Meshuggina Day

17 Jun

I went to a friend’s birthday party last night and made some luscious red velvet cupcakes with a recipe that made more frosting then I’ve ever seen in my entire life…why the recipe called for 4.5 pounds worth of frosting is beyond me.  And why it didn’t occur to me to you know, make one third of that is probably the better question.  You’d think I would have been suspicious with the amount of materials going in (3 packages of cream cheese, 4 sticks of butter, 2 pounds of powdered sugar!), but my sense of space and weight is abysmal.  The point is, the party ended fairly late, so getting up this morning was a massive failure, especially because I left my phone at a friend’s apartment and I set two alarms on my phone in addition to my actual alarm clock.  I’m no early bird.  Although waking up in itself isn’t exactly the problem for me, it’s more the act of getting out of bed and not falling back asleep where I encounter obstacles.

Normally I also take a shower in the morning because that is step number four in the awakening process.  Not only does it wake me up, but especially on days I dance, a hot shower helps to relax the muscles and warm them up, and we all know the importance of warmth before movement and stretching.  But on this fateful day, in order to make it class I only had enough time to throw on some clothes I could move in and fling out the door.  Furthermore, I could only partially complete wake-up step 5, replacing my usual nice solid breakfast with plenty of fruit, yogurt, and granola by inhaling a banana on my way out.  I tell you this, because today was obviously destined to be a disaster of sorts.  A so called “off day,” and trust me when I say I did not disappoint.

The oddities continued when there were only 3 people in class today.  Score for massive amounts of studio space, but still unusual.  Anyway, we hardly did anything new at barre, but the sequencing function of my brain malfunctioned from the get-go.  I’m talking the very first plié exercise, and it just snowballed from there and avalanched later on.  I literally messed up every four counts of this degagé/pique combination that wasn’t all that complex.  I also messed up a something during frappé, skipped another something during grande battement, fell over on a pencheé, completely unwound from a balance in attitude, and I’m thinking you get the picture.  Discombobulatedness and dance can result in some bizarre moments.  Last time I was this bad I bent my toenail backwards in a pas de cheval because I forgot what was going on.  Dear BILLY, would this catastrophe see an end?

No. (at least, not until class was over)

But there was a shining moment of glory.  As we warmed up pirouettes in center, they weren’t going so well and I thought today would not be a turning day, and figured something else, perhaps jumps would be the soup of the day.  But as we went across the floor a second time, a Billy Elliot-blessed-miracle!  Somehow, I managed 3 triple pirouettes in a row!  I tell no lies when I say that has never happened before.  However, in dance, there is this importance concept of “finishing,” and where I was supposed to do a teeny little rond de jambe into a teeny little single pique turn en dehors, I froze like a raccoon in a trash can whose clandestineness had been betrayed by a flashlight.  It turns out the price for a touch of Billy Elliot’s divinity was the instantaneous (but temporary) scattering of what was left of my brain.  No venga for me.

But, my little kitties…I guess to say that every cloud has a silver lining is an understatement.  If I was able to scrape something positive out of a voodoo cursed day like today, the possibilities for a good day are as endless as something infinite.  Common knowledge amongst dancers I’m sure, but there’s your true story reminder from yours truly.

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