SalomeJustitia

Moving day.

Well, SalomeJustitia is officially closed, as the goddess of justice no longer rules my world.  In keeping with the classical theme, I invite you to join me at my new blog, Terpsichore Musings.  How I do enjoy a pun!  All of the SalomeJustitia posts and comments have been transferred, and you'll recognize the design, just at a new spot.  Thanks, all of you, for your support during this transition in my life (and blog!).

http://terpsichoremusings.typepad.com/terpsichore_musings

Smooth.

Since I've known the results of this year's Ohio Star Ball for some time, simply repackaging it as "America's Ballroom Challenge" did not fool me into being surprised by Ben and Shalene's victory in the American Smooth division tonight.  However, I was pleasantly surpised by Tomas and JT, who made it into the top 6 and were a joy to watch, since they were obviously having the time of their lives.  When it comes to Standard and Smooth ballroom, there is often an odd contrast between the smoothness (hey, guess that's why they call it that, huh?) and the hard edges.  In Latin and Rhythm, I feel the sharpness of the movement, but that's not what I feel when watching Standard/Smooth - hard is the only word I can think of to describe it, or possibly, severe (I still love it; don't get me wrong!).  But it's funny, you don't see that in the very best (like Ben and Shalene, who are always so in sync and draw you right in with a light hand) or those not considered contenders for the top spot, like Tomas and JT.  I guess some of those hard edges - the stylized hands, the rigid posture - are what judges are looking for, but when I watched Tomas and JT on the floor, I felt less like I was watching a competition and more like I was watching two people just dancing.  It didn't win them the title, but I sure liked the feeling of it.  A couple to keep an eye on, for sure.  I also did enjoy their Showcase dance, to "Ramalama Bang Bang" by Roisin Murphy, one of my favorite artists.  For those SYTYCD fans, Tomas and JT definitely styled themselves in the same vein (Victorian zombie goth chic) but so interesting to watch it as a tango instead of a group contemporary/hip pop number.  Looking forward to next week and the American Rhythm competition (go Emmanuel and Joanna - can't wait to see if your showdance lives up to "Teach Me How to Shimmy" from last year!).

New direction.

So, it looks like I'm going to be needing a new title for my blog ...

After much soul-searching and discussion, I have made the decision to withdraw from law school and return to the working world - where, I'm not sure yet, but now is the time to move on.  I know!  I'm feeling a lot of things right now, but mostly excitement to start the next phase of my life.  In my heart, I have known for some time that I didn't actually want to be a lawyer.  But I have so many things I am passionate about, and now I need to figure out how to incorporate the things I truly love and am good at into my working life.  I knew that if I didn't go ahead and take this jump (with no safety net!) I would simply stay out of habit.  So big changes are afoot, and I'm sure I'll have plenty to say on the subject in the upcoming weeks.  As for now, my dancing is going to stay the same - maybe I'll even get to take a few more classes now that I have joined the ranks of the unemployed!

In the meantime, how about nominations for new blog titles?  I think I'd like to keep the Salome, but maybe incorporate a ballroom element.  SalomeSamba, in a nod to Tonya?  Or something with a Shimmy in it?  That covers bellydance and Latin - hmm, I like that a lot, maybe I'll run with that.  Who has ideas?

Bad feet.

There is a running joke between me and my parents that I got the worst qualities from both of them - Mom's allergies and prematurely grey hair; Pop's migraines and crooked teeth, etc.  Most of these I have fixed with hair dye, orthodontia, and pharmacuticals, but there is one inherited feature that I can do nothing about - my feet.  How frustrating when I've always loved dancing so much to have the infamous "bad feet."

I suppose I should be happy I'm here to have bad feet at all; after all, it was the flat-footedness I inherited that kept my father out of the military back in the day.  But I lived many years of my life with a woman with almost perfect feet.  My mother is very proud of her feet, and I do have to say (and occasionally she insists we all do) that they are beautiful, a model of what feet should be.  I've been with her on multiple occasions when total strangers come up to her to tell her what beautiful feet she has, and her wide array of sandals and perfect pedicures showcase them even more.  So I have a touch of a complex; I worship at the altar of perfect feet.

Not so much at the end of these here pins.  It's the arch that really creates a beautiful foot, and I have unfortunately weak arches.  Oh, I cover it up - years of training my feet in pointe shoes means I know how to point my foot to create the illusion of more arch, and the vertiginous heels I'm fond of wearing prevent my ankles from pronating when I walk.  But I know.  And I haven't done much to make them more attractive.  Take the bad feet base and layer on toes broken multiple times, callouses upon callouses, and ever since I started Latin dancing, consistently chipped pedicures (it's the dragging that does it!).  It all adds up to a bit of a mess.  But as my mother used to say, "you can't see the spots on a galloping horse."  So if I keep them moving fast enough, maybe you and I both won't notice their flaws, and only see the dancing.

Bright and early.

Everyone knows that I am not a morning person.  My internal clock would most enjoy going to bed at 3 am and waking up about 11 or 12, and if I were left to my own devices, such as being a hermit in a cave or something, this is what I would do.  However, the trappings of a life amongst society seem to get in the way, and so it is not to be.  I recently began taking my ballroom lessons in the morning, and to my shock I discovered that while I may not be a morning person, I am a morning dancer.  How wonderful to dance before the stress of the day gets in the way, to dance with a sleep-fed body and relaxed mind.  Sadly, law school has struck again and now I must edit law journal articles at that time and dance in the afternoons.  I'll miss you, morning dances ...

