I have one thing to say on the subject of class last night and that is:
COUPE RENVERSE WILL YOU PLEASE GO AND DIE IN A HOLE?
Ruined what was otherwise a perfectly good adage because I don’t have enough legs for it and something isn’t computing. Boo. It made me all scowl!faced because I couldn’t make it make sense. Sadtimes, bruvs, sadtimes.
On the other hand… I remembered to attack my relevé in preparation only then (a) surprised myself by remembering and managing to do so and (b) totally fluffed the ensuing pirouette because I’d had my relevé praised.
The lovely Johanna over at Point ‘til you drop, wrote a fabulous post on getting praised in class and why it is so drattedly difficult to accept it. I’m open to constructive criticism (like making my legs longer in glissés f’rex) and correction (hi there, left arm) as opposed to “oh dear goodness, you suck”* and I can handle that – food for thought and all that jazz (no, not jazz, ballet!). But praise is a whole different kettle of fish.
Don’t get me wrong, I like being praised – being told that I’m doing well, good, amazing, whatever – I am a complete and utter needy attention whore after all but there’s something that doesn’t quite compute. I have two natural responses to praise: the first is to be so startled that I fall over/into the barre/whatever and the second is for emo!teen in my head to chime in with “well, durr, not talking to you really”. It’s that tricksy beast of self confidence, I guess – I kind of missed the queue for that one. If I could just pop down Tesco and grab me some, that’d be ace – sadly they never seem to have it in stock when I’m doing my weekly shop, rubbish.
It’s not just in ballet that accepting praise is a problem in – it translates across all areas of my life but it’s easier to laugh it off outside of class. F’rex, I’ve just done a ‘sarcastic victory dance’ in the office on being told by my boss I’ve just got something bob on (funnily enough won’t be taking that reaction to ballet). I’m hopeless at accepting compliments as well, always feeling the need to justify myself and try and make the complimenter see that they are WRONG. Why? I mean, just why is it so hard to actually accept/believe/whatever that YOU ARE NOT A TOTAL HOPELESS CASE?
You know what? My internal monologue should just be quiet around about now… nurse, the screens!
*Actually, I could probably handle that these days. I’d put my scowl!face on and be determined to prove a point. Whatever the point is.