Mr. O labeled today’s class “Simple Saturday.”
He was subbing for Mrs. O, who was working on rehearsal schedules.
His barre was reasonably simple.
Once we came to center, not so much.
Confident was how I entered class this morning. Humiliated, frustrated. That’s how I left it.
It started with the unraveling with of a good turn week. Wednesday was my best turn day in a while, and maybe class overall. I did multiple double pirouettes, and got praise from Mr. O for doing so.
I did a perfect double pirouette in practice, when no one was watching.
We had a pirouette competition (first one in a while).
We zipped through singles like it was nobody’s business. Then went to doubles with everybody watching.
Then we came to a combination where we did two pique turns, soutenu (misspelled?) turn grande jete combination in a horseshoe. The leap just wasn’t happening coming out of the turn. I gave up a couple of times when we were doing to combination. And quit is usually not in my vocabulary.
Then came my usually trusty favorite part of class: grande allegro.
Only this combination completely slew me: Saute turn, saute turn, saute fi-e (misspelled?), glissade, assemble’, run around, ton be pas de bouree, glissade saute chat (repeat. zigzagging twice in each direction), then turn around and do the same combination facing opposite direction (if you were in back facing the mirror, suddenly you’re in front facing the back wall, not a good thing for me).
I did OK facing the mirror while in back. That was not the case facing the wall.
The class ended with a reverence (which I thankfully got).
I went to the only empty studio, and practiced as many pirouettes as I could muster.
A double is something that should be second-nature. Some of the company kids in class do them and make them look effort-less.
I did a couple of doubles I know I could live with. But did not reach the point where I could do it all of the time.
I’ll be honest, there was a split-second among my frustration where I felt I totally sucked as a dancer, and maybe I should give up.
But then I remembered that I was addicted to ballet … it’s my crack cocaine.
I can’t give it up.
I can’t just sit and watch.
I must do it.