented our artistic flair from carrying us away for the first time. We tend to develop our own alignments if we aren't supervised and our choreography becomes warped. When our coaches see it again, they say, "What the fuck [sic] are you dancing? I didn't teach you that!" Mireille accuses us of "latinizing" our standard figures. Urgh.
At least our rumba walks are totally kickass. You should see them.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Don't be OLD PEOPLE!
It's been awhile, hasn't it? Lots of insanity here... Caspian's parents have been in town for the last 10 days. We have done everything there is to do, and it's been nightmarishly hot the whole time, and I didn't get time off, and Caspian is on vacation, and Felix was trying to convey in English the verb "to ejaculate" using outrageous nonverbals in public (don't ask why, it's a long story), and I saw Cirque du Soleil, and I got stormed upon, and I've ridden the sweltering hell tube (the metro) at least 25 times in the past few days, and - and - and -
One of the best moments was last night, when we were all eating at this little Italian place on Rue Prince-Arthur. We'd finished our meal and I was gearing up for some dancing at a social dance venue in Laval, when Caspian's mom exclaimed that she'd like to retire for the evening and watch some TV. I was dismayed. We'd planned on going out for a week, and it was only 9:30pm. Felix suddenly exclaimed, "Don't be OLD PEOPLE." And then glared at Caspian's parents in consternation, who were flabbergasted at being so openly accused. I burst out laughing. You can always count on Felix to take charge of a situation and force everyone into having fun if needs be! It's what makes him such an excellent tango partner.
We attempted to perform our choreography at this venue to practice our floorcraft, but we were met by outrageous and vocal hostility. Couples would shout at us to take our "high-level dancing" off the floor, and that we weren't wanted there. We shrugged and kept dancing (Felix was so outrageously derisive), even though it was extremely difficult to quickstep or waltz with all of the moseying social dancers on the floor. Our rumba and chacha routines are so mobile and dynamic that we had to creatively weave our way around the floor. Our rival couple was there too, for unknown reasons, and the male half of the partnership has gained about 30 lbs over the past year; it's very evident, as his partner is about three inches taller than him and a size zero. I have to admit that Felix and I are a much better match. I wonder if judges take that into consideration?
I was on my way out when a man stopped me, gave me a once-over and said in French (and then had to explain in English, to his embarrassment), "If you ever wanted to dance rumba with me, I'd never say no." Oy.
And then it was suddenly 1am and Caspian's mom asked to be driven to their flat in Vieux Montréal, which took over an hour due to ubiquitous detours and the fact of the entire city being in a joyous uproar. Traffic was gridlocked and revelers filled the cobblestone streets, worshiping the brief hot summer weather. Caspian and I offered to be dropped at the Berri-UQAM metro station, but Felix insisted upon taking us to our house in Ville-Marie - but first we picked up his 18-year-old nephew and a friend, both from Québec City, who had been to a heavy metal concert in Montréal and were staying with Felix and Raomi for the weekend. Cool kids. I find it so delightful to hear even the most punklike, rebellious teenagers suddenly start speaking fluent French, it's really shocking.
Anyway, I'm all typed out and my coffee cup needs refilling. I swear I won't wait that long to post again.
One of the best moments was last night, when we were all eating at this little Italian place on Rue Prince-Arthur. We'd finished our meal and I was gearing up for some dancing at a social dance venue in Laval, when Caspian's mom exclaimed that she'd like to retire for the evening and watch some TV. I was dismayed. We'd planned on going out for a week, and it was only 9:30pm. Felix suddenly exclaimed, "Don't be OLD PEOPLE." And then glared at Caspian's parents in consternation, who were flabbergasted at being so openly accused. I burst out laughing. You can always count on Felix to take charge of a situation and force everyone into having fun if needs be! It's what makes him such an excellent tango partner.
We attempted to perform our choreography at this venue to practice our floorcraft, but we were met by outrageous and vocal hostility. Couples would shout at us to take our "high-level dancing" off the floor, and that we weren't wanted there. We shrugged and kept dancing (Felix was so outrageously derisive), even though it was extremely difficult to quickstep or waltz with all of the moseying social dancers on the floor. Our rumba and chacha routines are so mobile and dynamic that we had to creatively weave our way around the floor. Our rival couple was there too, for unknown reasons, and the male half of the partnership has gained about 30 lbs over the past year; it's very evident, as his partner is about three inches taller than him and a size zero. I have to admit that Felix and I are a much better match. I wonder if judges take that into consideration?
I was on my way out when a man stopped me, gave me a once-over and said in French (and then had to explain in English, to his embarrassment), "If you ever wanted to dance rumba with me, I'd never say no." Oy.
