The background of this blog is now a picture of ballet shoes hanging by the window. Yes, you have noticed it now, and probably mentally felt the silky softness of it on your skin, without meaning to. Ballet shoes do that to you. They're gorgeous, aren't they?
I've always thought of ballet as a very, very beautiful dance, and always felt miserable about the fact that I never did learn and will never learn it. How do I know about the future, you ask. I don't. But this is one of those things that you need to have ingrained in you since a very tender age; no movement of the body will be as graceful if learnt at twenty. Because your body needs to be molded and trained like that; you can't fit it into anything and everything, in the case of ballet, literally too: who'd be ready to slip into a tutu randomly? Lol.
I could learn now, I mean, there is time, but I wouldn't want to do something as heavenly with earthy mediocrity. So yes, I've given up on that department. But I can't help wondering how they feel, when they take those pirouettes, fly with those leaps, and practice plies. And wear those clothes and look like that. It's a dream world.
Coming back to the one I have, the very solid, un-beautiful world that isn't full of ballet academies and theatres, I've been thinking about a lot, arriving at no conclusions, and reaching nowhere. Apart from being uncharacteristic, it's also annoying in its confusion and so I've been left pretty unhappy and muddled. I don't know what the cause of this is, and so all the thinking has failed. I think I'm mentally not adjusted to being back in hostel, with people, pretend-friends, and studies. Also, yesterday I had a discussion with two great guys about the country and that just worsened it, like we're both moving rudderless, wasting a lot of energy.
I need some inspiration, let's try this poem by Fran Wyant:
Eat rice.
Have faith in women.
What I don’t know now
I can still learn.
If I am alone now
I will be with them later.
If I can be weak now
I can become strong.
Slowly, slowly, if I learn, I can teach others.
If others learn first I must believe they will come back and teach me.
I've always thought of ballet as a very, very beautiful dance, and always felt miserable about the fact that I never did learn and will never learn it. How do I know about the future, you ask. I don't. But this is one of those things that you need to have ingrained in you since a very tender age; no movement of the body will be as graceful if learnt at twenty. Because your body needs to be molded and trained like that; you can't fit it into anything and everything, in the case of ballet, literally too: who'd be ready to slip into a tutu randomly? Lol.
I could learn now, I mean, there is time, but I wouldn't want to do something as heavenly with earthy mediocrity. So yes, I've given up on that department. But I can't help wondering how they feel, when they take those pirouettes, fly with those leaps, and practice plies. And wear those clothes and look like that. It's a dream world.
Coming back to the one I have, the very solid, un-beautiful world that isn't full of ballet academies and theatres, I've been thinking about a lot, arriving at no conclusions, and reaching nowhere. Apart from being uncharacteristic, it's also annoying in its confusion and so I've been left pretty unhappy and muddled. I don't know what the cause of this is, and so all the thinking has failed. I think I'm mentally not adjusted to being back in hostel, with people, pretend-friends, and studies. Also, yesterday I had a discussion with two great guys about the country and that just worsened it, like we're both moving rudderless, wasting a lot of energy.
I need some inspiration, let's try this poem by Fran Wyant:
Eat rice.
Have faith in women.
What I don’t know now
I can still learn.
If I am alone now
I will be with them later.
If I can be weak now
I can become strong.
Slowly, slowly, if I learn, I can teach others.
If others learn first I must believe they will come back and teach me.
