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The Onliest Boy Rides Again 

… I mean, not literally rides, honestly I’m staying off the bike until April 1st because I have so freaking many rehearsals been now and then that the last thing I need to do is add even more exercise. 

But I’m pretty sure that in addition to being the only boy in my piece, I’m the only boy in the whole show.

Honestly, most of me is totally like:

…And a little tiny part is aware that I should probably temper my innate overconfidence with a small measure of humility. 



…Nah. I’m good .

It’s Taimz for Crazy Taimz

As of today, my schedule officially begins its trek through the land of:

This means rehearsals that end at 10:30 on Monday nights, a whole lotta class(1), extra conditioning for an upcoming audition, Dance Team, preparation for our annual Meeting With The Accountant, and work on the next iteration of the website for D’s business*. 

  1. This is different than a Whole Latte class, in which baristas would presumably learn the art of making ethically-sourced organic coffee drinks, or perhaps simply how to make an entire latte and not just part of one(2).
  2. If you forget the milk, for example, it’s just coffee! 

In the interest of retaining some shred of sanity, I’m keeping Modern Mondays off the calendar until March, at least. My primary studio just added modern on Tuesdays and Thursdays, though, so I’ll be doing at least one of those, depending. 

I’m trying to keep Tuesday unscheduled, but since tomorrow is the first class, I’m going to go.

For the time being, on Mondays, it makes more sense to take an evening ballet class instead of a morning modern class. That keeps my mornings free for goofing off on the Innertubes  household stuff and groups all the dance things into a nice block from 2:45 — 10:30. (There’s a dinner break in there, don’t worry.)

This is one of the things I’m trying to do differently this year. Instead of saying, “Oh, cool, I only have three things on the schedule for Mondays!”,  I’m accounting for things like transit time and the fact that I don’t change gears well, so it’s foolish to assume I’ll get even one task done if I have a couple of hours between engagements. 

Thus, while I seem to have once again stacked a lot onto my plate, I’m trying to be sensible about how I approach it. 

The thing I’ve learned about pursuing dance seriously is that you’re either up to your eyeballs in alligators—wait, let’s call them crocodiles because it will be funnier later—or you’re on break. The challenge is learning to Arrange Your Crocodiles  In A Linear Array. Which is to say:

Get your crocs in a row! (Shamelessly ganked from Chris Booth over at Expatior)

Arranging my waterfauna is really not my forté, but I’m learning. Sort of.

The frenzy of class and rehearsal is worth it to have the chance to make art and do the thing that it feels like I was made to do(3).

  1. The cat disagrees. He believes I was made to serve as a cat bed and play-bot. 

I fully expect to arrive home exhausted at 11 PM tonight. Needless to say, I’m glad Tuesday isn’t Killer Class day.

If it was, I’d make it work. It would be worth it.

Right now I feel weirdly like my dreams are rushing towards me at terminal velocity.

All things considered, that’s a pretty cool feeling.

Though, really—ask me again in March how I feel about my schedule 😉

Here’s a detailed explanation of how my current schedule happened:

You Might Be A Dancer #002

I almost want to say “I’ve forgotten what inspired this list,” only I haven’t. It’s there in the list. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which item 😀

You might be a dancer if:

  • You go to a gathering where lots of people are barefoot and you think, “Wow, all these people have really flat feet.”
  • You can’t stop your hands from twitching when you’re watching a ballet.
  • You manage to count every piece of music into phrases of 8.
  • When someone says, “Count me in!” you automatically shout, “…Five, six, seven, eight!”
  • You find yourself choreographing short modern dance pieces … to the jingles from YouTube ads.
  • Ditto TV and radio jingles.
  • Let’s not even talk about movie soundtracks.
  • You have officially spent so much of your life wearing leotards that normal clothes feel weird.
  • You own six pairs of technique shoes, each with different characteristics and applications, that are essentially indistinguishable to normal people.
  • And pointe shoes. Let’s not talk about those, either.
  • You do rond de jambes. In line. At the supermarket.
  • You can intelligently discuss intra-company politics at a ballet company halfway around the world — but you honestly have no idea who your local representative is.
  • Your friends arrive at your home for a party only to stand around looking awkward as you hastily stash all the dance belts that were drying in front of the air conditioner vent.
  • Your friends don’t even bother to look awkward because you know them all from class.
  • But sometimes you don’t recognize them with their clothes on, which *is* totally awkward.

“And then I walked right up to Pierre and introduced myself and he said, ‘Marie … We’ve been partners for six years.’ It was awful.” (Image: Henri Rouen, The Ballet Class, 1875, via Wikimedia.)

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