I don’t really have a lot of series on this blog besides my ballet journal, so I figured I’d make this into one. Oh, and I’m going to keep this poster as well because it makes me crack up every time I see it. Oh, and just in case I, for some odd reason, have younger readers, I will say that not all this content will be G-rated. At the most, it’ll probably be PG-13.
Nobody Saw That 😉
I was testing out from Bronze I to Bronze II after a little over a year of consistent dancing. I was excited, but tests of any kind make me extremely nervous. The material wasn’t so bad. Students can choose whichever dances they want to test out of. But, you can’t use more advanced figures unless you test out of that certain dance. Hence, it’s my personal recommendation that you test out of many dances as possible. I started off practicing for Swing, Cha-cha, Rumba, Foxtrot, Waltz, and Tango. By the time I actually took the dreaded test, I had studied for those dances in addition to Mambo, Merengue, Samba, and Hustle (Disco). There are three school figures for each dance, so that added up to thirty individual moves that I had to memorize. First, I had to dance the figure alone, then with my DP. I was terrified of failing any dance, so my normal cheerful personality was replaced by extreme nervousness. I even messed up during a section with my DP…
[DP and I are dancing together. Our tester is watching carefully to check on my following skills, but she occasionally has to look away to write what she observed.]
Me: *messes up follow, face contorts in expression of nervousness*
DP: [whispers playfully while grinning]: It’s okay. She was writing. She wasn’t looking!
I hazarded a look at the tester, and lo, she was writing. Of course, this wasn’t particularly funny at the time, but it’s pretty hilarious now. By the way, I did pass all my dances, and I am officially at Bronze II. I can’t wait for Bronze III because I can add Viennese Waltz and Bolero to my roster. 😀
Tossin’ the Pizza
This one is all about arm styling, cross-overs in the Cha-cha. I’ve heard this analogy from multiple teachers, and I love it.
Teacher: Okay, so I want you to pretend that you are holding a pizza. Suddenly, you see someone you don’t like somewhere behind you. Throw your arm and toss that pizza in their face!
Speaking of Italian food, gelato…mmm…
My former teacher’s wife, whom I will nickname Coach-ette because she reminds me of really awesome athletic coaches with their tough, but loving personality, took pulled me out of my chair to dance a Rumba with me during our weekly social. The song was of my generation, which if you know anything about the musical scene, was auto-tuned with all sorts of ambiguous words. By ambiguous, I don’t mean dirty in this case. I mean, you literally can’t understand what the heck the artist is saying.
Coach-ette: This has become my favorite Rumba songs. Do you know what they’re saying most of the time (she was referring to the song’s chorus)?
Me: No idea.
Coach-ette: I think they’re saying “boom gelato.”
Coach-ette: I’m serious. It sounds like “boom gelato.” Hmm, I’m hungry for ice cream now.
By the way, the chorus’ onomatopoeia was boom sha-lacka. I like her version much, much better. 🙂
We were in a Bronze I Waltz group class. The teacher, who shall remain nameless for this one, was telling us how we should use each part of our foot in our movement, instead of stepping flat-footed.
Teacher: Again, we want to use our balls when we step. It provides so much more energy and power to your step. Plus, it’ll make you look like you’re floating on the dance floor.
Older Woman: *snorts with embarrassed laughter*
Me: *Trying to maintain maturity, failing, laughing along*
Teacher: What? *realizes last statement and covers face in adorable embarrassment*
To be clear, I knew from the get-go that the teacher meant “balls of our feet”, but shortened it to “balls.” What I didn’t expect was the snort of laughter from my older classmate. To be fair, she was an older woman and isn’t to familiar with a younger person’s propensity to abbreviate things. I laughed because laughter is infectious, and I couldn’t help myself. That, and I was mostly friends with boys throughout my grade school years. 😉
Aren’t You Chinese?
You’ve seen pictures of yours truly on the blog, and it’s obvious to most people I’m Asian. More specifically, I’m Indonesian. I was born on the island of Java, so to be even more nit-picky, I’m Javanese. Most people, your average Joe’s, don’t know too much about other Asians outside of mainland China and Japan. Hence, I’ve been mistaken for every other Asian you can imagine: Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, Vietnamese, Filipina, etc. The closest someone ever got was calling me Polynesian. My DP is a very polite man, and had asked before guessing what my specific ethnicity is. Unfortunately, he’s also figured out that Indonesians aren’t exactly common where I live and loves to tease me by purposefully calling me other nationalities. Here are some of his “mistakes”:
DP: Hey, there’s some baklava in the fridge. Do you want some?
Me: (I *heart* baklava!) No thank you. I’m not in the mood for desert right now.
DP: Really? Don’t they eat that where you’re from?
Me: I’m not Greek! Do I even look Greek?
DP: Hey, Alaina. We’re going to be starting off with the Latin shoes today. You know, the shoes of your people.
Me: *rolls eyes in effort not to respond*
[Whilst talking on phone to schedule private lesson]
DP: Hey, so I was wondering if you wanted to test out early. How about this Thursday instead of Friday?
Me: [nervously] Uh, okay. So nervous (I wonder how many times I’ve used that word in this post…)!
DP: Don’t worry I know you’ll make the people in India proud of you.
*laughter of female teacher over the phone*
Me: Hey, you know I can hear her laughing over the phone, right? You know I’m not Indian.
DP: *laughs* I know, I know you’re not Indian. I know you’re really Saudi Arabian. *more laughter*
Me: *smiles and rolls eyes, giving up* Okay, that sounds good to me. Bye.