Speed.

Second choreography session with Tony tonight.  Again I am amazed at the ability of a professional to put something so good together in such a short amount of time.  We reached the end of the cha-cha section last time, and now have the remaining mambo section choreographed.  And I thought the cha-cha section was fast!  The stereo in the room we were in didn't have a speed feature, so I was trying to do everything full speed, which is how Tony wants it by the showcase, but something I've never even tried before.  If I can do it, it's going to be sweet-looking.  Wait, positive thoughts: I will do it, and it will be sweet.  I have to be nicer to myself because Michael has declared the dance studio a "no self-deprication zone."  Unfortunately, self-deprication is a huge part of my personality, and it's also often how I describe the issues I'm having with my dancing.  For instance, I'll say "I look like a gingerbread man" and then Michael gets that I'm obviously not gathering my feet and legs properly.  So I need to learn a new code.

My favorite moment tonight: when Tony started second-guessing himself a little bit and thought maybe something should be changed.  Then he and Michael marked it and Tony was like, "No, that's good.  Nope, I like that, too.  No, that's right," until he realized it was already perfect the way it was (I could have told him that - that's why he makes the big bucks, because he's good).

We also worked on one of my many issues: arms.  I've mentioned before how I don't know what to do with my arms (I'm still thinking so hard about my feet).  Well, it seems I've developed a bad habit of pulling them in close to my sides - not like an Irish step dancer or anything, but still.  I know exactly where it comes from; I don't want to wail Michael in the face, I'm afraid of making a mistake, and I'm doing it simply out of timidity and lack of confidence (which is funny, because Tony mentioned how he liked that I "just put everything out there," even though I feel so reserved).  But I've gotten so used to it that now sometimes my elbows and upper arms are even a little bit behind me, which makes it harder to catch switching connections, especially in the twisty-turny mambo.  Tony really stressed keeping my arms in front of me and keeping them stong.  Of course, then I went too far in the other direction and kept them in front and strong all the time, even when one was not the connection arm and should have been styling.  Sigh.  So glad the showcase got pushed back to May - I need the time!  And that's not self-deprication; that's reality.

Rendevous.

After an eight-hour mediation class yesterday (yes, that's a SUNDAY), how nice to run up to Lincoln Center and meet with some fellow dance bloggers for a bite and a drink.  Doug from Great Dance had traveled from DC to NYC to attend the APAP conference, so expect lots of interesting reviews and reflections on his blog soon, along with photos and video.  Glad to finally meet everyone, since I read their work so often!

L to R: Tonya from Swan Lake Samba Girl, Doug, me (how nice of them to invite the newbie blogger!), and Tony and Kristin from The Winger.

    

Step-bump.

Thanks, Swan Lake Samba Girl and Chi Girl in Chi Town for reminding me of this great hilarious clip from "Reno 911" - dance inspiration can strike anywhere!  I personally enjoy doing choreography on the subway.  I have a ton of playlists on my iPod with music that inspires me in various genres.  There's nothing better than riding the subway to or from dance class, earbuds in, losing yourself in the music and trying not to just dance full-out in the aisles.  People may look, but I know, to paraphrase the above, "I'm not drunk, I'm just a dancer."

Candles.

Guess what, readers?  I got a digital camera for my birthday, so once I figure out how to use it, there are going to be a lot more images on this blog; huzzah!  Got to break up that text!

Had a birthday ballroom lesson this morning, per my new schedule of taking lessons before I get all stressed out by law school classes for the day.  I was definitely more relaxed to start, but being in the studio in the morning is slightly (okay, very) intimidating because it is mostly professionals and coaches, not beginners with their teachers like me.  Last lesson before meeting with Tony again to finish the choreography next Monday night, and I'm spinning out of control - literally.  What happened?  I used to be able to turn and turn and turn no problem, and now I'm wobbling all over the place, losing my spot, and raising my elbow in a most unfortunate way.  Will be practicing with the good old faux partner - the wall - all this weekend, I'm sure (except for the 8 hour class I have on Sunday.  Yeah.).

Bonita.

As Reyna put it, I need to get over my shimmy hump.  I don't know what it is, but I just cannot loosen up enough to really shimmy smoothly while doing other steps - at least, not without everything else going, too.  And I have good isolation in other aspects of my dancing, so what gives?

I could take a cue from the fantastic flamenca I saw tonight, Carmen Salao.  Dancing for over 40 years, and she looks terrific and can MOVE so fast ...  I guess it's true that dancing keeps you young.  Unlike my last trip to La Nacional, this time the early show was almost empty, so we had seats right up front.  I didn't know where to look - her feet or her face, because she had a really playful, flirtatious style - not the smoldering, intense look of most flamencas.  She's considered one of the jewels of the old style, and I can see why.  She sang, played castanets, and danced (sometimes all at the same time), and I have to say, I've never seen anyone play castanets like that - all over her body, the floor - amazing.  Well, I'm inspired.  And if I could get my hips to move half as fast as her feet, I might just make it over this shimmy hump.