Today I spontaneously went into a dance lesson in modern dance. Not because I am that spontaneous, but more because I knew I’d bail out if I’d give myself more time to think.
Being told my whole life that “you’re made for dancing” I thought I’d give it a go, especially since I secretly regretted never returning to dancing after that first devastating attempt by my parents to put me in ballet school, when I was five and run out crying before the lesson was over to never return again. So now, almost 20 years later, I finally went back to meet my destiny.
I loved the beginning of the warm up. We where kind of jumping up and down, doing push ups and stretches, the music was good, I knew what I was doing, and I looked just like everyone else. My confidence was rising – what a good Idea this was! I’ll by a clip card, maybe this will be my future, my forte my calling in life. Maybe I don’t have to get a flipping job at mc Donald’s to survive, I can dance!
The first earth-to-Julia-call was about 7,5 minutes in when we started with the ballet warm up moves. That was when I realised that I’d missed the previous class, and also, seemed to be the only one having NO CLUE what the standard ballet positions where. I didn’t even know what to do with my arms whilst doing them. The instructor came up saying something about my posture, Witch was really the last of my problems, and I was just like “sorry pal, I’ve got no clue about this” and to my surprise, he walked on with no further comments or attempt to encouragement.
After the warm up we got straight in to the middle of some complicated coreografi to sam smith’s “stay with me”. After the first verse it was so clear. “Guess it’s true, I’m not good at a one-night stand” I had no chance to keep up with these “beginners”, “But I still need love ’cause I’m just a man” blasting out from the speakers. “These nights never seem to go to plan” but I can definitely tell you that these attitudy, hot pants wearing teenagers, where not doing their first day of dancing in that room. They looked like they’d practiced this specific coreografi for years, and I was like ????!!!!! “I don’t want you to leave, will you hold my hand” beginners group in my *** !
I felt like my gandma when I try to explain to her you can send pictures and play music and use the internet from a phone, and she is just like WHAT!? Is that even possible? Don’t believe it even when I see it. And in the same way I couldn’t believe why everyone else’s legs and arms seemed to do what they wanted them to do, and mine just felt like they where attached to the wrong body.
Well, the music was good, and even though I looked like I was trying to ruin the dance class by constantly walking in the wrong direction, I must admit, I had fun. I loved the way it looked like when some of the other girls danced (after forgiving them for crashing my beginners group), and I thought, if I just spend a few months in this back corner maybe I can learn this.
That was before he split us into small groups.
Oh the dread when he announced it. I was so terrified I forgot the number I was given and actually pleaded the instructor to let me pass. But no mercy. We where gonna perform in front of one another. Now a whole song, repeating the things we’d learnt, twice. The problem was, I’d nowhere close to remembered the steps, it was literary impossible, and now I’d just have to improvise, in front of all the cool girls in hot pants and artsy makeup.
One hour later we stopped and I was not sure if I’d had the best or the worst time of my life. You see, the dance is the most beautiful form of art I’ve ever done, but the thought of dancing in front of those girls again makes me want to barf of anxiety.
But maybe this is something I need to do, for myself, not as a competition or as a mean to a good course, but just as something I want to do. And maybe my pride will have to die, and maybe that’s the best gift I can give to myself. I will not look back at this blank page looking autumn with regret. It’s time for a new season.
New Swedish lifestyle choice nr 1: Start dancing