That Feel When #????

That feel when your insides are suddenly like:

RED WARRIOR NEEDS FOOD BADLY! RED WARRIOR IS ABOUT TO DIE!

…but you’re eating ziti and it refuses to cooperate with your fork.

Seriously, who has trouble eating ziti*?

*I guess I do. So, that would be me. Hi.

In other news, I really need to see this movie:

Keiji Ballerino, as reviewed by Notorious Rambler, as suggested in one of WordPress’s “If you liked this post, you’ll love this other post!” boxes.

Basically, I will tell my friends about it, and they will be like, “Oh, so it’s like your life, more or less, if you were a detective, and Japanese?**”

**And if my Mom who taught dance, and if I had won a prestigious dance competition in high school, but whatevs. I can, however, attest to the fact that the “extremely small planet” effect apparent in this story is also fully operational in my life. My world is terrifyingly small, sometimes.

Also, I am reminded of this video:

Which we have all, by now, probably seen a bazillion times, but frankly it never gets old. My friends on facebook and G+ have repeatedly shared this to me with comments like, “This is how I imagine your life!”

And, honestly, I am forced to admit that while my day-to-day wardrobe department has yet to supply me with such an elaborate jacket, I have totally been known to do barre exercises on the El and … you know, basically everything else in this video, except for grand pirouettes a la seconde on the sidewalk because, y’all, I would in fact actually kill myself for reals (and probably some other people).

That said, I have been known to do them in dance clubs. Just, you know, nowhere near as well as Daniil Simkin would. Because I am not that awesome. But, frankly, there are too many clubs in Louisville where nobody dances, and somebody has to.

And then I’m all, “If not me, who? If not now, when?” And I step up and do what I can. For Great Justice, etc.

for-great-justice

Because it’s all about your base, your base your base. All about your base, are belong to us***.

 

***Oh, come on. Somebody had to say it.

In other news, I took El Robertador shopping today because he did not own any proper shorts, and I wound up buying another shirt for ballet classes, a cycling-specific wind vest to replace the wind vest that is now about eleventy sizes too big for me, a pair of cycling gloves to replace one of the pairs I’ve been nursing along forever specifically because I got a great deal on them on clearance, and an actual regular shirt with, like, buttons and everything. Now I can also give away another of the button-y shirts that is now too big.

Because sometimes dancewear actually isn’t the ideal choice, at least not according to other people (but, let’s be honest: they are probably people who don’t actually know any better, and would wear dance clothes everywhere if they did).

I am proud to be able to state that I DID NOT buy any tights. Not even one pair. Because there is NO ROOM in my tights drawer at this point (I know, I know: clearly the answer is to kick Denis’ socks out of his sock drawer and colonize).

Okay, so I almost bought them anyway, but I realized that I only ever wear short tights or stirrup/convertible tights these days, so I put them back.

Even though they had pockets.

TIGHTS WITH POCKETS, YOU GUYS. The innovation that means we might never have to wear normal trousers, ever again.

And I put them back!

 

I am assuming that this lapse in judgment resulted from sleep deprivation, which in turn resulted from a weird series of nightmares about paranormal phenomena, such as a kitchen sink drain suddenly turning into a fearsome gravity well … because ghosts (seriously, WTF?).

For the record, I have no idea what caused the nightmares. My brain is a strange place, sometimes much of the time okay, most of the time.

Oh, and lastly, the other night I actually sat my tuchas down and watched a freaking movie, and that movie was Mao’s Last Dancer, which wasn’t half bad.

To be fair, my standards for ballet movies basically read like this:

  1. Is it yet another movie about Skeezy AD creeping on Insecure, Young Ingenue? *****
    Y/N
  2. If N, is the dancing pretty good?

*****There was a moment at the beginning in which I was like, “Ye gads, this is going to be Skeezy GAY AD creeping on Insecure, Young MALE Ingenue. Wheeeeee. *sadface*” but then it got better. Skeezy Gay AD wasn’t partcularly skeezy and was only a douche canoe for a small portion of the movie, and then only because Main Character’s Dreams and Not-Really-Skeezy Gay AD’s dreams were in conflict.

Mao’s Last Dancer suffered from a few plotline glitches (basically, clumsy handling of some of the more touching bits of the story, so nothing any worse than your average Halmark Channel movie, and there’s a lot more ballet in this one!), and does this one thing where Wife #1 goes, “You Have Your Career! But I Have To Think About Mine! I’m Moving To Seattle!” (I think it was Seattle?) and then in the next scene it’s five years later and our winsome protagonist is, like, totally married to some other lady.

To be fair, there was totally like 10 seconds of foreshadowing when said Other Lady was first introduced — it’s just that the particular bit of Li Cunxin’s life in which they, like, get MARRIED didn’t quite make it into the budget/allocated time.

In honesty, though, as ballet movies go, I rather liked this one (probably because it was actually based on real life).

So, like, I totally recommend giving Mao’s Last Dancer a watch if you stumble upon it on Netflix or Amazon or whatevs.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go balance people and balance on people and so forth.

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About asher

Me in a nutshell: Standard uptight ballet boy. Trapeze junkie. Half-baked choreographer. Budding researcher. Transit cyclist. Terrible homemaker. Getting along pretty well with bipolar disorder. Fabulous. Married to a very patient man. Bachelor of Science in Psychology (2015). Proto-foodie, but lazy about it. Cat owner ... or, should I say, cat own-ee? ... dog lover. Equestrian.

Posted on 2016/07/07, in balllet, life, movies and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. Buying sports clothes is a terrible affliction. Every time I walk into a store I’m like, look at the pretty colours! What’s the harm in another tank top or five? I haven’t managed to buy actual dance clothes, because every time I walk into *that* store I’m overcome with horrible impostor syndrome and run out again lest they corner me and make me dance to prove my worthiness.
    That video is fabulous, I hadn’t seen it before! 😀

    • Oh, awesome! I’m so glad you liked the video. I wrote like Daniil Simkin — not only is he a brilliant dancer, but he’s very human and funny and is found a bang-up job of showing the world how to use 21st-century technology to bolster a career as a performing artist.

      My local dance store is funny. I felt a little Impostor Syndrome-y the first time I went in, but I knew what I was looking for, and they concluded as a result that I was, like, a Real Dancer, which made me simultaneously feel like, “Yes! This is awesome!” and, “Eek! Now I have to live up to this!”

      When I was trying on shoes, one of them literally said, “The barre’s right over here. You’re a professional, you know what you’re doing.”

      My brain went: o_O … ^-^ … >.< Like, " Oh, yeay/oh, no! They think I'm a professional!"

      A little later I realized that neither of the lovely ladies working that day actually danced, which ratcheted the pressure back down. I keep thinking I should apply to work there, since I do dance and they could probably use a guy in staff for those embarrassing Male Dancer Questions.

      Only then it would be like when I worked at the bike shop and spent all my money buying bike stuff because the shop discount was so freaking good that I just couldn't help myself 😀

      • Ahaha that’s a great experience at the dance store! I never considered the possibility the stuff might not actually be all dancers. Maybe I should chant a few ballet terms before entering to cast a glamour on myself that miiiight make them mistake me for someone who has at least been dancing more than a year. Hmmm.
        Ah, the employee discount. The reason I have four tall bookshelves and no money. But will you look at that illustrated collector’s edition that I could totally have for, like, 2/3 of its original price! Can’t say no to that!

  2. Oops. That’s supposed to be “quite like Daniil Simkin” in that first paragraph. I should stop being so lazy about proof-reading my own comments!

  3. And “is doing,” not “is found.” This is what I get for using my tablet, lol!

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