My very first ballet class ever in the history of all the classes I have ever taken in my whole entire existence is over and I’m feeling withdrawal symptoms.
I signed up to take Ballet I during my spring semester on a whim. My voice teacher told me it would be good to get stronger and more flexible and have a little fun too, so he suggested I take ballet. I wanted to use my PE credit elsewhere, like in swimming or golfing, but I took his advice.
I have always wanted to take ballet, ever since I was introduced to it by my ex boyfriend who danced for RAB and Joffrey. But I felt like I missed the boat because I hadn’t been taking it since I was 10 like most girls. After I found blogs like Adult Beginner and Dave Tries Ballet, I felt so encouraged and excited about starting ballet! So I took the plunge and joined the class.
I was nervous about taking ballet as a college course. I didn’t want to be graded on the fact that I had no prior experience in dance. After attending the first class, I realized that simply would not be the case. My professor was very honest about his rules and gradin policy and it was all very fair! He even went so far as to promise to bump the student up one letter grade if they had perfect attendance all semester long. That was very fair, and it gave people like me a chance to get a good grade without having to be Prima ballerinas, ya know?
Anyway, I ended up knowing more than I thought I knew. Apparently, all that blog-hopping and ballet video-binging paid off, because I attended the first ballet session knowing more than any other student. Of course, turning that knowledge into practice was a challenge, but I knew more terminology and etiquette than the advanced students. I was shocked!
I worked hard to move and look like a professional, so by the end of the semester, I had both my left and right splits and was making progress on my saddle split. People stood next to me at the barre because I was “the best example to follow.” Several of my classmates, including my professor, were surprised to learn that I had never taken ballet before, or any other dance class.
The third week of class, the dance professor asked:
“So where do you take dance?”
He looked confused and so I looked confused but he said, “No I meant, where else. Didn’t you take ballet when you were younger?”
“No, this is the first time I’ve ever taken a dance class.”
He looked me up and down and squinted his eyes like he didn’t believe me.
So I so eloquently said, “Wut?”
He shrugged, “Nothing, you just look like a natural out there. It’s hard to believe you’ve never danced before. I must be a better teacher than I thought…” And he walked away from the barre and got ready for class to begin.
After that conversation, the other girls in the class started asking me how I got so good so quickly and I was all like, “Um idk I just do wut feels pretty,” and that seemed like the most revolutionary thought to ever pass through their heads.
So maybe I found my second calling with this ballet shit. Next semester I will take Modern I in the fall and Ballet II in the spring. I’m so excited.
I’ll probably post more entries about specific days in Ballet, just cuz I like to reminisce and shiet.
The cool thing about college is that you can repeat classes until you actually pass. This works out for the university because hey free money. It works out for the student because they aren’t stuck with a god awful grade on their transcript forever and ever. Amen, right?
Well it still fucking sucks for those who actually did the required work and showed up for the pointless lectures, those who deserved to at least pass but were dished out a heapin’ serving of “I don’t like you so here’s an F” as a final grade.
I honestly think I deserved a B, maybe a C. Stranger, have you ever taken a college level German class? It’s not exactly easy, and sure as hell isn’t fun when the professor barely speaks it fluently. The content was difficult, and the curriculum made it a challenge to retain the information. It was all a recipe for disaster.
I’m kicking myself for not doing something about that class before it was too late, but what could I have done? I honestly gave that class my all and I thought I was getting back good enough grades. But no, when I asked the professor about it she said my grade reflected my work.
I don’t know what to do.
My academic advisor says I will need to repeat the class because my degree plan requires me to make at least a C’s in all my classes. I don’t think this university deserves anymore of my money. I want the grade I consistently saw at the top of all my homework, quizzes, labs, and tests.
College sucks, Stranger. Work smart, not hard, and maybe you’ll get out unscathed.
I am a college drop out. Yes.