And then it was suddenly 1am and Caspian's mom asked to be driven to their flat in Vieux Montréal, which took over an hour due to ubiquitous detours and the fact of the entire city being in a joyous uproar. Traffic was gridlocked and revelers filled the cobblestone streets, worshiping the brief hot summer weather. Caspian and I offered to be dropped at the Berri-UQAM metro station, but Felix insisted upon taking us to our house in Ville-Marie - but first we picked up his 18-year-old nephew and a friend, both from Québec City, who had been to a heavy metal concert in Montréal and were staying with Felix and Raomi for the weekend. Cool kids. I find it so delightful to hear even the most punklike, rebellious teenagers suddenly start speaking fluent French, it's really shocking.
Anyway, I'm all typed out and my coffee cup needs refilling. I swear I won't wait that long to post again.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Hoom Hom.
This morning, Raomi came with Felix and I to our practice session. He thought he had a suitable partner lined up for months, but she backed out at the last minute. Now he thinks he has another possible partner, but he's wary. He has such high expectations! When I went to my audition with Felix, there were no thoughts in my brain, fortunately. No expectations of deep friendship, no competition dreams. I just wanted to dance with another dancer. I always, always throw myself into relationships with no expectations, childlike, I think it's one of my good points.
Felix told me later that he was really jaded when he came to that audition. It would take me hours to write up all of the insane stories he's told me about ex-partners going bonkers in the middle of Latin finals, or jumping him after a couple drinks, or outweighing him by 50 lbs. An ex-partner's husband would come to all of their practices to keep his wife in line, and for good reason. And then there were the embarrassing stripper-dancing partner, the floozy partner, the extreme feminist partner who danced with him for years and wouldn't even commit to a partnership. There was one partner, a lovely dancer, who seemed perfect - but they had no chemistry. They simply couldn't stand to touch each other, and the partnership fell apart. The poor guy has had more partners than Silvio Berlusconi.
Finally he said to our coaches, "Don't call me about anybody looking for a partner unless she's a pearl." And for years, he only danced with his teacher, Sylvain. He'd had enough of crazy women.
What am I getting at here? Well, I told Raomi that he shouldn't go into a recreational partnership with tons of baggage and outrageous expectations. I guess it's good to have goals, but don't let them eclipse an open-minded experience. For all I know, I'll go bonkers in the middle of Latin finals and walk off the floor. I think Felix has finally realized that I am who I am and I don't have a hidden true nature to reveal. I'm so glad went to that first meeting innocent and open-minded, completely unaware of Felix's baggage.
Raomi seems to be open with his criticisms. He was very quick to let me know that he thought I needed more hip action in chacha and to turn up the vulgarity in rumba. His first observation was probably true (it was our first dance during practice this morning), but his second irked me a little bit. I have come so far regarding emotional expression through dance. I'm a classy person. I don't think I will ever be one of those fiery, ultrasexual, man-eating rumba partners from whom not even light can escape. There are a million ways to express love and lust and the interplay between two partners in rumba and I am sure I can do it without vulgarity. Hrmph.
Last Thursday, Manasvi and I were sitting in a coffee shop, discussing life and everything, and decided to embark on a 30-day paleo challenge. The paleo way of eating is based on the hunter-gatherer lifestyle of our ancient ancestors, and eliminates all processed sugars, processed foods, grains and dairy with the intent of giving one's body the opportunity to function in the way it evolved to function. In other words, it's just a healthy diet. Eat simple things, go easy on the carbs; meats, nuts, veggies and fruits. Don't eat crap and don't eat chemicals.
Caspian and I went to the grocery store and stocked up on different kinds of meats, fish, fresh and dried fruits, nuts and vegetables. This is waaaay different from my normal diet, which is really high in whole grains and milk products (a bowl of cereal takes like 15 seconds to prepare) and moderate to low in animal proteins/fats. I think it will be a good change, and if I can't stand it after 30 days, I'll quit. The only thing I refuse to give up is coffee with cream; I can't survive without it.
Felix told me later that he was really jaded when he came to that audition. It would take me hours to write up all of the insane stories he's told me about ex-partners going bonkers in the middle of Latin finals, or jumping him after a couple drinks, or outweighing him by 50 lbs. An ex-partner's husband would come to all of their practices to keep his wife in line, and for good reason. And then there were the embarrassing stripper-dancing partner, the floozy partner, the extreme feminist partner who danced with him for years and wouldn't even commit to a partnership. There was one partner, a lovely dancer, who seemed perfect - but they had no chemistry. They simply couldn't stand to touch each other, and the partnership fell apart. The poor guy has had more partners than Silvio Berlusconi.
Finally he said to our coaches, "Don't call me about anybody looking for a partner unless she's a pearl." And for years, he only danced with his teacher, Sylvain. He'd had enough of crazy women.
What am I getting at here? Well, I told Raomi that he shouldn't go into a recreational partnership with tons of baggage and outrageous expectations. I guess it's good to have goals, but don't let them eclipse an open-minded experience. For all I know, I'll go bonkers in the middle of Latin finals and walk off the floor. I think Felix has finally realized that I am who I am and I don't have a hidden true nature to reveal. I'm so glad went to that first meeting innocent and open-minded, completely unaware of Felix's baggage.
