Years Gone By

I recently remembered that this site existed and, with some difficulty, managed to regain access to my blog. Although there isn't much to write about now, there was much to write about then, meaning that I must now write about it. If that makes any sense.

As the end of 2009 came close, I found myself constantly at the dance studio, my social life gone and my writing time sparse. What created this torture? The holiday norm, the show that you all go to see, the tradition- the feared by us dancers. Yes, the Nutcracker. Hours of torture, days of crying four-year-olds that only participated because my dance teacher longed to include them. If it was up to me, it would have been a one-class production by, yes, us. As the oldest and, not to be bragging, the best, I believe that we have the right to be the stars of the show- and not let the adorable and annoying four-year-olds take it from us. Completely unfair. Now I sound as though I am writing a persuasive paragraph... something that I am not particularly fond of. On with the show.

As I return to the bloody subject of pointe shoes and pain, I must remind you that this was optional. Yes, this torment was an option. It was something that was strongly encouraged, but not required. Each one of us chose to participate in the Nutcracker that somehow managed not only to crack nuts but also my social life and time in general. Ah, the good old days of Nutcracker, that will soon be mine again (come September. Yes, we do work for a very long time. So appreciate it, please).

Finally, three days before Christmas, the shows were over. As I picked up my make-up case and tied up my pointe shoes for the last time in 2009, I sighed a great sigh of relief, although it was a little bit remorseful. Remorseful because I had worked for so hard and so long and now all that hard work was just gone. It was a strange feeling. I'm sure any performer knows. It's rather hard to explain.

The new year passed quickly and quietly, and now I do not feel different except for when I dance. There, it seems, I am different. I cannot put my finger on what is different about me. I just seem better. It's a good feeling. It makes me feel as though those months of hard work and stress and pain and hurting feet actually did something for me. Soon my dance company will begin a production of Cinderella. And perhaps this time, though I will moan and groan, it will be somewhat understated as I know now that I will become better. That's what I'm working for, right? Who knows. I'll just go along with the tide and see what happens. Or rather, head in a direction that looks good. Happy 2010 to all, and to all a good-night.