In August of 2011, I began my college journey in a town I knew nothing about and in a university I absolutely could not stand. I thought I could tough it out. I tried really hard. But it wasn’t working out.
So in September of 2011, I packed my bags, chucked deuces to the dorm attendant at the front desk, and returned home.
I hated being out of school almost as much as I hated being in it. So I applied to the university here in my hometown. But I promised myself that I would do things differently this time. So I made a list of goals that I wanted to have met by the time school came around in the fall.
Firstly, I needed to get a car. I’m not going to be living on campus. So commute will be necessary. And for that, I need transportation. So number one is getting a set of wheels.
But to get wheels, you need duh monies.
Secondly, I needed to get a job. With zero job experience in a town whose unemployment rate just increased by 6%…
OH MAI JEZUS I AM LE SCREWED!!!!!
After that I stopped making stupid lists and hit the pavement running. I probably averaged 4 applications a day for three months straight without any call backs.
Eventually I started whining to my happily employed friends for help. But of course, nobody could materialize a job for me just because I said “pretty please.”
About a month ago, I was test driving my dads car around town. He was riding shotgun and telling me that I would easily be able to buy it from him for cheap and afford insurance once I had a steady job. We pulled up to the pizzeria so he could pick up some dinner and when he returned to the car he sat down in the passenger seat and said:
“How do you feel about making pizzas all day?”
Being the typical girl that I am, the thought of being elbow deep in oils and dough and standing around in a hot kitchen did not appeal. In fact, working in the food industry was seriously scraping the bottom of the barrel in my mind.
And yet… Beggars can’t be choosers.
So I went in and got an application. The guy working the counter said that they were looking to hire one more person for the summer, so I brought the application back as quickly as I could. While I was chatting with him, I realized that I knew just about everybody he had on staff. Suddenly the prospect of working there was much brighter. He straight up said that my lack of job experience wasn’t working in my favor and that it was likely that he would just hire back a seasonal to work the position. I did my best to encourage him to consider me anyway.
One of the staff members that I knew called me a couple weeks later and told me that I was the likeliest candidate for the position based solely on the fact that everybody spoke so highly of me.
I srrsly blushed. Lyke no lye.
And yesterday, the clouds parted and the angels sang to me sweet jubilations saying:
“You got the job. Come in tomorrow sometime before noon to fill out the paper work and get a schedule for next week.”
I am so incredibly blissed out. I have a job. After months of searching. It’s not glamorous, but holy hell, IT’S INCOME!
I really am proud of myself. All because I have a stupid little job to keep me busy during the week. It’s stupid, but whatthefuckeverihaveajobnowfoolhahahahahahhahaha!
Hopefully the honeymoon stage will last. I’m pretty sure I’ll be ripping my hair out by the middle of next week and questioning why I ever accepted the job in the first place.
Oh. Oh. And then The Unthinkable happened.
As I was leaving the pizzeria, the manager shouted to me:
“Feel free to take some pizza home with you! Employees get free pizza and drinks! Take as much as you want!”
I seriously trembled in fear. Free pizza? Why on earth would you even allow that? Don’t you care about your employees?? How can you permit them to eat unlimited amounts of garbage?!?!
Yeah. I am totally disgusted with the added bonus. I told them that I didn’t want anything, but I walked out of there with a large pepperoni anyway. I am so weak.
So I was chatting it up with my parents over a lava-hot cuppa McDonald’s coffee this morning, discussing what I have planned for my future college career.
And you know what?
I didn’t know what to tell them.
But it’s totes not as if I jumped on the college bandwagon with no career ideas. I entered and exited high school dead set on majoring in vocal performance and joining an opera company and making it big. Now I’m not so sure.
I know I’m good enough to make it in the opera world. It just feels like studying voice from now until I graduate isn’t enough. I want to be qualified in something other than singing on a stage.
I know I’ll be taking courses other than just voice(I think the total amount of hours for my major is around 130. Not all of that is singing!). I just don’t know what my focus should be.