Raomi seems to be open with his criticisms. He was very quick to let me know that he thought I needed more hip action in chacha and to turn up the vulgarity in rumba. His first observation was probably true (it was our first dance during practice this morning), but his second irked me a little bit. I have come so far regarding emotional expression through dance. I'm a classy person. I don't think I will ever be one of those fiery, ultrasexual, man-eating rumba partners from whom not even light can escape. There are a million ways to express love and lust and the interplay between two partners in rumba and I am sure I can do it without vulgarity. Hrmph.
Last Thursday, Manasvi and I were sitting in a coffee shop, discussing life and everything, and decided to embark on a 30-day paleo challenge. The paleo way of eating is based on the hunter-gatherer lifestyle of our ancient ancestors, and eliminates all processed sugars, processed foods, grains and dairy with the intent of giving one's body the opportunity to function in the way it evolved to function. In other words, it's just a healthy diet. Eat simple things, go easy on the carbs; meats, nuts, veggies and fruits. Don't eat crap and don't eat chemicals.
Caspian and I went to the grocery store and stocked up on different kinds of meats, fish, fresh and dried fruits, nuts and vegetables. This is waaaay different from my normal diet, which is really high in whole grains and milk products (a bowl of cereal takes like 15 seconds to prepare) and moderate to low in animal proteins/fats. I think it will be a good change, and if I can't stand it after 30 days, I'll quit. The only thing I refuse to give up is coffee with cream; I can't survive without it.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
I'm armed and dangerous. With Rosetta Stone. Watch out world.
Felix and I had our first dance lesson in a month today; what with all of our traveling and his crazy schedule and Pierre and Mireille off adjutanting or whatever at different comps around the world, it's been hard to find the time. Breakthroughs on waltz (1 hour), foxy (20 mins) and quickstep (20 mins). There was a 20-something standard dancer there who kept checking himself out and I'd keep catching him at it, and it was completely redonkulous. He is a decent dancer, pre-champ I'm sure, but his dainty posturing didn't give him a particularly virile edge; at least Felix has that going for him. Anyway, this guy would paste on his vapid waltz smile and sashay around the room, stop in front of the mirror, puff out his chest, examine his bubble butt and then catch me with my eyebrows raised and twinkletoes off in a new direction. This happened at least four times during my lesson.
Whenever Felix and I get into frame, we have a silent war with our clasped, outstretched hands. He wants my hand to fit his a certain way, but I want it to be a different way, and we stand there battling with our thumbs until we reach a compromise. Pierre thought this was singularly funny, us with our airy smiles, standing gracefully for long periods of time while the music leaves us behind, squishing and twiddling our hands midair. Well, we finally solved this problem today! All Felix has to do is hold his hand up in a mitten shape at a 45-degree angle! We are using the parallel thumb hold rather than the crossed thumb hold.
And at least 5 times during our lesson, Felix would screw up and shout out "TA-ber-NAC!" (an old-fashioned Québecois curse word with roughly the same oomph as "FUCK IT!") and the moms of the little kid couple (dayum those kids are skilled) would look up in startled irritation every time. Pierre would dissolve in peals of delighted laughter. In addition to being a 12-time North American Ten-Dance Champion, he loves slang, dirty words and especially scandalizing people. Fun times.
In other news, I got a bombshell e-mail from my trainer manager that pretty much knocked me into grad school pre-exam levels of stress... Apparently, the Japanese coordinator wants to give me another Japanese test. Why? No clue. I took one last fall, and I'm sure as hell not going to score much higher now unless they give me some time to get my vocabulary up to par. And Caspian is [rightfully] pressuring me to get more serious about French, as my certification studies at McGill University are about 6 months away (if all goes well, financially). Oof. And thus, Rosetta Stone! Caspian gave Level 1 a test drive this afternoon and now I hear a calm woman's voice announcing une fille! un homme! un avion! une fille et un cheval! over and over in my brain. I also learned today that 'hangover' in French is mal à les cheveux, something like 'hair trouble' or even 'hairache.' Weird.
Felix and I had our first dance lesson in a month today; what with all of our traveling and his crazy schedule and Pierre and Mireille off adjutanting or whatever at different comps around the world, it's been hard to find the time. Breakthroughs on waltz (1 hour), foxy (20 mins) and quickstep (20 mins). There was a 20-something standard dancer there who kept checking himself out and I'd keep catching him at it, and it was completely redonkulous. He is a decent dancer, pre-champ I'm sure, but his dainty posturing didn't give him a particularly virile edge; at least Felix has that going for him. Anyway, this guy would paste on his vapid waltz smile and sashay around the room, stop in front of the mirror, puff out his chest, examine his bubble butt and then catch me with my eyebrows raised and twinkletoes off in a new direction. This happened at least four times during my lesson.
