Wanna hear about my morning yesterday?
Well, you're gonna.
(Unless, of course, you decide to close out of this
page immediately which is your absolute right.)
I didn't tell you guys, but a few weeks ago I was pulled over for going a whopping 27 miles an hour. I got a verbal warning, and a compliment on the cleanliness of my car. However, since I failed to have my proof of insurance with me, the officer also give me a nice little $130 ticket that I could have waived by going to city hall and providing a proof of insurance (which is great, because that's just what I need right now: another thing on my to do list). I went through the time frame I'd have to get my terrible Tuesday taken care of.
City Hall Opens at 8:00 am.
My institute class starts at 8:30 am.
My ballet class starts at 9:15 am.
I decided to be to city hall no later than 8:02, get my ticket waived by 8:15, get back home by 8:20, get into my leotard and tights (with normal clothes on top) by 8:25, and rush rush rush into my class by 8:30. I knew it would be a close call, but
I had ultimate faith in my mad skills.
I had ultimate faith in my mad skills.
It was a brisk, chilly morning; the kind of morning that makes me want to put wool socks on, and stay in bed all day reading Russian literature and eating homemade soup. When I got to city hall at 8:02, and saw the line of people waiting to get through security (security?!), I knew it was going to be tougher than I thought to pull this day off. I waited, waited, and finally around 8:12 my number was called to see a specialist to help me get my ticket waived. Determined to use polite manners and grace to my advantage, I smiled and explained my situation to the lady sitting at the desk. She, smiling back, complimented me on my scarf, and got right to work getting my ticket taken care of. It took her less than a minute. I wished her a lovely day, and ran to my car (after getting lost and not being able to find the exit). It was drizzling, and about 8:18 at this point, but I hit all green lights and sped home. Lucky I didn't get another ticket for real this time. I threw on my black tights, leotard, shorts, a button up shirt, pulled on some sweater boots, and without stopping for air, got back into the car (now it was pouring rain), and sped (again with the speeding?!) to institute. My eyes flashed to the clock as I parked. It was 8:28, but it's about a 5 minute walk from the lot they have us park in to the institute building. So. I ran. I ran, in ballet tights, shorts, a button up, and crazy hair in the pouring rain to my institute class. You know- like a mad woman. As my teacher was just about to ask who would like to give the opening prayer, I stumbled in.
Victory. I had done it. I had actually accomplished the impossible. I looked like an idiot, yes. But I had done it, and that was all that mattered. As I finished the prayer my euphoria faded as I remembered one small important detail: I had forgotten my ballet slippers.
Have I mentioned that our ballet teacher has a strict no dancing without socks or ballet slippers policy?
Well, she does.
I decided I had two choices:
One- take a deep breath- hold back frustrated tears- go back into the pouring rain- rush home- grab my slippers-get back in the car-return in time for my ballet class. I would certainly miss my religion class.
Two-laugh at the ironic and hectic morning I had-accept the inevitable disappointment of forgetting the smallest, yet most essential part of my ballet attire- stay the entire duration of my religion class (for the first time this semester), and learn not only about religion, but about not beating myself up over a silly mistake that was due to a ca-razy morning.
I chose the latter.
I know. You're all thinking, "Alyssa, you coward! You should have gone to ballet! You just pretended to "forget" your shoes, so you wouldn't have to do that awful battement combination again!!"
Wait- maybe that's not you- maybe that's just my pessimistic side trying to make me feel guilty, or just plain bad about myself. Either way, that's not true.
I really really missed ballet yesterday. Which actually surprised me, and taught me a completely unexpected lesson (hence the dance log entry). Not only can I do hard things, I can learn from them. Not only can I learn from them, I can learn to look forward to learning from them, and eventually, I can learn to love them.
I can learn to love them so much, that even though they are hard, and uncomfortable, I'm disappointed when I miss them. Thursday is tomorrow, and I've already got my slippers (and an extra pair of socks just in case) waiting in the car. I'm determined to never even be tempted to miss class again; because I have- and I was sad that whole day, missing the voice of my teacher correcting my arms, and watching my lovely peer dancer friends gracefully sway from corner to corner. I think this lesson has been very educational. Not despite the fact that I didn't enter the studio at all, but because of it.
Maybe it's silly for me to write a dance log post about a day where I did no dancing, but I learned quite alot. And that is all.