My dad was particularly helpful on the subject. Before he retired, he was a band director for middle and high schools. He entered his college career knowing that he wanted to teach, so he didn’t have all the ambiguous feelings I have now, yet he still understands where I’m coming from.
Us music folk gotta stick together, ya know.
I really do not want to teach. I don’t think I would make a good teacher. I got all the music genes and none of the teaching genes, but I ain’t bitter.
I know I want to keep performing as much as I can. I won’t be able to do it forever, and I’m not going to be able to support myself solely on performing. At least not immediately. Fingers crossed the world likes my voice!
So I sez to me daddy:
“Daddy, what would you suggest?”
To which he replied:
“Try conducting. It’s the right level of involvement that you want, you can pretend you are the center of attention, and you’re just weird enough that it’s entertaining. So everybody wins.”
Uhh… kthanks, dad.
I honestly don’t have that much experience with conducting musical groups, but what I have done I enjoyed. I don’t even know what kind of jobs choral or orchestral conductors get. I mean, I’m really not interested in teaching the music. I want to make it performance ready, but not teach it. Refine, not teach.
That’s probably being too picky.
I would want to focus on choral conducting to complement my background in vocal pedagogy. I’m just biased toward choirs in general.
Is it possible to jump from an undergraduate degree in vocal performance to a graduate degree in choral conducting? Is that even wise? And what about a doctorate? Is there a school out there in the world that suits my wild and crazy needs?
I guess in a perfect world I would be able to support my hobby of performing with a career in conducting or whatever.
So much to do in so little time!
Oh sweet baby Jesus was the music amazing! The orchestra was absolutely perfect. I even managed to catch several Mannheim Rollers, and let me tell you, hearing them in real life is beyond cool. The singers were spot on. Especially the man playing Tamino. Maybe I have a soft spot for Tenors. Meh. Oh and of course I have to say something about the Queen of the Night: omfg:!hbfjksh)$;$&/jfksisnsh. Her voice was on FIRE! I thought I was going to fall out of my chair. She was that good.
The plot to The Magic Flute is very confusing and I’m not even going to try and explain it here, but experiencing it, whether in person or on the television, helps greatly, and I encourage anyone who likes good music and humorous love stories to give it a go!
The one thing that pissed me off about the performance was the way the Dallas Met thought it would be funny to include Texas-specific jokes into the dialogue. The jokes were funny and quite easy to laugh along with, but I couldn’t stop feeling by it. They probably decided to slide jokes in because it was their very last performance. Who know’s? I just didn’t appreciate the fact that Papageno was begging for a Lone Star Beer while miniature Dallas Cowboys were running amuck on the stage. (Spoiler alert: last sentence)
My favorite part wasn’t even in the performance. Nay nay! It was in the pre-opera showing where they provide a speaker to kind of give you the history behind the opera. There were some very interesting facts that I learned about Mozart that actually cleared up some of the confusion I had toward the plot of TMF. But my ABSOLUTE MOST FAVORITEST PART happened while the speaker was playing an excerpt from the opera. The old wrinkly man sitting to my right was tapping his fingers in time to the piano accompaniment and quietly singing the words to himself. I almost died from cute overload. I kept frantically elbowing my dad and kicking his leg trying to get him to witness the frailty of the geezer next to me. In my mind I was wondering if I was sitting next to an opera great from the past or just another lover of the arts. Oh well! It was absolutely heart wrenching watching someone so fragile continue to do what they enjoy. The opera really is for all ages!
I plan on returning to the Dallas opera house as soon as I can! I was fortunate to go this time because of my generous parents. Yayz for nice parentals!
I love this.
I feel so legitimate with my brand new blog.
As I was creating my account, I had an image of myself sipping a cuppa in my chic glasses, blogging away to all of my adoring subscribers.
And then I actually started looking around my new domain and realized it would probably never amount to anything more than a glorified diary.
I’m actually completely fine with that.