Whenever Felix and I get into frame, we have a silent war with our clasped, outstretched hands. He wants my hand to fit his a certain way, but I want it to be a different way, and we stand there battling with our thumbs until we reach a compromise. Pierre thought this was singularly funny, us with our airy smiles, standing gracefully for long periods of time while the music leaves us behind, squishing and twiddling our hands midair. Well, we finally solved this problem today! All Felix has to do is hold his hand up in a mitten shape at a 45-degree angle! We are using the parallel thumb hold rather than the crossed thumb hold.
And at least 5 times during our lesson, Felix would screw up and shout out "TA-ber-NAC!" (an old-fashioned Québecois curse word with roughly the same oomph as "FUCK IT!") and the moms of the little kid couple (dayum those kids are skilled) would look up in startled irritation every time. Pierre would dissolve in peals of delighted laughter. In addition to being a 12-time North American Ten-Dance Champion, he loves slang, dirty words and especially scandalizing people. Fun times.
In other news, I got a bombshell e-mail from my trainer manager that pretty much knocked me into grad school pre-exam levels of stress... Apparently, the Japanese coordinator wants to give me another Japanese test. Why? No clue. I took one last fall, and I'm sure as hell not going to score much higher now unless they give me some time to get my vocabulary up to par. And Caspian is [rightfully] pressuring me to get more serious about French, as my certification studies at McGill University are about 6 months away (if all goes well, financially). Oof. And thus, Rosetta Stone! Caspian gave Level 1 a test drive this afternoon and now I hear a calm woman's voice announcing une fille! un homme! un avion! une fille et un cheval! over and over in my brain. I also learned today that 'hangover' in French is mal à les cheveux, something like 'hair trouble' or even 'hairache.' Weird.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Tough Love
A cold, weepy evening, yet the leaves are half-out and the tulips all blooming.
The Experience of the Day? A 2-hour chacha lesson that left me feeling murderously frustrated with myself and completely aware of how much I suck. I really hated the fact that Felix was so concerned about my mental state that he spent the last 30 minutes of the lesson reminding me of what I was doing well, since I'd been buckshot by criticisms for the previous 1.5 hours. I hate that I apparently looked like I needed comfort, since I got it both from Mireille and Felix. I didn't want it and for about 15 minutes I didn't want to even look at Felix or Mireille (Felix because he is so damn fucking good at Latin and Mireille just because she was the irrational focus of my ire). In fact, after our lesson, as we were changing in the vestiaire, Felix asked in a subdued little voice, "How do you feel?" And my response was (after beating back a couple of truthful responses that would have totally embarrassed me) a succinct, "Ask me in 15 minutes."
Mireille said something like, "I look at many of my students and I'm overwhelmed by how far they have to go. But not when I look at you." And then she cocked an eyebrow at me as if to say, "That's all you get, now grow up." I liked it. No sugary crap or fillers or bait to secure my custom. Reminds me of my very first solo piano master class at ASU and of my silent edifice of a teacher, who had never before aimed a positive word in my direction. I stood up shakily after performing La fille aux cheveux de lin, and he said ponderously with his great, black, caterpillar-like brows turning his eye sockets to dark pits in the dimmed lights of the Rosen Concert Hall, "I didn't think you had a future in performance." The breath literally fell out of my lungs and I think my heart stopped for a few seconds.
"Until now."
Crepes and coffee together at our favorite little café restored my good humor and had me kicking myself for my childish reaction. I can't believe how aggressive I was at the end of that lesson. BAH. Story of my life.
Regarding dance, I remember one time when my ex-boyfriend said (and I am sure he believed it) to me gently and cruelly, "You're not a natural." Whether that's true or not is irrelevant. Yeah, it's hard for me. It doesn't come as easily to me as other things. It pisses me off and frustrates the hell out of me and yet I go back for more, day after day, week after week, and probably for the rest of my life. Confronting shitty emotional turmoil like the nonsense this morning is really good for me. I've heard that failure sucks, but it's only failure if I quit.
There are some things that should never, ever be said, true or not.
The Experience of the Day? A 2-hour chacha lesson that left me feeling murderously frustrated with myself and completely aware of how much I suck. I really hated the fact that Felix was so concerned about my mental state that he spent the last 30 minutes of the lesson reminding me of what I was doing well, since I'd been buckshot by criticisms for the previous 1.5 hours. I hate that I apparently looked like I needed comfort, since I got it both from Mireille and Felix. I didn't want it and for about 15 minutes I didn't want to even look at Felix or Mireille (Felix because he is so damn fucking good at Latin and Mireille just because she was the irrational focus of my ire). In fact, after our lesson, as we were changing in the vestiaire, Felix asked in a subdued little voice, "How do you feel?" And my response was (after beating back a couple of truthful responses that would have totally embarrassed me) a succinct, "Ask me in 15 minutes."
