There's a reason that this blog is titled Purple Pens and Pointe Shoes. It's the same reason that the web address is braddock street ballerina. And why the background is a pointe shoe, and why my picture icon is a person en pointe.
It's because I'm mildly obsessed with dance.
Okay, yeah right, it's because I'm really obsessed with dance.
I started taking dance lessons when I was five. My cousins, Emily and Elizabeth, both took dance lessons and as I had no older siblings, I wanted to be just like them, and therefore wanted to take dance lessons. But that's not really when I started dancing. No, I've been dancing ever since I figured out how to walk. Moving to music, or just the music in my head, has always been a part of me.
But I never realized how essential it was to my very being until I stopped doing it.
I continued to take lessons until I graduated from high school. I never stopped enjoying it, so there wasn't a reason to quit, and I enjoyed the exercise. I've never been good at sports: my hand-eye coordination was really bad as a child, so pretty much any sport that involved a ball was out of the question. I still get nervous that the basketball is going to come flying at me when I'm in Cameron, and I'm like at least 20 feet away from the edge of the court. But dance, I could do that. I could move my body in time to the music and let's face it: I loved performing, so the recital at the end of the year was an added bonus.
When it came time to look for colleges and what sort of majors I might be interested in, dance was never really an option I considered. It was something I did for fun, not because I wanted to do it professionally, and I certainly wasn't the best dancer in my class. My flexibility sucked, and I didn't have the dedication I would need to improve it to the level that it would have to be to dance professionally. Some of the schools I looked at had a dance program, others did not, but all of them had a studio where PE courses were offered that included some form of dance. I chose Wesleyan because I knew it was the right fit, and because they offered me the biggest scholarship package.
My first semester at Wesleyan, I took Ballroom Dancing. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't the same as taking a class like ballet or jazz. I wasn't used to dancing in heels, I typically danced barefoot, or in pointe shoes. I really wanted to take lessons somewhere, but I didn't have the money, or the transportation to get to classes. But as other dance classes, ballet included, were offered by the PE department, I took them. And I loved them.
And then the ballet teacher who was an adjunct from the local area, got a full-time job and resigned. And then Doug Kennedy, who was in charge of the PE courses, went lame sauce and decided not to hire somebody else. Even if Lina (one of the associate deans and totally awesome person) offered to teach them.
Lame, Doug Kennedy, lame.
So I stopped dancing. At least, in a classroom setting. But there weren't many other opportunities for me to dance. Mostly, it was just me randomly dancing around whatever space I was in when I was sure no one was watching. I really didn't need the funny looks from my peers who didn't understand what I was doing. After all, their definition of dancing was grinding their body up against a member of the opposite sex during a party. But sometimes, I would just randomly do part of a combination in place or down the hallway of our suite. This was also around the time that I almost (or maybe even did) fracture my 4th metatarsal when I tripped over the leg of a portable screen for the projector. With how bad the pain was, and how slow the recovery was, I was to think that I would never be able to dance again.
But dancing had become like breathing to me, and without it, I was suffocating.
When I came to Divinity School, one of the first people I met, Joe, told me that I was going to sign up for Broadway Revue and I was going to be in Broadway Revue. This was not a suggestion, it was a command. And, I figured, what the heck, I have a degree in theatre, I can sing, and I've got 12 years of dance experience behind me, I'm sure they can use me somehow. Hahahaha, boy did I have no idea.
As it came time to learn the choreography for the numbers, it quickly became clear to other members of the cast that I had a knack for picking up the steps quickly, and found myself constantly being grabbed in the hallway for review. Dancing again was elating. It lifted my spirits and considering how other things in my life were slowly going downhill, it was one of the bright spots in my life at that point.
During Broadway Revue, I was given the task, along with my friend Becca, to choreograph a ballet sequence for one of the numbers. As that piece was the opening number from A Chorus Line (and also our opening number) what we were essentially choreographing was part of the audition. I loved it.
As I stood there, on the stage, arms outstretched, feet in 1st position, with my old tights and slippers underneath my shorts that proudly displayed "WESLEYAN" on the butt, I waited for the curtain to rise. And as it did, my heart soared. Here I was, back where I belonged. And I danced my heart out, I danced like that routine was the difference between being able to stay in NYC or having to return home, because after all, that's what A Chorus Line is about. It's about the life of an actor in the industry trying to make ends meet.
I was breathing again. It was like I hadn't breathed in years.
And that was when I realized that I needed to learn how to breathe again.
This past semester has had its ups and downs. And many times, I've felt the urge to physically vent my feelings in the only way that I know how: dance. But I didn't. So this afternoon, when I once again felt the urge, I toyed with the idea of going down to the baseball field behind my apartment complex. But in all honesty, it's cold outside, and I'm a wimp.
But I remembered something that my friend Lizzie told me about a dance studio near my apartment. So like any good millennial, I googled it, and found Ninth Street Dance Studio, a place where anyone of any age, shape, and dance experience, is welcome to come and discover dance. I'm signing up for the Lyrical/Contemporary class which "teaches a fluid choreography, often using emotion to motivate the movement."
So this semester, I'm learning to breathe again. And in learning to breathe, I'm also hoping to let my spirit soar, and take my broken wings and learn to fly, to paraphrase the Beatles.
I can't wait to fly again.