Mireille said something like, "I look at many of my students and I'm overwhelmed by how far they have to go. But not when I look at you." And then she cocked an eyebrow at me as if to say, "That's all you get, now grow up." I liked it. No sugary crap or fillers or bait to secure my custom. Reminds me of my very first solo piano master class at ASU and of my silent edifice of a teacher, who had never before aimed a positive word in my direction. I stood up shakily after performing La fille aux cheveux de lin, and he said ponderously with his great, black, caterpillar-like brows turning his eye sockets to dark pits in the dimmed lights of the Rosen Concert Hall, "I didn't think you had a future in performance." The breath literally fell out of my lungs and I think my heart stopped for a few seconds.
"Until now."
Crepes and coffee together at our favorite little café restored my good humor and had me kicking myself for my childish reaction. I can't believe how aggressive I was at the end of that lesson. BAH. Story of my life.
Regarding dance, I remember one time when my ex-boyfriend said (and I am sure he believed it) to me gently and cruelly, "You're not a natural." Whether that's true or not is irrelevant. Yeah, it's hard for me. It doesn't come as easily to me as other things. It pisses me off and frustrates the hell out of me and yet I go back for more, day after day, week after week, and probably for the rest of my life. Confronting shitty emotional turmoil like the nonsense this morning is really good for me. I've heard that failure sucks, but it's only failure if I quit.
There are some things that should never, ever be said, true or not.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Happy People Write Boring Posts II
I was recalling the post I wrote many moons ago, when I first arrived in Montréal and Caspian and I were taking a walk around our little section of town, just east of Westmount. I felt cornered and intimidated by the city.
Tonight, on this cool, breezy spring evening, we took a walk along Maisonneuve, and I felt exactly the opposite. I was entertained by the strange people we passed, the many languages we heard, the faces from all over the world. Cooking smells of five countries mingled together in one block. I knew where I was, and where I could find the most beautiful gardens. I loved the vista and the liveliness and the greenish sheets of skyscraper glass etched by the sunset clouds. I really love this place. I love Caspian, even though he won't skip and hop and sprint about with me; he sort of waits, sedately strolling, until I'm finished frolicking. I want to be a child like this forever.
Felix and I were up early yesterday morning for our tango lesson with Pierre Allaire. After our lesson, Felix and he were talking about me behind my back as I was changing. P asked him if there were any problems stemming from us speaking different languages; Felix laughed and said, "When little kids play together, is language ever an issue?" I love it. We are just like kids. Both Pierre and Mireille asserted their shared belief that I am the best partner of all time for Felix, in personality, motivation, skill and body type. Felix reported all of this to me later, during brunch (blueberry crepes and coffee!), and I was tickled and totally high-fiving myself for tango well danced. And then we practiced for 2 hours after brunch, lugging our full tummies around twist turns... I lie. We danced beautifully.
It's kind of sickeningly boring when I'm content and write blog posts.
Tonight, on this cool, breezy spring evening, we took a walk along Maisonneuve, and I felt exactly the opposite. I was entertained by the strange people we passed, the many languages we heard, the faces from all over the world. Cooking smells of five countries mingled together in one block. I knew where I was, and where I could find the most beautiful gardens. I loved the vista and the liveliness and the greenish sheets of skyscraper glass etched by the sunset clouds. I really love this place. I love Caspian, even though he won't skip and hop and sprint about with me; he sort of waits, sedately strolling, until I'm finished frolicking. I want to be a child like this forever.
Felix and I were up early yesterday morning for our tango lesson with Pierre Allaire. After our lesson, Felix and he were talking about me behind my back as I was changing. P asked him if there were any problems stemming from us speaking different languages; Felix laughed and said, "When little kids play together, is language ever an issue?" I love it. We are just like kids. Both Pierre and Mireille asserted their shared belief that I am the best partner of all time for Felix, in personality, motivation, skill and body type. Felix reported all of this to me later, during brunch (blueberry crepes and coffee!), and I was tickled and totally high-fiving myself for tango well danced. And then we practiced for 2 hours after brunch, lugging our full tummies around twist turns... I lie. We danced beautifully.
It's kind of sickeningly boring when I'm content and write blog posts.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Beads on a String
It seems that I'm most inclined to post on the weekends; my weekdays pass like beads on a string, mostly alike in terms of my moods and activities (and the weather, which has been awful), ever since Felix started these two new contracts. I work and work and work, work out, go out for dinner or cook, read and then sleep. Caspian has been ultra-social recently, going out at least a few evenings a week and returning late at night.
Now that I think of it, my days aren't SO alike... M (now named Manasvi) and I (who will be referred to thus as Bubbles) and I (ha) have been out on certain early mornings, sprinting and jogging and otherwise goofing off in the rain. Sometimes Manasvi and I take some time out of our busy schedules to have intellectual conversations at our favorite coffee joint. Caspian and I have continued our Argentine tango adventures; Caspian exclaimed this morning that he'd like to continue into the next 10-week session and learn intermediate figures! Insanity.
Felix and I managed last night to remember our entire tango routine, which is long. Not as long as our rumba routine, which lasts for almost 120 seconds (and we likely won't ever get to complete it in competition), but it still contains a whole pile of challenging figures. We spent an hour on it last night, and I was as soaking wet with sweat as I'd be after running for an hour. Our other hour of practice was spent on all latin dances (20 mins) and then on all other standard dances (foxy, quickstep, waltz). I am sore this morning, especially in my lower back, feet, quads and glutes. We get to repeat it all tomorrow; lesson from 10 - 11a, practice from 12:30 - 2:30p.
One time we got into frame almost perfectly, really dramatically, stood for a second, and then we both frenetically shuffled around in place going clompclompclompclomp with all four of our combined feet in the same square foot and then practice went downhill from there (in terms of our seriousness and ability to concentrate). He was up really early yesterday morning (4:30a!!!!!) for work, and while driving from Deux Montagnes to Montréal for practice, he fell asleep and sideswiped a guardrail, causing probably $4000 worth of damage to the driver's side of his car. But, true to his nickname, he brushed his shoulders off, called Raomi briefly (who raged for awhile before asking him if he was okay), and clowned around as usual.
Did you know that foxtrot in French is called "slow fox"? And that standard is called modern?
Oh, and I also discovered that I hate overcooked edamame as much as I hate undercooked. I now simmer for exactly 3.5 minutes.
Now that I think of it, my days aren't SO alike... M (now named Manasvi) and I (who will be referred to thus as Bubbles) and I (ha) have been out on certain early mornings, sprinting and jogging and otherwise goofing off in the rain. Sometimes Manasvi and I take some time out of our busy schedules to have intellectual conversations at our favorite coffee joint. Caspian and I have continued our Argentine tango adventures; Caspian exclaimed this morning that he'd like to continue into the next 10-week session and learn intermediate figures! Insanity.
Felix and I managed last night to remember our entire tango routine, which is long. Not as long as our rumba routine, which lasts for almost 120 seconds (and we likely won't ever get to complete it in competition), but it still contains a whole pile of challenging figures. We spent an hour on it last night, and I was as soaking wet with sweat as I'd be after running for an hour. Our other hour of practice was spent on all latin dances (20 mins) and then on all other standard dances (foxy, quickstep, waltz). I am sore this morning, especially in my lower back, feet, quads and glutes. We get to repeat it all tomorrow; lesson from 10 - 11a, practice from 12:30 - 2:30p.
One time we got into frame almost perfectly, really dramatically, stood for a second, and then we both frenetically shuffled around in place going clompclompclompclomp with all four of our combined feet in the same square foot and then practice went downhill from there (in terms of our seriousness and ability to concentrate). He was up really early yesterday morning (4:30a!!!!!) for work, and while driving from Deux Montagnes to Montréal for practice, he fell asleep and sideswiped a guardrail, causing probably $4000 worth of damage to the driver's side of his car. But, true to his nickname, he brushed his shoulders off, called Raomi briefly (who raged for awhile before asking him if he was okay), and clowned around as usual.
Did you know that foxtrot in French is called "slow fox"? And that standard is called modern?
Oh, and I also discovered that I hate overcooked edamame as much as I hate undercooked. I now simmer for exactly 3.5 minutes.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Work, Tango, more Tango
Good morning, world! Happy Friday.
Seven consecutive days with no dancing; this is not life! We couldn't get reservations at any of our practice locations on any days except early on Saturday and Sunday morning. I spent many evenings this week working instead. I told my manager that I would be willing to change my schedule to continuous (to teach lessons consecutively without 15-minute breaks after every hour), and this small change has affected the way that my students book my available hours in such a way that I now have almost twice as much work. Good, and also a bit exhausting. A LOT exhausting. It's very cognitive, communicative, active work, and it requires quite a bit of diplomacy. It's always an interesting experience to be in a position of power (as teacher) over CEOs of large corporations, world-famous digital animation gurus and geophysicists.
I've also done quite a bit of writing this week, with pen and paper. It has gotten easier with time and practice and doesn't feel nearly as futile as it did a week ago.
In other news, Caspian and I had our first Argentine tango lesson last night at my friend Alain's studio. It took us awhile to find, as it was nestled away a few floors up inside a warrenlike, incense-charged old building off of St. Laurent. But find it we did, A greeted me warmly, and we began our group lesson with about 6 or so other couples ranging in age from mid-twenties to fifties or sixties. I was the only woman wearing high heels, in the form of latin shoes. Most of our classmates were completely bilingual, but some were francophones and others anglophones, so the class was taught in an awesome mix of French and English that is unique in the world. I love this city, I love its people, its tensions, arguments and swirl of differences.
Being a bit of a dominator, Caspian is completely comfortable with directing my movements and physically imposing himself upon a dance partner; ergo, he is a natural at tango. He's a musician and his rhythm is spot-on, and he is more aware of his position in space than most men, probably because of previous dance and figure skating experience. I think we will be a beautiful Argentine tango couple, although it was baffling at the beginning to dance with him. He is significantly taller than Felix and broader in the shoulders. The attitude, movements, positions and figures of Argentine tango come easily to me. For now.
This evening, I'm going with Caspian and a bunch of his colleagues and friends to a "sugar shack" (cabane à sucre) - a place that harvests maple sap and transforms it into maple syrup, sugar and other confections and flavorings. There is restaurant as well, and much of the food incorporates maple harvested right there. Many of these sugar shacks are very, very old. Maple is my most favoritest taste! I'm excited.
Felix and I will be spending a lot of time together this weekend to make up for the dearth of dance during the week. We have a new tango routine to puzzle out!
Seven consecutive days with no dancing; this is not life! We couldn't get reservations at any of our practice locations on any days except early on Saturday and Sunday morning. I spent many evenings this week working instead. I told my manager that I would be willing to change my schedule to continuous (to teach lessons consecutively without 15-minute breaks after every hour), and this small change has affected the way that my students book my available hours in such a way that I now have almost twice as much work. Good, and also a bit exhausting. A LOT exhausting. It's very cognitive, communicative, active work, and it requires quite a bit of diplomacy. It's always an interesting experience to be in a position of power (as teacher) over CEOs of large corporations, world-famous digital animation gurus and geophysicists.
I've also done quite a bit of writing this week, with pen and paper. It has gotten easier with time and practice and doesn't feel nearly as futile as it did a week ago.
In other news, Caspian and I had our first Argentine tango lesson last night at my friend Alain's studio. It took us awhile to find, as it was nestled away a few floors up inside a warrenlike, incense-charged old building off of St. Laurent. But find it we did, A greeted me warmly, and we began our group lesson with about 6 or so other couples ranging in age from mid-twenties to fifties or sixties. I was the only woman wearing high heels, in the form of latin shoes. Most of our classmates were completely bilingual, but some were francophones and others anglophones, so the class was taught in an awesome mix of French and English that is unique in the world. I love this city, I love its people, its tensions, arguments and swirl of differences.
Being a bit of a dominator, Caspian is completely comfortable with directing my movements and physically imposing himself upon a dance partner; ergo, he is a natural at tango. He's a musician and his rhythm is spot-on, and he is more aware of his position in space than most men, probably because of previous dance and figure skating experience. I think we will be a beautiful Argentine tango couple, although it was baffling at the beginning to dance with him. He is significantly taller than Felix and broader in the shoulders. The attitude, movements, positions and figures of Argentine tango come easily to me. For now.
This evening, I'm going with Caspian and a bunch of his colleagues and friends to a "sugar shack" (cabane à sucre) - a place that harvests maple sap and transforms it into maple syrup, sugar and other confections and flavorings. There is restaurant as well, and much of the food incorporates maple harvested right there. Many of these sugar shacks are very, very old. Maple is my most favoritest taste! I'm excited.
Felix and I will be spending a lot of time together this weekend to make up for the dearth of dance during the week. We have a new tango routine to puzzle out!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Looking Forward/Backward
It's strange adapting my writing to another medium, and to address a new audience... Me. Why would I need a backstory? Why would I need to explain my reasoning? Wouldn't it be a simple thing to record happenings and thoughts, to let my mind wander as it would without following the logic that has been hammered into me by the educational system? I've been telling you my story for so long that I've forgotten the magic of telling me my story, without thinking of you.
Once again, I have begun a written journal. I'm struggling because it is now an imperfect medium, to my mind. Fleeting nonsense and initial word choices are forever immortalized on the page (I hate crossing things out). My hands write so slowly. I don't have the ability to go back and edit for continuity. Stupid stuff is scripted in bold oriental blue, and there's nothing I can do about it except harumph to myself and get disillusioned with the whole concept of a written journal...
Which is exactly why I am doing it. I'm not writing a press release or a research paper; I'm writing about my innermost thoughts, the happenings of my days, whatever whims crowd most aggressively to the forefront of my mind, and why the HELL should I be ashamed of them or this organic process. Sheesh. Organic process is right! Is write.
Felix and I got 15 figures of our tango routine last night from Mireille, and spent a good hour arguing about it at practice this morning... Our combined brainpower couldn't recall more than 80% of the details of our choreography, even though M kindly wrote our routine down, along with the counts. We spent quite awhile on quickstep. Dancing QS with Felix is like getting into frame with a tornado and holding on for dear life. There have been moments during lessons and practice when he is carrying all of my weight and momentum and my feet aren't even on the floor. We had samba technique as well, and the main piece of advice: ++bounce, ++ languid. We are both light (130/105 lbs.) and short (5'8"/5'3"), a hyperish couple, and we tend to flit about and speed through everything, emphasizing stops and dramatic moments, but losing fluidity in the process. It was a good observation. Felix also leads a particular turn a fraction of a beat too early and I fight the lead, and he responds aggressively by moving our connected hands beyond my turning axis (hopefully directly above my head), which makes me briefly backweighted. Another good observation.
Caspian didn't get home from partying until 2 AM last night! I was in bed at 11 and wondering what sorts of hijinks he was getting up to. I woke up early and met Felix at our usual metro station, and we practiced for a few hours. Almost as soon as I arrived home afterward, I joined the throngs of people crowding along Ste. Catherine Ouest to buy frames for two oil paintings. It was a beautiful, warm day. I was very content. I am very content, as is Caspian. I don't think I have ever seen him more buoyantly full of joy than he was today. The crocuses are pushing up in the front garden, lavender and violet and buttery yellow. In my journal today, I mused about how effortlessly our lives intersect with the lives of others at almost magically optimal moments. I mourned for an instant the optimal moments I've missed by making the choices I've made, but I look ahead to future instants, minutes, years when threads come together to weave glorious patterns. You don't really see the patterns until you look back, anyway.
Once again, I have begun a written journal. I'm struggling because it is now an imperfect medium, to my mind. Fleeting nonsense and initial word choices are forever immortalized on the page (I hate crossing things out). My hands write so slowly. I don't have the ability to go back and edit for continuity. Stupid stuff is scripted in bold oriental blue, and there's nothing I can do about it except harumph to myself and get disillusioned with the whole concept of a written journal...
Which is exactly why I am doing it. I'm not writing a press release or a research paper; I'm writing about my innermost thoughts, the happenings of my days, whatever whims crowd most aggressively to the forefront of my mind, and why the HELL should I be ashamed of them or this organic process. Sheesh. Organic process is right! Is write.
Felix and I got 15 figures of our tango routine last night from Mireille, and spent a good hour arguing about it at practice this morning... Our combined brainpower couldn't recall more than 80% of the details of our choreography, even though M kindly wrote our routine down, along with the counts. We spent quite awhile on quickstep. Dancing QS with Felix is like getting into frame with a tornado and holding on for dear life. There have been moments during lessons and practice when he is carrying all of my weight and momentum and my feet aren't even on the floor. We had samba technique as well, and the main piece of advice: ++bounce, ++ languid. We are both light (130/105 lbs.) and short (5'8"/5'3"), a hyperish couple, and we tend to flit about and speed through everything, emphasizing stops and dramatic moments, but losing fluidity in the process. It was a good observation. Felix also leads a particular turn a fraction of a beat too early and I fight the lead, and he responds aggressively by moving our connected hands beyond my turning axis (hopefully directly above my head), which makes me briefly backweighted. Another good observation.
Caspian didn't get home from partying until 2 AM last night! I was in bed at 11 and wondering what sorts of hijinks he was getting up to. I woke up early and met Felix at our usual metro station, and we practiced for a few hours. Almost as soon as I arrived home afterward, I joined the throngs of people crowding along Ste. Catherine Ouest to buy frames for two oil paintings. It was a beautiful, warm day. I was very content. I am very content, as is Caspian. I don't think I have ever seen him more buoyantly full of joy than he was today. The crocuses are pushing up in the front garden, lavender and violet and buttery yellow. In my journal today, I mused about how effortlessly our lives intersect with the lives of others at almost magically optimal moments. I mourned for an instant the optimal moments I've missed by making the choices I've made, but I look ahead to future instants, minutes, years when threads come together to weave glorious patterns. You don't really see the patterns until you look back, anyway.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Strange and Beautiful Stories
I just had a beautiful day. I unhurriedly and methodically began my French studies. I did aerobics. I danced for an hour and a half.
The sun was setting in the west while storms lingered in the east, casting long, lolling sunbeams right over our choreography; our hesitation carried us right through it and for one brief moment, I was within it looking out through the brilliant motes. Every time we practice, I expect to do just as well as the last time - but only just, for all of my progress to eventually plateau, but it just keeps getting better, more balanced, more beautiful, more whole and real. This is what a partnership should be like.
We exclaimed that chacha and samba used to feel so fast; now these two dances are almost languid, soft and crisp. I used to waste so much energy keeping my body where I thought it needed to be, tensely anticipating future figures and movements, but now everything aligns without thought or expense, I understand my partner's movements, I understand my body and my body understands the dance, and it's like worship. It's like worship! No meditation, no scripture, no service or mass or drug has ever taken me closer to god.
Life is so bizarre. We don't think about it, but we all have strange and beautiful stories.
The sun was setting in the west while storms lingered in the east, casting long, lolling sunbeams right over our choreography; our hesitation carried us right through it and for one brief moment, I was within it looking out through the brilliant motes. Every time we practice, I expect to do just as well as the last time - but only just, for all of my progress to eventually plateau, but it just keeps getting better, more balanced, more beautiful, more whole and real. This is what a partnership should be like.
We exclaimed that chacha and samba used to feel so fast; now these two dances are almost languid, soft and crisp. I used to waste so much energy keeping my body where I thought it needed to be, tensely anticipating future figures and movements, but now everything aligns without thought or expense, I understand my partner's movements, I understand my body and my body understands the dance, and it's like worship. It's like worship! No meditation, no scripture, no service or mass or drug has ever taken me closer to god.
Life is so bizarre. We don't think about it, but we all have strange and beautiful stories.
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